#i have never been so betrayed by two banners of my favorite games back to back

[sieglinde-freud]

WHAT DO YOU MEAN YUKIMURA GETS INTO HEROES BEFORE SCARLET AND BASE REINA ARE YOU KIDDING ME

[knjsnoona]

Restoration

genre: smut || slice of life pairing: jin x reader word Count: 10.1k rating: 18+ warnings: language, light dom!jin, explicit sexual descriptions, choking, fingering summary: Return to your childhood hone with your partner, Jin only to discover how much it’s changed. project: this part of the bcc summer games event~ it’s was for the image prompt which is the one under the name of the fic in the banner lol this was meant to be short, but then i included this whole first half smh credits: a HUGE thank you goes to my amazing beta reader @destructiveasparagus​ ! helped me find where my weaknesses lie and super incredibly helpful in how to learn from my mistakes! thank you so so much! i hope to improve with my future works!

It had been a long time since you’d been to your hometown, so long you barely recognized it as you drove in with your fiancé. Streets you once ran around on as a child—knowing each backstreet like the back of your hand—now seemed like the paths of a maze; roads that stirred distant memories of laughter and joy. 

Eyes catching new shops where your favorite childhood hangouts once stood, a dull ache laced with both nostalgia and discomfort begins to stir within you. It seems the town had decided to be more modern… more suburban you guessed. It kind of made you sad if you were honest with yourself. You were expecting to return to the home you once loved, and to be bathed in the memories of each corner, shop, and alley.

Becoming more frustrated with each new sight you didn’t recognize, you sink into your seat releasing a sigh. Crossing your arms loosely over your chest, you look down at your knees. Chewing the inside of your cheek, you pondered what your neighborhood would look like. You hoped against hope that at least that small corner of your memories wouldn’t be betrayed. 

“You okay?”

Catching your attention, you look to the side at your fiancé who had turned to look at you as he made a stop at a red light. His handsome features twisted into concern, which brought a small smile to your lips. Softly nodding, you try to assuage his worries.

“I’m fine, Seokjin. Just realizing how long it’s been since I was home is all,” melancholy weaving into your voice, gaze forlornly sweeping out the windows of the vehicle again. 

“Changed that much, huh?” eyes still on you, every so often shuffling to make sure the street light hadn’t changed yet. 

You nod, watching as a couple of teenage girls walk with some name brand iced coffees in their hands, eyes glued to their phones, as they giggled about something mundane. Feeling like a creep for staring, you shake your head and look back at the man by your side. “It’s definitely changed.... too much.”

God, you’d never identified with a boomer harder than you did at this very moment. Words of when I was kid at the tip of your tongue, wanting to rant about all the things you remembered as a kid and how it had been ruined now. You’d never regretted leaving home before, not until this moment. All of your treasured spots, destroyed by gentrification. How depressing. 

But then you look at what you had gained from your departure from home and you realize how silly you’re being. You had found tons of struggle out in the world on your own. Learned what it was like to truly live in a woman’s world; having to work twice as hard for half the pay of a man; earning the way you had to always be cautious and on the lookout for dangers that lurked around every corner when the sun went down; learned how to pick yourself back up and work harder, when you were passed up on a promotion in favor of the manager’s son. 

But you made it through every obstacle. You were a fighter, and never shied away from fighting to get what you wanted. To deal with the dangers of walking around at night, you took self defense classes. You quit the job that underpaid you. And when the manager at that other job finally offered you that promotion, you gave them your two weeks. You decided to take a position at a startup company that saw your worth, valued your opinions and took your ideas into consideration. A company where you were promoted and given more power to help it grow. It had grown into a multimillion-dollar business. Whose technology had been implemented in every hospital in the country. And the genius behind its creation and production sat by your side.

Kim Seokjin had been a godsend. You’d bumped into him one night at a bar after a particularly rough day of work. You had dropped into the seat beside him, not sparing a single glance his way as you ordered a beer. Shoulders slumping, you rubbed at your eyes in frustration pushing your tears back in. Noticing your distress, he reached out to you. He asked after your well being, taking you by surprise. Cautiously you spoke to him that night, only to be pleasantly surprised by his kind nature. While sharing the struggles of your days with each other, he brought up his start up and how he was looking to fill the position. Handing you a card before you both parted ways, he offered you a position without even knowing your qualifications. 

Long story short, you took the position, worked your way up and fell in love with the company's CEO. Of course, there were those that always felt the need to fill the office with unnecessary drama. Hushed whispers in the break rooms, and muttered words across the cubicles of how you had slept your way to the top. But you shrugged them all off, no water off a duck’s back right? Besides, how do you sleep your way to the top of a tiny startup? There was no top or bottom. The tomfoolery of the envious, honestly.

The car jerking into motion brings you back to the present. Blinking the memories of the past decade or so out of the way. Vision returning to your present day home town, suddenly not so bothered by the changes. Your home had grown up and adapted, just as you had. That thought alone brings a smile to your face. A hand slipping over your thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze, making you completely beam as you take Jin's hand in your own ringed hand. Placing a soft kiss on the back of his hand, as you hold it tenderly in your lap, his quiet laugh filling the space in the car as you continued on your way.

Some ten minutes later, you pull up the front of your childhood home; warmth filling your chest as you notice how little it’s changed. Aside from a few cosmetic changes it was still the same. And there they were, all the memories rushing in at once. The feelings you had been anticipating finally hit you. Now you felt like you were truly home as you were surrounded by all the wonderful memories of your childhood. 

A gentle hand on your lower back brings you back, you smile up at Jin who stands by your side. A reassuring smile adorns his plush lips, as he rubs small circles on your back in a show of support and affection.

“You ready?”

Taking one large lung full of air, you hold it for a couple beats before deflating and nodding up at him. The steadying warmth of his hand on your lower back fills you with all the confidence you needed as you made your way up the stone patch. 

Worries of how your family would react to you being back niggling the back of your mind. You tried to keep in touch as much as you could but there were times it was almost impossible due to financial stability or work load. Damn, a small bit of guilt began to bloom in your chest. So you stand frozen, finger just a few inches from the doorbell. Maybe you should’ve called before showing up. 

Sensing your internal struggle, Jin wraps his arm around your shoulder, pulling you into his side. Plush lips press to the crown of your head leaving a quick kiss. “Everything’s going to be fine, babe,” he whispers into your hair. 

“How do you know? I mean- I’ve been gone so long… they have to be angry with me. What if they think I don't care?” you fret, teeth gnawing at the inside of your bottom lip, hands twisting into the hem of your shirt, wrinkling the smooth fabric in the anxiety. 

Chuckling softly, the arm around you turns you to face the tall male. Eyes roam your face, a warmth in them that always somehow seem to soothe your nerves. And sooth they did as you could feel your worries begin to ebb away. 

“Hey, none of that,” he chastises, as he presses his hand lightly to your jaw, thumb tugging your bottom lip down. “You’re going to chew yourself raw. And we don’t want that. I don’t want you hurting yourself.” He places a gentle kiss on your lips as if to soothe away any stinging there.

Your lips can’t help but spread into a smile at how he was being such a mother hen. He was always like this, not just with you but with his employees as well. It’s what made him such a good boss, and an even better partner. Lady luck was feeling extremely generous the day she led you to Jin in that quaint bar.

Returning your smile, he quickly places multiple kisses around your face—on your nose, your cheeks, and your forehead. Arms wrapping around your waist to hold you close, as you giggle at the onslaught of kisses he bestowed you with. The sound of his mirth joining yours, pulling back to hold your cheeks gently. Eyes looking into your own as he assures you, “Everything is going to be fine, so stop stressing for once. We’re here to relax okay?”

Sighing, you nod with a smile still perched on your face. “You’re the best, you know that?”

“Of course, I am. And the most handsome!” all the confidence in the world seeping out of his words, smugness painting over his pretty features. 

You scoff playfully, smacking his arm. “And yet you like claiming you’re humble,” shaking your head you turn back to the door and ring the doorbell without hesitation. 

“Well, I’m not bragging if it’s a fact,” comes his witty retort which has your eyes rolling. This was nothing new with him, the man knew he was good looking. I mean you’d have to be blind to not think so as well. But you know, can’t let his ego inflate too big. 

“I don’t know… I've seen better looking,” you shrug nonchalantly as you press the doorbell again, hoping someone was actually home. Yeah, you definitely should’ve called ahead. 

“What? Where? Who is he!? Wait, are you talking about that kid in marketing? What’s his name?” he instantly barrages you with a succession of questions, jealousy bleeding into his tone. “That pretty boy with the deep voice! You-”

He’s suddenly cut off by the jingling of a handle and the lock being turned, as the door swings open. Your mother stands before you, surprise marring her features. Features that remained the same after all these years, a few wrinkles showing her age joined the painting that was your mother’s face. You’d pictured—imagined—scenarios of seeing her again, of how it would go but the feelings you felt now were far more intense than anything your mind could conjure up. . 

You were sure the shock she wore was mirrored by you, as you stood there taking the other in. Your heart hammered away at your chest, pumping emotions into every vein throughout your body until it began to leak out of your eyes. As the first drop made it’s journey down your cheek, you stepped forward prompting your mother to mirror your actions, crashing into each other's arms. You didn’t realize you could miss someone so much and up until that point had been unaware that you had missed being held in the arms of your mother.

You could feel her tears seep through the shirt on your shoulder, happy greetings and words blubbered in excitement. Laughing you pull back enough to look at her, a watery smile greeting you. 

“I’ve missed you, Momma,” your voice trembling with the emotions overtaking you. 

“I’ve missed you too, sweet pea. I’m so happy to see you safe and healthy. I was worried you weren’t eating well this whole time. I know how you can get, you get too involved in what you’re working on and forget to eat,” your mother rambles on, word vomit just pouring out of her. All the words she hasn’t been able to share with you now fill the space between you. As a teenager you would’ve been annoyed, but now as a grown adult you were endeared by her light nagging. 

“She still does that,” Jin's voice catching both of your attention. “Not eat, I mean.”

You turn to him, a self-satisfied smile on his lips, and an incredulous look on yours. Wow, not even two minutes, and he was already selling you out to your mother. You shake your head at him, eyes trying to signal for him to stop. He simply chuckles back.

“Oh is that right?” Your mother gives you a look, before looking back at your handsome partner. “And who might this be?” Eyebrows raise in question to you. 

“Oh! I’m so sorry. Momma, this is my, um, fiancé, Kim Seokjin. Jin this is my mother,” you awkwardly introduce them. Biting the corner of your lip as you look at your mother out of the corner of your eye. 

She looks at you, surprised at your engaged status, which you hadn’t had the chance to bring up during the brief, rare calls home. You can see the message hidden in her eyes, we’ll talk about this later, before turning to Jin. “It's a pleasure to finally meet you. My, you’re a handsome one.”

You close your eyes and internally groan before turning to Jin pointing a cocky smile your way. He sure was annoying when he was proven right. Gloating prick.

He gives you a quick eyebrow wiggle before turning to smile at your mother. “You’re too kind, really,” acting embarrassed, as he rubs the back of his neck and bows in gratitude once more.

“Oh! And he’s modest!” your mothers cheers delightedly.

Wow, he pulled the fake modesty card. You shake your head at him as you quietly scoff, lips almost quirked in a smile, as he winks at you. He was something else. But he was your something else. He was worth it. Headaches, terrible jokes and all.

“So… is anyone else home?” you questioned, curious as to whether your father, or if any of your siblings, were around. You weren’t sure if they’d be as welcoming as your mother, but her warmth and acceptance of you returning gave you the confidence to continue forward. 

Your mother nods at you excitedly, wrapping an arm around yours and moving you towards the door. Jin follows behind amused as your mother explains how one of your aunts was visiting with her family, and how a couple of your siblings were in town. She went a mile a minute, spewing out even the latest family gossip—your father’s brother had cheated on his wife, your cousin had come out of the closet after being caught mid act (“What a scandalous event that was!”) and even how your mother’s eldest sister had beat breast cancer. 

You sighed happily as you let your mother lead the way, Jin flanking behind you. Man it felt good to be home.

“We got incredibly lucky,” you said loudly, as you placed a small pile of folded clothes in a drawer. Pacing back over to the suitcase on the bed, pulling out your underwear to place in the same drawer to one side. 

“What?” Jin called from the room over. 

“I said we got lucky!” you replied, voice louder than before.

“Lucky?”

“Yeah. We‘re lucky they didn’t charge a cancellation fee at the hotel.” 

Your mother, after making the rounds with the family, had insisted you stay in your old room. You were surprised that it had remained as you had left it. You were sure it would’ve been turned into a home gym by now, or a man cave for your brother that was still home. The fact that it was still intact, filled you with emotion. Your mother must have held out hope you’d come back, so when she insisted you agreed, unable to deny her request.

Of course there was the task of cancelling your hotel reservation, which everyone knows last minute cancellations come with some hefty cancellation fees. You felt bad as you had dialed the number on your cell, but Jin assured you it was fine and was worth it if you were happy. 

As Jin worked on unloading the luggage, you spoke with the concierge who upon looking up the reservation, gifted you with the surprise of not incurring a late fee. You had been surprised and tried to verify the cancellation policy to which the male on the other end confirmed there would be no charge and wished you a pleasant day. You returned the sentiment as you hung up and looked at your partner in mild stupor before relaying the information to which he raised his eyebrows and shrugged, bringing in the rest of your belongings. 

“You're still stuck on that?” he points out, humor ringing in his voice. 

“Well, isn’t it a bit surprising to you?” you huff, cheeks puffing a bit in a pout. 

“I guess…” he trails off momentarily. You could hear the gears turning before he returned with, “Maybe it’s because they saw who I was.”

“What? Why would that matter?” You had a feeling you knew where this was going, and could already feel your eyes preemptively rolling.

“Because, I’m the youngest, most handsome CEO in the nation.” A wheezing laugh following his words, almost sounding like windshield wipers.

Your eyes roll so hard, you see the back of your skull, and into an alternate universe. Why did you put up with him again? And as the sound of a door opening fills the space, you remember one of the reasons as he walks through the door. Towel wrapped loosely around his hips, muscles flexing as he rubbed his hair dry with another towel, he stood in all his glory. Your eyes chase drops of water running down his wet skin, swallowing hard where they disappear into the material knotted around his narrow hips. 

“Sweetheart, you’re making me blush with all the ogling,” he chuckles smugly. “I get it though.”

You snap out of your daze, eyes narrowing at his cocky face in annoyance. Shaking your head, you choose to ignore him—turning back to your bag, grabbing some of your toiletries to place on the dresser. Distracted by your task you don’t notice Jin walk up behind you, until you’re tugged back into his wet torso. 

“You know,” he mutters into your ear, “I haven’t forgotten that little quip from earlier.” One of his large hands slides up your body, finding its home wrapped around your jaw. He tilts your head back into his shoulder, his other arm wrapping around your waist to pull you further into his form. “You think that kid in the office is better looking than me.”

You take a few calming breaths, body becoming alert with excitement as Jin invades your space. Every word and touch begins to stir desire within you.

“I never said that. You assumed… you know what they say about when you assume,” you can’t help but gibe, lips tugging up in a smirk.

A growl rumbles through you as the grip on your jaw tightens slightly. “Don't be a smart ass… I’ve seen the way you look at him, when you think no one is aware. I’m not an idiot.” 

You chuckle, unable to help yourself. His jealous words turn you on more than they should. 

“I can’t help it if he’s pretty to look at,” you state complacently.

“Pretty?” he chuckles at your audacity, grip tightening slightly around your jaw. Swinging your jaw away from the direction of his face, the feel of his lips brushing the shell of your ear makes you shiver. “You do look at him. Tell me, do you fantasize about him?”

Your eyes shut, the warmth of his breath traveling through your trapped body; an aching starting to pulse between your thighs. Hands moving back to rest on his towel covered thighs to help maintain balance, but more importantly to assist in feeling grounded.

“You do, don't you…?” His nose nuzzles at your ear, lips pressing behind your ear. “Is that why you stare? Because you imagine what it would be like to have him inside you?” the arm wrapped around your waist loosens, hand traveling south to the apex of your thighs. 

You bite your lip, unable to answer his questions. His touch leaves trails of flames wherever they roam, burning any words from you. His words are simmering your blood. 

“Is your silence an admission?” he says with a slight edge to his voice. “You imagine him sliding into you? Taking you? As if you're his?” His grip on your jaw moves to your throat, fingers wrapping deliciously around the smooth muscle and flesh. 

“You’ll never be his,” he hisses. The hand between your thighs grips your core tightly, a whine escaping your lips at the slight pain and pleasure. “This,” grip tightening for emphasis, “is mine! Your cunt belongs to me. My cock will be the only one to ever claim it,” Jin growls into your ear, hips pressing his hard member into your ass. 

Fuck, that was enough to ruin your underwear. His words release the floodgates, slick escaping your lower lips to soak your panties. The growl rumbling against your back, and vibrating in your ear has your mind blanking for a moment, thighs clenching involuntarily around his wrist.

“Turned on by that?” he crows, self gratification filling every word. “Do you like hearing me claim you? The affirmation that no other man will ever ruin this pretty pussy like me?”

Your breath hitches, a strong pulse running through your body like seismic activity relaying that an eruption is imminent. With the way Jin is rutting into your back, hand gently petting your mound, it was only a matter of time before he had you bursting in ecstasy. 

His lips lightly trail up and down the shell of your ear, removing his hand from your throat to grip at your jaw and tilt your face up at him. Faces so close, your noses brush, breaths intermingling. He pulls back his head, looking down at you as the corner of his lip lifts in smirk just as he shoves his other hand under the band of your underwear. Long, warm fingers softly run over your lips, massaging gentle circles into them. 

Licking his luscious lips, he hisses when one his fingers swipes between your lips. “Fuck,” he groans, biting his thick lip. “You’re this wet from a few words... '' A finger swirling around your opening, spreading your juices. The digit slides up to your sensitive nub, giving it the same attention. Pressing down with a bit of pressure, rolling it around making you arch your back, eyes clenching. 

You feel Jin nudge your nose with his own, brushing his lips against yours. Eyes fluttering open, they meet his dark eyes, completely blow black from his arousal. Pink muscle slipping from his lips, sliding across yours teasingly while his hips slowly press against yours to get a bit of relief as your hands grip the towel resting over his flexing thighs. Your lips part, inviting his devilish tongue in, the prelude of you parting your legs for his length. 

Taking the invitation, Jin shoves his tongue into your awaiting mouth. The moist muscle wrestling with yours as you kiss each other desperately. Both of you beyond the point of slow and steady when he shoves two digits into your core, his mouth trapping the groan he rips out of you. With no patience, the digits set a steady pace as his palm presses into your clit. Your hips buck at the sudden onslaught of stimulation. Your lips crash against each other like waves, teeth clacking as you try to get closer. 

He pulls back from the kiss provoking a whine from you. His jaw clenches as his fingers fuck into your hole, scissoring your walls, preparing you for him. You press your ass into him, feeling how hard he is, your walls quiver around his fingers. 

“No more,” you moan quietly. 

“What’s wrong, baby? Too much?” he lazily grins down at you, grinding the palm of his palm down on your nub.

Your eyebrows pinch at the stimulation, lips parting without a sound escaping before you’re able to gather your senses again. “No… no more foreplay.” Your lusty gaze meets his, your chest heaving as you try to even it out. “I want you inside me now,” reaffirming how it was only him you wanted. 

He pulls you into a hard kiss, pulling his hand out of your pants. Releasing your jaw, he yanks your pants and underwear down your thighs. Lifting your legs to kick them off, he rotates your bodies to walk you back into the bed, nearly ripping your shirt off you. You almost fall as your legs hit the bed, ripping his lips from yours. You both gasp for air as you stare at each other for a moment. 

His hand slides into your hair, scratching soothingly at your scalp before gripping it in a firm hold. Turning your face to the side, he leans in, licking a stripe up your neck to your ear. He takes the lobe of your ear between his teeth teasingly tugging it. Pressing a kiss to the shell of your ear, he nuzzles the hair behind it, breath tickling your ear pleasurably.

“Turn around. I want you bent over this bed, with your ass in the air for me. I want to see how your cunt weeps for me.” 

His words strike a hard cord within you, goosebumps appearing all over your flesh. You bite your lip, turning your body away from him and move into position. Feeling it wasn’t enough, he uses the grip on your strands to push you down further into the comforter, back completely arched now. 

Strands slipping between his fingers as he removes his hand, the other palms your ass cheek, pulling it to the side to look at your core. The groan that leaves him makes you clench. 

“Look how pretty… so wet and inviting. Look how your hole clenches, begging for my dick.” His other hand grabs onto the opposite cheek, pulling it away to open you even more to him. Pressing his hips to yours, he slots his length against your soaked lips. Slowly rubbing his member up and down, lubricating himself with your slick.

Every word makes you clench, the desire raging inside you growing desperate for him to fill you. Every throb of the thick shaft almost makes you delirious. 

Eyes previously squeezed shut flutter open, as your hands grip the comforter. A childish print catches your attention, suddenly the realization hits you. You’re back at your childhood home, in a house full of relatives. You weren’t alone in this house, and they weren’t asleep. Now that you had awareness, you could hear them beyond the door chattering. You had let lust get away with you. 

“Jin wait…” you hiss.

He stops all movement, one of hands gently petting your lower back. “Did I hurt you? Are you okay?” worry slipping into his words.

“No no. You didn’t hurt me. I just… I realized we’re not alone. We can’t do this here. My family is right out there,” you explain in a loud whisper, trying to look at him over your shoulder.

Silence reigns for a moment.

“So?” Jin's single word pierces the quiet.

“What?” you question, baffled by his nonchalance.

“What does that matter?” He shifts before pressing against you, the head of his cock prodding at your bud. He leans over your back, hands resting on your hips. “It doesn’t bother me, and it never has to you either. You never complain when I fuck you in my office, surrounded by all of our coworkers... our employees.” 

You swallow hard.

“In fact, you love initiating it. Teasing me in front of them, riling me up.” His hips thrust, length slipping between your lower lips, cushioned comfortably between them.

“T-that’s different.” you try to argue, but his throbbing manhood against you makes it hard. “Thi-this is my family… who I haven't seen in a long time. I can’t h-have them thinking badly of me.”

He’s quiet but for a minute before wrapping a hand around your mouth. “Then you better keep quiet,” is the quick warning he hisses in your ear as he pushes his length into you.

His hand traps the sound of your yelp. Your walls stretch deliciously but sting at his abrupt intrusion as he buries himself completely. He doesn’t move, allowing you to adjust, placing gentle kisses over your shoulder. His hand massages circles into your hip. 

Unable to verbally notify him it was okay to move, you opt for using your hips as you push back against him. Getting the hint, his hips pull back slowly before pushing back in at the same agonizingly passive pace. Lips still pressing kisses to your soft skin, hips lazily snapping into you . 

You whine, wanting more. 

