#meanwhile i had the thing on setting three and directly against my skin and was like ‘fucking… this is not hot enough’

[fingertipsmp3]

In some other news, I’ve come to the conclusion that while my mom got asbestos hands (can pick up hot things and doesn’t care) and my grandma got an asbestos mouth (drinks tea that is actively boiling), I have an asbestos tummy

[bunnysbrainrot]

The Real Thing

Relationship: dbf!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Content: EXPLICIT, toys, filming sexual acts, Daddy kink, degrading/praising mix, dom/sub dynamic, creampie, unprotected p in v, sexting

Summary: You let it slip to Joel that you touched yourself without his knowledge. The thought drives him over the edge, eager to show you that the real thing is so much better.

This is a series! Click here to read the other parts!

The chilled glass rests on Joel’s lips when he receives your message. You’d been up to your usual nightly texting after your respectively busy days. Tonight, the thoughts of him had sent you into a shaking, sated frenzy after finishing yourself off. Your hands had barely been freshly cleaned of your slick before you texted Joel, your dad’s best friend, and your most hidden secret.

You pant as you tempt him, I touched myself thinking about you.

Meanwhile, Joel tenses as he mulls over those six simple words. You probably fingered yourself, Joel thought, after rubbing gentle circles on your clit. He could imagine your stifled moans like you’d given him before.

He’d watched you fuck yourself with your own toy. God, what he wouldn’t do to see this in person again.

Joel sets his glass of whiskey on the side table, flitting his fingers to issue a reply.

Did it feel good, sweetheart?

Your reply is swift, though you’re still catching breath as if you’d ran a mile. The waves of euphoria waft over your senses, elated.

Really good

But that’s not the response Joel wants to hear. A hidden, possessive part of him snaps. He replies quickly, his question leaving you hitching your breath.

Better than me?

You know the answer, but you’ve messed up already. Regardless of your answer, you’re sure you’re in for another lesson.

No, sir, you admit.

Joel presses further, I don’t believe you.

Anxiety courses through you, shooting directly to your aching sex, already thoroughly fucked on your own accord. You text Joel back, catching your lower lip between your teeth.

How can I prove it to you?

Perfect.

A smirk tugs at Joel’s lips until he grins at his cell phone. He clears his throat as he replies, covering for his heated cheeks.

You can prove it by heading over to my place. I wanna show you a thing or two.

His Southern accent still saturates his message, you can hear it as if he were whispering in your ear. To your dismay, you can’t have his company until you trek to his house. You shift and sit straight, and send a reply.

I can be there in 15 :)

Joel’s response is almost immediate. It sends a shiver down your spine.

Bring your toy, too.

Three knocks sound against the door of Joel’s house. He saunters over to the foyer, hoping it wasn’t Sarah who forgot something for her girl’s night. With any luck, she would be fine, and he could proceed undisturbed.

To his relief you greet him with a wide smile. You seem more confident this time around - last time you came over you were still doe-eyed and timid, but he helped you break past that.

“Hi,” such a simple word, but the way he draws it out is like a siren song. If it weren’t taboo, you would kiss him right here on his doorstep.

Your cheeks warm, “Hi, I um… I brought it.”

He turns sideways and gestures with an open arm for you to enter.

The words good girl brush across your skin as you walk past Joel into the foyer. He must’ve seen your flustered state, because his hearty chuckle fills the air.

“Where do you want me?” you pipe up.

Joel’s glance to you is soft, melting the rich brown of his eyes into something warm and safe. You stare into the deep chestnut until his voice breaks you out of the trance.

“You sound nervous, baby.”

In front of him you shift on your feet, clenching your hands into fists as he calls your bluff. Joel approaches you and rests his hands on your shoulders.

His lips rest on the crown of your head, “It’s just us, babydoll. Y’ain’t gotta worry when you’re here.”

You nod slightly against his chest. The thrum of his heartbeat hammers against your ear. You’re encased in Joel’s arms as your breathing steadies, just in tandem with his heart.

“Attagirl,” mumbles Joel, “won’t let anything happen to you, ‘kay?”

A hand on your lower back guides you to the staircase. Joel follows closely behind as you make your way up to the second floor, making a beeline for his bedroom, where you’d spent your night together last time.

The smell in the room hadn’t changed from Joel’s usual scent - that signature mix of freshness and earth.

“I think I just get nervous, even though we’ve done this before.”

Joel nods at your words. “Would it be crazy to say that I feel the same way?”

You whip around to face him. Comfort and pride fills your chest now that you know you’re not alone. Before you ask him to clarify he nods, giving you a sheepish smile. Returning that face with a smug smirk of your own, Joel lands a soft blow to your ass. No tolerance for brattiness here.

“On the bed.”

His command is short and distinct. You execute the task immediately, patiently waiting on the bed as he asked.

Joel shifts his attention to your bag, and gestures to it, “Lemme see it.”

You place your bag in your lap and rummage the insides, finally grabbing onto that familiar firm silicone, carefully kept in a velvet bag. Joel’s eyes grow dark at the sight of it slowly being unsheathed from the red velvet.

He strides to you and takes the toy for himself, holding it in both hands while he lets his mind wander. He’d watched you fuck yourself with this toy barely a few weeks ago. Hell, he had been inside you last week.

But even with that consistency, it wasn’t enough for him. There was hardly a moment of relief. Now that he had felt everything firsthand, fantasies raced through his mind like wildfire.

“Are you not going to touch me?” you ask.

Joel’s expression steels, and his lips curl into a smile.

He shakes his head, “Not yet. You know how this happened last time, right?”

You protest, “What am I supposed to do when you’re not around, Joel?”

The sharpness of his tone stops you. “You ask first. You tell me first.”

After a moment, you nod.

Another command has you exposing yourself, “Take it all off, sweetheart. Nice and slow for me.”

Layer after layer, cool air meets your skin, brushing over your perk nipples and caressing the mounds of your breasts. They ache as you notice how intently Joel eyes you while undressing.

Your tits catch the lamplight beautifully. Their skin looks soft to the touch, pillowy and supple.

“Fuuuck,” he groans. Joel lowers a hand to his crotch, palming a growing erection in his jeans.

Dutifully, you peel your bottoms and throw them aside, followed by your underwear, joining your other garments on the floor. You’re laid amazingly bare, ready and squirming with a new wetness between your thighs.

Joel hands you the dildo you’d brought along, nodding sternly. “Go on.”

You tense, “You’re not going to help me?”

“You did alright by yourself before. Don’t let me stop you.”

His tone makes you scowl. Joel breathes a laugh before he sits at the foot of the bed, placing a hand close to your thigh, temptingly close.

“Don’t look at me like that. You knew better,” Joel remarks.

You did. Maybe some part of you wanted this to happen - and maybe that part of you wasn’t as small as you’d thought it was.

Without further instruction, you take hold of the dildo’s shaft, placing it carefully at your tight entrance. It had grown sore from your session from before, but still welcomed the toy easily. It dips into your displayed pussy, slowly easing in to the hilt.

Joel is mesmerized by the sight. The way the toy stretches you wide around its middle, the way your eager cunt swallows the remains of the length. Your cries sound around the room.

The lack of touch has you writhing in front of Joel. Despite your slip-up, the least he could do was touch you, even if it was holding your hand. But he offered nothing.

Since you think a toy can be better than him, he’ll let you deal with this yourself.

“Joel-“ you mewl, shoving the dildo deep into your pussy. Your walls flutter around the length, desperately searching for the familiar warmth of Joel’s cock, but to no avail.

The sound of a belt unbuckling sends a chill across your body. You crane your neck to spot Joel freeing his thick cock from his boxers. He kicks his pants to the floor and reaches for his shirt quickly after.

Warm light highlights the tone in his arms and chest. The sculpted muscles of his torso ripple as he twists to face you once again.

“Feel good, sweetheart?” Joel asks in a whisper.

You nod fervently, but he can tell you’re straining for the pleasure. You’re reaching for the ecstasy that only he had been able to give you.

“Think you could make yourself come for me?”

The challenge weighs on you. At this rate, it was unlikely. There was only so much your arms and wrists could take while you fucked yourself. It would be so much easier to suction it to the floor or the shower walls like you’d done at home.

You shake your head. You admit the defeat.

Joel finally makes contact, stroking the fullness of your cheeks. Their warmth radiates into his rough fingers.

“Can’t do it, can ya?”

You scowl, “Usually takes a little longer than this.”

He objects, “And how many times could I have made you come in that amount of time?”

Point taken.

The dildo drags slowly out of your used hole, throbbing with each heartbeat. After the toy’s usage, you weren’t sure how much you could handle from Joel. But you knew he would push you to your limits.

“Now,” he starts, “I wantcha to turn over for me. Elbows and knees.”

You oblige but ask, “Elbows?”

With his help, you’re in position in front of him, your bare ass and drenched pussy in full view.

“If you’re on your elbows, it feels better. Just trust me, honey,” Joel’s cozy voice reassures you. You ease your muscles, trying to replace the nerves with excitement.

Out of sight, the heavy head of Joel’s cock presses against your wet hole. You release a long whine, pressing your ass into Joel. The gesture is eager and desperate, but it makes him chuckle.

Needy little slut.

He delivers a harsh slap to your ass, groaning when you whimper at the impact. The head of his cock pushes further, greeting your walls with its thick girth. A low moan thrums through you as his cock stretches you wide, slowly filling your delicious cunt.

“Fuckin’ Christ, you’re tight.”

The words roil through you. You clench down onto his dick, drawing out a low moan deep from Joel’s chest.

His cock fills you slowly, but so much deeper at this angle. Every inch molds you to him, shaping your needy pussy to accommodate his size. Your slick coats his shaft, letting his movements speed up, until the lewd sounds of your sloppy pussy fill the room. Each wet slap drives Joel into a frenzy of hurried thrusts and deep strokes.

Somehow, your body is withstanding his sweet torture. Your moans sound muffled in the comforter - you grip the blanket desperately to hold yourself steady.

“You really think a stupid fuckin’ toy is gonna be better than this?”

Joel’s voice is gruff. It grates over your skin like the rough stubble of his beard. His voice rumbles again - his thrusts are more precise to strike your sweet spot. Your moans are a song only he has memorized note for note. A siren’s call. A simple plea.

More. More. More.

“Not a fuckin’ chance.”

A harsh thrust sends you screaming into the sheets, hiding your face to quiet yourself. Joel’s fingers coast down your spine to the base of your hair. His fingers thread through and gain purchase, tugging you upward.

You gasp, but release a low moan as Joel slowly drags his cock through your walls, before slamming right back in.

Joel laughs; his words brush across the shell of your ear, “Oh, you like it deep, huh?”

The soft whine is all the answer he needs. Joel repeats the movement a handful of times, relishing in the sweet sounds you’re making.

A new idea comes to him. Joel props himself on one knee, now gripping your hip in one hand, and your head in the other. The fullness is suffocating, and your position doesn’t grant you much room to move. You’re pinned.

Completely free to be used at Joel’s disposal.

He doesn’t waste a moment, and the strokes are deeper even still. You let out a shrill cry at the stretch. Tightness coils in your abdomen as you near your climax, ready to release.

“Come for me, princess. Show me whatcha got,”urges Joel, maintaining his speed and angle. The way you caught your breath revealed what worked best.

After a few more thrusts, you’re at the edge of your orgasm, with every inch of your body being set ablaze as it struck. It shatters through you like lightning. For a moment, your hearing dulls, and your vision blurs as you cry out through your euphoria.

“That’s a good girl. That’s a nice big one, too,” he says admirably. Joel pats your ass as a reward. You whine through the aftermath of your orgasm, clenching gently around Joel’s cock.

His pace slows only for a moment before he resumes, this time leaning backwards to get a better view.

Joel had seen it all before, but he would never grow tired of this sight. As he moves, your sweet cunt stretches tight around his heavy cock, eagerly swallowing him back in. He drags his movements out to give himself a good show, like the greedy lover he is.

“Baby, I wish you could see this,” he marvels.

You whimper in response. If it looked as good as it felt, it would be a dream to witness. A new idea suddenly sparks.

You shakily point to his phone on the nightstand. Joel pieces it together instantly. You want him… to record this?

Damn it all to hell.

“Y’wanna make a movie, sweetheart?” Joel’s filthy comments string along as he opens his phone’s camera, and selecting the ‘video’ option. “Wanna see what Daddy sees?”

Your soft moan gives him his answer, so he presses ‘record’. Joel tries to keep the camera steady, while keeping his strokes deep and thorough.

To think that he could keep this for later, for his own private enjoyment.

A tightness grows in Joel’s spine, wandering to his abdomen and making his balls tug tight. He can’t last much longer at this rate. Not with you squeezing him like this-

“So fuckin’ pretty. This pussy is so fuckin’ pretty, baby,” he coos. If he talks through it, maybe he can last.

You mewl into the blanket, clamping around his cock in a vice grip. Joel growls lowly at the tight warmth enveloping him.

To think this will be on video… It’ll be real, and there would be no denying this affair.

You shudder at the idea - surely the both of you would take it for your own personal pleasure, using it as the perfect material for when you ached for the other.

A band pulls taught in your tummy and snaps free, sending you into another overwhelming climax. Joel embraces the new tightness and lets it tug him toward the edge. He angles his phone to show off your splayed pussy before he unravels.

Joel groans harshly while his thrusts falter. He stalls for a moment before a new heat fills your cunt. Hot ropes of cum coat your slick walls, buried deep with a harsh thrust.

The recording pans in further - now zoomed in on your stuffed hole. Joel pulls himself from you, exposing your abused pussy to the camera. Slowly but surely, Joel’s cum leaks from your cunt and over your swollen clit.

“Who’s better?” Joel demands.

You reply between gasps, “You… you are.”

Joel presses a thumb against your slick clit, teasing the bundle of nerves into a circle. You twitch and tighten your pussy on instinct, making Joel chuckle from behind the camera.

“Damn right I am.”

He presses the record button once more to end the video, tossing the phone to the side. You let yourself collapse into the bed as your hips relax back into place.

“Next time you wanna play with a toy,” Joel mutters, easing himself at your side. He catches you gasping for a steady breath, smiling nonetheless. “At least you’ll have some good material to think about.”

You huff out a laugh, and playfully try to slap him on the thigh. Joel laughs heartily, filling you with the comfort only he could provide.

His fingers glide along your spine. “Let’s get you cleaned up, how’s that sound?”

Hiiii everyone! I’m still alive don’t worry, I just had to take a mental health break. I appreciate your understanding!

If you enjoyed, please support my work by reblogging or leaving a like!

I’m very happy to be writing again. I missed you guys <3

[hakunahistata]

For WIP ask game: “The Patron Saint of Lost Things”? Such an intriguing title…

Thank you for the ask! Tagging @doonarose who also asked about this one.

Sharing a very rough snippet (it needs work, I know!). Quick tl;dr for the WIP: post s2, Crowley becomes a guardian for the human race.

This entire fic was inspired by listening to this song and envisioning Crowley coming out of the shadows in full demon mode to protect a poor unsuspecting human who was in the wrong place at the wrong time and caught between angel/demon crossfire.

I added more story details under the cut because I had a lot more to say about this than I expected! **

The impact should have killed her instantly. She squeezed her eyes shut, arms coming up to shield her face and head reflexively, but when she landed, the street bowed below ground level, bending like rubber and cradling her as it bounced back up, pulling her with it and hardening to the way it was before. 

Back in the plaza, those three seconds passed very differently. 

One, one thousand. 

In the same moment that Elena was pulled to safety, the tail wrapped around her neck was sliced clean through. It dropped to the ground with a sickening sound, writhing still, and the dark figure screamed, falling to the ground as their hands clutched at the blessed wound they knew instinctively would never heal. As they screamed, their colleague was quicker on their feet, recognizing the smell of ozone and the familiar crackle of lightning, and tried to run, only to be pulled back instantly. 

Two, one thousand. 

Their spines bent unnaturally, shoulders hitting the cobbled stone of the plaza, as they struggled against the incredible force. Two tense, clawed hands flexed with power, energy pulsing, and pushed the two dark figures to the ground as the beige stone glowed red and opened up around them, flames licking at their skin and hair.

Three, one thousand. 

Their bodies seized and contorted with the flex of blackened fingers, manipulating them like puppets. One final pulse of energy, and the stone cracked open and swallowed them whole, knitting back closed in an instant and cutting off harrowing shrieks abruptly.  

Elena pushed herself up on her elbows, ears ringing with the sudden silence after the cacophony of noise. 

The golden being was on their knees, curled underneath the lip of the fountain, cowering in fear at the new figure in front of them. Their back was facing Elena but she could make out the tall, thin cut of their figure and short-cropped red hair that gleamed like fire under the streetlight. 

**

So, this is actually my longest fic to date—currently clocking in at a 20K word count—and is my only fic set in canon (I'm addicted to AUs, I know what I'm about).

It's set directly after S2 and alternates between both of our favorite nerds. We track Aziraphale in Heaven, who's sorting out the Second Coming and introducing more elements of humanity to the great Upstairs (lower-class angels are into it, especially AirPods). Meanwhile, Crowley remains on Earth and essentially becomes the protector of the human race, thwarting angels and demons alike.

Unbeknownst to Aziraphale, rogue angels and demons are working together to to kickstart the end of the world and usher in the apocalypse themselves because, honestly they're donezo. These clandestine meetings though can turn into squabbles that impact human safety and this is where Crowley comes in.

There's a lot more plot including Aziraphale basically kidnapping the Christ child, Crowley and Aziraphale having to work together (and no, of course, they're not talking about It), and special guest appearances from Warlock.

I have not looked at this WIP since November when I hit a massive wall with it but I had more to say about this than I expected. Thank you both for the asks and for reigniting this work's spark. I may have to dust this bad boy off...

[innocent-malfoy-slut]

Sytherin Queen

Draco Malfoy x slytherin!reader

Word Count: 3,8k

Type: fluff/angst/smut

Summary: the Sytherin Queen and King are announced and to celebrate your victory, Draco has something unusual planned for you.

Characters: Draco Malfoy, Reader (y/n), Pansy Parkinson

Warning(s): cheating (?), fingering, sex in front of a mirror

The first month of your seventh, and last, year at Hogwarts had started really smoothly. You had been no problems at attending classes and, for the first time since you attended the school, you felt like a normal student in a normal school.

But then your caring boyfriend took the matter into his own hands and did his better to remember you every day who you were and who you belonged to. He was older than you. He had graduated the year before and when you went back to the School on the first of September, he wasn’t with you.

“Troubles in paradise?” Pansy Parkinson appeared in the seat next to yours in the library and after placing her bag down on the floor, she turned completely to you and started intensely at you, “I can see the gears rotating into your brain.”

You let out a bitter smile and lowered your gaze on the opened book in front of you, not able to hold hers any longer, “Graham isn’t replying to my letters anymore,” you rubbed your hands on your face, but kept going, “We spent the entire summer together, but now he is distant and…I don’t know why I am doing this, it’s like he doesn’t even wants to try to make this work,” you spat out all your doubts regarding your relationship with your boyfriend. A tear went down your cheek and then landed on the white paper, “And I don’t know if I still love him.”

“Silly, I already know that!” she kept het voice tone low, yet it was like she had shouted it right to your face, “If it can comfort you, you’re pretty good at hiding your emotions, but you like staring…a lot,” Pansy was pleased with herself when she succeeded in getting a smile from you, “Listen, I remember how you and Graham used to be and I hoped it would work also once outside these walls. But obviously they aren’t going the way you wanted them,” she took your hands in hers and said: “I’ve never been seriously involved with someone yet, but I suggest you take your time and clear your mind about your feelings for Graham…and the other boy.”

Two weeks later you were still fervently hoping in a reply letter from your supposed-to-be boyfriend outside the school. After the fourth day you understood it wasn’t worth the wait, so you removed the necklace he had given you on 31stAugust that same year and put it into your drawer, next to your bed, unsure of what to do with it.

A few days before Pansy had convinced you to compete for the role of Slytherin Queen, which would have been assigned the night of the Ball -exclusive for Slytherins. You signed up under your friend’s insistence and there you were, in your dorm, in front of a full-figure mirror, just looking at you.

You had chosen a long green satin dress, with thin straps on your shoulders and a draped cowl neckline which highlighted your olive-skinned neck. Your parents had sent you earlier that week a piece of jewellery which came directly from your grandmother’s collection. It was a necklace representing a snake, it was entirely encrusted with shining diamonds, and at the end of it, right on the head of the snake, there were two big emeralds.

“That outfit is literally screaming ‘I’m the Slytherin Queen’,” Pansy appeared from behind the door of the bathroom and leaned against the frame of it, “Was that you the one who didn’t want to sign up for the competition?” she took a sip from a glass she then placed down on her bedside table.

“Yeah,” you mumbled as you sat down on your bed, “I’m still not sure about that,” you chuckled and fidget with your fingers, “Why would I be the Slytherin Queen when there’s you, or Daphne.”

“There’s a difference between you and us. Yes, we may be the centre of gossip, but I look at you while you take care of the First Years, or while you help the Third-Year girls with their problems. If I can use this term, you act as a mum. You are the kindest Slytherin among all of us.”

You gave her a heart-warming smile and hugged her tightly, “It’s time for us to go,” you hid yourself from her while swiping a solo tear running down your cheek, “Are your ready?” your hand reached for the doorknob and turned it once you made sure Pansy war right behind you.

You climbed down the stairs and soon were met with the strong smell of Firewhiskey, introduced illegally inside the green and silver common room. You didn’t notice the whispering all around you, both boys and girls were astonished by your beauty that night. Pansy went pouring you a glass of Whiskey, meanwhile you found a free-from-people spot in the room. You detected Blaise and Theo making their way into the crowd, being soon approached by two girls per one. They were both wearing two simple grey suits, which fitted the very good.

Behind them the door of the prefect’s dorm opened, and Draco Malfoy got out of it. He was wearing an entirely black suit; the trousers covered his thin and long legs perfectly, making them look slimmer. His tie was what made you drool the most; the thing you imagined him doing to you with his black tie. You were almost ashamed by the way Draco attracted you; you had never felt anything like that with Graham, especially because the nature of your relationship was strictly based on who you were and the heritage -cultural and non-cultural- you brought with you.

“You’ll need this, trust me.”

You didn’t notice Pansy coming closer to you and handing you a glass of Firewhiskey, which you gladly took from her hands and swallowed in one swift motion, “I won’t make it ‘till the end of the night,” you whispered more to yourself than o your friend, and fortunately she seemed not to have listened.

Instead, Pansy was focused more on the three boys now approaching the two of you, “Girls, aren’t you stunning this evening,” Theo lingered with his eyes on your neckline, earning a slap on the back of his neck, “What?” he asked the platinum-haired boy on his left.

“She has a boyfriend, who is a Slytherin. Calm down,” Malfoy scolded him with a harsh tone, while he kept shaking the drink within the glass between his hands. He raised his gaze from the light brown liquid and fixed his eyes on Pansy’s dress.

“There you are!” a voice which came from behind you surprised both you and your brown-haired friend on your left, “They are about to name the Queen and the Kind,” Daphne informed all of you. She was followed by her younger sister, Astoria, who kept revolving around your group since the beginning of the year.

You couldn’t say you were bothered by her presence, especially since she would sometimes turn to you when she needed any kind of advice. But you often found yourself observe the way she approached the older boys, mainly Draco. Astoria used to touch his arm whenever he was talking to her, or her fastidious laugh which was always too exaggerated.

Even though you had never talked about it with Pansy, you had the impression she had the same thoughts as you about the younger Greengrass and her pretty explicative manners with boys.

You moved along with your group as they came closer to the little stage, set up for the occasion, and stopped right underneath it. One of the boys from the same year as yours -so, from the seventh year- climbed up the stage and took the microphone between his hands.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to the annual Slytherin Ball,” the crowd started cheering and considered the amount of alcohol which had been already consumed, the excitement was brimming, “We will start right away with the name of the Slytherin King,” he pointed at a crown laid on the top of a wooden-made stool, “Let’s be clear, who competed never had a chance against the one and only Slytherin Prince. Ladies, you voted your King to be…” the suspense which followed was senseless, because everyone in the room had understood who was about to be called. And, in fact, the crowd exploded shouting when Draco was invited to collect from the stage the crown now belonging to him. “Malfoy, do you want to reveal your Queen’s name?”

The platinum-haired boy took the envelope from the boy’s hands and unwrapped it. He read the name written on it and let out a soft chuckle, “Give me the crown,” after a moment he was getting off the platform with a feminine version of his crown, studded with hundreds of little silver-coloured glitters, in his hands. He came to a stop only once he was in front of your group.

Next to you, Pansy got excited, but you kept it together since you knew you weren’t the only one among you girls competing that night. Astoria Greengrass had signed up only one day before the beginning of the poll and she had quite an amount of ‘friends’ who certainly gave her their votes.

Draco switched his eyes between you and the younger girl. To you, it seemed like you could normally breath no longer; the only thing you attempt doing was holding your friend’s hand and, in that moment, you figured that maybe you actually cared about the damn crown. You looked into Draco’s eyes as they laid on you and you saw his lips slightly curling up.

What came next, your brain couldn’t process it. All of a sudden everybody’s eyes were on you and they watched as Draco carefully placed the crown onto your head, eventually locking a rebellious lock of your hair behind your ear. He looked at you as your cheeks flushed under his touch and, liking how your body reacted to his, he grabbed your hand with his while the other one was gently placed on your waist, “Would you like to dance, Queen?”

Saliva was no longer being produced inside your mouth, so what you did was simply nodding, trying not to lose your respectability by drooling over him.

The crowd made some space for you in the middle of the common room as Draco dragged you away from your friends. Once you were one in front of the other, he pulled you closer and you had to place both your arms over his shoulders -no that the position upset you. You started dancing really slowly; it was like you were studying each other, unsure of what you were doing was okay with the other.

Draco wasn’t the kind of boy who liked to ask, he would rather take what he believed being his by right. That was what he did with you on September of the same year; he didn’t care about your ‘boyfriend’ outside the school, what he really mattered to him was that you were his. And you were glad you could count on him.

What brought you to him was entirely different from what brought you and Graham together. You and Draco actually shared the same interests and there wasn’t a single moment since you knew each other that he made you feel inferior to him.

That was why when, in the general confusion, he asked you to follow him, you did it without even questioning him where to. He interlaced your fingers together and dragged you through the crowd and across the room; in less than a couple of minutes you were walking down the aisle of the boys’ dorm.

