#its very clear his attempts to run away from his consequences are working on some people

[starwikia]

suicide cw

look i have been in this area before mentally. it sucks and i wouldn’t wish this on anyone. but, and this is going to sound callous, but i don’t feel any sympathy for james somerton. even if i hope he’s like. not dead. But thats all the amount of goodwill im willing to give him. The more i think about this really, the more angry i am. 

ngl this entire situation is another example of how white people weaponize their mental illness to avoid consequences. Im seeing it in real time.

this man has a continuous habit of using self-harm as a get-out-of-jail-for-free card. in both of his apologies, he has worded his supposed attempts in ways that were clearly meant to guilt people who displayed his plagiarism and overall horrendous history of racism and misogyny. i say supposed because, while i’m not saying those are lies and this would he such a fucked up thing to lie about that i don’t want to think he has, unfortunately, it’s been proven again and again that his word can’t be trusted, as he’s known to lie to try get out of consequences. Hes a proven liar. him lying about this is actually the best case scenario, because no one should go through this entire situation, wouldnt wish this on anyone, but you can only do this so often before people stop sympathizing with you. is this callous? Yeah, but like. I’m actually fucking angry he cant straight up take no as an answer. that this is how he reacts realizing he cant be one of the Cool Kidz™️ on youtube anymore. he acts like he DESERVES a career, like its not a privilege hes lost due to his own actions.

He lied about apologizing and forgiving people, he lied about giving the money to hbomberguy to give to ppl he ripped off (yknow, instead of doing it himself), he lied about the jessie gender situation and rewrote the narrative to make it so he isnt the bad guy, and hes the victim all along actually!

you can’t tell me that supposed last message of his isn’t meant to be a 13 reasons why esq attempt to deflect the blame “look i’m going to kill myself and it’s all YOUR PEOPLES FAULT for not letting me achieve my DREAM of being filmmaker IN PEACE!!! I just wanted Nick’s (the guy who I have thrown under the bus again and again) portfolio up!! Im just being a good friend dont you all FEEL BAD” he refuses to take ANY ACCOUNTABILITY of any of his actions and he IS STILL trying to shove the blame over to other people again.

it’s also pretty ironic people are like “uhhh well hbomber’s fans harassed him!!!” like hbomber outright told people NOT to HARASS JAMES!!! ALSO acting as if james doesn’t have a very real documented history of STRAIGHT UP sending his fans to harass and threaten smaller creators, more notably women, trans, and bipoc creators. especially after he’s stolen typically very personal anecdotes so he could profit from them. so why can he do it but the second people are like “hey this guys an actual piece of shit.” and he can’t handle it suddenly people are trying to white knight his shit? like no he doesn’t get that. he doesn’t get that at all just because he couldn’t handle the consequences of his actions. 

what? were supposed to stay quiet about a man profiting off of other minorities because he wanted to be the spokesman for all gay people? people tried to solve this on a smaller, more private scales for YEARS and he kept doing it. it was clear that the giant public video was the ONLY way to get people to notice. HE WOULDVE GOTTEN AWAY WITH STEALING 87 FUCKING THOUSANDS WORTH OF DOLLARS. HE CANT HANDLE THE FACT HE CANT GET AWAY WITH IT. 

am i supposed to feel bad for the guy who basically threatened a trans woman with the police? i don’t care what anyone says, it’s so fucking obvious that he threatened jessie by implying he was getting the police involved in their conflict. what am i supposed to act like that didn’t happen? are we supposed to pretend like he didn’t glorify nazi’s and outright said that gay people made up a good chunk of the nazis? That he didnt say america joined ww2 bc they were jealous of the NAZIS. WHAT WOULD POSSESS YOU TO FUCKING SAY THAT. but then? He gives women (not even women most of the time, he misgenders nonbinary ppl constantly) shit for writing mlm. are we supposed to act like he doesn’t straight-up sees himself superior and better than people of color and steals their works to put himself on a pedestal? Are we supposed to act like he didnt spit on our elders by saying “only the boring gays survived aids” like man! Fuck you! He BLANTANTLY MAKES UP HISTORY TO PUT HIMSELF ON A PEDESTAL!! HE ACTIVELY TRIED TO REWRITE LGBT HISTORY TO SUIT HIS FUCKED UP NARRATIVES!

yes this sucks ! no one deserves this but no one should be making him a martyr. Thats what he fucking WANTS! He wants to be immortalized as a victim!! (again, supposedly, it was reported hes alive but its not confirmed).

The shit he got isnt near the amount of fucking callous behavior hes done again and again. Again, to drill this point, EVEN IF HE DIDNT CALL THE POLICE HE THREATENED A TRANS WOMAN INTO THINKING HE DID!!! The fact he tried to use a head injury to justify years of the outright ghoulish shit fucking astounds me. Why the fuck did anyone in his life thought it was a good idea to let him TRY to come back. in the end, he had options. he didn’t need to try to make a comeback. HE DIDNT NEED TO FUCKING LIE OR IGNORE THE SHIT HE WAS CALLED OUT ON the reality is, he wanted to come back thinking he could shove it under the rug, was told that no dude, you’re not allowed to be a youtuber anymore. you’re done. you need to move on and went full nuclear. it’s not on anyone’s hands but his own. HES BEEN DOING THIS TO HIMSELF!! But nah man we cant call his shit out bc hell may or may not kill himself. Fuck the other minorities who have the same issues but worse and sometimes BECAUSE of him. This is going to SUCKKKK so bad when other ppl, specifically white gays, are going to weaponize this shit to get away with their stuff.

[finnritter]

Rog's evening off

@mckellerton I am so sorry this prompt took me a million years to finish, I still don't know why?? I needed like three attempts of getting Rog's POV right, but I'm pretty happy with it, now! Hope you see this and still enjoy it!

Also idk how Egalmoth managed to smuggle himself into this so prominently?? I wanted him to just quickly stop by, but he was being clingy and just… stayed. But I love their friendship a lot so it’s okay. Hope you don’t mind!

...

Only when Rog let the huge hammer sink down to place it on the floor and consequently felt his arms shake in strain did he register that it was urgent time for a break. He still took care to set down the heavy tool lightly, its contact with the stone floor only producing a quiet clink that was immediately swallowed by the familiar roaring of a forge amid busy activity.

He stretched his arms above his head and while the pull eased some of the tension in his strained muscles, he winced as the movement shot a sharp thrill of pain through his spine. 

It was definitely time for a break.

He wrapped up his work, taking care to orderly put his tools away and clear his workstation before calling out goodbyes to the few who heard him over the clanking of metal and their own razor-sharp focus.

Then he stepped outside, gratefully breathing in the fresh air of a mild, early evening and let the gentle breeze cool off his still forge-heated skin. Maybe not only time for a break but to retire for the day. He was so quick to lose track of time while encapsulated in work like he had been.

Not far from the entrance of the forge a fountain was placed, not one of the fancy ones artfully spraying sparkling water over several platforms like they could be found all over the city, just a small one that allowed tired blacksmiths to wash their hands and face in after a long day between metal cuttings and furnaces.

And so he did right now, splashing the cool, fresh water all over his face and shoulders and trying to carefully stretch his crooked back into an upright position that didn’t hurt again. He could feel the old scars that were ridging his back pull at the strain. He was grateful, every day, that he was still able to move, to walk, to work mostly unimpedent, a fate not all of his fellow former thralls shared. And yet, moments like this one, when he wished his body to be flexible and strong enough to easily abide a couple hours of slight overextention, made it hard, sometimes, to keep his positive mindset.

He felt the water run down his back, focused on the cold trickle and determined to not let his mind slip into darker places, when a voice, cheerful but mellow, and very familiar, brought him the relief of distraction.

“Working hard, my dear Lord?”

Rog slowly turned to find Egalmoth standing halfway across the narrow forecourt of the forge, equipped with a huge bag, a gentle smile, and a wave. He was hard to look at, as usual, if only because his fine robes and the elaborate headpiece he wore were both weaved through with tiny bright jewels that glittered blindingly in the sharp evening sun.

Rog smirked and lifted a hand in greeting.

“I’m actually just done”, he replied, when he had crossed over to him.

“Oh good”, Egalmoth said with a genuine smile and then very lightly poked his shoulder. “You are slouching again.”

“How else am I supposed to look a titch like you in the eye?”

Egalmoth laughed at that, always mindful to reassure him that his playful teasing did not accidentally strike a nerve, but his brows drew in in a more serious way after that.

“Are you hurting?”

“Not much. I might have overworked myself a little, but the festival preparations are not going to finish up by themselves.”

Egalmoth nodded sagely at that, the spark of concern overshadowed by a gleam of overacted annoyance, as he began to effortlessly rope him into light conversation.

“I feel you, my good Lord. I have been drowning in administrative work all day, and would still be, hadn’t I fled the scene half an hour ago. I’m dreading coming back to the mess I left, but if I have to put my signature under one more request for diamond cladded strings of tree decoration, my hand will fall off.”

He shook both of his hands in a demonstrating gesture and slowly began taking steps into the direction of one of the bigger streets leading further into the core of the city, giving Rog the chance to follow his guide.

Rog hummed in amused sympathy and stretched once again; the sensation painful but not as demotivating this time. Then he easily fell into step with his friend, who seemed to lead him somewhere, purpose in every one of his long, light-footed strides. 

“And what does the Lord of the Heavenly Arch plan to do with his so valiantly earned free time?”

“Simple. Go to the market, stock up gratuitously on the best ingredients this blessed city has to offer and kidnap my best friend to cook me a meal worthy to make me forget about my work until tomorrow morning.”

Rog raised his brows in mocked offense. “So here you come and pry me from my work claiming I need a break, just to let me slave away in your kitchen? What a sensible best friend you make.”

Egalmoth, whose almost childlike excitement every time Rog cooked or baked for him was one of the most pleasant social interactions he had ever encountered, pressed a hand to his heart dramatically.

“Naturally you would be gratefully invited to share aforementioned meal with me after”, he clarified. “And additionally, I will make sure you are rewarded generously with the pleasure of my company and conversation making skills.”

Rog gave a quick laugh and Egalmoth let his hand sink and smiled, his exaggerated countenance slipping into a more genuine expression.

“I was thinking it might help both of us clear our heads a little. Naturally you don’t have to come if you would rather rest.”

Again, that lighthearted reassurance that Rog would have hardly needed after decades of friendship and knowledge of Egalmoth’s bantering playfulness. And yet, exactly those tokens of mindful care were what he liked so much about his friend. Of course, he wouldn’t choose hardly necessary solitude over dinner and jovial conversations with him – although his past self from two ages ago would never have imagined to ever reach a point of such lighthearted trust again.

So he smiled and attempted a shallow bow, ignoring once more the stiffness in his back, that already felt more tolerable again.

“It would be my pleasure, my lord.”

…

Gondolin had two marketplaces, the Great Market near the city’s eastern borders, and a smaller one in the South.

The former was home of the busy, bustling week market on most mornings, but able to transform into a festival ground, meeting place or the stage of an equally busy jumble sale at will. If the palace and the impressing height of the King’s Tower was the core of the city, the Great Market was its heart and soul, for royalty and common folk alike.

This late into the evening, it must have already glowed with hundreds of lanterns, and filled with the chatter of everyone sitting down at the numbers of tables and benches spread over the place, or just plain on the stone of the great steps that led up to some of the elevated rostras. It was a common place to gather for elves of all ages, who, often wine or pastries in hand, enjoyed letting their day come to a well-deserved peaceful end among their fellow citizen’s joy and laughter.

The two of them were, however, clearly headed towards the Lesser market, as they directly crossed over into the city’s Southern half.

Being a true marketplace first and foremost always made its name ring out a little unfittingly, in Rog’s opinion, even though it was notoriously a much smaller space.

It was home to a farmer’s market that lived up to its name with ease, the stalls of Gondolin’s agricultists alternating day-by-day in a well-thought-out rotation plan that allowed them to sell their wares directly, accept orders of greater quantity in an orderly fashion, and enable a stunning variety of ingredients and delicacies.

By this time of evening, there was not much fresh product ecpected to be left, but it was the perfect time to buy all sorts of cheeses, pasties, pickled or brined vegetables, endless varieties of sweet or sour fruit jams, jars of honey ranging from herbal and dark golden in colour to the almost white, mildly sweet clover honey, and much else that any elven stomach could desire. And famously, the late afternoon and early evening hours were also when all of Gondolin’s best vintners were touting their wares, often enabling the one or other spontaneous impulse buy from people who made the mistake of crossing the market later in the day.

Not so Egalmoth and Rog, who arrived at the narrow but invitingly crowded square with full intentions of going on a spending spree.

They did not stop until Egalmoth’s bag could not carry much else, by which time they had also made conversations with at least half of the vendors, as they were both well known (as Lords of the city) and well liked (as famous enthusiastic costumers as well as easy to rope into small talk) amongst the farmers.

Egalmoth was beaming on the way back, his smile brighter than his clothing, even, and he was quickly caught in speculations of what kind of dinner they might conjure out of their findings.

Rog gladly let himself be pulled along the conversation, keeping it light-hearted and full of laughter, although he realised, not by any means for the first time, how often evenings like this one still felt like a very precious, very fragile gift.

The luxury of being able to buy good food that he would be allowed to cook with what he wanted. The friendly words and smiles exchanged, the peaceful air of the evening behind safe, protective walls. The friend at his side, who chose to spend time with him just for his sake.

He had come a long way from the whips and fires of the Enemy, a long way even from spending time among people who even after escaping did not believe themselves safe, a long way from not believing he himself was safe, either.

But this evening was his, just like any other day of his future life would be, and if it took a good meal and a friend to remind him of that, sometimes, well, he was lucky that he could count on both.

[jaysunderwear]

i’m a big fan of miles “i am a professional, i do things the most efficient way, i don’t care for silly games” edgeworth who is also not so secretly just as ridiculous as those he bullies

most obvious is the blatant evidence in his office that he is very into this long running children’s tv show that he only got into cause his silly friends wanted to match with him when they were like 9 and it was that important to him

he has definitely fantasized about so many stupid things while arguing in court or attempting to do important work holed up in his office. one does not achieve such a coordinated design palette without being a little eccentric

he was also just a pretentious child that grew into a pretentious adult with some hefty trauma sprinkled in so i’m not saying it’s a defence mechanism (the strict aesthetic) but it’s a defence mechanism

he is incredibly smart which also means he has quite the imagination. the point of this line of thought is; he is absolutely a secret romantic sap. unnecessary feelings indeed. he has mentally planned his wedding to phoenix at least four times before they even discuss their feelings. no he never had any other romantic interests, he was busy and they would get in the way

and maybe he has also been a little too hung up on the kid that used to look at him with those stars in his eyes and held him so tightly he could still feel it in the years he was gone. maybe he too always wished they would meet again.

he is annoyed with wright’s sudden overwhelming presence because now that he is no longer just Remembering that blinding light he has no other option than to look at it. and god is it bright

if he thought for any minute he could quietly stamp out his lingering feelings, having phoenix defend him and uncover the truth of the trauma that haunted him for 15 years destroyed any hope of that. even running away for an introspection vacation didn’t change much, it only solidified its permanence.

he still keeps quiet about his feelings for as long as he can because he doesn’t know how they could possibly work together. everything logical says they would be a disaster. this is nothing but a childish fantasy enhanced by lack of experience.

and then, phoenix loses everything and has his hands full with that rubble in the fallout and miles can’t actually do anything. he was right, they’ll never work.

but he needs him. more than that, he wants him. and one doesn’t have to look far to see that miles knows what he likes and he isn’t afraid to surround himself with it. so there’s compromise. and there’s the offer to work again, even if just on the down low, on an impossible case with an approaching time limit. on changing the legal world as they know it.

and then the debris is cleared (along with wright’s name) and miles finally starts to settle and so many of the issues he was so worried about seem to clear themselves away. and there’s that light again. that soft, constant, blinding light. and it’s still there. and they’re still standing across from each other. and

it’s very in phoenix’s nature to throw all caution to the wind and barge in on a wing and a prayer without any backup plan or thought of consequence, but when he tries to trick miles into a cautious kiss after all those years of dancing around each other he is having none of it. miles has thought about this moment over 200 times in the last ten years, he’ll be damned if he lets wright ruin it by trying to be gentle.

what i’m trying to say. is miles is a messy kisser with very very little experience (cause he did all his exploring through fantasy and then accidentally threw all his eggs in one basket before he realized that was it for him and he has to live with it) he has no idea what he is doing except that he wants to touch mouths. maybe tongues (even though that’s always seemed like a strange concept, but maybe it would be ok if it was phoenix) and his hands grab a little too tightly and he’s forgotten the second half of how this part is supposed to go when wright pulls him back and forces him to breathe and that light is right in his face in his eyes under his hands and

that’s five times now that he’s thought about marrying phoenix wright. he should probably get out of his head and start actually working on that. the proper way, of course. like any professional adult with an important title.

he is too old for childish fantasies anyway. reality is far more compelling.

[testudoaubrei-blog]

“I’m loyal, that’s my whole thing.” - Scorpia, Season 4 Episode 6, Princess Scorpia

“Everything they taught us in the Horde about loyalty is meaningless” - Lonnie, Season 4 Episode 5, Protocol

Rewatching Season 4, I just finished Princess Scorpia. This is an episode that has always stuck with me, especially the A plot of Scorpia realizing how badly Catra has treated her and everyone else and deciding to leave. One thing I’ve been thinking about since I finished the series, though, is what this episode is telling us on a larger level. Looking beyond the character arcs and more at this show’s larger themes and message. Because this show is very much a show that says things, made by people who believe them. That earnestness and depth is one reason I keep coming back to it.

In the pull-quote above, and throughout the episode and before it, Scorpia defines herself in terms of loyalty. It is her identity - as she says, that’s what Scorpions do, they’re loyal. Her actions for three and a half seasons bear this out. When she first shows up, she tries to position herself as Catra’s new best friend, the one who won’t leave her and will stick by her no matter what. And that’s what she does, until this episode. She sticks by Catra through Catra’s increasingly villainous plots and erratic behavior. But she doesn’t just stick around. Until the portal, she barely contradicts Catra, and even afterwards, does so only furtively and immediately backs away as soon as Catra pushes back. For more than a year of show time, Scorpia has not just stood by Catra, or supported her, she’s actively assisted her in her most villainous and destructive acts. Scorpia is fighting by Catra’s side, eagerly carrying out her orders, and doing her utmost to see that Catra succeeds. But her loyalty goes beyond this practical help. Because for all that Catra loudly declares that she doesn’t need a new best friend, she consistently seeks out connection throughout the show, even when she’s at her most isolated in season 4. She needs moral support, and connection, and to know that she isn’t alone. Scorpia provides that, and keeps Catra going. Though Scropia isn’t initiating Catra’s various misdeeds, she’s assisting and supporting Catra throughout. On a personal, psychological level, the only word that seems adequate for this is ‘ennabling’ - Scorpia, sweet as she is, is Catra’s enabler. We see in the next few episodes what happens when Catra doesn’t have Scorpia’s support - she breaks down, and realizes that her actions really do have consequences, and that the affection she took for granted for so many years is something she can’t live without. But as long as Scorpia’s still around, Catra can’t make that realization.

Now I’m not going to say that Scorpia is morally culpable for Catra’s own actions. She’s not. Catra is solely responsible for her various betrayals, manipulations, violent outbursts and assorted murder attempts against...most of the rest of the cast (though being raised by Shadow Weaver sure as shit is a mitigating factor). But while Catra is obviously being a bad friend to Scorpia throughout, Scorpia isn’t actually being as supportive or helpful to Catra as she thinks, because Catra doesn’t actually need unconditional support, she needs people to be honest with her and express to her how she’s hurting them. She needs people who will stand up for themselves just as she needs to take responsibility for her own actions. This is part of why she and Adora have such a healthy dynamic in season 5 - Adora doesn’t take her crap, and Catra takes responsibility for her crap.

However, Scorpia -is- responsible for her own actions. And as I said above, she’s been with Catra every step of the way as Catra has attacked just about everyone and made war on Etheria. On a larger, political level, Scorpia is a willing participant in upholding the Horde’s oppressive system, and executing a war of aggression and colonization against innocent people. Speaking of colonization, perversely, she’s loyal to the very organization that dispossessed her and literally stole her birthright, then discarded it like a useless trinket when it was no longer useful to them. No one ever suggests ‘why don’t we let Scorpia connect with ~her runestone~’ until Glimmer does (and Glimmer’s motivations and arguments aren’t exactly forthright). Scorpia’s loyalty makes her an accomplice in her own oppression (like a bunch of the themes in this show there’s some interesting post-colonial stuff that the show doesn’t fully explore, probably because Noelle and the crew felt self-conscious about telling a post colonial story, or just didn’t know where to go with it). Interestingly, Scorpia’s loyalty to the Horde here parallels her loyalty to Catra, which has made her completely disregard her own wellbeing, which is the most obvious take away from the episode.

But I would argue that everything above shows that for Scorpia loyalty has been a way of avoiding developing her own moral compass. Scorpia repeatedly shoves aside questions of right or wrong in favor of being loyal to her friends and to the Horde. Loyalty has made Scorpia not only willing to accept her own mistreatment, but to willingly mistreat others, and to keep herself from asking any hard questions about what she’s doing or why. This is despite the fact that Scorpia is, by inclination, an incredibly gentle, kind and compassionate person. She’s willing to silence the best parts of her nature out of loyalty to Catra and the Horde. In the end, she also commits acts of violence and perpetuates the oppression of Etheria. And this is so insightful, because we see this sort of thing in our world all the time. So many oppressive institutions depend upon the loyalty of their members to keep them ‘just following orders’; so many abusive systems depend upon loyalty to stifle dissent and silence potential whistleblowers before they even speak. We see this in some of the most oppressive institutions and the worst scandals in our own society, and looking back through human history we see it in some of our nation’s and our species' most infamous crimes.

And when we look at the Horde as a system that Hordak has built in imitation of his elder brother’s empire, we see just how central loyalty is an ethos. Hordak himself is motivated entirely by loyalty to Prime - being a former clone, he spends the entire series not fully capable of accepting himself as an autonomous being (even when he acts like one and enjoys it, there’s some fucked up religious shit there that I won’t get into). He seems to have instilled this in his followers. The Horde Trio, Catra and Scorpia all hold loyalty as one of their highest values. Catra clings to it as her biggest accusation against Adora - that she was disloyal, as expressed in Catra’s perception that Adora broke her promise and abandoned her. Loyalty keeps the Horde Trio together and fighting for the Horde, and Scorpia with Catra. I think we can read between the lines and say the Horde runs on loyalty (as well as fear) and this is a very insightful portrayal of oppressive military and paramilitary institutions like armies of conquest and occupation and other instruments of state violence.

There’s another, related way of looking at how a sole reliance on loyalty as a moral framework has stunted Scorpia’s moral growth, and I think that brings together both the ways that it makes Scorpia willing to accept her mistreatment and participate in the mistreatment of others. Namely, loyalty in the Horde style isn’t just sticking with someone or something, but subsuming your own will into theirs. Following orders. Supporting your friend in what they do no matter what. Whatever you call it, it’s about turning off your own self - your self preservation, your self respect, your conscience, whatever other things you value - and just going along with what the person or institution you are loyal to wants you to do. And this is where Horde loyalty goes full circle, back to its origin - Horde Prime, the narcissistic self-made god who wishes to control or destroy everything that is not himself. Loyalty as Hordak conceived of it and as the Horde believes in it is a reflection of Prime's absolute control over all his domain.

In a way, self-determination is one of this show’s highest values (together with love). It’s at the heart of Adora’s 5-season, 3 year struggle to become her own woman and her own hero as she shrugs off one imposed destiny and then another and finally embraces what she wants. In a more negative form, it’s at the heart of Catra’s arc, as she finally accepts responsibility for her own actions and their consequences and starts working to make a world that she actually wants to live in, as well as admit to herself that what she really wants is love. And I could go on. This self-determination is existentially, obviously threatened by Prime chipping people, but it is also stunted by horde-style loyalty that demands unquestioning support and obedience.

