#my other advisor was there too and i probably looked at him twice

[unovni]

i’m in love with one of my professors, i have a truck again, and i have a bit of a loose thesis so things are looking up

[inquisitornocturn]

◇─ 𝖛𝖊𝖓𝖎 𝖊𝖙 𝖆𝖒𝖆 𝖒𝖊 ─◇

⚜ 𝖕𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌: Abelard Werserian x Rogue Trader!reader

⚜ 𝖙𝖆𝖌𝖘: we fuck old men in this house lol, comfort, fluff, so much fluff (by my standard), guess what consent can be sexy, smut, body worship, cunnilingus, PiV, creampie, even more fluff at the end

⚜ 𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞: So much has changed since you have taken the title of a Rogue Trader and the worries just don't seem to stop. Day after day something keeps happening. More casualties, more damages, more things to do before your dynasty falls apart at the seams. And one person who you hope can comprehend the pressure you're under, do not seem to understand that you could use just one moment of reprieve. Until you make him understand.

⚜ 𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙: 7,740 | on AO3

𝖆𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗 𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖊: okay, full disclosure, i don't know how the first fic i'm posting for this fandom is Abelard and not Xavier or even Heinrix. he is in my top three for sure, but i fully expected myself posting something for the other two before Abelard and yet this is very much happening. i will reiterate my tags by saying - we fuck old men in this house and that's on that. on a side note - i have been also horribly enabled by @liocreates and @nananarc. Emperor sees that not only my flesh but also my mind is weak, so here we are, i am officially stepping into the fandom with probably the sweetest smut i have ever written. enjoy♡~

“Lord Captain.” Abelard’s voice punches through the cloud of your thoughts that seem almost physical in how much they fog your head.

No, not right now, you don’t want to hear whatever it is he wants to tell you.

Your trusted Seneschal, your most experienced advisor, your right hand man who became such within mere weeks of you taking the title of a Rogue Trader, however abruptly it have come to you. Too many things, too many loses, too many tasks need to be accomplished before your bloody inheritance of a voidship falls apart. Again.

Supplies, crew, the vessel needs repairs. If it can even last that long, until your spacecraft arrives at Footfall dock after you battled some xenos when defending one of the worlds that now belong to you, and even then – if she can survive the journey itself. And then there’s Kunrad and his betrayal that still are causing ripple-like effect over everything, and your aforementioned abrupt claim of a title, with mutinies simmering just at the surface line, tethering the edge of begrudging obedience and outright treason. All because Theodora was killed and you took up the mantle.

“Lord Captain.”

Abelard calls again and you clamp your palms to your ears, not wanting to hear it. You had your eyes closed since the moment first officer entered your study and found you behind your desk, piles of reports and several dataslates towering with their mountainous workloads. Two cups of recaf, neither of them warm or finished, balancing the edge of a desk and a servo skull that slowly but ceaselessly keeps printing a strip of parchment, the needle-like pen etching tiny black words in every possible centimeter of the white canvas.

Footsteps, and you lower your head, shaking your head slightly.

“Not now, Abelard. Please.” You say in a strained tone and footsteps stop, a second pass, then they resume. “Abelard, please.” Last word comes out nearly as a choked sob as you battle your exhaustion, your anxiety and your overwhelming desire to shut yourself in an airlock and have a servitor press the release button.

You can’t cope, not anymore. There hasn’t been a moment of peace ever since damned Voigtvir treason made your entire world turn upside down twice over.

“Lord Captain.” Third time’s the charm they say, but not tonight. Even though Abelard’s tone sounds softer, he’s no more successful in making you look at him than previous two times.

Having nothing else to say you just shake your head again in a silent plea for him to walk away and give you a moment, an evening, of reprieve from things constantly going wrong. This can’t be life of a Rogue Trader, can it? You heard of luxuries and parties, of admiration and battles, of claiming planets and bringing Emperor’s light upon the corners of the galaxy. This – is the farthest thing from stories that you have heard before Theodora got you brought to this ship.

More footsteps, this time to the side, and you hear glass clinking, liquid pouring, more glass sounds, then more footsteps and then – a hand on your shoulder than makes you flinch ever so slightly. Startled and with your heart beating much faster now, you rise your head and lower your hands, looking at Abelard who is standing by your side with a soft look in his eyes and a half-filled glass in his ring-adorned fingers.

“A drink might be in order, Lord Captain?” More of a question rather than him insisting you take the offering, but you do so gladly, your fingers brushing against Abelard’s when you take the glass, making you turn your eyes away.

What you wouldn’t do to have a warm embrace right now. It makes you ache in a way that you even miss your previous partner, who you dumped when he decided that joining Adeptus Mechanicus was his life calling. All of a sudden, just like that. And truth to be told, maybe it was he who dumped you and made up a lie so that you don’t feel as bad as you possibly could.

Still, in this moment, the loneliness of your life weights heavy on you. Too powerful for a casual chitchat, too respected to share a drink with, too blessed by the God-Emperor for a simple hug. Unless you order someone, but you find little comfort in seeking human contact in such way. Very little indeed, so that even this small touch with the man who you trust with your life is making you yearn for something more, a moment of peace that you know won’t happen.

“Thank you, Abelard.” Is all you murmur in response and the senior officer nods, making a step aside, but observing you keenly, watching you take a first tentative sip, then another, and a third that you swallow with a brief closing of your eyes.

“You seem exhausted, Lord Captain.” This time it’s a fact that is spoken out loud and you manage a crooked smile when you gaze up at the man.

“You think so?” You can’t help the sarcasm in your voice and Abelard’s eyebrows furrow slightly, then he scoffs and clears his throat.

“That’s quite obvious, Your Ladyship. Maybe you should get some rest.”

“Maybe I should, but…” You trail off and your gaze sweeps over the piles of reports, the same dataslates, two of which are silently blinking with unread messages like vile daemons winking at you in an attempt of foul seduction. You even make an effort to give a pointed look to the servoskull, still printing the strip of paper that has already accumulated a nice pile underneath it on the carpet.

“You have your officers, let us help you.” Abelard sounds positively serious and steps back to your side, reaching for the nearest winking eye of the dataslate, rings on his fingers glimmering in a soft light of illumination in the room, but your own hand darts out almost on reflex and grabs his wrist.

“It’s fine, I just need a moment to catch my breath and I can continue.” As you speak you feel Seneschal’s pulse under your fingers, thrumming in a slow, relaxed rhythm.

Abelard pauses, giving you a look of poorly disguised concern and he heaves a sigh.

“Generally, I would appreciate stubbornness in Lord Captain’s attitude, but you are going to run yourself haggard if you don’t allocate your duties, at least partially, to those serving you.” He doesn’t pull his hand away and in this moment you are grateful for it. Not only for the warmth of Abelard’s skin in your grip, but for another small contact with a human being.

Whether he already caught on that you yearn for it or not, is impossible to tell and you prefer if he didn’t know. You don’t want him to pity you even more, even if you might deserve it with how you are currently feeling.

“I will, just… not tonight. I will finish what I have to do and tomorrow I shall see what can be done.” Offering a small smile you finally let go of the Seneschal’s wrist and he remains quiet for a second, then sighs again and leans over the desk, flipping the blinking slates so that their screens stop flashing.

“You need a good night’s sleep, Your Ladyship, not more duties to keep you up until the late hours.” Undercurrent of softness in Abelard’s voice does not elude you and corners of your mouth twitch ever so slightly.

“Maybe not, but I worry that the vessel…” You can’t finish the sentence and you don’t need to, Abelard knows the situation after the space battle as well as you do. “I will sleep better when we manage to arrive at Footfall.”

“And we will.” Firmness in Abelard’s tone catches you by surprise and you look at him again only for your eyes to meet his. “Lord Captain, while I would be the first to tell that a healthy dose of paranoia is needed and even necessary for a Rogue Trader, I have to remind that you also need to think about your wellbeing. Millions of people depend on you and none of your subjects wish you to fall ill with worry or stress.”

“You sound worried yourself.” You manage another crooked smile but Abelard’s stern eye remains affixed on you with an unwavering look.

“I am. For you.”

The ancient chrono by your personal cogitator is the only one making sounds as you both look at each other and you finally give in, buckling under the intense gaze of a Seneschal’s grey eye. Your shoulders slump a little and you look at your glass, then sigh in capitulation.

“Very well. If you so wish for me to take a step back, then share a drink with me. I could use some company.”

Before Abelard has a chance to object or try to find a way to remain his usual stoic self, you stand, your massive chair slipping easily over the floor and forcing the Seneschal to step backwards from you.

“Lord Captain-“

“No lord captains, Abelard.” After a brief pause you add with defeat and resignation. “This is an order.”

There’s no mistaking the solemn tone in your voice as you issue your command and Abelard hesitates, but you do see him give you a curt nod with a corner of your eye while you walk around the desk to the right where a big, wooden couch is pushed against a wall, only a column separating it and the chrono.

When you approach the near ancient furniture piece, noticing that the padding has been replaced recently (most likely to remove Mort’s blood that was splattered on it on the night Theodora died), you sit, realizing that until now you haven’t done it. Couple weeks passed with so much happening that a simple act of sitting on a couch in your own study didn’t even occur to you. Not that you had any reason to do so until now.

Sounds of the decanter reach you when Abelard pours himself a drink and he makes an effort to look in your direction. It’s not hard to decipher his inquisitory glance and you nod, watching the Seneschal carry the crystal pitcher towards you and refill your glass.

“Thank you.”

Gratefully you look down at the pale amber liquid and take a sip while Abelard walks back to reinstate the decanter back to its rightful spot and then return to you, hesitating for a long moment until he finally sits down, with respectable and polite distance between you two. It makes your heart sink, but you try not to show it and just lift your glass to the first officer and smile.

“Don’t look so sour, it’s just one drink. Cheers.”

“I’m not displeased, Lord Captain, just worried for your wellbeing.” Abelard responds and watches you keenly when you drink at the same time he does. “You need to rest instead of staying up, drinking.”

“For a man your age, I hoped that you can understand a need for some company.” You raise an eyebrow at him and Abelard looks like he’s about to argue with you, but then lets out an exhausted sigh and finally offers you a small smile of his own.

“That I do, Lord Captain. Although I’m sure you could find better company for a casual conversation other than me.”

“And who you would suggest then?” Your smile widens and you watch with delight as Abelard’s composure wavers in light of you pushing back against his self-deprecating sentiment.

“Well, you can ask anyone aboard to share a drink with you.” He says with a degree of hesitation and your smile becomes bitter on your lips.

“You mean I can order them and they won’t be able to refuse.”

“Those willing to refuse a Rogue Trader would be, pardon my language, idiots, Lord Captain.”

“But I don’t want to order people to have a drink or a chat with me, Abelard. Even if I had… to order you.” A smile on your face fades as it was never there to begin with and you sigh, your shoulders slumping once again and you look at the glass in your hand, swirling the liquid briefly.

The weight of reality is just too much for you right now. You used to have friends before this, comrades, people who joked with you and didn’t need to be commanded with a threat of execution looming above them if they even thought of refusing you. Where’s that camaraderie that you miss so much right now? You don’t know if you will experience the joy of having friends and allies like you had in the past. You knew that with power and duty - loneliness comes as well, you just couldn’t guess how all-encompassing that loneliness can get and how quickly it will get to you.

Now you know.

You don’t notice how long the silence lasts, but a quiet shuffle finally draws your attention and before you even see it, you feel a hand on your shoulder. Abelard slid across the couch a little closer so that he reaches you and offers you one compassionate gesture that he comfortably allows himself.

First you look at his hand, marred with scars from countless battles while serving the Imperial Navy and then Lady Theodora, before you look at his face again, noticing expressed worry in his features.

“Lord Captain…” He begins, hesitating and picking his words carefully, then gives your shoulder a comforting squeeze while warmth of his palm begins to seep through your clothes already. “Feeling a tad… isolated as a Rogue Trader is not an uncommon sentiment.” Abelard’s voice is even, steady, like bedrock. “But you will find allies worth sharing your private moments with. You found yourself in this new life quite recently. It is difficult right now, it’s just the beginning, I understand, but don’t let it get to you, Lord Captain. In due time you will have a network of worthy allies and trusted friends.”

“Are you not one of them?” You can’t help but ask, and wonder if your eyes betray just how hopefully you voiced your inquiry.

Abelard does see, clear as day and he sighs, smiling to you.

“Of course I am, but I’m your officer, your Seneschal. In the end – I am just your loyal servant, Lord Captain, and you deserve people who are your equals.”

You blink few times in surprise and swallow dryly, bringing the glass to your lips to wet your throat.

“You don’t think we’re equals?”

At this Abelard part laughs, part scoffs as if with humorous disbelief.

“I am but a soldier, Lord Captain, and you are a head of the von Valancius dynasty. There’s oceans of difference in rank between you and me.” Then after a pause, he gives your shoulder another comforting squeeze. “But that doesn’t mean that I do not enjoy serving Her Ladyship, even if that means sharing a drink during a late night.” Softness in Abelard’s voice makes you look at him again and you take another sip from your glass while your eyes search his for the truth. Does he say this because he means it or out of duty that you haven’t seen waver even once since you came aboard this spacecraft?

“That’s not exactly what I meant.” You admit and feel Abelard withdraw his hand. Again you capture his wrist and nearly let go immediately, but refuse your instinct of propriety take over, holding onto it like it’s a fragile lifeline keeping you from sinking into the waters of solace.

“I know what you meant, Lord Captain.” Abelard sighs, somehow not surprised that you are holding onto him again, but you should’ve suspected that a man of his long life and even greater experience would notice what’s amiss faster than you were willing to show. “But I don’t want you to look for camaraderie in your subjects, you will find men and women more worthy of your time than your servants.”

No, he doesn’t understand and a feeling akin to desperation grips you. You have to make him understand so you squeeze his wrist firmer and lean in his direction, making a point of holding eye contact even before you start speaking.

“You are my equal, Abelard. To me – you’re not just my servant. You’re my most trusted ally, you’re my Seneschal, you are… the only friend I have aboard this ship, or maybe in the entire galaxy.” Something begins to choke you as you finish and turning your eyes away you let go of his wrist, feeling that you just overstepped an invisible line. “Apologies.” You whisper and empty your glass, unable to look at Abelard in this moment.

You hear the man let out a heavy sigh and he too drinks some more, unsure of what to say. Seconds pass, then maybe a minute, with increasingly uncomfortable silence mounting while neither of you speak.

“I think I better return to those reports. And I promise to look into what tasks I can delegate to others tomorrow.” A smile, forced one, makes its way onto your face and you stand, but don’t get to fully finish your movement because Abelard’s grip prevents you from doing so, his fingers wrapping firmly around your own wrist this time.

You plop down onto the couch and look at him with mild worry and curiosity, even some reluctance because you don’t want to hear he might possibly want to say. Something about that you shouldn’t think of him as a friend, maybe that you shouldn’t be so trusting, but no, the Seneschal just looks slightly sad, like indeed he is pitying you.

“You may feel lonely, but you are not alone.” Abelard says quietly and that mysterious, but very overwhelming sensation of choking returns. You swallow once or twice, trying to push the ball of emotion beginning to strangle you. “I am honored to keep you company in your moments of need or those of celebration, but one day you will find your people, not those who have sworn to serve you or to protect you because of your elevated station, you will-“

You don’t want to listen to this anymore, sugary words and promises of things to come when you’re aching now. So you do something brave.

Brave and very very stupid.

Letting your empty glass drop onto the metal grate at your feet, but ignoring the sound of shattering crystal, you move forward and throw yourself against Abelard, wrapping your arms around him in a hug that leaves no room for you to disguise how much your entire body is shaking. You press your face to the cold steel plate of Seneschal’s armor and close your eyes so tightly, like you want to prevent them from ever opening again.

“Lord Captain!” Senior officer exclaims and stiffens in your embrace but when you don’t move you hear him sigh and place his glass somewhere to the side. “Lord Captain… This is very inappropriate.” He murmurs and yet after a moment of vacillation, when his duty versus his desire to comfort you battle, he at last slowly puts his arms around you as well.

You don’t respond, don’t want to and don’t need to. You just sit still, with your body against his and smell everything that is Abelard: a musk of his masculine perfume, faint scent of oil from his trusty chainsword, even fainter smell of his bathing products. He smells clean, strong and strangely reassuring. A scent of a hard working, loyal man in your retinue. It makes you feel safe and protected, even more compared to when the Seneschal stands by your side with his sword raised and a pistol aimed at anyone who wishes you harm.

“Do you feel any better, Lord Captain?” He asks after a long, wonderful moment passes and you breathe easier, smiling even if he cannot see it at the angle your head is pressed against his chest. It’s a genuine smile, relaxed one, the kind of smile you have near forgot how to smile with.

“Yes, thank you.” You whisper and Abelard lets out a relieved sigh, then strokes your back with one palm so caringly that you begin to crave for this hug to last forever.

But there’s more. You want more than this, you want to forget yourself or your new life even just for a moment longer, something that haven’t happened even once since that day when Kunrad’s betrayal shook the entire dynasty to its core. And you forget yourself.

You forget and you yearn.

When you lift your face to Abelard you see a comforting smile on his features, making his scarred face look even more handsome than usual. Before you can think better, before you can stop yourself, before you can even realize that what you’re doing is now truly stepping over any and all appropriate boundaries between a Rogue Trader and her Seneschal, you straighten your back and press your chest to Abelard’s, pushing him against the backrest of the couch. When his eyes widen in attempt to comprehend what are you doing, your face levels with his and your gaze betrays your intentions so clearly that the man has a hard time processing the sudden change.

“Lord Captain, what is…” Abelard trails off when you lean closely to him, so close that you sense his breath fawn over your skin and man’s arms around you flex for a moment as if unable to decide if to pull you off or draw you closer.

“Please, just this… one… thing…” You hear yourself speak in a whisper so quiet it’s barely voiced at all and you can’t stop yourself, your overwhelming need for more just takes complete control. With your hands steadying you with a grip on his sides, you lean to Abelard, closing whatever is left of the distance between you and him, and press your lips against his.

Even the chrono seems to stop counting seconds and you feel Abelard freeze in spot, his fingers twitching briefly while they are still on your back, then you pull away slightly and look at him from under your eyelashes. Has he always been so alluring? The cornerstone of your new life from the moment you stepped into your shiny, novel role. Why you haven’t seen Abelard for what a man he is until now?

But now that you have, you are unsure if you can stop yourself with just stealing a kiss, and how your Seneschal blushes, ever so slightly, how his eye is wide with disbelief at what you just did, how his lips, slightly glistening from being pressed to yours, quiver just before he speaks… yes, you want even more than just this and your body responds to your mind’s desire, lighting a flame within you that can only be quenched one way and one way only.

“Lord Captain, this is way out of the line of appropriate conduct! You absolutely cannot do this!” Abelard speaks and his voice does sound offended, yet his eyes glance to your lips and he doesn’t move to push you off.

“Do you not want me to do this?” You ask with a small smile, confident that he won’t refuse you, that you can break this man’s impeccable bearing and experience, just to see what kind of fire roars behind the closed gates of his perfect conduct.

“It’s now about one’s wishes, Lord Captain, and you very well know this. This is an utterly improper behavior for a Lady of your status and as my direct superior!” And yet he still doesn’t dare pushing you off, only glances down when you rise one hand, caressing downwards his breastplate, then find the buckle of the straps holding it together. Soft sound of metal as you undo the clasp fills the temporary silence and you bite your bottom lip briefly.

“Maybe I’d like to know your wishes, Abelard. Do they include more than just pure duty? I hope they do.” You whisper and lean closer, watching Seneschal’s face become a shade redder when your palm slides under the steel plate now that it has been loosened and stroke his chest through his coat.

“My… wishes?” For a second he’s caught up in your gaze which is clearly showing your desire and the man considers you for a moment longer while you feel his heart beating harder against his ribcage. His eyes sweep down your face, noticing your own soft blush and your parted lips, enchanting him like an invitation.

It’s been so long he felt this… wanted. This desired. This much needed, and Abelard tries to grapple with his self-control, reminding himself of duty, of honor, how utterly infelicitous it would be if he responded to your advances. And yet the stirrings in his loins and the beat of his heart makes him yearn in return. Maybe if he allowed himself just another little kiss. Maybe, he can stop before it gets completely out of hand. Clearly his Lord Captain is in need for consolation and the Seneschal is not sure if he has the heart to deny you.

“My wishes remain the same.” He finally speaks again, the fingers on your back twitch again ever so slightly and move as Abelard’s fingertips begin to trace your spine so slowly you wouldn’t even notice if you weren’t completely still. “I wish for your wellbeing, Lord Captain.” And yet, despite his words, there’s that undercurrent you have been hoping for – the one of poorly controlled desire.

A widower who might as well have forgotten how a woman’s touch feels like. Are you the first since his wife’s passing to show interest in a man like him? The answer doesn’t matter, because when you inhale, preparing to respond, to push his limits of self-control a little further, your command over the entire situation gets usurped in a way you have no wish to protest – Abelard kisses you after quickly craning his neck while his hand at the same time press against your back, pushing you against him.

Just a kiss, you both tell to yourselves, just a moment of weakness and desire for closeness. It doesn’t have to go further than that, lead to anything more than this, to break protocols of conduct or rank, and yet it grows… the passion.

You are lost in this reciprocated kiss, your lips parting and letting Abelard in to taste liquor on your tongue just as you can taste it on his and you press yourself against the officer even firmer, control slipping like sand through your fingers. Abelard is not immune either, because one hand moves from your spine to cradle the back of your head as he deepens the kiss even more, expertly making your own heart thunder in your chest with how much passion he’s pouring into this seemingly simple exchange. Your breath hitches and you gently push against the Seneschal’s chest, parting your lips in exchange for deep breaths that mingle with his own labored panting.

One last chance to stop before this gets completely out of control and you destroy it with your hand as if you’re wiping off a fog from a mirror by placing a palm on his crotch and feeling a needy hardness there, just as you wished for.

“Abelard…” You whisper, pouring all the unsaid words into the syllables of his name and the man responds by conquering your mouth with another deep kiss.

“My Lady…” He utters against your lips in turn and you hope with all hope that he doesn’t stop because you don’t know if you can return from this until you reach the very end.

There’s no risk of Abelard stopping now though, because when the kiss breaks again he stands, for a brief moments startling you that he indeed will walk off, maybe even without a word, just to preserve whatever dignity he imagines he needs to save on your behalf, but no, with a huff he kneels in front of you and places his palms on your thighs. With upturned face your Seneschal pauses as you try to catch your breath.

“Lord Captain… Forgive me.” He says in a quiet, almost reverent voice, but then slides his hands higher and begins to undo your coat. You watch him unfasten two buttons before you caress the side of his face, careful of the augmetic connections to his bionic eye.

“Don’t apologize. Unless you want to walk away.”

“No, I… I don’t. I just hope neither of us will regret it.” He mutters and you see a shadow of worry slip across his otherwise determined expression and you make him pause, lifting his face to you by the chin.

“I know I won’t.” You assure Abelard and he shows a small, but confident smirk to you.

“Then neither will I, Lord Captain.”

You lean lower and place a nearly innocuous kiss to his lips, wanting him to return to your side on the couch, but he has other ideas and Abelard lets the kiss break so that he can continue undoing your coat. Once that is done, your jacket follows and then, your shirt. You notice a slight tremble in the officer’s fingers as he works one button after another, but his face betrays eager anticipation rather than reluctance, so you don’t mention it, just watch Abelard’s expression as he finally parts the edges of fabric that hid you from him until this very moment.

A breath hitches in his throat and Abelard pauses, tracing fingertips over your stomach, higher, around your bra-clad breasts until he cups them fully with both palms.

“Holy Terra…” He whispers, making you smile with a satisfied and warm smile that he doesn’t see because Abelard is too focused on your body. Again, with just fingertips, he grazes the mounds of your breasts and hesitates, but only to make up his mind between diving in and peppering your skin with kisses or undoing your bra entirely.

He chooses the latter.

A brief glance to your face as if to assure himself that you still very much need him just as he needs you and Abelard moves his hands to the alleyway of your breasts where the clasp resides, hiding what little decorum you still have left. No words are spoken when he undoes the mechanism and carefully, like a worshiper handling a holy relic, he peels the thin layer of your bra. You hear him audibly inhale when your breasts, released from their lacy prison, rise with each of your breaths.

“By the Emperor’s grace…” Abelard whispers again, not able to help himself and without hesitation or a second of pause he leans in and presses his lips against your chest, to your collarbone, forcing you to lean backwards against the backrest of the couch and tip your head upwards.

You mutter his name like a quiet prayer and run your fingers through his short, grey hair, letting your eyelids close and his hands grip your waist like he’s afraid that you might disappear if he doesn’t hold onto you. Slowly, gently, his kisses a trail lower, back to the mounds of your breasts, giving attention to each equally all the while his trimmed beard leaves your skin tingling where it rubs against you. He whispers your name, so quietly it almost escapes your notice and you forget it completely when suddenly your right nipple is engulfed in the heat of Abelard’s mouth, accompanied by gentle sucking that increases when you respond with a soft mewl.

With fingers still clutching the Seneschal’s hair, you lower your chin to watch him lavish attention onto your breasts, not taking too long to move onto the second and elicit more soft moans out of you, especially after he tests your limits and pulls at the left one with his teeth before releasing it and making you squirm where you sit. A confident smile, one that you haven’t seen on your trusted advisor, appears on his face, in tandem with a look in his eye that tells you that all the titles and ranks are now forgotten until later notice.

“You’re beautiful.” He whispers against your skin, leaving your saliva lathered nipples to cool in the room’s air while he leans down again, kissing between your breasts, and again traveling lower while with a firm grip he supports you just under your ribcage, pulling at your waist and making your back arch.

You don’t know what to say or even if you need to say anything at all, but you chew on your bottom lip in anticipation while Abelard takes his time to unbuckle your belt and unzip your pants. A glance up and your eyes meet, a shared desire reflected in them, then you finally let go of his hair to prop yourself and lift your hips for him to peel your pants down your legs. Just for a moment he halts, then drags your panties together with your trousers. Buckles of boots get less time spent on them and then you’re naked in front of him, with a heat pulsing between your pressed legs.

Still on his knees, Abelard gently takes an ankle of your right leg and leans down pressing a chaste kiss on top of it, then begins trailing more of them upwards, to your knee, then over your thigh, all while his hands slide upwards the sides of your legs, following his rise. After a moment his hands slip to your knees and Seneschal rises his eyes to you, pure lust reflecting in them so much it makes you swallow, your own desire flaring up to match his.

“Don’t be shy, Lord Captain, let me see.” Gruffness in Abelard’s voice yields you even wetter than you were up until this point and you feel him pull your knees apart, to which you submit and grip the edge of the couch, seeing your arousal shamelessly smeared on your inner thighs.