Draco had a room only for him; he said to you it was because he was a prefect, but deep down you knew he got it because of his father. And each time you tried to tease him about it, he would rapidly change the topic of the conversation. You had been more than one time inside of his room, and no one of your friends knew it.

Once you made it to his room, he closed the door behind your back and pushed you against it, “So, my Queen, how to you want to celebrate?” he whispered in a seductive tone next to your ear, “I have a couple of suggestions to make,” he kissed your lobe over and over again, leaving a trail of wetness behind, “Want to hear them?”

You nodded frantically, “T-tell me,” your hands were soon wrapped around the back of his neck and your lips found his in a matter of seconds, “What were you thinking, Draco?” you knew how much he liked his name being whispered by you, and since he had firstly told you that, you kept doing it -but only when there was only the two of you.

He put some distance between the two of you while he stroked your bottom lip with his thumb, “You are astonishing with this crown on,” he drew with his fingers the outline of it and then laid his eyes again on your figure, “Do never take it off tonight, sweetheart.”

You shivered as his fingers lifted the straps of your dress, “Is the door locked?” you looked around yourself and then stopped your gaze on his features, enlightened by the weak light inside the room. You didn’t have to ask; Draco brought a hand behind you and when you heard the key being turned in the keyhole, you were sure no one would have busted into the room that night.

Your hands, which were still hanging behind his neck, went stroking the tiny, soft hair on it, while his were now placed on your waist.

“Don’t waste our time then,” Draco dragged you forward, again and again, until your butt hit his desk, “I had in mind something different for today,” as he pulled down the strips of your dress, and let it fall on the ground, he was pleasantly surprised by what were you wearing under it.

A constant thought lingering in your mind all day made you wear a lingerie under the silk dress; it was basic, yet the sexiest Draco had ever seen on a woman.

He took his time observing you, imprinting in his mind the forest green strapless bra and slip on you, “I cannot say how much I love this colour on you,” his fingers went playing behind your back, with the hook of it, while his eyes paid attention a little lower from there, “No, I will show you how much I love this colour on you.”

You felt his hands leaving your body and felt cold and alone when he turned his back at you completely. You watched him tearing down a drape from the wall, unveiling a full-length mirror, “One quick question,” your curious self was coming out, “Is that always been there?” you didn’t address to him directly, instead you preferred looking at him through the glass, “And why I didn’t know about it?” you suddenly felt two large hands regaining their place on your hips.

“I don’t like the idea of seeing myself as I wake up.”

You looked up and chuckled at his words; it was such a Draco Malfoy’s typical expression to use, “Are we going to spend the entire night commending your mirror?” you turned around and placed your hands around the back of his neck, again, “Or are we up to something else?”

“You can bet that pretty ass of yours we are,” he roughly flipped you, now your back was pressed against his chest and your ass was grinding against his hard erection, “Nice dress, by the way,” his fingers traced the line of your shoulders and then went down, up to the very end of your back, “Maybe tomorrow morning you can make a catwalk just for me.”

“It depends,” you answered vaguely, and you lips curled up in a lazy smile as you enjoyed his touch burning your skin.

“On what? If I may ask.”

“On how good you fuck me tonight,” you looked like the typical innocent, good girl to everyone -even to Graham-, but there was one only person in the entire world who had the pleasure to meet the real you.

“Are you challenging me, Miss Y/L/N?” Draco pulled you further against him and his arms wrapped around your hips, “You know I never refuse a challenge, especially if I know I will win,” having said that, there was no more time for words. He pushed you down and within seconds you were on your knees, looking at him through the full-length mirror in front of you.

You kept silent, watching Draco pushing down his black jacket, which was soon followed by his black shirt; his fingers found the buckle the belt he was wearing and undid it -quite masterfully, according to you. His trousers were thrown onto the bed; he stood there, behind you, in his underwear which did left nothing to your imagination.

You licked your upper lip and smirked, staring directly into his eyes, “Are we going to take it slow all night?”

“Face down. Ass up,” Draco commanded you and chuckled as you eagerly accomplished his orders. His eyes followed the narrow line of the thong you were wearing. He couldn’t say he didn’t like it -he wanted that catwalk the morning after more than anything. Draco’s fingers trailed down the fabric until they rushed against your core, “Already so wet for me?”

“Only for you, Draco,” you knew how much he like it when you said it to him, and so you fitted that sentence every time you could.

“What do you want?” he kneeled behind you, eyes fixed on yours through the mirror, “You ask, and I will accomplish, my Queen.”

“Then,” you turned your head around to look him straight in the face, “I want to be fucked so hard that I won’t remember even my name tomorrow morning,” you noticed the lust sparkling in his eyes.

Draco’s hand laid down on your head and pointed it towards the mirror, he pushed until your cheek touched the soft carpet, “Spread your legs,” he supported the movement you made with your legs, “Good girl,” your underwear was moved to the side and the boy’s cold fingers were met with the heat of your wet pussy. Draco pushed his index inside you, twisted it and pulled it out. He repeated the action a couple of times before thrusting his middle and annular inside, too. He intensified his pace and was about to brought you your first orgasm of the night, except that he removed his fingers before the wave could hit you, “Pathetic.”

“W-why?” you asked breathless.

Since the first time you had sex with Draco, you understood it was nothing like the boys you had been before -nor Graham. Draco had always cared about you and your body, and out your pleasure before his own. Though he didn’t seem an altruistic person, within the walls of the bedroom, Draco came in second place. But he was an arrogant asshole even when you were throbbing for him.

“You should know by now that you are only allowed to come on my cock,” he kept his back straight while he brushed the tip of his hard member against the labia of your pussy, “I haven’t heard you beg yet.”

You let out a deep breath and steadied yourself o your elbows, reaching an even wide opening with your legs, “Please, my King, let me come on your cock. Please, fuck me ‘till my mind blo-“ you gasped when you felt him going deep inside you. You thought that he knew what he was asking for when he told you to put yourself in that position: you could literally feel him hitting all your soft spots and his tip was less than an inch away from your cervix.

He was big and thick; again, nothing you had experienced before.

“Move.”

You brought forward your hips and pushed them back, enough for his balls to hit your clit; you tilted your head back and closed your eyes, pleased with the sensation. You repeated you action once more, this time you were staring at his face, twisted in a satisfied expression. You heard him babbling senseless words and that gave you the strength to do it again. After that, you didn’t push yourself away, instead you kept your position and held his cock deep buried inside you.

“Already tired?” Draco went down on your ass at first gently, then he slapped it quite hard. He didn’t go back, but he gave you a thrust and you couldn’t help but lower your head. His fingers grabbed a few hairs of yours and pulled it up again, “I said: eyes on me. If not, you will be punished,” then he whispered next to you ears, “I really don’t want to show every Slytherin how accommodating you can be.”

Draco pulled himself back and then, in one quick motion, he thrusted back into you. He steadied himself to a fast pace, which had you moaning so loud that he congratulated himself for casting a silencing charm over the room moments before. He grabbed your crown, which had fallen from your head, and put it back on it, keeping it in place with another charm, “Look at yourself, the Slytherin Queen being destroyed by the only man who will ever see you like this,” he felt your walls tightening around him and his cock growing harder inside you, “You desperate slut.”

When you noticed his hand running between your legs, and your core, you shivered and then, all of a sudden, he pinched your clit, and you didn’t hold it back anymore; you screamed while the orgasm washed you over and over again.

When you raised your head to meet Draco’s grey eyes, he was already looking at you with a smile plastered over his face. It wasn’t his usual smirk, neither was he making of somebody, Draco Malfoy had on the soft smile he had only shown to you. The only girl he had ever cared about.

“I’ll give you that catwalk tomorrow morning,” you said in no more than a whisper, but you were sure he had listened to you because he giggled and placed a warm kiss on your back, along the line of your backbone, “Can we cuddle before round two?”

Draco broke into laughs, “Are you up for round two?” meanwhile he carefully made you stand up and took you to the bed. As usual he tucked you under the sheets and then jumped on the mattress, reaching his spot behind you.

“I’m always up for round two with you.”

Tag List

@iam-fucking-batgirl

[five-rivers]

Loved 6

Written for Dannymay 2021 Day 15: Nature

.

“Danny,” said Sam, “what’s wrong?”

The question was, really, far too vague. Many things were wrong all the time, especially with Danny. Part and parcel of being what he was, living where they were, and doing what he did. Although she was more comfortable with it all than Tucker, she could acknowledge that things were… bad. That the world was messed up. That, although people could be horrible to each other on their own, the monstrous beings lurking under the fabric of reality did not help.

But Danny had been in especially low spirits for the last few days. She’d almost say he was depressed, but she was hesitant to apply mental health disorders to someone who wasn’t even entirely human anymore. He’d also been unusually quiet, but he had admitted some time ago that he was having progressively more difficulty ‘finding words,’ so that could be the reason instead.

If she could find out why he was upset, maybe she could cheer him up. Or at least support him.

He made a face, one hand covering his mouth as he talked. “You remember that time, um, when Clockwork… The gifts?” He touched his wrist.

“Yes?” said Sam, prompting him to continue.

Danny glanced down the otherwise oddly-deserted school hallway. “It’s… He had me eat with him. Sort of. Ever since then, my teeth have been…” He paused his hand now firmly pressed to his face.

“Weird?” suggested Tucker, voice low.

Danny nodded. “I had – I was venomous, in the Dream, I don’t—” He faltered.

“Do they hurt?” asked Sam.

“Mhm.”

“Do you think biting into something might help?” asked Sam as she swung her backpack off her shoulder and rummaged in it.

Danny’s eyes seemed to glaze over as he considered the question. Finally, he shrugged.

Sam found what she was looking for. “Here,” she said, holding out the shiny red apple. “Try this.”

Danny examined the apple, careful and silent. The fruit was reflected, vividly, in his eyes. Once. Twice. Three times? No. Danny had two eyes. Two perfect, insightful, soulful eyes.

Delicately, he took it. He still didn’t remove the hand over his mouth.

“We’ve seen worse, man,” mumbled Tucker.

“Not when I’m being human,” protested Danny. Gingerly, he removed his other hand from his mouth and brought the apple to his lips.

When his lips parted, Sam could see what he was talking about. Those were definitely, clearly, fangs. Sharp, smooth, and white. They sparkled even in the flat overhead school lights. Something bluish and clear glistened at their tips.

Was Danny venomous?

(Why did that excite her?)

They crunched into the apple. Danny held it there, still and tense, for a few seconds before his expression melted into absolute bliss.

“Feel better?” asked Sam.

“Mmmhmm,” said Danny, eyes half closed.

“Guys?” said Tucker. “We should probably go now. Before they kick us out.”

“Huh?”

“It’s the end of the school day. School’s been out for half an hour.”

Sam frowned. Was it? She… Did she… She did remember going to all her classes. She shook her head, dismissing the momentary lapse.

Danny regretfully disengaged from the apple, blinked, and swayed. His outline wavered. Sam grabbed his wrist, and a jolt ran up her bones, making her teeth hurt as if she had just bitten down on ice. He stabilized again.

“Thank you,” he said.

He did not notice that she had taken the apple.

.

She set the apple on her desk, and the color stood out vibrantly against the dark-stained wood and her black, goth-themed knickknacks. The color, which was a different than what it had been when she had given the apple to Danny.

The neon blue skin was cold enough to gather condensation and smooth under her fingers. There was otherwise little evidence that Danny had bitten into it. The holes had sealed over, leaving only small depressions.

She knew what she wanted to do. She knew what she shouldn’t do.

Danny said she couldn’t die. That he had destroyed her death, among others. She trusted him.

But it was always good to be prepared.

She set up a text on a timer. If she wasn’t able to cancel it in the next ten minutes, it would go out to Danny and Tucker.

The bed would be the best place to do this. She sat down on the edge, feet firmly planted on the floor.

She bit into the apple.

For a few seconds, she was disappointed, but then.

Then.

She let herself drop back onto her bed, the springs creaking slightly and the covers gently fluttering. She exhaled. Inhaled. Exhaled. Blinked. Closed her eyes. Opened them again.

Everything. Everything.

It was like seeing for the first time. The world was as thin as rice paper. The light was shinning through. It’s true nature.

And all the people. Everywhere. Everyone. Connected.

She—

Everyone.

Beyond the rice paper they could see and touch and feel, the false veil above the truth they couldn’t look at directly, but Danny could and, oh.

Was this what he saw all the time? Was he always filled with this sense of—

Of charity? Of- of—

What could she call this? Care? Empathy?

Could she call it love?

(She could. He was. Because he was loving. But his understanding of love was overwritten and subsumed by his understanding of Love. There could be no other way.)

(To love was human. Love was divine.)

If everyone could feel like this…

Sam knew how much people could hurt each other. She knew how terrible the world was.

(Her grandfather had only died a few years ago. He’d been born in Germany.)

She knew how stressed Danny was about hurting others, even when it was his mere existence that was harmful – And Sam wasn’t so sure that it was harmful. If Danny hadn’t just internalized the vitriol and hate that his parents practically consisted of.

If everyone could feel like this…

They’d had a conversation, back when they’d connected the others to cults, about whether or not cults were a natural result of the others’ presence, or if they were actually encouraged by the others. Maybe it was a combination of the two, but Sam now had good evidence for the former.

This. This was natural. This was right.

And she would work hard to make everything else right, too.

The feeling faded after another few… minutes? Hours?

Minutes. It had to be minutes. Otherwise, Danny and Tucker would be here.

The timer.

She fumbled her phone open just in time to cancel the text.

.

Sam was tempted to take another bite of the apple, but she knew that she had to be careful with her resources. She had her vision. Her goal. Her plan to make the world a better place.

It started here.

She leaned on her shovel and checked the depth of the hole in the ground. Good. Good. Room enough for the apple and room enough for the fertilizer.

She used her fingernails to slit open a bag of the latter and then placed the apple reverently on top of the small pile. A shadow passed over her. It didn’t seem like quite enough, did it?

Perhaps… an offering? She emptied the contents of her pocket. Coins. A six-sided die with a bat in place of its ‘one’ pip. A caramel and a strawberry candy her grandmother had given her that morning. A small picture of herself, Danny, and Tucker. A safely pin.

She arranged them carefully around the apple. The safety pin gleamed in the light.

Staring at her. She stared back.

Maybe…

She picked up the pin and squeezed it to free the sharp end. Then, before she could hesitate, before she could have second thoughts, she drew it over the ball of her thumb. Blood welled up from the small wound, and she let it drip on the soil surrounding the apple.

.

The tree grew into a sapling overnight. The next day, it was taller than Sam. On the third, the trunk was thicker than both her wrists together. By the end of the week, it had burst into bloom.

Sam made sure to water it every day.

Danny, meanwhile, continued to have problems with his teeth. He spoke less, his words slurred and lisping around his still-growing fangs, but that didn’t matter to her and Tucker. After the years they’d spent together, they could read each other pretty well.

Sam maintained a constant supply of apples for him to bite down on. Most of the time, he ate them afterwards, which she couldn’t really begrudge him, but sometimes he’d leave them on his desk or on the table or just out and Sam would put aside her next afternoon for experimentation.

Before she knew it, the tree was bearing fruit. Rose-red and perfectly shaped, not a trace of scale or insects. Sam knew exactly what to do with them.

.

“Hey,” she said, as her parents walked in, “I made an apple pie. Tell me if it’s any good.”

[chibivesicle]

Golden Kamuy - Kikuta really deserved better [part 3] 280-283

I’m still behind on my GK meta.  Here is my push to catch up before new chapters drop.  Just a note of clarification from my last meta.  When I discuss Yuusaku’s eyes being similar to Asirpa’s, I don’t mean that he has blue/green eyes like hers but just that his ‘innocence’ is represented by that but there may also be a difference.  If he were not Hanazawa’s biological son, it would make a sweet plot twist and explain why he didn’t inherit the ‘natural abilities’ of the men of that family in the military.  This sounds silly, but a major theme of GK is that children do inherit abilities from their parents.

Most of chapter 280 isn’t super useful, we learn that Usami discovered Kikuta’s role as a spy for central and that’s pretty much it.  Kikuta seems to think that Sugimoto will be enough to stop Tsurumi which, I dunno, I guess makes some sense considering he’s one of the main characters, but meh.

He does get a badass scene where he tries to look cool and take Tsurumi out with him here . . .

Unfortunately, he doesn’t get to be badass as Tsukishima shoots him in the head.  Recall that, he’s wanted a front row seat for the Tsurumi theatre and has rationalized in the past that he’s going to be Tsurumi’s right hand man -

[Sighs].  Oh Tsukishima, I’m more worried about your mental health and well being with these recent chapters. Honestly, the rest of the chapter seems like filler to me.  The skins are arranged to reveal a location for the gold, at the fort in Hakodate, Goryokaku.  The only other part I found interesting is here.  Tsurumi makes his orders known and Koito is off in the corner by himself.

Koito, what are you thinking?  How are you feeling? Are you upset by Tsurumi?  By Tsukishima declaring he’s Tsurumi’s right and man and not your big brother?  Tell me Koito?  Are you no longer on board with things but caught up in the momentum of events?

And both groups are now en route to the location and - Kikuta deserved better.

Chapter 281 starts out with group eating squid in Hakodate as they check out the remains of the fort.  It is mainly historical context information and how this is where Hijikata should have died.  I’m not a Shinsengumi ‘fan’ so this plot point continues to be meh for me.

What is more important is that Boutarou told Shiraishi that the gold came from the Russian Consulate to the fort.

Kimuspu lead them there as the group of men organized by Wilk are in search of the gold at the Russian Consulate.  They are able to break through a fake wall to find a cellar below where the gold is supposed to be.

Of course, since this is a manga this perfectly overlaps with other events in the manga - mainly the kidnapping of Koito by ‘Russians’ aka Tsukishima and Ogata.  Wilk goes over to investigate and sees Koito Sr. deciding that Koito’s fate is set based on the current actions of the kidnappers.

It is interesting that the previous chapter had a very lonely looking Koito to lead into this flashback that is also related to him.  Is this important or just luck in the plot/flashback story line? The men proceed to find the gold - but as Wilk examines it, it becomes clear that it isn’t the gold.

Instead, we are only left with Wilk asking him what is going on?  And we have no idea what Wilk is looking or referring to, but it isn’t gold!

The flashback ends and the group is roaming around the fort a night only to bump into the 27th!  Poor luck for the group indeed.

Chapter 282 starts off with a fight between the 27th and everyone else.  Of course they are doomed from the start since they are up against monsters of a sort.  After a few violent deaths, Sugimoto searches one of the men to find a telegram.

Welp, shit.  There best effort to beat Tsurumi isn’t going to happen as he figured things out at the same time that they did.  Shiraishi has a complete meltdown for several pages.  Which I’m personally not a fan of - I’m just tired of him being the lazy comic relief by this point.  But if you’ve been reading my meta since 2018, you’d already know how I feel about that.

Hijikata remains calm and tries to think of logical places to search for the gold.  Digging directly into the ground would have been too obvious so it is likely in a building.

Frantic, Shiraishi runs into the door of one of the buildings. The group seem to descend into a sort of chaotic panic about finding the gold before Tsurumi gets there and then how to get the gold off the site.  It all just seems odd.  Like, dude, you guys need to just chill and stop shouting out random suggestions.  Of course Sugimoto immediately concludes they will have to fight.  Which isn’t a very clever idea from Sugimoto, it is his freakkin’ default state.

Of course Hijikata was planning to fight from the start.  That has been his goal since the beginning of the manga!  But this time, he’s enlisted the help of Sofia and her fellow Russian partisans.  Who are on their way to Hakodate and we get an epic shot of her pouring vodka on her face.

It is a logical call, he needs other people who are experience fighters - someone who can go toe to toe with the 27th.

Chapter 283 then turns to give us a brief flashback into Hijikata’s planning for events.  He knows the fort inside and out and takes charge (as he should in this situation).  Before they left he met up with Sofia and tells her to bring her men to Hakodate that afternoon.

What is interesting is the conversation that unfolds as they discuss working with Sofia and her group.  As a war vet, Sugimoto is the most uncomfortable with this, even if he isn’t quite aware of it, he thinks it is too much of a stretch.  What surprises me is that Shiraishi, doesn’t trust her either and he even mentions Kiro, unless he personally thinks Kiro was more trustworthy than Wilk or Sofia?

Hijikata is confident that they will deal with things as they happen, but Asirpa clearly states that they can trust her.  This makes sense based on how Sofia was there with Asirpa when Tsurumi interrogated her - she knows Sofia is someone whom she can rely on.

Meanwhile, Sofia is supporting the dream that Wilk and Kiro both shared in their youth and tells her men as such.  Going way back to the flashback with the three of them and their interaction with Tsurumi as Hasegawa we know that she is the most caring and compassionate of the three leaders.

She is the type of person who could truly inspire others to work towards a common goal, and we’ve seen this through her actions, including taming that tiger.  The idea is still crazy, but hey why not.

On the same train is Ogata, clearly following Sofia.  He’s asleep and we get a flashback to him laying on the futon with his mom.

At the end of the chapter, it notes that she is saying some lines from a nursery rhyme associated with a children’s game.  I’d go with the interpretation that many things are easy to enter or become involved with but are difficult to escape.  How will this impact his role in the fight for the gold?  Is he still acting as a sort of solo agent?  Is he reflecting on this entire mess?  His life choices? Lack of choices?

The rest of the chapter is again a bit meh.  Of course Tsurumi has commandeered a train, looks like it is mainly carrying freight and Vasily as well.  Vasya, what are you doing again?  Why are you still after Ogata?  And you are just humming a tune while you lounge on a horse in the freight part of the train. Okay . . . as I’m behind on this meta, others have already pointed out that Vasily is likely a Cossack, all comfortable on his horse.  Which I feel like is a somewhat lazy ‘Russian stereotype’ since many different Slavic groups existed in the Russian empire at this point in history.

The end of the chapter does finally answer a question I asked in meta a very long time ago now here: https://chibivesicle.tumblr.com/post/178997911192/does-hijikata-have-a-useful-tattoo  I remember asking if Hijikata had a useful tattoo b/c we never saw it in the manga - until this chapter.  The answer?  Yes.  He fucking does have a useful tattoo.  And he is a buff man despite his age and imprisonment!

All in all what to I think of these chapters?  They are moving all of the groups together for some sort of confrontation.  How does this all pan out? We shall see.  Koito is def wavering in his support of Tsurumi.  Ogata is in the mix, likely with the Russians.  What is Vasily doing?  How many men does Tsurumi have?  What will Hijikata do based on his past battle at Hakodate?  Will Asirpa be safe?  Will Sugimoto finally get captured by Tsurumi and Ogata will have to rescue him?  I’ve been waiting for that to happen for years now by this point!

[honey-dewey]

Memories as Hard as Beskar

Pairing: Din Djarin/Reader

Word Count: 3,627

Warnings: Description of injury, mentions or pregnancy, flashbacks

Permanent Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell

Traveling with Mando had been the best part of your life. For almost three years you’d dedicated your skills as a nurse and mechanic to him and his ship. And he had repaid you in the only way he knew how. Unfortunately, your travels were long gone, halted after you found out you were pregnant. Leaving your beskar protector, you settled down to raise your babies, hoping beyond hope you would never see the man who had once enchanted you.

“Buir? What’s this?” 

You turned, sighing and herding your girls closer to your side. Zhulk and Ono, your twins, were both at that stage where curiosity won over in their minds, and they insisted on checking everything out. Sometimes you didn’t mind, but you knew just how corrupt the galaxy could get, and more often than not, you sought to protect your kids from that horror. 

“On’ika, come here,” you said firmly, tucking Ono to your side. She gripped your skirt, the coarse fabric rubbing against your leggings. You put a hand protectively around her head, smiling to the familiar baker who gave the girls honey buns when you weren’t looking. Even now, she slipped them bites of raisin bread, winking at you.

Zhulk skipped off once you’d grabbed bread, ever the troublesome twin. “Zhul’ika!” You shouted, following after her with Ono by your side. “Zhul’ika you get back here this instant!” 

Zhulk turned, running backwards and sticking her tongue out at you. “Make me!” 

“Oh you little jerk,” you growled, planting Ono with the baker, hitching up your skirt, and racing after your unruly daughter. Zhulk may have been fast, but you had endurance. All those years outrunning bounties would do that to a person, and you couldn’t help but remember the last time you’d been on a chase like this. 

You grinned, feet hitting the ground and sending vibrations up your legs, but the thrill of the chase was enough to help you ignore it. The quarry in front of you, your beskar protector beside you, nothing would ever be able to deter you from this life. 

“Left!” You shouted, signaling to your left. The man beside you began to veer off, taking a shortcut that would lead him to cutting the quarry off. Meanwhile, you kept up the chase, glad your protector had trained you well. 

“Zhul’ika!” You shouted, seeing her turn a corner and pass out of view. “Haar'chak Zhul’ika, get back here!” The instances of the foreign language were second nature by now, a slip up and a tribute at the same time. 

Zhulk turned yet again to run backwards and immediately smacked directly into someone, falling flat on her back. You rushed up, grabbing her by the scruff of her jacket and pulling her to her feet. 

“Are you okay?” You asked, checking her over for injuries. When she nodded, you gave her wrists a light smack. “Or'dinii! You scared me! Don’t ever do that again!” You stood, taking Zhulk and lifting her onto your hip. She gripped your tunic, hiding her face in your shoulder. You smoothed a hand over her hair. “I’m so sorry she ran into you,” you said to whoever she’d crashed into. “She’s young and foolish and.” You stopped, finally looking at the man. 

It was a mandalorian. Pure silver beskar and that faceless helmet, he was so familiar it made your heart hurt. 

“It’s okay,” he promised, before walking off. 

You let out a breath, chest aching. There was no doubt. That had been your Mando. The one you’d trusted, the one you’d loved. The one you’d left. That day, that horrible day, flashed through your mind. 

You pressed a hand over your belly, trying to gauge whether it was bigger or not. Four used tests were scattered around the fresher, each one saying the same thing. 

Positive. 

Sighing, you tried to keep a level head. There was only one possible father, but you could never tell him. He’d probably kill you. 

Smoothing a hand over your bare belly, you smiled, already feeling a gentle maternal instinct burning through your veins. You would already die for the bean in your stomach, and you couldn’t even see it. 

In that moment, it was decided. You gathered your meager belongings from your bunk and left, leaving behind a hectic and happy life for one more stable, more suited to your new status as a parent. 

