#she saved the city at birth & people have been expecting So Much of her since

[horizon-verizon]

tbh there was no reason to say that alicent and haelena were beloved by the smallfolk. they're part in starting the war that put the smallfolk to their knees, it's more reasonable for them to be hated than loved

(Webpage Link)

.......................................................................................................

Helaena's inactivity works well for her reputation (in-world and out) under the post-Fall of KL situation bc she's surrounded by more actively ruling women and actively ruling women are more under fire than those who ruler for a man, work behind the scenes, or directly rule. Since female rulership is not favored and even suspicious under Andal-Faith patriarchy.

Her own inactivity and the Faith-Andal social expectation of an ideal queen consort to be just a womb-for-heirs can do nothing to spoil the smallfolk's already favorable image/idea of her...bc she doesn't do anything that could affect said image.

Rhaenyra is the "bad guy" for the taxes and trying to rule; Helaena is the "good guy", for not ruling at all (and sitting there ready for symbolic use).

The whole point of GRRM writing about who was "loved" as a Queen and who wasn't was to point out how people in KL characterized a "good" Queen by her innocence, "sweetness" that is really their non-rulership and inactivity. Rhaenyra ruled obviously and directly, while Alicent ruled through others and for her sons in their absence while never having to really put down riots aside from the one she triggered by displaying a dragon's head through the streets. Alicent, unlike Rhaenyra, did not have to contend with rumors being spread about her specifically to destabilize her hand. Helaena didn't rule at all she was always just a consort who affected Aegon only once and that was accompanied by Alicent and other councilmen calming Aegon down when he wanted to imprison and kill Rhaenyra...nothing to do w/the smallfolk.

Yes, Helaena was a kinder, "gentler" person than those around her and even before the war she could have been loved for that....but she was also the most passive & accessory person than those around her and never effected any policies or laws, unlike Alysanne. Helaena never had be into a position as to decided what strategy or tactic to win smallfolk over or to support a city or defend against attackers to said city or to protect her family's image, prestige, etc. other than birthing and nurturing heirs. She never had to implement any unsavory taxes like Jaehaerys-Rego Draz or Rhaenyra-Bartimos or Rogar/Alyssa-Edwell or even just Alicent with her choice to drag around a dragon head. Or Dany with her opening the fighting pits to save her people, deciding not to kill her hostages, releasing a prisoner some of her council advised her not to, trying to get Drogo to stop the rape of Lhazarene women, etc. So of course she doesn't get any hate from anyone, much less the smallfolk who'd be most affected.

Remember that before the war, Rhaenyra's "Realm's Delight" moniker was also her image-advantaged(?) from the singers giving said name (bc child-Rhaenyra was seen as "delightful" at court where those singers are as they also were trying to gain favor from Viserys).

Likely, Viserys and his council used said moniker to their advantage and let their audience develop a stronger impression of Rhaenyra's overall loveliness. And not bc her child self--the precociousness, the beauty, etc.--wasn't real nor not bc she didn't grow up to be actually very beautiful, but bc it helped to bolster her image, this girl who would need a lot to supplement her newfound heirship since she was female.

Remember, too, how Daenaera Velaryon's childhood beauty was lauded and intertwined with her arrival to KL and the Maiden's Ball? Yeah.

It was worked with for Rhaenyra's later Riverland tour and worked to get the riverlords more on her side. this is the nature of the "two-faced coin" that F&B EXPLICITLY stated were of love and hate ("Rhaenyra Triumphant"):

The smallfolk did not know Helaena as subjects--esp peasants--can't personally know their leaders and their families. They love an idea of her; they hate an idea of Rhaenyra. And both images go through exchanges from the circumstances, not ONLY through the person's actions. And tbh and as the book tries to tell us, that is the best position a queen (consort) could have when she is surrounded by women (dowager, consort, regnant whatever) who take on a more active, male-conceived role in leadership.

.............................................................................

This is bigger than "who was the bitch-queen" or the "perfect queen"?...precisely bc there is no such thing as a "perfect" queen aside form the queen who does nothing at all but be a womb for heirs. And if she does do charities, it's not even guaranteed to be exclusively be for the smallfolk. Alysanne was genuinely loved as a queen bc everyone could see how she affected Jaehaerys, she used said influence to make better laws for smallfolk and it was very obvious and public CONSTANTLY, went--by herself--to create women's courts, AND was she visually pretty. Helaena does not have such influence nor initiative; so the love for her cannot be from anything she did but what she stands for in the memory of the smallfolk, who at the were starving and in constant survival mode, desperate for economic and other types of "relief" (that yes, they should have gotten but didn't from noble warfare upending their already probs not-so-great abilities to sustain themselves pre-war), looking for something and anything like safety if not outright real physical safety.

This has interesting commentary and scenarios of what queenship means and how quickly the "coin" of favor of the public--noble or smallfolk, but esp the smallfolk--can turn! And it turns for the smallfolk depending on the immediate results of a leader's actions or to contrast an imagined/real "better" past against the reality under the current leader (Aerys II vs post-Robert's death).

Even way before this, we constantly hear from Jaehaerys I's early reign about "words are wind" and words vs action...let's piece things together, people!

[inseasofgreen]

Can I get and info dump on Sciosa? What if anything inspired you to create her?

yes, always yes.

Sciosa's name actually came from an old mary sue character of mine from middle school, though the character we know now as Sciosa is are from that character. The OG was a whiny crybaby who couldn't do jack shit to save herself and relied on a toxic lover to do everything for her (ew). Sciosa now is borderline over powered and is a very complex and flawed character.

I've said this before but Sciosa can smite a city from existence, but that's not what makes her interesting. It's what got her to that point that she would even consider it and why she would/wouldn't do it. (I use that example a lot when it's not her who is out there destroying cities lmao *eyes Zemorri*)

POTO's whole theme is power corrupts everyone who uses it, and having the mc be such a powerhouse makes it so fun to write. We follow her though 4 books and with each book the line between between "good" and "evil" grows thinner. She's not an antagonist and never will be, I wouldn't even say she's an anti-hero. She's just someone who has repeatedly had her patience and trust be tested by the gods, fate, and the very mortals she was put on nyrus to protect.

When I first created her, it was for a story that has since been scrapped but her role in that was actually very different. Zemorri was the hero and she was to act as a mentor to him and repent for the sins of her past life. She was very bitter and angry, and rarely had a filter on how she truly felt. That part hasn't really changed too much, though her anger doesn't really appear until POTD. Though she still doesn't have a filter, and if she does filter herself you best better worry.

Sciosa at her core is a young women who laments for a "normal" life. She did not ask to be the Dawn Star but she has accepted her fate to the best of her ability and tries to carry the burden with as much grace as she can. She's 30 at the start of POTO, but that's is so, sooo young for both Zaentri and being born into the bloodline of Duskinfall. Zaentri being half Zaentiraeal from her mother and the bloodline of Duskinfall having an extended life expectancy to help maintain the bloodline until the Dawn Star is born. Mentally she is about 18. Imagine asking an 18 year old to make sure ALL living things on earth are sheltered, with have enough food and water to survive until the Hells are defeated (which could be months or years) that there is enough kindling to keep fires lit as the sun will not rise until the demons are either killed or returned to the hells. On top of that she is expected to rally an army and aid the gods in their fight. Girl I'd be pissed off too, she should be at the club.

Oh and there's a lot that inspired her!! Ciri from the Witcher, Daenerys from ASOIAF and GOT (actually season 8 Dany got me curious of how much would it take to truly break a person to the point of pure destruction. Saying this with my full chest, I'm not mad she went crazy I'm mad it wasn't properly written but I digress) Honestly even a bit of Yen from the Witcher too ngl. There's a picture that I've shared before that was basically the birth of POTO because I wanted to write a scene of it but being me I can't just so one scene I had to do a whole series. Weirdly enough even Lunafreya gave me some inspiration for both Sciosa and the High Priestess' of Zenier. I'd say even a little bit of Zelda, though I haven't played any of the legend of Zelda games in a hot hot minute lol. Last one but it just occurred to me and made me laugh but I think at times she reminds me of Jesus? Bro tell me why so many of these people end up being killed... dany, lunafreya, jesus I swear to GOD Sciosa does not die LMAOOO

Oof okay. That was a lot. but thank you for the ask wyked!! I don't talk about her enough tbh, Zemorri kinda just steals the spot light a lot.

[lavampira]

5, 7, 25 & 26 from the wol asks for d'alia?

[wol questions]

ty nero!! 🖤

5. where are they from? what was their childhood like?

she was born in the mor dhona region to a nomadic sect of the D seeker tribe, though they mostly stayed there and near coerthas when she was a child. her birth parents passed to illness when she was very young (she hardly remembers them outside of stories she’s told of them), and their closest friend took her in as his own, which she does refer to him as her parent. she had a happy childhood - she loved botany, cooking, and reading, and learned some arcanima as she got older with her clan’s proximity to the sons of saint coinach as well, encouraged to explore and learn. after silvertear skies, her parent brought her behind city walls for safety where it was just them, but still content despite the disconnect from the rest of their clan moving on from the region, and she helped at the restaurant that he opened up until she left to become an adventurer.

7. how did they deal with haurchefant's death?

angrily and violently. it was the tip over the edge between justice and vengeance that she’d been walking as a dark knight leading up to it, clinging hard to an extension of mercy before it, and conceding to something more akin to brutal justice in her mind. (there’s a “you were right” convo that I imagine her having with sid in the aftermath of the vault, an embittered realization of how far the systematic corruption runs, and a horribly stark connection in losing people dear to them both to the temple knights/heavens’ ward). it’s not something she really processes more healthily until later because of all the urgency and her own repression tbh.

25. answered here!

26. do they suffer any traumas from any of their adventures? how do you foresee this affecting them going forward?

keeping this contained to early game traumas since I believe I saw you just started stormblood recently, but the ul’dahn banquet was a catalyst in a lot of ways for the person who became a dark knight and the heaviness she carried from her friends sacrificing themselves (and especially minfilia, as they were in a relationship at the time) - so much anger and loss and the burden of being a hero with the expectation to carry on because of it when she couldn’t even save them. haurchefant’s and ysayle’s deaths hit her hard as well for similar reasons. it’s less sharp now after processing it, but all that loss definitely shaped her and her relationships with others through the following expansions’ events, making her more withdrawn into The Figure that she feels that she needs to be for everyone else until her close friends needle her into opening up and relying on them as well.

[devilsdiscipleshq]

THE BASICS | shay morales

name: Shay Morales face claim: Priscilla Quintana age & date of birth: 31, April 5th, 1992 hometown: Chicago, Illinois time in chicago: On and off her entire life neighborhood: South side occupation: Waitress, freelance photographer

THE MAVERICK | background

Shay Morales grew up in the South Side of Chicago, her parents often joking that she had learned to run before she could even walk and she had bypassed crawling entirely and that they had been chasing her ever since. The youngest and only daughter of the Morales family, much of her childhood was spent being doted on by both her mother and father. While they were far from wealthy, Daniel and Leona made sure that their children never went without, admittedly showing their daughter a favouritism she would, to this day, deny. Not that her brother would ever call them out on it, the two having gotten close as they got older with Shay often covering up for him when he would sneak out as a teenager and then years later, when it was her turn to do the same, she would expect the same in return. It was in her teenage years that she really began to open her eyes to the seedier side of Chicago — a side that both her brother and father willingly participated in, clad in leather vests and riding Harley’s and Shay promised herself that she would never find herself wrapped up in that same life.

