#i thought men didn’t exist in my major

[2thegreatsunshine]

[thehmn]

I’m intersex and I’m very hesitant to make this post because it could very quickly turn into a shitshow if I don’t word my thoughts correctly, but I’ve noticed a small, slowly growing trend and I think it’s important to talk about this before it gets out of hand.

I’ve seen a couple of posts with a lot of likes and reblogs where trans people accuse intersex people of being transphobic when they want hormonal treatment or surgery for themselves to look more female or male. It’s never about forced surgery on intersex children, but specifically about adult intersex people who want treatment for themselves. In these posts people see it as subconscious transphobia because they think this mindset is supporting the gender binary and harms trans and nonbinary people who technically get intersex bodies once they start to transition with hormones and surgeries. In their eyes not only are intersex people who use hormones/surgery to visually get out of the intersex sphere abandoning trans people, they’re also working agains nonbinary people who use intersex people as proof that there are more than two sexes which justify the existence of more than two genders.

The fact that there are a lot of similarities between trans and intersex people should be obvious. Both groups are saddled with bodies that doesn’t necessarily represent their gender and both can experience severe body dysmorphia, but at the end of the day the biggest difference is that the bodies of intersex people change on their own.

If you’re trans, imagine if you were assigned your preferred gender at birth and was perfectly content and happy in your gender experience when you suddenly hit puberty and start developing sex characteristics that goes against your gender and suddenly people around you start telling you you’re not actually the gender you think you are. Basically, imagine the way you felt before you came out/transitioned, except reversed.

I can for the life of me not understand why a trans person who thinks hormones and surgeries are acceptable for trans people can’t extend that mindset to intersex people.

It’s an ongoing debate among intersex people wether we belong in queer spaces and I can see both sides. A lot of intersex people consider themselves cishet people with a birth deformity who aren’t any more queer than people with dwarfism. Other intersex people feel more at home in queer spaces because there’s generally more acceptance of people who fall outside the norm.

But at the same time, in my experience, you get a lot of the same questions in both spaces. Both queer and cishet people often assume intersex means nonbinary, and I’ve been asked more than once how intersex people can call themselves cis or trans when their bodies fall outside the two majority sexes, forgetting that it’s all about what gender you were assigned at birth.

This leads to situations where you’ll meet trans men with functioning penises and trans women with natural breasts. A child might be born with something that looks like a vagina with a big clitoris and be assigned female but once they hit puberty the big clitoris becomes a small penis.

And even if they’re trans and start developing sex characteristics more in line with their true gender they might not be ready for it yet. As a teenager you become a target if you stand out so if you’re a trans girl living as a boy and you suddenly develop breasts that can be horrifying.

I personally experienced a much milder version of this. As a child I was perfectly content with people calling me a girl but I also felt like a different kind of girl. Not in a “not like the other girls” or tomboy way. More like a girl with something else in the mix. It was a very physical feeling because I was naturally stronger and more boyish looking than other girls and I didn’t really feel like I fit in with either boys or girls but at the same time it didn’t bother me when I was grouped in with the girls during school activities. I’d play around with makeup in my room, giving myself a beard and chest hair without wanting to be a man. It just felt like the right mix. Then I hit puberty for real and developed breasts and hips but also a full beard and chest hair. Despite all the times I had done it to myself I was mortified. This wasn’t something I could take off. I stood out wether I wanted to or not. Shaving left me with stubble. People looked. People commented on it. And my breasts didn’t grow super big and a lot of my body fat sat on my stomach like on a man, which meant if I didn’t wear a very flattering bra and feminine clothes I was sometimes mistaken for a chubby guy with manboobs. I was NOT ready for that. I was already struggling to fit in at a new school so this was like a social death sentence, not to mention I wasn’t sure about my own gender yet. It was something I should be allowed to work out on my own in peace when I was ready for it without people constantly asking what I, a child, had in my pants.

So hormones was a gift that allowed me to “transition” when I was ready for it at a later age. I’m off those hormones now and live as a “woman with something extra” like I always knew I was, but the things I had to go through as a child makes me very sympathetic to intersex people who does not feel that way and just want to be a man or woman with nothing extra because that’s their gender and like everyone else they want their gender and gender expression to align.

I don’t think it’s fair to expect people to be a martyr for other people. Most intersex people think trans rights are important but that doesn’t necessarily mean they belong in that debate. I know a lot of trans people who think women’s rights are important but feel no obligation to help the cause by sharing their experience of what it was like living as one gender and then another and how much respect and dignity they gained or lost after they transitioned.

So while I understand the natural instinct of wanting intersex people be part of a lager cause I also think it’s unfair to call intersex people who want to look like their preferred gender transphobic.

I really hope I made myself understood and that this isn’t an angry post. I just saw this “intersex people are transphobic for taking hormones” opinion with little to no understanding of the intersex experience and I’m hoping to shed a bit of light on that ❤️

[nevernonline]

✧.* must love dogs; csc one shot.

✧.* synopsis: after a breakup (three years ago) your friend finally attempts to get you back on the saddle by creating you a dating profile despite your protesting, hooking you up on dates with some of the eligible bachelors of their choice, none of which impressed you. until one day you met the boy with the dog.

part of my seventeen movie series.

paring: seungcheol x reader (y/n uses she/her pronouns.)

genre/s: fluff, strangers2lovers

warning/s: alcohol mentions, swearing, cigarette mentions, swearing, some pg-13 jokes.

word count: 3.7k

note: im notorious atp for not editing, pls. I hope you enjoy my lil must love dogs inspired fic, its one of my fav movies!! xo.

“So how was bachelor number five?” 

With a roll of your eyes, you gazed at your friend Seungkwan resting his feet on top of your shared glass coffee table, ticking the tip of the city guide book and magazines rested on top. 

“Boring. He was nice or whatever, good looking, but he wouldn’t shut up about league of legends and his job. Other than that he asked me no questions about myself or what I do. A failure as most would call it.” 

“So I take it you wouldn’t want to go out with him again?” 

“God, whatever gave you that impression? I thought you could tell we were headed for marriage?” 

“Hey. I’m doing you a very nice thing, you don’t have to be so sarcastic about it.” 

“Look, I know. But just because Jun is getting married and I still haven’t moved on doesn’t mean I need to be dating all of the sudden.” 

The boy patted the seat next to him. Scooching over from his spot, making room for you on the couch. 

“ It’s been nearly three years since you ended it with him. At least fuck someone before you dry up.” 

“That’s fucking gross and what vibrators are for.” 

A small scream left your friend's mouth as he covered his ears trying to remove what he had just heard coming out of your mouth. 

“Y/n his wedding is in two months, we need to find someone to bring that’s not me. You don’t want to feel the embarrassment of his pity party and everyone feeling sorry for you.” 

“Why can’t you just be my date?” 

“Too obvious. Plus your whole family will be there, just do it or you know your parents will be in your case again. This ‘ secret man’ you’ve been seeing doesn’t exist and I think your Mom is starting to catch on.” 

He was right. Your parents come from a high status, as do your ex boyfriends, they were the reason you both had met and became friends in the first place. But, when your relationship ended you lied to them, it was working well until you got a call from your very upset mother telling you Jun showed up to your house with his family and a girl on his arm that wasn’t you. 

“Okay, then why can’t I choose my own date?” 

“The men you chose to quote on quote date are literally disturbing, I’m sorry but it’s the truth. Like that one dude you brought here last time? Whatever the fuck his name was literally was wearing a necklace vial of his own blood and claimed drinking your own urine and reusing water is the only way we can save the planet.” 

“Okay, but he was nice.” 

“He literally didn’t flush the toilet because he only went number one. That’s fucked, no.” 

“Can I at least, like at the very least have some approval over the men you match me with then?” 

“Maybe.” 

“ Kwanie, please. Come on, don’t make me use the what goes around card, it’s my turn” 

“No, it's absolutely my turn.” 

“Not true, you wasted it two months ago when I had to bail you out of that strange house party orgy thing by saying your dog died and coming in crying to a bunch of naked strangers. You owe me.” 

“Valid.” 

“How did you not realize what that party was anyway?” 

“This is not currently about my life failures, but yours my beautiful friend.” 

Laughing at Seungkwan's major mishap, you forgot to greet your dog, Lucky. She was waiting and crying at your feet, finally waking up from her sweet slumber to greet you. 

“Hello my baby, do we have to go outside?” 

“She went for a walk this afternoon, but after her dinner she crashed so she probably wants a walk. I can go if you want to change or shower.” 

“No it’s alright, I can take her, you're already in your pj’s and after my date I need a distress, want anything from the mart?” 

“Ice cream?” 

With a small nod you jumped up, taking the small curly creature in your arms and grabbing her harness before heading back outside into the warm spring air. 

Ten minutes into your evening stroll, you decided to sit on the green wooden bench overlooking the water, the same bench your grandmother always spoke about when you asked her the same story about how she and your grandfather got engaged. The gold plaque with their names rubbing off sitting behind your back. 

Suddenly you heard a man yelling from behind you, running through the green grass lit up with fluorescent lights. 

“Hey, Kkuma, no come back.” 

A small white dog came up behind Lucky sniffing her and starting to play, you noticed her cute hairclip and ran your hands through her fur. 

“God, I’m sorry. She normally doesn’t run off like that.” 

“It’s okay my dog lov-“ 

As you turned around to look into the round eyes of the owner, you were stunned with how beautiful he was. 

His dark hair pushed under a cap, a white t-shirt too big for his frame sitting beautifully in his toned shoulders, and his red sweatpants matching his shoes. 

The unfamiliar man was bending down now petting your precious pet and his own at the same time talking to them in sweet baby voices. 

“This is Kkuma by the way, and you are?” 

“Y/N” 

“Hi y/n, you’re so cute, you and kkuma can be best friends if your mom lets you.”

You let out a roaring laugh realizing he thought you had introduced your pet and not yourself.

“Oh sorry, did I say something wrong?”

“No, no. It’s just I’m y/n this is Lucky sorry my fault.” 

“Oh god, cool. Sorry Lucky, I’m Seungcheol. You can call me Cheol and this is Kkuma.” 

“Nice to meet you Cheol and Kkuma.” 

“You too. Look I know I just met you and all, but I’m new to the area. I was wondering if you’d want to get coffee and let the girls hangout sometime?” 

“Oh. Yeah, of course. Let me give you my number.” 

Seungcheol handed you his cell phone with a new contact page pulled up giving you full reign to type your name and number into his list. 

Handing the device back to him your fingers touched, creating an electric shock, to not like you to believe in signs, but for some reason it felt like the universe trying to tell you something. 

“Thank you, I’ve actually got to get going, but if you're free tomorrow would you want to grab coffee and hangout at the dog park?” 

“Yeah, totally. Just text me a time, we can just meet here. What kind of coffee do you drink? There’s a good spot by my apartment. I can just pick it up for us.” 

“Wow, that’s so nice of you. Just a black americano is cool or a cold brew whichever.”

“No fun I see.”

“How would you know that? Just because I don’t like sugary drinks doesn’t mean I can’t have fun.” 

“I don’t know, we will see.” 

“We will. I’ll catch you tomorrow girls.” 

“Nice to meet you.” 

“You too!” 

Seungcheol left the same way he came running through the grass with Kkuma on his heels, following him all the way back to their home. 

Strolling back down the pathway back to your apartment, you could help but feel butterflies in your stomach, you knew nothing about the man you just met other than his name and his cute dog, but there was a lot of unknown. 

Smiling like a Cheshire Cat, you unlocked the front door and watched Lucky sprint back into Seungkwan lounging on the couch, eating for the ice cream you had forgotten. 

“Where’s the snacks? Also why are you smiling like an idiot you’re freaking me out.” 

“We met a guy with his dog, a very cute guy might I add, who actually asked for my number and wants to get coffee tomorrow.” 

“ What the fuck, it’s late tell me he doesn’t live in the park?” 

“No he said he just moved to the area, he was clearly not a park dweller he had keys, and smelt amazing actually.”

“Smelling strangers? A new low even for you”

“Oh my god, fuck off.” 

Seungkwan pulled his phone out and opened various social media apps preparing himself for best friend stalking duties. 

“What’s his name?”

“Seungcheol, not sure about his last name, but he goes by Cheol and his dog was Kkuma.” 

“Great.. okay, found him I assume?”

“What the fuck, how? Let me see.”

“Eager aren’t we?”

“Fuck off?” 

Grabbing Seungkwan's phone from his grip, you scroll quickly through the new faces' social media.

“Yeah, it’s him.” 

“Okay, let me see. Wait, he's actually hot AND seems to have his own business?” 

“Oh my god.”

“Here, look” 

After the next few hours, you and your friend stumble on into your separate rooms preparing yourself for slumber, which never seems to reach you and before you know it dawn is creeping its way through your curtains, and your backup preparing yourself for a day with you and Lucky's new friends. 

Something about your energy was excitable and nearing frantic, you could wait to step outside into the fresh air with your pocket sized princess at your side, but it was still early. 

You had decided on pampering yourself for this morning, finding the need to make yourself up, you spread on your skin care with glee, drew perfect lines of eyeliner and strained your hair, pulling it up into a nice tight ponytail the hair tie matching the taupe tone of your sweat suit perfectly.  Before you knew it it was 9:45 a perfect time for you and Lucky to step outside the door. 

Placing her in her tote bag, you stepped inside of your favorite coffee shop, the light pink walls covered in photos and paintings, the smell of the espresso seemed sweeter. 

“Morning, y/n you look beautiful today. Would you like the usual?”

“Thank you, for me, yes. But can I also get a large americano, just black and he didn’t tell me iced or hot, so iced is good I think? Or maybe hot with a cup of ice on the side? If that’s okay?” 

“He? Did you finally start dating someone?” 

“Oh no, just a friend of mine. Seungkwan told you shit about me didn’t he?” 

“Yes. Sorry.”  

“No worries, can I actually get two of the plain croissants and two of the flower dog cookies too?” 

“No problem, it’ll be right out.” 

“Thank you.” 

Taking a seat next to the pick up counter you scrolled through the instagram of the boy you’re meant to be meeting, telling yourself it’s just to remember his face, but really it was to get a peek into what else he’s into or if he was single. 

“Y/N” 

“Oh shit, sorry. Thank you guys, see you tomorrow.” 

Picking up the paper coffee carrier and pastry bag, you waved goodbye to the baristas and briskly walked back to the bench you were at yesterday, your bench, spotting the back of Seungcheol’s head watching the water with his dog. 

“Hey. Sorry I’m late.” 

“Oh, no problem. I just got here.” 

Placing your items down on the bench, you freed her bag and greeted Kkuma alongside her before taking your seat. 

“Here’s your coffee, I wasn’t sure if you wanted hot or iced so I got you a cup of ice too just in case, a croissant, and a little treat for your girl too.” 

“Wow thank you so much, hot is fine actually. How are you?” 

“Good, nervous. I mean it’s not every day you meet a stranger for coffee.” 

Seungcheol laughed, tipping his head back slightly before taking a bite of his pastry. 

“Sorry. I know it’s weird, you just seemed like someone I wanted to get to know, and Kkuma liked you so I figured you’re good people.” 

“Well, thank you. You too. Lucky generally does not like men other than my friend Seungkwan, my dad, and my ex-boyfriend so consider yourself special.”

“I do.”

“So what brought you to this neighborhood? Work, a relationship?”

“No relationship, but actually my business partner is from here. We decided to open our warehouse and stuff here because it’s much better than doing it in the city. We have a spirit company and we’re planning on opening a brewery and bar, so that’s why I’ve been working late nights. I guess it served me well, I made a friend on my first day.”

“You’ve only been here for a full day? What the hell? You already know the best spot in town. What kind of stuff do you guys make?”

“Beer and soju mainly, we’ve been working on it for five years now and are finally at a spot to open up and start selling it to people, which is cool. But what about you? What do you do?” 

“I’m a medical student actually, my parents are both doctors, I used to really want to be one too, but I don’t know, I don’t really have the same passion for it as I used to.”

“Well what would you do if you had the choice?”

“I always wanted to design stuff for dogs, start a rescue, anything like that. I got so happy seeing Kkuma as an accessory girl.”

“Yeah, she’s very stylish. I think you should go for it, you know? Why waste time becoming something for someone else and risk being unhappy just for their sake?”

“Honestly I wouldn’t even know how to start a business on my own, let alone tell my parents.”

“Hey, I didn’t either and look where it’s gotten me.”

You turned back to the water, staring into the calm blue waters, trying not to go into your own head. 

“You’re oddly inspiring, I’ll give you that much.”

“Thank you, y/n. You’re oddly sassy, I’ll give you that.”

“Shut up, I’m not.”

“You already tried to clock me by saying I’m no fun because I drink black coffee and you said oddly inspiring like a back handed compliment. You definitely are, but I like it. 

“Good.”

You had continued your twice weekly hangouts with Kkuma and her dad for two weeks now, getting excited whenever the days roll around to see the two of them again, but you haven’t hung out once without them around, which made you wonder if your friendship or crush rather on this boy was only due to your dogs being friends themselves. 

Seungkwan tried setting you up on more and more dates with more and more duds, he was starting to lose hope himself, knowing that the one person he could set you up with was Seungcheol but he didn’t want to overstep. 

Strolling home from another failed connection, you decide to stop and have a beer before going home to give the dirty details to Seungkwan about who you had just met. 

Pulling open the tab of one of your drinks from your six pack, you took a deep breath and sat down, feeling your eyes welling up with tears. 

Another can opened as you went to take the first sip. A hand comes on your shoulders, whispering a boo in your ears. 

“What the fuck!” 

Jumping up from your seat the hand on your shoulder belonged to Seungcheol, the look in his eyes went from happy to concerned as he saw the small streaks of tears on your cheeks, you top now dribbled with spots of beer. 

“I’m so sorry, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good. Want a beer?”

“Sure, thanks. I’m sorry I scared you, I thought you heard me behind you.”

“It’s alright, I was in my own world anyway. You look nice, where are you headed?”

“Soft opening for my bar actually, I texted you, but I figured you didn’t respond because you were busy.”

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I would’ve loved to come. I was a bit preoccupied on an awful fucking date.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Worse.”

“Well the good news is you technically didn’t miss it, it doesn’t start for another twenty minutes and you’re dressed very nice. It worked out. 

“Fuck I wish I paid more attention, I could’ve got you some flowers or something.”

“Next time. Will your roommate be alright taking care of Lucky?”

“Yeah of course, he knew I would be out tonight. I’ll text him just to be sure.”

“Cheers to hanging out without our kids?”

“Definitely.”

With that suddenly your awful night and doubts about your relationship with the raven haired boy went out the window. 

“Shall we?”

“We shall.” 

Seungcheol lent his arm out for you to wrap your own around, and you both stayed out that way for a few moments, before discarding your cans and walking the way to his new venture. 

“Here it is, you ready?”

“When you told me you were opening this up I thought you hadn’t even started? But it looks like it’s fully ready.” 

“Ah, well we had planned to wait a bit, but we’re getting too antsy, so here we are.”

“It’s beautiful, holy shit.” 

“Thanks, sit here, I’ll be right back.”

You took a seat on the green leather booth, looking around and taking in the ambiance of the custom lighting and ribbon like wallpaper, when a blonde gentleman walked over sitting down across from you. 

“Y/n? Right?”

“Yeah, nice to meet you…”

“Jeonghan, I’m Cheol’s business partner.”

“Jeonghan, right. Nice to finally meet you, I’ve heard a lot.”

“Likewise, you’re so much prettier than Cheol let on actually.”

“Oh?”

Without a chance to interrogate the new face further Seungcheol walked back over to your table, setting down a few bottles of various spirits for you to try, including a couple of cocktails. 

“He didn’t scare you too much did he?”

“Not at all, he was just telling me actually how much prettier I am than you alluded to.”

“Jeonghan, don’t do that to her, come on. You know very well I told you she was pretty, I even showed you her instagram, you agreed.”

“I know, I just wanted to make you tell her yourself and my job is done, see you around y/n.”

“Nice to meet you.”

As Jeonghan left the table you felt your cheeks growing with heat, unsure if it was the alcohol or the fact that Seungcheols friend made him confess he thought you were good looking. 

“Sorry about him, he’s a menace.”

“No need to be sorry, I have my own menace at home and I don’t mean my dog.”

Seungcheol laughed, pouring you a shot of his very own soju to taste, filling with anticipation hoping you enjoy the drink he’s serving you, looking for your approval became a big part of his mind lately. 

Lifting your glass up to his and clinking them together, the liquor poured down the back of your throat filling your mouth with sweetness and warmth. 

“Holy shit.”

“Good holy shit or bad holy shit?”

“No, very good. That’s actually delicious. It’s so clean and fresh.”

“That makes me so happy to hear.”

“I’m happy you’re happy.”

“Okay, beer next. This is just a standard sour, some lime and sea salt, sort of beach vibes.” 

“Sounds amazing, okay.”

Tipping your head back you sipped at the foamy top of the glass, savoring the flavors in your mouth. 

“I hate you so much.”

“What? Why?”

“Seungcheol, you're way too humble when you talk about your business, this shit is amazing. I said I hate you because I’m going to crave this shit and I’ll have to see you all the time.” 

“I thought you liked seeing me all the time?”

“You’re okay.”

“I have to say it’s cool to be here with you without the dogs, not that they distract too much, but they definitely take away giving you my full attention.”

“I mean how could they not, they’re cute as fuck,”

“So are you.”

“Wow, two drinks in Cheol and you’re already calling me cute? I wonder what else you’ll say the more you drink?"

“Technically we’re four drinks in, but I guess I remember the time I spent with you more than you do. Did those drinks on the bench mean nothing to you?”

“Oh fuck, I did forget. I guess technically I’m five drinks in then, catch up, bitch.”

You and Seungcheol spent the rest of the night being greeted by his friends, most of them already assuming who you were, letting you know that Seungcheol talks about you more than you realized. 

Feeling your blood alcohol content rising, you decided to take a step outside and refresh. 

The bell of the door opened up behind you, putting you face to face with his cherry lips once again, watching them light up a hand rolled cigarette to his lips. 

“Doing okay?”

“Yeah, just wanted to step out for a second. Are you good?”

“Very. Want a cig?”

“No, I’m good for now. Ask me again later.” 

“So will there be a later? You’re not ditching me now?”

“I’d never do that.”

“So, y/n does this maybe get me a chance to take you on a date? I’m kind of drunk so I’m feeling oddly bold.” 

“Is this not sort of a date?”

“I was hoping you thought so. Is that a yes?”

“Absolutely. I thought you’d never ask.”

“Before we go on our date though, y/n. I have one final question?” 

“Yes?” 

“Do you still think I’m boring?” 

“A little.” 

Seungcheol grabbed your waist and spun you around, causing his perfectly rolled tobacco to fall on the sidewalk. 

Blissfully you were giggling and laughing under the red led lights of his bar. 

“Take it back.” 

“Nope.” 

“Please.” 

You looked into his puppy dog eyes and did something out of your comfort zone. Wrapped your hands loosely around his neck, placing a deepened kiss onto his lips. 

His mouth tasted of cigarettes and salt with a hint of vanilla from the lip balm he always had on him. 

“Is that a good ‘sorry I called you boring’ kiss?” 

“It’ll do for now.” 

“Good. They’ll be more where that came from.” 

“Promise?” 

“Pinky promise.” 

You and Seungcheol unwrap from each other, finding Jeonghan standing and  cheering in the window watching the two of you. 

“Can’t believe I got a hot date and a sister for Kkuma all in one.” 

“You lucky dog.” 

[befemininenow]

My coming out as a trans lesbian. (A message to my followers.)

Yes, everyone. I am "gay", or should I say, I'm a lesbian.

This may come as a shock to some of you since I would talk about "hot men" and even make captions about attracting hunks and whatnot. If you notice an absurd amount of those kind of captions surfacing this past week until now, that's because I was dealing with comphet, short for compulsive heterosexuality. In reality, I do not like men nor am I attracted to masculinity.