Both the Horde Trio and Scorpia reject the Horde’s ideal of loyalty and walk away, but I think it’s interesting how they do it. Neither rejects loyalty entirely (not on the way Adora does) - the Trio, realistically, remain loyal to each other and simply walk away and walk out of the war (this might save their lives), joining the other disillusioned cynics in the Crimson Wastes. They reject loyalty to the horde and embrace a more supportive and respectful form of loyalty to each other. Scorpia leaves, but she actually comes to her crisis and makes her decision out of loyalty, and because it’s clear that her loyalty isn’t returned. The immediate situation - loyalty to Emily and Entrapta’s memory on one hand and Catra’s orders on the others - creates the conflict between loyalties that forces Scorpia to actually make her own choice rather than deferring to Catra. But she also reflects how Catra betrayed her loyalty to Entrapta, and thus how all of her friends’ loyalty to Catra is not returned.This is another point about horde-style loyalty - it’s one way - Hordak or Catra will demand your loyalty, but they feel no obligation to return it, which reflects Prime’s view of every other being in the universe as disposable. It’s only when she’s with the Princesses that Scorpia starts to find a new moral center, though sticking up for and protecting her friends remains important to her. In neither case, though, are these kinds of loyalty coming at the cost of either the Trio or Scorpia’s autonomy or ability to make moral choices of their own. In the very next episode, she says she wants to 'be A good friend' which is how the Princesses typically describe sticking together, which is a much more active and holistic concept than 'loyalty'. Scorpia confesses that she doesn't even know how, but she wants to learn and thinks the princesses can teach her.

There's another interesting counterexample to Horde Loyalty. Adora repeatedly breaks with the people around her to do what is right. First she leaves the Horde, then walks away from Catra by stages when it is clear that Catra is going to continue to harm other people and Etheria. Then she walks away from Glimmer, defies Light Hope and breaks loyalty with her supposed destiny and purposes as well as loyalty to the homelans she has never known. By season 5, Adora is loyal only to herself and the people she cares about, but she isn't constraining her will to anyone else's. For all that she seems like a rule follower Adora has a rebellious streak a mile wide, and she will do what is right, no matter what. This is what allows her to save the universe 3 times.

So the show’s argument is that loyalty is not a good moral framework to base all of our actions around. I don’t think it goes so far as saying that loyalty has no place in our ethics (being a good friend, which is such a huge part of the show, certainly includes loyalty, especially sticking with people when the going gets tough), but the show stresses time and again that being loyal to something or someone shouldn’t make you disregard yourself and what you think is right. Because it’s only by living out our own values and taking responsibility for our own actions that we can come into our own as moral beings. Moreover, if we insist on maintaining loyalty to institutions that oppress us and others, we can’t dismantle the systems of oppression that are holding us and other people down. (Yes, this is a pretty radical message, but I suspect that Noelle is some kind of anarchist? Anyway, it’s a thing.)

Okay, so that’s what I, a 35 year old, get from this kids show. I think it’s also worth pointing out that this lesson applies to younger viewers too, in their most immediate lives. Younger viewers will have had friends who didn’t treat them well, or might not have treated other people well, and who might have pressured them into participating in the mistreatment of others (this is kind of how bullying works a lot of the time). I think it’s important that younger viewers see how being a good friend never means disrespecting yourself or other people and it means a lot to me that She-Ra shows this in such a nuanced and realistic way.

[kohanayaki]

.:Time and Time Again:. (Marauders Era x Reader) Ch 7

Severus looks back on everything that went wrong.

tw: non-consensual kissing/harassment, trauma responses

LINKS:   CH 1   CH 2    CH 3   CH 4   CH 5   CH 6   CH 7   CH 8

________________________________________________________

Ch 7 .:Things Unforgivable and Things Left Unsaid:.

Graduation day at Hogwarts was supposed to mark the beginning of a new adventure for you. Instead, it marked the day you decided that whatever it was between you and Severus Snape, friendship or otherwise, it was over.

Or at least that's what you had thought. Of course, the universe just loved making things more complicated for you. You were working with Charlie in Romania when you had gotten word that Severus defected from the death eaters and was now working as a double agent at Dumbledore's behest. He continued teaching Potions at Hogwarts, and was even indited as a member of the Order. If anything, that only solidified your decision to go to America instead of staying in London. You didn't even know what to think. Of course you trusted Dumbledore, confusing as the man was, but you didn't know if you could really trust Snape again. You had worked towards forgiving him; over time you moved past what happened, but it was difficult to really say it was 'resolved' when you quite literally haven't spoken a word to each other in over a decade. You didn't even know where to start.

For the entirety of your seventh year, you didn't speak a word to Severus. It was hard to imagine that such a tight knit trio like the one you, him, and Lily had formed could crumble in an instant, but that's exactly what happened.

The end of your sixth year at Hogwarts was a quarter Snape would never forget, no matter how hard he tried. It was when everything fell apart. . .

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   1976  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“James!” you yelled, running to the top of the hill where he and the rest of the Marauders had Snape held upside down.

“What are you doing?” you said, immensely hurt and trying to keep your voice steady, “You said this would stop, you promised. . . you swore.”

“(Y/n), I. . .” James trailed off, immediately feeling guilty. As he turned to you Snape dropped to the ground, attempting to scramble to his feet but finding his ankle twisted.

Sirius moved towards you to say something but you put your hand up firmly.

“No,” you said, “not a word out of you, Black.”

Sirius stared at you, wide-eyed, shrinking back as you called him by his last name for the first time in a long while. Not Sirius, not Pads. Black. As if your whole friendship had just been reset.

“And you two,” you said, addressing Remus and Peter, “how could you let this happen?!”

All four boys looked at you in shame, none of them daring to verbally respond.

Suddenly, Lily came running up the hill, having fallen behind you in your quick pace.

“Severus!” she panted, rushing over to him, “are you alright?”

Snape was in an angered daze, not even registering the words being said around him. The blood rushing through his veins felt like lava, his heart pounding in his ears, his chest, his tongue. His face burned with humiliation and hatred. Pure fucking hatred for James Fleamont Potter. For Lily to see him like that. . . for you to see him like that, pathetic, helpless, in need of your help once again. He wouldn't have it. He was a master of the dark arts now, he didn't have to fucking take this. He would curse Potter into the next century, he would—

“Severus!”

Snape's eyes snapped open, not even realizing they were closed. The world came rushing in around him and he was suddenly acutely aware of Lily's hand on his arm. He reeled back at her touch as if he'd been burned.

“Don't touch me!” he screeched, startling the redheaded girl. Her eyes were filled with concern, but all Snape could see was pity.

“Sev—“

“I don't need any help from you, you filthy Mudblood!”

And everyone in the clearing stilled.

The color drained from Snape's already pale face as he realized what he'd just said.

“Lily. . .” Severus whispered; pleading, desperate.

“Don't come any closer,” Lily said, her voice stone cold as tears welled up in her eyes.

“I'll kill you,” James said lowly.

“Prongs, no—”

“I'll kill you, you slimy bastard!” James growled, Remus moving quickly to hold him back.

You stood in the middle of it all, staring at Severus. Severus, who'd always told Lily that blood status didn't matter. Severus, who you and Lily always stood up for no matter what. Severus, who you thought you had feelings for up until this exact moment.

Without even thinking you stepped forward, grabbing Lily's hand.

“Let's go, Lils,” you said, your expression unreadable as you looked down at Severus. Lily squeezed your hand back gratefully, fighting the sobs racking her chest as she turned around and took off with you.

“(Y/n), wait—” Snape tried to get up but found himself shoved back down to the ground by Sirius.

“No,” he said sharply, “you don't get to say anything to either of them, you hear me?”

“I—”

“What?” James spat, “you're sorry? Well sorry doesn't cut it! You say a word to her after what you called her and you'll wish you'd never have been born.”

Snape's head hung low, that wish already present in his mind.

“Leave him,” Remus said, this time not out of mercy, but malice; letting Snape wallow in his own misery as he left with his friends, looking for you and Lily.

Soon, Severus was left alone. Just as he began, and just as he should have never hoped for anything different. Was this it? That's how it was going to end? One mistake, and the only two people he'd ever cared about were ripped away from him.

No. He decided he had to apologize properly, consequences be damned. If those Marauders wanted to beat him to a bloody pulp afterwards, that was fine by him. He just needed to talk to Lily one more time. To tell her how deeply sorry he really was.

He took off down the hill, sprinting towards the castle and completely ignoring the burning pain in his ankle. He rushed through the grass, ignoring the looks he received from the other students walking by. He ran past the oak tree, through the castle gates, flying through the corridors and cutting across the courtyard when he skid to a stop at what he saw.

Lily and James stood in the center of the garden, her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer as his lips captured hers. Her eyes were still wet with tears, the tears that he had caused. Severus didn't do a thing. His presence remained unknown to them as he slunk away back to his common room, heart silently breaking.

He was too late.

Nothing was the same after that.

Lily insisted that if you wanted to remain friends with Snape, as she now referred to him, she wouldn't hold it against you, but she made it very clear that she would never forgive him herself. But it wasn't as easy as wanting to stay friends with him or not; he'd changed that day.

After some time to let things settle down you tried to approach him, but he only became more and more hostile towards everyone, including you. You hardly saw him anymore. The only time you occasionally spotted him was when he was walking around school with Malfoy, Mulciber, Wilkes, and Avery, unable to look you in the eye lest you see the utterly crushed expression on your face as he fell deeper and deeper into the dark side.

You held your books tightly to your chest as you made your way to Hagrid's hut for one of your last Care of Magical Creatures class. You were being paired up with a few lower classmen to teach them the ropes for feeding all the creatures Hagrid kept in the meadows. You were a tad late, having been preoccupied at lunch, speedwalking to try and arrive on time when you saw a flash of silver-blue light emit from inside the forest. You could hear warbled shouting and laughter coming from the same direction, and your instincts told you to run.

However, because your nerves were on high alert, that also told you someone in there was in danger, and you couldn't just walk away from that. You drew your wand, abandoning your books by a rockface and moving towards the commotion, the distorted shouting soon becoming words.

“Oh come on, you little runts, you lot can do better than that!” you recognized Mulciber's voice.

A young girl shrieked as a giant acromantula barred its fangs at her, its front legs raised and poised to attack. Her friends were huddled in a corner, more students who couldn't have been older than second or third years, being forced to watch by Avery and Wilkes.

“How's this for Care of Magical Creatures, eh?” Mulciber taunted as he walked over to the other students, pulling a young boy out from the group.

“No!” the girl cornered by the spider cried, “please, don't!”

“Aw, how cute,” Mulciber drawled, “is this your little boyfriend, huh? Shame.”

The boy screamed in fear as he was suddenly lifted into the air by his ankles, forced to hover right above the spider just out of its reach. You wanted to wretch as you watched the scene unfold, unable to keep yourself hidden any longer.

You leaped into the clearing, a quick flick of your wrist relieving Mulciber of his wand. You did the same to Wilkes as he turned to you.

“Well well, why am I not surprised?” Avery scoffed. Right behind him stood Severus, his expression vacant.

“Grab this, and get to Professor McGonagall immediately,” you shouted to the younger Gryffindor students, tossing them a gold galleon. As soon as they touched the coin, the portkey shot them all back to the castle.

“Why are you always the one spoiling our fun?” Mulciber sneered.

“Someone's gotta do it,” you said, putting up a brave front although you were under no illusion as to your situation. You weren't fourth years anymore, and you were alone this time. They'd been studying the dark arts for the past two years. You knew you were outmatched, even with your dueling skills.

“Oh, come on, (Y/n), don't be a bore.”

You turned around at the sound of the familiar voice to see Rosier, an easy grin set into his face. Your heart dropped.

“So you too, huh?” you chuckled bitterly, “and here I thought you were one of the few good ones left.”

“You're not really that naive, are you?” he tutted, “you had to have known I would be inducted eventually. Might even get Barty to join us, even if he is a little nutty.”

You went for a stunning spell but found your wand spinning out of your hand before you even saw him move.

“Not so fun to be on the receiving end, is it?” Rosier said, “you're not the only one versed in non-verbal magic, (Y/n). In fact, I'd even go so far as to say we've surpassed you. Lucius will be furious, but I like you a lot, so I'll re-extend his old offer for him. Join us.”

You had no wand, no backup, no way out of this, but you stood your ground nonetheless.

“Eat shit,” you seethed. Rosier glowered at you, taking a few menacing steps forward. He grabbed your jaw firmly and you grit your teeth.

“I don’t think you heard me—”

He reeled back as you spit right in his face,

“You bitch,” he growled, wiping his face in disgust, “clearly no one ever bothered to train you.”

Without your wand you were really only left with one option, ready to defend yourself by revealing your animagus form, but you never got to take the first step forward.

“Imperio!”

You stopped in your tracks as a veil of what could only be described as pink fluff drifted over your mind. A smile immediately appeared on your face, and a giggle rose in your throat.

Severus looked at Rosier with horror, the rest of his crew looking among themselves uneasily.

“What do you think you're doing?” Snape hissed, “are you trying to get us all expelled?”

“So what?” Rosier said, “we've used the killing curse loads of times.”

“On insects, you loon,” Snape shot back, hoping his concern for you was masked enough.

“Don't worry, I'm not gonna hurt your precious (Y/n), Sev.”

The nickname made his stomach churn. You used to call him that. Lily used to call him that. No one else did. No one else got to.

“Release them,” he said, raising his wand, “now.”

“Put that away,” Rosier's eyes narrowed, a smirk sliding back onto his face as he got an idea, “hey, (Y/n)?”

“Yes?” you answered, your voice dripping with honey.

“I don't think Severus likes you being under this spell,” Rosier said, “but you like it don't you?”

“Mmm hmm,” you nodded, your head feeling like it was floating, “it feels so nice.”

“You know what else would feel nice?” Rosier goaded, “if you gave our friend Sev here a kiss.”

Severus' heart dropped to his stomach.

“You're sick, Rosier,” Snape said, his voice close to tremmoring.

“You don't have to act like you don't want it,” Evan chuckled, “we've watched you putz around (L/n) like a fool for years. Besides, they want to. Isn't that right, (Y/n)?”

“He's right,” you said, your voice deceptively melodic, “I love you, Severus. I've always loved you.”

And in that moment, Snape had never hated himself more. Because he didn't care that Rosier was making you say the things you did. He didn't care that you were under the influence of a curse. All he could hear was the words he longed to hear spill from your lips, over and over like a skipping record.

I love you, Severus. I love you, Severus. I love you, Severus.

He played the words on repeat in his head. His heart was beating almost painfully in his chest, so much so that he hardly even noticed you slowly walking towards him, wrapping your arms around his neck like Lily had done to James. And when you leaned forward to kiss him, his selfish desires held him in place.

It had lasted a fraction of a second, but he didn't pull away. It was the greatest regret of his life that he didn't walk up to Rosier, break his nose, and curse every single person in that clearing instead of doing nothing, knowing full well you had no control over your actions.

When his eyes drifted open and met yours and his stomach twisted into ugly knots, fear and panic wracking through his spine. Your eyes were completely empty, irises a vacant white, and in that moment it felt as if he were kissing a corpse.

Suddenly the color returned to your eyes, and fear immediately filled them. Snape grunted as he was shot away from you, unable to move when he hit the ground. The other Slytherins looked around for the assailant, but they had no time to react when every single one of their wands was pulled from their hands. McGonagall stood there, expression the same as ever but clearly brimming with fury.

“(L/n), come,” she said, ushering you over and taking you protectively in her embrace, “we'll get you to Madame Pomfrey.” Her eyes narrowed dangerously as she regarded Snape and the rest of their group, “As for you,” she said, “Mr Filch, secure them in the dungeons until the Headmaster calls for them. And put all of their wands in the lockbox.”

“With pleasure,” Filch said, almost blending in with the trees behind her.

“Are you alright?” McGonagall asked you as she helped you back towards the castle.

“No,” you said, honestly, “n-no, I don't think I am.”

“No amount of apology could ever equate to the remorse I feel that this happened to you, (L/n),” she said earnestly, “I am truly sorry. This was completely unacceptable, and I will see to it that the proper measures are taken for their punishments. Expulsion would suit just fine, but even if the Headmaster disagrees, I will personally ensure you never come into contact with any of those boys again.”

“Thank you,” you said, your voice sounding hollow in your own ears.

You didn't remember walking the near half-mile to the infirmary. Madame Pomfrey's words felt so far away, as if she were speaking underwater. You just remembered laying down in the hospital wing bed as she checked you for any lasting damage, and as soon as she'd turned her back you'd just wept.

________________________________________________________

That night, Snape found himself in the Prefect's bathroom, leaned over the sink and watching the water rush into the drain. His hands clutched the marble sides of the basin so hard his knuckles turned white, every breath catching painfully in his chest before he forced it out to take another shaky inhale. He was an idiot, he knew. There was no fixing this. Not really. First Lily, now you. Was he just predestined to lose everyone in his life?

He paused. No, he didn't deserve to think like that. Everything that had gone wrong was his own doing.

When he heard the door to the bathroom open he whipped around, ready to curse whoever dared to interrupt him until he saw you standing there, your eyes red from crying and the Marauder's Map clutched in your hands like a vice. He was half certain you were a hallucination, but as soon as he pulled himself to the present, he rushed to apologize. You had to know how horrible he felt about what he did, even if you would never forgive him. He made the mistake of being too cowardly to properly apologize to Lily, he wouldn't make that mistake again.

“(Y/n), I'm—”

“I know you're sorry,” you said callously, “and I know you mean it. That's not the issue.” you took a breath to collect yourself before you continued. This was so much harder than you thought it would be. Maybe this wound really was too fresh right now. You thought you'd be able to handle this conversation, but your prior feelings weren't making this any easier.

“Why did you do it?” you asked quietly, “Better, why did you do nothing? You were my friend, Severus.”

Whatever was holding back the flood of emotions in him, it snapped at your words.

Were. Past tense.

“I don't know what I was thinking,” Snape said in exasperation, though it came off more as anger directed at himself. His hands threaded through his messy black locks, his eyes nearly manic. You'd never seen him unravel quite like this. He was desperate to fix this, to keep you in his life. “No, I wasn't thinking at all, (Y/n). I couldn't, not when you were . . . not when I. . .”

Don't say it, don't say it, don't say it—

“Not when I've fancied you for years.”

Snape knew immediately that he had made a mistake. The expression on your face made his stomach twist, and he knew there was no taking back what he said.

“No,” you said, tears welling in your eyes, “Severus Snape, don't you dare say that. What, do you think that just makes this all okay? You're an oblivious idiot, you know that?”

Your heart ached so bad it felt as if you couldn't breathe.

“Do you know how many times I wished you would have kissed me?” you said shakily, not bothering to hide the hurt in your voice.

Snape was sure his breathing had stopped, eyes wide with shock. He couldn't have heard that right. Did you really feel the same way about him? But reality hit him in the face when he saw your expression. This was no heartfelt confession on your part.

“For you to just. . . for it to happen like that,” you said, still struck with betrayal and disbelief, “If you've ever respected me, you never would have let that happen. I was under a curse, Severus. And you took advantage of that— of me. All because you were too much of a coward to just tell me how you felt. And then you go on and say you've liked me this whole time as a last ditch effort to save our friendship? How the hell did you expect me to react?”

He had nothing to say to that. He blamed himself entirely. Every verbal blow you struck he gladly took, he would have sat there still as stone if you hexed him, but you refused to draw your wand at him. You just stood there, staring straight through him with unbelievable hurt in your eyes.

“I can't do this, Severus,” you said, “please, just. . . just leave me alone. I'm not saying I'll never forgive you, but right now I can't even begin to think about that. Not now.”

You looked like you wanted to say something more, but your mouth snapped shut, and Severus saw the finality in your eyes. He stayed glued to the spot where he stood long after he watched you leave, his eyes trained on the door you'd slammed shut.

If you thought Snape had made himself scarce after what he said to Lily, after what he did to you he practically vanished. He no longer sat underneath the tree that had become so symbolic of your former trio. He no longer roamed the Slytherin common room, or even the Great Hall for meals. Instead he would walk through the forbidden forest alone, or hole up in some empty corridor purposely hiding but hoping you would walk up to him. You never did.

The people who did find him in the few days that followed were the newly named Marauders, though incomplete as they arrived without you. As he glanced down at the parchment in Lupin's hand he had no questions about how they'd located him. Snape grimaced, not bothering to get up from his seat beneath the stone pillar. Anything they did to him was what he deserved.

James stepped forward from the group first. His expression was unreadable, but Snape saw the way his jaw was set firmly in place, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. The Slytherin had expected Potter to come at him guns blazing, sending a flurry of verbal attacks and hexes his way. However, James Potter simply stared down at his former enemy with a look that met in the intersection of barely contained anger and utter disappointment.

“You didn't deserve them,” he said coldly, his voice oddly level.

“I know,” Snape glared, but not feeling very self-righteous.

“No, you don't,” James said, his voice rising steadily, “you will never know what you put them through. You sat there while your lunatic friends used an Unforgivable Curse on them, and you took advantage of them. I don't care if you know, I'm going to throw it back in your face, because it's what you deserve.”

“I think it's clear that (Y/n) doesn't wish to speak with you any longer,” Remus said, “if for some inconceivable reason they want to in the future, they'll approach you. Don't you even think about going about it the other way around before they're ready and willing to talk. If they ever are.”

“It's settled, Severus,” James said simply, “you're officially not worth our time anymore.”

Snape blinked up at him, trying to recall a time when Potter had ever called him by his actual name.

“Don't get us wrong,” Sirius glared, “the only reason we aren't throwing you to the Womping Willow is because we know the last thing (Y/n) would want is her friends getting expelled because of them.”

“We'll leave you alone now,” Peter said grimly, “just like you've always wanted.”

And they were telling the truth. They left him completely alone, not speaking a word to him after that; 'they' now including you and Lily, which destroyed him more than any amount of bullying had before. He watched from afar as you grew closer and closer to the Marauders. . . no, you were a Marauder. It was only natural that you became almost like a family in your seventh year. You, James, Peter, Sirius, Remus, and Lily had become as inseparable as Snape thought you, him, and Lily were, but he'd ruined that. He had ruined every good thing that had ever happened to him and pushed away every important person in his life.

The last time he saw you was graduation day. Everyone was running around excitedly, dressed in the ceremonial jewel-toned robes of their respective houses as they awaited Dumbledore's speech. You had been sitting with your group as usual, now having carved out your own spot at the Gryffindor table, when you noticed that Snape was nowhere to be found.

You frowned, wondering why he of all people had to slip into your mind on a day like today.

“You alright, Fangs?”

Sirius' voice snapped you out of your thoughts.

“Yeah, I'm fine. . .”

His handsome features contorted in concern, but that easy grin slid back onto his face as he nudged you with his shoulder.

“What, you worried you're gonna miss us?” he smirked, “this isn't goodbye, you know. We'll all see each other at the Order meetings—”

“Which you always seem to talk about at an extraordinary volume,” Remus shushed him pointedly. Sirius brushed him off with a roll of his eyes.

“(Y/n), are you sure nothing's wrong?” James asked from across the table.

“I'm alright, Prongs,” you said, “I just. . . you know what? I just remembered I left something in my dorm, I'll be right back.”

Your friends exchanged worried glances as you got up from the table, taking off towards the Slytherin common room. It wasn't a total lie, but your intentions went against your better judgment. After today there was a very, very good chance you would never see Severus again. What he did wasn't okay by any means, and it would take more than an apology or a simple conversation to forgive him, but you needed closure at the very least. Not for him, but for you. You deserved that much.

You swiped the map off your bedside table and opened it fully, your eyes quickly picking out Severus' name near the cellars only a few rooms away from where you were. You took off quickly down the hall, reaching the intersection where all the dungeon's corridors converged when you spotted him. Your heart stopped.

His left sleeve was rolled up to his elbow, as was the person's standing across from him, their back to you. Even though you couldn't see the second person's face, you recognized who it was immediately.

Evan Rosier.

He wasn't on the map before. . . how had he gotten in?! He'd been expelled after the day he cursed you. Did he somehow find a way to bypass the anti-apparition charm?

You felt your breathing hitch, fear creeping under your skin. There, on both of their arms, was a tattoo of a skull, a serpent weaving its way through the mouth and eye sockets in an undeniable pattern.  You stopped breathing all together. You knew Severus had fallen into the dark arts, but to actually be a death eater? To be proudly showing off that awful display of radicalism along with the person who had used an Unforgivable Curse on you, who had invaded your free will and taken over your body. . .