It was obvious from early on that Shay would be hard to tie down. She was reckless and craved a kind of adventure that the city was never going to be able to offer her and she had declared from a young age that she had no interest in living there. Of course, only a handful of people had believed that she was actually going to be able to claw her way out of Chicago — even less had believed she would do it when she had gotten engaged at only eighteen years old. Rumors of a shotgun wedding had rumbled through the south side, sure that that was the only reason anyone, but especially someone like Shay, would want to settle down so early. Of course, that hadn’t been true. She had just been young, in love and most of all, stupid. She’d thought that was the natural way to do things and so with no college prospects on her radar, she had thrown herself into planning a wedding instead. A voice in the back of her head had always told her that it wasn’t right, but she had ignored it. Her high school sweetheart turned fiance had assured her that, soon enough, they would be able to go on all the adventures she had been hoping for. They just had to get ahead a little bit. Naively, Shay held out hope — it wasn’t until he came home in a prospect vest one night that she realized it was a pipe dream. That the man she had thought she loved had bought into the same promise of money and power that her father and brother had, and he would meet the same fate as them. He would be stuck here, in this city and this life and Shay refused to be stuck with him.

She left her engagement ring on the kitchen table, packed a bag and left three days later.

Shay had no idea where she was going at first. She coasted on the little bit of savings that she had, tugging on her father’s heartstrings when she needed a little extra and she made the best of it. Eventually she had ended up with a camera in her hands, snapping photographs of her travels for her own keepsakes but before long, her social media began taking off. Her photographs gained traction, often going viral and Shay eventually made a name for herself, securing contracts with a small handful of publications. Once she got the hang of it, it was a good system. She would use the money from her pictures on her last trip to fund the next one, waitressing on the side whenever she found herself in one place long enough and money tight enough. Soon, the long list of places Shay thought she would only ever dream of seeing, became a scrapbook of memories.

Meanwhile, back home her brother fell into the life that Shay had never wanted. Prospecting turned into becoming a full patched member, fully embracing the life that the club had to offer. The drugs, the violence, the women — Owen Morales was the picture perfect club member. He’d gone as far as marrying one of the hang-arounds of the club after a one night stand resulted in a positive pregnancy test — the marriage hadn’t lasted long, with the woman tucking tail before the baby could so much as hold his own head up. Shay made little effort to hide her thoughts on his life and how she thinks he could have done better. Still, the two remained close — or as close as they could be, when both of their busy schedules only allowed them to see each other a handful of times a year. Then, six months ago, Shay felt like her entire world had fallen apart. A phone call from her mother in the middle of the night informed her of a job gone wrong, urging her to come home as soon as she could because her brother was in critical condition and not expected to make it. Despite her best efforts, Shay hadn’t made it home in time and missed his passing by two hours, something she has yet to forgive herself for.

She hadn’t been planning on staying in Chicago. Everything is too raw there — memories of her brother and a resentment towards the club she hadn’t ever felt before often leave her feeling as though she’s choking on air. But with her parents aging and her sister in law nowhere to be found, someone needed to step up for her nephew. And despite the fact that Shay knew — and still knows — nothing about taking care of an infant, she found herself in that position. Moving into the house her brother had bought, setting up in the guest room and doing her best to do right by the son that he had left behind. Most days she feels like she’s in over her head but she doesn’t see an out anymore.

[dracharenae]

Hearing her words, the knight couldn’t help but smirk at the matching attitude. “Oh nothing to excuse, a feeling I wholeheartedly agree with.” Harwin wasn’t afraid of sharing those feelings simply because it wasn’t shocking to know the two didn’t get along. It has been like that since the knight of Rhaenyra’s wedding. He knew the treatment of the younger wasn’t fair by the others, all due to the accounts of her birth. Now he had a sister who was a bastard as well, older than he, but he treated her no differently. She shared the blood of his father just as she shared the familial tie from her father to the rest of them. Hell, she was family to his sons, not that it would be sad aloud for her to hear. Maybe that was another reason why he was taking the time to train her here and now aside from the fact he even admired she was out here in the dark to teach herself. Of course he was fine with giving her guidance. Overall, he could see she had some experience taught on her own time and that alone was impressive enough. It meant she observed with detail, taking in what training she saw in the yard during the day and saving it for the night so she may train herself. It was admirable and it was more than he could say for some of the men in his own city guard. It only made his decision to stop here and instruct her further that much more important to him. She knew there were people in court who did not like her, scheming behind her back for what ever purpose they may have, why not be able to defend oneself from what might be? 

Harwin’s head tilts once more to the side, his smirk growing at her words. She sees what he does as was already established, but it was nice to hear it further confirmed. “A man such as him I fear may have never had honor to begin with.” The heir to Harrenhal does not hold back his opinion knowing they are of the same mind. Though his smile falters when she mentions the bullying of children, his own sons, at the hand of Cole during training. He knew just as well, seeing it from a distance when he was able to and unable to stand in and say a word. One day he fears he may overstep but for now he kept to his duties. “Yes well, I do hope to be a more honorable source for you to learn from then, princess.” A reply he gives to move on from the insufferable knight and more onto what she was really here for and what she wanted from him. She allows him to move and adjust her stance accordingly and he can see how attentive she is to his advice. She’s thinking it over, seeing the wheels turning behind her eyes before he steps to the side and out of her way so that she may move with her new found stance. 

What he doesn’t expect is the mention of his own abilities, his own nickname earned in tourneys himself. Everyone knew that name. It makes him chuckle as he shakes his head. “It was a nickname earned, not one I asked for. But we all have our own strengths. Mine so happen to be physical. My brother is of the mind as well as my father.” He shrugs. “Your’s, from what I’ve seen is agility.” He knows she moves quicker than him and he observes it further with her movements. However, she still has much to learn. It’s why the request causes brows to furrow, arms crossing over broad armored chest as he thinks on it. “You wish to spar with me?” He repeats, shaking his head a moment as he lets out a deep breath. It’s with those same movements he moves to his own sword and removes it from its sheath. “If that is what you wish.”

༺✹༻ AN EASY GRIN FORMS THROUGH RHAENYS' LIPS. a little ease settles in her shoulders, as well . . . she had worried, if only for a moment, her comments regarding criston cole would not go over well. but of course ser harwin would sympathize - even concur - with the view. ❝ i have met dogs with more inclination towards honor than ser criston cole, ❞ rhaenys says, reaching up to graze her fingers over the jagged scar across her face with a now amused smirk. ❝ at least their intentions were honest. ❞ ser criston cole was anything but honest, as far as she was concerned. he was cruel. she had seen him in the courtyard, manhandling jace and luke as if they were just common boys. meanwhile, he presented doting attentions unto the other princes, aegon and aemond. it was a horrible sight, in how he goaded the older boys to bash around rhaenyra's children. rhaenys always heard their jokes. bastard, bastard, strong boys, she recounts. more than once she has shoved aegon to the ground when he was not looking, only to face a dinnerless night because of it. but it was always worth it, when he'd turn that mousy, horrified face towards her.

if criston cole shall not intervene, it is her duty. she is their cousin, after all - bastard as she may be, she is still daemon's daughter. viserys has always been kind to her in spite of it. she shall inherit no lands and hold no names, but at least she has a place in court alongside her family. it could be much worse, as aegon is always so apt to remind her with smug little smirks. ❝ nicknames are usually earned and seldom chosen, ser harwin, ❞ rhaenys says, smiling up at the knight with a bright sheen in her eyes. mischief crackles in her gaze, vibrant and clear. ❝ aegon calls me the wingless dragon . . . the oaf isn't smart enough to conclude that is simply a snake, who may lack in fire, but they have venom. they are quick and cunning, and, unlike dragons, they are not always seen coming. ❞

rhaenys smiles all the wider to harwin's acknowledgement to her agility. she certainly can pride herself on it, for she is quick; an agile girl, with fast reflexes and a quick cunning. she might not be brutishly strong or capable with a great sword or a morningstar, but she can hold her own with daggers and thinner blades. she can bite at ankles, while others plunge for chests. ❝ on your lead, ser harwin, ❞ rhaenys says, straightening as harwin draws his blade. she takes in a few slow breaths, steadying herself and what is to come, before she lunges forward - not to retaliate against him, no, but to swing sideways, away from his arch, and attempt to prod him from behind.

@breakbcnes

[msommers]

elena's a toxic "i can fix [x]" girlie just bc she's in denial about how deep she's in that mindset on the daily

[obsidianstrawberrymilk]

Talk to me about Dex.

Talk to me about Dex who grows up seeing his parents jeered on the rare occasion they walk through Noble cities, who sees the way his mother straightens with her eyes locked ahead and the way his father grins, as if he can’t see it - as if he’s learned pretending not to see is really all he can do. Talk to me about Dex who hears his mother sobbing after she finds out she’s having triplets, hearing her cry and hearing his own heart break because she doesn’t want them to be born into a world which will hate them for their existence twice over. Talk to me about Dex in his father’s shop the next day. Talk to me about him being quieter than normal, quieter when he sees the way the Nobles with their jeweled capes and Council jobs sneer at them. And talk to me about Dex, holding his younger siblings for the first time, staring down at them, thinking off the comments he’s been hearing since birth about bad match, useless, hardly going to amount to much, thinking about the nobles outside their shops and his mother’s tears, and thinking he’ll protect them with his life.

Talk to me about Dex walking into Foxfire, his eyes wide because he got in, and immediately noticing eyes on him. Talk to me about Dex’s mentors in his first year, about their eyes widening in surprise whenever he manages to accomplish something, much less faster than the children of good matches. Think about him noticing the way their eyes narrow on his last name, about him thinking about his mother and father and siblings, and feeling embarrassment gradually turn to rage at every comment, every laugh, every oh wow, I didn’t expect that! With a talentless parent?, at every genetically inferior, at every dig at his father for being useless, surely, every laugh at his mother having ‘no other options’. Think about him in the lunch room, sitting alone, his food choices whatever he likes and he acts like it doesn’t bother him, he goes home with a grin on his face, but then he goes back and he sits all alone in this huge lunchroom of people and he goes back to classes of sneering mentors who give him lower grades for existing and snooty nobles who scoff when he tries to brag about how cool his dad’s apothecary is, and he feels like spitting at them then, how come he’s seen at least most of them in there, then?

So yes, talk to me about Dex. Talk to me about Dex who glares at Fitz Vacker in the hallways, because he walks into a room and gets the respect and praise and the attention Dex and his family have to fight for every single second. Talk to me about Dex finding notes in his lockers, things thrown his way, barbs well placed, acting like it doesn’t bother him, acting like he doesn’t care, but for every prank and every grin and every brush off he can feel it sinking deeper, and he knows he shouldn’t, he knows they’re stupid and ignorant and there’s no reason he should care what any of them think. He knows his parents will tell him, over and over if he asks, they love him, they love him, and the world may only see them as worthless but it doesn’t matter- but it does. It does, and he hates that it does, and he goes home and wants to be able to look his younger siblings in the eye and tell them it doesn’t matter but he can’t. Because every single comment or paper or fist shoved his way (but they don’t talk about those, no, who cares about the weird kid of a bad match anyway-) matters. And he doesn’t know what to do about it.