“Needy already,” he chuckles and places one last kiss to your flesh before standing to his full height. Both hands now resting on your hips, pulling you back so he can grind himself inside your spongy walls. “Remember, not a sound. Your family is out there.”

What a jackass, you can’t help but think as you glare back at him, that damn cocky smile on his lips. You open your mouth to retort but it quickly snaps shut as he pulls back and snaps back in. The action was so hard, you almost thought he’d speared straight into your stomach. 

He slides out slowly again before plunging roughly back in. Filling you so completely, each hard impale burning pleasurably. Hands sliding to push your cheeks apart, he watches himself disappear between your folds as he sets a steady pace. 

The sound of your sex gushing with each probe of his shaft makes you grow wetter. Slick running down the inside of your thighs, as he pushes it out of you, clit pulsing with each invasion. 

It isn’t long before he angles his hips, in search of that spot he enjoys so much. It’s with one particular push that he finds it, as you lifted onto your toes and arched your back signaling him. A whine trapped behind teeth that bite down hard on your lips as he hits it again is all the confirmation he needs.

He sets about burrowing into you, head meeting that patch of spongy tissue over and over;building an inferno in the pit of your stomach with each visit. Your legs begin to tremble as you part your lips. 

“H-harder, please,” you quietly moan, almost breathless, trying to keep your volume down. 

“Whatever my baby wants, she gets.” His thrusts turn piercing. Hips smacking into yours hard, hands gripping you bruisingly hard. Over the smacks of your hips that filled the room, you can hear him groan softly with each shove. It made you clench around him, causing his hips to stutter briefly before returning to their bruising pace.

“Your pussy is so hot and wet. You're soaking my thighs baby,” he groans out, smacking into you harder. “Squeezing me so tight, begging me to fuck you harder.” 

A smack to your behind pulls a yelp from you. Panicking, you bring a hand to cover your mouth, hoping no one heard that. Worry niggling at you again before it’s promptly fucked right out of you by Jin's hips speeding up their brutal pace. 

“I wish I could hear you baby,” he rasps, sounding just as breathless as you are. “I want to hear you moan for me… begging to cum… I want to hear you scream my name.”

You feel the bed dip beside you, as he places a foot down. Elevating his leg, he creates a new angle to spear your core. Hands finding purchase above your hips, he anchors his hold, hips pulled back. 

“Remember… we don't want to get found out.”

With those words he pushes into you quickly and roughly. Each thrust drags you to and fro on the bed, rubbing your nipples raw against the material. His hips unrelenting in their assault of you. Pistoning deep, making sure to brush your g-spot with each insertion. 

His actions have you crying into the comforter, as it catches and cushions your cries, groans and mantras of his name. Hands clenching the material so tight, your fingers were going numb. You wanted to fuck back into him, but his tight grip on you and his brutal pace allowed no room to. 

“Fuck your so good to me. Your pussy is so perfect. So tight and warm. And it's. Only. Mine.” Accentuating each word with a sharp thrust. Laying his full claim to your core.

Fingers wrapping in your tangled strands, he guides you to stand, back leaning against his chest as the other hand grips your throat, fingers pressing down on your pressure points. The pressure fueling the fire of your impending orgasm, as the new angle only adds fuel to the already roaring wildfire. 

“Who does your cunt belong to?” he growls into your ear.

You hardly breath, nevermind gracing him with an answer. But as he adds pressure to your throat, you gasp out, “You.”

“That’s right,” he moans, self-satisfied, slowing his pace to grind into you slow and deep. “Mine. Only mine to ruin. Only mine to paint with my cum.” 

His words hit you hard, as you clench hard around him, groaning in sync with him as waves pulse through you. You were so close, you knew he could tell as the fingers previously tangled in your hair, now pressed circles into the bundle of nerves buried in your folds. 

You throw your head back, gasps of air leaving your parted lips. Your nails dig into the sweaty flesh of his thighs, hips bucking back into his. You try your hardest to not be too loud, as your face twists into nothing but pure pleasure. 

You were so close, so close you were quietly pleading Jin to cum. His name becomes a prayer on your lips, that fuels his own need. The sound of his name desperately falling from your lips makes him almost feral in the way he fucks you. Plunging into you so hard and fast, that the unmistakable sounds of flesh slapping flesh could be heard through the room, the sound accompanied by the filthy sounds of your dripping arousal. 

A guttural moan leaves your lips, as he pinches your bud, which he promptly cuts off by slotting his mouth over yours. Kissing you greedly, wanting to swallow every wanton sound.

The next moment, a fire spreads through your veins, as your whole body seizes at the arrival of your orgasm. Loud moans of pleasure, swallowed as promised by Jin's mouth as he kisses you sloppily. Your hips buck into his digits as they continue to stimulate your nub. 

Jin’s hips continue to push through your ever tightening walls and begin to stutter in their assault, just before he pushes deep inside as you feel him paint your walls. Now it’s your turn to ingest all the sounds of his orgasm. The hand around your throat tightens, making you light headed with pleasure, as his other hand over stimulates your nub, thighs tightening to stop him. 

Milking himself dry, he soon slows down and comes to a complete stop. Pulling your lips apart, a string of saliva keeps your bruised lips connected. The grip around your hips sustains your standing position, as your legs feel weak post orgasm. 

Jin’s ever softening length, slips out of you making you both shiver. Gentle as he could be, he guides you to take a seat on the bed. 

“Are you okay? Did I hurt you at all?” He looks you over, checking for any bruises from his manhandling.

This is what made him such an amazing lover. How caring he is about his partner after making love to them. It was always so fascinating to see him turn from domineering to self-effacing. Always taking care to ask how you felt after, soothing any places he may have gone too far and holding you gently in his arms. 

It simply warms your heart, as you smile up at his broad shouldered form standing before you. Placing a hand over the one he’d placed on your cheek and giving it a reassuring squeeze, you say, “I’m fine, Jin. I always am when I'm with you,” 

He beams down at you just before he places a kiss lovingly on your forehead. Thumb caressing your cheek, resting his forehead against yours. A warmth radiating from his eyes as he traps you in his gaze. 

“I love you.”

Your heart skips a beat at the words said so simply, stomach a buzz with a storm of bees. You would never tire of hearing him say them to you, always feeling like the first time he’d confessed the depth of his feelings. 

“I love you more,” you return, biting your lip giddily. 

A smile reaches his eyes, as he grins widely. His cheeks puff up, giving him the look of an adorable squirrel storing acorns. His lips press to yours, no movement necessary. Just a simple press, feeling more intimate than what you had previously been engaged in. 

He pulls back with a questioning look in his eyes, when he feels you shiver, almost spilling from his lips before you speak.

“Sorry, um just felt it slipping out of me,” you murmur, embarrassed, eyes not meeting his.

He chuckles, wide shoulders shaking in his mirth. Kissing you again he mutters, “You’re so cute sometimes.” 

Slipping an arm around your back and one beneath your knees, he lifts you effortlessly. You wrap your arms around his neck, looking at him in confusion. He ignores your inquisitive eyes, making his way to the door he’d left not long before that led to your en suite bathroom.

“I think we should take a shower.”

“You just had a shower.”

“Yes, but after working up a sweat I need another, and together we can help preserve water.”

You roll your eyes, skeptical of him. “Sure, but no funny business!”

“No promises.”

You disappear into the bathroom with you protesting and Jin laughing.

You had been back home for a couple of days, and it had been enjoyable to say the least. Getting settled in, introducing Jin to more of your family that stopped by when they heard about your return, catching up with the extended family, and even some of your friends who still lived in town. 

Jin seemed happy to be able to relax, your family welcoming him completely. He had admitted to you how much he appreciated being welcomed with open arms. He loved how large your family was, and the affection they shared so easily, compared to his small family of just his parents and himself. 

You knew he also loved that they ate up his terrible jokes like hotcakes. Not to mention how your mother seemed to love cooking him meals, always blushing when he praised the meals and asking for seconds. It was also obvious how much your family stroked his ego when they complimented his looks. You knew this would be bad once the time came for you to go back to your shared home, ego so inflated you weren’t sure you’d be able to fit in the car with him. But you’d be lying if you said you weren’t content at how things had turned out. 

You had only gone out once since arriving, taking a stroll through the new town center, hands held in his as he listened attentively to you recount tales of your childhood. Every so often you’d stop and point out a location, describing what once took up residence in the spot of a newly erected business or apartment complex. You had stayed out till the sun had begun to make its descent, ice creams in hand as you walked back to your home.

It was that same evening upon returning home to have dinner with your family—filling your family in on your adventures—that your mother informed you about the state of your favorite place growing up. Feeling your heart drop, as she described it in more detail. When you had made your way to your room afterwards, Jin had stopped you and asked you if you wanted to visit the location. After hearing your mother’s disheartening news you weren’t sure, but Jin simply encouraged you to go see it with your own eyes.

That’s how you now found yourself tripping over a root as you trekked through the small forest not far from your parent’s home. A large hand steadying you before you eat dirt, you murmur a thank you before continuing on your way. It’s not long before you reach a clearing, that only cements your mother’s words as true. Your sad eyes survey the once beautiful lake, now nothing but a public garbage disposal. The water was murky, filled with so much debris and garbage it looked like sludge. The land surrounding the water was no better. The once pristine swimming hole was now a small landfill. 

Placing a hand on your shoulder, you feel Jin give you a comforting squeeze. You rest your hand over his, intertwining your fingers, you sigh defeatedly, turning to bury your face in his chest. Wrapping his arms around you, he kisses the crown of your head and lays his cheek on it. The two of you bathe in the silence, all signs of forest life now muted in the wake of the destruction of their home. You doubted anyone even still lived here, the land so completely uninhabitable. 

“This place used to be so beautiful,” you muse dejectedly, laying your cheek over his heart. “So full of life…”

Jin glides his fingers through your hair, listening closely.

“As a kid, I used to think this was the secret home of a fairy kingdom. Where a kind prince ruled over his subjects with a gentle fist. Adding color, and brilliance to nature here. At least, that’s the story my mother would tell,” you regale him, hands clutching his thin shirt. 

“When she would bring my siblings and I here, and the water shimmered so beautifully, she’d say it was the fairy prince welcoming us to play in his kingdom. And when we’d visit in the evening once the sun had dipped down, balls of blinking lights dancing through the cool air, she’d say they were the fairies dancing in glee at our visit.”

You could feel tears form behind your lash line, tilting your head up as to not let them fall. You feel childish speaking of fairy tales to your fiancé, growing upset to the point you’re about to cry over it. Yet you couldn’t help yourself. This place was such a large part of your childhood, and if you were honest with yourself, it was the place you had been most anxious to visit. To see it destroyed to this degree broke your heart. 

Sensing the dive in your emotions, Jin pulls back, taking your face in his hands, eyes roaming over your face in sympathy. “Don’t cry, sweetheart. Maybe we can do something.”

You tilt your head, wondering what he could mean. Blinking up at him, wet lashes sticking together. “What do you mean?” 

Placidly smiling down at you, his thumb wipes away the stray tears beneath your eyes. “I don’t know, maybe we could try to clean up. Try to restore it to its former glory,” he shrugs, shoving his hands in his pockets, eyes sweeping the clearing. 

You stupidly blink at him, mouth slightly ajar. Your heart begins to swell with so much affection that it feels as if it could pop out of your chest. The waterworks come back full force, lips trembling with emotion. 

Noticing your silence he glances back to you, eyes widening with panic, hands hovering in front of him in uncertainty. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong? Was it something I said?” 

Shaking your head, you throw your arms around him. Burrowing your face into his neck, standing on your tiptoes. “I love you so much,” you tearfully declare. 

He returns your hold, lifting you up, an affectionate smile pulling at his plump lips. “What’s all this for, you big softie?” he teasingly murmurs.

“I just… I just feel so lucky to be with you.” You can’t help the emotions pouring out of you, unable to keep them inside when it comes to him. You weren’t sure what you had done in this life to deserve him, but you swore to whatever entity was out there that you would prove yourself worthy of him. For all the days you were gifted with being by his side, you would be the best partner possible. 

“Well you are pretty blessed to look upon this handsome face every day.” 

You smack his arm, body shaking with restrained laughter. “You’re incorrigible!” you exclaim, barely containing the joy glowing on your face. 

Windshield wiper screeches fill the air, as he backs away from you rubbing at the spot you’d hit. His laugh was something uniquely him that always called attention. No matter whether you found it odd, or not, it always made you join him. It was a trait you found completely endearing.

Your laughs begin to quiet, a few residual chuckles escaping you. You look at each other, affection and mirth mirroring one another. 

“Did you really mean it?”

He hums questioningly, raising his brows.

“About trying to clean up here?” 

“Of course, I do,” he nods. “We’ve still got a few more days left here. We can go buy industrial trash bags, maybe some equipment to help us pick up the garbage, and we’ll definitely need some protection,” he continues to list off.

A smile growing on your own lips, you hug his arm, squirming against him excitedly. “Okay! Let’s do it!”

“Yeah?” he questions, amused at your behavior. You nod enthusiastically and chuckle, beginning to walk off. “Well, what are we waiting for? No time like the present right?”

You agree, a pep to your step excitedly discussing the possibility of hopefully saving a part of your childhood.

“It’s so hot!” you whine, stretching your aching back as you wipe the sweat from your forehead. You roll your neck, trying to loosen your tense muscles from being hunched over with the trash pick-up stick. 

Since your first visit to the Fae Kingdom, which you had taken to calling it affectionately, you had spent the last few days clearing the area around the body of sludge. It was hard labor and the two of you always arrived home sorely exhausted, passing out as soon as your bodies hit the bed. On a couple of occasions, your siblings joined you carrying some of the workload. 

Thanks to their help and the determination to see things through, you were actually able to now see the floor of the hidden glade. There wasn’t much trash left, so you were currently taking care of what was left while Jin was using a pool skimmer to collect the junk in the lake. 

It was a particularly sunny, and humid day. The air felt incredibly thick with moisture, making it a bit harder to breathe. Not to mention how you were sweating buckets. You had both shed some layers, hating how uncomfortable it felt to have the fabric sticking to your skin. 

After complaining about the heat, you toss your stick on the ground, making your way over to a small blanket you laid out to take breaks. Lowering onto your knees, you grab a bottle of water and take a generous gulp. The cool liquid soothes your rising body temperature. Capping the bottle, you roll it on your forehead, trying to cool yourself down. 

Rolling back on your knees, you land with a soft thud on your behind, enjoying the shade the tall trees provided. Taking a deep breath, you release it slowly before choking on it. Coughing violently, as your eyes almost bug out of your head. 

Standing about ten feet in front of you, by the edge of the water was a broad shouldered god. Muscles flexing beneath lightly sun kissed skin, beads of sweat rolling down his back, burly arms bulging with each bend as he lifts the skimmer out of the water. 

How in the hell was this herculean man real? 

You sigh in awe, before looking up, hands clasped together as you whisper a thank you up above. 

“What are you doing?”

You jump as his voice breaks the quiet atmosphere. Your eyes hastily fall on him as you reply in a high pitch, “Nothing!” Your cheeks begin to warm, staining with embarrassment.

His brows pinch, not fully believing you. Shaking his head, he turns to shake the skimmer into a large black bag. Setting it to the side, he swipes sweat off his brow. He turns and makes his way to you, pulling the work gloves off his large hands, stuffing them in the back pocket of his dark jeans. Coming to a stop at the edge of the blanket, he crouches down reaching his hand out for a drink. 

Leaning back, you pull a cool bottle out of the cooler and hand it to him. You watch as he takes a large swig, before swiftly emptying the rest over his head. Brushing his hair back, his dark eyes rest on you. One corner of his plush lips pulls up at the unhidden admiration on your face. 

“Come here.” He crooks a finger, signalling you closer. 

You blink, lifting up and shuffling on your knees over to him. His hand locks behind your neck pulling you in to steal a kiss, lips brushing yours affectionately. One of your hands finds purchase on a burly shoulder to steady yourself. He pulls back, placing a succession of quick pecks over your pouting lips, pulling giggles out of you.

“I’m sorry. I suddenly realized I hadn't kissed the most beautiful woman today. It had to be quickly amended.”

A large grin breaks over your face at his cheesy words. 

“You’re such a charmer, Mr. Kim.”

His eyes flash, tongue swiping over his thick lower lip. “Am I? Does that mean I can charm you out of these?” he teases, fingers tugging at your shorts. 

You swallow hard, painfully aware of the  warm thrum between your thighs. Biting your lip, a protest on the tip of your tongue threatens to expose the unabashed yearning of your heat.

Before you can utter a word, his lips are yours again. The hand behind your neck pulls you closer as he leans over you. A hand on your waist guides you to lie on the blanketed ground, his knee nudging your legs apart to settle between them comfortably. He kisses you languishly, hand releasing your soft strands and sliding to your cheek as he rests his weight on the arm placed by your head. Hips grinding in lazy circles against your mound, drawing a quiet moan. 

Suffice to say all thoughts of the heat are replaced by a different kind of heat as your hands slide up the plane of muscles you had been admiring not long ago. You feel every flex of his back as his hips continue their languorous movements. You bend your knees, widening the space for him invitingly. 

It’s as his hand descends to take hold of your left breast that you hear something in the distance. You ignore it thinking maybe it was a rustling branch or bush. Giving your breast a squeeze, Jin spreads even more heat to your core, and just as you’re about to groan your breath hitches as the sounds are closer this time. 

“Jin! Sis! Are you guys here?”

Your eyes bug open, staring into Jin's equally stunned gaze before you both spring apart. A tangle of limbs, wrestling to separate from each other. It’s when you’re finally sitting in your own personal spaces that you notice a hitch in your situation. Jin’s erection was pitching a lovely tent in his semi loose jeans. His hands covered it, a pained look on his face as he cursed. Hearing the crunch of leaves close by springs you into action just as your siblings walk out of the tree line. 

“Oh there you guys are,” the oldest declares, pointing you out to the others.

You smile over at them innocently from your position between Jin's legs, back resting against his naked chest, his arms resting around your waist. You both wave at them, thanking powers at be for the humidity today helping to disguise your flushed skin. 

“Oh, hey! We didn’t know you guys were coming by today.” Jin greets nonchalantly, raising an arm to wave at them.

“Well,” the youngest speaks up this time, hand rubbing the back of their neck, ”we weren’t going to but when we realized what the weather was like out, we couldn’t let you guys deal with it all alone.”

You can’t help but smile at them in appreciation. “Thank you guys, you really didn’t have to.”

“This is our waterhole, we have to help too,” your middle sibling declares, pounding a fist into their chest dramatically. 

You roll your eyes as they grin at you.

“Well let’s get to it, fam!” cheers the youngest.

“We’ll join you in a moment, just taking a short break,” you inform them.

“No worries, take your time. This heat is no joke.” They wave you off as they set up their equipment and bags.

You realise a sigh, reiterating your thanks as they go about cleaning. You watch them a moment before twisting your head to the side. “You wanna get a hold on yourself now?” you hiss over your shoulder. Jin’s prominent erection poking at your back, showing no signs of deflating any time soon. 

He wraps his arms around you pulling closer. “I can’t help it, not when that perfect ass keeps pushing back on me.” he whispers into your ear. “And did you know your shoulders turn me on too? They’re so perfect for grabbing onto when I fuck into you from be-”

A yelp of pain gets your sibling’s attention, heads swiveling to look over you guys. Jin folded over, hand clutching at his right side where you’d elbowed him. 

“He’s got a stitch in his side from cleaning out the lake. Sorry to scare you guys,” you give as an explanation, waving off their concerned gazes. Feeling bad, your oldest sibling decides to take over lake duty, telling you guys to take your time resting. 

You nod gratefully, before turning your attention back to the frustratingly handsome man behind you. “Get a hold of yourself! Or you won’t be touching me for the next week!”

He looks at you in indignation, sputtering to find a response. “You can’t do that! We leave in a few days! We can finally go back to loud unfiltered sex!” 

You twist around and smack a hand over his mouth. “I’m not kidding! Get it together, my siblings are here,” your eyes blazing with intent. 

He removes your hand as he clears his throat. A playful glint in his eyes before he opens his obnoxious mouth. “You know you’re hot when you’re angry?” he manages before breaking out into his signature high pitched laugh. 

Face flushing in annoyance, you smack his bare arm. “Fine! Good luck hiding it on your own!” you fume, leaning forward to push yourself up. 

You don’t get far, as he cages you quickly with his arms, pulling you back against him, a panicked no permeating the humid air. You huff, as you feel the wind almost knock out of you at the force he uses to pull you back into place. 

“Well are you gonna behave?” an unsaid ultimatum weaved into the question.

“Ah! It’s not my fault you’re so attractive! How can you blame me like this!” he continues to whine, like a petulant child not allowed to play with their favorite toy. 

The pair of you continue to bicker, as your siblings slave away in restoring the clearing. It’s not long before they grow hot, exhausted by the muggy air engulfing them. Their patience and kindness waning, complaints for you both to hurry and join them—which you promptly do, with bottles of water in hand to help them cool down. Your small group makes quick work of the left over trash, as Jin takes care of what’s left in the lake. 

The sun was just beginning it’s descent, stars just barely dotting across the darkening sky, when your small rag tag group finally finished; spent bodies leaning on each other, as weary eyes surveyed your hard work. It wasn’t what it once was, but it looked damn well on its way there and you couldn’t help the happy tears that brimmed your waterline. The arm around your shoulder gives you a quick squeeze, Jin's voice filling the air thanking everyone for their hard work.

The evening chill that cools your sweat soaked layers has the small group shivering. Giving the place one last sweep, you all agree to high tail it back for much needed showers and rest. 

Tomorrow would be your last full day there and you wanted to make sure of one last thing. You would be trying to find a way to purify the lake water. You had been doing research and had read about techniques aiming to bring a lake back to or closer to man-made undisturbed conditions. You had found a lake restoration company not far outside of the town. Jin had already agreed to accompany you, willing to help in any way possible as you brought it up before going to bed that night. You had happily accepted, beholden by the revival of the Fae Kingdom.

The night was comfortably warm, filled with happy chatter in the beautiful glade. Fairy lights lit the area in a soft glow as many visitors sat around the lake, eating meals they had just pulled off grills or brought with them from home. Small clusters of families or couples relaxed after a day of fun and thrills. 

Somewhere someone had brought a speaker, a soft pop melody permeating the air, as you quietly sing along to it, swaying in your fiance’s arms, his own angelic voice serenading you. Your family surrounded you, their loud boisterous laughs bringing you joy and comfort. 

It had been a year since your visit, a year of the lake restoration working its magic. A year of love and care for the watering hole, which was almost a mirror of its former glory. Beautiful shades of green once more filling in patches of the ground, all the colors of the rainbow blooming, giving the space vibrance and life. There were signs of life all around you as creatures began to inhabit the area once more. 

But the most amazing part is being able to witness the breathtaking globes of light that dance before your eyes. Soft, blinking lights that waltz around, unbothered by the visitors. The fairies had returned, they had come back home to their kingdom. 