Why until now? One, it’s because I wanted to wait for the right time to come out and it was coincidentally on Lesbian Visibility Day. Two, it’s something I've been questioning ever since I found out I was trans. This didn’t happen in a day or two. It’s been years and I would have thought I was just pansexual. However, I was not sure whether I genuinely liked boys or if I just liked their validation. It turns out it's only the latter and I was questioning whether I was really gay or just gynosexual. I admit that getting positive reception from them turned me on and I could see the kindness and affection they displayed towards other women (something that really made me euphoric). But the moment you would place me next them for more, say, intimacy (I'm trying to keep it PG), I felt that spark turn off. Don't even get me started when they're bare or worse, send me D-picks (it's so nasty).

Now, I've never did any of that IRL. But, I've tried to interact with them through social sites. Not just in Tumblr, but in other sites like Grindr. If you ever think of creating a Grindr to meet, don't bother. It's hot garbage! All of them were chasers and not a single one was attractive. Only one "guy" seemed to be "cute"; it was a femboy, who was commencing their transition into a woman. Those were the only men I thought I was attracted to, but the reality is: I was only attracted to their femininity, but not their body or intimacy. Femboys are still men and I'm not attracted to men.

That got me questioning: Am I really only liking people for their femininity or do I genuinely only like girls? To make a long story short, I've never felt so much better than imagining myself being the lovely girl... of another girl! I always loved women as a guy, but now that I'm about to transition, being into women as a girl feels so right for me! No more comphet for me!

I know this is not the norm on these kind of blogs as the majority tend to be attracted to masculinity. However, I do want to say that even trans lesbians exist on the feminization scene. That leads me to tell all of you for the next update: You won't be seeing anymore new straight trans girl captions after the first few days of the next month. That's why you saw those kind of captions bombard my blog these past few days. It's just my way of saying "Let me just get it done with". I'm actually glad you enjoyed them, but I just don't feel any connection to those kind of captions anymore. I'll try to upload them when I can since I've been busier than usual.

Anyways, I'm happy you read this very long post. Even if you're not a lesbian, I hope this note at least gives you an insight on not keeping your true feelings locked any longer. Everyone deserves to be themselves. You should too.

Sincerely, Nikki.

[reidingandwriting]

darlin’ i’d wait for you > p.p.

Word Count: ~5,000

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Warnings: The author entirely makes up how the memory erasing spell would work, mild language throughout, mentions of an attempted mugging

Author’s Note: What watching NWH for the first time in two years does to a mf! Cross posted on my ao3 account. Peter deserves a happy ending and by god I’m giving him one!!

It was a cold night that night. Peter swung through the city, happy things were relatively calm tonight. though he wouldn’t mind a little more action so he could fight and warm up a little. He was about to turn in for the night, anyway, so Peter could cope.

It was on his swing back home that he saw it. Three bulking men cornering one person in an alley. Peter perched on the rooftop, assessing the scene before he jumped in. Two appeared to be unarmed, but Peter froze when he saw the gun the third pulled out. Peter quickly shot a web at the gun, yanking it out of his hands and up towards the roof before he dove in. One direct kick to the face had the first guy out cold.

Peter dodged the punch from one of the others and he narrowly missed another punch from the other. Peter landed a punch of his own to one of the men and webbed him to the wall before doing the same to the remaining guy. Peter webbed the guy who had the gun against the side of the dumpster in case he woke up, and then he turned to face you.

“Holy shit. Thank you so much, Spider-Man.” Peter froze when he heard your voice and he was grateful to the mask for hiding his expression. You. Tony's child, his former partner… all before Doctor Strange’s spell erased all memories of peter parker from the world. Realization flashed in your eyes and Peter felt his heart skip a beat from your smile. Did you remember? “Spidey! I haven't seen you in forever it feels like. It’s been ages, hasn’t it?”

Of course you didn’t remember him. You knew Spider-Man from him working with the Avengers, but you didn’t know him. Most of the time he spent with your family was as Peter. Spider-Man had been a rare visitor to the Stark family; what was the point of hiding behind the Spider-Man persona when you all knew him? Why hide from someone who had been to his and May’s home countless times? From the same someone who had spent hours in the lab with him making improvements to the spider suit.

“Yeah. Yeah, it has been, hasn’t it?” Peter rubbed the back of his neck and you still smiled that bright, warm smile. Peter's eyes began to burn with the feeling of unshed tears; god he had missed you so much. “I'm, uh, surprised you’re out here this late.”

“Wasn’t supposed to be. Happy was running a little late picking me up, and I thought it would be quicker for me to just walk over to his, but then that happened,” you laughed and Peter couldn’t help but smile as well.

“Do- do you want an escort? Or I could wait with you until you’re picked up. My patrol is over anyways, and I don’t. I don't have anywhere else to be.” Peter offered and you nodded.

“Let me just,” your phone ringing cut you off and you smiled apologetically at him. “One second, sorry.” You dug your phone out of your pocket and answered it, holding it to your ear. “Hey, Hap!” Peter could faintly make out happy on the other line and his heart ached. Happy… Peter tuned out the majority of your conversation, not wanting to eavesdrop and violate your privacy, even if he kind of wanted to just to hear Happy’s voice some more. You hung up the phone a moment later and Peter turned to look at you.

“What's the plan?”

“Since I'm not too far from Happy, I think I'll walk over to where he’s waiting. Are you sure you don’t mind walking with me? I'm sure you’re ready to get home by now.” Home. Peter wanted to laugh- home didn’t exist to him anymore. Not one he could have, anyways.

“Wouldn’t be very friendly neighborhood Spider-Man of me to let you walk by yourself, especially after you’ve already been cornered once. At gunpoint,” Peter emphasized and you merely shrugged.

“Unfortunately something I've gotten somewhat immune to. The panic will hit later,” Your tone was joking but Peter knew the weight behind your words. You were like your dad. So good at bottling up emotions and being able to put them to good use. Until the bottle eventually filled and you cracked. You had gotten better about bottling up and your emotions hit faster now- even if you did have delayed reactions to trauma at this point. “I guess we should start walking then, huh?”

Peter followed just a step behind you as you walked to Happy’s. You made small talk with Peter, asking him how patrols were going and how he had been lately. Peter brushed over that question and turned it back on you, and you happily obliged. You had just left your friend Betty’s since it was her birthday, and you were about to go back home to celebrate the holidays with Happy, your mom, and sister. Pepper and Morgan…

It had taken a few visits for Morgan to warm up to Peter, but she had quickly worked her way into his heart and she rather quickly learned that she had Peter (and most everyone who knew her) wrapped around her finger. He had countless movie nights with you and the younger Stark and Peter remembered the first time Morgan chose to cuddle into his side during the movie like it was yesterday.

“What about you, Spidey? Any plans for the holidays?” Your question startled Peter and he shook his head. “Nothing?”

“I.. I don't really have anyone to celebrate with. Will probably just stay in, watch some movies. Maybe do an extra long patrol, gotta make sure everyone else gets to be safe during the holidays.” There goes that look Peter missed- you were thinking about something; your brows furrowed just slightly and your nose scrunched in contemplation.

“Well, if you get lonely. You should reach out to me.” You dug in your bag for a moment before you pulled out a sticky note and pen. You wrote quickly before you handed the note to him- your number. Of course he had it already, had long since memorized it, but you didn’t know that. “No pressure or anything at all but. It can get lonely this time of year, and my dad always spoke highly of you. So if you ever just need someone to talk to or anything,” you sounded a little uncertain. Anxious, even. “I unfortunately adopted my dad’s horrible sleeping patterns so I should just be a text away.”

“Thank you. So much,” When Peter said your name, you blinked in surprise that quickly smoothed out. Right, Spider-Man knew your name, why wouldn’t he? A familiar voice snapped you and Peter back to reality and you waved excitedly.

“Did something happen? Why is Spider-Man walking with you?” You hesitated briefly and Peter stepped in.

“We ran into each other while I was swinging around. My patrol was ending anyways, and it wasn’t out of my way to walk with them.” Peter lied smoothly. It was completely out of his way and he didn’t want to mention the fact that you had almost been mugged, potentially worse. Selfishly, he wanted another chance to see you and he knew he wouldn’t get that opportunity if Happy knew what happened.

“He was great company,” you flashed Peter a grateful smile before you turned back to Happy.

“Thanks, Spider-Man. I've got it from here.” Happy looked at him and Peter nodded.

“I hope I'll hear from you, Spidey.” You said and Peter smiled. Peter said his goodbyes before he swung away, leaving you and Happy outside his apartment complex.

Peter barely locked his door and tore off his mask before tears filled his eyes. God he missed you. Missed Happy, Pepper, Morgan, all his friends. You may not remember him, but he hoped this could be the start of starting over with you. He had to have you in his life again, even if he was just a stranger to you right now.

-

Two weeks had passed since you had run into Spider-Man and you were feeling odd. You had trouble sleeping the night you got home and you assumed it was the stress from having the gun pulled out on you. Every night since then, you’ve had dreams that felt strangely like memories? A few of them included your friends MJ and Ned, but they all had some guy with a blurry face in them. His voice in the memories was a little distorted, but vaguely familiar at the same time.

You were doing some cleaning when you found an old sketchbook and you took a moment to go through a few of the pages, and you tilted your head when again, you saw the faceless guy from your dreams. How could you not remember him? You stopped when you saw a polaroid in the middle of your sketchbook, a picture of you and your father with the faceless guy in the middle. You slammed the book shut and tried to focus on controlling your breathing. You slid down against the wall, hands trembling.

Who was this person? How was he such a prominent part of your life but you couldn’t remember him? You buried your face in your hands and you barely processed the click of your door opening.

“Since MJ is coming over, what do you think about- kid?” Pepper's voice sounded through the room and you looked up. “Hey, what happened?” Pepper rushed over and took a seat beside you. Her hands cupped your face as her thumbs wiped away the tears you hadn’t even noticed beginning to fall.

“Do you ever feel like there’s something you’re just missing?” You nodded towards the sketchbook and Pepper cautiously grabbed it, and she flipped through the pages. She stopped when she saw the polaroid and looked at you. “I feel like I'm going crazy, Mom. I know who this is, I have to know. But I can't remember him. Ever since I ran into Spider-Man, I've been having these dreams. I think they’re memories and they all have him in them. I thought I was just making him up and then I saw this. I don't know what’s wrong with me, why can’t I remember him?”

“I don’t remember this either.” Pepper said and you looked at her, confused. “I remember taking this picture but him?” Pepper tapped the person in the middle. “Not a clue who he is. I can ask Happy if you want? Maybe he remembers?” You nodded before you curled into Pepper’s side. Your mom’s arms wrapped around you, and she leaned her head against yours. “We'll figure it out, somehow.”

You tried to have a normal rest of your night. You helped your mom cook dinner for everyone, you all played a game with Morgan before tucking her into bed with a bedtime story, and you, MJ, and your mom watched some mindless reality show before she went to bed. The night ended the same way, with her kissing your head and telling you not to stay up too late, and you stayed on the couch for a while longer before returning to your room. You and MJ laid on your bed and MJ let out a loud sigh.

“Okay, what’s up?” MJ asked and you turned towards her. “You’ve been acting off all night and you’re guarding your phone. I’m all for some quiet body doubling time, but you seem a little checked out.”

“It’s gonna sound crazy,” you said and MJ shrugged.

“I’m no stranger to crazy.” And so you told her. You told her how you ran into Spider-Man and how you have felt odd ever since. You told her about the weird dreams and how you feel like your memories are incomplete and you’re missing something. You showed her the sketchbook, the photo, and you took a deep breath.

“I reached out to Happy and he doesn’t remember him either, but he says he’ll try to look into things. I, uh, have my own plan if he’ll ever answer me.”

“Who?” MJ asked.

“Have you ever seen that… really strange building in the city?”

-

“Thanks for letting me in,” You said to Doctor Strange, Stephen he insisted, as you took a seat in his… was lair the right term? Office felt too informal but lair felt too menacing. Whatever.

“I must admit I was curious as to why you wanted to see me. I don’t think we’ve spoken since the funeral.” Stephen said and you nodded.

“Never had much of a reason to. We didn’t know each other before, and I was,” you trailed off, “occupied after. Between my sister and helping my mom with the company, and this new thing that’s occurred.” Stephen hummed in response and made a gesture for you to continue speaking. “I think some kind of magic has interfered with my life and altered my memories.” Stephen paused, genuinely looking like he was blue screening, and you began to speak again when he raised his hand.

“What exactly do you think has been altered?” Stephen asked, words coming out slowly, like he was still processing what he had heard.

“I think a person has been removed from my memories. Not just mine. Mine, my family’s, my friends. I have a feeling it’s bigger than that, and.” You trailed off.

“I would be the only one- well, not the only one capable- but I would be the only one to risk a spell of that caliber.” Your lips twitched upwards into a smirk and Stephen rolled his eyes, but there was a hint of amusement on his face as well. “Is it just your memories that have changed?” You shook your head and pulled the photo from your bag and you held it out to him. Stephen took it carefully, studying it.

“I have drawings of him, but the faces are all blank. I can see him in my dreams, I can hear his voice.” Your voice cracked. “I don’t even know who this is, but with each day that passes, the pain of losing whoever he is gets worse.” Stephen’s eyes met yours and you continued. “I can’t sleep without him being involved. I keep getting these deja vu moments but they’re incomplete. Hell, even my camera roll on my phone is messed up. Every picture or video he’s in? His face is blurry and his voice is distorted. Every night it gets worse. Like my brain wants me to remember, but I can’t.” You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. You can’t cry in front of the wizard, that would be so embarrassing.

“Did something specific trigger this? When did you notice your memories had been affected?” Stephen asked and you sighed.

“After I ran into Spider-Man two weeks ago. I was walking to meet Happy, and some guys had cornered me. Spider-Man saved me and from that night on, I feel like my brain has been scrambled.” Stephen’s eyes widened a fraction. “You’re missing something too, aren’t you?” Your question came out more as a statement and Stephen stood. You quickly stood and when Stephen saw you stand, he walked out of the room and down the hall to another room. This room was darker, much more lair-ish, filled with books and other mystical looking items. Stephen’s strangely sentient cape fluttered over, whipping around you in some oddly cute form of greeting? before it flew over to Stephen and settled on his shoulders.

“I’m fuzzy on the details, but I remember seeing Spider-Man recently. We were fighting over some containment box that had a powerful spell in it. Then suddenly I was in the city, near the Statue of Liberty. Something big was happening and I performed some spell to help Spider-Man and I don’t remember anything after. Suddenly I was home and I guess I never looked further into it.” Stephen pulled a book from a shelf and flipped it open, rapidly scanning the pages until he landed on it. “This was the spell I had to contain.” As Stephen told you about the basics of the spell, your heart ached. What could have happened to Spider-Man that made him need a memory erasing spell?

“Then Spider-Man must have asked you to do another memory erasing spell. Hiding his identity?”

“More like erasing it. The universe as we knew it was breaking, the multiverse is real. And it almost became a real threat to our universe. Whatever I did fixed it. The multiverse is safe, but-”

“Now no one remembers who our hero really is,” you said. “I’m guessing there’s no way to counteract the spell.”

“No safe way to do it, even if we discovered who Spider-Man is. If it even could be reversed, the threat would return. These people were after Spider-Man, whoever he is. If the spell was reversed, those same people could very well slip through and become a problem all over again. Likely worse than before.”

“Shit. There’s no winning, is there? He just has to exist for the rest of his life, alone.”

“He may be alone, but it is odd that your memories are seemingly trying to come back. Has anyone else you’ve told experienced anything similar?” You shook your head. “He has you, then.” Stephen made eye contact with you. “Memory altering spells like this are unpredictable at best. For whatever reason, your brain is trying to make the connections. And from what I know about your family, if you are anything like your father, you are the best person to figure this out. I’m happy to assist however I can, but you, kid? You’re Spider-Man’s best chance at having anyone remember him again.”

-

It had been a few days since Peter had last contacted you. He didn’t text you often, scared to bother you. You always responded whenever he did reach out, but Peter hesitated when it came to you. Selfishly, he wanted to be in your life again. But he was terrified he would only hurt you again. That’s what he seemed best at and he couldn’t put you through that pain again. It’s been about three weeks since your first run-in and Peter hadn’t seen you in person again. He was starting to think it was a sign that he didn’t deserve to be in your life anymore.

It was raining as he came home from patrol that night. His apartment complex was in sight and he fumbled when he saw you outside of his building. Peter perched on a lamp post near you and called your name, and you jumped when you heard him.

“Jesus Christ, you scared the shit out of me!” You held a hand to your chest when you saw him, and Peter winced.

“Sorry, sorry! What are you doing out here?” Peter hopped down to stand in front of you. God, you were drenched. Your hair laid flat, soaked from the storm and Peter looked around. “Actually, let’s not have this conversation outside. You’re gonna get sick and your mom would kill me.” Peter opened an arm for you. “I need you to hold onto me.”

“Hold onto you?”

“I can’t exactly walk through the front door,” Peter gestured to himself.

“Right. Sorry.” You walked over to him and Peter wrapped an arm around you, lifting you just enough to support you before he shot a web towards his fire escape. You yelped as you clung to him and Peter carefully set you down once he was steady on the fire escape. Peter slid his window open and carefully helped you in before he climbed through, shutting the window behind him. Peter felt self conscious as you looked around the minimally decorated apartment. Peter didn’t have the money for anything beyond the essentials, and he knew his apartment looked more like a crash pad than a home.

“Do you have, like, towels or anything? I don’t want to,” you trailed off, and Peter sprung into action.

“Right! Sorry. Towels are in the bathroom. I’ll grab you one real quick.” Peter rushed to the bathroom and grabbed a towel. “Here, let me grab you something dry to change into.” Peter left the bathroom and walked towards his closet in the hall. He grabbed a sweatshirt and a pair of sweatpants and handed them to you. You thanked Peter before you disappeared into the bathroom and Peter looked around. He could, shit. He could at least get you a glass of water, right? Peter walked to the kitchen and grabbed two cups, filling them both with ice and water. God, why did he feel so sick? It was you. He knows you, he loves you. You had never judged him before, why would you now?

Peter had just set up the glasses when you came out of the bathroom. He swore his heart skipped a few beats when he saw you in his sweatshirt, and you played with the end of the sleeve.

“I, uh, left my clothes in your shower. Thanks for these,” you said and Peter nodded. God Peter was so glad he had tidied up this morning.

“No problem. It’s not much but make yourself at home. Should’ve dropped by tomorrow, tomorrow is grocery day and I could’ve had more for you,” Peter said and you shook your head as you sat on the edge of his bed. Peter stood by the other edge of the bed and you tilted your head.

“Keeping the suit on? Isn’t it a little wet?” Peter’s eyes widened and he rushed to his closet to change, and he barely heard your faint huff of laughter. Peter stared at himself in the mirror, mask still on his face after he had changed. He didn’t know what to do. Not like revealing his identity would change anything, but he felt safer behind the mask. With a sigh, he left the bathroom and your smile fell to a frown when you saw the mask. “Can we talk, Spidey?” Peter took a seat beside you and you both turned to face each other. Your gaze was determined, hopeful, and anxious all at the same time and Peter couldn’t tell if he wanted to look into your eyes forever or look away from the emotion in them.

“The floor is yours,” Peter said and you let out a breath.

“I may sound batshit insane, so please. Just listen to me until I’m done.” You said and Peter nodded. After a moment, you began to speak. “I know who you are.” Peter swore his heart stopped for a beat or two. “Or I did at least. You knew me, my family, my friends. Our friends, I guess I should say. But something happened and now no one knows you. Doctor Strange did some kind of spell for whatever saving the multiverse reason, and everyone forgot about you. The man behind Spider-Man.” Your eyes began to water and Peter wanted to reach out, to hold you close. But he was frozen.

“Ever since we ran into each other those weeks ago, I’ve been having these dreams. Memories, more like, but there was something missing in them. You. I could see the memories, I could hear your voice and see you. But I couldn’t remember who the voice belonged to. I couldn’t see the face, it was all blurry and distorted. I have a picture of us with my dad, I have countless videos and pictures in my camera roll; all of them having a person with a blurry face and distorted voice. For three weeks, you’ve been on my mind, awake or not. I’ve spent the last five days trying to find you, trying to figure out anything about you. Every file I found, redacted. Eventually, I just tracked your usual patrol route and your response time to local crimes and hoped I would stumble across you. I’d been walking around for at least two hours to find you, because somehow. I just know you’re the person I’m missing.” Your hands reached out and settled on Peter’s shoulders, and it took all of Peter’s restraint not to melt into your touch as he whispered your name. “Can I…?” You tapped the side of Peter’s neck and he nodded.

You moved slowly, as if you’d hurt him, as your hands traveled. You stuck your thumbs under the mask and you looked at Peter. Only when he nodded did you start to pull the mask off. The seconds it took you to pull the mask off felt like hours to Peter, and you let the mask fall beside you as you studied Peter. You reached out towards him, motions careful as you moved, and you rested one of your hands on his cheek. Peter felt the first tear slip and then you blinked.

It was like Peter was seeing an entirely new person again. Your eyes flashed with a million different emotions until they settled on recognition. Your eyes were wide and your own eyes began to fill up with tears.

“Peter?” You whispered and the dam broke. Peter let out a choked sob as he nodded and you threw yourself into his arms, clinging to him just as quickly as he clung to you. “Oh my god, Peter.” One of your hands tangled in his hair, the other hand gripped the material of his shirt like a vice. You moved back just enough to look at him, and Peter let out a teary laugh as his forehead rested against your own.

“I missed you so much.” Tears were falling from Peter’s cheeks and you somehow did the impossible by pulling Peter even closer to you. “How, how do you?”

“I don’t know,” You laughed in between your cries. “I don’t know how but oh my god, Peter.” You pulled back, his brown eyes meeting your own, and you smiled at him. So happy, so familiar, so full of love. Peter cupped your cheeks and pressed a kiss to your lips, which you happily returned.

You remembered him. Peter wasn’t entirely alone anymore. He had you. The love of his life, one of his best friends. When you broke apart, you cupped Peter’s face in your hands and wiped his tears away with your thumbs. “I thought I’d be alone forever. That no one would ever remember me. And I couldn’t, I couldn’t make myself talk to anyone new because all I do is get people hurt and-”

“Shhh, that’s not true. Not true at all.” You raked your fingers through his hair and Peter slumped into you. “I told you, you’d have me forever. Just took a little while for me to find you again.” You kissed Peter’s head and ran one hand up and down his back, the other gently working out the tangles in his hair. Peter’s breathing began to steady and he closed his eyes. For the first time in what felt like ages, he was content.

“What’s gonna happen now?” Peter asked and you hummed.

“First, you’re gonna rest. Your dark circles could rival my own,” you teased and Peter huffed in response, but a smile still lit up his face. “I told my mom I would be out tonight, so tomorrow morning, we’ll decide what our next steps are. I know there’s a few people who would like to meet you again, but if you’re not ready, we’ll wait.”

“I want to see them again. I’ve missed everyone so much, but I don’t know if I’m ready.” Peter trailed off. “I’m really scared.” Peter admitted. “I’m scared when I see them again, they won’t want to get to know me again. I’m scared I’ll wake up and this will all be a fluke; you’ll have forgotten me and I’ll be alone all over again.” Peter’s grip on you tightened and you continued to comb through his hair, hoping to soothe him.

“They’re your best friends, Peter. They’ll love you.” Peter was fully laying against you at this point, and you shifted so you could lean back as well. “I know my mom will too, and Morgan will be so happy to have a big brother again. But you’re in control, okay? You get to choose when we meet, who we meet.” Peter let out a shaky breath as he buried his face in your neck, and you closed your eyes. “Just say the word and I’ll make it happen.”

“I love you.” Peter pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder. “So much.”

“I love you even more.” And for the first time in weeks, you both fell into a dreamless sleep. The next afternoon, you and Peter stood outside your family's cabin. Your hand held Peter's and he squeezed your hand.