Abelard inhales at the sight and you watch him involuntarily swallow, just like you did a second ago, and then he leans in, pressing his tongue to your drenched folds. You let out a moan as you inhale with sudden new sensation instantaneously clouding your mind and again grip his hair, then cup the back of his head when Abelard wantonly laps at your core, tip of his tongue slipping easily between each fold until it teases your entrance at which you mewl again.

“Abelard, Emperor…” You huff as he slides his tongue as deep into you as he can, as if wanting to taste your very essence, everything that makes up your desire for him, but he doesn’t linger, first brushing his upper lip over your swollen clit until his tongue follows, moving in circles and making you gasp with each breath you take.

Your fingers in his hair tremble as you watch your Seneschal lap at you like a man starved and you shudder each time he presses his tongue flat against the bundle of nerves that shoots a jolt through your spine with increasing euphoria. You mutter his name again, calling for him with a siren song he cannot resist. Abelard very much would like to see you come apart like this, to feel your thighs tremble against his ears and clamp over them as you shake with your climax, but he knows that he can make you feel so much more if he doesn’t rush. So he lifts his head, licking his lips clean after tasting the sweetest ambrosia you could have offered to him, and finally rises from his knees, gripping your hips with firm grasp and maneuvering you onto the couch and onto your back.

You reach up, wanting to remove at least some of his clothing that the officer is still wearing, but with one knee between your parted legs, to prevent you from closing them and hiding the most inviting view, Abelard begins to swiftly undress. Practiced movements of his fingers unfasten the clasps of his breastplate, placing it by the couch before he undoes his coat and shirt underneath. Your eyes roam his chest, still toned from battle and active lifestyle that he lives even under your command, and your fingers trace the top of it, slipping down over the grey chest hair that you so desire to be held against.

Abelard can see the passion and desire in your face, but he doesn’t need any more proof that you want him and only him, he got that confirmed when he felt your twitches and heard your moans just earlier while on his knees.

“Wider.” He softly says despite his tone having a layer of coarseness from his own need, and you spread your legs further apart for him while Abelard swiftly, in curt movements, undoes his belt, then his pants, finally showing you as much of himself as he is seeing of you.

You inhale sharply when you see Seneschal’s desire for you on full display and your eyes travel the length of his cock, from the root that is surrounded by neatly trimmed hair, then along the shaft, to the tip that is already weeping for you. You. You are having this effect on a man who you’ve come to know having steel-like resolve and composure.

While you swallow at the sight of Abelard’s hardness swinging gently but with heaviness, he slides a knee under your left thigh, keeping one foot down on the floor and his hands caress your breasts, ghosting over them at first, as if he’s too afraid to touch you again, but then his gaze washes over you like a scorching wave, seeing moistness seep out of you and downwards, last bits of restraint that he might has still been clinging to evaporate like a morning mist.

He grasps your breasts, massaging them while your fingers slide down to his abdomen and lower, then you take the slightly twitching length into your hands, giving it couple slow strokes that makes you moan softly. You want to feel him inside you and you can barely stop yourself from begging. Thankfully, Abelard does not have a mind to prolong this more than he already has. After playfully pinching your nipples and making you cry out, he grips the base of his cock, waiting just a moment longer for you to release it before aligning it with your entrance and beginning to slide in.

“Throne preserve me…” He says with a grunt and a sigh of utter satisfaction at the sensation of your wet heat surrounding his length, accommodating him with ease because of how aroused you are.

Abelard alternates between watching himself claim you and your face, to make sure that you’re comfortable, but you are much more than comfortable. You yourself are watching his cock push inside of you and you sigh with a moan when at last he buries himself fully inside. Your left hand clings to his thigh that is under your leg and you grab the armrest of the couch just above your head as well.

“You’re so beautiful, Lord Captain.” Abelard grunts, trying not to immediately begin plowing into you, starting it slow. One stroke, then two, prolonging the sensation of each and making both of you mark them with moans. “So… beautiful…” He says again and presses a palm to your right thigh, pushing it even further apart, then he places a palm on your stomach and his thumb presses against your clit, making you arch your back ever so slightly.

You watch his face, watch his eyes roam over you as he begins slowly picking up the pace, all while moving the pad of his thumb in circles and making you moan louder and harder, making you quiver already. Your fingers clutch his thigh and the armrest stronger and the ancient wood creaks under the weight motion of you indulging in each other.

“Deeper…” You huff, knowing that he can give you more of himself and Abelard eagerly complies, moving his palm from your stomach to grip the underside of your knee that was draped over his thigh just a moment ago, lifting it near to your chest while he leans in, and with one swift stroke, enters so deep that you cry out with pleasure.

“I knew you were needy.” Abelard whispers with a smile and you smile too, your flushed face and misty eyes etching themselves into his very heart.

“And you’re willing to oblige.” You whisper back and he chuckles, leaning onto his elbow and entangling his fingers into your hair when he cradles the top of it.

“That’s because you make it impossible not to.” Abelard huffs and kisses you deeply, beginning to move again, slower until you adjust to the new angle and depth, and then harder, his desire making him chase for his bliss. He doesn’t know how long exactly it has been since he felt this way, but the sensation is so overwhelming he cannot stop himself. “God-Emperor…”

He moves faster and stronger, with the new angle he keeps your leg firmly in place and his grip becomes almost bruising as he groans and sighs with every thrust that he delivers, making you moan and grasp onto him in return. Sheen of sweat on your brow, his beard tickling your neck as he kisses it and hard, deep pumps that Abelard grants you every time he rolls his hips against yours make beautifully licentious sounds each time his skin slaps against yours, accompanied by your body squelching around his soaked length. It’s like a melody to you both. This feels good, too good.

“Abelard, I’m-“ You start but cry out when he once again sheathes himself into you to the hilt and you sense him smile into the crook of your neck before the Seneschal rises his head and gives you a short kiss onto your bottom lip.

“Let me see you come undone, Lord Captain. Grant me this privilege.” He huffs and you suddenly realize that he’s tethering the edge of a climax himself, holding back only for you.

“Will you grant me the same sight?” You somehow manage to whisper a complete sentence and another kiss presses against a corner of your mouth.

“Of course.” He smiles and this time kisses you deeply, but briefly. His desire to see you fall apart under him trumping over his desire to keep tasting you.

Few more erratic yet precise strokes, few more thrusts that have you crying out with increasing pleasure and then – utter bliss. Your back arches, your nails dig into Abelard’s side and into the wood of the couch and you shiver, your body spasms with a wave after wave of pleasure that eradicates every worry, every doubt, every shadow from your mind. All while you don’t even realize how you keep crying out Abelard’s name as if you’re calling for the Emperor himself.

It’s everything to the Seneschal and he can’t endure this any longer, his restraint falling away completely and with a moan, while keeping his eyes on you, as you cup the side of his face after releasing your grip from the armrest, he spills himself in stuttering spurts that make his body tense and his thrusts falter in their rhythm until he stops completely, pressing his sweaty forehead against similarly slick yours.

Seconds or minutes pass while you both try to catch your breaths and remain still, yet Abelard’s muscles begin to shake from strain and he presses one gentle kiss to your parted lips, before he sits up and carefully pulls out of you, making you whimper both from small burst of pleasure and the absence that you weren’t quite ready to feel. He strokes your high with a tired, but content smile and eyes you entirely.

“I see my Lord Captain has been thoroughly sated, or am I mistaken?” He asks and his voice is hoarse, but you find yourself wanting to hear it like this forever.

“Temporarily.” You smile to him as well and Abelard’s face gain near comical expression of surprise until he chuckles and shakes his head.

“I may be too old for this.” He laughs softly and you sit up, gently cupping the underside of his jaw and leaning closer.

“Not too old for me.” You let your words hang in the air as you both smile to each other and then you kiss him, rejoiced when Abelard pulls you into his lap and your chest presses against his, skin to skin.

Your protector, your Seneschal, your advisor and now your lover.

Perhaps the ally you truly needed has been by your side all along and you wouldn’t dare complain about it.

Not even a little bit.

[anime-fan-05]

Hello my friend; For my first request, I wanted to see if you could do a headcanon with the Attack on Titan with a black s/o or my Oc Leah but with a cosmic universal spiritual power(she’s younger than Eren and she's 5'2) and She has the power of the Zodiac Sign Taurus (Since her birthday is April 23rd and she is younger than Eren by a few months) which is known as earth, give life and death with the power of Emotion Empowerment and Spiritual Gateways/Tears(she can open portals to different places) with glowing stars/ balls of light (which can channel their emotions into powers) and a variety of magical powers such as Flight, Telekinesis, Force fields, Teleporting, and Telepathy, Creation of Shooting Star Showers, Levitation, Gravity Manipulation, Hologram-Like Projections.❤️😊❤️😊

Attack on Titan ~Characters with a black reader with cosmic goddess powers~

Manga/anime: Attack on Titan

Warnings: spoilers of all the manga

I wrote as if the reader was your OC, I hope you don't mind!

Eren probably has an interest in you, after all, you both have supernatural powers. He really likes your manners, especially your thoughtfulness towards those you care about. He has a crush on you and, the more the years pass, the more he will love you. When he's stuck in Marley, he'll always be thinking of you, praying that you're okay; when he's locked up in the Survey Corps prison and you come to talk to him, he'll treat you with indifference, but in his mind he'll apologize to you a thousand times. He'll always think of you, even when Mikasa kills him.

Armin loves your intelligence and your thirst for knowledge. You two talk a lot, especially about your powers and the outside world. What struck him most was your taking care of your loved ones. Every time you take care of him, he blushes a lot and stammers all the time. He probably has a little crush on you, but I think your relationship will become more that of a brother-sister as the years go by.

Since Eren likes you, Mikasa will be like your big sister and, after everyone discovers your powers, she will be your "bodyguard". Does anyone make fun of you about your height or age or your powers? She will look at him with her murderous gaze. You two take care of Armin and Eren together, and you two support and console each other.

Jean is your great friend, even if sometimes he flirts and jokes with you just to make Eren mad. However, he never actually does it seriously. Sometimes you two think about how to get him and Mikasa together, although many times they don't work out. He thinks of you as a little sister, and he'll always try to defend you.

Sasha adores you. When you two are together, you only talk about food; sometimes you compete to see who can eat the greatest number of dishes (these contests often end in a draw and with your superiors angry). She understands you, because she too is sometimes labeled as different because she eats a lot. You, Sasha and Connie are the joke trio in the entire Survey Corps.

Like Sasha, Connie adores you. You two do a lot of stupid things together! Like Sasha, he also understands you: due to some of your attitudes you're often described as stupid, like him, and he won't think twice about defending you from those who have offended you. When Sasha dies, you'll console each other.

Ymir admires you for your strength, but she doesn't like you: since Historia likes you and you has a very lovable nature, she fears you might take her away from her. However, when she understands you and Eren love each other, she'll behave better towards you. When she's about to die, she will entrust Historia to you.

You are Historia's royal advisor and lady-in-waiting, although you also fight in the Survey Corps. She always liked you (not in the romantic sense), but she's adored you even more since you consoled her for Ymir's death. She even calls you Star Princess because of your powers! When she has her baby, she will make you her godmother.

Annie doesn't like your manners. The only thing she appreciates you for is that you never forced her to fight you when you were paired up for close combat matches when you were training. However, when you Eldians ally with Marley's warriors and Magath against Eren, she will appreciate you also for your determination to kill the one you love, and, before boarding the ship, she will ask you to protect Armin.

At first Reiner was only interested in your powers. However, as time goes by he's more and more conflicted: he's become very fond of you, but he knows he must also kidnap you to take you to Marley to study your powers; when the Survey Corps saves you, he'll be both relieved and dejected. When you Eldians ally with the Marleyans against Eren, he'll beg you to forgive him for everything he has done.

Like Reiner, at first Bertholdt was only interested in your powers and he appreciates you too the more time passes. He feels very comfortable talking to you and, in the end, he'll no longer want to kidnap you, but he'll be forced to do so. In fact, when you are their prisoner, he'll take you aside and apologize to you. When he's about to die, he'll beg you to save him.

For your nature you remind Levi Furlan and for your way of acting you remind him of Isabel. He is very overprotective, respectful, affectionate and loving, although he demonstrates these in his own way, for example staying close to you during expeditions. He treats you and will always treat you like his little sister. If you call him "nii-san" (big brother), he might be moved because he'll think of Isabel.

Hange is like your crazy uncle/aunt. Although, actually, when they learned about your powers, they thought you were a titan and wanted to analyze you. They try to help you with your heart murmur, attempting to come up with something that can relieve the pain, and in exchange you help them with his titan experiments. When they die, they will regret they couldn't help you with your problem.

Erwin really likes your mind and how you think, so he's very protective of you, almost like a father. He wanted to make you Commander of the Survey Corps, but when he told you, you refused in favor of Armin. However, you'll always be one of the main points of his plans: for example, he was the one who advised you to become Historia's advisor, in order to act as an intermediary between her and the Corps.

When people see you and Onyankopon, they think you're father and daughter. In fact, they don't even think badly, because he really treats you like a daughter. The first thing that struck him was your skin: he was very surprised you also had dark skin like him; if someone tries to offend you because of this, they'll have to face their wrath. When you kill Eren, he'll ask you to live with him as his daughter.

The first time you and Yelena met, she wasn't surprised about your powers: Eren told her about you, reiterating the fact that no one should have ever hurt you. She talks to you a lot and tells you about Marley, thus becoming almost like a mother or an aunt to you. When you're in Odiha, you'll console her about the failure of Zeke's plan and she will beg you to stop Eren. When you kill Eren, she'll ask you to live with her too.

Niccolò loves your love for his food and he's very surprised that you eat so much without gaining weight or feeling sick. He really enjoys cooking all of Marley's dishes for you and loves it when you teach him the Island ones. When Sasha dies, he'll come to you for comfort. After Eren's death, he'll continue to cook for you.

At first Gabi hated you: for her you were just one of the Devils of Paradis. However, now she adores you since you saved her and Falco from Niccolò's fury and she will try to console you after Eren treats you badly. After Eren dies, she will introduce you to her family and will come to visit you periodically with them.

Unlike Gabi, Falco immediately appreciated you. The first time you met was at the Blouse house: you had gone to visit Sasha's parents and you recognized him and Gabi, but you didn't unmask them. In fact, you asked them how they were and what they were doing there. He almost sees you as his big sister and calls you "nee-san" (big sister). After you kill Eren, he'll come to visit you very often.

Porko doesn't like you, because you're his enemy and because you and the other Eldian soldiers attacked his house. He doesn't know how to react when, after infiltrating Paradis' army, you realize he's a warrior but you don't say anything: he's a mixture of surprise, recognition and anger. He also won't know how to react when you try to save him just before Falco devours him.

From the first time she saw you, Pieck knew you were a special person, but not because of your powers: more because you made Reiner's will waver. Anyway, she didn't like you at first, since you were an enemy. You fought twice, and she admits that you were stronger than her. When you team up together, she will be kind to you, and after you kill Eren, you'll be great friend.

Zeke learnt about you and about your powers from Reiner and Bertholdt. In your first meeting, he was both amazed and softened by your and Eren's relationship, emotions heightened when Eren told him he would abandon the euthanasia plan if anyone hurt you. You'll talk to each other in the Paths for the last time and you and Armin will convince him to let Levi kill him to stop Eren.

💮 Rules 💮 Masterlist 💮

[inkofamethyst]

February 17, 2023

I think... I think when you’re not used to being pursued, it can feel a little scary.  And I personally have recognized a pattern in myself where I freak out a little in cases like that and I think it probably traces back somehow to my self-esteem issues (just like everything else).  When biochem guy told me he liked me and I had a mild anxiety attack, the whole time I was dating saxophone guy, and now that I’m being pursued by quite a few schools (and because grad admissions has a smaller pool than undergrad you can really get to know the people behind the curtain making the decisions, almost every email I get is targeted, not some marketing email with a “dear applicant” opener, and it feels very much like a pursuit), it makes me feel boxed in for some reason, and I can’t figure out why.  I should be happy, so why do I feel like I’m seconds away from tears all the time.

Yeah, I should probably start up therapy again.  Because this ain’t it.

Yesterday I cried twice because I felt so overwhelmed.  My Choice E potential advisor sent me an email saying how excited he was after our conversation, and he sent me a little (a lot) reading for when I had the time (at this point, I may never get to my Star Trek novel :/).  I got an email from my museum-mentor-dude and a text from my museum-mentor-lady (they wrote my recs and are involved in admissions decisions for my Choices B and C), both of whom congratulated me on the Choice E acceptance.  Now, I hadn’t told them because I’d been told to keep it on the down low until I got the official offer, but apparently my Choice E potential advisor (who knows those two people well) was so excited after our meeting that he shared the news with them (totally stealing my thunder (I’m not actually upset because !!!!! but I kinda wish I had been the one to tell them, you know?)).  So they offered their congrats and one asked if I wanted to chat about it (I didn’t because a) I didn’t have an official offer in hand, so I wasn’t really thinking about it and b) that was obviously a lie and I had actually been thinking about it a lot for a day straight and I still wasn’t entirely sure what I was going to do and c) one of them was still involved in the decision-making process for my last school and I’m too close to seven-for-seven to mess that up).  At the same time, I got an email from my Choice F potential advisor asking me if I was comfortable sharing what other schools I’d applied to to help them develop better recruitment packages, and that just felt eerily too coincidental of an email.  Then I got an email from my Choice A potential advisor asking if I wanted to talk to him or other grad students about his school, and I knew I had been planning to reject their offer this week, but that email made it a little too real and was also eerily coincidental.  Then I got an email from my Choice B asking for me to schedule a congratulatory/Q+A call, again, the timing was sus.

And I felt like the walls were closing in.

I responded to the text briefly but I couldn’t bear to answer even one of those emails.  I just felt so overwhelmed with people wanting things from me.  Me, in particular.  It’s not the same as having five assignments due in a night because I in those cases I don’t have every teacher individually looking me in the eye and expecting something from me.  It was different still from singing a solo on stage with a few hundred eyes in the audience because then I can put on a character and it feels like the focus isn’t on me but on a character.  But in this process there is no stage, no character, just me.  I felt overexposed.  I felt like a deer caught in front of five pairs of headlights.  I hadn’t had much for breakfast that morning, but all feeling in my stomach had abandoned me.  I procrastinated by doing some unpacking for my TA gig, and some of the other TAs were having a meeting with the prof in the room.  They asked me about my admissions season, and that was the first time in a long time that I’d had trouble fully explaining why I felt so anxious.  “Oh, woe is me, I have too many options, boo hoo.”  I get it, I hear it too.  I’m not ungrateful by any means.  I just feel.. paralyzed.  That good old paralysis, back at it again.

I called my dad and talked through (quite expressively) why I felt so awful and we came up with a game plan for who I would respond to and what I would say to them.  And that helped.  Didn’t bring back my appetite though.  Took the bus home, played with the puppy, ate, calmed down a little, got lectured at by my parents (it was a good lecture, I guess, them expressing how proud they were of how hard I’d worked, but it was still a lecture nonetheless), went to bed.

Woke up this morning feeling loads better.  Except my calves which were aching from all the releves during ballet the previous day.  But a good ache.  Took a nap today which was nice.

I’m so excited about my Choice E it almost hurts.  It’s almost too perfect.  But I will not make a final decision until after I visit, even if I’m leaning so hard toward them I’m practically falling.  One thing I can’t get over is how I am the culmination of everything my ancestors have worked toward.

Today I’m thankful that my inbox stayed relatively empty today.  And I’m thankful for options.  Even if I hadn’t prepared for so many.

[erodasfishtacos]

Not Your Charity Case

prompt: Harry is a frat boy - who doesn’t need sympathy from anyone. He makes Y/N feel a sense of home when they’re together. But is Harry just like every stereotypical frat boy?

word count: 6.2k 

warnings: minor violence, language, deaf!harry, smutttt

other: when Harry is talking to Y/N or any other characters - it is to be noted that he is signing. When Y/N talks to Harry - she is also always signing

Let me know if you’d want to see anything else from this verse:)

+++

You were rushed - you really shouldn’t stop at the local coffee shop for a sugary, delicious mocha chip frappuccino.

Despite what people say, professors are much more lax and carefree in college.

It was about two weeks into the new semester, - your third here- and the seasons were changing - becoming autumn.

Chilled breezes, falling leaves, and vivid colors of nature made you happy.

When you arrive in line, there are two people ahead of you. A girl currently in front of the cashier and a tall male with a red and black flannel on behind her- typing away on his phone.

When she moves to the left, the broad man steps forward. His snapback facing backwards, brown curls dancing around his neck. You can’t help but notice how tall and lean he is, shoulders broad and straight.

You definitely haven’t seen him before on campus. You’d remember.

From what you can see, he shows the young girl behind the counter the screen of his phone without saying anything at all.

The raven-haired girl’s face pinches in annoyance. “We don’t accept orders like that. You need to tell me what you want.”

You’re a little surprised by both the rude cashier but also the man who doesn’t respond right away.

He attempts to show her his phone again but she shakes her head - annoyed.

You become interested in the situation when I watch him sign, a few gestures before pointing to his ears. In the most obvious form of saying “I can’t hear.”

The clueless girl gives him a blank look, “Listen, there’s a line. I don’t have time for this.”

You hoped you weren’t overstepping your boundaries when you slide up next to him, tapping him on his shoulder to get his attention.

It is a bit startling how gorgeous the boy is. He was tanned with bright green-eyes and a defined jawline that was currently clenched in frustration.

You sign, “What are you trying to order?”

He studies you for a second with hesitance before his long slim fingers begin to move, slowly as if he thinks you may be inexperienced in the form of language.

He replies, “Large coffee with a little cream and two sugars.”

You squeeze in front of him, “It is not only rude but illegal to not serve based on disabilities. Refusing an order from a deaf person isn’t moral or acceptable.”

The girl has enough decency to mumble an apology and turned bright pink, “Sorry, he doesn’t look deaf. “You roll your eyes - how can you tell that someone is deaf based on solely appearance? This girls a fucking idiot, you think.

You repeat his order to her, along with yours - sliding your debit card towards her and give her your name for the order.

The man trails behind you to the small waiting area. “Thank you,” he signs simply. You nod and return the pleasantry. The. hand him his steaming hot coffee.

“Thank you again. I’m going to be late to class, so I have to go,” he tells me, seeming a little out of place signing with a stranger.

“Go ahead, I’ll see you around.” It was the first time in a long time you’ve signed to anyone outside your family.

+++

Sipping your drink as you are only five minutes late and the class hasn’t even started yet. The man you just helped was sat in the back of the classroom, unloading his laptop.

With a little bravery, you wriggle your way through and plop into the wooden chair easily. Letting your backpack fall to the ground. Curly looks over at you with a frown, he signs, “Why are you sitting next to me?”

You blush, “I don’t know? Thought it’d be good to have someone to talk to.”

His hands are tense as he replies, “I’m not a charity case, so you can leave me alone.”

“Never said you were,” you huff when you tell him. Not appreciating how rude he was being. Signing had its own tones and expressions so to speak. For example, when someone is happy their signs and movements are different than when they’re sad or frustrated.

Harry seems to be the latter. You wrestle out your laptop to the PowerPoint that was going to be discussed today in class. You noticed Harry stared very intently at the professor to read his lips and expression.

You was surprised he didn’t have an interpreter with him but you’re sure he got special accommodations elsewhere. Even though that was absolutely none of your business.

His shoulders are tensed and he makes sure your arms don’t brush like you have cooties for the entire two hours. The nameless boy is up and out of his seat as soon as the professor shuts off the projector and turns on the lights - signaling class to be over.

Well fuck him then.

***

You don’t make the mistake to sit next him again. But that doesn’t mean you could ogle his strong muscular back and big hands.

It wasn’t your place to care but you felt twinges in your tummy when you noticed him struggling to keep up with the fast-speed class on certain days.

You were in the large, rustic library that smelled of old books and damp wallpaper. It was dead silent as people furiously studied or worked on papers due.

As you paced the shelves, you could not find the book you needed for your American Literature class. Fuck the Dewey Decimal System.

Part-time uni students probably just stuffed returned books in any open space they saw fit. But you need this book in particular, a discussion board post due by midnight and it was currently eight-thirty. They had ran out of copies at the on-campus bookstore.

After a valiant effort, you trudge up to the checkout counter. A little sign reads, “ring me if no ones here!”

You impatiently ring the silver bell. But no one comes. You give whoever is working a minute or two but nothing. Another ring it is.

Silence. No one. Of fucking course, luck is not on your side tonight.

You dramatically clunk your head onto the high counter top in front of you - groaning at the fact you may fail the assignment.

A tentative pat on your shoulder makes you snap your head up. To see the boy you’ve been constantly avoiding standing behind the checkout desk.

“Are you okay?” He asks. He had a name-tag on - Harry. He honestly looked a bit out of place. Harry appeared to be a frat boy. He was still had a boyish air about him but an intensity that was unmatchable.

He didn’t look like he would work in the library. He looked like...well he looked like he would be a beer pong referee or something.

You couldn’t see below his torso but he had a plain black snapback on and a vintage Elton John concert tee. A cross necklace dangling over the worn shirt.

You smile, embarrassed, but reply, “Just being dramatic. I can’t find a book and I was waiting here.”

There’s mirth in his eyes when he points to the bell,”Did you ring the bell?”

Your brows furrow, “I did.”

“Well I can’t hear it, I’m deaf,” he deadpans with a straight face and a dry sense of humor.

You roll your eyes, laughing nervously, “I didn’t know you were working!”

“What do you need?”

He helps you locate the book in two minutes flat before checking you out and you rushing home to finish the homework.

You felt bad ignoring your little sister’s FaceTime calls but you promised to call her back tomorrow. 

***

Though once again, you hadn’t interacted with Harry since last week - you constantly found yourself studying his stoic profile or fast moving fingers.

You would never befriend Harry because you feel bad for him - like he presumed. You enjoyed American Sign Language and it actually made you feel back at home.

You’re little sister was born completely deaf. She was much younger than you - eight years old. Fifteen years apart to be exact. You learned the language along with her and your parents.

When you were at home and your sister was there - you guys tried to only sign so she didn’t feel left out. So Harry felt like home - a little despite his completely off-putting demeanor. It made you a little bit more persistent than with any other frat boy.

***

The bulletin board in your advisor’s office caught your eyes. None of the little tabs ripped off in interest.

‘Student with ASL experience and above a 3.5 GPA needed for tutoring sessions - twice weekly. $16 dollars an hour.’

After your meeting, you tugged the little scrap of paper off and tuck it into your pocket. You couldn’t know for sure if it was Harry but you didn’t know of any other deaf students in the program.

You say ‘fuck it’ and type out an email to the advisor of academic affairs and accommodations to throw your hat in the ring.