“They’re happy.”

“Huh,” you ask dumbly, breaking out of your reverie.

“The fairies, they’re happy to see you,” he voices.

A tender smile rests on his lips when you turn to him. He remembered. The childish story you had told him. And it’s in that moment, with blinking lights reflecting around him that you come to a realization. 

“You’re the fairy prince. Well, you’re my real fairy prince,” you admit quietly.

He looks down at you, eyes searching yours before placing a kiss on the tip of your nose and pulling your back flush against him.

“I guess that makes you the future princess of the Fae Kingdom.”

You cling to his arms happily, taking in the gorgeous scenery before you. 

“Besides, it only makes sense that someone as good looking as me is royalty.”

“And there goes the moment,” you grumble as you leave the safe space of his arms to join your family in their merriment. 

“Hey! You know it’s true!” he exclaims, chasing after you, accompanied by a squeaking laugh.

[bees--in-my--bones]

Sunset

Character: Natasha x gn!Reader (please note I did write this with a female reader in mind, so I'm sorry if there are unintentional biases but there were no pronouns or indications of gender at all)

Note: soulmate AU where you can only see color when you look at your soulmate for the first time. i hate to admit it, but i did get this idea from tiktok.

Warnings: canon typical violence, angst, major character death, no happy ending

Word Count: 1,859

A/N: This is my first fic ever! I'm actually really proud of how it turned out and I hope you like it and stick around for more! :)

You had never seen your partner.

It was just protocol. The nature of the missions you two worked, it was safer if you couldn't identify each other.

You had been near her, of course, and heard her voice whispering to you in the train station or over the phone. But you had never once laid eyes on her.

You were an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D, and one of Natasha Romanoff's most important and most trusted contacts.

Over the years of working together, you two had become the closest of friends. Fury had no idea that you two were that close, but what Fury didn't know couldn’t hurt him. If it was any pair of spies operating at your level, a close personal relationship would be a problem, but you two were the best in your field, and more than capable of handling it.

It had taken a while for the two of you to talk, really talk, the extent of your interactions being whispered conversations back to back on a set of park benches, or a flash drive set subtly on a table next to an untouched coffee, but one day, probably the best day of your life, you had asked the question and she had answered.

Every phone call with her, you would ask the same question before hanging up.

"How are you doing, Nat?"

And every time, without fail, you would receive the same, gruff, "Fine."

She clearly wasn't one to talk about the touchy-feely stuff. Which was fine by you, you didn't open up often either, most spies you met didn't, but you still gave her that chance, every time.

Until one day, much to your surprise, she responded, "Not great."

It wasn't much, but it was something different. It was an invitation to keep talking. Containing your excitement at the change in conversation, you kept your voice steady. "What's the matter?"

She sighed, the sound crackling faintly over her phone's mic. "I'm back in a place I haven't been in for a long time."

You had no way of knowing exactly where she was- S.H.I.E.L.D took plenty of precautions to be sure of that- but you could make an educated guess. The information you had passed along to her a few days ago had been about a weapons smuggler currently in Russia.

"You know what?" she said, "I don't really want to talk about it. I'll check in with you when the mission's over."

"Natasha, wait!"

Silence from the other line, but she was still on the call.

"Let's just talk. About something else. I think we could both use some casual conversation."

She let out a small chuckle. "Sure, why not? This is a burner phone and I've got time to kill."

It was a bit awkward at first, but you soon fell into a natural conversation. That night you talked about many things. Small things, like favorite foods, and big things, like plans for the future if you ever left S.H.I.E.L.D.

That's when you learned that she couldn't see color.

You weren’t surprised. You couldn’t see color either. It wasn't uncommon for S.H.I.E.L.D to hire people who hadn't met their soulmate. It was a lonely job, and soulmates were a liability.

It was a small moment in your conversation and you continued talking about all sorts of other things late into the night.

Unfortunately, though, all good things must come to an end.

"I'll have to talk to you later, Nat. I've got a big job tomorrow I need to get ready for."

"Goodnight Y/N, and thank you."

"Let's make a habit out of this, okay?"

"Gotcha, Agent."

You smiled and hung up the phone.

From then on, you always lingered on calls. Never quite as long as that first call, but the two of you were quickly becoming each other's closest confidantes.

Soon you began talking in real life, too. You never turned to face each other, never broke that boundary, but you relished the feeling of her shoulder brushing yours as you watched the pigeons in a park.

You called each other before and after every job to check in on each other. You had drop spots outside of Fury's radar where you left each other small gifts. Your life was lonely and cold, but she gave your days warmth and light.

-----

Around a year and a half after your initial conversation, you met in a smokey French cafe, sitting in nearby booths.

“Nat.”

“Agent.”

“Whaddya got for me?”

“No intel on the current mission, but I’ve got news from HQ. Fury’s pulling us from the field.”

You felt your blood run cold. Spywork was dangerous, but it was what you knew. You were good at it. If you were fired, you would be thrown into suburbia with a fake name and fake past- maybe even fake memories, if Fury deemed you untrustworthy- and you would live the rest of your days out in the rat race.

And worst of all, you would live out the rest of your days without Natasha.

“What did we do?” you asked her, putting a massive amount of concentration into keeping your voice from betraying your panic.

“We did good,” she said, a smile in her voice. “We’ve been selected for an elite team to protect the entire world. You and I, Barton, and if we can convince them, Tony Stark, Steve Rodgers, and Bruce Banner.”

“That gamma radiation guy? Do we even know where he disappeared to?”

“We never lost tabs on him.”

You let out a sigh of relief. “You scared me, Nat. I thought Fury had benched us.”

She laughed. “No, we’re still in the game for now. And when Fury gives the word, we’ll head back to New York and hang out like normal people for a change.”

“That would be nice,” you said, your voice quiet.

You heard her move around a bit, then swear. “I have to run," she said. "If I don’t make this drop Fury'll kill me.”

“I’ll talk to you later Nat,” you said. “Hopefully face to face.”

You waited for a response, but heard only silence. You turned and her booth was empty, like she had never been there.

------

"Hey there, Agent," came her warm voice over the receiver. You couldn't help but smile, remembering how cold her voice had been when you had first been partnered together.

"Hey there, Black Widow," you said, using the alias that some younger agents had been whispering behind her back.

“Very funny,” she laughed, “but I’m no Tony Stark. I don’t need a fancy code name.”

“You never know,” you said, your voice still light and teasing. “We should probably both come up with some cool code names for that team Fury was talking about. I think Black Widow suits you.”

“Is that supposed to be an insult?”

“No, it means you’re badass. How did your drop go?”

“Good,” she said. “Pretty standard, didn’t run into any problems. How are things on your end?”

“Not bad. I’ve got one thing to finish up this evening, and then I should be good to go. I’ll meet you at the airport at around 5:45 tonight?”

“I’ll be waiting for you, Agent.”

“I’ll be there, Black Widow.”

-----

You snuck around the corner of the warehouse. It was supposed to be one guy. Take him out, take down the whole operation, but apparently, the whole operation was being run out of here. You glanced at your watch. 5:42. Shit. You were gonna miss your flight. A guard passed by, and you froze in place.

You thought he hadn't seen you, but suddenly the sound of his footsteps stopped, then became louder as he ran back towards you, brandishing a weapon. Ducking under him, you grabbed the gun and twisted it away from you, and knocked him over the head with your own pistol.

Suddenly, a loud sound blared over the intercom. Shit. He had sounded the alarm.

You grabbed his gun and made a break for it.

-----

Natasha glanced anxiously at her watch. 5:50.

She glanced around nervously. You hadn’t answered a single one of her calls. She picked up her phone and dialed Nick Fury’s number.

“Fury? Yeah, I know I’m supposed to be getting on a plane, but Y/N isn’t here. Yes, I tried calling. No, Y/N told me 5:45. A good agent is not late, and Y/N is the best agent I know. Where was the mission at? I’m going in. Fury! Tell me now or so help me God... Thank you, that wasn’t too hard, was it?”

She snapped her phone shut. You weren’t too far from where she was.

------

Natasha pulled up to a worn down warehouse with boarded on one side with a forest. Truck after truck pulled away from the building, and she grimaced as she realized what had happened. This was not a simple job like you had thought. Whatever operation you had infiltrated was now fleeing after being busted, and they were likely on shoot to kill orders.

Suddenly she saw you figure limping towards the woods, and before she even knew she had moved, she was racing towards you.

-----

Pain tore through you.

Your abdomen was on fire. You had been shot before, but this hurt. You struggled to get to the cover of the woods. Suddenly a firm hand was on you back, arms were cradling you, and lowering you down to the ground.

“Shh, don’t move,” came Natasha’s voice. “They aren’t worried about finding us, they’re too busy running.”

You looked into her face, making eye contact with your long-time partner for the first time ever, and the world exploded in color.

The grass and trees became vibrant with life, and you turned to look at the new world around you. When you turned back to look at Natasha, her eyes were filled with wonder.

“You hair…” you said weakly, your voice trailing off.

“They tell me it’s red,” she said, her voice wavering.

“Red,” you said, relishing the word on your lips, the feeling of knowing what it meant. “Red is my favorite.”

She smiled, but tears trailed down her face. “Shh, don’t talk. Save your energy, we’ll get you somewhere where they can fix you.”

Ignoring her, you shook your head. "I'm not gonna make it."

You reached up your hand to touch her face. She grabbed your hand and pressed it against her cheek. “I’m glad it was you Nat. I love you.”

“I love you too, Y/N”

She pressed a gentle kiss against your lips and cradled you against her chest.

“Look at the sky, Nat,” you said. “It’s beautiful.”

The sun was setting, and the myriad of brilliant colors spread over the horizon.

"As far as ways to go out," you said, "it could have been worse."

Nat said nothing, only held you tighter

The two of you sat like that until Natasha saw the sunset fade to black and white and the tears blurred her vision.

---------------

Thank you so much for reading! I really hope you liked it! @love8loki here's one of the reader death stories I was talking about. thanks for your advice lol

[skellebonez]

Prompt 8 with Wukong and MK? I love the Monkey Dad ok. (Love ur writing btw!!!)

HNG Thank you! And hell yeah, any excuse to write Dad Wukong is fantastic! I wasn’t sure what to write for a while, but then I remembered a certain something in the show and their banter in certain episodes and I got an idea and ran with it.

“Yeah, okay, but I’m cooler.” “You sure?”

MK practically jumped as he walked, giddy excitement permeating his entire being as he remembered who was following him. It had taken so many weeks of convincing, but he finally got Monkey King to agree to come to the city and just. Hang out for a few hours. And his timing in agreeing could not have been more perfect!

He wasn’t entirely sure if it was his well crafted and highly logical arguments or the barrage of puppy dog eyes that finally wore down the ancient being, but he would take what he could get. Because he desperately wanted to show Monkey King what even more months of hard work and negotiations had managed to finally produce.

The Monkey King was instantly recognizable, but only if you knew not to look for a monkey. He’d disguised himself as a human as much as he could with no fur in sight (though still the same hair) and he was dressed in pretty basic modern day attire (MK wondered if he was even comfortable wearing this, but Wukong had brushed it off with a “go big or stay home”). Though must like his other forms, his tail couldn’t exactly go away fully and needed to be tucked under the jacket he had tied around his waist and his eyes betrayed his signature color scheme with markings that looked like some very skillfully applied eyeliner. MK now wondered if his eyes always looked like that naturally, given he looked like he wore eyeliner all the time, or if Monkey King made it a point to just look nice for himself every day. He could always ask later.

“Ok, you are going to love this,” He said, pausing in front of the anti-gravity arcade to gesture at it. “Trust me, it’s like the bestest most awesomest thing ever!”

“You’ve been saying that for the last 15 minutes,” Wukong said with a smile, looking for all the world like a calm and confident man. But to MK, he looked… nervous. He wasn’t surprised. The Monkey King had spent most of his missing 500 years in near isolation on an island full of monkeys. People… wasn’t something he was used to again. Not yet.

“Yeah, it is, but you know,” He stopped, gesturing around them. “If you want maybe we could get something to eat or drink first? I mean, it’s not exactly going anywher-”

Wukong put a hand on MK’s shoulder, shaking his head. “I know what you’re trying to do, bud. And I appreciate it. But if you don’t get me in there now you’ll probably spend the rest of the day trying to get me more comfortable and you’ll never show me this ‘bestest most awesomest thing ever!’, ok?” His smile softened as he ruffled the younger’s hair. “C’mon, show me this thing already!”

There was a moment where MK paused, just thinking about what was happening. When they first started training Wukong was already an invader of personal space, yeah, but none of what he did felt really affectionate at all. Just like something a monkey would do. But the hair ruffling? That was a human thing. Monkey King was not doing that on instinct. Either he picked it up from watching human shows or he was making a point to do more human things when he interacted with MK.

And the Monkie Kid had noticed this before in other little things the ancient being had done over the course of their training, like he was acting like Tang or Pigsy now. And he appreciated it.

“OK! It’s right inside!” MK shouted, grabbing the sleeve on Wukong’s shirt and pulling him into the building. He ran along the front wall for only a moment until he reached a corner, standing to the side as he gestured with wide arms to a big bright banner above a shiny new arcade cabinet reading ‘Coming Soon: Monkie Kid Run!’

“You have a GAME!? Is that ME!?” Wukong couldn’t help his surprise, looking at the intricate design on the cabinet in awe. Right on the top of the front were clearly himself and MK on opposite sides of the title, their friends peppering the rest of the sides of the front surrounding the screen. Various demons, all recognizable, ran along the side in the same beautiful art work and… “Hold on… This is your art. MK, did you make this? Is this why you asked for my lawyer?”

“Yeah! Kinda,” MK puffed out his chest. “The company wanted to have the rights to make a game based on me and it took a lot of legal back and forth but I managed to get it worked out where they have the rights to the game but I own the trademarks and the art everything, except for yours you have that! And the others. And all the demons, I kinda had to get them to sign some paperwork and offer them royalties and the lawyer really handled that part but I’m surprised so many of them agreed to it and- NO, that’s not important!” He gestured to the cabinet again, smiling widely as he waved a swipe card in front of him. “The important thing is I have a special activation card to play whenever I want and I want you to be the first person who gets to play this and I want to play it with you!”

For a moment the Monkey King didn’t say anything. He just stared at the game and MK, eyes wide and shining and after a moment he finally ran a hand through his hair and let out a chuckle. “Kid, I don’t say this lightly. But I am so fucking proud of you right now. Let’s play this game.”

MK beamed, swiping the card as he initially went to stand in the player two slot before he felt Wukong grab his arms and pick him up and stand him in front of player one. “Oh no, nope, your game. You get to be player one.”

Unable to help the laugh that bubbled up, MK watched as Wukong studied the buttons in front of him. He knew that the monkey knew how to play video games, he had systems in his house to play his own, but given this was completely different from anything else he had ever played he would be understanding if it took him a round to get used to it. “You going to play as yourself?”

“OH yeah,” Wukong laughed, taking a moment to admire how he looked on screen. The kid’s art was good. Amazing even. He’d seen himself so many times in so many different media but this… this was different. This was personal. “I’m cool as hell.”

“Yeah, okay, but I’m cooler,” MK quipped back with a smirk as he selected himself.

“You sure?”

The mock offended gasp of his student made Wukong laugh loudly, almost drawing the attention of a few arcade patrons. “Oh, it is ON! Prepare to get MKOwned Dad!”

“Bring it on!”

MK definitely did not notice that. But Wukong did. Yeah. This was personal. Monkey King was sure this was his favorite. His son had made it after all.

[meggannn]

shepard/garrus?

oh boy, sorry for the late response! I always end up posting these things and then going to read/take a nap/play a game or something. anyway writing this up took two hours, i hope it is even slightly interesting to read. cut because this is looooooong

What made you ship it?

I think I was interested in this ship before I even played ME. I was just like “I know Shepard is a character and an alien named Garrus is a character, and people draw porn of them together.” because I think it’s reasonable to say it’s one of, if not the most, popular ship in the fandom, or at least in ME’s tumblr fandom? and the way people talked about it, I knew their tropes were #banter, #battle couple, #partnerships, and... and as we’ve learned from royai, I am a bit weak to those tropes (assuming I like both of the characters). the way people talked about them also from a “best friends” angle—which is sort of forced in-game in a way that seems strange to me now—was also a plus in its favor at the time. (if they get together, I do see their friendship/companionship, in whatever form, in some ways integral to their romance—unless you’re playing full far-right renegade who’s like a xenophobe and hate-fucking Garrus, I guess?—but Bioware also kind of shoehorned Garrus into that best-friend role and that’s a topic for another day.)

What are your favorite things about the ship?

(my friend will hit me if I say “partnerships” again) I’m gonna talk about the way I play my Shepard now, because so much is dependent on the unique Shepard. for Lydia’s journey over the series, I see a large part of her journey as basically a study of her (often self-inflicted) loneliness. and she never entirely breaks her habits of self-isolation, but the events of the series force her to be vulnerable in a way she would prefer not to be in front of a crew, or, y’know, ever. Garrus becomes an integral part of that story to help her break her out of these bad habits (all of the crew does, particularly also Ashley for my Shep), but to my eyes, the story of “Shepard and Garrus’s relationship” is also one of mutual respect, burden-sharing, and sanity and morality checks.

I don’t think of their “mentor” relationship in ME1 very often mostly because I don’t think it was done particularly well, but for all its faults, I do like how naturally the jump from “subordinate” in ME1 to “ally” in ME2 felt; once you meet Garrus on Omega you feel more on the same footing as two friends greeting each other because you’ve both recently been through trauma and the sight of a friendly face in a station full of hostiles is so unexpectedly welcome that it lets them both hope things will be okay for a minute. starting from that moment, Garrus becomes one of the few people who can see “under” her mask, I guess: partly because he’s one of the few combatants from the SR-1 who knows Shepard well and sees who she is both on the field and onboard the SR-2, with the ability to compare both to the times of “before you died”; partly because he has trauma response training and recognizes it in others even if he doesn’t in himself; partly because his loyal personality makes him sensitive to wonder how she’s dealing with being resurrected; and also partly because they’ve both gone through similar things. namely, getting your squad killed and blaming yourself for it, and it possibly being your fault (BioWare is inconsistent on what Shepard’s role was on Akuze, but in ME1 she has the chance to reply that she was responsible for getting them out safely, and failed).

necessity forces Shepard to adapt to things like being effectively forced to work for terrorists; being isolated from her support system; being resurrected and feeling like a stranger in her own body; later, getting decommissioned for making an incredibly difficult call to save the galaxy; watching your homeworld burn; being forced into a political role negotiating high stakes you don’t know how to play; being told you’re the spearhead of a galactic war; doing all of this without a full crew complement; the list goes on. those are all, on their own, incredibly isolating, traumatic experiences, and my Shepard’s not emotionally sane at the best of times. (emotionally stable, perhaps, only in the most literal of terms, at least on the surface. she’s like a rock when shit hits the fan. emotionally sane, no, for that reason and more.)

the tables have turned, and Garrus ends up becoming a large part of helping her regain agency in most if not all of those things: in ME2 he was a former crew member she trusted, and he was eager to work for her and be distracted from his failures on Omega. over in the battery, he is himself recovering from a major injury (like Shepard) and going through the aftermath of a bloodbath he feels responsible for (like Shepard), working on a crew that holds him at arm’s length, that he also... arguably... didn’t have much choice in joining (like Shepard—I’m assuming he wasn’t held hostage and joined voluntarily after waking up, but lbr this is unconfirmed). their reasons are different and varied, but they don’t realize until much later that they have found each other at the most opportune time, providing a sense of stability for each other, and also, frankly, sanity and morality checks.

in ME3, he steps into this role more fully because he’s become more disciplined, is doing work firmly in his wheelhouse, and paired up against Shepard struggling with their positions somewhat reversed from ME1: him more confident and her now completely out of her element, floundering with her place on a galactic scale. without Garrus—and Chakwas, and Joker, and Tali, and later the loyalty of the entire SR-2—the story of ME would be a tragedy, and it would end shortly in ME2; it’d be the story of how my Shepard slowly went insane being forced to fight boogeymen under a terrorist banner. Garrus isn’t, like, the keeper of her sanity, but their ability to check each other, and see themselves in the eyes of each other, provides stability and occasionally a bit of a wake-up call to both of them. when they’re both vulnerable, they both feel most seen, and most understood, by an alien that listens.

one angle of this ship that highly interests me at the moment, along with the above, is that while it’s not illegal for them to be together, it’s still... a really bad fucking idea lmao. (I could make the argument that it’s a bad idea for Shepard to be in any relationship with their crew but I think there are a few ships—Garrus, Tali, any Alliance crew at all—that realistically would be huge political clusterfucks.) so overcoming personal insecurity and fear of the unknown to acknowledge interest in each other, and the desire to become an item, getting roadblocked by a reality wake-up call with the fact that 1) she’s his boss, 2) Garrus comes from a society where station matters, like, sort of a lot and it even determines your job and how much legal power you have, 3) the potential political blowback (which would be ENORMOUS because lbr the hierarchy may not care about what turians do in off-hours but they WOULD care about the superior/subordinate thing, the human thing, the fact that they’re doing this while a war is going on. basically one of their best agents is on the Normandy to negotiate their interests and they’re basically at the whims of their relationship the whole time)... it’s a lot! all of that sort of makes it tragic, but I’m curious to see how they’d overcome it.

anyway, all of that is where I’m coming from when I think or write about this ship, but there’s a lot more I’m not mentioning here. there are a lot of juxtapositions that in my head that I’ve either added or extrapolated from canon that also interest me about this pairing. Garrus is a former cop, as is his father; Lydia is a poor kid who used to be in a gang out of necessity. Garrus is a turian with often traditionalist thinking; Shepard is a human who has much less sociopolitical power than him, even if she is his superior on the Normandy. both of them are roughly as old as the First Contact War, when their people were at each other’s throats not thirty years ago. Garrus idolizes Spectrehood while Lydia hates it, feeling it was forced on her. they can’t eat the same food. and yet despite all of that, and the fact that they need translators to communicate, they manage to understand each other when a lot of the world around them doesn’t.

god this is not even the full list of it. anyway I could go on but I’ll stop there lol.

Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?

oh jesus, so much. I’m a grouchy and picky shipper, be warned.

pining can always make my ships more interesting, and imo it’s a consistent part of any ship of Shepard’s, considering it’s wildly inappropriate and unprofessional for her to be fucking any subordinate, so I think more consideration could be given to shakarian in the “we shouldn’t be having a thing and oh also you’re an alien and I’m kind of scared of both your government and your body” angle! I hope to explore that a bit with a fic I’m writing (if I ever finish it, god).