You had told your mom you were bringing company over, but you had been vague about the details. Kind of hard to explain everything over a phone call, you rationalized to Peter. You had Peter's bag on your back, with enough clothes to last him a few days, and his suit just in case. Neither of you seemed fond of the idea of separating now that you finally had each other again and if your mom didn't understand, you were willing to stay with Peter at a hotel because 'I love you, Peter, but this apartment is not it. Maybe I can buy you out of your lease,' you had said with a laugh but you were half joking. Whatever your next move ended up being, you'd do it together.

With one final nod, you walked inside with Peter, ready to re-introduce him to your family; ready for him to be a part of your family again.

[turtle-paced]

At what point during the planning and execution of the Red Wedding do you think Roose Bolton found out that Bran and Rickon hadn’t actually been killed? My thought is that the earliest he could have possibly known is when Theon let “Reek” return to the Dreadfort to raise men, Ramsay might have been able to get off a raven then. But even that seems risky, and not entirely in Ramsay’s power. Is it possible Roose didn’t even know until the day we see him meet Ramsay in Reek II ADWD?

Yeah, "by the way dad, it's possible I may have fucked up my very serious attempt at killing two beloved sons of the previous ruler" is not information I'd be in a rush to entrust to raven mail in Ramsay's position. That seems like in person information only. Roose's actions track with believing there's a real vulnerability to the Starks at that moment - but as we know from Reek III, he would absolutely consider a child lord to be a major vulnerability to exploit, so. In some ways it's academic. If everyone believes Bran and Rickon are dead, in the short term at least politics will proceed as if Bran and Rickon are dead.

But as for the precise timing...

We obviously don't have a whole lot of PoV access to intra-Bolton communications. We know they exist, because Roose and Ramsay were coordinating to get Roose back north past an occupied Moat Cailin. But there is a lot more scope for communication at the end of Reek II and in the gap between Reek II and Reek III. Plenty of time for Roose to catch up on the details.

On the whole I think it's quite likely Roose learned of Bran and Rickon's possible/probable/actual survival when he headed north after the Red Wedding, in that gap where we don't have either Catelyn or Theon on hand. So during Reek II or shortly thereafter. From the way Roose talks about the issue in Reek III, I get the vibes that Roose recently learned about what happened, is mightily annoyed by it (for a certain value of mightily annoyed), and is not done reminding Ramsay of his fuckups.

I doubt that Roose learned those particular facts from Ramsay himself, though. More likely from people Roose left to keep an eye on Ramsay. In case he did something like publicly murder Ned Stark's sons. Roose needs to know that sort of stuff, and Ramsay can't be relied on for much except outrageous violence.

[hamethyst]

Thoughts about FFXVI now that I’ve finally played it (was patiently waiting for that price to drop and my salt to dilute):

Pros:

- Pretty game. Big, pretty fights with attacks and cinema that made you feel like a god amongst men. Which you kind of were, at least by the end.

- The voice acting was top notch. Not a weak one to be found, imo, from major characters to minor. They all did a pretty phenomenal job.

- Music was also pretty darn good. Not my favorite soundtrack by any stretch, but it had some bangers, and the music contributed well to the overall mood of the world.

- There actually were brown people. Were any of them main characters? No, but they did exist, and some of them were even semi-important in side quests, which was a better state of the world than I thought. So a kudos there, I guess.

- The story on its own was decently satisfying, but the world-building was really where the game shined (along with the big, bombastic fights). You can tell they put a lot of time and care into developing the lore of Valisthea, from the monsters to the items to the politics of the involved nations. They had a couple characters that basically acted as encyclopedias for lore and in-depth details about characters, concepts, and events, and I genuinely enjoyed making use of them.

- I liked the older ages of the characters, pretty much everybody was in their 30s and older. Much as I love my FF teens and early twenty-something’s, it was very refreshing dealing with grown folks in a story about grown folks.

- From his hair to his face to his voice to his cleavage to his unnecessarily tight leather trousers to the cutscene of his bare naked ass literally chained to a jail cell wall, Clive was the eye candy of this game. He provided more smut material than the actual sex workers that existed in this world. Also his character was nice. He was a good FF protagonist. Also ridiculously gorgeous. God bless.

Cons:

- While there were brown characters, again none of them were main characters. At least give us our token darkie, Squeenix.

- The locations, while pretty cuz pretty graphics, were lackluster. There was one (1) notable exception, and that was (ironically) the place with all the brown folks lol. It was basically a desert oasis-turned-town, and it was legitimately beautiful to behold. But for the vast majority of traversable terrain, even for dark fantasy medieval Europe, it’s like there wasn’t even an attempt to try and create environs that were imaginative or particularly interesting to run/ride through (and it got worse when, about 75% into the story, literally everything became shrouded under dreary cloud cover). Like they could’ve given us a glowing forest or treetop town or something.

- Related to that point, exploration of said environs was equally uninspired. Not just because the locations quickly lost their hold on me, but because there were absolutely no worthwhile rewards for going out of my way to wander any given map area. Practically every chest or shiny bauble was a random assortment of a laughably low amount of gil or the same monster materials I absolutely did not need to go looking for as they were so abundant just throughout the course of the main story and a few side quests. And no secrets; there were no mysteries, no serendipitous little discoveries that would have added to the richness of the world. Halfway through the game, I’d already given up exploring any environment in full, and simply traversed from point A to B for the next cutscene (the only exceptions being populated towns and villages cuz at least there was ambient NPC dialogue), and that was so disappointing. I normally love exploration, even in non-open world games, but XVI simply didn’t incentivize me to pursue it, neither by way of rewards nor simple appreciation of the world.

- Not a big fan of the summon designs. Well, some of them. Phoenix was good, Garuda and Titan and Odin were good, and Ifrit was fine but also coulda been more than a burnt big-horned dog thing, but I was not a fan at all of Shiva and Bahamut. I talked about Shiva when the very first big trailer for XVI came out, and I stand by my statement then that she looks like a woman doing a pretty but boring cosplay. And Bahamut was just a big gray lizard with weird proportions. Not a fan.

- The main big bad was underwhelming and utterly unnecessary. We didn’t need to fight god (again). I’m tired of fighting god, I don’t care how classic a trope it is. All the political machinations the devs had going on (and clearly put so much time and effort into) were more than enough for a compelling, refreshingly grounded story. We didn’t need some random god creature to come in and pose a bigger, higher-than-the-sky threat. Also they were annoying.

- By god, why wasn’t there a fleshed-out party system. Not even necessarily for gameplay reasons, I was (mostly) fine with the action-based gameplay, I don’t necessarily need my FF’s to be strictly traditional turned-based RPGs. What had me wishing most for more RPG-“ness” was the lack of banter, the lack of character/relationship-building conversations out in the field. The only time you got those was at the homebase or during plot-heavy segments. Side quests and world exploration were the worst; even when another person was in your “party,” it was rare for Clive or even the game itself to acknowledge them or their presence (with the exception of Cid. And Torgal. You know, the dog). I missed banter, I missed commentary. I’m not saying I needed a 12-person ensemble cast, but wandering the pretty but repetitive wilderness would have been nicer if Clive had had someone to chat with. It would’ve made the journey a little less lonely, a little less monotonous, and a little less, frankly, immersion-breaking. And it also would’ve helped to flesh out the other, non-Clive main characters, given them the flavor text they needed to really come to life as believably human characters I could care about, rather than just vehicles for lore and story progression. For everyone except Clive and a couple others, that was sorely missing.

- Partially continuing from above: Jill was the greatest victim of this. She was criminally underutilized. She and Clive were cute (30+-year-old traumatized virgin battle couple locked in a decades-long slow burn, sign me up), but they - and, more importantly, she - could’ve been so much better. And one of the reasons they weren’t and she wasn’t was because they chose not to flesh Jill out despite all the ways they could’ve. The nuggets of gold were there; in the story, in the lore, and they did little to nothing with them, and essentially consigned her to the role of Clive’s favorite cheerleader (who gets left behind right before the climax and replaced with a character with less than half the screen time, sorry Dion). It’s especially frustrating seeing as she was the only female member of the main hero cast. Can you tell I’m mad about it. It might honestly be my biggest criticism of the game. She’s not the only victim, as I stated, but her treatment is the most egregious given that she should be, for all intents and purposes, the third most important character in the game. (Also, on a shallower note, her design could’ve been better, more striking. She seemed to literally kinda fade into the background, especially in direct comparison to other characters. I understand the ice theme they were going for, but she really could’ve benefited from some coloration outside of “pale” and “gray.” Lowkey bothered me to the point that I started redesigning (and just full-on reimagining) her as I played lol).

- Also related to the above points: despite XVI being categorized as an action RPG, the RPG elements were extremely barebones, so much they might as well not have bothered including them. And it’s even more glaring an issue because, in my humble opinion, the parts by which the game suffered most (lack of worthwhile exploration, lack of a stimulating party system, lack of quest variety, lack of significant supporting character development) wouldn’t have been issues if those RPG elements had been given more attention and care.

Idk it’s…frustrating, like Squeenix was so dead-set on making XVI so far removed from the traditional FF formula, that they forgot (or ignored) the roots that made their previous games so iconic. I’m all for innovation and experimentation, but it’s gotta be guided, and it’s gotta make sense. And XVI just felt aimless in that respect, like it didn’t know entirely what it wanted to be or what it wanted to do. Couldn’t fully commit to the bit of being a gameplay-focused action extravaganza, but lacked the development and depth to be a truly satisfying, story- and character-focused RPG. And, to me, it showed.

Overall, I’d rate the whole experience a 7/10. Passable, entertaining enough, but sorely lacking in too many other areas, and all areas that I’ve always personally loved in a Final Fantasy game or general RPG. It’s like using a ton of admittedly very pretty glitter to cover up a concrete slab. Fun and exciting at a glance (and again, very pretty), but ultimately little more than camouflage for a solid but shamefully underutilized foundation.

[tojisbbg]

𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙧𝙤𝙘𝙠

❝i'm trying to tell you something, something that i already said.❞  

♡ nagi seishiro ♡

a/n: if you couldn’t tell, i’m hyperfixating on blue lock rn. 

content: nagi seishiro x reader, roommates au, shorter than my other fics, fluffy, little bit of kissing, not edited. 

---

you shoved your hand in your purse, digging around urgently to fish out your keys. after finally getting a hold of the keys, you tried to unlock the door, only to have the keys slip from your grasp. you cursed at yourself, a scowl painted on your face as every single thing in your life was slowly pushing you over the edge. 

you just wanted to enter the comforts of your home as fast as possible, feeling like you could collapse on the ground in a matter of minutes. you didn’t know why you felt like this, an overwhelming amount of sadness and agony washing over you. the only thing you wanted to do was curl up into a ball and die on your bed. 

finally, you were able to unlock the door as you kicked off your shoes to the side before locking the door behind. you threw your purse on the floor before plopping on the sofa. it was seven in the evening and the house was quiet, nothing out of the ordinary. 

your roommate, nagi, always came home much later on the day due to his soccer practices. this left the majority of the quiet time in your house as yours. regardless, nagi wasn’t really a loud person, only sometimes when he’d play his games really loudly in the living room on his days off. the both of you rarely spoke to each other as nagi was a pretty reserved person and he didn’t like doing anything that’d require him to do more than breathing, playing games and playing soccer. 

you didn’t mind though, it was actually a relief that you didn’t get screwed up with a pain in the ass type of roommate. nagi wasn’t much of a hassle as he paid his share of the rent on time, did grocery shopping on the days that was his turn, and he was a pretty clean person. 

though you rarely saw him, he had a strange effect on you. at first you thought maybe it was because of his mysterious behavior or perhaps it was the little things that he did. some of which included walking around the house shirtless, working out in the living room with his home equipment, or how he’d look so focused on his games. 

it made you feel funny and you hated it. 

 you were in a relationship with your boyfriend of two years, happily in love until things took a twisted turn. the doubt and lack of trust that your lover had in you because of your opposite gender roommate led to a rise in ridiculous hypothetical conclusions. 

today was the last straw. 

even after explaining to your boyfriend, now ex, that your male roommate was barely home and even if he was that a single human couldn’t have known about his existence; the man was still not convinced. you were a very fluid and transparent person, telling nagi about your boyfriend since he’d come over frequently. the snowy haired male simply shrugged before minding his own business. 

yet your ex’s words were sharp to the tongue and painful to the heart, telling you how all men are the same and women are nothing but bimbos when it came to an attractive man. his words made your blood boil, making you angry that just because he’s insecure about himself he’s projecting his negativity on you. 

and so, you broke up with him. 

now here you are, moping on your couch as you cried an ugly sob. you could’ve sworn that you’ve cried two gallons of your salty tears by now. the noises leaving your mouth were loud and full of agony, as you could barely breathe. 

you were hurting inside and you couldn’t find relief. 

“y/n? you good?” you heard a groggy voice call out for you, making your ears alert as you quickly wiped away your teary face dry. you picked up your head to see nagi by his room’s doorway, shirtless and wearing a pair of sweats as he rubbed his sleep-filled eyes. 

“yeah, i’m fine.” you quickly turned around and blurted out a lie, now feeling embarrassed that he caught you crying like a little bitch when you thought he wasn’t home. you now stupidly realize that it was saturday today, meaning that it was nagi’s day off. you were waiting to hear the sound of his door closing, but instead you heard footsteps inching closer to you. 

suddenly, you felt his fingers grab your chin before lifting your head, forcing you to meet his eyes. you saw him looking down at you with sharp eyes, your eyes widening in shock as your heat began to rise to your cheeks and your heart thumped in your chest ferociously. 

“huh, you don’t look so fine to me. what’s wrong? why are you crying?” nagi asked, his hand now moving to caress your cheeks as you felt the pads of his fingers wipe away your tears. these little actions and gestures stimulated you to cry even harder as you shook your head. 

“i-” you tried to begin your sentence, only to miserably fail as you choked on your tears midway. nagi let out a heavy sigh before taking a seat next to you before pulling you close to his chest. you didn’t even try to fight back with yourself, accepting the comfort that he’s willing to provide you with.

the skin of his chest was so soft in comparison to how hard and well-sculpted his athletic body was. he smelled really good too, a very fresh and manly scent radiated off of him. 

“it’s okay, you don’t gotta tell me right now.” he murmured, rubbing your back as you tried to relax. 

“i broke up with my boyfriend.” you sniffled, making nagi’s hand movement stop. 

“you’re crying over some silly guy? come on, y/n, i know that you’re better than this.” nagi scoffed, making you look up at him with glassy eyes as he gave you a slightly disappointed look. 

“but i loved him.” you quietly whispered, tears still falling on his bare chest and you felt bad, but nagi didn’t seem to care too much. 

“did he love you?” he asked, his question making your brain stop working as you paused, needing some time to think about the answer. 

your boyfriend always treated you like you were some kind of certification for him that declared him as a man who could pull bitches. he never once thought about what you liked to eat, what you enjoyed doing, nor was he thoughtful on planning for dates. 

so, did he really love you? 

“he did.” you thinned your lips, wanting to save your last bits of dignity to not die from shame in front of your roommate. nagi let out a hum in response from your answer. 

“okay, then you were in the wrong. go get back together with him.” the snowy haired male shrugged, his face holding an expression of boredom. 

“how is it my fault?” your eyebrows furrowed in slight irritation from how his words rubbed you in the wrong way. 

“a girl doesn’t break up with a dude she’s been in a relationship with for two years unless he fucks up real bad. but, since you both are in love, you obviously misread the situation then. go kiss and make up.” nagi patted your back for encouragement. 

you scoffed in utter shock, opening your mouth to say something until someone knocked on your door. both you and nagi turned your focus on the door, before nagi offered to open the door as he slipped away from your previously crying form. 

“can i help you?” nagi asked after opening the door, an unfamiliar male that he’s never seen in his life before was at the doorsteps of his home. the guy laughed in disbelief before his face was replaced with an angry look. 

“that fucking slut didn’t even bother to show you who’s the guy she’s been with for two years? what else has she been doing behind my back, huh? actually, how many other guys has she been fucking around with?” the guy spewed out crazy shit in the middle of the hallway, making nagi annoyed. you peaked from the sofa and realized it was your ex, making you jump out of your place as you rushed to the door. 

suddenly, nagi grabbed him by the collar, easily towering over your ex who was inches shorter than the 6′3 striker. 

“you wanna say that shit again, assface? your mama never taught you how to respect women, hm? i hate fighting, but i don’t like the way you’re talking about y/n. so, we could take this outside, if you want.” nagi said in a low voice, his tone was daring and his eyes darkened with anger as you watched in horror. 

“let me go, you fucking freak! this is between me and my girlfriend.” your ex tried to peel himself away from nagi’s tight hold but failed. the tall male snorted at the lousy attempt of breaking away from his hold, roughly grabbing the dude’s jaw as your ex winced in pain. 

“yeah? well, i’m the guy who she dumped your ass for. so, it’s actually between the three of us. but, the conversation is gonna end here ‘cause if you’re not out of my sight in the next five seconds, i’m gonna break your legs.” nagi threatened before harshly letting the guy go, making him stumble back before losing his balance, collapsing on the floor. 

“y/n! i know you’re behind him, you fucking user. give me back all the money that i dumped on your cheating ass!” your ex angrily bellowed, some of the neighbors now opening their doors to watch what the commotion was. 

“for god’s sake, please, go home and i’ll sort things out with you later. you’re causing a scene!” you whisper-yelled at him, eyes begging him to shut up but he was persistent. 

“why the hell would i do that? everyone in this world deserves to know your true colors, you gold digging bitch.” he spat out, making your eyes well with tears as you looked down, not being able to pick your head up while the people stared down at you and gossiped. 

“here, take this and leave.” nagi said in a monotone, reaching inside his pocket to pull out his wallet before throwing hundred dollar bills on the ground where your ex was sitting. the man looked shocked, but still shamelessly picked up all the bills before shoving it in his jacket pocket. 

nagi took a hold of your hand as he pulled you back inside the house, closing the door before locking it. 

“fucking prick.” you heard him murmur to himself before walking towards the sofa, taking a seat. 

“come here.” he demanded from you, patting the spot next to him. his sudden request flustered you as you and nagi never really sat down and do things together. nonetheless, you accepted his little invite and sat down. 

“so, i’m assuming i’m the culprit of this whole situation?” nagi cocked an eyebrow, watching you fiddle with your fingers nervously. you looked up at him with softened eyes before shaking your head. 

“i would never never blame you, sei. anyways, i saw this breakup coming sooner or later. he was too controlling and possessive over me. i guess you were fuel that ignited it.” you joked a little at the end, making him chuckle. 

“good, pretty little things like you deserve better than assholes like him.” nagi said, looking at you with a strange glint in his eyes. you gulped harshly, feeling a little shy. 

he thought you were pretty?

for some odd reason, your heart felt fuzzy and your pulse began to race. you dared not to look at him, afraid that he could read right through you. 

“well, that hope is all gone now.” you let out a heavy sigh, reaching over to the glass table where your lipgloss was. you applied it on your lips since they felt a little chapped from your little crying sessions. 

“why?” nagi asked, confused. 

“he’s most likely gonna go around to every single human on earth and tell them that i’m a cheater and gold digger. nobody wants to date someone like that.” you bitterly laughed, placing the gloss back on the table before looking at him with sad eyes. 

“but that’s not true, you’re none of those things.” he frowned, a cute little pout on his lips. your heart swelled, he looked adorable and it made you wish that you could kiss that little pout of his. 

“yeah, but only you and i know that.” you shrugged, accepting your defeat and miserable fate. 

“then be my girlfriend.” nagi suddenly blurted out, making you choke on your own spit. you looked at him with eyes the size of two full moons, waiting for him to break out into a laugh to tell you that he was just messing around with you. 

but no such thing happened. 

his eyes were trained on yours, waiting for an answer. 

“sei, we ca-”

“why can’t we? i’ve liked you for a really long time and i know that you like me back too, y/n. i see how you look at me and my eyes never lie. so, stop fighting against it and let me take care of you like how you deserve to be.” nagi’s voice was gentle, a hand coming up to your face to sway the loose hairs covering your face to expose more of you to his eyes. 

“okay, then let’s go on a date tomorrow.” you smiled at him and nagi gave you a boyish grin. he placed a hand behind your head before leaning closer to you. 

“sei! my glo-” your words were cut off by the feeling of his lips on yours. you closed your eyes, wrapping your arms around his neck. nagi liked your response to his bold move, trailing his hands down to your waist before he pulled you on his lap. 

you relaxed your muscles, allowing yourself to melt into his embrace as you continued to follow the movement of his lips. nagi liked the feeling of your sticky gloss coating his lips, occasionally getting a taste of the sweet cherry lip product on his tongue. 

you felt his hands go under your shirt as his calloused fingers danced on your spine, sending goosebumps all over your body. your lungs burned from the lack of oxygen, so you were forced to pull away. you looked down at nagi, who’s face was flushed and lips shiny with a coating of your cherry flavored gloss as you both panted. 

“why’d you pull away?” he whined, making you giggle before you pinched his cheeks. 

“i had to breathe, sei.” you gave him peck to console him. nagi hummed in content, enjoying how your soft and plump lips felt against his. 

“what should we do now?” you asked him, carding your fingers through his smooth snowy locks. 

“sleep.” nagi shortly answered, eyes half-lidded before he pulled you down with him on the sofa. he placed his head on the cushion while you moved your head on his chest, wrapping your leg around his waist. nagi’s arms protectively wrapped around your waist to make sure that you don’t fall off the sofa while sleeping. 

you could hear the gentle hammering of his heartbeat and it made yours follow the same rhythm. you smiled before placing a quick peck on his chest. 

“sleep well, sei.” you mumbled against his soft flesh, closing your eyes. 

“you too, baby.” nagi responded, midway in the process of yawning. 

then a comforting silence fell upon you both as the room was now filled with soft snores.

[theconstantsidekick]

Captain America: Civil War ft. Static (9) | s.r

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Stark!Reader, Tony Stark x Stark!Reader (siblings)

Genre: Angst city babyyyy

Summary: Zemo has a revelation in store for the Stark siblings, and suffice it to say neither of them takes very kindly to being betrayed by someone they had once trusted with their life.

(These scenes incorporate y/n, codename—Static, into the pre-existing story as a character without making drastic changes to the plot or mythos. All the major plot points from the MCU remain in place with the addition of the reader as Static, who is not only a Stark but also enhanced. Whatever events from the canon aren’t mentioned, take place without much change.)

Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of Past Trauma, Canon Typical Violence, Accident?

a/n: My writing speed is that of a fucking turtle.

Captain America: Civil War ft. Static (8) | Captain America: Civil War ft. Static (10) | Series Masterlist | Age of Ultron (Static Origin Story) | The Avengers (ft. Static) | Captain America: The Winter Soldier (ft. Static) | Static Verse Masterlist

“Ross has no idea I'm here. I'd like to keep it that way. Otherwise, I gotta arrest myself,” she hears Tony’s voice ring out somewhere ahead.

“Well, that sounds like a lot of paperwork,” she can hear Steve’s desperation for truce in his response. 

Y/n can glitch in right now. She’s at the end of the corridor, a couple of steps and she’ll be with them. But not yet. She’s desperate for there to be a solid sign of the truce. She isn’t sure she can watch her brother and the man she loves with her body and soul fight any more. It’s been tearing her apart. 

The truce—even a temporary one—is all she can hope for. And apparently good things come to those who wait.

“It's good to see you, Tony.” Steve adds finally.

“You too, Cap.” Tony responds. A smile breaks out on her face. “Hey, Manchurian Candidate, you're killing me. There's a truce here. You can drop the…” she hears Tony say and she knows that is the right moment.

Sergeant Barnes lowers his weapon and the moment he does, she miscalculates by an inch and glitches in just behind him.

“Am I interrupting something?”

The progression of Sergeant Barnes’ gun changes instantly. It’s aimed at her within the second. The response time on the man is beyond absurd. She’d go as far as to say it’s impressive if she weren’t, you know? Whatever, you get it.