Severus must have felt you even from the opposite side of the hallway, because something pricking at his skin told him to look up, and when he did he wished he never had. You were looking at him for the first time in over a year, your eyes full of terror. Rosier followed his gaze, but when he looked over his shoulder there was no one there.

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

Severus sighed, trying to push the less than pleasant memories out of his head. He knew by now he was likely the last person left in the house besides you, Harry, and Sirius who were all staying here. Something like hope had sparked in his chest when he saw the faintest ghost of a smile on your lips as you saw him for the first time since graduation. He wanted to talk to you, to tell you he knew he deserved nothing from you, but he would spend the rest of his life trying to make it right if you would only give him a chance after all this time. In truth, he missed his friend. With Lily gone, you were one of the closest things he had to that left.

Against his better judgment, Severus made his way up the stairs, silent as a thestral as he headed for your room, but he stopped in his tracks when he reached the top. Sirius' door was cracked open the slightest bit, and what Snape saw inside made his blood run cold. You were sitting next to Sirius on his bed, your head resting gently on his shoulder. As you craned your neck to look Sirius in the eyes, that's when Severus saw it— the way the Marauder looked at you. The way his face seemed to light up, the spark that returned to his gray eyes, the utter adoration in them.

And just like that, Snape was a seventeen year old boy again, transported right back to that courtyard garden, watching Lily and James share their first kiss on the day he had made one of the biggest mistakes of his life. His heart shattered silently, though his departure was not so quiet as he took off down the stairs as quickly as he could. He grimaced at his own feelings, ones he knew he had no business owning.

As he was about to open the front door to leave, his instincts suddenly screamed at him to turn around, and he was just barely able to cast an invisibility charm as you began to come down the stairs. He held his breath as he looked at you. He knew he had no right to think so, but you were still beautiful like this; dressed in pajamas, hair disheveled, eyes still sightly puffy and red. He saw you look around, knowing you had no doubt heard his rather noisy descent of the staircase, and he cursed himself for not leaving sooner. Your eyes searched what should have appeared to be the empty space in front of you, but he saw you look him in the eyes, and he knew that you knew.

“Severus?” you called his name out softly, and the sound felt like a strike to his face.

He wanted nothing more than to say something to you, talk to you, hold you. But his mind flashed back to the way you had been with Sirius, and his words died in his throat. He said nothing, trying to remain unphased at your hurt expression as you turned around to walk back up the stairs. As soon as your back was turned to him, he left, unable to bring himself to do anything more.

Once again, he was too late.

Read chapter 8 here!

Taglist:  @sleep-i-ness, @blackpinkdolan, @parker-natasha, @ornella0910 @undertaker1827 @thatwierdo-koemi @nxstalgicnxbxdy @calaryssia @aleksanderwh0r3 @juggysgirlfriend @beautifulsweetschaos @kattirin @mialupin1 @crazy-obsessed-fangirl, @youcantbesirius​

[sokayisaidiot]

Why Tommy is one of THE BEST written characters in existence.

Alright, that’s it

Here I give you my fuckin Take on why Tommy is one of the best written characters out there and can easily compete with best-selling Novels like Percy Jackson and Harry Potter. I’m sick of a trashing that doesn’t even make sense. So buckle up. Here I will tell you why Tommy has one of the best written characters in history of Books and Movies. Remember, I write this all in my perspective and take many examples of other character books as well

Before this all starts, I will also talk about the main characters of some series, since Tommy has the reputation of being a “main” character.

When I look at the books I’ve read, I see a large range of characters and there way of making the story interesting.

Now, to establish a good character, we need key points of motivations, to make them relatable and bla bla blub:

Personality

Part of the story

Their Powers

Flaws

Relationships

Prized Possessions

History/the backstory

The moral and story the character tells

First tho, I want to explain some words I’m going to use here!

Mary Sue/Gary Stu:

Those are characters who are flawless, have missing chunks of personality and mostly one way written. They are easy to achieve when you are trying to make your character look badass.

Examples in some Fandoms are

·      Rey Skywalker (Star Wars Sequels 7-9)

·      Hermione Granger (Harry Potter Movies)

·      Bella Swan (Twilight)

Tree-System:

Imagine a tree. You plant something small and soon you have something giant with many branches, roots and connections. You have the seed you plant and with caring and care you let it grow. Then you have somewhat a sapling. The tree grows with the care and soon you have a tree with many branches.

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

Personality

Negative:

Tommy’s personality is very brash and out of control = He’s barely containable in fights, going off to do his own risky plans and starting two or so fights. He can’t forgive a person very easily like Eret, who took it a long time to get forgiveness and Techno, as he shot Tubbo at the Festival. He makes decision that also cost his life like the duel because he hates losing

Tommy can be very lazy, giving the thought he wouldn’t have to do the hard work = Shown when he tries to steal the hearts of seas from Eret or potions from Techno, bargain with “drugs” by Puffy and Ponk or gives other people the work he doesn’t want to do like he did with getting cobblestone

Like a child, he often clings to close people and annoys others for attention = His desperate attempts to have company or someone praising him shows, when he tries to get Philza’s approval (or a pat on the back), constantly looking out, if Tubbo’s either okay or where his is,

He doesn’t like to wait or doing things in the long run = He constantly asks when something is finished, when they could go or in his exile, when he was allowed to go back to L’Manburg

He doesn’t show often his cooled down, scared and vulnerable side = He often overshadows his trauma with a facade of jokes and bad hidden hurt he brings out. When he talks about something bad, he’s clearly confused, not really knowing on how to understand it. Also he runs away from things he can’t control a panic attack like visiting the final control room or looking away from the holes in Logstedshire

He runs without head into a battle so often as possible = Only when they had their final showdown for the disc, Tommy was seen preparing in story, thinking it would be his last fight

---

Positive:

But as he has negative traits, his positive shows to many people clearly.

His unwavering loyalty to the closest of people = His loyalty to Tubbo, Wilbur And L’Manburg are, were and always will be a part of him. He stands against anyone who goes against that, even if it means pain in many ways.

Passionate about dear projects of his = You can see Tommy talking about his discs or see an video where he would spent days getting different discs. Those things are very known to be rare things, so for Tommy to possess it gives him somewhat power. L’Manburg was the same passion, even a bit more, as you can see he was ready to give up his most prized disk. The last and in the moment is his hotel

Bravery like no one makes him as one of the dangerous person on peoples hitlist = He stands up for others. He stood up to L’Manburg. He in the end didn’t care that he lost a life. When he sees a foe, he won’t stand down and submit, he will fight against the oppression and tell them that in the face. During the mission to get a visa, he stood against Schlatt, even if they were clearly in the loose of people and disadvantage. Or getting an apology of Sapnap for killing Niki’s fox. Fighting against 5 people with just one ally while the other is a hostage.

His leadership = There are not many people who can take it up, but Tommy is an exception. He can coordinate people with his loud voice and somewhat thought plans. He is charismatic, even if he’s not so good at it like Wilbur, he still can motivate people to fight for themselves or others. He’s seen to lead others into battle and taking in the fighting part a leading role

Unselfish. That’s one of the most arguable things about Tommy`s character = You can´t look at a kid and say he is selfish because he wants to get something dearly back. Especially Tommy, after he gave the things up, he cared about. But if something is happening again, he will lay it down to do the other thing. As seen by the egg, he had a hard time thinking what to do. He, in a long time, didn’t want to be catalyst for something to happen. Not when he in the moment could have stopped it. So doing this act for himself ones, was a good decisions, since they clearly weren’t ready for war

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part of the Story

Outside of the story:

Let’s all just get something “straight”. What would Dream SMP without Tommyinnit. Now. Don’t get me wrong. All the creators on the SMP are amazing. They are all wonderful and deserve every bit of Attention and fame they get. But just imagine.

We heard from Tubbo, he was the one, who got him into the SMP. Schlatt and Wilbur came because of a “visit”. Quackity was added because TOMMY said he was bored. And from that, we got somewhat of a tree system. As Tommy was invited and drawn into conflict by Sapnap (shoutout to best boy!), he got more people.

He also has the highest viewership and kind of shortest streams, since he is doing college next to Youtube and Streaming. He can’t give up his high viewers since all of those 200.000 (average) – closing 650.000 People (doing something like a big lore stream in prison or the disc final), choose to watch him.

Also a reminder again, Tommy has his storyline as does everyone else. When we saw Tommy and Techno during the partner up arc doing something with the dogs, they saw the start of the red vines arc BUT said they were on the wrong storyline. Tommy was asked by the eggpire writers if he wanted to be a part of the story and he said yes. Why do you think he nearly says nothing about the egg. He leaves it to the writers. Also, it was said by one of Wilbur’s Character descriptions, that Tommy was okay with others doing something with his character, while Techno was more reluctant with his.

Let me say it again, every creator is awesome and individual! Nobody should be compared to others. But with Tommy coming to the Dream SMP, there really was a change in the game.

Remember, that’s because we also have a BT (before Tommy) and AT (after Tommy) Timestamp in the wiki!

Inside of the story:

Now, with Sapnap, Alyssa, Ponk and Tommy in the first ever big conflict its shown the importance. People assume Tommy is one of the conflict bringers, even though he was dragged in it by having something stolen by Sapnap and then forced to fight with him, to get it back.

The Consequences he’s got where having his discs get stolen. This is what Tommy’s biggest character motivation was the first two seasons. Those discs are known on the server and when you think about gifting something to C!Tommy, it would be a disc.

Techno = Disc Wait

Badboyhalo = Disc Pigstep, Chirp

HBomb = Disc Pigstep, Wait

Tubbo = Stal

LazarBeam = Far

Tommy is a openminded boy who longs for funny little adventures and pranks, since he is just a young person. It’s in his nature.

So why, when he does something, are people looking on him?

Because the things he was and is a part of some of the biggest events. And him being so loud and brave and rash lets him stand out. If you look at the old (hah) Revolution of L’Manburg, who can you hear talking the most and the loudest? Tommy and Dream. They were the most outgoing about the war with Sapnap, Tubbo and Wilbur following. Fundy was more quieter (thankfully he has so much more lore now).

Tommy’s character is known to fall or be dragged head first in almost every conflict. He has connections to who? Mostly everybody. So of course he’s connected big parts to the stories.

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

Powers

Okay. Every “main” character or character with huge importance to the story has some kind of power. Looking at Dream, who is a “demigod” or Ranboo who I don’t even have to talk about. So what about Tommy?

Well. He doesn’t have any. Tommyinnit is one of the people, we get to have as an “human” character

Hannah = nature “Spirit”

Karl Jacobs = Timetraveller

Antfrost, Technoblade, Ranboo, Fundy = Hybrids

Dream = Something something green blob

Awesamdude, Puffy, Philza, Sapnap, Eret, Schlatt = Adding Features (wings, eyes, body parts)

Badboyhalo, Skeppy = completely different species apparently

Tommy has, as we know of the moment, a not confirmed power. The assumptions of the egg are not clear, since we haven’t seen those interact in a while. All we know is, Tommy didn’t get hurt, destroying a part and not feeling anything, while being in contact. That in canon considered.

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

Flaws

As talked before in personality and also in an assumption, we see the pattern of loyalty and brashness repeating.

Flaws are the most important parts of a character. It shows the struggle of their adventure and learning how to live with it.

Percy Jackson learned loyalty is nothing, if you don’t have someone to project it on.

Harry Potter and Luke Skywalker learned being a hot head didn’t really bring him forward and it’s important to have a plan

Frodo Beutlin learned that it is okay taking care of yourself and what attachment means

Anakin Skywalker learned fear is controllable and it shouldn’t be a remaining part of your life

Tommy learned over the time that his rashness could hurt others, loyalty couldn’t come back to him like he gave it out and he learns even more in the coming future.

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

Relationships

Tommy’s relationships is a mess of strings. Some are badly knotted and some are very clear.

A characters connections is an important part for the character himself.

Relationships in life are

·      Enemies(-figure)

·      Rivals(-figure)

·      Friends(-figure)

·      Family(-figure)

·      Lover(-figure)

·      Complicated family(-figure)

·      Complicated friend (-figure)

Relationships are a part of everyone’s life. Not with everybody is a good relationship holdable. Either it’s because their hurting each other or another person. People change and that’s a part of life.

Tommy realized, even tho it hurt, that Techno wasn’t good for his mental state and health. It went against everything Tommy ever stood for.

And Tommy and Tubbo’s relationship wasn’t really that broken. It’s normal for friends to fight. Normal for them hit their heads in. Tommy and Tubbo were surrounded with people who were, at the time, a terrible addition to their mental life.

The Dream SMP doesn’t talk it out, hell the talking club was just destroyed because they preferred fists over words. So why do you think everything is going out with a fight, if it’s all they learned.

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

Priced Possessions

Every character has to something a connection.

Might it be Percy Jackson and his sword

Might it be Harry with his glasses, broomstick and wand

Frodo and his stupid ring

For Tommy we all know it’s his ender chest inside and secret chest. He keeps many belongings in his chests and always has been one for those things. He kept flowers, compasses, Friendship signs and most importantly, his discs.

The care for something of items are important. Might it be a teddy, old photo or jewelry. People get protective over it, because it holds sentimental value to the person.

If you ask me, to let go of my teddy bear, I will show you my middle finger. Probably beat you up too.

You can’t just throw out your memories into a fire or pit of lava. This is just showing you never had a care and everything you had a memory with it before would have been gone.

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

History/Backstory

We don’t have much here, but still something to work with.

A Hero doesn’t have an easy live. And it’s an said thing that every Hero needs an origin Story.

Tommy, said not really anything about his past.

All we know is that Tommy didn’t have anyone, presumably an Orphan, he knew the sleepy bois already a long time ago and he never learned on how to ride a bike, saying he never really had a family.

Signs that he didn’t even leave half a good life are:

·      his knowledge on stealing and preferring this over working for it

·      Liking to live in weird spaces like carved out holes in sides of hills (his hobbit hole or the basement by Techno) or living in his tent over a hole house

·      His liking of cobblestone and dirt, which are easy gettable blocks

·      Holding his goodies and friends close to him

·      Craving for attention or contact in general

And now for the part with the dream SMP.

We saw how it changed him. We saw his trauma and all the bad things that happened to him.

And that’s why we say his actions came from those past experiences and things. We are NOT excusing them, but showing. Past trauma CHANGES a person. It brings experience and a heavy amount of pain and anger. ESPECIALLY at a young age, you will change due to your experience in life. You will grow worried and anxious. Tommy did that. He grew more anxious, angry, scared and also experienced.

Stop saying trauma doesn’t explain it. Yes. It does. His lashing out came from his past and negative experience. Imagine growing up in a world where this is the norm. War and banishing. As well as death. Tommy has reasons why he is acting and does stuff.

Understand it. You don’t have to forgive him or anything. But understand it.

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

The moral and the story the character tells us

When we see Tommy, we see a boy who went nearly through it all. Mental/Physical Abuse, Abandonment, War, Suicidal thoughts, betrayal, Death, etc…

He doesn’t show forgiveness for his abuser. Still has signs, that he fights with the past abuse, but he tells us a story of learning from past mistakes, that even in the darkest hours, there’s a way out. Things will, can and be ugly and those are dark hours, but in no way should you think that it’s over. Life is more than one way and can always turn into a new direction.

Life takes something old away from you. Life gives you something new. You lose someone, you find someone new. Friends can turn into enemies. Enemies can turn into friends. You can meet the weirdest people. You can meet the most amazing people. You can be alone and in the next second, you’re not. You will often lose, but you also can win if you give everything.

Life can be weird and that’s okay.

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

My Fazit (that’s german)

The thing is, he is very real for many viewers such as myself. He acts like how many teenagers his age reacts.

He doesn’t be “baby”, because he shows the “ugly” sides of trauma. He shows that attachments are good and you shouldn’t forgive your abuser. In no way. He shows that acting out and lashing out are two things that happen, when you have been in wars for many times and nearly just know that.

He has many flaws and mistakes but those make him even more real. He is showing how he is growing.

As a person, friend, (pseudo-)family.

He is real to many of the viewer since he doesn’t have any powers that are existing in our world to solve their problems. He knows that nobody would have helped him and Tubbo against Dream if he didn’t pay others.

Also that you can’t be friends with everyone and that it’s okay that not everybody likes you.

Tommy´s character is the most human and realistic character in a way of how we would react. We are humans who are lashing out and who are having ugly sides.

And also please stop saying that, since I really can relate to Tommy and I don’t want to be feeling like a “bad-written Character”…

And Don’t even get me started on Tommy’s acting dude!

He is one of the best actors and that one livestreams! In from off 200.000 – 600.000 People!

On the face cam alone is so much to see…  

·      You can see his face with each emotion shifting,

·      when something funnily weird happens, he looks dead eyes in the camera

The voice acting…

·      His breathing,

·      the stuttering in his voice,

·      THE GODDAMN EMOTIONS IN HIS FACE

HIS MUSIC CHOICE!

·      He changes the music fitting for the situations as in fighting scenes or funny moments.

·      He also has some funny bits with his music.

·      Like a goddam DJ!

The ingame character

·      His movements and head stares

·      The jumping around when he gets overactive

·      Long stops when he thinks or is sad!

You can see, I am a person from Tumblr and saw way too much bullshit around tommys character.

Stop critiquing him so badly.

You could say, I woke up and chose violence

>:D

[mrs-march-ahs]

May you please do 1,23,57,11,17 with James overstimulating the heck out of the (female) reader?

James March Overstimulating the Heck Out of You

I swear I’m working through requests! I’m sorry it’s so so long! I just love this man so much! As always, requests and feedback are appreciated.

I obviously recommend reading the whole thing, but if you want the smut then skip to the paragraph that begins “You are going to make this up to me”

Words- 3.2k

1. “Please, let me taste you.”

23. “I’m proud of you.”

57. “I won’t stop until you pass out.”

11. “You’re fucking hot when you cry.”

17. “One last time, please?”

Enjoy :)

-----

You sit at the Cortez bar, moving your glass around on its edge, swirling your martini in circles. You look at it longingly and deep in thought, which is immediately noticed by Liz.

“Something on your mind, honey?”, she says, and stops wiping down the counter to lean down slightly in front of you, with a worried expression on her face.

You break out of your trance and look at her and smile warmly at how much she cares about you.

“I just have a question…”, you hesitate and quickly explain. “Because of course you’ve known James a lot longer than I have, and of course I value your opinion”.

Liz’s worried expression turns into a laugh and she picks up her cloth to get back to work.

“Spit it out”.

You laugh awkwardly and look back down at your glass, to think exactly what to say.

“Is James, sensitive?”, you ask. A blank expression covers her face, as she waits for you to say more. You feel defeated and sigh before explaining.

“I know he has a big ego, and I would honestly hate to hurt him, but recently…he’s not been too great. I’ve even had to…you know”. You close your eyes to avoid eye contact.

“Fake it”.

A huge laugh erupts from Liz as she shakes up another martini for you. You watch awkwardly, waiting for her laughing to come to a halt and give you some advice. Sadly, she doesn’t stop. You look at her slightly upset and she immediately tries to calm herself.

“Girl, why is it such a big deal? If he isn’t doing good, tell him”.

An unknown voice from behind you chuckles warmly before sitting down next to you. He looks at you with a friendly smile and orders a whiskey from Liz. She promptly gives him his order and refills your drink too. You thank her and take a sip from your drink, while the stranger takes the opportunity of being out of your vision to look at you, up and down. He fixates his sight on your cleavage before you look at him, quickly forcing him to snap out of it. Though you were obviously loyal to James, it was nice to know that other men were still interested in you, despite some of your insecurities.

“Imagine having a lady like this, and forcing her to fake orgasms”, he clicked his tongue a few times before smirking at you. “What a waste”. His compliments redden your cheeks and make you let out breathy laughs. His penetrating gaze on you made you warm inside.

“What’s your name?”, you happily ask the stranger.

“Will”. He replies and smiles back at you. Before he has a second to bounce the question back at you, you feel strong hands around your waist. You look over your shoulder straight away to see a very angry and tense James March behind you, pulling your waist off the bar stool.

“I apologize dearly, but we have to go”, James snaps keeping his eyes on the still smirking man.

“No worries, see you later, darling”, Will says and winks at you, before taking a big drink of whiskey.

James looks at him with his jaw tensed and puts his arm around your waist tightly, before walking away with you. You try to keep up with his quick and angry pace as he takes you to your room, staying silent the whole trip there. He opens the door and pushes you in the room. You stumble in trying to not fall over, and you turn to look at him as he slams the door shut and locks it. You smile at him innocently.

“Don’t play innocent with me now, darling!”, he barks at you, coming close to you. “Is this what you do when I’m not around? Must you have constant attention?”. Instead of answering his questions, you kiss him. He kisses you back forcefully and grabs you by the waist, heading for the bed. He rips your white satin dress off in one quick motion and throws it to the ground before pushing you on the bed.

“I’m going to remind you to whom you belong”, he says sternly and climbs over you. “Because clearly you must have forgotten”. James takes off his blazer and starts to unbuckle his belt. “I haven’t forgotten”, you say sweetly, and pull him closer to your face by his tie. You whisper seductively, “I’m all Will’s”. His expression switches from slightly jealous to intense anger at you. Although he knew you were only pushing his buttons, your disobedience made it clear that you didn’t care for the consequences. And he couldn’t have that.

He straddles you and takes his tie off and uses it to tightly restrain your hands to the bed frame. As he is securing a tight knot on one of your wrists, you use your hand to palm him through his pants and start to unzip them. He glares at you but continues working at your hands and doesn’t stop until you unzip his fly completely and take out his pulsing cock and stroke him. He quickly grabs your wrist and ties a knot around it. “Please let me taste you, Sir”, you beg. Although James was a fan of Daddy, respectful words like Sir and Mr. March were his kryptonite. Usually, they get a very enthusiastic response, but instead he shakes his head and laughs darkly.

“You truly believe you can get away with anything”. You giggle at him but quickly stop when he stares at you. He gets off the bed and starts to loop his belt back through his pants, and quickly puts on his blazer too. He smiles sarcastically at your confused expression and grabs his cane. Your eyes widen and your mouth opens as he begins to walk towards the door. You shout his name repeatedly, but he doesn’t stop, until he walks towards the clock on the wall. He gently takes it off and sets it down on the desk facing down.

“Why would you do that? James please! Please don’t leave me here!”, you beg him and pull at your restrains, which do not move in the slightest.

“James! What if somebody walks in?”, you whine desperately and wriggles around the bed. James gives you a quick glance and chuckles at your desperation but instead of helping you, he gives you a quick wave and shuts the door behind him. You scream his name but quickly regret it, hoping that it doesn’t attract the attention of anybody else. The bed creaks slightly as you jump around trying to get your restraints off, but only hurting your wrists in the process. You wince and decide to stay still, but quickly come to realize that you don’t even know how long James will leave you here for. Assumingly until you learn your lesson. Even the sheer idea of him coming back and punishing you for being a brat makes you even wetter than before. You whine to yourself as you rub your legs together, attempting to get some release on your tingling crotch, but instead just looking like a cricket. You huff when it doesn’t work and try to relax your body, looking up at the ceiling. Though you knew it would only make your situation worse, your mind couldn’t help but wander to filthy scenarios in which James punishes you for being such a bad girl.

After what felt like an hour, you hear steps coming towards your bedroom door and the handle turn. Your cheeks flush red in embarrassment and you shut your eyes tightly, hoping that it was James. The loud slam of the door makes your body jerk and your eyes open, looking at James walking towards you, smiling widely. You huff at him as he steps by the bed looking down at you.

“I think you’ll be happy to know dear, you do not have to worry about Will Drake anymore”, James says happily, and looks at your confused face. Fear runs through your body as he unbuttons his blazer, revealing his blood-stained shirt. He takes it off and carefully hangs it on the chair, taking his time with every step, purposely to annoy you.

You’re lost for words watching James take off his shirt, throwing it in the laundry basket.

“Just because I talked to somebody, you killed him?!”, you spit at him, the effect of your harsh words not getting through to him, as you remain tied up on the bed at his mercy.