I hate the flavor of fandom!shakarian where Shepard romanced Kaidan in ME1 then felt “betrayed” when he’s confused and hurt on Horizon, so she gets with Garrus as like... revenge? idk. and then Garrus usually develops this bias against Kaidan as a sort of author mouthpiece (which is inconsistent with his characterization cause Garrus is nothing but pleased to have Kaidan back on the SR-2 in ME3!) and takes up the anti-Kaidan crusade cause K ~questioned the commander~ (since when does Garrus fall over himself defending a superior from criticism?) like, idk. I think Garrus can be sensitive to the fact that that reuniting must’ve been painful for Shepard, but also be aware that it was also really painful for Kaidan because all of Kaidan’s complicated feelings about Shepard’s resurrection were, realistically, things Garrus should’ve felt too! this trope is very popular but just feels like manufactured drama for drama’s sake, idk, I’m also not big on love triangles so. I would much rather people just rescue Ashley on Virmire and avoid the whole thing rather than have previously-romanced Kaidan around in ME3 for the sole purpose of forcing him to watch Shepard/Garrus being happy together tbh.

I think full goody-goody paragon Shepard is too preachy to make a good partner for Garrus and full shoot-anyone-in-my-way renegade Shepard encourages and emboldens his worst tendencies (and Castis Vakarian is right to disapprove of them). most people end up playing some combination of both, or if they do settle in one camp or the other, usually there is some sense of realism where Shepard doesn’t play nice/naive or play mean all the time, so it’s rare I see either of those kinds of extreme Shepards depicted, but in general if there is a Shepard that is so far in one direction it seems illogical to me that they ever stay together.

I think wanting a mShep romance for Garrus is a pretty welcome idea in fandom, but adding onto that, I think Garrus should’ve been romanceable in ME3 for players who changed their minds on other romances or want to play slow-burn romances! we had it for Kaidan—and should’ve had it for Ash—so (pounds fist on desk) Garrus too imo!

I hate the canon get-together because Shepard walking into the battery and asking “do you want to fuck” feels very tailored to the players who want to romance Garrus, not to who Commander Shepard is, imo. it lacked all of the subtlety and depth of some other romances—until the scene of Garrus coming to her cabin with a wine bottle, at least, cause I do like that scene, but anyway, I dislike the actual get-together.

just in general, I’m a stick in the mud, so my favorite iteration of this ship is where Shepard is resolutely professional, and the challenge of it becomes him getting her to open up, not the other way around. like, I think on some level every iteration of Shepard is a bit of a lunatic/eccentric, because you have to be to do the things they do, but I like to see their flirting with less of her calling him “big guy” (not sure where that came from, is that in canon? I must’ve missed it, but personally I don’t like it) and more of Garrus making wisecracks in the canteen while he’s talking to Joker, but he’s looking at her out of the corner of his eyes and he really said his joke with the aim of making her laugh, and as she’s reading her datapad she hears him, and even when she wants to chuckle she stops himself and just smirks cause she doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction of a laugh, but he sees her lips twitch and feels his heart flutter. that. I want more of that.

oh lastly, I hate “Shepard takes Vakarian clan markings” in any iteration. there is no canon relation to turians being poc—in fact I’d argue they have sociopolitical privilege real-world bipoc do not—but the concept of social face markings, face tattoos, etc., is rooted in non-white cultures and with the fact that 1) turians had a literal civil war over the territories those markings represent, 2) we don’t even know if marriage is how markings are shared or if non-turians are ever invited to wear them in the first place, 3) most of the art of this trend, lbr, is of mostly white Shepards in wedding dresses and blue face paint... all that combined just makes me frown and scroll faster every time I see it. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a bipoc Shepard with Vakarian face markings in fic/art, and that to me is very telling (not because they should have them, but because bipoc fans who make bipoc Shepards usually recognize when a racially-coded trope is uhhhhh not so great to appropriate for someone not of that group).

[notyetneedcoffee]

Soul Seer, pt. 15

Loki Master List

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Warnings: just fluff!

Author’s Note: Takes place right after Avengers 1, with time travel elements and hints of Infinity Wars. Does NOT follow cannon after Avengers.

 Your fingers trailed along the steel frame of the wall of windows lining the walkway. Outside the sun gave the illusion of warmth, even though you knew it was cold. For the moment you aimlessly wondered, having free time before meeting with Steve and Natasha. You’d begun learning to fight a few months back.

Since staying at the Compound, Loki spent most of his days working with Banner, occasionally meeting over video conference in disguise with the other members of the worldwide team Stark put together to plan the energy migration. There was a lot of work to be done, and it needed to happen at human pace… or at least a Stark and Banner pace… because Loki was supposed to be dead.

A flash startled you from your musings. Out in the lawn now stood Thor, looking serious. His eyes moved quickly about, and when they landed on you a bright smile lit his face. Odd, you thought the windows were solid black from the outside.

Thor pointed to the end of the building. You knew a door led outside there, so you began to walk in that direction. His long strides allowed him to be inside and climbing the open stairs to the second floor. His booming voice echoed down the hall as soon as he saw you.

“Ah! Lady Y/N!” He smiled. “How fare you?”

“Well,” You accepted his warm hug. “I’m doing well here.”

“And my brother?”

“Way better than I ever would have thought.” Steve Rogers’ voice interjected from the stairs. “When did you get here?”

“Just now.” The two shared a back slapping greeting.

“Come on down,” Steve motioned to the elevator with a tilt of his head.

The three of you descended to the lower laboratories of the complex. You could see Bruce leaning against a work table, one arm wrapped around his middle and the other hand rubbing his forehead. Loki paced the room talking animatedly with his hands.

He wore your favorite dark green silk shirt. It always made you want to rub against him. You paused at the door, admiring his graceful strides. Bruce must have thought your hesitation was something else, because he waved you in and met you at the glass sliding door.

“We’re just on audio.” He spoke quietly.

Loki argued with someone on the line about power consumption. His voice, not his own, sounded higher and with a distinct eastern seaboard accent. “I can assure you, Mr. Archer, this solution is not a temporary one. The need for your power plants to run on fossils will be forever obsolete.”

“If you think we’re going to leave our shareholders hanging while…” The anger in the man’s voice was unmistakable.

“This guy just won’t buy in.” Bruce rolled his eyes.

Loki saw you and waved you closer. Your arms automatically slid around his waist as his right arm pulled you closer. His body language looked calm and relaxed. He felt calm and relaxed to you. However, his voice held an all to human tension when he spoke. “I don’t want to call in the Council, Mr. Archer.”

This set the man off again. Loki just grinned.

“I’ll be calling the Secretary of Energy and Senator Rowlins about this.”

“Please do.” Loki replied. “Let them explain it you. You need to remember we’re offering this five year transition period and incentive package so your shareholders won’t unduly suffer. But if you refuse to adapt your plant to the new technology obtained from the alien research, or some other form of renewable energy, you’ll just be forced out of the game.”

“Do not dictate to me, young man!”

“No, I’m just pointing out your choices. Adapt or die, that’s the way of things. You’re being offered good recompence and decent amount of time. The Council could just release this technology tomorrow. What would that do you shareholdings?” Loki grinned.

You absently rubbed you fingers over his silk clad stomach. He loved this, upsetting these people’s world order, causing chaos in their shelter selfish worlds. It fed his mischievous nature.

“You’ll be hear from our lawyers!”

“Can’t wait.” Loki touched a button, ending the call. He pressed his lips to your forehead. “Miss me, my pet?”

“Always.” You grinned.

Thor and Steve watched the two of you from the hall. Cap leaned a little closer, whispering. “I think he really likes making all these world industry leaders dance.”

“What is the Midgardian saying? He’s using his powers for good?” Thor whispered back.

Steve chuckled. “I s’pose.”

“I never thought I would see him so calm.” Thor mused.

“Oh, he gets in a rage, gets frustrated.” Steve buried his hands in his pockets. “But it blows over, and he keeps his word, and so long as she’s safe… that keeps him… balanced.”

Thor nodded, lifting a hand when Loki’s eyes turned to him. A frown crossed the darker brother’s face. He pulled away from you and walked out to the hall. You followed.

“Thor.”

“Brother.”

They stared at one another. Finally, you broke the silence. “What brings you around? Everything okay? Or is this just a social visit.”  

“Father asked me to come.” You felt Loki tense, but gave no indication as Thor continued. “Heimdall has been keeping his eyes on you and reporting on your activities.”

“If Heimdall is watching, then why send you?” He snapped.

“Loki.” You frowned, looking up at him. “Did you mean that to be as rude as it sounded?”

Thor’s brow arched in surprise. Steve bit his lip to hold back a grin, he learned chuckling at the way you corrected Loki was disastrous for everyone.

Loki looked down at your scowl and blew out air through his nose. “It’s old habits, I suppose.” He turned his eyes back to Thor, rewording his question. “So, what is it that Father wants?”

Though not an apology, the God of Thunder could scarcely believe his brother allowed you to admonish him, much less that he would heed your words. He knew the two of you shared a bond, knew that you’d touched each other’s minds. But, he could feel this was different.

“Perhaps we should discuss this in private.” Thor began to venture.

“You might as well spit it out, brother.” Loki rolled his eyes. “I’m not granted anything as privileged as privacy here.” Then he smirked. “Besides, there is no one in this company who would betray a trust.”

Thor crossed his arms and shrugged. “Father sent me, but it was a mother’s bidding.”

“What of mother?” Loki became instantly more in tune. You knew how he felt for her, knew how he missed her.

“She says something rare has occurred, says she can feel it in her magic.” Thor gave a lopsided grin. “Now that I’m here, I think she’s right.”

“What? Dammit, get to the point!”

“She says you’ve taken a mate.”

Loki’s mouth fell open. You and Steve looked at each other, confused. You never said in traditional words but no one doubted that you and Loki loved one another. So why was shock and confusion rolling through Loki’s mind.

“I don’t get it.” Banner looked between Thor and Loki.

“Our kind, our people, love and marry. It’s not unheard of, though they are not always monogamous. Even then there are exceptions, like our parents are now. But even early on, father was known to wander and mother had…”

“Don’t say that cretin’s name.” Loki scowled.

“But a mate,” Thor continued. “A pair that is tied together for the centuries of our lifetimes, is a rare thing. It is more common with the Alfheim, but it occurs with every race upon Yggdrasil. I don’t know if it was the touching of your minds, or if that was just a catalyst to what was destined to be, but I agree with mother. It’s true.”

A mixture of awe and elation filled you, only to be drowned in a crashing wave of sorrow and desperation. Your hand reached for Loki’s, and he gripped your fingers tightly. Tears filled your eyes as you tried to bite back a sob.

Steve said your name quietly, seeing the change.

You looked to him, tears falling silently. “I don’t have centuries. In what will seem like a blink of an eye, I will grow old and die and there’s nothing Loki can do to stop it.”

Cap’s face fell. He knew that heartache and would not wish it upon anyone, ever.

Thor’s strong hand gripped Loki’s shoulder. His other gently touched your cheek. “Do not do this. Do not mourn for what has not happen yet. Live joyously right now. I will tell Mother what I’ve seen. She will not allow such a tragedy to pass, especially when it’s within Father’s ability to prevent it.”

Loki gave him a sad smile. “I am sentenced to a century for my crimes. He’s not going to grant me an Apple with less than one in a hundred years served.”

“Mother is persuasive, you know better than most.” Thor beamed. “It may take a year, or five, or ten, but Mother and I will make Odin see what needs to be done.” Thor turned to you. “You understand of what we speak?”

The Apple of Immortality. You knew. Trying to weed through the bad memories of all the times Odin hurt and disappointed Loki, you searched for all the times Frigga’s influence worked upon their Father. Little concessions for the children to serious matters of state, she did hold sway over her husband. Suddenly you realized she held so much influence, that she used it sparingly as to not abuse it.

It might be okay after all.

You nodded slowly. “You mother is a formidable woman, kind, and she loves you both. Alright,” You smiled up at Loki, wiping your tears away. “There’s no point in wasting energy on worrying. You’re right, we live for today. But, Thor, we’re placing our trust in you.”

His big arms pulled you close, despite Loki’s growl, and he dropped a kiss into your hair. “I will not fail you, little sister. Mother is going to adore you.”

“Stop manhandling her,” Loki grumbled. “She is mine.”

You giggled, slipping from Thor’s bear hug and into Loki’s arms.

“How long are you staying?” Steve asked, not one hundred percent sure of the agreement, but satisfied that you were all happy.

“You need to tell her right way.” Loki answered at the same time Thor boomed “There is time to feast and celebrate!”

You squeezed Loki a little tighter. “We can wait a night. Maybe Thor will get you drunk and I’ll get to take advantage of you for a change.”

Loki’s eyes grew wide before he laughed heartily.

Yeah, you sighed, things were going to be alright.  

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[purplesurveys]

1130

survey by nadine07

Where were you three hours ago? Was passed out on the living room couch and probably dreaming away, lmao.

Were you with anyone? Both my dogs were in the living room with me, if that counts.

Have you had anything alcoholic in the last 24 hours? Hmm, I’m trying to remember but I don’t think so. I went outside to eat, but I doubt they put any alcohol in my meal since I literally had a truffle-based pasta. No plans to drink this weekend, either.

Are you wearing shoes right now? Nope, I’m always barefoot around the house.

How long have you known your 1st phone contact? At least since the 6th grade cos I think that’s when she had transferred to my school.

Are they a relative? Nope, I went to school with her. We were seatmates for a while in sophomore year and that’s when I was able to see how talented she was at drawing and painting. She ended up transferring to UP as well after getting accepted to the fine arts program so we got to be collegemates as well, though I don’t really remember what university she initially got admitted to.

Would you ever consider getting back together with any of your exes? Yeah, because I’m a dumb fuck when it comes to these things. I WILL SAY though that I’ll be so much kinder to myself should this ever happen, and no longer tolerate her bullshit and emotional/mental abuse under the guise of ~unconditional love. There’ll be a lot of shit she’ll have to pick up and fix, and I wouldn’t get back with her unless she acknowledges her mistakes and seek to correct them.

Would you ever go skinny dipping with the last person who commented you? That would be Leigh, and no. Idk if I’ve shared this or if this has ever come up on a survey but Andi actually once asked me if I’d like to be a part of a threesome with them and Leigh, and I just had to immediately decline because I view Leigh as a younger sister more than anything and I can’t bear to see her all naked loooool.

When was the last time you saw a movie in theaters? December 2019.

When did you last talk to the last person you shared a kiss with? I think the morning of New Year’s Eve. I was already starting my healing process by then and the holidays were getting me feeling kind of peaceful, so I sent her a few voice notes thanking her for the year that was but giving her a heads-up that I might not talk to her for a while, because I realized I was starting to get happier on the days I didn’t force conversation with her.

I honestly thought ‘a while’ would only take a couple of weeks, but I’ve since gotten used without her presence and it’s been 3 1/2 months since our final encounter; and I think it will stay this way now.

Has anyone called you beautiful today? No.

Are you still friends with the last person who broke your trust? That would be JM, and yeah. I find him ridiculous for lying to our faces about joining a fraternity in law school (frats are a big yuck where I live because of their toxic hazing and misogynist culture), but I mean I still sort of understand why he had to do it - obviously not for the above reason, but for the perks and support that usually come with joining frats. From now on I’ll always see him as someone who can smoothly lie to my face, though.

Does drama seem to follow you everywhere? No. I would hate that lol, that would just be too much to handle.

Do you feel like anyone is playing mind games with you right now? No.

How would you feel if your best friend hooked up with your ex? I think my literal first reaction would be to laugh out of sheer disbelief, and then proceed to call her stupid for cheating and for choosing to cheat with her. After that’s died down, I think I’d mostly feel disappointed and betrayed.

How long did your last relationship last? The stint lasted 4 years, but we were technically together for 6 years if we’re counting the whole on/off thing.

If you knew you had the right person, would you marry them today? No. That’s what I had thought and they left. I’ve stopped trusting my feelings about these things anymore, and will assume anyone is capable of leaving.

Does it make you uncomfortable to talk on the phone around people? I just don’t want to be loud enough that I’m almost screaming around other people, but I can’t always monitor that since I have to concentrate on what I’m hearing on the other line.

Would you rather be 10 years older or 10 years younger? Probably 10 years older so that I can see into my future.

Have you ever kissed someone the same night your met them? No.

Do you bite your fingernails? Occasionally. I pick at them more frequently.

Would you consider yourself very flexible? Nah. Like I said on a previous survey, I can’t even reach my toes either while standing up or stretching on the floor.

Do you embarrass easily? Yeah.

Have you ever tried to talk your way out of getting a ticket? Yup. It’s happened twice; one of the occasions I was able to handle by myself and the other time Gab had to step in to talk to the officer because he was adamant about the ticket and I had started crying.

Did it work? Yes, both times. I’ve only been issued a ticket once, from this annoying grumpy officer in Alabang.

Have you ever been banned from anywhere? Trying to remember if I have been, but I don’t think so.

Do you have a ringtone or do you leave your phone on vibrate? The important messaging apps are on vibrate. I’ve turned off notifications for some apps and I have just the silent banner notifications for others.

What was the last thing you drank from a mug? I’m drinking coffee from one right now.

Has your #1 ever seen you naked?

Does your #2 know your deepest secret?

Will your #3 repost this?

Does your #4 smoke?

Were you born in the 90's? Yes, but by the end of it so I never considered myself a 90s kid.

When was the last time you paid less than $1 for something? The parking fee in Feliz.

Have you loaned anything out to anyone recently? Nope.

Are any of your siblings married? None of us are.

Who was the last person to spend the night with you at your house? Gabie.

How many different picture ids do you have in your wallet? Just my driver’s license and TIN ID.

Do you have a hard time making decisions? Depends on the weight of the decision. The heavier it is, the more I seek out friends who can provide fresh perspectives.

Has anyone kissed you when you weren't expecting it? Idk, Gabie probably snuck in some surprise ones a few times. IBetween the two of us I was more likely to do so, though.

Did you like it? If she did then I probably did during that time.

Who was your date to senior prom? We have junior prom, not senior prom. I just bought my favorite cousin since I had no interest in boys and was still learning how to make guy friends at that point.

Does your dad smoke? No, he’s never tried.

Is your mom over 50? She is turning 50 this year, but not until September.

Do you want to get married? It would be nice to experience it.

Have kids? Yes.

Are there any movies coming out you wanna see? Not that I know of. There are movies I do want to see, but they’ve already come out, like Ammonite and I Care A Lot.

Do you ever feel like you're leading a double life? No.

Do you have any plans to get a new tattoo or piercing? Tattoo, yeah. I’m just super chill about said plan and am not really in a hurry about it. I’ve yet to think of a design and where on my body to place it.

Do you know anyone named Christine? I know several people named Christine but they go by a nickname, like Tin.

Do you know anyone who's biracial? Sure, I went to high school with a couple of girls who are both half-brown and half-white as they both have European dads. I believe one of them is part German while the other girl is part Swiss.

Do you know anyone who works at Walmart? I don’t think so. I know my aunts who live in the US will occasionally shop there though, hahaha.

Has the last person you rode in a car with seen you in your underwear? I mean yeah, as a baby and as a young kid (it was my mom).

Are black bras sexy? They can be, sure.

Spell your full name without 'C','I','R', or 'Y': Obn.

Open the nearest book, turn to page 11, and type the first sentence: I’m at a Starbucks rn and didn’t bring any books with me.

Are you currently listening to anything? There’s jazz music faintly playing at the moment.

Would you ever consider getting breast implants? Before I definitely used to, when people still liked to make fun of small boobs. Nowadays I don’t feel the need to anymore.

If you could spend 30 minutes with someone who's gone, who would you pick? I’d probably pick my great-grandpa over my grandpa. I never met the former; and if I only had 30 minutes with my grandpa (who I did grow up with) I think it would just fuck with me psychologically.

Are you on birth control? Nopes.

Do you know anyone who is bisexual? Lots.

Would you walk into Walmart naked for $10,000? Yes.

Does anyone call you babe? No.

Do you hate it when people try to play with your hair? If I’m not close enough to them I would feel bothered, yes.

Who would you tell, or who did you tell when you lost your virginity? I think I had just told Sofie then.

Were you in a relationship 6 months ago? Yeah but it was cracking and it was cracking fast. It’ll be hitting 6 months this March, actually.

Are you still with that person? No.

Are you the kind of person who has crazy mood swings? No. This happens to my mom and I hate it very much, so I try to watch my actions and not switch rapidly between different moods.

This is question 69...so have you ;)? Sure.

How long is it until your birthday? Around a month and a couple of weeks.

[utterlyhopeful-fics]

Broken Edges- Part 6

I’M BACKK 😘🥳

The wait is over and Part 7 will be posted tomorrow afternoon! (I can GUARANTEE a fight..or two.) Feedback is always appreciated. As always, I hope y’all enjoy the next chapter. Let me know if you’d like to added to the tag list! 

Steve Rogers x Reader/Bruce Banner x Reader/Frank Castle x Reader

Word Count: 3.1k 

Warnings: language, general angsty angst, fluffy Bruce 

Catch up HERE

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

        (The Next Morning)

Stirring from an inherent sleep, Y/N sensed a firm hardness pressed against her right cheek. She continued to further nuzzle herself deeper into its solemn comfort, calmness overtaking her sanity. Time seemed to transpire differently when locked in a technological jail cell. Her left leg was partially thrown over Frank’s as they lay entangled in one another as if they were any ordinary couple waking up on a late Saturday morning. 

Her lids remained darkened as a small moan escaped her lips accompanied by a tender stretch of her achy bones. Frank instinctively pulled her closer reluctant to let go. He couldn’t help but think he would definitely die a happy man if he got to hear that cute noise every damn day. His hand lightly gripped her chin tilting it upwards as they found each other. Fleeting, momentary peace.

Their noses on the cusp of brushing, their slightly chapped lips just mere inches away, Frank’s breath tickled a trail along her skin.  It was a transcendent moment for the pair as they internally debated on who would dare make the first move. Y/N’s gaze traveled towards his lips as she unknowingly licked hers wandering what he tasted like. Would it be a searing kiss made out of desperation or a slow lustful kiss to savor? Whichever one it was, Y/N couldn’t deny she craved his touch.

He cupped her jaw moving closer to his targeted destination. It was then she felt a fire spread in her belly causing her heart to ramp up speed. After seconds of contemplation, Frank leaned the rest of the way in delivering an earth-shattering kiss upon Y/N’s forgiving lips. Her hands perched at the base of his neck slightly tugging at the thick black hair that had grown out over the past couple months. He moaned in response deepening their kiss as Frank situated himself on top of Y/N, pushing his hips against hers, creating a delightful electricity between them. Now this is something Y/N could get used to.

Y/N wanted more, desired to be closer to Frank. Frank made her feel alive, like she wasn’t the broken woman Steve forced her to be. He pushed her to be her own true character, igniting the spirit Steve only wanted to extinguish. It felt brilliantly powerful to be noticed and appreciated, and Y/N was addicted. Without thinking, Y/N wrapped her legs around Frank’s hips pulling him in like a second layer of skin. God, this man drove her wild. But somewhere deeply enrooted in Y/N was cause for concern. 