Talk to me about Dex waking up in the middle of the night, screaming and crying and begging just to make it stop- tell me about him shying away from dark corners, his throat closing up at caves. Talk to me about how he can’t wear things around his wrists for a while, because he’s been born into a world where everyone says this doesn’t happen but it did, it happened, he was gone and he nearly died and his best friend nearly died saving him and talk to me about how he can feel that guilt eating him up on the inside, sometimes. Talk to me about how he sometimes finds himself sobbing at heat, instinctive, even though it’s just Mom’s cooking, Dex, stop- Dex, are you okay? What’s going on? Dex? Dex? Dex- Talk to me about that same best friend drifting away, slowly, drifting towards the Vackers and their nobility and power and status and he knows it’s not that, Sophie’s not shallow, but on some level he knows she’s leaving him behind and she’s his first friend, maybe not his only one anymore but his first, and he feels so much he doesn’t know how to label it. Talk to me about Dex, who’s lost in a world that’s supposed to be perfect but has known his whole life that it isn’t, but everyone seems to be trying to act like it is, anyway.

Talk to me about Dex who doesn’t tell people things anymore. talk to me about Dex who’s never a first priority anyway, because he knows his friends have each other and he knows they’re all leaving him, but it’s okay, because he’s not totally alone all over again, right? Talk to me about Dex who doesn’t share much about his inventions anymore, doesn’t dare, because the last time he did, so happy and excited and hopeful that the Council would care about some Technopath child of a Bad Match they used it to torture his best friend, used it to imprison her like a puppet, and it’s his fault, all his fault, for being as naive as to think the Council would ever care about someone like him if not for their own goals. Talk to me about Dex who can’t look at Sophie as much, not that she notices, because he can still see the Circlet around her head, the torture to his first friend he caused. Talk to me about them kissing, about him realizing he doesn’t love her, not like that, and talk to me about how it solves nothing, how no one still cares and how every single time someone asks him about anything he’s working on he can’t say anything, he can’t do anything but hide his blueprints and act like they very thought of the Council doesn’t make him sick because what if. What if. What if he makes something else they can use, what if they hurt his friends all over again, what if he hurts his friends all over again, and they may barely consider him one of them but the least he can do for them all is this.

Talk to me about Dex trying. Giving out inventions where he can and ignoring the way warning signs go off in his head, because he will help, he will contribute where he can, they can’t totally leave him behind as long as he’s useful, right? Talk to me about Dex, and the way he’s had anger in his veins for so long, fear in his eyes for long, for his parents, sobbing in dark rooms and grinning painfully in shops he knows will never get the same clout as Noble ones, for his siblings, as he can see them becoming more and more aware of the stares and whispers and jeers every day. Talk to me about Dex in the Black Swan, about Tinker and pats on the shoulder and the shock, the surprise, because here’s someone who doesn’t raise an eyebrow in surprise when he does things, who doesn’t act like the bare minimum is somehow too much for genetic inferiority. Talk to me about the way his eyes widen in their discussions, with Tinker’s suggestions, about the way he views the world widening, because Dex has always seen things differently, in taking it apart and putting it back together better and here’s someone who agrees with him, who sees the rage in his eyes and the fear and desperation underneath, who takes it all with a sign and teaches him how to make it better, more creative, more, more.

Talk to me about Dex and Juline, his mother. Talk to me about, for all his initial shock, he can see the way she reflects him, the anger in the pursing of her lips and the sadness in the tapping of her fingers. Talk to me about frosting is a stupid talent, about the unconscious way he’d always wanted his mother to be more, as if her being someone else could have saved them from the cruelty over everything else - of him knowing he’s wrong, knowing it wouldn’t have, but realizing he’d always wanted it anyway. Talk to me about conversations in the dark, whispers in the living room, smiles exchanges across meetings and worried eyes across infirmaries. Talk to me about Juline knowing, knowing, she can’t keep her son out of this any more than she could herself, but by god does she want to sometimes. Talk to me about fights, maybe, in worry and panic clawing up throats, because this is dangerous, this world is dangerous, but they both know, on some level, they’ve never had a choice. Talk to me about Dex and his father, Kesler, sitting in their shop, later, as they always have, hovering over lab tables and tubes of elixers, cheerful chatter above the steaming, because that’s all they know, now. Because on some level, some time, Dex has felt a wall grow between them, a wall of experience and secrets and fear, because Kesler isn’t on the front lines of this, not always, and he doesn’t understand on the same level his mom does, not really.

Yeah, talk to me about Dex. Talk to me about laying on the floor with Biana, sobbing and laughing about invisibility and alone and realizing he has more of a connection with the daughter of the Vacker family than anyone could have realized. Talk to me about him and Linh and Keefe, about them giggling in his dad’s lab as he makes paints and elixers, bright colors and wild colors and the way all their eyes widen and it’s amazing, Dex, oh my- about the way they laugh about it, brainstorm the best locations to put it so everyone will see. Talk to me about him looking at them, a girl abandoned by this world and a boy who everyone allowed to hurt, and him looking at himself, who everyone in their world chooses to sneer at, look down upon, as if it will keep this fragile, stupid perfection. And talk to me about the way they put art in obvious places. Put it on huge, visible walls across the Lost Cities, because they will break this fucked up perfection in rebellion and in art and in shops with burbs for doorbells that make nobles squirm and in every way possible if they have to.

Talk to me about Dex and Fitz. Talk to me about Dex realizing nothing is perfect, and he’s known their world is a mess for as long as he can remember but he’s never realized it’s messed up Fitz too - perfect, Wonderboy Fitz Vacker, from his perfect Noble family with their respected genes and somehow, somehow, he’s fucked up too. Talk to me about jabs that use to be filled with rage at the world turning annoyed at most and then affectionate, familiar, with Fitz returning them, a bit, with a sparkle in his eyes, because he never hated him, not really. Talk to me about late night conversations on missions, in hideouts, at Dex’s home (never Fitz’s - he never asks why), about explanations and admissions and Fitz bolting up, his eyes wide, because he’s never realized that the world looks at Dex and sees something disgusting and useless until just now, no matter how many times he’s heard it from everyone around him, because Dex is a person, and on some level, he’s never comprehended it happens to people. Talk to me about a shared interest in humans, about Fitz talking about the Search, abouy Dex’s mom’s human TV and him tinkering with their gadgets. Talk to me about shared shook heads when people laugh about how inferior humans are, because Fitz has seen them, on some level, the good too, and he’s seen things that they could use, and his world has been turned on his head so really, this is the least startling realization. Talk to me about Dex laughing at that, about looking at everything they’ve made and have they don’t, and realizing that at least humans don’t act like they’re perfect. At least they don’t see perfection as everything. At least they’re flawed, at least they’re imperfect, and their world doesn’t claim otherwise.

So. Talk to me about Dex. About winning the war and the scars on all their hands and in their hearts and minds. Talk to me about children broken by something they should have never had to fight. Talk to me about Dex, and his anger and fear and his family and friends. Talk to me about Dex Dizznee.

[thetargaryenbride]

A Way of Mourning

Requested by:  @iamhowieson​ Hey! I was wondering if you could make a Levi x reader request where Levi accidentally hurts the reader and he feels terrible about it but the reader comforts him and tells him they’re ok. 

Thank you for requesting! <3 And I’m sorry for the delay. 

Words: 2K+

Pairing: Levi x Reader [gn]

Hope you like it  ❤️ Feedback is deeply appreciated! ^^

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *

“Where…” you whispered, almost choking, as your dry throat tissues scratched against each other.

“Here, have some water,” someone helped you sit up and held a glass to your lips, letting you gulp greedily. The chilly liquid soothed your parched throat and you sighed in relief. Finally opening your eyes, you were met with the face of your best friend and the rest of your squadmates.

“Captain, you gave us quite the scare there. It’s been two days and you weren’t waking up. Glad to finally have you back!” grinned one of them and you smiled, only now feeling the dull ache in your abdomen. You remembered now, how you had saved one of your subordinates which resulted in a titan sinking its teeth into you.

Your eyes widened as your thoughts shifted to a certain trio.

“What happened to Levi and the others?” you asked, almost frantically, because you didn’t remember anything from the mission and the worry quickly settled inside you, like a parasite, and started eating.

Since Levi, Isabel and Farlan joined the Scouts, you were one of the few people who were assigned to take care of the three. They needed to learn more about the world above, about how the military worked, about how the Survey Corps operated, and tons of other stuff, not to mention training, riding, and strategy. The others who were assigned to help, did it with disdain until at one point they just gave up, not wanting to have any contact with the “mongrels from the Underground” but you had stayed. You genuinely liked them. Your mother had done some charity in the Underground and you had accompanied her on a few occasions. What you felt towards the people from that place was only pity, because they deserved so much better than the curse they got since birth – to live in a place with no sun and light, where only filth and shadows flooded each corner, lurking over every inch of your skin.

So you had tried your best to take care of the three. Isabel had quickly taken a liking to you, followed by Farlan. Levi had been harder to win over. He was very quiet, reserved, and distrustful. But your constant kind gestures managed to crack even his shell if only a bit. He didn’t have problems with letting you be near him anymore. He even started talking to you and a day before the expedition he had even allowed you to rub his right shoulder. It had been aching and you had told him that he had to be healthy and strong for the expedition if he wanted to protect himself and his friends. He couldn’t malfunction. He had actually chuckled, although it was so quiet you almost mistook it for him letting out a breath, and let you do your magic at soothing his muscles. You had grown so attached to them that you couldn’t imagine your life without them. The thought that this was their very first expedition had hit you like a sack of bricks just before you had taken off and you had been worried out of your mind throughout the whole expedition, wondering whether they would make it out alive.

“Look, Y/N…I know you grew close during this past month but…Isabel and Farlan are dead,” announced your friend grimly and your heart dropped to your stomach. And suddenly your throat was dry again and no amount of gulping water or saliva was going to help. You let out a shaky breath as your trembling fingers clutched the edge of the bed, helping you sit up straighter and swing your legs over it.

“Wait, where are you-“

“I need to see Levi,” you muttered and your friends shared worried glances. They let you pass. They knew you were one of the most stubborn people alive and no amount of persuasion would put a stop to what you have in mind.

You stumbled all the way to the male barracks and opened the door, fully expecting to see Levi slumped on his bunkbed. But he was not there. In fact, the barracks were quiet and there wasn’t a single soul inhabiting them. The only sound that penetrated that silence was that of running water. Your eyes snapped to your left where the male common showers were located and you took hesitant steps towards it. This had to be the man you were looking for. After all, one of your squadmates had told you that Levi hadn’t left the barracks since the expedition.

You didn’t know how long you just stood in front of the door, wondering if you should wait for him or leave and come back later, endlessly contemplating on what exactly you were going to tell him. But after thirty minutes had passed and nobody was coming out, your thoughts shifted to, once again, worry. Because nobody ever took showers that long. The hot water had to be preserved. After all, there were around a hundred soldiers in the regiment who needed it and it was a bit harder to warm it up since they lived in a castle and not in the city like the Military Police or the Garrison.

“Levi?” you called out as you knocked but no answer came. “It’s me, Y/N. I’m coming in, ok?” you slowly opened the door and your face and body were instantly hit with hot thick steam and moisture. It was almost suffocating. “What the-“ you rubbed your face and eyes as you fully stepped inside and tried to focus. You finally located a figure at the end of the room and you walked towards it. The fog parted a bit and revealed the familiar backside of Levi. You were about to huff and scold him when you noticed just how red his back was. Your eyes widened as you outstretched your arm and put it under the sprinkling water, hissing and retreating it almost immediately.

“That water is scalding hot!” you exclaimed. “Levi, hey, let’s get out of here, hm?” you asked, voice laced with desperation and worry as you went to put a hand on his shoulder and shake him out of whatever trance he had fallen in. “You’re harming yourself. Please, let’s leave,” but before you could touch his skin, his hand shot out and grabbed yours, clutching it so tightly that he almost snapped it. He stood up abruptly and shoved you away, causing you to let out a squeal as you slipped and fell on your bum, the pain from your wound jostling your body, making you groan and clutch your stomach as if it was going to help soothe it.

