#i know this for sure michael sheen told me himself

[borealing]

crowley introducing human food to aziraphale.. crowley introducing kissing to aziraphale.. if hed chosen any other time any other moment before metatron arrived aziraphale would have reacted the same way, he would have gone all out, thrown himself into it without any second thoughts, drenched himself in the indulgence of kissing crowley until he literally couldnt take any more he would have loved it he would have l o v e d it

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

Pt III good omens but i STILL SOMEHOW haven't watched it (and i'm increasingly passive aggressive)

i'm now basically held hostage adopted as mascot by this fandom. it's fine i'm fine *SIGNALS FOR HELP DESPERATELY*

Alright fuckers I swear this time I'm going to get some shit right. Without further ado, here's my third attempt at a good omens summary:

Everything everywhere is queer all at once

Angel Aziraphale and demon Crowley on earth likey each other

The car is a bentley and it is BLACK not silver and everyone is very upset about this. my bad yall it was reflecting light therefore i guessed more silver than black but I'm not Anish Kapoor take your black.

Then it is yellow, and aziraphale likes it. crowley preferred the black because he's a flamboyant emo.

God is a deadbeat absentee parent and you are all children of divorce.

There's a naked archangel and they cause problems for the husbands somehow. By being naked? By being an archangel? By being at their doorstep? Who knows not me

They were actually married for 6000 years, they just are the last to know about it.

Crowley is on fire. Like, he's slaying for sure, but also he is literally on fire, like Aziraphale's bookstore.

The actors like I said before are Michael Sheen and David Tennant but this is the place where I finally admit that I don't actually know who is whom. I'm going to assume Michael is Aziraphale because Michael sounds angel-y and David is Crowley because uh Michaelangelo made David and was gay for him.

Terry Pratchett is not fictional.

He co-wrote the book with @neil-gaiman, who IS fictional, because he does not have social media. Several of you have assured me that he is in fact a fandom inside joke. I like to think he would be proud of me.

They adopt a preteen and Crowley gives him bad advice.

At some point a baby was delivered to someone and was exchanged for the son of Satan. Idk if the baby is the preteen, or the son of satan is the preteen, or neither. This could be a fanfic, I have no way of differentiating the fanfic from canon on tumblr, except that the canon is weirder.

Crowley does not go down a chute. He goes down a telephone cord after making himself microscopic to pole dance on a pin with shroom-induced backgrounds.

During this his stage name is Disco Tony. Get it king go slay you're making better life choices than I am tbh.

Aziraphale is a biblically accurate angel, and you have all gone to extensive lengths to prove this to me. I understood nothing, but there you go.

It's all very queer, just like the fandom.

Crowley is a retired demon but he still sins by breaking the speed limit.

They eat at fancy restaurants and bicker but like in a sexual undercurrent way.

Crowley gives Aziraphale a private dance that is not a lap dance, it is an apology dance, but not in a kinky way, until it is.

Their haircuts keep changing and range from 'this is acceptable and gay' to 'i let a drunk chimpanzee take gardening shears and a blowtorch to my hair'

It's all ineffably queer my good fellows

Everyone keeps trying to convince me Neil Gaiman is the villain yeah no guys I know it's really you. Y'all be like 'SEASON TWO BROKE ME' and then you're making headcanons to make it sadder yeah I see you mmhm.

There is a final fifteen. It is sad. What is it? No one told me.

The demon turns goats into crows and the angel turns them back and then children are turned into newts (does the angel turn them back? who cares not yall) and the demon was the snake in the Eden garden and everyone's furry game seems to be on point.

There are a rather lot of children. I have not seen them. But I am assured they are there. They are, guys. I assume they were turned into the alcohol Aziraphale and Crowley drink or something.

There was an apocalypse plotline. It was averted. It is not important. You don't talk about plotlines in this fandom, no sir.

Crowley doesn't want to go to heaven. Aziraphale is sad.

The kiss is not nice, just like this fandom. It is queer, just like this fandom. It is sad and desperate and masochistic, just like this fandom.

Aziraphale doesn't want to stay back with Crowley. Crowley is sad.

Season 2 ends. Fandom is sad.

Everyone's sanity is hinging on the promise of a happy ending in season 3. Good luck guys.

Y'all better appreciate this. I can't even boast to my mother about this legacy of mine, hey mum your son has been held hostage kidnapped inducted into a cult adopted by a fandom he's not part of look he's winning at life.

[actual-changeling]

this one is thanks to a post by @thegroovyfool because she is very much correct - we do not talk about aziraphale's "i need you" enough.

so once again, with a deep breath and a sigh, welcome back to alex's unhinged meta corner, where i tear apart the confession scene frame by frame. i'm gonna say, watching this particular clip over and over and focusing on aziraphale's face almost took me out.

let's get into it.

first, how about a little look at our starting point. (any blurry screencaps are due to a LOT of movement on michael's part rip)

crowley is very pointedly facing away from him, he turned after aziraphale said "we can be together - angels!", presumably because being offered exactly what he wants in the one way he cannot have it fried his brain, cause besties it surely fried mine.

aziraphale on the other hand looks openly desperate, which is why he says "i need you." more on that later. let's have a look at how he says it, because michael "microexpressions" sheen is putting in the work.

to me, he seems close to tears, his eyes are glistening in that specific "i'm about to cry my eyes out" way i know from looking in the mirror while crying

he is trying to get crowley to listen to him and to turn around. he wants crowley to face him, which is something most people tend to want during an argument. talking to someone who is not looking at you tends to make someone frustrated and like they're not hearing you/do not care about what you have to say.

aziraphale looks close to despair, his i need you is a plea to crowley to come with him. he is opening himself up not just emotionally but physically, too.

he slightly leans forward, his arms are raised and seem to both slightly grasp for crowley and point towards his chest/heart for emphasis. the pure pain visible on his face knocks the air out of me every single time i look at it.

aziraphale is admitting to needing him, something he has never done before, hell, he has told him the exact opposite on numerous occasions. i don't need you. and while they both knew it was a) a lie and b) a way for him to deal with his conflicting emotional standpoints and cognitive dissonance, it still hurt crowley every. single time.

crowley was there for him no matter what, he knows aziraphale needs him but he came back and remained at his side even when he was pushed away and more or less openly insulted. he endured it all.

aziraphale saying i need you now is pretty much a slap in the face but also what crowley needs to hear. as with everything that happens during the entire conversation, the timing is fucked up and they're talking past each other.

in my opinion, that is why crowley does not react.

only when aziraphale turns spiteful and starts questioning his understanding (aka calling him stupid without outright saying it) does he re-enter the conversation.

aziraphale, however, is upset. now, i will put on my tinhat for just a second and turn up the insanity because there are two more things i want to talk about.

first, the little stutter at the beginning.

"i ngk - i need you."

my question is - why? why does he stumble over these words in particular when it does not happen with any other sentence? the only other time is right after crowley walks away with his "good luck", he stumbles over crowley's name.

so, in short, it happens when he is either caught off-guard or saying something incredible emotional.

and this, everyone, is where i go unhinged in my interpretation.

what if he initially did not want to say "i need you?" what if he was so caught up in getting crowley to stay/come with him that he did not think and almost confessed another three word sentence?

what if he was about to say "i love you" but stopped himself because no, that's too direct, they don't do that, they can't do that. it goes against EVERYTHING they have silently build over the last six thousand years. so he chokes on it. he chokes on it and instead he says "i need you" because it means the same thing.

i need you. don't leave me. come with me. be an us. go off together.

i forgive you. i love you.

they say it over and over again because that's the only way they can say it.

that is why aziraphale is so angry and upset after saying it. he told crowley he loves him, he needs him, and all he got in return was silence.

the funny part is that this code may have worked before, but it no longer does. crowley is too hurt to listen to what aziraphale is trying to tell him, and aziraphale is equally as hurt and also not listening anymore.

the funny part is that it stopped being about love and started being about sides again. my side, your side, our side. choose a side, choose our side, choose me.

the funny part is that beelzebub and gabriel told them what they need to do, i found something that mattered more to me than choosing sides.

[ao3cassandraic]

As far as they can

At the end of the Job minisode, Crowley inaugurates Their Side by proclaiming Aziraphale "an angel who goes along with Heaven... as far as he can," parallel to his own stated relationship with Hell.

Only it... doesn't actually work that way. Their exactlies are different exactlies.

Crowley defies and lies to Hell as often as he thinks he can get away with it. He never disabuses Downstairs of their misconceptions about his contributions to human atrocities. He cheerfully lies in his reports Downstairs, something Aziraphale briefly turns on his Baritone of Sarcastic Disapproval about in s1. Crowley even turns evil homeopathic in the latter part of the 20th century, likely in hopes that it will look good to head office while accomplishing essentially nothing. (This, of course, is another way he Crowleys himself, both with the London phone system and the M25.) After Eden, Crowley's default given an assignment from Hell is to see how he can subvert it.

Aziraphale, on the other hand, defies Her and Heaven as little as he possibly can. Sometimes, as with his sword giveaway, his compassion gets the better of his anxiety. Sometimes, as with Job's children in the destruction of the villa, he can try to stay within the letter of the law by leaving the defiance to Crowley.

His default, however, is "'m 'nangel. I can't dis- diso -- not do what 'm told." This comes out most often as respect for the Great/Divine Plan, which to him is sacrosanct. He sounds quite sincere in s1 when he says "Even if I wanted to help I couldn’t. I can’t interfere with the Divine Plan."

Aziraphale quite frequently Good Angels along by parroting Heaven's party line, whether it's "it'll all be rather lovely" or "I am good, you (I'm afraid) are evil" or droning on about evil containing the seeds of its own destruction, or condemning Elspeth's graverobbing as "wicked" (a stance he offers absolutely no reasoned support for, no logic, no "but She said," not a word -- that's very Heaven; most of Heaven's angels have the approximate brainpower of paramecia). Maestro Michael Sheen even has a particular voice cadence -- I think of it as Sententious Voice -- he uses when Aziraphale is thoughtlessly party-lining.

When the angel's conscience wars with his sense of Heaven's orthodoxy but (and this is an important but) he can't feasibly resist whatever's wrong, he offers strengthless party-line justifications he clearly doesn't agree with (as with the "rain bow" in Mesopotamia) or resorts to a Nuremberg defense: "I'm not consulted on policy decisions, Crowley!" Once or twice, he's even vocally aware of Heavenly hypocrisy: "Unless… [guns]'re in the right hands, where they give weight to a moral argument… I think." This isn't Sententious Voice. It's I-can't-disobey-and-I-hate-that voice.

But at base, the angel prefers obedience (not least because it's vastly safer), and he'd rather have someone else do his moral reasoning for him. Honestly? Pretty relatable. I know lots of people like this -- hell's bells, I've been this person, though I grew out of it somewhat -- and I daresay you do too. Moral reasoning is hard and often lonely (since it can be read as self-righteousness or even hypocrisy) and acting as it dictates can hurt. Nobody would need ethics codes if The Right Thing was also invariably The Convenient Thing.

Many GO fans find these Aziraphalean traits frustrating! Especially his repeated returns to parroting Heaven orthodoxy! Sometimes I do too! (Not least because I'm rather protective of my own integrity, and it's cost me quite a few times. I'm well-known in professional circles for picking up a rhetorical spear and tilting at the nearest iniquitous windmill. I often lose, but I sure do keep tilting. Every once in a blue moon I actually win one.)

The key, I think, to giving our angel a little grace on this (beyond honoring the gentle compassion that is pretty basic to his character) is noticing how often he can be induced to abandon an unconsidered Heavenish default stance. As irritating as his default is, and as consistently as he returns to it, it's not really that hard to talk him out of it. Crowley, of course, is tremendously good at knocking Aziraphale away from his default -- he's had to be. But Aziraphale even manages to talk himself away from his default once, in the form of the Ineffable Plan hairsplitting at the airbase!

I think the character-relevant point of the Resurrectionist minisode is making this breaking-the-Heavenish-default dynamic as clear as the contents of the pickled-herring barrel aren't. "That's lunatic!" Crowley exclaims, when Aziraphale Sententious Voicedly parrots Heaven's garbage about poverty providing extra opportunities for goodness. Aziraphale isn't quite ready to let go yet, replying "It's ineffable."

But Dalrymple (who, I think, parallels Heaven, perhaps even the Metatron -- there could be something decent there, but it's buried too deep under scorn and clueless privilege for any graverobber-of-souls to dig it out) manages to break Aziraphale's orthodoxy by explaining the child's tumor.

Once released from his orthodoxy, Aziraphale can't be trusted to handle moral reasoning well; his moral-reasoning ability is not-uncommonly (though not always) portrayed as vitiated. When he gives Elspeth the go-ahead to dig up more bodies, his excuses are just as vacuous as they were when he was convinced of her wickedness. He knows that he's crossed Heaven's line, too, and just as at Eden it's worrying him. That's why he has to talk to Crowley to nerve himself up to help Wee Morag... only he spends too much time talking, and it's too late.

But Crowley can then talk him into bankrolling Elspeth toward a better life. Aziraphale doesn't even put up any fight, both because he's compassionate and because Crowley is temporarily taking the place of Heaven (he's even Heaven-sized and staring down at them!) as the angel's moral compass.

S1 has an even worse example of Aziraphale's moral wavering, actually. Crowley yells "Shoot him, Aziraphale!" and Aziraphale sure does try to murder Adam. Again, he's adopting his morals from the nearest (and loudest) convenient source. Madame Tracy, thankfully, has enough of a moral backbone to save our angel from himself and Crowley.

(With my ersatz-ethicist hat on: this is a fight between utilitarianism and deontology. Crowley is the utilitarian, which is actually a bit of a departure for him, but he's admittedly desperate. Madame Tracy is the deontologist: One Doesn't Kill Children. Aziraphale is caught in the middle.)

I wouldn't be surprised if part of the reason we start s3 with Aziraphale and Crowley separated is so that Aziraphale finally has to do his own moral reasoning, without Crowley's nudges. I don't think it'll be easy for him. It will absolutely be lonely. And it may well hurt.

But I will watch for it, because it's how he will become his own angel, independent of Heaven and even of Crowley. And he must do that.

[vidavalor]

I've always been confused by that but at the end of S1 when Crowley gets his Bentley back but takes a taxi instead. Could you enlighten me with your excellent analysises? (analyses??)

Hi! Hope you're having a nice day. I can talk about that, yes. I have chocolate cream pie tonight, if you'd like a slice.

The short answer is that's not Crowley seeing The Bentley and taking a taxi-- it's Aziraphale. Crowley & Aziraphale swapped bodies sometime in the night, in a scene we aren't shown. It was after the bus ride back from Tadfield and likely in Crowley's flat. There are a few reasons why we are only shown the scene in which they swap back but not the scene in which they swapped in the first place. The main one is to keep the suspense of the plot for the audience. If they told us they had swapped bodies, it would zap all the interesting out of the scenes of them surviving the hellfire and holy water in Heaven & Hell. The secondary reason is that it also allows them to jump from them together on the bus in Tadfield to them then apart the next morning, which is to say that they leave them holding hands on a bus ride back to Crowley's flat in London together and then show Crowley (as Aziraphale) having just arrived back at the bookshop alone in the early morning. They don't show us a single moment of the time in between, allowing for some ambiguity about what happened during the night.

All we know for sure is that they switched bodies at some point, as they are already in each other's bodies the following morning in the scenes before they meet up in the park. At some point, Crowley-- looking like Aziraphale-- left his flat to keep up appearances because they don't stay the full night at one another's places. He went back to the bookshop because he and Aziraphale had figured out that Adam's shift of reality meant that the bookshop was back again.

That's Crowley in Aziraphale's body in the gif above going through the bookshop and noting that everything is the same but for the new books Adam's changing of reality has left in the shop. The walk is probably the biggest indicator. Michael Sheen rounds his hip as he comes around the table to do Crowley's more loping walk, which is more circular in the hips than Aziraphale's is. The last time Crowley was in here was when it was burning to the ground and he couldn't sense Aziraphale so what we might, at first glance, think is Aziraphale seeing his shop again is really Crowley seeing it again, which is why the "Aziraphale" in the scene feels a bit off.

One of the secret joys of this scene is that Crowley notices the books Adam has added and remarks to himself that they're "new." We'd expect Aziraphale to know the books in his shop but the scene really tells us that Crowley also does... enough to be able to recognize the new ones that weren't there before.... which is suggestive of just how much time he spends there.

When he and Aziraphale meet up in the park, before they're kidnapped, Crowley will also tell Aziraphale that the bookshop is intact-- "not a smudge, not a book burned"-- which indicates that Crowley went through the entire bookshop, not just the part of the main floor that we saw him in. This suggests that Crowley knows the bookshop well enough to be able to gauge for Aziraphale whether or not anything is amiss. The more subtle implication is that one of the rooms he's this familiar with would then be Aziraphale's bedroom, if he's making this overall assessment of the bookshop.

It's then therefore Aziraphale in Crowley's body who is smiling at the sight of The Bentley because he knows that Crowley will be thrilled that it's back (and just because Aziraphale also loves the car.)

As for why Aziraphale-as-Crowley doesn't drive it when we now know that Aziraphale's had a license forever, even if the fact that he catches a cab could potentially signal to someone watching the apartment that it's not really him... it's a calculated low risk. (Crowley does sometimes take the bus, as we've seen.) Aziraphale probably figured that after the day before of stopping the end of the world and then swapping bodies with Crowley, he's probably maxed on what he can ask of Crowley at that point lol and driving The Bentley is a bridge too far. The car basically died and came back to life so that first drive is for Crowley, in Aziraphale's mind. Aziraphale can drive it in S2, in what becomes the mirror plot to the body swap-- our car/our bookshop.

[cosmo-watches-movies]

Gallowglass (1993)

Triggerwarning: Suicide, Physical Abuse, Violence

Summary: Joe (Michael Sheen) was just released from a mental hospital but his foster parents wont take him back home. Desperate and having nowhere to go he attemps to commit suicide but is saved last minute by Sandor (Paul Rhys). Joe is now devoted to his saviour, who uses this to his advantage by further manipulating Joe up to the point where he aggrees to help kidnap a young woman.

Spoilers beyond this

Starting off with a punch in the gut (litterally)

Found this a bit uncomfortable to watch. Not necessarily because its bad, but because is portrays a very abusive relationship between Sandor and Joe. It’s proper fucked up, so that is kinda the point. Joe is almost obsessed with Sandor, constantly excusing his horrible behaviour and actions. You very much believe that Joe would do anything for him. It’s genuinely scary to watch.

Sandor saves Joe

After they successfully kidnap the young woman they where after it turns out Sandor isn’t after a ransom, but is in love with her and wants to free her from her (as he thinks) miserable life. She rejects him which he, after some drama, accepts. However Sandor ends up killing himself the same way Joe tried to earlier, by throwing himself in front of a train. And because he’s a total bastard he does it right in front of Joe. (poor guy can’t catch a break)

Throughout the series are short clips of Joe explaining the events in hindsight This shows a very different aspect of the character it’s almost jarring. But in a good way. You very much get the sense that this whole story scarred him even further, but he also seems more mature and reflected. In the end we see that he might be talking to a therapist (maybe even in a prison?) so I like to think that at some point in his life he manages to set himself free from that past trauma. “Tilly said Sandor was bananas, off the wall, after lunch…there seem to be a lot of words for mad. I told her never to say it. He wasn’t mad, he was just in pain…I know all about that, don’t I?” - fucking shivers down my spine The way he delivered that line, fucking genius. If you dont wanna watch the whole series, watch this one scene it’s so good. (it’s somewhat at the 44 minute mark of episode three)

The performances of the lead actors are way more convincing than I expected, it’s the most interesting part of the whole series imo. Joe starts off already broken and by the end he’s absolutely fucked up. He gets completely corrupted by his saviour to the point of kinda assuming his persona after Sandor died. Thats a pretty interesting dynamic and it left me feeling a bit icky afterwards.

I havent read the book but even with the great performances of the actors something about the story didnt quite capture me. Like the suspense was built up, but the payoff wasnt quite there. Maybe the stakes arent high enough? Idk something about the overall story couldve been pushed a bit more…

Anyway idk if this was Michaels very first time acting in front of a camera, but considering this was very early in his career he did an exeptionally good job. Michael has this way of completely disappearing in his characters its amazing to watch. And it blows my mind that he could do this so well already when he was just like 24 I think?

Joe calls the woman they intend to kidnap "the princess", after a story Sandor told him

His acting combined with Paul Rhys gives a very convincing dynamic. If it wasn’t for them this would’ve been an absolute bore.