“Buir?” 

You snapped your head towards Zhulk. “Yes?” 

“Who was that?”

Faltering for a split second, you shook your head, turning to scan for Mando again. “I don’t know cyar’ika. Why don’t we go get Ono and go home, okay?” 

Zhulk buried her head in your shoulder and nodded slowly. Her chase had worn her out, something you were thankful for. Ono was still waiting for you with the baker, and you held her hand tight the entire way home. 

Dinner was a calm affair, with both Ono and Zhulk staying quiet while you walked around in a trance preparing the food. Your hands moved of their own accord, chopping and cooking. Meanwhile, your head was playing back images of your life almost seven years ago. 

“Mando!” You shouted playfully, looking around for your missing mandalorian. “Mando, come here!” 

Mando came out from around the corner, blood still leaking sluggishly from his shoulder. You pat the mattress beside you, inviting him to sit. “C’mon. A broken warrior is no good in a fight. Let me fix you up.” 

Chuckling, Mando sat beside you, stripping out of his shirt and exposing the wound. You expertly sewed it up, smeared it with bacta, and wrapped it in a bandage. 

“How can I ever thank you for what you’ve done?” Mando asked, despite knowing the answer you gave every time. 

“I can think of a few ways,” you purred, pressing a hand to his chest and feeling his heartbeat, wild under your fingers. 

“Buir!” 

You snapped out of your thoughts, nearly cutting the tip of your finger off as the knife in your hands came down. “Yes On’ika?” You said, turning. 

Ono tipped her head. “Are you okay?” 

“Of course.” You smiled, placing the knife down and walking to the table, kissing each of your girls on top of their heads. “I’m going to finish up, okay? Then we can eat. And guess what? There’s uj’alayi for dessert!” 

Both girls smiled, the promise of the cake making them behave while you finished dinner. 

Once they’d eaten and you’d ushered them off to bathe away the uj’ayl syrup residue, you were finally able to relax. Unfortunately, relaxing always brought back the memories. The memories of him. 

“Cyar’ika,” he said softly, playing with the hair that fell over your exposed ear. “Cyar’ika, are you still awake?” 

You nodded, turning in the absolute darkness to find your mandalorian. “Barely. Why?” 

Mando shrugged, you feeling his shoulder move beneath your ear. “Can’t sleep.” 

Sighing, you traced a pattern into Mando’s bare chest, occasionally feeling the soft edge of the bandage on his arm. “Close your eyes my love. I’ll be here when you wake, as always.” 

The sound of your girls wishing you goodnight pulled you from your reminiscing. You echoed their words, feeling a soft tug on your heart. Everything you’d ever done was to protect them, to keep them blissfully unaware of the life you’d led and the danger that faced them. You followed the girls into their room, tucking both of them in with a smile. “Sweet dreams,” you said softly. 

“Buir?” Ono asked. “Can you tell us a story?” 

“Yeah!” Zhulk agreed. “Something exciting.” 

You smiled, settling down on Ono’s bed and gesturing Zhulk close. “Something exciting? How about a story about me?” 

“We said exciting!” Zhulk pointed out, cuddling to your side. 

“My life was exciting!” You argued playfully. “This is how your Buir met the scariest man they’d ever met.” 

You launched into the story, making it PG so as not to scare the girls. It was a true story, but not how you met the scariest man you’d ever met. Oh no, this was the story of how you met your mandalorian. 

Alarms blared from every angle as you raced down the dingy corridors and navigated flawlessly to the med bay. The station had never been this alive, not even when men had been dying. The injured person must’ve been important. 

You skidded to a stop in the med bay, seeing a man you’d only ever heard about laying on one of your cots. The beskar killer. The mandalorian. 

Ran had only ever spoken about the Mando briefly, and it was mostly to tell you he was dangerous and very good at his job. Now, he was bleeding out, and you were the only nurse on board the entire damned station. 

Swearing violently, you moved automatically, prepping as if this were any other patient. You wheeled Mando into an operating room, transferring him to the rubber OR table and turning to get yourself ready. Gloves, a black apron, and a mask over your mouth and nose was all you were able to manage before turning back to your patient. 

The stories about Mando persisted, despite your adrenaline. Never removed his helmet, not ever, and he resented droids. You wanted to ask him if the helmet rule applied to the rest of his armor, but you didn’t have time and he wasn’t exactly conscious. Instead, you set up a scanner to scan his head and look for injuries behind the beskar. Typically, you’d have a medical droid around to help, but said droid was still outside the room. You didn’t want any more reason for Mando to kill you when he came to. 

Piling the armor in a haphazard stack, you cut Mando out of the rest of his clothes, tossing the heap of bloodstained fabric into a bag. Leaving him in his underwear, you took a quick catalog of injuries. His leg was cut down to the bone just above the knee, his ribs were clearly broken, both his arms sported heavy burns from the elbows down, and according to the scanner, he was concussed. Aside from the severe, he had some small scrapes that added to the mess he was making and the blood that was starting to drip onto the floor. 

You began with the worst of the injuries. It took some serious reconstruction to put Mando’s leg back together in a way that would remain functional, but you did it. Finally stitching his skin together and spraying the injury with bacta, you wrapped it in a bandage and smeared your bloodied glove on the scanner’s assessment bank. It trilled and whirred while you checked for pneumothorax. Thankfully, the broken ribs hadn’t punctured a lung, so you moved on to assess the damage level, praying you wouldn’t actually have to cut Mando open. 

The scanner trilled again, displaying Mando’s blood type. You grabbed a blood bag and a pain reliever, hanging both on an IV hook and finding a vein. It was quick work, and you were suddenly less scared you would accidentally kill Mando as you watched his vitals stabilize somewhat. 

You continued your exam of the broken ribs, deeming the break not serious. It was a relief, despite how much pain Mando must’ve been in. At least you wouldn’t have to cut into him to put his ribs back together yourself. 

Moving on to the burns, those were easy enough to treat. A strong burn cream mixed with bacta to help accelerate the healing, and you were methodically wrapping Mando’s arms in bandages. 

His concussion was another thing entirely. You know you had to leave it alone, just like his ribs, but without examining his head fully, you had no idea how severe the injury was. 

You stepped back, looking down. You were absolutely disgusting, bloody from fingertips to shoes. You sighed, replacing your gloves and removing your mask. Grabbing a sponge, you carefully began to clean Mando down, wiping away the blood and eventually working his limp body into a fabric medical gown. Laying him back down on the rolling table, you sighed yet again. Today had been too long. You needed a break. 

Gripping the bed sheets, you blinked tears from your eyes. Both your girls were long asleep, cuddled up to your body. You lifted Zhulk out of Ono’s bed and put her in her own, tucking the blankets around her and pressing one last kiss to her forehead before you went to go get some sleep yourself. 

You had a blissfully dreamless sleep. Usually when you remembered meeting Mando, you dreamt about helping him escape with the Razor Crest, you alongside him as you flew away from a horrible life and into one that you could be proud of living. 

Now, ten years later, you had to wonder if you were actually proud of what you’d done. 

The morning came quickly, and you got ready to walk the girls to school. They were both waiting in the kitchen, yawning and rubbing their eyes. 

“Good morning!” You said cheerily, putting two bowls of cereal on the table. “Who’s ready for school?” 

Neither of your girls answered. Instead, they just ate slowly, which was to be expected this early in the morning. 

Thankfully, they woke up a bit more by the time you had to leave, ushering them out the door and towards the school. 

You never made it. 

Instead, you were interrupted by blaster fire and screaming, your old instincts forcing you to herd Zhulk and Ono into a building, putting yourself between the outside and the door. You had no blaster, but you wouldn’t let anyone hurt your girls. Not without killing you first

Unsurprisingly, Mando came skidding around a bend, spotting you and, likely on instinct, grabbing your hand and forcing you to run beside him. You followed, despite your want to stay behind. “Let me go!” You yelled, taking a sharp turn and yanking Mando along with you. “My kids! I have to protect them!” 

“They’ll be fine!” Mando shouted back, holding his arm protectively across his chest. 

“Dammit Mando! They’re in danger!” You took another turn, backtracking until you were at the back door of the building you’d put Zhulk and Ono into. Breathing heavy, you shoved the door open and slammed it shut just in time. 

“Buir? Is that you?” 

You let go of Mando’s hand, kneeling down to wrap your girls in a firm hug. “It’s me. We’re safe here ner ade. We’re safe.” 

“Who’s that?” Ono asked once you’d let her go. 

“Oh.” You’d almost forgotten Mando was behind you. “This is a very old friend of mine.” 

You could feel the twist in your gut at the word friend. He’d been so much more at one point, and yet, you’d abandoned that bond for a word as simple as friend. 

Mando sighed, falling into a wayward chair, and you were finally able to look around. The building was an old cantina, and you ushered the girls into a booth before pulling a chair up beside Mando. 

“You left.” Was all he said after a minute of crushing silence. 

“I did,” you agreed quietly. 

Mando glanced at Zhulk and Ono, who were playing a card game on the table. “I take it they’re the reason.” 

“That life was no life for a child,” you confirmed. 

Another longer stare, and then the question you’d been dreading was finally asked. 

“Who’s the father?” 

Before you could find a way to respond, blaster fire echoed throughout the cantina. Mando jumped to his feet, shoving a bag into your chest. “I’ll get this from you later, just go!” 

You slung the bag across your back, took your girl’s hands, and began to run. 

It was a long trip home. You went the confusing route, throwing anyone off your tail if you had been followed. Eventually, you ushered the girls into your house, locking the door and settling in the living room. 

Which was when you noticed the squealing. 

The bag on your back was moving, small squeals and general noises of discomfort coming out. You opened the flap, immediately cooing and lifting the small green baby out of the bag. “Oh look at you,” you said sweetly, fingers ghosting over a small wound on the baby’s head. “Let’s get that all fixed up, okay?” 

You were as gentle as possible with the baby, eventually putting him between Zhulk and Ono on the couch, tucking the three children beneath a blanket and heading off to find your blaster. It was old and probably needed to be adjusted, but it would protect you well. 

Hours later, a familiar knock echoed through the house. You jumped up, opening the door and revealing Mando on your doorstep. You pulled him in and locked the door behind him. 

“Kitchen, now,” you directed, falling into an old pattern despite the years. Mando followed you, sitting in a kitchen chair and allowing you to check him over, tsking as you patched a wayward injury on his forearm. He was quiet, removing his armor and making himself at home. 

“Where’s the child?” He asked finally, once you’d put the first aid kit away. 

“With the girls,” you said. “Safe.” 

Mando stood. “Those girls. Why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve helped. It would’ve,” he paused, trying to find the words. “It would’ve made me feel better to know you were safe.” 

“Dammit Mando!” You hissed, trying to keep quiet. “You think I didn’t want to? To call you and ask you to pick me up? The girls, Maker, those girls never needed a life like that, but I did! I always did!” 

“So why’d you go?” Mando asked, coming close and placing his warm hands against your arms. “Why’d you leave?” 

You sniffled, unaware that you’d started crying. “Can’t you see? They look nothing like me Mando. Don’t tell me you’re that dull.” 

“I want to hear you say it.” 

You took a breath. “They’re yours Mando. You’re the father.” 

Despite seemingly already knowing, Mando was dead silent for a while, simply pressing the cold of his beskar against the warm of your forehead. Eventually, he pulled the helmet off in one swift movement and kissed you, running a hand down your back and securing you close to him. When he pulled away, you were met with familiar brown eyes, eyes he had passed on to his kids. 

“Oh lord,” you muttered, tracing his features with one finger. “I always knew they looked like you, but this is scary.” 

“I know,” Mando murmured. “I’m sorry I never came back for you.” 

“I’m sorry I left in the first place.” 

Mando chuckled. “I guess we should start over. Hello, I’m Din Djarin.” 

You laughed. “Hello Din. I am madly in love with you.” 

“Feeling’s mutual,” Din promised, kissing you again. 

“Buir?” 

You practically shoved Din away, whirling to find Zhulk and Ono, holding the baby, standing in the kitchen’s entry. “Hey. Why aren’t you asleep?” 

“We heard a noise,” Zhulk said, looking up at Din. “Is he really just a friend?” 

You knelt down, pulling the girls close. “You know how I told you many years ago that your other Buir wasn’t around anymore. That it was only ever going to be me.” 

Both girls nodded. 

“Well, that’s your other Buir.” You gestured to Din. “He’s a mandalorian, a very dangerous kind of person.” 

Neither of them seemed fazed by that. Instead, they immediately accepted this new reality and left to go play a game. You stood, marveling at how easy that was. “Such is the mind of a child, I guess,” you mumbled. “Anyway, Din, why don’t we get caught up. I’ve got some uj’alayi, if you still like it.” 

The rest of your day and most of your night passed in a blur of information and conversation. Din told you about the Child, and you told him about your girls. 

“I’ve been quested to bring him to his kind,” Din said when you asked him about his plans for the future. “I know I can’t ask you to come with me. My quest is dangerous, more dangerous than my life before. It would put you and the girls at risk every day.” 

You took his hand. “Din. I’m sure we could stay safe somehow.” 

-two years later-

You smiled, watching Zhulk and Ono run around with Grogu. You and Din were staying with the Jedi who’d taken Grogu a year ago, simply visiting for the week. Your swollen belly prevented you from doing much besides watching, the next addition to your family ready to arrive any day now. 

“Mesh’la?” Din came up behind you, putting a hand on your aching back. You smiled, kissing him as he bent down. 

“Yes?” 

“Have you decided on a name? He won’t stay in there forever, you know,” Din joked, kneeling down to kiss the swell of your stomach. 

You laughed, reaching down to card through your riduur’s hair. “How does Jullat sound? I liked that one best.” 

“Jullat Djarin,” Din mused, standing and putting an arm around your waist. “I like it.” 

Jullat, as if sensing that this was a precious moment, began to kick. You laughed, pressing a hand to your belly. “Yes my little Jull’ika, I know. You’re just as ready as I am.” 

Din smiled. “I’m so proud of you,” he said, kissing your cheek. “So very proud.” 

You rubbed your hand over your belly, looking out over your life now. What had once been a lonely clan of three with a single parent hiding from their past was now a beautiful clan of almost six, all together. Remembering Din’s wedding vows, you pressed yourself to his side to get his attention. “We will raise warriors,” you murmured, watching Zhulk chase Ono around. “Do you think we succeeded?” 

Din nodded, kissing the top of your head. “I think we did.” 

“Buir! Come here!” Ono shouted, passing by you. “Zhulk’s trying to kill me!” 

You chuckled, nudging Din. “That’s your cue,” you reminded. Din smiled and walked off to give Ono the advantage in their game. You sat on a stone, watching your family, all together, as it should be.

[kyber-kisses]

Going Under

Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: cursing, spn level gore, drowning

Bad Things Happen Bingo

Square filled: Drowning

Summary: When the reader and Dean are captured by a nest of vamps, things take a slight turn when the readers life is suddenly put in mortal danger. Will Dean be able to save her in time?

“I can’t believe you.”

“Are you seriously going to bring that up right now?” You hissed, eyes blazing as you leaned forward to look at Dean.

“You’re damn right I am!”

“Dean, look around you. Now is really not the time.” You tried to gesture to the room around you but ultimately failed due to your zip tied hands.

So. . . Things may or may not have gone terribly wrong while you, Sam, and Dean were working a case. The three of you had been expecting a few vamps but somehow it had quickly turned into a full nest. One thing led to another, you and Dean were captured and Sam was yet to be found.

“Oh it never is, is it?” He grumbled, his eyes focused on his own restraints as he tried to figure out how to get out. He couldn’t have been more than four feet in front of you, the two of you facing each other. But it wasn’t the person in front of you that had you worried- it was what lay directly behind you.

The two of you were being held in the natatorium of the high school all the victims had attended, the air humid and filled with the strong scent of chlorine. The only lights that were still on were the ones embedded in the walls of the pool, the reflection of the water dancing turquoise on the tiled walls and ceiling. Your captors had yet to come back, the only sound being the lap of water hitting the edges of the pool.

Unlike Dean, you had your back facing the water. The back legs of your chair resting on the lip of the pool. Apart from your hands being bound together with zip ties you also had to worry about your ankles. Thick rope dug into your skin, binding them together. The other end of the rope had been looped through one of the holes in a cinder block, the piece of concrete partially sticking out over the ledge of the pool. All it would take was one small nudge to send you sinking.

Needless to say; this was not an ideal situation to be in. . . And to top it all off, Dean was still mad at you for the so called “hiccup” on the previous hunt.

“I told you, I’m not gonna apologize!” You snapped, leaning forward once more in your chair.

“Well you should! What you did was reckless and stupid!”

“I was saving your fucking life! You could be a little grateful every once and awhile!”

For a split second you expected steam to come out of Dean ears, his jaw clenching as he glared at you. “You jumped into the line of fire!”

“Yeah, to save your ungrateful ass! If I hadn’t done something you would be dead!”

Dean opened his mouth once more to respond, but was stopped short when the doors leading out into the hallway banged open, revealing what had to be the biggest vampire you had ever seen. It was like looking at a six and a half foot tall pillar of solid muscle.

“Well what do we have here?” He grinned, stalking across the concrete floor and towards you and Dean. “A Winchester tied up all pretty for me? It must be my lucky day.”

“And you must be the big ugly vamp I’m about to kill.” Dean fired back, twisting his hands in his bindings. His words getting a loud chuckle from the vamp, but once his amused expression fell he was driving his fist into the side of Deans face, his head being whipped around by the force.You wriggled in your seat, the instinct to kill growing tenfold.

“Hey big guy, hands off him!” You tried to leap up but didn’t get very far with your ankles and wrists bound, the failed action making you drop back into the seat. You could see Dean giving you one of his warning gazes, silently telling you to back off.

The vampire turned, his back now facing Dean as he took a step forward. “And who’s this?” He grinned, grabbing your chin forcefully with a calloused hand.

“Don’t you dare touch her!”

The vampire paused, looking back over his shoulder at the struggling Winchester. “Is she yours?”

“I ain’t nobody’s, you big ass freak.” You spat, taking your opening when he turned back to you,and slamming your head into his full force. He stumbled back with a string of curses, hand leaving your chin to slap over the point of contact.

“Why you little-“

“Bitch? I know. Very original.” You deadpanned.

Lowering his hand from his head, the vampire set his gaze on your before bringing hit hand back and connecting it with your cheek in a harsh slap that echoed across the pool. Head knocked back by the sudden force, you stretched your jaw. You gave yourself a moment before looking back up at him, a bloody grin on your face.

“I know pillows that hit harder than you do.”

He raised his fist again.

“I said don’t fucking touch her!” Dean growled, the plastic chair he was bound to creaking loudly as he tried to free himself.

Where was Sam? Sam needed to find them and quick before this dude did anything to permanently harm either of you.

The vamp smiled, clearly getting a kick out of seeing a Winchester squirm in his seat. “This is mildly entertaining to watch.”

“Fuck you.” You snapped, leaning forward once again. All you wanted to do was keep this guy away from Dean.

“Alright, and that’s enough from you.”

What happened next was so quick neither of you had time to properly process what he was doing. The vamp stepped forward and nudged the cinder block with the toe of his boot. The block disappeared over the edge of the formerly still pool with a loud splash and you were pulled back with it. Deans eyes widened in pure terror as you let out the beginnings of a yell before being swallowed by the water as well. It was as if gasoline was poured onto the spark of fear in his belly. One moment he was frozen in shock and the next he was struggling harder than ever before against his bindings, eyes flicking back to the number on the edge of the pool saying his deep it was.

8 feet.

There’s no way your gonna be able to fight yourself to the surface with your ankles bound to that block.

“You son of a bitch- I’m gonna fucking kill you!” Dean hissed. The adrenaline pumping through him was at an all time high. A sudden idea tumbled into his skull and Dean was suddenly planting his feet on the floor and pushing himself back with all the energy he could muster. The plastic chair careened backwards, and between his weight and the concrete flooring, the flimsy piece of furniture broke, pieces of plastic shrapnel flying out across the floor.

Meanwhile, you were struggling. A lot. Your head was pounding, every cell screaming for oxygen as you struggled at the bottom of the pool, your hair rising upwards like seaweed as you tried to break the zip ties, your body arching in your struggle. You tilted your head in the direction of the cinder block, the one thing keeping you from the oxygen your body so desperately needed. It felt like every inch of you was throbbing, your lungs on fire.

When was the last time you were this scared for your own life? You couldn’t remember.

Blackness slowly began to seep into the corners of your vision after a solid thirty seconds of struggling. You needed to breath. You needed to take a breath. And even though you try and fight it, you suddenly inhale whether it’s air or heavily chlorinated water. Just like that a cold flow of water is thrust up your nostrils, a stream cascading into the back of your throat and nose, sending jets of pain through your body. The steady hum of the water in your ears slowly begins to fade into something softer, gradually muting into silence, one with the darkness. You give up on the fighting and thrashing, allowing the water to hold you in a suspended position beneath the surface as everything goes black, your body giving one last spasm before shutting down. . .

Dean rolled to his feet quickly as the vamp lunged at him, using the plastic handles of his chair to somewhat defend himself as the monster attacked. He blocked the first few blows before he lost the upper hand, the vamp bowling him over and sending him sliding across the floor.

“I would just give up. She’s probably gone by now.”

Dean ignored him, crawling to his feet again before slamming into him. Once again, he only got a few punches in before he was pinned beneath the massive body. Solid hands wound around Deans throat, beginning to squeeze. It only lasted a second though before Dean hears the distinct whistle of a blade moving through the air, and the vamps head is suddenly freed from his shoulders, revealing a very bloody Sam behind him.

The younger Winchester let the machete drop from his hands as he pulls the corpse off of Dean, chest heaving. “Where the hell is Y/N?”

Y/N.

Dean is up and on his feet in seconds, rushing across the concrete floor as he quickly shrugged off his jacket before diving into the lit up water of the massive pool. It’s not hard to find you, but the chlorine burns his eyes as he dives to the bottom. The rope keeping you tethered to the cement block is thick, and Dean is thankful for the blade he keeps stashed in the side of his boot.

He works fast, his adrenaline still pumping as he saws through the rope. His lungs have never burned like this before and everything in him is telling him to go to the surface for more air. . . But he doesn’t. After what feels like an eternity the rope finally snaps and Dean wishes he could let out a sigh of relief. Wrapping his arms around your torso he searches for his last bit of strength and kicks upward.

“Dean!”

That’s the first thing he hears when he breaks the surface, taking in lungfuls of air as he tries to tread water. You are dead weight in his arms, and its difficult to keep the both of you above the waterline. Through the water in his vision, he can just barely make out Sam, his brother on his knees at the edge of the pool.

“Sam- help-“

Dean somehow managed to get close enough to the lip of the pool that before he knows it, Sam has his hands underneath your armpits and is hauling you out of what almost feels like a grave. Dean sucked in a breath before bracing his hands on the edge and pushing himself out of the water. Its only when hes on his knees next to Sam that he almost freezes at the sight of you.

Almost.

You look like a rag doll, your body limp and lips a light shade of blue. Fear runs rabid through his body still and just like that he is back in action.

“Sam, cut the bindings on her hands.” Dean spoke quickly as he pressed his ear to your chest.

Heartbeat. He needed a heartbeat.

After a moment he pulled back again, rolling up his sleeves as he started the compressions on your chest.

“You are not allowed to die on me, you hear? And definitely not like this.” Dean huffed. A small part of him was afraid that he might break your ribs with the amount of pressure he was using, but the desperation to see you breath took over and he ignored it.

“Dammit Y/N-“

Tilting your head back slightly, Dean lifted your chin and pinched your nose shut before placing his mouth over yours to create a seal. He gave you two breaths before pulling back and continuing the compressions.

His eyes stayed glued to your face, hoping beyond anything he would see a sign that you were still with them.

Nothing.

And then his mouth was back on yours as he tried desperately to breathe life back into you. “C’mon sweetheart. I got some things to say to you and I can’t do that if your dead.” He pulled back, hands going back to your chest.

Sam let his brother continue the cycle two more times before he was clamping a hand over Deans shoulder.

“Dean-“

The hunter swatted him away, continuing the compressions. “She’s not dead. She’s alive. She’s alive and she’s staying that way!” He panted,ignoring the sting of tears in his eyes as he leaned back down to give you another set of rescue breaths.

Apparently he was right because barely a second after he pulled away, you coughed. . . Or more like slightly gargled. A spray of water leaving your lips as you choked.

“There we go!”

Dean let out a sigh of relief as his shoulders dropped, the hunter helping to roll you to the side as you emptied an unhealthy amount of water from your lungs. His hand rubbing your back softly. Filled with relief he let out a light chuckle, pressing a kiss to the side of your head.

Unfortunately your body was still too weak to keep you conscious and once the water was out of your system you were slumping back onto the wet floor, your head coming to rest on Deans thigh.

“Y/N?”

“She’s out. But we need to get out of here Dean, I took down a bunch of them but I don’t know how many vamps are still here.” Sam sighed.

There was silence, Dean too focused on the unconscious Y/N in his arms to hear his brother properly.

“Dean!”

Snapping out of his state, Dean looked up- your head resting on the crook of his elbow. “Yeah, yeah. Okay. Hand me one of those towels.” He pointed behind Sam towards the rack, several towels rolled neatly and stuffed into it.

Sam popped up into his feet, quickly retrieving one before handing it over to his brother- who wrapped in snugly around you and then hoisted you into his arms.

“I got ya. I got ya.” Dean breathed, cheek coming to rest on your wet hairline. “We’re gonna get you back to the motel, and your gonna rest up and everything’s gonna be fine.”

He couldn’t tell if he was saying those words to comfort himself or you. Maybe it was both. Both would be preferred.

With Sam taking the lead, the two of them navigated the empty halls of the high school wanting nothing more than to leave it all behind.

*. *. *. *. *. *.

When you first eased into consciousness the first thing your body registered was that you were breathing. And this time it was actual air and not water. The second thing you noticed was that your body felt like lead, even your eyelids were struggling to open. Your fingers wiggled against the soft sheets as you slowly attempted to opened your eyes, the morning light trickling through the blinds of the motel room to illuminate the space.

You tried shifting your position, your body stiff as you let out a groan. Your sudden movement and noise gaining the attention of the other people in the room.

“Y/N?” Suddenly setting down his glass at the small table, he turned towards you, clearly surprised to see you awake. “Hey, how you feelin?” He spoke softly, sitting down besides you on the bed before reaching for your hand.