***

You don’t hear back for three days - nearly forgetting about it in the mean time. Your eyes scan quickly over the email to grant you the position. They include contact information for no other than Harry Styles.

After psyching yourself out a little and a few paces across your kitchen tiles - you text him.

Hey! I’m your new assigned tutor. Would you like to set up a time and place? As well as what kind of help you’re looking for.

The reply text comes shortly after

Hello, thank you very much. I am just in need of hearing ears. I am deaf and have a hard time keeping up with the my professor. I have begun recording the lectures in hope that you can sign then to me.

Sure thing. That won’t be a problem!

I live in Alpha Sigma on 3rd street. I have my own room. I’d rather not have the tutoring session in public. However, if that makes you uncomfortable - we can figure something out.

You take a minute to debate. You understand why this would be a task too loud for the library and why he’d want privacy. You didn’t feel like I’d be uncomfortable with him.

I saw twice a week so does Tuesday and Thursday at seven work?

Sounds great. Thank you again x

Did he know it was me? Was he expecting it to me?

***

He was definitely not expecting you. You automatically knew that by the way his friendly smile dissipated into a frown when he opened the door for you.

You attempted to look nice today without trying too hard. A loose crop top with the university’s name, a pair of tight black leggings, bulky white socks bunched at your ankles, and white sneakers. Very 80’s.

You try to keep your composure, “Hi Harry, I’m going to be your tutor.”

He slowly nods at you, huffing out a breathe of irritation before inviting you into the frat house.

You’d only been here once or twice for a party so you had no idea what the house actually looked like when there weren’t bodies and booze everywhere.

He’s walking you past a group of boys playing FIFA on the flatscreen in the living room, white claws open everywhere.

“Y/N! Hey babe!” You look over to see Niall - one of your good friends from your part-time job at the bookstore - trotting over to you guys.

The blonde pulls you into an overexcited hug. He reminded you of a cuddly, soft puppy dog most of the time.

“Are you Harry’s little tutor?” Niall coos, leaning over to pinch Harry’s cheek. 

Harry- who was observing the conversation, focusing in on our lips, immediately bats his friend away. A small scowl forming on his face.

It automatically turns into a playful brawl where Niall tugs Harry into headlock. But he has no strength on the brunette.

Harry turns out of it quickly and pushes Niall to the ground. He straddles his stomach and begins to jokingly pinch and slap at him.

Niall hisses, “Ouch! You motherfucker! Big oaf!”

Then you don’t know why you find this endearing but Niall signs the word, “uncle” a few times to signal he’s accepted his lost.

The fact that they wrestle so much that Niall learned to sign how to give up made you giggle more than it should.

Harry crawls off of him, running a hand through his messy curls, his face a little flushed.

“I’ll talk to you later!” You tell Niall as your trailing behind Harry up a flight of stairs.

His room is extremely neat. A fluffy navy comfort decorated his bed with a few photos of flowers and nature on his wall. A tidy desk tucked away in the corner that had all of his school work loaded on top of it.

He chooses to sit in his desk chair, motioning for you to perch on his bed. You look at him expectantly when he pulls out the tape recorder and sets it on the surface.

He pulls his laptop into his lap and begins signing, “I need you to transcribe the lecture for me so I can follow it. We can skip through the bits where he is rambling or off topic.”

You nod, letting him know to begin whenever he’s ready. He presses the side button and the recording starts but it super unclear and garbled.

“Did you record this from your seat?” You ask, the professors words nearly inaudible and fuzzy.

“Yes.”

“You need to bring it to the front of the room. Ask Dr. Morrison  to lay it on his desk before class. I can’t hear anything but static and mumbles,” You tell him.

He laughs and shakes his head. His movements rough and angry, “Of course its fucked up. I get you as my tutor and then the recorder is shit.”

You glare at him, offended as you haven’t done anything to this boy. “Excuse me? I’ve literally been trying to help since I’ve meet you. What is your fucking issue?”

“I’m not a charity case! I don’t need you to feel bad for me. I’m not helpless! You’re probably just a silly little girl who took ASL in high school because it was cool and trendy. Go back to focusing on psych.”

“Fuck you, Harry,” Your gestures getting sharper and your face sour, “You know nothing about me so don’t act like you do. I don’t feel bad for you or think that you’re helpless.” You put up a hand and tell him to not talk.

“I was just being nice because I thought you were handsome and at first, seemed friendly. It turns out you’re just like every douchebag frat boy I’ve met. What a disappointment,” You chuckle, swinging your bag on your shoulder and storm out of the room without another look.

***

The cafe was jammed packed - it was Waffle Wednesday. You had said waffles in your tray and were about to plop down on a stool when you hear your name being called.

“C’mere, come sit with us!” He hollers over the commotion of the crowd. Niall.

You’re about to decline when some dude slips behind you and snags the stool. Shit.

A bit unwillingly you slide into the booth next to Niall, cracking open your sparkling water. “Mates, this is Y/N, we work at the store together and she’s Harry’s tutor,” he tells them. “Y/N, this is Liam and Louis.”

“Hello,” you try your best to come off as friendly even though you can feel Harry’s glare on the side of your face. You ended up falling to easy conversation with the boys. Niall has a very limited ASL vocabulary but tries.

The boys are also trying to talk slower and more pronounced so Harry can watch and understand. A couple of times he taps Niall on the wrist to repeat what was going on.

Your phone begins buzzing and you apologize for the interruption. It’s your little sister, Mazie, FaceTiming.

You answer the phone with a frown, signing “Aren’t you suppose to be in school?”

Mazie looks upset, eyes a little watery. She gestures back, “I left early. I’m sick.”

“Are you really sick or where you getting bullied again?” You asks her.

Your sister hesitates before sniffling, “You already know. I hate my school.” 

Mazie has had other children bully her for her disability since she started preschool and it as still happening in fourth grade.

“What can I do to help?” You frown, never wanting to see your baby sister cry.

You chat for a few minutes to help her calm down. When the phone call ends, you don’t realize that all the boys were watching you in interest. Harry in particular, keeps his focus on you with a wrinkled forehead.

“My sister’s deaf,” You tell them. The whole time you’ve been sitting with them you’ve been signing and verbally speaking to help everyone be able to be included in the conversation.

“That’s sick!” Louis says, smacking Harry’s arm. “Just like our lad Harry.” 

Harry grumbles when Louis shakes him a little. It seems like the boys loved to physically interact with Harry which was endearing.

Harry allows him to for a moment before he flicks his cheek hard and laughs when Louis flinches. The conversation goes back to normal.

***

Harry jogs up to you after your group shares farewells and a few punches. You pointedly ignore him as you trek to the class you two have together so it’s not like he can’t walk this way too.

“Please, wait,” Harry asks. He walks in front of you.

“What do you want?” You huff, keeping my glare firm and directed alley at him.

“I’m sorry. I made the wrong assumption.”

“You made a lot of wrong assumptions. The fact that you think of me so lowly is sad. I’ve been nothing but nice,” You try not to focus on his large palms that curve over the caps of your shoulders.

“I’m not very trusting of people.”

You snort rather unattractively, “No kidding”

“Can we please start over?” He asks, stepping back to give you space. He didn’t realize how close he’d been standing to you until your hair wisps across his nose.

“One more chance, Styles.”

Harry lays a hand on your upper arm and squeeze lightly before signing the simple gesture of ‘thank you.’

***

It turns out Harry is very handsy and physically affectionate. It wasn’t creepy though or something that ever made you feel uncomfortable.

You were still tutoring him but you hung around the frat with Harry nearly everyday. The days you just wanted to lay in bed resulted in a grumpy FaceTime from Harry.

Harry once stated during a tutoring session, “It is easier for me to show how I’m feeling with touch than words. If I ever make you uncomfortable - please tell me and I will stop.”

You smile slyly at his words that sounded more like a question, asking if he can touch you. “I guess I’ll let you feel me up every now in again.”

He giggles and looks down wolfishly - like an entertaining thought is dancing around in his mind.

You tuck your finger under his chin to gaze at you. “In all seriousness, I give you my consent to show your feelings with physical touch. I trust you and know you won’t do anything to make me uncomfortable.”

The curly-haired brunette smiles happily, his hand cupping the side of your neck and brushing over your pulse point.

He hadn’t touched you here before and it seems like it was his first goal to do so once he got permission. You can’t help but take in a deep gasp of air. You prayed he didn’t notice but by the small lift of his lips he did.

The simple touch made a flame of arousal swirl in your lower stomach. You felt like you were about to start sweating.

“Anyways,” You clear your throat and snatch back up the recorder. It now had better quality after Harry listened to you about placement.

***

The frat house was ridiculously full of drunk college students. Everybody on the dance floor was sweaty and sticky with a variety of different substances.

Niall had invited you - so you were searching about for him. Pushing through the crowd and nobody was able to hear you say ‘excuse me.’

You finally found fresh air in the backyard where beer pong and cornhole were set up. Niall was tossing his ball across the table, trying to splash in Liam’s red solo cups.

Harry was sitting on a cushioned patio chair, watching the game commence. Maybe he was a beer pong referee after all. 

He looked so fucking good tonight. He had a yellow snapback taming his curls - backwards of course. A black Rage Against the Machine shirt and his signature black skinny jeans. **

You made eye contact and were about to wave when a girl plopped down in the seat across from him.

Awkwardly you turn away, greeting the other boys and taking a seat in a lawn chair to watch them start their third round of the game.

Your eyes keep darting over to Harry who is staring blankly at the girl. She starts stroking his biceps and tracing across the tattoos like they belong to her.

Harry is attempting to let her know he’s not interested. His signs uselessly as she’s staring at his lips and not hands.

You’re moving before you know it, without another thought, you squeeze in between the two - separating them. You dramatically slide into his lap, funnily enough one strong arm wrapping happily around your middle.

The pretty blonde pouts out her lips, “Is he your boyfriend?”

Before you’re able to reply, Harry signs the obvious signal for ‘yes’ to the girl. Then rudely makes the shooing gesture. She’s up with a huff and stomping back towards the house.

Harry turns you sideways on his lap so that you two can see each other’s hands, “You saved me.”

“You’re just such a stud, have to protect you,” You joke - but not really.

He raising his eyebrows and smiles, “You were jealous.” It was a statement not a question.

You blush wildly, avoiding eye contact which you know he hates. He hates anytime you cut off ways of communication.

Harry taps your lips until you look up at him, “it’s really fucking sexy when you are.” A perk of sign language. He could dirty talk just about anywhere and mostly no one would ever know.

His thumb drags on your full bottom lip, signing clumsily with one hand so you had to use context clues to piece it together “Don’t think I forgot when you called me handsome a few months ago.”

“I don’t remember, doesn’t sound like me,” You boldly lie, snickering and nipping at the top of his thumb

His eyes become a shade darker when your teeth meet his skin. He presses his thumb further in until it’s in-between your teeth. The moment is broken when Niall screams, “Styles! You’re up next!”

**

You and Harry become separated after you spent nearly two hours watching all these drunk boys play beer pong. Harry was ridiculously good at the game and only had to drink two cups from the table.

You had wandered back into the house where the party had died down. There were only a handful of stragglers left but mostly just the fraternity brothers and their close friends.

With a fresh alcoholic seltzer in your hand - you didn’t trust open bottles at parties like this - you gaze at Harry through the back window.

Harry was being jumped by Liam and Niall. He was snarling playfully as Liam toppled them all over into the grass. Niall tries to stand up but Harry’s hand wraps around his ankle and makes him fall right back on his bum with a girlish squeal.

Niall leans over to give Harry a wet-willy but Liam manages to throw a plastic cup directly at Niall’s forehead. Harry and the other boys dissolve in childish giggles. Faces red from laughter and liquor. You feel a smile painted fondly on your lips from watching them.

“Hey, Y/N right?” A voice interrupts from behind.

You spin to face a guy you barely recognize from a previous class you shared. You smile nonetheless, “Hi...”

“Jake, Jake from Social Constructs and Society last semester.”

“Oh yeah, that’s right,” You smile and allow him to talk your ear off because you struggle to say ‘no.’ He was fine, nothing special, typical business major who thought he was hot shit because his daddy owned a golf course he wanted to take you to.

It was a normal conversation until his voice gets lower as if he’s trying to be more seductive, “Want to head to a room with me?” He nods towards the staircase.

You chuckle in disbelief at his bold and forward question. “No thank you, I’m good.” You really had eyes for one person right now and he was currently cussing out Niall in sign language in the backyard before tackling him once again to the ground.

“C’mon, I can really show you a good time,” He persuades persistently, stepping into your space - causing your nervousness to spike.

“I said - no thank you,”You bite out, starting to feel scared when he blocks your way out of the kitchen and presses himself against you and the counter.

“You’re really something gorgeous, you know?” He asks, ignoring my struggles to get away from him.

“Stop touching me!” You scream, hoping Niall or one of the boys would hear your wail. He puts a hand up to your mouth to muffle you but that only results in you biting him.

“Fucking bitch!” He cries out, pulling his hand back and winding up to either punch or slap you right in the face. You prepare for the impact.

Then in a blink off an eye, it becomes a blur, a muscular figure is crashing into Jake with full force and knocking him straight into the linoleum floor with a loud crash.

It’s Harry. Broad shoulders and thick but lean tattooed biceps. He’s standing over the harasser and drops on top of him. It shouldn’t look as graceful and tactful as it does.

You’d never seen anything like this from Harry before. Once you really got to know him - he was a gentle giant who liked romantic comedies, soft blankets, and vanilla cupcakes with rainbow sprinkles.

Harry’s fist is repeatedly connecting with the dark-haired boy’s jaw with full force. The only noise is from Jake as Harry is dead silent but his eyes zeroed in on the target.

When blood begins gushing from the man’s nose - Niall and Liam decide it times to physically pull Harry up. Harry had a slight red mark on his jaw when Jake had managed one punch before being defeated quickly.

Harry signs to Niall, “Tell him.”

Niall places his foot on the dude’s chest to keep him down, “My mate wants to let you know if you touch her again we’re not going to pull him off and he’ll gladly beat you to a fucking pulp.”

Jake groans, clutching his nose to stop the bleeding, “Fuckin’ asshole.” 

You were still blown away as you watch Harry’s heaving chest as he glares down at the boy. His fist clenched and knuckle bloody and swollen. Harry’s attention turns towards you. His furious expression melts into worry. You can read his face so clearly. He’s afraid he’s scared you off.

It was hard to believe you had this drop dead gorgeous frat boy defending you past midnight on a Friday night. A boy who didn’t need to hear but just to see you needed help to step in.

All your desires and lusts after the man in front of you burst like a rubber-band and the urge to have him felt uncontrollable. “Take me upstairs,” you demand quickly, arousal creeping up your spine.

He doesn’t understand you’re extremely turned on. Instead he looks like a kicked dog who’s about to get in trouble again.

Nevertheless, he takes your hand and maneuvers out of the kitchen and up the stairs until his bedroom door is closed.

Harry lips are turned down unhappily as he begins, “I’m sorry, love. I...” he pauses a moment before continuing. “I just wanted to make sure you were safe. I hope you don’t think less of me.”

You look him dead in the eye and sign, “Kiss me.”

He blinks slowly at you like he just hallucinate the gestures.

So you repeat your motions, slow and with intent, “Kiss me, touch me, do something.” No more time is wasted as he is stepping in front of you and cupping your face in his hands.

Without any hesitation now, he pressing a bruising kiss to your lips - taking your bottom one between his and sucking.

Your hands are immediately tugging at the hem of his vintage shirt, pulling apart to bring it over his head. Dark ink decorates his torso, for some reason something you weren’t expecting. A butterfly on his abdomen, two fern branches, tattoos on his side.

Harry chuckles, “This is new to me.”

Your eyes go wide and you sign, “You’re a virgin?”

Harry snorts and rolls his eyes before telling you, “God no. I mean I’ve never been able to really communicate during sex.”

Then before You can speak, he cuts in a bit frantically, “I’ve always gotten consent - not like that. I mean-“ You cut him off with a kiss - knowing he would never do anything you didn’t want.

You wanted everything from him.

“If you’d believe it, I like a bit of dirty talk when I fuck - but no one understands what I’m saying,” He tries to crack a joke but for some reason seems insecure and nervous.

“Hey,” You take his chin so he shyly meets your eye, “I can’t wait to hear it - you’ve already made me so wet.” His eyes light up like a kid on Christmas.

“You’re such a good girl,” he signs before tugging off your shirt and instantly finding your lips again. His hands are skillful as they unclasp your bra without any struggle and tosses it.

You tugs a bit as his hair to show your enjoyment as his tongue finds your nipple - lapping before taking it between his teeth. As good as it feels, you want him to feel even better.

You push him back until he’s sitting in the edge of the bed, legs spread and hands behind him on either side holding him up. Jaw clenched with arousal and restraint.

He’s pressed against the zipper of his jeans. And all you wanted to do was see him in all of his glory. You’re quick to undo the button and determined to get the finicky zipper down as well.

His fingers come beneath your chin until you’re looking at his sparkling eyes, a look of lust made his lids a little droopier and his mouth slack from heavy-breathing.

“Are you sure you want to? You don’t have to - I want to eat your pussy either way, pet,” He signs, leaning in for a slow, wet kiss.

You sign back with a pout, “Shut the fuck up.” He huffs out a laugh, letting go of your chin and wrapping a hand in your hair to keep it out of your face.

As soon as he’s helping you wriggle his briefs and jeans down his narrow hips, you’re met with the prettiest cock you’ve ever seen.

When you make eye contact with Harry, he raises a eyebrow and grins cockily, “Is it nice enough for your liking, love?”

You nod breathlessly - wasting no more time before ducking down to take him to your mouth, a slight burning in your throat from how big he is.

His hands keep ahold of your hair, thumbs pressed against your temples as you bob down his length with sloppy, warm licks.

Harry’s moaning as you pop off to kiss and suck at the underside of him, hands coming to cup and roll his balls. It is a few moments later when he taps your cheek to get your attention, one hand leaving his hair to sign that he’s close.

Your mouth speeds up, wanting to give him all the pleasure you could. Your hand coming to stroke at what couldn’t fit in your mouth, pumping quickly.

Before you know it, Harry’s rutting his hips upwards and coming with a long, deep moan from the rumbles of his chest. He’s pulling you up into his lap, pressing appreciative kisses to your cheeks and jawline.

Big hands palming at your breasts before slipping down into your leggings, brushing softly over your mound. 

You whine and hitch forward to grind against his palm as soon as he cups you. He smiles widely at your desperation, pressing the heel of his palm harder against you to create more pressure.

You were already so wet and turned on that it wasn’t going to take much. The ball of your climax was burning low in your tummy. However, you wanted him to taste you like he said he would.

You sign, “I’m close. Please, I want your mouth on me.”

With that, he’s flipping you until you’re laid out on the bed. His hands tugging off your leggings and underwear with no further ado. “Holy shit,” He gestures, gazing all over your body and not stopping on one spot for too long.

“What?” You ask, fishing for the compliments you know he’s about to shower you in.

“You’ve got such a pretty pussy,” he signs, dimples popping in his cheeks and a curious finger traces your entrance before dipping in.

You lightly kick at his stomach, “Get on me.” He pouts, crooking his finger against your spot before pulling it out. Fucking tease.

Then his face is disappearing between your spread thighs and a strong lick is delivered from your clit all the way down to your bum.

Since he can’t hear you, you grabs handfuls off his hair. Tugging at the roots, scratching your nails into his scalp to let him know how good he is. So fucking good.

When you accidentally buck your hips hard against his mouth, you curse and run a apologetic hand through the locks. He doesn’t look up at you but lift a hand and signs, “Again.”

You absolutely whine, begging to ride him with determination - climax on the brink. He hums causing vibrations on the sensitive nerves. With that, your hips are meeting his tongue and you’re coming. His face dampening with your release - happy as a clam when he pops back up.

You can’t remember the sign for condom, so you sign, “Protection?” Harry understands right away, rustling through the drawer until he finds a stray packets, “It’s been awhile.”

“Same,” You gestures - watching as he slides it down his length and crawls overtop of you. He was pink and swollen - having to be a bit sensitive from just coming a little while ago.

“Ready, love?” He asks, pressing soft kisses to your jawline. You nod, reaching down to guide him in.

And you weren’t lying, it had been a while and he was big. The stretch wasn’t uncomfortable, just a lot. But his wet, open-mouth kisses made you stay grounded.

Harry’s moans were absolutely obscene as he slide all the way in before stopping to give you a moment. His arms strong, holding himself over you. The cold metal of his necklaces brushing against your tight nipples.

When you have him the okay, he begin giving you deep, hard strokes on each thrust. His noises so loud they had to be able to hear them downstairs. They were deep and low - rumbling in his chest with pleasure.

Then his hand is coming to your throat. For a wild moment you thought he was going to choke you but instead he rest it lightly, palm flat.

It takes you a moment - then it hits you.

Holy fuck. He is feeling the vibrations of your moans - erupting from your vocal cords. Feeling out the movement from your throat so he can feel how much you’re enjoying it.

You should be embarrassed but you can’t find it in you when you come again right on the spot. His fingertips nudging into the skin to feel the intensity as it wracks through you.

When you’re done riding out your orgasm, he reaches for the headboard behind you with his other hand, gripping it tightly as he begins to pound in with all his strength.

The bedframe is hitting the wall so loud that the whole house must be able to hear it. Hitting with every directed thrust until his mouth is dropping down into a long, timbred moan and he’s coming.

---

Later, when the two are you have settled for the night in the warmth of his bed. Harry seems a little nervous, once again. It takes him a moment to meet your eyes and brushes a strand of hair off your forehead.

“What is it?” You ask, tucked into his side. His body so solid and comforting.

“It’s corny,” Harry frowns, eyebrows furrowing as his eyes flash across your face.

“Tell me,” You insist, bringing his hand to your lips to kiss his fingertips.

“I feel like you were made for me. Like...we were meant to be together,” Harry signs, hesitant to share his thoughts. But it doesn’t scare you away. You can’t help but agree.

“I think so too,” You reply before pressing another kiss to his puffy pink lips.

[saturnsstufff]

Also! Firstly I just wanted to say that i really like your writing and slow pace in the Empress series! Its really poggers. Secondly if you're taking request: could you maybe write something where Phil helps Techno ask out (y/n)? I just think that Phil would be such a great wingman (pun maybe intended lmao). I really like the way you write your Empress series' setting and characters so maybe you could do some sort of royal au similar to it? Not cannon to the series of course. If not then the dsmp still works :D (sorry if i sent the ask twice! My internet's shit lol) ~🌻

Awh! Your all good!!🖤 and thank you!! one Prince Techno comin up! (Im so sorry i got this out late, and that its poor, I was stumped hard on this for what to put!

My darling- Technoblade

Warnings: none

Techno was a pretty well known and loved Prince. He was elegant, kind, gentle, sarcastic, funny, talented. He was just perfect. To Techno you were perfect. You were one of the servants sure, but he didn't mind that. You had the most gentle outset he had ever seen on someone. You could just walk into a room and somehow everyone was in love with you. 

Techno had feelings for you for a awfully long time however, no matter what he did he couldn't push himself to tell you. Far to afraid of what you would say to him in response. He rather sit suffering in silence as your friend, than risk loosing you completely.

You felt the same way. Techno was always so gentle with you. always asking if you were comfortable, if you felt safe, he would even make sure that you wouldn't be over worked. You couldn't count the nights that he read you to sleep in the library. Everyone found you two utterly adorable with your hesitance towards each other, they couldn't wait for the day one of you slipped up and confessed.

Phil on the other hand? Oh, oh he found this scenario hilarious. See Phil was often the one that helped get you two alone together. Ranging from distracting advisors, governors, consorts, you name it and Phil probably has diverted them at least once. Phil would go as far to joke that he was the one that had set you and Techno up originally. 

Although Phil found this whole situation hilarious, he did feel bad for his friend. Techno was a hard worker, he often put a lot of time into his country and his people. but, sadly techno would rarely take care of himself. Now Phil wasn't setting you up with techno so you would become his care taker. Rather he knew with you around, Techno would be more conscious of himself as to not worry you. like always, Phil was right too. 

It was a off day. Techno had himself rested in one of the lounge chairs that resided in the library. Lately his feelings had become painful to hold back. Even the voices started banding together, telling him he had to confess.

Phil had to return some books so when he walked into the library and saw techno, he wouldn't have said he was suprised. "What's on your mind now?" Phil mused. Placing the books back on there specific shelf. He earned a sigh and groan from Techno. "Its (y/n) isnt it" he mused. "Mate you should just tell her. Get it over with. You know she'll like you back"

"Phil I.. I can't- she's- shes just so perfect" Techno's heart melted at the thought of you. He rested the crook of his elbow over his eyes. "I.. i dont even know how or where to ask her.." Techno started sounded almost defeated. Phil couldn't bare to watch his friend mope about anymore. He knew somthing had to be done.

Phil didn't waist time on his new plan. He was determined to see you together by the end of the night. He found you outside hanging the laundry. When you saw Phil you smiled brightly.

"Hello Philza" you said, folding a sheet in your arms. Phil leaned on the post well he watched you. Amusement lacing his lips.

"Hello, (y/n) i was talking to Techno the other day. He mentioned you quite alot" you felt your cheeks heat up as you looked to him. Hearing that he talked about you made your heart beat faster.

"H-he was? W..what did he say?" You asked, now fully invested in him more than your work.

"Oh he was just rambling off, you know how he can be. However, he uh, did mention that you were quite beautiful. Smart, funny. You know all that fun stuff" he said casually. If your heart could have did a leap it would have. The idea of Techno call you beautiful was beyond you.

You moved closer to Phil, "w..was that all he said?.." you hoped there was more than he was telling you.

Phil pondered a moment and smiled. "Well he was curious if you would meet him at the stables for a date. You know, let him take you for a ride in the country side" you were speechless, but filled with utter excitement at the idea of a date with him. "Want me to tell him you'll be there?" You nodded fast.

"Please, ill take off early to meet him there even" you said with the widest smile. This warmed Phil's heart to see how in love you were with his best friend.

"Alright' ill tell him you'll be there" Phil said smiling. His plan falling into motion. Now he had to corral the stubborn bull named Technoblade.

"You should take (y/n) for a horseback ride" Phil said upon entering his friends office. Techno's brow furrowed, causing him to look up from his papers.

"Take her for a... why?" Techno said mid confusion. Phil shrugged casually.

"Well I was just talking to (y/n) and you know she had off-hand mentioned it that she really liked fhe horse rides with you." At this statement techno blinked a bit. He pressed his lips and thought breifly.

"Well i uh.. I mean if she wants to, i'll glady take her". Techno said. Moving his few papers asside. Looking at Phil. "When does she want to leave?"

Phil hummed and looked at the clock. Mentally assuming your work schedule. "What about four-ish? Get there early for her?