Would I recommend watching this? Maybe, If you don’t have a problem going through a few unconfortable scenes and a overall mediocre story. If you absolutely want to see Michael play a very broken, fucked up young man, sure! There’s some good acting in it so at least it isnt boring. Just prepare for violence and some uncomfy stuff.

(Horrible Hair dye job, Sandor)

[tenok]

"I liked the post from the health care worker who wrote that if they were suddenly offered the position of Minister of Health, they would just have to take it, even though they knew that they would be surrounded by awful people and end up fighting and probably losing an uphill battle, being absolutely miserable and frustrated. But they wouldn't be able to look at themselves in the mirror anymore if they didn't at least try."

THIS. Look, maybe it's me livng in distopian dictatorship talking but I despice my goverment as much as you can despice any bloodthristy maniacs but if I was somehow offered postion of like, vice president right now? I would go there the same second, get approval on as much things I could and then made murder-suicide with president.

Or, speaking of less extreme cases: do you have no goverment representatives that push for making things at least a little better? Don't you ever met a burnt out volunteer that says "yes yes I know I said that I won't ever go back but they told me there's a management position and..."

Yes, Aziraphale hesistates, because he knows it's a manipulation, that Metatron sweet talks him, that heaven is terrible and if he will go there, it will be miserable at best and dangerous at worst. Especially without Crowley. But with Crowley? He can try to deal with it. And not only because it's love of his life: he literally needs him! Someone should watch his back!

Now, about bringing Crowley back as angel — it's absolutely undestandable why he wouldn't think that it will be a deal breaker. Crowley himself insisted many times that heavens and hell the same, so why would he oppose to it? He also hates hell and other demons; he has complicated feelings about his Falling (from "I didn't mean to Fall" to "it's not so bad when you get used to it" — I'm not sold on "Crowley lies about his Fall" theory, I think he's like teen that get roughed up on his first protest and ends up in prison, wanted to voice his opinion, didn't know it would've end like this, thinks it's unfair, but also want to it not ever happen, but knows that it still would've happen one day or another because he couldn't live like this, but also why it happened at all! God, answer me! I'm sorry I get lost in metapfor. You see we had leader of opposition killed and I'm too afraid to go to his funreal because I was already arrested twice and can get a prison sentence). So like, Aziraphale probably expected arguing, bickering, complaining, but dreamed about how Crowley would say him how he grateful that Aziraphale righted what was wrong and let him to be the brilliant one, the hero one for a change.

And that's what brings us to all the things he said to Crowley in final fifteen. Look, I love Aziraphale, but he's not Michael Sheen level-actor. Especially not when he have like three seconds to work on his plan. This level of manipulation? "I will make it looks like I geniunely offer him something I think we both want, but then I'll be all heartbroken and crying and saying in broken voice 'I need you', but only after I'll say offhandly that he's a bad guy because it's surely will hurt him/or hints him that something off, depends on how fans see this scene". He improvised this on spot? The guy that rehears his speeches before he goes to heavens? Seems unlikely.

I'm not saying he can't play pretend, no. Actually, we saw him at least twice (three times, if you count Aziraphale-as-Crowley in hell) pretending in front of others so he could save Crowley: with archangels in Job's minisode and with Furfur in 1941 minisode. How he looks there? He's calm. Collected. Tense. He's not crying, shaking and babbling, that's how Aziraphale looks like when he falls apart. If he was calm, if he said that he can make Crowley an angel again and got angry or offended when he answers "no", if he accused Crowley of being ungrateful, if he said to him "well, I never could be with you while you a demon and you know it" — this I immediatly would've clocked as pretending, and pretending to specifically push Crowley away. But what we saw looks like genuinely misunderstanding to me.

Also I saw some people ask "so why he looks in the window then!!" look. Imagine: you were offered working visa for you and your spouse in the country of your choise, you went straight to them to share good news, and now they are breaking up with you, accusing you of being stupid and immoral, while your boss stays outside but probably just close enough to listen and you know your love life now will be the topic of office glossip for years. You would've look there even if you're not threatened! Also it's natural if he thought that they will go to heavens immediatly and now desperately wants more time to talk but oh no! Metatron awaits!! you need to think fast, and when Aziraphale thinks fast, between go big or go home he chooses go big (flaming sword; shooting Adam; the halo bomb). So he goes into WELL I GUESS I WILL DO IT BY MYSELF mode (with a hint of "I can't ask Metatron to wait/can't refuse NOW." It would've been so embarassing and he's british even more then angelic)

Of course he feels threatened — it's heavens, they are always a threat, that's the half of the whole point. But it's not "there's a secret gun to his or Crowley head" situation, it's their typical thursday.

Look, I may be wrong. We all may be wrong and we wouldn't know until season three. But in the end, besides just not seeing it in canon, I also don't like "he's threatened" theory for the same reasons I don't like coffee theory (more like hate with passion). It robs Aziraphale of agency, it ignores his growth, it implies that he's, as opposite to his character (in TV), actually doesen't want to make an effort to right what wrong in the world, it makes him into perfect love interest for Crowley where everytnig he ever do is dictated only by his feelings for Crowley, it robs azicrowley from any conflict in relationships and it makes their fight not about them being two different people with different personalities and needs and wants that need to communicate, compromise and plainly accept some things but into your typical romcom "she ran away thinking that he cheats on her but he actually was innocent! how silly!" plot, and while GO is actually a comedy, it wasn't a romcom first, it was a political satire and I think it's juuust a little bit closer to points authors may want to make.

I believe in Gaiman and I'm sure that even if I wrong and it was all theatre and lying (or even a coffee theory, for god's sake), he will make it with such twist that I gladly will eat it and not complain. But for now I'll stuck with interpretation that for me makes more sense.

Why is it always either

"Aziraphale wanted to go to heaven, he was happy and giddy about it, and he never really cared about Crowley anyway, only about Starmaker"

OR

"Aziraphale would have never ever gone to Heaven out of his own free will, he was clearly horribly threatened and forced!"

Why does everyone always have to reach for the extremes?

No, Aziraphale obviously absolutely did n.o.t. WANT to go to Heaven. He doesn't like Heaven, he likes Earth. Even if the other angels weren't all jerks and bullies, which he absolutely knows they are! I mean, duh!

But that doesn't automatically mean he would never have made that decision on his own! I liked the post from the health care worker who wrote that if they were suddenly offered the position of Minister of Health, they would just have to take it, even though they knew that they would be surrounded by awful people and end up fighting and probably losing an uphill battle, being absolutely miserable and frustrated. But they wouldn't be able to look at themselves in the mirror anymore if they didn't at least try. Because they'd feel they failed their duty to their patients.

Was there never anything you really REALLY did NOT want to do but still HAD to???

We absolutely do not need to talk about "Aziraphale not caring about Crowley" here, if that is actually something you really think, please just leave my blog. I don't even know what show were you watching, but it wasn't Good Omens.

Was Aziraphale threatened? Maybe. It's definitely possible. But I don't think so. The Metatron knew exactly what he had to offer, and in which order, to convince Aziraphale. Why unnecessarily antagonise him, he doesn't need to use the stick if he knows how to sell him on the carrot! I don't think the Metatron is that crude.

Which brings me to my next point:

people also seem to wonder about the shared look of contempt between the Metatron and Crowley.

But you realise that the Metatron was there when shit went down in Heaven, right? He knows what exactly it was that led to Crowley falling. Aziraphale might have been a soldier in the war back then, but it is extremely unlikely that in his position he actually witnessed the key moments that started the rebellion.

But the Metatron, the Voice of God, the angel with such a high rank that he is somehow actually outside their hirarchy, did. There might even have been a direct confrontation between the angel with questions and the VOICE OF GOD, who couldn't/wouldn't/didn't want to relate any answers.

And it is safe to assume that Crowley never told Aziraphale any details. In 1862 he still maintained the "sauntered vaguely downwards" fable, in line with his carefully built cool guy image. His drunken monologue after the bookshop fire comes a little closer to the truth ("looky here, it's Lucifer and the guys, [...] food hadn't been that good lately, I'd got nothing on for the rest of that afternoon"), but even here he very much pretends that he never really cared. Now that we have seen the innocence and enthusiasm of Starmaker, we know that's not true. Something big happened to that cheerful worriless angel, something not caused by the Fall, but causing it. The questioning was only the start of it.

There is a strong possibility that Crowley might even have tried to change things himself, back before the Fall, and most likely crashed and burned failed spectacularly. Again, all witnessed directly by the Metatron.

Aziraphale doesn't know that, though. He only has a vague idea about it and a sense of injustice and unfairness. And the Metatron, master-manipulator and -mind, knows that as well.

He also knows that, on the surface obedient but covertly subversive, little soldier angel Aziraphale, probably a lot better than Aziraphale is aware he does. They probably never had any close contact, but who knows what kind of research Heaven can do?

We don't need to go into detail about how he manipulated Aziraphale, other people have done so already. But it is important to state that by offering explicitly the opportunity to change things in Heaven, he got Aziraphale's love for life on Earth and his desire to do good fighting for dominance within him. But he would never have been able to convince him to leave Crowley. So he solves the main conflict for Aziraphale, telling him he could take Crowley with him! Definitely knowing that Crowley absolutely would NOT want that. Awful conundrum avoided!

I am not even saying that Aziraphale didn't know he was manipulated. He didn't know that Crowley's reaction to going to Heaven would be that severe, and he probably also doesn't know that the Metatron very well did, when he made him the offer. But he might have absolutely caught on to the Metatrons manipulating language, his ingratiating and patronising. But still - the opportunity to change things! To actually make Heaven better! Maybe he really did misjudge him! (Let's not forget that Aziraphale's previous experience with the Metatron was a 2-minute-conversation, why should it be so impossible that he changed his mind for the better since then?)

And then all this culminated - aided by millennia of little miscommunications and THE worst timing e.v.e.r. (I am actually more suspicious of Nina & Maggie's role in the whole thing, because there is so much that doesn't make sense about their little pep talk) - in the Final Fifteen. Crowley reacting differently to his news than he thought. Then offering the ONE thing he wants most in the world. But to get it, he would have to say to himself "yeah I WANT this and I'll take it even if Heaven stays the way it is, that's not my problem", and all that in the space of just a few minutes. Putting him on the spot.

Can't you see how "you go too fast for me"-after-being-at-it-for-almost-6000-years-Aziraphale was completely thrown by everything? Didn't you see how close he came to changing his mind after Crowley walked out? Are we sure he wouldn't have, if the Metatron hadn't been there immediately to usher him to his new duty? How is an angel supposed to calm down, think it through, and look at the problem from every possible angle under these circumstances? Having the choice between betraying everything you are to get everything you ever wanted, or losing everything that is dear to you but having done the right thing, and you don't even get a minute?

Again, we have one Fallen Angel who has a most likely violent experience trying to change Heaven. And another Angel who hasn't had the chance to try yet. Of course they're not on the same page. But they also don't really have time to compare notes. Your exactly means something different than my exactly.

And one more thing: Aziraphale's "I forgive you" is a direct callback to their bandstand break-up. He desperately wants this blow-up to be temporary, to end well like the other time. It's the first thing he can think of. It's his way of saying "maybe later", "I can't, not yet", or even "wait for me".

And Crowley knows that, he isn't hurt or offended because he thinks Aziraphale believes he needs forgiveness, he understands perfectly well what his angel is saying. Which is why it is his "don't bother" that breaks my heart. Because that means he (thinks he) is done waiting. He can't do it anymore. He finally put himself out there and his angel still isn't ready. So he's stepping out of their little dance routine.

Yes, Aziraphale walked out the door. But Crowley closed it after him.

[punkcornzero]

Ok I have to talk about something

[SPOILERs for Our Flag Means Death and kinda for Good Omens ahead]

Some people in both the GO and the OFMD fandom are happy for the canonization of like every hinted couple in OFMD and for Mary being supportive etc., but they criticize GO because they never romantically touch on screen or express their feelings for each other.

Like, I get it. But. But (regarding GO):

1. The ship is clearly a slow burn (with them getting to know each other in thousands of years and everything...)

2. We haven't watched the second (and hopefully third) season yet, maybe there they'll get to be vocal about their feelings or just consider themselves married (because let's be honest here, they are an old couple and have been for some time)

3. I know that could be sound like an excuse but they actually are angels (or former angels) and clearly not really interested in gender, as well as others angels, and sexuality. Yes, they are non conventional ones in their world, considering they like human stuff, but sex doesn't seem one of the things they're interested in. And yes, I would have liked them to have closer hands in the last scene at the restaurant but I'll just wait and see and hope for some handholding in the next series.

Also, Aziraphale and Crowley are complete dorks and I don't think they know much about relationships or whatever, they just enjoy each other company and they're okay with that. At the end of season one they pair up against Hell and Heaven and maybe they are also starting to realize they have feelings they might want to discuss. But they already are a couple.

4. In the interviews actors and producers always confirmed that that is indeed a love story, Neil Gaiman and Michael Sheen in particular support this concept on social media too.

5. The focus of the story is stopping the Apocalypse - while OFMD is a romcom, so I'm okay with Neil wanting to unfold their relationship more slowly.

So please stop putting Sherlock obvious queerbating at the same level of GO non-queerbating. In GO the love is subtle, yes, but the story is not finished yet and you never feel like "Yes but they could've kissed in this scene" or shit like that. GO is a good story and I don't know how it will end, but forcing things just may be worse than "canonizing" their relationship in the first episodes. Their relationship makes sense this way and I'm sure they will acknowledge it in the show, somehow. Also this has the potential to be some nice asexual representation.

Let me know if you agree or not, I may have explained some things poorly because I don't speak English frequently, sorry.

Edit:

I forgot the most important thing, that should be enough to close this case, and Neil himself told us...

Really, I know that this man has done an excellent work for the second season and the first is perfect as it is.

Whatever kind of love they share is still love, and it's valid, and it's sweet and well-written.

[aro-is-gay-af]

The Midnight of Despair | Volturi Kings x fem!reader

As you all can see, I got carried away just a little with this one. It was supposed to be a one-shot, but I'm planning at least part two, since this part got soooo long.

Anyway!

I hope you'll enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing. Sorry for any grammatical errors, as well as any confusion with syntax. English isn't my native but I always try my best! Constructive criticism is always welcomed.

Please, pay attention to the warnings. If you are uncomfortable with any of the topics, simply do not read.

I pictured here Aro from the films (as Michael Sheen is perfect for this part), Caius from the films (maybe a little bit older) and Marcus from the films but his younger self (maybe 20?). Also, I wrote at one point that [Y/N] has blonde hair and blue eyes but it just helped me with the descriptions. Obviously, you can picture characters according to your wishes.

Warnings: Rape (graphic description!), Depression, PTSD, Swear words, Forced Pregnancy

Word count: 7816 (!)

Summary: [Y/N] and Bella are childhood friends. They were always there for each other. [Y/N] had tough times and struggles with everyday life. Bella faces depression after Edward had left her. [Y/N] tries to get her going and alive. One day [Y/N] is raped and gets pregnant with the rapist. Not long after that it turns out that Edward got himself into the mess with Volturi. [Y/N], even traumatized and in pieces, will not let Bella go without her supervision to Italy. What is going to happen when [Y/N] will stay at Volterra? Is she really predestined to be Kings' mate? Is she going to have her baby or abort the pregnancy? Will the trauma go away or is she going to struggle for a long time?

You thought that the death of your parents was enough to break you. As they say, if you’re not willing to bend, you’ll break. And you did. After all.

Ever since you’ve been born, everything went downhill. You were a weak child and within your first five years of life, you’ve gone through countless surgeries. Something was terribly wrong with your spine and the doctors were worried that you wouldn't be able to move normally.

You got your ‘happily ever after’. After fourteen surgeries and taking more than a dozen medications, you could be considered healthy. It made you remember the better part of your childhood. At this point, you couldn’t even recall constant visits at hospital or ingesting enormous amount of drugs.

What you could recall, was the agony that your mom went through while dying of pancreatic cancer. You tried to help her but there was literally no help available. Sure, chemo did help, but only a little tiniest bit. When someone got this type of cancer, there was only one way to die. It was neither pretty, nor pleasant.

So your mother died when you were sixteen. Your father followed shortly after her. He suffered from severe depression after your mother’s passing, but it was the car accident that got him killed. You were just before your graduation.

You’ve finished school and tried to go on. It wasn’t exactly an easy path to follow. You had the feeling that fate had made you its whore and the devil knows his jokes. Somehow, you got through college. You used the money from your dad's insurance policy entirely for your education. It was the only thing you could do to secure your future.

At 22, you got a job at the same hospital where doctor Cullen worked. You were a nurse on the paediatrics ward, but the hospital in Forks was so small that you often found yourself working with doctor Cullen. He was always kind to you and exuded a fatherly warmth. However, like everyone from Cullen family, he was slightly withdrawn from all conversations and social activities.

You noticed a slight change in his behaviour when your best friend, Bella, started dating with the doctor's youngest son, Edward. Carlisle has been talking to you more and more. The conversations weren't long – more like short exchanges of words, whether about his family’s well-being or any leisure activities both of you devoted yourselves after work. Nevertheless, you started calling each other by the others’ given name.

You met with Bella on average once a week. Sure, you were four years older than her, but the age difference never was a problem. You always got along well, and age had nothing to do with it. With time, you've watched Bella thrive during her relationship with Edward and you've enjoyed her happiness. Your relationship had loosened a little, but you didn't hold it against her. With Forks being so small, you could easily meet Bella on the street or in a shop and talk to her about silly things or this boyfriend of hers. It made her blush furiously every time you brought up the topic, especially if Edward waited nearby.

And then, just like that, something snapped. Of course, you heard about their huge quarrel about god knows what, and that Bella wanted to make herself scarce immediately. Charlie called you that night if , by any chance, you could talk some sense into her. Bella not once picked up her phone and then she got her stupid ass into the hospital. And magically reconciled with Edward. That’s when you started to be suspicious. Something wasn’t right about this situation, at all, but you let it be.

Time passed and even though you liked Carlisle as a colleague, you became gradually suspicious about him and his family. Things that you noticed were little, almost insignificant, but something told you that there’s more than meets the eye. Bella herself began to limit contact with you, mainly due to her lack of time for Edward. But when you did get a chance to meet and talk, the subject of Edward still came to the surface.

You tried to understand your friend, while not understanding her at all. You also were in love once but your mother's illness and then your father's death took too much of a toll on you, to experience your first love in such an intense way. It was incomprehensible to you, how Bella could lose her head so much for this boy. And yet you tried, tried to be there when Bella needed you the most. Simply because you were a good friend and also because you needed a friend.

You were left alone, out in this world, with no one to care about and no one to love. Only Bella, as present and, most importantly, alive person, connected you with your childhood and good memories from that time. She was the only one left. You considered her your family and you didn’t want to lose her too. Not after all you’ve been through.

At the day of her birthday, you saw her quickly after her school. You gave her a small gift and you both agreed to meet a day later because Edward's family had invited her to stay at their place. After that birthday, everything changed. The next day Bella went missing. You went to her house exactly as agreed and Charlie said she had been gone for a few hours.

When Bella was found later that evening by Sam, Charlie's colleague, everything became frighteningly clear. The Cullens had moved out of town. Apparently, Carlisle had gotten a lucrative job somewhere else. That didn't surprise you, he was a really great doctor. But how could he not mention a word of it to you? Not that you were so close to him but you considered him a good comrade of yours and moving out of town like this, without a word… It seemed extremely strange to you.

The months that followed were very similar. Bella fell into a deep depression and apathy. You came to visit her, but during these visits it was mainly you who talked. You talked about work, about your next qualification course and about the anniversary of your mum's death. Bella mostly remained silent. Charlie confirmed that, yes, she did go to school, but apart from that, she sat in her room all day and stared at the window.

You knew from Charlie that she was slowly trying to reconnect with her friends. And that she was spending a lot of time with that boy from the reservation. You were happy because it meant that your friend was slowly coming back to life. Maybe not back to normal, not yet, but at least she was trying. And you were trying too. To be a good friend, a good sister to her.

You started talking more during your visits at her house. Unlike before, the subject of Edward didn't exist. It was as if he had never existed. So you did not mention him at all. Bella was healing, slowly, just as you were, when both of your parents died. She was there for you, even if you could only talk to her on the phone because, at that time, she permanently lived with Renee.

For the first time in several months, you hoped that things would somehow work out. In your life, the moments when you were truly happy never lasted long. It was the same this time. One day, you went to Port Angeles to buy new clothes for work. Yours were still from your university days, worn out, but not so long ago you were short of money and preferred to spend it on other things rather than buying new clothes.