“Get out,” he growled, his back still turned on you.

“But-“

“I said leave!” he yelled as his head sharply turned to look down at you. His eyes grew wide and the angry sneer and furrowed eyebrows he had donned eased a little. You stood up slowly and raised a hand, nodding.

“Ok…it’s alright, I’m going…just…don’t stay here long,” you whispered before you turned on your tail and exited the room.

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *

“Gods, would you go to bed already? Your wound is still healing and instead of resting you’re burying yourself in paperwork!” exclaimed your friend angrily as she crossed her arms.

“You know that there is always extra paperwork after expeditions. And I’ve been out for two days. I have a lot of work to catch up to. I’m fine,” you smiled at her reassuringly and she rolled her eyes before they snapped to the door after a knock echoed throughout your office.

“Name and business?!” you called out but nobody answered. The door just opened and your eyebrows shot to your hairline as you saw Levi holding a tray with two cups of steaming tea. Your friend gave you a look and nodded.

“I’ll leave you two to it,” she said as she quickly exited and closed the door.

Levi just stood there awkwardly, shifting from foot to foot until you told him to sit. He placed the tray on your desk and grabbed a chair, dragging it to sit in front of you while you were sipping on the liquid. There was silence for some time as you looked at him but he didn’t have the courage to look at you, focusing on his lap as his bangs covered his face.

Levi felt horrible. He felt disgusted with himself. He had been shaking like a leaf the moment you had left the bathroom. He hadn’t known what to do. He hadn’t even known which world he was on.

He remembered sitting there, almost choking on the thick steam, feeling the hot water drops drum against his skin. He had been so deep into his thoughts and the still fresh memories from two days ago, eyes scanning his hands in haze, seeing not clean skin but skin marred with dark wine blood – the blood of his family. The family he couldn’t protect because of his own foolishness and weakness. The moment he had felt that someone’s presence breathing down his neck and feeling the closeness of their hand, hovering over his shoulder, the close proximity creating warmth and electricity that had made the hair on his neck bristle, his hand had shot out automatically. He hadn’t wanted anyone to breathe the same air as him, much less touching him. He hadn’t hesitated when he pushed them away. But the moment he had turned and his eyes fell on you, regret had struck his heart and he had been frozen in place, not being able to do anything but watch with wide eyes as you shot him an apologetic smile before leaving.

He told himself that it wasn’t on purpose. He told himself it was just a reaction – a reflex – to something, someone, foreign, invading his personal space in a moment of deep vulnerability. But still…he felt like a trash.  

“I’m sorry,” he finally let out and you smiled at him, shaking your head.

“It’s fine,”

“No…I yelled at you…I pushed you…I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he whispered and you sighed.

“Everyone mourns differently, Levi. You needed space; so I gave it to you. I probably startled you by touching you. I shouldn’t have been so abrupt with my actions,” you explained gently, hoping to ease the guilt that was so obviously drowning him. His hands balled into fists as he bit the inside of his cheek.

“You’re the only one I have left,” he muttered as his eyes finally locked with yours and your hand touched his ever so slowly.

“And I’m not going anywhere. Please… let’s just forget everything and keep going together,” you smiled at him as your hand stroke his and he let out a sigh of relief before nodding. The emotions swirling in his eyes were so many and so vivid that it almost made you cry. It engulfed your very being and had such an impact on you that it overwhelmed you, making you succumb to emotion rather than rationality. You stood up and approached the man, crouching down in front of him. The smile you sent him and the emotions swirling in your eyes, had him give you a soft smile. You rose on your toes and closed the distance, letting your arms embrace his form. You sank into him, head nestling in the crook of his neck as his own arms tugged you closer and squeezed your form.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured in your hair again and you tightened your hold, nuzzling into him. He didn’t know whether he truly deserved this forgiveness. You were simply an exceedingly kind and forgiving person. But he knew one thing. From now on he was going to do anything for you. He was aware he had a difficult personality but he was going to try his best and stick by your side. Because you truly were one of the few people who gave him a chance and tried so hard to forge friendship with him despite all and you actually managed to wiggle into his heart and settle there.  

.

.

.

I promise to protect you...

[reinerispretty]

almost kings. atla fantasy!AU. (mako x f!reader)

hi everyone!! here is my new baby. it’s a oneshot so pls enjoy :)

SUMMARY: (y/n’s) not quite ready to take on the responsibility of ruling an entire kingdom. perhaps two brothers will be her saving grace. 

(Y/N) opened her mouth to argue, but closed it. She hadn’t thought that far ahead. She couldn’t just shove the kingdom into the hands of random people. She had to make sure they were worthy somehow.

“You never think things through,” Korra sighed, and (Y/N) scoffed.

“As if you’re any better!” She snatched the paper back from Korra. “I’m going into town to find them regardless. I just have to see.”

Korra pursed her lips, then nodded. “Fine, but I’m coming with you.”

“Absolutely not, you’ll ruin everything.”

“You wound me, Princess. Someone has to make sure these ruffians don’t kidnap you and I'm the only one I trust.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes. There would be no arguing with Korra. She was as stubborn as a mule. “Shouldn’t that say something about your ability to train your men?”

“It says nothing about my ability, and everything about the fact that they are men.”

The castle felt the weight of the king’s passing in every crook, cranny, and crevice. The lanterns had lost their luster. The air felt heavier. Every member of the royal palace from top to bottom had become more solemn in the days after. But still, life continued as best as it could. There was a kingdom to run, after all. 

It had been two months since the funeral service and the princess still remained in black, shrouding her face from view with a veil. The mourning process normally lasted a month at most, but to the public, Princess (Y/N) was taking her father’s death the hardest. She was rarely seen outside the castle walls anymore, nor did she explore the palace as she used to. “Poor girl,” they would whisper, over their cups of tea and mugs of beer. “Losing her father and her mother. Wonder if she’ll ever be ready to serve the kingdom.” 

Her mother had died from a plague that had ransacked the city. (Y/N) had only been six. Now, at the age of twenty-one, she had lost her father to a stupid battle in a senseless war. She was all alone. 

Contrary to what the people might think, she did not spend her time locked in her room, sobbing into her pillow. Instead, she read every book that accounted the history of her family lineage. As soon as her mourning period was over, (Y/N) would be expected to take the throne. She would be the queen of her kingdom, ruling from the highest mountaintops in the east to the shining seas in the west, but (Y/N) could think of nothing more she wanted less than the crown. 

It was her duty. She always knew it would be, but part of her had hoped that somewhere along the line her father would birth a male heir and take the responsibility off of her shoulders. (Y/N) did not believe herself fit to lead troops into battle, nor to discuss diplomatic matters with visiting dukes and duchesses. She could barely get through one ball without wanting to chuck her heel at some handsy prince’s head. So, she read. Somewhere along the line, there had to be someone else who could take the position from her. Someone who would be a great fit for king. 

She finally found her answer late one night, as her eyes were so tired that they had difficulty focusing on the page. There, in a depiction of their family tree, to the left of (Y/N’s) king and great lineage, was a chance. Mako and Bolin, the handwritten letters read. Two brothers who were just about her age, from a line that would have indisputable claim to the throne if (Y/N) rejected it. 

She jumped up from her bed, body thrumming with a newfound energy. She threw open her bedroom door, startling the sleeping guards that stood outside of it. With a bright smile on her face, she said, “Have my carriage ready by morning. We’re going into town!” She shut the door before either could question her. 

(Y/N) exchanged her mourning clothes for her regular ones, choosing a cloth periwinkle dress with an ivory cloak on top, clasped with a broach that was the insignia of her family. Handmaidens pulled her hair back into a ponytail as Y/N informed them that she would be skipping breakfast. She was much too eager to get to town. 

“The Captain of the Royal Guard is here to see you, your highness,” announced the guard at the door. (Y/N) batted the handmaidens away from her head, walking over to the door to open it herself. Captain Korra stood before her, wearing leather pants and a white tunic, with her sword sheathed at her side. 

“It's nice to see you smile again,” Korra said as a greeting. “But what’s got you so overjoyed?” she strode into (Y/N’s) room nonchalantly, no doubt bristling some of the more traditional handmaidens. (Y/N) dismissed them quickly. She and Korra had been friends since they were children. She was instrumental in making her father see Korra’s value as a knight. But although it was Korra's dream to go off and fight for the sake of their kingdom, (Y/N) had been selfishly unwilling to let her go. She could not imagine losing korra as well. 

“I have a plan,” (Y/N) said excitedly, gathering some of the things she would need today. She tore out the page from the book that depicted Mako and Bolin’s claim to the throne, shoving it into the very bottom of her satchel for safe keeping. 

“A plan for what?” (Y/N’s) eyes glanced around the room. Quietly, she began to tell Korra her secret.

“I don’t want to rule the kingdom, so I’m finding someone who will.” 

Korra choked on her own spit. “You’re not being serious, are you?” 

“I'm afraid I'm deadly serious.”

“B-but you’re the princess. No one else can rule but you!” 

“That’s where you’re wrong. Where father was wrong, where everyone was! I’ve been doing research, and there are two boys: Mako and Bolin.” She pulled out the piece of paper to show Korra, who scrutinized it heavily. “They’re the only ones who can take my place if I secede the throne. Which I will.” 

“And if they’re dead?” Korra questioned. “Or they’re horrible people who will hoard all the wealth for themselves and leave the innocent peasants with nothing?” 

(Y/N) opened her mouth to argue, but closed it. She hadn’t thought that far ahead. She couldn’t just shove the kingdom into the hands of random people. She had to make sure they were worthy somehow. 

“You never think things through,” Korra sighed, and (Y/N) scoffed. 

“As if you’re any better!” She snatched the paper back from Korra. “I’m going into town to find them regardless. I just have to see.” 

Korra pursed her lips, then nodded. “Fine, but I’m coming with you.” 

“Absolutely not, you’ll ruin everything.” 

“You wound me, Princess. Someone has to make sure these ruffians don’t kidnap you and I'm the only one I trust.” 

(Y/N) rolled her eyes. There would be no arguing with Korra. She was as stubborn as a mule. “Shouldn’t that say something about your ability to train your men?” 

“It says nothing about my ability, and everything about the fact that they are men.” 

The carriage ride to the town was short, lengthened only by the throngs of people that gathered outside to gape at her presence. They shouted blessings as she passed by, some throwing flowers and others hurling curses. It was another aspect of being royalty that (Y/N) loathed. the attention was too much sometimes, and while she didn’t expect everyone in the kingdom to be fond of her family, she had difficulty not taking their words to heart. 

She ordered the driver to stop inside the town square. He parked their carriage in front of the fountain and people already started to flock towards them out of curiosity. (Y/N) made a move to step out, but Korra grabbed her by the arm and shook her head. Korra stepped out first, looking both beautiful and formidable as she ordered the people to make way for the princess. 

After a few moments, (Y/N) inhaled a deep breath, and stepped out into the bright sun. It was the first time she had been outside the castle walls in over two months. The sunlight seeped into her bones, warMing every part of her being. She squinted her eyes as they adjusted.

“Your majesty!” The people gasped, bowing and curtsying. (Y/N) smiled gratefully at them. 

“It’s so lovely to see all of you,” (Y/N) told them, and she had meant it. There were a few familiar faces among the crowd and she waved at them, calling out their names to show that she remembered. That she cared. 