Her hands fly up. “Easy there, Sergeant!”

“What the hell are you doing here?” Tony asks from where he’s standing down the stairs, in front of Steve.

Slowly, with her hands still up, she descends down the stairs to stand between the two most important men in her life. “What the fuck does that even mean? You thought I was going to leave you two alone after the shit you’ve been pulling in the last 72 hours?”

“I didn’t think you’d come,” Steve adds, with a hint of hope in his words. If she were looking his way, she’s sure she could spot the curve of his lips forming the most subtle smile. She absolutely loves seeing that smile… but she doesn’t really wanna look his way, in the general direction of the man right behind Steve.

“I wish I hadn’t, then I wouldn’t have a gun pointed at me,” she retorts, eyes straight ahead, staring at the slimy gray walls of the HYDRA facility.

“Are you—” Tony takes a step closer to her, “Are you trying not to make eye-contact with Barnes?”

Her hands are still up as she’s facing Tony, “Yeah, no. I’m trying not to even look in his general direction. I’m still pretty scared of him.” She turns to the Sergeant but her eyes are locked on a spot on the floor that seems particularly interesting right now. “I’m extremely sorry, Sergeant Barnes, I mean no offense by this,” she looks to Steve, “but can you please make him put the gun down, it’s really not helping.”

“Bucky,” is all Steve has to say and instantly the gun’s down. It’s like whatever trance the Sergeant was in has broken. .

“I really am sorry,” she tries to tell him, looking vaguely in his direction. “It’s purely instinctual. It’ll fade… eventually. But for now…”

“I—” Sergeant Barnes tries but she cuts him off.

“We’ll talk about this, but not here and definitely not now.” Sergeant Barnes just nods slowly. Satisfied, she looks back at her brother and her boyfriend, “Let’s focus on stopping Zemo for now, rest we can figure out when time comes.”

With that sorted, all four of them begin making their way slowly down the corridor.

“I got heat signatures,” Tony comments.

“How many?” Steve asks.

“Uh, one,” Tony offers after a moment of consideration.

That makes Y/n halt her steps. Something’s off. She can feel something off. There’s a presence she can’t put her finger on. Not Zemo. Something else.

“What’s wrong?” Sergeant Barnes asks her.

She thinks it over for a second and then, “Nothing.”

As they walk into the vast chamber the lights come on. There are capsules in front of them, attached to the wall each one containing an enhanced soldier from the 1991 experiments. Hazy, yellow mist descends within the capsules. However, the bullet holes on the glass enclosures is what scares the shit out of her.

“They’re… They’re dead,” Y/n notes.

There’s a short crackle and a voice sounds out from the speakers. “If it’s any comfort, they died in their sleep.” It’s Zemo. Her eyes fly from Tony to Steve who seem to be having the same realization. “Did you really think I wanted more of you?”

“What the hell?” Sergeant Barnes questions under her breath.

“I’m grateful to them, though. They brought you here.” Zemo appears in a control room.

Before Y/n can warn him against it, Steve hurls his shield at him but it ricochets easily against the chamber and comes flying back to Steve. 

“Please, Captain,” Zemo’s voice is laced with a smirk. “The Soviets built this chamber to withstand the launch blast of UR-100 rockets.”

“I’m betting I could beat that,” Tony retorts, walking closer.

“Oh, I’m sure you could Mr. Stark… Given time,” Zemo taunts. “But then you’d never know why you came.”

“You killed innocent people in Vienna just to bring us here?” Steve questions Zemo from across the glass window of the chamber.

Zemo, fucking, smirks.

It should terrify her, and to some extent it does. But there’s something in his eyes, something so familiar to her that she can’t believe she’s seeing it reflected back. She’s seen that look in her own eyes in the mirror for decades.

It’s fire. It’s fire and it’s rage and it’s as personal as it can get.

“I thought about nothing else for over a year. I studied you. I followed you. But now that you’re standing here, I just realized… there’s a bit of green in the blue of your eyes,” Zemo notes, and fuck if that doesn’t creep the shit out of her. “How nice to find a flaw.”

“You’re Sokovian,” Steve notes. “Is that what this is about?”

“Sokovia was a failed state long before you blew it to hell. No.” Zemo dismisses the assessment so easily, so carelessly, it’s making all the damn alarm bells go off in her system. “I'm here because I made a promise.”

Steve studies Zemo for a second and then,, “You lost someone?” 

His eyes darken.

Y/n knows that feeling, this feeling. She knows it through and through.

Zemo clicks his tongue, then, “I lose everyone. And so will you.” He presses something on the console to his right. Instantly the computer on Steve’s right lights up. Something flashes on screen, Y/n can’t help herself, getting more curious by every passing word of the conversation, she walks over to Steve, to the computer. 

16 Декабрь 1991

She… she’s not sure how to…

What’s happening?

This isn’t—this isn’t…

“An empire toppled by its enemies can rise again. But one which crumbles from within? That’s dead…” Zemo’s words are dangerous.

“Anthony,” is all that Y/n can choke out. It’s probably her tone, and the use of his full name that brings Tony rushing over to her side.

She reaches for his hand. Instinctually, Tony disassembles his armor from his hand so he can hold hers.

When Tony looks at the freeze frame of a secluded road and the date on the tape, December 16 1991, his eyes rove with anxiety. “I know that road. What is this?”

As the tape begins to play, the horror unfolds in front of her eyes. She watches unable to breathe with an iron grip on the Iron Man. 

She watches the car crash, she watches Howard Stark plead only to be shocked at the face of his assailant. She watches as her bloodied-up best friend, the person who saved her, the person who gave her a home—the person who gave her a family—is struck in the head with a metal arm. She watches on as Howard’s body slumps, falling to the ground lifelessly. His corpse is then dragged back and placed in the driver’s seat of the car.

Then the assailant moves on to the next target, the collateral damage, Maria. He walks over to the passenger seat of the car where Maria is calling for Howard. She watches Maria plead for help but help doesn’t arrive. Instead, expressionless, the assailant chokes the life out of her. Maria Stark dies. The kindest woman she’s ever known in her life is drained of her life and left like trash at the corner of an unnamed road.

The Winter Soldier then walks up and aims the gun at the surveillance camera and shoots it.

The screen goes black.

Y/n had some semblance of an idea that perhaps yes, Howard and Maria Stark’s death wasn’t an ordinary accident. She’d desperately begged Peggy to look into it, with Thompson and Souza. They had and gave it the all clear.

But in this moment, she thinks—she realizes, perhaps she always knew the truth and was too afraid to look into it. Because if not then, why didn’t she investigate it herself? Back then she’d given herself the excuse that Tony needed her more than the investigation. She’d told herself that she’d be too biased to conduct a sound inquiry. Her feelings would’ve gotten the entire thing too muddled up and messy. She told herself it was the smarter thing to maintain distance. 

That was all horseshit.

She was a scared little kid on the streets of Madripoor once again. She’d lost her family and was walking around without a place to call home and the thought of having to fight HYDRA on top of that would’ve been too much. She’d looked the other way, let things slide, let the murder of her only family slide on account of being a fucking pussy.

And now, she has to confront the truth.

“Did you know?” Tony asks Steve somewhere behind her.

She can’t take her eyes off the now black screen.

“I didn’t know it was him,” Steve answers.

“Don’t bullshit me, Rogers! Did you know?” 

There’s silence for a few seconds, a long, long few seconds, and then, “Yes.”

That—now that makes Y/n turn.

She only catches Steve’s eyes for a second, before Tony’s punching Steve and reengaging the Iron Man helmet. 

More things happen, the fight’s broken out, she’s sure more shit goes down but something just pricked her in the back of her neck and she’s feeling a little dizzy. Everything feels… so fucking heavy. 

Y/n can still hear the commotion from the fight between the men but it seems distant.

“My apologies, Miss Stark, you imbalance the scales too much,” Zemo’s voice rings out on the speaker. “You’ll be back in the game in just a little while.”

“You ever plan on opening your eyes, sleeping beauty?

“What have you got against my happiness, you cruel, cruel man?”

“I’m not the one who wanted to do this, remember?”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re an ass?” She dragged herself out of the passenger seat of the car. Stretching to unfold her joints, she shoved the man next to her just for the fun of it. 

“I’ve got a list of ‘em under my bed, you want to be the latest addition?” He threw back with a smile. Say what you will about the man, but no one can ever deny that Howard Stark had a killed smile. 

“Smart ass,” she chided him without much heat.

“Yeah, yeah. Tell me something new,” he retorted, hand waved in dismissal. “You ever gonna tell me why we’re here? As far as I recall, I was promised the best bachelor party known to mankind.”

She rolled her eyes. “I didn’t promise jackshit, dickwad. I told you we were going to Atlantic City, the rest you made up all in your head, all by your lonesome.”

“What’s a man supposed to think when his best friend tells him that the bachelor party road trip is going to be to Atlantic City?” He pulled a box of cigarettes from his pocket. He put the cigarette between his lips and lit it.

They were leaning on their broken down car, parked on the beach—parked, however would be a generous term. They’d pushed it off the highway onto the beach as a makeshift camp site. The sun was setting ahead of them, slowly being swallowed up by the waves. The wind blew in their faces, as the cars passed by behind them. It made the shit-show of a road trip seem almost worth it… if you didn’t include their car breaking down in the middle and having to push it for a couple miles. Yeah, pretty worth it apart from that one slight glitch.

“I’m your best friend?” She asked, absolutely confused.

Howard just looked at her once before breaking out in maniac laughter. “What sorta question is that?”

“A genuine one,” she told him, serious as ever. “Howie, you serious? I’m your best friend?”

“Yeah, Stark! Obviously you’re my best friend, who else?” He replied, still laughing his ass off. 

“Any fucking body, man. Even Jarvis seems like a more likely option than… me,” she answered.

“That’s some horse shit, Stark and you know it! We live together, we work together, we shit together, eat together. I don’t think I’ve seen anyone’s face as much as I’ve seen yours in the last couple years. You’ve got my last name, damn it. Who the fuck else would be my best friend?” He was looking at her then, genuinely concerned. He seemed like she was asking him if the moon truly revolved around the Earth.

“I… I thought all that—all that’s shit you have to live through cause Peggy dumped me on you,” she provided meekly.

That apparently irked him some. “You think I do all that shit with you cause of Peggy?” He asked. 

She nodded in a simple reply.

That apparently was not the right move. 

He threw the cigarette to the ground, quite angry now, “Why the fuck would I? I’m not a saint and you know it. I never have been. You could count all my good deeds on one hand and all of them had a selfish reason behind it.” He began to pace.

“What was the reason behind this one?”

He looked at her, eyes wide in astonished fury. “The reason behind letting you into my life was that you are by far the only person who understands me. You are the only person I have ever met who’s never asked me to mold myself into something I’m not, while simultaneously encouraging me to be better. You’ve been in my corner, without hesitation and you’ve ripped me a new one when I’ve been wrong. You, Stark, are the only person I’ve ever met who is able to make me believe I am a good man, and understand that I can be better!” He seemed like he was about to blow a gasket. “People see me, see an ass and let me be. You are probably the only person who looks at me and sees the complexities, the entire picture of me as a man. No one gets me, Stark, not even me… Not like you do. 

“At the end of the day, sharing a beer with you, working on cars with you, bitching about S.H.I.E.L.D. with you, that shit keeps me sane. Part of me’s so fucking glad you quit, cause now you’re not gone for days on end for stupid fucking missions. Cause then I get to sit with you and chat about absolutely nothing.” He was still pacing. “You really thought I did all that out of the goodness of my heart? You think I gave you my name cause Peggy asked me to?”

She nodded again, which again was apparently not the right call.

“FUCK, Stark! If I were such a giver I would’ve joined the fucking Red Cross! I gave you my name cause you are my family, damn it!”

“Oh.”

“Oh?!” He raged, not pacing anymore. Facing her, he asked, “That’s all you got?”

She thought for a second, looked over at the man who was standing in front of her, wearing a t-shirt and jeans like any normal dude. The last time she saw the man without a suit and tie was a long time ago, he looked much less of a dick this way. 

“We came here for, i don’t know, for something like a… a last hurrah. I found a place downtown. That and—” she was cut off.

“What?” Howard Stark looked like someone had just punched him in the gut. 

“I found a place downtown,” she told him. “Gimme a week or so, I’ll be out before the wedding.”

“What?”

She hesitated, “I’d be out sooner but I don’t really own… furniture?”

“WHAT?”

She didn’t know how to respond to this line of questioning anymore. “What do you mean what?”

“Is this about what happened? If you’re mad at me, which you have every right to be, let’s fight it out. Punch me if you want, Stark. I’ll take it!” He looked so desperate, it threw her for a spin.

“No! No, this isn’t about that,” she told him, because it’s not.

“Then why else would you talk about moving out?” He didn’t let her answer. He took a couple steps towards her. He fumbled with his words, going back and forth before he looked at her and said, “Look, I understand what I did… I wa—I was way out of line. But I am truly sorry, Stark. I promise you, it will never happen again. I… My head wasn’t in the right place. I thought if I found something—no I don’t know. I thought I could help. You were struggling with controlling your powers, so I thought maybe I could find something to help you with it. I thought I’d tell you if I found something, and if I didn’t then… Then no harm done, right?” He seemed beyond desperate.

“It’s not about that, Howie.”

“Come on! I know you’re pissed at me! Just say it!”

She walked past him, with her back to him and her face to the ocean ahead, she replied, “I am not pissed at you, Howie…”

“Don’t bullshit me.”

She exhaled deeply. “I’m hurt, not pissed.”

“Is that why you want to move out?” He asked, his voice small.

She turned to him then, “What? No! You’re my best friend, dickwad. I ain’t ditching you cause you did something profoundly stupid?” 

“I’m your best friend?” Howard asked.

She rolled her eyes. “Fuck off, asshat.”

He took a step towards her. “No, seriously. I thought, after what I pulled…”

“You were an ass, yes. It was a breach of trust and like I said, I am… I’m pretty hurt… But that’s got nothing to do with any of this.”

“Then?”

“You’re getting married, man. I can’t keep crashing on your couch once your wife’s around,” she explained. “How is she gonna feel?”

“Elated,” he answered easily. Before she could argue, continued, “I think Maria is more excited about sharing the place with you than me. Something about you being a better cook or whatever.” He leaned on the car again, pulling out a fresh cigarette, he lit it.

“Oh so it’ll be you, your wife and the freeloader on the couch? One big happy family?” She was frankly really confused about the entire arrangement.

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right. I’ve never bought groceries a day in my life, and yet the fridge is always stocked. You’re the farthest thing from a freeloader, Stark. And besides, I’m not as big a dumbass as you think I am, you know? I’m not gonna make her move into my room that shares a wall with yours.”

“Then?” She asked, motioning him to pass the cigarette to her. She took a drag.

“I live in a mansion, you idiot. We’ll move into the master-bedroom, like God fucking intended I’ll turn my old room into my lab, which let’s be honest is already my lab, and we’ll be fine and dandy!” He took the offered cigarette from her hand and took a drag himself.

“Oh…”

“You really didn’t think I had a plan?” He asked with the smirk audible in his words.

She shook her head, “I thought moving out would be the kinder, smarter thing to do.”

“How?”

“I’d be done burdening you and it’d be less humiliating than you finding me a place as a way of politely telling me to fuck off,” she offered.

He looked at her again, “If after all these years you don’t already know that place is your home, then I have been doing something seriously wrong.” 

Somewhere behind them, up the hill on the road, a car was parked as the two passengers were yelling out their names from inside it. It was Jarvis and Maria, calling out to them. She and Howard had called them asking for help once they knew their car couldn’t be saved even with the joint acumen of both friends. 

They both turned at their names being yelled out. Looking back at the site of Maria waving at them, Howard’s head fell. “I really have been doing it wrong, haven’t I?”

She motioned for both of them to park the car and join them on the beach before turning to Howard. “You’ve been doing just fine.”

“I shouldn’t have lied to you about the experiments,” he stood up straighter. “If you want to move out because of all that shit, I understand. I’ll get you a place in New York, not too close but not too far either. And you don’t gotta worry about any furniture or any of that shit. I’ll get it sorted.” He turned over to Jarvis and Maria who were walking down the hill to them. “Hey Jarvis, what was the name of my realtor?” He shouted.

She punched him on the shoulder, hard.

“OWW! What was that for?”

“For betraying my trust and conducting experiments on my blood without my consent,” she told him, his face sobered instantly. So she punched him again.

“FUCK ME! WHAT WAS THAT FOR?”

“Thinking I cared for you so little that betraying me would change the fact that you’re my best friend.”

“What in God’s name are the two of you doing?” Maria asked as she and Jarvis finally came to stand in front of them.

“Oh I was just about to ask Stark if I can punch for thinking you and I were going to kick her out,” Howard told Maria while looking at her with a smirk.

“You’re welcome to try.” She told him.

But Maria intervened, “What kind of nonsense is that? Why the hell would you move out?” Her tone is so stern it throws her off. “You’re family.”

And just like that, it was settled.

Y/n was a Stark.

When she wakes up, all she can hear is Steve’s voice ringing in her ears.

‘Don’t bullshit me, Rogers! Did you know?’

‘Yes’

Her eyes couldn’t focus. Try as she might, her head is too heavy for her vision to be anything but blurry. Everything’s too heavy. She tries to stand, but the weight of her bones seem so foreign, she can barely flip herself onto her stomach.

But then, she hears something. The sound of a metal clashing into metal.

And a yelp. Tony’s yelp.

That’s a war cry. 

With whatever little strength she can muster up, she pushes herself off the ground. Stumbling across the hall, struggling to make her way through the  broken pieces of concrete, she gets to the end of the corridor, to the sight of her brother, on his knees, being tag teamed by Sergeant Barnes and Steve Rogers.

Suffice it, all hell breaks loose.

Her armor is up within the second.

Instantly she glitches in front of Tony, between the two super soldiers. Punching Barnes in the throat, her focus lands on Steve.

“Y/n,” Steve tries, stumbling back.

“Steve,” she speaks evenly, as she takes a step towards him.

“Y/n, he didn’t know,” his words are haphazard, confused. He keeps stepping back, trying to put distance between himself and her.

She’s not going to let him go that easily. “Uh-huh.”

“HYDRA had brainwashed him,” Steve says.

Her fists clench. 

“You know what that’s like, don’t you?”

And that—well, he shouldn’t have said that.

The first punch she throws lands straight on his jaw. She even hears it crack.

“Y/n,” he tries again, stumbling back.

“Talking part’s over, Rogers.” The second hit lands directly to his gut. He falls to his knees, she grabs his collar, dragging him upright, she hits him, and then hits him again, and again. As she’s going for another hit, a metal arm wraps around her wrist—halting her in the process.

Turning she faces Barnes. Knees him in the side, waits for him to recoil, for the hurt and lands a gorgeous uppercut. She grabs him by his shirt to keep him from falling. Pulling him back, she knees his other side, elbows him right to the face, once, twice, thrice before he blocks her.

He tries to land a hit to her side but she dodges easily. He’s using his right arm, instead of the metal one. It’s Barnes fighting her right now, not The Winter Soldier. She aims a kick to his temple but is blocked by Steve before she can land it. He pulls her by her leg, ready to throw her to the other side of the room only to get her off Barnes. He thinks she’s targeting him, that Barnes is her focus, the main subject of her anger.

He couldn’t be more wrong.

Mid motion of Steve yanking her off, she glitches out of his hand easily. She glitches in, less than a second later, only a couple steps ahead of him.

He yelps, shaking off his hand. The contact of his hand on her leg sent a bolt of electricity through his hand. She’s brimming with so much power right now, she’s kind of impressed with him still standing. He eyes her. She can see a confusion of determination and.. Fear.

It makes her a little cocky.

With a clenched jaw and a slight tilt of her head, she challenges both men to do their worst.

Steve attacks her from the left side, while Barnes takes her on from the right. It’s hubris at its best. Steve Rogers is holding back because he believes he’s stronger, he believes he might hurt her. Sergeant Barnes is afraid to even have the fight, he’s only fighting to protect his best friend. But otherwise, he’s ridden with guilt—guilt of killing Howard and Maria, guilt of all the people he killed when he was brainwashed by HYDRA, the guilt of torturing her relentlessly under HYDRA’s mind control. Barnes is fighting with his heart, not his head.

Both men have made the crucial and substantial error of pissing her off.

She reads their attacks easily, dodging most and letting Barnes hit Steve by just moving out of the way or using Steve’s momentum to land a punch on Barnes. Their fight pattern is old and boring, just like them. Barnes manages to land a hit to her leg, she gives it back to him two folds by wrapping her thighs around his throat and throwing him through the ground. Steve on the other hand barely manages to land a hit to her gut.

“Ugh!” She yells out, and the man halts instantly.

“Are you okay?” Steve asks, more out of habit than anything else.

Fucking idiot, she thinks, before kicking him straight in the chest. He stumbles back and falls on his ass. Furious at his naivete, he’s back on his feat instantly. With Barnes in toe, they jump back in on her.

But she sees them coming a mile away every single time—that’s the curse of fighting with your heart. It makes you predictable… if you know the person you’re up against.

There’s a hold, Steve’s shield against her punches, while the other hand’s occupied dodging attacks from Barnes. Steve looks at her then, right in the eyes before speaking between her punches, “Never thought you’d use it against me when I taught it to you.”

Belatedly, and only once the words leave Steve’s mouth does she realize that the move was his, he taught it to her on a sweet summery evening. They were covered in sweat and it felt sweeter than sin when one thing led to another and he’d tackled her to the ground for a completely different purpose altogether. She can practically feel her blood run cold.

The irony is, she would look back on this moment later and realise, that right now she’s doing the same fucking thing as the boys—fighting with her heart, with all the fire that’s burning inside of that small fragile little organ that her head doesn’t have a fucking chance against it. And unfortunately she doesn’t realize it until she makes the mistake of ignoring Barnes’ left arm. The metal arm.

Barnes lands blow right to her chest, the force of his super strength along with the metal fucking arm courtesy of HYDRA, sends her flying across the room. Her head hits the wall before she falls to the ground.

Her consciousness comes and goes, but she can swear she can hear Tony cursing at what she presumes are the offending party, Barnes and Rogers. But she can’t be too sure, the world seems to be slipping from her, like sand through her fingers.

“I know you always do, but I’ll say it just for my peace of mind—look out for Tony, will you?” Maria asked with such trepidation that one would think she genuinely was afraid the answer could ever possibly be anything except yes… AS IF. 

But Y/n just nodded.

Maria nodded as well and then looking back she placed a kiss on Tony’s cheek.  

“We’ll back by Monday morning,” Howard informed her, a little hesitant.

“Enjoy the fucking Bahamas,” Y/n had replied with a substantial amount of bitterness. She never appreciated it when they—more pointedly Howard—left Tony behind, so the bitterness came quite easily. And somehow it became the last thing she ever said to the two people who (along with Tony) constituted her entire family.

Her eyes open because of the sheer brightness of it. Her concussed brain cannot fathom what could possibly be radiating so much light. Until her eyes focus, then she sees it. Tony’s blast against Steve’s shield.

It breaks her heart. 

Then they’re fighting again. Steve’s falling heavy on Tony. With emotions running so high, she’s sure Tony’s not quite focused on his training. He’s probably relying on F.R.I.D.A.Y. to examine his fight patterns. She wants to help, but her head feels heavy, like there’s a leak in it. Stretching a hand with all her might, she touches the offending leak on the back of her head and apparently it really is a leak, because when she brings her hand back in front of her, it’s covered in red.

She looks around for Barnes then, suddenly very worried for Tony’s safety. She can’t protect him from both of them if she’s injured. But when she spots him lying on the ground, left shoulder armless and in ruins, all her fear fades away and she’s only left with pity.

When she looks back at Tony, he’s turned the tides. Steve’s on the floor on his knees in front of him.

“He's my friend,” she hears Steve say in between heavy breaths. But even on his feet with Tony looming over him, Steve Rogers sounds nothing but determined.