Techno nodded. "Dosnt she work until five?" Techno knew your schedule mostly because he was the one that would meet you after it for casual walks.

"Normally. But she said she would take it off early to go with you" Phil wanted to keep semi to the truth. But he knew as soon as you two were alone talking, it would be over. The two of you would quickly discover that Phil was behind this.

When you waked up to the stables you smiled happily. Waiting with a horse in hand was Techno. He gave you a kind smile. Happy to see you in such a joyful mood.

"Ready to go?" He asked gently. You nodded fast, excited to spend the evening with him. He offered his hand to you. When you took it he gently pulled you close. Lifting you up onto his horse. After you were situated on the sattle he climbed on behind you. Wrapping his arm around your waist securely, wanting to assure you wouldn't fall off eather way.

You relaxed into him like you always did. Content with his company. With the nudge of his heel's you both were off on your way.

Well you two toured the country side casually. You decided to thank him for the date. Seeing as you felt it was the beginning of somthing great. "Thank you for taking me on this date Techno... It really means alot to me..." you herd techno give a 'heh?'.

"Princess I adore your company. But what on earth are you talking about?" This was your turn to be confused. You looked up at him to see if he was joking.

"Phil said you wanted to take me on a date..." your eyes grew saddened. "W...was this a lie?..." Techno's heart weighed heavier at the sight of your sad eyes.

Techno felt like he hit a wall. Does he explain he wants to take you for a date more than anything? Or keep quiet. After seeing your eyes, he knew he couldn't break your heart more.

"I... I do want to take you for a date... I've wanted a date with you more than you realize... However, I didnt ask you... Im assuming Phil actually set us up..." he said, looking away a light red. You gave a soft gentle smile.

"Hey..." you tilted his head to look down at you. "Even if he set us up... I'm glad he did" Techno looked down into your eyes. His going gentle.

"You are?..." you nodded gently. Giving a gentle kiss to his cheek.

"I got a date out of it with you"

[miekasa]

out of the woods (eren jaeger)

↯ pairing: eren jaeger x reader

↯ genres and warnings: royalty au (not within the snk universe), knight/bodyguard au, friends? to lovers? implied? perhaps? maybe one day, but eren’s obviously in love with you lol, sorry i had to make jean the token little shit character but i love him

↯ notes: i spend a lot of time thinking about royalty aus in which the reader is in line for the throne and eren is her very impulsive, but very skilled personal guard because i love him

↯ word count: 1.5k

The harsh clinking of metal ringing in your ears is probably the only thing that keeps you from falling asleep in your chair. Eren’s always a bit fidgety when he’s completely suited, covered almost head to toe in armor and weaponry. It’s a bit excessive, too, which is why he’s not required to look like a walking chandelier on a regular basis, and especially not within castle walls—his normal uniform and longsword at his side in case of an unlikely emergency; but for meetings like these, Eren adorns all four layers of shiny, heavy, gold armor.

It’s more of a status symbol, decoration even, than for his or your own protection, really. And it’s his sly way of keeping you awake during long, drawn out civil duties meetings like these; he knows you hate the sound of all the metals clinking together, but it’s an effective way to making sure you don’t fall asleep face first on the table, and embarrass yourself in front of other royalty and noblemen.

Eren’s arguably a little too impulsive to be a knight, especially for one that stands at the right hand of the sole princess to the kingdom; and definitely the most mischievous of all the royal guards. And, as if to prove it, he shakes his wrist near your ear again when he sees you spacing out, prompting you to shake your head reflexively. He has to hold back his chuckle.

“Princess,” both yours and Eren’s attention shift to the voice that calls after you, “You seem a bit… distracted? Is anything the matter?”

The sound of Jean’s voice is enough to make Eren straighten his spine, his noisy wrist falling to rest his hand on your shoulder protectively. Eren feels you relax your shoulders under his touch, a silent message that he’s free to withdraw and do the same, but he stays sharp.

“My apologies, Jean,” you reply, voice kind and steady, “I have quite a bit on my plate, please pardon my absentmindedness.”

Jean hums, a cheshire grin growing on his lips, as his gaze settles on Eren, rather than you. Jean leans forward, the ruffled cravat around his neck tickling his chin as he brings his elbow onto the table, and his cheek to rest against his palm.

“Surely you’re in no immediate danger, princess,” Jean drawls, slowly, eyes now fixated on you, “Your guard dog can stand down in the presence of friends, no?”

Eren grits his teeth, growing more restless with every word that leaves Jean’s irritating mouth. The prick has the audacity to smirk when Eren’s free hand goes to rest against the sheath for his sword.

You, however, simply smile politely. The other men and women of the court are silent around the table; some eyes wide with anticipation, or perhaps anxiety, as the tension between Eren and Jean grows. You look slightly behind Jean, where Armin stands against the wall, his stance neutral, but his face concerned, with a look that speaks a thousand words—or, rather, twelve: tell Eren to relax, or there will be a bloody royal murder.

Carefully, you bend your own arm back, as to place your palm atop Eren’s hand still resting on your shoulder; then looking towards Jean: “Eren is my primary guard and advisor, Prince Jean, just as Marco is to you,” you state calmly, gesturing to the seat at Jean’s right, where Marco is seated, “He is by my side at all times.”

Eren knows that; and Jean knows it, too. He also knows this is a losing battle, but he wants to play, anyway.

“I understand, my lady, but surely there’s no need for Eren to be on guard for high-level threats at such a minuscule gathering,” Jean taunts, looking Eren in the eyes before continuing, “Besides, I’m sure a husband would provide much more civil protection, wouldn’t you agree?”

It takes you squeezing Eren’s hand with all your strength to get him to even think about refraining from unsheathing his sword and putting it through Jean’s head. He feels your orders, but it does nothing to calm him, though; angry, vengeful, green eyes boring into the prince’s soul.

Jean smirks, slips in another sly innuendo about he could please you better than any knight in your court, and Eren almost loses it. His right hand is on the handle of his sword, a glimmer of handcrafted gold peeking through its casing. His moves have the other knights on guard, too; Armin silently signaling for Mikasa to be careful, or ready.

“Eren,” you call, but you’re looking at Jean, “Stand down.”

You have to repeat your words twice more for them to get past Eren’s cloudy mind and growing growls. You squeeze his hand again, and reluctantly, he takes a step back—evens out his footing, removes his hand from your shoulder, lets go of his weapon. His stance is neutral at your right hand now, and the relief in the room is palpable. And audible from Armin, who lets out a sigh; he can rest now, knowing that the foreign prince won’t be beheaded.

With a similar sigh, you stand to address your other guests, “I believe a recess is in order. Mikasa will usher you to the ballroom for hors d’oeuvres and wine. We will reconvene at quarter to the hour.”

The noblemen, advisors, and other royalty nod in acknowledgement, moving to the exit as Mikasa leads them through the castle corridors and into the appropriate room. Prince Jean falls behind the rest, offering you and wink and a cocky grin before being pulled by Marco. Armin is the last to exit, saluting you politely as his stands in the entryway.

“Would you like for some refreshments to be brought to you, princess?” he questions.

“You don’t have to be so formal when they’re not around, you know that,” you smile gently. Armin gapes, a light, embarrassed blush falling across his cheeks, “It’s fine, Armin. I’ll be there shortly.”

Armin nods, giving Eren a look, before finally exiting and following behind the crowd. When you’re alone, Eren finally speaks.

“I don’t like him.” 

“I thought you and Armin were friends,” you joke, pushing yourself from out of your seat and standing next to him. Eren’s side-eye speaks a thousand words, but you find yourself chuckling in response.

“You promised me you’d work on that temper of yours,” you taunt, taking a few steps towards the door. Amused by his pouty demeanor, you extend your hand for Eren to hold like a child, “Come on, knights shouldn’t pout.”

Eren rolls his eyes, gingerly taking your hand, only to spin you around and wrap his arms around your middle. He fits his chin into the crook of your shoulder, “Knights shouldn’t have to justify wanting to murder asshole princes, either.”

“Jean means well,” you say, laughter seeping through your words at Eren’s evident disagreement with your statement. You reach a hand backwards to comb through his hair to quell his irritated state; an action well received, as the taller boy nuzzles his face deeper into your shoulder, his body finally fully relaxing, “He shouldn’t intentionally antagonize you, but he’s still a prince, Eren. You have to be careful.”

Eren huffs, and holds you a little tighter. “Him being a prince means nothing to me.”

“I’m serious,” you sigh, letting the hand in his hair fall down to your side, and then to rest atop his that are over your stomach, “You can’t be that hasty. Your actions could be seen as an attempt on royal blood by the wrong people.”

“And his words could be seen as harassment and defamation of the princess and her associates, in which case I am within my rights to attack, and you are within your rights to sue,” Eren counters. 

He removes his hands from your waist, gently resting them on your shoulders to turn you to face him now. He’s got that stupid look on his face, the one he gets when he’s a little too overly confident, but Eren’s not dumb; he’s impulsive, and passionate, but he knows the law of your land like the back of his hand, particularly where it pertains to protecting you. 

“And he did it while on your land. It would have been defense of the princess—precautionary knightsmanship, really—if I had sliced his head off.”

“Precautionary knightsmanship sounds made up,” you say, an eyebrow raised in suspicion.

“It’s real. It’s in the knight handbook, trust me,” Eren replies, leaning down to press a single kiss to your forehead. He removes his hands from your shoulders, stepping past you before turning back with one arm extended, “Come on, allow me to escort you to the tiny, not fulfilling, rich people finger foods.”

You chuckle, placing your smaller hand in his, “They’re called hors d’oeuvres, Eren.”

“That sounds even more ridiculous,” he notes, wrapping his fingers around your palm, “Just eat normal meals and portions like the rest of us.”

“You know, you’re allowed to eat the tiny, rich people finger foods, too.”

“I know,” Eren hums, turning his head as he begins to walk you in the direction of the ballroom, “But I’d rather have Jean’s head.��  

[diamcndlegacy]

"Oh yeah that's how princesses are always dressed. Just as pretty as sapphires. They're kinda the reason I begged to have sapphires in my court. Which I am proud to say I have atleast one now! She's like my personal advisor? That's what blue said anyway." The boy spoke before giving a light shrug.

"I learned about princesses through my movies and storybooks." He explained with a light wave of his gloved hand. "Once we're done playing this game I can show you. It'll be nice for someone to actually be excited to watch those with me. I got the diamonds to once or twice but they either seemed bored or were confused about the whole thing."

Which spinel could be too. Not only was she a gem who probably only knew as much about humans as the zoo showed her but unlike other gems in her court she had a lot of catching up to do. Being left alone in that garden kinda left her lost with the times. She'd probably be considered old fashioned compared to the younger gems on homeworld and even the older ones would be more up to date on things.

He was looking forward to playing colony. The boy had never even thought of playing that before. Despite how much he really wanted one. For some reason the other diamonds were really hesitant on giving him one. Atleast they wanted to wait a long time. Like he was gonna live thousands of years like his mom had. He honestly wasn't sure how long he could exist being half human and all.

Steven laughed happily. Then taking his pearl doll and speaking for her. "Why thank you!" He spoke in a more high pitched voice before laughing again. "Oh spinel you almost got it. Here let me help you." The diamond prince then lifted the large teapot and pretended to pour the liquid into one of the teacups. "Now you drink it like this." He said before taking a sip from said teacup. "Oh and make sure to lift up your pinky. It's fancier."

"Oh well that great! That'll make this way more easier then! We can talk to her together in the morning." He still wasn't sure about yellow and definitely didn't wanna introduce her to white just yet. Out of all of them blue would be the most understanding and apparently liked the gem already. Not to mention she seemed to cling to things attached to his mother's legacy. She wouldn't just cast aside spinel when she used to be pink very best friend.

Princey's room did look pretty similar to how it had all those years ago when it used to be pink's but there were some slight differences. His room was themed around royalty which he pretty much was but moreso princes and princesses from those disney movies he watched. Ones that he would likely show spinel seeing as they would be spending all their time together now that they were best friends.

In his toy box his mothers toys still remained. As well as some of the pebbles resting there but also sat on top were his various dolls. Some taken from trips blue had taken on earth. Every so often she liked bringing the boy snacks and toys. It was one of the few ways he connected with his human side. Because gems had no way of knowing the gender norms modern humans had she had always just bought him the toys on the pink side of the toy aisles.

As a result since he was a toddler he was just given more girly toys to play with which varied from dolls to, dress up clothes and makeup and nail polish sets. As well as sets for his tea parties. Along with all normal dolls he also had custom made ones that looked like pearls. Before spinel came along they were his favorite gem type and one he attached himself to seeing as the diamonds pearls basically acted as his nannies.

"Oh I've never even thought about playing those games!" He kinda wanted to play that colony game at one point. He'd been begging for one forever at this point. "I usually play hide and seek or tag. Oh and I like having tea parties! So let's play that one!" Quickly he gathered up some stuffed animals from his bed and placed them around his little table meant for such a game. Along with a couple pearl dolls. "Okay this is how you play. These are tea cups and this is the teapot. You're supposed to pour the pretend tea inside them. Then you just have conversation with all my toy friends! Think you can do it?"

[poptod]

Would u be up to writing a crack fic where Ahk eats some dodgy food and gets violently ill from it and in his food poisoning induced delirium starts to like hallucinate and think that gods are against him and hanging out with him and stuff. so yeah. (also omfg never noticed the ostrich part in NATM!!!)

notes: YEA that fucking ostrich is hilarious and YES this sounds fun. u didn’t say if this was xreader or if this was in egypt or in the museum so i took some liberties, hope that’s alright! i also really ran with this so apologies for the length WC: 2,222

+

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Now, now, that’s no way to refer to your husband,” he said matter-of-factly.

“You are not - we’re not married,” you hissed.

“Not yet,” he said with a grin.

You rolled your eyes, scoffing. Ahkmen wasn’t King yet, but you still held the position as his advisor, placed there by both Ahkmen’s choice and his father’s insistence.

Now, however, you were focused on a different, more pertinent issue. An entire bag of almond date rolls had been thrown away for Ahk to find, opening the sack to find them untouched. Since he had little to no self control—which was why you were there to begin with—he immediately began eating them.

“There isn’t anything wrong with them,” he said through a mouthful.

“You don’t know that,” you said, still glaring up at him.

He swallowed before promptly stuffing another whole roll in his mouth.

“Stop that!” You said, and batted the sack out of his hand.

The cinch released and the rolls went flying down a sandy hill, reaching the river outcrop at the bottom. Ahk watched, miserably, as they disappeared.

“You have access to date rolls anytime you like in the palace,” you reminded him.

“But it’s such a long walk back, and I like it here,” he said, gesturing vaguely to the forested hill overlooking the Nile. Shade stretched over your bodies and the reed blanket beneath you, allowing the wind to cool your sun-beaten skin.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” you said, leaning back to lie down.

“How funny, then, that you are my life,” he said with a grin, following you till he propped himself up on his elbow, his free hand resting on your chest.

He stared at you, scanning you as you half-glared at him.

“What do you want?” You asked, looking up unimpressed.

“A kiss,��� he said, puckering his lips.

“Shut up!”

You shoved him onto his back, laughter wracking his body.

A little while later you found yourself once more obeying Ahk’s whim, though his father had warned against that, and followed him in short steps down the tall dune. Solidified, plant-filled earth gave way for free falling sand that drifted off the slope and towards the riverbank.

The water during this time of year was at a steady but slow pace, flowing from south to north as the sun’s rising and setting indicated. Wind that once cooled you now brought hot air, exacerbated by the overzealous sun, who you imagined could burn even your ink-black skin. Sand avalanched around your still feet, landing you at Ahk’s side.

“Luncheon will be soon,” you reminded.

“I’m aware,” he said flatly. “Can’t I simply enjoy myself for once?”

“No.”

He waded out into the water, his shoulders tensing at the chill and only releasing as he went deeper. Once the red water reached his knees, just barely soaking the edge of his skirt, he called to you.

“Come join me,” he said, offering you his hand.

“We should go back to the palace,” you said.

“Come now, it’ll be hours before lunch,” he whined.

“It’s one hour. And you can’t be wearing that,” you said, gesturing to his outfit that consisted of no more than a skirt, partially torn and covered in dirt.

“Then take it off me,” he said with a sly grin.

You scowled at him, going over your options for a moment before you acted.

Once you decided, you waltzed into the river, soaking your sandals as you approached him. Satisfaction filled his gaze as you came closer, his hand still outstretched to you.

At last you took his hand, tugging him forcefully towards you. He let out a grunt, but before he could say anything, you reached forward and released the clasp keeping his skirt on him, allowing it to fall in the running water and drift away.

“Hey!” He cried, attempting to go after it, but stopped by your hand still in his. He turned back to you, a shocked look on his face as he said, “what was that for?!”

“Dawdling. Let’s go back to the palace.”

“Like this?!” He yelled, gesturing to his naked body. You snorted.

“You don’t mind. I know you don’t. You just want to be mad at me,” you said in a definitive voice.

“I don’t-“

“Come on, Prince,” you said, tugging him past you so he stumbled towards the shoreline. As he just barely got his standing you slapped his butt, pushing him forward further.

Ahkmen fell silent—as he rarely did—after he’d been dressed and was on the way to the garden, where the Pharaoh had arranged a feast he made and placed for himself, his family, and the ambassadors visiting from Punt. You were not invited, but you watched from above alongside the youngest Prince’s manservant. Ahk’s room was placed right above the western gardens, large arches within allowing a plenty good sight out, which you and Naguib took advantage of.

“He’s squirming an awful lot,” Naguib noted after several minutes of silence.

Naguib laid on his stomach, his chin propped up on his palms, in turn resting on his elbows on the stone floor. You sat nearby, leant against one of the arch pillars with a tablet of baked limestone on your lap.

At his comment you looked over the ledge, easily finding the trademark golden crown Ahk bore.

“How so?” You asked.

“Look at his legs,” Naguib said, and your eyes turned to his fidgeting crossed legs, “and his hands.”

His fists were clenching and unclenching.

“Should we check in on him?” He asked gingerly.

“.... nah,” you said after a moment. “I’m sure it’s fine. He’s probably just upset I slapped him on the arse.”

Naguib choked on his own spit, bursting into manic laughter.

“You slapped the prince’s ass??” He asked incredulously through gasps of laughter. “How’d he react to that?”

“He stripped me,” you answered, returning to your tablet with little waver in your voice.

“What -“

“That might’ve been because I took away his skirt, though. In that case, he just looked at me really strangely,” you said.

“How so?”

You twisted your expression to reflect what you remembered, a strange mix of confused, angered, and one feeling that was almost always at the forefront of Ahk’s mind—horny. Naguib burst into another round of laughter.

Several minutes later, after your conversation died down, Naguib looked back over the ledge and frowned.

“He’s gone,” he said.

“Who what?”

“Ahk, he isn’t there anymore,” he said, pointing to the empty cushion where Ahk had been sitting. You shifted to see.

“Huh. What do you think happened?”

Bursts of metal latches and swinging hinges interrupted you before either of you could think of an answer, followed by the wooden frame of the door slamming against the other wall. Both of you darted to look behind you, finding several different servants entering, a limp Prince in their arms.

Instantly you jumped to your feet. Naguib joined you, though much slower, and you both made your way to his bedside once the servants set him down.

“What happened?” Naguib asked, a hand on the bed as he looked up to one of the servants.

You set your hand over his forehead, testing his temperature, and using your sense of magic to reach into his veins, searching for a perpetrator.

“He hasn’t got a fever,” you noted, earning a nod from the servant tending him.

You made to search again before Ahk moved, groaning softly as he curled into himself, clutching his stomach.

“Ahk? Are you alright?” You asked—probably too quickly—as you knelt at his side, panic pounding its way into your heart.

“Ugh,” he grumbled, just barely wheezing out his breaths. “Alive. Right now.”

“What are your symptoms?”

“Stomach,” he breathed, halting as he flinched, his hands moving to slap over his mouth.

“Bucket!” You said to the servant, who nodded and rushed for one of the buckets in the nearest closet. “You’re going to throw up, its alright. Get it out.”

“Ughhh...” he mumbled, convulsing forward again as he attempted to hold it in.

In a flash the servant returned, rushing to set the bucket down beside the bed. You held it up, helping him scoot dizzily forward before he hurled.

Things continued in a similar fashion until the setting of the sun, the western rays finally sinking beneath the distant mountain horizon. Crickets and firebugs chirped, bringing in the cool breeze of evening, sending shivers down Ahk’s sweat-sheeted shoulders and back.

You ran your fingers through his hair, hoping to raise the curls off his heated forehead, but he raised his hand to stop you.

“No,” he slurred, “too sick... repetitive.”

“Alright,” you said softly.

His dizziness persevered from the evening into the night, but his vomitting had luckily stopped, though he did try to retch on an empty stomach twice. By then he was passed out from exhaustion, still shivering in his sleep. You stayed at his side without fail, raising his sheets up to cover him, and removing them when he broke out into another sweat.

At midnight, his eyes fluttered open.

The first thing he saw was you—surrounded by a halo of brightly glowing stars, colored in red, yellow, and purple. His sickness had faded but the delirium remained, and he reached out blindly for your face.

His fingers dragging across your eyes and cheeks brought you back from your meditation, shocked at his consciousness.

“You’re awake,” you said with a relieved sigh, your knees digging into the cold stone beneath you.

“Hathor?” He mumbled weakly, his eyes still half-closed.

“No, no,” you said, taking his hand down from your face and clasping it in your own hold. “Piye. Remember? How do you feel?”

“Am I dead?”

“Not as far as I know. You exhibit all the tell-tale signs of being alive,” you said, chuckling.

“... Bastet?”

“Also no. Piye.”

“Peets....” he mumbled before promptly falling back asleep.

The next time he awoke was a little later on, towards the very, very early morning. He once again broke you out of your meditation, this time with words rather than smothering your face. His state of aberration had yet to improve.

“Piye?” He asked softly, a husk of a voice.

“Yes,” you said, smiling. He remembered your name. “How do you feel?”

“When d.. you’re... you’re glowing,” he murmured.

“I what?”

He reached forward, and you flinched away, stiffened by a soft touch that traced down your jawline.

“You’re... glowing,” he said, louder, drawing in a deep breath as sweat began to bead on his forehead.

“Calm down, Ahk,” you warned him, pushing the hair off his forehead. “You’re going to work yourself up.”

“No,” he said with a strange sense of urgency, holding your face in the palm of his hand. You subconsciously leaned your cheek into his touch. “No, I need to see you.”

“I’m right here, with you.”

“Not in my dreams,” he breathed out, the words brushing his parted lips, now paler than ever.

Fever.

Vomitting.

Fatigue.

Gagging. Weakness. Dizziness. Chills. Sweating.

What would your father say?

He didn’t need to consult the numerous stacks of books shoved into his office to know what Ahk suffered from, but he was far away in Thebes, and you wouldn’t dare leave the Prince’s side, in fear of his condition and the wrath of his father should he suffer grievously.

“I told you not to eat those date rolls,” you chided, continuing to thread your fingers through his hair. That must’ve been the cause—sickness carried through infirm food. You could think of nothing else.

He didn’t say anything. Not for a little while, at least. He continued to blink, albeit slow, and stared unceasingly into you.

“He is in your eyes,” he whispered, his own eyes flickering between yours. “And... speaking.”

“Who do you see?” You asked softly, suddenly reluctant to blink.

“Heka.”

Not a God of magic, but the personification of it. The genuine representation of healing and enchantments. His fertile, black skin made of the Nile’s silt was reflected in your own complexion—darker than night, flanked by eyes that appeared to glow against the midnight of you.

“What is he saying?” You said, readjusting yourself beside his hand, a seriousness edging your tone. Claims of Heka were not to be taken lightly.

“Pledging.. love.”

“For who?”

“... me,” he whispered.

“Beloved of...”

“Beloved of you,” he interrupted before you could finish your thought, a smile creeping at the edges of his pale lips.

You chuckled softly, reaching up to stroke your thumb over the back of his hand. He was returning to a saner state of mind.

“Perhaps so,” you murmured.

[andromedasstarship]

i could not choose between 77-80 so i overbearingly ask u to use each of them with spencer reid if u wish 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

80. “Your comfort and happiness is more important to me than some stupid dinner.” + 77- “If you want to leave, we can leave.”

send a prompt + character from this list! 

pairing - spencer reid x gn!reader

warnings - stress?? mostly fluff 

a/n - tysm kenna for requesting this i love you and i loved writing this. i also went overboard on this one bye! ive also never posted something this long in an ask reply before so if this looks weird BYE!

Your car had long gone cold, but you still couldn’t find the energy to pull yourself out yet. It was futile to try and wrestle your emotions into a tightly sealed box; as soon as you crossed the threshold of the town-home you shared with Spencer, you knew he’d be able to read you like a book. Damn genius profiler skills.

Taking a quick look at the time you knew you had to suck it up and go inside; you were pushing how ‘late’ you could be without him worrying something had happened on your commute home. With a deep sigh, you grabbed your bag from the passenger seat and exited the car; taking your sweet time with locking the car behind you and digging your house keys out of the bottom of your bag.

To put it simply, it had been a difficult year. It was the final year of your Phd. program and while- all things considered- you had had an amazing time, the past few months had been both physically and mentally draining. What was once your lifelong passion had suddenly started to feel like a chore; a chore you felt you weren’t even good at anymore. Almost every day was spent either in your own classes or teaching undergrads. Almost every night was spent on the final edits of your thesis or grading work from your students. The few moments of freedom you found were spent doing the boring parts of adult life: housekeeping, getting your car fixed, calling elderly family members, etc.

Neither of you had formerly addressed it, but you knew it was taking a toll on your relationship. Spencer being busy was a constant, but it was normally balanced out by your typical 9-5 schedule. But recently, even on the nights he was home you’d be too wrapped up in your own work to even sit down and eat dinner with him. By the time you crawled into bed he’d be long asleep and in the mornings you’d been leaving for work earlier and earlier in order to get research time in at the university library. It felt like the two of you hadn’t even been awake in the same room for weeks, let alone do anything relationship-y.

Tonight was supposed to change that. Kind of. His team was having a fancy dinner to celebrate some major milestone that you couldn’t remember. It’d been on the books for months, but kept getting pushed back by surprise cases. It felt like everyone held their breath this week, waiting for a case to pop up, but instead everyone was left pleasantly surprised when no such thing happened. It was going to be a great night: classic Rossi pasta dish, all partners and kids invited. Even though the two of you wouldn’t be alone, it’d still be a perfectly good excuse to get out, put on some nice outfits and have a fun evening with friends.

Spencer had been particularly excited. The past week, you felt as if it was the only thing he ever talked about. Not that the two of you were having extensive conversations. He kept talking about how great it would be to get out of the house and how much he was looking forward to having a totally work free evening. His excitement warmed your heart.