“What- what happened?”

Bracing your hands on the mattress as you tried and sit up. Dean was besides you in an instant, sticking a pillow behind you before helping you up to lean against the headboard. Why was Dean suddenly being nice to you? Last time you checked he was mad at you.

“You almost died, that’s what happened.” Dean scolded, sinking back down onto the side of the bed.

“Dean-“ Sam began, quickly being cut off by you.

“I’m sorry, what do you mean; almost died?”

“I mean, you almost drowned to death in a pool.”

Dean watched your eyebrows furrow in confusion. Drown? That didn’t make any sense. You knew how to swim. How the fuck could you possible drown?

“What were we doing at a pool?”

“What were we-“ Dean choked on the words, unable to believe you just asked that. “Y/N we were hunting a vamp nest.”

That’s all he had to say before it slowly came back to you. Bits and pieces falling into place. Some parts were still blank, but you remembered a good portion. Dean and you being caught. That big ass vampire. . . Something having to do with a cinder block?

“Wait Y/N, what all do you remember?” Sam spoke suddenly, worry crossing his features.

“Everything up until getting caught. . . And maybe a little more. But I don’t understand the drowning bit.”

Turning his attention from you to his brother, Dean looked at Sam with wide eyes. “Why doesn’t she remember?”

“I mean in some cases of drowning if there’s a lot of water in the system and depending on how long she was under. . . There might be some brain damage.”

“I’m sorry, brain damage?” You and Dean spoke in unison. You sat up a little straighter, suddenly worried.

“I don’t think it’s too serious, but I can call Cas. See if he can’t stop by to check on you.” Already pulling out his phone, Sam left the room leaving you and Dean to sit in silence. It felt like you sat like that forever before anything was actually said.

“Do you have any idea what I’d have to go through if you’d died last night?”Dean spoke suddenly, looking across the bed towards you.

“What?”

“Years of guilt. Crippling, self loathing guilt.” He continued, eyes darting down to look at his hands. “I know what you were trying to do last night. Antagonizing that vamp to keep him away from me. Putting yourself in harms way like you always do.”

Oh. Oh. That’s what this was about. You may not remember last night clearly, but that didn’t mean you didn’t remember the times before. It was what Dean had been angry about before as well.

“Dean-“

“You’re not supposed to die for me, Y/N.” He added. “And neither is my brother. But no matter what I say, or how hard I try to drill it into your skulls, you’re not gonna stop trying.”

“You’re right. I’m not going to stop trying. I love you too much to.” The second it left your lips, you were slamming a hand over your mouth.

Okay so maybe you did have brain damage. There’s no way a sane person would just let it slip they love someone. Nuh-uh. No way.

You watched Dean with wide eyes, trying to judge his expression. His own eyes widening for a moment before a soft and knowing smile fell across his features and he was reaching across to pull your hand away from your mouth. You didn’t realize until that moment how close he really was.

Dean gently leaned in, giving you more than enough time to pull back. . . But you didn't. His lips eventually pressing against yours softly. And no, it wasn't some sort of powerful, passionate kiss. It was a gentle and close-mouthed kiss like you do when you’re in eighth grade and you’ve never held hands before with a boy. It’s almost as if he’s testing the waters, seeing if you really want this. You do. More than anything.

“You know, I’m falling for you so much that it’s freaking me the hell out.” He paused. “That’s why I got mad. I don’t want you getting hurt, especially for me. Now I know that’s no excuse for me being a dick, i just- don't ever scare me like that again. I thought I lost you last night-”

“I wont. . .wait, You're falling for me?”

“Yeah.”

“I thought you hated me?”

“I could never hate you.”

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[hysterialevi]

Hjarta | Chapter 18

Fanfic summary: In an AU where Eivor was adopted by Randvi’s family instead, he ends up falling in love with the man his sister has been promised to despite the arranged marriage between their clans.

Point of view: third-person

Pairing: Sigurd Styrbjornson x Male Eivor

This story is also on AO3 | Previous chapter | Next chapter

THE NEXT MORNING

SIGURD’S CHAMBERS

Eivor pried his eyes open to a slit, immediately squinting in the sunlight that hit his face.

His fingers twitched with movement as his body returned to a state of consciousness, and his dreams vacated the stage that once sat in his mind. A subtle itch tickled the surface of his skin due to the strands of hair that dangled in front of his nose, and out of the corner of his eye, Eivor could see lingering smoke trailing from the dead embers of a torch once set aflame.

It was a calm morning, despite the mournful nature of the clan. A light breeze traveled swiftly throughout the empty halls of the longhouse, and distant chatter could be heard from the villagers who had already risen. It was the start of an ordinary day, and yet, Eivor had no motivation to see it through.

He just couldn’t stop thinking about Thora and Ulfar. 

Even though he managed to distract himself for a while with Sigurd’s company, the pain was inevitably sinking back in, and it felt as if a boulder had planted itself on top of his chest. 

There was no way to fill the new absence stalking his every move; no way he could ever see Thora or Ulfar again. Both of them were gone, and he had been left behind. He was stuck in this realm with nothing but the memories of those he had lost, and the only thing that could help him was the hope of putting Kjotve down for good.

Thankfully, Eivor wasn’t completely alone just yet. 

Resting gently over his hip, the young man felt the weight of Sigurd’s arm pressing down on him like a protective shield, holding him close in a world that was constantly trying to separate them. His breath kissed the back of Eivor’s neck at a steady pace, and a soothing warmth surrounded their bodies due to the blankets barricading them from the cold.

It was surprising to see that Sigurd hadn’t taken his leave, Eivor thought. Part of him had been expecting the prince to vanish like he did on the day of the wedding, and yet, he was here, keeping him company without any worry of judgement. His mind remained buried under dreams of war and mayhem, and his eyelids fluttered with the vivid images that flashed in his head.

He looked to be at peace, despite the turmoil brewing inside him. His expression was devoid of any usual disturbances, and Eivor’s comforting presence only helped to bring him more solace.

In addition to the relief Eivor felt upon seeing Sigurd however, the young man also couldn’t ignore the guilt he carried for taking the prince away from Randvi.

Gods only knew what that woman was going through right now. In a single day, she had lost both her blood-sister and father figure -- and unlike Eivor -- she had to deal with the pain alone.

She didn’t have anyone in her chambers to provide her with company or a shoulder to lean on, and Eivor began to wonder if he should’ve been ashamed of himself for robbing her of that. 

Perhaps it was a mistake to stay with Sigurd for the night. Perhaps he should’ve simply gone to the temple like he planned, and left the prince to his own devices. Maybe then, Randvi wouldn’t be forced to endure all this grief alone.  Eivor may have cherished every moment he spent with Sigurd, but he didn’t wish to do it at the expense of his sister’s well-being.

It was Randvi that Sigurd was supposed to be with, after all. And Eivor couldn’t help but question the morality of what he was doing. 

“...Eivor...?” The older man suddenly murmured, causing the Wolf-Kissed to glance over his shoulder.

He came face-to-face with a pair of heavy-lidded eyes, and smiled faintly upon hearing the man’s words.

“Good morning, love.” Eivor said, rolling onto his side. “I hope I didn’t wake you up.”

Sigurd chuckled, though it came out more like a grunt due to the sleep that still fogged his mind.

“...You didn’t wake me up. Truth is, I barely slept. My dreams were plagued with nothing but nightmares. I hope you had a better night.”

“I’d be lying if I said I did. All I could think about was Thora and Ulfar. About how they died.”

“I know what you mean. I can’t stop thinking about Dag either. It’s been hours since he first went silent, and yet... his final words refuse to leave me. It’s like he’s still here, berating me for everything I’ve done. Every time I close my eyes, my dreams take me back to the Tears of Ymir. Part of me feels as if I never left.”

Eivor snuggled up in Sigurd’s embrace, bringing himself closer to the other man.

“...We will get through this, love.” He reassured. “I know it wasn’t easy, but you gave us a chance at victory when you slew the traitor. Now, Kjotve has no allies within our walls. He’s completely by himself. And we have his son as a prisoner. We still have hope of winning this war... and it’s thanks to you.”

Sigurd raised a hand to Eivor’s cheek, gently caressing it with the back of his knuckles. 

“I hope you’re right. The last thing I want is for all our sacrifices to be in vain. We can’t accept defeat now. Not when we’re so close.” The prince sat up from the bed, causing his hair to slip from his shoulders. “But for now, let’s simply focus on honoring our dead. There are many farewells that need to be said before we take things further with Gorm, and I’d like to see Dag off on his journey to Hel. He may have been a traitor, but even he doesn’t deserve abandonment in death.”

Eivor’s mood soured at the mention of Dag’s name. In spite of his agreement to granting the man a place at the funeral, he couldn’t help but feel contempt for him after everything he and Gorm did to Thora.

“Do you think Dag would’ve done the same for you?” Eivor questioned.

Sigurd hesitated, not failing to notice the sharpness in his tone.

“I... I honestly don’t know. Did he even love me in the end? Or did he view me as an enemy? A foe that he needed to eliminate?” The prince combed a hand through his hair, letting out a sigh. “I’d like to believe that he would stand by my grave in death, but in reality, I suspect he would’ve been the one to send me there.”

Sigurd rose from the bed and reached for his shirt, shaking his head in sorrow. “Gods... how did things go so wrong...?”

He pulled the piece of clothing over his torso, preparing to take his leave.

“Anyway, I’ll let you get dressed. I imagine my father will be awake by now, and I’d like to have a few words with him before we depart. Meet me outside when you’re ready to go. We can walk to the funeral together.”

The younger man followed suit and threw his legs over the edge of the bed, dreading the near-future. He didn’t want to attend the ceremony alone, but he also worried that he wouldn’t be able to keep his composure in the presence of Thora and Ulfar.

“...Alright.” He said plainly. “I’ll find you when I’m ready, Sigurd.”

The prince leaned down and placed a kiss on Eivor’s forehead, bidding him farewell.

“Take care, Eivor. I’ll see you soon.”

~~~~~~~~~~

ONE HOUR LATER

THE DOCKS

Walking along the edge of the ship, Ingrida’s boots quietly thudded against the wooden floor as she tended to the pyres, preparing them for their final departure. She scattered a mixture of herbs and petals at the base of the structures, whispering a series of prayers under her breath.

Her heart ached beyond words to see three of her beloved clan members sharing a ship to the gates of the afterlife. Thora, Ulfar, and Eirik all lay side-by-side in the center of the vessel, decorated with an abundance of gifts that the villagers had left for them. They had axes, shields, food, riches, armor -- every possible boon they could use in the next realm. Their bodies had also been adorned with a handful of sweet-scented flowers, and their hands had been arranged to hold the swords in their grip.

Meanwhile, Dag rested alone in a separate ship docked on the other end of the harbor. His boat had been left barren of any gifts or offerings, and the only attention he received was from scornful villagers who were irked to see his presence at the funeral. His pyre looked about as empty as the frozen sea before them, and it appeared just as cold.

Luckily, despite the animosity the clan held for Dag, Ingrida hadn’t yet forbade herself from saying a prayer for the man. Even though he was directly linked to the death of her son, she still saw it fitting to bless him with one last prayer, as well as the dignity of being sent on a proper vessel. She carried less than no love for the dishonorable traitor, but did not wish to defile his grave, lest she cause Sigurd even more pain.

“Wherever the bridge may guide you,” Ingrida whispered, walking up to Thora, “whatever obstacles you may face, know that your memory has been marked in our clan, sister. Your words, your thoughts, your actions -- they will all continue to live among us even though you have returned to the gods. Your spirit will become as natural as the trees around us, and your name will be shrouded in the honor that was robbed of you in death. May you find peace under Hel’s gaze, and may your axe never thirst for battle. You are free now.”

The woman brought her attention to Eirik, crumbling at the sight of her son.

“Oh, my son...” she murmured, “forgive me. I never thought it would end like this. I never thought it would be me who tended to your pyre. I wanted to watch you grow old. I wanted you to enjoy the life I had given you. I wanted better for--” Ingrida’s voice faltered, causing her to pause briefly, “--you deserved... better than this. You deserved happiness. I only pray that the gods will grant it to you someday, and that we will meet again when death takes us both.” She slid a hand down Eirik’s cheek. “Rest well, my son. Your struggles will not be everlasting.”

Turning to Ulfar, Ingrida cleared her throat and took a deep breath, regaining her composure for one final farewell.

“And my dear friend, Wulfgar,” she said. “I know you were fueled by hatred for many years before you came to us. I know you carried an abundance of regrets. But as the Valkyries guide you to the Hall of Valor, I hope you can find forgiveness for yourself. Even though you were not exempt of flaws, you were one of the best men I had ever the pleasure of meeting. You were a venerable husband to Linnea, and a loving father to many of the children here.” 

She sighed, placing a delicate hand over the hilt of Ulfar’s sword. “I do not know whether you will meet the Christian god or be accepted into the Allfather’s arms, but either way, remember that redemption walks with you, drengr. Your faults have been amended, and your shackles have been broken. May your freedom guide you home.”

Stepping away from the pyres, Ingrida said the last of her prayers and decided to leave the bodies alone for now, admittedly somewhat overwhelmed by the grief that was starting to sink in. For days, she had been focusing on the preparations for this funeral, and yet, nothing could’ve fully braced her for the severity of their losses.

The old völva had overseen multiple burials in the past, but she had never attended one with so many familiar faces. Thora, Ulfar, Eirik -- they were all vital people in her life. She watched them grow, she watched them cry, she watched them change. A part of her soul was attached to the three of them, and now... she had to watch them leave.

It was the hardest farewell she ever had the burden of bidding, and she hoped it would be the last.

“Ingrida?”

The seeress whirled around at the sudden greeting, not realizing that she had company.

“Oh, Eivor,” she said upon seeing her guest’s face. “I didn’t notice you were there.”

The young man approached her, keeping his hands linked in a respectful manner.

“I didn’t want to interrupt,” he explained. “I saw that you were saying a prayer for them.”

Ingrida glanced back at the fallen warriors’ bodies, nodding morosely.

“...Indeed. I just finished saying goodbye to Wulfgar.”

Eivor cocked a brow at that. “Wulfgar? You mean... Ulfar?”

Ironically, his question only seemed to garner more confusion from the old woman.

“He never told you?” She asked, clearly surprised.

“Told me what?”

A look of understanding spread across Ingrida’s face. “Forgive me, young cub. I assumed you knew of this already. The two of you were like father and son, so I simply thought...” she shook her head, returning to the topic. “Anyway. Tell me, did Ulfar ever reveal that he originally came from a Saxon family?”

“Yes,” Eivor recalled. “He mentioned that before.”

“Well, his name was Wulfgar before he was adopted by the Norse. He always asked me to refer to him as that in private. It may seem like an odd request, but I think it helped him preserve some semblance of who he once was.”

“I... I never knew that. Ulfar didn’t tell any of us.”

Ingrida gazed at the raider’s lifeless face, tilting her head out of empathy.

“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. He had a dark history before he married Linnea and joined our clan. He probably didn’t want to frighten you.”

Eivor’s curiosity got the best of him. “Can you tell me what he did, exactly?”

The seeress fell silent due to hesitance. “I... don’t think I should, Eivor. I don’t believe it would be my place. If Ulfar felt the need to keep it hidden from you, then perhaps that’s because he meant to take the secret to his grave.”

A hint of disappointment sank into Eivor’s mood, but he respected the secrecy nonetheless.

“...I understand.”

Ingrida offered another possible answer. “If your curiosity is truly piqued though, I’d recommend asking your father. Arngeir is also aware of Ulfar’s past, and he was much closer to him than I. I think he would be more suited to tell the story -- if you are willing to hear it.”

“I am. I’ll ask him about it later. Thank you.”

The woman crossed her arms and took a moment to examine Eivor, suddenly switching the subject when she noticed that he was alone.

“But enough about that. Where is Sigurd?” Ingrida questioned. “I expected him to come here with you.”

The inquisitive spark in Eivor’s eyes dimmed at the observation, and he took a slow glance at the nearby longship.

“He’s paying his respects to Dag.” He said, gesturing to the traitor’s pyre. Ingrida followed his gaze, watching as Sigurd said his goodbyes.

The downhearted prince was currently kneeling in front of the wooden tomb with his head hanging low, and a hand over Dag’s wrist. His face was hidden from the world due to his crouched position, and at the moment, all Ingrida could see was a slight quiver shaking the stillness of his shoulders.

“...His eyes burned bright with the heat of Muspelheim itself...” Ingrida whispered in revelation. “Oh, that poor man. I now understand what my vision meant. I understand what it was trying to say.”

Eivor gave the woman a puzzled look, intrigued by her train of thought.

“What do you mean?”

Ingrida brought her focus back to the young man and closed the distance between them.

“The night before Sigurd arrived, the gods sent me a dream about him. Do you remember? It was just before Freya’s statue fell at the temple.”

Eivor nodded. “Yes, I remember.”

A hint of caution took hold of her tone. “...Dag’s death will only fuel the fire already raging in your prince, Wolf-Kissed. I know I advised you to stay away from Sigurd in the past, but now, I suspect you’ll be the only one capable of pulling him back from the edge. Do not allow him to get lost in the dark. He’ll be leading us into battle not too long from now. Please, do what you can to ensure that his mind stays whole.”

“Of course, Ingrida. I--” he stuttered for a second, hesitant to be completely open, “...you know how I feel about him. I’ll try my best to help him.”

That seemed to bring relief to the seeress. “Thank you, Eivor. We need both of you if we’re going to win this war. Take care of yourselves in the storm to come. We’re almost through the brunt of it.”

Bringing their conversation to an end, Ingrida placed a soft hand on Eivor’s arm and guided him away from the pyres, stepping back onto the docks as the clan gathered for the final farewell. A line of archers had already taken their position at the front of the shoreline and set their arrows aflame, preparing for the upcoming ceremony.

“Come, young cub. It’s time to say goodbye.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Standing just beyond the tide’s reach, Eivor and Sigurd watched the funeral from afar as gusts of icy wind danced throughout the village, causing their capes to billow in the breeze. Specks of snow fluttered from the muted sky hanging above them, and in the distance, Eivor could see a number of dockhands pushing the ships away from the piers.

It almost would’ve been beautiful, if it weren’t for the morbidity of their gathering. The ships glided across the glassy surface like swans in a lake, and their hulls split the sheets of ice blocking their course. Ravens soared alongside the majestic sails as if Odin himself were guiding their departure from Midgard, and within moments, the archers had already prepared their first volley of arrows.

“Aim!” One of the warriors commanded, his voice thundering across the beach. A chain of flames immediately rose into the air, pointing directly towards the clouds.

The ships ventured a bit deeper into the ocean, causing waves of white foam to spurt around them.

“Loose!”

Releasing their grip on the bows, the archers sent a storm of arrows flying into the sky as their fiery tips set the heavens aflame, painting the atmosphere with what looked like a thousand suns. Their reflections bolted across the sea like streaks of ember, and soon after, the ships were engulfed in a cloak of fire.

Little by little, the sparks spread throughout the vessels’ entire structure, igniting everything they could touch. They easily latched onto the fallen warriors who occupied the pyres, and consumed their hollow shells like webs of frost crawling across the ocean.

It was a display fit for the gods themselves. The ships wandered like a pair of beacons shattering the dark, and Eivor could only hope that the divines would accept their new arrivals with open arms. These souls had officially traveled beyond the mortal realm, and now, their threads in the tapestry of fate had been cut.

It was finally time for Eivor to let them go. The very same war that had taken these people in the first place still burned with an unbridled fury, and it wouldn’t be long before they had to confront it once and for all.

The only thing they had to do now was get Gorm to talk. His forked tongue hid behind a guise of feigned ignorance, but Eivor knew better than to believe his twisted claims. 

That man knew where Kjotve was, and he knew how to lure him out of the shadows. His information was the key to winning this war, and neither the Wolf-Kissed nor the Raven Prince would back down until they got what they wanted.

It was their only chance of survival at this point, and the last obstacle blocking their way.

~~~~~~~~~~

LATER THAT DAY

THE DUNGEON

Shoving the barred door open with a firm push, Sigurd ducked under the low frame and slipped into the room, lighting the way with a torch as Eivor followed him from behind. The weathered hinges of the door squeaked sharply in the looming silence, and a soft rattle bounced off the walls as their prisoner struggled in his chains.

Gorm was completely alone down here. Not only had he been deprived of any human contact, but the tight bricks of the dungeon had also sealed out any intruding sunlight. His hands and feet had been tied down by harsh shackles, and a rough cloth had been wrapped securely around his eyes.

Despite Gorm’s recent arrival though, it looked like someone had already visited him. In the flickering glow that radiated from Sigurd’s torch, the prince spotted fresh cuts and bruises littering the prisoner’s skin. Tiny droplets of blood stained the collar of his shirt, and by now, a slick sheen of sweat had formed on the man’s bony chest.

It wouldn’t be difficult to interrogate this man, but that didn’t mean Sigurd would go easy on him.

“Heh,” he said with a chuckle, holding the torch closer to Gorm’s wounds, “looks like someone had a talk with you already. You been having company lately, Kjotvesson? Or were our men just a bit too rough when they dragged you off the longship?”

The prisoner groaned in irritation, recognizing his captor’s voice. “...Gods above. As if my first conversation wasn’t bad enough. Now you’re here too? I’m not going to talk, Sigurd. The jarl couldn’t beat it out of me, and you won’t either.”

“Ah, so it was Arngeir who did this. I should’ve guessed.” The prince paused briefly. “...You’re lucky, you know. Not many people in this world have the same level of patience as our jarl. If it was my daughter you had killed, I would have flayed you alive.”

Gorm scoffed, shifting in his seat. “You? Everyone knows you’re soft, Styrbjornson. You couldn’t even save the jarl’s daughter from being killed. What makes you think you can get me to talk? Just throw your punches and leave me alone. You won’t get anything from me.”

Sigurd knelt down, leaning towards to the man as he spoke. “...We are one step away from winning this fucking war against your father after decades of suffering because of it. This is the closest we’ve ever been to victory in years, and the only thing blocking our path right now... is you. If you think I’m going to walk away after everything we’ve sacrificed, you are sorely mistaken.”

The prince stood up from the floor. “You can either tell me Kjotve’s location, or I can make you scream it. Either way, we’re not leaving this room until you give us what we need.”

Gorm picked up on that. “We?”

Eivor stepped forward, joining Sigurd’s side. “I’m here too, Gorm.”

“Ah, the Raven Prince’s whore. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised to see you here. I know you follow Sigurd around like a lost pup, always pining for his attention. Word spreads quickly, you see--”

Sigurd threw a quick jab at Gorm’s cheek, silencing the man in an instant.

“Well you won’t hear anymore about us from now on. Your ally is dead, Gorm. We found him.”

That seemed to instill a sense of alarm in the prisoner. “...Ally?”

“Yes. Dag.” Sigurd clarified. “I know he was aiding you. I know he told you about the assault on your father’s fortress. But he’s dead now. You no longer have any friends here, Kjotvesson. There’s no one who can rescue you.”

The pace of Gorm’s breath quickened at the news, and his jaw clenched in fear.

“...So. What is it you want, exactly?”

“Have you not been listening to a word I’ve said? Tell me where Kjotve is, and all this comes to an end. It’s that simple.”

Sigurd reached down, ripping Gorm’s blindfold off with a harsh tug. 

“We’re running out of time...! I’m giving you one last chance to tell us the information we need, but after that--” he yanked out his axe, “--I start hacking.”

Still, the prisoner resisted. “...Y-You wouldn’t. You don’t have the stones.”

The prince smirked. “Don’t I? Let me tell you something, Gorm.” Sigurd raised the axe to the other man’s face, positioning it right underneath his chin. “Just yesterday, this axe was buried in the heart of my brother. I put it there... after he confessed his treachery.”

It didn’t take long for Gorm to put the pieces together. “...Dag was your brother?”

Sigurd nodded slowly. “Not by blood, but that didn’t mean anything to us. We were still family. We still shared a bond. In the end though... he proved to be a danger to our clan, and so, I cut him down in one strike.” His eyes narrowed in rage. “...I was willing to execute a man I had known for all my life, purely for the sake of protecting this clan. He meant the world to me, and yet, I still killed him with my own two hands. What makes you think you stand a chance?”

Gorm scooted back in his seat, plastering himself against the back of the chair in an attempt to get away from the redheaded viking.

“You’re out of your mind, Sigurd.”

“All the more reason for you to give me what I want.”

The prisoner was quiet in response, leading Sigurd to shrug in a casual manner.

“Fine. If that’s how you wish to do things...”

The prince brought the torch’s flame to his axe, heating up the edge until it was red hot.

“W-w-wait!” Gorm exclaimed. “Wait!”

“Having second thoughts, Kjotvesson?”

“I-- look, I can’t tell you!”

Sigurd removed the axe from the fire and grinned, brandishing its scorching blade to the man.

“What’ll your father do? Kill you?”

Eivor laughed lightly, undeniably amused by Gorm’s squirming. “He’ll be lucky if he’s still alive by then.” His tone hardened. “Maybe we should string him up and leave him outside. Give him the same treatment he gave to my sister.”

Gorm shot him a glare. “Oh, you’ll join her soon enough, Wolf-Kissed. Don’t think this is over. Just because you’ve survived this long doesn’t mean--”

Sigurd pressed the axe down on his arm, causing the man to let out an anguished shout.

“Shit!” Gorm yelled, jolting violently in his restraints. The prince removed the blade after a moment and stepped back, leaving a prominent burn on the surface of his skin. 

“If you’re done barking, I’d like to hear what we came for.”

“...You’ve lost your mind, Sigurd...!” The prisoner panted out, still dazed from the pain. “I’ll kill you for this. You and your whole clan!”

The redheaded man grabbed him by the collar, yanking him closer to his face.

“Tell me where Kjotve is! Now. Unless you want me to start slicing.”

Gorm turned away from Sigurd, doing his best to avoid eye contact with him.

“I... can’t!”

“Well, you will. I don’t care what kind of threats your father has made. You will tell us what we need to know, one way or another.”

The prisoner hesitated. “But why should I? You’ll kill me anyway! I’m as good as dead no matter what I do. I may as well keep silent.”

“Because your fate has yet to be determined. Cooperate with us, and perhaps I can grant you a faster death. But if you resist, I’ll have no choice but to keep this going. So save us both the trouble, and just tell me where Kjotve is.”