By the time you got back to your car it was pretty late. The car park was deserted. On your way to the car, a man accosted you and, before you knew it, he had hit you on the head with something heavy. When you woke up, you were in a squalid alley. The man was pressing you against a wall with all his strength. You only realised what he was going to do, when you felt a cool breeze brush against your bare legs. Your trousers and underwear were almost at your ankles. You started to squirm, trying to free yourself from his iron grip. You heard his quiet giggle next to your ear.

"Don't resist angel, I’ll be quick," he whispered in your ear, pawing at your breasts with his left hand. You felt sick to your stomach. He had hideous breath, as if he had been drinking for three days, then puked and drank again. You started to jerk harder, to pull away, but it only caused you pain. He held tight, pushing against you with his whole body and whispering disgusting things under his breath. When he finally entered you, he tugged hard on your hair. He made no effort to cover your mouth because you didn't even try to scream. You were out of breath, unable to say a word. You were afraid that he would kill you. You wanted him to go away so that the pain would end and you could finally go home.

When he finished, he let you go and just walked away. You stood there, half naked, frozen and shaken, for god knows how long. You were unable to move. When you felt his semen running down your leg, you finally managed to vomit. Your cheek was bruised and scratched from how hard he pressed you against the rough wall. You wanted to go home, but you didn't have the strength to get up from the street.

You weren't sure how much time had passed, but you finally got up. You got dressed and walked to your car. Everything hurt. You didn't want to, but you knew, you had to go to the hospital. You could not leave it like that. He had already hurt you, but what about the others? You couldn't let that happen. All the way to the hospital in Port Angeles your hands were trembling. Returning to that memory, you didn't even remember how you got to the ER.

At the hospital, they took care of you properly. They called the police. Two female doctors were there for a medical examination. The nurses were very nice. You tried to put on a good face. You've thought about how your sexual experiences has been so far. Your first sex, like most people's, was terrible. Your boyfriend was two years older, you were 17 and it all went wrong. You were in pain. He didn't seem too happy either. Up until you graduated from high school, you tried to make it work somehow, but there were never any fireworks. It wasn't until college that you discovered the good side of sex.

However, you never had sex with someone you loved more than life. You haven't met anyone like that. And you were sure that sex with that person would be unique and exceptional. Until now, of course. Lying on a hospital bed, you felt exploited. Abused. Filthy. Humiliated. How can one do something like that to another person? The nurse asked if someone could come and pick you up, and you didn't have much of a choice. You called Bella. While she was on her way to the hospital, you let the police officers question you. You mechanically slurred the words as if it wasn't about you at all. As if it wasn’t you that had been raped.

As soon as you saw Bella, you were no longer able to pretend that nothing had happened. You were sobbing and she hugged you tight, telling you that he would pay for it. You weren't so sure about that. You wanted to be home as soon as possible, so you went back to Forks. Bella said nothing while driving because there was nothing that could be said. In the shower, you scrubbed yourself so hard with the pumice that you thought you had taken off all your skin. To your absolute disgust, you could still feel his touch on you. You could hear him whisper against your ear and you could smell his hideous breath.

A week has passed. Bella texted you every day, and you were able to hang out almost every other day. She was a good sister, a great friend. She didn't want to leave you alone in this. Despite being offered leave, you went to work. You didn't want to keep thinking about what happened. Each time, after taking a bath, you were unable to look in the mirror. On the first day, right after scrubbing, you decided to take a look. You had bruises on your stomach, thighs, buttocks and breasts. Your forearms were scraped, your cheek was scratched and bruised. The worst of it was that you had been bleeding for days. The gynaecologist said, it was due to too much force, and the fact that you actively resisted for a while.

You were trying to get back to normal. You went to work, you were seeing Bella and taking your course. But no one could touch you. You didn't even shake hands to say hello. You didn't care at all, you couldn’t endure a touch anymore. Not in any way. You didn't get your period, but the doctor said it could happen. It was a shock to the body and a lot of pain to bear. Also, you bled for almost a week after the rape.

You started to be afraid to go out alone. When in a shop or at work, if anyone approached you from behind, you started panicking and hyperventilating. You couldn’t walk ordinarily on the street. You looked behind every two or three minutes to assure yourself that nobody was following you. Your hands trembled while driving the car or making the tea. Your eyes were starting to water as soon as someone even tried to touch you. You had nightmares and you started losing your mind because of this.

When your period did not come in the following month, you began to worry. Surely you couldn't get pregnant with this... monster. Not you. Of course you have checked. You would not be able to live in such ignorance. It turned out that yes, you indeed were pregnant. When the doctor confirmed it, you fainted. Not you, not like that. You didn't even think you'd ever be a mum. Let alone like this. You hated your body even more and the fact that it had betrayed you in such a villainous way.

You knew this path led to madness. You were in an even worse mental condition, than after losing your mum; than after dad died in the accident. You have shed countless tears. You didn't want to abort this pregnancy, and at the same time you wanted it with all your heart. If only you were able to defend yourself. Break away from him and run as far away as possible. It would never have happened. But you were weak and didn't even have the energy to scream. Would it have made any difference though?

You were constantly beating yourself up with thoughts about whether you should keep the baby, when something completely bizarre happened. Jacob called you that he had to rescue Bella after jumping off a cliff. Annoyed, you got in your car and drove up to the Swans' house. Bella's car wasn't there, so you waited patiently in yours. When they arrived, you were boiling with rage.

“Have you lost your fucking mind?!” you shouted, as you got out of the car.

Bella rolled her eyes. She looked miserable. Her eyes were bloodshot and she was soaked through. She smiled weakly towards you.

“It was just for fun, you know” she muttered, as you hugged her tightly. It was your first closer contact since…

“It was just for sport,” she tried again.

You snorted in annoyance.

“Yeah, sure, get inside before you get sick.”

As you both stepped onto the porch, Jacob unexpectedly grabbed Bella's wrist. They shared a look.

“Are you sure about this?”

“Yes. You can go now, Jake,” she muttered, trying to disentangle herself from his grasp.

You smiled weakly at him, while Bella was looking for her keys.

“Cool, I'll take care of her until Charlie gets back. Thanks for saving her stupid ass,” you said. Jacob smiled amused, but still seemed slightly tense.

“No problem. Always at your service,” he joked. “Well... See ya around,” he said goodbye and walked away to his car.

You walked into the house with Bella.

“What were you thinking? You could have died” you muttered under your breath, stripping off your jacket.

“Well...actually I wasn't thinking, like, at all” Bella admitted, smiling apologetically at you.

“Next time think about Charlie,” you said, hugging her once more. Your body screamed that you shouldn't do that, but you were glad that Bella was okay.

While Bella changed into dry clothes, you made hot tea for both of you. Someone knocked on the door. The knocking was not from the front, but from the courtyard. You walked slowly to the door and opened it. Edward's sister, Alice, stood in front of you. You wouldn't have known what she looked like, if Bella hadn't shown you pictures of her. But other than that, you knew quite a bit about her, because when Bella was still with Edward, she couldn’t kept her mouth shut about Alice.

“Hi. Can I come in?” she asked politely. She tried to look normal, but there was something in her behaviour that made you nervous. You were about to reply, when Bella appeared in the kitchen.

“Alice!” she squealed, throwing herself around the brunette's neck. After a moment, she pulled away and looked at Alice in disbelief. "Are you really here? Or am I just dreaming this?" asked Bella.

It was your turn to roll the eyes.

“Of course she’s here” you said, now slightly annoyed. “Don’t be bothered by me, please, proceed to whatever you wanted to say.”

Your sarcastic tone was not intended, but justified. You were slowly beginning to get fed up with this family's games. First they move out and turn Bella's life upside down, and now the big comeback? Something's not right here. Besides, at that moment, you weren't the right person to play with. You had enough problems of your own and your life was messed up enough. What you didn't know at that moment, was that everything was about to change fundamentally very soon.

Alice took no notice of you.

"Bella, listen. Edward thinks you committed suicide. He told me that he doesn't want to live either, so he is on his way to the Volturi to ask them for an execution."

You had no idea what she was talking about. Bella was terrified, and you didn't know what was going on here.

"What, who the fuck are Volturi? Did Edward get involved with some cult? Also, how did he know Bella killed herself?" you asked, not understanding anything of what Alice was talking about earlier.

"We have to go to Italy, Bella,” she ignored you once more. “If they refuse him, I'm not sure what he'll do" as Alice spoke, Bella began to gather herself quickly to leave.

You grabbed her hand.

"And where do you think you are going?" you asked in disbelief. Bella looked at you apologetically.

"Y/N, I have to go. They're going to murder him. Just the fact that I'm alive will convince him."

You snorted in disbelief.

"You're dead serious? And can't you call him and tell him it's a misunderstanding? Besides, Bella, this guy ghosted you. He left you here, alone, with not one explanation and you want to fly to the other side of the world to save this dumb ass?" you asked, trying to take your mind off this ludicrous circumstance.

“Oh my god, we’ll take her with us if she’s not going to back down” said Alice in exasperation.

“And to your kind information, I won't back down. Your douchebag brother and the rest of your family turned her adrift. I was the one who pulled her out of her depression, and I will not let the exact same thing happen again because of any of you,”you hissed out in anger. You saw something in Alice's eyes that you considered to be admiration.

You looked at Bella expectantly.

“Y/N, I still love him. I cannot let this go” Bella whispered and you felt as your chest tightened. “Please…”

You heaved a heavy sigh.

“Okey, but I’m coming with you,” you decided and noticed that Alice's eyes were momentarily clouded with mist. You had no idea what was going on here, but you were sure that this whole affair with the Volturi, whoever the hell they were, didn't sound good.

After a few seconds, Alice looked at Bella, then at you and back at Bella.

“Get your coats, we have to go now,” she said.

“But Alice...” protested Bella.

“There's no time for that. We'll explain everything to her on the way. If we start now, we won't get out of here until noon” she muttered exasperatedly, walking out of the house. You looked at Bella.

“Bells, what's this all about?” you asked, and she just sighed quietly. You both quickly got your shoes on.

“We'll tell you on the plane but I'm afraid the Volturi won't like that a lot,” she said with worried expression on her face.

When you were at the airport waiting for a plane, you had countless questions in your head. Why the fuck Edward was pulling such nonsense? Why to be so dramatic about thing that didn’t even happen? Did this idiot really get involved in some sort of cult? And why was his sister so concerned about it that she decided to tell you ‘everything’, whatever needed to be said? However, the question that kept you wondering was who were the mysterious Volturi and what could they possibly resent about you?

One thing you were sure of. There hadn't been a moment since the sexual assault when you hadn't thought about it. And now your thoughts were occupied by the mysterious Volturi and you immensely wanted to find out what it was really all about.

⋎⋎⋎

On a plane ride, you found out that vampires are no fairy tales and your best friend was in love with one. It was a wild thought but, as soon as Alice started taking, you knew it wasn’t a joke. You were given so much information at once that you were unable to respond to anything as Alice finished her long monologue. You had a drink of water, although at that moment you very much regretted not being able to drink whisky.

“Okey, lets say I get most of this…” you said with a low voice, trying to be careful with what you’re saying. “But can you tell me who are Volturi and why would they want to decapitate Edward?” you asked, looking sideways, afraid that someone might hear.

Alice let out a sigh.

“The Volturi are the equivalent of the justice system in our world. They are the ones who created the laws that help us hide from the world, and they are the ones who enforce them. They consider themselves… sort of royalty, as their leaders – Aro, Caius and Marcus – are over three thousand years old.”

If you were to be honest, you were not very good at processing this information. Three thousand years? The first thought that popped into your mind was that they must be immensely lonely. You were sure you wouldn't want to live so many years without having anyone worthy by your side. Later, Alice quickly summarised all the laws that every vampire must obey. They weren't complicated, but when you thought about it a little longer, some of them weren't so easy to follow.

“I don't want to whine, or come off as ungrateful or anything like that, but... didn't you just break the law? By telling me about you?” you asked cautiously, not knowing if what you were saying was right.

Alice sighed again, this time heavier than before.

“It’s complicated” she said succinctly, which interested Bella, who was eating some kind of sandwich.

“This vision of yours was about [Y/N]?” she asked Alice curiously. Alice merely nodded. When Alice told you about her gift, and this was at the very beginning of the story, you found it hard to believe. It wasn’t so unbelievable now.

"Eat something," Alice said to you. "It's good for the baby" she added after a moment, seeing you hesitate. You swallowed heavily, as you suddenly felt sick. The memories of that evening came back.

Alice smiled softly, as if knowing exactly what you were thinking about. And this was supposed to be Edward's gift.

"Do you want to know the sex of the baby?" she asked, and your eyes almost fell out.

"Can you predict that?" you asked in disbelief. She and Bella both smiled. Alice nodded vigorously.

"Yeah, sure. I can't predict if the baby... you know, if it will be born, however, the sex I can tell you.”

You pondered on it, while eating your sandwich. The nausea eased, when you could think of something different than that unlucky evening. Before you knew it, you fell asleep and Alice woke you up when you landed in Italy. As Alice drove the stolen car, you tried to admire the beautiful views of Tuscany outside your window. When you had almost reached Volterra, you thought how wonderful it would be to live here.

⋎⋎⋎

This stupid boyfriend of hers. That was all his fault. Of course, Bella made it at the last minute. You, together with Alice, went to abandon the stolen car somewhere. Although, you had a feeling that you would be returning the exact same way. You tried to reassure yourself. Of course you’ll be returning. Or maybe not? If you were honest, you gave no fucks about it. You had no one who’d wait for you at home, your parents died, you were brutally raped not so long ago, and you didn’t even know if you wanted to keep the baby. Maybe dying today isn’t such a bad idea?

You have reached the square and entered the palace at a very convenient time. The guy who looked like a wardrobe and the other one, much shorter than him and blonde, looked like they were about to murder Edward in this instant. And actually, you felt like you could’ve murdered Edward too. Barely Alice closed the door, you didn't even glance at the two of them, but immediately began to scold Edward for what he had done. To hell with his gift!

“You stupid, immature, irresponsible, reckless and selfish bastard!” you started descriptively, and even Bella was taken aback by your behaviour. Alice raised her eyebrows and two other vampires looked at themselves and then straight at you. Edward had no time for any reply. “If you ever, I repeat, if you ever again do something as childish and irresponsible as expose my best friend to a nervous breakdown and months of depression, I promise you, here and now, that I will decapitate you myself. You're old, and yet a five-year-old child is smarter than you. You utter imbecile,” you hissed with hatred.

Of course, your malice towards him was temporary, but it's been a long time since anyone has angered you like that. The shorter man laughed under his breath, and the other one, who looked like a wardrobe, said:

“Can we keep her? I like the way she’s ruling the roost.”

He fell silent, as a short, pretty blonde woman entered the room. Her face was like a child's, but her eyes... bright red, staring at no one else but you.

“Jane” greeted her Edward. She didn’t even look at him.

“Aro sent me to see what was taking so long” she said. The atmosphere immediately became tense. Edward and Alice seemed to stiffen at the sound of Aro's name. You were curious but not frightened. Not yet.

Jane turned and immediately started walking towards the long corridor. Bella just looked at Edward, and you glanced at Alice.

“Do what she says,” she muttered to you and you both kept pace with the couple in the front.

Needless to say, it was the most stressful and also the most terrifying lift ride you've ever experienced. Not to add the creepy music background. You guessed it was supposed to make you feel better, but instead it made your whole stomach go up to your throat. You were standing right in the middle, next to Bella, holding Alice's hand. The vampire, who looked like a wardrobe, kept looking at you. You took a deep breath to calm your nerves. Puking on someone's shoes isn't going to make this situation any better. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Edward smile. Yeah, the situation you’ve found yourself in was extremely funny indeed.

When you reached the main chamber, you didn't know what to look at first. At the vampires standing against every wall? Not very wise of you. At the marble floor? Nothing to be afraid of for now, so no. You probably should have looked at the three thrones in front of you and the vampires that sat on them, but instead, you were interested in the Latin phrase engraved between the columns above you.

You glanced at your company. Edward looked as if he was about to die. Maybe that's what's going to happen? Alice looked very out of sorts, and Bella, well, she was hanging onto Edward's arm and also looked like she was about to leave this world for good. She was unnaturally pale and you though she was going to faint any second. But it never happened. The rest of the room felt extremely comfortable. For a moment, you turned your head towards the boy who called out to Jane. You did not let go of Alice's hand but you did not feel any anxiety. Curiosity prevailed, mainly because you had come to terms with the fact of your imminent death.

“Sister! Sent you out to get one and you bring back two. And two halves,” the boy who’s just called Jane his sister probably was talking about me and Bella. “Such a clever girl,” he praised her like he wasn’t his sister but someone else entirely. You sighed heavily. Maybe they’re also into incest-kind-of-relationships? Who knows. You looked above your head again. There was a short inscription “vita brevis, ars longa” but you knew the rest of it. Latin was obligatory in every medical school.

When the man from the middle throne stood up, it was to him that you directed all your attention. You felt that something about him was... you had no idea how to describe it, but you felt a strange pull towards him. As if some invisible force had power over you.

“What a happy surprise!” he said pointedly, wide smile on his face. “Bella is alive after all. Isn’t that wonderful?” he said cheerfully, while walking towards Edward. At that exact moment, you realised that you had managed to get yourself into a huge mess. The lair of the vampires. And you were only a weak human. Recently raped. With a baby under your heart.

As soon as the man stepped down from the platform, you were unable to take your eyes off him. His posture, the way he spoke, his demeanour, it all made you feel incredible respect for him. You’ve never felt this secure and calm in your entire life.

“I love a happy ending,” the man said, while he took Edwards’ hand into his. “They’re so rare.”

You were wondering why this man took Edward’s hand in the first place. You did not have to wait long for an explanation.

“Aro can read every thought that I’ve ever had. With one touch” Edward explained to Bella but you were listening too. Very carefully listening. You’ve finally managed to know the name of the vampire. Aro. It suited him well. Although his eyes were a little scary, you were delighted with his charisma and approach to guests. You realised that indeed, they are called the royal family for a reason.

Aro smiled to Edward.

“Her blood appears to you so much,” he whispered, and you had a hard time hearing his words well. Aro’s gaze rested on Bella. “It makes me thirsty. How can you stand to be so close to her?” he asked Edward, who was feeling more and more uncomfortable. You could tell by the fact that he was practically standing like a statue.

“It is not without difficulty,” muttered Edward from behind his clenched teeth.

You swallowed hard, as Aro turned his gaze to Bella again but he smiled.

“Ah, I can see that” he said pleased, moving away from Edward and focusing all his attention on Bella.

“Although you’re a quite soul-reader yourself, Edward, you cannot read Bella’s thoughts” he made a rather dramatic pause, still staring stubbornly at your best friend. “Fascinating” he said, not hiding his curiosity.

You managed to look elsewhere, than at Aro. The man on the throne to your left seemed unusually agitated. He fixed his gaze on you, as if his life depended on it, yet you did not feel uncomfortable. You were surprised to discover that an invisible force was also drawing you towards him. You almost took a step forward. You tried to remember the man from a few minutes ago. He looked as if he had died in that chair a few centuries ago. And now he seemed genuinely moved.

“Brother” the man spoke to Aro, as he got up from his throne. Indeed, there seemed to be an urgency to the matter, for Aro turned around in surprise. You had the impression that the man from the throne had not risen from it for a long time.

“You knew about this, and you brought her anyway?” you heard Edward's quiet whisper, directed at Alice.

Alice looked at her brother, then at you and finally at a curious Aro.

"It would have happened anyway. Better sooner than later" Alice murmured mysteriously. You still didn't know what it was even about. The third man, the one on your right, did not share his brothers' patience.

"Aro, let's hurry this up, Heidi will be here soon, and we don't want to frighten our guests" he said ominously, grinning like a madman. You were far from solving this riddle, but as soon as you looked at him, you felt the same attraction and enigmatic pulling as towards the other two.

Aro took his brother's hand in his own and you could see that his eyes would have lit up with happiness if they could.

“Ah, my dear Marcus! What an exceptional news!” intoned Aro cheerfully, heading towards you. He was slow in his movements, exactly so that you would not be frightened by him. All his movements were framed by an incredible grace.

“My dear, if I may, what is your name?” he asked, coming closer to you. You were unable to take your eyes off him. It was exactly, as if he had hypnotised you, only the feeling was more addictive. You didn't have to have a gift or to be a vampire to know that. For a split second, you ran out of breath and just stared into his red irises.

“My name is [Y/N]” you said, with your voice trembling, as your throat tightened hard under the intense emotions. You couldn't believe it was really happening. Maybe it was just a dream? Maybe these three beautiful men are just a figment of your imagination? You didn't even want to think about the fact that it might not be true.