Korra stood by her side, pulling her through the crowd. “I hope you’ve come up with a cover for why you’re in town. I don’t think the people will be very excited to hear that you’re giving up the crown.” 

“Some might,” (y/n) noted, and Korra narrowed her eyes. “We’ll say that I’m…buying you a new sword.” 

“I don’t need a new sword.” 

“A dagger, then? Everyone loves a dagger.” She grabbed Korra by the hand and pulled her forward. (Y/N) had visited the town many times since she was little. Her mother had loved to read to the children in the town square, a tradition that had unfortunately fallen out of practice after the queen’s demise. (Y/N) had always meant to pick it back up again, but there was something stopping her. 

She led Korra to the blacksmith, reasoning that if there was anyone who knew everyone in town, it would be them. They stepped through the door, a little bell tingling at their arrival, and were instantly hit with a blast of heat. 

The blacksmith stepped through a curtain from the back, lifting their mask and revealing a beautiful girl with soft green eyes and an even softer smile. She looked far too mild to be a blacksmith, but if (Y/N) had learned anything from being friends with Korra, it was that one should never underestimate someone based on their appearance. 

“Your Majesty,” The blacksmith said as she curtsied, removing her heavy gloves. “It’s an honor to have you in my shop. What brings you here?” 

“My Captain of the Royal Guard is looking for a new dagger,” (Y/N) said, glancing up at Korra. The girl’s bright blue eyes were trained on the blacksmith and hadn’t left since they entered the shop. She looked stunned, her face just a shade pinker. “Isn’t that right, Korra?” 

At the sound of her name, Korra snapped back to reality. “Right! Yes. dagger for captain. I’m the captain. Hi, I'm korra.” (Y/N) had to physically stop herself from wincing at her friend’s rambling.

“Nice to meet you,” the blacksmith said. “I’m Asami. What kind of dagger are you in the market for?” 

(Y/N) knew absolutely nothing about weapons, so she looked at Korra, who seemed to be scrambling her brain for words. “Uh, sharp?” Korra offered. 

Asami furrowed her brows and nodded. “Something sharp, then.” 

“Maybe bronze?” (Y/N) questioned. “It will match the rest of your armor wonderfully.” 

“I think I have a bronze dagger in the back, actually,” Asami said, and with another curtsy, she left them. 

(Y/N) smacked Korra’s arm. “What is wrong with you!” she hissed. 

Korra looked from where Asami had just been standing to (Y/N). “Did you see her? She’s the most beautiful human being I’ve ever seen!” 

“You’re acting so suspicious right now.” 

“I am not.” 

“Yes, you are!” Asami entered the room again, and both (Y/N) and Korra paused their argument to smile at her. 

“One bronze dagger,” she said, leaning over the counter to show it to them. It was truly a beautiful work of art, with a tip so sharp it would certainly be deadly. The handle was worked into the intricate design of dragons breathing fire. 

“You made this?” Korra questioned, her voice full of wonder. “It’s beautiful.” Her eyes locked with Asami’s and (Y/N) noticed both girls blush. 

“I did, thank you. My father taught me everything i know.” 

“You’re the best blacksmith I’ve ever met,” (Y/N) agreed. If the circumstances were different, she might invite Asami to become court blacksmith. But she would hate to invite the girl to the castle only to abandon her. “Do you like it, Korra?”

“Yeah, I like her,” Korra said, but her eyes were still trained on Asami. “The dagger,” she tried to recover. 

“We’ll take it.” Asami smiled gratefully, pulling out her record book to record the sale. “I actually have a question for you, Asami, if you don’t mind humoring me.” 

“Anything for you, your highness,” Asami replied brightly. 

“Is there anyone in town by the names Mako or Bolin?” 

Asami thought for a moment as she took the satchel of gold from (Y/N). 

“I think...oh! the baker’s boys. The baker down the street has two apprentices, I think those are their names.” 

(Y/N) grinned wildly, turning to Korra. Bingo. 

As they left the blacksmith, Korra couldn’t stop turning the dagger over and over in her hands. She hadn’t thanked (Y/N) for her purchase, but she didn’t need to. Their friendship went beyond those kinds of formalities. 

“Shall I up your pay so you can come back to town and visit the pretty blacksmith?” (Y/N) smirked. Korra had rarely had a crush throughout their lives. There was another knight she had once admired, but (Y/N) hadn’t been sure if Korra had wanted to kiss him or beat him in a fight. Or both. 

“I certainly wouldn’t complain,” Korra snorted. 

“I think she liked you too.” 

“You’re making fun of me and it’s not nice.” 

“I’m being serious! You were too dumbfounded to notice. It was like,” (Y/N) made explosion noises with her mouth and gestures with her hands. “Instant sparks.” 

Korra remained silent for a few moments as they walked. “Asami is a pretty name, isn’t it?” 

(Y/N) smiled as she pushed through the door to the bakery. “Absolutely.” 

The smell of baked goods sent their mouths watering. Both girls had skipped breakfast, meaning their stomachs were rumbling excessively. They looked at the display cases, where an assortment of all kinds of goodies were laid out before them. 

“Welcome to Bender Bakery!” said a cheerful voice at the counter. It was a boy, but his back was turned to them. “Care for a free sample?” He turned around and smiled, carrying a tray of mini croissants, but it clattered to the floor as soon as he laid eyes on them. “Oh!” he exclaimed, his green eyes wide. “Your majesty! I’m so sorry, I— should I bow? Should I pick these up? Pema’s going to absolutely throttle me.” 

“It’s alright!” (Y/N) felt horrible for surprising the boy. “How about I pay you for those? And for two raspberry tarts?” 

“Four,” Korra said, her voice low and her arms crossed as she eyed the boy. (Y/N) watched him gulp. 

With a sigh, (Y/N) pulled out more coins. “Four raspberry tarts, please?” 

His gaze returned to the princess and he smiled widely, the dazzle reaching his emerald green eyes. Although he was covered in a mess of flour, he was beautiful, with full cheeks and a rounded nose. His stature was broad, and (Y/N) tried to imagine a crown atop his curly black hair. 

“I’m (Y/N),” she said as he swept the mini croissants up. “What is your name?” 

He looked up at her, a faint blush on his cheeks. “I’m Bolin! Nice to meet you, your highness.” (Y/N) smiled widely. She had done it.

“Likewise. This is my Captain of the Royal Guard, Korra.” Korra said nothing, despite (Y/N’s) elbow digging into her side. “Tell me, Bolin, do you have a brother?” 

Bolin’s thick eyebrows drew together curiously. “Yes, yeah I do. Mako. He’s probably out back.” 

“Could you bring him here, please?” Bolin nodded and darted out of the room. 

“What’s your plan?” Korra questioned as soon as he left. “You still have to make sure they’re not going to be insane.” 

“I don’t think they will. I got a good feeling from Bolin.” 

“Feelings don’t make kings.” (Y/N) tsked, rolling her eyes at Korra.

“Must you always be so negative?” 

“I’m not negative, I’m realistic. A trait that you would do well to have.” 

A loud clatter out front startled them, and the two girls turned around to see the two boys darting down the street, knocking over whatever was in their path. 

(Y/N) and Korra had been friends for so long that it seemed like they shared one mind. Both ran out the door, their polished leather boots stomping against the muddied ground. Unlike the boys, they wove through the crowd of people. If anyone recognized that it was the princess running past them, they gave no indication. Stranger things had happened in their little town. 

“I’m going to cut them off!” (Y/N) shouted to Korra. She skidded to a stop. The boys were headed toward an alleyway that (Y/N) knew well. If she let them get to the end, they would disappear into the sewers and she’d lose them forever. 

She set her foot into the bricks that protruded from the building and started to climb. She had spent many years scaling the side of the castle when it all felt like too much. Lifting herself onto the roof of the building, she darted across and jumped down into the alley, her skirts billowing up into the air as she landed on her feet. 

Bolin let out a surprised shout at (Y/N’s) arrival, just as her ankles were reverberating with the shock of the drop. Past the two boys, Korra stood at the end of the alley, her fingers wrapped tightly around the hilt of her sword. 

“Why did you run?” (Y/N) demanded, chest heaving from exerting herself. Both boys turned to her now, and (Y/N) laid eyes on the taller one, who must be Mako. Where Bolin was more broad, Mako was slender, his features sharper. His eyes locked on (Y/N’s), his brows furrowing in a mixture of anger and confusion, while (Y/N) felt a gasp escape her lips. His eyes were a brilliant shade of gold, a color that was rare for her people. 

“Well,” Bolin started, trying to catch his own breath. “When you come in with your captain of the royal guard, it kind of feels like you’re here to arrest us.” 

“Why would I arrest you?” 

“(Y/N), they’re criminals,” Korra snapped, and (Y/N) felt her face heat up from embarrassment. 

“You would be too if you lived in a town like this,” Mako said, his glare fixating on Korra. She unsheathed her sword. 

“Wait!” (Y/N) exclaimed. “Wait, what do you mean?” 

“Of course you wouldn’t know. You’re up there in your castle chugging wine and bathing in gold,” Mako snarled.

“Think of the queen bathing often?” Korra pressed, both of her hands on the hilt of her sword now. 

(Y/N) let out an exasperated sigh. This was not how today was supposed to go. she clenched her fists at her side. She was used to things going perfectly, things going her way. She should give up on these two. 

But Mako’s words were sticking to her uncomfortably, like her dresses did after she applied lotion. Were the people in her town really suffering? Why didn’t she know? Why wasn’t anyone telling her? 

“I didn’t come to arrest you,” The last bit of diplomacy had left (Y/N). She did not feel regal. She was tired and impatient. “I came to talk to you.” 

“What would you want with us?” Bolin asked, his figure noticeably relaxing. 

(Y/N) glanced past them, past Korra and into the street. People’s eyes were glancing inside the alley. There was too much attention here. “It’s...a lot to explain. Come back to the palace with us. I’ll tell you everything there.” 

“As your prisoners?” (Y/N) was growing tired of Mako’s attitude. 

“As guests! by the lion turtle, you’d think you two would’ve gotten that through your thick heads by now. I don’t want to have you arrested regardless of the crimes you’ve committed.” 

“She might not, but I do.” 

“Korra!” (Y/N’s) eyes flashed with anger, and her friend deflated, sheathing her sword. (Y/N) inhaled a deep sigh and closed her eyes. “Come back to the palace with me. I’ll explain everything once we’re there.” 

Mako and Bolin looked at each other, weighing their options. 

“Alright,” Bolin agreed, seeming a lot more excited than his brother. “Alright, we’ll go with you.” 

The carriage was far more cramped with the four of them inside. (Y/N) and Korra sat with their shoulders pressed together. Korra held her sword between her knees, her blue eyes flitting between both brothers. While Bolin looked out the window with wonder, Mako sat slumped, his arms crossed and his eyes downcast. 

“Are you hungry?” (Y/N) asked no one in particular. “I can have the kitchens make something. What’s your favorite?” 

“Do you have rabbit soup?” Bolin asked, but he continued before (Y/N) could answer. “I heard you had a labyrinth in your garden, is that true? Do you have horses? Is the crown you wear really heavy?” 

“Yes, yes, yes, and yes, but your neck gets used to it.” She smiled pleasantly. “You should see my father’s crown, though. That thing is a monstrosity.” 

Korra tensed at (Y/N’s) side. It was the first time she had mentioned her father to anyone else after his passing. (Y/N) was sure that Korra expected her to fall apart, but she had spent the past two months piecing herself back together. 