Which is why you were taking so long to find your keys. Today had been one of the hardest day you’d experienced in a long time. The thesis meeting you had with your advisor- that you’d been staying up late every night editing for- had gone horribly; it was as if everything you prepared was wrong. Almost every student in the class you taught scored poorly on the latest assessment- on a unit you considered yourself an expert on-, something you viewed as a failure of your ability to convey the info. And to top it all off, even though you felt as if you’d spent hours upon hours working yourself to the bone the past week- in order to clear space for tonight-, you still felt as if you had piles of work to catch up on.

You knew the stress and tension of the day would read clear on your body as soon as Spencer got a look at you. And with how excited he’d been, you absolutely didn’t want to ruin the dinner. You’d hate for him to feel as if you were being selfish or that you couldn’t even prioritize him in your schedule.

You took one last deep breath, before going to put the key into the doorknob. Just as you touched the handle, the door swung open from the other side.

“Jesus!” You exclaimed, one hand clutching your chest as you nearly jumped out of your skin. In front of you was Spencer, smiling down at you with that irresistible grin of his.

“Did I scare you? Sorry. I thought I heard you car pull up earlier and when you didn’t come in I thought maybe something was wrong so I wanted to come check-”

You quickly cut him off- even though you did find his worrying a bit endearing- by pressing a quick kiss to his lips. 

“A good song came on just as I pulled in, couldn’t just get out.” You lied, adding a small laugh for effect. It was an on brand situation for you, something certainly believable. If Spencer had any doubts, he didn’t question you, simply moved out of the doorframe so you could step in.

Inside the house, you set your bag down by the front door like you always did. While kicking your shoes off, you pulled your jacket off, smiling when Spencer had his hands already open to hang it on the rack. You knew he had that ridiculous memory- and you had a pretty set routine-, but it still made your heart swell every time he anticipated your next move and went the extra mile to be helpful.

“So, how was your day?" Spencer asked, as the two of you made your way to the kitchen area. “What’d Professor Addams have to say in your meeting?”

You clenched at the handle of the fridge, grinding your teeth before pulling the door open. When you turned to look at Spencer, you saw he made himself comfortable on one of the countertop stools.

“Went well. They gave me some uh, um, some comprehensive revisions.” You said flatly, turning back to face the fridge; missing the skeptical look Spencer was throwing you.

“That’s good?” He said slowly, before adding, “well how was class? You just wrapped up the last unit didn’t you?” You both knew he knew the answer, but was just attempting to further the conversation. Had it been any other day you would’ve found it endearing, but today just wasn’t that day.

You slammed the fridge door shut, just hard enough to be cause for concern. “I thought tonight was absolutely no shop talk. Huh? Why don’t we just start that rule now.” You said, a slight edge to your voice. It’s not his fault, it’s not his fault.

“Are you okay-”

“Yes! I just don’t-”

“If there’s something wrong, you know you can tell-”

“There’s nothing wrong-”

“Do you need to stay-”

“Stop!” You exclaimed, bringing an end to the constant cutting each other off. “Everything is fine. Okay?” You said, unable to maintain eye contact.

Spencer slowly nodded, though you could tell he didn’t believe an ounce of what you had just said. Luckily for you, he seemed to let it go, falling back in his seat.

“I’m gonna go shower and get ready and then we can leave, alright?” You asked rhetorically. When he just nodded again, you very quickly walked up to him and pressed another quick kiss to his lips. “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

---

The ride to Rossi’s was silent, something that normally wouldn’t have bothered either of you had it not been for the borderline argument you had in the kitchen. As you pulled up a few cars down from the house, you caught Spencer staring at you from the passenger seat, a slightly concerned look on his face.

“Stop doing that.” You huffed out, but there was no real bite in your voice.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asked gently, reaching out to push a piece of your hair away from your face. God that was sweet.

You quickly nodded and threw a very forced smile his way, not quite meeting his eyes. “I’m fine. I promise, come on.” You said, killing the engine and pushing open your car door.

Before you could fully open the door, Spencer’s arm shot out across your body and pulled the door back shut with a bang.

“Spencer!” You yelped, startled by his sudden movement. You turned and gave him a bewildered look.

“You always look over my head when you lie.” Spencer stated.

“Oh I do not-” You started, but letting the sentence fall flat as soon as you realized you currently were looking over his head.

“Your favorite song came on the radio, twice, on the drive here and you didn’t react at all either times.” He said. When you still didn’t say anything he continued. “What’s going on? You know you can tell me.”

The look he was giving you was making you feel all sorts of guilty. Of course he cared, that’s why you loved him so much. You just didn’t want to ruin something that’d been in the works for so long, all because you had a bad day.

“Spencer,” you started, giving him a very pointed look and making sure to hold eye contact, “I’m fine. Can we just go in?”

Spencer shook his head, externally searching your face for more clues while also internally thinking back to any clues from your kitchen fight. “We aren’t going anywhere, until you talk to me.” He urged.

It probably wasn’t the best move on his part, seeing as you both were incredibly stubborn. The two of you were unrelenting, both staring blankly at the other; hoping the other one would break first. After nearly 5 minutes of silence, it became very clear that neither of you were standing down anytime soon.

Spencer reached his hand out again, gently cupping your cheek; internally you cursed your body’s natural reaction to lean into his touch. “What’s going on?” He asked, voice much softer than earlier.

You were internally screaming over how caring he was. Damn him! You cursed yourself for not being able to just play the role of perfect partner for one night.

“I’m exhausted.” You said, voice quiet. “My meeting went horrible day. I absolutely failed at teaching my students the last unit. I’ve been bringing so much work back to the house I haven’t even been able to give you a second of attention. And now we have this dinner that you’ve been looking forward to for months and I don’t want to ruin-”

This time, it was Spencer that quickly cut off your rambles with a kiss.

“Do you want to leave?” He asked, as if it were the most simple thing ever

You gave him a shocked look. “Spencer, you’ve been talking about this dinner for weeks. I, I can’t ask you to put this off, you and the team rarely get time to-”

“If you want to leave, we can leave.” He said. His voice was so sincere it made the whole thing that much more difficult. He was too good.

“Spencer, no.” You said, putting special emphasis on the ‘no’. “We haven’t even walked in the door, there’s nothing to leave yet. I’m not going to ruin the dinner we’ve all been planning on for months. I’ll be fine for a couple hours.”

He didn’t answer, instead pulled his phone out and quickly started to type out a text.

“What are you doing?”

“Texting Rossi, I’m gonna tell him you aren’t feeling well and we can’t come anymore.”

“We’re outside his house! It’s not a big deal-!

“Your comfort and happiness is more important to me than some stupid dinner!” Spencer cut you off, giving you a very pointed look. You weren’t sure your heart could take the swelling much longer.

“Spencer, you’ve been planning-”

“I don’t want to hear it-”

“You’ve wanted to get out of the house for so long!” You stressed, giving him a ‘duh’ look.

“We can go do something else!” He replied, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Just us, no pressure to be ‘on’ in front of anyone else.” That did sound good- No!

“I’m not gonna be the one who keeps their boyfriend away from his friends-”

“I see them every day. Every day. One dinner means nothing.” Spencer said confidently, clasping your hand tightly between his.

You contemplated for what seemed like hours; though it couldn’t have been more than twenty seconds. “Are you sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure of something in my life.” Spencer said, giving you a very mock serious look; you couldn’t help but laugh at that. “There you are.” He said, smiling to match yours.

You turned the car on, clicking your seatbelt back into place. “So, where to pretty boy?” You asked.

“Well, I heard of this new ice cream place that just opened up. Their ‘claim to fame’ is they make over 50 flavors in store every single day. Did you know on average it takes nearly three hours from start to finish to make a single batch of ice cream? Or that when ice cream-”

You shook your head in amusement, chancing a couple glances in his direction as you were driving. You loved his excited ramblings and animated hand motions as he further explained the history of ice cream; as well as all the random facts about the place he was directing you to. As you got closer to your new destination, all you could think about was how lucky you were to, to be loved by someone who always knew just what to say.

---

permanent tags - @sunflowersandotherthings

[beifongsss]

fake it till you make it [zuko]

Pairing: Zuko x reader

Requested?: Yes! By a very amazing anon!: “u should totally write a zuko fic wherein he persuades the reader to fake date him so he could make mai jealous but in the end falls in love w the reader ^-^ i love ur writing btw!!”

Summary: Takes place during season 3, “The Beach”. As the request said, fake dating to make Mai jealous but it backfires. For Zuko that is.

w.c. ~4.3k

.masterlist.

~

You had no clue how you had ended up in your current situation. 

Actually, scratch that. Looking back, you knew exactly how you ended up in your current situation. It was all Zuko’s fault but then again, things usually were.

“Will you be my girlfriend?”

Your breath had caught in your throat at Zuko’s question, and you had to hold back your gasp. “W-What?”

“Will you be my girlfriend?” Zuko had repeated, looking at you hopefully. You had looked at him in surprise, your jaw dropping. After years of crushing on the prince, here he was, asking you to be his. You couldn't believe that he returned your feelings.

“I-I, what?” you had finally stuttered, still gaping at him in disbelief. His gaze focused on someone behind you and a blush bloomed on his cheeks. 

“Please (Y/N). You’re my best friend. I-I want to make Mai jealous and you’re the only one I trust to do this with,” he’d admitted quietly, his eyes never leaving the dark-haired girl.

You followed his line of sight, your heart aching when you realized that he didn’t like you; at least not the way you liked him. With a big sigh, you had pushed down your tears, forcing a smile onto your face.

“It’d be my pleasure to court you, Prince Zuko.”

~

That conversation had taken place a few days ago, but your heartache never lessened. 

It was funny, really. After joining Azula on her quest to track down Zuko, Iroh, and the Avatar, you had planned to confess your feelings for the prince. In your head, it all worked out. It was the stereotypical story of two childhood best friends who grew up, fell in love, and got married. 

But it was never that simple. And now here you were, playing girlfriend to Zuko as you watched him pine for Mai. You were, quite literally, acting out your dream.

What made it worse for you was that Zuko was the perfect boyfriend. He was a good listener and always made sure you were comfortable no matter where you were. He would plan little dates and picnics when he knew Mai would be at the palace and treat you as if you were royalty. You knew your crush had turned into something stronger when even the slightest of touches made your heart race. It was time to stop the act before you got hurt.

Unfortunately the news about you and Prince Zuko spread like wildfire through the palace and soon enough, the entirety of the staff and residents knew. It was too late for you to come out and say it was all a lie because both Ozai and your parents were very pleased with the new relationship. To your parents, your relationship meant that you were set for life. They had always been Ozai’s biggest supporters and your relationship with Zuko only cemented their loyalty to the royal family. For Ozai, he was simply glad that Zuko would be distracted; which was why he suggested that all the teens take a vacation to Ember Island while he met with your parents and the rest of his trusted advisors.

You had been walking through the royal gardens with Mai and Ty Lee when Zuko had jogged up to you. He had greeted you with a short hug before nodding to Mai and Ty Lee.

“You three should get to packing,” Zuko said, causing the three of you to exchange confused glances.

“Why?” Ty Lee chirped, looking at Zuko curiously.

“My father has just told me that we’re going on a vacation to Ember Island,” Zuko replied. “We leave immediately so I suggest you all start packing as soon as possible.”

Ty Lee clapped excitedly, already excited to go to the beach. Mai simply nodded in acknowledgment before smiling lightly at Ty Lee’s excitement. 

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a few things to sort out before we leave,” Zuko said, walking away before doubling back and pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. “I’ll meet you on the ship.”

You nodded wordlessly, a bright blush spreading across your cheeks at his action. You faced your friends, being met with a large grin from Ty Lee and a small smirk from Mai as they observed you. Nodding at the palace’s doors, you began to walk away from them. 

“I’m so glad you two are finally together!” Ty Lee exclaimed as she bounced up to your side. Mai trailed after her quietly. “It’s about time you guys finally confessed.”

You chuckled lightly at her words, glancing at Mai to gauge her reaction. “I guess it was perfect timing.”

“I’ll say,” Mai spoke up, her smirk growing into a tiny smile. “I was getting real tired of watching the two of you pine after each other.”

A laugh escaped your lips as you all split up to go pack. You finished quickly enough, choosing a few casual outfits and a bathing suit to last you for the few days you’d be on the island. On your way to the ferry you bumped into Zuko, who fell into step with you as you boarded the ship.

“So?” he questioned, looking around to make sure you were alone. “Anything? Is she jealous?”

“No,” you said, shaking your head. “I was trying to get a read on her but all she said was that it was about time we got together, whatever that means.”

Zuko groaned softly before leaning against the ship’s railing. “I thought the kiss would surely tick her off. I guess we’ll just have to keep on trying.”

“Zuko,” you said hesitantly, looking away from him. “I-I don’t think we should keep doing this. I mean, it hasn’t worked so far. What makes you think that it’s gonna be any different on Ember Island?”

He looked at you quietly before coming up to you and taking both of your hands in his. “Let’s keep doing this until after the vacation. If nothing changes, then we’ll stop. I promise.”

You bit your lip softly as you thought over his words. Zuko stared at you intently, trying to ignore the way you bit your lip. After a few minutes of contemplation, you nodded slowly. You would only be at Ember Island for a few days, things couldn’t possibly get any more heartbreaking for you. “Ok. I’ll do it for you, Zuko.”

“Perfect timing,” Zuko said, a rare smile on his face. You glanced behind you to see Azula, Mai, and Ty Lee approaching before looking back up at Zuko. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

Zuko slung his arm over your shoulder, pulling you in close as the three girls boarded the ship. The ride to Ember Island was spent with the two of you sitting together on a bench as the three girls whispered amongst themselves, occasionally throwing glances your way.

“So,” Azula finally addressed you, a knowing smirk on her face. “I can’t believe you two are finally together. I always thought Zuzu had a thing for Mai.”

You felt Zuko stiffen up next to you at Azula’s words. You kept a straight face, looking at the younger girl as you panicked internally. Zuko’s arm tightened around you, pulling you in as he pressed a kiss to your temple.

“What are you talking about Azula?” he asked roughly, his eyes never leaving her. “I’ve always had a thing for (Y/N/N).”

“So you guys won’t mind me asking what it is that you like about each other,” Azula said, a very fake smile on her face. “Right? (Y/N/N), you first.”

You exchanged a mildly panicked look with Zuko before answering Azula. It wasn’t like thinking of an answer was hard; the problem was that you were going to be telling Zuko the truth about how you felt about him, even if he thought you were just playing along. You were baring your feelings not only to him, but to his sister and your friends.

“Well,” you began, taking a deep breath and glancing at Azula before refocusing your gaze on Zuko. “He’s attractive-”

“Even with that scar?” Azula asked, a wicked smile on her face as she noticed Zuko’s uncomfortable expression.

“Yes,” you stated firmly and without hesitation. Zuko looked at you in surprise. “He’s attractive even with the scar. But he’s not just physically attractive. He’s kind and sweet and just a little bit of a hothead but it’s kind of endearing. He’s always there for me no matter what and he’s always put my needs above his own, even though my needs are nowhere near as important as his. He’s my best friend and honestly, I like everything about him.”

The ship was silent as Zuko stared at you in awe. There was an unreadable look on Azula’s face before she turned to face Zuko. “Your turn Zuzu. What makes (Y/N) so attractive to you?”

“W-Well she’s pretty, and she has nice...hair?” Zuko said, stuttering for a moment before shaking his head and looking at you. He stared at you for a few seconds before speaking again. “What I mean is, I like (Y/N) because she’s been with me through everything. She made me feel like I was special, even when we were little kids. She always knew just what to say to make me feel better and she was the only one who was ever willing to put up with me no matter what. She’s the only person I truly trust, and that’s why I’ve chosen to trust her with my heart.”

You looked away from his stare when he finished speaking, knowing that what he had said was probably how he felt about Mai. In Zuko’s head, he began to question his feelings for Mai. Sure, what he had said applied to Mai but as he spoke, he began to realize that you were the one he was truly speaking about. He kept his eyes on you as his inner turmoil raged on, only getting worse when you glanced up at him and sent him a soft smile. 

“Well, I have to say, I was a little skeptical about whether or not your little relationship was real or not,” Azula said, clapping her hands twice before turning away from you. “But now I can see that you truly like each other. You have my blessing.”

Zuko scowled at her before speaking. “I wasn’t aware that we needed it.”

Azula waved him off before walking to the railing and looking out at the water. The rest of the trip was spent in silence as everyone did their own thing and you found yourself drifting off to sleep.

~

“It smells like old lady in here,” Zuko complained as you walked into the beach house. 

“Gee, I wonder why,” you replied sarcastically, yawning as Zuko sent you a half-hearted glare. You nudged his shoulder with yours, giving him a teasing smile. He rolled his eyes and wrapped his arm around your waist from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Who are those beautiful women?” Ty Lee gasped, looking at the hanging painting.

“Can’t you tell?” Lo asked. “It’s Li and me.”

“It’s Lo and me!”

You all grimaced as Lo and Li copied the pose from the painting, Zuko digging his face into your neck to avoid looking at the scene in front of him.

“Zuko, stop,” you whispered, giggling as his hair tickled your neck. He glanced up at you, smiling at your reaction before he continued to do it. You swatted at his arms, desperately trying to get out of his hold. He simply tightened his grip, grabbing your hands to stop you from hitting him. 

He glanced up to see everyone staring at the two of you, loosening his grip when he met Mai’s gaze. He was surprised to see that she didn’t seem annoyed or upset. If anything, she seemed almost happy, watching the two of you with the faintest of smiles. He loosened his grip slightly, allowing you to slip away from him. You bent down to grab your bag, only for Zuko to step in and take it from you. 

“So, there are only four bedrooms,” Azula said, looking around. “(Y/N), Zuzu, you wouldn’t mind sharing one, would you?”

“Not at all, Azula,” Zuko replied instantly. Your eyes widened before looking at Azula and nodding meekly. 

“Great. Let’s go to the beach, I want to have some fun,” Azula said, stalking off. 

You soon found yourself down at the beach, helping Ty Lee as she tried to find the perfect spot to settle down in. Azula was off terrorizing little kids and Zuko was trailing behind you as he walked with Mai. You ignored the pang in your chest as you glanced behind you, instead focusing on the two boys that were now standing in front of you and Ty Lee. 

“Hey, need some help?” one of them asked, taking Ty Lee’s bag.

“Sure! Thanks,” she said, smiling at them. The other boy took your bag as well, setting your towel down besides Ty Lee’s. The two of you sat down next to each other, squinting in the sun. 

“Could you scooch just a little bit to the-” Ty Lee trailed off as the boys moved to block the sun. She sent them a smile and a wink. “Thanks.”

A few yards away, Zuko was sitting next to Mai under an umbrella. He noticed a shell next to him and picked it up, looking at it while he turned it over.

“(Y/N) would like that,” Mai said dully, glancing at the shell.

“What about you?” Zuko asked, meeting her eyes. Mai snorted.

“No way. A dumb shell? I’m not that type of girl,” she replied. Zuko looked at her for a few seconds before tossing it aside. It landed farther than he meant it to, one of the boys that was with you picking it up and examining it before turning to face you.

“Here, this is for you,” the boy said quietly, handing you the shell. You looked at it before placing it down next to you.

“Wow, thanks. It’s beautiful,” you said bashfully, sending the boy a polite smile. 

“Just like you,” the boy replied instantly, bringing a faint blush to your cheeks. 

Mai watched the scene in amusement, noticing the way Zuko tensed up slightly. “Told you she’d like it.”

“Hey beach bums!” Azula called out, standing by the kuai ball net. “We’re playing next.”

You all made your way over to Azula, both you and Ty Lee giving the boys apologetic looks. The game was pretty intense, all because of Azula. At the end, your team was victorious and you were left standing around as Azula gloated to the other team about her victory.

“Hey, I’m having a party tonight,” a boy said, approaching you and Ty Lee with his friend. “You should come by.”

“Sure! I love parties,” Ty Lee chirped. The boy looked at you expectantly.

“Sure, I’ll go,” you said, nodding softly. 

“Your friend can come too,” the boy added, glancing at Mai. 

“What about me and my brother? Aren't you going to invite us?” Azula asked, staring at the two boys. You don't know who we are, do you?”

“Don't you know who we are?” the boy shot back. “We're Chan and Ruon-Jian. But, fine, you're invited. Just so you know, though, some of the most important teenagers in the Fire Nation are gonna be at this party, so try and act normal.”

“We’ll do our best,” Azula replied, smiling sinisterly. 

~

You had arrived at the party way too early. Watching Azula trying to flirt was painful and so you found yourself tucked away in a corner with Zuko, the two of you quietly munching on some food. 

“So, does Mai seem jealous?” you asked quietly, leaning against the wall as more guests began to arrive 

“Kind of? Maybe? I don’t know, it’s hard to tell,” Zuko muttered, his gaze on Mai as she looked around the food table for something to eat. “She was kind of emotionless when we were talking about you but she usually is so I’m not sure.”

You nodded amusedly, glancing around before your eyes landed on Ty Lee being cornered by a group of boys. “Oh no. Sorry Zuko, I’ll be back.”

You darted away, pulling Ty Lee away from the group before she could chi-block them. She gave you a thankful smile before bouncing away making her way to Azula. You turned around to go back to Zuko to find your path being blocked by Chan. 

“Enjoying the party?” he asked, leaning against the wall as he smiled down at you. 

“O-Oh, yeah,” you replied softly, looking around for any of your friends.

“Yeah, I’m known for throwing the best parties,” Chan boasted, leaning down towards you. “How bout I show you around? Give you a tour of the house?”

“No, that’s fine,” you said meekly, meeting Mai’s eyes. She gave you a nod, understanding that you wanted her to come and save you from Chan. Unfortunately, before she could approach you, Ruon-Jian stopped her and began to talk to her. 

“C’mon,” Chan said, placing his hand on your lower back as he guided you away.

“Stop talking to my girlfriend!” 

The room went silent at Zuko’s outburst and you sighed in relief, before turning around and seeing Zuko standing in front of Ruon-Jian. You swallowed harshly as Mai met your eyes, surprise evident on her face as she looked from you to Zuko. Sensing the tension in the air, Zuko glanced towards you, a panicked expression on his face. 

“I told you they weren’t really dating,” Azula scoffed, looking from you to Mai. “Poor (Y/N) likes Zuko but Zuzu here only has eyes for Mai. Fake dating was the furthest she was ever going to get with him.”

Feeling the tears welling up in your eyes, you ducked under Chan’s arm and sprinted out the door. The room burst into chatter as people began to gossip about what had just happened.

“Mai, I-” Zuko began to speak, stopping when Mai held up her hand.

“Zuko, I’m not stupid,” she said blankly. “We all knew you were fake dating, we just wanted to see how far you’d go until one of you would fess up.”

“Then why didn’t you say anything?” Zuko asked, following Mai as she walked outside. 

“Because after the ferry ride, we realized something,” Mai said, turning around and facing Zuko as she came to a stop. “You’re in love with each other.”

“No we’re not,” Zuko argued. “This whole thing started because I wanted to make you jealous.”

“I know,” Mai said, causing Zuko to look at her in surprise. “You’re not exactly subtle. We could tell that your focus wasn’t on her but I’m telling you that after the ferry ride, something changed. Whether you want to admit it or not, you love (Y/N). You said it yourself, she’s the one that’s always been there for you. She’s the one you trust. What you said was true, Zuko. You just don’t want to admit you’re in love with her because you’re afraid of losing her. But trust me, she feels the same way. You have nothing to worry about. Besides, you can’t tell me you don’t feel anything for her, not after seeing the way you were holding her at the beach house.”

Zuko stood in silence for a few minutes, thinking about Mai’s words. She was right, and he knew it. He had loved you since you were children and he had never told you, too afraid of the rejection that would inevitably follow. Mai was simply a replacement for you, as harsh as that was. He had wanted Mai because she was easy and convenient to be with. But you had always held his heart because as he had said earlier, you were the only one who was trustworthy enough to have it. 

“She’s down by the beach,” Mai said, breaking Zuko out of his thoughts. He looked at her questioningly. “She finds it peaceful down there, it’s where she’d go to be alone.”

Zuko nodded, sprinting down the house’s steps before pausing. “Thanks Mai.”

Mai smiled as she watched him sprint away. After many long, long years you were finally going to be together. And if Zuko messed this up, she would personally make sure that he’d regret it.

~

Tears streamed down your face no matter how hard you tried to keep them at bay. You knew that it was a bad idea to go along with Zuko’s dumb plan but you had always had a hard time saying no to the prince. And look where that had gotten you, heartbroken and crying on an empty beach. 

You picked up random rocks and shells, throwing them into the water as you tried to quiet your sobs. A part of you had always hoped that Zuko would wake up and magically fall in love with you but deep down you knew that you would never be the one for him. When you were younger, maybe. But not anymore. Sighing deeply, you sat on the sand, bringing your knees to your chest and crying quietly as the water lapped at your toes. 

You closed your eyes when you felt someone sit next to you, knowing it was probably Ty Lee trying to make you feel better. “Go away Ty Lee. I just want to be alone.”

Ty Lee didn’t answer, instead wrapping an arm around you. You leaned into her embrace, eyes widening when your head landed on a muscular chest. You looked up to meet bright golden eyes and you threw yourself backwards, escaping Zuko’s embrace. 

“What are you doing here?” you asked quietly, putting more space between the two of you. “You should be inside with Mai.”

“Is what Azula said true?” he asked, his voice equally quiet. “You like me?”

“Yes,” you whispered, looking anywhere but him. You could feel his eyes burning into you, causing you to swallow harshly. “Zuko, please. Just go away. Just forget that tonight ever happened. Once we get back to the palace, we can just ignore each other. Just leave me alone.”

“I like you too,” Zuko said, pausing for a few seconds. “Wait no. I don’t like you, I love you.”

You shot him a look, his figure looking slightly blurry due to your tears. “Please don’t make this worse than it already is.”

“I’m serious,” Zuko said, scooting closer to you and brushing away your tears. “Remember the time we were feeding the turtle ducks in the royal gardens and my mom left us to go get more food for them? You pushed me into the pond once she was gone, as payback for the time that I accidentally made you fall out of the palanquin. I was so angry but when I looked up at you, you were laughing and I couldn’t do anything but stare. That’s when I knew I loved you.”

“We were nine,” you snorted, remembering the incident. “We didn’t know what love was. We still don’t.”

“Maybe not,” Zuko replied. “But I know that I felt something for you. After that, every time I saw you I couldn’t breathe right and I couldn’t stop blushing. Trust me, I fell in love with you a long time ago, even if i didn’t know what love was.”

“Then why were you trying to make Mai jealous?” you asked quietly, wanting to believe his words. 