Aro smiled encouragingly, while looking at you with all the attention that he’d possibly give you. You felt like nothing more was more important than you to him at that exact moment.

"It is an incredible pleasure to meet you, [Y/N]. I am Aro, but you already know that.”

The smile never left his face and during this brief exchange of words, neither of you took your eyes off the other. You felt that the atmosphere in the room had changed. Aro extended his alabaster hand in an inviting gesture.

“May I, my dear?” he asked you politely.

You gulped. Of course, you wanted to show him that you didn't want to give away their secret. You wanted to show him the strange bond you felt towards him and his brothers. However, there were things you didn't want him to see. You felt deep down inside that this attraction had an explanation and you didn't want him to see... Not that. You’d felt exposed and extremely embarrassed. There was also another issue. His hand. You'd hugged Bella twice since it happened and just now you were holding Alice's hand. You didn't know if, when you touched him, you'd start screaming or crying because you were so afraid of someone else's touch.

Yet, his hand looked so inviting, almost familiar, as if you'd already had the chance to touch it before. Aro himself showed no impatience. He waited, still gazing into your blue irises with his crimson eyes. You extended your hand towards him, at first cautiously, and then with a little more confidence. You took a deep breath, before your fingers made contact. When it happened, you felt as if you had come home after many years of wandering. He closed your hand in his, just as he had done with Edward's. His skin was cold, but he handled you extremely gently. You stared into his eyes as he looked at your thoughts and memories of your whole life. You knew instantly when he was done because he smiled sadly at you. He squeezed your hand gently in his.

"Never again, my love. Never again," he assured passionately, and then he leaned down to place a kiss on your hand. It was so light and as gentle as a breeze on a summer day. You couldn't help but smile.

Aro clapped his hands. He was clearly pleased with what had just happened between you.

"Aro, will you explain to me what's going on? I'm sick of waiting," said the nervous brother, who was the only one with blond hair. Aro smiled widely and turned towards him.

"Ah, Caius, you'll never guess. Finally, after so many years, our mate has honoured us with her presence" he said overjoyed and Caius frowned in awe. You were already able to tell that this did not happen often. Marcus, on the other hand, was sitting on his throne, smiling, still looking in your direction. You didn't miss the glances of the other vampires either. Was it some sort of celebration when Marcus was smiling?

“What does that mean?” it was Bella who snapped that question. Aro immediately appeared by her side. He gently stroked her hair, pulling an unruly strand behind her ear. You felt the sting of jealousy, when he touched her face. You should be the one asking that question and not her.

“Ah, and dear Isabella. What to do with you,” he wondered aloud, as if asking others for advice. “As I have far more important matters to deal with....” he began, looking directly at you. “I’d love to see if you’re an exception to my gift as well,” he whispered to Bella, extending his hand towards her. She didn't have much choice, did she? She took his hand, a little hesitantly, but after a short while Aro moved away.

“Interesting” he muttered. “I see nothing.”

“You already know what you’ll do with her, Aro” said Marcus, his eyes never leaving your person. “Just do it, as we want to know our little angel a bit more.”

You looked at Bella for a moment. She was terrified, not only with her own case, but also with yours. You have already guessed that you are not going anywhere. They would never let you out of their hands. Aro knew perfectly well that you didn't even have anything to go back to. Of course, you had plenty of questions, but you were sure it wasn't about your case now. Just about Bella's situation and what the Cullens had done, or rather what they hadn't done. However, you guessed it, Bella was afraid you wouldn't get out of here alive, and at the same time, you were worried about the exact same thing but about her.

Aro was smiling continuously.

“I have an idea” he said, after a long while. He approached Alice this time. “Would you be so kind, dear, and show me if you saw Bella's transformation in your vision?”

You were smart enough to know that it wasn’t a request. Alice undid her glove and boldly gave Aro her hand. He was absent for a moment and then smiled again. You were impressed by the aura he spread around himself. When he smiled, you felt like smiling too. You still had the impression that it was only a dream, and simultaneously you were sure that it was really happening. Aro's touch was definitely real, you couldn’t forget his cool hands embracing your own.

“Ah, lovely. I know everything now,” he declared. You and Bella probably looked similarly confused, but you weren't the least bit concerned and she was as pale as a sheet.

Aro turned directly to Edward.

“As I have seen Isabella's transformation in Alice's vision, I can let you go with peace of mind, my dear young friends. I trust that a date will be set sooner, rather than later and that I will be able to see for myself, what your mate will be capable of, Edward. As for you, Isabella, you are promising immortal material and I hope your potential will not go to waste," he said, this time speaking directly to Bella.

She was still brave enough to look him in the eye.

“And what with [Y/N]? You never mentioned what will happen to her” she noticed, looking in your direction. You smiled gently to her.

“I’m staying here, Bella” you said calmly, trying to reassure her with your tone of voice that all shall be all right.

You saw pure admiration and joyousness on Aro’s face as you said that.

“Isn’t she remarkable, brothers?” he asked Marcus and Caius, who looked as if they had just received the most beautiful Christmas present.

Bella seemed to be thoroughly outrageous.

“You can’t be serious [Y/N]! You cannot stay here, please, come back with us. You cannot be here while you’re pregnant” she cried, holding your hand and looking at you with disbelief.

What she said made you very uncomfortable and extremely upset.

"Bella, I have nothing to go back to. My parents are dead. You knew that if Alice told me everything, it would have to be resolved somehow," you stated matter-of-factly, squeezing her hand in yours. "I can't go back there, Bells." Your throat tightened with despair as memories of recent events flooded inside your mind. You tried to hold back tears.

"I am a shadow of my former self. I'm afraid to leave the house alone to go shopping or to work. This paranoia is overwhelming me, Bella. I keep turning behind me to see if anyone is following me on the street. I cry at night, knowing that it doesn't change anything. And then there's this unfortunate baby," you sighed helplessly, trying not to burst with tears. "Even if I keep it, I don't want it to have a mother who's afraid to leave the house. I can't live like this, we both know that" you whispered, squeezing her hands in yours again.

“But you cannot possibly be mated with all three of them” Bella whispered with despair in her eyes. You only smiled, sensing that this sentence got on Kings’ nerves, especially Caius’s.

“I think it’s predestined, Bella. Just as you are destined to be with Edward, I do belong here, with my mates” you said cautiously, glancing at Aro and looking for approval in his eyes. He was only looking at you with delight, as he said nothing.

You saw that Bella had hard time processing such information, whilst Edward and Alice said nothing at all. You knew that Alice knew prior about this, and Edward could see the vision in her thoughts. You pulled Bella into a comfortable hug.

“Hey, sister, we don’t see each other the very last time. We’ll meet again. Probably in a different…condition but still.”

Bella looked devastated.

“You promise me that?” she asked warily, her tone full of hope. You smiled at her.

“Of course I do.” You kissed her cheek and caressed her long, brown hair. “We can call each other, you know. It’s not like I’m moving to the Moon,” you joked, to release the tension a bit. To your astonishment, everybody in the room laughed at that. It made you blush, just a little tiny bit.

After another farewell, in which this time you also included Alice and Edward (barely, because you were still mad at him) and an official farewell from Aro, who told them to give his friend kind regards from him, the guests left the chamber.

They left, and Aro was immediately by your side. He gently stroked your long blonde hair, but didn't touch a single piece of a skin. After the display of your memories, he probably knew very well that you did not wish any touch for the time being.

You still couldn't free yourself from under his spell and if you were to be honest, you didn't want to at all. Aro offered you his arm.

"I believe, we have much to discuss, my love."

You took his arm gratefully.

"I have a ton of questions," you admitted as you walked out of the chamber with Marcus and Caius slowly following you. You didn't need to look back, the strange bonds that drew you together informed you of their presence in a yet unknown way.

Aro, as usual, smiled magnificently.

"My dear, one thing at a time," he said in a gentle tone, as he patted your forearm with tenderness. When you entered the study with the round table, Aro immediately pushed back a chair for you.

"No one is to disturb us" you heard Caius' sharp tone as he closed the door behind you. You tried to feel comfortable and at ease. After all, this was your home from now on.

Part 2 | Part 3

[donutloverxo]

Tainted

*gifs not mine*

Please note that my work is not to be reposted or published anywhere other than my Tumblr or AO3 account without my permission. Reblogs are most welcome though!

Note - this is inspired by a hc @sweater-daddiesdumbdork once wrote me and gave me a frigging murder kink. Life ruiner😡😡

Dividers by @whimsicalrogers

Summary - Steve saves you and plans on never letting you go again.

Warnings - 18+ only, smut(m/f), kidnappings, being held hostage, murder, blood, non descriptive violence, captain kink, slight murder kink.

Pairing - Steve Rogers x reader

Word count - 6.8k

Masterlist is linked in the bio!

One of the most amazing thing about living with you was that Steve never had to come home to an empty house. He was now responsible for you, he’d have to shoot you a text message, he had gotten pretty good at texting, thanks to your guidance, or call you, he definitely liked calling and hearing your voice better. He’ll always be old school.

You’d get that slight waver in your voice as you tried to pretend that you weren’t sad, he could see your cute little pout through the phone. And while he would never want to cause you any sort of pain, knowing that you’d be waiting for him, that you’re missing him when he’s away, made him feel wanted.

That even someone like him deserved love and happiness and a safe, boring life. That may be there was a reason he died only to wake up again in a strange new world.

That wasn’t to say you didn’t come with your own set of challenges. You were messy if anything, leaving clutter everywhere and putting off doing your dishes and laundry for days. Maybe not the most practical but definitely the cutest roommate in the world.

He’d learn to put up with it because it was worth it. Maybe, he could even learn to 'let loose' a little as people always recommended to him.

At first, he couldn’t wait to ask you to marry him. He had even impulsively bought a ring with your birthstone, he knew you were obsessed with them and astrology and maybe even dark magic. But then you surprised him with a date to an old diner and introduced him as your boyfriend to your friends.

He liked your friends quite a lot, he couldn’t really understand what they were talking about half the time. From what he could tell - by their fascination with his muscles and all the touching and squeezing to his biceps, them wanting to hear about his life before the ice - it seemed that they liked him too.

But hearing you call him that, your guy, your boyfriend, your beau, as your friend Stacey had put it, he decided that he wasn’t quite ready to let go of this blissful courting period. He was rushing things.

He needed to live in the moment and just enjoy being your boyfriend for now, he had all the time in the world to wife you up - preferably not to late though.

He was so unbelievably happy, ecstatic to see you, to surprise you, his mission ending a week early he got home as soon as he could. He thought of maybe taking you to Vermont for the weekend, he had never been but Nat told him it’d be a nice little getaway and that you’d love it.

His wide smile slowly fade away as he looked at the state of his door - the latch broken. Forced entry. Somebody broke his door in. He pushed the door wide open and made his way in.

He knew what was to come next but he willed that thought away. Maybe you kicked it in yourself, maybe you forgot your keys. He kept telling himself that because he was terrified of thinking the alternative.

He stepped in as soon as he was able to shake himself out of his haze. Looking at the state of his, and your, apartment. A broken vase, and the coffee table smashed in.

Crouching down to take a closer look he saw some blood on the ceramic. Whoever did this to your home, better hope that it’s wasn’t yours.

He got up, directing his simmering rage towards his new mission. He didn’t panic, not yet, he couldn’t give himself that kind of luxury. His mind coming up with ten different to find you and make the bastards who did this pay.

NOBody can hurt the people he loves, especially his girl, and get away with it.

***

Your eyes fluttered open before scrunching shut to adjust to the harsh fluorescent light. You blinked, looking around you while squinting.

Some sort of empty grey room... a window to the side but it was dark outside. You dress sticking to your skin as your whole body was covered in a sheen of sweat.

Three men in a corner, one for them shouting at the others in a foreign language.

You felt a yip of pain radiating in your arms and then realised they were tied up behind you - strapped to a creaky chair.

You tried to shake free of them, by wiggling your wrists but then winced at the burn it caused, capturing the attention of your kidnappers.

One of them smiled at you, walking towards you.

“Finally awake, are we?” he asked in an abnormally chirpy way. “You were out for quiet some time. Did you sleep well?”

He squatted before you, you could see his face, his cold grey eyes betraying the warm smile that graced his lips. Many white scars littered over his jaw...

And then you remembered.

How you rushed home when you felt someone was following you. Locking the door, you tried to call Steve but couldn’t get through to him.

And then your stalker broke into your home. You tried to smash his head in with a vase but couldn’t really do any real damage. Everything was hazy after that. Maybe he drugged you - you couldn’t recall.

You exhaled shakily when you realised he was watching you both from the corner. You could never forget his dark hoodie and hair. Or fresh cut on his forehead. You had never so much as hurt a fly or even slapped anyone. How you managed to smash his head in you’ll never know.

You looked at the man before you again when you heard him calling out your name, his smile haltered for a moment as he looked back to your stalker.

“I’m sorry about that, he’s a rookie. He’ll be reprimanded soon enough. This wasn’t exactly our plan but we’ve decided to improvise.”

You tried to speak but with your throat and mouth dry and your mind in shock the words wouldn’t come out.

“Oh, that’s alright, don’t struggle. We don’t want anything to do with you, you’re just a normal plain Jane going about your life, aren’t you?”

You could only give him a weak nod, still trying your best to shake yourself free of your bounds without him noticing.

“That’s right. You haven’t done anything wrong, you don’t deserve to have anything bad happen to you, do you?”

You nodded again. Your breath hitched when he got closer to you, in your face, his hands planted on your bare thighs with your skirt pooled just below your hips.

“But we don’t always get what we deserve. You’re close to the Captain, that’s right Michael’s told me all about how taken he is with you. I mean... I never would’ve imagined Captain America would pick someone like you but to each their own,” he cupped your cheek, the cracks in his palm harsh against your soft skin.

“What do you want?” you asked, not looking away from him.

“I want justice. For things to be in the right order. You’ll have to suffer for it, but know that it’s for a good cause.”

“You’re wrong,” you shook your head, “he’ll come for me.”

“We’re counting on that,” he snickered.

You’re not sure what came over you, all you knew was that you wanted his disgusting hands off of you, “He’ll come for me, and then you’ll regret ever touching me.”

“Uh, I don’t know about this,” you pulled on a thread from your skirt with your right hand, your other hand in Steve’s as he held onto your waist, pulling you into his side. “It’ll be inside me?” you shuddered.

“Yes, but,” Bruce scratched his head, he was adorable like that. You never would’ve imagined him to be the hulk, a 'rage monster’. “it’s not as bad as you think. You won’t even feel it. All shield agents and Avengers have one. Except Thor, because that wouldn’t be of any use. The radius is only on earths surface. You would’ve thought that would be enough,” he chuckled.

You pressed your lips in a thin line, looking at the chip, smaller than an acrylic nail, watching Bruce load it up.

“I know it’s not ideal, doll. But I’ll feel much better knowing I can find you, in case something goes wrong.” He kissed your temple, as you braced yourself.

“Will it hurt?” you gulped as Bruce lined the shooter or gun, by the looks of it, to your forearm.

“Just a little. You’ll barely feel it.” He gave you a sympathetic smile.

“Look at me, pup,” Steve gripped your chin, moving your head till you looked into his blue eyes, he pressed his lips to yours, massaging your tongue with his to distract you.

“Mm,” you winced and moaned into his mouth when you felt the piercing pain. It was like getting a flu shot but you had never having been a huge fan of needles either.

He released his hold on you as Bruce worked on cleaning your the blood seeping through your pierced skin. “You did good.” Steve said.

“Do I get a sucker?” You asked Bruce and he chuckled - as if you were joking, you do not joke about candy, “No I really want one.”

“Let’s keep this between us.” Steve told you both.

“Of course,” Bruce nodded, “I can keep tracker dormant till we need it but are you sure?”

“I’m not sure who I can trust.” But he knew he could trust his teammates.

You sniffled, keeping your tears at bay because really something so little shouldn’t make you cry, rubbing your hand over your wounded bicep as Bruce handed you some gummy bears.

“They’re Tony’s. He leaves snacks everywhere, it’s annoying.”

“Thank you.” You blinked up at him and offered some to Steve.

You never thought you’d need it. Until now, you were sure your friends or your mother would notice that you’ve been gone and Steve will find out and track you down. You knew he would. He had to.

He frowned, his nails digging into your cheekbones, pluckering your lips, “Where’s all that confidence coming from?” he quirked a curious brow up, “He’ll walk right in and pay for everything he’s done,” he snorted.

“You’re way underprepared to take someone like him on,” shut up, shut up, shut up, why the fuck are you egging him on? “He’s strong, he’s a survivor.” Even without the serum, he survived an abusive household, being bullied, being sick, and you knew how protective he could be. To the point where it was downright irritating.

“We’ve got all the time in the world to prepare, you should be worrying about yourself,” he spat.

You had always been bold, even in the most inappropriate of situations. Like when you lectured a boy for over an hour on respecting boundaries for throwing spitballs at you, in kindergarten. Steve even said that he fell for that ‘spunk' in you.

‘Well-behaved women rarely make history’ your mother had told you.

And really, you liked that about yourself as well. You liked that you found a man that would encourage that side of you instead of calling you ‘difficult’ or ‘bossy’.

However, you immediately regretted everything you had said. Not because it was untrue, but because your captor took out a sharp pocket knife, a dark glint in his eyes.

“We only need you alive,” he said as you gulped, “I suppose, it wouldn’t matter if you’re missing a finger or two.”

You frantically shook your head, choking on a sob. “No,” you pleaded, “you’ll... he will find me and you will - ”

“Go to prison at best. It’s a risk we’re all willing to take,” he put the blunt end of the knife against your cheek, “We have to do something to kill the time.”

You couldn’t breath, your heart hammering in your chest, what if he doesn’t come for you? You won’t be able to do anything about it. It wasn’t like you could protect yourself, at least in this situation, all you could do was wait for him.

You shut your eyes, and braced yourself for the pain. Except... it never came, you simply heard someone fall down, some sort of clattering sound.

Upon opening your eyes you saw one of his friends face down before your in the corner, the other guy, your lovely stalker, drawing out his gun, looking at the only window to your left. You swore you a saw a glimpse of a flying disk knocking your stalker out.

The man before you cursed under his breath, “Get. Up. Come on!” he ordered.

“Yeah, if I could do that I probably would’ve,” you snarked, still trying to get your aching wrists free.

You barely even registered - who could only be your Captain - sneaking up behind him, snapping his neck with his hands in a matter of seconds. He collapsed on the ground and you could finally see Steve.

His clenched jaw and cold eyes softened up on seeing you, you couldn’t help but let out a sob as you realised you were going to be free.

“You’re okay, sweetheart, it’s okay,” he soothed you, kissing your forehead before swiftly free your hands.

You stood up on wobbly legs, holding onto his arms for support, “Steve,” you breathed out, “you came for me.”

“Of course I did,” he sighed, gently pushing your face against his chest as he hugged you close to him. “As if I’d ever abandon you,” he smoothed a hand over your back and decided to not dwell on your comment. This wasn’t about him, you were in shock.

“I was so scared,” you sniffled, “he said, he - ” you couldn’t even finish your sentence as you broke down in a fit of sobs and hiccups.

“You’re safe now,” he promised.

“You - did you kill him?” you pushed away from him to look up at his face so you could take him in.

You had never seen him in his uniform. Only ever seeing him on the news but he had his cowl on and a suit that was much more on brand for ‘Captain America’ than the darker one he had on now. It made him look bigger - if that was even possible. Bigger than the shield now strapped to his back.

His usually clean shaven face had the faintest shadow to it while his hair was slicked back. He looked beautiful, so soft and innocent, definitely not someone who’s capable of hurting anyone.

“He hurt you,” he replied, bringing your hand up to his lips and kissing your bruised wrists, “and so many others, he got what was coming to him.”

“You knew him?”

“Yes. He got away the last time we tried to catch him - but we don’t have to talk about that right now. Are you hurt anywhere else?”

You shook your head, “No, I’m just thirsty and I really want to lay down,” you murmured, resting your head on the star in the middle of his chest.

He pressed a hand to his ear, letting his team know that he had found you. You vaguely saw agents clad in black gear storm the room.

“We did a sweep of the place. No one else is here,” Natasha said. “How you doing?” and then frowned when you didn’t respond.

“She’s tired. It’s okay, love,” he kissed your temple, snaking a hand under your knees and picking you up with ease.

You weakly nodded, wrapping your hands around his neck, glad to be babied by him because you didn’t have the strength to stand.

“They didn’t give you anything to eat?” Nat scoffed as you shook your head.

“How long have I been here?” you looked at Steve, struggling to stay awake.

“A day and a half. We’ll get you fixed up,” he swore, carrying you towards the quinget.