“Have you learned your lesson, dearest?”, James says calmly. As if he didn’t just take somebody’s life. You couldn’t help but feel guilty and responsible about his death, and angry at James for being so casual about it.

You try to scold him for what he did as he sits on the edge of the bed, looking at your almost naked body up and down, his face showing no remorse.

“He didn’t deserve to die! He was just being friendly! He was telling me that if I were his girlfriend, I wouldn’t have to fake orgasms!”. The second the last word came out of your mouth, your stern face softened and looked at James, waiting for his reaction. He looks over at sorry face with an enraged expression. He stood up and towered over you as you laid there helplessly. Though his parted lips looked like he was getting ready to shout, he didn’t. Instead, he speedily untied your hands from the bed. You watched him, looking at his tense muscles and chest, combined with his tough and mean expression, making you even wetter.

“You are going to make this up to me”. He growled and pulled you to sit up by your hair. You gasp as he pulls you towards the floor. You get on your knees and watch him sit at the edge of the bed and unbuckle his belt just enough to get his soft cock out. He wedges his foot between your legs to part them and pulls your hands to link behind him. You look up at him, inches away from his dick and wait for permission to put him in your mouth. Though disobedient before, the last thing you needed is for him to tease you longer and delay your orgasm more than already. He shoved himself into your mouth and urgently started suckling on him.

“Do not even think about stopping until I’m hard”, he snapped at you. He keeps his shoe between your legs and rubs it against your crotch making you moan softly around him. He groans as you do so, feeling the vibrations on his dick.

“You’re so wet; you’re polishing my shoe”, he chuckles and grabs your hair, pulling you down further on his now hard cock. He throws his head back as you gag on his length and moan from even the minimal friction you get from his shoe. You close your eyes in humiliation that that little contact can have such an effect on you. James’ grip on the hair at the back of your head tightens and he yanks it, making you open your eyes and look up at him.

“Keep your eyes on me, darling”.

He groans and pulls your head off his hard cock. He stands up and pulls you to lay face first on the bed. You lay still and try to look over your shoulder at James, pulling his belt from his pants and folding it in half roughly, he spreads your legs and stands between them, looking down at your perfect ass. He rubs his large hand over your cheek and exhales, minimal contact once against making you melt. As you relax and moan softly, he stops and holds his belt with a tight grip. As you go to look over at what he’s doing, he snaps the belt down on your ass cheek, making you squirm in pain. Your hand instinctively goes to touch your sore mark, but James pushes your hand away, and belts you once again. Heat burned throughout your body, on the inside and out and you whimper. He forcefully pulls down your underwear and rips it all the way off your body. His dominance making you gasp and the cool air hitting your dripping pussy making you shiver. As you breathe heavily and try to relax again, he resumes belting you, this time, not stopping after every one and giving you five new bright red marks. The constant stinging brings tears to your eyes and you shut your eyes tightly, trying to make them go away, but instead forcing them out. As another hard whip hits you, you bite your lip but can’t help letting the tears all fall out and wailing quietly.

“You’re so fucking hot when you cry”. As a proud gentleman, James rarely swore. But the times he did emphasized his words so much and made them so much hotter, that you couldn’t help but bite your lip harder, and look at him. Your teary eyes made James melt and softened, as he rubbed his hand over your thigh lovingly.

“You’re taking your punishment very well, kitten. Why don’t you prove to me that you’ve learned your lesson, and take a few more?”, he suggests. It becomes clear in his much softer tone that he wouldn’t continue striking you if you didn’t want it. It was this slight safety net that made you nod your head at him, willing to try to take as many belts as thought was fit. He spares no time before he steps back slightly and whips across both ass cheeks. You jump and wince, but no longer cry, getting used to the pain, and kind of liking it. He strokes some hair out of your face and turns your head to the side so he can see you. He doesn’t break eye contact as he hits you again and again, several times with no break. You wince repeatedly and once tears return to your eyes, James drops his belt on the bed and takes his pants and underwear off.

“I’m proud of you”. He grabs you by the hips and pulls you up to get on your knees. “I think you may have learned your lesson about teasing me by sharing your attention with other men.”

“However, you still need to make up all those fake orgasms to me”, he says bluntly, slamming into your pussy in one thrust. You moan and bounce forward. You try to prop your body up with your shaky hands, but before you can do that, James grabs your still sore wrists and holds them behind your back, forcing your face into the mattress. He slams into you repeatedly and fills you up deeper every time. Your already dripping wet pussy swallows every inch of him and clenches around him, earning rhythmic moans from James. The sound alone is enough to bring you over the edge and you moan loudly as you cum for him. His pace gets faster and you whine and whimper as you try to look at him with pleading eyes.

“J-James I already-”

“How am I meant to know whether that was real? Perhaps you are a master at the craft of faking orgasms?”, he says sarcastically, letting go of your hands and grabbing your waist, thrusting himself into you and pushing your body onto his, going in deeper. You moan as you still tingle from your previous orgasm, very quickly reaching close to your second. James reaches round and rubs your clit, making you jump from overstimulation, but he doesn’t let you go and continues thrusting in you fast. The extra touch from him brings you to your second orgasm. You moan and swear incoherently, making James chuckle and moan louder. He continues thrusting into you and you lean forward to get away. He pushes you to lay down and kneels on the bed, still fucking you from behind. You become slightly limp as he leans over your flat body, fucking you. Every time his pelvis touches your sore ass, you flinch. He pulls your shoulder up, forcing you to prop yourself up on your elbows. He wraps his big hand around your neck and kisses you shoulder as he thrusts in you, increasingly groaning in your ear.

“James I’ve already cum twice for you”, you say, your voice breaking up with every harsh thrust into your aching and creaming pussy. His grip around your throat tightens.

“I won’t stop until you’ve passed out”. His harsh words make you shiver and as you open your lips to argue, he purposely thrusts hard, pushing against your ass, making you cry out. The stringing and burning mixed with the hard thrusts hitting your g-spot force another orgasm from you. But after a few more movements hitting your ass, you choke back a cry and James instantaneously lets go of your throat and slows down his thrusts slightly. He looks at you and flips you over. He climbs over you and continues moving slowly, looking at your tired face.

“One last time, please? You’re doing so well my darling”. He cups your cheek, and you lean into his touch. You nod tiredly and wrap your hands around his neck. He starts thrusting harder but tries to keep his speed reasonable, to not hurt you. However, you liked it, the pain from all the stimulation of the day increasing your pleasure. He kisses your neck and sucks on certain spots that he knows you like, making you moan softly in his ear. You reach down and rub your sore clit to bring you to orgasm quicker, but James pulls your hand away and puts his thumb on it and rubs you. You smile slightly and relax your body, knowing he won’t go too hard on you anymore. He moans and watches you intensely, your lax body bouncing up, causing your boobs to jiggle. The sight of you with dried tears down your cheeks and red rings around your wrists fits right into his corruption kink and groans as he releases in you, making sure to keep up speed on your clit. Watching him come undone and fill you up makes you moan his name and cum one last time. After riding out both of your orgasms for a few more seconds, you close your legs and push him off, too sore on the inside and out for him to continue.

He lays down next to you and kisses where your tears slid down your cheeks. You roll over to face him and he puts his arm around you. After a minute to gather your thoughts and catch your breath, you look at him.

“I promise that next time a man is too friendly with me, I’ll mention you straight away”. James chuckles lightly.

“Instead, darling, please promise me that you will never deceive me with a fake orgasm again”. You smile at him and nod, then peck his lips. “Feel free to flirt with whoever you chose, dearest. Next time, I’ll punish you harder”.

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

shelter me from winter’s bite

Everyone’s doing a hypothermia fic so I figured I may as well contribute. It’s one of my favorite tropes.

title taken from Brian Czyzyk’s poem “Hoarfrost” (he’s my favorite young queer poet and you should check him out).

tw: hypothermia, angst with a happy ending, whump with a happy ending

---

“Do you always have to be so damnably loud?” Geralt growls, glaring at Jaskier from across the small room. 

“My apologies for existing,” the bard snaps back. He’d only been rearranging his pack, looking for something reasonably clean to sleep in while his clothes were laundered by the innkeeper’s lovely wife. “I’ll try to do so more quietly from now on, good sir.”

Geralt huffs out a breath in passive-aggressive annoyance and Jaskier bristles. 

“Oh well, then. C’mon witcher, I know you want to say it!”

“Say what?” Geralt asks. His voice is low and threatening. He’s ready to play the game and by god he’s going to win this time.  

“It’s practically your motto at this point,” the bard hisses through his teeth, angry and bitter and tired. Geralt sees victory. Sees some peace and quiet on the horizon. “Say it!”

Geralt does as he’s told, like any good witcher would: “Fuck off, bard.”

“There it is!” Jaskier laughs joylessly, throwing up his hands. He pulls on his doublet and boots and heads for the door. “If you want me gone so badly, Geralt, then I will go. I’ll get out of your lovely white hair and leave you to mope in peace.”

“Fucking finally,” the witcher snarls, turning away. He doesn’t see the genuine hurt in Jaskier’s blue eyes as the bard quietly closes the door rather than slamming it. He doesn’t hear the quiet sob that rips its way out of Jaskier’s throat as he stands very still, shocked and suddenly exhausted all the way to his bones. He doesn’t smell the salt of his bard’s tears as he slips silently down the hallway and out into the late autumn night. He doesn’t notice the snow starting to pile up on the windowsill ahead of season.

He’s too busy being a self-flagellating moron to notice any of that.

---

Geralt is woken in the middle of the night by a commotion downstairs. He can hear several loud, panicked heartbeats and one very quiet, very slow heartbeat beneath all of those; it’s achingly familiar but the half-asleep witcher can’t quite call its source to mind. Geralt listens as the innkeeper barks out a series of sharp orders: “Meredith, you get to the kitchen and make some strong black tea! Florence, fetch a pail of warm water and two or three towels from the laundry. Josiah you lazy lout, get into the attic and fetch some blankets! The poor lad has gone blue all over!”

The witcher peers into the hallway and catches the skinny stable hand, Josiah, racing for the attic staircase. “What’s going on?”

“A farmer from the next town over was on his way over to help a friend’s sow give calf and he found-” the lad pauses to suck in a great gulp of air and launches off again “-and he found that friend of yours lying in a snowbank, muttering nonsense and shivering like a leaf. The poor fool didn’t have a cloak on him or anything, just a doublet and walking boots! He’s near-dead!”

Geralt curses and makes for the stairs, taking them two at a time until he reaches the main floor. There are voices coming from the kitchen and he follows them as if in a dream, his feet moving without aid of his conscious mind. “Jaskier? Is it the bard, Jaskier?”

“Are you the great brute what kicked him out?” the innkeeper’s wife asks, crossing her arms over her ample chest and narrowing her eyes. Geralt falters. 

“No, he- he left on his own, in a huff.”

“Wonder who could have started the huff,” the woman rolls her eyes. This isn’t about his status as a witcher, Geralt knows; this eye roll was made by a woman who knows a lovers’ quarrel when she sees one. Except that this stupid little spat might have cost Jaskier his life.

“Where is he? May I see him, goodwife?”

The woman points to a table in the corner, which has been cleared of cooking implements and cushioned with a heavy bearskin. Jaskier lies atop the brown fur, his skin frighteningly pale, his lips and fingers tinted a slight blue. Geralt rushes to his side and takes one of the bard’s stiff hands in his own. He brushes a stray lock of brown hair from Jaskier’s forehead and nearly recoils in shock from the temperature of his skin. Even colder than his hands, which are already dangerously frigid. If Jaskier cannot play his lute-

Geralt doesn’t even allow himself to finish the thought. Instead he works on rubbing small, careful circles onto the back of the bard’s hands with his thumbs, warming the skin in tiny increments: “Shh, you’re safe. I won’t let you go.”

The bard remains unmoving, heartbeat fluttering weakly, lungs barely drawing breath; Geralt fights back an overwhelming sense of panic, trying to recall whatever training he’d received at Kaer Morhen concerning freezing humans. 

“Do you mind if I take him upstairs and tend to him myself?” the witcher asks.

“Can you take care of him?” the innkeeper’s wife replies. 

Geralt bows his head, shame licking like flames up and down his bent spine, and nods. “Yes, Ma’am. I have dry clothes for him in our room and I was trained extensively for emergency situations such as this, all witchers are.”

“Alright,” she narrows her eyes. “But he’d best be alive come morning.”

“I’ll happily turn myself over to the village elders to be dealt with accordingly should the bard come to any harm,” he vows. Her eyes widen minutely and he can read the surprise in her body language, but she remains relatively calm. 

“Any further harm, rather. Alright, then. I’ll have my husband and the girls bring those supplies up to your room for him. We’ll be glad to go back to sleep.”

“Thank you for your kindness,” Geralt bows formally. She blushes despite her irritation with him and waves him away. 

“Take your bard and go, witcher, before I change my mind and spend all night caring for him myself out of motherly pity. Go.”

Geralt hefts Jaskier into his arms, heavy bearskin blanket and all, and hurries up the stairs to his room. He will not let Jaskier come to any further harm. Not by his hand. Not by his word. Never again. 

---

Back in their room, Geralt quickly undresses the shivering human, peeling away what few damp layers there are with growing disappointment. Jaskier hadn’t been prepared for a walk in the snow at all! Although, to be fair, it hadn’t seemed that cold earlier in the evening and the snow had been sudden and heavy. 

He wipes Jaskier down with a warm cloth and slips one of his own clean shirts over the bard’s head. He tries not to let his gaze linger on the way Jaskier’s shoulders don’t quite fill out the dark material. Or on the way his dark, wiry chest hair peeks out through the open laces at his throat. The witcher quickly shuffles him into clean smallclothes and wraps him in a thick wool blanket. 

They sit curled before the fire and Geralt holds Jaskier against his chest. He hums with his voice like gravel, grating out one note after the other in some attempt to soothe the bard’s aching body. Jaskier shivers and shakes violently in the witcher’s strong embrace, his eyes clenched shut with the cramps that wrack his frame as his muscles return to their normal temperature. Geralt feels like he’s holding a porcelain doll and keeps his grip deliberately loose, tight enough to comfort but not restrain.

“G-Geralt,” he groans. “Hold me, please.”

The witcher squeezes his arms more confidently around the bard’s middle, burying his face in Jaskier’s soft hair and breathing deeply. The warmth that usually emanates from his busy human body is gone and his chamomile-honey scent is buried beneath a layer of damp cold; it feels wrong. Terribly wrong. Geralt murmurs against his temple, begging the younger man’s forgiveness: “I’m so sorry, Jaskier. Gods, I’m so sorry. Will you ever be able to forgive me? I’m a fool, you know. I’m a fool witcher who never says anything important until it’s too late. I’m so incredibly sorry, my love.”

“This is a very good dream,” the bard sighs, smiling despite the pain. His eyes open, bleary and addled. “Like I was having in the woods, but better.”

Geralt raises an eyebrow and Jaskier seems to understand the unspoken question, even in his current sorry state.

“The real Geralt would never be so gentle with me, dear heart. You must be a dream, sent to me on my deathbed to ease my passage into the afterlife. There’s no other explanation for your sudden displays of tenderness.”

“It’s... It’s really me,” Geralt affirms. He runs his hand up and down the length of Jaskier’s spine, “I’m here, Jaskier. Can you ever forgive me for being so stupid?”

“I forgive you for being stupid ever other day, dear witcher. It is of no consequence to me.”

“It almost was,” Geralt frowns. “I nearly- I almost-” 

Jaskier’s arm raises weakly and his too-chilly hand presses to Geralt’s cheek. “I shouldn’t have stormed off like an idiot. I shouldn’t have kept picking the fight. We both fucked up, alright? What matters is our second chance. We got to have one, Geralt.”

“Hmm.”

“Am I wearing your shirt?” 

“Yes.” 

“Why?”

“Yours were all being laundered and this one was clean and it had been in my pack near the fire so it was already warm and-”

“Did you take care of me all night?”

“Hmm.” Geralt sighs after his hum and glances away for a moment. “What did you mean about... about the dream in the woods?”

“Oh. Well, when I was very cold and things were hazy and slow, I dreamed that you were there with me. Everything got very fuzzy and warm for a little bit, and when it was warm you were holding me like this and giving me little kisses. It was... nice. Even though I knew I was dying because you were being so soft, so considerate; saying things to me you’d never say out loud in real life.”

“I love you, Jaskier. I will try my best not to lose my temper needlessly,” the witcher swears. “You don’t deserve it.”

“Can we still cuddle like this?” Jaskier asks, leaning his weigth against Geralt’s firm chest. “It’s so nice to be held.”

“Of course. Anything you want. I’m not going to waste my second chance by treating you poorly. Not for another second, my beloved bard.”

“B-beloved?”

“Hmm.”

“Oh, well then I’m definitely still dreaming.”

Geralt lifts Jaskier into his arms and carries him over to the bed, which is piled high with their extra blankets. He tucks Jaskier into the nest against the wall and lays along the outside of the mattress. He presses his lips to the bard’s, reveling in Jaskier’s returning warmth, and smiles. “I’ll prove it’s not a dream. Every day.”

“Sounds nice,” Jaskier yawns, snuggling into the witcher’s arms and settling down to sleep. 

“It will be.”

[samdeancass]

Time Travel

Requested on Quotev

Pairing: Kevin x Tennyson!reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Characters: Kevin, Y/N, Ben, Gwen

Words: 2367

A/N: Y/N is Bens sister.

Description: When Y/N is kidnapped by a time traveller for revenge, its up to Kevin, Ben and Gwen to save her.

Being the sister of Ben Tennyson wasn’t the easiest thing in the world. You're always getting used as leverage or kidnapped by his enemies and sadly, you were becoming to get used to it. However, things became more complicated when you struck up a relationship with Kevin. Both of them would get into fights together about who would be the one to save you. These fights had become more and more frequent over the past few weeks and you had had enough.

“I’VE HAD IT! You both are acting like children! Fighting over who gets to save me! Has it ever occurred to you that you wouldn’t have to if you bothered to teach me self-defense, eh?” You stood up from the sofa and glared at the both of them before storming towards the front door.

“Where are you going?!” Both Kevin and Ben stood up and began to walk towards you. You glared at the both of them . “Somewhere where the both of you aren’t!” You slammed the door behind you and began walking towards your car. You had no idea where you were going to drive to but you needed to clear your head. Sliding into the drivers seat and turning the ignition, you placed your foot on the accelerator and gently eased onto the road.

You slid into the parking lot of Mr. Smoothie and turned off the ignition. You rested your head against the steering wheel and let out an agitated scream. “Why can’t they just realise that both of them can work together?! They don’t always have to fight each other!” You stayed in your car for a few more minutes before getting out and walking towards the entrance of Mr. Smoothie.

A bright blue light engulfed the parking lot. Confused, you turned around and scoped out your surroundings whilst signalling your location on your plumber’s badge. Footsteps sounded behind you and you whizzed around, hands up in front of you for self-defense. A loud laugh rumbled throughout the air as a man, a little taller than you, walked out of the shadows.

“Really, Y/N? You think doing that is going to save you?” The man towered over you in an attempt of intimidation. You stared up at him, unfazed. “No, but I know that my brother, the wielder of the Omnitrix, his cousin, an anodite and my boyfriend, an osmosian, will travel to the ends of the earth to find me and kick your ass.”

The man let out a growl before grabbing your shirt in his fists and lifting you up to his eye level. “That osmosian is the reason I’m here. A long time ago, he took something….someone dear to me. I’m going to do the same to him.” A loud cackle invaded your ears as the blue light surrounded you once more, engulfing you and whisking you away.

Ben and Kevin were still bickering with each other after you left. They were stood toe to toe with each other, both of their nostrils flaring with frustration. “She’s my sister, Kevin! Of course I’m going to want to save her!” “What about me?! I’m her boyfriend! She relies on me to keep her safe!” Ben opened his mouth to answer but was interrupted by his omnitrix flashing. He rolled his eyes and twisted his omnitrix, a green map showing up. “It’s Y/Ns coordinates. Why would she be sending us this?” Ben and Kevin both looked at each other with fear in their eyes. “Tennyson, get in the car now!”

Kevin sped around the streets of Bellwood until he reached your coordinates. He got out of the car immediately and looked around, Ben following his lead. “Y/N!” In the distance, he seen you in the man’s clutches being engulfed into the blue light. Kevin ran as fast as he could, Ben following behind, but he was too late. You disappeared right before his eyes and he was too slow to save you.

He sunk to his knees and punched the concrete beneath him, over and over. “Kevin, stop!” He kept going, anger and frustration striving his punches. Ben pulled him up and slapped him across the face. “Snap out of it, Kevin! You’re not going to be able to help her if your hurt!” Kevin closed his eyes and nodded in understanding.

“Now, we need to figure out who that man was. He seemed to have some sort of travelling powers.” Kevin’s eyes widened in realisation as Ben kept talking about the plan to get you back. “Tennyson, shutup. I know who’s took her.” Ben tapped his foot against the floor as he waited for an explanation. “It was a long time ago, back before I met you guys. I was crazy with power. Somebody set a bounty on this guy so I went after him.”

Ben nodded, signalling Kevin to keep talking. “I went to his house and knocked on the door. As soon as that door opened, I absorbed silver and punched whoever was in front of me. I looked down and saw that I had killed his wife. She was dead instantly.” A small tear ran down his face as he remembered how horrible he used to be. “His name is Larry. He’s a tech genius and he’s been after me for years, but I’ve always been one step ahead of him. Larry built time travel tech so he could find me in any time, anywhere. He’s finally caught up with me.”

Kevin held his head down in shame as Ben walked towards him and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “You’re not that guy anymore Kevin. You’ve changed. We will find a way to get Y/N back from him, I promise.” Kevin nodded his head in appreciation. “I think that the first port of call should be Gwen. She’s got that big spellbook so maybe There’s one about time travelling.” Ben agreed and they both walked back towards Kevins car.

You groaned as you regained consciousness, a pounding headache attacking you. You tried to hold your head but found that your hands were tied tight to the arms of your chair, the same with your feet. Taking a deep breath to calm your quickening heartbeat, you looked around the room to try and find something that would help you get free.

You seen a large nail sticking out of a pillar across the room and smiled. You began to scrape your chair towards it, relief filling your body, when the door in front of you swung open causing you to scream. “Do you really think you’d be able to escape me, Y/N? We’re not even in the same year anymore. There isn’t anywhere that I wouldn’t find you.” Larry walked behind you and pulled the chair back to its original position.

“What do you mean we’re not in the same year?! How is that possible?!” Panic began to fill your body as his words sunk into you. Your chest began to heave as your breathing became heavy. Larry stepped in front of you, kneeling down to your height. “I’ve developed technology that helps me travel through time. I’ve been trying to catch up to Kevin for years but I’ve never been able to make him suffer, until now. You’re the most important thing in his life, Y/N, and I’m going to take you away from him, just like he did to me.”

Confusion washed over your features. “What do you mean? Who did he take from you?” Larry stood up and took a deep breath. “He came to my house looking for me, and found my wife. He killed her and left her body for me to find. I held her in my arms and vowed to get revenge on the person that murdered her; and that is exactly what I am going to do.”

“No! He’s not like that anymore! He’s changed! He’s a good man! Please don’t do this!” Tears began flowing down your cheeks as he came towards you with a tray of torture tools. A smirk washed over his face as he took a small knife from the tray and lunged towards you.

Ben, Gwen and Kevin had gathered together all of the ingredients from the spell. “Surely with all this time travelling he’s been doing over the years, there’s got to be consequences. He can’t just travel through different years and not expect anything to happen. Time has got to catch up with him sometime, right?” Kevin and Gwen rolled their eyes as Ben rambled on.

“Hey, Gwen. Thank you for doing this. I know it’s going to take a lot out of you and I just want you to know how much I appreciate this. Y/Ns the most important person, and knowing that somebody has her because of me….it breaks me apart inside.” Gwen looked up at him and smiled. “You don’t need to thank me, Kevin. We all love Y/N and we’d do anything for her. We will get her back.”

Kevin leaned down and hugged Gwen. “Now, guys, how in the hell are we supposed to know what year she’s in? I don’t think there’s any sort of map that tells you something like that.” Gwen carried on mixing the ingredients together whilst looking up at Ben. “There isn’t a map, but there is a spell. A very easy one, actually. All I need is something of hers.”