“Because I’m stupid,” Zuko said, chuckling softly. “Because I didn’t think that we could be more than friends. I didn’t think you’d ever like me back so I went after Mai because she was a safe choice. But it’s always been you, (Y/N). And it will always be you.”

You looked at Zuko, seeing nothing but honesty in his eyes. You scooted closer, resting your head on his shoulder as you looked out at the water. “I knew I loved you when I first met you. I had been so scared when my parents had left me with one of the maids. They had a meeting to get to and the maid was leading me to the kitchen to keep me busy. You came out of nowhere, running from Azula as she chased you and you knocked me over. When you held out your hand to help me up, I knew I had a crush on you. You led me to the gardens and you made sure that I was okay and you even stole a cookie from the kitchen for me to apologize for knocking me down. I was a goner.”

Zuko smiled fondly as he remembered the incident. He had been so worried that he had hurt you. Looking down, he saw you smiling contently, still looking out at the ocean. Softly, he grasped your chin, turning your face towards him. You sent him a questioning look, sighing softly when he leaned down and pressed his lips against yours. You tilted your head up, his arm wrapping around your waist and pulling you flush against him. Your hands trailed up his chest, circling around his neck and pulling slightly on his hair. He pulled you onto his lap completely and you shifted, straddling his lap. You felt his tongue swipe at your bottom lip and you opened your mouth, letting him deepen the kiss. You pulled apart after a few more seconds, both of you breathing heavily as you looked at each other with a large smile on your faces. 

“I told you I’d make it up to you,” Zuko whispered. The two of you laughed lightly before he spoke again. “Will you be my girlfriend?” 

Your breath caught in your throat again as you recalled Zuko asking the same question a few days earlier. You leaned down, pressing another kiss to his lips before you answered. 

“It’d be my pleasure to court you, Prince Zuko. This time for real.”

~

taglist!

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[stillness-in-green]

MVA In Memoriam (2/5)

The Comprehensive Account of the Butchering of My Villain Academia

(Introduction and Part One, Episode 108: My Villain Academia)

Part Two, Episode 109: Revival Party

Chapter 224 – Revival Party

• Mr. Compress’s side comment about how the distance Re-Destro wants them to travel means he must know they have warp capabilities. Also shortens his subsequent line, removing the bit about how their position has been locked onto, leaving only the marveling about the dude on the phone being the kind of person who has access to a satellite camera. Not a major cut, but it did strip out a bit of reiteration on how very Seen the League is. The warp line is another nod to how the MLA’s been doing their research—in particular, it ties in nicely with RD’s observations about the Noumu. He talks, there, about something Dabi said after the High End fight, which means he must also know that Dabi was warped out by an “Ujiko-san.”

• Also Mr. C’s observation that they haven’t broken Machia yet, and his posed question about what to do. Mr. Compress, I’m so sorry that you’re so wordy and lose so many quips and asides because the anime was set on brutally scything out every line of non-essential dialogue it could find.

• Ujiko’s extremely hilarious, “Listening to Villain Radio is my new favorite hobby,” line. Why would you cut this; this line is hysterical.

• The bit where Mr. Compress has the bright idea to use a High End Noumu like the one Dabi used, Ujiko rejects the suggestion out of hand, citing production woes, and Shigaraki says that he wasn’t going to ask for one of them anyway. Aside from being more cut Compress content (or “Comptent,” for short), it helps center the timeline somewhat at a point where the manga is jerking it around all over; it also shows that the League has been keeping up with news from the outside world. It also shows that at least one of them thought about using the Noumu—and since we know Re-Destro did some rationalizing on that scenario too, it’s good to see that it is at least briefly on the table.           Further, Ujiko provides a few rare details about the Noumu creation process. Firstly, that AFO is normally involved, so his absence makes the procedure much more difficult (though not, apparently, impossible). Secondly, that Hood-chan was the only Noumu who’d actually reached the testing stage. This will be important later, for Ujiko’s agonizing about unleashing them early/Mirko having to fight four of them at once.           Also, I just miss Mr. C’s funny little head wilt when Ujiko immediately turns down his “use some Noumu” idea. Ditto Shigaraki’s blasé shrug and little grin. Again, not to harp on the art too much, but man I wish the anime had kept all the fierce little grins and tight, incensed smirks Shigaraki has through the majority of this and the phone call sequence.

• Spinner’s line, “Without knowing squat about what we’re up against?!” A minor cut, as these things go, but it reiterates that there’s a chance RD is bluffing and the League has no way to know one way or the other, and demonstrates that the League can give Shigaraki some pushback on his decisions without having to worry about getting dusted for the temerity.[1]

• Takes one of Spinner’s lines—“Wait. I get it. Wherever you go, Shigaraki, he’ll sniff you out and hunt you down.”—and gives it to Shigaraki instead. Because fuck Spinner’s growing understanding of Shigaraki and the way his mind works, I guess! It’s especially notable that Spinner figures this out when Mr. C had completely the wrong idea about Shigaraki’s intentions—it demonstrates the way Spinner is gradually aligning himself with Shigaraki’s way of thinking, which we’ll see even more clearly during the War Arc. Also, again, it’s good to see the moments where the League weighs in on Shigaraki’s plans.

• The visual of Twice lashing out at Dabi with his razor-edged tape measure over Dabi’s dismissal of Giran, though all the relevant dialogue was there. Possibly this is because, having cut the CRC bit, the audience has no way of knowing that Twice’s tape measure is razor-edged, so why bother raising the question, “Why is Twice trying to attack Dabi with a tape measure..?” Possibly it’s because showing that attack would require animating movement, and MAN ALIVE, did Episode 109 ever want to do everything it could to avoid animating movement.

• Slidin’ Go’s line about how Deika isn’t usually his turf, but today is a big exception. This makes the hearty affirmative with which Trumpet announces himself a response to Shigaraki’s half-phrased observation about the reason behind the city’s emptiness, rather than a response to Slidin’ Go. It works, more or less, and probably even flows more clearly, all things considered. I’m always sad to lose lines from the vanishingly few named/characterized MLA members we have, though. I like, too, that it hints at the machinations that have to have been involved with setting things up for the Revival Party, and the way those plans were carried out with confidence that Re-Destro’s “bait the League into coming for their broker” plan would work despite the total absence of a response from the League in any of the time Giran was missing/his fingers were cropping up on the nightly news reports.

• A few shots of cameras in the city, which foreshadow Skeptic’s watchful eyes and ability to track the League through the city. In retrospect, this isn’t surprising, since the anime went on to cut basically any indication of Skeptic’s entire plan re: the footage of the League attacking, so why bother keeping the cameras? (Oh, right. Skeptic’s whole thing is cameras and information/disinformation. Skeptic for second-most screwed-by-the-anime MLA member.)

Additions

• Showed Toga having stood back up somewhere during Shigaraki’s explanation of their throw-Machia-against-the-MLA plan. A simply appalling choice. In the manga, she stays crouched down by Twice the entire time Shigaraki has his mask pulled off, because Toga cares about reassuring Jin-kun when he’s in a bad way.

• Rephrased Compress’s dialogue somewhat, also giving him a new line about the MLA’s forces in Deika when the League was still in the hills looking down at the city: “The so-called Meta Liberation Army has a force of 110,000 here.” I assume it was because the scene falls in a different episode than the tactical discussion did (in the manga, they’re the same chapter), so the anime was reminding the viewer of the stakes, but it’s potentially awkward because, er, no, the MLA categorically did not bring their entire army to Deika. We’ll find out as much for sure later, with the note that the regiment advisors weren’t in attendance because they were occupied at the bases they command, but even with only the knowledge we have here, Re-Destro’s statement about his numbers is that they’re scattered all over the country—hence the shot of Japan with a bunch of lights scattered across it to represent said numbers.           That said, to be (briefly) charitable, there’s no particular reason for the League to assume that, and they did discuss the possibility that there were going to have to fight 110,000 people. So it makes sense that Mr. C might state as much when recapping for the audience.

Chapter 225 – Interview with a Vampire

• Re-Destro talking about Deika’s geography and why they chose it strategically. The anime dropped so much about the MLA’s planning and information-gathering beforehand; it really made the MLA look ludicrously overconfident. And while they don’t lack for that trait, certainly,[2] this is also an organization that has meticulously grown its membership for generations right under Hero Society’s collective nose; you don’t get to where they are by being unduly foolhardy. Erasing so many scenes demonstrating their caution and forward-planning undercuts the threat they represent to both the League and society at large.           Also too, the descriptor of Deika as a nice, quiet, isolated little town in the mountains gives us some hints about how the MLA has avoided notice for so long, when you consider how the Hero business works: because so many people who get into heroism want to make it big, like celebrities, they don’t want to stick around small-town beats, and so the rural areas are understaffed.[3] That’s presumably why groups like the CRC and the MLA grow their numbers out in the boonies: much less attention from the Powers That Be. You can guess at some of that from how Spinner describes the place—“not too small, not too big”—and what Trumpet says about the percentage of the population that’s MLA, but RD adds that key “isolated” descriptor, and says that it’s a place where they “lay low.” That gives us some potential insight into how many—likely the majority—of the MLA came to their beliefs: by being raised to them, because their hometown was infiltrated by the MLA generations ago and they have literally never known anything else.

• RD’s phrasing, “Counter to point one,” when he makes his second point about the Noumu. He acknowledges that it’s counter-intuitive to his first argument, that he knows it would normally be an argument against that opening point, not in support. It’s just conversational padding, really, but “conversational padding” like that does a lot to distinguish character voice, so that not everyone talks the same way.

• A panel showing a trio of unnamed MLA warriors strategizing about how to divide their forces now that the League has split up. It’s the little cuts like this that gradually remove the agency of unnamed characters, such that they’re left looking like unthinking puppets instead of real people with the ability to register and respond to their circumstances. It also points towards the truth of what the MLA warriors are and one reason they’re so dangerous (for all that the manga itself will neglect this most egregiously later on): they’re trained in regiment tactics and accustomed to working in groups. This contrasts them both with villains, who might group together, but certainly don’t usually fight that way, and heroes, who are so unaccustomed to working in groups that it’s cited as part of the reason to have named super moves.

• Curious’s little pageboy-cut middle school kid line telling Toga to back off when Miss Curious is on the job. This is an early example of how defensive the MLA are of people above them in the hierarchy, an important thing Spinner will pick up on and attempt to use against Trumpet. Again, it’s little moments like this that both add some welcome notes of individuality to the MLA warriors (if only by virtue of Horikoshi and his assistants’ traditional talent for distinctive character design) while also fleshing out who the MLA are as a group, and contrasting them with the League.

• Deleted Toga’s line IDing her “on-the-go suck-suck mask,” but did insert a nice little bit of her expression shifting when she whipped it out. It lost a bit of the self-conscious silliness of her support item name in exchange for a cool little animation beat. I don’t dislike it, particularly, but I am, as previously stated, very leery of edits that make the League more polished in their villainy at the cost of their human foibles.

• Curious’s line about having come prepared to counter Toga’s moves, which was supposed to further reiterate that the MLA has done their research on the League; they didn’t just decide out of the blue to target the most notorious Villains in the country without studying up on them first and planning accordingly!

• Curious’s line about how she’s going to get started with some background info while her people use their meta-abilities to keep Toga and her buddies on the ropes. A marvelously characterful line! It speaks especially to that edge of formality the MLA brass observe that even as she’s ringleading this attack, Miss Curious is still set on going through her interview process step by established step.

Framing Shifts

• Made some of Curious’s lines spoken dialogue instead of internal monologue. That’s probably fine for when she’s waxing enthusiastic about Toga’s lack of hesitation in committing murder or how she’ll use Toga’s story to further the MLA’s agenda. It’s less fine when she’s rattling out the entire name, brand and patent status of her support item for no particular reason when Toga is already halfway through trying to knife her (that’ll be next chapter).

• The anime implied pretty firmly that Curious’s bombers died. And like, yeah, that’s always made more sense than the idea that anyone could survive something like that, but I hate it anyway. For one thing, it makes it even harder to credit the idea that Toga’s still on her feet afterward if Curious’s supposedly not-very-lethal explosions merk all her own people. People in this series survive ludicrous amounts of damage, and these random MLA devotees are no exception! For another, it leans into the narrative that the MLA higher-ups throw away the lives of their minions without the slightest care. It’s a lot harder to make that case when it’s explicit in the manga that Curious’s people survive the blood explosions—the blonde in the tracksuit is unharmed enough to snicker about it, and the noodle chef is even doing well enough to continue attacking! I’ve always been of the opinion that the MLA are, yes, willing to spend the lives of their underlings on attaining goals, if that’s what they think is necessary, but that is not at all the same as gleefully throwing them onto the pyre to watch them burn.

Additions

• Some individual shots of Mr. Compress, Dabi and Twice fending off or fleeing from various MLA types. A nice try on getting the group split up, but it feels kind of budget save-y, when we could have gotten actual animation of those fights instead.

• Inserted a quick shot of a headline about Toga’s first attack as Curious was rambling on about why she’s interested in Toga but not the League in general. Actually a fairly reasonable insertion, given how much text is crammed into her talk bubble in the manga while the dude standing next to her is already getting a knife in the neck.

Chapter 226 – Bloody Love

• A panel of interviewees talking about Toga’s first victim being sociable and popular. It gives a bit of context on what he was like, what people thought of him, but given that we know enough about Toga at this point to know that his popularity was entirely incidental to what she liked about him, it’s not a huge loss.

• The detail of the broadcasted interviews censoring Toga’s name. Considering how Japanese media normally treats minors accused of crimes, this is an eyebrow-raising change—the manga censors it because Japanese media outlets would have done the same. No idea why the anime didn’t, unless it’s another of those places where it would feel too “real,” to have something that so closely mirrors real life treatment of criminals?

• Everything about quirk counseling, and whoo boy, that is a loaded cut. There is exactly one other mention of quirk counseling anywhere in the manga, and, curiously enough, it also comes up in relation to a villain: in the U.A. faculty meeting after the USJ attack, Midnight muses that maybe Shigaraki never received quirk counseling in elementary school. It’s a weird little non sequitur there—exactly what sort of program did she expect could single-handedly make the difference between a well-adjusted adult and a gleefully murderous manchild with aims on killing Japan’s Number 1 Hero? Just over two hundred chapters later, we get a hint: a program designed to fit people “neatly into society’s little boxes.”           Quirk counseling, then, is not about helping children find healthy ways to process their quirks, but rather, about teaching children what is and is not acceptable in terms of quirk use—and as Curious says, Toga’s admiration of blood was never going to be acceptable.[4] This explanation doesn’t just tell us a lot about Toga—that she wasn’t only failed by the hysterical condemnation of her parents, but also by a society that had no interest in helping her if it didn’t see a use for her—but also provides some insight on the viewpoint of the Meta Liberation Army vis-à-vis mandatory state-funded programs that dictate what “normalcy” looks like to impressionable children.           Curious is, of course, not a particularly trustworthy narrator in this, as one might expect of someone who uses language like “society’s little boxes,” but it does track with Midnight’s earlier musing of, “Maybe the anti-social dude never took the program intended to make sure he was a functioning member of society.” That kind of statement—“State-sponsored educational programs are there to program children into becoming unthinking cogs of society, actually.”—is one that it’s all too easy to imagine the people with an eye on broadcast standards taking issue with, even coming as it does from the mouth of a villain.

• Curious’s line, “Let’s turn your death into a legendary tragedy, shall we?” and its accompanying visual of two different papers with imagined headlines. The dialogue doesn’t strike me as crucial—Curious’s fervent belief in Toga’s story is amply demonstrated elsewhere and her intent to turn that story into a legend reiterated in the line immediately following—but it is a shame to lose the headlines. They tell us, in Curious’s own words, exactly the tack she was planning to take in telling Toga’s story to the general public, without the constant namedropping of the Liberation Army that she does when talking about it in person. One headline in particular—The Price of Suppression: A String of Bloody Murders—is an especially useful reference for discussing whether the MLA actually wants, as is popularly claimed, completely unhindered quirk use, even for people like e.g. Muscular who want nothing more than to murder people with their quirks.[5]

• Curious’s initial wait what response to getting Floated, and her people’s focus shifting away from Toga and onto Curious instead. On a surface level, that focus shift helps explain why Toga’s able to zip around the ground and touch nearly twenty people before they even react: because they’re afraid for Curious. It also hurts the ongoing characterization of the MLA rank and file as being fanatically devoted to their higher-ups which, again, is something Spinner is supposed to notice later. It’s the worst kind of plot device if that devotion is completely told to us rather than consistently shown!

• Toga’s internal reflection that she’s seen Ochaco use her quirk, and knows how to use it. It’s obvious from the panel that she knows how to use it, but the manga implies that Toga transforming doesn’t automatically grant her an understanding of peoples’ quirks; it’s only in observation (and possibly love) that she can reach this particular unlock. Leaving out that information leaves open the possibility that she can just do this all the time now, with anybody she transforms into.

• The reaction from the surviving crowd to Curious’s death. See above re: STOP FUCKING ERASING HOW MUCH THE MLA CARES FOR EACH OTHER.

Framing Shifts

• When Toga bolts, Curious in the anime sounded serious, her expression alarmed, like she was actually worried that Toga might escape, even though her dialogue said just the opposite. Maybe you could say that she was afraid Toga would die before she got her statement, but given that she tried to kill the girl herself moments later, I’m skeptical of that claim. Regardless, in the manga, she never loses her smile, and she flashes a Liberation salute as she stands up to give chase. It’s a characterization note, that she’s so wildly confident about this that she never stops being completely enthralled with whatever Toga has to show her.

Chapter 227 – Sleepy

• The last of Toga’s conscious dialogue, about how she’s lost a lot of blood, is fading out, can’t move—but more notably, the way that this state of things makes her feel closer to “them,” that it’s “the same sensation.” And who is “they” here—her victims? The people she loves? More alarmingly, why does the line sound like she’s been this beat-up before, and remembers the sensation? Does that tie into e.g. her comment during the training camp that she doesn’t want to fight too many hero students at once because she doesn’t want to die? Has she actually been subject to this kind of violence before in the past? Does that tie into her still-unexplained ability to erase her presence? It’s an interestingly loaded little line, for being so vague, and illustrative of Toga’s mentality on becoming the people she loves. Which also lets the scene segue nicely into Re-Destro’s observation that, in Toga Himiko’s world, there’s no such thing as “other people.”           On which note, guess what else the anime cut?

• The entire fucking scene where Re-Destro actually reacts to Curious’ death, the motherfuckers. This lost:           1. RD’s talk about the way Toga sees the world and how that led to society casting her out, which he points to as evidence of said society clinging to old ideals even though the nature of humanity itself has changed. It calls back to his methodology with Detnerat, marrying his lines from the commercial to his overarching ideals; it also shows that he understood very well what Curious saw in Toga, and demonstrates that he can express that understanding and empathy even in the face of losing one of his closest allies.           2. Skeptic’s reaction to Curious’s death, which is pretty sparse, but at least present. He says she never should have been on the front lines—an excellent reminder to the people who’re always going on about how the MLA brass thinks themselves so above their followers: Curious was on the front lines, against the wishes of some of her peers!—and calls her a valuable resource.[6] You can theorize about Skeptic not caring for her beyond her usefulness to the cause, or just that Skeptic is a huge autist who processes his emotions differently than most, and isn’t going to stop to do that when there’s still a battle going on, but either way, you need this scene to do it accurately.           3. Speaking of people who process their emotions in unusual ways, as I said above, this scene also shows Re-Destro openly crying over the deaths of Curious and each and every warrior diving into battle with their hopes for the future. They’re not crocodile tears, either. As was the case with Miyashita, there’s no one in this room that Re-Destro would need to perform grief for: Skeptic clearly doesn’t see a use for tears right now, so I don’t see him expecting them from Re-Destro, and the only other person in the room is Giran, a hostage who the MLA—very probably Re-Destro himself—maimed! It’s not like RD’s tears are going to change Giran’s mind about him (indeed, Giran gets a comedic reaction beat at the absurdity of the dude who started all this up here crying about it)! But RD says life is precious and he cries anyway, briefly, before he ruthlessly turns it off.           RD’s valuing of human life—especially his own peoples’ lives—crops up in roundabout ways twice more, both leading the fight with Shigaraki (“It angers me.”) and ending it (“Any more would bring about meaningless death.”). This, though, is when he’s most open about it, to the degree that—as with Machia’s grief—it’s kind of off-putting and strange. Cutting it makes it that much easier for people to get entirely the wrong impression of RD as a character.           4. The delightful scene where Skeptic berates Giran about asking brainless questions and then answers his question anyway. Fuckin’ hell, why cut this?? So much of Skeptic’s character is in this scene! You get moments of his neuroticism later on, but never in so concentrated a burst as this (there’s one other sequence that could compete, but—spoilers—the anime cut that one, too). The exchange also explains the cameras placed throughout the city—which are visually referenced early on—and what the MLA is planning to do with their footage. Without that explanation, the audience has no idea how, exactly, the MLA was planning to use wiping out the League as a springboard for their grand return to the spotlight. That footage is the crucial part of how the rest of the country reacts to Deika in the Endeavor Agency Arc, and the anime never even mentioned it! The audience was just left to assume that all the media came in afterward, not that there was the slightest whiff of footage from the battle itself.           5. Once again brings up Re-Destro’s belief in the power of the heart to move other hearts. We get a bit of that in Curious’s flashback, but here he says it in his own words—as he will also bring it up to Shigaraki. Once again, Shigaraki is going to be challenged about his conviction, which ties back into what Spinner and Ujiko demanded from him earlier in the arc. With so

many people set to be grilling Shigaraki on this front, it tells us again what the arc is for: Shigaraki’s conviction, and him demonstrating it to the people who think he lacks it.

• The panel of Spinner asking how long they’ve been at it and Mr. Compress responding. This line helps manage the pacing, giving the audience an idea how much time is passing as we cut around to different places. It’s also, you know, more cut Spinner dialogue, and shows the beginnings of Shigaraki and Spinner getting split off from the rest by Shigaraki’s sleep-drunk staggering angling him off in a different direction. The rest of the scene is moved to after Toga’s fight with Curious, but not otherwise tampered with.

• The other big reaction to Curious’s death, which is Trumpet using it to rile up the crowd. The group that attacks Shigaraki isn’t just some free-roaming mob—they’re coming at him in a grief-stricken frenzy, which they’ve been goaded into by one of their leaders.           This sequence also introduces the campaign van—a vehicle that will have several more appearances—to events, and hints at Trumpet’s meta-ability. Further, it’s one of the scenes that outright states that the MLA is less an army than a religion, in Mr. Compress’s line about how Trumpet is like a preacher rallying his flock. That understanding—that the MLA may style themselves as an army, but what they really are is a cult—is key to the way the MLA members act, from the very bottom to the very top.

• Trimmed Shigaraki’s flashback down, cutting—among other things—the very first lines Hana speaks, and her namedrop. This moment is the first one Tomura gets back, and the very first thing we find out is that he was doing something he wasn’t supposed to be doing. The anime also failed to identify Shimura Nana’s relation to Tenko/Tomura and Hana—helpful to remind the audience of a plot thread they haven’t heard about since Kamino. It also cut out the silhouette of chubby baby Tenko and Tenko’s first line, asking why Hana’s showing him this, a line which clues us in that Hana was the impetus here, not Shigaraki as he was back then. Still not satisfied, it also cut the phrase, “Daddy said all that stuff,” which is a clear and ominous warning that there was some conflict going on between young Shigaraki and the Father whose dismembered hand he now wears on his face.

• Left the dialogue but cut the silhouette of an airborne Geten with his enormous ice fists coming in hot behind Dabi when he was smarming about it not being his style to take the pacifist route. It’s not crucial, since we see the fists again shortly (it’s the end of the chapter page, whereas the anime rolls right on into the continuation of the scene), but it’s a shame, since framing Dabi from below with this sudden presence behind him is a much more fun, dynamic angle than the dead-boring medium shot the anime used. Also too, it’s good foreshadowing for the fact that Geten can fly, since he certainly didn’t get that kind of air by jumping off the roof of the mini-mart across the street.

Framing Shifts

• The crowd attacking Tomura came at him from the back of the shot, whereas in the manga, they’re surging forth from the front; that is, the anime had Shigaraki between the crowd and the POV of the viewer, whereas the manga has the crowd interposing between the viewer and Shigaraki. It makes a huge difference in the impact! Running up from a nebulous background distance, the crowd looked small and futile. Crossing directly in front of the viewer as they attack Shigaraki makes them look like the crashing human wave that they are. But, you know, coming in from the front would mean they’d have to be animated with more detail, and again, Episode 109, more than any other episode in the arc, clearly didn’t have the budget to spare on such things.

• The moment Shigaraki first uses the spreading Decay is horrifically clear in the manga. It’s full of speed lines, Shigaraki moving so fast he decays a dude mid-word, but the impact itself is spread over two pages. We watch his hand literally cleaving through the leading attacker’s face, and then are encouraged to linger on the oversized panel below, the intricately drawn crowd, full of individual faces, still intact on the left, scattering to dust on the right, all fully lit, with Shigaraki—still drawn with speedlines to emphasize his movement—the focal figure in black at the center.           The anime rendered this moment in two stills—Shigaraki’s hand about to hit the lead attacker’s face, and then the crowd already decaying. There was virtually no movement to it, the crowd was so heavily silhouetted against a glare of daylight that it was difficult to tell what was going on, and the moment stayed on screen for only two seconds before Shigaraki landed and threw up, both actions favored with more animation than one of the signature moments of the entire arc. Hell, it even left the walls on either side of the alley intact, when the manga shows them dissolving into ash as well, decay traveling through the ground in a deadly, destructive radius around Shigaraki’s attack.           The anime ever-so-graciously allowed Spinner his line to explain to the audience what just happened, but I think that’s mostly because it would be genuinely difficult to parse if he didn’t. It also gave him a flashback to what we had literally just seen, except this time it wasn’t silhouetted for some reason, so at least the audience got another chance to look at it, I guess?           “Am I seeing things? Just now, his decay effect spread to people he wasn’t even touching!” Well, I guess we’ll have to take your word for it, Spinner.

Additions

• A quick shot of a camera, there and gone almost too fast to register. I want to compliment the anime for adding a camera back in, since it removed the shot of the cameras earlier, but honestly, given that it cut all the scenes about how and why the MLA was gathering footage, I really don’t know why it even bothered. Also too, the camera was gone so fast it felt more like a marker for a scene change—which it also was, segueing the scene from Toga collapsing (only to cut back to her later staggering down an alley) to Spinner and the rest still trying to hold their own—than it did something the audience was supposed to really notice.

Chapter 228 – Wounded Soul

• Twice in the opening pages left out scattered members of the MLA that were around for the start of the Dabi/Geten fight. Leaving them out raises the question of where all the people attacking went, but it’s also the first demonstration that Geten is a danger to his own allies. We don’t see any of them dying on-panel or anything, but we do see them having to dive frantically out of the way because Geten demonstrates no care to the collateral damage of his attacks.