“So was I,” Tony replies… heartbroken.

Tony punches him again, then again and then throws him off to the side. “Stay down. Final warning,” he warns, blasters pointed at Steve.

Steve struggles to his feet, his face bloody and his gate weary. He raises his fists and stares Tony down, “I can do this all day.”

Iron man raises his left palm ready to fire. Bucky grabs his leg and Tony spins, kicking him in the face. Steve grabs Iron Man and lifts him over his head, then throws him down, punches him and bashes his mask off with his shield before striking down hard on the suit's core.Tony looks horrified and glowers fearfully at Steve who pants for breath. Both have blood spattered across their faces. Steve looks back at Tony then shuts his eyes and slumps down.

Later, much much later she’ll realize Steve had slammed the shield onto the arc reactor at the center of Tony’s suit on purpose. She doesn’t know that right now. Right now it’s too late, she sees red.

Slowly and then all at once the ground begins to shake. All three men are confused for a second until it clicks, for Barnes before either of her two favorite men in her life. Barnes is the one who looks to her for an explanation for what could very easily be a natural calamity. The other two follow eventually.

“Y/n,” Steve tries.

But like she’s already pointed out, it’s too fucking late. She’s radiating power, too much of it. Only when the men begin covering their eyes does she realize she’s radiating light, too much of it. She’s on her feet, levitating, inches above the ground.

“Doll,” Steve tries again. He shouldn’t have.

Her hands clench and the building begins shaking.

Steve takes a few steps towards her, with something akin to love in his eyes perhaps but she doesn’t much care for it now. “Doll, you gotta hear me out.”

“No…” she thinks aloud, “No I don’t.” She lets her hands go free, there’s a wave of energy that explodes from her, it's bright and it’s pink and it’s pure unadulterated power. The walls begin to crack, pieces of the structure begin to fall and all she can do is relish the horror in Steve’s eyes as the realization of her strength dawns on him.

The sky above them becomes more visible as the building and its miscellaneous parts fall away, and the sky is a soft shade of pink. She’s moving each and every part of their surroundings, even the clouds. They’re rubbing against each other, thunder crackling above them. There’s heat in her power, just as much as there is inside her. She’s burning with it, she wants to burn Steve with it as well.

How fucking dare he raise that shield against Tony? Against Howard’s son? After everything he did for Steve? After everything Tony did for Steve? After everything she did for him… after all her love?

How fucking dare he?

Her armor is up in a second and she hits the ground. Before Steve can even comprehend what’s happening, she manifests her blade, before he can register it, she’s shoving away Barnes who had stepped in to protect his best friend, before he can even react, her blade is glowing bright and pink inches from his eyes, already at his throat.

“Y/n,” Tony calls out, and his voice is the only thing between her and the death of Captain America at her hands.

It takes everything in her to not give in, to not slide her blade a little further, it’s already cutting in, drawing a drop of blood. She watches it trickle down onto his uniform. It breaks her heart, it breaks her apart. She loved this man, she loves this man, body and soul. She is his, even now. She doesn’t know how to not be his. She doesn’t know how to stop loving him, she is not sure she wants to, even now. But this is the cost of betrayal.

Barnes tries to step in, but he’s quite broken already. Moreover, he’s not her sinner. She glitches away with Steve only a couple steps away. Barnes is about to try again when she presses the blade further in, only by a millimeter but it draws more blood and Barnes backs down immediately. He looks to Tony, hopelessly.

“Y/n,” Tony begins. “Let him go.” His voice is broken and strained as it takes everything in him to get back on his feet. 

“Why?” She challenges. She’s raging, there’s so much inside her, so much brimming just under her skin, she’s electrified by it. The ground beneath her feet is shaking well enough that it’s cracking. They should be running, all of them should be running. Outside they can hear the structure crumbling to the ground, pieces of the building are falling all around them too.

“Because you love him, Y/n,” he tells her easily. There is no urgency in his voice, there is no fear either. He’s not worried about getting buried under the rubble, he’s not particularly worried about Steve either, she thinks. He’s speaking as if he’s just stating a fact, and a fact it is. “You love him so damn much.”

“So?” She watches Steve wince at her response, which wouldn’t throw her off all that much but he hadn’t even flinched when she’d first placed the blade against his throat. 

“So?” Tony throws back, his voice rumbling alongside the thundering clouds. It’ll begin raining any second now. “So it’ll kill you to kill him.”

“He deserves it,” she tells Tony, because he fucking does.

“I know,” Tony acquiesce. “But you don’t. It’ll break you, Y/n. And I can’t… I can’t lose you too….”

She knows he’s right. If she kills him right here, right now, and she could, she really fucking could, Tony would lose her because she well and truly loves this man more than she needs air to breathe. Because with every one of her responses she watches his heart break and while it felt like vengeance, her heart is aching knowing that she caused it.

What the fuck does that even mean? She wants him to hurt, like he’s hurt her but causing him pain hurts her more than it harms him so what even is the fucking point?

What in the fuck is the motherfucking point?

“Fuck!” She curses. 

She looks at Tony, covered in wounds and blood, who, just like her, is raging with anger only kept at bay out of reverence for her. He shakes his head. 

“FUCK!” She yells out, another wave of power pulsing out of her, breaking the entire foundation of the building at once. And then swiftly, she pushes Steve away and rushes over to her brother, shouldering his weight. 

Behind her, she hears Steve take a step towards her, but is stopped in his tracks when an entire staircase falls in front of him, blocking his path. It’s for the best. “Get out,” Tony tells him. “Get the fuck out of our lives, Rogers.” She doesn’t turn to look at Steve’s face at his words. She doesn’t want to know. 

Steve begins leaving, helping Barnes up and shouldering his weight. 

There’s rubble falling all around them when Tony calls out one last time. “That shield doesn't belong to you. My father made that shield!”

“You don't deserve it,” she says it only as a whisper but she knows he can hear it clear as day. 

Steve stops, raises his chin, then drops the shield and walks away with Bucky's arm around his shoulder.

Before the entire thing can collapse on their heads, Y/n glitches Tony and herself outside, near his jet.

It begins raining. It’s not supposed to rain this time of year in Siberia, but with the amount of energy Y/n has let escape into the sky, the clouds had very little say on the matter.

They sit there on the snow, under the rain and watch as the building crumbles to the ground. It’s a fucking mess. 

It’s silent but the animosity in the air is clear.

She knows he hates her right now and she can’t blame him all that much to be honest.

“You should have let me kill him,” she tells him.

Tony scoffs. “You should have let me kill Barnes.”

“Wasn’t his fucking fault he was brainwashed. He probably didn’t even remember till Zemo showed him the fucking tape. But Steve… he knew, and he lied to us.”

“You got great taste in men.”

Her jaw clenched, “You should have let me kill him then.”

“What would be the point?”

She doesn’t know the answer. But the terse tone of his voice is proof enough that a part of him blames her for it too. And well, he should. She could’ve done so much more about it all but instead she chose to fall for the man who lied to them about the death of their family. Of course he hates her. She hates herself.

Her phone chimes. Reluctantly she checks it. “Fuck,” she curses.

“Let me guess, in another 5 minutes I’m about to get a text from dear old Theadore about how he’s on his way ready to rain down hellfire?” Tony questions, clearly rhetorically. When she doesn’t respond, Tony clenches his jaw and says, “Get out of here, I’ll take care of it.”

“Tony,” she tries.

“Get out of here, Y/n!” Is all he says as he gets up and begins making his way inside his jet.

She stands there for a second, soaking in the rain, letting the snow beneath her feet burn her cold. And then she glitches away.

Read the next part here, Find the series masterlist here. Find other Static Verse works here.

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[aufberontrove]

Jayvik, Christian Linke, and the Discourse

Hey y’all, I’m breaking a bit from my usual type of post, but we’re still talking about Arcane, so it’s not too off-topic. I encourage anyone reading this to share their thoughts on anything I’m bringing up—or even to bring new ideas into the conversation. Just please, don’t harass anyone because of it.

Let me give some context first: I haven’t watched the full interview, and I might’ve spent way too much time on Twitter and Bluesky reading about this stuff. I still love Arcane, though. As someone who mostly posts Arcane content, I feel like I kind of have to respond to this, even if no one really cares.

About Jayvik:

Was there homoromantic subtext? Sure—if there wasn’t, people wouldn’t be shipping them this much. But to me, it feels like BBC Sherlock all over again: throwing in gay subtext without committing to it.

Honestly, there’s a simple way to handle this kind of situation: just say you didn’t intend for it to be read that way but can understand how people got that impression. That’s it. For some reason, though, Christian Linke doesn’t take that route—or at least, I haven’t seen him do so.

On Christian Linke

The main reason I’m writing this is to talk about Christian Linke, the co-creator of Arcane, who, apparently, is one of the worst people to disagree with on the internet. Let’s break it down by topic.

The Pitch

First, the quote he used. In this context, I could argue it’s okay to use the slur since it’s a quote, but you have to wonder: Why use that quote at all? There are so many other quotes to choose from, and he chose that one. It feels… weird.

As for the depiction of Zaun: maybe I’m misremembering, but the show doesn’t really lean into what he described in the pitch. The moral codes in Zaun seem pretty similar to those in Piltover. Sure, the chem-barons aren’t exactly moral, but neither is the Piltover council. Piltover is far from pure or righteous.

Let's talk about Viktor:

Apparently, Viktor is ace now. That kinda makes sense to me, but there was no hint of it in the show. It gives me “2007 Dumbledore is gay” vibes—except now it’s the German Twitch edition. And as many people have pointed out, gay asexual people exist too. So, framing it like this doesn’t really fix anything.

There’s also controversy about asexual disabled people, but I’m not comfortable commenting much on that since I’m neither disabled nor asexual. Still, it’s worth mentioning that people are discussing it. (Maybe this is related: Link 1 or Link 2).

Also apparently there is a joke from S1 that implies that he usually brings men to his room so yeah... so, there’s that.

Let's talk about Season 2:

Let’s just get this out of the way: Season 2 was rushed. That’s not really up for debate, and Christian himself confirmed it during Arcane Afterglow. The pacing feels weird in a lot of places. Was it entirely his fault? No, of course not. But certain moments, like “Timebomb” and the sex scene—even though I enjoyed at least one of them—feel like filler to either kill one of the main characters so you don't need to bother with them or cater to the majority of your audience.

Then there’s his cocky tweets and Reddit post.

Like, ok the show is good but I felt the same while watching Owl House, Avatar: Last Airbender, or anime like Koe no Katachi. I agree the fans aren’t owed anything, but the way he responds shows he has no PR training whatsoever.

If you have anything more share it with the class. I am closing Twitter because this discourse is killing my brain cells.

[ambiguous-avery]

Chasing Shadows, Part 3

Dean Winchester x OC fem!Touched!Reader/You | WC: 6647

Summary: She’s never been afraid of the dark, not really. She’s more concerned about getting lost in it. He’s haunted by every dark deed he’s ever done. It’s constantly nipping at his heels like a hell hound. He’s her light in the dark, and she’s the one bit of darkness he’s willing to embrace.

Tags/Warnings: No use of Y/N, canon-typical violence, eventual romance,  eventual smut,  fluff and angst, POV alternating (sometimes a little all over the place), no beta we die like men

Disclaimer: The base concept of Touched comes from @aylacavebear and is used with permission. I’ve taken creative liberties with it.

A/N: Well my silly little brain realized I made a slight mistake when copying and pasting stuff over to Tumblr for my previous chapter, and I missed an entire paragraph. Just in case, double check the very end of chapter two. There should be an additional paragraph between MC’s statement, “I need to find my place in the world, and I know it’s not here.” and Dean’s response. I hope you guys know how absolutely amazing it is to see familiar usernames pop into my notifications and knowing that you’re following along. Thank you so, so much!

You hadn’t really thought this all through before you acted. The realization that the hunt was complete and that the boys would likely leave soon had been so jarring that you just went with your knee jerk reaction and demanded to go along with them. If you were being entirely honest with yourself, you hadn’t expected them to let you. Dean and Sam seemed like they had a system, and there was a zero percent chance that you weren’t mucking with it. But you needed answers. Your curiosity demanded it. When they had agreed, you had quickly packed together a duffel bag of clothes, naively underestimating just what you had asked for.

When Sam explained it all in full, you balked. Their home base wasn’t local, and they spent a majority of their time on the road.

But it didn’t deter you. You had marched your happy ass back upstairs, – intending to pack a full suitcase – taken one step into your room, remembered that there was a dead vampire body in there, and turned right back around to let the boys take care of it. You didn’t let yourself think too much into how they were going to deal with it and instead spent the time downstairs compiling a list of things you would need to take with you. Watching them drive off with the body had been incredibly difficult. There was literally nothing stopping them from leaving for good, your request to go with them be damned. 

You had trusted Sam and Dean with your life the night prior. Surely this was something less drastic to trust them about. Even so, you had checked the window in the front room for the Impala in between packing. They stayed true to their word and came back for you. So there you were. Two hours into a thirteen hour road trip with two absolute strangers with nothing but what would fit into a suitcase. And you were thrilled.

“So does everything in lore and mythology actually exist?” You asked excitedly. You were seated in the back seat of the Impala, your suitcase on the bench beside you, though you had spent most of the trip leaning forward as far as the seat belt would allow and peppering the boys with question after question. 

“I wouldn’t say everything. But we’ve definitely seen our fair share of creatures.” Sam had humored you most of the trip so far. The man was practically a walking textbook, and you were a sponge for information. 

“Ooh, you said that demons are real. Does that mean angels are too?” You had pieced together generic mental images of some of the creatures Sam had talked about. Most of them were cartoonish in nature, and you wondered if angels were the mass of eyes and wings that you had seen renditions of in various art pieces. Sam nodded.

“You know,” Dean chimed in, “we got an angel buddy we can call on. I’ll bet’cha he’ll have an answer for you.” You saw him glance at you in the rear view mirror, and the lap belt securing you creaked as you drew closer to him.

“Wait, really? It could be that easy?” A grin split across your face. “Then what?”

“What do you mean ‘then what’? Then you have your answer. And you do whatever you’re gonna do with it,” Dean said with a shrug. Your smile faltered. Why did that possibility disappoint you? You had spent countless years searching for an answer, and now that it was potentially so close, it didn’t have the same luster as before. Getting an answer directly from an angel seemed so… anticlimactic. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

If you were being entirely honest with yourself, you weren’t wholly sure why it wasn’t as appealing. There was something about the mystery of it. The search for the answer seemed more thrilling than actually having it. Your abilities have made you feel special, unique. Something that made you stand out from the crowd, a trait that all the heroes in fantasy stories you grew up reading had. What if the angel took one look at you and told you he had seen countless others like you, and you were just another run-of-the-mill creature the Winchesters hadn’t named yet? Doctors misdiagnosed all the time. Who was to say experienced hunters didn’t misidentify? You chose to hold onto the glimmer of hope that maybe you were something special.

“I just… I don’t know. I feel like it's cheating, just having someone tell me who or what I am.” You knit your brows together, leaning back in your seat. Sam turned as best as he could in his seat, having easily picked up on the change in your demeanor. 

“He’s not always available. Besides, we don’t have to ask him. If you really feel like you have to work for it, we have an entire library of knowledge you can dig through," Dean said. That lifted your spirits. A library full of information about supernatural creatures once thought to only live in stories. You were going to have a field day there.

When Dean glanced in the rearview mirror some three hours after you and Sam had momentarily stopped nerding out over the subtle differences between a strigoi and a garden variety vampire, he found that you had fallen asleep in the back seat. You had slumped over the comically overstuffed suitcase you had shoved your life into before throwing caution to the wind and hopping on the road with them. Your keys were in your hand, the LED light attached to them flashing through its colors. The sight pulled a half-smile from him.

Saving people was a natural part of the family business. He had done it time and time again, oftentimes without the victim ever knowing they had been in danger in the first place. Even when the victim knew, a ‘thank you’ was all that the Winchesters would ever ask for. But you? When he had watched you step out from the shadows, tears streaking down your face, you had looked at him with something he had never seen directed his way. He’d seen appreciative looks meant for him before, and a woman’s fancying gaze was nothing new. But the look in your wide eyes had been something more akin to the look a damsel in distress would give to the main character as he saved her in one of the old Western movies Dean had watched before. Being regarded as a hero was new.

He knew that the things he and Sam did technically classified them both as the good guys, but Dean wouldn’t delude himself into believing that he was a good guy. There was far too much blood on his hands to be the one who wore the white hat. Dean had accepted that fact long ago, ingrained it into his very being. What was the saying? Something something, take nothing and leave only footprints? It would have to do for Dean. Take nothing from the world and leave fleeting memories of him in the minds of others.

He should’ve been upset. You had absolutely no idea what you were asking to be involved in. Hunting wasn’t something people just decided to get into. The 401k and dental benefits were severely lacking, and that wasn’t even considering all the occupational hazards that went along with it. More than anything, he should’ve been angrier with himself. Saying yes and allowing you to tag along was absolutely asinine in retrospect, but the feeling of your lips against his the night prior flashed to the forefront of his mind every time he thought about saying ‘no’ and taking back the decision. Dean was no stranger to kissing people, but he was used to fast, desperate kisses that led to wrinkled bed sheets and sweet nothings gasped into existence. Even though he could clearly see that you were into him – you were awful at hiding your lingering glances – there hadn’t been any of that push for more behind your actions. Kissing had always been a means to an end, but without the promise of sex, it became a destination in and of itself. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had kissed him without the expectation of being shown a good time.

By the fourth or fifth time Dean had glanced at you in the mirror, he caught a glimpse of Sam watching him from the passenger side. He quickly reigned his thoughts in and met Sam’s gaze, letting nonchalance smooth over his features.

“What’s up, Sammy?” he asked, trying to sound more upbeat than he actually felt. Sam’s expression told Dean that he wasn’t buying it. Working so closely with Sam for as long as he had was a double edged sword. No one in the world knew him as well as Sam did. While that meant he and Sam were like extensions of each other when on a hunt, it also meant that he could read Dean like a book. Dean pretended he couldn’t.

“You said yes.” There was an edge in Sam’s voice, and Dean recognized the ‘I’m about to call you out on your bullshit’ tone.

“I say yes to a lot of things. Burgers, beer, pie... pretty women.”

“Except you wouldn’t say yes to a pretty woman asking to become a hunter. Yet here we are.”

“She didn’t ask to be a hunter, Sam. She wanted answers. Big difference. One puts you face to face with some ugly sons of bitches. The most dangerous thing about a book is a paper cut. Or dying of boredom… but I can think of a few ways to keep that from happening.” Dean quirked his eyebrows suggestively. Sam grimaced.

“Gross.”

“You’re the one who went digging for the answers.”

“You know that’s not what I was getting at.” Dean didn’t respond, so Sam veered off into a slightly safer conversation route. “Okay, fine. Any thoughts about what she is?”

It was an obvious out, and Dean was all too happy to take it.

“Well she passed the big three, so that rules out a lot. There were family photos all over the house, and a crucifix hanging above the front door.” Dean took another glance in the rearview mirror, making sure you were still passed out. He dropped his voice. “Cas can give us better clarity later. She can hunt down her answer all she wants, but I’ll feel better knowing she’s not something Cas says we need to worry about.”

“Yeah, whatever you say, Dean,” Sam said, shaking his head with a disbelieving half-smile on his face. He knew Sam wasn’t buying it, but Dean was stubborn enough that, if he dug his heels in deep, Sam would eventually let it go.

You woke with one hell of a crick in your neck. Falling asleep on your suitcase had been a terrible mistake, and now you were going to pay for it for the next day, at least. You sat up and rolled your shoulders, working out the stiffness as best as you could.

“Morning, sleeping beauty.” You met Dean’s gaze in the rear view mirror, and you could see him grinning. You smiled back.

“Good morning,” you responded, taking a look out the window. You were no longer on the highway. Instead, it looked as though you guys were traveling through a small town, not unlike the one you grew up in. “Where are we?”

“Bumfuck nowhere, Kansas,” Dean said, “Sam might have found another case, and it’s on our way. Figured it couldn’t hurt to stop by and see if it’s something down our alley.” Your next breath was sharp.

“What are we hunting?” you asked quietly, all traces of drowsiness wiped clear from your system. Dean’s grin fell.

“We,” he motioned from himself to Sam, “are hunting a possible ghost. You are staying at the motel room we’re about to get.”

To make his point, Dean turned off the main road, pulling into the parking lot of a motel that sat across the street from a small diner and a pawn shop. You frowned.

“What do you mean? I can’t come with you guys?”

“Look,” Dean said your name and slung an arm across the back of the front bench of the car, twisting to look at you fully. “Sam and I have done this hundreds of times. You haven’t even been with us for a full 24 hours, and I’m not going to put you back in the middle of a case. You asked to come along so you could get answers. This doesn’t have anything to do with answers you’re looking for.” His tone held an air of finality that reminded you of the way your dad used to sound when he had made up his mind about something. You crossed your arms, likely looking as much like a kid as you felt at the moment. When you didn’t argue back, he got out of the car and went into the office.

You turned to Sam.

“Can’t you say something to him?” you asked, motioning to Dean’s retreating back. Sam shook his head, his long hair flopping a bit with the movement. Your frown deepened.

“He’s right. There’s too much that can go wrong even when it’s him and me on a case. You’ve seen firsthand that what we do is dangerous.”

“But wouldn’t it be better to have an extra set of eyes and ears on things? What if you interview people and you miss something they say? Or what if it’s a whole pack of vampires? Wouldn’t having more people be beneficial in that scenario?”

“Can you tell me the difference between a poltergeist and a banshee?” The sudden shift in the conversation caught you off guard, and your scowl quickly gave way to a confused look.

“What?”

“How do you get rid of a vengeful spirit? What can you do to slow it down?” Sam hit you with question after question, asking another before you could even begin to say ‘I don’t know.’ “You don’t know,” he said for you. “And that’s okay. We don’t expect you to. But on a case, there are things you need to know otherwise you put everyone at risk, including yourself.” As Sam explained his reasoning, he methodically stripped away every ounce of fight you had in your system until all you could do was nod dumbly in agreement with him. You didn’t like it, but it was a sound explanation. 

The three of you settled down into the motel room rather unceremoniously. You could see it in the way that they moved that they had a routine figured out. Dean tossed a duffel bag onto the bed Sam was sitting on, and you hadn’t missed the fact that there were only two beds in the room. On one hand, it would make the most sense for the two of them to share a bed and leave the other one for yourself. On the other, though, there was a solid part of you that was sure they were going to relegate you to the loveseat by the door. Both Winchesters were tall, and there was no way either of them were going to be able to get a good night’s rest on it. 

“Scoot over, Sammy. We’re back to sharing,” Dean grunted as he collapsed on the mattress next to the bag he had just thrown. Annoyance flashed across Sam’s face, and you saw him glance from Dean to you then back to Dean.

It would be a lie if you said you were only a little disappointed this hadn’t been a full on ‘only one bed and two of us’ cliche moment. You were fairly confident that Dean had some interest in you. The few times you had caught him looking at you in the car, he had met your gaze fearlessly and flashed that toothy smile that caused your stomach to flip. Every time. This wasn’t some Hallmark movie where a traveller came through and swept a small town girl off her feet. That sort of thing didn’t happen in real life. You had barely set your suitcase down beside the bed that had been unofficially dubbed yours before the boys were back on their feet.

“We’re gonna go do some investigating. Shouldn’t take us too long. We should be back around dinner time, and we can hit up that diner across the way,” Dean unzipped the bag he had set on the bed and passed a handgun over to you.

“You have both of our numbers, right?” Sam asked, double checking that his own phone was safely tucked away in his pocket. You nodded and took the firearm, noting that it was the same one you had been given before. 

“When we leave, you lock the deadbolt and stay here. You don’t let anyone in that isn’t me or Sam, and if you aren’t sure, you call. Got it?”

“What do you mean if I’m not sure?” You paused for a second. “Wait, nevermind. You’re talking about shapeshifters, aren’t you?”