Kevin reached into his pocket and held out your plumbers badge that had fell out of your hands. “Will this work?” Gwen nodded and took the badge, pouring the ingredients over it whilst chanting out the spell. Her eyes began to sparkle pink with her anodite power as the spell progressed. Ben and Kevin stood back against the wall as the room was overcome with power.

In a matter of seconds, Gwen was gone and the room was empty apart from the two boys. “Alright, I think it worked. Now, where would Larry be keeping Y/N?” “His house. It’s the perfect place for him to get his revenge. Me going back to the scene of the crime to make me suffer, it’s got to be there.” Ben headed towards the door. “Then what are you waiting for? Let’s go.”

Both of the boys ran as fast as they could towards Larry’s house with Kevin leading the way. He rounded the last corner and stood in front of a stone house, dark and forgotten. Ben eventually caught up with Kevin and rested his hands on his knees, catching his breath. “Are you sure they’re in there? It looks abandoned.” A scream erupted from the house, which they both identified as yours. Kevin was the first to head towards the house, opening the door with one kick and running towards your screams. Ben followed quickly behind, his omnitrix ready for battle.

Your screams became louder as the boys headed deeper into the house. “Hold on, baby, I’m coming.” They stopped when they came to a wooden door underneath the staircase. Kevin and Ben looked at each other before shoulder barging the door open.

Your eyes widened as the door was busted open. However, you let out a breath of relief when you seen Kevin and Ben standing in front of you. Kevin began to move forwards toward you but was stopped in his tracks by Larry holding a small blade to your throat. “Stop right there, Kevin. If you take one more step, well, I suppose you know what will happen next.”

You and Kevin both locked eyes and you could see the worry consuming him. You nodded slightly, signalling you were Ok. “I’m alright, Kevin. Don’t worry.” You winced as the blade was pressed harder against your throat. Kevin tensed up as he seen you in pain. “How does it feel Kevin? Knowing that the person you love is going to die, but there is nothing you can do about it.”Kevin took a step forward. “I wouldn’t know because that’s never going to happen.”

At that moment, Ben lunged at Larry as Kevin ran towards him. The knife was knocked out of Larry’s hands as he hit the floor, leaving him defenceless against the wrath of Kevin and Ben. Larry crawled back until he hit the wall. “Please, don’t hurt me. I don’t want to be in anymore pain. I just wanted you to know what I felt when you took away the woman I love.”

Kevin knelt down in front of Larry, a slight smile on his face. “I’m not going to hurt you, Larry. That’s not who I am anymore. But I am going to leave you with the fact that you could have caused me that pain and you failed.”

Kevin stood up and ran towards you withBen following close behind. He knelt down in front of you and untied your legs whilst Ben untied your arms. You fell into Kevin’s awaiting arms, a small groan of pain escaping your lips. “I’m so sorry this happened to you, Y/N.” You shook your head and gave a small smile. “You don’t have to apologise, Kev. You weren’t to know that he was going to take me.” Kevin brushed a few strands of hair away from your face and brushed his thumb across your cheek.

You could see that there was still worry and shame evident in his eyes, so you leaned up and placed a sweet and gentle kiss on his lips. “You’re not that guy anymore, Kevin. You’ve changed for the better and I am not going to blame you for anything that happened back then because it wasn’t the true you.”

Kevin gave you a beaming smile and kissed you, this time deeper and more passionate. “Erm, guys. Don’t you think we should get home before you start doing any of that?” Both you and Kevin laughed before he lifted you in his arms and carried you out of the door.

“I’m glad you guys were finally able to work together to save me.” Ben and Kevin both looked at each other with small smirks. “Yeah, don’t be expecting it every time, sis. One of us is always going to be more protective of you.”

[ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff]

Kisses and Near Misses (Riff x Reader) Part 15

Summary: Breaking trust is so simple. Building it back up takes time, commitment, and a mutual agreement. 

AN: I won’t be writing anymore Riff stuff, but I love Mike Faist and his acting so if you have any of his work’s you’d recommend/want me to write for, let me know! If you have a rip of his run in Newsies, and you’re interested in trading/sharing, also hit me up in my DMs.

Chapter content warnings: references to canon-typical racism, open but somewhat happy ending

Previous Part // Masterlist

The Consequences

Your name: submit What is this?

Shaking his hands over the sink, Y/N checked his reflection and turned, almost colliding with Manolo. Breaths sharpened like knives, backs tense, they both held themselves firmly in place. This was the first in a long time that the two had been alone together. 

“I’m sorry about when I pushed you at the dance,” Y/N blurted out.

Manolo blinked, his big arms folding into a protective barrier, “You’re kidding, right?”

“I shouldn’t have done it, it was rude and wrong of me. You don’t have to accept my apology.”

“You don’t have to tell me what to do, gringo.” 

Animosity acknowledged, and grateful that Manolo was saving his punches for the gym he worked in, Y/N ducked his head and swiftly exited the community centre’s restroom. His still damp hands dug deep into his trouser pockets to hide the shaking.

It was the first neighbourhood dance since the attempted Rumble. As expected, things stayed very much segregated on the part of the dancers. Tense stares and glares were shot from one side to the other, but they stayed on their chosen sides and wondered in their own heads: who rumbled the Rumble? Probably and unfortunately, when Maria and Tony left for the countryside like they had planned, the snide remarks would go back to being public as opposed to behind backs. Speaking of which, Maria and Tony were dancing together at the edge of the hall. Other eyes from both sides were on them, but the young couple did not care at all. They were completely in their own world – something that Y/N wished he had of his own.

He didn’t know why he was there. He didn’t want to dance, not even when Graziella tempted him with the band playing his favourite. For her and Roisin, he gave one song apiece before sitting down on the bleachers and counting down the minutes for an appropriate exit.

A sudden scuffle of feet at the centre caught his attention as he sat on the bleachers. Diesel and one of the Sharks had clearly collided and all around them were feeling the ripple effect, holding a collective breath until the two men and their respective partners had moved far, far away, and without a word. Everyone involved directly or otherwise took a long time to get back into the groove that had carried on without them. 

Not waiting for them to find their footing, Y/N left without saying goodbye to his companions. They would know where he’d gone anyway: around the corner to spark a cigarette.

It was the only thing that had brought him some peace since Graziella offered him one the other night. A long exhale freed itself from his lungs just as the door to the disco bounced open.

Riff stepped out with the flashing lights from down the hall illuminating his fresh blue shirt beneath its jacket. His hair swapped with each colour change until it settled under the yellow glow of the lampposts.

“Hey,” He said, not flinching at the sudden smack of the door closing behind him.

Y/N swallowed, “Hi.”

“Thought you hated smoking.”

The cigarette twiddled between his fore and middle finger before he took another drag, “Needed to clear my head.”

“Me too.”

Y/N’s back found the building’s brick wall with a grunt, “How’s your arms?”

“Fine,” and Riff leant against the same wall. A metre’s worth of smoke dissipated between them when Y/N busied his teeth with his cigarette. Vibrations of the dance continuing inside created a polyrhythm with Y/N’s heartbeat, the dissonance throwing off his attempts to remain chilled.

“No one else knows you were the rat. I don’t see the point in tellin’ em.”

“…Good.” Ash dribbled onto the ground beside Y/N’s left shoe. “How did they take it?”

“I think they were relieved, after what nearly happened. But now they don’t know what to do with themselves.” Riff looked back at the path back to the dance, as if he could see inside all the Jets with their anger and their desire to change an impossible situation trying to carry on. “Bernardo said the same thing about his men.”

“The man has more patience than I thought. Figured he would have gone after Tony more than a few times now.”

“Family, I guess. Can’t hurt Tony without hurting Maria.”

“What a conundrum.” Y/N watched the smoke instead of making a jab about Bernardo having straight priorities. 

“You know, if I woulda died in that Rumble, then I woulda died. End of. It meant something for the Jets, kept the fight alive until we got our place in this city back. That’s what I wanted: a home for us, not just the Jets. That’s what was supposed to happen! But you destroyed that. For them and for me.”

The cigarette fell to the floor, stubbed out fast.

“I need you to hear this. Not just dismiss it then carry on like I’ve not ever asked for you to change.” And Y/N used this position on the dead cigarette to pivot towards Riff for the first time in this conversation. “You are worth more than dying alone in a salt shed, for turf, and same goes for everyone in those salt sheds - Sharks included. You could all be so much more. I never asked for you to do that, because anywhere with you was home. You say you dying would have continued this stupid war? Then, if I was given a second chance, I would do it all again.”

Riff blinked several times. His half-moon eye seemed misty, in a veil of foggy tears. Before Y/N could let it influence him, or things took a turn for the less civil, he finished their conversation for them both:

“I’m sorry that I broke your trust. But I’m glad that you are alive, and I hope to God that you all continue leaving each other alone.”

Y/N’s heart couldn’t risk anything besides a nod before he began to make his way back to the apartment. Twenty paces later, a clatter of running footsteps and a hand on his shoulder stopped Y/N in his tracks. The owner? Riff who was panting a little but managed to speak quite clearly.

“Gotta get you back safe and sound.”

An olive branch, weathered by their conflict, and offered by Riff of all people. Their own truce until they parted again, for better or for worse, hung between them as they walked to the apartment. No humming or singing, just the beat of their marching feet led the way. And if those steps brought them a little closer together, so be it. The butterflies were still there. Instead of a few flutters at a new crush, it was the insistent flapping about Y/N’s thoughts that they were together again – even if it was just for the walk home. So, he didn’t dare question Riff coming into the apartment block, up the stairs, into the apartment, poking his head through the ajar door to his bedroom as he removed his shoes.

“Where’ve you been staying if you don’t mind me asking?” He said, hoping he wasn’t acting like Riff was a stranger in his own home.

“Around,” Riff said, still looking in his room, “Jets take care of their own.”

“Your name is still on the lease. You can always stay here if you still want it.”

“Would you stay or be somewhere else whenever I was here?”

“I don’t know.” Y/N did know. It was an unfortunate habit: hiding his true feelings. A habit that he was still trying to break. “I think I would stay if we talked about it. Listened to each other no matter what for once.” 

“We took our sweet time doing that,” Riff said through a sniff. His tone was not mocking; it was low with brutal honesty. The benefit of hindsight was a hard pill to swallow. His feet swung with pretend casualness as he walked back into the kitchen, the table between the men with both their chairs tucked neatly underneath. Like ice cubes in a warm drink, Riff’s voice cracked as it emerged.

“Y/N, I think...”

Y/N’s chest burnt all in its butterflies, burning up his lungs as he waited for Riff to speak again. His hand on his chair anchored him in the present. Any interruptions he thought to make were foiled before they were even considered by his voice box, because if this was it, he would not ruin it more than he already had.

“I think-” Riff paused to clear his throat, his breath heavy as lead. “I think we could find our home again, if we could forgive each other.”

With a wavering stare, Y/N managed to say through the lump in his throat, “That’s the thing, Riff. I could try forgiving you for hurting me, maybe you could try forgiving me, but I didn’t try to stop you until you were in direct danger. I didn’t care about anyone else until I was in a cell with all those people involved. Not just the Jets and the Sharks, but everyone trying to get us out. I have to get past that.”

“You said I could be more. That means you could be too.”

“I see you starting to change, with the truce. You’re really trying. And I can change too. But right now, us talking about forgiveness doesn’t mean anything until we actually do something about it and I can’t do anything about it right now. It’s just words thrown around without any action.”

Riff nodded, his Adam’s apple bouncing hard before he spoke again, “Better than a punch though, right?”

A short laugh jumped out of Y/N’s jaw in spite of him nearly crying, “Yes, definitely.” Before he exploded into tears, he said, “I miss the bones of you. It’s gonna take a while for me to get where you are, that’s all.”

Riff seemed to accept this without looking at Y/N, backing away to twist the doorknob to his room as he said, “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

“Yeah. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

As he tucked himself in that night, Y/N tried to keep his hopes under the covers with him. His tears spilled out onto the pillow, draining into the cotton sheets with all of his energy spent on missing Riff. How long could he spend in this limbo, healing himself? Nowhere near as long as it would take to heal the community from the harm he’d enabled. His fingertip was still running laps of the arrow on his forearm. 

His hopes came flying out around the room with the bedcovers pushed to the end of his bed. The light went from slitted between the door and floor, to blinding Y/N who almost collided with the restless Riff - framed by its dull bulb hanging in the colourful lampshade. His half-moon eye was amber; the blue transformed into  turquoise and burst with the same idea that Y/N had. But Y/N was distracted, his hands touching the scars on Riff’s arms that sliced the lady in half and broke his arrow. 

“I let you go so many times. I let you get hurt, and all those people.”

He lost his breath as he and Riff took his head in his hands, speaking with direct eye contact, “You never asked me to do this. This is my fault, not yours.” His cheek planted itself back on Y/N’s temple as they swayed in the hug. “I’ve been staying with Tony.”

“And Valentina let you?”

“He vouched for me. And convinced me to talk to you.”

“Remind me to thank him later.”

The clock hanging in the kitchen chimed midnight, each ringing of the bells a lighthearted toll for the new day.

“It’s tomorrow,” said Riff hoarsely. 

Y/N agreed as he pulled out of the tightness but stayed in Riff’s space, “It is.”

His finger drew a line from Riff’s ear to his chin, pinching it softly and tilting their foreheads together. The men reintroduced their lips in a temporary farewell embrace, their rings turned with the hearts pointing at their wrists and hopefully a better future.

[shreddedparchment]

A Wife for Thor Pt.13

12/12/2020

The Honeymoon’s Not Over

Pairing: King!Thor x Reader          Word Count: 5,309

Warnings: jealousy, slight angst, light smut, language, talks of pregnancy

A/N: I’m sorry these are taking longer. My grandparents are living with me for a few months and these are going to get a little slower now that they’re here. I hope you enjoy it! If you have a favorite part, let me know what it is! I’d love to hear. If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo

Please DO NOT repost my stories on any other blogs or sites.

REBLOGS are always welcome!

Not knowing what to expect from a marriage to a veritable stranger is predictable. Of course, you’re not going to know what’s to come when you don’t know the man you’ve agreed to marry.

Apart from the responsibilities of the throne you’ve chosen to sit upon, and the obligations you have to provide the kingdom with an heir, the marriage you have chosen for yourself was entered into blindly.

You knew absolutely nothing about Thor when you agreed to marry him. You knew a little bit more by the time you stood directly opposite him and said your vows.

Now, after spending time with him in the company of his comrades, his friends, you know what Thor sounds like when he busts a gut. You see the twinkle in his one eye when they all sit around the living room reminiscing about battles won.

You see sadness over their losses, and the loyalty of his friendship. You see the weight they all carry on their shoulders to give this world its best chance against all forms of threat.

Most of all, you know how proud Thor is to have you by his side. At every moment possible, he’s pulled you into their games and conversations. He’s invited Tony to give you a tour of the compound and Bruce had tagged along and whispered to you smaller things that Tony conveniently left out because they weren’t things for him to boast about.

As the night went on, the Avengers told you their farewells and those that lived outside of the compound took their leave. They told you it was so nice to meet you, shook your hand—or hugged you as was the case with Wanda, Nat, and Steve—and then made you promise to stop by again and stay for longer than a day.

“We’ll make a real vacation of it, I assure you,” Thor promises Bucky who has taken a shine to you more enthusiastically than you thought he would.

Since you made your opinions on Loki clear, he’s been much more eager to speak with you and exchange ideas on more than just overlooking the troubled pasts of people desperate to make a change.

By one o’clock in the morning, Tony and Bruce are the only two left in the living room.

Bruce sits at the edge of the sofa, his glasses balanced at the end of his nose as he scrolls through large amounts of text and numbers on a sleek black tablet.

Tony has taken over the corner of the sectional, his phone pressed to his ear again as he yawns but resists sleep.

You hear him say Pepper’s name and a quick acknowledgement that he misses her when you decide that maybe it’s time to give them their privacy.

You rise slowly, Thor back in the main common room where you’d all eaten dinner, talking to Loki or Hilde on his own phone to keep up with what’s happening back home.

Bruce notices, not as invested in his reading as you’d thought.

“I think I’m gonna head to bed.” You admit, gesturing over your shoulder towards the other room.

“Oh, okay. Have a good night. I think Tony has breakfast set up for eight o’clock tomorrow morning so, the others will be back by then. I think?”

Bruce turns towards Tony who has his legs folded up on the seat, his hand combing through the back of his head as a sappy grin overtakes his face.

“Hey, breakfast at eight, right? Tomorrow morning?” Bruce asks, reaching over to place his hand on the seat of the sofa to attempt and get his attention.

“Hold on, Pep, there’s some weird old man trying to ask me something. I think if I ignore him long enough, he’ll leave me alone.” Tony mutters, loud enough for everyone to hear but muffled enough to make it clear that you’re not supposed to.

From the other end of the phone, you hear a clearly amused female voice speak back, “Be nice. He’s trying to be accommodating for Thor’s wife.”

He throws his hand back towards Bruce and waves his hand at him in clear dismissal.

Bruce sighs and gives you an apologetic smile, but you’re smiling from ear to ear.

“Sorry. Just to be safe, we’ll say eight o’clock.”

“Thanks, Bruce. For the tour and everything.”

“Yeah, no problem.” Bruce nods.

“Good night. Good night, Tony.” You call at him pointedly.

Tony makes a point to look back at you, fixing you with a buttery smile, “Goodnight, Cherub.”

You scoff, laughing a little, but give them a wave and move into the common room.

Thor’s back is tense, and it makes you worry.

Despite the conversation you’d overheard in the kitchen, you’re more confident now than before that Thor is devoted to you.

Because it’s in his touch. It’s in his gaze. It’s in the way he pulls you into his side when the others teased you about now being obligated to be an Avenger and the consequent terror that filled your eyes.

“A jest, my sweet.” Thor had whispered, then chuckled with the others.

He’d promised to tell you about this threat when the two of you were alone, but you’re so exhausted and as much as you want to go over and demand he fill you in now, you turn down the long hallway and pass two or three doorways before you reach the bedrooms.

The first door on the left is Thor’s and you slip in quietly, hoping not to interrupt Thor’s phone call.

It’s toasty warm inside. You peel off your clothes and despite wanting to just snuggle into bed, you make your way into the bathroom and the deep tub is long and wide enough for two people.

You flip on the shower instead, the water burning hot and as it glides down along your skin it summons goosebumps as the cold is chased away.

You hadn’t realized how chilly the compound is until now, and wonder if the Avengers are just hot natured. It would be weird for all of them to be like that, but if the ones with powers are like Thor, then maybe they all run a little hotter?

A tickle around your arms, just above your elbows, coaxes your eyes back open.

You hadn’t even realized you were falling asleep. Looking down you see two sets of large familiar fingers.

The hands they’re attached to turn you around and pull you close until Thor’s lips press down against yours, pushing you even further into peaceful bliss.

He opens his mouth wide, coaxing your own to respond as his tongue delves hungrily into your mouth.

You’re slow to respond, so tired but eager and pleased with the affection.

Thor’s knee nudges against the inner part of your thigh and you take a step, but he catches it as you do, and he lifts it up against his hip.

Water rains down along your naked bodies and Thor slides into you slowly.

You moan, low and sweet. Quiet and pleased but lazy.

“Thor…” You whimper, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as he dips down to nibble at your throat.

He pumps in and out so deliciously slow that the stretch of him pulls an orgasm from you quickly.

You’re so sensitive at the moment. You go limp in his arms, and he adjusts to support your body as you relax while he continues to push into you.

He rests your back against the shower wall, hips pulled against his as he fucks you slow. Watching him thrust into you, hips rolling slow, is perfection.

You caress the side of his face and he pulls back to look at you before he kisses you sweetly.