They walked through the front doors of the palace and a servant immediately took (Y/N’s) cloak and Korra’s jacket. They stared awkwardly at the two boys behind them. (Y/N) dismissed them quickly. 

“Would you like to freshen up a bit before we talk?” Bolin opened his mouth to say something, but Mako cut him off.

“we came here to talk.” 

(Y/N’s) smile dropped from her face. “Alright then. Follow me.” 

She led them to her study, which previously belonged to her father. A giant painting of him, her mother, and a young (Y/N) was hung over the roaring fireplace. (Y/N) leaned against the desk as Korra shut the door behind them, leaning herself against the hardwood to prevent any escape attempts. 

“I know it’s not every day the princess drops on you unannounced,” (Y/N) said. Her nerves shaky, she kept moving her fingers. “But after my father’s death, I spent a lot of time researching my family’s lineage.” She pulled the piece of paper from her bag and unfolded it. She double checked to make sure their names were still there, as if they would magically disappear on her. “You both are from a distant royal branch, completely unrelated to my own.” 

She handed the piece of paper to them, and both boys pored over the paper with their brows drawn together. Mako looked up at her. “So what does this mean?” 

“We’re royalty?” Bolin asked. 

“Yes. Next in line to the throne, actually. After myself.” 

“Oh god,” Bolin paled. “Did you bring us here to kill us so we wouldn’t challenge your claim to the throne?” 

“Does everyone in the kingdom think I’m a monster?” She held up a hand to silence Mako before he could respond. “No, I didn’t bring you here to kill you. I brought you to the palace to...give you both the life that is rightfully yours. Somewhere, many generations ago, your connection to the royal family was severed. I want to restore it.” 

“Why would you want that?” Mako asked, and it was the first thing he said that had no trace of anger. 

“I want to help,” (Y/N) admitted. “I came to town because I wanted to help you two, and then you mentioned that if we lived there, we would be criminals as well. If my people are suffering, I want to do everything in my power to fix it.” 

The brothers still looked wary, so she continued. “You could both stay at the palace, if you wanted. Wherever you worked would be compensated for your absence. You can live here and you’ll be treated well. I’ll let you have most anything you want, within reason.” She stared at them both hopefully. “Of course, if you don’t want that, I understand. A carriage will bring you back to town.” 

She locked eyes with Korra. If this went poorly, it could be the downfall of the kingdom. but (Y/N) needed to risk it. 

“Alright,” Mako said. He seemed to be the one that made the decisions. “We’ll stay, for now.” 

(Y/N) grinned, feeling absolutely elated. All that was left to do now was prove that they were worthy of the throne. 

She left Mako and Bolin to their own devices at first. She instructed Korra and any other servants to report back with how they were doing. So far, there was no suspicious activity, much to Korra’s disappointment. 

“I’m just itching for a reason to kick that Mako in the teeth,” Korra told (Y/N) as they walked to her next meeting. (Y/N) couldn’t hold back her laugh. “Seriously! he needs a huge attitude adjustment.” 

“I’m sure they had it rough, Korra, we need to be patient with them.” 

“I don’t know why you’re fighting for them so much. They’re criminals, they said it themselves.” 

“Maybe they had to be.” Korra rolled her eyes. 

“You’ve got your head in the clouds.” 

At the end of the hall, (Y/N) noticed Mako walking toward them. His dirty clothing had been exchanged for a nice red tunic and dark fitted pants. The servants had scrubbed his face clean and combed back his hair, but (Y/N) had heard that Mako ruffled it as soon as they were done styling it. 

“Good morning, Mako,” (Y/N) called out to him. He paused, his expression still serious as he nodded at them. “Would you like to join Korra and I for this meeting?”

“You can’t be serious,” Korra hissed, but (Y/N) paid her no mind. 

“We’re discussing funding today. I’d love to hear your input about where it should go.” She looked at him expectantly, willing him to say yes. She stared directly into his amber eyes. (Y/N) found that people had a hard time saying no to her if she looked at them directly. 

“Oh, uh,” he cleared his throat. “Alright.” 

They entered the meeting room together, (Y/N) taking her place at the elaborate chair at the head of the table. Korra stood at her side, arms behind her back. Mako looked at the seats, anxiously trying to figure out where to go. The men at the table stared at him warily, frowns on their faces. 

“Sit here,” (Y/N) offered, gesturing to the seat to her left. Tenzin, her treasurer, cleared his throat. 

“Your majesty, forgive me for interrupting, but that is Lord Tahno’s seat.” 

(Y/N) smiled and nodded. “Seeing how lord Tahno is late, I would like Mako to take his seat.” Korra tried to stifle her laughter, but failed miserably. She might not like Mako, but she loathed Tahno. (Y/N) guessed that Korra was eager to see the expression on his face when he finally walked in. (Y/N) was eager to see it as well. She and Korra would have a hearty laugh about it later. 

“Now,” (Y/N) continued. “I’m sure you’re all wondering about our guest. Mako is one of my representatives from town, so I invited him here today to discuss how the budget should be allocated to the people.” 

“Your highness,” said Tarrlok, another one of (Y/N’s) advisors. “I can assure you that the people are doing well. Just the other day, I was walking through the town. Children were laughing and playing, it was wonderful.” 

“Just because children are being children doesn’t mean they aren’t suffering,” (Y/N) said. She tried hard not to lose her temper with these people. They were used to certain lives, certain expectations. She didn’t need them to understand, she just needed them to follow her orders. “Take half of the money from my coronation and put it toward the people.” 

Mako raised an eyebrow at her, while the rest of her advisors began talking amongst themselves. “With all due respect, your majesty,” said Raiko. “Your coronation is of the utmost importance.” 

“How much money should it really require?” (Y/N) questioned. “All you have to do is say a few words and put a crown on my head.” 

The door opened then, revealing Tahno and the smug expression on his face. it immediately fell as soon as he saw that his seat was occupied. He recovered as soon as he saw (Y/N). “Your highness,” he drawled, approaching her chair. “My apologies for being late. There was a young injured fox on my way to the castle. I had to stop to assist it.” 

“Liar,” Korra coughed into her palm, pounding against her chest. “Woo, sorry. allergies, y’know?” Even Mako broke a smile. 

“Sit, Tahno.” Frowning, he sat a few chairs down from the princess, glaring at Mako. (Y/N) was grateful to have Tahno so far away. As soon as she had her first meeting, he had claimed the spot right beside her, trying his best to flirt. (Y/N) was in the middle of the appropriate marrying ages and Tahno made it very clear that he had plans to have her hand. 

“Mako,” (Y/N) said, turning to him. “Is there anywhere in town you could think of that needs funding immediately?” 

“Where do I start?” Mako joked, before he remembered exactly where he was. “Uh, the orphanage, your highness. Or the schools. Or maybe putting the money into the roads or some bath houses?” 

(Y/N) nodded as he listed off each of his ideas. She then turned to her advisors. “Did you get all of that?” 

They all scrambled to write down what the young commoner had been saying. “Let’s put the majority of the funding into the orphanages and the schools. We’ll start there, then work our way to everything else.” 

“I don’t see why we should be helping the peasants if they’re no longer providing anything for the castle.” Tahno leaned back into his seat. 

“It’s winter,” Korra deadpanned. 

“Regardless if they contribute anything to the castle or not, taking care of them is still our responsibility,” (Y/N) told him. 

“I’m just saying—“ 

“Keep thinking like that and you’ll have a revolt on your hands,” Mako interrupted Tahno. “The people know how you all live here. They don’t expect their own fancy castles, but they notice when they’re starving and you’re all throwing feasts.” 

“Tell me,” Tahno said, narrowing his eyes. “What’s your title? Why are you here?” 

“All things you’d know if you arrived to the meeting on time,” (Y/N) snapped. “The orphanages and the schools,” (Y/N) repeated to Tenzin. He nodded at her orders. “I think that’s enough for today. You may all leave.” She didn’t like this, didn’t like the arguments and how people tried to challenge her. She might see their point of view if she was some sort of tyrant that needed to be held back. But all she wanted to do was help people, and sometimes she felt like the best thing she could do for the kingdom was to not be queen. 

As everyone else filtered out of the room, (Y/N)) stood and went to the window. In the cloudy horizon sat their little town, the one that her family had been entrusted to care for. 

“Your majesty, may I have a word with you?” (Y/N) sighed and turned around. Tahno stood just a few feet away from her, blocked by Korra. Mako had remained in his seat. “In private?” 

“I’m actually feeling unwell today,” (Y/N) said softly. “You can request an audience another time. Korra, please escort Lord Tahno out.” 

“Gladly,” Korra said with a smile. Tahno stared at the princess for a few more moments before turning around, Korra following him. 

(Y/N) collapsed back in her seat, slumping down. She glanced over at Mako. “Thank you for coming today. And what you said. Sometimes it feels like they don’t believe anything I say unless it’s coming from a man’s mouth.” 

“It seemed to me like they didn’t want to believe anything I said unless it was coming from a lord’s.” (Y/N) smiled. 

“They’re not so bad. Just a little...traditional.” 

“And you aren’t?” (Y/N) shook her head. 

“There's so much I would change about everything.” 

“Like what?” (Y/N) was surprised at Mako’s sudden interest. His hands were slotted together and folded against his stomach as he leaned back. 

“Well, I don't think the coronation should be that big of a deal. It seems like a party for the rich people, and they have parties all the time. So I'd make it something smaller. Private, maybe. And I’d invite the whole town into the palace for feasts on holidays, so that everyone could get a hot meal. Maybe if people wanted, they could come to the castle if they ever needed a meal. Tahno would say that they’d eat me out of house and home, but I don’t think I’d mind, as long as people were happy.” 

“Tahno seems like a jerk.” 

“He is, but I can't say that or else his family would wage war on mine.” (Y/N) blew hair out of her face. “Everyone expects me to marry him.” 

“Well i don’t see why you wouldn’t want to,” Mako said sarcastically. (Y/N) grinned. 

“I’d also put an end to this horrid war.” 

“You want to end the war?” Mako raised an eyebrow. It stung a little bit, thinking that he would be surprised at her statement. 

“It’s not my war anymore,” She said quietly, glancing at the portrait of her father that said over the fireplace. He looked grand, a ring of shining light painted around his head. “It wasn’t even his. It was started a long time ago by men whose problems are nowhere near mine.” She turned to Mako, the corner of her mouth twitching up sadly. “At this point, I don’t think anyone knows what they’re fighting for anymore. All it does is hurt people.” 

They both knew what she was referring to. Just a few months ago, her father had been wounded on the battlefield for that very war. His death had been slow and painful, and as his only child, (Y/N) had to sit and watch. 

“I think those are great ideas, by the way.” Mako’s voice broke the silence and the sadness that had started to overcome (Y/N).

“Thank you. If only I had the time to implement them.” 

“Don’t you have a whole lifetime as queen?” 

(Y/N) opened her mouth to speak, but clasped it tightly shut. She couldn’t tell him about her plan. Not yet. 

“There’s just a lot of hoops to jump through.” She stood and glanced at the door. “Walk with me to lunch?” 

It wasn’t often that (Y/N) was summoned places. As princess, she did the majority of the summoning. But Tenzin had called her to the great hall for some undisclosed reason and (Y/N) was horribly curious, so she humored him. 

He bowed as she entered the room. “Your majesty. Thank you for making yourself available on such short notice.” 

The door opened behind her once more, revealing a very confused looking Mako and Bolin. Tenzin cleared his throat. “Considering that her royal highness brought you both here, I have taken it upon myself to properly train you as members of the royal court.” 