“Where are we?” you nuzzled your nose against the rough kevlar of his suit.

“Bermuda,” he said.

“Oo, I’ve always wanted to come here... just maybe not like this,” you chuckled but Steve didn’t find it all that amusing. You cupped his cheek in your palm, hoping to maybe calm him down a bit before falling asleep.

***

You vaguely heard a familiar voice calling out your name, you’d recognise it anywhere, it was one of your favorites, one you’d known your entire life.

“Mom?” you muttered, opening your eyes and looking around the room to look for her. You smiled when you saw her sitting on a chair just beside your bed, the faint, annoying beeping told you that you were probably in a hospital.

“Hey there, honey,” she smiled back at you, her eyes misty as she pressed her lips to your cheek. “Do you have any idea how much you scared me?”

“I’m sorry,” you tried to sit up as she fluffed your pillow up to support you. “I was... um... kidnapped.” Saying it out loud made it feel so ridiculous. Never in your wildest dreams would you have thought.

“Yes, Steve filled us in on everything. So, Captain America, huh?” she raised her brows.

“Yeah,” you chuckled nervously. Doing a once over to your large, mostly white room to look for him. He wouldn’t just up and leave you, would he?

“How long has it been going on?” she asked.

“Um, three or four months?” you winced when you realised just how much trouble you were in.

“And, you live with him. Linda filled us in on everything. You’re quitting your job too now.”

“It’s - it’s not as bad as it sounds...”

“Never mind that, you need to rest. Then you won’t have to worry about all this. I’m taking you home with me. And you’re never coming back here again.”

“What? No! I still have over two years of school left.”

“You can do it online! You can find just as a good a job in Queens.”

“No! I’m not coming,” you whined.

“Well, you’re not living with a man you barely know either.”

You were interrupted by a knock on the door. A doctor entering, apologising for disturbing you and Steve right behind her. He still hadn’t changed out of his suit.

He stood at the end of your bed, squeezing your foot to let you know he was there for you as your mother glared daggers at him.

“Looks like you’re doing good. Blood sugars back to normal as well...” the doctor said, “You’re free to go home.”

“Really?” you smiled. So done with everything. Sleeping in your own bed sounded like heaven.

“Yes, let us know if you need anything.” She looked over your chart again and then left.

“Good then, you can come home now.”

“No! I’m going to my apartment in Manhattan, the one I share with Steve.” You rolled your eyes. Pleading Steve to back you up with your eyes.

He cleared his throat, “Um, ma'am, you can come stay with us, if you like.”

He held your mothers gaze, to let her know that he was serious and earnest.

He knew he wasn’t perfect by any means. He had a million flaws and cuts that ran deeper than anybody would ever know but he always thought, or maybe arrogantly assumed, that if nothing else he was someone ‘you take home to mama’ as Clint had once put it. He thought that your parents, like most, would like him. That he’d easily get their blessing to be with their daughter. He was known to be America’s golden boy after all.

But your mother had ripped him a new one as soon as she saw him. Accusing him of abusing his power to woo you. That you were here because of him. That he’s not worthy of you.

And all he could do was stand there and take it because everything she had said was the truth. He didn’t deserve you, you were captured and possibly traumatised because of him.

At the same time, he couldn’t just let you go. Not till he gets to the bottom of who had hurt you and makes sure that you’re safe from now on.

“No, thank you.” She scoffed, looking back at you and shaking her head. “What are you doing with your life?”

“I’ve made a lot of mistakes but being with Steve definitely isn’t one,” you looked over to him, he looked just as tired as you, “I just want to go home. My home with Steve.”

“Fine, I’ve always let you make your own decisions.” she sighed, finally giving in.

“And I’ve never disappointed you.”

“That’s debatable,” she snorted, “I’ll come check on you tomorrow then. Maybe send me your address. You know? Something you should’ve done months ago.” She returned to glaring at Steve.

“I’ve only been living with him for a month!” you tried to defend yourself.

***

“I can take off my own clothes, Stevie,” you giggled, him kneeling before you to help you out of the sweets the med bay gave you. Your dress was dirty and ragged now. “I really liked that dress though. I don’t have many like it. You think we can get it back?”

“Maybe, I’ll see what I can do, doll,” he kissed your bare thigh before rolling your panties down your legs.

“You’re kinda dirty too,” you remarked, sniffing him. He didn’t smell bad, as if Steve would ever smell bad to you. Just a bit of gunpowder, like that of firecrackers, a bit pungent instead of his normal piney and woodsy scent.

“Thank you,” he deadpanned before cracking a smile, “I was just excited to see you. Or I would’ve showered before coming home and then I didn’t get a chance to.”

He worked on unbuttoning your shirt He insisted on you getting a button up instead of a t-shirt considering how sore your arms were from being toed up for so long. Tied up... like an animal.

“Hey,” you whispered softly, caressing his cheek, “come back to me.”

“Sorry, I’m just... I don’t know,” he shook his head. He couldn’t let you know the guilt and despair he felt, you’d end up comforting him instead of the other way around. “It’s just been a long day.”

“Yeah. Still can’t believe any of this was real.” Running your hands up and down his suit, the feel of the material almost soothing to touch. “You wanna shower with me?”

“Don’t know, doll. That showers pretty small.”

He did have a pretty generous salary but opted to live in a more modest apartment, he never took more than he needed anyway, with a small shower. Not too small, but definitely not big enough for you both.

“We’ll make do, come on. I’ll make you squeaky clean.”

He took over ten minutes to get rid of the suit. You watched intently as he removed more latches than you could count.

“Is it bulletproof?” you wanted to know.

“Yes. But probably not as good as a vest. I’ve never been shot so I wouldn’t know.” He answered, taking off his undershirt.

“It’s funny because I always thought y’all were naked under there,” you chuckled, and then your jaw dropped as he took off his briefs.

You had never seen his cock while it was soft before. He was always more than excited when you got to him. It was amazing how pretty he looked either way.

“You and so many other people,” he almost shuddered at the thought of having been asked the same question so many times.

After making sure the water was hot enough, you both stood under it.

You took some of the lavender wash you had bought from lush, squeezing it on your sponge. Steve, bless him, was amazing at so many things. Shopping - it seemed was not one of them. All he had in his bathroom was a bar of soap, one toothbrush and a vintage straight razor.

Which just won’t do for you, so you took it upon yourself to stock the whole place up with your favorite stuff. The lavender being Steve’s favorite, you remembered how flustered you got when he told you that you smelled good. And then tried to explain that you always smell good while turning redder than a tomato.

You did his front, asking him to bent his neck a bit so you could wash his hair because he was almost a foot taller than you. You were about to do his legs, you’d take any excuse to feel up his thick thighs but he told you he’d do the rest himself.

Taking the sponge from you, he ran it under some water, working on cleaning you thoroughly. Under your arms, your breasts, your stomach, between your legs and then your legs.

You were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen - he knew that since the moment he had met you. But something about washing you up like that felt so intimate even though there was nothing erotic about it.

After washing you thoroughly he wrapped you up in a towel, “My cute lil' burrito,” he booped your nose.

You puffed your cheeks out, you weren’t sure if you liked that nickname. Observing just how gentle he was with you, helping you into a cotton nightie, as opposed to drying himself off hastily and carelessly before pulling some sweats and briefs on.

“Don’t wear a shirt,” you pleaded, he looked amazing shirtless, but that wasn’t the only reason, you really liked feeling his skin on hours, pressing kissing on his perfect, smooth, golden skin, ”pretty please.” Right now, he’d give you anything you wanted and you intended on milking that as much as you can.

“Alright, doll,” he replied, pulling you up in his arms again as if you were his bride, as you giggled so sweetly, “now, what would you like to eat? No take out, it has to be healthy. And remember my culinary skills are limited,” he said, carrying you to the living room and putting you on the couch as he started working in the kitchen.

“Stevie, I’m not hungry. Well, that’s not true, I’d like some ice cream,” fluttering your lashes at him, “Mint chocolate chip? I’m pretty sure we have some.”

“Of course, puppy,” you smiled, at the prospect of getting a sweet treat and the nickname, “as soon as you eat something.” He added and you huffed in annoyance.

He whipped up a sandwich for you, two for him because he was starving, some peach iced tea so you wouldn’t eat his ear off while complaining.

You only picked at your food, giving more than half of it to him. You truly didn’t feel like eating, instead craving some cuddles with him.

You tried striking up a conversation with him multiple times. Not because you didn’t like silence. You did when it came to him, you could go hours without talking and it would feel so serene and perfect. You never had to talk just for the sake of it when you were with him.

But you had come to read Steve pretty well. He seemed distant and closed off. The air around you both thick with tension. You tried to ease it while telling him about how brave you were while quitting and didn’t cry at all, how Tony dropped by and was apparently stalking you - which was a bad idea because it seemed to make him angry, clench his jaw tight, his brows furrowed as he placed your plates in the sink.

Unsure if you had done something wrong or were mean to Tony, who was technically his boss, you twiddled with your fingers, “Um... I - I’m sorry,” you stuttered, trying to hold back tears. Spending the night at your mom’s house sounded like the better choice now.

“Hm?” he looked back at you, he could do the dishes tomorrow, “what for?”

“I shouldn’t have been snarky with Tony. I know he’s your boss and all that but he’s kinda cocky... And I got really mad when I found out he did like a ‘background check' on me. I mean I get why he would but still. I can apologize to him.”

“No no,” he shook his head, kneeling before you, taking your hands in his, “you misunderstood, love. I’m not mad at you, I could never REALLY be mad at you. It’s Tony I’m angry with, he went behind my back, ambushed you at work.”

“To be fair, you did the same when you asked me out,” you snickered as a blush crept up his neck.

“Right.” He finally cracked a genuine smile placing feather light kisses on your knuckles and the to the bandages on your hands.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” you asked, running your hands through his hair, scratching his scalp lightly with your nails.

“It’s probably better if we don’t talk about it,” he said, laying his head on your lap. Your slight scratching massaging his never-resting head.

“I think we should. My mom said I don’t know you. And to some extent, she is right. I don’t. Maybe I’m just imagining things but... sometimes it feels like you’re holding back.”

He gathered enough courage to look up at you, your almond shaped eyes looking down at his and he knew that he could talk to you about anything. He did. But there will always be that little voice that tells him that he shouldn’t. He would only trouble you.

“Don’t you pride yourself on being honest?” you caressed his scratchy cheek.

He snorted. He really was dense enough to think he was the perfect son-in-law package.

“I just, the way you looked at me, when I killed that man, I’m afraid that you’re scared of me now. That’s the last thing I want. It’s my worst nightmare really.” He leant into your touch.

“Steve, that wasn’t because I’m scare of you. It was because I’m fond of you. You were so strong and brave and you saved me. I liked being the damsel in distress more than I thought,” He chuckled at that, his doubts a bit relieved, “that’s... not all though.” You murmured.

“What is it?” he wanted to know.

“You, um, the fact that you would do that for me... it’s just. I never thought anyone would love me that much.”

“I only regret doing it in front of you. I’m sorry you had to see that or go through any of that.”

“I’m not a child, Steve,” you rolled your eyes.

“Of course not, but you’re you. You’re pure and an angel. I - I’m tainted - tainted by blood, tainted by war - ”

“Steve, that’s not true. You’re not, you’re the pure-est person I know. War and - that doesn’t define you.”

“You wouldn’t feel that way if you knew about all the things I have done, sweetheart.” The sweet nickname he had for you, which now he used in a patronising tone, “I let my best friend die. And I couldn’t do anything about it.”

“What’re you talking about?” you frowned. You heard about Bucky from him and your history textbooks but you don’t remember reading anything like that.

“It’s... something I’m not ready to get into.” He put his forehead on your knee. He knew you loved him but there was only so much baggage you would be willing to accept.

“Okay. You can take your time and tell me if and when you’re ready, baby.” You went back to idly playing with his, “But I need you to know that I love you. Nothing you could ever say will change that. To think that... for a second I thought that you wouldn’t come for me.”

He snapped his head back up, “What?”

“I thought, that you’d be busy with your mission. You wouldn’t even find out I was missing or... you just wouldn’t care enough to come yourself. I mean, I knew you would come, obviously. But you have other more important work...”

“No,” he shook his head, “How could you ever think anything's more important to me than you and your life?”

“Yeah, I was being stupid.”

“You can be a bit silly sometimes, doll.” He nuzzled your tummy, making you giggle. “I’m never letting you out of my sight again. I was so scared I’d never see you again,” he confessed against your nightgown.

“That’d be a bit hard to do. Keeping an eye on me like that. But if it means I get to spend more time with you then I’m down.”

You convinced Steve to let you have some ice cream. He only let you have half a scope, telling you that you’d have trouble sleeping otherwise.

“I’ve been sleeping for most of the last two days.” You tried to argue but it was hard to change his mind once he had it set on something.

You both brushed your teeth together and he stared at you as you went about your night-time skincare routine.

Cleanse, serum, moisturize, sleep mask.

All he did was wash his face and he still looked fucking perfect.

He stayed true to his word, sticking by your side to the point where you had to kick him outside to have some privacy to pee in peace. He was right there waiting for you when you opened the door.

Finally, you were in your cosy bed. Light’s off and cuddled tight with your boyfriend. Your stuffed unicorn and your Captain America plushie to your other side.

With your legs tangled together, you rubbed your feet up and down his legs. Which were unfortunately covered with his sweats.

“Steve,” you whined.

“Yes?”

“Take off these damn pants. They’re hurting my skin. So friggin' prickly.”

“Sorry, doll. I know how precious your skin is.” He sounded like he was mocking you but he followed, pushing his pants away.

“Good?” he asked holding you close to him again.

“Mm-hm,” you hummed against his naked chest. “Let’s sleep like this everyday, please.”

“Sure.” He replied. He liked being a ‘human furnace' for you.

He wasn’t going to fall asleep. Not after everything that happened. He hadn’t slept well in the past week but he was afraid that if he’d shut his eyes for a single moment and you’d be gone. This time, he wouldn’t be lucky enough to find you.

He hadn’t been to crunch or even prayed in a while. Losing his faith a long time ago after all the terrible things he had seen. But he had prayed when he came back found his home to be wreck. He prayed that you’d come back to him because there were some things he just could not control. Nobody could.

After a while he lowly whispered your name. “Are you awake?” he asked.

It was silly but he missed you. Even though you were laying right next to him in his arms - the safest place you could be.

“Yeah. I can’t sleep. Even though I’m so tired.” You yawned. “You okay?”

“Yeah.”

“You sure?” You snorted. “You’re not a good liar, Steven.”

“Can I ask you something? And you can say no if you want I won’t mind.”

“Sure, shoot.”

“Can I, um, have you? I just need to feel you, sweetheart. After everything – I need to know you’re really here.” he was cut off by your lips crashing on his.

You winced when your teeth clamped together but he soothed your upper lip by nipping at it with his tongue.

“Steve,” you panted as he broke awake, shifting under the sheets and pushing the helm of your gown up.

He placed quick open mouthed kisses all over your thighs, over your stretch marks, spreading your thighs further to accommodate his broad shoulders, he made sure to check in with you again.

All you did was push his head towards your heat, begging him to eat your pussy - as if he needed to be told twice.

Swirling and spreading your glistening juices of arousal around your weeping lips, he dove in for his prize. Drawing patterns on your bundle of nerves before sucking at it harshly, he plunged his tongue inside. Lacing his fingers with yours and pinning your hands down by your hips.

You kept desperately pushing your hips up, wanting more. Arching your back up and holding onto his hands tightly as he lightly grazed his teeth over your clit.

“Say my name, sweetheart,” he demanded against your heat, the vibrations sending jolts of pleasure up your spine.

Your orgasm washing over you in waves, electrifying every nerve in your body as you clamped your legs around his head, holding onto him.

He kept lapping you up through it, taking everything you’d give him.

He loved worshipping you - spending as much time as he could between your legs - because you were his goddess but right now, he just needed to feel you.

He climbed up the bed, hovering over you, he pushed two thick fingers inside you mouth till the second knuckle.

“Get them nice and wet, doll.” He instructed.

You moaned around him, making loud suckling noises, “Yesh, Captain,” it came out muffled, what with your mouth full.

“Captain?” he smirked. You had only ever called him that as a joke, he never knew being called that in a salacious way could stroke a fire inside him. Making him them painfully hard in the confines of his tight briefs. He pulled his fingers out of you, pushing his hand down till it was between your legs. Nudging your entrance with them.

“Sorry, it slipped out.” You were too unabashed to feel guilty. 

He scoffed, “Say it again.” 

Pushing his fingers inside you. Pumping them at a fast pace before you even had a second to think. It was desperate and fast so unlike how it is usually between you both. He needed to be inside you but your needs would always come before his. 

“Captain,” you mewled, chewing on your lower lip and holding onto his face. You couldn’t see him clearly in the dark but you still need to look at him. “I told them my Captain would come for me. And you did...” he swallowed your screams with his mouth as you clenched around his fingers. 

“That’s right,” he groaned, sucking your slick off of his fingers, “I’ll always protect you. I’ll do anything for you.” 

Shaky fingers working on taking his cock out of the hard confines of his uncomfortable underwear. He didn’t waste a single second before sinking inside you, as deep as he could. He moaned into your neck, “So fucking tight, doll. Like you were made for me,” he bit your neck. 

Drawing his hips back he thrusted inside you, brushing against your g-spot, making you keen. 

He stopped immediately, propping himself up on his elbows he looked down at your hooded eyes. “You alright, sweetheart?”

You nodded, “Yes, it’s just so good,” as if to prove it you clenched around his length, to make him feel all of you just as he was doing to you. 

He groaned at that, his balls already tightening, aching for release, “What’s the safe word?” 

“Mm... buttercream.”

“That’s right, good girl,” he cooed as you whimpered at his praise as he withdrew his hips again, loving you in a slow soft way. 

Pushing your gown up till it was above your breasts - he didn’t really have the patience to properly take it off. He sucked a spot just above your breast, so you’d remember his love every time you looked at it. Your nipples pebbled and goose bumps painted your skin, with your cunt tight around him he knew you were close. 

Wrapping his mouth around one bud, He pulled and pinched at the other. He stopped his ministrations, he needed to look at you as you climaxed. To know that you needed him at least half as much as he needed you. 

Your face scrunched up as you met your bliss, your nails drawing blood from shoulders - not that he cared in the slightest. 

His hips retracting and thrusting as he lost all sense of rhythm and finesse chasing his end as you laid boneless beneath him. He kept fucking into you, filling you to the brim. 

He heaved above you, making sure not to collapse on top of you. Reluctantly he pulled himself out of you. 

Pulling you close to him, his lips pressed up against the crown of your head, he whispered sweet nothings to you. “My brave girl.” He kissed the tip of your nose. “You’re so strong, sweetheart.”

“Stronger than the hulk?”

“Yes, definitely,” he replied, tracing the bandages wrapped around your wrists. “Now try to get some sleep.”

“Oh, I’ll sleep alright. Thanks to you.” You giggled. 

***

tags will be in the reblog.

this was my longest fic!i know it wasnt the best conclusion to something i drew outover 4 chapters but its the best i could do. sorry for weird format tumblrs mad i had too much fun lol. comments and reblogs are really appreciated!!

[orionsangel86]

But this makes no sense because we know that Cas was cut from the finale. This is FACT.--- interesting how you say FACT but don't follow up with any proofs. The source talking to Min about the finale days before it aired (and giving accurate info about it) confirmed the the 5 days of filming that Misha was talking about is false, because Cas wasn't even in the first draft. His story was officially over.

The source who confirmed to MIN (ha) before the finale aired (so November) said that Cas wasn’t in the first draft... so that source is calling MISHA a liar right? MISHA?

Because the source of the 5 days is MISHA himself. From M&Gs in MARCH.

Right let me try and sort out this timeline for y’all because you really will just believe anything some random source from a known fandom manipulator and liar is telling you sure.

*rubs temples*

March 2020

A “reputable and well like actor/cast member” told fans either at a Feb/March convention or something similar at the time that they were nervous because the finale script was still not complete, the writers were “frantically rewriting” due to requests for changes from higher ups. There was tension and discomfort among cast and crew that the finale script wouldn’t be complete in time for filming (which at that point was still only 2 weeks away before they shut down for covid) (the source of this is doing the internet rounds and has been since before summer from what I can tell. Its not new.)

15x18 filmed, “sources” at the time confirm to fans that there is a destiel scene and confirm that Cas dies but also that Cas is in the finale.

Sources also confirm that there was a small send off to the cast due to breaking up for covid. No one at the time said anything about this being a goodbye send off to Misha/Cas. It was a pre lockdown goodbye. Misha was supposed to still come back.