It all feels like a dream, and as he speeds up, you shut your eyes and you’re sent off with another wave of pleasure.

~~~~~~~~~~

The morning is toasty. Large warmth wrapped around you.

You twist where he holds you, straining to look at his face which you know like the back of your hand by now. No eyepatch, you reach up to trace the edges of his missing eye.

He croons and curls into your touch, the space gets red and itchy sometimes from wearing the patch all day.

This feeling, this soft glow in your chest, the way it aches and makes you feel like you could fly is something you didn’t know to expect from your marriage.

This iridescence, this shine that grows from your very center to entangle itself around you and Thor.

“Sleep longer,” Thor whispers, his voice deep and gravelly with sleep.

He pulls you closer, large hands splayed against your back as he rubs it several times up and down.

It almost does lure you back to sleep but you force your eyes open.

“We have to go down for breakfast. Everyone will be waiting.”

“Mmmmmm,” Thor protests.

No, he’s straight up whining. Tightening his hold, you groan as he squeezes. Any harder and he’ll crack your back.

“Thor,” You insist, and after a bit he opens his eye and peeks at your face before shutting it again.

“I do not appreciate early mornings when I am supposed to be enjoying uninterrupted time with my new wife.”

“You’re the one that brought us here!” The chuckle that slips through your lips is unintentional, but he’s so cute all pouty.

“It doesn’t matter,” He frowns, “I am King. Things should go my way.”

“Well, excuse me Your Majesty. Should I go tell the Avengers that they need to reschedule breakfast until you’re ready to wake up?”

“Yes,” When you start to move, he shoots up, tackling you to the bed and pinning your arms over your head as you laugh. “Wait, I don’t want you to leave the bed.”

“How the hell else am I supposed to go tell them then?”

“I suppose we can’t make them wait. I am so glad that we’ve still got a few days left to spend at your home. I want to make sure we go back to the palace with my child firmly planted in your womb.” He gushes and even though the words aren’t exactly dirty, it’s got your core throbbing and aching for more of what you think happened last night.

“Did we make love last night?” You really don’t know if it was just a dream or not.

It was all so sleepy, the memory like smoke. It could very well have been a wet dream.

“Don’t you remember?”

“Kinda. I was so tired.”

The amused curve of Thor’s lips give you the confirmation you need, “Yes, you were very tired. I had to catch you after your second climax. You fell asleep just as I also reached mine.”

“I don’t remember,” You confess, trying hard to remember what happened after your eyes shut.

You vaguely remember feeling supportive hands on the back of your head and back.

The soft mattress of his bed supporting you as he placed you on it?

“I’m not allowed to get drunk or to get really tired around you anymore. I hate not remembering my nights with you.”

He settles down on top of you, keeping his weight light and balanced on his side. His hands he brings down along your arms until he has his right cupping the left side of your head while his left hand finds its usual spot on your hip.

“I quite enjoy it when you can’t keep your eyes open. You sang for me on our wedding night.”

His reminder makes you groan and you turn away from him but he catches your lips in a kiss before you can turn away fully.

Thor gives you a good morning. A very good morning.

You both shuffle out into the common room where you’d had dinner last night with wide smiles, playful chuckling, and completely satisfied.

Both of you are so into what the other is saying or doing with their hands that you don’t really hear the murmur of conversation by the long table.

“When we get back, we should break in that bench in your backyard.” Thor whispers.

“Are you joking? That thing is gonna leave so many marks on my body. No way.”

“Come on, I’ll put a blanket, and you can be on top.” He presses his lips right up against your ear as he seduces you, but you’re stronger than that...maybe.

“Mmm, that’s really tempting there, Your Majesty,” you tease, reaching up to tug on his ear until he meets your lips in a quick peck.

It’s noisy and it smacks. So loud in fact, that you two finally notice the way the murmur of voices has disappeared and turned into silence.

Both of you stop, searching ahead for what might have caused the sudden death of conversation and at first don’t see anything.

Well, you don’t see anything.

“Good morning, everyone. What’s-is everything okay?” You ask, finding Steve’s face as he stands with his arms crossed across his chest, looking at you and Thor with his chin tucked in a bit.

He looks pensive and worried.

A quick look at Natasha and Wanda tells you that they’re worried for you for some reason. Both of them sitting at the edge of their seats.

Beside you, Thor has gone stiff.

“Thor?” You look at him, not sure why and search his face to see if there might be a clue but his eye is lasered in across the room and you follow his gaze.

You’re still not quite certain what he sees until movement on the furthest seat of the table draws your attention to a small brunette, with peachy skin, rosy cheeks, and bright brown eyes.

She’s so nervous that she’s almost clumsy, pushing her long hair over her shoulder, her lips quivering into a smile and then back into a straight line several times before they settle into a teeny uncertain curve of her lips.

Pink lips. Not chapped. Perfectly proportioned so that both lips are the exact same thickness.

“Jane…” Thor says, almost like it’s a realization.

“Oh,” Your voice is more timid than you expected it to come out if you ever came face to face with this woman. “That’s Jane.”

You’re suddenly really sad you never Googled her so that you’d at least have been prepared for the absolute petite beauty that she is.

Thor’s head whips towards you and he blinks, mouth opening as he searches for the words.

“I-we-er-I mean...This-this is my wife,” He introduces you breathlessly.

Clearly seeing her has caught him by as much surprise as you. Maybe more.

“Queen of Asgard,” he gives her your full name.

In Asgardian tradition, since Thor doesn’t technically have a last name in the traditional sense like humans do, you’ve kept your own.

“Right,” Jane shuts her eyes, claps her hands gently then nods slowly. “Right, of course. You’re King now! RIght. Your Majesties.”

Her greeting is simple and she even gives a quick somewhat off balance curtsy, probably from her nerves.

“Oh, that’s-”

Thor takes your hand, pulling you just a smidge more into his side, cutting off your protest to her curtsy.

“Thank you for that,” Thor tells her, nodding once. “None of these rascals bothered to bow to my new Queen.”

There’s something odd about Thor’s voice that you’ve never heard before. An anger. Subdued rage. Surprise too. His own sprinkle of nerves thrown in there as well.

You steal a glance up at his face and find a tightness around his eyes as he then drops your hand to slip it around your shoulders.

“What are you doing here?” He asks her, and the Avengers take this as their cue to rise from their spots and move into the living room or the kitchen.

Jane comes around the table, stopping a few feet away from the two of you.

Their eyes are locked on each other, her pretty browns and Thor’s one electric blue.

The silence, though it lasts only a quick three seconds, is endless. Instantly you’re an intruder and you spot Bruce peeking from the kitchen. He makes eye contact with you and there’s a beckoning from him, a promise of safety and sanctuary in this super fucked situation you find yourself in and you pull out from Thor’s arm and nearly scamper into the kitchen but a large hand wraps around your wrist gently, pulling to stop you from moving.

“Where are you going?” Thor’s face has softened, all tension leaving his beautiful face as he steps towards you to close the distance between your bodies.

It’s still respectful, a good two feet between you as opposed to the narrow six inches he’s kept you in all week.

Something tells you that he’s also keeping you at arms’ length because Jane is right there and it’s only been at most, two weeks since he ended things with her.

“I was going to give you two some space.” You whisper, though Jane is literally right there, so she can hear you.

“Oh, you don’t have to-” She starts, but Thor cuts her off, almost as if he can’t hear her.

“You do not have to give us space, cherub. You are right where you should be, at my side.” Thor doesn’t bother to whisper, but it’s clear in the volume of his voice that his words are meant only for you.

“It feels weird…” You whisper more quietly that it makes Thor move closer and lean his head down.

“It shouldn’t,” He reaches up to stroke your cheek, and you can’t help but peek at Jane.

She’s watching the two of you, her eyes darting away and back and away again, a fleeting look of confusion on her pretty face.

You reach around Thor’s side and give his side a little pinch to bring his attention back to Jane.

“She’s waiting,” you inform him, and flick your head in her direction before turning to face her again, planting yourself beside Thor just as he wants.

“Right,” Thor agrees, then wraps his arm right back around your shoulders. “What brings you to the compound, Jane? I can’t imagine anything would get you out of the desert with what you showed me last time I was there.”

Your heart gives an upsetting lurch at the reminder to Thor’s and Tony’s conversation last night, but you simply lean into Thor’s side some more, pushing down your insecurities for now.

“Yeah, um...I was in the lab when a weird energy spike completely threw off my sensors. It fried my stabilizer. So, I checked with NASA and UNOOSA, CNSA, SUPARCO, and a whole bunch of other contacts at various space agencies around the world and all of them also had similar readings. Not as strong, but they all swear that they don’t have anything in orbit or out in that quadrant. Given the strength of the surge, I contacted Tony to let him know so that he could get word to you but then he told me that you’d be here this week for a day, so I...I decided to stop by and tell you myself.”

She smiles, just a quick awkward little thing, at you and then at Thor.

Thor’s mind processes what she just told him as quickly as it can while you steal a glance at the kitchen again where Tony is peeking out this time.

“To be fair, I didn’t know you were going to be so nice.” He tells you, unapologetic that his words will reach all ears in all three rooms.

He quickly ducks out when you frown at him, leaving Bruce peeking out behind him who then panics and also pulls himself back out of sight.

What you can infer from his words is that he’d invited her to come when he’d known that you and Thor would be on your honeymoon in an attempt to get them back together?

As you look back to Jane who stands there staring at Thor with those stupid big brown eyes, you wonder if she knew Tony’s plans and that’s why she’s here.

“What’s the trajectory of the energy you found? What’s it heading towards?” Thor wonders, taking a half step forward, dropping his arm from your shoulders.

Your mind goes into a sudden frenzy as you, like him, put two and two together quickly.

“The threat?” You guess, stepping away from him but also moving around so that you can look at him and speak a little more face-to-face with him and Jane too.

You’d completely forgotten about the damn threat! You’d been so seduced and tired last night that you passed out. Then Thor woke you up so sweetly with more seduction that you’ve put the secret threat Thor has been trying to hide from you out of your mind.

His furrowed brow, large biceps bulging as he crosses his arms across his chest, betray his guilt at having kept it from you. But the two of you know that you have no time to dwell on petty arguments, so you table the argument you’d planned on having last night for another time.

“Could that be it?” You push, looking to Jane who looks a little confused by the tension in both your and Thor’s bodies.

“It might be.”

“What threat?” Jane wonders.

“What’s the matter, Cherub? What’s got you all worried?” Tony shuffles over, probably having heard the bit about the threat.

You give him a quick glance before you look at Jane, “What kind of energy reading was it? Cosmic? Solar? Celestial?”

All of the Avengers who had begun to make their way back into the common room for breakfast along with Thor, Tony, and Jane stop to look at you, several of them with mouths open and in complete surprise.

The silence is deafening, pressing in on you from every direction. Thor takes a step towards you and seems to be the only one unphased by your question.

“I don’t know that Jane would be able to determine the type of energy at this distance.” And yet, he turns to look at her once he’s spoken. “Jane?”

She blinks, still completely in shock by your knowledge, “Uh, I might be able to find a way to determine...how do you know about-?”

“As soon as Thor formally asked me to marry him I started to make a list of things that would probably be good to know in my position. Loki helped me um…” Wait, shoot...maybe you shouldn’t be so open with them?

“The weird sister helped you what?” Tony asks, casual disdain in his voice for the younger Asgardian prince.

You frown at him.

“Nevermind.” You cross your arms across your chest and sit down on the seat right behind you.

“He didn’t mean that, cherub.” Thor cuts in, moving towards you he pulls the seat beside you out to sit down, facing you. “Isn’t that right, Stark?”

“No.” You frown, really not liking the way some of them seem to really hate Loki.

Part of you knows that you can’t blame them. Loki did a lot of bad the last time he was here for an extended period of time.

He killed a lot of people and wreaked havoc on New York. They have every right to be angry at him. Even though you know this, you can’t find yourself letting them get away with their open hatred for him in front of you.

Thor looks at Tony with a pleading, his large hands on your knees as he strokes your legs softly to try and soothe you.

You see Tony roll his eyes from the corner of your own and with a silent exasperated sigh, he throws his hands out in front of him to physically push away his words.

“Alright, you’re right. I’m sorry. He’s made amends, right? He’s spent the time since he came back doing right by those people that he hurt. You’re right.” The longer Tony speaks, the more it looks like it physically hurts him to say sorry.

“Wait, you actually like Loki?” Jane asks, her smile in slight disbelief.

“Didn’t he save your life before?” You throw at her, having heard all about her infection by the Aether and how she’d helped Thor save many worlds.

It’s intimidating and not a story you’d easily forget.

At the time, you’d wondered how you’re ever going to compare to that. She’s helped Thor save Earth twice. What can you do?

Your words have the desired effect, and she quickly deflates as you meet Thor’s eye and sigh slowly.

“They don’t mean anything by it, cherub,” Thor promises, his voice soft and gentle and soothing.

You see the way Jane’s head twists in your direction at his pet name for you but he reaches up to take hold of your chin and turn your face towards his.

“Loki is lucky to have your loyalty.” He praises, looking genuinely happy about it too, but the smile leaves quickly in favor of his curiosity. “But how did you learn about different types of energy?”

“Loki hacked into the S.H.I.E.L.D. mainframe when I told him that I wasn’t sure that I was up for the task of being Queen and wife of an Avenger since I knew almost nothing about anything. I-I did a lot of reading.” You admit, heart in arrest as you gauge everyone’s reaction to Loki’s deceit. “But he only did it because I was crying and really worried and I was almost having a straight up panic attack, and he wanted to help so he offered me a place to learn and I couldn’t-I didn’t have it in me to say no even when he told me how he was going to get me the info so if you’re going to blame anyone, blame me because I was feeling so inadequate and he was just trying to make me feel better.”

Once again, the room is left in silence, save for Thor who smiles at you and reaches around to grab the back of your neck and give it a gentle squeeze.

“It’s alright. We’re not angry. Any of us, right?” As he looks around at everyone, they all nod quickly, giving you reassuring smiles save for Tony who has his arms crossed over his chest now, hand covering his mouth as he shakes with silent laughter.

“You’re angry?” You ask him, and he startles slightly when he realizes you’re talking to him.

“Me? Oh, no. No, I’m not. I just can’t wait to tell Fury that Loki hacked into his servers.” Tony bursts into laughter and has to turn away from all of you and move back into the kitchen to get a hold of himself.

“I’m sorry.” You repeat, reaching down to take hold of Thor’s hand, “I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

“You could never disappoint me, love. Never.” He smiles at you, then pulls you down to kiss your forehead before rising and moving to stand behind you. “Can you get to work on detecting the type of energy it was that destroyed your instruments?”

Jane straightens up out of her slouched pouting as she realizes that he’s talking to her, “Yes. I can. That’s kind of why I came here, to get some help from Bruce. It could also be gamma, so I wanted to consult with him before I made any decisions.”

Bruce lumbers forward between Nat and Bucky, waving Jane over, “We can go now? I don’t exactly have an appetite at the moment. If you don’t mind?”

“Not at all,” Jane shakes her head and moves for him as he turns to lead the way.

Before she can get too far, she stops and turns to look at you and Thor as he moves back to take his seat next to you, your hands pulled up to his lips.

“Uh, congrats again, both of you,” With a firm nod, she turns and leaves you all to your breakfast.

~~~~~~~~~~

“We don’t have to cut our honeymoon short?”

“Definitely not.” Thor frowns, “I would quit my job as King of Asgard if we had to end our private time.”

You smile, despite the pit in your stomach, “You can’t quit, silly.”

“I can. Loki would be more than happy to take over.”

“Well, I won’t let you quit. You’re an amazing King.”

“You’re my wife. You are clearly biased in my favor. I can’t believe a word you say.”

You chuckle at his playful banter, but after a few seconds, your worry for the people of your kingdom takes over.

“But really, Thor. If the threat coming is the same thing that destroyed Jane’s equipment, shouldn’t we go home and, I don’t know, deal with it?”

Thor breathes in deep, considering your words as he finishes pulling off his armor, tossing the last piece onto his red cape leaving him in a plain dark shirt and pants.

In a clear attempt to distract you, he rolls up the sleeves to his elbows, you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t a distraction.

Mmmph!

“I already have Sif and Hilde working on it. Loki is managing things with the palace, beefing up security for when we get there and until Tony and Bruce can come and make their own modifications.”

“Then we can enjoy our last four days?”

“Enjoy them?!” Thor moves to you, slipping his hand down around the waist of your skirt where it intertwines with the lower piece and with a firm tug, he rips through the fabric leaving only the bodice.

You gasp, hand pressed to your chest as you laugh in surprise.

“I’m going to impregnate you in the next four days if it’s the last thing I do.”

Oh my.

“No, turn around for me cherub, so I can finish ripping this dress off of you.” He coaxes you around and leans down to press a kiss to your back, then rips down the back of your bodice with more firm tugs that shake your body.

His lips trail open mouthed kisses down the side of your neck, hands gripping the flesh of your thighs with a possessive squeeze.

Despite your worries, it doesn’t seem like seeing Jane has affected his desire for you in any way. Somehow you’d never believed his devotion to you, until now.

With meeting Jane now that you’re married out of the way, and Thor’s cock still solid as he rutts into you from behind as he strips you, you feel a lot more secure in the emotions and passion you’re able to summon from him.

Almost like he knows you need it, “Tell me you love me, cherub.”

How can he doubt it?

“I love you, puppy.” It just slips out and Thor freezes.

You panic, turning to look at him because you hadn’t meant to say it, and it was something you’d just been calling him in your head in secret because of that look he gives you when he’s begging you to give in for whatever he wants in the moment.

“I’m-” He cuts you off, smashing his mouth down onto you, open wide as he delves into you, tasting you, tongue searching and coaxing.

“Mmmph,” You whimper, wrapping your arms around him to grip the back of his shirt tight.

He suddenly tosses you back onto your bed, pulling his shirt over his head and then shoving his pants down before he grabs your ankles and pulls you towards the edge. With wide splayed out hands he pushes your thighs open and settles between them, two fingers run up along your slick slit making you quiver.

“Tell me again,” he orders, voice so deep you feel it in your toes.

“I love you, pu-AH!”

[gryffindors-weasley]

Finding A Light

Ron Weasley x Fem!Reader

Summary: Ron was left broken in the aftermath of the wizarding war. In an attempt to build a better life, he feels he may have unknowingly met someone who could put those pieces back together.

Warnings: angst, mentions of death, grieving, fluff

A/N: Remus is very much alive in this series! This will be more than one part, I hope you enjoy!

Ron Weasley was a man of few words when presented the daunting task of expressing his emotions, preferring to stuff them down and deal with the consequences later. He never outright says what he’s feeling unless it’s pried from him, and in those times it’s usually expressed through anger. He isn’t great with his words either, so it didn’t come as a surprise to Harry and Hermione to see him so closed off after the war had concluded its disastrous rampage.

It was a battle that anyone and everyone involved was more than likely to never forget, the losses and hardships engraved in their minds as a permanent reminder should their memory allow it as they age. Some had come out on the other side more fortunate than others. Some had handled it far better than others. Ron was not one of those people.

His long awaited ambitions on becoming an Auror were rapidly diminished and pushed to the very back of his mind for a good while. He had wanted absolutely nothing to do with magic beyond that very day, thought that maybe if he hadn’t used it, it wouldn’t remind him of his tragedies. That maybe that part of his life would be forgotten in time if he tried hard enough. So, his wand, his robes, his Hogwarts letters and what was left of his sentimental wizarding memorabilia were hastily shoved into a cardboard box, taped shut and stuffed away to collect dust. Out of sight out of mind was his reasoning, though it didn’t quite work out that way.

The loss of his childhood home paired with the devastating loss of one of his older brothers had been a weight too heavy to bear, pressing down on his chest with each day that passed. He nearly lost two of his closest friends amidst the chaos the Dark Lord left in his wake. Such a lifetime of pain and loss was something he never anticipated to experience all by the young age of eighteen, and it left him feeling like a mere shell of the person he once used to be. As if the years of extraordinary magical endeavors prior to that day were completely erased and replaced with utter heartache.

It took him four years to bring himself out of the pit he found himself stuck in and find some semblance of strength, if only for his mother, and he wanted to build a better life for himself. One without so much sorrow written into his story. He wasn’t entirely sure how to go about doing so, knowing a return to a normal life simply wouldn’t be feasible. Not that his life had ever been considered normal per say.

The emotional scars were something that would never go away, he understood that, but he didn’t think he could go another day having the same mundane routine night and day. He felt ready for more.

Now, at the age of twenty-two coming up on twenty-three, he found himself returning to Hogwarts with hopes to become a professor. His heart nearly beat out of his chest when he arrived, sick to his stomach with nerves as he stopped and stood in the middle of the newly constructed stone bridge. His letter crinkled under the pressure of his tightly clenched hand, luggage in the other, eager students curving their stride to avoid running into him. The castle was more grand than he’d remembered it to be, perhaps they’d made it bigger to house more young witches and wizards, perhaps it wasn’t. Either way, against his instincts, he forced himself to swallow the lump in his throat and continue forward before he convinced himself to turn around and apparate home.

He quickly found that things had been kept fairly the same as he roamed the grand halls in curiosity, as similar to the school he’d grown up in as it could be. The wondrous ceiling of enchanted candles in the Great Hall was a detail that briefly gave him watery eyes; the varying hues of reds, oranges and yellows coloring the Gryffindor common room, down to the house flags pridefully ornamenting the new quidditch pitch. He found himself turning to express his awe to Harry or Hermione on more than one occasion, but was only met with the unfamiliar faces of new students. His shoulders would slump as he exhaled a deep sigh.

It had taken him nearly two months to fully adjust to his newfound routine, to come to terms with the memories that flashed in his mind of their own volition. Whether they be good or bad, they had a habit of making themselves known at the worst of times. Over the course of that time period crumpled pieces of parchment had accumulated around the desk in his room, unsent letters to his mother of his wishes to return home. All of which were written hastily in either frustration or tears, or a mixture of the two. And of the ones he had sent, they were promptly returned with enchanted letters vocally telling him with the utmost of love and sternness that he will be staying, he needs this. Those letters kept him going on those days.

Amongst those days and nights it was strange not having his two best friends there, loneliness still having its hold on him.

Remus Lupin had made his return all the more welcome though, himself and McGonagall being two of the only familiar faces that he’d truly connected with. He felt it was an honor to be taken under his wing and trained, he always had been Ron’s favorite instructor of Defense Against The Dark Arts. He’d even go so far as to say he’s the best if he was being honest.

Regardless, despite his own personal conflicts, he was beginning to feel more comfortable residing there than he had ever thought he would. It was as if the nagging rain cloud dumping over his head was starting to dissipate for the time being.

“You did very good today, Ron,” Lupin says once his final class of the day has left, “the teaching of boggarts is never easy I’ll say, and if I recall correctly it wasn’t your favorite lesson.”

Ron chuckles at the thought, pushing his chair in when he stood. “Not particularly. I still have a nightmare or two about that bloody spider.”

Lupin laughs, nodding at the pleasant memory. Things fall quiet for a few moments as Ron moves to sling his bag over his shoulder. “Off you go, Mr. Weasley, enjoy your weekend,” he urges, grabbing Ron’s attention again before he gets too far. “Here’s your weekly report. You’re becoming a fine up and coming professor I’d say. I have no doubt that I will be leaving my classroom in the best possible care.”

Ron nods with a soft laugh, cheeks flushing a pale crimson at the reassurance as he takes the parchment from him, tucking it into his bag to be read later. “Thank you, Professor Lupin, really. It means a lot to hear.”

He smiles appreciatively before making his way across the long classroom, stopping in his tracks. He takes a breath to gather his thoughts before spinning on his heel to face him again, returning to the desk he sat at. “Can I ask you a question?”

“I suppose.”

He offers Ron a smile upon seeing the clear hesitancy written all over his face. Ron gulps, fumbling with the strap of his bag that rested on his shoulder. He could practically see the gears turning in the ginger boy’s head if such a thing existed. “Was it…was it hard coming back here? After the war, I mean.”

Lupin huffs out a soft laugh at the sudden ask of such a deep question, though he can’t say he was surprised. “I was waiting for this question to arise,” he says, lifting a hand to stop Ron from apologizing. “To give a short answer, yes. It took great thought. To give a long answer, one you may not like but I’m sure you already know, there will always be bad days after experiencing such trauma. It is not easy being born into a life where magic is real and not just a trick of the eye. While it can be wonderful it also brings with it a great deal of damage.”

Ron nods as he listens to his words, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

“Despite all of it, Hogwarts is a place that can be good just as much as it can be bad. You just have to take it in your stride. You’re stronger than you think, Ron. If you really want to be here, I believe it is worth it to try.”

Ron exhales deeply, taking a moment to process his insightful words, a certain wisdom he appreciated. It left him feeling considerably lighter than he had before, like he was a bit more hopeful of a better experience here. “Thank you.”

That’s all he can manage to say.

The blue eyed man in front of him nods. “Go on now, you’ve had a long day, Weasley.”

—

Ron found himself to be rather excited for this weekend. It would be his first time making a trip to Hogsmeade in nearly five years, though he’d been putting it off because the experience wasn’t quite the same when doing it alone. Third years buzzed around him with the excitement of their newfound privileges and independence, bouncing from shop to shop to fully take in all that it had to offer.

He, however, walked at a leisurely pace amongst the students bustling around him, taking a moment to fully appreciate everything he hadn’t seen for so long. Catching details that otherwise went unnoticed like the chipping pink paint on the curved windowsills of Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Shop, and the happy young couples residing inside. The vibrant green moss that formed inbetween the crumbling cracks of the old cobblestone walkways. However, the sight of Zonko’s Joke Shop made his heart lurch in his chest the moment he saw it.

He averted his gaze immediately, swallowing thickly as he tugged at his shirt collar that suddenly felt a little too constricting. It had been Fred and George’s favorite shop to frequent, always buying new things to add to their inventory of pranks. But now that one half of the pair was missing it wasn’t such a fond memory anymore, moreso a taunting one.

The sound of a couple students joyously greeting with a chorus of ‘Hi Mr. Weasley!’ pulled him from his thoughts and he was quick to smile, giving them a half wave as they had already begun to walk away. He let his hand fall back to his side, huffing out a sigh as he continued to walk along the path towards the one place he looked forward to the most, Honeydukes.

The little bell overhead alerted his entrance as he opened the door, the air noticeably sweeter than outside. He found himself smiling as his gaze bounced around the near unchanged shop, any candy you could possibly think of lining almost every brightly painted wall. Though not every single one is a desireable find, he learned that one the hard way. He almost didn’t know where to begin, much like how he felt the first time he ever entered the place, and every time after that for that matter. So he perused the shop, something he’s never done by himself.

His eyes landed on familiar chocolates, and he was quick to grab a box for Hermione because he knows they’re her favorite. Despite such knowledge she still adamantly denies having a sweet tooth to this day. To go along with that, he snags one of the last chocolate frogs for Harry.

It was a fond memory when he thought of it, a tradition they’d had as young students. He’s still got the cards he’d collected from each frog, they were tucked away in that box filled with other things. Maybe when he returned home he’d have the courage to reopen it.

He continues to look around for a bit more, finding himself wishing he had the same sense of enjoyment and innocence as some of the younger students held. For they were fortunate enough to narrowly miss being involved with such negative events. He had to remind himself that it wasn’t looming over his head anymore, to let himself enjoy this very moment. So, he tried his best to clear his mind and bring himself back to his current situation in the middle of an aisle filled with hard candies.

When he had turned the corner of said aisle he collided with something, someone to be more specific, the box clutched in his hands opening on impact and sending the assortment of sweets clattering to the ground with the addition of others. The chocolate frog had fell from its decorative box and hopped out of sight before he could process it.

“I’m so sorry!” A soft voice sounds in front of him, a warm hand enveloping his wrist.

“It’s okay…” Ron trails off when he matches the voice to its owner, blinking slowly as his mouth hangs slightly agape. He found himself staring at the girl, he was quite sure he’d never seen someone so alluring, so captivating. He didn’t know if he could manage to stop gawking. “I-it’s okay.”

His cheeks redden when he realized he’s repeated himself, the fiery heat of embarrassment burning from the very tips of his ears down to his neck, leaving his pale skin flushed. You too came to the realization that you were still gripping his arm, quickly dropping it as you laughed softly to stave off any awkward silence. He averts his eyes momentarily, needing a moment to regain his composure and not make a complete fool of himself in front of the prettiest girl he’d ever seen. Though he’s quite sure he already has.