(Y/N) gasped excitedly, whirling around on the two boys, the large skirt of her dress flowing behind her. Bolin looked at her. “What does that mean?” 

“it means,” (Y/N) said, clasping her hands together. “That you’re getting royalty lessons.” 

“I'm good,” Mako said, moving to walk back out of the room. Tenzin raised his eyebrows at (Y/N), who gave him a confused look in return before she realized what he was trying to convey. 

“Oh! Right. I’m in charge here. Mako, you cannot leave. If you two are to remain in the palace, you have to have some sort of formal training. There are certain expectations that other members of the Court will have. People have started wars over minor offenses. It’s all stupid, but necessary.” Tenzin gasped. 

“The customs of our people are far from stupid!”

Mako looked horribly displeased, but the glimmer in Bolin’s eyes told her that at least he was excited. (Y/N) turned to Tenzin, a grin on her face. “Of course. Take good care of them, Tenzin.” 

“Actually, your majesty, I was thinking that you could also partake in these lessons. A little refresher is never a bad thing. I’ve noticed your elbows have begun making their way onto the table.” 

(Y/N) frowned deeply as bolin and mako snickered behind her. “I think my elbows should do whatever they damn well please.” 

Tenzin sputtered. “Language, your majesty!” And while she was the princess and could certainly refuse, the hopeful and pleading look on Tenzin’s face made her concede. He had been her father’s best friend. With a sigh, she nodded. 

That was how the three of them had ended up with stacks of books on their heads. It had taken (Y/N) a few tries to get the hang of it once more and just as she was feeling confident, Tenzin would add another book. Mako and Bolin, however, were struggling greatly. 

“I think my hair is making the book fall,” Bolin told Tenzin, who rolled his eyes. 

“The purpose is to glide, not walk, across the floor.” 

“What the hell is gliding?” Mako questioned. 

“And watch your tongue!” tenzin insisted. Mako huffed, and (Y/N) giggled as she glided over to him. 

“Just humor him,” she whispered as she walked around Mako. She pulled his shoulders back to straighten them, and with a single finger lifted his chin so that he had to peer down his nose at her. “Try it now.” 

Mako took a few wary steps forward, but the book didn’t fall, not until he turned back around to smile at (Y/N). It slid off his head, knocking into hers before tumbling to the floor. 

“Ow,” (Y/N) grumbled, rubbing her hand against her forehead. Mako stared at her with wide eyes. 

“I'm sorry,” he apologized, but his shocked expression soon faded as he saw the smile playing at her lips. He had to admit, it was rather funny. 

“Uh, (Y/N)?” bolin asked, and then received a swat on the head from Tenzin. 

“You will refer to her as your majesty, your grace, or your highness!” 

“Your grace (Y/N)?” bolin tried to correct, avoiding another swipe from Tenzin. “How’d you get Mako to do that book thing?” 

“Oh! It’s easy, let me help,” and she walked over to Bolin, moving him the same way she had moved Mako just moments before. Bolin took his own steps forward, looking similarly to a baby lamb walking on its legs for the first time. 

“I’m doing it!” He cheered as he walked around the room. “I'm royalty!” 

After their walking lessons was a pretend lunch in which they learned what utensils to use when. (Y/N) was rather disappointed at the lack of food before them. She found herself growing hungry. 

“Now, say you had a soup dish before you. What utensil would you use, your highness?” 

(Y/N) looked down at the array of forks, spoons, and knives, all in a range of different sizes. She pursed her lips as she thought. “Do I go from the outside in?” She wondered aloud, searching Mako and Bolin’s faces for answers. They both gave her a shrug: they were just as lost. “Or do i go from the inside out? You know, tenzin, I’m curious why it matters at all what utensil we use when. As long as the food gets in our mouths, I don’t see an issue.” 

Tenzin sniffed. “I see you’ve been spending time with Korra.” 

“Really, I think different types of utensils should be banned. All we need are forks, knives, and spoons. Perhaps I'll propose it at our next meeting.” 

“I second that,” Mako said as he stared at a big fork and a small fork. 

“Can i vote, too?” Bolin questioned. “Because while I think it’s a great idea, (Y/N) your highness, I think we should keep this little baby fork. It’s quite adorable.” 

(Y/N) hummed, banging the handle of her knife on the table as if it were a gavel. “It’s settled. No different types of utensils, unless it’s a baby fork.” 

Bolin cheered as Tenzin groaned. 

“For your last lesson,” Tenzin began as they left the dining room. “We shall work on dancing.” 

“That’s my cue to leave,” (Y/N) said quickly, gathering the skirts of her dress and darting away. Mako and Bolin exchanged a quick look before darting after her, leaving Tenzin all by himself. 

“I expect to see you all at the same time tomorrow!” 

(Y/N) was surprised as she was walking the grounds to find Bolin wrestling with members of the knighthood. She left her handmaidens and ran over to them immediately, thinking the worst. Maybe one of them had made a comment about Bolin’s upbringing. Maybe Bolin had offended the knight in some way. 

“What is the meaning of this?” (Y/N) demanded, her voice projecting over the cheers of the knights. they died out, falling to one knee and bowing their heads. The two remained wriggling on the ground. “Bolin!” (Y/N) shouted to gain his attention. 

The fighting halted, and her knight, Sir Tonraq, looked up at her and smiled. He was Korra's father and one of their kingdom’s greatest generals. He rose slowly to his feet and bowed at the waist. “Your majesty,” he said calmly. “Bolin asked that I show him a few moves. It was all in good fun, I can assure you.” 

(Y/N) glanced down at Bolin, who was panting but otherwise looked unharmed. He remained on the ground, his face upside down as he grinned up at (Y/N). “Afternoon, princess! lovely day, isn’t it?” 

“You asked Sir Tonraq to wrestle you?” 

“Well uh,” Bolin rose to his feet. “Not in so many words, but I guess. He and the others were training and it looked really cool! Do you think I could get a sword?” He looked between (Y/N) and Tonraq.

“Why don’t you walk with me for a bit, Bolin?” He nodded and joined her, leaving Tonraq and the rest to return to their training. “I'll be frank: is being a knight something that interests you?” 

Bolin nodded eagerly. “Oh yeah, it always has! Ever since I was little, I wanted to be a knight. pops used to tell us his grandfather was a knight and I thought it was the coolest thing ever, but then Mako said that it was all just a story pops made up to get us to go to sleep. But hey, now I’m starting to think Mako was wrong!” He flashed another smile at (Y/N). 

“If you’re a knight, you can’t be a king,” (Y/N) said, her voice very solemn. Bolin raised an eyebrow. 

“Well you’re queen, so—“

“I'm not the queen,” (Y/N) interrupted. “Not until my coronation.” 

“Either way, it’s still you and mako before I can even think about becoming a king. I think I'd make a great knight, though! saving damsels, slaying dragons.” 

(Y/N) giggled. “Dragons have been extinct for years.” 

“Someone never heard the fairytale of the dragon prince!” 

“You'll have to tell me sometime.” They walked past the lakes, where turtle ducks swam and splashed in the water. “If you really want to be a knight, Bolin, we can arrange it. It’s a lot of intense training, but if you think you’re ready—“ 

“I know i’m ready!” 

“Alright,” (Y/N) laughed. “I’ll call for the town blacksmith and you guys can meet and discuss what you want your sword to look like.” 

“Doesn’t the castle have a blacksmith?” 

(Y/N) smirked. “We do, but I've got a plan, dear Bolin.” 

Korra was going to kill her. 

The clanging of metal on metal alerted the two of them to some other sort of commotion. (Y/N) and Bolin walked to the source of the noise, located at the armory. At first, (Y/N) could not discern who was inside, but she soon heard Korra’s familiar grunts and shouts. 

They walked through the armory, passing different swords, daggers, shields, and pieces of armor as they made their way back to the practice area. There, on the sandy ground, stood Korra and Mako. 

(Y/N) hadn’t expected Mako to be a very good swordsman. He had grown up as an orphan, after all, so she looked up at Bolin with one eyebrow raised. The brother smiled brightly as he watched the two fight. “Mako once stole a sword from some rich kid in town. He got pretty good at fighting until the sword got stolen from him.” 

“Hopefully he doesn’t best my Captain of the Royal Guard,” (Y/N) said in a loud voice as she walked over to the railing. “Or else I might need to start holding interviews!” 

“Shut up!” Korra shouted back at her. The distraction gave Mako just enough time to swipe Korra’s feet out from beneath her. Korra was quick, however, and rolled out of the way before he could hold the point of his sword to her chest. She jumped back up to her feet and attacked with such ferocity that it intimidated even (Y/N). 

Korra, like (Y/N), had spent much of her life being underestimated by the men of their kingdom. Where (Y/N) would rather use that to her advantage, it bothered Korra to no end. She spent years training harder than any other knight in their Royal Guard, any other knight in their entire army, until she could best them all. If (Y/N) was Mako, she would be terrified. 

Their swords collided in air, and Korra circled her weapon, wrenching Mako’s from his hand. She caught it by the blade in her other hand, an exhausted smile coming to her face before she thrust the handle of her sword at him. “You’re not horrible.” 

“You’re amazing!” Bolin exclaimed, eyes wide as he stared at Korra. “You were good too, Mako, just not as good as her.” “Gee, thanks, Bo,” Mako said as he wiped sweat from his brow. 

Korra narrowed her eyes at (Y/N). “You were trying to distract me for him.” 

“You’re so dramatic,” (Y/N) said as she rolled her eyes. Korra smiled, her eyes moving between Mako to (Y/N). 

“Bet he couldn’t take you,” Korra said. She always liked to initiate challenges. 

Mako raised an eyebrow at the princess. “You can swordfight?” 

(Y/N) scoffed. “Who do you think was Korra’s practice dummy?” 

“I thought princesses weren’t supposed to learn how to fight,” Bolin wondered aloud. “Wouldn’t Tenzin say it’s unbecoming?” 

(Y/N) nodded. “He certainly would, and he did. Many times.” 

Korra waved a hand. “That old coot wouldn’t know what fun was if it smacked him in the ass.” She offered her sword to (Y/N). “Go on. Fight him.” 

A grin settled on (Y/N’s) lips, her expectant eyes landing as Mako. She hopped over the railing. The skirt of her dress was large, making it a bit difficult, but she had been doing it for years. “What do you say?” 

Mako furrowed his brows. “I don’t want to fight you.” 

“Come on, Mako, I’m in a dress. It should be easy for you to beat me.” (Y/N) tossed the blade between both hands. Mako looked from the princess to Korra and Bolin. Bolin seemed nervous, but Korra leaned against the wooden post of the building with a smile. 

“We shouldn’t,” Mako said, shaking his head. 

(Y/N) lifted her chin and smirked, pointing her blade at Mako. “I order you to.” 

His eyebrow quirked up as his face flushed, the corner of his mouth tilting up just slightly. “As you wish, your majesty,” And (Y/N) felt a shudder travel down her back. 

(Y/N) swung first, knowing that Mako would be too scared to initiate the first move. He blocked, spinning around in an attempt to disarm her. (Y/N) noticed that all of the movements he was making were attempts to knock the sword from her friends, but she held onto it. Her dress made moving quickly difficult, but she could tell that he was restraining himself. 

“If you keep holding back,” (Y/N) said as their swords collided. “I’ll make you spend a night in the cellars.” 

Mako let out a laugh, but his fighting style started to completely change. He was quick and pressing, trying his best to push her into a corner. Their swords hit midair once more and Mako shoved forward. 

(Y/N) lost her balance and fell, landing on her side as she cried out. Mako dropped his sword and ran to her side, kneeling down to his knees as his brows knit together in worry. “Are you alright?” He questioned, searching to see what was hurting her. 