The boys had left three hours ago, and you were running out of things to keep yourself occupied. The TV in the motel room didn’t have many channels, and the only thing worth watching on any of them were reruns of old sitcoms. There were only so many mind-numbing episodes of sitcoms you could stomach, and three hours of them were pushing it. You had dug through all the drawers in the room and had a notepad and golf pencil to show for your efforts. By hour four, you had had enough. The room was stifling, and you were sure that if you had spent any more time pacing, you were going to wear through the thin carpet. Between the lack of anything engaging in the room and the gnawing concern that maybe something bad had happened to Sam or Dean, you were ready to rip your hair out. You needed something to serve as a distraction.

The pawn shop’s neon ‘open’ sign across the way drew your eye when you peeked out the window. Sure, you had been told to stay put, but really, how much trouble could you get into going across the way? You tucked the handgun beneath the pillow of your assigned bed, took three steps towards the door, then stopped. How much danger did a ghost pose? Did it stick to one place? Or did it choose the people it latched onto or lashed out at? What were you even thinking? If it was a ghost, then you were in no more danger across the street than you were in the motel room. You wouldn’t be far, and it wouldn’t be for long. You were a big girl who could make her own decisions. You made sure to grab the room key on your way out.

The pawn shop was small and dingy, and the bars on the windows made it feel prison-like. There was a bell above the door that jingled when you walked in. The girl sitting behind the counter didn’t even bother looking up from the book she was reading, only making a small noise of acknowledgement as you walked by her. She was dressed from head to toe in black with several face piercings that you were sure would’ve been a bitch and a half to get. Honestly, she looked as bored as you felt. The shop was dead with only the two of you in it. There were only a handful of aisles in the shop which subsequently meant that you had meandered your way through them in no time. You went through for a second look, taking any chance you could get at spending time away from the motel room. The amount of junk that people pawned off was astounding. There were several power tools that looked like they would need a prayer to start working and far too many VHS players that people had likely gotten rid of with the advent of DVDs.

“Hey,” a voice caused you to freeze midway through reaching for a closed toolbox. You looked up to see the gal from behind the counter standing at the end of the aisle. 

“Uh... yeah?” you responded, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

“There’s something you might like over here,” she said, her tone deadpan. You stayed rooted to where you were standing for a moment. Something felt... off, but you couldn’t quite place your fingers on what might have been causing the feeling. The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end, and you briefly reprimanded yourself for leaving the gun back in the motel room. This was weird, too weird for your comfort. But despite it all feeling strange, it didn’t necessarily feel wrong. It would be easy to leave and book it across the way back to the room. Dean and Sam would never have any idea that you had left, and things would be fine. The worker’s face poked from around the shelf after a moment, expression still impassive. “Come on. I don’t bite, I promise.”

And that’s what did it, your honor. That’s what had you running across the parking lot and barricading yourself in the motel room, crappy wooden chair braced against the door knob and you huddling in the shower, gun in hand. You absolutely weren’t going to be another vampire’s meal, and the ghost wasn’t going to possess you without a fight. Could ghosts even possess people? Sam was right earlier. You really had no idea about anything in the realm of the supernatural. It was officially your new goal to learn anything and everything about every supernatural creature that you could. By the time you were done with the library they had promised you, you were going to be a goddamn encyclopedia. You lost track of how long you spent in the bathroom, ears straining for any hint that the girl across the way had followed after you. When you finally deemed it safe enough to step out from the shower, you brandished the gun, eyes sweeping across the room warily. Nothing seemed out of place. The chair was still tucked against the door, and the only sound in the room was the blood rushing in your ears.

This was fine. 

Everything was fine.

You took several deep breaths, centering yourself back in the moment. Okay. The question then became ‘how to tell the boys you might have found a lead without revealing that you left the room.’ You had the very distinct feeling that telling them you left wasn’t going to fly very well. Was there a lie that would sound believable enough? God, what if there wasn’t even anything going on with that girl, and she was just weird? Was this all just one big case of apophenia? Dean and Sam said they were hunting a ghost; what were the chances that you just happened to come across the thing? Logically, it didn’t make sense. But still, there was something about the place that you couldn’t shake. And your curiosity was clawing at you.

By the time the boys had come back to the room and shared their findings, you had devised the perfect plan to lead them to the possible ghost without ever letting on that you had ever stepped out of the room. To your dismay, they came back triumphant, talking about how the spirit had latched onto some ancient heirloom that was passed down in a family. When the last family member had died and given the heirloom to someone of a different bloodline, the spirit that stuck around to protect the initial family hadn’t been happy and instead killed whoever had the heirloom. It was a cut and dry case. They had destroyed the heirloom, and without it, the ghost had nothing to tether it to this realm. Your foot tapped impatiently as they spoke, pushing around the last few of your fries on your plate. You interspersed questions about ghosts here and there, slowly honing in on your theory. Only powerful ghosts could possess people, and it was very rare that a ghost possessing someone had good intentions. Could there be more than one ghost in the same town? It wasn’t impossible. Improbable, maybe. But still within the realm of possibilities. You weren’t willing to let your hunch go to waste so quickly.

“Can we go into the pawn shop next door?” you asked when the bill came around. Dean raised an eyebrow at you.

“Doubt they have anything good,” he said with a shrug as he tossed several bills onto the table.

“Please? I’ve been cooped up in the hotel room all day. I’m dying to spend some time outside of it,” you pressed, putting on your best puppy dog pout. Sam laughed.

“You two can go. After getting tossed around like a ragdoll, I need a hot shower and some sleep.” Sam brushed his hair out of his face and moved to stand up from the booth. Dean followed suit.

“Just what I need… someone else in my life who has puppy dog eyes as a weapon.” He snatched one of the fries you had left behind on your plate. “Let’s go see what kind of junk they have next door.”

As much as you had wanted Dean to walk into the pawn shop first, he kindly held the door for you and made a dramatic gesture of bowing as you walked past. “After you, princess.” You laughed and tamped down your nerves enough to place your hand on his head, briefly noting how deceptively soft his hair was, and pushed, forcing his bow to deepen.

“A real bow to royalty would expose your neck. It shows reverence,” you teased. He chuckled and turned his head enough to look at you.

“I always associated reverence with religion. I’m not a religious man, but I’d worship you if you asked.” You were pretty sure your eyes had doubled in size because wow that was a line if you had ever heard one. But also, how the hell he had delivered it in a way that didn’t make you cringe was truly a mystery. You didn’t have a response for him and instead continued into the pawn shop, warmed by the blush Dean had managed to color your cheeks with.

The same woman with piercings from earlier was seated behind the cash register again. She glanced up from her book, and you froze in place. The two of you made eye contact, but you didn’t see a hint of recognition in her eyes before she went back to the book she was reading. Despite that, you still felt on edge. Something about this place just didn’t feel... normal. Just like before, you couldn’t quite say that things felt wrong. 

“Does this place feel weird to you at all?” you asked quietly as Dean stepped into the shop behind you. 

“It’s a little musty, but you can’t really have high expectations for a small place like this,” he responded. He made a move to wander down an aisle, but you grabbed the sleeve of his jacket and tugged him in the opposite direction.

“Can... can we look over here?” you urged, pointing towards the glass jewelry case just to the right of the cashier. Maybe he just needed to get closer and his hunter senses would tingle. That was a thing, right? Definitely how those worked.

“Yeah, go for it, sweetheart. I’m gonna look over here,” he jut his thumb in the opposite direction you were hoping for. You had to suppress the frown that threatened to tug the corners of your mouth downwards. Of course he wouldn’t make this easy on you. 

You approached the jewelry case carefully, keeping the cashier in your peripheral vision. She seemed thoroughly engrossed in her book, though you weren’t ready to fully believe that she wasn’t secretly tracking you just above the pages. The jewelry case was only half full of various rings and necklaces neatly laid out for viewing. There were several commemorative coins and badges and a few knives in the case as well. Surprisingly though, none of the glittering pieces caught your eye. Instead, your gaze gravitated to a single dark pendant. You scooted closer to the side of the display case where the pendant hung. The thoughts of what the cashier might have been up to suddenly slipped from your mind as the necklace drew all of your attention to itself. 

Realistically, it wasn’t anything fancy and probably didn’t belong in the same case as the diamonds that sat next to it. It was a simple crescent moon shaped pendant that was a little smaller than a silver dollar. Silver wire was wrapped around it haphazardly, and it hung from a black, braided cord. The most interesting thing about it was that it appeared to have been chipped out from a solid piece of obsidian. You vaguely remember seeing someone at a museum forever and a day ago chipping away flakes of obsidian from a larger chunk to shape an arrowhead. This looked the same, right down to the edges that you were confident were sharp enough to leave a nasty cut if you grabbed it the wrong way. 

“Can I look at this?” you asked, momentarily forgetting all about your concerns of a possibly possessed cashier. Big mistake.

The cashier was already looking at you when you glanced at her to ask for the necklace in the case. There was a flicker of acknowledgement in her eyes, and a smile that looked entirely out of place on her crept over her features. Your hackles rose, and you spared the briefest moment of attention towards where Dean was hidden behind several shelves. If you screamed, surely he would get to you in time. You saw him tuck the handgun into the inside pocket of his jacket before dinner, so you weren’t entirely caught flatfooted. Well, he wasn’t. You, on the other hand, only had the silver pocket knife Dean had insisted you cut yourself with before he let you into the Impala. While it was better than nothing, you weren’t sure you wanted to get close enough to stab a ghost or whoever it might have possessed. 

The sound of the pendant clattering onto the glass case drew you from your thoughts. 

“This is what you were talking about, right?” the cashier asked in the same deadpan tone from earlier. You gave a single curt nod but didn’t move to touch the necklace. As if she had sensed your hesitation, the cashier took a step back, back pressed against the wall behind her. You moved slowly, half expecting her to lunge at you or screech or whatever it was that ghosts did to scare people. She didn’t budge, and as your fingertips brushed against the stone pendant, you were surprised to find that it was warm. Touching it immediately soothed your nerves, and while you were still consciously wary of your surroundings, the little voice in the back of your head that told you to run as far away as possible went quiet. Your shoulders relaxed, the tension falling away from them in large chunks the longer you held onto the moon.

“How much for it?” you asked, and when you looked at the cashier again, it seemed as though the stone’s calming effect extended to her as well. The strange smile that had split her face before was more serene and human-like. 

“Five bucks and we’ll call it even,” she said simply. You nodded, still unsettled by the entire situation. But if it were a bad situation, then Dean would’ve noticed it, right? Speaking of, you were about to turn and call out for him, wanting to know where he had gotten off to. There weren’t many places to hide in this small shop.

“What’d you find?” Dean popped up behind you, and you just about tossed the necklace into the air. You turned around to glare at him.

“Where did you go?”

“Wanted to see if they had any guns I was interested in. What have you got there?” He motioned to your hand, and you held it out to show him the necklace. Dean gave a small nod of acknowledgement, and you paid for the necklace, running a finger along the smooth surface of the moon all the while. You saw it when the cashier handed you the receipt for your purchase. Her movements, which up to that point had seemed almost stilted and awkward, evened out, and as you watched her grab her book and take a seat on the stool again, it looked like the most natural thing of all. She had gone back to ignoring you and Dean. It was fucking weird.

You stepped out of the pawn shop with Dean in tow, and you slipped your newly acquired necklace over your head. The pendant, which was still inexplicably warm, sat against your skin as you tucked it beneath your shirt. As soon as it was settled, the pendant suddenly hummed to life, vibrating gently for a few endless seconds before going quiet. 

“Dean, di–” Your vision went dark.

The Void was a familiar place to you. You didn’t know all of its intricacies, but deep down, you knew it like it was an extension of yourself. It wasn’t quite a friend, but it wasn’t an enemy either. The Void was just that – a void. A mass expanse of nothing that existed for reasons you couldn’t possibly fathom. And there was nothing there. Besides you.

And whatever that was.

Ahead of you was something you couldn’t find the words for. The Void was dark, lacking all light, but whatever you were looking at was somehow darker. If the Void was a shadow, then the thing was a negative space within the darkness. It had a vaguely humanoid shape, but the longer you stared and tried to make out a definitive shape, the more the edges of the nothingness shifted, eluding you. You swallowed hard. You hadn’t Walked into the shadows, and the only time you ever slipped into the Void by mistake was when you were sleeping and had a nightmare. Although you couldn’t make out an actual shape of whatever was in front of you, it lifted its head as though it had been hunched over with its back towards you.

It turned around, and although this other side of it was still as featureless as the first, you swore you could feel eyes on you. Its gaze pierced through you, seeing every building block that had put you together piece by piece. In that moment, you had the very distinct feeling that whatever this thing was could unmake you with little more than a thought. And it was a terrifying realization.

“Well, well, well... you aren’t supposed to be here.” The words resonated in your head. They were a whisper against your cheek. They were a song in your heart. They were everywhere and nowhere all at the same time. But most importantly, the Void didn’t eat them. The words were spoken in a voice you didn’t recognize, but it was distinctly feminine in nature. You couldn’t explain it, but you watched as the figure raised a finger to their lips. “Shh... we’re both breaking rules by being here.”

“Who are you?” Your voice sounded foreign, and you realized this was the first time you could hear in the Void. 

“That’s not the question you want to ask.” The voice’s tone was gentle but firm, like a teacher nudging a student in the direction of the correct answer.

“What are you?”

“Hmm... almost there but not quite. Give it one more try, won’t you, my dear?” 

“What am I?” The words left your lips before you realized you had even thought them.

The figure was suddenly right in front of you, invisible fingers pulling the crescent moon from beneath your shirt and unseen lips pressed against your forehead. You looked up, finding more nothingness in front of you but feeling the warm embrace of one arm wrapped around you.

“You are my Touched, and I bestow my blessing upon you.” The Void exploded, leaving you floating in a sea of stars that glittered like distant coins. It was a cloudless night, and you found yourself reaching out towards the only dark spot in the sky shaped like the crescent you wore around your neck.

“Hey, sweetheart? You in there?” Dean was snapping his fingers in front of your face. You jolted back into reality with a start, finding yourself standing just outside of the pawn shop. “You alright? Where’d you go?” Dean asked, and you watched as his eyes searched your face for any sign of... something. You weren’t sure what he was looking for.

“Yeah... sorry. Uh...” You tried running what had just happened through your head, but the harder you focused on it, the more it slipped away from you. “I wasn’t sure if I turned off the stove before I left home.” Dean laughed, your words placating him. 

“I’m pretty sure you checked everything about three times over before we left. I think it’s a safe bet that you’re okay.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”

The motel room was dark when Dean pushed the door open, and when he flicked the light on, he let out a low, exasperated groan.

“Oh come on!” When you stepped inside, you saw exactly what had drawn that kind of reaction from him. Sam had followed through on his plan for the evening. You could hear the bathroom fan still humming across the room, and Sam was collapsed in a heap on top of the blankets of the bed he and Dean were sharing. Supposed to be sharing. Sam had fallen asleep right in the middle of the bed. Whether that was on purpose or not was a different question, though. 

You wet your lips. Maybe there was a god and he had heard your unsaid prayers from earlier. With a heavy sigh, Dean grabbed his duffel bag from the bed and moved it to the small wooden chair in the room.

“Do you want help moving him?” you asked. Sam was tall and decently built – if the T-shirt clinging to his back muscles was anything to go by – but his height meant that his weight was likely more spread out. You certainly wouldn’t be able to lift him, but you were confident you could probably drag him a bit with Dean’s help.

“Nah, he took the brunt of the ghosts’s attention today. He deserves it. Just toss me one of the extra pillows; I’ll make do on the couch.” Even though his tone was nonchalant, there was a hint of something more beneath it. You remembered him mentioning that he was the older brother at some point during the car ride, and while you hadn’t ever had siblings growing up, you had friends that were practically family over the years. You would’ve given up the bed for them too if it meant they got to be comfortable.

A beat passed between you two as you grabbed a pillow from the second bed.

“There’s room in my bed,” you said before you could let your nerves get the better of you. “If you want,” you added hastily. Green eyes met yours, and your fingers unconsciously found the shape of the pendant beneath your shirt. It thrummed against your skin, and you felt your nervousness melt away as Dean spoke, his million-dollar smile lighting up the room more than the overhead lamp.

“You didn’t have to conspire with Sammy just to get me in your bed. All you had to do was ask, sweetheart.”

It felt good being God’s favorite.

---

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Part 2 --- Part 4

[burningvelvet]

I officially finished Pride and Prejudice yesterday! Some more rambles to add to the ongoing collection:

1 Learning that Wickham and Lydia are on the downward path I predicted is really satisfying for some reason. Just the image of the classic rake being forced to marry the unruly teen he had a fling with and then being forced to deal with the repercussions of his actions for the first time in his life — so good considering he seemingly believed he could partake in ruining her reputation and get away with it. And Lydia isn’t consciously suffering (although in reality, her prospects/reputation have indeed suffered) because she’s so oblivious to the misfortune around her that she thinks her life is much better than it is. It’s all just so true to life imo. Nothing is black-and-white. Every family has the worrisome trainwreck couple and these two are the perfect representation of that. Also, Wickham/Lydia give me major Byron/Claire Clairmont vibes (my fellow Romanticists iykyk).

2 Elizabeth’s conversation with Lady Catherine was so nerve-wracking. Elizabeth handled it so well, which surprised me. Toward the end of the novel I was getting a sense that Elizabeth had really come into her own self & seeing how expressive she became in comparison to some of the other women around her was very refreshing.

3 Elizabeth and Darcy’s long conversation while walking was actually cute, I can’t lie. I didn’t really find Darcy personally appealing at first, but he grew on me — which I’m aware was the intention — but due to the popularity of the romantic elements of the story in popular media and film adaptations, I was really surprised just how little Darcy and Elizabeth interacted if we take into account the entire length of the novel and how many actual conversations they had. It’s more realistic that way due to how things like travel, socializing, and marriage were conducted back then. I think for the sake of modern audiences and modern concepts of romance/etc., adaptations and maybe even fans themselves really overemphasize the romantic elements of the story. What I mean is that it is a love story, yes, but our concepts of love in the Anglosphere have changed a lot since Austen’s time. Adaptations reflect this change, although they also probably skew the reader’s reception of the original novel. Alternatively, the Georgian era was a bit more lively than we regularly think, which is seen by Wickham/Lydia’s rendezvous, and so we could also interpret the novel as containing more passion covertly hidden beneath the pages. There are a lot of ways to interpret the concepts of love/romance as shown in the novel.

4 Lydia is truly her mother’s daughter imo. I don’t have a thought-out argument to defend this opinion but it definitely showed that Lydia was her mother’s favorite and Elizabeth was her father’s favorite — and interestingly, they married two men who were enemies to each other, and diametrically opposed in personality. I think one of the biggest takeaways from the novel is that the Bennet parents were an ill-suited match and so their children are having this struggle of trying not to repeat the generational curse — in Lydia’s case she fails like her parents did, whereas Elizabeth and Jane manage well.

5 I routinely forgot that Mary Bennet existed. Like was she even in the novel or was I just zoning out every time she appeared? Lmao

6 Mr. Bennet sarcastically saying that he loves Wickham and Collins more than Darcy and Bingley because the former two amuse him more and give him free entertainment… same tbh!

7 It’s interesting how all the men and women function as foils for each other and represent various reactions to the system they live in. Mrs. Bennet, Mrs. Bingley, Lady Catherine, Mrs. Gardiner, are all interesting to compare to each other, and Mr. Collins, Mr. Bingley, Mr. Wickham, Mr. Darcy, Mr. Bennet, Mr. Gardiner are also in that way very neatly comparable.

8 I’m biased because I’ve studied Shakespeare but I really got a big Shakespeare vibe the entire time. I saw someone on here post that the novel may have been inspired by Much Ado specifically and I completely agree! I looked it up and there have been articles and academic papers writing about the influence of Shakespeare on Austen and P&P particularly, so we’re not alone here.

��� Overall, I’ve been pleasantly surprised to find that I enjoyed this book way more than I thought I would! If none of you have read it, or are only familiar with adaptations, definitely give it a try.

[blond3ang3l]

Cw// homophobia, internalized homophobia

Reiner hurt to comfort?/fluff for male readers<3

Your heart broke whenever Cowboy! Reiner cried. He was your world, your everything, the reason why you could stay home and do as you please because he got up everyday to work with his friends on their farm to make money. And now he’s sitting here breaking down in front them.

You were immediately worried and quickly called him over. He left Annie and Bert’s side to run over to the side of the fence you were on. You immediately wrapped your arms around him and without thinking twice he broke down in your arms. “Shh shh doll. Hey what’s goin on?” And the culprit for this was none other than his wretched family. You never got along with them. They treated Reiner like an outsider ever since his teen years when he was outed as gay by his ex friend. They were basically your opps and as long as you lived you were gonna be the bane of their existence.

You gently guided Reiner over to you guys shared home. Bringing him to the living room and letting him rest his head on your lap “Rei baby what happened?” He could barely speak as he sobbed in your lap. Reiner by no means was an emotional man. He knew how to take things well. But when he was upset that shit was major. This was one of those times. You knew he needed some time so you didn’t rush him to speak. Running your hand through his dirty blonde hair, using you thumb to caress right where his undercut started. “S’ okay Rei, take your time okay? M’ here. We got all night.”

He felt weak in the moment. He didn’t want you to sit here worrying about him. You were both grown as men he should be able to take care of himself. When his cries started to slow down he looked up at you. “They called again… I don’t know why I answered I just- I thought that they’d finally come around. But they really do hate me. Hate who I am.”

“What’d the say this time baby?”

“They disowned me…”

Your eyes widened in shock. Not because of what they did but because they did now of all times. You two were days away from getting married and now they chose to just act like he wasn’t their family anymore.

“Are you shittin me?”

“I just don’t understand how. Maybe they were right. Maybe it is something wrong with me. With this.”

“What? Rei what are you-?” Just by the look in his eyes you could tell what he meant. It was the same look he had when you to were kids and he used to say he wished you were a girl so he could like you. He was starting to doubt himself. This was the main reason you hated his family. They had such a shitty affect on him. They made him fear what he was. As if he was some type of monster. “Hey, look at me okay?” Reiner couldn’t bring himself to do it at first. He felt physically disgusted with himself in the moment. It wasn’t until he felt your warm hand pressed against his dirt covered cheek and tilted his head to let his gaze meet yours.

You were always so soft with him. He loved that so fucking much about you. You never hated him or yelled at him when he would start to revert to his self hatred ways. In his eyes he truly didn’t deserve you. You deserved a real man. One who wasn’t as fucked as him. “I just thought…maybe if I straight they would love me. I could be their son and not their disappointment. Why couldn’t they just be there for me? Am I really that bad to be around because of who I am?”

You could feel the tears well up in your eyes. Who could make their own child feel this way? “Reiner I want you to listen to me okay? I love you more than fucking anything in the world. You are the best fiancé any man could ever ask for ya hear me? And you were an even better son to them than they deserved. Never in any way do you deserve the treatment they give you.”

“But mayb-”

“No, no maybe Reiner. We are going to be husbands. You make me happy. When you were with your family you would come to my place in shambles because of how badly they treated you. But now look at you. You’re in a better place than any of them and they can see that and they just wanna hurt you in any way they can now.”

Reiner hated that you were right. You always were when it came to his family. He was so blinded by wanting to make his family proud of him that he was willing to tear himself down. But you never allowed him and god was he thankful for that.

“I don’t know how you put up with me doll.”

You chuckled as he sat up and pressed his lips against yours. “I love you rei okay?” “Mm, love you too baby.”