“I told Mr. Flume it shouldn’t be quite so cramped in here, but he never seems to listen,” you laugh, looking at the smattering of sweets scattered around the two of them. Ron was focused less on the mishap and more on the way you smiled brightly at him, knowing his cheeks were undoubtedly the same shade as his hair. “Give me just one moment, please!”

He nods just a little too late as you rush off around another corner and out of sight, leaving him to stand there awkwardly as students in the vicinity stared at the mess sprawled at his feet. Shortly, you indeed did come back, a new box of chocolates and what was now the last chocolate frog in your hands. You thrusted them in his direction with a warm smile, one that made his heart flip in his chest. “Take these, it’s on the house.”

“Oh I couldn’t do that,” Ron rushes.

“Please, it was my mistake. I insist.”

He laughs softly, nodding after a moment. “At least let me help you clean up?”

You nod up at him with a laugh of your own, “deal.”

He tries not to think about the way your fingers brush over his as they pick up chocolates from the checkered floor, tossing them into the nearby trash bin. And he tried not to think about the way you���d had his stomach twisting in knots as if he was a thirteen year old again experiencing his first crush.

“I’m Y/n, by the way.”

He scrambled to think of a response, seemingly forgetting his own name momentarily. It hadn’t gotten any better when you looked up at him politely as if waiting for a response. “I’m Ron…Ron Weasley.”

He could’ve kicked himself for being so awkward, knowing him stumbling over his words couldn’t possibly give off any sort of appeal. He brushed his hands off with a sigh as he stood to his feet. Though you didn’t seem to mind his nerves as you brushed your hands off on your jeans.

“Nice to meet you, Ron. I only wished it were on better circumstances.” The pale blush on your face deepened a shade.

“That’s quite alright,” he says with an airy laugh, brushing his hair out of his eyes. “It was nice meeting you too.”

That same silence took up the absence in conversation again as Ron tried desperately to think of something to say, not quite ready for the interaction to be over. You beat him to it.

“I hope to see you around here again, maybe without the mess,” you say with a soft smile, “and don’t forget your chocolates.”

He was confused for a moment, too caught up in the way your eyes sparkled as they looked at him, or the way your hair fell around your face before following where you’d been pointing. “Oh! Y-yeah…thank you,” He grabbed his sweets in his shaky hands, feeling rather bold suddenly, “I’ll see you around then, Y/n.”

He was sure your words were only friendly, something you probably said often as a kind gesture. Probably not because you actually wanted to see him again. But he let himself think otherwise if only for a moment.

You simply nod, your grin widening a fraction, “bye Ron.”

—

Ron’s lifted spirits did not go unnoticed, not by Mrs. McGonagall who made it a point to bring it up at dinner later that evening. He could tell she picked up on it, could tell by the very way she’d glanced at him frequently. Though he wasn’t sure he was hiding it very well. He pretended not to notice, focusing his gaze on the rows of tables occupied by dozens upon dozens of students seated at them, the hardwood adorned with some of the best food he’s ever eaten. Second only to his mother.

“Is there a particular reason you’re so cheery, Mr. Weasley?” She finally asks, and he sighs at the question.

“Not particularly,” he responds using her wording, glancing at her as a smile pulls at the left corner of his mouth. He watches as she raises a skeptical brow; he knows what’s coming.

“I haven’t seen you smile like that in a number of years, Ronald. I know when you’re lying,” she says with a soft laugh, though she doesn’t pry.

Ron chuckles down at his plate as he shakes his head, pushing his food around as he thought about her. The way she smiled at him, so brightly the corners of her eyes crinkled. It still felt as though those butterflies were still fluttering around in his stomach. He quickly found himself wanting to hear your voice again, or hear your laughter—

“I’ve met a wonderful person today, that’s all,” he blurts, looking to his side.

She gave him a fond yet knowing smile, nodding her head. “I know the look of young love when I see it.”

“I’m not in love, Mrs. McGonagall,” he urges almost immediately, cheeks reddening once more at her preposterous conclusion, “I’ve only just met her today.”

“If you insist, my dear.”

“I do insist.” He tries to be sure of himself despite his inability to get you off his mind, but he hides his smile behind his goblet as he takes a sip.

Later that night he went to bed with something other than sorrow clouding his thoughts, instead feeling rather optimistic about the week ahead. Or maybe it was the plans he’d had at the end of it that had him so eager, time feeling agonizingly slow. It was definitely that. He couldn’t wait to see you next Saturday.

—

[allthingskenobi]

Obi-Wan in Exile – Owen Lars

(Originally published on AllThingsKenobi.com January 10, 2021)

Welcome to the second in a series of looks into Obi-Wan Kenobi’s time in exile on Tatooine between Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith and Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope. We’ve tried to mine as much Legends and canon material as possible to help guide you through some of the period’s most common and repetitive themes so that when the new Obi-Wan Kenobi series airs, you’ll be ready.

Not everything he ever did in the entire 19 years will be explored here, but as we said, we’ve tried our best to pick out the most prominent and impactful moments to give everyone a better understanding of exactly what one hermit had to endure out there all alone in the sandy deserts of Tatooine.

There’s no way around it: Owen Lars hated Obi-Wan Kenobi. But why? A young Luke Skywalker could have benefited greatly from the two men working together, but it was not to be so. Here we will look at just a few of the many times the Jedi was rejected by the hardened moisture farmer in an attempt to understand just how fraught with tension their relationship really was.

“That wizard’s just a crazy old man.”

STAR WARS EPISODE IV: A NEW HOPE C

Owen Lars was the very first person to ever paint a picture for us of the now-illustrious Obi-Wan Kenobi, and this is what he had to say about him. Though we, alongside Luke, quickly recognize Owen’s words for the untruths they are, we were left to wonder exactly where the animosity, and possible bad blood, between the two men began. Especially since well up until Attack of the Clones was released, Owen was Obi-Wan’s biological brother (as confirmed in original drafts of Return of the Jedi), which made the exchange all the more tragic.

“But what if this Obi-Wan comes looking for him?”

“He won’t, I don’t think he exists any more. He died about the same time as your father.”

STAR WARS EPISODE IV: A NEW HOPE C

Owen continues to try and deter Luke by point-blank telling him that Obi-Wan is dead. It’s another clear falsehood that, at the time, carried little to no weight until twenty-eight years later when we witnessed the “deaths” of both Anakin and Obi-Wan on the slopes of Mustafar in Revenge of the Sith. But that’s a story for another time…

“He makes his terms abundantly clear: “We’ll take him in, but you’ll play no part in his upbringing. If you have to stay on Tatooine, you keep your distance, do you hear? You neither see the boy nor speak to him. He must know nothing about his father.”

“TIME OF DEATH” – FROM A CERTAIN POINT OF VIEW C

“Obi-Wan was glad and relieved that Beru and Owen agreed to raise Luke, but his mission did not end there, as it was also his duty to watch over the boy. He had thought that his ongoing presence would be some comfort to Owen and Beru. He soon learned that he was mistaken.”

LIFE AND LEGEND OF OBI-WAN KENOBI L

Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith

From the moment Obi-Wan arrived on Tatooine with a newborn Luke Skywalker, Owen made it abundantly clear that the Jedi would have nothing to do with the child. It was an unfair set of terms that Obi-Wan, while doing his best to adhere to, would breach with regular frequency, often pushing his already contentious relationship with the farmer to its breaking point.

Over the years, not only would Obi-Wan often be forced into interceding on the family’s behalf as protection (much to Owen’s chagrin), but he would also willingly cross the line to try and form a relationship with Luke from afar. Whether it was a simple gift of parts for Luke’s skyhopper (1) or a handmade wooden toy (2), the attempts would be vehemently denied and Obi-Wan would find himself right back where he started.

Star Wars 15 C

Was Owen right to be concerned that trouble would follow Obi-Wan back to Luke and their homestead? Of course. Obi-Wan understands and even acknowledges that his watchful gaze could attract attention (3), so he backs off, moving farther out into the Jundland Wastes until the time comes when he is needed. (3)(4) But Owen took his concerns above and beyond, twisting reason into a deep-seated personal hatred of the other man.

“The hut was approximately 136 kilometers from the Lars homestead—farther than Obi-Wan would have preferred, but probably still too close to satisfy Owen Lars.”

LIFE AND LEGEND OF OBI-WAN KENOBI L

“I managed to steer clear of Owen Lars this time. The man doesn’t like me at all.”

KENOBI L

“I’d always believed – always hoped – that Owen’s anger would cool toward me, that one day I would be allowed to train young Luke in the ways of the Force.”

“TIME OF DEATH” – FROM A CERTAIN POINT OF VIEW C

“Old Wounds” – Star Wars Visionaries L

Why? Why did Owen Lars hate Obi-Wan Kenobi so much? First and foremost, he placed the blame of Anakin’s downfall solely on Obi-Wan, going so far as to accuse Obi-Wan of “murder.” (1) It’s interesting to say the least that Owen would have such strong opinions about a man he’d only met once (5), but it seems to become more clear when you take into consideration that Owen adored his step-mother, Shmi. But while Shmi no doubt loved her adoptive family, she often spent her time looking to the horizon waiting for the day when Anakin would return. (6) So for Obi-Wan to have lost Shmi’s beloved son might have been too much for Owen to bear.

We’ll discuss this more in depth later, but Owen even removed Shmi’s headstone, along with the stones of other family members, so that Obi-Wan could no longer visit the site. (7) Consequently, it also ensured that Luke would never know about his grandmother. At least not while he lived at the homestead.

“If killing me would have brought [Anakin’s] mother back to life, I know he would have killed me then and there. I could see it in his eyes.”

LIFE AND LEGEND OF OBI-WAN KENOBI L

At some point, Owen also seemed to have distrusted the Jedi as a whole. It was a prejudice formed the day he watched an angry and unrepentant Anakin Skywalker return from slaughtering a village of Sand People. (2) That being his only interaction with a Jedi before Obi-Wan came along, Owen didn’t want Luke to have anything to do with what he saw in Anakin that day.

“Everyone was stunned when Owen abruptly told Ben to leave and not to come back. The experience had left Luke baffled. Even now, some ten years after the incident, he still did not know why Owen had been so angry with Ben. From what little he knew, he assumed that Ben’s purpose on Tatooine had been to discreetly watch over him while Owen and Beru raised him as if he were an ordinary child, not the son of a Jedi-turned-Sith Lord. But if both Ben and Owen had been responsible for protecting Luke, why hadn’t they gotten along? Luke could only imagine why Owen had so aggressively objected to Ben’s presence. Luke remembered listening to conversations between his uncle and aunt, practically spying on them, hoping to hear any small detail about his father or Ben Kenobi. Owen and Beru never revealed much but merely reinforced that they preferred not to discuss either man.”

LIFE AND LEGEND OF OBI-WAN KENOBI L

Luke cheers, running full pelt toward me, arms as wide as his smile. There is a crunch behind me and I turn, Owen’s fist burying itself in my nose. I slam down hard on the ground, the lightsaber skittering from my hand. All my training, all my experience, and a humble moisture farmer has achieved what neither battle droid nor Sith has achieved, knocking me flat on my back.

“Uncle Owen!” Luke cries in confusion as his uncle manhandles the boy toward his aunt before turning to glower at me.

“Go,” he all but spits, an accusatory finger punctuating the furious decree. “Get away from here. Haven’t you people done enough to this family?”

“TIME OF DEATH” – FROM A CERTAIN POINT OF VIEW C

Lastly, and most unfortunately, Owen never minded expressing his distaste for Obi-Wan in front of Luke, going so far as to strike Obi-Wan and send him away while the boy watched. Would Owen’s treatment of the strange desert hermit help one day drive a wedge between the boy and his uncle? Maybe. Maybe not. All we do know is that Luke, like his father before him, was already inextricably linked to Obi-Wan Kenobi. And there was nothing Owen Lars could do about it.

Citations:

Star Wars 15 by Jason Aaron C

“Time of Death” – From a Certain Point of View by Cavan Scott C

Kenobi by John Jackson Miller L

Life and Legend of Obi-Wan Kenobi by Ryder Windham L

Star Wars Episode II: Attack of the Clones C

Star Wars Episode II: Attack of the Clones Novelization by R. A. Salvatore L

A New Hope: The Life of Luke Skywalker by Ryder Windham L

[azucanela]

FAULT | BAKUGO KATSUKI X READER

SUMMARY: Y/N accompanies her mentor, Aizawa Shouta, to the homes of her fellow students after the incident at Kamino Ward. One moment with her classmate Bakugo Katsuki stands out in particular.

WORD COUNT: 1.7k

WARNINGS: injury, insecurities, self-blame, is damn a curse word?

A/N: this is chill, i wrote it pretty quickly because i wanted the idea out of my head and onto the computer screen so lmk if its bad pls ashdkjashdjh

“Why exactly is she here again?” 

Toshinori Yagi, better known as the Pro Hero All Might, stared at the girl that stood beside Aizawa Shouta. Scrolling on her phone with one hand, and the case that held her hero outfit in the other. Y/N L/N, one of the top students in Class-1A, and the entire Hero Course. Since she’d gotten in on recommendation, her name had been on Principal Nezu’s list of potential successors. After seeing her skill, he understood why, and to gain Aizawa’s favor? That was a talent in and of itself. 

Shrugging, Aizawa brought his capture weapon and scarf further up around his head in an attempt to shield his face, they’d already been harassed by reporters about a dozen times and he didn’t want to be in any of the photos, “we have training after this.” 

It appeared this young girl was also Aizawa’s protege, though the man would likely never admit it, Toshinori could tell he’d taken a liking to the young girl, and taken her under his wing. She’d received additional training from the Pro Hero just like Midoriya received extra training from Toshinori. 

“So... I can go retrieve young Midoriya?” They’d just left his house, and now they were heading over to Bakugo’s. Y/N knew him fairly well, he’d insisted they train together when she’d scored better than him on quirk tests, and then he insisted they study together when she’d performed better on written work as well. In exchange, he helped her with the more physical aspect of being a Pro Hero. Her least favorite part if she was honest. But it was worth it, training with Bakugo was difficult, but it had certainly helped her improve. 

Their time together had gone from... strictly competitive to competitive and fun she supposed. Y/N had found that after spending a while with Bakugo, it was easier to understand that he had his own way of expressing his care for you. When Y/N forgot to bring lunch, he’d call her an idiot but he would share his own nonetheless, and this was a frequent occurrence so Y/N was shocked when he’d told her to stop trying as he’d slammed another lunch down in front of her.

He’d made her lunch everyday since then. Nobody dared comment on it purely out of fear for their life. It was an unspoken rule not to discuss the way that Bakugo treated Y/N, the different way he treated her. Of course, this was a rule Kaminari and Kirishima broke frequently, earning them quite a few —empty— threats. 

Watching her teacher, Y/N rose a brow as he practically glared at the former Number One Pro Hero, “absolutely not.”

The man opened his mouth to protest, only for Y/N to interrupt before the pair of teachers could argue, “I’m not interrupting anything by waiting outside.” Looking up from her phone, she offered him a smile, “if one of the parents happens to have a problem with it, I don’t mind waiting in the car.” Sitting outside was much more enjoyable than staying in the stuffy car with the scarily silent chauffer, but if she had to do it, then she would.

Aizawa gave Toshinori a look as Y/N spoke, and the man simply sighed in acceptance. “Onto the home of young Bakugo then.”

Y/N had been to his house a few times. Whenever the café they usual studied at wasn’t open, they either went to her home, or on rare occasions, his home. Of course, Bakugo had ensured his parents weren’t home whenever they did this, though Y/N wasn’t sure why. Regardless, most times at his house they’d get sidetracked, much to Bakugo’s dismay, and end up in his kitchen.

Pulling up in his driveway, a smile found its way onto Y/N’s face. She’d suggested numerous times that they have a picnic on his neatly trimmed lawn, though Katsuki shot her down most of the time. 

Stepping out of the car and sitting on the steps that go up to his front door, she watches as Aizawa and Toshinori enter with few questions from Bakugo’s mother. She looked a lot like him if Y/N was honest, and from the sound of it, they also shared a similar personality. Y/N could hear their yelling from outside.

Smiling at the sound of Bakugo yelling out insults, Y/N let out a small laugh as she leaned her head back against the wall. Though her laughter came to an abrupt stop when she heard what his mother yelled next.

That it was Bakugo’s fault he’d been kidnapped. 

Y/N found herself sitting up as the boy grew silent, coming to a stand to see if she could see his living room from the window beside the front door. But there was no view of Bakugo himself.

Perhaps thats because he was the one slamming the front door behind him, coming to a stop when he noticed Y/N’s attempts at snooping. She immediately turned to him, trying her best to look normal, though it was clear he’d noticed what she was doing. They made eye contact, and Bakugo opens his mouth, only to shut it as he narrows his eyes at her, “how much did you hear?”

His voice is oddly calm as his stare pierces into her soul, and its an odd change of demeanor for him, one that takes Y/N a few moments to understand. 

He was embarrassed. 

If Bakugo was honest, Y/N was one of few people he actually respected. She’d exceeded him in certain areas of school, and helped him improve in more ways than one. To make matters worse, despite his intent to get through his years at UA without a... distraction. Y/N had somehow wormed her way into his heart, no matter how hard he tried to keep her out of it. The fact that she’d come to his rescue when he was kidnapped, despite the potential consequences, hadn’t helped. She’d seen him at his weakest. 

“Bakugo-” 

His name alone is answer enough as Bakugo lets out a noise of frustration, moving to leave, only for Y/N to grab his hand despite the pain that spreads through her own at the feeling of small explosions emitting from his palm. Yanking him back towards her, Bakugo is opening his mouth once more, likely to yell at her for her idiocy as he attempts to remove his hand from her grasp. But Y/N doesn’t relent as she sweeps her foot under his leg and knocks him down, effectively allowing her to straddle him and hold him down.

“Let go of my hand you damned idiot!” There’s a panicked look on his face as he speaks, but the only thing Y/N can think of is the fact that he hadn’t threatened her yet. He hadn’t aggressively shoved her away with his free hand, nothing.

No, his concern was different, and Y/N’s concern probably should’ve been the same seeing as she could practically feel her skin sizzling from the heat of his own, but at that moment, she didn’t care as she grinned down at him, “bet you regret teaching me that move now, huh?” 

He pauses his writhing beneath her, chest heaving as he glared, “are you serious-”

“You know, what your mom said isn’t true.” This makes him go silent, and Bakugo finally allows his head to fall onto the grass as he looks away from her once more. “It wasn’t your fault Katsuki.

Bakugo inhales deeply, “I ruined All Might-”

In response, Y/N uses her free hand to push his shoulder harder into the ground and hold him still, “no! You didn’t.” 

“Didn’t I?” He finally manages to snatch his hand away from her, flipping the two of them over, Bakugo plants his hands beside her head, the grass singeing black because of the misuse of his quirk. Almost instantly, he frowns, “I can’t even control my stupid quirk-”

“You have some of the most impressive quirk control in the class, is that a joke?” Y/N brings both her hands—including the one that probably would’ve hurt a lot more had it not been for the adrenaline flowing through her veins— to his face, and as Bakugo brings his hand to her wrist, Y/N wonders if he’s going to rip her hands from him as she speaks, “Katsuki it wasn’t your fault. You didn’t ask to be kidnapped, and at the end of the day we are just kids. You can’t be expected to save yourself against villains.” His hand remains on her wrist, but he doesn’t remove it from his face as Y/N inhales deeply. “If anything it’s my fault-”

“Shut up.” The hand still beside her head clenches, tearing at the grass. “Shut up.” He repeats, exhaling sharply as his eyes squeeze shut, Y/N realizes this is because a tear successfully managed to fall down his cheek, despite his attempts to prevent it. “Don’t be dumb.” He practically growls at her, trying to hide his pain with aggression once more. 

Brushing her thumb against his cheek, Y/N offers him a smile, “then I guess its nobody’s fault.” 

He’s silent for a moment, eyes piercing in hers as he tries to figure out what to say. “Sure,” he grumbles in response, gently pulling her hand from his cheek, Y/N allows him to examine the damage, his brows furrowing at the sight of charred skin. He doesn’t say anything as he does, but Y/N can practically see the thoughts running through his minds at a million miles per hour. His fingers brush over the now raised skin, and when Y/N flinches, Bakugo’s fingers immediately leave her palm, causing her hand to drop.

Pushing herself up on one forearm, Y/N presses a kiss to his cheek, and she can practically feel his skin warm as she speaks, “it’s fine.”

He averts his gaze from her as her cheeks redden, “ I hurt you-”

“I’m fine.” Y/N disregards his words as she moves out from under him.

Bakugo’s brows furrow as he moves to a stand as well, “come over next weekend,” his words sound like more of a demand than an invitation.

“Sure, but can I ask why?” 

He grabs her uninjured hand, moving to bring her back inside his home, “let’s get something to help with your hand.” Bakugo doesn’t turn back as he continues, “and I owe you a picnic.”

Needless to say, it was a very nice picnic. One that Y/N left with a boyfriend.

A/N: this idea came to me at exactly 9PM

​

[swan-of-sunrise]

Spellbinding (Chapter Fourteen)

Summary: While dealing with a surprising new development in their relationship, Loki and (Y/N) are stuck in the middle of an explosive feud between Steve and Tony.

Pairing: Loki X Reader

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings/Disclaimers: None

A/N: I’d call this a filler chapter but I absolutely love writing about the Avengers as a whole! I also thought we needed a little break from the plot for some team bonding before things get too crazy lol I hope that you enjoy!

Chapter Fourteen November 22nd, 2015 Avengers Tower, New York City (Previous Chapter)

“You read this book when you were how old?”

(Y/N) smiled mischievously and turned her attention back to reorganizing her closet. “I was seven. I checked it out from the library without telling my Aunt Evelyn and read it late at night; I couldn’t sleep without my nightlight on for months afterwards but I’m glad I read it, since it’s a literary classic and everything.”

Loki let out a half-laugh and turned the page of his book. “Well, if we’re ever blessed with children, I think we should wait until they’re at least twelve to introduce them to Dracula. Perhaps even fourteen.”

“Children?”

In an instant, Loki froze and it dawned on him what he’d accidentally said. (Y/N) was also frozen, her arm still extended to grab a hangar from inside the closet. “I-I…I just meant…I’d like to…” Loki cleared his unusually tight throat. “I, ah, wouldn’t mind having…you know, children. Someday. With…with you.” Dammit, I’ve made a mess of things again, Loki inwardly groaned.

They’d only been together for a little over four months and it was much, much too early in their relationship to bring about the subject of children. But after he acknowledged his love for (Y/N), it was challenging for Loki to envision a future without her in it and lately, the idea of a more permanent future with the woman he loved was all he could think about. He knew that his girlfriend liked children; back when she still worked at the New York Public Library, he’d fondly watch her helping them with their homework or reading to them and since officially becoming the Cosmic Sorceress, she’d visited the children’s ward at the nearby hospital once a week to cheer up the young patients. And despite what others might believe, Loki also liked children and the thought of being a father one day – while admittedly a little nerve-wracking – was not an unwelcome one.

Just as (Y/N), with her (Y/E/C) eyes widened in shock, opened her mouth to reply, there came the sounds of voices shouting angrily from the common room down the hall. In an instant, Loki and (Y/N) summoned their magic into the palms of their hands before sprinting out of her suite and down the hallway.

Steve and Tony stood on either sides of the common room and were fully engaged in a blazing argument by the time Loki and (Y/N) arrived. Skidding to a stop beside (Y/N), Loki’s first thought was that he’d never seen either man as angry as they were now, even during the Battle of New York.

“Because you flat-out refused to listen when I said to wait, three S.H.I.E.L.D. agents are at the hospital in critical condition!” Tony yelled.

Steve stepped closer and shouted back, “And if I hadn’t acted when I did, an entire apartment complex would’ve been demolished anyway and dozens of people would be dead! Those agents would be fine right now if you hadn’t hesitated to use your scanners!”

“You mean, if I hadn’t stopped to think the situation through?!”

“You’re acting like a civilian, Stark, not a soldier! Our job is to make the tough decisions as quickly as we can for the benefit of the whole, we don’t have the luxury of holding committees for every choice we make!”