At a March Con, there are 2 Misha M&Gs. In 1 of them, Misha confirms Cas dies in 18 and that he was happy with the way Cas went. He also confirms that he will be back for the finale, but doesn’t elaborate. When asked if he thinks we will like the finale, he hesitates before saying it could go “one of two ways”. Read into that as you will.

The other M&G Misha confirms basically the same thing, but is pressed on his return to film. Misha confirms he expects to return to film for a further 5 days.

It is worth noting that Misha at this con was emotionally drained and “not himself” according to fans.

Everyone assumes that Misha being “not himself” at the con was because he was sad Cas dies, but he kept saying that he was happy with Cas’s death and proud of it. So I doubt that is what was bothering Misha. Could it be that he was aware of the constant finale script changes and he knew that there was fuckery going on even at that point which was putting his return into uncertainty?

Summer 2020 (Lockdown)

Misha confirms over zoom call with Michael Sheen that he is returning to film the finale. He also talks about grabbing Cas’s trenchcoat before he left because he was worried he might not come back again due to the pandemic and he wanted to keep Cas’s coat - also fits with the theory that maybe Misha was worried/ unsure if his role in the finale was safe at that point - but worth noting that as of August 2020 Misha was still being kept on tenderhooks about his role in the finale.

November 2020 (SPN returns and the narrative changes)

Suddenly all the “sources” have changed their story. One source confirms that Cas is no longer returning. Specifically says to someone who I trust that he was supposed to be in 20 but wasn’t anymore, but there are some clips of his voice in one of the episodes) (I didn’t want to believe this at first when I got this info before 19 aired but god I wish I’d listened.)

Please note that this source was correct about the voice stuff and also confirmed that he WAS initially in 20 but got cut.

Misha films a goodbye and thankyou video for the CW, reasserting the narrative that 18 was his last episode and suddenly there is all this confirmation that the goodbye cast party for lockdown was “for Misha” all along (it wasn’t).

Misha speaks to a fan and when asked about the script changes, he talks about coming back as Jimmy Novak for around “half a day” but that it wasn’t worth the quarantine. Fandom goes mad.

Misha also says that the finale was supposed to have a big reunion in 20 with the roadhouse crew and lots of Deans loved ones (but not Cas). Sam Ferris goes OFF on Twitter confirming this is bullshit. (I do NOT believe Misha lied here, I think that he was repeating a lie someone else told him as an excuse for him not returning.)

Jackles silently seethes in sexy sexy silence.

So, here is all the info I have and know about Misha and Cas being cut. You don’t have to believe me. I honestly don’t care if you do or not. But this is what I believe and nothing you or anyone (and certainly not a known fandom manipulator trying to twist the narrative to make them seem like an all knowing “i was right all along” type) can say will change this.

This info in my opinion all adds up to Cas initially being a big part of the script in initial drafts, then getting cut more and more due to network meddling and a desire to remove any Destiel ambiguity/keep focus on Sam/brother bond.

My own personal narrative (simply because the visual brings me joy and I’m clinging to it) is that Cas was cut completely in a version of the script around early summer, which leads to Jensen going OFF at everyone demanding they bring Misha back for the finale, so the writers add him in as Jimmy Novak as an attempt to satisfy Jensen, honour Misha, and satisfy the Network who at this point has told them NO CAS. Misha gets this version of the script (possibly the first version he has actually seen) and turns it down (probably because he sees it as a huge insult and tells them to fuck off as he should). Jensen then spends every hour of every day since only gushing about 15x18 and keeping silent or subtley throwing shade at the finale.

(To be clear I have made up the above paragraph because the concept is hilarious to me and Jackles sexy silence and fierce protection of Misha gives me life, but you gotta admit its in character and is the only explanation I can come up with for the absolutely ridiculous idea of bringing Misha back as Jimmy Novak)

Look, we are never gonna know the truth, but I have been holding onto the information from March for a whole year. The only thing that got me through the summer knowing Cas was dying in 18 was this mantra:

“Cas will be back Misha is filming 20 Cas will be back Misha films for 5 days Cas will be back because Misha is filming Misha has 5 days to film he’ll be a big part of the episode Cas will be back...”

Literally ALL SUMMER this was my brain so DO NOT tell me the information I clung on to for months was false. It was NOT false, it was the truth in March. It just wasn’t the truth any more in November thanks to a meddling asshole network and writers and execs who didn’t care enough to fight back.

I will NOT be gaslit by this November false narrative.

[raindancer2004]

The Power of a Good Book - Twilight AU Series

Word Count: 3,473 Demetri x OC Part Three Warnings: Fluff, light NSFW

Summary:  This is my Twilight AU Series   – Demetri’s on a mission with some of the other guards and gets injured and is unconscious but somehow wakes up to find himself in Amelia’s apartment in our world, where she knows him as a character from the Twilight book/movie series. It’s takes a little getting used to for both of them but it turns out that they’re mates and fall for each other but after two months in our world, Amelia wakes up one morning to discover he’s gone...He wakes up in his room without her...Will they ever find each other again?

Note: I gained permission from @vamp-army​ and @volturidoll13​ to reference a few of their fics in this chapter as well as my own.

Please note as this is an AU series time works differently in ‘Our World’ compared to the ‘Twilight Universe.’

***Twilight Universe***

Back in Volterra everyone was worried as Demetri had still not woken up and it had been a few weeks. Marcus called Carlisle and he flew out to assess Demetri. He carried out a few simple tests. “How is he?” Marcus asks as he watches Carlisle “Demetri is essentially in a vampire version of what humans call a coma…” “What’s that mean?” Jane asked cutting him off “A coma is a prolonged state of deep unconsciousness, caused especially by severe injury or illness” He replied but noticed she looked a little confused. “It means that Demetri’s body has put itself into a deep sleep so it can repair any damage that has been done to his body” “I understand. Thank you” She replied “You’re welcome Jane.”

Jane took a seat on the sofa and picked up her book off the coffee table and began to read “Are they close?” Carlisle asked Marcus low, he nodded “Although all four elite guards have become close friends over the centuries, Jane thinks of Demetri as an older brother and he thinks of her as a younger sister in return. In fact, he’s protective of both Jane and Alec…given their pasts” “I can understand that” Carlisle replies.

“Following the few tests I’ve carried out Demetri seems to be ok. I don’t think there’ll be any lasting side effects but until he wakes up, I cannot be 100% sure. That said I would like to stay a few days…see if he wakes. If he doesn’t, I’ll return home and then return as soon as he does wake” “Thank you Carlisle. That is very much appreciated.” Marcus replies and shakes his hand, the other resting on the back of his shoulder.

Carlisle observes Demetri and his condition regularly over the next few days and feels confident that the tracker will wake, he just can’t say when. “I’m going to head home, let me know when he wakes and I’ll come back as soon as I can.” “Thank you” Aro said and smiled at his friend.

Felix, Jane, Alec, Heidi and Marcus continue to take turns sitting with Demetri, and either talk to him; updating him on the castle gossip and trials, although there haven’t been many or they read aloud to him. Carlisle had told them that although he is unconscious, he may still be able to hear them.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

***Our World***

Meanwhile, Amelia and Demetri have watched the first three Underworld films and he had noticed Aro was in the first film as Lucian, the Lycan leader. “What’s Aro doing acting as a Wolf?” He asked her, confusion clear on his handsome face “That isn’t Aro remember, it’s the actor Michael Sheen, who plays Aro in the Twilight Saga and Lucian in this film franchise; Underworld” Amelia explained softly and he nodded “Yes, of course, that makes sense” He replies although she’s unsure if he really understands that as he’s been going through some major adjustments over the past week.

“Amelia, do you have a key I could use please?” “Of course Demetri. Are you going out for some fresh air? If so, did you want some company?” She replied “That’s a lovely offer, but another time perhaps” He responds and notices her smile falters for just a second before turning away and getting the spare key “I was planning to go hunting later, whilst you sleep and didn’t want to wake you upon my return” He adds “Of course, it’s been over a week since you hunted last and that was before…” She trailed off “The incident that led me here” He finished for her and she nodded.

Demetri sat and read some fanfiction about Felix on Tumblr as he found the way the ‘humans’ wrote for him amusing. “Hey Amelia, did you know there’s lots of Felix smut on here, as you call it?” He called over his shoulder “You’re reading smut about your best friend?” She asked a little confused “Well, I’ve read some smut stuff about me and I was curious as to how they write smut for Felix” He replied and she nodded, taking her bottom lip between her teeth. He noticed this was something she did when she was either trying not laugh or blushing. “What’s up?” “Nothing” She replied “Really?” He pressed further, his eyebrow raised “Ok, well…something new got posted today…well a few new oneshots got posted today…” “About me?” He asked cutting her off, curiosity shining in his dark red eyes. “It’s about you and Felix…sharing a mate. In fact, there are quite a few of those…” “They sound interesting” He cuts her off again “I should warn you…” “No spoilers, remember. You told me off a few days ago for ruining the end of “Aro’s Choice” He said pointing to her “Ok, then” She smiled and sat down beside him on the sofa and waited for his reaction.

Demetri clicked the ‘keep reading’ link on a fic called ‘Three’s a Party’ and soon discovered it wasn’t what he thought it would be. “They’ve written Felix as a softy and me being the one to put my foot down…that’s new. I like that” “I’m sure you do” She mumbled and he gently nudged her leg with his hand. He smiled as he continued to read the story and Amelia leant forward a little wanting to catch his reaction. “Oh! Oh! No! Why would…Oh god…” Amelia chuckled “Stop laughing. Felix sucking my cock is not funny!” “No, but your reaction to it is” She continued to laugh, her eyes beginning to water. “I could eat you, you know” He grumbled “In what sense?” She winked at him and for a second he was too shocked to talk “A-Amelia…I…” “Oh calm down little vamp. I was teasing” “I’m not little, just so you know” He muttered “Really?” She leaned forward and lifted the laptop slightly and he slapped her hand away “Behave” “Fine. But you need to keep reading” She encouraged, knowing what was still to come.  

A few moments later and he shuts the laptop lid down and heads to the bathroom mumbling “My eyes, my poor immortal eyes” Amelia chuckles as she hears the taps come on “Felix and I…I would nev…oh gods….” She walks towards the bathroom still chuckling and sees him putting the Almond and Honey handwash into his eyes “Doesn’t that sting?” She asked concerned, leaning on the doorframe “No, but even if did, it’s worth it. I can never unsee that…blah” He sticks his tongue out and shudders at the thought of being fucked by Felix, she chuckles again “Just be sure to wash it out thoroughly” She leaves the bathroom smirking “You know there are others out there like that. Sometimes you two ‘play’ together other times you just take your mate at the same time” “I’m not listening to you” He calls out ‘I may have a look at those later’ he thinks to himself.

Demetri came out of the bathroom and sat beside Amelia on the sofa “Are you reading Tumblr?” “Yes Dem I am. Unlike you I have no problem reading about yours and Felix’s sexcapades whether they be ‘together’ or separately with your own mate” She replied smiling and he sighed “I probably shouldn’t ask but…what’s this one about?” He nodded to the screen “It’s called ‘Sinful Surprise’ It’s about you coming home from a mission to be greeted by your mate in her underwear, you then fuck her with your fingers first, then a strawberry and then you lick her as she comes” “Now that sounds like nice one” He replies smiling “This is written by the same person who wrote ‘Three’s a party’” She tells him and watches as his eyes widen in surprise “I think you’re more innocent than the fanfic writers believe” Her tone teasing “Not true. One night with me Amelia darling and you’d never want a human lover again” He whispered in her ear, his voice smooth, his tone seductive. He smiled when he heard her heartrate rise a little “I bet I could you teach you a thing or two, Demetri sweetheart” She replied low, her tone seductive too. He felt her warm breath on the shell of his ear and he purred low at the thought of being with her.

“There’s a couple of others I’ve found that you might like” Her voice breaking him out of his thoughts “Yeah, what are they about?” He asked curious, although he was hoping he wouldn’t regret asking. “The one I just finished was called ‘Behind closed doors’ You and Felix share a human mate but you two don’t interact with each other…sexually” She looks at him and he nods, “I think I’ll read that later then” She nods and clicks on a new post to read “And the one you’re reading now?” He asks leaning in a little to look at the screen “Peppermint Kisses” “I think I’ll read this one with you” He replied and shifted slightly and read the fic along with her. “Did you like this one Dem?” “Yes, I did. I like that it was a Christmas one and it was just me and my mate when it came to the sexy stuff” He replied smiling “You should know that I’m not the type of guy to share a mate…which is good because back in ‘my world’ sharing mates isn’t a thing” He said low holding her gaze, he noticed her take her bottom lip between her teeth and her cheeks flush a light pink before she responded “I don’t share well with others either” She whispered and he smiled at back at her nodding in approval.  

Demetri noticed it was 23.00pm and decided going hunting now might be a good idea “I’m going to hunting as there should be some drunk humans about…” “Doesn’t the alcohol sour the taste?” She asked cutting him off “Yes, it does but drunk humans are easy prey” “Mmm, fair enough” “I’ll say goodnight now in case you’re asleep when I get back” He smiled at her “Ok, goodnight. Happy hunting” She replied and he chuckled as he locked the door behind him.

Demetri returned to the apartment a few hours later having drained and disposed of a couple of humans. He quietly let himself in and locked the door behind him. He noticed Amelia had fallen asleep on the sofa and smiled down at her, he lifted her into his arms and carried her to her room. He pulled the duvet down and laid her gently on her bed before pulling the duvet over her, tucking her in “Goodnight darling” He whispers low and makes his way to his room getting comfortable on the bed before picking up ‘Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone’ off his bedside table and continuing to read the book.

Around 07.00am Demetri made his way to the front room and opened up Tumblr deciding to read more some content involving Felix and found a few new ones about himself. Some he enjoyed reading others he wished he hadn’t; his curiosity had gotten the best of him. Time had gotten away from him and he was so engrossed in what he was doing he didn’t notice Amelia enter the front room until she sat down beside him “Good morning Dem. Thank you for putting me in bed when you got home” “Morning darling and you’re welcome” He replied. He was smiling to himself as he had just set up his own tumblr account @theoriginalladiesman and was rather proud of himself. “What are you smiling about?” She asked “I set up my own tumblr account, see. Now I can like and reblog stuff that I like without using your account” He replied proudly, pointing to the screen “Oh my god I’ve created a monster” Amelia says teasingly “I’m a loveable monster” Demetri replies with a wink and she nods at him, smiling at the name of his blog.

It was an overcast day and Amelia suggested they go out for a few hours “Fancy a walk around the park, get a bit of fresh air” Amelia called out from the kitchen “Sounds good. I’ll be sure to cover up, just to be safe” He replied and made his way to his room to grab his hoodie.

They walked to the park talking about various things, his hunting trip from the night before being one of them. “How was your hunting trip?” “It was ok, a little trickier than normal but that may just be the difference between our worlds” “What do you mean?” “Well, I noticed that here in ‘your world’ the humans tend to stick together in crowds or least in twos when they leave a bar making it harder to feed” He replied “Sorry to hear that Dem, hopefully it’ll be easier next time” She replied looking at him “Hopefully.”

Once back in the apartment Demetri headed for a shower and Amelia decided to bake some Cupcakes. She opened her Spotify account and tapped her ‘80’s and 90’s’ playlist and music began to fill the kitchen as she got out everything she’d need to bake. She got so caught up in her baking and listening to the music, her hips swaying in time to the beat that she didn’t hear Demetri appear. He stood in the doorway quietly for a few moments smiling to himself, enjoying the view of Amelia dancing as she bakes ‘that’s a great little ass’ he thinks to himself. Before he can stop himself, he walks up behind her and places his hands on her hips, his chest against her back and moves along in time with her. She tenses a little at first, surprised by his actions “It’s just me” He whispers into her ear and he inhales her scent ‘Cherries and Vanilla’ They dance a little like that as he watches over her shoulder as she makes some decorations for the Cupcakes, her relaxing in his hold.

Demetri had been in Amelia’s apartment for a few weeks and they had gotten into a routine, one that felt natural to both of them. She went into work Monday through Thursday and worked from home on a Friday. Demetri stayed in the apartment during the day reading and / or watching movies and TV shows. He had also become such a fan Tumblr he searched for new content to read each day. He’d occasionally check out Wattpad but decided he preferred Tumblr and that’s when an idea struck him. He decided to write something about himself, just to see if he could. He opened up a Word document on her laptop and noted down some ideas and was trying to come up with a storyline when he heard Amelia enter the apartment.

“Evening darling” He greeted “Evening sweetheart” She called back, the pet name making him smile “What are you up to?” She asked coming to sit beside him “I’ve decided to write something about myself. I’ve written some ideas down I just need to figure out a storyline” She looked at the screen and couldn’t help chuckling “What’s funny?” “You, you’re writing fanfic about yourself…” “Well, I’m the best one to do it seeing as I’m me” He replied cutting her off “True. Well let’s have a look at what you got so far” She turned the laptop slightly so she could see what he had written. A few moments of silence passed before she spoke “You know you could start with ‘Dating Demetri Headcanons’ seeing as there are various ones out there. Different writers each write for and about you differently.” “That’s not a bad idea” He replied quickly and turned the laptop back and began typing away. A few hours later and he had written his dating headcanons “Dating you sounds nice, fun even” She commented and missed the smile he gave her as she continued to look at the screen reading “You approve then?” “Most definitely. Are you actually going to post that or was it just for fun?” She asked curious “It started out as a bit of fun but I think I’ll post it, just to see what reaction it gets” She nodded, finding him adorable. 

“It’s got forty likes already and I’ve gained twelve new followers and it’s only been a few hours” He called out to her as she cooked dinner “Demetri is a fan fav, you know that” She called back smiling, knowing that she was his first follower after he set up the account and the first to like his first post. Something he noticed and followed her straight her back.

Amelia was sat at the kitchen counter using her work laptop as she was working from home when she noticed Demetri sit in the chair beside her, placing her laptop on the counter. Seeing his dating headcanon post doing so well, he decided to write and post something else. “What are your plans for today Dem?” “I plan on doing some writing” “Not sure what you enjoy more, the writing or the attention you receive” She chuckled “Both, if I’m being honest, especially as they don’t know it’s actually me writing on here” He replied with a cheeky smile. “Ever going to post the NSFW headcanons you wrote?” “Maybe in the future, but not for now” He replied and began typing away. “I’m writing a fluffy oneshot” “I look forward to reading it” She smiled and continued working, the only sound in the room were the tapping of fingers against the keyboards. 

Demetri had written two fluffy oneshots and made a start on a NSFW one when he noticed the time. Amelia had finished work and was leaning over slightly to see what he was writing. He smiled and closed the document he was working on and opened one of the fluffy ones. “Read that and tell me what you think…be honest” He turned the laptop to face her and waited as she read ‘Struggling to Sleep’ She smiled as she read it and once finished she turned to him “That was really good Dem. Who would have thought the ‘World’s Best Tracker’ would make a great fanfic writer” “Thank you Lia” He replied smiling, happy that his writing had her approval.

She leant forward and pressed her lips to his in a light kiss, he didn’t respond at first, caught off guard by her actions. She noticed that he didn’t return the kiss and pulled away. Feeling embarrassed she stood up not looking at him and started to walk towards her room when she felt him grab her wrist gently and pull her into him. He looked down at her, placing two fingers under her chin making her look up at him and he pressed his lips to hers. His hand moving to lay against her cheek, the other hand on her lower back holding her to him. He broke the kiss to allow her to breathe, resting his forehead against hers “I’m sorry Lia, you caught me off guard before” He didn’t give her time to answer him as he pressed his lips to hers again. He walked backwards a few steps, taking her with him, not breaking the kiss until he felt the sofa on the backs of his legs. He sat down and gently pulled her down with him, so she sat on his lap facing him “You…you want….” His lips against hers cut her off and answered her question at the same time. He gently bit her bottom lip and she opened her mouth allowing him to slip in his tongue inside her mouth, deepening the kiss; their tongues moving against each other in sync.

“Thank you for making the first move, I wasn’t sure if you’d welcome my affection in that way” He said low, his face and voice clearly showing that he was nervous. “I thought…when you didn’t….” He placed a finger to her lips “I apologised for that Lia” His eyes showing her that he was sorry for the moment of embarrassment and hurt he had caused her and she nodded “I-I don’t normally make…the first move but…” “I’m glad you did” He admitted cutting her off and leaned forward to kiss her again. They both moaned into the kiss and she moved one hand to the back of his head, her fingers playing with his hair. He broke the kiss allowing her to breathe again “I feel a little out of my depth here with you…I mean we get along and we flirt with each other but I wasn’t sure if it was just banter between friends or…” “Something more” She finished and he chuckled, nodding “I’m saying the latter” She said before kissing him again, gently taking his bottom lip between her teeth, he nodded in response before allowing her to dominate the kiss.