She pushed the lingering thought as far away as humanly possible not wanting to think about him during her time with Frank. There was only one other man in their universe that made her feel complete, acknowledged, and understood; Bruce Banner. But she never got the courage to tell him instead burying her feelings in a secluded spot locked securely away. 

But that was a story for another day. She wasn’t sure what the future held for her at this point. What she did know was that she needed to make the best of what she was given; Frank. So, Y/N squeezed her eyes tighter hoping to shake any thought of Bruce away, unwilling to let it encroach on this exact moment, but that was always easier said than done.

Y/N pulled away from his kiss finding Frank’s predatory glance. The military forced him to be a man of control but around her he found it next to impossible to resist the brazen woman he’d grown to care for. With their husky pants intermingled; Frank risked to speak first.

“Tell me to stop and I will. But—you have to do it. I can’t think clearly with you sometimes.”

Before her mind even had a chance to form a coherent thought, her lips were responding; “Don’t, I want this. I want you, Castle.”

“Thank fucking God.”

She pulled him down again reigniting their enthusiasm, unable to wipe the smile that appeared during their kiss. But reality creepily slipped back into her conscious just as an alarm blared through the tiny space; its echo uncomfortably surrounded them thickening the available air. Frank shot up first putting a protective arm over Y/N as her fingers gripped his forearm in return. This was new.

A sudden buzz notified them that the door had been unlocked as an unseen figure stalked closer inwards. Y/N heard the peculiar tone before actually seeing him. His heavy German accent mingled with his well-spoken English. Who was this guy?

“So happy to finally meet your acquaintance Ms. Y/N. I’ve heard wonderful things about you. My father spoke very highly of you. My sincerest greetings.”

Another maniac with an accent. Awesome.

Frank’s eyes bounced between Y/N and the dangerous man who just made his grand entrance. A look of apprehension betrayed his brown orbs.

“Uh, hate to break up the compulsive obsession but who the hell are ya?”

“My name is Helmut Zemo. My father, Baron was the sole creator of everything that we now stand for. Don’t you think he’d quite proud, hmm?”

Zemo actually had the audacity to bow as if she were royalty. She was certainly no queen especially to such an anarchist bunch of crazies, but she had no other choice than to intently listen to the stranger in front of them. After all, they were Hydra’s current lab rats searching for an impossible end to their demented game.

“God, you really are a cocky son of a bitch.”

A shrewd smirk slithered across his lips; “Tsk tsk, Mr. Castle. They weren’t wrong about your…spirit?”

Frank and Y/N hazardously got off the bed, Frank keeping a towering determined stance. How did she never notice how tall Frank was until now?  With Frank looming over her, she moved to his side mimicking his posture before speaking.

“What the fuck do you want with us, Zemo? Do enlighten us.”

He snickered unable to contain the laughter tickling his throat; “Oh my my, you really are a feisty girl. We have great plans for you…. for the both of you. I would like your compliance but it is by no means required. Vrstehst du?” (Do you understand?)

“ты мудак.” (You’re an asshole.)

Frank whipped his head in Y/N’s direction; “Wait, you speak…Russian?”

“I’ll fill you in later Castle.” She squeezed his hand hoping to relay any sort of comfort.

Zemo’s shrewd voice reverberated; “That’s not all she does Mr. Punisher. That’s barely the tip of said iceberg for our beautiful girl. You are in for a treat my friend.”

Frank’s New York accent shined through in his times of nervousness bringing him back to the brave boy roaming the crooked streets; “Let’s get one thing straight out of the gate. We are NOT amigos so don’t play coy with me dipshit. That ain’t no plan of ours. What the hell is your endgame?”

Zemo loved baiting people especially those within his control; with no route of escapement. He thrived off the fear accumulating under the surface of their skin, the tremble of their tone, but his favorite, oh his favorite was when he forced the light to leave their eyes all hope being abandoned. This will be fun he thought.

“You two seem to be getting along swimmingly. I’ve been reviewing your records and we seem to have contrived the perfect genetic match. A phenomenal super goddess and ex-Marine forced vigilante. The perfect sob story if you ask me.”

Frank surveyed his odds of bulldozing his way out of this hellhole but upon counting the bodies surrounding him immediately recognized he was outnumbered. He needed Y/N in a place where they could utilize her powers, but that didn’t seem very plausible.

“Genetic match? What the fuck are you talking about, Zemo?”

“You’ll realize soon enough All in good time.” Guiding his eagle eye towards the hidden camera, Zemo simply smiled. He started his trek towards the door leaving his patients bewildered behind him with his hands clasped behind his back, his spine straight, and shoulders pointed. Authority my ass.

“Initiate Phase 1.”

Once again, the door bolted shut locking Y/N and Frank back into their designated room without any sign of answer coming their way. With the glass barrier back between them panic caressed through the stagnant air. Reeling from the minimal information given to them, Y/N was stunned into temporary silence. Frank’s attention was on the woman in front of him; “Fuck, Y/N. Where the fucking hell are your Avenger friends?”

         (Avengers Tower)

If someone were to ask Bruce Banner his favorite spot on planet Earth, he would gladly pick his lab until the end of time. Beakers and test tubes couldn’t talk back. For once in his forsaken days, he got to be in control, fully in charge if only for the briefest of moments. Procedures and mechanisms released him of his anxiety, overall calming his heart rate from escalating to the point of disaster. 

The newspapers got it all wrong about his pent-up aggression towards mankind. They forgot he was human himself. Though some found it easier to treat him as a science experiment, others decided on kindness and friendship. Y/N was one the fortunate few that didn’t manage to piss him off. Given her cruel upbringing, Tony prepared the team for the worst possible outcome, a deranged mutant finally freed from her own hell.

He remembered the way her blonde hair caught the sunshine on a perfect spring day when he watched her lost within her latest read, her clear aqua blue eyes meeting his as an equal, and how he felt electricity run threw his joints the first time his skin briskly touched hers. Nothing but a greeting yet somehow, he knew she was going to be phenomenal. Y/N adjusted to the high-tech superhero gig faster than he expected learning compassion and self-care since becoming her own woman. She never bothered with romance, or her appearance….at least that’s what he convinced himself of. It began with long nights chatting until dawn, two friends passing time with more than enjoyable conversation.

The Stark library was her clandestine fascination, Y/N worshiped divulging into a book lost in articulate words seemingly drawing her further from her own twisted reality. It was effortless to be around her and Bruce was addicted to her quiet and comforting nature. Not many people brought ease upon him. The couch was their second escape as it became routine to sneak away, propping her feet atop his thighs, stopping her glasses from slipping down the bridge of her slender nose as he pretended to not get distracted by her graceful actions. 

Y/N had this habit of biting just the edge of her lip when a story truly piqued her interest, her limbs tightening with anticipation as she unknowingly squeezed his triceps unable to tear herself away from the worn pages.

Countless nights were spent hidden away from the troubles of their world. Some sleepless and others occupied by gentle naps. One in particular stuck out more than others…

          (Flashback)

13 days. 13 agonizing days since he last saw Y/N, hugged her, and simply conversed with someone similar to his own IQ. Nick Fury had selected Cap and Y/N for an undercover mission in Russia. Incognito as a loving husband and wife on their honeymoon while trying to confiscate (insert cool piece of tech). In the past couple of weeks, Banner felt her pulling away, getting a little more out of reach every time, and he loathed it. Little moments at first; less time in the library, nightly talks dwindling, but the worst part was the body language Y/N aimed at Steve. 

Sly smiles here and there, a touch of the palm when no one was supposed to be looking, and Roger’s stupidly irritating smile that made Y/N blush every time he looked her way. Bruce was an idiot, it was just easier to remain oblivious, unaware of the changing atmosphere at the Tower.

Steve and Y/N had just landed the quinjet as Friday notified Stark and Banner of their successful arrival. They were all giggles and soft whispers upon approaching the dock like they had a secret only they knew about. Bruce side-eyed the lovebirds through the glass not wanting to show his true colors or annoyance. It was then that Steve drew Y/N into his chest pressing a passionate kiss upon her lips before looking around, noticing the room bare of any witnesses, or so they thought. 

He saw the foolish smile and glimmering light shine from Y/N’s ocean eyes before huffing and heading towards his hideout. Bruce knew she wasn’t coming tonight. It seems Y/N would have other nightly plans he’d rather not think of or else the Hulk was sure to make a scene. 

So, he numbly headed towards the elevator before clicking the 5th floor button clueless to the doors slamming shut. Bruce instinctively opened the library door and settled into a chair across from the couch. He wouldn’t dare sit there. It held far too many memories of what-ifs, almosts, and could’ve beens. If only he had the balls to tell her how he truly felt. Oh well.

It was half past twelve when Bruce was deterred by the low chime of the door informing him someone else had entered the room. Odd, he supposed. He thought he would get his sanctuary for another blissful night. As he gawked at the unknown presence, he immediately noticed who the intruder was; Y/N. His book snapped shut forgetting about marking his page as his feet found footing on the plush carpet. She hadn’t seen him yet. The door shut behind Y/N as her back rested against the wood frame before quietly sighing. 

Her appearance was disheveled, her blonde tendrils thrown into a sloppy bun as she wore an over-sized t-shirt that certainly didn’t belong to her. Steve’s. Her lips plump as if she had just left her lover’s bed in hopes of seeking him out, or so he wished. He stayed seated not wanting to draw additional attention to his strange behavior.

“Y/N- you’re…back.”

“Bruce, just the guy I was looking for.” She coyly smiled genuinely happy to see him.

“Ohhh, is that so? I figured you’d have other things to catch up on. It’s good to see you Y/N, really.”

Y/N walked over to their sofa before propping her elbows along the edge, resting her jaw in her palm. Her memories didn’t serve him justice. He was kind, handsome, and beyond attentive to her intellectual needs.

“I missed you. Steve isn’t big on reading…or talking much for that matter. It’s nice to see a simulating face.”

“Psh, I’m sure you managed just fine without me. You always do.” He tried to hide the disappointment seeping into his voice. The last thing he wanted to do was scare her away. Above all, Bruce reminded himself that he was her friend first regardless of his growing feelings.

“You made it back in one piece. I assume the mission went well?”

She chuckled, her fingers fidgeting in her lap unable to sit still; something was bothering her.

“Indeed. Steve is uh, quite the charmer. Almost too believable if I do say so myself.”

Bruce stood up suddenly catching Y/N off guard as he made his way back to the shelf to return his latest adventure. Out of his peripheral vision, Y/N began moving his direction closing the gap between them. With his back faced away from Y/N, he felt a small hand reach for his shoulder in a soothing manner. Y/N stood behind him as the silence lingered on. Before he could grasp what was happening, her arms encircled his waist as Y/N hid her face between his shoulder blades. Her touch brought calmness to his anxious mind; his muscles instantly relaxing as his own hand guided on top of her resting on his stomach.

She mumbled a modest “Hi.” before burrowing back into him. Bruce couldn’t conceal the blush that crept into his cheeks. He was merely glad she wasn’t able to see his reaction. No other words needed to be spoken, it was pure and simple. He steered her hands upwards as he kissed the indention by her thumb, directing her hands over his chest finally resting upon his beating heart. It was unspoken, mutual admiration both parties thrived off of. Y/N and Bruce just didn’t quite fully understand the significance of their unexpressed connection.

But that was the past, now he had the atrocious opportunity of living in the present with no Y/N in sight.

        (Present Day-Avengers Tower)

“Meeting dismissed. We are staying on alert until Y/N is found and brought back safely. I suggest you all be ready to go. Rogers and Banner, stay behind.”

Fury’s tone mixed with Tony’s eyes shooting daggers initiated an uncontrollable eye roll from the Hulk. This outta be good. As everyone else made their way towards the door, Steve huffed unsure of what was about to go down knowing it wasn’t good news.

Natasha was the last of the bunch remaining. Her hand grasped the knob in hopes of hightailing it out of the stuffy office before hearing Tony’s callous voice; “Ah ah, Romanoff. You seriously didn’t think you’d get off that easy, now did you?”

“I don’t see how this has any ties to me. I don’t know what—”

“What I’m talking about? Of course, you do my dear, you’re not that dull. Or did sleeping with Cap disable your inability to decipher between respectful decency?”

Nausea caught in Steve’s throat as his eyes met Natasha’s. Fuck.  Bruce lounged in his chair with a satisfied smirk; Steve had the sudden urge to punch him but withheld…at least temporarily.

Tony and Fury resembled two very pissed off individuals; each leader trying to top the other. Silence encapsulated the room, everyone stared at one another unsure of how to proceed with the events in place. So, Director Fury stepped up first; “Can anyone tell what the hell is going on with the lot of you? Wait a minute, don’t answer that. I already know some of you have already lost your damn minds.”

“Language.”

“Language my ass, Rogers. Since you so kindly volunteered to share first, please do so.”

His breath staggered, his jugular beginning to pound under his skin, sweat beaded across his dewy forehead. Sink or swim time.

--------

Tags:  @kaithezaftig @awesomefanficlover@marvelfansworld@sergeantjbuckybarnes @hista-girl @calwitch @silent-loucidity@flightofthefantasies @lovely-geek @shannon124 @hulksmashin-bannerpackin@siren-queen03 @heyiamthatbitch  @girls-inred @kielemarie @donner5822 @sophiria @iluvsumbucky@xstevenat @artemis-lana @bla-369 @itsallyscorner @jay-the-mothafuckin-gay @artemis-lana 

[plumblossomkun]

discard[ed]: the origin of MGH.

Word Count: 1.3k

setting: student!Mark & art commissioner!Female Reader 

a/n: (inspired by the beautiful vulnerability of my darling friend @starxblossom​ with her Cherry Wine.) this is, almost word for word, one of the things that happened between me and the boy i thought i loved in my senior year of high school. the fic inspired by this relationship, Mugunghwa, is meant to be realistic, but it is still a romanticization. it’s a result of me seeing said boy after years of not speaking, and i thought to myself, what if? with that being said, please read the warnings. this is not a love story. this is the truth. 

warning[s]: alludes to the act of self-harm. descriptions of anxiety and feelings of despair and unrequited love. 

Skype Call Transcript, some time in December 2015

B: i was talking to Mark, and uh... he-- he said...

B: jeez, i don’t really wanna say it. *chair creaks in the background*

you: *huffs softly* just tell me. i can handle it. 

B: ...fine. *clears throat*

B: he said he didn’t want to be with someone that was emotionally unstable.

you: *very, very softly* oh. 

B: yeah....

you: i see. he really said that? *deep inhale*

B: yeah. uh-- are you... mad?

you: no... not mad. *slow exhale*... thanks for telling me.

When Mark walks into Room 13A that Thursday afternoon, you don’t look up from your phone. The hallways are still bustling with students, buzzed for the upcoming weekend, and Winter Ball is tomorrow, so the rest of the committees are trickling in and out, getting their assigned work completed.

You are busy telling your own committee to get their shit together, since none of them are in the room to help you finish making banners advertising the last minute ticket sales.

I should have never volunteered as captain.

For all of these perfectly logical reasons, when Mark leans down and knocks on your desk in greeting, you’re expecting someone else.

Anyone else.

You clear your throat, putting your phone face down on the desk. “Hi.”

He taps the toe of his shoe against the floor, eyes not quite meeting yours, gaze shooting to the desk behind you. You note that his backpack is cinched too tight, and his dark circles are more prominent, like he hasn’t slept well since the last time you’d talked to him-- what had it been, New Year’s Eve? “Hana said you needed help, the other day, doing work.”

“Yes,” you draw out the syllable, watching his fists clench and unclench at his side. Your heartbeat, already beginning to race against your intake of breath, drums a reminder into your chest, of the times his very presence had felt like summer come two seasons too early.

Now, his unsure smile sends ice splintering into your veins. He doesn’t seem to know what words to offer you, to try and mend the strange rift between the two of you, and neither do you.

You pretend the thought hasn��t left you hemorrhaging on the inside, dropping your eyes back to your phone. “You can help color the tearaway for tomorrow’s football game,” you manage to say, pointing him out to the hallway, which is now mostly clear. Your fellow art commissioners are already unfolding their works in progress, refilling the markers with ink, looking for the right music to play.

He nods, and starts to leave-- but pauses at the doorway, looking back at you as he fiddles with the thin silver chain around his neck, holding himself back-- from you.

When was the last time he’d held you?

He greets your fellow art commissioners outside with an enthusiasm he hadn’t reserved for you, and they respond in kind, welcoming him into their fold with laughter.

Sighing, you dig your fingernails into your palms, leaving crescent moon imprints so deep that they bruise. They are not enough for you to forget the breathlessness squeezing your lungs. You shake your head. No, don’t think about him.

Two of your commissioners come back in one last time to return the bottles of ink, waving at you on their way out, and for a long spell, there is silence in 13A, broken only by the mirth outside.

It is the last thing you need, when all you have is the too-loud hum of your heartbeat pulsing through your body, reminding you that it is still beating.

Still feeling.

The door to 13B swings shut behind you, letting in only a sliver of light from the other room. Seeking refuge amongst the mountains of paper and camera equipment in the storage room, you sink onto the ratty old mattress in the corner, and cling to yourself as the world grows small and tight and cold around you.

“I’m strong enough,” you exhale, shuddering, slowly collapsing into yourself until your knees are tucked beneath your chest, trying to fill your head with lies to drown out the siren songs filling your ears. “We can just be friends.”

This doesn’t hurt. This doesn’t hurt. This doesn’t hurt.

You take another breath. This one is a mistake.

Winter rips into you. It starts at your fingertips, then spreads to your hands, leaving you shaking, gasping for air. And though it is like ice has filled your body, stabbing, biting cold, it burns. It scalds your tongue and steals your voice, incinerating your last shred of resistance.

I can’t do this.

I can’t.

You slip a hand into your pocket, running your fingers over the waxen paper hiding there, lying in wait there since that morning, when you’d felt a whisper of frost run down your spine, and took it with you, instead of leaving it at home tucked away in a drawer.

Its paper thin, fragile body betrays the power it holds. And if you didn’t know better, you’d think it was a discarded receipt, a gum wrapper, a piece of scrap. Unfolding the paper, you stare down at the silver lying pristine and keen in the dim light. And when it kisses your skin, the world stills.

One.

Scarlet has never been your favorite color, but how jewel-like the liquid beads and pools.

Two.

The winter spreads from your hands down to your elbows, and you revel in how it finally mutes the ache, puts the pain aside, lifts the weight from your chest.

Three.

In this moment, you can finally breathe.

You go to the bathroom to clean up, so that the white long sleeve you’re wearing doesn’t get stained. On your way out, Mark’s eyes, previously focused on the poster he’d been coloring, close in defeat when he sees you press the paper towel to your wrist, telling him everything he needs to know, and your friends whisper to each other with furrowed brows, not understanding.  

You don’t care.

In 13B, you sit back on the mattress and close your eyes.

The door opens with a creak, and shuts even more quietly.

You know exactly who’s come to see you, but you don’t open your eyes until he touches your cheek, his fingers lighter than a butterfly’s kiss.

“Why?” Mark whispers, sinking to his knees in front of you. He picks up your hands in his, and his voice cracks when he repeats the question.

You resent the way his fingers curl and tangle with yours. It makes your heart thrum again, just when you’d gotten it to be quiet and settle down. Why does he make you weak like this?

He places his hand over the already-scabbing lines, and his warmth seeps into them, melting the frost just beneath the skin. You recoil.

The line of his mouth hardens, and suddenly you are in his arms, surrounded by his sweet cologne, so that when he asks you again, “Why?”, and you feel him shaking against you, you can’t deny him.

“I’m fine,” you whisper, unable to stop yourself from clinging to him, despite knowing all too well that the feel of his heartbeat against yours is the curse you’ve been trying to break all this time. “…it’s just the usual problems, at home, you know.”

You hope he never knows he’s the one hurting you.

He pulls back and searches your expression. When you don’t look away fast enough, he sees that you aren’t telling him everything.

And yet he doesn’t press you. Instead, he crushes you to him, and his body shivers against yours. It takes you a moment to realize that he’s crying, warm tears dripping onto your collarbones.

“No, don’t cry--” you sigh, lifting your hands to cup his cheeks. When he leans into your touch, you think that your heart just might shatter into pieces.

I love you.

“Please, don’t do this again,” Mark whispers. To your ears, it sounds like an apology. An apology, for your unspoken confession. “Please.”

So you promise him. You promise him, and not yourself, because you can only spare his heart, not yours. “I won’t.”

He sinks into your embrace, silent tears wetting your shoulder. You close your eyes and swallow the words you can’t say aloud before they choke you.

“I won’t.”

I love you.

[thedragonandthewhitewolf]

Part 3-Mother’s Ferocity

Part 1, Part 2, FanFiction.net

Suspense and smut. I hope you guys enjoy :)

Tyrion made a point to go to his rooms first before heading to breakfast. He didn't want Daenerys to be the last one there—he'd pull the attention to himself so not to illicit questions in her direction. So when he closed his bedroom door, he went to his own bottle of wine and swirled it around his mouth to scent his breath and to calm his nerves.

Cersei's pregnant. Daenerys may be pregnant. Two queens hell-bent on winning this war with a Mother's ferocity. Oh, the bloodshed.

He adjusted his garb and forced himself to make leisurely to breakfast. The grey morning with her foggy cloak made him grimace, but he stopped to look out anyway, if only to give the queen more time.

Two more days and they should be in Winterfell. Gods, it's been so long since he'd been there. Hopefully no one tried to kill them…

How will Winterfell be after all the tragedy had torn through them? So much death done by southern rulers that he feared the citizens wouldn't accept a foreigner, a Mad-King's daughter at that, as their possible queen.

What if Dany's really pregnant? But what if she's not pregnant and she ends up going mad because of it?

He bit the inside of his cheek until his eyes filled. Oh, he's messed this up truly. He thought of the promise he made to Cersei, his only sister who birthed two beautiful children, to her unborn child.

Now, he'll have to betray her, because if Daenerys is or ever does have children, it'll be a miracle one. Whoever it is would probably conquer the world.

If she's truly pregnant, he thought, I'll have to tell her sooner rather than later.

Gods, why did he lie in the first place? He shook his head, his shaggy hair whipping in the wind. If he was being honest, he didn't want the Queen to do anything rash. Like burn Cersei and her unborn child.

He stood on his toes for a moment to watch the sea. His calf muscles clenched and unclenched; it wasn't right—the things he thinks his queen to be capable of. Dany's impulsive, yes, but not a true murderer. This is a mother and child on the line. She wouldn't…

Granted the mother is his merciless, cold-blooded killer-sister who actually birthed a demon incarnate. Tyrion still thought of Joffery's death as one of his best memories.

Alright, he'll have to tell her before they land. How he'll muster up the courage, he didn't know. But his loyalty was with her, and the new world she promised.