“Bullshit, it’s better to weigh options instead of barreling in without a plan; that’s what you’re best at, though, isn’t it? If you hadn’t made the dumb-ass decision to crash that plane in ‘45, you and Carter-”

Before Tony could finish his sentence, Steve landed a punch on his jaw that sent him staggering backwards. Tony quickly surged forward to retaliate, but Loki used his magic to halt his movement while (Y/N) used hers to stop Steve. “Enough!” They dissolved their magic and with matching looks of contempt, both Steve and Tony turned and stormed away, leaving Loki and (Y/N) to gape at each other in shock.

“Yeah, that was a continuation of what happened on the Quinjet.” They turned and watched Bruce step out of the elevator with a weary expression on his face. “I’ll explain everything to you both, but can we do it in private? The rest of the team’s at each other’s throats and I don’t want all the fighting to accidentally trigger the Big Guy…”

After leading the scientist into (Y/N)’s suite and subtly lighting one of her calming lavender-scented candles, Loki sat beside his girlfriend on the sofa and listened as Bruce talked. “This arms dealer was holding an entire apartment building in Luxembourg hostage, said he’d blow the place up if his demands for more guns weren’t met. Fury sent Steve, Tony, Bucky and Clint this morning; the plan was to surround the building and find a way in before going after the guy, but he decided he didn’t want to wait any longer and turned an automatic timer on for the explosives. Cap sent the other S.H.I.E.L.D. agents in to clear the building and Tony said to wait for the agents to give word before ordering Bucky to take the shot, but Steve didn’t listen. Bucky took the shot, got the guy, but the explosives still went off.” Loki and (Y/N) exchanged looks of confusion, and Bruce continued. “There was a pressure timer hidden in his hand, they call it a dead man’s switch; Tony scanned and saw it at the last second, but Steve was already giving the order to Bucky.” Bruce started pacing as he ran a hand through his hair. “It’s like a civil war; Clint and Nat are taking Tony’s side, they think Steve could’ve waited a little longer, and Sam and Bucky are on Cap’s side.” He snorted in derision. “Thanksgiving dinner should be a blast this year.”

(Y/N) nodded, a saddened expression on her face, but Loki furrowed his brow. “Thanksgiving? You host a dinner of thanks on Midgard?”

“I’ll explain it to you later.” She flashed him a brief smile before returning her concerned gaze to Bruce. “Is there anything we can do?”

“You both should probably just stay out of it; they might come around faster if they see that you’re neutral in all this.” The scientist walked to the door. “I’d better go down and talk to Fury, so I’ll see you guys later.”

Once Bruce closed the door behind him, (Y/N) threw herself back against the cushions of the couch and sighed. “How could something like this have even happened? We’ve been such a strong team these past few months and now…”

“They’re both strong-willed men and stubborn in their own right, you know that. Each holds steadfast to their beliefs no matter the consequences; this is a trait of theirs I’ve both admired and admonished in all the time I’ve known them.” Loki admitted. “But Banner is correct, any attempt of ours to help may only worsen the situation for everyone.”

“Mm-hmm.”

Taking in (Y/N)’s troubled frown, Loki decided to try distracting her from their fighting teammates, laying down and resting his head in her lap so that he was staring up at her. “So, a feast of thanks sounds…quaint.”

As he’d hoped, she relaxed as she gave him a look of amusement and began running her fingers through his hair. “It’s more than that, silly. In America, it’s a day where we give thanks for our lives and the people in them. We sit around a table for dinner and let our loved ones know just what they mean to us, that we cherish and appreciate them, no matter any differences…we might…we might have…” (Y/N) trailed off, pausing a moment before gasping in excitement. “Loki, I think I may have either a brilliant plan or an insane one!”

“I know just what you have in mind, darling. Let’s go!” They both hurried to the living room closet and tugged on their coats and scarves; they had a long, long day of shopping ahead of them.

Although he’d acclimated fairly well to Midgard in the months since his arrival, one of the things Loki still utterly despised about the realm were its ‘grocery stores.’ They were crowded, lit by horrendous fluorescent lights and stocked to the brim with inedible, overpriced food; whenever he’d been asked to accompany one of his fellow Avengers on their shopping trips, he would come up with every excuse under the sun to decline their invitation. But he decided to put aside his displeasure for the benefit of his girlfriend and teammates, resigning himself to pushing the rickety metal shopping cart up and down the aisles as (Y/N) read off her hastily-written list.

Their shopping trip had gone far better than he’d imagined and in no time, they were carrying their bags into the lobby of the Avengers Tower.

“You know, we’re going to need an extra pair of hands to help us with the cooking on Thursday.” (Y/N) pointed out as they stepped into their team’s private elevator. “I’m not very good in the kitchen, as you already know, but I’ve always been able to bake pretty decent pies.”

Loki nodded. “All right, so who did you have in mind to help?”

At that moment, the elevator stopped and the doors opened to reveal the smiling face of his golden-haired brother. “Ah, there you are! The J.A.R.V.I.S. just informed me you had returned from your outing, was it productive?”

“…You could call it that.”

The tone of his girlfriend’s voice prompted Loki to glance over at her; she was looking from Thor to him, her eyebrows raised and a triumphant smile spreading across her face. Finally understanding her words, Loki’s smile morphed into a look of absolute horror. “Oh no, no, no, not him…!”

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

“Wait, you guys cooked all this? Without burning the kitchen down?”

Loki couldn’t help but give Bruce a pained look. “Believe me when I say that it was not for lack of trying, Doctor Banner.”

Since they wanted dinner to be a surprise, they’d prepared each dish in one of the kitchens used by the new S.H.I.E.L.D. organization; unfortunately, in their attempt to be secretive they were forced into cramped quarters with rather primitive kitchen appliances at their disposal. And to add to Loki’s growing list of responsibilities, he was forced to babysit the love of his life and his brother in order to prevent the dishes from being ruined by their absolute lack of culinary skills. More than once, he had to use his magic to protect the food he’d cooked from (Y/N)’s over-zealousness with the spices and at one point, he was forced to quickly talk Thor out of using his lightning to rapidly cook the turkey. Hopefully it’ll all have been worth it, Loki tiredly thought to himself.

As if in-tuned with Loki’s inner monologue, Bruce nervously adjusted the sleeves of his coat and replied, “Well, I hope this works and doesn’t just end up making everything worse.”

“You and I both, Doctor.” His eyes were drawn to the elevator as its doors opened, revealing (Y/N) and a cart filled with the feast they’d cooked, and he hurried over to meet her. “Everything’s going to plan so far, they think that it’s only the seven of us for dinner.”

With the help of Bruce, they went about setting the enormous table. “I just sent Thor to fetch Team Cap, so they should be here any minute.” Once they finished, (Y/N) removed her apron and smoothed out her skirt, her anxious expression softening a fraction as she turned to the two men. “Now we see if our brilliantly-insane plan will work.”

Loki had just enough time to lean down and press a reassuring kiss to his girlfriend’s forehead before the elevator doors once again slid open.

“Mmm, smells good in here!” Tony grinned, walking up to (Y/N) and handing her a bottle of wine. “I had Pepper ship one of my best labels over from Malibu for the occasion.”

Natasha did little to hide her amusement at his words. “You just couldn’t resist, could you? And you,” She turned to shoot Clint a glare. “If you don’t stop fidgeting, Barton, we’re going to have a problem.”

“I can’t help it, this stupid suit’s uncomfortable!” Clint grumbled; once Natasha returned her attention to the others, the archer rolled his eyes and whispered to Loki, “Damn straight jacket. (Y/N) forced you into one too, huh?”

“Yes, I-” The sight of Steve, Sam and Bucky entering the room behind Thor caused Loki’s words to die in his throat and as the others caught sight of them, he surreptitiously summoned his magic into his hands in case a fight broke out. Out of the corner of his eyes, he spotted Thor and Bruce exchanging weary looks.

Steve’s face was a mask as he stepped forward. “Stark.”

“Asshat.”

All Hel broke loose; Steve and Tony lunged towards one another, their struggling forms barely held back by Bucky and Clint. A cacophony of shouting quickly filled the room as both sides began arguing with each other, but just as Loki raised his arms to use his magic, (Y/N) calmly stepped forward and walked in between the warring groups. The shouting and struggling instantly stopped as they gawked at (Y/N), but she merely smiled warmly at them as she spoke. “Thank you all for coming to our Thanksgiving dinner, Loki and I are glad you were able to make it. Bruce mentioned that you usually don’t celebrate together, but this is my first Thanksgiving with you all and I wanted to mark the occasion with my new family…all of it.” Her words seemed to have their desired intent, as both Steve and Tony relaxed their stances and the others backed away from them. “Now, we should start eating before everything gets cold!”

Needless to say, dinner was a tense affair. Where there was usually the sounds of deafening chatter and laughter, there was quiet murmuring and stoic looks. Loki watched (Y/N) with equal amounts of admiration and sympathy as she tried her hardest to engage their teammates in conversation with one another and with each failed attempt, he could see a little more of her heart breaking. After learning the difficult truth about her parents and having lived so long without a family, (Y/N) deserved to have a wonderful Thanksgiving dinner with her friends. They all did, really. This has gone on long enough, Loki thought to himself as (Y/N) silently stared down at her plate; after a slight moment of hesitation, Loki got to his feet.

“I’ve done a fair amount of reading about this country’s Day of Thanks, and the custom of expressing what one is thankful for whilst surrounded by their loved ones piqued my interest. So, let’s begin.” Loki swallowed thickly, looking around the table at his teammates’ confused faces before settling on (Y/N)’s. “I’m thankful for you, darling. You came into my life at a time when I believed I could never be deserving of love and you showed me not only was I deserving, but that loving you would make me a better man. You’re the love of my life, and believe me when I say that all our lives have been blessed since meeting you.” Loki and (Y/N) shared a smile and as he turned back to address the others, he felt her take hold of his hand and squeeze. “And I know you may find this difficult to believe, but I am also thankful for all of you. When I first joined the Avengers, I was bitter and filled with resentment at the prospect of serving out my sentence on a planet I despised with people I despised even more. But after a short while, once we’d come to understand one another, you accepted me as your teammate and friend. Well, some of you more than others.” His eyes flicked to Tony, who hid his small smile behind his hand, and to Clint, who gave him a small shrug. “I value our kinship above all else and on this Day of Thanks, I implore you all to remember our bonds with one another. Severing those bonds on account of a petty disagreement is something you all will come to regret in the future; take it from me, I have firsthand experience in that particular department.” He and Thor shared a knowing look as he took a seat; although he wasn’t comfortable expressing his emotions so openly, the look of pride in his brother’s eyes had made it worth it.

The table was quiet for several moments, until Steve cleared his throat. “Well, I’m, ah…I’m thankful that after coming out of the ice to an unrecognizable world I was able to find such great friends and teammates in you all.” His azure eyes flicked hesitantly over to Tony. “We may not get along all the time or agree on everything, but that doesn’t mean we should allow ourselves to become divided.”

Tony’s face remained unchanged throughout Steve’s speech and when he got to his feet, Loki could practically hear the others’ sharp intakes of breath. The billionaire held Steve’s gaze for a heartbeat before offering him his hand over the table with his trademark smirk on his face. “Couldn’t have said it better myself, ‘Roid Rage.” The two men shook hands and the room almost instantly relaxed; Loki exchanged looks of triumph with his co-conspirators as dinner continued, satisfied that their plan had been successfully implemented.

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

“Dinner was delicious, by the way.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it, darling, though I’m not sure what the others thought of it.”

“Well, they were a little too distracted to hand out compliments on food, wouldn’t you say?”

The pair had decided to spend the night catching up on their reading but instead of utilizing the library, they had made themselves comfortable in Loki’s bed with their books and plenty of blankets. Loki sat up against the headboard, his legs stretched out across the mattress and his ankles crossed, and (Y/N) was leaning against his side, her head resting comfortable in the crook of his neck and her free arm holding Loki’s around her waist. They sat in comfortable silence as they read their own books, occasionally permeating the tranquil atmosphere with light conversation.

“Um, Loki?”

“Hmm?” Loki could feel (Y/N) shifting beside him, so he tore his eyes away from his book and watched as she marked her page and set her book down on the bedside table. Setting his own book aside, Loki adjusted himself so he could see her face better. “What is it?”

(Y/N) bit her lip and played with the sleeve of her sweatshirt before answering. “We’ve been so busy planning Thanksgiving dinner and trying to get the team back together that we haven’t had a chance to talk about what you said the other day.” Loki’s brow furrowed in confusion, and the corner of (Y/N)’s mouth twitched. “About wanting to, um, have children. With me.”

“Oh.” Loki felt himself pale; he’d completely forgotten about his slip-up and being reminded of it caused panic to flare in his chest. “I-It was stupid, (Y/N), I just…we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, I only meant-”

His explanation was abruptly cut off by (Y/N), who had covered his mouth with her hand and was shaking with suppressed laughter. “I always love those rare moments when you’re the one to get flustered; a little line always forms in between your eyebrows.” She leaned forward and pressed a brief kiss on the spot before moving her hand from his mouth to cup his cheek. “I was surprised by what you said the other day because I didn’t realize that you’ve imagined the same future that I have.” (Y/N) shyly looked down but she reached for his free hand and intertwined their fingers together. “I may not have much experience with relationships, Loki, but I love you with all my heart and if there’s anyone I want to share that wonderful future with someday…well, it’s you.”

A grin slowly formed on Loki’s face; removing one of his hands from hers, he gently took hold of her chin and coaxed her to look at him. “Really?”

She nodded, her (Y/E/C) eyes sparkling with happiness. “Really.”

Surging forward, Loki held her face in his hands and smashed his lips against hers. (Y/N) made a sound of surprise before wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing back with equal vigor; Loki eventually found himself lying flat on his back while (Y/N) straddled his waist, one hand clutching her hip while the other traveled up and down her spine as they kissed. (Y/N) pulled her lips away from his and just as his throat made a noise of protest, she began kissing along his jawline and down his neck; needless to say, his annoyance quickly morphed to groans of satisfaction. Only when her soft lips brushed against a particularly sensitive patch of skin near his collarbone did Loki lose all restraint; he flipped them over so that (Y/N) was pressed against the mattress and after grabbing her hands and threading their fingers together, he held them over her head and hungrily attacked her eager lips with his own until an unfortunate lack of air forced them to break apart.

“I said I’d like children with you someday, Loki, not today!” (Y/N) exclaimed breathlessly, a dazed sort of smile illuminating her face as she looked up at him.

Loki let out a laugh before kissing her forehead and rolling off to lay on his back beside her; try as he might, he couldn’t keep the broad grin off his face. “Apologies, my love, but you’re entirely irresistible. If I’d known there were kisses like that in store for me, I’d have told you all that ages ago…”

Later that evening, (Y/N) was fast asleep against his chest and the sounds of her quiet snores filled the room as he stretched out on the bed in contentment. I suppose there’s only one thing left to do, Loki thought tiredly, pulling (Y/N) closer and glancing over at the bedside table that hid the engagement ring before sleep finally claimed him.

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

A/N: Wow, that was a lot of fluff! Thank you all so much for reading and commenting! I’ve created a Spotify playlist inspired by this series, and I’ll be updating it every time I upload a new chapter. Enjoy!

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2wx8TZwpDN0l33tES3W3Nk

Chapter Fifteen

Spellbinding Masterlist

Tagging: @nexiva @ravenclawbitch426 @cminr @confusedfandomwriter @momc95 @nickkie1129 @austynparksandpizza @brooke0297 @destructivebliss @outoftheregular​ @itscomplicatedx​ @0-artemis​ @vivloki​

[otterbagel]

The Reunion (Part 1) Simon x Reader

Reader makes a rash decision, one that has long lasting consequences.

(Notes: There are two parts to this! Next part should be out next week. I'll probably start spacing out my posts after this so I don't get burnt out like last time. Also, didn't get to edit this one as much as I should've; the whole thing ended up pretty long and would take a long time everytime I tried to edit it. Can't believe it took me this long to finish one about Simon!!!)

"Hey, this is quite the unusual find, you gotta admit."

   Your eyebrow raised without hesitation, your eyes looking down to check your shoes. "Not really," you remarked softly, eyes going back up to meet the object of the discussion: a PL600 android.

   The salesman, who had uncomfortably started hounding you for the sale after you had curiously drifted towards the humanoid, was gesturing towards it flippantly with a toothy grin. "At this price?! Tell me, no, tell me where you found one this cheap— in this good a condition?"

   Your mouth automatically frowned. The arms were covered by a dark undershirt that made most of the skin unseeable— any damage not on the face and hands wouldn't be factored into the buying purchase. You had a feeling this clothing choice was intentional.

   "Just three hundred bucks!" The seller's round face turned into your line of sight. You quickly looked away out of discomfort.

   Your eyes landed onto the android's clear blue ones. You hadn't looked very closely at any androids before, despite walking amongst them nearly every day. Did they all look this lifelike? 

   Maybe you were looking way too into it. 

   You swallowed, aggressively fumbling for your wallet with a grunt of annoyance. "Okay, fine. Three hundred."

   With a pleased noise, the seller took off with your card, waving it in the air between two of his fingers. 

   You crossed your arms beside the android, who didn't seem to take any notice of what had just transpired. 

…

   Reality had begun to hit you like a truck on the way home.

   By the time you opened the door to your tiny house, you realized just how big of a rash decision you had just made.

   The android stood behind you quietly and without complaint as you released the door handle, letting the door softly bang against the wall. You stared dumbly into your own house, coat hanging limply from one of your dangling arms as you searched your brain for a solution. 

   You frowned, shaking your head rapidly. "I have no room for this."

   "Excuse me—"

   You jumped at the android's sudden intrusion into your own self reprimand, a small noise of fright escaping you before you could even begin to think of holding it back.

   "—would you like me to get started?"

   "Uh, yeah yeah yeah, uh… do whatever you want," you waved it off awkwardly, holding a hand to your chest as you attempted to catch your breath. You hurried inside, embarrassed of the whole situation. 

   You sat down on the couch as the android closed the door and walked past you and into the kitchen.

   Without turning it on, you stared at the TV as your fingertips rubbed against your face in nervousness.

   That had been such an impulse buy. You couldn't believe you had done that.

   The faucet turned on for a moment. You think you had put a cup in there, but there wasn't much else to clean.

   It seemed to be working properly. The guy who sold it was certainly odd and abrasive, but all in all it was a pretty good deal. Usually they were more than twice as much; newer models so expensive that the thought of you owning one was impossible. Even if it had some cosmetic damages, that was a small issue compared to its functionality.

   Trying to ignore the strange new entity in the house, you flipped on the TV. It was the news.

   There was some story about a recent fire that had decimated a small apartment building on the outskirts of Detroit. The police said it likely had something to do with Red Ice, although most evidence would probably be destroyed.

   The android had finished whatever it was doing in the kitchen and had quietly begun watching the TV from the archway. 

   You looked at it as it parted its lips in preparation to speak. "Are you a fan of the news?"

   "Sort of," you chuckled, looking back to the screen. "I work at a newstation— not this one, but I like checking it out from time to time."

   The android nodded, continuing to watch the screen as it held its hands politely behind its back.

   You looked it over, getting that feeling of nervousness again. "W-what's your name?" You blurted out quietly and without any grace.

   It blinked at you, the LED spinning blue for a second. "My previous owners named me Simon. Would you like to change my name?"

   You shook your head to yourself. "Do you like your name?"

   It squinted at you in confusion before returning to its natural, composed look. "It's good," it responded.

   Although you tried to maintain a jovial body language, you weren't doing a good job. "Great! Si… Simon is a great name," you chirped out awkwardly.

   "Thank you," Simon replied, giving a small head bow.

   You turned your head away from it as you felt your face grow warm with embarrassment. 

   What on Earth was happening to you?

   

…

   You had been having a strange dream about work when you heard someone calling your name.

   "...huh…?" you called out groggily.

   Your name again. "...I think you're going to be late for work at this rate…"

   Your eyes fluttered open. Simon was fiddling with his hands as he held them in front of his chest, eyes moving between you and the clock beside the bed.

   It said 8:32.

   The comforter was flung nearly off the bed as you jumped up in a panic. "Oh geez, yeah I'm gonna be late…" Random clothes filled your arms that you grabbed from your drawers as you prepared to go to work. "Thanks for waking me."

   Simon quietly made his way over to you as you tried finding a pair of socks. "I didn't hear you walking around this morning," he said with a chuckle. "And where you stayed up later than usual last night… I figured…"

   A laugh escaped you as you headed off towards the bathroom to get ready.

   He had been living here… maybe three months? It had seemed like a much longer time than that. In that amount of time, things had definitely changed between you two.

   Despite it being his intended purpose, it felt strange to have someone doing all your housework for you. It became an odd ritual pretty quickly: once you got home, you would work on chores together. Not that there were many— that was one of the perks of having a small house— but it just made you feel better about the whole thing.

   The whole process was a bit cathartic for you; away from the hustle and bustle of the busy, stressful life at the newstation and into a warm, domestic one.

   You hurried to the front door to slip on your shoes, Simon leaving his spot on the couch to see you off. 

   "I think I'll make it on time," you joked as you looked up at him. "Thanks again."

   "No problem…" he responded quietly, struggling to retain eye contact with you.

   As you rose to your feet, he gave you a brief hug. Your face immediately began to burn bright red.

   "Have… have a good day at work…" he stuttered out before walking in quick strides to the kitchen.

   You were still frozen in place by the time he exited your vision. "Y-you too…" you blurted out before fumbling out the door, realizing your linguistic blunder before you had even closed the door.

   As you headed down the street, you let your hands touch your heated face. 

…

   You had nearly run home out of excitement.

   It had been such a small thing, but the prospects of your future career had your mind going nuts.

   After fumbling to get the key in the door and tossing it open, you slung your coat off your arms in a fluid motion. "Simon! Simon! You won't believe it!"

   He was sitting on the couch— like he usually had been over the past year— engaged in some overly dramatic show you weren't particularly fond of. His eyes were wide at your sudden entrance. "Yes?"

   You let the door make its way closed before you kicked it shut behind you, holding your arms out. "They said they liked my article!"

   Simon stared for a moment before his LED flashed in excitement. "THE article?" He sat up on the edge of his seat, smiling at you as he was filled with a wave of positive energy.

   "Yeah!" You nodded. "Not to get you too excited, but they're showing it to some of the higher ups, but it looks like I might get my own schedule slot soon!"

   "Oh wow!" He exclaimed, rising to his feet and taking you into his arms to lift you up for a split second. "I knew it would happen! I'm so proud!"

   You erupted into a fit of giggles as he held you, almost enjoying his praise as much as your own success. "Thanks Simon, I couldn't have done it without you."

   He released you, letting his hands rest against your sides. "That's not true," he responded quietly, his face red as he looked to the side.

   With a warm smile, you nodded to him. "Yes," you drawed out for effect. "You even came up with the idea. And, not to mention, the moral support."

   He stepped back a little, crossing his arms as he attempted to hide his expression of happiness. "You're too kind."

   The TV played in the silence, Simon fiddling with the edge of one of his sleeves as he pulled it down.

   Your mind raced as you looked at his hand, debating on bringing it up right now when the mood was so light.

   "They mentioned… uh... increasing my pay," you began, watching his expression for any hint of distress. "I thought that maybe… we could finally… you know… get that fixed…"

   His hands trailed along his sleeve as he nodded to himself, seemingly lost in thought. "Yeah," he responded. "That would be nice… but it would be so expensive… are you sure?"

   It had taken a few weeks to first see it, and even longer for you to see the full extent of the damage, but your initial thoughts had been correct. The long sleeves had been put on him for a reason, and it had seemed as though it had gradually become a personal choice as well.

   His forearms and biceps had a lot of physical damage, certainly from his previous owners. 

   Luckily, it had been almost purely cosmetic. Aside from a few light dents and scratches to his actual body, it was just a matter of getting the covering fixed. As of now, the white sheen of his android body was always visible underneath his sleeves.

   You wrung your hands together out of nervousness. "I just know how you said that you wanted it fixed," you took in a sharp inhale. "It won't be a problem to actually do, I've already been saving for a while…"

   He smiled, rushing in to hug you again. You, a bit caught off guard this time, was frozen in place.

   "I'd like to put the past behind me," he said as you finally came to and hugged him back, albeit still in a bit of a shock. "I think this is the first step."

   As you embraced, you couldn't help but feel a pang of excitement and anxiety.