Gorm trailed off into silence once again, reconsidering his approach. He still appeared reluctant to comply with Sigurd’s demands, but his eyes flicked around the room in a way that made it clear he was slowly changing his mind.

“You... you promise you’ll give me a swift death if I tell you how to find my father? Is that what you’re saying?”

Sigurd looked directly into Gorm’s gaze, taking on a more sincere tone.

“...You have my word.”

The prisoner took the answer to heart and cursed quietly under his breath, frustrated at the dilemma that had been presented to him. He knew he was dead regardless of how the future unfolded, but he wondered if there was a chance he could find mercy in the hands of a proper executioner.

“...Damn it all.” Gorm finally said. “Fine. I’ll... I’ll tell you what you want to know. But you must keep your word.”

Sigurd waited patiently for a response. “Well? Where is he?”

The other man’s head drooped in shame. “...My father is sailing west. To England.”

That took the prince by surprise. “England? What in Hel’s name is Kjotve doing all the way out there?”

“He has allies in that country,” Gorm explained. “And they’re more than just simple raiders. His allies in England are part of something far bigger than you could ever anticipate. They will destroy you if he manages to rally them in time.”

Eivor crossed his arms in thought, suddenly feeling less confident. “...Shit. He must be miles ahead of us by now.”

“Actually, he could still be within your reach. I don’t think my father has officially embarked just yet. He mentioned stopping by an island along the way; to gather food and supplies before making the journey. You could still catch him.”

Sigurd stepped away from Gorm. “Then we need to leave immediately. We can’t allow Kjotve to sail into Saxon waters. If he makes it there, we’ll have lost him for good. There’s no way we could hunt him down in English territory without sparking another war.”

Eivor brought up another subject, slowing the prince down before he could get too far ahead of himself.

“Wait, what do we do about him?” He asked, gesturing to Gorm with a jerk of the head.

Sigurd eyed the prisoner up and down, contemplating how to dispose of the man. When he first set foot in the dungeon, he had originally planned to finish Gorm off with an axe to the chest -- similar to the method he used for Dag -- but now, he was having second thoughts.

“...We’ll let my father decide.” He settled with.

Eivor had to admit, he wasn’t expecting that. “Your father?”

Sigurd took a calming breath, thinking back to his conversation with his lover earlier that day. “He’s right about me, Eivor. I’m too impulsive. If I’m going to inherit the crown someday, I must learn to wield more restraint. Gorm murdered someone from our kingdom, so my father will determine his fate in a trial. Seems only fitting, seeing as how he’s the king.”

The younger man was pleased to see that the prince had taken his advice so seriously.

“A wise choice. We should inform Styrbjorn right away, then. We have no time to lose.”

Gorm jumped back in. “Wait! What if the king doesn’t allow me a quick death like we agreed?”

“I’ll explain to him the deal we made,” Sigurd assured. “My father is a man of honor, despite some of the things he does. He will understand.” He brought his attention back to Eivor, continuing their conversation. “Anyway, could you speak to Arngeir while I find my father? If we’re going to catch Kjotve on time, we’ll need everyone to be prepared. Everyone.”

“Of course. I’ll let him know of the plan.”

“Thank you.” Sigurd walked past the Wolf-Kissed, halting in his tracks to whisper something in the man’s ear. “Meet me on the hill outside the longhouse when you’re finished. There’s something I want to show you.”

Eivor nodded, whispering back to him. “I’ll be there.”

“Then I’ll see you soon, my love. But for now, let’s just focus on preparing for the upcoming battle. This war isn’t going to get any easier in the next few days, but if we’re lucky, it’ll end soon. Kjotve is hiding just beyond the horizon. We can’t let him escape.”

[hyunllx]

The Christmas Baker

A Hyunlix Hallmark Fic Chapter 3/5 wc: 2.5k

Hwang Hyunjin is a rich, cocky, famous dancer that prefers to keep to himself during the holidays. When his roommate drags him along to visit his hometown, however, Hyunjin meets a boy who helps him believe in the spirit of the season. Primarily Hyunjin’s pov with Felix’s pov added in occasionally. series warnings: Extremely cliche. You will probably cringe at some points but its okay. chapter warnings:  This is the Angsty Chapter TM note: This fic is not meant to accurately reflect or portray the members of SKZ. This is just for fun. Read the last chapter here

|-------------------- Felix --------------------|

The jingle of the bell on the front door echoed around the quiet bakery as it opened. Felix looked up from where he stirred yet another pot of melting butter, his heart leaping into his throat.

"Sorry I took so long-" and his heart crashed back into his chest when he realized it was Chan and not Hyunjin who'd arrived. It had been hours now since Hyunjin had left him, suddenly, painfully, and despite him saying he'd be back, there had been no sign of him. Chan saw the look of despair written across Felix' face as soon as he stepped in the kitchen doorway, "What's wrong? Where's Hyunjin?"

Felix's vision grew blurry as he realized he was holding back tears. Pretending to look down at his spoon, he blinked them back, swallowing hard.

Stop being so sensitive. This is ridiculous, he said to himself, You're an adult not a baby.

"Um, he left a few hours ago. It's just been me here."

"Did he say why he was leaving?" Chan frowned, approaching the row of ovens.

Felix opened his mouth to speak, but only a shaky exhale came out. The floodgates opened as he looked up at his brother's concerned face,

"I think I fucked up…"

Chan pulled him away from the stove and into a warm embrace. Felix buried his face in his brother's shoulder, cursing under his breath about how sensitive he was. He always had been; even the smallest comments or confrontations got to him. Yet Chan was always there to comfort him like this. Though his heart ached, he was glad to have his brother home.

"How did you fuck up, Lix?"

"I don't know. Hyunjin got upset when I touched him. He said he didn't know how to feel about me and then left."

Chan let out a long sigh, pulling out of the embrace slowly until Felix was looking up at him again. He used a thumb to brush away a tear running down his little brother's cheek, a soft smile on his lips, “I was afraid this might happen…”

“What?” Felix cocked his head, confused.

“I only brought Hyunjin along to stay with us because I thought you two would get along well. Really well.” He paused and looked Felix in the eye to ensure they both understood what he was saying. Felix swallowed and nodded; he’d be lying if he said the fact that he had a little schoolboy crush didn’t make the sting in his heart worse. Now he only felt stupid for thinking someone like Hwang Hyunjin could have the same feelings toward him.

“But… Hyunjin’s really stubborn when he’s emotional. Sometimes he pushes people away instead of dealing with it, then it bubbles up and spills out all of a sudden. It’s not anything you did… it’s just him fighting himself. Give him until tonight then maybe try talking to him about it?”

Felix nodded, pushing himself to believe what Chan was saying. He and Hyunjin were best friends, coworkers, roommates. Chan knew him better than anyone. He wouldn’t lie. That nagging anxiety in the back of Felix’s mind that he really did something wrong would fade with time. But for now, he tried to push it out of his head and returned his attention to the butter on the stovetop while Chan excitedly surveyed the mess of ingredients scattered around the kitchen. If Hyunjin was there when they returned home, Felix would talk to him.

|-------------------- Hyunjin --------------------|

Buzzing from the phone on his stomach pulled Hyunjin out of the nap he didn’t realize he’d fallen into. He blinked against the harsh light of the screen, his guest room now pitch black since the sun had set. After his eyes adjusted and the ache in the center of his forehead subsided, he pulled the phone to his face to see a text from Chan.

Are you home? We’re on our way back.

With a heavy sigh, Hyunjin sat up and let the phone fall into his lap. He’d collapsed on the bed after wearing himself down walking around the town until his fingers and ears stung with cold and his legs were sore. He pulled off his jacket and tossed it to the floor, his hot, stiff skin relishing the cold of the dark room.

Yeah, I’m here. He texted back. Guilt flooded back into his system as he recalled his outburst with Felix earlier in the day. Even despite his walk and his nap, Hyunjin knew he had to confront his feelings if he didn’t want to further hurt the boy. 

Hyunjin had a crush on him. The fact was completely undeniable now, as much as he wanted to. Yet the usual fuzzy butterflies that would flutter in one’s stomach at such a realization were ice cold.

Felix was his best friend’s brother, from a small town hours away from the city, led a mundane life and enjoyed it, and above all was too kind and sensitive for his own good. He was the opposite of a rich, famous playboy’s ideal partner. Hyunjin knew that letting himself fall in love would only hurt them both.

His phone buzzed again.

Are you okay to talk?

“No.” Hyunjin said aloud, laughing nervously to himself. Of course, Felix would’ve told him what happened. Now he had to confront both brothers at the same time. Running fingers through his long hair, he contemplated ignoring the text. No, even if he ignored it now, he still had to sit with Chan for hours on their way home. They lived together. He couldn’t avoid this forever.

Sure.

Less than five minutes ticked by until Hyunjin heard the front door open under his feet. Heavy boots shuffled around on the wooden floor, echoing around the silent house, followed by the creak of the stairs. Hyunjin braced himself as the boots came closer. They paused outside his door for one… two… three… four…. five seconds.

Knock knock.

“Come in…” Hyunjin called, wiping his sweaty palms on his pants.

“Hi.”

Hyunjin froze. Standing in the doorway, cheeks bright red in the light of the hallway, still wrapped in his massive winter coat, was not Chan, but Felix.

“Can I come in?”

"It's your house." The comment was meant to be witty, but the nerves drumming on Hyunjin's heart make his laugh shake. He shifted on the bed as Felix sat next to him, the room quiet save for the shhhf shhhf of his coat as he moved. Hyunjin shivered as the sweat from his hot nap dried cold against his skin. 

He wanted to ask if Felix was too warm, just to ease the mounting tension, but the words caught in his throat, forming a lump. He swallowed harshly, but the lump remained, choking tears springing to his eyes as a result.

Felix, meanwhile, sat with his legs crossed comfortably, tiny hands tucked into his giant sleeves save for the very tips of his fingers, and his warm molten-chocolate gaze trained directly on Hyunjin's face.

"Can we talk about earlier?"

Hyunjin nodded, looking at his lap in shame.

"What you said hurt-"

Hyunjin began to apologize, but closed his mouth the second Felix grabbed his hand. He stiffened, head snapping up immediately to look at him. 

"-I need you to know it hurt because I like you. A lot."

Heart banging painfully in his chest, Hyunjin allowed himself to meet Felix's gaze. If he took off his shirt he'd bet he could see his chest twitching from the strain of his heartbeat. Though his body reacted to what he'd just heard, his brain refused to comprehend it. He felt dizzy, like he was floating. His skin tingled where their hands met and Hyunjin thought he may pass out.

It was Felix's turn to look down, nervously pulling his hand back to tuck his silver hair behind his ear. The break in contact gave Hyunjin a moment to breathe and collect himself. 

"You like me?" He needed to hear it again. He needed to hear confirmation that he wasn't dreaming up the boy's intentions.

"I like you…" A pause, the house around them silent and waiting, "I've admired you for a long time, but having you here… in my home. I like it. I like you."

Hyunjin's heart could not decide if it wanted to burst in joy or break in fear. 

"I'm sorry for what I said. It shouldn't have come out of my mouth," He eventually spoke, squaring his shoulders and deciding to tell the boy the truth. Hyunjin owed him that at the very least, "I like you too, I think. I don't know, I don't think I've ever had a crush before. But I think it would be too hard to work something out. Our lives aren't compatible. I don't know what to do and it's kind of overwhelming."

Silence flooded the room again as they both stopped to process what had been said. Felix was not good at hiding how he felt, and an entire broadway production of emotions danced across his face as he came to understand Hyunjin's words. 

"You don't even want to try?" His deep voice broke a little with emotion. His chocolate eyes reflected the soft glow of christmas lights outside the window as tears welled in them. Hyunjin cursed in his head,

"You'll end up hurt." Was he talking to Felix or to himself?

"Can't I decide that for myself?" He looked so small fighting back his tears. Hyunjin warred with the urge to grab him and hold him tight and never letting go. Perhaps he was right though… it was only Hyunjin who knew they wouldn't work out. He was denying Felix without showing him why. 

"...I'll think about it."

Hope flickered across Felix's face. His heart-shaped lips turned up in the corners with the faintest hint of a smile. Hyunjin wanted to see his sunshine grin again. It's the only thing he ever wanted to see. But this tiny smile would be enough for now.

"Okay. I'm going to go start dinner. Come down whenever you're ready." The boy stood and pulled off his coat, giving Hyunjin one last forlorn smile before he turned to leave.

Hyunjin didn't remember calling his name. He didn't remember getting off the bed, or closing the gap between them in a few strides of his long legs. His body moved on it's own. It needed him. 

Before he knew it, Hyunjin found his arms wrapped around Felix, hugging him tightly to his chest. The younger boy readily returned the embrace, leaning up to rest his chin against Hyunjin's shoulder. Both  closed their eyes, melting into each other's touch. 

Hyunjin allowed himself to cry.

He'd been so selfish, so closed off from emotion his entire life, that it overwhelmed him now. This tiny boy in his arms had broken down more walls in just two days than Hyunjin ever allowed anyone to even come close to. Felix was special. Even though he wanted to give himself time, Hyunjin knew deep down that his heart was already made up. He was going to fall in love with Felix, and he couldn't stop it.

Hyunjin slept fitfully that night, the exhaustion from his walk and the peace of mind that he'd spoken about his feelings causing him to fall deeply into the world of dreams. He awoke later than normal, after Felix and Chan already left for the morning. The cup of hot chocolate left out for him was already cooled, but he drank it anyway.

The taste brought back the memory of the morning before, of holding Felix's hand in the frozen air. Hyunjin couldn't help but smile as he noticed a small heart drawn next to his name on the cup, a short message written under it.

Sorry I missed you. See you soon!

"Hyunjin?"

He jumped as the front door opened and Chan's voice shouted from the hall. His best friend shuffled into the room a moment later, his heavy coat and thick hat covered in quickly-melting snow and his pale face turned bright red with the cold,

"Good, you're awake!"

"I thought you were helping at the town hall."

"It's snowing again, I came back to get the shovels. Do you mind helping us?" Hyunjin paused, conflicted,

"I'm supposed to help Felix at the bakery…"

"We'll go once we clear out some of the snow." Chan grinned and shot him a wink. Hyunjin's heart quickened; had Felix told him about their conversation? No… that had to just be Chan being silly.

"Alright, I'll help."

When Chan said it was snowing… it was an understatement. It had snowed overnight, and Felix had clearly shoveled out the driveway early that morning. Yet it was just past noon and a couple inches of snow had already covered his hard work, and it was still coming down. The wind bit into Hyunjin's flesh and stung despite wearing the thickest coat and gloves he could find in Chan's wardrobe. He was suddenly glad to have his friend's unnecessary amount of luggage.

A few brave souls were already working on clearing the intricate pathways in front of the old brick-and-copper town hall and Chan immediately got to work helping. He was strong and muscular, especially his arms and core, so he had no trouble tossing shovel-fulls of snow over his shoulder and out of the way.

Hyunjin, however, was painfully aware of his own lack of shoulder strength. He was a dancer; he had strong thighs that he was proud of. But strong thighs didn't help shovel snow, and he was quickly worn out. He flopped back into the tall banks of cleared snow to catch his breath, his sore arms and back relishing the cold beneath him.

Due to the thick snow clouds, the sky was fairly dark already, and Hyunjin didn't notice a shadow fall over him until something hit the bottom of his boot.

"Hey you!" A strong voice growled over him. Startled, Hyunjin scrambled to his feet, recognizing Minho from the day before. He looked angry.

"What's your problem?" Hyunjin asked, stepping back defensively as the older man glared him down.

"You're Chan's friend." It wasn't a question, "Where is he?"

Having heard the altercation, Chan stepped up behind Hyunjin, placing a reassuring hand on his friend's shoulder.

"What's the matter, Minho?"

As soon as he saw Chan, Hyunjin watched Minho's face melt from angry to worried and afraid.

"It's Lix. Seungmin took him to the clinic. He's hurt."

[youllallriseintheink]

Lasting Melodies, chapter 2: Now I Only Sing Alone

About ten days ago, I thought I’d make a story for Jack Fain and Sammy Lawrence, showing their snippets of their lives together from their first performance to Jack’s untimely death. I was not planning on it being two chapters and almost four thousand words long.

I hope you all enjoy this.

---

“And that’s how ah lost my old set of keys to a pack of stray cats! Anyhow, can ya tell Sammy that I’ll need to borrow his? He’d probably kill me if I did it myself!”

“Sure thing, Wally. Just... try to make the next set last a few weeks, alright? Budget is tight.”

It wouldn’t have been the first, third, or probably tenth time Jack had visited Sammy during their supposed break period for just that reason. Jack knew by now how much Sammy hated being taken out of the zone while writing music, so he just wrote down that Wally needed keys, put the note on Sammy’s desk, and tried to leave as quietly as possible. Just as he was leaving, he heard Sammy laugh drily.

“I couldn’t avoid you here if I wanted to, could I? It’s like a diet I keep cheating on.”

Jack didn’t know what to say to that. Sammy turned to look at him.

“Well, whatever. Let’s consider this break period over. Let’s get some lunch today, discuss some things.”

Thankfully, noon came fairly quickly- Jack’s heart rate hadn’t settled since Sammy invited him to lunch.

“So... obviously keeping my distance didn’t work, but we can’t just go back to the way things were, either.”

“Yeah. Look, I know that you’re with Susie now, and that’s okay. But have you figured what you wanted out of life, yet?”

Sammy sighed. “I guess. I always figured I’d be doing something bigger with my life, but Joey does treat me well. It’s hard to admit that you’re just comfortable enough to settle.”

Jack nodded. “And I mean, you are making a name for yourself! Joey worships you, most of the music department either fears you, envies you, or lusts after you, and everyone knows your name. It must feel great.”

“I meant making a name for myself outside the studio. But yeah, as far as working in Joey Drew Studios goes, I guess I’m pretty lucky. Are you staying here, too? I know a part of you wants back in the limelight.”

“Nah. This is a crazy place, but hey, I get to dedicate myself to my favourite thing and work under my best friend. I do miss being a stage personality, but that was always a long shot. And I’ve realized that I don’t need people to notice me like that.”

“Good, because there’s something I’ve wanted to ask you. So... Susie already knows that I’m bisexual. I haven’t asked her yet, but if you could join us, would you?”

Jack was taken aback. A part of him wanted to say yes, but he knew it wasn’t a good idea. “Sammy, no. You might swing both ways, but I don’t.”

“Then don’t sleep with her?” Sammy said as though the solution was obvious.

Jack sighed. “Fine. That’s not my hesitation. Look- if we did that, who would you be showing off to your parents on Christmas? Who would you be saying your vows to?”

Sammy became defensive. “It’s not like I can give you that anyhow. Susie wouldn’t be taking anything away from you that wasn’t already out of reach.”

“You aren’t getting it. I was fine with keeping ‘us’ a secret, but I don’t want to be your dirty secret while you’re openly with someone else. Especially not... someone you kind of left me for. I’m sorry. Plus, I’ve been seeing someone else the past couple weeks.” He said it as gently as possible, but he knew they weren’t the nicest words to hear.

“Oh,” Sammy said, annoyed and disappointed.

Jack searched for a way to soften the blow. “Susie does seem like a great girl, though- I’d love to get to know her better. Why don’t you bring her to that new bar in town this Friday night, and I’ll bring my new partner so you can meet him?”

Sammy muttered a “sure,” finished up quickly, and left, clearly annoyed.

Sammy’s annoyance had dissipated by Friday night, thankfully. Susie and Jack’s new partner got along, and things seemed to have gone back to normal between him and Sammy. It seemed like they’d be just fine as friends.

---

“Just so you know, Jack- Susie recently underwent a serious life change. It’s not exactly easy for her, so please just be supportive, okay?”

“Sure- isn’t that what I do best?” Jack promised. Neither of them were exactly strangers to Susie Drama- something similar had happened a few weeks ago when Susie had been replaced as the voice of Alice Angel. Or so Jack thought until Sammy pointed her out from the crowd.

“Susie?”

“Yep.”

The woman bore little resemblance to any human being. Her skin was white as chalk, her arms and torso were too thin and elongated, her eyes were too big, and she had horns and a painful-looking halo growing out of her skull. It was as though an alien had read a written description of an attractive woman and attempted to make one out of plastic.

Jack forced himself to look away out of politeness.

“Yeah, please don’t act shocked. She’s gotten enough of that already,” Sammy requested. Jack nodded in response.

Later in the day, when she was sure Sammy wasn’t around, Susie confided in him that she was already having second thoughts about her new body. “Don’t tell Sammy,” she’d said. “He’s... a part of this, and he’d feel awful if he knew.”

For the first time, Jack began to question just what Sammy was involved with.

---

Sammy had been looking over sheet music when he felt Susie’s ice-cold black hands squeeze his arm like a vice.

“Sammy, I need you to lock me up!” she begged, fear and hot tears building in her eyes.

“Susie, why-”

“Just do it! No questions, please!”

“Calm down... Uh, I’ll...” were there any rooms in the studio that could only unlock from the inside?

Suddenly, Alice shoved past him, into the middle of the music room. Allison, who had been speaking with Jack, barely had time to turn and notice her before Alice had tackled her against a wall. Everyone backed away in terror as Alice ripped off Allison’s chestnut-brown hair and began banging Allison’s head against a wall until there was blood on her scalp and dripping out of her nose. Norman could be heard descending the stairs from his projector booth. He pushed through the crowd and tore Susie away, leaving Allison, bruised and half-bald, to crumple to the ground.

“Okay, someone call the ambulance for Allison,” Norman barked, still restraining Alice as she squirmed and struggled. Then, he turned to glare at Sammy. “And you get the people who will look after this.”

Sammy shuddered, suspecting, not for the first time, that Norman knew his secrets. But he couldn’t not handle the situation, and so he did as he was told.

Within five minutes, Alice was being escorted away by three large, burly men in dark green GENT uniforms.

“Tell them to record what you can without me,” Sammy muttered to Jack. “And tell them not to bother me under any circumstances. And... can you meet me after work?”

“Of course,” Jack replied.

Sammy nodded in response and then disappeared into his office for the the rest of the workday.

When Jack met up with Sammy at the end of the day, he still looked as fragile as spun glass- understandable after what had happened.

“Hey... do you want to come over for the evening, see if we can distract you from this?”

Sammy said nothing, but stood up and wrapped his arms around Jack. Jack held him for a while and let him cry. Jack was shedding a few tears, too- Susie had been a good friend, and it seeing her snap like that would have shaken anyone up.

“It’s okay. I’m sure that wherever they took her, she’ll be fine. They’ll help her get back to normal. Hey, if you want, we could visit her in the asylum, see how she’s doing-”

Sammy looked to Jack, trying to find the words as to explain that that wasn’t possible without saying too much. Somehow, Sammy didn’t think Jack would let him cry on his shoulder if he knew that Susie would never see the light of day again, and it was partially Sammy’s own fault.

“I know you want to tell me something. You don’t have to right now. Alright?”

And for the moment, he didn’t. But in the future, he’d have to be more careful.

---

Susie’s capture was felt by the whole music room, and not just because she was no longer lighting it up with her smile. There was an air of unease, of mystery on everything now, as though the next act of violence could be perpetrated be anyone and at any time. It pushed Jack to spend more time holed up in the sewers, and Sammy to build his own private sanctuary. Once Allison returned to work a few days later, the distrustful feelings gradually began to dissipate for most.

But not for Sammy. The effects of Susie’s capture, or something related to it, seemed to linger on him for months.

Sammy had grown paranoid around the others, and more people spoke amongst each other about what might have snapped in his brain than were willing to risk speaking to him directly. Jack worried for him, but Sammy refused to say what was bothering him, and increasingly refused his (or anyone else’s) company. He felt as though there was little to do to help him.

---

The sound of a beating heart echoed off the walls of the sewers. The ink demon grinned. The walls of the infirmary had been no match for him, and though the sewer’s thick concrete walls would most likely present more of the problem, being able to stretch his legs after months spent in one room was extremely satisfying in and of itself.

Meanwhile, Jack was frozen in fear. The creature- lord only knew what it was- hadn’t seemed to notice him yet. Jack holed up under his desk, praying that it would pass him by.

The pumping sound grew nearer.

And nearer.

Until it seemed to stop directly in front of him.

Jack carefully put his head to the ground, trying to get a peek from under his desk without making a sound. It only allowed him to see a couple feet in front of the desk, but it was enough to show that the shadowy tendrils that surrounded the creature were mere inches from him. The creature took a step forwards, and Jack could feel the creature’s shadows wrapping around him, stealing his heat, and spreading from his hands to encompass his whole body. He was paralyzed.

The ink demon tipped over his desk, grabbed him by the leg, and dragged him over his desk and to the center of the sewer, where it held Jack’s head under the tar-like ink until he drowned.

---

Not for the first time, Sammy stepped into the passenger seat of Joey’s Pontiac. It was Thursday, and they always met on Thursdays to study and practice magic together. The experience was usually, well, magical- Joey had finally found the way to be a God in Sammy’s life. But apparently, not today. Sammy sat, arms crossed and silent, for at least a minute before speaking. “Where is he, Joey? What happened to Jack Fain?”

“You tell me!” Joey said in earnest surprise. “What’s happened to him?”

“He’s been missing for four days. That’s what’s happened. He punched in on Monday and never punched out. He won’t pick up his phone, and his partner doesn’t know where he is either. Don’t tell me you didn’t have anything to do with it.”

“I honestly didn’t.”

“Nothing new came out of the ink machine?”

Joey sighed heavily. “A new searcher came out of it. But that doesn’t mean anything! It could be anyone!”

Tears sprung up in Sammy’s eyes. “Drop me off at my place. I don’t want to do this tonight.”

Joey didn’t believe for a second that Sammy was only quitting for tonight. He was losing him unless he did something. “Really?” Joey said gently, “Something like this, while tragic, should encourage you if anything, shouldn’t it?”

Sammy looked to him with tired, mournful eyes.

“Think about it- if we don’t keep learning about the machine, we’ll never learn to reverse its process. Susie, Jack, anyone else who ends up connected to it- you need to keep working with me here so that we can set them free.”

Sammy laid back in his seat. “Look- I’m not going to be good company tonight... but that’s your problem. Go on, drive to the studio. Let’s do this.”

“Good. Good man.”