[hyperfixatedonthisnow]

Siren's call

*not my GIF I know, I know, I suck at titles, but I’ve come to accept this about myself and therefore so must you! Summary: A Siren and a privateer fall in love, but how will he react when he finally learns what she is? Requested by: Anonymous - Sturmhond/Nikolai finds out his girlfriend is a siren. How will that go? - Dearest anon, I am *so* sorry that this took me so long to put out. I fell down a bit of a rabbit hole researching Sirens and found your request so interesting that I honestly could have written much more. I started out with Sturmhond, then switched to Nikolai after reader learns his real name, and I went with Sirens as shape-shifting mermaids, rather than the Greek version of bird like creatures, mostly because it was easier to write in but also because birds freak me out a bit tbh, I’m hoping you don’t mind. Also there’s smut at the end, but if you don’t like that then feel free to stop reading when the kissing starts 😉 I realized way too late that I probably should have asked you for more details 🤦‍♀️ So I can only hope that this is something close to what you wanted! Word count: 7.5K ish - because much like our favorite prince/privateer, I prefer to use several words when one will do 😅

Warnings: NSFW - 18+ only. Mild peril, mild angst, a touch of fluff, minor OC’s who exist only to further the (minimal) plot, a very brief mention of non-con (but not with Nikolai), smut, fem!reader, P in V sex, semi-rough sex, marking, unprotected sex (not recommended in real life!)

You had been following the ship closely for weeks, watching the crew, learning their habits, and charting their course to figure out the best time to take them. Amalia preferred to wait until they were close to land, though it was easier and safer to simply lure them into open water out at sea. She liked the challenge, but more than that, she liked to be the last thing the men saw before they died. It made her feel powerful- to know how much they wanted her and could never have her.

If it was up to you, you would wait until nightfall and sing from a distance, letting your enchanting lullaby guide the men from their beds straight into a watery grave. You didn’t take pleasure in their deaths, even if you knew it was necessary. Unnatural your sisters teased, for a Siren to have such a soft heart. Amalia never joined in with the teasing, though you knew she didn’t really understand you either. Still, she indulged you by allowing you to act as scout, and that meant you could mostly narrow down the targets to pirates and slavers, offering the fishermen and other sailors some small semblance of protection.

Whenever possible, you would scout several ships at a time, so that you could choose the one you wanted and hopefully sway Amalia towards it when you returned to discuss your findings. Unfortunately, only one ship had passed through your waters in almost a month, and although you felt it was worth saving, there was no second option.

When you met with Amalia, you thought carefully about what you had found before you spoke, deciding on the major details you should share with her and filtering out your own more personal observations.

At first glance, it had seemed like a Pirate ship, but further investigation proved that it was not. The crew was an eclectic mix of men, women, and Grisha, of various ages and races. The captain - who went by the name Sturmhond and insisted he was not a pirate, but a privateer - was young, barely out of boyhood, and yet it was clear that he commanded their respect.

He ran a tight ship, but he always treated his crew warmly and he worked alongside them often, doing his fair share of the hard work. He was rarely angry and never cruel, as far as you could tell. At night the crew would gather on the deck to drink and play cards, and he usually joined them. He didn’t seem to think himself above their company as some captains would. You watched him dance and laugh along with the others, and when he lost at cards, he always took it in good humour.

In the conversations you had overheard, the captain’s responses were measured and kind, free from judgment or scorn. Although they carried an impressive arsenal of weapons, you had witnessed no violence from him, nor any of his crew. No prisoners taken, no poor souls forced to walk the plank, no slaves bound in the hull of his ship.

He spent most of his hours working on some flying contraption and after several failed tests, you saw his joy when it actually worked. He was a good man, you had concluded. Intelligent and funny, and handsome, too. You tried to imagine Amalia’s face if you admitted that last bit out loud - she would probably think you had taken leave of your senses completely.

You bit your lip, wondering how you could persuade her to spare them, to spare him.

“Actually, I was thinking… maybe we should… let this one go,” you suggested tentatively. Might as well just be direct.

Amalia stared at you as though you had grown an extra head. “Let them go?” She said after a moment, her nose scrunching in disgust. “You think these men should live?”

“They aren’t just men,” you rushed, trying to justify yourself. “There are women on the crew, and Grisha too.”

“And?” Amalia prompted.

“And, they don’t deserve to be punished for the sins of men,” you argued, “they’re innocent.”

Amalia rolled her eyes, “They’ve chosen to take up with a pirate, have they not?”

“Privateer,” you corrected, but the moment the word was out you wished you could call it back.

Amalia narrowed her eyes suspiciously at you. “Privateer?” She echoed.

“Yes?” You squeaked, and it sounded more like a question than an answer. You cleared your throat. “Yes. He’s not a pirate, he’s a privateer, and he’s a good man, Amalia. I’ve seen it.”

Amalia laughed, “There is no such thing as a good man,” she muttered, “They are all the same. Weak-minded, arrogant, selfish creatures. They live only for violence and destruction.”

“Not him,” you said firmly. “He’s not like the others.”

“He’s exactly like the others,” she snapped, “If you gave him the chance, he would kill you without a second thought.”

“No,” you argued, “You’re wrong about him. He’s smart and kind, and good. I swear it.”

She studied you for a long moment and you tried not to fidget under her disapproving gaze. Your cheeks felt hot, and you knew you were probably blushing.

“Oh, don’t tell me you’ve gone and fallen in love with him!” She exclaimed finally.

You said nothing, but your silence was answer enough. You looked away, pressing your lips together. It was out there now, no point in trying to deny it.

“Foolish girl,” Amalia said, shaking her head. “There is no future for you with him, surely you must see that?”

“Of course I do,” you whispered, blinking away the tears that threatened to spill over. “But I won’t watch him die Amalia. Not this one. I can’t.”

Amalia sighed, and then she surprised you by pulling you in to a tight hug.

“Please,” you begged, voice breaking.

“There’s a storm coming,” she murmured into your hair, “I suppose we could wait it out.”

“We could?” You questioned hopefully.

“If they can survive it, on their own, then we will leave them be. That’s the best I can do.”

Relief flooded through you, and you hugged Amalia tighter. “Thank you!” You cried.

She pulled back to look at you, her expression troubled. “I know you don’t want to believe it, but men are dangerous. All men. Even your privateer,” she said seriously, hands gripping your shoulders, “So if I do this, if I let him live, it is on the condition that you agree to stay away from him. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” you answered without hesitation. You would do anything to protect him.

“You must never see him again. Not ever. Promise me,” she insisted.

“I promise,” you said, the words bitter on your tongue.

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

The sea was rough, waves cresting 30ft high only to crash back down, as loud as thunder. You watched as the ship rose and fell along with them. You weren’t supposed to be here, had promised to stay away, but you couldn’t help yourself. You had to know that he would be ok. Amalia had agreed to wait until the storm had passed, but if the ship ran aground her small act of mercy wouldn’t matter.

You moved closer, letting the current sweep you towards the ship. It had to be taking on water, but so far, the crew seemed to be holding on. Once you were close enough, you watched them carefully. The Grisha who usually guided their sails spread his arms wide, fighting a losing battle against the ferocious winds. He was just a boy, and not nearly powerful enough to tame such a storm alone. A woman jumped from the lookout, rolling across the deck, and landing gracefully on her feet beside a tall man with similar features. They moved to secure the main sail, working in perfect tandem. A man in a teal coat ran from post to post, tightening the rigging and testing the knots before making his way to the helm to take the wheel. Sturmhond. His hair was plastered to his face, his clothes soaking wet. He took the wheel with both hands, pulling hard to the left, and though his expression was determined, you could sense his growing desperation.

The ship slowly began to turn, forcing the bow away from the storm. Trying to outrun it. For a moment it looked as though his plan might actually work, but then suddenly the ship listed dangerously starboard. Sturmhond struggled to right it, but it was too late. A wave crashed over the now tilted masts, snapping them clean away with a force that rolled the entire ship on to its side. It bobbed precariously for half a second, sailors clinging to the railings, before another wave hit, cracking the hull. If they weren’t taking on water before, they certainly were now. Finally, a voice called out, “ABANDON SHIP!” and the crew began leaping into the sea, frantically trying to escape the wreckage before it capsized completely.

Your eyes scanned the chaos, looking for Sturmhond. You found him clambering up one side of the railing, the ship already beginning to sink beneath his feet. He was looking around, searching for something. Checking all his crew had managed to get out. And then you saw it, at the same time he did - the Grisha crewman, hanging upside down, tangled in the remains of the rigging. The boy struggled, desperately trying to free himself, but he was stuck. Jump, you urged the privateer silently, leave him, but you already knew he wouldn’t. He turned away from the water and began climbing towards his crew mate instead. Stupid. He would never make it in time. The ship was sinking rapidly. In just a few precious seconds it would go under, and when it did, anyone still on it would be pulled under along with it.

You wanted to help him, but you knew you shouldn’t. You thought of your promise to Amalia. She would be furious if she found out you were here, even more so if you interfered. You hesitated, still watching from a safe distance as Sturmhond reached the Grisha with barely a moment to spare. He tugged a knife from his boot and cut the boy free, allowing him to drop safely into the water beneath them. The boy didn’t wait for his captain, he immediately began swimming away from the wreckage. But before Sturmhond could follow, another huge wave swept over the ship, dragging it - and him - underwater, just as you had predicted. He was going to drown.

You made a split-second decision, diving under the water to search for him. The weight of the sinking ship acted like a vacuum, sucking everything downward to the sea floor. You followed it down, but you couldn’t see him anywhere. Panic clawed at your chest. Had he made it to the surface by himself? You turned, ready to go back up, when a flash of teal and gold below you caught your eye. There. You dove back down, looping your arms under his and hauling him against you. He was limp, a heavy weight in your arms. You held him tight, swimming away from the wreckage and towards the surface as fast as you could.

When you reached the surface, you pulled him above the water line, working hard to keep you both afloat. His head lolled back on your shoulder and his eyes were closed. You weren’t sure if he was breathing, and you felt panic building again. You tried to ignore it as you headed for the shore, where you shifted quickly into human form. Once you had dragged him onto the wet sand, you laid him on his back and pressed your ear to his chest. There was no sound, no movement that suggested breathing. Maybe he swallowed too much water?

You turned his head to the side and then placed your hands over his stomach and pushed upwards, hard. Was that the right thing to do? You weren’t sure, but you thought you had seen it done before, once… maybe. Nothing happened. You tried again, and again… and again. Were you doing it wrong … or were you just too late? But then, suddenly, he was coughing up a lungful of water and gasping for breath as he came round. After a few moments he blinked his eyes open, finding you still leaning over him.

“Am I dead?” He mumbled.

“No,” you assured him. Thank the sea goddess! Overcome with emotion, you flung yourself at him, sobbing in relief. His arms closed around you hesitantly, though he surely thought you were insane - a perfect stranger, crying over him and hugging him without invitation.

The storm was over and the sea eerily still by the time the rest of his crew managed to make it to shore. You had calmed yourself, and Sturmhond was sitting up, chatting amiably with you, as if he hadn’t almost died mere minutes earlier. You learned that he had another ship, the Volkvolny, and he cheerfully informed you that really, the storm had done him a favour, because he hadn’t liked the other one all that much anyway. It was nothing short of a miracle that everyone had survived the wreckage with only minimal injuries, and that put them all in a remarkably good mood considering the circumstances. Sturmhond introduced you to the crew, and casually insisted you join them at the local tavern, to dry off and have a strong drink, or two.

As you got to your feet, you caught sight of Amalia at the far side of the shore. Too far away to really make out her features, but you could imagine the look of disappointment on her face. You had broken the promise you made her, and worse than that, here you were walking and talking with humans as though you were old friends. To top it all off, you had committed a cardinal sin amongst Sirens - you had saved a man’s life. You had chosen a man over your sisters, and no matter how much Amalia loved you, this was the one thing she could not forgive.

At the tavern, you quickly discovered that Sturmhond and his crew were a lively, friendly bunch. You were treated as the guest of honour since you had saved the captain’s life, and they welcomed you with open arms. So, when they planned to move to the Volkvolny, and asked if you wanted to come along, you agreed to go with them.

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

It was far easier than you would have expected for you to adjust to your new life aboard the Volkvolny. You found that you had watched enough Sailors over the years to pick up some of the basics and luckily you hit it off with Tamar, who quickly took you under her wing, teaching you the more advanced skills. You listened to endless hours of poetry readings from Tolya, and in exchange he offered to teach you how to fight. In fact, most of the crew accepted you readily. In truth, a lot of the men had just been so enthralled by your ethereal beauty that they were half in love with you at first sight, and the fact that you had saved their captain’s life had been enough to endear you to the rest.

All except for one woman, a young Grisha heartrender named Laila who seemed set on hating you no matter how hard you tried to befriend her. Tamar said it was jealousy - Laila wanted to be the captains favourite but he had never shown any interest in her, and now with you around, he likely never would. You tried not to let it bother you, but you were worried that she might sense something was different about you and early one morning she confirmed your fears when she cornered you in the galley, pushing you up against the wall.

“I’m on to you,” she hissed, “you’re hiding something and I’m going to figure out what it is.”

You played it cool, pretending you had no idea what she meant, and though you briefly considered throwing her overboard, you ultimately decided it was too risky. Instead, you did your best to avoid her at all times, at least as much as you could avoid someone living in such close proximity, and you became an expert at hiding in plain sight.

The bond you had formed with Sturmhond as a result of saving his life grew into a fully-fledged friendship, and then, into something sweeter. Over time, you found yourself sharing his bed as well as his company, and once he trusted you enough to reveal his true identity - Nikolai Lantsov, royal spare to the Ravkan throne - you were moved into the captain’s quarters permanently.

You missed Amalia and being on the sea everyday but never in it, was its own special kind of torture, but you had made your choice and you would do it all over again in a heartbeat. You would choose him, always, whatever the cost. So, you vowed never to use your power again, if it only meant you could keep this new life, if it meant you could keep him. But of course, nothing was ever that simple.

You had been on the Volkvolny for almost a year when it finally happened…

The crew were gathered in a loose circle on the lower deck, chatting and sharing several bottles of liquor, relaxing after a long day. You followed Nikolai down the steps to join them and when he took the only empty seat, you didn’t hesitate to drop yourself into his lap. A chorus of wolf whistles and hooting erupted from the crew around you.

“Perverts,” you muttered, giving them the middle finger and they all laughed.

Nikolai looped his arm around your waist, pulling you closer. You leaned against him, fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, content to just be close to him while the crew drank and talked around you. You joined the conversation only when spoken to directly and luckily no one noticed your contemplative mood, as they all got steadily drunker and rowdier as the night went on. At some point, someone started singing a sea shanty and one by one the rest of the crew joined in, happy and loud, and painfully off-key. You smiled and clapped along, but otherwise stayed quiet. Laila was watching you carefully from across the circle.

“You’re not singing,” she said suddenly, and you were sure you weren’t imagining the accusation in her tone.

“Oh, no one wants to hear my singing,” you laughed nervously, waving her off, “honestly I’m terrible.”

She narrowed her eyes at you. “You can’t be that bad. Come on, just sing a few lines,” she pushed.

You shifted uncomfortably on Nikolai’s lap. His hand tightened on your waist, and you knew he was listening. You struggled to think of another excuse. “I- umm…”

“Leave her alone,” Tamar interjected, and you flashed her a grateful smile for coming to your rescue. “She doesn’t have to sing if she doesn’t want to.”

“But she never wants to sing,” Laila muttered petulantly, “don’t you think that’s odd?”

“What’s odd is you insisting she does,” Nikolai said, an unmistakable edge to his voice. “Let it go Laila.”

Laila flushed at the reprimand. She reluctantly fell silent again, but she was glaring at the drink in her hands, her expression murderous. Silence stretched awkwardly for a few seconds, until Tolya thankfully broke it by producing a deck of cards and starting a game.

You declined to play, and as the cards were dealt you turned your attention away. Through the gaps in the railings, you could see the miles of deep blue sea that stretched all the way to the horizon, and you felt a familiar pull, calling you home. You closed your eyes as you inhaled deeply, letting the salty air fill your lungs. Home. You would never be truly at home here, on this ship, and that thought filled you with sadness. You thought of Amalia, and you wondered if she missed you, the way that you missed her.

You were pulled from your reverie by Nikolai shifting beneath you. He leaned over you to throw his cards down on the table, declaring he was bowing out of the game and then he sat back, pulling you further into his lap.

“Everything alright, my love?” He asked quietly, his lips brushing your ear. You pushed away your melancholy, turning your head so you could look at him.

“Yes,” you murmured, and you meant it. You wanted to be here, with him, no matter how much you might miss home.

“Thinking about how absurdly handsome I am?” He waggled his eyebrows at you, and you laughed.

“No, but I was thinking about you,” you admitted, “about how I ended up here.”

“Ah, so you’re thinking about the time you saved my life then. No wonder you looked so serious.”

“Which time?” You mused, teasing him, “There are so many, I think I’ve lost count.”

Nikolai gasped, all faux outrage. “Once.” He insisted, “It was one time.”

“If you say so,” you smiled indulgently as he leaned in to kiss you, slow and deep, his hand cupping your jaw. The whistling and jeering immediately started up again. You pulled away, rolling your eyes at the crew’s antics.

Nikolai sighed. “For Saints sake,” he grumbled, but he sounded more fond than angry.

When you looked up, Laila was glaring at you. She fixed a smile on her face as you met her gaze, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

“I’ve been thinking,” She said loudly, gaining everyone’s attention, “what exactly happened, the night you joined us? We’ve never heard your side of the story.”

Had she figured it out? You tried to keep your expression as neutral as possible, but you had stared at her for a beat too long, and now everyone was looking at you, waiting for your answer.

“There’s really not much to tell,” you said carefully.

“Don’t be so modest,” Laila said, her smile sharp, “you saved the Captain’s life after all, and I want to hear every detail.”

Your heart pounded. You should have pushed her overboard when you had the chance. As you tried to come up with a plausible story, the ship was suddenly engulfed in a thick fog.

After that, everything happened so quickly that you barely understood it. One moment you were sailing in open water, the night clear and still, and the next, you were dodging gunfire in near blindness, as men appeared from nowhere and swarmed the ship. The crew fought valiantly, but you were outnumbered and outmatched by a pair of the most powerful Grisha you had ever encountered. You had heard rumours about the drug jurda parem, and now it seemed you were seeing it’s effects first hand. All around you was chaos and you couldn’t keep track of anything. Before long, most of your crew were injured and eventually, all of them captured.

The fog dissipated as quickly as it had appeared, and then there was Nikolai - bleeding, gagged and bound - forced to his knees on the deck of his own ship.

A man grabbed you from behind, holding you against his body with an arm around your waist and a hand twisting painfully in your hair. Nikolai tried to call out as he caught sight of you and your captors laughed.

“Looks like we’ve found the captain’s whore,” one of the men chuckled.

The one holding you ran his hand up from your waist to roughly grab at your breast. You held perfectly still, you weren’t going to give these animals the satisfaction of a reaction, but Nikolai struggled against his bonds, and the man standing over him backhanded him hard across the face. He swayed on his knees, the force of the blow almost knocking him over, and blood trickled from the fresh wound at his temple. The men began talking amongst themselves, loudly detailing all the disgusting things they would enjoy doing to you later.

“Don’t worry,” Nikolai’s captor taunted him, “we’ll let you watch.”

Nikolai struggled again, cold rage clear in his eyes as the men laughed. For a brief moment, he managed to get to his feet, but that only gave his captor an excuse to hit him again, and again, until he slumped to the floor, and when you screamed in protest, the men laughed harder, enjoying your misery.

These men were going to die today, you decided, and you would not show them the mercy of a quick death.

You closed your eyes, took a deep breath, and started to sing. At first the men only looked at each other in confusion, but as your melody continued, they gradually fell under your spell, their eyes glazing over. You tried your best to focus only on them, but it wasn’t an exact science, so your crew also felt the effects. Conveniently, they were all bound and so had little chance of hurting themselves.

You concentrated on the Grisha first since they were the biggest threat, followed by the rest of the men. At your instruction, they turned as one, and forming an orderly line, walked to the side of the ship before binding their own hands and feet together. Then they clambered up onto the railing, and one by one, threw themselves into the water, like lemmings leaping off a cliff. You saved the man who had smacked Nikolai for last, and before he jumped, had him stab himself with his own blade several times, just for good measure.

Once the last man entered the water, you stood at the railing, feeling a perverse sense of satisfaction as you watched them trying, and failing, to fight against their bonds in an effort to return to you. You watched each one slowly begin to sink beneath the water, and only once you were sure there would be no chance that any of them might survive, did you stop singing and move away. When it was done, you set about releasing your crew from their bindings and tending to their wounds as best you could. They were groggy from the after-effects of your song, and it took some hours for everyone to fully come around. No one could really remember what had happened, and you pretended not to know either. You could only cross your fingers and hope that no one realized the truth of what you had done.

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

Nikolai was quiet in the aftermath, and though he put up a good front for the rest of the crew, you could tell he was shaken by what had happened. Once everyone was attended to, he announced he was going to his office and he took your hand, pulling you along with him. You followed him to the captain’s quarters in silence.

He let you enter first and you heard the soft click of the lock as he closed the door behind him. You perched yourself on the edge of his desk as you waited for him, but when he turned, he leaned back against the door instead of coming closer. His face was set, his eyes hard, and you knew that he had finally figured out your secret. Honestly, you were surprised it had taken him this long, you had always known it was only a matter of time. You watched him carefully, but you said nothing, waiting for him to speak first.

“You’re a Siren,” he said finally.

You nodded your head in answer, even though he hadn’t phrased it as a question. He stared at you for a long moment, and you could almost hear the cogs turning in his mind, mulling over the many questions he must have. Eventually he seemed to settle on one.

“How many innocent men have you killed?” He asked.

“Innocent?” You huffed, “None.”

He narrowed his eyes at you, “But you have lured men to their deaths, haven’t you?”

“I have.” You conceded. He knew what you were now, there was no reason to lie.

“So? How many?” He pressed. “You must have some idea.” He crossed his arms over his chest, closing himself off to you.

“I didn’t exactly keep a tally,” you muttered.

“Tell me,” He demanded, “Dozens? Hundreds? Thousands?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted, suddenly unable to meet his gaze, “I can’t remember them all.”

“Those men had lives and families,” he said, outraged, “they were someone’s father, brother, son, and you don’t even remember them?!”

You felt your own temper beginning to rise and you struggled to keep your voice even. “They were Slavers. Murderers and Pirates. They were the worst kind of men.”

“You don’t know that!” He argued, “What right did you have to judge them?”

“I’m a Siren,” you reminded him, “It’s what I was born to do. I followed them first, watched them, saw what kind of men they were with my own eyes. I only ever took the bad ones.”

He shook his head in disbelief. “So now you expect me to believe Sirens follow some kind of moral code?”

“Not all Sirens, but I expect you to believe that I do.”

“How am I to believe anything you say” he scoffed, “You’ve been lying to me since the day we met.”

“I didn’t lie to you, not really. Everything I told you about myself was true. I just omitted one small detail.”

He laughed, but there was no humour in it. “I think we have a vastly different understanding of the word small,” he muttered, “and a lie by omission is still a lie.”

He wasn’t wrong, but … “You lied to me too, Sturmhond.”

He straightened, no longer leaning against the door, but still kept the distance between you. “That’s hardly the same!” He protested.

“Isn’t it?”

“Not at all,” he huffed, “besides, I told you the truth once I thought I could trust you. Although clearly, I was mistaken.”

“You can trust me,” you insisted. “In case you’ve forgotten, I saved your life - twice. You’re welcome, by the way!”

He didn’t look convinced. “That first night, when you rescued me, were you watching the ship? Just waiting for an opportunity to kill us all?”

“No! I mean, yes - I watched you for a while, but I was never going to lure you. I convinced my sister to let you go,” you rushed, desperately trying to explain, “I promised to stay away from you and in return Amalia agreed that they wouldn’t go after you, if you survived the storm on your own.”

“But we didn’t,” he said, brow furrowed in confusion. “The ship sank and I almost drowned.”

“I remember. I was there when the storm hit. I saw you save the boy who was trapped in the rigging, and when you went under, I came after you.”

“I don’t understand. If you promised to stay away from me then why were you there?” He asked, frown deepening.