Daenerys giggled while facing the best mirror they could find on the ship. She didn't mind for in its reflection she could see her dearest friend laugh. How could she actually be happy at a time like this? She sighed, touching the amethysts encrusting the bodice of her dress. Thankfully, a thick liner of fur saved the inside from being itchy.

Missandei laid her chin on Dany's shoulder and held her hand, giving her fingers a squeeze.

"You are most beautiful when you smile, khalessi."

Dany smiled wider. "Why do you continue to call me by my old titles?"

"I won't do it forever, I promise," she answered, breaking eye contact for a moment, "but surrounded by your enemies is the perfect time to remember where you came from. Where you have been." Missandei went to her trunks and pulled out a beautiful grey and black coat. Dany sighed into it. The extra layer felt like a hug.

Dany turned toward her friend. "I could never forget."

A smile lingered on Miss' lips, but it was sad. "I know. These are just different lands… this is a game for these people." Dany nodded, thinking of Cersei's complete disregard for the Other's at the Dragon Pit. The woman saw the rotted, snapping teeth at her throat and chose to let them die. Until Tyrion talked with her.. whatever he said must have shaken her enough to fight with them. Unless he made some sort of deal.

"My whole life has been leading up to this—training me to be best at this silly game. Even my brother," Dany huffed and sat down slowly in a chair, "he trained me to be silent and observant. When that no longer served me, I learned from Drogo to be merciless, to be a khalessi." She looked up to her friend, who looked like she was about to cry. "When you call me that, it shoots fire through me. The word reminds me of who I was, yes, but do I continue to be it even though the people here are so different?"

Missandei knelt down and gently grasped Dany's hand. "I was scared when you came to my city," she admitted, "but you made real change. You were compassionate, and fierce, and a sad but fearful Mother of Dragons and Breaker of Chains. You are what they say, Queen Daenerys. But you are so, so much more. You are a savior, my friend." Her eyes glimmered with brindled fire. Dany knew Miss wasn't just speaking politics. This was now life or death. "Save these people."

A light knock of the cabin door made the women jump into each other before they burst out laughing.

"We only have a day or two more of normalcy. Let's enjoy it while we can," Dany suggested as Missandei went to get the door.

"Yes? Oh—" Dany heard Miss say to whoever was at the door. When she looked over her shoulder, heat spread to her cheeks. "King Jon, good morning."

Jon grinned at Missandei, glanced at Dany, then looked down sheepishly. "Good morning. My apologies for the interruption, but I was hoping to escort the Queen and her Lady to the breakfast hall."

Miss looked over to her Queen, eye widening. Dany nodded with a growing smile and lifted herself from the chair, stepping closer to her guest. "Please come in from the cold while Missandei gathers her coat. How are your rooms?"

Jon stepped inside and closed the door, keeping his hands clasped in front of him. "Pretty drab compared to yours, my Queen."

Delicious is all she could think whenever Jon licked his lips after my Queen. How could a man do such things to her? She wanted to run over and taste his lips herself. She adjusted her dress instead.

Missandei interrupted Dany's thoughts, thankfully by walking to the door already cloaked. How can every other one of her thoughts be of his lips?

With Missandei's back was to them, Jon captured her fingers in his. Her breath caught in her throat. This man will be the death of me.

The cold air pierced her lungs as soon as she breathed again, reminding her of just two nights ago. Was it really just the other night? Memories of the Wight Hunt sent tears stinging in her eyes. That was the one of the worst days of her life, and the air was a constant reminder of the child she lost. Ice slashed at her face as she had looked back to see Viscerion sinking into the frozen, broken lake while Jon stood, deserted in that godsforsaken place.

Jon must have noticed her shoulders slightly droop because he tugged her hand to his chest and kissed her fingers. Wings fluttered below her heart, curling a tail lovingly around her ribs. She stood a little straighter, and tried to step a little closer, but Missandei was already gesturing for them forwards. Dany moved her hand to Jon's elbow and he led them out towards breakfast.

"This cold is getting out of hand," Dany began shielding her eyes away from the wind.

Jon covered her hand with his. "Ah, this is only in the morning. By the sun's rise, the winds simmer, but we won't see our sun for a long while."

Daenerys sighed and hoped she wasn't frowning. "How awful. My children and I haven't truly tried our luck in the Winter yet. They remind me of cats."

"What?" Jon exclaimed, not at all seeing the comparison. "Are you mad? They're like…" He didn't know what do say with out saying the words beasts or monsters.

"Cats, I swear to you," she promised, "They love to find a sunny spot and stretch out for hours. Twisting around the spiky mountains in Dragonstone. They would curl their tails around a peak, or most likely Drogon would snag that green, patchy part of the cliff and nap all day. Just like cats."

Jon chuckled and Dany heard Missandei snort a little. As much as her friend and lover feared her children, they respected them. They understood the magnificence of them. Her dragons were gods-sent. A miracle.

"I remember seeing that for the first time," Jon recalled, "it was the strangest thing I ever saw. Almost thought I was dreaming." He stopped for a moment, then started, "I wonder…"

Dany waited a moment but when he didn't continue, she asked, "What do you wonder, Jon?"

He swept his eyes around her face then in front before saying, "I wonder how Ghost is doing."

"Ah, I've heard of your Ghost. A direwolf— the Stark sigil." She thought of the wolf baring it's fangs on a green and white banner.

"You were a good student weren't you?"

"Perhaps. I loved stories."

"Then what's your favorite Stark story, eh?" He bumped her hip playfully.

She took a deep breath. "I believe it was called Brandon the Builder. I always thought of him as a Creator, of sorts. Honorable."

Jon smiled, but then his eyes darkened. He looked at her again. "My brother's named after him, Bran. He used to want to be a knight before Jamie Lannister pushed him off a window ledge," he tried not to spit that part, but he couldn't help it." Bran liked climbing, you see. And… I just know Lady Kat told him to not go around like an animal. Not that day. Because the King was there. But Bran wasn't a great listener. He was only eight at the time, and the only thing he thought he was good at was climbing. So that's what he did. While Jamie and Cersei were… Bran saw them through the window. Probably didn't know what he saw. Jamie pushed him anyway. I— it took a lot out of me to not beat that man's face to a pulp at the Unveiling."

Dany considered the story for a bit. Processing the information about his brother. "He survived the fall I was told, however, he is paralyzed. I do not trust Cersei in the slightest. Jamie gave off a different aura. Something is off between the two. Did you notice?"

Jon blinked away the simmering fury and thought for a moment. Did he? Jamie was still the Hand of the Queen, and unlike Cersei, he was terrified of the wight. He looked like he might actually want to help their cause. If only for his and Cersei's safety.

"I noticed his fear of the wight. But he still follows Cersei. I don't trust him."

Dany nodded. "Neither do I, but he could be our way to the Army of the Seven Kingdoms. And he and Cersei were not on good terms. The tension was palpable. We should figure out a way to use this against him."

Jon raised his brows, really studying her face before they opened the doors to the breakfast hall. "You think we could manipulate the Queen's Hand?"

"We have his brother. And the wights did scare him. Any wrong move on Cersei's part could end their love affair for good. Didn't you notice how exhausted he looked? He's ready for peace."

Jon nodded to the guards at the door, and they opened the doors. The smell of potatoes, eggs, and peppers tickled her tongue and Dany momentarily forget what they were talking about.

"Let's discuss this later. I've worked myself to quite the appetite," the Queen added with a wink and sat herself at the one end of the table. Jon looked at the other end and Dany's eyes clouded for a moment. Of course he would sit at the other end. He's a King. It's just so far away.

Jon pulled up the chair to her right and gave her a smile, eliciting the wings inside to flurry in her stomach. The Mother of Dragons practically swooned.

Dany looked around the table noting Jorah and Ser Davos, but where was Tyrion?

With a rush and a sigh, her Hand waltzed it smelling of grapes. "Good morning, all."

"So you're the one with the late morning," Jorah quipped.

Immediately, Tyrion started to pile his plate. "I almost always have late mornings, Ser Mormont."

Jorah rolled his eyes while Dany and Missandei snickered. Dany knew why Tyrion came in late. Attention diverted to him, no one even questioned the King and Queen. As they should. It's none of their business who lays with who. When it is their business, she'll tell them so. Jon's hand found her's underneath the table and squeezed a bit before splaying his whole palm on her thigh.

She gave him a wicked grin and scooped some egg into her mouth. One more night before the fun ends abruptly into cold, deadly reality. Might as well make the most of it.

[fanaticfandom]

November 3, 1981.

It had become a habit, like the others, like the man himself. This birthday was the first Remus Lupin had ever celebrated for a mate. November 3rd, Sirius Black’s birthday had been a wonderful adventure, an extravagant escapade, and a dependable habit for over a decade.

What a bittersweet thing, Remus realized, that the first would become the last. He knew, had known that this birthday would be the last he would ever celebrate.

He didn’t know how he had arrived. Motion had been happening for hours, days, maybe weeks without his consent. But the rough apparition left his knees quaking and his head reeling in a way he hadn’t experienced since he was seventeen.

Inhale and focus... There’s a good mate.

A faint echo stirred in the back of his mind and Remus shook his head violently. Plunging his wand back into his robes, he kept his glare trained on the ground as he stormed past the open garden gate. The young man refused to notice how the wood hung off its hinges unable to close properly. He refused to be confronted with harsh truths and harder realities.

Lean into it. Remember Moony, kick near the lock not at the lock itself. Drive your heel into the door…

The instructions surfaced in his mind instantly, almost before Remus even registered the surprise of seeing the front door closed. In a fit of rage, he pushed one heel into the peddles of the path and pushed the other into the fading red door.

He had only been indulging them, when they insisted on teaching him how to break down a door like a muggle. But they had insisted, in that obnoxious and unrelenting way of theirs, that the skill would be useful. So Lupin kicked at the wood, repeatedly, trying to kick the patient voice of Padfoot away as the wood splintered and the door creaked open.

It is dark and the stench of death hangs heavily in the air. But he couldn’t, or wouldn’t accept what his eyes refuse to settle on and with a reckless abandoned defined by marauders he runs into the cottage.

Swishing his wand the window shutters fly open, allowing light to pour into a cozy sitting room. A game of wizard’s chest is set up in one corner, the pieces fidgeting to finish the game. Useful Potions for New Mothers lies still open to its reader’s last page over the arm of a plush armchair. A familiar pair of quidditch boots lay forgotten near the fireplace with mud still drying on them. The picture of a home waiting for life to continue.

Crunching glass under his foot draws his attention.

James died first. That’s what the Daily Prophet had said.

Remus suddenly drops to his knees as the reality hits him. Tiny shards of glass push through his trousers and pierce his skin as he chokes back a sob.

“James. Your glasses.” Lupin cries helplessly. He scrambles to find the old rims, the ones he was sure he saw James in last. Bits of glass prick against his hands and he can feel the overwhelming grief bubbling in his chest. He is crying again, he can feel the familiar damp of his cheeks.

James Potter is dead. Remus howls, a wolfish and wild sound of sadness ripping through him as he gives up searching for what will not be found.

Lupin knows the stillness is a mistake that if he doesn’t start moving again, he might die in the same spot as his mate had from the grief of it all. It is only when he stops, when the habitual haze isn’t propelling him forward, that everything becomes unbearable.

It’s the meowing that saves him. Jerking up his head he searches for the source of the sound.

We’ve got a kitten. Lily had written. James pretends to hate it.

“I believe Prongs was allergic and afraid to tell you.” Remus whispers as the kitten wobbles out from one the quidditch boots.

Lupin scrambles across the floor, letting his palms still drag along the broken glass, as if it might be the last way he will ever feel James Potter again. His hands are aching and bleeding when he reaches out for the kitten.

“What’s your name? Something ridiculous?” Remus croons.

He picks up the kitten as he stands. Tucking the creature into the crook of his elbow, the purring begins almost instantly and it brings the young man a strength, a steadiness, a calmness in knowing he is not alone any longer.

“Daffodil, was it?” Remus forces a jovial tone. An angry meow replies.

“No, then. You’re rather gray, Stormy?” He tries. The angry meowing continues, even as the purring intensifies.

“Are you hungry?” Remus moves to the kitchen. He doesn’t dwell on the baby bottles, or the half-finished wine bottle sitting on the counter that looks suspiciously like Sirius’ favorite vintage. Instead the man throws open the cabinets, with a false joy and hope, at seeking to find something other than a haunting emptiness.

But then a darting mouse.

Would you eat me when you’re a werewolf, do you think Moony?

The memory roars to life without permission. Months underground, with only the recollections of his friends to keep him company make it impossible to ignore them now. Peter Pettigrew, round face with cheeks puffed out in agitation.

An index finger is all that was found, among twelve dead muggles. That’s how the Daily Prophet had described him in the end.

Lupin jolts at the vision dancing in the unwelcomed tears and slams the cabinet shut.

The kitten jumps from his arms and saunters out the open window.

“Decided you’d best find your own food?” He muses. But he doesn’t stop his own search, throwing open the pale mint fridge.

Pumpkin juice. Two eggs.

His eyes move over the regular items quickly, registering favorite foods or regular habits. A jar of blackberry jam that James had to have every morning for his scones, or the chunk of cheddar cheese that was Lily’s preferred midnight snack. And then, right there, sits a cake.

Lupin greedily reached out for it, pulling out the treat. Covered in fluffy pink buttercream frost, the kind that would have made Sirius loudly protest but that he would have secretly loved. The cake smells freshly baked, enchanted to keep perfectly, in what was likely one of the last spells Lily ever cast.

They had planned this, James and Lily, a celebration of their shared habit. The war and the danger be damned.

Padfoot can say he doesn’t want to celebrate until he’s blue in the face, but he doesn’t get a say in the matter.

Every year James Potter had said those words. For a decade, this day had been a marauder high holy day.

“Accio candles!” Lupin summons the sparklers, the kind they had used on Sirius’ seventeenth birthday.

He flicks and flips his wand, casting every summoning non-verbal spell he can form in his mind. Streamers and banners, fire whiskey, gifts, a record player jumping to life, everything set for a party.

Mere minutes later, Remus Lupin stands huffing amidst the festivities. Red and gold streamers hanging above him, a glittering banner floating around him, a small stack of gifts laying at his feet. The record player crackling for a moment before that blasted ABBA record that was playing in every club in London starts – Super Trouper.

A wand flick and the record scratches, in a way that Lily might never forgive.

She died defending her infant…. the boy who lived. The Daily Prophet had heralded.

The piano melody begins of the track that Sirius and James belted out drunk to a bouncing and giggling Harry on his first birthday months before. When Remus had seen them, all of them, last.

“I don’t want to talk about….”

One of the blondes from ABBA, Remus never could remember their names, sings and the lyrics bring on a rage.

“You baked HIM a cake, before he BETRAYED YOU!

Remus roars as he smashes the cake into the mint fridge door.

“ALL HE LEFT OF WORMTAIL WAS HIS FINGER!”

In a fury he rips and tears at each of the gifts, allowing the tears and anger to blind him. He destroys them.

“HOW COULD YOU BETRAY US?”

He lights sparklers, and sets the remains of each gift on fire.

“YOU ALL LEFT ME HERE! To read in the BLOODY DAILY PROPHET how all my mates… how all of YOU had died!” Remus heaves a sob.

Prongs was dead. Wormtail was dead. Padfoot was…

He was alone.

The last marauder.

Taking a shaky breathe, Lupin mutters a clearing spell.

Never look back, that’s when you give up how you are going to miss them.

A teasing confident Padfoot echoes in his mind and Moony knows he will never quiet the memories. Leaving the cottage, he doesn’t look back.

“Happy Birthday, Padfoot.” The wind whispers as the last marauder apparates.

[loveinpanem-blog]

A Candle For The Caribbean: Charity Anthology

Titles and Summaries of Stories and Fanart

The outpouring of support from artists and donors has been truly inspiring. As of today, we’ve raised $1650.00 in funds, all donated directly to organizations supporting the ongoing relief efforts in the Caribbean.

We’ve received the first proof of the anthology, including the list of works being offered. For a minimum donation of $10.00 to any reputable charity supporting victims of Hurricane Maria, you can receive this collection in e-format containing all the creative works from The Hunger Games, Outlander and Overlander fandom, to be published on December 7th. We will continue accepting receipts through the end of January, 2018. Send these to titania522@gmail.com.

Below the cut, you will find a preview of all the stories and works being offered, including the titles, authors and story summaries or opening paragraphs of the works to be published.

We here at Love in Panem cannot express enough how grateful we are for the number and quality of stories and the number of people who’ve stepped up to contribute to this cause. This includes the wonderful banner makers and betas who have made this anthology a success.

Without further ado, find the list and summaries of artists below. A warning: It is quite a long list :)

Table of Contents

The Hunger Games

5 Winds by @lollercakesff

Summary: When the winds of fate blow, there is no stopping these emergency responders from rushing in. After five disasters and five collisions of fate, can they finally find each other?

Capitol Gym by @neverstopwhileyoureahead

Summary: Katniss would do just about anything for her little sister. It's why she reluctantly agreed to be her plus one to Capitol Gym. What she didn't expect was for a blue-eyed employee to make her suffering a little more bearable.

Como Duele by @mega-aulover

Synopsis: Katniss Everdeen world flips upside down after her beloved father dies. She takes on the responsibility to care for her mother and the Coffee Bean Hacienda. Everything goes from bad to worse when she is forced to marry Peeta Mellark. In the midst of a storm things take a dangerous turn when people who have crossed her end up dead.

Costra Nostra by @shesasurvivor

Summary: Katniss Everdeen is a performer for The Mockingjay, a hotel and casino run by mob boss Coriolanus Snow in Las Vegas. Peeta Mellark is the accountant who might be a plant for the FBI in The Mockingjay’s business office. The two are instantly drawn to each other, but how can anything possibly end well when they are on two opposing sides? Especially when the mob will have no problem harming Katniss’s sister if she betrays them. 1950’s historical AU set in mob-run Las Vegas.

Death, Time, Love by @elricsister            

Summary: verlark contemporary AU. Katniss has lost everything, she hates Peeta and just wants to be left alone. The visit of three strangers spanning 12 years will hopefully change that.

Forever, My Muse by @alwayspeetamellark

He needed new inspiration and fast. It was over four months ago he had his last exhibition and this creative rut had found him. Simply nothing was coming out right. He had tried everything, from taking a trip and getting away from things but to no avail. He still lacked the inspiration and when he put brush to canvas nothing came to life, as it should have.

From Peeta with Love by @PatriziaNordsee

July 2017 - Peeta / Lufthansa Flight 707 to Puerto Rico

10 hours is a long time. How will I spend 10 hours sitting in the economy class of a plane with nothing to do but wait? Nothing to do with my hands and nothing to think about but the reason why I left Germany and am now on a plane to Puerto Rico. Left the country I called home for such a long time.

Now flying into the Caribbean. 10 hours is all it will take to bring me from Frankfurt in Germany to Juan Santa María International Airport. 10 hours to transfer my soul from Germany to Puerto Rico.

Hurricane Force 5 by @thegirlfromoverthepond

Peeta was exhausted.

Or rather, he was beyond exhaustion.

He wished he could find solace in the landscape in front of him. The endless blue of the sea, marked here and there with little puffs of white, meeting the sky, in a never ending palette of blues. It would be breathtaking if he could take his mind of the disaster all around him.

Let’s Hurt Tonight by @katnissdoesnotfollowback

Summary: Inspired by (not based on) the film Collateral Beauty and the associated song, Let’s Hurt Tonight by OneRepublic, a short peek into the lives of the Everdeen women. Canon compliant.

Love Letters by @javistg

Summary: Katniss Everdeen learns about her past as she gets ready to face her future. Everlark. Canon-compliant (mostly), Post Mockingjay, Pre-Epilogue.

My Favorite Mistake by @titaniasfics

Summary: They begin as simple acquaintances who quickly become confidantes. When Katniss Everdeen’s friendship with a very-married Peeta Mellark morphs into something deeper, mistakes are made that will change their lives forever.

Panem Cruises by @alliswell21

Synopsis: Everlark meet in a cruise ship, where mishap after mishap brings them to a happily ever after.

Perhaps, Maybe by @everlarkingjoshifer

Weariness bore her sleep addled thoughts as Katniss leaned her head against the car window while rows and rows of unlit mast poles passed by. Blinking slowly she suppressed a yawn as yet another tree the length of a small apartment building whisked by. Furrowing her eyebrows, she tried to guess which kind it could be, but it passed by too quickly and her sluggish thoughts fogged her memory. Unable to conceal yet another yawn Katniss repositioned herself against the all too comfortable seat.

“Tired?” Peeta asked giving her a sweet smile.

‘No shit Sherlock,’ she internally said but thought better of it, choosing instead to just shrug nonchalantly.

Not With Haste by @llmarmalade

Summary: Prim and Peeta were never reaped, Peeta married Delly Cartwright who died and Katniss never married. The Revolution occurred naturally after President Snow died. Prim was killed in the City Circle bombing.

Redemption by @notanislander

She sits alone in the sand overlooking the bay. After pulling the overnight shift at the hospital, this is her favorite place to be. The sounds of the waves crashing and the gulls calling to each other gives her a sense of calm that she cannot seem to find anywhere else. The breeze softly blowing her hair soothes her. She’s glad it’s high tide though, sometimes the smells at low tide are a bit overpowering. She sits there, contemplating the past few days, contemplating her life, contemplating what brought her here to 4. And why she stayed.

Ride Through the Meadow by @savvylark

“Get back on the saddle. Just like riding a bike.” Johanna's words echo in my head as I ride my way through to short cut through the meadow to my favorite park. That’s the problem, dating is nothing like riding a bike. There’s a focus, you can see the terrain ahead of you and know what you’re facing. There’s a clear goal and destination in mind and, if you have a companion on your journey, you keep the same pace, there’s an understanding with the common goal ahead that spurs one another on.

Smitten With You by @litlifelover

These days Katniss enjoys her life as an editor for children's books, which can be stressful at times, but never to the degree of her former career as an event planner. She likes her quiet evenings and lazy weekends, loves that she can visit her family regularly and is able to spend time with her nephews. There’s even the flexibility to meet with Madge after a work day, enjoy a cup of coffee and talk about everything best friends talk about.

Someday by @norbertsmom

Summary: In this Everlark take on West Side Story, Katniss is a Puerto Rican girl living in the Seam neighborhood of the town of Panem. Peeta is a white baker’s son living in the merchant area. Their families each belong to rival gangs. Can the star crossed lovers survive when the feud comes to a head?

That’s How You Change The World by @geekymoviemom

I wake, shivering, in the dark of the night. Peeta is passed out cold, the morphling I shot into his arm nearly three hours ago keeping the worst of his pain at bay, at least for now. But it’ll be all too soon before he wakes again, startling with the intensity of his agony before he remembers that moving makes it all that much worse.

The Buzz Around Town by @florence68blog

Due to unfortunate circumstances, the relationship between Peeta and Katniss ended before it even began. Ten years later they meet again. However, the only thing Peeta is able to observe is that Katniss is even more unreachable than ever …

The Lucky Ones by @historywriter2007

West Virginia, December 1969.