That night, along with the ink angel that bore no resemblance to Susie and the four or so other ink creatures that Joey or some GENT worker had locked up previously, Sammy saw a swollen searcher in a cage. If it recognized him at all, it showed no sign of it. It was a few days before Sammy managed to sneak down and give him back his hat.

[popculturebuffet]

New X-Men Xtrospective Part 2: Germ Free Generation (Annual, #117-120)

Hello all you happy mutants! And welcome back to my look one of my faviorite runs of one of my faviorite super teams by one of my faviorite comic book writers!

For those of you just joining us.. it’s been a while. I did the first instalment of this retrospective back in early January as a present to my friend for christmas, as he had never read E is for Extinctoin and what with this run being vital to the current, utterly brilliant Krakoa era of X-Men. But with both Black History Month and Valentine’s day, February had no real room for this one and march ended up being just as crammed with me doing essentially the entire della arc of ducktales in one month. I didn’t mean for this retrospective to get pushed so far back, but since I gave up doing weekly coverage of Final Space I had some room on the schedule so this retrospective is back with a vengance with two entries this month and hopefully at least one a month afterword to keep it at a decent clip. 

Last time I covered the background of this run and didn’t really find much for the issues after, so I won’t have to spend as much time on background. 

So since i’ts been a few months, a refresher is probably in order

PREVIOUSLY, ON X-MEN:  Our merry mutants enterted a marvelous new era. As Charles redidciated to the dream with new equipment and a new uniforms our hero encounter a new villian: The Mysterious Cassandra Nova, a powerful telepath who used an uwitting patsy from the trask family and a defucnt sentinel factory to slaughter the mutant nation of Genosha, killing 16 million mutants in the most horrific act of genocide against mutants ever known. And the fact there has been more than one genocide against mutant kind MIGHT, just MIGHT be the reason they blackmailed for peace with life saving drugs instead of helping willingly and freely in the current comics. Just maybe. 

Cassandra was captured by the X-Men soon after but escaped and nearly got a hold of Cerebra only to be stopped thanks to a combination of former enemy, genoshan resident at the time of the genocide, and that bitch Emma Frost who snapped her neck and Charles himself who uncharacteristically shot Cassandra in the head. That night Charles took a bold step over that would change the X-Men forever and told the world on live tv:

While all of this was going on we got caught up on the team’s personal struggles, currently consisting of Cyclops, Jean Grey, Beast and Wolverine with Emma joining as of the issue we’re about to cover. Beast is grappling with a secondary mutation that makes him look like Aslan, the jesus of narnia and all lions. Meanwhile Scott and Jean are grappling with their non existant sex life as Cyclops possesion by Apocalypse shortly before this story has severely rattled him and caused him to close himself off emotionally. 

So that’s where we pick up. Our heroes are now no longer hiden saftely in the shadows from a world that hates and fear them but are out front and center with the world watching. And we’ll see both how that helps their cause and how it puts them directly in the cross hairs under the cut.  Content Warning: This review discusses Transphobia and a scene involving a school shooting. If either of these are a trigger for you or something you do not want to read about  please skip this part of the retrospective for your own well being. Thank you and have a lovely day. 

The Man From Room X:

We have three stories today: an annual that introduces our final team member and the main villians of our next arc, a one off that moves the main plot for the first 12 issues along, and a three part arc about said villains.  Before we get into the Annual, I have to talk about it’s weird gimmick: The issue is entirely sideways. I don’t mean it’s bad though some parts are problematic I mean when bought it’d be on it’s side and in my trade I have to flip the whole thing over on it’s side to read it. It’s just a .. weird choice. Not the weirdest thing about this issue somehow but not unexpected from Grant as they like to play with the formula. 

We open in said Room X, a location in China where a mutant named Xorn is kept and showed off to a mysterious group of dickweeds in suits representing “Mr. Sublime”.  His jailer, General Aao Jun,, shows him off as most bad guys would : By undoing his helmet and thus disntegrating two innocent children just by looking at them. Sublime says they have a deal. 

Meanwhile also in China the X-Men are there for a funeral and Emma and Scott trade insulting questions back in forth: She mocks him about his lack of sex with Jean lately and he brings up her criminal past. As for why Emma’s still with the x-men.. it’s out of pragmatisim. WIth Genosha gone, the x-men are the saftest faction to throw in with. 

As for why the X-Men are in China, Charles has rapidly expanded his operations now he’s public by setting up X-Corps, a multinational humantarian aid organization dedicated to helping mutants in need wherever they sprout up. He’s set up offices in Hong Kong, Amsterdam, Mumbai and Melborne. 

He’s also half assed it, at least for the Hong Kong office and only gave them two employees: Domino, who those of you not as familiar with the comics may remember from deadpool and Risque.. who I honestly had never heard of before New X-Men and frequently forget existed. I just looked her up for the first time and she’s a minor mutant who was an associate of X-Force and Warpath’s love intrest. She could compress matter causing it to implode. My assumption here is that Morrison simply picked a minor mutant at random for the job. 

But yeah naturally with only two mutants charged with, according to domino “All of asia” went horribly and the x-men are there for Risque’s funeral and to find out what happened. Unsuprisingly it’s tied into our cold open: Risque had found evidence of a mutant trafficking operation and died fighting them off and Dom is naturally f eeling in over her head since said operation involves the chinese goverment, who according to her exccute most mutants at birth and John Sublime and his cult. 

We soon see a press confrence from this asshole and find out what his deal is: Sublime is the head of the U-Men, a group that belivies they are a “third species” of mutants trapped in human bodies that deserve to have the surgery to make them into mutants, and thus wear weird suits until the world is pure and allows them to have surgery for it. 

Yeahhhh this.. this is really fucking uncomfortable and is going to be present throughout today’s piece so let’s just go ahead and rip that band-aid off:  The U-Men come off as HIGHLY transphobic. They use terms similar to trans people call themselves trans species and are trapped inside a body they don’t belong in. It’s VERY uncomfortable to read as a result and something that hadn’t really sunk into till thsi reading but once it had.. oh god does this not age well. 

The one thing that keeps this from runing the run and Grant Morrison as a whole for me.. is that I do not think for one second it was intentional. Grant themself is genderqueer, nonbinary and a cross dresser. None of this means they CAN’T be prejudice, being Queer does not magically make you immune to being prejudiced. But before this Grant had the genderqueer sentient street Danny the Street over in doom patrol and a trans main character in his book the invisibles, Lord Fanny. And given New X-Men’s biggest flaw as a whole is clumsy early 2000′s unforutnate implications such as a good chunk of the things about Cyclops affair with Emma, we’ll get to that at the right time, Angel in the next arc and Dust, who was introduced as from afganastan wearing an outfit not seen in the country and speaking a language not spoken in the country. Grant didn’t make these mistakes TWICE, it’s why I still have respect for them, and this won’t be the first or last comic i’ve forgiven for being stupid for it’s time. But I will still call Grant out when I see it. Just because I respect an author just because they changed my life does not mean I won’t call them out when they fuck up. And if they prove to be truly vile, have harmed someone or what have you I will cut them the fuck out of my life. I’ve done it with JK Rowling, Warren Ellis, Brad Jones and Joss Whedon. I would do it with Grant if I truly belivied they were transphobic and instead didn’t just write something very stupid without thinking the metaphor through 20 years ago. 

So anyway back to the comic book bollocks as Wolvie and Dominio prepare for an infiltration and flirt a bunch. We also find out Jun is a mutant himself with a power only Grant could dream up: his skin, hair and what have you that falls off him turns into a naked golem for a bit before expiring. And if you hadn’t read this issue before reading this review, yes that actually happened. While the first arc had a BIT of Grant’s trademark batshit insanity, the series REALLY starts to pick it up from here: This issue has a mutant with functioning star for a head, a poorly thought out bucnh of sci fi new age organ theives, and a general whose power is “makes naked clones out of his dandruff”. Oh and his fondest wish?

I just... I don’t know how to respond to that. I don’t know how you respond to an old man’s weird murder fetish that he tells a somehow even creepier cult leader while said cult leader is paying him to buy a star man, and their both surronded by the creepy old guy’s skin golems that weirdly look like mudokons. Look i’ve  read Grant’s entire utterly bonkers run on doom patrol. I’ve seen a man who looks like a question mark use a bicycle that makes everyone high like their on LSD for president. And THIS is what breaks me. 

So while.. THIS is going on, Dom and Wolverine plan to do it all night long on the professor’s credit card, no really he gives all his professors carte blanch to use school fun, and inflitrate, Dom through the elvator this horrorshow just took place in and Wolvie james bond style. Also I gotta say I REALLY love how Morrison writes Domino. She’s wittiy, entertaining and her power is as awesome as always, super luck if you didn’t know. It’s a real shame he didn’t add her to the team: She wasn’t on any other x-teams, with X-Force having been rebranded into X-Statix by this point. She would’ve been a fun addition to the cast. 

Naturally wolverine is found out.. but that was the entire plan, for him to serve as a distraction then cut his way to domino while she steals something from the vault. As for the rest of the X-Men, Cyclops, Beast and Emma are all downstairs in the parking garage and find a secret entrance. Jean is not on this trip and that’s a major plot point for this run. This is where Risque died.. and it only get’s worse when Hank goes inside, finding a bug like child, basically htink a giant caterpillar but with tons of human arms inttead of legs with her wings cut off. 

Thankfully as Logan and Dom escape above, the U-Men are dumb enough to storm down bellow.. and while they incapacitate beast with some launched tiny knives, designed to incapcicate but leave them in tact for harvest, Emma beats the shit out of them and get the info out as only she can....

Granted she could’ve just turned back to normal and used her telepathy.. but what fun would that be? Plus they have blockers and you know CUT UP A FUCKING CHILD. SO yeah fuck them, let emma have her fun. 

Thanks to her they find out the U-Men are a front for illegal organ harvest, and while they can’t prove sublimes attached Emma suggests killing him.  Good idea but Scott suggests the lighter approach and we find out what Dom stole, a key, something Emma can psychcially scan. She warns it might take her a bit to get something.. only to be flooded instantly and we find out who the man in the box was. Shen Xorn... i’ll let emma tell you more herself. 

It’s stuff like this why, despite some serious flaws like the U-Men debacle and some stuff to come, some I mentioned above other that’s just with the plot that i love this run. Morrison just gets how to really tell an x-men story and the real tragedy of being a mutant. That just for being diffrent, you get shut out, or in this case thrown into a box when you could’ve and should’ve been something more. As emma turns herself to diamond to deal with the psychic backlash, Beast has some solemn words to share. 

That night Scott rests in his bedroom while presumibly hearing some truly horrific and sexy things next door while talking to jean before clocking out.. only for Emma to head in in a sexy dress with champagne. What happened? Well we won’t know for sure for most of the run. 

The next day the U-Men prepare to load and we get some scrap of what the idea was supposed to be: John talks to Ao Jun about his procedures. We see wings crudely sewen to his back and his throat implaants hurting “But one day I will fly”. THe IDEA is their supposed to be lunatics, people who envy mutantkind but don’t actually respect their culture or their sense of personhood. It’s not the worst idea and had Grant not used trans termnology for htis, it would’ve been a great one. I think he INTENDED for them to be coopting the idea of being trans and what not to maks their true intentions.. which is problematic due to debates like the ones on bathrooms where a lot of transphobic asshats make the bad faith argument a bunch of people are going to pretend to be trans to assault people. 

We’re.. we;’re not even to the main storyarc yet. 

But things soon go wrong as Xorn’s starhead starts to collapse into a black hole, with no solution as the x-men took the key to his helmet.. and assault the compound. Turns out the star collapse thing is Jun’s revenge on humanity for lockig him down here and he gets his neck snapped.  Scott has a solution though.. and it’s stuff like this why I fucking love Scott Summers and get annoyed when people call him “boring”: He realizes Xorn is comitting sucicide.. so he’s going to talk him out of it. Not just for everyone else but he deserves to live. And while Emma points out only logan among htem knows chinese and she can’t get through to Xorns’ head due to the way his brain works, Scott has a simple workaround: Use the nearest chineses speaker to teach Scott chinese. So.. with that he talks to Xorn. 

And that my friend is Scott Summers. A man who faced with powerful man whose given up, whose lost all hope... convinces him he can still go on. That living’s better than dying.. and that it does get better. The issue closes with Xorn basking in the sunlight for the first time in decades while Domino sweats having an extremley powerful unknown mutant out in the world. Scott’s already thought of that.. and signed him up with the x-men. Granted it won’t be until our next article that he actually fully joins the team, but w’ell get to that next time. 

This issue is great... while the U-Men stuff is pretty bad and isn’t going to get better, the tale of xorn is excitiong, Aao Jun is an intresting antagonist and the sideways gimmick suprisingly works. So now we’ve finshed our apitizer let’s get on to the main course. 

Danger Rooms:

We open in well.. the Danger Room with Beast training a new student. 

This is Beak. Beak is my faviorite character Morrison came up with and one of my faviorite X-Characters. Beak is a bird like boy who can fly, it’s just a struggle and due to looking diffrent and not having the most impressive power has very low self esteem. It’s also part of something Morrison took a concerted effort to do: introduce more mutants with genuinely odd apperances and drawbacks. Like we saw with Ugly John last time and Aao Jun in the previous issue, Morriosn really likes adding weird mutants but he also uses it to give a genuine downside to being one. While this isn’t NEW to x-men, Morriosn upped the scale and number of characters like this with weird powers and apperances. We see a bunch of human passing ones too but the backgrounds just jammed with all sorts of unique designs and students. It’s also the point where the school became far more crowded like the movies, a good call on my part both to help those coming in from the movies, and to help sell the mutant baby boom going on. After all it wouldn’t make sense if the school was just about 5-7 students and a bunch of grown adults doing superhero stuff like usual would it.

But we get to see that Hank is a good teacher, as he reminds the boy that he’s getting better and won’t be an x-man overnight, and worries about him to the professor, wanting the boy not to slip through the cracks, figuratively, and not to feel like an outcast.. especaily here. But Hank dosen’t feel blue for long, metaphorically he was blue long before he became the lion minus the witch and the wardrobe, as he has a date to night.. and so does Charles. 

Or rather he did.. his girlfriend trish, a long time love intrest of his and a reporter.. breaks up with him. Over voice mail. While in washington. And the reasons she gives are not great

Yes Hank’s transformation is radical.. but not only was it not his choice... she’s being a coward, sending the message it’s okay to dump someone because hteir a mutant or because they happen tobe diffrent and that efffects your career. Again it’s moments like this that make the run soar over the more awkward bits. 

Meanwhile Logan’s off doing logan stuff, i.e. gazing at a deer. Wow. Jean followed him. Both notice a space ship: Despite recently outing himself as a mutant, leading to an increased number of students and a bunch of rioting morons at the gates, Charles has decided NOW’S a good time to take a vacation to the Shiar empire. As for why Jean’s really out here, her marriage to Scott isn’t doing so good and while Logan encourages her to stay it’s just not that simple: Her telekenisis is coming back, stronger than ever. She feels the most alive she’s been while he’s shutting her out and feeling his deadest. She tries to turn to logan for comfort but he shuts her down. Just wait two decades jean... he’ll open up to a threesome. In all seriousness though having Jean try and come onto Logan .. will backfire slightly on later storylines. But we’ll get to that eventually. 

In the basement Hank is studying Cassandra or rather a virtual version of her since her body is naturally in storage. And he’s found out something disturbing: She’s Charles Genetic Twin.. oh and it gets way worse. The Professor’s weird behavior? Barely staffing the hong kong office, leaving suddenly with rioters t the gates, outing himself? About that...

Cassandra tourtures Hank with the possiblity he’s devovling and then tries to mind controlli him into cleaning himself with his diploma when Beak enters. The good news is this allows hank to shake off her control and tackle her, showing off why hank mccoy is fucking awesome in the process. 

That is the Hank McCoy I know, love.. and miss dearly. The one we’ll probably never get back sadly after what others did and what Percy’s had to do to reconclie with all they did. 

Unfortunately beak being around means cassandra can force him to beat beast into a coma with his bat. She plans to tear Charles dream down around him and make him watch.. and cryptically says he tried to kill her. She then cheerfully leaves Jean in charge.. and talks about just how much damage one could do with an entire interstellar empire in the wrong hands....

This issue is also excellent and sets up the next two arcs nicely while giving us a nice peak in hank’s head. Great stuff. The artist also hid the word sex in a lot of the images see if you can find them. 

Germ Free Generation Issue 1: 

So now we get into our main story for today. This story and the one before it were drawn by Ethan Van Sciver whose a talented artist.. but also highly contrversial for being a conservative. I myself.. don’t know what he’s said or did, though calling himself “Canceld Superstar’ on twitter really isn’t a good sign. So I really can’t comment on it but I also know someone would mention it if I didn’t bring it up and if you know what he did please enlighten me. 

So we open with a school shooter who also scooped out a guys eyes and is part of the U-Men. He get shot by the swat team while making his speech> it’s an effective opening but one that’s become more uncomfortable to read with each passing day due to school shootings going up and up in number. And mass shootings in general and I... I need a second. I need something to relax me

Thank you Stoopy. Your doing Odd’s Work. 

So the news reports on this and we soon see how Jean watches the news.. by using Cerebra to read the minds of every person on the planet. Neat. Everyone’s talking about them. We also get a hint for later as we hear on the suicide of one martha johanson who wrote the note in her own blood. She’ll be important later.... and I mean that both in the context of this retrospective and for the fact she’ll go on to be part of x-men in perpetuity. 

This is also where another great concept of Morrison’s pops up: Mutant culture. After all mutants are a minority, they should have their own culture. It’s something Hickman’s era has taken and ran with, but it’s a damn good idea and one that it shoudln’t of taken almost 20 years for someone else to use given Decimation was undone way back around 2012 in Avengers Vs X-Men, aka that event half hte articles on the mcu around the fox sale used as either their image for the article or asked about happneing. And yes that is a pet peeve of mine: while I do think like Civil War AVX could use a movie version to make it better, I don’t think it’s an event that could be done right away and would have to be almost entirely redone anyway given the context for AvX is entirely couched in decimation i.e. something NO ONE wants in any x-adaptation. 

So it turns out while watching the news in a next level way Jean is also talking to Logan. “Stay out of my personal fantasies”. Yeah I .. I don’t think your ready for a hairy canadian dry humping a transformer.. specifically killbison. And yes.. that is an actual transformer and why yes, I have been waiting to bring him up. 

And he is , and I am not making any of this up, part of a group of decpticons known as the breastforce. Your life is better for knowing that and you are welcome. 

Anyway as you’d imagine a genocidal old woman in her brothers’ body leaving the X-Men to fend for themselves after having a teenager bludgeon one into a coma after publicly outing them with a rabid bunch of bigoted morons at the gates has not gone great. Henry is still out and despite the short staffing Jean needs logan to stay where he is as he’s close to an emerging mutant and within range to go get her. 

Emma of course has never been so fucking irate in her whole life and is plotting various forms of psychic tourture with the help of her proteges the Stepford Cucokoo, 5 teenage mutants who functoin best as a unit and are easily some of MOrrison’s most prominent additions to the x-cast. Unlike a lot of the x-kids, they’ve been featured prominently in every era of x-men after this including the current one. 

Jean decides for a less “Make them hate us even more” approach, but no less pissed off, opening the gates and going out directly to chew out the assembled bigoted morons, pointing out the ones carrying “Mutants Go Home!” signs are especailly dumb as this IS her home. And while she dosen’t point this part out, it’ the same for all of them: most of the mutants are either adults who choose to live here, teenagers who along with their parents choose to live here, or in the majority teens who have no where else to go due to either being abandoned by their families or it being way to dangerous for said families for them to stay due to bigoted assholes like the ones holding mutants go home signs. 

A member of the press asks if she’s willing to talk to the media and she refutes most of his bullshit allegations: He asks if their building an army, she and Scott respond they are not and are simply educating mutants and protecting them. When he counters with the fact their living weapons and wearing uniforms... she counters with the fact she’s wearing them to protect herself, rightfully, from people like her, and the x-men are an aid orginzation going where needed to protect the world and while asshole points out no one apointed them.. jean shuts him down by pointing out there are no mutants in goverment and a genocide just happened, so someone has to do the job. Another random asshole tries to pipe up with “Genosha declared war on us” and Emma senses this is just going to go round and round and round and simply presses the assembled mob’s “bliss buttons” in their brains to knock them out. Non violent but honestly warranted: A dangerous part of bigoted assholes is they’l bring up racist bullshit to try and couch it like an actual conversation. None of these complaints really hold water if you looked at the x-men’s history for more than 5 minutes. Yes Charles is training them to fight and yes hte ingial class was an army but every class since has only been trained for self defense: they still got into adventures and what not, but it was usually by their own choice or because they were thrust into them by circumstance. Xaviers is exactly what jean said and endudgling these morons, while good on paper, only makes them seem legit. 

Jean retreats to the infirmary where she’s on the verge of breaking down from the sheer weight of everything. Cyclops proves that despite not being the best husband right now... he still loves his wife, offering to go look into Sublime with Emma and hoping Hank wakes up. Turns out his mind for now is a big blank room.

So she can’t get any info off his skull, and neither of the two think what happened with Beak adds up. Something is up here. Their also coming down with colds which will be important later. And just as important.. Magneto is becoming a symbol among people and merch sales with his image are on the rise.  We then get this. 

So Jean is trying to be a supportive, honest wife, and while the questions incredibly insulting.. his answer is equally so. Spoilers, as mentioned we do get an answer long after this.. and they did not. So Jean is wrong to be suspcious, at this point, but is at least trying to be polite about it and gave him the benifit of the doubt.. and Scott basically said he slept with her without actually saying it despite not having to. You could’ve said “no we did not have sex, we simply talked all night”. It’s not ENTIRELY better given the horrible state of their relationship right now, but it’s still better than HEAVILY implying he rocked her body to the break of dawn for no damn reason. 

So we meet our next major addition to the cast Angel Salvador, an abused teen who is a mutant.. and whose abusive and molesting step dad beats her and throws her out over this. The scene’s a bit overdone, coming off like an after school special.. but it’s what happens AFTER that’s truly heartwrenching. 

A poor scared teenager clutching herself, finding herself homeless alone and desperatly wishing she wasn’t what she was. It’s just a striking image and shows how well Grant uses the mutant metaphor. I could easily see myself in that position had my parents not been good peopl and had I come out far sooner as bi. The idea of desperatly hoping your not what you are simply becaus eof what hell it brings, despite all the joy it can bring too. . it’s heartbreaking to hear. 

Naturally though things don’t get much better as the next morning the U-Men have found her, calling her a freak and successfully kidnapping her.. if only because while she uses acid spit to escape, she flies into a power line. 

We then get Sublimes meeting with Emma and Scott and a BETTER use of teh u-men as while Grant made the horrible mistake of calling them “transpecies”, seriously what the fuck were you thinking, the way sublime frames it here is a MUCH better, much less accidently bigoted concept. 

The idea isn’t bad: A group of humans jealous of the mutants powers, blatantly ignoring the horrible downsides and mountain of persecution that comes with being one. Grant just made the mistake of couching in in Trans metaphors, clearly trying to have the U-Men steal from Trans People too as a way to make themselves seem legit. And I say if you want superpowers.. fine.. wanting to be a superhero or a mutant is fine, the issue with the U-Men is their copoting a culture, trying to be part of mutantkind without having any of the drawbacks and by actively butchering them. It’s why the concept HAS shown up elsewhere; it’s not TERRIBLE, Grant just made a bad creative choice that’s only gotten worse as Transphobia has ramped up further and further. 

Sublime denies it when our heroes bring up Hong Kong.. but naturally he’s simply just keeping them talking long enough to bring out his trump cards, an army of u-men and a brain in a jar he uses to incapacitate them.. and announces his plan to use the school as an organ farm for his third species. 

Meanwhile Logan finds the U-Men in their truck preparing to rip angel apart.. and given he snikit’s soon after.. i’ts very clear whose REALLY about to get ripped apart. 

Germ Free Generation Part 2: 

Part two begins wth Sublime monologoging about how Mutantkind are just cattle to them and reveals the brain is martha’s, her sucicide having been faked and her brain currently being controlled to use as a weapon. 

So while Johnny monlogues we find out what happened with Wolverine last issue he didn’t cut up the guys yet as they fired their little flichete guns at him... it was about as useful and effective as you’d expect and the massacre you were expecting occurs. Though in a nice bit of reality the fact wolverine’s soaked in blood and just killed a bunch of blood shockingly does not make the already frighttend teen feel he’s safe and she spits acid on him. Logan pours some stuff on the acid, figuring rightly a black ops murder farmacy would have something to counteract it and tells her she’s safe now .. and tells the guy behind him not to try it. He’s stupid and does anyway and likely gets a claw to the head off panel. 

They go to a diner to eat and find a local asshole who threatens them with a shot gun to leave once angel uses her power to digest and goes on a rant about how he snapped his own son’s neck to prevent him being born a freak. Just.. fucking hell this arc is not good for my depression. We get some more angst from Angel and whiel her dialouge is not the best, i’ts a too bit mark millar flavored edgelordy for my taste and if I wanted that i’d go read Ultimates or Ultimate X-Me, her pain is real and Logan helps her through it. 

Back at the Mansion the U-Men are on their way to strike, whlie Jean unaware continues to buckle under the weight of all the shit she’s had to deal with, feeling SOMETHING is making them weak with the colds and something worse is going on and thus tries going to Beak’s mind instead and gently helps talk him through it, showing her grace and empathy.. and in return finding out Charles was the one responsible. The alarms flair up and Jean tries calling the police now that’s an option.. but it goes exactly how you’d expect. 

Also a second artist took over for this issue and the next Igor Kordey. He’s fine, but not nearly as good as Quitely or Van Sciver and it shows. Meanwhile Beast awakens and heads for the body drawer with Cassandra’s body, and professor’s mind in it. 

However Jean’s finally had enough and got her second wind. She’s outgunned, outmanned and left to her own devices. And she’s fucking fed up with it. She steels herself and assembles the students. This is obviously a last resort.. but some of them can defend themselves and their going to need to. But today they won’t be learning.. they’ll be teaching and as the U-Men call them defensless Jeans simply asks “Are you sure about that?”

Germ Free Generation Part 3:

So we come to the finale of this arc. Angel is once again an ungreatful brat to logan and he opts to just leave her there if sh’es going to be like that pointing out being a mutant sucks, it’s going to keep sucking.. and she needs to deal with it instead of lashing out at him and herself over it. 