“I just needed to be know you would be alright,” you admitted softly, “I wasn’t supposed to help you.”

“I don’t suppose many Sirens would go out of their way to save a man from drowning,” he said, mouth curving into a wry smile.

“No. It goes against their nature. But you decided to act the hero and almost got yourself killed in the process,” you muttered angrily, “so I had to choose, and I chose you, even though I knew my sisters would never forgive me.”

“So, you really did save my life? That was real?”

“Yes. Everything between us has been real for me, I swear it,” you said earnestly, “I gave up everything for you.”

He moved towards you then, coming to stand over you where you were still sitting on the edge of his desk, and you widened your thighs to allow him in between them. He was so close that you had to tilt your head back to look at him. You closed your hands in to fists, fighting the urge to reach for him.

“And tonight?” He asked, “Did you kill those men?”

You could have lied, or pretended not to remember what happened, but you didn’t want there to be anymore secrets between you. “I did,” you confessed, meeting his eyes. You weren’t ashamed of what you had done. “and I would do it again if I had to. They would have killed you.”

“You’re not sorry,” he said, and you wondered if he wanted you to be.You thought about it for a moment, but when you closed your eyes, you could still see him on his knees. No. You weren’t sorry at all.

“They got what they deserved,” you hissed, “and the world is a better place without them in it.”

He gave a short, sharp nod of his head in agreement, and you smiled. Whatever he thought of you, he understood this at least.

“Tell me why,” he said, lifting a hand to brush your hair back from your face. “Why did you save me?”

“Because I love you,” you answered honestly, leaning into his touch when his hand lingered. “I loved you then and I love you now, even if you don’t feel the same.”

He dropped his hand, taking a single step back and you had to stop yourself from swaying forward, chasing the physical connection.

“How do I know that my feelings for you are truly my own? That you’re not influencing me somehow?”

“In what way?”

“I don’t know,” he said, “by using your Siren powers to manipulate me? To seduce me? How do I know you’re not just making me think I’m in love with you.”

“Are you?” You asked hopefully, “In love with me?”

He looked away. “Maybe,” he hedged.

“Well, Siren power doesn’t work that way. My song inspires lust-addled obsession, blind desire, unwavering obedience - not love.”

He stared at you for what felt like an eternity, considering your answer. He worried his bottom lip between his teeth as he studied you, and suddenly all you could think about was how much you wanted to kiss him.

“Okay.” He said finally. He stepped closer, into your personal space again, but frustratingly kept his hands to himself.

“Okay?”

“Yes. I believe you,” he said, “but you still should have told me. I had the right to know that the woman I’m sleeping with, the woman I fell in love with is a-“

“A monster?” You finished for him. You knew what men thought of creatures like you.

He glared at you. “Don’t put words in my mouth.”

“That’s not what you were going to say?” You asked, feigning innocence.

“No.” He said firmly.

“Mmm,” you hummed skeptically. “So you’re not afraid of me?”

He blinked at you, as though the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. “Should I be?”

“Well, a little bit couldn’t hurt,” you teased.

He shook his head exasperatedly, but he was smiling now, that perfect crooked smile that never failed to make your heart skip a beat. He put his hands around your waist, finally, pulling you into him and you fisted your hands in his shirt to keep him there. He lowered his head at the same time that you tilted yours up, and your lips ghosted over each other, close enough to share a breath but not quite touching.

“I have one last question,” he said, and you bit back a sigh. For saints sake, what else could he possibly want to know?

“Have you ever used your power to seduce me?”

You squinted at him, trying to decide if he was saying you might need to use your power to seduce him. You felt a flush of annoyance at the suggestion. “No,” you said carefully, “should I?”

He shook his head, no. “I already want you,” he admitted.

“Good,” you smiled, “because I want you too. All the time.”

The corner of his mouth tipped up into a pleased little smirk. “Yeah?”

“Mmhmm,” you hummed, leaning into him, and this time he kissed you for real, his lips soft but insistent against your own, not pulling away until you were both breathless.

“I’m still angry with you,” he said, when he finally succumbed to the need for air, “for lying to me.”

“I’m sorry,” you murmured, and you meant it.

“I know,” he said and then he dipped his head to kiss you again.

He brought his hand up to cup your face, the other still gripping your waist as you opened your mouth to him. He took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, tangling his tongue with your own and every time you pulled back, he only allowed you to draw a single, ragged breath before he claimed your lips again.

One of his hands ran up your side from your waist, until his thumb grazed the swell of your breast over the thin cotton of your shirt, and you shivered, leaning into his touch. You could feel his growing arousal against your thigh, and you were suddenly overwhelmed by the need to feel his bare skin against your own. You tugged his shirt free from his breeches, pulling it up and off over his head before he could protest.

He immediately slanted his mouth over yours again, as if he couldn’t bear to be parted from you for more than a few seconds, and you let your hands roam over his broad shoulders and chest, before you worked on removing your own shirt. Your fingers slipped over the small buttons, and you growled in frustration, breaking away from his kiss so that you could see what you were doing. He made a sound of irritation, ducking his head to nip lightly at the curve of your neck and you gasped, your shirt momentarily forgotten as you grabbed a fistful of his hair instead. He groaned low in his throat when you pulled him closer rather than pushing him away, and he nipped at you again, teeth grazing your pulse point, this time hard enough to leave a mark. You moaned as his tongue flicked out to sooth the sting and you felt his lips turn up into a self-satisfied smirk against your skin.

When you finally succeeded in unbuttoning your shirt, you reached around your back to unhook your bra and removed that along with it, and then you dropped your hands to the laces of his breeches before he could distract you again. He finally realized your goal then, and began to help, rather than hinder you, pushing his breeches and underwear down to his ankles so that he could kick them away. You stood so that you could do the same and once you were both naked, he lifted you back up, so you were sitting on the edge of his desk again.

You leaned back on your hands, and he dipped his head, capturing one pebbled nipple with his tongue. You arched your back, pushing your breast further into his mouth as his fingers skated along your inner thigh towards your centre. He gave a small grunt of satisfaction when he found you slick and ready for him and you threaded your fingers through his hair, tugging him upwards until he released your nipple with a soft pop.

He slipped two fingers inside you easily, and when you clenched around him, he let out a distinctly strangled sound. You met his gaze as you sat up, so you could hook your legs around his thighs, locking your ankles behind his ass to keep him there, and you enjoyed the way his eyes fluttered closed and his breath hitched as his cock settled between your thighs, so close to where you wanted him. You tilted your hips up, and he took the hint, guiding himself into place and filling you completely with one quick, hard thrust that had you crying out.

You clutched at him desperately, barely able to do anything but hold on as he set a punishing pace, driving his hips forward fast and hard, only to retreat, again, and again, until you were both panting. His hands gripped your hips so hard that you knew there would be finger shaped bruises there tomorrow. The desk creaked loudly, almost drowning out your mutual sounds of pleasure, the sturdy wooden frame rocking beneath you with the force of his thrusts.

His face was buried in your neck, and you tugged impatiently on his hair as you felt the first tendrils of your impending orgasm began to creep up your spine, until he lifted his head so that you could capture his mouth with yours. He slipped his hand between your bodies as he felt you tightening around him, his clever fingers finding your clit and tipping you over the edge into climax with just a few precise movements. You cried out his name, convulsing around him as you came, your hand tightening in his hair so hard that it must have been painful, and you felt his rhythm falter. He thrust harder, pushing as deep as he could possibly go, once, twice, three times, then he stilled and shuddered, spilling himself inside you.

You all but collapsed against each other, both boneless and breathing heavily in the aftermath of your orgasms. He was the first to recover, and he pressed a sloppy kiss to your temple as he straightened, retreating from your body. He moved over to the basin near the bed, dipping a clean cloth into the water and wringing it out before returning. His hands were gentle, in stark contrast to how rough he had been minutes before and you tried not to wince as he carefully cleaned away the sticky remnants of your shared release, but his observant eyes caught it anyway. He pressed a finger under your chin to gently tilt your head up.

“Did I hurt you?” He asked, face creased in concern.

“No,” you answered, much too quickly.

He raised his eyebrows at you, his expression disbelieving.

“I’m a little bit sore,” you reluctantly admitted.

His face dropped into a scowl, and you knew he was angry at himself for being so rough with you.

“I’m ok,” you assured him, brushing your fingers across his forehead to smooth away his frown.

He searched your face, looking for any sign that you might not be telling the truth and you met his gaze, your expression loving and completely open. He rested his forehead against yours, peering down at you through his lashes.

“Don’t lie to me,” he said after a moment, and you knew he wasn’t just talking about right now.

“Never again,” you promised.

“Okay.” He said softly.

He leaned in to kiss you, sweet and chaste, just a slow glide of his lips over yours before pulling back to slide one arm underneath you and the other around your back. You squealed as he scooped you up, bridal style, so that he could carry you over to the bed. He pulled back the covers with one hand and then lowered you down and crawled in beside you, immediately curling his body around you.

You tried to relax into his embrace, but you couldn’t, not when there was still so much you needed to talk about. You were afraid to bring it up, too scared to hear him say that this was the last time you could be together, so you waited until his breathing began to even out and he was almost asleep before you forced yourself to speak.

“What happens now?” You asked quietly.

“Huh?” He mumbled sleepily.

“With us,” you elaborated, “do you want me to leave?”

“What? No.” He said, suddenly sounding much more alert, “Of course not.”

He rolled on to his back and you turned to face him, propping yourself up on your elbow so that you could look at him.

“What will you tell the crew?”

“Nothing,” he said simply, and though you should have been relieved, you only felt more anxious.

“But Laila is already suspicious,” you pointed out, “and Tolya and Tamar are too sharp not to figure it out eventually.”

“Then we’ll tell them the truth.”

“They won’t want me on this ship when they find out what I am, Nikolai.”

“Last time I checked, I was the captain,” he smirked, “I decide who I do, and don’t allow on my own ship.”

“Don’t be stupid, it doesn’t suit you,” you grumbled, “You’ll end up with a mutiny on your hands.”

“Then we’ll leave,” he said easily, as if it was the most obvious solution.

“Leave?” You repeated, not sure you had understood.

He shrugged, seemingly completely unbothered by the idea. “I was always going to have to go home eventually.”

“You can’t just leave. You love this ship!” You protested.

“I do,” he said, turning on his side so that you were face to face, “but I love you more. It’s my turn to give something up. If it comes down to it, I’ll choose you, always.”

Your heart stuttered in your chest. Hadn’t you just been thinking that very same thought earlier? He leaned in to kiss you, slow and achingly sweet, and all of your protests died on your tongue. He nudged you gently to turn over, pulling you back against him and wrapping his arm around you, so that you could be the little spoon as you finally went to sleep.

[caramelstarlight]

So like this isn't specific but what about certain stoic genshin men with a reader whoa incredibly bubbly and happy all the time.

"Someone is going to die."

"Of fun!"

Yk?

sorry for not doing anything the past week and two (haha two.)

(FUTURE ME BY LIKE 2 MINS I FORGOT THE ✅/⭐️ Your prayer is accepted friendo) (other two in progresss.)

I was going to animate the “Hey Two!” Video bc I am a fan of bfdi. (Have been ever since I was little!)

But don’t worry everything will be out today and tomorrow! (Most likely.)

if you follow me on wattpad you would’ve saw the post I put 3 days ago most likely. There’s also 6 options for me to animate on there! Feel free to look at my acc and vote. (You can also vote for one by sending a message.)

Also holy so many frames 😭

I forgot Diluc existed sorry :d

cough cough Two worlds one heart next part tomorrow cough cough (aka part 4)

*cough cough ignore that it’s coming Friday bc I forgot about picture taking cough cough*

Stoic x Bubbly

(Alhaitham, Xiao, Wanderer, Cyno (in work mode) Tighnari (He’s stoic when he’s working like Cyno) I forgot Diluc existed mb.

And my limit for requests is 4 and I decided to add Tighnari bc I realized it. (No more than 4) (No part two. Sorry for those who thought Diluc would be here :d)

under cut r the stories. : D

Alhaitham

“Alhaitham” you said as he read his book forgetting about the noise canceling stuff he had. You continued to call out his name as kaveh watched. Softly laughing at you.

Alhaitham sent a glare towards kaveh and his gaze went back towards his book. “Alhaitham isn’t fun.” He pouted as you nodded. Eventually leaving his side to go outside with kaveh. Trying to bait him into becoming more fun.

“Kaveh I don’t think this will work.” “It might but prob not.” He replied as you both waited. He didn’t come out soon and you both came up with another idea. “We should make him mad about something…”

“Like Tighnari at cynos jokes?” “Exactly. I know you make him mad but maybe it should be something about knowledge?” “Wh-hey!” He bonked you on the head as you hit him lightly. “You do have a point though.” Kaveh said afterwards.

“Where would we find a dummy in all of sumeru?” You asked knowing majority of sumeru are smart fellows.

“We just need to get lucky.” “Maybe you should try make him mad again.” “Whyyy?!” “Because you make him mad numbskull!” Hitting him again lightly as he thought about it.

“I heard you two were trying to make me mad?” You both jumped slightly as both of you turned your head to see Alhaitham. Both of you becoming nervous by the second.

“I uhhmm.” You said trying to come up with an answer that wouldn’t sound stupid to him. His gaze turned to kaveh shortly after.

“Well I accept your challenge.” “Wait what?!”

“Someone is going to die.” Both of you panicked becoming more confused.

“Of fun?” You thought out loud as he nodded. Both of you partying slightly. Finally doing something other than work and reading.

Xiao (During lantern rite)

“Xiao!” You called as he appeared by your side. Sitting at a table with Zhongli and a few adepti. His eyes widened in surprise as he quickly composed himself and sat next to Zhongli.

Playing a few games to pass the time after having lunch with everyone. Xiao managed to smile and become more happier.

When it was time to play tag (yes tag.) he was not like his usual self but still tried. “Someone is going to die.” He said as a joke. Watching people be tagged from a distance. He though someone might fall and trip.

“Of fun!” You said afterwards. Tagging yaoyao as you ran away. Watching her touch xiao as she ran. He was caught off guard and teleported to someone randomly touching cloud retainer.

“Why must one be touched for a silly game?” She said as she used her beak to touch mountain shaper. He stayed silent and ran after Moon carver.

Xiao returned to yours and Zhongli s side as you started to lose the adrenaline in your heart. Drinking water as you watched them all finish.

Wanderer

(HAHHAHAHAHHAHA MY SISTER LOST HER 50/50 TO MONAAA) (I have won none of my 50/50s *crying* (I’m serious all 5 that I had I LOST, 3 to qiqi once to Mona and once to jean. Keqing was on standard)

He watched you come inside not expecting you to be crying. He rushed to your side and asked why and who (or what) caused it.

“Someone almost poisoned me…” You told him. “And do you know who? I’ll gladly make them cry louder than you and regret their life.” (Get it?????? I’m not funny :D) “what-?” “Nothing.”

“Someone is going to die today Y/N. Just tell me their name.” “Of fun right wanderer…?” It stayed silent for a few moments as you became more nervous then sad.

“Of fun right?” You asked again clasping your hands together worrying for the person who did it to you. “Let’s put it that way…” he said as he asked you. Looking for that individual after he spent some time with you.

He was always so interested in how you were always trying to see positive sides of anything. He has witnessed cruel and unjust acts and behavior.

Cyno

“Do you wanna pull a prank on them?” Someone asked gesturing to you. “Dude are you crazy?? Almost anyone and you choose them??!” They said calming down as they drank their water after the spat it out.

“What’s wrong with them?” They asked kind of nervous of them freaking out. “That’s the General Mahamatras Partner! AKA Cyno.” Cyno listened closely as he strained his ears. Behind a wall as you talked to a friend. Unknowingly cyno was going to pull a prank on them in return.

“Pssht! He’s prob on a mission it’s not like he’s hearing us right now.” “I guess you’re right but be careful.” They replied as they began to talk. Cynos prank wasn’t going to be good but it would jump them. That’s how pranks are.

They pulled the prank and scare you from behind. Telling how they got you good. Before you smirked and stocked your tongue out. Cyno was right behind them with his usual cold gaze and activated spirit. (Basically his idol animation, the one with the polearm)

“Someone will perish for their actions against Y/N.” They both froze up and turned slightly scared and worried. “Of fun!” You perked in. They both got caught off guard as cyno laughed off the joke before giving both of them a slight cut on their bodies.

“Run.” You suggested as cyno chased them away. Coming back toward you after he had his fun. “That’s fun to you? Chasing innocent beings cyno?” You asked jokingly. “Yes. Think of it as tag but it doesn’t end as quickly as tag does.”

“Fair enough.”

Tighnari

“I swear I am going insane if one more person consumes a fungi that’s poisonous or has dangerous side effects.” Tighnari stated as you tried to calm the agitated fennec down.

“Nari it will be okay. On the bright side it teaches not too and can help you improve on your methods of healing them.” You watched as his ears and tail perked up slightly motivated him. His tail wagged slowly as he stopped his rant.

“Someone will die.” He said and caught you off guard. “What-?! Of fun I hope!” You said as he nodded. “I’m going insane I need some days offff.” He told you as he buried his face into the pillow on the couch.

“Don’t worry the others can take at least 2 or 3 days off I’m sure of it!” You played with his ears as he felt calmer. “Thank you…” He got up and sat next to you. Waiting for your hand. You placed it on his head as he melted into your touch. His tail swishing ecstatically. Finally getting a well deserved break.

You scratched behind his ears as he spoke. “I really needed this.” Beginning to become sleepy due to the amount of comfort. Soon after you heard light snores.

Laughing to yourself as you got up and gave him a blanket. Going to go help the others with their tasks and to tell them what would be planned.

(I need a two plush. Omg it looks amazing. My birthday is in November tho 😭)

[girltigerclaw]

breaking into ur house rn

top ten characters and bottom ten. reasons are optional

I just finished this chart thing i think i actually stole from your blog a few months ago <3 Slightly edited to my own prefs.

If anyone wants the template check the reblogs, and feel free to add you own. I'd love to see. I'm just rambling under here:

Leafpool: She is more special and sacred than the virgin mary. She has everything. Daughter of the first protagonist, ex boyfriend for me to hate, TONS of wlw situationships<3, a lifetime of tragedy, and some of the most gorgeous canon art to exist.

Crookedstar: Crookedstar is a trans woman to me. Her life is genuinely just so tragic and fucked, I love it. The erins asked: “How much truama, death and misfortune can you fit into a single cat?” and then they wrote Crookedstar’s promise.

Tawnypelt: GIRLS WHO HATE THEIR FATHERS. The erins dont love her like I do.

Tallstar: I love old men… I fucking love seeing older characters and how much they’ve changed from their younger selves. Tallstar is considered one of, if not the most peaceful leader in the clans. But also when he was like 19 he went on a quest to fucking murder a guy :3

Cloudstar: I rlly do not care abt anyone in Skyclan(I like Leafstar but she's not a fav yknow?) Cloudstar... he was based as fuck. Why did Starclan get away with this shit for real??

Scourge: It’s fucking Scourge. He’s awesome

Briarlight: I’m disabled and I love her. She has such a consistent fun, sweet personality and she makes me happy!!<3

RavenBarley: It deserves all the attention and hype it gets. Though I wish mlm ships didn’t overshadow wlw ones in this fandom, RavenBarley is genuinely well written and makes me very emotional even if the publisher didnt allow it to be explicitly canon.

CrookedBlue: TRANS WOMEN CROOKEDSTAR YURI. Two leaders having a forbidden relationship and kits is way more interesting than Oakheart. The angst of Crooked and Blue sitting next to eachother every gathering while the entire forest has their eyes on them. Don’t look for too long, don’t let the mourning slip into your voice. You have to pretend your lover is a stranger. You… have become strangers. You can never be together again. You're enemies now. This is what we wanted, isn’t it? …We’ll never be happy again.

Mothwing: Her novella delving into her relationship with Hawkfrost was so good and heartbreaking.

Heathertail: Daughter of leader, sister of a major villian, and former love interest of a protagonist! Why did she fall off the second po3 ended. She’s shown to be very compassionate and willing to put her own feelings aside for the sake of others. Would’ve honestly prefered her as a mate to Lionblaze or get a pov herself over the nothing we got.

Blackstar: *Murders an elderly woman trying to stop me from kidnapping children. Supports a dictator openly abusing/neglecting children and the elderly. Murders a man for refusing to kill mixed raced children- then tells said man’s sister that she will never be safe.* Man…. i sure do feel bad for abusing and killing all of those people…. Good thing I will face no consequences and proceed to be made leader, where I will have even more power over the wellbeing of others.

I hate. This guy.

The New Prophecy: A classic. My first series was actually tnp! i feel more attached to first arc cats tho, if you couldn't already tell by my list lmao

Johanna Map- Best Tawnypelt content out there

BlueQuince: My personal handcrafted, homemade Yuri. Bluefur feels terrible about Tiny going missing and promises Quince she’ll help her find him. They never did, but they had a very… fleeting but intimate relationship. Quince is grieving and Bluefur feels so overwhelmed by the duties in her clan. They’ve always thought of eachother since but never met again.

Tigerclaw: My name sake<3 The angst of his earlier life is so, so facinating to me. Starclan being straight fucked up and decided killing him is their only option? He was a kid and they saw him as a lost cause from the start. They never tried any other methods, never tried to steer him in the right direction or… even just take it into their own hands and kill him themself, which they have SHOWN they’re capable of.

They watched all the the horrific crimes he commited, entirely aware they were going to happen. Thats. Fucking. Horrifying. Starclan is scary as shit… and his death? FANTASTIC. I only wish he’d gotten lives from cats he killed so that him coming back to life to suffer over and over was an actual curse from Starclan and not blessings. They knew how he would die and they gave him the lives to torture him for his sins…

Flywhisker: Adhd girlies. Painfully relate to that feeling of the constant scolding for never being “good enough” because I prefer to do things a certain way or struggle to focus. So, SO happy for her when she left the clans! You don’t have to prove yourself to anyone! Hope she’s happy and warm indoors with her brother💕

(P.S. I was very suprised to find she actually had an official art piece!)

Bluestar: Get behind me women with mental disorders. I will defend you. Beautifully complex and tragic character, my favorite written in the series. Literally can't think of a single other female character in handled as seriously and with the complexity of Bluestar. (Although her super edition was a bit of an L with how others treated her, it ultimately makes her breakdown even more painful.)

Exile from Shaodwclan: Nightstar my beloved! He's such a great guy. The rightful leader of Shadowclan, always and forever.

Ravenpaw's Farewell: HE DIED IN BARLEY'S ARMS, TELLING HIM HE WILL FIND HIM, NO MATTER WHERE HE IS. FUCK.

Crookedstar art: So beautiful. I genuinely think she's one of the prettiest cats in the series. This along with her official art by Wayne Mcloughlin.

Leopardstar: As a kid I hated her and loved Blackfoot, now I hate Blackfoot and love her. #feminism. But seriously I think she has way more going for her than he ever has. Her father is a medicine cat who hates violence, the DRASTIC change in Riverclan's view of outsiders upon Crookedstar's death and her leadership. Her already having a position of power before proving she's unworthy of it. (Unlike Blackstar who gets rewarded for his racism and violence by being made leader afterwards) and the fact she has to interact with her victims on a daily basis after what she did.

The writings attempts to redeem her are really lame and dismissive of the actually damage she did, but at the very least they TRIED to do something else with her. Personally, I would have loved to see her assassinated by Mistyfoot. Just like her mother Bluestar was almost killed all those moons ago by Tigerclaw... The parallels of violence for power and violence for peace. A victim repeating the actions of the very man who killed her brother to put an end to what he started in Riverclan.... A shadow in Riverclan, if you will. (<-Pretending erin hunter has hired me to rewrite their series)

Windclan: Tunneling as a concept and inviting outsiders into their clan so friendly and casual makes the clan seems so much more diverse than the others. It always stuck out to me!

Andddd there are my current warrior cat options as of 2023! If someone actually read this whole ramble ily<3