• Cut a small flashback, presumably from Twice’s perspective, of finding the site where Toga and Curious’s fight concluded. You can see the ground covered in blood, and a body that looks a bit like Curious if you squint (distinguishable by the sleeves of her jacket), as well as a small group of people kneeling on the ground in various poses suggesting mourning and a paying of respects. Yet another shot demonstrating the depths of care these people have for their leaders, that they’ve completely let the battle fall by the wayside in favor of their grief.

• Drops the “those zealots” phrase from Twice’s, “I’ll rip those zealots limb from limb for this!” line. Damn, the anime really was determined to erase everything that even hints at the Liberation Army being something much creepier and more damaging than just an underground militia, huh?

Framing Shifts

• For all my complaints about the material, I generally like the voice acting quite a bit. I don’t love the first exchange between Dabi and Geten, though. It’s not a fault of the voice actors themselves, but rather the delivery. Geten was very cool and level-headed throughout, which is all right to a point, but he’s a gremlin under that troll parka, and this fight is where we hear him as close as we ever will to how he is before the multi-layered humbling he’s subject to over the course of this fight. It’s a bit of a shame to play him totally straight, without any of the snark he’s so clearly capable of—and without the tick upwards in vehemence his talk bubbles indicate in his last lines.           Meanwhile, it’s fine for Dabi to get more heated as the scene goes along, and indeed he does, but he also plays it pretty cool at first. You can tell in the shape of his talk bubbles that he’s completely unruffled during his delivery of that, “Consider this a freebie, just for you: ice melts,” line. The anime had him raising his voice for it, and it just loses a lot of the humor of Dabi’s own snark to have him yelling it instead of just laughingly stating it, voice barely raising enough to give his talk bubbles some straighter lines instead of being all undisturbed curves. (For comparison’s sake, it’s about the same level of angular as Geten’s, “You’d best not think your little campfire can melt my ice!” line, but the anime had Dabi shout his line, while Geten continued at the same unperturbed volume he’d maintained since the beginning.)

• As with Shigaraki’s first mass decay, the shot of Geten’s ice dragon did not make the impact on me in the anime that the manga did. I think it’s mostly the way the ice was colored? The claw’s pretty good, but the head looks blobby and indistinct, more like blue soft-serve than the shifting, sharp-edged, brilliantly bright sculpture-in-motion of the manga.

• Twice’s voice actor did his best to sell the scene of him finding Toga, but I wish they’d kept that tight close-up on his mouth when he says, “Give it up. The girl’s dead.” They animated him leaning closer to the camera, but that doesn’t have the sharpness of that sudden cut to being right there on his lips, like some malevolent thing is using them to speak words so terrible that they can’t even be associated with the rest of his face.

                                                          ---

Come back next time (and hopefully in less time) for Part Three, Episode 110: Sad Man's Parade.

FOOTNOTES

[1] We would, of course, have an even clearer idea of that had the anime not cut the scene of Spinner shouting in Shigaraki’s face.

[2] It seems particularly strange to me that Curious and RD both mention quirk evolution as a thing they know can happen in extreme circumstances, but didn’t predict that backing the League into a life-or-death corner might provoke one or two members to undergo exactly that evolution.

[3] Mount Lady is the obvious example, but you can look to places like the island in Heroes Rising, too: one hero, and when they retired, a group of high school kids had to go sub in for a while until a replacement could be arranged. It’s not like retirements just happen overnight; the Commission had to have known it was coming. Still, they had to scramble to find someone. It doesn’t suggest they had anybody just champing at the bit to take the post, you know?

[4] In Chapter 140, we see a young Tamaki Amajiki in a class called “quirk training.” It’s uncertain how connected this P.E.-like class is to quirk counseling, but Toga wouldn’t have been getting much help there, either, seeing as it’s all about figuring out how to use one’s quirk in a way that’s “useful to society.” I can think of some ways, but nothing that I expect would be very popular or liable to be explained to a grade schooler in a country with as long a history with ritual cleanliness as Japan. To a Shinto mindset, Transformation isn’t just off-putting or unhygienic; it’s spiritually unclean.

[5] The answer there being, no, obviously not, or Curious wouldn’t, in all apparent sincerity, be trying to characterize Toga using her quirk to murder people as an undesirable outcome, a cost society is paying for its current stance on quirk use. Yes, you can gather that much from her calling Toga a tragic girl, and Re-Destro concurring later, but listen, I will take every line I can get that I can use to push back against the wretchedly widespread idea that the kid whose name means Apocrypha is the be-all-end-all source on MLA ideology, somehow more reliable and trustworthy than every other MLA character combined, including Destro himself. I would very much like it if the anime had not deleted a bunch of my talking points while making good and sure to leave all Geten’s most damning lines intact.

[6] Not that an anime-only person would fully understand why some random reporter was all that valuable a resource, since the anime cut the explanation of what Curious actually does for a living.

[literaila]

the agony of sanity: chapter two.

“Nothing at all”

spencer x reader

summary: four years is a long time to forget the person you once knew... *thought you knew.

warnings: s12 spoliers, violence, criminal minds stuff, inaccurate BAU things, angst?

part one here.

*

When Spencer sat down he still had that look in his eyes.

The one that was making her nervous. Making her want to run away, go back home where she belonged. God, she couldn't wait to get out of there.

She briefly noted the other eyes on her, inmates all around her staring.  

She swallowed before speaking, running a hand through her hair. “How are you, Spencer?” she plastered a smile on her face, hoping it would get rid of that look.

Spencer just stared at her as if she was delusional. A frown pinned to his face.

“What are you doing here?!” he hissed, one of the guards watching them giving him a stern look that neither of them noticed.

Y/N drummed her fingers on the countertop, she was glad for the thin piece of plastic separating the two considering Spencer looked like he was going to throw something at her.

Not that he’d ever do that, she reminded herself. She still knew that much about him.

She blew a breath out, his eyes still focused on her. “That well, huh?” she whispered, looking away from him. Trying to put a hint of humor in her voice, but all she could hear when it came out was the fear cracking through her calm composure.

“Y/N, I haven't seen you in four years!” Spencer whisper-yelled, making Y/N’s heart race with the force of his voice. Yes, she had been expecting some anger, and maybe surprise, but she wasn't prepared for it. And not quite so fast. Spencer wasn't usually one to have a temper. Or, he wasn't four years ago.

She could only remember him yelling at her twice. Both in instances of fear.

“There's a picture of me on the wall at the BAU.” she deadpanned, looking back at him, trying to seem nonchalant. She needed to keep her cool if this was going to go the way she wanted it to.

“You know what I mean.”

And she did, and maybe it wasn't the right time for joking but she had to keep this conversation as lighthearted as she could bear.

She could already feel her body ready to get up, to leave, and go back home. But she couldn't afford that, and they didn't have enough time. She was supposed to be mending things, letting Spencer know that she was there to help. She wasn't supposed to be joking around, letting her nerves take control of her.

This was so terribly confusing.

“You’re not going to answer my question?” she asked, trying not to glare at him and his eyes. His eyes that wouldn't lose that look, one that she couldn't quite place, but one that she knew wasn't good. Definitely not.

The two of them were completely unaware of everything else, the other voices in the room drowned out by the thoughts of both of them.

And it was strange because even after four years, four long years, this conversation didn't hold an ounce of awkwardness. It never had, even when they had only just met, the two of them were always good at being comfortable around each other. It was so confusing.

That was probably why Spencer didn't mind being angry at her. Even now.

“You never answered mine,” he responded, leaning away from her and crossing his arms. His body, now closed off, his entire demeanor distant.  

Which of course, she noticed.

She sighed, biting her lip before finally nodding, and blowing out a breath. “Emily called me,” she allowed, leaning back in her chair, and breaking Spencer’s glare on her. It was best to let him draw the conclusions by himself, to give him something to calm his emotions down.

He was confused now. “Why?” he inquired, mostly to himself.

Y/N granted him a second to think about it, taking the time to thoroughly examine him. She didn't notice any big indicators of exhaustion, and although he looked a bit more grey than she was used to seeing him. She was going to have to report back to Emily. Emily and all the other people that loved Spencer. She was going to have to remember this information, she was sure that they’d want to know.

She would, at least.

“Emily thinks you can help me,” Spencer whispered, running a hand through his hair. It was as if a light had clicked on in his brain, as if it was all just starting to make sense.

Y/N watched a second more, she wasn't sure if he was angry by this realization. She couldn't tell. She knew that his eyes were cautious now, more careful, as if he said one word too much the world would implode.

“You wouldn't help me.” Spencer denied, looking right at her and all of her nerves. His tone was diminishing, and his face was one of amusement. It was incredibly threatening. Also a reason for her to look away.

She scoffed, nodding her head sarcastically. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Doc.”

She felt a strange pinch of guilt, mad at herself for talking to him like this, for not doing what she meant to do. He was in prison, she was supposed to be helping.

Not confusing and ridiculing him.

Spencer held his hands up in defense, his eyes wide as he looked at her, “You haven't talked to me in four years! You don't even like me-”

“You’re right.” Y/N taunted, a bitter smile on her face. The words had slipped out before she could stop them, her temper getting the best of her.

She hoped he didn't notice the brief wince of regret that laid upon her face for a split second after.

Spencer laughed sarcastically, fed up with her evading. He leaned forward, his eyes angry “Then why the hell are you here Y/N?!” he hissed, his voice coming out strong and harsh. It almost made Y/N want to get up from the table, but she was going to hold her ground. She had to keep her cool, convince him.

She was here to be his advisor, not his enemy.

“I promised Emily I would help.” She affirmed, staring him down with a slight glare. “I’m not backing out on my promise,” she said firmly, her voice much calmer than his. Her composure the only thing that she could rely on.

“I don't need your help, and I’m not sure what Emily thinks but I don't want it! There's nothing you can do, and even if there was I don't want help from someone that hates me.”  

The pin of politeness was pulled from the two of them with Spencer's words. The barrier of courtesy that they’d both put between them removed itself, and suddenly, the bright hot fire was spreading across the table between the two of them.

They weren't in the visitor's room anymore, now they were back someplace they’d been before. A place where they were alone. A bad one.

A place where composure went out the door.

“I’m not here to help you, Spencer! I’m here to help the people that are desperately waiting for you to go back home, remember them?” Y/N fumed, pointing an accusing hand at Spencer as she made her point. “They’re scared straight with you in here! And I’m sure as hell not going to let you die in prison because of an old grudge I have with you!” Her voice increased with her emotions, gaining a few glances from people in the room Spencer and her were no longer in. She felt the flare of the fire in her gut, old and new emotions mixing together as she spoke.

Spencer tried to interrupt, his eyes only slightly softer, when she continued.

“I’m not particularly interested in whether you want me here or not. I’m here. I’m helping you.” The brief pauses in her words set a final statement to the conversation. Her eyes were hard, her stare deadly as she looked at Spencer, waiting for him to say something else.

To anyone else, she might look confident in her stance, might look incredibly intimidating, but she could feel that bubble of fear in her stomach. She could feel her anger at Spencer deflating, and her worry that he might see through her was beating her from inside out.

She just had to get this conversation over with, then she could leave. Then she could go somewhere to get herself together.

A couple more minutes at most.

“Y/N I’m-” Spencer started, his voice bringing both of them back to reality, back to the room where people were starting to get up, some of the visitors starting to leave.

Y/N held a hand up, stopping Spencer, her face tense as she closed her eyes and tried not to remember the last time she had heard that from him.

“I don't need your apologies Reid, then or now.” she paused, taking a breath. “I came here to let you know that I was going to be working your case, I wanted to speak to you before anyone else could.”

Spencer nodded, something inside of him changing, his emotions flipped from a minute ago. “Okay,” he said, his voice softer.

It was so much like the one she’d heard years ago, this man in front of her looking so familiar to her all of the sudden.

“Okay,” she replied, trying to keep her voice level.

She could feel herself draining, her ability to keep talking to him leaving her body faster than she had expected. She was going to have to leave soon, before she could do something that she would regret.

“Is there anything you can do?”

Y/N sighed, rubbing her eyes at the question. She was so tired.

She looked up at Spencer, her face indifferent. “It's not looking good,” she stated, her voice exhausted.

Spencer nodded, already aware of that. He knew that there was nothing to do yet, that time was the only thing that would help him.

Y/N could see the shame on his face, the energy deflating out of him, similar to her.

“I’m going to get you out of here.” She clarified, trying not to leave when his hopes were gone, when she didn't have any good news for him. When Spencer didn't do anything but nod, Y/N furrowed her eyebrows, continuing to get him to look up at her. “I already promised Emily.”

Spencer laughed, brushing his hair back, shaking his head. “You can't promise something impossible, Y/N.”

It was the first time he had positively used her name, but she tried not to notice that.

“I promise Reid, even if it's impossible.”

Spencer only shook his head some more, all of the sudden looking more exhausted than Y/N had the words to explain.

He’d never told her how he was doing. She’d never asked again. She should-

“Promises too often mean nothing.”

And with those words striking Y/N’s core in the worst way, practically blowing her over, Spencer stood up, motioning to the guard.

Nothing.

*

It was cold that night.

Their heater had broken months ago, but with the hot summer air, neither of them had taken the time to care about it. Why would they when they didn't need it? When the sun was out, and the nights were warm.

But as the days got shorter, and the clouds started swarming outside, the air flickered into something freezing. Something much colder than summer.

Spencer would probably tell her that actually it couldn't be classified as freezing until the temperatures-

She shivered just thinking about it.

He wasn't home yet. They’d had the day off, and when the sun had still been shining they’d gone out to the park, laying together. Y/N laid on Spencer’s chest as he read a book out loud, his voice quiet enough so that just the two of them could hear. But eventually, when the sun started to set, and Spencer had to squint to see the words on the page, Y/N had told him that they should go.

Both of them were sad to see the day pass them by so quickly. It was a bittersweet feeling to know that they’d gotten that time together, for once, and now it was over.

But Spencer had smiled at her, gently moved her off of him, stood up, and took her hand. He'd led her away from the park.

He’d whispered sweet nothings to her as they walked home, reminding her that they didn't have to go to bed just yet.

And so, they were going to have dinner, going to watch a movie together.

But when stumbling upon the nothing that they called their fridge, Y/N had forced Spencer to go get something for them to eat, pushing him out the door as she teased him.

He still wasn't home. And the heater wasn't working.

She shivered under the blanket she was under, trying to figure out how long it had been since he’d left. She knew that it shouldn't be taking him this long. She sighed as she called him again, expecting his voicemail, but still hating it.

It was too cold to be in this apartment alone.

She cursed whatever stupidity had led the two of them to forget about fixing the heater, trying not to let her teeth clatter as she watched the clock tick on the wall.

She was so thankful for this day, these couple of hours she got to spend with Spencer unbothered. They hadn't had enough time to do this lately, too exhausted, too busy, to even think about being in love with each other.

It was wearing on the both of them, that much she could tell. It was hard to sleep in the same bed, too exhausted to cuddle, too drained to say goodnight. It was hard to live next to each other and do the same things every day without taking the time to be together.

They had to start leaving some hours for the two of them.

Because a day like this, one where they could just be together without the exhaustion, the work, days like this were the only thing that kept the two of them together.

They were each other's rock, and they needed to start remembering it.

It was those thoughts she was filled with when she finally heard the door click open, Spencer's voice filling the air as she felt the relief in her chest.

At least she wouldn't be alone in the cold now.

“Sorry, there was such a long line, and I had to-” he paused, his voice drifting off in the air in which he could see his breath. “Oh.”

“You remember when I said we didn't need to get the heater fixed right away!?” Y/N called as she heard him pause, “I was wrong!”

Spencer laughed, deciding against taking his jacket off. “I got the food,” he said as he set it down on the counter, noticing his girlfriend walking over to him. He turned to her, smiling. “And I could’ve told you that.”

Y/N’s jaw dropped, a gasp coming out of her mouth. “That was rude,” she exclaimed, trying not to let the smile slip on her face.

Spencer’s eyes widened, his shock matching hers as he thought about what he said. “No I didn't-” he started to say when he finally took a better look at her, noticing the way her jaw was moving, how she was shivering and rubbing her arms. “Are you cold?” he asked, concern clouding his voice.

Y/N nodded. “It's like ten degrees in here,” she whispered, moving over to him.

Spencer immediately took the hint, bringing her into his arms, her cold matching his warmth. Y/N sighed out a breath of relief, happy to be in his arms, to be warm with him again. Her shivers started to fade away, slowly but surely.

“I’m going to get you cold,” she whispered against his chest, the two of them falling into a moment of silence, dancing across their floor without any music. It was blissful, even in the cold. The two of them could feel the warmth, not just in the air, but in their bodies, their minds being flooded with happiness.

“I don't care. There's nothing I wouldn't do for you.” Spencer whispered back, rubbing her back as they rocked against their kitchen floor.

“Even holding me until our heater gets fixed?” she asked, her question bringing a laugh to both of them.

“Even that,” Spencer said, holding her tighter.

And later on, when they were both drifting off to sleep after watching three movies, Spencer kissed Y/N’s head. He thought about the amazing day they'd spent together, the smiles that filled their faces. It was a perfect day he'd decided. There was nothing that could beat her laughter.

He held her as close as he could, wrapping her in his warmth.

And he whispered.

“Nothing.”

*

Her emotions were running in a pit of hysteria.

She couldn't really tell what she was feeling, whether it was relief at finally getting out of that prison- literally -or if it was fear at the fact that she had no idea what to do. Her body was swirling with nerves, anger, terror. So many things.

Hysteria.

It was the hysteria of emotions, all of them at once, banging on her ribs, killing her core, aiming for her throat when she wasn't looking.

She wasn't very fond of the feeling.

She tried to push it down with anything, easing her headache with some over the counter medicine, chugging water in hopes that it would drain her system of all the things she didn't want to feel. She sat in her car, trying not to bang her head against the wheel.

She hated this feeling.

And when she finally decided to get out, to head into the office so that she could talk to Emily about everything like she said that she would, her body still wasn't listening to her only request.

Just to feel nothing. Please.

She shook her head as she walked through the doors, cursing herself out, trying to think of anything to say.

But then she was knocked over.

A blur of a person came rushing over to her, crushing her into a hug before she could even see straight, this person holding on to her for dear life.

Penelope.

There was a moment of relief, a moment where Y/N was laughing out, happy to be filled with the nostalgia of seeing one of her friends again. This was a feeling she could deal with. This was a feeling that she could appreciative.

It was so much better than hysteria.

“You’re back!” the blonde announced, pulling back from her crushing hug to look at Y/N. Garica held her head in her hands, turning it so that she could examine Y/N properly.

Y/N was laughing at her, the smile on her face surprising her. The energy that she hadn't been able to come up with, just showing up in her body as she laughed.

“Only for a while,” she said, her face held so that she was looking directly at Penelope, who also had a smile on her face.

“Oh none of that sweetheart, you’re back!” She insisted, hugging Y/N once again, her grip surprisingly comforting.

It was nice to see her friend again after so long, after cutting communication off completely. Before everything, Penelope and Y/N had been good friends, both of them relying on the other like they were solid ground to stand on.

When Y/N left, she sobbed at the thought of letting this beautiful girl go, practically died when she finally had to, but she couldn't have any reminders.

She’d blocked Garcia as soon as she’d left the country.

When Penelope pulled back again, she had a scowl on her face. Her eyes ridiculing. “Why haven't I heard from you? Where did you go?” she scolded, not letting the other girl go as she questioned her.

“I- '' Y/N started, the question surprising her. How would she answer? There was no real explanation, or at least not one she wanted to say. But before she could think, she noticed the other people surrounding the two of them, two unfamiliar men in the center of the crowd, one woman she didn't recognize.

And then there was JJ, and Rossi, and Emily. Three familiar faces. Her old friends. She immediately smiled at them, appreciating their familiar faces, all the changes that she noticed after four years. She hadn't seen them in so long, too long, and it was practically bliss to be in the same room with her work family again.

Emily was the first to step up, moving over to the side of Y/N Penelope wasn't attached to, and putting her hand on her shoulder.

“This is Y/N Y/L/N. She's a former BAU agent. She's here to help with Spencer’s case.” The announcement didn't stop JJ from moving forward, gently moving Garcia away with a push, and giving Y/N a hug of her own.

More comfort came to Y/N at this hug, the familiarity a gentle reminder that she knew these people, that she wasn't a complete stranger in Virginia.

“It's good to see you again,” JJ said, moving back, the smile still on her face. Her eyes bright as she looked at Y/N. Y/N nodded, agreeing with the other girl. It was amazing to see JJ again.

And then there was Rossi, who of course, wasn't going to let Y/N by without a hug of his own.

“Where’ve you been kid?” he greeted, joining the little reunion that was happening between the four of them.

Smiles were stuck on all of their faces, no introductions needed for the people that had spent years working together, side by side, every day.

Y/N had always been a piece of the puzzle, she was loved unconditionally by all the members of the BAU, and when she’d left, a piece had been missing.

They’d all forgotten about that until then, forgotten that they still weren't complete without her.

She’d forgotten too.

“Working.” She laughed, answering Rossi, the warmth filling her belly as she was connected with all of the people she’d known so well. Her eyes felt less exhausted, friendly, like she was so used to them being.

But there wasn't enough time, and eventually, another man stood up.

“I’m Stephen Walker,” he introduced himself, giving a well-practiced firm handshake. He smiled at her politely.

“Lovely to meet you,” she returned, matching his smile as he stood back.

The woman stepped up next, her smile more friendly than polite, much different from Stephens. Her demeanor was careful, her body trying to be as welcoming as she could.

“I’m Dr. Tara Lewis,” she said, also offering Y/N a handshake.

Y/N didn't feel as nervous meeting her, Dr. Lewis’ welcoming smile made her feel safe, not as worried. She didn't feel like a stranger with Tara. More like old friends. It was a strange feeling. One she wasn't used to.

They smiled at each other as Tara stepped back.

Then the last man stepped forward, confident, his smile also welcoming but playful. His eyes weren't as reserved as his colleagues, Y/N wasn't nervous about him, already getting the hint that they could be good friends.

“I’m Luke Alvez-”

“Newbie.” Garica interrupted, whispering in Y/N’s ear. She looked over to the girl, who was giving Luke a blank look, one that was trying to be oblivious.

“Newbie?” Y/N asked, her brows furrowed as she kept the smile on her face, she looked between Penelope and Luke. Luke just shook his head at her question, rubbing his neck as he looked down.

Garcia just rolled her eyes.

Y/N would have to ask about that later, she noted.

“How was Spencer, Y/N? Emily said you went to see him this morning.” JJ questioned just as Y/N had expected she would.

And suddenly, introductions were over, and Y/N was reminded of all the things she had forgotten because of that hug.

All the feelings she had. All the feelings she didn't want.

Spencer was in prison, he was not hopeful, Y/N didn't know what to do. She promised.

Y/N sighed, rubbing a hand over her face, not noticing the concerned faces at her actions. All of his friends were worried, not expecting good news based on her reaction. Her incredibly pulled back reaction.

���He’s fine, I suppose. Tired I’d imagine.” Y/N explained, trying to remember anything that she could say to ease their worries. “He’s accepted my help. But I don't think he's very hopeful.” she continued, a bittersweet smile on her face. She wanted to be positive, but she couldn't, she couldn't provide anything to anyone in this room when all she wanted to do was scream.

“Well, that's good right?” Penelope asked, her eyes innocent, her voice displaying the tiniest hint of hope. “He's accepting help.”

Emily nodded, glad that there was something they could all lean back on, but Y/N just sighed some more, depleted.

First, there was that conversation with Spencer. That horrid, factious, conversation. And now, she had to tell all of his friends, all of her old friends, all the people she was going to be working with that he wasn't doing well. She didn't want to tell them that he’d only barely accepted her help, that he was ready to send her away.

“Y/N’s only been here for two days, give her some more time and we’ll figure something out.” Emily entrusted, a tense smile on her face. Y/N could tell that she was trying to be positive, she imagined that everyone else knew that too.

The room was full of profilers after all. A bunch of people that could tell when you were lying.

“If you don't mind me asking, what can you do for Spencer? How are you going to help him?” Tara inquired, her tone kind, but Y/N could sense the uncertainty. Like she wasn't sure if Y/N was really going to be able to do anything.

Y/N blew a breath out before answering. “I’m a lawyer, it's how I got into the BAU.” She smiled at the squeeze she felt on her shoulder from Garica. Appreciating the faith. “I know my way around the law, and believe it or not, I used to be a fairly good profiler.”

Penelope gasped, looking to the rest of them. “She was amazing! Without her, half of the BAU’s cases wouldn't have been solved, she and Spencer used to be the ‘dream team’.”

Y/N felt her body tense up at the reminder, hating herself for still feeling that sore spot right in her heart, she hated that even now, she still couldn't handle the little things.

Penelope definitely noticed, her smile dropping at her mistake, her voice picking up its pace to fix the memory she had just brought up.

But Y/N let out a laugh before her friend could apologize, not wanting apologies for something that she should be used to by now. Something that she needed to get over.

She put an arm around Penelope, letting her know that it was okay. That she wasn't mad.

“Emily called me,” she sucked in a breath, her body easing. “Because I know how to work a case, and I have lots of connections that might be a good use to Reid.”

All of them seemed satisfied with her answer, the people she’d just met understanding more now, their confusion about who she was, gone.

“Oh, and I owe her a favor,” Y/N concluded, allowing her voice to become teasing, looking over to Emily and grinning.

She let her emotions become clouded by the conversation that continued, not wanting to feel that same hysteria from earlier.

The hysteria that she was worried would take her over. That would drive her away despite her promises.

She couldn't leave. She had to help.

She was glad for this indifferent feeling she felt. Anything to keep that hysteria away, was okay with her.

She looked around, the warmth she got from all those hugs being just enough to keep her awake.

She was so tired. And she had so much work to do.

A promise to keep.

“Promises too often mean nothing.”

Nothing.

*

[blutopaz15]

How about "You're a softie", or rather "Ye're a softie" ?

Ackk!! This took me SO long to get to, I’m sorry!! It ~did~ turn into practically a whole oneshot though, so woooo! hope you enjoy ;)

also oops I lost the initial prompt post so I forget which number this is lol

#??: “You're a softie.”

Callum wasn’t exactly sure what he’d been expecting when Rayla had banished him from their room, saying that she had a “surprise” for him, but it certainly hadn’t been this.

She’d beaten him back there by a longshot. The “super short” evening audience that one of Ezran’s advisors had requested was not super or short by any means, and by the time Callum had traipsed back to their room, feet dragging and head foggy, she was already ready for bed. When the heavy door creaked open, though, rather than remaining comfortably and impatiently cross-legged on the edge of his matress, ready to curl up with him for a little bit before bedtime as usual, she’d popped up off his bed, shoved his pajamas into his arms, and quickly ushered him towards the washroom.