[yes-ihavealwaysbeengreen]

The Next One’s on You 2/5

Whelp Maxwell Lord has been consuming my thoughts all day and I sat down and wrote out the next part. Part three probably won’t be out till Saturday but I didn’t want to wait to post this one. Thank you my darling @justanotherblonde23​ for being my emotional writing support buddy. Thank you for reblogging, commenting, and liking! Let me know if you want to be added to a Taglist. 

Summary: A series of moments in the life of Maxwell Lord x reader centered around drinks. 

Pairing: Maxwell Lord x F! Reader 

Warnings: 18 + for language and some making out 

Taglist: @josepedropascal @mrschiltoncat @ghostwiththemostbitch​ @mrsparknuts @oldstuffnewstuff @yespolkadotkitty @heythere-mel @justanotherblonde23 @artsymaddie @maxlordsgf @xjaywritesx 

My Masterlist  

Chapter One - Triple Espresso 

Chapter Two: Vodka Martinis 

A week passed, then two and nothing. Not a sound. Silence from the illustrious Maxwell Lord IV and so life moved on. The shop had a steady stream of customers, and evenings were spent vegging out in front of the TV in your pajamas with whatever dinner you scrounge together that night. You pull the vanilla ice cream closer to you and dig the spoon inside when your roommate Michael comes out his tight black jeans, and black turtleneck the sleeves rolled up to his elbow. 

“Oh honey, it’s a Saturday night,” he wiggles his butt at you, “you should come out with us tonight we’re going to that new dance club, get out of this depressing apartment.” 

“Oh yeah...that’s not really my scene. I would much rather be home with a good book or TV, but you go and have fun! Don’t worry about me,” you smile reassuringly and he scoffs. 

“How about a date then?” he uses the mirror on the wall to apply a thick layer of black eyeliner stopping to look over at you, eyebrow raised. 

“What?” 

“My friend Tom from work, he’s single and looking to mingle,” he wriggles his eyebrows up and down at you, “What do you say? Friday night dinner at Les Amis?” 

“That new French place downtown?” 

“Yeah, you’ve been talking about going there since it opened. Just give the guy a chance, what else would you be doing on a Friday night. Seems like your mystery man didn’t pan out.” 

“Mystery man?” you sit up straighter and place the open container onto the coffee table. 

“The one who left you those white roses,” he rolls his eyes and finishes the wing tip. Closing the tube with a snap and putting it into his fanny pack. Your heart sinks as you think about the beautiful flowers and the arrogant bastard who left them. 

“Oh those…” you say dejectedly. 

“So what about Tom?” he puts one hand on his hip and looks at your expectantly. 

“Oh…” what could be the harm, “sure why not. You’re right, I have nothing else going on, and I have been wanting to go there. Who knows maybe I will find the love of my life with this Tom.” 

He laughs, “there’s the spirit. Oh sweet little barista, we will find you love yet!” He pulls the door open and shut quickly, his platformed boots smacking loudly down the stairs. 

You groan, throwing yourself back against the couch, a hand coming up to massage at your temples. What’s the harm? Maybe this Tom guy will be wonderful and you’ll end up happily ever after, like one of those Disney movies. 

Friday night comes before you know it and you straighten your dress again in the mirror. The black cocktail dress is the nicest thing you own with short sleeves, a white lace collar, cut off just above the knee. You pair it with your sensible black heels grabbing your clutch and heading out to catch a taxi. 

When you pull up the lights from the restaurant twinkle and you gaze at the elegant people inside drinking champagne from tall flutes. You take a moment to imagine that’s you when you are interrupted by your thoughts by a tap on the shoulder. 

“Excuse me, are you y/n? Michaels friend?” you turn and look at an attractive man with short cropped black hair, thin lips, blue eyes, and a suit with a purple waistcoat. 

You nod smiling and reach out your hand, “Tom right?” 

His grip is firm and his palms are sweaty as he holds your hand up to his mouth and gives it a sloppy kiss. You give a slight grimace as you pull your hand away and cover it up with a smile. “Shall we?” you gesture towards the hostess and he nods, putting his hand on your lower back as you’re both led to the table, his hand dipping lower and squeezing your ass. 

He pulls out your chair and as you sit down and he leans toward you, “you look good enough to eat,” he murmurs in your ear and you have to suppress the uncomfortable feeling growing in your stomach. 

You try to laugh it off and concentrate on the meal. Conversation flows freely and you almost feel relieved until the end. “So why are you single?” he asks. 

Your drink catches in your throat you sputter out a surprised, “what?” he ignores you continuing. 

“I mean when Michael asked me if I wanted to go out with his friend I thought he meant one of those young things he goes out clubbing with every weekend. Obviously that isn’t you,” he takes a sip of his cocktail, “I mean you're pretty, but I think we both know this isn’t gonna go beyond tonight. So why don’t we just skip dessert and get out of here?” 

You stare at him incredulously wondering if he’s actually serious and when he just takes another sip and gestures for the check you close your eyes sighing. When you open them again he is sliding his credit card to the waiter and you look around the restaurant trying to think of a way out when you feel eyes burning on you. You slowly turn to the left and see a large table filled with men and women in expensive suits and dresses. Sitting at the head of the table and fuming is Maxwell Lord the fourth. 

Fuck. 

You groan and put your head down rubbing at your temples. You hear the pen scratch against the pad and Tom hops up to his feet and slides on his coat, holding a hand out to you. “Let’s get out of here baby, and I will rock your world.” 

“I’m not going to sleep with you,” you put your hands down flat on the table and look up at him. 

“I just bought you dinner,” he scoffs, “it’s time for you to return the favor baby,” he moves to grab your wrist and you pull it quickly from his grasp. 

“Please just leave, don’t make a scene,” you plead and he does what he’s done all night, ignored you. 

He bends and gets right in your face sneering, “Now I see why your single, fucking bitch to good for anyone. Maybe if you got some, you wouldn’t have that stick so far up your as-” you slap him hard across the face. Tears burning in your own eyes. 

He shakes his head in shock and the slap echoes across the restaurant, customers turning to stare. He rubs his cheek and looks like he’s about to explode grabbing the water glass closest to his hand he pours the entire contents of it hard at your face. The freezing water shoots in your eyes and you gasp as it soaks into your dress and into your underclothes. “Fucking bitch,” he shouts stomping out the door. 

You close your eyes and reach for your napkin using it to clean off your face. You listen for the noise of the restaurant to resume to a gentle hum before you open your eyes. You do everything in your power to avoid the eyes of the other patrons, especially Maxwell Lord. The waiter comes up to your grimacing, “Can I get you anything honey?” she asks, holding out another napkin. 

You shake your head no, gratefully accepting it and thanking her. She smiles lightly before leaving. You stand up and shiver, feeling the tendrils of water seep down your legs. Keeping your eyes straight ahead you walk out the door and suck in a large gulp of air, body trembling slightly as a cool breeze blows past. Instantly regretting the choice not to bring a coat. 

“You know, when I said the next drink is on you...I didn’t think you would take it so literally,” your eyes close and head drops as Maxwell Lord’s voice charms behind you. 

You sigh and turn towards him, taken aback at how he’s not smirking like you thought he would be. Instead his hands are clenching tightly in a fist and he looks downright boiling. Chest heaving, neck red, and a slight sheen of sweat on his brow. 

“What do you want Mr. Lord?” 

“I…” he unclenches his hand and runs it through his hair, “I wanted to know if you were alright, that was quite the scene inside… did he...did he hurt you?” his voice takes on a dangerous edge as your eyes raise to meet his own. 

“No,” you reply breathlessly before coughing, “No, I’m fine.” You shiver again as another burst of air blows past. 

You feel the heavy coat land on your shoulders before you see it. His suit jacket carefully pulls across your shoulders as he wraps it around you. You try to protest but he scoffs, “You’re freezing,” he chastises, “take the damn coat.” 

You say nothing pulling your arms through the sleeves and wrapping the front around your chest. You're enveloped in the scent of fresh linen and something spicy from his expensive cologne, and you sigh. “Thank you,” you whisper. 

“My limo is on it’s way, let me take you home,” he steps closer and you retreat. Defenses rising. 

“Thank you but I would rather catch a cab then step foot in your sex mobile,” you turn away from him attempting to flag down a cab but having no luck. 

He groans, “My sex mobile?” 

“Yes. Who knows how many women you’ve fucked in there I don’t want to catch some disease. Plus I already told you once Maxwell Lord the Fourth that I am not some cheap whore, and believe it or not I meant it.” 

“You don’t think I know that?!” he shouts and you whip around looking at him wide eyed. “Listen, I make it a habit of getting what I want. Whatever I want….women throw themselves at my feet, money freely flows, and I have a whole household of servants to do anything I want. I will admit that day I acted like an...an asshole but...you...you’re different.” 

“When I saw that guy treating you the exact same way I had...and then when he tried to grab you, I saw...red. That fucking…” he takes a breath to calm himself, “I know it’s not what you want but I would feel much better if you let me bring you home.” 

You observe him for another moment before nodding slowly. You just stare at each other, his breathing slowing and matching pace with yours and when the limo pulls up you both walk towards it, never breaking eye contact. You slid into the backseat and he follows his leg brushing your own. 

“Where to sir?” the driver asks. 

“Home,” he shouts back and your eyes widen. 

“I thought you said you would take me home?” 

“Yes, to my home. I want to take you out for a drink and being...well being me, I can’t do that without it causing a publicity nightmare…” He trails off looking at your wide eyes, “Is...is that okay?” 

You get the feeling he doesn’t ask for permission very often and you slowly nod your head. This had to go down as one of the strangest nights of your life. Tom certainly turned out to be the villain in your fairytale but maybe there was still hope for at least a nice ending. The driver makes twists and turns and your stomach flips as his hand moves down to grasp the seat, finger brushing right against your own. Without thinking you move your pinky over to graze over his ring. You hear his breath catch as he links his pinky with your own. 

The car pulls up to a gorgeous mansion with tall white columns and two marbled lion statues. The butler greets him at the door and you smile at him in greeting and hand over Maxwell’s coat. Maxwell takes your hand gently and guides you to another room. A large brown leather couch takes up the center of the room under a persian rug. A roaring fire in the fireplace illuminates the room in a warm glow, huge bay windows looking over an expansive garden and pool. He lets go of your hand and you feel the aftershocks slide up your arm from his touch. 

He goes over to the bar on the far wall and pulls down two glasses. Filling a shaker with ice you watch as he meticulously fills it with vodka and vermouth, slapping the glass over it before he lifts it over his shoulder and shakes it furiously. You can see his arms flex under the white linen shirt he wears held in place by a pair of brown suspenders. 

He slaps the side of the shaker to release it and strains them both into the glasses before spearing an olive and putting it into one glass and going to spear the other you shout, “No, please no olives,” he looks over at you eyebrow raised, “do you have any cherries?” 

He says nothing, only removing another saucer and tossing two cherries into the other glass and carrying both over. He hands you the drink and clinks his glass against yours taking a sip. You watch, mouth dry, as he swallows and his neck stretches deliciously. 

“Come,” he walks over to the couch and sits down patting the seat next to him. 

You take the seat hesitantly beside him and take a sip savouring the taste. He puts down his drink on the small table in front of you and turns to you, “I think we got off on a rocky start…” 

You snort, “you think?” 

He glares at you before smiling, “Yeah...that was probably my fault. So why don’t we try this again,” he holds a hand out to you, “I’m Maxwell Lord the Fourth, CEO of Chimtech Consortium.” 

You shake his hand feeling the electricity spark in your fingers again, telling him your name and adding the title of barista to the end. He repeats it slowly and feel yourself warm at the way your name comes out honeyed on his tongue. 

The ice broke, the two of you into easy conversation talking about everything. All about his company, his family, what he likes to do when he gets a free afternoon, and even his favorite color. The more you learn about him the more you begin to unravel the mystery of Maxwell Lord. You’re both on your third vodka martini of the night when he brushes his fingers over your cheek. 

“You have an eyelash,” he holds it on the tip of his finger putting it up gently to your lips, “make a wish,” he whispers. 

You close your eyes and blow gently, lips pushed together and you sigh when you feel the press of his lips against your own. It’s hesitant and barely there and when he pulls away you surge forward pressing your chest against his own and capturing his lips in a heated kiss. He responds eagerly and pulls you close till you're straddling his waist on the couch, his hands running up and down your back. You groan as you feel him rub gently against you and he uses it to lick his tongue into your mouth. 

You arch your back as you feel his tongue warm and velvety intermingle with your own. He scoots forward to the edge of the couch and pulls your legs to wrap around his waist. Hands moving lower to knead your ass gently through your dress. His foot kicks out and he knocks the drinks to the floor spilling onto the expensive rug. Glass shattering as they hit together just right. 

You both pull away breathing heavy to look at the ground, the vodka seeping into the rug. You burst out laughing and he looks at you with that damn eyebrow cocked again, “What’s so funny?” 

“I would like to get through one interaction with you without one of us spilling our drinks,” you tease eyes glittering as you smile at him. 

His lips curve up and he lets out a chuckle, pulling you close to resume his kisses, “Ok, I’ll take the blame for that one sweetheart but the next one’s are on you.” 

“Are you asking me out, Maxwell Lord the fourth?” you tease, pecking his lips gently. 

“Yes,” he pulls away looking serious again, “What do you say?” 

You throw your arms around his neck and kiss him again, “sure,” you let out breathlessly, “why the hell not?” Maybe you didn’t find your prince charming in Tom but something even better came along. 

Suddenly, the door is thrown open and a thin older woman with grey hair in an immaculate Chanel suit stalks over to you, “Who the hell is this Trollope Maxwell?!” she screeches. 

“Mother, please leave us alone,” he hisses. 

Mother? Oh fuck, what have you gotten yourself into now. 

Chapter Three: Orange Juice 

[voiceless-terror]

Perhaps the "stop moving!" Prompt for Jon, where he's been kidnapped by yet another avatar group and they're trying to subdue him but he's fighting too much so they break something like his leg or wrist to make him stop 👀

Hello! I’ve been thinking about this prompt for a while, and I decided to set this during the Circus kidnapping (hope you don’t mind!) and tackled it with another prompt, this one by @give-me-a-minute-to-think who asked for “ a post-circus-kidnapped fic. like, how martin and timdiscover jon was kidnaped and their reaction (espically tims.) we see in canon martin addressing that fact, but not literally anyone else. i just want some complicated relatinship and tim to be nice to jon even a little.” Hope you two enjoy!

Jon’s pretty sure bones weren’t meant to bend that way.

It was his fault, really. He shouldn’t have put up a struggle. He should’ve realized the futility of his situation and yielded to the rough, unfamiliar hands forcing him into the van. But Jon’s nothing if not stubborn, so a few flailing arms and weak kicks were to be expected. And the retaliation, of course, should’ve also been expected.

“Stop movin’,” came the gruff voice of the delivery man, with a face so nondescript Jon could forget it if he looked away for only a second. He gives one last weak slap to the hands on his body. Wrong move.

A sickening crack could be heard along with a sharp cry- Jon’s cry, because the pain currently emanating from his one good wrist is white-hot and agonizing. His eyes are blurring and the inside of the van is stifling in its darkness, but even he could see that hands and wrists weren’t supposed to look like this. He bites back the nausea and sags back into the rough hands, rendered frozen by the pain. There’s a chuckle, low and sinister, and one of the men begins to whistle the tune from the calliope.

And then his arms are yanked behind his back and the pain reaches a dizzying crescendo as his body decides it’s had enough, and sinks into oblivion.

_______

He spends his days being touched.

Cold hands and a face with a permanent smile. Sometimes there’s more of them, as if he’s a spectacle to be watched and studied. The Strangers like to learn about bodies, foreign as they are to them. Nikola enjoys narrating the process, poking and prodding at the bruises and burns and the strange, twisted hands. He doesn’t bite back his gasps and whimpers, he’s gagged, but Nikola likes to hear them. Likes to hear the wordless grumble of his voice, rendered mute and unintelligible. 

The weeks go by, he loses hope. He’s not there much anymore, he’s somewhere else, a place where the pain can’t reach him. He’s back in Georgie’s apartment, the Admiral purring in his lap. He’s back in Research with a smiling Tim and a woman he imagines to be Sasha. He even thinks back to Martin’s lunches a few months ago with a sort of fondness. People talked to him, people cared. People worried when he was gone. 

Every once in a while, his daydreams are interrupted by the sting of bones knitting together wrong or the itching flare of infected tissue. He starts to think of his eventual skinning as a sort of blessing in disguise; Lord knows he’s wanted to scratch himself out of it more than once. He just wishes they would hurry it up, not draw it out so much. Shouldn’t he be ready by now?

And then Michael comes. He feels a strange, manic strength return to him at the promise of a story, even if it ends in his own demise. I want to know. Tell me, tell me. The Eye’s gaze doesn’t reach him, but the power it’s planted within him grows. By the end, he feels strong enough to reach for the door handle himself, ignoring the pain that raising his arm causes. 

It’s locked. His one salvation is gone. But then Michael is too, and Helen gives him a different sort of hope. One that lands him directly in Elias’s office. 

His injuries are ignored in favor of a more pressing threat- Melanie. The only thing that keeps him standing and lucid is the remaining strength he siphoned from Michael’s statement. But it’s an empty, sickening vigor, one that’s sure to leave him feeling more drained than ever once it fades. Elias says nothing as he stumbles after Melanie with a limping pace, arriving some five minutes after her. She’s sitting at her desk, silently steaming when Jon makes his way in the office, leaning heavily against the doorframe.

“Jon!” Martin’s bright voice pipes up. “You’re back! We were wondering…” His voice trails off as he takes in Jon’s appearance, dirty and gaunt and yet shining with a strange sheen. A thousand showers won’t erase the feeling of those cold, slimy hands on him, Jon knows. Tim’s head pops up from his desk and even he looks a bit concerned; it’s the most positive feeling he’s shown Jon in ages. 

“He was kidnapped, apparently,” Melanie drawls, and Jon doesn’t take her ambivalence to heart. She feels trapped like the rest of them. And Jon’s safe now, so what does it matter? What does any of this matter?

“K-Kidnapped?” Martin sputters, making his way over to his side. Jon flinches back unconsciously, gripping tightly at the wall and Martin stops in his tracks, his face softening. “We didn’t- nobody told us-”

“It’s fine,” Jon croaks, though they all know it isn’t. “It was- it was the Circus. A-And I’ll tell you about it-” he nods in Tim’s direction, seeing his wide-eyed stare out of the corner of his eye.”-as soon as I have a rest, if that’s alright.”

Martin casts a critical eye over him, his gaze coming to rest at the stiff way in which he holds his arms. “Seriously? I think you should go to the hospital, Jon. You look-”

“I’m fine now,” Jon assures him- he’d wave away the concern if he could lift his arm at all. “Just- just a moment, please.”

He limps to his office and they let him, their eyes reminding him of those curious mannequins and the way they stared and dissected him as if he were a cadaver on display. You’re not there anymore, he tries to reason as he collapses into his office chair. There’s a statement on his desk and he wonders if it was Elias or one of his assistants who placed it there, just waiting for him to come back. He’s so hungry.

But opening the file is agony. His burned hand cries out at any touch, and his crooked one doesn’t cooperate. Still, he forces the movement and the tape recorder clicks on for him, a move that usually chills him but now feels like a small mercy.

The words spill from his lips, natural and all-consuming. It doesn’t energize him as much as Michael’s direct account, but it certainly goes down easier, untainted by the jagged edges of the Spiral. He only realizes at the end that the statement was written in French, a language he doesn’t speak. Another development. Elias would be proud. Probably is, sitting up there in his office. And in perfect and non-coincidental timing, his email pings with a message from the man himself, informing him of his new flat, the keys to which are in his bottom drawer.

A new flat. How considerate. He tries not to think of the lonely, unprotected darkness that awaits him there. No Georgie. No Admiral. That’s probably for the best, he thinks. You wouldn’t want to endanger them.

Martin knocks, startling him out of his maudlin thoughts. He’s got tea and biscuits and Jon is struck by not only how much he missed the normalcy of the act, but how horribly hungry he is. For real food. He almost feels giddy with the realization. 

“Thank you, Martin.” He’s rewarded with a tired smile and more questions. More apologies. He’s been reading statements. Jon worries about this, but Martin brushes it off. Jon keeps his arms resting on his lap, out of Martin’s sight. He gives non-answers to his inquiries and he can tell Martin’s frustrated- he only wants to help, but Jon won’t let him. They end the conversation at a strange but polite stalemate, a promise that there will be time for them to talk. He’s surprised Martin lets him go like this, but perhaps he’s realized what Jon already did all those weeks ago.