“Peeta Mellark, you need to get back here and fix this right now.” Glimmer screeched.

Peeta stopped halfway down the walk to turn and face his fiancé. Her blue eyes were clouded with anger, he thought she would understand but obviously, he was wrong.

“There's nothing I can do, Glimmer. I got my draft notice, I'm not going to turn my back on my country.” Peeta raised the letter in his hand, his blood began to boil, how could she not see this was the right thing to do?

Too Familiar by @hutchhitched

Katniss smiled as she read the text messages that flashed on her phone screen. Her co-worker and friend, Peeta Mellark, and she had enjoyed a running commentary for the past few months—ever since they both begrudgingly admitted that they shared the same corny sense of humor. Katniss found him remarkably funny and had lost track of the times she’d (literally) laughed out loud at a quip he’d sent.

Unsafe Waters by @jobanana7

Sept 6th JFK international airport The day was finally here. After a month apart from his love, he was coming home and he was ready for it. Before his company asked him to go to New York to do this presentation that Peeta hadn’t thought would take so long, he asked her dad for permission to marry her before he left. Had she known he did she would’ve teased at him for sure but he was ready with his Grandma Sae’s rings on his person and a beautiful would be bride by his side. He was ready. He just hoped she would accept his proposal.

When You Kiss Me…by @chele20035

Dog trainer Katniss Everdeen got to help wounded vet, Peeta Mellark. Neither one knew what to expect when they receive invites to a special New Year’s Eve ball in London, England.

Outlander

Jamaica by @bonnie-wee-swordsman

Summary: A scene that we haven’t yet gotten in Outlander canon, even four books afterward: Brianna tells Jamie about the dream she had about her parents being in Jamaica. Based upon Voyager (Chapter 61) for Jamie’s side of the event, and Drums of Autumn (Chapter 40) for Brianna’s, so expect spoilers for both.

Memories Of The Moon by @phoenixflames12

He sits on the white boulder below the cave, gazing up at the moon. The cup of weak stew that Young Jamie had brought up that evening clasped between hands that are numb with cold.

Multifandom

Hackers Unite by @lilyaceofdiamonds

Alec Hardison sat at his computers a few days after the Irma and Maria hurricanes hit the islands in the Caribbean. Parker and Eliot were off buying supplies, they had just finished a job in New York. Hardison was just testing a program to search for any potential clients that Leverage, Inc could take on when his laptop dinged with a new email.

Sense8

Resist and Bite by @fiftyeightminutes

BPO has Wolfgang. The August 8th cluster have Whispers and Jonas. What is the cluster willing to risk in order to get back their missing piece?

Fanart

Jamie and Claire by @ombradellaluna

Gregor the Overlander by smokestarrules (deviantart)

Banner Makers

@akai-echo

@everlarkingjoshifer

@damndonnergirls

See you on December 7th!

[thecrazydragonlady]

Coffee Shops and Board Games- Chapter 7

Author’s Notes: *Cries* I managed to actually update a story. Enjoy an impromptu Puzzleshipping date!

AO3

Days Remaining Until Deadline: 8

Yugi sucked in a sharp breath before releasing it with a frustrated groan, quickly running a hand through his hair to alleviate some of his pain. It didn't help. He was still very much upset. It had been several days since their run-in with Pegasus; true to his word, Jou had kept an eye out for the recently turned baker but he hadn't made a reappearance. That, however was currently the least of his worries. His board game sat in front of him and tangle after frustrating tangle seemed to keep appearing.

Was Set going to betray the unnamed pharaoh?

Did he even want to?

What about the pharaoh's uncle? Where did he go in all of this?

Plus the rules for Zorc’s revival needed to be finalized.

Now the ideas of Ka and Ba were frustratingly mixed in and he still had to work out the rules on that.

Not to mention the character designs he had to approve.

A gentle hand touched his shoulder and he shot up a bit, surprised by the contact. Yami stood over him, the bags under his eyes not as noticeable as they had been for the last couple of days but his expression was twisted. He glanced him over before sitting a cup of coffee down in front of him, “Here aibou. You look like you need it.” Yugi smiled, accepting it. He hesitated though before raising it to his lips; earlier that week, he had attempted a sip of one of Yami’s “tar monsters” and nearly died at the pure, black death that resided inside. The artist noticed. He chuckled out, “Don’t worry. I made sure there was cream and sugar in it in ungodly amounts. No shots of espresso either. Just regular coffee.” His shoulders slumped.

“Thanks.” Yugi sipped. It was surprisingly made the way he enjoyed it when he ordered regular coffee. Yami returned to his seat across from him. Their booth was once more covered in materials.  He took a deep breath, “Alright, we’re making progress but we still have a ways to go. The advisors to the pharaoh need to be finalized in their designs and I’ve still got to come up with the rules for Zorc’s revival and we can’t forget about the betrayal of Set and his father and….”

“Yugi,” Yami soothed. “Stop.”

The game designer fell silent. He blinked at him a few times before leaning his head to the side, confused. Yami stared at him for a few seconds before standing and gathering his materials. Yugi blanched. “What are you doing?”

“I’m packing up,” he confirmed. Yugi smiled wryly.

“I noticed but… why? We have a lot of work that needs to be done.”

Yami waved a hand towards him, “You need a breather. I can practically see your brain about to implode.”

“But….”

“We’ve been working for a week straight Yugi, over twelve hours each day. We still have eight until the deadline. Half a day or even a full day won’t kill us. Trust me,” he continued, cutting him off from protesting, “if this keeps up, you’re going to burn out and then you’ll have to face Seto Kaiba without a board game. Not a prospect either of us wants to face right?” Yugi snapped his jaw shut. He ducked his head but nodded. Yami merely smiled and reached over, musing his hair which caused him to complain like a child. “So come on. We’re going out.” He didn’t leave much time for him to protest. Finishing gathering the materials, Yami grabbed him by the wrist and tugged him out of the booth and subsequently out the door of the coffee shop.

Meanwhile, Jou was grinning like an idiot and he snapped a photo of their retreating backs.

Looks like Yug’s finally going on a date with his crush, he texted to every single one of their friends.

*****

Going out apparently meant heading to the Domino City Museum. They caught the bus just in time. Yugi was very much aware that Yami never released his wrist from the moment they left the shop, paid their fare, and made their way across town. It was only after they had taken their seats that he released him.

He couldn't help but wonder if he had enjoyed holding his hand - wrist- as much as he had enjoyed having it held.

They rode mostly in silence. The bus hummed underneath them and the people around them mostly kept to themselves. He wanted to ask him where they were going but when he looked up, he found the artist staring out the bus window, his chin resting in his hand, elbow propped precariously against the tiniest of window seals. It gave him a perfect view of his profile. After many months of pining after him, Yugi swallowed hard. He would have never dreamed that he would have gotten this before; in fact, if anyone had told him over a month ago that he would be riding on the bus going to who-knows-where with the mysterious man he was crushing on, he probably would have laughed in their face. They passed through a tunnel. Yami’s eyes glowed a brilliant red in the orange lighting. He had to bite his lip and turn away, hiding his hands in his lap, as he squirmed a bit in his seat.

Finally, he cleared his throat, “Yami?” He looked over at him for the first time since sitting down but Yugi made sure to avoid eye contact with him, scratching his cheek, “I-I was wondering where we’re heading…?” He blinked.

“My bad,” he chuckled out, “Mahad is always telling me I can be a bit hasty. I'm taking you to one of my favorite spots in the city. It's where I can find inspiration when I think I don't have any.” Yugi blinked.

“Oh? And where exactly is that?” Yami winked.

“You'll just have to wait and see.” He returned to looking out the window, refusing to say anymore on the topic, which left Yugi to look around or at his hand until they finally came to the stop they were meant for. Yami stood, grabbing his wrist again. “Here's our stop!” Yugi nearly chuckled at the sense of deja vu he was having as the taller one worked his way past him and off the bus. As it roared away, he recognized where they were at. He snickered which caused Yami to scratch his own cheek this time, not looking at him.

“You get your inspiration from the museum?”

“They've got some good materials,” he countered, leading the way up the stairs. “And new exhibits are always coming through. For instance,” he motioned to a large banner declaring the newest one off to the side, “they have a special Egyptian exhibit this time around. I figured since your game is based in Egypt… maybe….” He blinked. A soft smile crept across his face and he couldn't help but chuckle. Yami pouted. “What?”

“Nothing. It’s a sweet gesture.” He gently placed a hand on his arm before walking up the stairs to the entrance. He only stopped closer to the top when he noticed Yami wasn't right behind him.

It turned out, as his turning revealed, that he was still at the bottom, eyes wide, face covered in a bit of red.

This made him become even more flustered.

Dear goodness. What in the world were the two of them?

*****

There weren't many people inside on a day like this. Yami graciously paid their way in and, without needing a guide, began leading the way around the building. There was a very distinct smell about the place. It smelled of old paper, the kind that had been sitting in a library for more years than any one could count. There were a few school groups and random visitors but the noise level was pretty low all over. They travelled around from exhibit to exhibit; Yami every now and then pulled out his sketchbook and made notes or quick doodles, sometimes turning it so Yugi could give his honest appraisal. He would nod or offer a suggestion. At one point, Yami drew a ridiculous picture of Seto Kaiba and some cabbages based off some story they read. Yugi had to cover his mouth to stifle the laughter but that didn't stop a couple of the other patrons from staring at him like he had lost his mind.

Closer to noon, they left, heading back on the bus to have burgers at Yugi’s favorite joint.

Sadly, no more wrist-hand holding occurred.

Yami stretched as they came out of the shop, content and full. Yugi readjusted his bag on his shoulder, “Guess we better head back to….”

“Oh no you don't. We are most certainly not done,” Yami cut in. He blinked at the wryly smile that crossed his lips. “The day is still young and you most certainly do not need to be frying your brains out over this game.”

“But….”

“Nope. Not happening.” This time, Yami really did grab his hand. Yugi thought he was about to shoot off into orbit. “We are still going to go out and have fun and not think about that board game of yours until we are done having fun.”

“And how long will that be?”

Yami put a finger from his free hand playfully on his chin, “Tomorrow?”

Yugi baulked, “Tomorrow? Yami! The deadline's in eight days!”

“True.”

“At least this afternoon.”

“I'll only let you have… after dinner.” Yugi blushed.

“D-D-Dinner?” Yami winked.

“Yes, dinner. For now,” he tugged him on across the sidewalk, “we are going to play some games.” He stopped, turning to face him. Yugi was forced to lean his head back to stare him in the face. There was a clear, mischievous chuckle on his lips that matched the teasing smirk there as well, “Yugi Mutou, I challenge you to arcade games.”

[mdwatchestv]

Game of Thrones 7x01: Shall We Begin?

Yooooo it's Thrones time baby! I know a ton of people are going to write about this season and I originally wasn't going to, but then I wasn't writing about anything else and the gaping pit of self doubt and shame that lives just beneath the surface of all my thoughts was beginning to open up again so I thought fuck it I'll write about it because you only live once. Unless you're Jon Snow.

Game of Thrones is one of the only shows I continue to watch live, and there is truly no greater television joy than hearing that theme song swell. Game of Thrones has led the vanguard of must see TV for the past six years and facing a world without it is a dark prospect indeed. But winter is here friends, and we are facing a cold eternal darkness without Westeros. So let us return, together, for the second to the last time, to our favorite blood-spurting, boob-baring, dragon-wrangling, power-plotting, Stark-slaughtering show. 

Shall we begin? 

Season seven begins with a cold open, and it is the COLDEST of opens. Mysteriously we are back with Walder Frey (as unwelcome as he may be, a scenery chewing performance from David Bradley is always extremely welcome) who we witnessed Arya kill in the most delicious way possible at the end of season six. The clearly still living Walder has gathered his miserable brood in celebration, even treating them to fancy wine. However his speech of celebration becomes increasingly pointed, accusing the gathered of celebrating the death of an unborn child as well as a hardworking mother of five. That's because twist- Walder is really Arya Motherfucking Stark and she has come to MURDER EVERYONE. THE NORTH REMEMBERS SMASH TO-

Doo doo do do doo doo do do doooooo. 

Not only is Arya cold as ice, she can now literally be any character at any time. I am super cool with this. We are all Arya. Arya is me. Anyway moving on we get treated to a sweeping dramatic shot of the the army of the Night King, it is big as hell and includes many giants. Winter is coming indeed. Also Meera Reed has hauled Bran all the way to the Wall in a sled.  What a metaphor for life. 

In Winterfell we pick up with King of the North Jon Snow and Sansa talking Night Army strategy. Lyanna Mormont of Bear Island is also there smashing the patriarchy and repping Bear Island. Truly my all time favorite character on any show. Westeros could burn to the ground, or freeze into a block of ice, and Bear Island will still be an impenetrable fortress filled with men, women and children all armed to the teeth and ready to fuck you up. Long live Lyanna.

Anyway the idealogical rift between Jon and Sansa is only getting wider coming to a head when Sansa calls Jon out for choosing not to punish the Karstark and Umber families for fighting alongside the Boltons. Sansa believes the keeps of these traitor families should be given to knights loyal to the Starks, while in Jon's view the offending family members have already paid with their lives on the field of battle. Jon gets his way and has the surviving member of each house (who are literal children) swear an oath of fealty. Sansa is pissed and rightly so. Yes Jon's choice may seem like the magnanimous one, but it is not necessarily the wisest. Rewarding the fortresses of the Karstarks and Umbers to loyal families seemed to be the popular choice among the Stark banner men, a group whose loyalty he will need to retain when things start getting cold and scary. Whats more the two fortresses in question are in critical tactical positions north of Winterfell and he has handed them over to inexperienced children. Sansa is on point when she tells Jon he needs to be smarter than Ned and Rob, especially when Jon himself has already been betrayed to his death (once again by a child). Sansa is also correct that while Cersei may be a distant threat, she doesn't need to march an army to Winterfell to cut down the Starks. Jon is wary of Cersei's influence on Sansa, but he should be putting the lessons of King's Landing to use! Yes there was political maneuvering at the Wall, but none of those crows has ANYTHING on the Lannisters and in this arena Jon truly knows nothing (sorry).

 One of the many (many) beautiful aspects of Game of Thrones is the storytelling work done in costuming. in this episode Sansa is rendered in a black dress with severe, chain-like metal detailing. The costume suggests the threat of war, the confines of duty, the acquisition of power and resolve. it also mirrors....

The new Queen of the Seven (more like three) Kingdoms Cersei Lannister! While she may be queen, Cersei has now lost all her children, leaving her only with  the warm embrace of the iron throne and Jamie's semi-terrified love to prop up what remains of her humanity. But despite looming threats from every cardinal direction, Cersei is still on her game and looking to get into bed (perhaps literally) with Westeros' hottest new family to ally with - the Greyjoys! More specifically Euron Greyjoy who has a new look and party attitude! I don't remember him being this much fun last season, but I welcome it. 

Meanwhile Arya is walking through the woods and comes upon a wild Ed Sheeran, as one does. The success of Game of Thrones means that they can integrate higher profile names into the show (see Jim Broadbent) without breaking the ~*~*~illusion~*~*~ of the world. Personally, I felt like Ed was a little too extra... I couldn't stop thinking "That's Ed Sheeran sitting next to Arya. Do the Lannisters know that Ed Sheeran is in their army? What does ‘Shape of You’ sound like on a lute?" I was assuaged by the knowledge that he was hired as a treat for Maisie Williams, who deserves treats, so I will let it slide. Other than the presence of the Ginger One, this was a nice counterpoint to Arya's brutal opener. While she may be a hardened killer, she is still a young girl, just as most of the cannon fodder in the Lannister army are young boys (and Ed Sheeran), and this scene offered a poignant contextualization for the cost of war in Westeros.

Phew, I forgot how many things happen on Game of Thrones. The Hound comes across the man and child he doomed seasons earlier and feels remorse (character growth!) He also has a chilling fire-vision of the Army of the Dead marching away by a mountain (or maybe THE Mountain? Never let the dream of Clegane Bowl die). 

Sweet Samwell is essentially a house elf at Maester HQ, and instead of learning about how to kill White Walkers, he is carrying poop and organs around. We also find out that poor greyscale infected Jorah is locked up there likely in hopes of being cured. While his outside may be peely and gross, his profile remains as rugged as ever. All that out of the way, we did learn some important plot stuff here too. Sam steals a book from the Restricted Section filled with tips and tricks to slicing and dicing White Walkers. White Walker kryptonite is dragonglass, which we kind of knew from Jon Snow and company's misadventures north of the Wall. But what is more interesting is that we learn the Targaryen built fortress of Dragonstone (hey that's the name of the episode) is built on a giant pile of dragonglass (convenient!). If you cast your mind back to previous seasons, or even just the previously on at the beginning of the episode, that castle is where Stannis (lol remember him) had his base. In my experience Previously Ons are often the Rosetta Stone of television and the premiere's held additional clues as well.  Not only did the Previously On remind us that Dragonstone was where Stannis hung out, it also made sure to show us that the ill-fated Shireen spent quite a bit of time there too. Shireen who miraculously recovered from her greyscale after living on a giant pile of dragonglass, suggesting perhaps that dragonglass could be the solution to more than one problem...

And speaking of Dragonstone, we finally come to the titular location. Seemingly completely abandoned since Stannis bounced, Khaleesi and her crew roll up as their first landing in Westeros. In a beautiful silent sequence Dany mounts the stairs of the throne  but eschews the seat of power for the strategic promise of the war room. And she might as well be addressing the audience itself with her final cool query.

Oh my god that was so much writing. I'm going to bold keywords so you skimmers can anchor on to the topics you want to read about.

MVP: Arya Sheeran-Stark

XO MD

Bonus:

[reactingtosomething]

Kris Reacts to Game of Thrones: 701, “Dragonstone”

“Would That Be So Terrible?”

The Setup: I (Kris, aka @omeletsforpepper) am not the only one of us who keeps up with Game of Thrones, but I wanted to try my hand at solo reacting. This could change, but my plan is to pick out a theme (not necessarily “the” theme) of the week’s episode, and discuss in depth just one or two scenes/sequences that involve it. I’ll also include some extra thoughts at the end, in the vein of The AV Club’s “Stray Observations.”

SPOILERS for the season 7 premiere of Game of Thrones immediately after the jump.

Though it isn’t actually one of the scenes I want to spotlight this week — largely because I’m sure it’s the one most discussed already across the internet — the bloody cold open gives us a pretty clear thematic statement: this is an episode about debt, and desert. (As in, the condition of deserving something, spelled like the geographical feature, but pronounced like the thing that comes at the end of a meal.) After killing almost everyone who was still eligible to be punished for the Red Wedding, almost everyone’s favorite Stark turns to the late Walder Frey’s newest wife to deliver not only a certain weather announcement, but also probably everyone’s second favorite Stark line: “The North remembers.”

That the North remembers is critical to both Jon and Sansa in the surprisingly nuanced scene that ends with the loyalty oaths of Alys Karstark and Ned Umber. For Jon, Northern and more specifically Stark memory is tied up in the very sense of tradition that kept him a lesser member of his family in the eyes of the late Catelyn, tradition into which he always wanted to be accepted. In spite of everything he’s learned, and all the compromises he’s made, Jon Snow (or should we be calling him Jon Stark now?) still holds as tightly as he can to the ideals and customs of his father. In this case, that means not taking away the ancestral homes of families who fought against him, under the Bolton banner. The Karstark and Umber heirs, both children, will inherit their fathers’ titles. As Sansa points out, although the specific Karstark and Umber men who fought for Ramsay Bolton are indeed already dead, the rest of the North will not receive the message that betraying the Starks will be punished. And more importantly, they will not receive the message that loyalty to the Starks in difficult times will be rewarded.

This is where the “surprisingly” part comes in. Though it’s often been a fiercely intelligent show, and always one that reveled in moral grayness, Game of Thrones isn’t really something I’d describe as subtle, or as being particularly adept with philosophical uncertainty. It has always claimed to be a show concerned with subtlety and ambiguity, but in practice that ambiguity often just meant subjecting characters (partially or completely naked women, disproportionately) to heavy-handed awfulness. Something like Joffrey’s sadistic torture-murder of Ros isn’t a marker of cleverness or depth, it’s Dark and Edgy for the sake of Dark and Edgy. Also, this is just one of those shows that typically doesn’t do subtext in its dialogue. It just has much better-sounding dialogue than your typical network procedural. And that’s not nothing!

A more interesting reason for the show’s incomplete success in delivering on true moral ambiguity is perhaps that it hasn’t often pitted its traditionally heroic characters against each other, especially post-“Blackwater.” But now that the two characters who’ve perhaps suffered most (not that it’s a contest) find themselves at odds, the show’s creative team clearly understands that doing both those characters justice means using a different kind of suspense from the sort that drove episodes like, say, “The Mountain and the Viper.”

We’ll have to wait to see the consequences of Jon’s very public refusal to take Sansa’s very public advice — advice with which most of the Stark bannermen seemed to heartily agree — not only in the military and political spheres, but in Jon and Sansa’s relationship. But I was glad to see that, perhaps owing to Lyanna Mormont’s influence, the men in the room weren’t dismissive of Sansa’s counsel, and were indeed on her side. I was also glad that even when Jon pushed ahead with his own agenda, we weren’t subjected to a repetition of the “everyone sure is angry at Jon” beats we saw so often at Castle Black. Maybe like the men of the Night’s Watch, they’re all tired of arguing with each other.

Or maybe it was that though Sansa very clearly won the logical argument in this scene, Jon kind of got to win the emotional one. Is it really any wonder he’s so opposed to taking away anyone’s ancestral home? It’s not only that he just took back Winterfell. It’s also that Winterfell was, before all of this, never intended to be his ancestral home. He was born a Snow (cough cough, yeah, I know, but the show didn’t go there this week so neither will I), not a Stark. The reclamation of Winterfell doesn’t necessarily mean more to Jon than it does to Sansa, but it does mean something different.

This layer, important as it is for us, probably didn’t occur to the Stark bannermen. For them, the emotional force of Jon’s case is much more concrete once Jon calls forward Alys Karstark and Ned Umber, the former of whom looks no older than Arya was in the show’s very first episode, and the latter of whom may well be younger than Bran was. Look, on the level of strategy, Sansa is right. Sansa is right! Jon is clinging to an ideal for the sake of the ideal, at least as much as because he thinks it’ll help him win. But even as we acknowledge that he’s making a bad decision, we can also acknowledge that there’s something laudable in it. Despite their agreement with Sansa, the bannermen get solemn when those kids  — those kids, who indeed do not deserve to be punished for the sins of their fathers — approach their king and bend the knee, and cheer when those kids say the words they have to say. And when Alys Karstark cracks a smile out of what’s surely a heady combination of relief, gratitude, and newfound purpose, we can’t help but be moved.