We get back to the U-Men, one of whom is utterly flabergasted they want to him to cut of Cyclops head... only for Emma to awaken.. and take back her regular form meaning she has her telepathy back. The only reason they were able to get her ealier is she was in diamond mode which is stronger but lacks that, a nice way to check and ballance her new powers. She quickly takes them out and disables Martha. 

Back at the school we get one of Jean’s definting moments for me and a true chance to show how badass she can be. Before this while Morrison wrote her well, and his version’s still my favoirite, she didn’t really get to do much and was motly in the background. This arc has been her time in the limelight, having trouble grappling with all the stress of running this place by herself.. and emerging from it stronger, more capable and ready to kick some racist weirdo ass. She tries a few diffrent tactics first, having a mutant with a voice power project it to make them think their san invisible army and having the cuckoos fuck with their heads but when both fail, Jean REALLY gets to show off. Thier blade ammo gets turned into a cool looking 3 dimensioinal shape with her telekneisis, and in a cool moment and a wise use of something gross makes the only one of them with useable powers throw up, before issuing a badass boast, wreathed in flames all while she crumples their guns into uselessness. and tears open their suits. 

Bad ass.. and logan and Angel arrive just in time for the cecendo as hte u-men flee in terror

The Phoenix has been Reborn. Jean Grey has risen from the ashes and returned to full power. 

Meanwhile Sublime is pankcing.. and it gets worse when Emma shows up, fully enraged after all of this and has some words for him. 

Iconic. Emma prepares to drop him out of a building but Scott rightly tries to get her to back off, pointing out the pr nightmare it’d create and the fact that they have enough evidence ot shut him down. Martha however has other ideas and gets him to let go of his own accord, falling to his death.. but given he’d aranged a stunt for the press apparently this gives our heroes deniability and Martha her revenge. 

So we end this three parter as Jean revels in her new power, and Beast returns with an announcment:

Final Thoughts for Germ Free Generation:  This arc is pretty good if forgetable. The struggle of Jean to run the school herself and her rising from the ashes of her own pain at the end with the power of the phoenix at the end is fantastic, finally both giving her a chance to shine.. and a worrying sign for her friends given what her phoenix force copy whose memories she has a copy of, long story, did is awesome. The other parts are okay and ehhhhhhhhh though. Scott and Emma’s investigation into the u-men while having a really good climax, is pretty standard x-men stuff, and Wolverin’es trek with angel is just okay with Angel being highly intolerable during this arc, with Morrison trying a bit TOO hard to make her a “realistic” teen instead coming off as horribly unplesant. She’s supposed to just be lashing out but comes off obnxious as a result. That said this arc does furhter a lot of Morrisons best idea and introduce more, and is a great setup for our next arc, which we’ll get to in two weeks. Soooo

Next Time On X-Men: We find out just what the hell Cassandra Nova is, what her plans are, and what happened with her and charles as our heroes come down with a cold as the might of the shiar empire bears down on them. It’s IMperial in two weeks. 

Next Time ON This BLog: Speaking of long Delayed Projects, I finally return to The Life and Times of Scrooge McDuck as a young Scrooge starts his prospecting career, learning the ins and outs from a rich new mentor, and finding the price tag striking it rich comes with. Raid a copper hill with me tommorow. 

If you liked this review, subscirbe for more, join my patreon, and if there’s a comic you’d like me to cover suggest it in the comments or outright comission a review from me via ask. See you at the next rainbow

[saiilorstars]

Dare To Forget Me

Ch. 27: Shock-worthy

(Previous chapters)

Fandom: Law & Order SVU

Pairing:  Rafael Barba x OFC

Warnings: Due to the nature of the series’ plots, I do have to rate this as ‘mature’ for constant mentions of rape.

Taglist: @ocfairygodmother @anotherunreadblog @maaaaarveeeeel​​ [If you’d like to be added to this specific OC’s stories/edits, send me a message!]

~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ` 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~

Chapter Summary: The case SVU has going on is a particularly terrifying one. It has a few of the detectives feeling sick to their stomachs. Meanwhile, Sonny comes to a shock-worthy realization that might hurt a few people...

"So you guys didn't really...get anything, did you?" Montserrat couldn't help ask Amanda as they walked down the corridor of Riker's. At Murphy's command, the two detectives were supposed to visit Gordon and extract more information on Wilkes.

Amanda's bob of head said exactly what she thought about their undercover job. They hadn't really gotten anything from Wilkes directly, so now they were supposed to get Gordon to talk again. "We tried. Murphy tried."

"Hm…" was all Montserrat had to say.

They stopped at the front desk where they had to sign and relinquish their guns.

"I get that you don't like him, but he is trying to do his job," Amanda leaned against the desk while Montserrat finished writing her last signature.

"Oh, I can't say that I don't like him this early in the game," Montserrat looked up with an expression that read 'But I'm close to saying it'. "I just feel like he needs to sit back and let us show him how we do things. He should be taking notes from Olivia. She's practically a Lieutenant already."

"Well, as long as you don't say it this early," Amanda's light sarcasm made Montserrat roll her eyes.

The two detectives were allowed into the visitor's ward a short moment afterwards. Gordon was brought out and immediately had something to say to them.

"Can you get me into solitary? Everybody's looking at me all the time."

Montserrat so badly wanted to respond with 'Why do you think?' but knew it would hinder their investigation. So, she kept her mouth shut until she had something better to say.

"Might be able to do that, but you gotta stop holding out on us," Amanda was the one to respond. "Your pal Erastes, did he ever talk about actually hurting boys?"

Gordon shook his head. "No, I'm not a part of that, okay? I-I-I just like to watch. He is into things that I would never do."

"Hm, like what?" Montserrat gave him a hard, levelled look warning him he better not lie.

"Well, there was this live-streaming Webcast from Estonia a few months ago. Erastes kept sending messages to the master asking him to hurt the boy...make him bleed. Now, I-I turned it off, but then later, Erastes bragged that he had watched the boy die. And then he said to me that we should find a boy that nobody would miss."

Montserrat exchanged a glance with Amanda. This could be exactly what they were looking for.

"Listen to me very carefully," Amanda leaned forwards, "What was the name of that webcast?"

~0~

Once they had gathered sufficient information from Gordon, Montserrat and Amanda reported back to Murphy about what they learned.

"Gordon told us about a Webcast for something called 'damage groups'", Montserrat said, though the more she explained the more uncomfortable she looked. And that was saying something considering what they worked at. "They take live requests to torture young kids. The darker the skin, the worse they get it. Bruises don't show."

"Okay, any way to access it?"

"It streamed live three months ago," Amanda replied. "And everything's been turned over to interpol."

"That won't help," Murphy turned to the other detectives in the office. "Take over Gordon's chat room accounts. Keep fishing."

The detectives filed out of the office with their new tasks. Though at the end of the day, they really didn't come up with much to work with except for another UC job.

"How about tonight?" Nick was asking the others as they left the precinct.

"Tell me where," Olivia agreed.

"No, I got to head uptown, going to a meeting," Amanda said as she backtracked in the opposite direction.

"Okay. Safe home," Olivia waved her off.

"She's really working her program," Montserrat was happy to see. It wasn't too long ago that Olivia was threatening to transfer Amanda and now here she was doing better than ever.

"Least someone's doing good around here," Nick shrugged, though his attempt at being casual failed miserably.

"Jesus Nick, you could at least pretend to be civil with Murphy," Montserrat turned to him. "You know, like the rest of us do. Right?" she glanced at Sonny, but the detective just shrugged.

"He's alright," his choice of words prompted Olivia to make a 'thank you' motion at him.

"Guys, I think you all just need to give him a chance," Olivia felt tired of having to repeat herself. Everyone just seemed on the plan to hate Murphy.

"You should be C.O. now," Nick said, "He comes in and…"

Olivia was not interested in hearing the same thing again tonight. She guessed why Nick seemed more on edge today. "Maria and Zara are in town, right?"

Nick knew where she was going and shook his head at her. "Yeah. I'm not crossing the line. Maria asked to see me. She got a job offer in California and wants to take Zara with her."

Now it was really easy to understand why and Nick was so on edge.

"And she brought up the idea of me going with them."

"What?" Olivia blinked.

"Yeah, I know. I mean, a month ago, she's calling you, telling me to back off. I do, and then…"

"Are you thinking of going?" Montserrat had to wonder. It wasn't easy separating from your child, much less when that child would be going to the other end of the country.

"My life is here," Nick said without a moment's thought. "I don't want to fight, but Maria's not taking my daughter away from me."

"We're here if you need anything," Sonny said. Nick thanked him and the others. "Hey Montse, Kara just texted me saying you weren't answering her."

"My phone's dead,"Montserrat shrugged.

Sonny gave her a look that indicated how irresponsible that was, but all the ginger did was shrug. She was going home anyways, what was the point?

"She's having dinner with her brother and wants you...and me…there…"

Montserrat gave him an amused look. "You, uh, don't sound so excited about it."

"Having dinner with your girlfriend's brother isn't exactly what I had in mind when I asked her to have dinner with me," he said in a straight face, one that made it incredibly hard not to laugh.

"Damian is nice and you're going unless you want to die by Kara's wrath."

Before Sonny would answer that, he briefly looked to Olivia and Nick. "Now you know who did it if I ever disappear."

Now Montserrat had to laugh. "C'mon!" she grabbed him by the arm. "I wonder what she made for dinner? I hope it's not pasta again. She's the one dating the Italian, not me." Sonny rolled his eyes while Montserrat dragged him away then waved goodbye to the others.

When the two got home, they found Kara in the kitchen, taking something out from the oven. She was dressed in a nice sleeveless, purple jumper. Her hair was pulled into a high ponytail and when she turned around they saw her light make-up.

"Don't you look nice," Montserrat remarked. She began to take off her blazer. "Making me feel underdressed."

"Makes 2," Sonny said rather self-consciously as he fixed the collar of his button shirt.

Kara set down the tray of casserole on the table and smiled. "You guys are fine. It's just a casual dinner."

"It's never casual for me," Sonny said with a frown on his face.

"Jesus, you are so dramatic," Montserrat patted his arm and went straight for the table.

"Ah! Don't touch!" Kara smacked Montserrat's hand away from the food.

It was always the rule: don't touch the food until every guest is there. Lucky for Montserrat, who happened to be starving, Damian arrived only 5 minutes of waiting.

"Oh thank God, sit down!" Montserrat gave Damian a quick hug then yanked him towards the kitchen.

"Hello to you too," Damien said with a laugh. "Guess we're not giving hugs to anyone else?"

Kara stood by the table with her hands on her hips. "Guess not." Her disapproving look on Montserrat didn't faze the ginger at all.

"It's fine. She gets a pass," Damian smiled at Montserrat.

"I do? Why? Just so that I know how to use it when I need it," Montserrat pushed her chair in and signaled Kara and Sonny to do the same.

"Because you're you," Damian looked at her with type of expression that almost made Sonny do a double-take.

Was he seeing right? Was anyone else seeing right?

They started eating together and having conversations. It started with Kara's day which, as it turned out, had been stressful.

"This lady was just so difficult to work with! She asked for a bob and I gave her a bob but then she started saying it wasn't!" Kara huffed angrily. The mere reminder of the frustrating woman made her blood pressure go up. "How do you not see what a bob is!?"

"You want more to drink?" Sonny asked her, making Montserrat and Damian laugh on the side.

Kara pointed but nodded her head. "Yes, please. I really hope I never see her again."

"If you pissed her off that bad then she won't be coming back anytime soon," Damian pointed his glass at her. "Drink up, little sister." Kara all but drowned her glass that Sonny had just filled up.

"Dare I ask how was your day, then?" Damian looked to Montserrat.

"Eh, I don't think you would want to know," Montserrat crossed gazes with Sonny. Wilkes was quite the man and his doings weren't something you'd want to talk about at the table.

"Gloomy, got it," Damian nodded. "I don't know how you guys do it, honestly. Seeing all that stuff…"

"We do it for the victims," Sonny said without a second thought.

"So what do you prefer doing?" Damian asked Montserrat. "Homicide or SVU?"

Montserrat bobbed her head while she thought about it. Each time she did, though, she always came up with the same answer. "SVU. Homicide gave me the luxury of not having to deal with live victims, but SVU gives me the ability to get full justice for victims. They're here to see it be done."

"And I guess you get to talk to them and make them feel better?"

"Well, gotta admit sometimes it feels like there's not a lot of words we can say to make them feel better," Montserrat said with a small sigh. "Though it does get better when they get to hear the guilty verdict."

"But you're there, helping them through the process," Damian gave her a soft smile. "I'm sure you give them a lot of comfort."

Montserrat automatically smiled back. "Thanks."

Whether or not he planned to, Sonny looked over to Kara. He wondered if she saw the same thing he was beginning to, but Kara looked none the wiser. She ate and laughed along with them. But another thing Sonny saw was that Montserrat didn't even appear to notice anything.

Maybe I'm overanalyzing things, he thought after a moment. This was meant to be a dinner, after all. Just a casual night with his girlfriend and friends.

But then Damian pointed out the watch Montserrat was wearing around her wrist - it'd been his gift for her on her birthday. It was a beautiful Kate Spade watch with light pink crystals over the hour the glass. Sonny, as well as the others back at the precinct, had remarked over the elegant watch when they first noticed it. Montserrat absolutely loved it.

When Damian remarked he'd gotten the watch on a good deal, as a joke of course, Sonny went into shock with his realization.

~0~

Thanks to the latest UC job Murphy conducted, SVU had been been led straight to Wilkes' torture room that turned out to be quite supplied.

"Oh, this is horrendous," Amanda was just one of the people completely stunned by Wilkes' "torture room" and what it consisted of.

Montserrat felt like she wouldn't be able to walk further into the bright, white room for fear that something might snap her ankles. Every part of the room seemed to be part of a torture instrument. Who's to say there wasn't anything on the floor ready to capture their ankles and keep them still?

"Well, that's the view he talked about," Fin stood in front of the small window that gave the perfect view to a school across the street. "Right out onto the school yard."

"Gordon was right," Sonny said with a scowl.

"Luminol every inch. Check all film and storage spaces," Murphy was busy giving orders to the incoming forensics. "Pull up the floors. Knock out the walls."

"This place is pristine," Nick stopped by Murphy and gestured to the cleanliness surrounding them. It could almost sparkle from how clean it was. "He brought boys here?"

"So he scrubbed it clean. He's careful," Murphy moved past him.

"So what does he do with the bodies?" Olivia dreaded to think the more she gazed around the room.

"Open up the drains and test for chemicals," Murphy called to the nearest forensic. "I want a drop of blood, a shard of bone, something, anything."

"Lieutenant," another forensic's walked up with several pictures in hand, "CSU found these hiding behind a fake wall."

Murphy all but snatched the pictures from the woman. He flipped through them in disgust. "Sick son of a bitch. Pick him up, now."

And that was one order none of the detectives minded following.

~ 0 ~

Wilkes had his face buried in his hands, rubbing from his forehead to his chin while he listened to Olivia's and Amanda's findings in the interrogation room.

"It was all fantasy!" he tried arguing for the tenth time since he was brought in. "Nothing happened."

"Nothing?" Olivia gaped at the blight lie being thrown her way. "Found your little…" she scrambled to find the right pictures for him to see in case he'd forgotten he owned a torture room. "We found your room! Photos of boys being tortured in that room? Who are they?"

"What? No, I photoshopped those," Wilkes tried to reach for the pictures but Olivia snatched them from his reach. "I'm an art photographer. I took photos off the lnternet and manipulated the images."

"Yeah, stop lying now," Olivia let the pictures fall back to the table. She felt Amanda's hand on her arm and was overly confused to see her not appearing to be as frustrated as she was.

"Let's hear his side."

Now Olivia was convincing herself she was hearing wrong, but Amanda looked dead serious. "His side?" she repeated, almost tapping her ear so she could see what she was doing. "We have him on tape, negotiating to buy a boy that no one would miss from Mexico, El Salvador." She settled a death glare on Wilkes. "Does that ring a bell?"

"That was just a game-"

"-A game? Do you think it's a game to torture young boys, huh?" Olivia practically slammed her hands on the metal table, creating a loud clang that made Wilkes flinch in his seat. "You like to be in control? Well, guess what, that game's over. New game, my MY rules, not yours." Amanda knew that the closer Olivia got to Wilkes' face, the less willing Wilkes would be to speak without a lawyer but Olivia seemed hellbent on making Wilkes realize his situation.

Outside, on the other side of the glass, were the others watching keenly.

"If she keeps this up, we'll have nothing," Rafael warned Murphy, practically telling the man to pull Olivia out already. He was already on edge from this difficult case considering there was, so far, no concrete evidence except for those pictures.

"I know," Murphy said, his hand already nearing the door. He just wanted to give Olivia a chance to reclaim her control...but it didn't look like it was coming back anytime soon.

She was face to face with Wilkes, spewing out some hard threats. "How about we play this game? You start talking now, or I'm gonna take you back into that room, and I'm gonna strap you into that chair, and I'm gonna slice you open until your blood runs out-"

Murphy flung the interrogation room's door and shouted for Olivia, "Sergeant!"

Olivia basically ignored him and continued with Wilkes. "How about that game?"

"Hey!" called Murphy again.

"I need a minute!"

"Take a break!" Murphy commanded and left no room for arguing, especially in the vicinity of a suspect.

Olivia withdrew from the table and turned away, storming out of the room. At Murphy's second order, Amanda was brought out as well. The blonde might have been a bit pissed Olivia went overwhelmingly head-on with their suspect that now she too was being pulled out of the interrogation.

"I've been here for 15 years. And you've been here for two minutes, and you're pulling me out of an interrogation?" Olivia was right in Murphy's face, much to the surprise of the others.

"You weren't asking him questions. You were yelling at him," snapped Murphy. "You do know the goal is to align yourself with the suspect, not to judge him?"

"Yeah." Olivia released a small breath, probably the way to begin calming down. She crossed glances with the rest of the squad and realized they were all giving her strange, startled looks. She might have gone a little overboard, but had Wilkes not done enough things to provoke it?

"Then what the hell was that?" demanded Murphy.

Olivia wouldn't bother answering because no matter what she said, it wouldn't be right. "I'm going to take that break," she muttered and turned to leave.

"Don't be hard on her, it's not like the guy doesn't deserve it," Montserrat folded her arms over her chest.

"You better not show that type of feeling when you get there," Murphy's subtle order startled Montserrat. She blinked and even pointed at herself, asking if he really meant her. "Go in there and align yourself."

"Are you kidding? I go in there, I cannot guarantee I won't follow in Liv's footsteps."

"I can go back," Amanda volunteered but Murphy shook his head.

"No, I need someone fresh. Someone he hasn't seen yet," Murphy pointed at Montserrat to go. "Amaro, you too."

"Fine, guess we can kill him together," Nick mumbled under his breath, though not as quiet. Still, he didn't look so bothered by the disapproving looks.

"Detectives," Rafael's warning voice stopped the two in front of the door.

"We'll tone it down," Montserrat promised but then mouthed a 'maybe' at Nick. They shared a smile before going into the interrogation room.

It irked Rafael how close those two were acting lately. And he was going to be sticking to the 'irk' description because there was no way in hell he would be admitting to anyone, even himself, that it was more jealousy than annoyance. Just...where did that closeness come from? When - You need to stop, Rafael berated himself when he realized he was letting his thoughts get to him. He wasn't even paying attention to the interrogation happening in front of him.

The irony is that this was one of the reasons why he told Montserrat they couldn't be together, because their jobs would be affected. If they clashed before, then who knows what could happen if they got together? And yet here they were, not together, and he still couldn't focus on his job. Great.

Inside the interrogation room, Montserrat and Nick weren't exactly getting much from Wilkes. And it was a real struggle to keep trying to bond with Wilkes over his "Photography".

"It's true," Wilkes kept insisting over his photography. "I have images in my head, and I try to re-create them, but it's digital trompe I'oeil. I don't expect you to understand."

"I don't think we do," agreed Montserrat. She sat across Wilkes but, probably like Olivia, she would really like to climb over it and slam Wilkes' head against the table.

"I imagine your jobs-" Wilkes made a gesture at her then Nick, "-often times put images in your head...from everything you've seen. I just get those images...and I watch videos at night...as an outlet."

Nick wanted to scoff but if he did that then his 'bonding' would end there and then. So, he kept it cool. "That's what you're saying this is, a release?"

"Yes, I swear!"

"But you crossed over when you started talking about buying a boy," Montserrat snapped. Her hands on the table started gripping the edge of the table, something Nick caught. "Literally... buying…" she struggled to say the sentence in one go, "...a boy."

"Your guys were talking about that!" Wilkes argued. "There was no boy. There never has been one. I didn't give any money!"

"Yeah, but, Simon, that chamber…" Nick reminded, but Wilkes shook his head and refused it to be true.

"That's...My meditation room. I'm the only one who's been in there. Tear the place apart. You won't find anything."

Montserrat's lips curled into a humorless smile. "It's a meditation room," she repeated sourly. "Sure."

The door flung open to let in a woman who made a beeline for Wilkes' side. "Mr. Wilkes, I'm Minonna Efron. Your wife's waiting right outside. She's retained me as your attorney. Detectives-" the woman gave Montserrat and Nick a look, "-give us the room."

Montserrat figured it was better to give space before she lashed too. She left the room first and glared directly at Murphy. "Cannot believe we had to bond with that guy."

"Nothing you haven't done before," Murphy said. "It's called doing your job."

"Hey, I've got two kids," Nick reminded. "A ten-year-old son. I want him gone."

And for that, Montserrat turned to Rafael. "Get him gone."

Suddenly Rafael's irkness - that was not jealousy - disappeared. There was a certain feeling that usually came when Montserrat laid her absolute faith in his prosecuting abilities. "I'm going to need evidence," he warned, but Montserrat didn't care. She needed to see Wilkes behind bars.

"I'll get it done," she promised and took off.

[marveloushiddleston]

The Monster Within

German Masterlist English Masterlist

Plot: After the last fight against Thanos, the task of the remaining Avengers was done. And a new team of Avengers must now protect the Earth from a new unknown force. Together with SWORD, Wanda, Vision, Doctor Strange, Carol, Bucky, Sam and Loki, who must first prove himself on Midgard as a team and face unknown enemies. Will Loki be finally himself?

Chapters: Prologue / Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"Okay team! Heads up." says Carol as she walked into the center of the Quinjet, the team gathering in a circle around her, "The mission is simple: free and move out. A terrorist organization we don't know has taken nine hostages. Among them, four scientists and two technicians. It is important, under no circumstances, to compromise the mission or the hostages. It's our first mission as a team, we have to prove to people that they can trust us. Any questions?", Carol walks to the right side next to the ramp of the jet and presses the little red button so the ramp opened. Sam walks to the edge and looked out before starting his small Falcon jetpack drone and flies to the small fortress. He presses a small button on the left side of his goggles.

“Scan." says Sam, his drone starts scanning the building, "I count ten soldiers and nine hostages in the building. There are five snipers on the roof."

"All right. Get ready to move. We're going to go low. Landing would be too dangerous and would most likely give us away," Carol explained before smiling, "Try to keep up."

The proton energy spreads to her fists and her energy covers her entire body. When she fully ignited her energy, she flew out of the Quinjet at the speed of light. Wanda began to float as well and red magic surrounded her before she flew behind. Sam's wings readied themselves and he flew out of the jet. Vision and Stephan also followed.

Wanda arrives and flies over the roof and into the yard. She takes control of a soldier and lifts him up.

"Sam." says Wanda. Sam flies past Wanda and catches the soldier on one of his wings. The Quinjet has set to fly low. Bucky puts the magazine in his rifle and unlocks it, while Loki makes two golden daggers with green handles appear in his hands.

"Well I think it's time. Otherwise we're going to miss all the fun.", Bucky declares and pats Loki on the shoulder before they jump out of the jet. Sam, meanwhile, flies onto a rooftop, spinning and using his wings to deflect gunfire. Stephan flies onto the roof Sam was standing on and takes out the two soldiers who were shooting at Sam. While Vision and Carol fly over the rooftops one by one, taking out the remaining snipers on the rooftops as they fly. An enemy jet closes in on Carol and Vision as it begins to strafe the team. Carol and Vision looked at each other and flew in the direction of the jet to destroy it. Wanda uses her powers to lift Bucky up and through the window. He hurls one of the soldiers, who started shooting at him, through one of the windows. Sam jumped off the roof and caught the soldier in flight, while Bucky takes out another soldier in hand-to-hand combat. Loki kicks open a door in the basement of the building before spotting one of the soldiers, he hides behind the column to avoid being noticed. Loki changes his appearance into one of the soldiers and stepped out from behind the column.

"The captain requests your presence.", Loki calmly explains as he approaches the soldier.

"Well there's only one problem with that," the soldier says as he looks to him.

"What's that?" asks Loki, confused, tilting his head. The soldier raised his gun and pointed it at Loki.

"I'm the captain.", Loki grabs the barrel of the gun and turns his back to the soldier. Before he removes the magazine of the gun and hits the soldier in his face with his elbow. The soldier falls over backwards, unconscious.

Loki stalks through the building, looking for the rest of his team and the hostages. He glances slightly over his right shoulder and notices movement in one of the corners. It wasn't hard to notice that he was being followed, the person was visibly untrained at it. Loki makes an appearance to investigate something as the person stepped closer to him. In a quick movement he turns around and tries to hit the person with the dagger. But he is blogged, his right arm is grabbed and stretched behind him. The person tries Loki against the wall. Loki loosens his grip on his dagger and lets it slip out of his hand. He throws his head back, breaking the person's nose. The person staggers backwards because of this and loosens his grip on Loki's arm. When he turns to the person, he is bent over holding his broken nose. Blood is dripping onto the floor. With a hood covering the face, Loki could not see who the person was. Just as Loki was about to remove the hood, the person, a man, spoke, "This is just the beginning."