“Uh, okay,” he’d responded, curiosity over what she was up to clearing the fog from his mind. He deliberately leaned his weight into hers, stalling as she pushed him towards the door so he could ask: “What’s all this about?”  

“I have a surprise for you!” Her voice had his favorite teasing cadence to it, and Callum felt a little flutter of anticipation, warm and pleasant, in his chest. 

Satisfied and eager from the answer, Callum stopped resisting just as she shifted her hands from his shoulders to his waist and pressed her weight more insistently against him. This successfully sent him stumbling through the open washroom door. She gave him one more direction, accompanied first by a smile that was softer than he would’ve expected and then her lips on his cheek, before she sharply shut him away back there. 

“Ten minutes,” she said.

The typical draw of their evenings spent together was amplified by the promise of whatever surprise she was assembling out there, and Callum realized that he might’ve been a little too eager when he called out to her through the door for the first time—his face already washed, his teeth already brushed, his limbs already pajama-clad—and got an exasperated sigh in response. He tried once more, twice more, then thrice more before—at long last—she finally confirmed that he could enter.

The washroom door swung open wide, and there, at the center of the room, was Rayla on the floor, surrounded by what seemed to be every spare pillow and blanket in the castle, beaming at him, eyes shining and bright.

Callum grinned back at her, his head cocked to the side as his shoulder hit the doorframe. “What’s all this?” he asked, nodding at the piles of pillows she was nestled between.

Rayla’s nose wrinkled up as she lobbed the blue cushion laying across her lap at him, and he was pretty sure—as he held up his hands to knock it away from his face—that he’d never seen her smile so wide.

“Sleepover!” Rayla flung her arms open, gesturing towards the multi-color mountains all around her. “Last night you were saying how you wished I didn’t have to go back to my bed, and this isn’t technically sleeping in the same bed so…”

He bent to pick up the blue pillow and tossed it back to her—gently. That was a pillow-fight he would—absolutely, without a doubt, for sure—lose. She caught it—of course—and laid it back over her legs.

“I’m pretty sure this is still against the rules,” he said, shrugging at her, still in the doorway...trying to decide if he cared enough about those rules to deny her. 

Opeli’s ‘no sleeping in the same bed’ rule probably translated to ‘don’t sleep next to each other’ too, Callum thought. Though...he was pretty sure it also translated to ‘don’t lie in the same bed’...a rule which they’d been breaking daily...

But, attendants never came in to check on them in the evenings when they were bending those rules. The mornings were a different story, though: someone was always bustling in first thing, earlier than they could ever have a hope of waking up to separate themselves first, and Callum had to wonder if that was Opeli’s specific bidding.

Still though...like Rayla had said...technically…

“...and we care why, exactly?” Rayla asked, an eyebrow raised, arms crossed, outwardly annoyed. Callum could see, though, that his hesitation—which wasn’t really his anyway—had hurt her.

Pre-bedtime pillow fort cuddles—no beds or sleeping involved—probably wouldn’t break any rules, Callum figured, even if their luck changed and they got caught.

Though, maybe, he considered, the strictest translation of Opeli’s rule might be that they just weren’t supposed to lie down with each other at all…

Rayla was frowning now.

He took a few steps closer before turning his back, spreading his arms, and collapsing back onto the stacks of pillows next to her. When he peeked an eye open, Rayla chuckled softly, reaching for the hand that’d fallen across her knees.

“Dummy.”

She looked over her shoulder and down at him, appearing not quite as deflated. Callum leaned on his elbow to offer up an explanation. 

“I’m just saying, Rayla, I really don’t want to have to explain it to Ezran if Opeli separates us.” He’d meant that to be lighthearted...but it was also very true. He winced theatrically, and Rayla smiled back, rolling her eyes and squeezing at his fingers. When she stopped shaking her head at him, what she wanted was still lingering in the way she looked at him. She eased herself down by his side, matching his pose.

“Callum...please? Just for tonight?” The sincerity in the way her brow furrowed tugged at him...and she knew it. That teasing rhythm was back in her voice when she went on, her stare so very sweet. “Come on, you know you want to! It’ll be fun! The ‘it’s not a bed’ excuse will definitely work at least once.”

That was probably true, Callum admitted to himself. It was possible—likely, actually—that Opeli wouldn’t be happy about their rule-bending, but...feigning innocence was a possibility…

Plus...it’d be so nice to wake up at Rayla’s side. Her arms heavy with sleep and draped over him...her warm breath on his cheek...her lips parted and perfectly within kissing range…

Like she could see his resolve weakening, a mischievous smile crawled across Rayla’s lips. 

“How can I convince you? We can snuggle all night! I’ll let you be little spoon?” She rocked closer, still up on her elbow like he was, and pressed a kiss, brief and enthusiastic, to his lips. When she pulled away and her eyes opened...she didn’t even need to tag on the last incentive. “Mmm, I don’t know, what else do you want? Anything!” 

It wasn’t quite heat in her eyes...more like...a spark. An offer of heat. 

A similar heat very quickly filled in underneath his collar, across his cheeks.

“Yeah, the answer to that question is definitely against the rules,” he laughed, eyes wandering to the ceiling before he smiled at her. “But...fine. Sleepover. If we get caught, though, you’re going to be the one who explains to Ez what Opeli is so worried about.” 

Rayla’s hand wrapped around his almost as soon as Callum started poking a finger at her to go with the dramatized sternness of his stare, and, before he knew it, she’d used that leverage to knock him flat on his back. Rayla’s arms looped around his neck, her chest pressing him into the floor, and she was still for a moment, just holding him near. Her lips landed in his hair.

She stayed close to whisper, giggling in his ear. “You’re such a softie, Callum.”

“Maybe so,” Callum conceded, turning to press a clumsy kiss to her jaw before nuzzling closer, his lips drifting down to place tonight’s first of what he intended to be many kisses against her neck. “I was promised anything I want, though.”

The sigh she made wasn’t all that loud when he kissed her again—this time just under her ear, the skin there exceptionally warm and smooth—but Callum could feel it vibrate in her chest, and he was sure that she could feel the way he shuddered, too, as her fingertips ran along his spine.

“I thought you didn’t want to break any rules?”

[bullheaded-babe]

Drider King 1: The Spider’s Parley

This is one is a multi chapter story so expect it to get long. Like, we’ve got a lot before the kissing so buckle in. 

Within this, we have a snarky spider king, a tired prince reader and a slow burn that could keep a fire going for days. 

TW: Parental Death - Impending Parental Death

Tags: Male Monster - Human/Mage Male Reader - Royalty - Slow Burn - Prince/King Reader - King Lover  Interest - Childhood Friends to Lovers to Political Enemies back to Lovers 

Your father is dying, has been for a long time. Sometimes you even forget he was once not so. Your father is dying and your brother has been planning his coup for months now. You just need a few more days, until after his funeral at least. Other dignitaries are flocking in to pay their respects, enemies and all. You're not excited to see them, but one must put on a brave face when they are to be king in a matter of moments.

The queens of the south, tall with skin the colours of the three seas, are the nicest of those coming for the show, they even brought gifts, hah. The King of the Wastelands is solem more for respect for your father than any compassion for the kingdom's future, but at least he is honest about it.

Others are there too but spend more time in the shadows, talking and planning for next actions; especially the spiders. The Spiders of the North are as cold as their home, dark eyes stringing together webs of plans and eventualities. Years of war between your two kingdoms has led to a bitter but stable truce, barrier lines set and everyone playing their part in a fragile civility.

The newly appointed King of the spiders is, in the nicest of terms, an annoying prick. He has been since the two of you were young- okay maybe not when you were young children but ever since puberty he's been such a pompous ass. Ralscond Uv'elndel is also, unfortunately, the only person in this whole castle who you can confide in.

He's made a little nest out in the gardens, silk and webbing and only the finest of fabrics for his precious skin that he's only really left once or twice to come bother you as coronation plans were unfortunately being made.

"Oh, so the princeling has finally come to visit little ol' me," Rals' silvery head peaks out from the drapery, his hair is longer than you remembered, "I thought I would have to send someone to come gather you."

"I don't work on the time of lazy spiders," you take a seat in the grass, an arm's length away from him, the wind is nice, being cooped up inside the palace has made you yearn for time out in the sun. Of course, the ass probably planned this meeting for that exact reason.

When a small sliver of paper made its way to your desk earlier in the day, demanding a slot of time to meet as King and Future King, it would've been a political fiasco if you hadn't come.

Rals, with practiced ease, slides out of his nest; a spidery leg brushes against your side as he stretches in the sunlight. With a yawn, he turns to you and smirks, "and yet here you are."

You don’t try to muffle the loud sigh that escapes from your lips. The bastard was right, unfortunately.

Ralscond is both agile and extremely uncoordinated as he rolls out on the grass, his belly up to the sun in a poised manner. Unfortunately, he is beautiful like this; silver hair scattered against his deep purple skin like stars. He always did have a habit of wearing the least amount of clothes possible, much to your occasional benefit but it was mostly a chagrin.. Your eyes scan down lower to where fur grows out and the spider body begins in earnest, the dark browns and blacks of his carapace and body most similar to the large spiders found further down south.

With an ever sly smile Rals gently rubs a hand across his skin- shit, he noticed you watching.

“Have something else you would like to do during this Official Meeting?” He laughs, a large smile revealing long fangs.

You scoff, “this hardly counts as a meeting of any sort. A picnic at best.” Bringing up food, your stomach grumbles, when was the last time you ate?

“I don’t know about a picnic princeling, I happen to think a bonding exercise between the rulers of kingdoms would make the royal advisors proud.” 

With a bit of struggle, the Spider King rolls himself over onto his front. You hold your knees to your chest, looking over the city, eyes dark with something you wouldn’t ever be able to describe, “I do not care for the pride of advisors. I have only cared to make two people in my life proud and soon, both of them will be dead.”

[giorno-plays-piano]

Rotten

Pairing: Steve Rogers x princess!Reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, captivity, forced marriage, brief mention of child abuse, allusion to death of minor characters.

Words: 3950.

Summary: "The princess will marry the very first beggar who comes to the castle gates," the King said.

P.S. This was inspired by König Drosselbart fairytale.

_______________

Staring at the enormously huge black gates separating the castle from the outer world, you pulled the grey cloth over your head, covering your beautiful shiny hair. Before this morning you wore a tiara of your mother, and your dresses were made from brocade, silk and cashmere, not this rough wool that itched so badly and irritated your gentle skin. But now the only posession you were allowed to keep was that little cameo of your mother laying in the pocket of your simple grey dress.

The princess is obstinate, capricious, the King said. She thinks too high of herself. She rejects and ridicules all honourable men coming to ask for her hand in marriage. She is rotten to the core. She doesn't deserve to be the crown princess of the kingdom.

Locked away, abandoned by your teachers, refused to be engaged to any decent prince or lord, you were kept confined to your chamber for several years. Occasionally, you were allowed to visit the celebrations and balls held in the castle only to be laughed at your lack of manners and education by the children of the King and their entourage. You considered them your friends once, but those times had long passed.

You were the only child of the Queen, the true ruler of these lands, who got married the second time after an unfortunate death of her first husband, your father. She didn't give the new King an heir, but he had a handful of his own children from his past marriages. All of them, except his oldest one who stayed to rule the country of his father under the watchful eye of royal advisors, were brought to your kingdom. They are your sisters and brothers, the King said.

They were the ones who would take your place once the King found an opportunity to get rid of you, the true successor to the Queen.

All the men who came to ask for your hand were told you had no desire to meet them, and then, after the brief encounter with the King, they were sent away. You watched them, enraged by this unfair treatment, and their corteges to leave in haste, disappearing behind the black gates. You were never allowed to leave your chamber at these times, forced to look out the window at those princes and lords. If only they knew.

"Bow your head in front of your lawfully wedded husband." One of the guards demanded harshly, and you snapped out of your thoughts, looking at the huge man with wide shoulders, dressed in rags, his face hidden by the hood he wore.

The stranger was twice bigger than the guards surrounding you, and you felt rather intimidated in his presence. Despite his dirty clothes and wooden shoes, he didn't look like a beggar to you. If he was truly so poor, how come his body was so big and strong? No, the man wasn't a beggar. He was a bandit.

It would only make sense for the King to get rid of you, but you hoped he would keep his word as he promised to give you to the very first beggar who came to the castle gates. Apparently, he decided against it. The bandit who stood in front of you would either kill you or sell you to a brothel. If he was paid to end you, you hoped he would at least do it fast.

You bowed your head in front of the stranger who was now your husband and moved forward when the guards pushed you to him. The man said nothing, heading to the gates as if he didn't even care whether you followed him or not. Biting your lip, you came after him, watching your ugly wooden shoes.

However, once you stepped behind the gates, you saw there were dozens of people, their clothes dirty, tattered, and heavily patched, their faces grim - many lacked teeth and some even an eye - their expression turning wicked when they saw you coming after the stranger. Who were they? Beggars? Bandits? Villagers? You didn't know, but feared for your life as they started shouting loudly upon seeing you, and then you saw them throwing something rotten and smelling badly at you.

Why were they doing it? What have you done to them?

"WHORE!" The crowd yelled. "ARROGANT BITCH!"

A boy no older than ten threw a piece of rock at you, and it struck your arm painfully, making you yelp. He was encouraged loudly by the others, and you realized they would beat you to death. Why? What have you done to be so hated? You were a prisoner in your family castle. No one loved you. No one cared for you. No one came to console you even in the darkest of days. Why did you deserve to be punished for something you had never done? Why were you the rotten one when the sons and daughters of the King were spoiled beyond imagination?

Before the next rock hit your head, you saw the stranger shielding you with a big piece of wood he had taken from some man. Holding it like a shield, your husband grasped your shoulders with the other hand and started fighting his way through the crowd as you clinged to him, afraid to raise your head. All you heard were angry shouts and screams of pain as the man crashed their bones with the shield in his hand, the sound of cracking disgusting and frightening. People tried to clench your dress, beat you, snatch away the cloth covering your head, but the stranger was quick to push people away, and soon you two were running somewhere, your vision clouded with tears.

He held your hand in his until you reached the forest behind the meadow, far away from the castle and all those scary people who dirtied your simple woolen clothes and coloured your arms black and blue. Luckily, you were mostly unharmed just like your saviour, the man who hadn't uttered a single word still. At this point you guessed he might be deaf or lacking his tongue - you heard maids talking about the soldiers of the King cutting tongues of the ones who talked against him. But maybe the stranger just didn't want to speak to you. He probably thought you were an arrogant princess, humbled by your pride and haughtiness.

"Thank you." You whispered to him, and the man turned face to you, his beautiful blue eyes watching you intently. "Thank you for saving me."

The tears had long dried out on your face, but your eyes were still a bit red, your voice raspy. Running in the wooden shoes made your feet hurt so bad as if you were running barefoot at all.

When your newly wed husband came closer to you, you flinched involuntary and made a step back, staring at his strangely attractive dirty face, his dark blonde disheveled hair and beard.

"You're safe with me."

You blinked, unsure what to say to him in return. His low husky voice made you tremble a little, but if he told you the truth, he was going to take care of you. You hurriedly averged your eyes and bowed your head again, waiting for him to continue walking. You didn't dare to talk to him once more.

Your had been travelling by foot for what felt like hours, and you felt grateful for the dress you were given as it was lighter with just a few layers of fabric. Your wooden shoes, however, bruised your skin so much that they were slowly filling with blood. Nonetheless, you kept walking even with blisters covering your feet as your husband moved forward without a stop through the forest. Was he living here? Otherwise you didn't know how he navigated through the woods.

"You're slowing us down." You winced when you raised your head and saw him furrowing at you, standing a few feet away.

"I am sorry." You muttered, knowing you could hardly speed up with your legs hurting so much as if you walked into the fire.

The stranger squinted, coming closer, "Take off your shoes."

You complied without saying a word, showing him your bruised feet. Was he going to complain you were a shirker, unable to even walk? Maybe he had it on his mind, but he stayed silent, ripping the hem of your dress when you gasped and wiped the blood away. Then he had you seated on a falling tree and bandaged your feet so gently you gawked at him openly. You felt tears shimmering in your eyes at his kindness. He cared.

"I will carry you from here." Your husband said, wiping away the sweat from his dirty forehead. "We'll make a halt soon."

"I can walk myself." You said when he loomed over you, his strong hands gripping your under your lower back. "Please!"

"No, you can't." He grumbled, shooting you a look that forced you to keep your mouth shut. "You are my wife now, and you are going to listen to what I say."

You squeezed your eyes shut when the man lifted you in the air and hurried forward, moving carefully so you wouldn't get struck by the branches. Your body ached, your legs hurt so hard you were ready to cry, your eyelids growing heavy. Oddly, the man's presence wasn't as intimidating as before, his body heat slowly warming you and lulling you to sleep since he slowed down a bit and kept going forward cautiously. You decided to close your eyes just a little bit...

__________________

When you opened your eyes next time, you were tucked in a bed that smelled like old sheep wool - your maid, a girl from the village, had the same scent when she returned after visiting her parents. Even though this bed was three times smaller and tougher then yours, you enjoyed laying there under the dark warm blanket - or whatever it was - and listening to the cracking fire inside the stone oven. Your poor feet were terribly sore, and laying on bed brought you so much comfort.

However, when you were fully awoke, you shifted on the bed nervously and glanced over the house, finding the stranger sitting near the crudely made wooden table, a clay pot in his hands. He lifted his hood, and now you could see his matted blonde hair and dirty face covered in mud and what looked like ashes. Was it his house he brought you to? It was very small and looked like it was abandoned some time ago, but you couldn't be sure. He had no servants to take care of his house, so maybe it always looked like that.

"You're awake." He said, turning his face to you. "Don't stand up. Your legs are no good."

"I'm sorry." You mumbled, knowing he was perfectly right since it still hurt you to move.

"Next time you need to tell me when you're in pain."

"Why?" Curling your lips in a grim smile, you got under blanket again, covering yourself up to your chin. "Why does my pain bother you?"

The man narrowed his eyes down at you and set the pot aside, putting his elbows on the table tiredly.

"You are my wife. Your pain bothers me, and my pain should bother you."

"I see." You averted your eyes from his face lit up by the light coming from the oven. You didn't know much about marriage since no one considered you to be ever wed. It was like this, then? Or was it because your husband was a peasant and not an honourable man? There certainly was differences, but you had never expected a beggar to be so kind.

He wasn't a beggar, though, of that you were sure.

"What name do I bear now?" You asked him, watching his face growing confused. "Do you... do you have a name, sir?"

"You bear the name of Rogers." He sounded oddly proud, but you only sighed - now you lost even the name your father gave you.

You were the beggar's wife, not the princess living in high castle - you would work hard till your hands bled; give birth to unfortunate children forced to live in poverty, who wouldn't know how to read or write; you'd starve and beg, and then die young. This is what your maid told you how the people of her village lived - despite being farmers, the lands they worked on were poor, and most of the harvest was taken away to feed the ones living in a castle.

You didn't even have the land to work on as you saw the forest through the crack in the door. This hut was in the middle of the woods, probably.

"I made a salve for your legs. Let me put it on."

When he stood up from the bench, you shivered and took your eyes elsewhere, moving higher on what you supposed was an improvised pillow. The stranger sat on the other side of the bed and moved your blanket, showing your dirty feet with dry blood covering them. Then, as if he remembered something, he went somewhere behind the oven and pulled a jug with a slightly cracked neck, soaking a rag in it. Once he squeezed it and brought it to your legs, you winced in pain, but stayed silent.

The stanger had been kind to you beyound your understanding.

"So, were the rumors true?" He asked once he wiped your feet cleen and took a little jar with what you assumed was the salve.

"Forgive me, but there are too many rumors for me to remember."

"The one that says you are so arrogant you don't want to meet any of the men who come to ask for your hand in marriage. Watching them being sent away, you sit in your room in the high tower and ridicule them all."

You wanted to laugh bitterly at his words, but the knot in your throat didn't let you utter a sound. Was this what the King and his children had been telling to your people, feeding them lies for years? The princess whose spirit was too high to look at those she deemed lower than her. The one born with a silver spoon in her mouth who didn't care whether her people starved and died from diseases. What a perfect little picture the King had constructed in the minds of others.

"If you believe it, did you take me as your wife to teach me a leason, then? To punish me?" You whispered and clenched your teeth - every touch to your legs made them burn as if the man's fingers were covered with flames.

"No."

His ridiculously beautiful blue eyes bore into you with such intensity it made you want to grab the blanket and pull it over your head to hide from him. Oddly, you thought his face looked noble behind that layer of dirt on his skin. He didn't look like any of those who you met behind the castle gates.

"In truth, I've seen you up there in the tower once, looking out the window. But you didn't laugh at us. You cried."

You raised your head and stilled, watching the man anxiously. No, he wasn't a beggar. They had never been admitted to the castle.

"How could you see me up there? My room is too high." Your hands trembled a little, and then you let out a hiss of pain when the man rubbed some salve onto your skin.

"I have a good eyesight."

"How did you know it was me, then?"

"Because I've seen you before."

Your heart was pounding loudly in your chest at his words. Who was he? Who was the man sitting on your bed?

"Were you a part of a cortege of a man who came to ask for my hand?" You asked nervously, glancing at him rubbing more of that medicine that smelled like herbs into your feet.

The stranger nodded. "Then... where have you seen me? Was it before I was locked in the castle by the King?"

"Yes. I saw you when the old King, rest his soul, had been alive."

"I see. I must have been a child, then." You gave him a weak smile, remembering those times when you were still the lovely little girl, your mother always keeping you close to her despite the royal etiquette. It was the time when you still travelled, sometimes even outside of your own country. He probably saw you during one of your trips with your parents. "Have you been a part of the court? Maybe the one who served it?"

"Yes." His answer was noncommittal, and it only steered your interest. Did he lost everything just like you? Was he stripped of his titles? It must had happened quite some time ago since his big hands were rough, work-weary. Maybe he was the knight or someone who belonged to the army.

Knowing he was becoming agitated, you decided to stop there. You had no desire to test patience of the one who had only ever been kind to you.

"I only have one question left, sir. How should I call you?"

He smirked, tilting his head to the side.

"Steve. My name is Steve Rogers."

Steve Rogers. This name rang a bell. He could see you growing confused, wracking your brains, desperately searching for any memory that could give you the answer. Steve Rogers. Steve...

Stevie. Prince Steven Grant Rogers. The little boy who was so unhealthy pale he looked like a ghost. He was skinny and small despite being older than you. You knew his mother had been sick for many years, confined to her chambers, and, sadly, her boy took after her. You remember the whispers behind your back when you visited him for the first time as he laid in bed, watching you with his enormously big blue eyes.

"It can't be." You gawked at the man who was bigger than anyone you had ever seen, his arms musculed, his shoulders wider than the ones of the King's executioner. Little Stevie could never grow so big - you remembered his thin, strange body well. "You can't be prince Steve."

"I'm not. I am King Steven now, little girl."

Oh, you remembered you called him a little boy that made him pout at you. There was no one standing close to you at the moment when you bended over to him and talked quietly not to tire the prince. But how could he become so strong? Even his father wasn't as big as him now. Why was King Steven dressed like a beggar? Why did he take you in the middle of the woods, pretending it was his house?

"When I reached the age of 18, I've met a wandering mage who cured my illness. His charms changed my body, made me what I had to become if my mother didn't fell sick before giving birth to me. Do you like what you see?"

You felt your cheeks burning when you realized you were staring at him shamelessly and averted your eyes.

"You look stronger than any man I've seen, Your Highness."

"I know, little bird." Smirking, he finally finished rubbing the salve into your skin and set the jar aside, caressing your feet. "As I fulfilled my promise to you, I came to claim what's rightfully mine."

"What promis- AH!

His gaze grew dark as you stared at him wide-eyed, and his hand gripped one of your feet painfully, making you yelp as he pressed his finger to the blister. He didn't like you forgetting about something important, but you could swear you remembered nothing of a promise.

"I gave you my word one day I'd become better and then come to ask for your hand, my dearest. You said if it were to happen, you would choose me among the other suitors. Do you remember now?" There was something dark in his voice as he spoke, and you nodded immediately to make him ease his grip on your leg. Steve sent you a satisfied smile, caressing your foot gently with his calloused fingers. "I've came to you several years ago, but you refused to see me and sent me away. I caught a glimpse of you in the window, and then I realized something wasn't right. I've sent a few of my people to become the servants in the castle to learn the truth."

Strangely, it felt like a huge weight had been lifted. King Steven knew you weren't rotten to the core. He knew you weren't a spoiled princess who refused to leave the castle to see her miserable people, suffering under the heavy taxation laws imposed by the new King. Steve took you here not to make you learn a lesson how to be behave, but to hide you from prying eyes.

As he wiped the tears streaming down your face, you realized he sat much closer to you now - King Steven smelled like sweat and pine trees.

"When the King ordered to give you to the first beggar who would come to the castle gates, I had already sneaked into your lands, my beloved. If not his order, my people would take you away soon." He dropped a kiss to your forehead, touching the locks of your hair with his fingers.

"But the King would find out who stole me." You whispered. "He'd demand you to bring me back."

"Five thousand soldiers are waiting for my command to march to the King's castle. Why would I leave him the kingdom that belongs to you, sweetheart?" Steve smiled, and you saw something dangerous lingering behind his eyes, something that made you shiver and draw a shaky breath from you. "If I gave you such an army, what would you do with it?"

For a second you felt like your body was thrown right into the fire, burning your flesh to the bones. The tears stopped as you clenched your teeth.

"Burn the castle to ashes. Kill the King. Kill his children. Kill their entourage. Kill all of them who had abandoned and humiliated me."

You didn't know when the anger rose in your chest and took a hold of your tongue, make you spit venom and imagine your brothers and sisters scream and plead for their lives, but you enjoyed it. You enjoyed every second of it when you thought of their heads on spikes for the crows to peck and the entire kingdom to see.

No one had come to your rescue for years when you prayed to be saved, taken away from a place that became your prison. No matter how much you asked God to answer you, he had been silent, and your learnt you were left alone in the world where no one wanted you to be treated fair. Then so be it. If no one took pity on a little miserable child pleading for help, you wouldn't show mercy to the ones who had been torturing you for years.

You hadn't seen how King Steven face changed as he watched you, his expression growing more sinister and poisonous, but you felt his lips on yours when he claimed your mouth possessively and his fingers clawed at your shoulders.

"I will cut the King's head off and tie it to the mane of your horse, my beloved. Would you like it to be your wedding gift?"

"Yes. Yes!" You cried as he shushed you, pressing your head to his chest and caressing your hair like a lover would.

"Then it's as good as done."

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