Unless we’re Sansa, tragically world-weary and out of fucks to give. Thank the old gods and the new for her bluntness in calling out the dearly departed Ned and Robb for “stupid mistakes.” And for her quiet but firm response — “Would that be so terrible?” — when Jon asks if being smarter than them means taking her advice. And for Jon’s wisdom in not pushing her away (yet, at least).

Something else to keep in mind about Jon and Sansa: Despite their heartfelt reunion and the shared trial of taking back Winterfell, we should remember that they held no special fondness for each other way back before their lives and the world went to hell. I can’t help wondering if that lack of pre-existing closeness will quietly become a complication now that Jon and Sansa both finally find themselves with the tiniest bit of breathing room.

Of course, Danaerys Targaryen gets the prize for longest-awaited homecoming. (Here’s a cool little Vanity Fair piece about the production design of Dragonstone.) I don’t want to go on much longer here, and I guess there isn’t that much to say, other than that the choice to make this scene almost-wordless was a good one, and that Team Targaryen’s tailor wins. 

When it comes down to it, I like the fact of Dany’s arrival to Dragonstone a lot, and I’m still pretty fond of her as a character, and of basically everyone in her entourage. (Varys is one of my very favorite supporting characters on this show.)

But throughout this whole sequence, I also couldn’t shake a meta-criticism, I guess, that the columnist Ross Douthat has made of the show and at least a theoretical subsection of its fans (emphasis mine):

“Game of Thrones” is still working within the framework of its essentially romantic genre — critiquing it and complicating it, yes, but also giving us a set of heroes and heroines to root for whose destinies are set by bloodlines and prophecies, and who are likely in the end to save their world from darkness and chaos no less than Aragorn or Shea Ohmsford or Rand al’Thor.

Put another way: On “The Sopranos,” there is no right way to be a mafioso. But on “Game of Thrones” there is a right way to be a lord or king and knight, and there are characters who model the virtues of each office, who prove that chivalry and wise lordship need not be a myth. Sometimes they do so in unexpected ways — the lady knight who has more chivalry than the men who jeer at her, the dwarf who rules more justly than the family members who look down on him. But this sort of reversal is typical of the genre, which always has its hobbits and stable boys and shieldmaidens ready to surprise the proud and prejudiced. And it coexists throughout the story with an emphasis on the importance of legitimacy and noblesse oblige and dynastic continuity, which is often strikingly uncynical given the dark-and-gritty atmosphere. […] In the end, whatever their politics in this world, both the show’s bad fans and its good fans are rooting a queen or for a king.

I am not, in general, a Douthat fan, mostly because of his hand-wringing in opposition to abortion and other “culture war” matters. But I think he’s a pretty solid pop culture writer, and very often the sort who’s helpful to read precisely because he doesn’t think the same things I think. And in this case, I’m even inclined to agree at least a little.

It’s pretty hard to deny that Game of Thrones has Bad Fans. Most of those Bad Fans are the kind who tweet endless harassment at culture writers who've criticized, say, the show’s use of sexual assault and its racial politics. But I would also love to see more critical and fan engagement with the idea that our designated protagonists are all protagonists-by-blood.

(One of the reasons for my arguable lack of generosity toward my fellow viewers here is that I remain convinced that Steve Rogers’ position in Captain America: Civil War is baldly anti-democratic, and that #TeamCap loyalists generally fail to reckon with this.)

Yes, Jon and Dany and Tyrion have all learned a lot that in theory makes them worthy of leadership. But does any of that actually mean that Dany (let’s just focus on her, for word count’s sake) deserves to be Queen of Westeros? More so than Cersei, sure. But should we really assume that the war has to end with one of our heroes on the Iron Throne? And is Dany actually entitled to any throne at all? Not really, if we’re honest. There’s no great moral case for her to have left Essos, where she could have still done a lot of good (setting aside, too, the White Savior thing). She left Essos because she felt entitled to a throne her family had abused for generations, in a land she barely remembers, full of people about whom she knows next to nothing. She wants to prove that she can be a better monarch than those who’ve gone before her. Tyrion wants to see her be a better monarch. Varys wants the country to stop bleeding. That all matters. But none of it is the main reason Dany started out on this path before meeting either of her newest advisors.

I’m not saying that Game of Thrones, or A Song of Ice and Fire, needs to end like the first year of Ta-Nehisi Coates’s run on Black Panther, with Wakanda finally beginning the process of writing up a constitution to distribute power away from its monarch. And I definitely doubt that it’ll go that way.

But also, um, why couldn’t it? Why shouldn’t it?

Would that be so terrible?

I Don’t Want to Just Call This Section “Stray Observations” but I Don’t Have a Different Name for It Yet Either and Sure I’ll Take Suggestions

Anyone else want to see Brienne spar with Tormund?

I have, for all practical intents and purposes, no real idea who Ed Sheeran is, so I actually really liked that scene of Arya with the Lannister soldiers. Another Surprisingly Nuanced moment. (If you feel the same way I do about the Surprisingly Nuanced thing, definitely read Matt Zoller Seitz on GoT’s grappling with its own legacy).

People not only cross oceans very quickly in this show, but build ships very quickly.

Heh.

When I read A Game of Thrones forever ago, I pictured Thoros of Myr as kind of a Shaolin monk type. I don’t know if that’s what GRRM pictured, but I still wish it was the case. I mean I like this Thoros just fine. But, you know. Asian representation. Just would’ve been cool.

I’ll try to be back here next week! In the meantime, you can follow us on Twitter if you’d like a convenient feed of other, better, culture writers.

[choupetit]

GOT Recap: Winterfell

Airdate: 4/14/19 ; Season 8, Episode 1

Ah, the long winter for “Game of Thrones” fans is finally over…and yet, the Long Winter in Westeros has only just begun.  After much anticipation, season 8 is officially upon us and “Winterfell” was the perfect place to start things off.  This episode gave us callbacks,  shade-throwing and a handful of much-anticipated reunions.  And of course there is that awkward moment when you introduce your new girlfriend—who is technically already a blood relation—to the rest of the fam.

Cozy up in your warmest pelts, because the icy cold is spreading across the realm and extending to people’s moods in this recap of “Winterfell”.

First off, it’s worth noting that the credits got a makeover.  The Wall has been updated to show its gaping hole, and as we visit the different locations on the map, we get a look at the interiors – including the crypts at Winterfell.  It is…très cool.  They even take us all the way into Cersei’s closet with her clothes folded into perfect little Marie Kondo squares.  If you didn’t catch it, that’s on YOU, ok?

Homecoming

A young boy runs through the snowy wood and climbs a tree to take in the magnitude of Daenerys Targaryen’s vast army of Unsullied and Dothraki  as they march to Winterfell in the near distance.  Daenerys and Jon Snow ride side by side upon their steeds. Just as she did in the very first episode of the series, Arya Stark watches the royal procession amongst the commoners, unnoticed by the familiar faces that pass her. Her face lights up at the sight of Jon. She looks ready to call out to him, but doesn’t and her face fades to disappointment when his horse passes her.  Shortly after, she sees the Hound – if she’s surprised to see him alive, it doesn’t show. When she sees Gendry, however, a smile passes across her lips.  Yasssss, I so want these two to hook up,  I’m just going to put that out there right now.

The Northerners watch the army pass through, their faces stone-cold and suspicious, not much impressed by the foreign queen. But when her two dragons soar overhead, the crowd gasps in wonder and fear and Dany’s self-satisfied grin says it all: “Damn straight, betches!  The mother of dragons has arrived!”   I never get sick of Dany’s dragons gliding through the sky.  Arya beholds them with giddy amazement, but as the dragons glide over Winterfell Castle, Sansa looks on from the ramparts with awe and apprehension.

When Jon and Dany arrive at Winterfell, his siblings are there to greet him – well, sans Arya, that is. Bran Stark aka the Three-Eyed-Raven sits creepily and devoid of emotion in his wheelchair, so it’s business as usual, really.  Jon greets his little bro warmly a la “Dude, you’re a man now!”  Bran replies with a monotone “Almost.”  Sansa just flashes Jon her go-to look she gives anybody meeting this new version of Bran. “Yeah, he weird. Just roll with it.”  

When Jon introduces Dany to Sansa, the queen is met with an icy greeting.  Bran tells them they don’t have time for drama and need to work on a plan to defeat the Night King who has a newly acquired zombie dragon.  The Wall has fallen and the dead are on their way. Meep, that’s news to Jon and Dany!

In the Great Hall, it’s time for another powwow.  Sansa, in her wisdom, called all the House Stark banner men to Winterfell as soon as Bran told her the Wall was breached.  The Stark siblings, Daenerys, and Tyrion sit at the VIP table, while disgruntled banner men congregate and give Jon and Dany the collective stink eye.

The first item on the agenda is Little Lord Umber and the lack of reinforcements he brought.  The poor kid looks about 10 years old and totally unfit to be the head of his House.  Remember how the Umbers sold out Rickon Stark to Ramsay Bolton? Grrr, but we can’t hold this little boy accountable for his crappy elders.  When he explains he didn’t bring his men because they need more horses Sansa tells him they’ll give him the resources they can spare and she sends him back to his home at the Last Hearth.  

Jon says they need to notify the Nights Watch at Castle Black to leave their posts now that the Wall has been breached by the Night King’s army.

Next up, Lyanna Mormont addresses the elephant in the room: The Northmen were pledged to House Stark and are none too pleased with their King in the North giving up his title to Daenerys.  They aren’t down to serve an outsider and feel miffed and betrayed. Jon defends his actions and explains it was all to secure the safety of the North. They can only survive by making allies, and seriously, titles do not matter at a time like this.  Tyrion Lannister pipes up that Jon risked his life to prove the threat of the Whitewalkers is real.  And Dany – foreign though she may be – has brought significant resources to help the North in their fight against the dead.  “She’s got the greatest army ever and two mutha-effin’ dragons y’all. Throw her a bone.  Oh, and House Lannister will be sending an army for additional backup.”  Booooo, hissss! That tidbit doesn’t tip the scale in his favor, as the North hates the Lannisters with the passion of a thousand suns.

Sansa, who is basically House Stark’s stellar PR person, is also super pissed about Jon’s decision to bow down to Dany.  She has no qualms about looking a gift dragon in the mouth and gets down to practical matters. “Yeah, so…we don’t have enough food stores for all of us AND your impressive army, not to mention the giant dragons.  What the hell do they eat anyway?”  Dany turns to her and starts to explain how Drogon is going full Keto Diet right now, and Rhaegal is currently a pescatarian and may have a gluten allergy, so things are gonna be a little challenging.   Ok, fine. Dragon’s eat whatever the hell they want, ok?  Next question!

After that super tense meeting, we see Gendry going through the carts of dragonglass in the courtyard, and Tyrion takes a moment to chat with Sansa.  They last saw each other at Joffrey’s Wedding – ya know, when Tyrion and Sansa were still married. It’s a slightly uncomfortable reunion between the two, but they manage to share a laugh before Sansa makes it clear she doesn’t believe Cersei will send an army to support them, and Tyrion is a fool if he thinks she will.  As Sansa walks off, Tyrion notices Bran staring at him.  Creepily…obviously.  Tyrion has a cryptic look on his face.  I still can’t figure out if he is in cahoots with Cersei.

In the Godswood at Winterfell, Jon Snow is at the Weirwood Tree.  He’s startled by the sudden appearance of Arya.   They share a heartfelt embrace and I almost cry.  Jon was always Arya’s favorite sibling, and vice versa, and the only time these two were together on screen before was the very first episode of the series. Man, this reunion was a long time coming and it made me so happy!  Jon tells Arya he could’ve used her support when he arrived, ‘cause Sansa is kind of a bitchy know-it-all.  But instead of commiserating with him, Arya tells him Sansa is the smartest person she knows and she is just looking out for the family, as is Arya.  When Jon says it’s his family, too, Arya hugs him and says “Don’t forget it.”   Oooh, knowing what we know about Jon’s true lineage, it’s an extra poignant line.  

Dirty Deeds

At the Red Keep, Qyburn informs Cersei of the terrible news that the Wall is down and the dead are marching south.  In typical She-Devil fashion, Cersei says “Good. “She saunters away with that infuriating smirk of hers.  

Meanwhile, Euron Greyjoy’s fleet arrives at King’s Landing with literal boatloads of soldiers of sell-swords from the Golden Company of Braavos.   Below deck, Euron pays a brief visit to his niece and prisoner, Yara Greyjoy, who tells him he’s supporting the wrong side.  He retorts that he’ll just take his fleet elsewhere.  But first, he wants to bone the queen.

In the throne room of the Red Keep, Euron and hunky Captain Strickland (the head of the Golden Company’s army) meet with Cersei.  Strickland gives the queen a count of soldiers and horses at her disposal. When Cersei is informed there will be no elephants in her army, it’s a huge disappointment for her and hilarious to watch.  I can only imagine the hours Cersei has spent daydreaming about riding on an elephant with friggin’ laser beams attached to its head and putting that smug little dragon queen in her place.  How do you come back from something like this?  

Meanwhile, Euron jockeys real hard for a private meeting of the “Do I make you horny, baby?” variety. Really, this whole scene is an homage to Austin Powers, in my book.  Cersei shoots him down at first, but then relents and Euron skips off to her chambers.

Speaking of horny, Bronn of the Blackwater is about to get some action with three whores.  The women can’t stop talking about their former customers who died in the recent battle against Daenerys and her dragons.  The fun(?) is cut short when Qyburn interrupts them with an urgent matter.  Cersei wants Bronn to kill both of her brothers, should they survive the Night King and his army.  In return, Bronn will finally get all the riches he’s dreamed of – and the ever elusive castle Bronn has been jonesing for.  Qyburn hands him a cross-bow and Bronn mutters “That f*$&in’ family!” Hmmm, will he go through with it? He’s known to sell out to the highest bidder, but don’t his good times with Tyrion and Jaime count for anything? And didn’t Tyrion once tell him that he would always double whatever Bronn was promised?

Next, a post-coital Cersei waits for Euron to get the hell out of her room.  She is still hung up about the elephants and Euron wants to know how he stacks up against her former lovers: King Robert and Jaime Lannister.  Cersei shoots daggers at him with her eyes but also weirdly flirts with him before telling him she wants to be alone.  As he leaves, he tells her he’s going to put a prince in her belly. Ew.  As Cersei sits at her table, you can tell she’s scheming.  If she truly is pregnant, as she indicated last season, will she try to pass it off as Euron’s child?  Maybe she’ll push for a hasty marriage now, so she can have a seemingly legit heir to the throne, and then worry about how to get rid of Euron later.

Back on Euron’s ship, Theon Greyjoy and a few of his men have snuck aboard on a rescue mission.  They kill the guards, free Yara, and commandeer the ship. Theon asks his sis if they're on their way to support Daenerys up in Winterfell, but Yara has other plans.  With Euron otherwise disposed, the Iron Islands are theirs to reclaim.  Plus, if Dany & Co. don’t succeed, they’ll need a place to retreat from the Night King.  Since the army of dead can’t cross water, the Iron Islands will be a perfect plan B.  Yara senses Theon wants to return to Winterfell to be with his surrogate family, so she sends him off to join the Starks.

Diplomacy ya later!

At Winterfell, more banner men arrive and Davos walks the grounds with Varys and Tyrion explaining the Northern culture and the need for Daenerys to earn their loyalty.   Oooh, might the North be in for a kick-ass open mic night, where Dany wins them all over with her Marvelous Mrs. Maisel-esque comedy set?  Sadly, no.  Davos’s suggestion is a marriage proposal between Jon and Dany. Finally the realm will have two good and just rulers.  Tyrion doesn’t look excited about the prospect.

Cut to: Dany and Jon are discussing Daenerys frosty welcome - she isn’t here to make friends with Sansa, but she does want some danged respect.  Before Dany can go full tilt Aretha, two Dothraki ride up and inform her that her two dragons, Rhaegal and Drogon, aren’t eating enough. Great, like Dany doesn’t have enough on her plate, now she has to worry about her dragons developing eating disorders.  She brings Jon along to check on her darlings and remarks that they don’t like the North. I’m pretty sure that’s called projecting, but ok.  She invites Jon to hop onto Rhaegal – yes, the one named after her big bro and Jon’s actual father – and they go on a thrilling joyride.  Or is it joyflight?

The dragons land in a secluded spot– it’s a bit reminiscent of Jon and Ygritte’s little cave adventure- and Dany muses they could just stay there forever.  Then the two of them make out.  In front of the dragons.  Who stare at them, making it both awkward and totally relatable for any viewer who’s ever had a hot and heavy makeout session only to look up and see their pet staring at them.

Back at Winterfell, Gendry has forged a dragonglass axe for the Hound who serves up a healthy helping of smack.  Arya appears and tells the Hound to leave Gendry alone.  This is their first meeting since Arya left him to die back in Season 4.  I feel these two genuinely like and respect each other, but they would never let the other know, so the most sentimental line we get is from the Hound sneering “You’re a cold little bitch, aren’t you? Guess that’s why you’re still alive.”  Awwww, they really do care for each other! Once the Hound leaves, Arya and Gendry flirt ever so subtley. Gendry puts out some intense Princess Bride vibes when he literally says “As you wish, milady.” Squeeee! These two have to hook up. I’m just putting that out there.  Of course if they do, I’m sure one of them will die shortly after, because there is no true happiness on GOT.  Anyhoo, Arya wants Gendry to make a special weapon for her. She shows him a sketch of what might be a sword or dagger that can detach in the middle. Knowing Arya, it’ll be used from some bad-ass purpose in the near future.

Meanwhile, Jon is back from his outing and meets with Sansa in private.  House Glover has just sent word that they won’t help and Jon and Sansa argue about him abandoning his Northern crown.  Jon insists titles are completely moot right now.  He asks Sansa if she has any faith in him at all, and while she says that she does, she also wants to know if he gave up his crown to save the North or because he’s hot for queenie.

Say It Ain’t So

In the maester’s quarters, Daenerys and Ser Jorah Mormont pay a visit to Samwell Tarly.  Dany commends him on his miracle worker skills in curing Jorah’s greyscale and indicates that she’ll need a maester once she’s taken her true place on the Iron Throne.  Sam’s the man for the job. The conversation takes a nasty turn for the awkward, however, when Daenerys realizes that Sam is related to Randyll Tarly, whom she barbecued a few episodes back.  “Hey, I told your pops he could keep his land and titles if he bent the knee, but he refused, so obviously I had to torch him.  You get it, right?” –“Well, at least my brother will let me back in the house now.” – “Ummm. So, about that…yeah, he’s dead, too. So. Um, should we join the rest of the group for some Pictionary now?”  

Sam excuses himself to get some fresh air and bumps into Bran who is sitting in the courtyard waiting for an old friend.  It’s time for Jon to know the truth about his parents, and Bran informs Sam that it needs to come from him, as Sam is the person Jon trusts most.

To the crypts we go! Jon pays his respects at Ned Stark’s coffin.  When Sam arrives, he asks Jon if he knew Dany killed Sam’s family. The conversation escalates when Sam asks if Jon would have handled it differently and when Jon eventually counters that he isn’t a king, Sam drops the bomb.  He lets Jon know that he and Bran pieced together that Jon Snow is actually Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark’s legitimate son:  He was named Aegon Targaryen, sixth of his name, yadda, yadda and  is the actual heir to the Iron Throne.  Jon is not interested in being king and is incredulous that Ned lied to him his entire life.  Things end with Jon declaring that Daenerys is their queen and to claim otherwise is treason.  Sam points out that Jon sacrificed his crown for his people, but would Daenerys do the same now that the tables are turned?  Hmm, looks like Jon has some pondering to do.  Gah, I can’t wait to see what happens next.  Will he tell Dany?  Will somebody else tell her?  Will they gargle Listerine for about a week and take hot Clorox showers (separately!!!) to try and remove the ick?

Up at the Last Hearth, we see Thormund Giantsbane and Beric Dondarrion – huzzah, they survived the fall of the wall at East Watch!  Joined by a few other men, they look around the courtyard – it’s eerily empty with fresh blood stains on the ground, but no dead bodies.  They investigate further and hear footsteps down a corridor.  As their group braces for an attack, we see Dolorous Edd (aka the dude left in charge of Castle Black) and a group of the Night’s Watch turn the corner.  Whew, no White Walkers here.  They’re grateful to see each other, then Edd leads them to another room.  It’s a super grisly sight:  Little Lord Umber’s dead body has been pinned to the wall.  His corpse is surrounded by a spiral symbol made of dismembered body parts.  Beric says it’s a message from the Night King.  Might that message be “I have so many dead people in my army that I can just waste random body parts and still win this war?”  Cause, I gotta say…that’s pretty effective in terms of psych outs.  

It dawns on the men that the Army of Dead is between them and Winterfell.  Fortunately, Edd and his guys brought extra horses down from Castle Black. With some luck, they may be able to get to Winterfell by horseback before the Night King and his crew.  I say the odds are in their favor, especially now that the Night King is embracing his inner Banksy, futzing around and leaving corpse art installations everywhere.  Suddenly, Little Lord Umber’s eyes open – glowing blue – and with a terrifying shriek he flails at the men with a dagger.  Beric raises his flaming sword and sets Snow Zombie Umber on fire – still pinned to the wall. The screams are the stuff of nightmares, as the whole thing – boy and spiral body parts – goes up in flames. Yeesh, that was intense.

Back at Winterfell, a cloaked figure arrives on horseback.  When the rider dismounts, he pushes back his hood and…it’s a bearded Jaime Lannister. He gazes around the yard and does a double take when he sees Bran calmly, creepily sitting across the way, staring at him as though he’s been expecting him.  Of course he has.  They lock eyes and Jaime’s “Oh crap” face, is priceless.  Bran just stares back, expressionless.  Roll credits.

Wowzers!  What a way to start the season!  I think it was all pitch perfect and it was so bittersweet to see the remaining Stark family members back at their home – all of them changed and hardened.

I was never rooting for the Jon and Daenerys relationship, so I’m glad they put the info about Jon’s parents in his hands right away. And I’m super curious to know if and how Dany will find out.  I hope they don’t draw it out forever.  

Now that Jon can fly Rhaegal, are he and Dany going to challenge the Night King to a high stakes winner-takes-all Quidditch match?  Meh, they got 99 problems and a snitch ain’t one.  But it will be interesting to see them both on dragons in a battle - assuming this happens, which of course it has to!

Mostly, I can’t wait to see what happens next between Bran and Jaime.  I feel like Bran is so removed from his past self that he probably won’t even hold anything against Jaime, since getting pushed out of the tower ultimately turned him into what he is now.  I feel like they have more pressing matters to discuss. Also, I want Bran to start doing a lot more greensight time traveling into the past.  

Last but not least, I’m gunning hard for a Jaime, Brienne and Thormund love triange.  I know it won’t happen, but a gal can dream, right? We only have six episodes left to go, and things are gonna have to happen fast, so as Queen Dany would say: Hold onto whatever you can, because this season is going to be off da hook! See you next week!