"From what?" asked Loki, confused, and moved closer to the person. Quick as a flash, the person shot up and administered him a syringe with an unknown fire-red liquid. Loki pulls out the syringe before it was completely empty. The person threw a smoke bomb and kicked Loki in the chest. Loki stumbles backward. The man used the distraction to flee. Through the smoke from the smoke bomb, Loki coughs. He knew he had to pursue this person, as he seemed to have important information that could be helpful to SWORD. Likewise, he could not risk this dangerous man getting away with it. As the smoke lifted, Loki's gaze searched for the man, hoping to catch him after all. Finally, he spots the man again. He was already at the end of the hallway. The man glanced back and looked at Loki one last time before jumping out of a window in front of him. Loki ran with long strides in the direction the man had fled. Through the window, Loki realized he was running toward a lake. Loki held on to the edge of the window and jumped elegantly over the window. Loki looked again where the man had run. He was by now at the edge of the lake and one of the enemy jets began to land in front of the man. Loki looked to his left, Carol and Vision were being strafed by three jets. While Wanda levitated the enemy soldiers with her magic and Sam caught them in flight. Bucky and Stephan must have been busy in the building with the rest of the soldiers and the hostages, Loki assumed. It was up to him to stop the jet, Loki ran as fast as he could to the jet, which was already starting to take off. The man sat on one of the seats and looked down at Loki, who was standing at the edge of the lake, grinning. He raised his hand to wave goodbye to Loki. Loki averted his gaze from the man and looked at the water in front of him before making his cloak and boots disappear with a simple wave of his hand. To take a running start, he took a few steps backwards. He took a deep breath and as his skin turned from alabaster to blue, markings appeared on his body and his eyes changed from green to red. Loki focused on his seidr before quickly sprinting towards the water. The coarse sand crunched under his quick steps. When his feet touched the water, it froze in a few seconds. A thin layer of ice formed on the water directly under Loki's feet. But when a wave threatens to sweep him off his feet, Loki freezes the wave into a bridge to the jet. He creates an ice weapon in his hand as he walks across the frozen ice floe. With his weapon, he manages to rip open the side of the jet and destroy the electronics. The jet threatened to crash, but before it could crash, a layer of red mist forms over it. Loki looked to the beach and saw Wanda landing on the dark beach and using all her strength to keep the jet from crashing. Sam, Bucky and Doctor Strange stepped up to Wanda's side. Loki pulled the mystery man out of the jet and flung him up. Vision flew past Loki and caught the man before he flew to the rest of the team. Carol flew to the jet at the speed of light and carries it. She landed it on an open grassy area and pulled the pilot out of the jet. Loki walked the ice bridge that he made appear back to the beach and with his seidr, he melted it behind him. When he entered the beach, he veiled his true appearance.

"Did you know Loki could do that?" asks Sam, pointing to the water. The rest of the team members merely shrugged their shoulders.

A/N: My tag list is open, post in the comments if you want in it. And please also write me in the comments what you think of the chapter!

Tag-List: @silvers-hero-vault @i-like-most-things-i-guess

[aiikawarazu]

Heroes Untold Chapter #2

Title: The Road Not Taken

Rated: M

Fandom: My Hero Academia | Boku no Hero Academia

Summary: It was, after all, a marriage of convenience. A loveless one. When she was younger, of course she had dreamed of a blissful marriage full of love. But when she grew older, she realized that things were different out here in the real world. You don’t always need love to get married. It was hard to believe, but – that was the only way she could have convinced herself to see it.

Pairing: Todoroki Rei x Todoroki Enji (Endeavor)

AO3 here 

Disclaimer: I do not own My Hero Academia Notes: Yes, I know some of you are really hard in fuck Endeavor club but guy’s trying so hard to face his past and his mistakes... which is a really brave thing to do. Meanwhile, here’s an angst written from Rei’s point of view, inspired by chapter 301 - 302 of the manga, because I love her. Happy reading!

Himura Rei had only ever known sorrowful love, lonely love. She had no idea of a healthy love. That’s why she wasn’t bothered with the idea of marriage of convenience. When that man approached her parents to ask for her hands in marriage, she knew she wouldn’t have a choice.

Of course we have heard about you, her father said. It was an honor that you would choose our daughter to be your future partner.

There was a time when her family name was considered a prestigious bloodline, but that was a distant thing in the past. Now they were just an ordinary family, but her parents were still stuck in the mindset of returning to their past glory. Of course, the burden fell on her as the first daughter. She was pretty, and her parents wanted her to marry to a good family. Bear healthy children for him, take care of the house, and raise the kids. That was the future they had planned for her and to be honest, she also knew that they were right.

And then it was on one summer afternoon, an incredibly hot one, that she first met him.

She knew him, of course. Flame Hero Endeavor, who had established himself as the number two hero in such a young age of twenty. She knew him. But at the same time… she didn’t know him. Even his name, she only learned about it then. He had such a fitting name for a flame hero – Todoroki Enji – from the kanji character “Roaring Flame”.  She faced him calmly, her expression bore indifference. She knew why he was here, he could say all things to her parents, but there was only one reason a flame hero would pick someone with ice quirk as his potential match, even going so far as setting up an omiai – a matchmaking. A quirk marriage to produce offspring that would inherit both of their parents’ quirk. Everyone in this room knew it already, they only avoided talking about it.

She should ideally use this opportunity to know him better. But she couldn’t help but feel incredibly stifled. The air inside this room was too hot, the tatami pressed hard against the skins on her knees, which were already sore from sitting upright in a formal position for too long. Her back hurt; she couldn’t seem to relax a bit. But the breeze, which sometimes blew from the open door toward the backyard, somehow felt refreshing. She drew in a deep breath – in and out. She wished this could be over soon. This meeting had no point. Her parents will agree to her marriage. And if they agree – then she must too.

It was, after all, a marriage of convenience. A loveless one. When she was younger, of course she had dreamed of a blissful marriage full of love. She’d had her first boyfriend in high school, and the second one in college. She’d dreamed of happy marriages with them. But when she grew older, she realized that things were different out here in the real world. You don’t always need love to get married. It was hard to believe, but – that was the only way she could have convinced herself to see it.

How about it, Rei? her father asked her, Would you do it?

***

Rindou – Autumn Bellflowers

That was the name of her favorite flower, she told him.

“You like them?” he asked her and she nodded in affirmation. “They are pretty,” she said, smiling quietly, not looking at him. They were out for a walk, the first time after he gained her parents’ permission for their marriage. The wedding date had been set, it was to take place this winter. She would drop out of college and get married, soon she would be moving in to the Todoroki household. And still she had no idea of the man she would be marrying. She stole glimpses of his face as they walk side by side. He had a stoic, firm aura about him – there was never a change of expression on his face. But if she looked closely, she could see strength and determination were engraved ever so quietly on his facial features.

And his eyes – to be honest, they scared her a bit. There were times when they were together, but Enji’s eyes were never looking at her direction. It was as if he was always looking forward, at something far ahead of him. Rei might be young, and inexperienced at the world. But even the most innocent of women would have their instincts about the man they were about to marry. And at that point, Rei could tell. Those were the eyes of a very ambitious man.

This afternoon, they had gone out together, in an attempt to get to know each other better. He brought her to eat her favorite Zaru Soba at a three Michelin star Japanese restaurant for lunch, then they took a walk outside in the autumn weather. It was her who suggested that they should go to the park, it’s about the season for Autumn Bellflowers. And that was when he asked her if she liked those flowers.

The more time she spent with him – the more distance she felt. It was as if there was a deep, dark ocean between them, something she shouldn’t attempt to swim across. After all, she knew why she was here, and why he chose her.

He needed her for the ice quirk – she needed him for the financial stability. She needed to give birth to children powerful and healthy enough to become future heroes even stronger than the living legend All Might. Just that, and she could live the rest of her life easily. She would never have to worry about money again for her whole life. And she could restore the long-lost glory to her family name again – something her parents had always hoped she would be doing.

A partner to reproduce. That was all her role, and all she will ever be to him.

Or, that was how she attempted to convince herself about it. Which was why, his next words were a complete surprise to her.

“Did you have someone you were seeing? Before the marriage arrangement, I mean.”

She stared at him a good long while, forgetting that just minutes ago she was too scared to even look at him directly. As always, he wasn’t looking at her, but she knew he was waiting for her answer.

“Yes,” she said quietly, not knowing what else to say. It was true. She was seeing someone back then, but once her parents made the decision that she was to marry Endeavor, she broke up with her then-boyfriend. It didn’t come quietly though – no matter how much Rei tried to convince him that this was her parents’ decision and not hers – she couldn’t say anything when her ex-boyfriend suggested they should elope. Things started to go downhill from there and after a lot of yelling, and cursing, he finally let her remember his last words before they parted.

You pathetic, lying bitch! So you would marry anyone for money, huh? Well glad to know that! I don’t have any place for gold digger like you in my life!! Go suffer and die in hell, bitch!

It felt like a lifetime ago – but Rei remembered it like yesterday. After all, those words were painful enough to stay on her memories.

“Did you love him?”

Again, Rei was caught by surprise. She didn’t expect this question. Even more, because this time, he was looking at her. For a moment, their eyes met. His eyes were a unique kind of blue – unlike the sky or the deep ocean, which had cool shades of blue, his eyes were a shade of turquoise. They reminded her of the warm water in white sandy beaches in Okinawa – where she used to visit with her parents when she was a child.

It was a warm shade – it was supposed to be a warm shade. But his piercing gaze was icy cool.

“I did,” she responded before she could stop herself. Then she realized her mistake, but it was too late. Enji’s look had turned very sour, and his gaze grew – if possible – even colder at her words.

“It doesn’t matter,” he stated, matter-of-factly. “You are going to be married to me soon, so it doesn’t matter.”

He began to walk quickly, dismissing her, and Rei suddenly felt as if her insides had turned to ice. She was a wielder of ice quirk, and she loved cold. Her body was naturally resistant to freezing temperatures. But this time, Todoroki Enji had made her shiver. Not because she felt cold, not because of the weather. But because she could clearly see that inside his heart – there was ice that will never melt.

And because she knew, what kind of life was waiting for her down the road when she became his wife.

***

He had a bad temper – she learned it quickly within the first three months she had become his wife. His emotion could explode from scale 0 to 100 in such a short time, particularly when things didn’t go his way.

He wasn’t a loving kind of man by any chance. He was brusque, stoic, and distant. He was never one to talk much, always kept to his responsibilities very strictly, and he expected Rei to do the same around the household. She kept to her duties as a housewife, avoid triggering his temper, and did her best to please his needs mentally, physically, and sexually. She couldn’t decide if she was happy with this marriage and she still wasn’t sure if she loved him but strangely, she knew that she wasn’t unhappy.

On days when things did go his way, when he was in a good mood – Rei could see that Todoroki Enji was indeed quite an earnest and hard-working man. In fact, he was such a hard-working person to the point that he would forget his surroundings. Despite everything else, Rei also knew that Enji was kind. He remembered her birthday, and took her to her favorite soba place to celebrate. He hired a maid when he knew she was pregnant with their first child. He said she should avoid being too tired when she’s pregnant. Rei knew he could have done it for the child and not her, but it made her happy just the same. Soon it was one year after she married him, and on winter that year, he ordered a bouquet of her favorite flower for their first wedding anniversary, with a short apology that he couldn’t make it home from work. It was a pleasant surprise for Rei. And shortly after that, their first son was born.

Touya. When he was born, it was probably the first time in her life that Rei had ever truly felt love. Love toward another human being – a baby boy that just arrived into this world – her own son.

And for a short while, she was happy. She had a family, a healthy baby boy, and a husband that took care of them both. When he heard she had gone into labor, Enji rushed to the hospital from work to see his wife and son. And when he finally met Touya, that might be the only time Rei had ever seen him smile.

Yes. For a short while, things were going well for all of them.

Then, everything seemed to be broken, one after another, things were heading toward chaos. She was plunged into the depths of depression, and quite honestly, she didn’t even know what she did wrong.

Maybe she was too young. Maybe it was her mistake for agreeing to marry him, even when she knew the purpose of that marriage all along. Soon, after Touya was declared unfit by the doctors to keep wielding his fire quirk – Rei could see Enji’s ambitions burning and manifesting even stronger. After Touya, they had a daughter born in winter, and a son after that, who was born in summer. She did want to have more children so Touya could have friends to play with, but he knew Enji had a completely different idea. He’d never wanted a family. All he wanted was a successor, and he would continue to create them with her, until one day they will become successful.

Rei felt rather sick. She was never sure how to feel about this man. Sometimes he was kind, other times he was ruthless. Out there he was a hero, but here in this household, even after several years of marriage, he felt more and more like complete stranger to her. Even to his children, there were times when he saw Touya, Fuyumi, and Natsuo truly as his flesh and blood, but once he learned that they will never surpass his ambition, he started abandoning his own children.

Rei remembered the chill she had on that day, autumn several years ago, when they were walking on the park together.

It doesn’t matter. You are going to be married to me soon, so it doesn’t matter.

She shivered again. Tonight, after putting the children to sleep, she was to meet him in his room. If her husband wanted to have another offspring, she was to carry out her role as a good wife.

She opened the sliding door and got in to her husband’s chamber, shutting the door behind her. Quietly, she undressed herself, slipped under the futon where her husband lie sleeping, and gave him a slight touch. “The children are asleep,” she said softly. He murmured, her touch already woke him up from his shallow sleep.

“How is Touya?”

“He still asks about you every day. I think he really wants to spend time with you.”

“I will do it only if he doesn’t insist on me training him…”

Thump

“Since he’ll never be… the one to surpass.”

Another cold shiver was going down her spine.

He moved, took her quickly inside his arms, and her heartbeat grew louder. She knew she was the one who chose to walk this path, but she was scared. Scared of being inside his arms, scared of what they were about to do. For a split second, she wished she had chosen a normal marriage instead, a marriage out of love, and not a marriage for convenience. After all, what’s going to happen if their next child didn’t possess a quirk he desired? Will they keep making children, and tossing them away? What if it never happened? How long were they going to repeat this nightmare?

They began moving toward each other, their breathings grew heavier. It was always like that with him – all brusque and systematic kind of way. He didn’t take his time with her, and she never expected him to. She only did what she needed to do. Ten, eleven minutes. That was all the time they needed to finish their business. Once he had sated himself, he took a pause, his figure towering over her. Then he sank to the futon beside her, waiting for their breathings to quiet down. After a moment, Rei rose silently and began putting on her clothes.

“I should go back to the children’s room,” she said. “They might wake up and look for me.”

Her husband only nodded wordlessly

Rei tried to keep her crying silent as she walked out toward the door. Not a word was uttered, not a touch other than necessary. There was no love when it came to procreation with him.

They were always, first and foremost, just a tool to him.

She slid the door shut.

His flames were always blazing, yet his heart was always so cold. He was, without a doubt, a man of a great many contradictions. And she… she might just be one of those contradictions.

[a-dorin]

under the same stars | darth maul

word count: 2,406

warnings: cursing

a/n: hi! this was something i have been wanting to do for a looonnnggg time. sorry if my writing is poor in the first chapter, the set-up is always the hardest part. a lot of the plot in this chapter is driven by the dialogue. this is chapter one (more will come in the future if it does well!) 

let me know if you want to be tagged! 

summary: august moor, a padawan in training under the jedi master qui-gon, ponders the meaning of the title jedi. she finds herself in a mysterious encounter with none other than the sith lord, darth maul. 

the sun dipped below the horizon, casting an orange glow over coruscant. a young woman strolled through a meadow, grateful for the summer breeze as it rolled through the grass. the surrounding forest was a variety of green hues, the trees lush with life. the moon was high in the sky, waxing towards a full moon. soon, the stars would be out, dancing across the night. soon, the shades of lilac, burgundy, cyan, and tangerine would be replaced by a rich navy blue.

the stars glittered above, beginning to dot the sky. the girl's lips curved into a smile as her fingertips brushed the blades, contentment flooding her senses. the girl felt as ease, her mind relaxed. there was nothing more she loved than stargazing after an exhausting day of training. 

"where do you think you're running off to?" a voice called out in the dusk. 

the girl turned, her brows furrowed, "and who do you think you are, obi-wan kenobi? you are not my master."

"i am aware," the padawan chuckled, "you're never one to do things like this. is there something on your mind?" 

"i can't have fun?" the girl teased, nudging obi-wan. 

"well," a light blush tinged obi-wan's cheeks, "i didn't mean to come off as rude. my deepest apologies to you, august.

august stifled a giggle, "there's no need for such formalities here, obi-wan. we're not in font of the jedi council, nor master qui-gon."

a shy smile formed on the padawan's lips as he admired august momentarily. her eyes were focused on the stars, as they were beginning to twinkle as the sky transitioned to a deep shade of blue. the moon was full, casting a glow on their surroundings. the light softened her features, yet it did not take away from her beauty. 

her brunette hair was woven into an intricate half-down, half-up style.  free strands of hair swayed along with the breeze, her blue eyes glimmering. obi-wan swallowed thickly, careful not to stare a second longer. her eyes shifted, falling on the padawan. 

"you're quiet tonight. is there something on your mind?"

"no," obi-wan shook his head, "i believe i am just a little spent from today's training."

"qui-gon did a number on you, huh?" august smirked, shooting obi-wan a wink.

obi-wan scoffed, folding his arms across his chest, "we trained in the same temple today, if you don't remember."

august laughed once more, falling to the cool grass. she gazed the stars, a wisftul smile painting her features, "are you going to stargaze with me or are you going to run back to the temple and inform master qui-gon that i snuck off?" 

the padawan laid in the grass, close to august. his eyes drifted up towards the sky, widening in awe at the beauty of the constellations dancing above him. 

august piped up, her voice warm and soft, "you know, my parents used to tell me stories about fallen jedi. how they join with the stars after they pass away. i truly believe that the jedi are always keeping a close eye over us, while also letting us know that they are not too far out of reach."

"were your parents jedi?" obi-wan inquired, a slight wave of shame wash over him. he did not want to pry too much without being too nosy. 

"fuck no," august yawned, "both of my parents are alive and well, settled on the planet of takodana. my home planet is naboo, but they have moved since my training began. i have not seen them since i was about seven years old. we haven't spoken since."

"it seems as if i got you beat," a sigh escaped from obi-wan's lips, "i was taken as a youngling when i was only three years old."

"three years old?" august rolled over, propping herself up with her elbow, "holy shit kenobi. that's ridiculous."

"do you realize how often the jedi council take younglings?" obi-wan arched a brow, "once they can sense that they are force sensitive, the youglings are often newborns or infants."

"oh," august widened her eyes, "that's.."

"it is quite intriguing," he sucked in a breath, "yet, it is for the greater good of the jedi. once the council is aware of their abilities, it is best they start training as early as possible. the more skilled we are, the better."

"you're such a pushover," august snorted, rolling her eyes, "do you ever wonder if the jedi are always the divine beings they claim they are?"

"you're beginning to worry me," obi-wan retorted, "you're talking like a sith, august."

"i am just speaking what's on my mind," she exhaled, rolling onto her back once more, "you don't ever think about what would happen if you didn't seek the route of a jedi? if you were just a normal, ordinary being on your home planet? don't those thoughts keep you up late at night? do you ever just ponder?"

"there really is more to you than meets the eye," the padawan observed, "however, you must recall that jedi who are one with the force do not chose whether or not we possess these capabilities. we are born with them, as we are chosen by the force to bring balance to the universe."

august groaned, "spare me the bullshit, obi-wan. you sound more and more like qui-gon every day."

"is that such a bad thing?" obi-wan arched a brow. 

"i'm just so tired of all of this mumbo-jumbo bullshit about the jedi and all of the regulations we have to follow," she snorted, "it's all so pointless and for what? to hold some title because we're gifted with capabilities that others do not have?"

"you are quite opinionated tonight," he chuckled, "august, i am sure with time we will understand the ways of the jedi. for now, it is beyond our control. for now, if it does not offend you, i am going to retire to my quarters for rest. we have a long day ahead of us tomorrow."

"yeah, yeah," august waved a hand, "just ignore all of my rambles. thank you for listening though. goodnight, obi-wan kenobi. may you find comfort in knowing that you will keep following the rules. meanwhile, i'll be here."

obi-wan rose to his feet, "goodnight august, may you find peace in your thoughts."

august only hummed in response, her eyes following a comet as it blazed across the skyline. the tail was a flashing white. memories drifted into her mind, taking over the thoughts of the present. two individuals towered over her, their faces blurred. she stiffened, her veins ice cold as she witnessed one of the beings pick her up, handing her over to an unknown shadow.

august let out a scream, tears streaming down her cheeks. her mind buzzed, thoughts of agony and despair filtering through her skull. an empty feeling consumed her, her heart racing. the world felt so cold. so cruel. why was this happening? why was this happening now? 

august blinked, her breathing coming in short, ragged breaths. the meadow was now crumbling away. squeezing her eyes shut, she shook her head desperately trying to shake away the horrible, gut-wrenching emotions. opening her eyes, a new environment surrounded her. 

her eyes met with a marble floor, her nose brushing against the surface. the marble was a rich black, the air in the room sterile. august blinked once more, realizing that she was in a training room. sacks full of an unknown material hung around the room, as if they were punching bags. 

widening her eyes, august's heart stopped at the sight before her. a zabrak wielded two sabers, a faint hum reverberating off the walls as he practiced his technique. his muscles rippled under his crimson and black skin, horns adorning the top of his skull. strings of curses tumbled from his lips, a planet in which august had no translation. 

"h-hello?" august squeaked, her voice quiet. 

the zabrak ceased all movement, turning abruptly, the sabers in his grasps pointed in the august's face. his amber eyes blazed with fury, his words a snarl, "who are you? how did you get in here?"

"i do not mean any harm," august yelped, raising her hands in surrender. she could feel the heat radiated off the blades of the sabers. 

the zabrak inhaled, the girl's sweet scent flooding his nostrils. he sensed a trace of wildflowers and grass, "you're not from around here, are you?"

"you're v-very right," august stuttered, "i am not from around here."

his eyes scanned the space, searching for any sign of entrance. the only possible way the girl could have gotten in was through the use of a saber, as the door was to his right. she appeared in the room from the left, "where did you come from?"

"i am from coruscant," the mysterious girl mumbled. 

the zabrak's lips curled into a sinister grin, flashing his incisors, "i cannot believe it. a jedi has fallen directly into my hands. what should i do with you?"

"i am no jedi," the girl sneered, folding her arms over her chest. 

the sincerity in her statement sparked interest within the zabrak. turning his sabers off, he slid them into their holsters. cocking his head, his eyes narrowed, "you're not with the jedi, yet you come from coruscant?"

"i am only training to become one," the girl averted the zabrak's gaze. 

"i am maul," the zabrak sat on the floor, curiosity getting the best of him, "what's your name?"

"my name is august moor," the girl replied, tucking a strand behind her ear, "i'm not sure how i ended up here."

maul closed his eyes, reaching out to august. his breath hitched in his throat, as her emotions consumed him entirely. he could sense her fear, her anxiety, "you're anxious. why are you anxious?"

"because i don't know who you are and how i ended up here!" august scoffed, her tone indignant. 

maul opened his eyes, noticing august's features for the first time. her skin was pale, with undertones of pink, a blush tinging her cheeks. her eyes were a shade of gray, hints of blue swimming within their depths. her brunette hair was down, with a braid woven around her head. strands of hair poked up, more than likely from a fall. 

although she was sitting, maul couldn't help but notice her curves, her thighs full. it was without a doubt that she was beautiful, even if maul didn't know a single thing about her. she was donned in a grey tunic, royal blue fabric wrapped around her chest. 

"don't be scared," maul murmured, "i am just as confused as you are."

august's eyes widened as she noticed the amber eyes of the zabrak, a ring of crimson around his irises. she swallowed thickly, recalling one truth she learned during her early days of training, "you're a sith, aren't you?"

"i am," maul dipped his head, "you happened to interrupt my training."

"you train in solitude?" august arched a brow. 

"sometimes," maul shrugged, his eyes glancing around the room, "my master is away, on a mission."

"maul," his name was enticing as it tumbled from her lips, "why haven't we killed one another yet?"

her question shocked him. yet, it was a question burning through his mind, consuming his thoughts as he spoke to her. the sith and jedi had been quarreling for years, yet, when he laid his eyes on her, he couldn't help but feel compelled to reach out to her. to touch her. to hold her. hold her in his arms and never let her go. 

what had brought august here? was it the force? even as a sith, the force was a powerful entity to the zabrak. it was something he had yet to understand, to fully comprehend. maybe the force had brought them together, but the question that rang through maul's mind was why? why had the force brought them together?

"i just as unsure as you are," maul's voice was low, eerily quiet. 

"should we touch and see what happens?" august inquired, her eyes curious. 

"i guess we could explore that option," he rumbled, his crimson and black hand reaching out, "although, i'm not quite sure what will happen if we do. the world around us might implode."

august reciprocated, her hand tiny compared to the zabrak's. however, once skin came in contact with skin, their worlds went back. august shot up, her heart thudding in her chest as she glanced around the meadow, feeling as if the entire incident was just a dream. a wild, vivid, intense dream. rising to her feet, she took a hesitant step through the grass, her knees wobbling. the moon was high in the sky, signaling that a few hours had past. 

meanwhile, a zabrak rose to his feet, a dull throbbing in his skull. his muscles ached, sore from hours of combat training. he let out a few, ragged breaths, attempting to clear his cloudy mind. the encounter with the padawan must have been a nightmare, or rather, an interesting daydream. whatever it was, his master, darth sidious could never hear about this. he could never find the truth. yet, when darth maul strolled down the corridor of his ship, a feeling of loneliness unraveled. he couldn't help but feel an engrained feeling of sadness, laced with regret. 

glancing out the viewport, maul gazed at the horizon stretched before him. an endless array of stars glittered, shining bright. 

huffing, august shivered as another breeze rolled through the meadow, the chill seeping through her clothing. yet, she couldn't help but give the sky above her once last look, taking in the way the stars twinkled. 

two lost souls stared at the stars, wondering if the other knew. 

august slipped underneath her sheets, her eyelids heavy. she dozed off, dreaming of her encounter from earlier. the meeting was a pure coincidence. surely there was no driving force behind it. it was all a simple daydream or fever dream. 

darth maul felt exhaustion rack his body, almost collapsing to the floor. he was tired, as he practiced combat technique for hours. yet, this was a new wave of sleep overcomig him. the zabrak crawled to his bed, dreaming about his interaction with the padawan. more than anything, he wanted to permanently ingrain the image of her in his memories, her beauty captivating. 

a sith and padawan's paths intertwined, under the same stars.

tagged: @smokahuntis​ @petalsrdead​ @sscreeching​ @thekarliwinchester​ @witchy-goth-unicorn​ @damienmoonart​ @marblegoblin​ @obiorbenkenobi​ @queen-disera-the-fifth​ @monets-corner​ @shytastemakerthing​