He’s beyond saving.

And then he’s gone again, back to that big room with those terrible waxworks and that strange, lilting tune and the faces that were wrong, the voices that were stolen. Everything echoed, even the tiniest of whimpers. And the laughter. He wants to curl up and make himself small, hide under the desk but his limbs are stiff and immovable, glued to his seat. His breaths start to come in small, tremulous gasps when another voice speaks up from the doorway.

“The Circus?”

Tim. Jon meets his eyes, attempting to get his emotions under control. You’re not there anymore. You’re back, you’re safe.

“A month you were gone,” Tim’s stomping over to his desk and Jon pushes his chair back, trying to create space but all Tim does is collapse into the chair across from him, heaving a sigh. He hasn’t sat there in ages. “Fuckin’ Elias. Where did they have you?”

Jon slumps in his seat, the tension in his frame somewhat easing. “It was a Wax Museum. I-I think that’s where they’ll be attempting the Unknowing.”

“That’s a lead, then.”

“Yeah,” Jon let out a weak chuckle. “At least something good came out of this.”

Tim’s eyes go dark. “Don’t joke about that.”

Jon nods, slightly taken aback by the fervor of the words. “S-Sorry.”

“What did you see? What happened?” He’s leaning forward now, his interest getting the best of him. Jon opens his mouth; he plans to answer- he could describe the waxworks, the van that took him away, the layout of his prison- but that’s not what comes out.

“They wouldn’t- they wouldn’t stop touching me,” he says, his voice fading to a whisper with each word. “Everyday. She came in and she smiled and she kept talking about my skin and touching me and I-I-” And once again he’s back there, cold hands on his face and mocking voices in his ear and it’s wrong, so wrong-

A hand rests on his shoulder and he rears back, an automatic response of revulsion as his heart stutters in his chest. But it’s not a smiling mannequin, it’s Tim. Tim, who’s kneeling by his chair so he doesn’t loom, whose hands are warm and real, flesh and blood. He’s staring down at Jon’s lap, where his arms lay crooked and burned and broken. Useless.

“They needed me to stop moving,” he whispers, as if it’s a valid explanation. Tim’s jaw is clenched. It’s a barely concealed rage and Jon feels guilty that it scares him so much. And yet, in spite of that anger, or perhaps because of it, he takes the hand from his shoulder, gentle and slow so Jon can see the path of his movements. He puts two fingers to the crooked arm, an impossibly soft movement as he leans in to inspect the damage. 

And there’s no ulterior motive behind it. It’s just a touch, careful and concerned, probing lightly at his arm like he’s something fragile that Tim doesn’t want to break. He feels a tightness in his chest that for once doesn’t have fear as its source.

“I would’ve looked for you. If I’d have known.”

Tim says the words more to his lap than to him. And yes, he suspected that if Tim knew the Circus had him, he would’ve looked. But it wouldn’t have been for him. His presence would only be incidental. Tim’s staring at his arm as if the power of his gaze could knit it back together right and whole. His hand remains in place, and Jon wonders if it’s for Tim more than him. It’s as if he has to be reminded that Jon’s real, that he’s here.

“I need to tell you something.” The words are loaded with import. “But not now. Are you still staying with your friend?” Jon blinks at the change in subject.

“N-No. I have a new flat, but-”

“You shouldn’t be alone,” Tim’s suddenly all business, rising to his feet and looking down at Jon with a face that allowed for no argument. “Not with this Circus business. You can stay at mine, after you go to A&E. You’re not okay.”

Jon stares down at his lap, all fight leaving him. “I know.”

He lets Tim take control, lets him do that aggressive sort of care-taking he was known for in the earlier days of their friendship. It’s not the same; there’s no gentle words, no teasing but stern instruction. Just a silent tending that feels familiar all the same. Tim’s the one who speaks to the doctors, who listens to their instructions and later explains to Jon what’s going to have to be done in the coming days, as if he were a child. He knows it’s going to be bad, painful. But Tim keeps his voice level and Jon is somehow reassured. When they get to his flat and Jon’s warm and medicated and settled on the couch, he asks the question and Tim answers, his voice fluid and his words made eloquent in their grief. And Jon understands.

Tim doesn’t let him sleep on the couch. He’s curled up in the bed under a mountain of blankets and he pretends not to notice Tim standing in the doorway like some sort of sentinel. 

“I would’ve looked.” He repeats the words as if trying to convince himself of their veracity. “If I’d have known.”

Jon closes his eyes and tries to believe him.

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28135263

[greaterspawnislands]

red eggs and ham: chapter seven

vii . a new kind of fire

chapter: 8/17

summary: The sheen of enchantments over brand new weapons, the clash of blade against unsteady blade. (The sharing of language and the bond that grows, the quiet hum of a golden totem and the promise of protection.)

reblogs appreciated! link in notes :)

Ranboo was genuinely surprised when he and Phil returned, blades wrapped in cloth, and found that neither of the two in the sitting room had torn each other’s throats out. In fact, the tense atmosphere of minutes earlier had melted away, and Michael’s babbling filled the air between them. He sat on Tubbo’s lap, looking at Technoblade and making the various grunts and squeals that Ranboo had gotten used to hearing, but not understanding. As the two of them wiped snow off the shoulders of their coats and knocked their boots against the side wall to shake some ice out, Ranboo’s ears twitched at the sound of Techno making a similar low rumble back at his son, and the sounds of something that sounded like a conversation passing between them. He looked up, and though there was certainly some quiet suspicion lingering in both Tubbo and Techno’s eyes, it had mostly been washed out by fondness and curiosity as Tubbo listened raptly to the two of them.

Tubbo’s blue eyes were wide and a smile was growing across his face as he listened to the two others in the room, and when he turned his head to see Ranboo, the smile only grew. “Ranboo! Techno knows piglinspeak! He can talk to Michael.”

“Wait— really?” Briefly leaving Phil behind, Ranboo crossed the room to stand by the arm of the couch, jaw dropping slightly in amazement. “Wait— yeah, of course, that— that makes sense.” He shook his head in slight disbelief, a soft grin coming to his face as Michael looked up and over at him. His son’s working eye gleamed with excitement at the sight of him, turning back to Techno with a series of grunts and chuffs.

Techno was leaning forward with his chin in his hand as he listened, humming in assent as Michael finished speaking. “He thinks highly of you,” he said offhandedly, only raising his chin slightly to indicate toward Ranboo. “He cares about you a lot. He knows you care about him too.”

A tight, warm pressure built up in Ranboo’s chest, and he squeezed Tubbo’s shoulder instead of doing anything like crying. “Aww,” he said, clearing his voice to keep it from getting choked. “So is this how you guys have found some common ground then?”

“Yep!” Tubbo chirped. “Michael’s our little common ground buddy. Isn’t that right, Michael?”

“He definitely has no idea what you’re saying,” Techno started as Michael turned around in Tubbo’s lap, reaching up with one hand and pushing his hand against Tubbo’s cheek. Techno laughed quietly, softer than Ranboo had ever heard him. “But maybe he’s starting to get the jist, I don’t know.”

From the ladder, Phil cleared his throat. “Ranboo.”

His head shot up, and all at once Ranboo remembered that they had not, unfortunately, come back to listen to Techno translate for Michael. “Right,” he said hurriedly, squeezing Tubbo’s shoulder one last time before heading for the ladder, adjusting the wrapped blades under his arm. “Be right back!”

He followed Phil up the ladder, unable to shake the grin off his face. From the attic, he could still hear the three of them talking below, although it was much more muffled now. Ranboo hunched over slightly, the low, slanted ceiling of the attic doing his taller stature zero favors.

“At least it stopped them fighting,” Phil said, relief clear in his voice as he bent over one of the bookshelves surrounding the enchantment table at the back of the room. His fingers brushed along the spines of well worn books, humming to himself as he briefly scanned through them. “Right, there’s lapis at the chest back here, Ranboo—” He motioned upward with one thumb toward where Ranboo knew a chest was tucked behind one of the shelves in the ceiling. “—come around here and grab some, then go ahead and enchant. You’ve got the levels for it, yeah?”

“Mhm,” Ranboo agreed steadily as he crowded his lanky form in the tight space, twisting around just enough that he was able to reach into the chest and pull out a few handfuls of deeply bright blue stones, maneuvering his way back over to the enchantment table and scattering the stones across them. The book that hovered in the center of the obsidian laden table lowered, pages flipping back and forth at random, stopping only once Ranboo unwrapped his first sickle from the cloth and setting it down on the table. The lapis shimmered around the weapon, humming with potential as Ranboo scanned the enchantment that the table was offering. “Oh, this is weird,” he said upon trying to read the language of the table.

“What is it?” Phil asked, turning away from the bookshelf.

“It’s like— it’s jumping,” Ranboo admitted as the enchantment scrawl flickered. “I see efficiency— but then I see sharpness. It’s like it can’t decide.”

Phil nodded, tilting his head in a moment of consideration. “Probably because it’s having a hard time determining whether we’re trying to enchant a hoe or sword. Because we’re not enchanting either. Enchantment tables can get pretty picky with that kind of stuff when it comes to custom-made weapons.”

“Oh.” Ranboo frowned. “Will we be able to enchant it at all, then?”

“Oh, yeah.” Phil said assuredly. “You’ve just got to either max out like you would for a hoe or for a sword, not both. The rest we’ll do manually with books. Sound good?”

“Sounds like a lot of enchanting,” Ranboo said honestly. “But yeah, sounds good.” Turning back to the book, Ranboo ran his finger along the pages again. “Let’s go with… the sword enchantments,” he decided, the enchantment table language spilling from his lips as he read out the words to imbue the sickle with sharpness, unbreaking, and fire aspect. Sparks licked their way up the gleaming blade as the lapis soaked into the metal, inscribing words that Ranboo couldn’t read into the weapon. “Fire aspect is pretty useless on the vines, but it’ll probably be good for actually fighting other people, I guess,” he said, a smile briefly twitching onto his face as he heard muffled laughter below him. He enchanted the other one just the same, using another piece of lapis to coat the blade in a gentle shimmering light that left the enchantment script carved into the curved blade.

“That’s all for the enchanting table, yeah,” Phil said, calling him over to a brand new anvil he had just set down in between the bookshelves and Techno’s bell. Two stacks of books were piled high in front of it, though one Phil picked up and moved to the side before Ranboo had the chance to see what they were.

“Dual weapons means twice as many books,” Phil bemoaned without too much sharpness behind it. “You’re emptying our bookshelves, Ranboo.”

Ranboo looked, and, yeah, several of the shelves sat empty or with only a few faintly glowing books left behind. He ducked his head slightly as he stood over the anvil. “Sorry, yeah, that’s — I’ll go trade with villagers and bring you some replacements, sorry.”

Phil chuckled lightly, shaking his head. “It’s alright, mate. You can do that, if you want, though. I’m sure Techno would appreciate it.”

Ranboo nodded, and turned to the anvil. Four books were waiting for him; two books of efficiency, two of mending. Ranboo set his blade atop the surface of the anvil and carefully, using the words from the book to heat his tool, carved a language he could not fully read into the blade itself, imbuing it by hand with words from an enchanted book. Minutes, then an hour or two passed, and finally both blades had the correct enchantments carved into both sides and were able to be set aside to cool. When Ranboo stood, his back ached in extreme protest, but the ceilings were too low for him to stretch properly. His hands shook when he stretched them out in front of him, aching and weary from carving the complex script into the weapons. “Oh boy,” he said aloud, rolling his shoulders back and wincing at how they cracked with the stiffness that came from focusing on a task for hours at a time. “Oh boy, okay.”

“Ranboo? You finished enchanting?”

At the trapdoor, Phil’s head popped up, and Ranboo realized with a start he hadn’t even noticed the man leave in the first place. “Yep!” he called, pressing his trembling hands behind his back with a quick nod.

“Great, come on down, bring the sickles. Puffy and Tubbo have already left,” Phil disappeared down the ladder in the middle of talking, accidentally muffling his words as he descended.

“Huh?” Ranboo called after him, snatching up his sickles and hurrying to leave the attic. “Wait, where did Tubbo and Puffy go?”

Phil’s eyebrows rose in acknowledgement. “Hm? Oh, the nether. Puffy says that Sam told her the only way to actually get rid of the vines is with soul fire, not normal fire. So, right track, but wrong kind. They’re off to get some soul sand for that now.”

“Oh, okay, that’s good!” Ranboo affirmed. Now that he was in the main room, he could see Techno, still sitting in the same armchair, looking mildly disgruntled at Michael, who was sitting on his lap and babbling away happily. At the sound of Ranboo’s voice, Michael’s head jumped over, and he immediately slid his way off Techno’s lap to run to Ranboo, who managed to set his sickles down on the dining room table just in time to lean over and catch Michael as he charged, swinging him high up in the air. Michael laughed loudly, kicking his feet as Ranboo brought him, and then down to hold him against his chest. “Hi Michael,” Ranboo said warmly, smiling at his son.

Michael squealed happily before pressing his hand to Ranboo’s cheek and exclaiming, clearer than Ranboo had ever heard him say before, “Boo!”

Ranboo’s eyes widened, and his gaze shot over to Techno, who was looking at him with a knowing smile. “Wh-” he started, emotion catching in his throat. “Is he- I- me?”

Techno snickered. “Yeah. Tubbo and I were teaching him while you were enchanting, before he left. You should hear what he calls Tubbo.”

“What- what does he-”

“Bee!” Michael shouted, and then pressed his hand to Ranboo’s cheek again. “Boo!”

Ranboo leaned against the side of the side ever so slightly, just to make sure he didn’t fall over. “I know we’re in some really horrible circumstances with the Egg and Tommy being kidnapped,” he announced. “But this might be one of the best things to happen ever. I’m just saying.”

“Yep,” Techno said, standing and stretching. “Pretty cute, I gotta say. But Ranboo, we’ve got work to do, so you’re gonna have to let him down.”

“I’ll take him,” Phil said, stepping forward so Ranboo could hand him off. “I’ve got to go do some reading, anyways, I feel like there’s got to be a way to get these people uncorrupted, but I need time to find that information.”

“Whatever, nerd.” Techno’s insult had warm humor running underneath, and Phil’s returning curse held little heat as he took Michael out the door to his own cabin. “Right, Ranboo. Grab your sickles. Let’s adapt your fighting stance.”

Ranboo took a deep breath, grabbed his sickles, and followed Techno out the door.

(find the rest in the notes! thanks for reading!)

[calumcest]

“I have absolutely no idea what we’re supposed to be doing.” + In the middle of nowhere + cashton if you're feeling it - m&m

"Well, we’re lost,” Ashton announces, turning to Calum, who frowns. 

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, we’re lost. I don’t know where we are.” Calum blinks at him. 

“You’re the one who dragged me out here,” he says, an accusatory note to his tone. 

“Yeah,” Ashton says, a little apologetically. “Sorry about that.” There’s a pause, and Calum waits for Ashton to finish his sentence, but nothing more comes. 

“What the fuck?” Calum demands. “You- how are we lost?” Ashton throws him an odd look. 

“What do you mean, how are we lost?” he says, and tilts the map he’s holding in Calum’s direction. “I don’t know where we are, so we’re lost. Unless you want to have a look?” 

“Me?” Calum says. “Ash, I have absolutely no idea what we’re supposed to be doing.” Ashton shrugs, and turns the map back towards himself. 

“Well, we’re supposed to be hiking,” he says, and Calum groans, slumping down on the ground and resting his forearms on his knees. 

“I told you you can’t read a map,” he says, and Ashton has the grace to look a little sheepish. 

“Well, I did when I went camping with school,” he says, a touch defensively. 

“With school,” Calum emphasises. “When you were, like, fourteen.”

“Fifteen.” Calum rolls his eyes. 

“Fuck me, okay, fifteen,” he says. “That’s still, what, two hundred years ago?” Ashton scowls, and sits down opposite Calum. It’s swelteringly hot, and there’s a thin sheen of sweat on Ashton’s neck that Calum’s been trying not to think about for the past ten minutes, but the sun has decided it’s in the market for a new job as a spotlight and it’s making it difficult not to stare. Calum allows himself a full three seconds of staring, because four feels decadent, before reluctantly tearing his eyes away and sighing dramatically at the clear blue sky. 

“Fuck off,” Ashton grumbles, and opens the map further, like seeing the entirety of LA county is going to help him pinpoint exactly where they are. 

“We should’ve at least taken our phones,” Calum says, with a sigh. “Now we’re going to die up here because we can’t call for help.” 

“We’re not going to die,” Ashton says, poring over the map. 

“Well, you might,” Calum says. “I might kill you.” Ashton throws Calum a glare. 

“Fuck off,” he says again, and turns back to the map. “Someone’ll come looking for us. Michael’ll send out a rescue helicopter, or something.” Calum huffs out a laugh, wiping the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. 

“Yeah, for me,” he says. “Leaving you here means one less expense for his wedding party.” 

“Well, by that logic he’ll let us both die.”

“And have Luke as his best man?” 

“Fair point.” 

They lapse into silence for a moment, nothing between them but the rustling of the trees in the weak breeze and the map in Ashton’s useless hands as he turns it back and forth, this way and that, like somehow it’ll make more sense upside down. Calum watches for a minute, takes in the way the sun’s lighting up the blonde streaks in Ashton’s hair, the way the sweat’s making it curl around his face, the frown between his eyes that looks like the one he gets when Calum’s having a bad day, and then sighs, tilts his head up towards the sky, and closes his eyes. It’s oddly calm that way, feeling the gentle breeze stealing over his face, hearing the small noises of Ashton shifting where he’s sat, or breathing in, out, in, out. He should probably be more concerned than he is, really. The two of them are stuck out in the middle of nowhere, a few miles off the nearest hiking path, many miles away from civilisation, and if they can’t find their way back, they’ll probably be prey to coyotes or wolves, or whatever the fuck is going on in nature these days. They have no way of calling for help, and neither of them can read a map, and they’ve already made their way through most of their water supplies, given the dry heat of the day. 

He isn’t, though. If he were with Luke, he would be - Luke would probably get the both of them killed accidentally - and if he were with Michael, he would be too - Michael would probably get Calum killed, not accidentally - but with Ashton, it’s almost impossible to feel anything but calm. He grounds Calum, balances him out, soothes his jagged edges and polishes his smooth ones. If Calum is going to die on the top of this mountain, in the boiling heat of an LA summer, he wouldn’t even mind it, because he’ll be with Ashton, and he’s pretty sure that’s as close to heaven he’s ever going to get.

“Hey,” Calum says, after a few minutes. “I love you.” 

“You do?” Ashton sounds suspicious, and Calum cracks open an eye. 

“Why shouldn’t I?” he says, equally suspicious. 

“I never said that,” Ashton says. “Just a concerning thing to say after threatening to kill me.” Calum opens both eyes and squints into the blazing sun. 

“Why would I tell you I love you before killing you?”

“Remorse?” 

“I wouldn’t kill you if I felt remorse beforehand, would I?” Calum says, and Ashton pulls a face.

“Stop talking about murdering me,” he says, like he wasn’t the one that brought it up in the first place. Calum rolls his eyes.

“You were the one that brought it up,” he says. “I was just trying to tell you I love you. Which I don’t anymore, if you were wondering.” Ashton looks up from the map, and grins. 

“Yeah, you do,” he says, and Calum scowls. 

“Okay, yeah, I do, but I’m not happy about it,” Calum tells him, and Ashton laughs. 

“Would you be happier about it if I told you I knew how to get back?” he says, the words curled around a smile.  

“Yeah. A lot.” Ashton shrugs, still grinning. 

“Sorry to disappoint,” he says, and goes back to his map, leaving Calum to stare at him in disbelief. 

“You’re fucking unbelievable,” he says, and Ashton just laughs again, not even looking up from the map. 

“I love you too, by the way,” he says, easily and nonchalantly, as he’s flipping the map over again. “With everything I have.” 

“Well, maybe redirect some of it to your map-reading abilities,” Calum says, nodding at the map, and Ashton rolls his eyes. 

“I’m trying to be romantic.” 

“Not letting me die of exposure would be a lot more romantic right now,” Calum says, but he holds a hand out between the two of them. Despite the scorching heat, despite the fact Calum’s hand is sweaty and Ashton’s is definitely sweatier, Ashton reaches out, laces his fingers between Calum’s, and squeezes. 

“Love you,” Calum says, despite himself, and Ashton smiles. 

“Love you too,” he says.