In an instant, (Y/N) lunged and tackled Mako onto his back. She hovered over to him for a split second, their faces only inches away as she smiled down at him. She scrambled back up to her feet, setting one foot on his chest as the tip of her sword pointed at his neck. 

“That’s my girl!” Korra cheered from the sidelines. 

Mako stared up at her, eyes still wide with surprise. Her hair had fallen from its bun, wisps of sweaty locks sticking to her temples and neck. Her chest heaved as they caught her breath, and her eyes sparkled with a wild twinkle that Mako hadn’t seen before. 

“You fight dirty,” Mako said. 

(Y/N) shrugged. “Have to do what you must to win.” She stepped off of his chest and let her sword trail down his stomach before tossing it to the ground. She linked arms with Korra and walked out of the armory, muttering something about desperately needing a bath. 

Mako remained on the ground as he caught his breath. Bolin hopped over to the railing and joined his brother, his eyes widening as he noticed the state he was in. Bolin directed his green eyes elsewhere. “Um, Mako? Do you have a--” 

“Shut up, Bolin.” 

“You—!” Korra said as she burst into the dining room. (Y/N) had a mouthful of bread stuffed in her cheeks. “You wicked woman!” 

Mako and Bolin glanced from Korra to (Y/N). They weren’t sure if Korra’s anger was genuine. On a normal day, if anyone spoke to (Y/N) that way, Korra would have them thrown out. Was there anyone that could throw Korra out?

(Y/N) swallowed and smiled, buttering another piece of bread. “I’m not sure what you mean.” 

Korra crossed her arms and poured her lips, tapping her foot against the marble floor. “You invited the blacksmith here on purpose!” 

“Yes, that purpose was so that she could make Bolin a sword.”

“And that has nothing to do with how I made a fool of myself the last time we saw her?” 

(Y/N) rolled her eyes. “Then you should be thrilled that I invited her so you could make a good second impression.” 

“Am I missing something here?” Bolin asked. 

“No!” Korra snapped, just as (Y/N) whirled on him with a devious grin. 

“Korra’s got a crush on the town blacksmith.” 

“I hate you,” Korra seethed. (Y/N) paid her no mind. If she had a gold piece for every time Korra told her that, she’d be the richest person in the entire world. 

“She’s supposed to be arriving soon. Should we call her into the dining room?” 

“No!” Korra and Mako spoke at the same time. (Y/N) had been expecting that reaction from Korra, but from Mako? 

her playful demeanor dissipated as she saw the troubled expression on mako’s face. “Very well,” she said quietly. “When she arrives, you’ll meet her in the smithy.” Bolin nodded. 

Korra had left to take out her anger on some unsuspecting recruit. The rest of the meal was consumed in silence. 

An uncomfortable feeling settled in (Y/N’s) stomach, like she had done something wrong. She had expected korra to react that way. When it came to her, Korra was all bark and no bite. She would get over it in a few hours, and would undoubtedly be excited at seeing Asami. But the look that had appeared on Mako’s face had startled her. It was like she had hurt him in a way, and she didn’t know how. 

(Y/N) retired to her bedroom, dismissing her handmaidens. She wanted to be completely alone. 

Her room was large, but it was not the biggest bedroom in the castle. That was her father’s, which had remained untouched since he passed away. After her coronation, (Y/N) would be expected to move into it. And she wasn’t sure that she could handle being in a room that reminded her of her father so fully. 

But (Y/N) liked her room. It had grand windows, with a stained glass one at the very center, depicting a colorful image of the two founders of her family line. As the sun shined through, it cast colors all throughout the room. Her bed was large and soft, with four posts and a lovely canopy surrounding it. Books were now scattered across the floor from her research and she had many wardrobes all along the wall, filled to the brim with dresses and gowns. They ranged from poofy and elegant to plain and simple. 

She flopped onto her bed, staring up at the high ceilings. What would happen to her once she was no longer royalty? Perhaps she would take her savings and buy a cottage on the side of a hill. She knew very little about fending for herself, but she would learn. She could buy animals. Or maybe she would settle in a cottage by the sea and fish for herself. She had read a book once that detailed how to make sea salt from the ocean. 

(Y/N) closed her eyes, envisioning the peace that would overcome her once the crown was off of her head.

 She wasn’t sure how long she had slept, but when she awoke her stomach was growling, indicating that she had missed dinner. She sat up, her body feeling stiff from sleeping in her corset. She moved her arms around her back, her fingers trying to pull at the ties that bound her. It was no use without a handmaiden. 

A knock sounded at her door and (Y/N) jumped up, feeling a little dizzy from having just awoken. She went to the door and pulled it open, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. 

Where she had expected to see a handmaiden, She was surprised to see Mako standing in front of her. “Oh,” she said, stifling a yawn. “Do you need something?”

“You weren’t at dinner,” he explained. “Did I upset you?” (Y/N) liked how straightforward Mako was. He saw things simply. 

“Not at all! I just fell asleep.” She craned her neck to the side to stretch it. 

“Oh. Well, alright.” He seemed to be deciding whether he should leave or say something more. 

“I'm sorry for inviting the blacksmith girl unannounced. If I had realized you had a past with her—“ 

“Who said I had a past with her?” 

(Y/N) snorted. “Well, it was pretty obvious, considering you almost pissed your pants at the idea of seeing her.” 

Mako rolled his eyes. “You can invite whoever you want to invite, you’re the queen.” 

“I’m not,” (Y/N) insisted. “Not until my coronation.” 

“I’ve been meaning to ask, why do you keep putting that off? You’d think that anyone would jump at the opportunity to rule a kingdom.” 

(Y/N) pressed her lips into a line. “I like to take my time.” 

“Seems to me that you enjoy rash decisions.” 

“And you know me so well?” 

Mako shrugged. “I’ve been here almost a month. I like to think that I know a little about you. Jury's still out on the golden baths, though.” 

(Y/N) scrunched her nose. “I don’t care for chugging wine, either.” 

Mako laughed, and (Y/N) realized it was the first time she had actually heard the sound. It was pleasant. Warm. 

“I was with the blacksmith, for a period of time. It didn’t end very well.” 

“for you or for her?” 

“for either of us.” (y/n) nodded, leaning against the door frame.

“Korra’s smitten with her.” 

“Who wouldn’t be? She’s beautiful.” His eyes glistened with a flash of realization that she couldn’t understand, and then he shut his mouth. 

“If Asami wasn’t good for Korra, you’d tell me, wouldn’t you?” 

mako nodded, his face very serious. “Of course.” 

“She’s my best friend,” (Y/N) said quietly, studying mako’s face. “She’s all I have.” 

“That can’t be true.” 

“It is.” (Y/N) gritted her teeth. The thought of someone hurting Korra made a rage bubble in her belly. “I’ve lost both of my parents. Korra is the only thing keeping me here.” 

“The only thing?” 

(Y/N) felt her face grow hot. she looked down at her feet. “I’m tired of standing. Do you want to come inside?” 

“Inside...your room?” 

“Yes, my room.” (Y/N) rolled her eyes and stepped aside so Mako could enter. He looked around at her space as she moved to her wardrobe and pulled out a comfier dress. 

“This entire room is bigger than the house I grew up in.” 

“I’m sorry for that.” (Y/N) moved behind her screen, trying to tug once more at her ties now that she was more awake. 

“It’s not your fault. It was still a nice home.” (Y/N) let out an exasperated sigh. Her arms couldn’t contort in the way she needed them to. “Everything alright back there?” 

(Y/N) poked her head from behind the screen. Mako sat at the edge of her bed. “I need a small favor.” 

“I suppose I can’t refuse the princess.” 

(Y/N) walked over to him and turned around, pulling her hair to the front. “Could you untie these for me? I'd do it by myself, but I can't reach.” 

“Where are your handmaidens?” 

“Obviously not present at the moment so please, mako, if you don’t mind.” 

He stood, and with nimble fingers he untied the silk ribbon of her corset. (Y/N) breathed in deeply and exhaled. she could finally breathe properly. She held the corset to her chest with her arms and turned around. “Thank you,” she told him, before she moved back behind her screen to get changed. “One more thing I'd do as queen is banish uncomfortable dresses.”

Mako chuckled. “The people would throw a festival in your honor.” 

She moved out from the screen once more, this time wearing only her nightgown and a silk robe to cover it. She had pulled the pins from her hair, allowing it to move freely. “Tell me about your parents,” She said. It was rare she got a moment alone with Mako. She wanted to learn as much about him as she could. 

“There’s not much to tell. They were killed by a mugger when we were out walking one night.” 

“‘We?’” (Y/N) repeated. “You were with them?” Mako nodded. “Oh, Mako, i’m so sorry.” 

“It was a long time ago,” Mako said as he swallowed. “But it’s why Bolin and I had to learn to steal. it was the only way we could survive.” 

“The orphanage—“ 

“We went, for a while. A couple wanted to adopt Bolin. I couldn’t let them separate us, so we ran.” Mako shook his head. “You probably think me selfish, for keeping my brother from a chance at a better life.” 

(Y/N) sat beside him on her bed. “When Korra was eighteen, she became a knight. I was happy when she did, it was all that she wanted her entire life. But then I thought about how knights go to war and sometimes they don’t return. So I asked my father to do something to keep Korra here. He assigned her to the royal guard. I know it’s not her dream, but it’s all I could do to keep her safe.” she looked at mako. “What I’m trying to say is, no, I don’t think you’re selfish. I would’ve done the same thing.” 

“If korra’s the only thing keeping you here, why do you want to leave so badly?” 

(Y/N) stiffened, furrowing her brows. “What are you talking about?” 

“It’s plain to see. Refusing your coronation, not even batting an eye at marriage proposals. bringing bolin and I here. I knew you wanted to leave as soon as you brought us here, but I couldn't figure out why.” 

(Y/N) swallowed. “I’m not fit to rule a kingdom.” 

Mako scoffed. “I’d beg to differ. you boss everyone around better than anyone i’ve ever met.” He was trying to joke, but (Y/N) was not in the mood. 

“I don't like meetings or the people I have to spend my time around. You saw it for yourself, some of them are insufferable. I can’t lead an army into battle, but I can’t sit back and watch innocent people die for my sake. I just...my parents were such good people. My mother knew how to ease everyone’s worries. My father knew when to be strong for others. I don't have either of those qualities. I've had Korra to protect me my whole life. The kingdom would be better off if someone else ruled it.” 

She turned to mako. “Which is why I found you and Bolin and brought you back to the palace. I had to make sure you both would be good kings, and you are. I can’t think of anyone more reasonable, or kind and just, or strong as the two of you. I want you to take my throne, Mako. You would be such a great king. You’re in touch with the people.” 

She swallowed, nervous from his silence. “I know it’s a lot to ask. But I truly do believe you’d be wonderful.” 

“And if I say no?” 

(Y/N) furrowed her brows, shocked. “I'll ask bolin.” 

“And if he says no? Will you stay?” (Y/N) was at a loss for words. “Because I know that if I say yes, you will leave. So why would I when it’s the only way you’ll stay?” 

She stared at mako. His golden eyes bore down into hers. She tried to read his expression, but there were too many thoughts bouncing around in her head. “I can't, Mako. Losing both of my parents nearly destroyed me. If something else happened…” She closed her eyes tight. “I know I wouldn’t be a good ruler.” 

“You do not know yourself.” Mako squeezed her hand. 

(Y/N) sniffled. “We could talk circles around each other all night. We won’t change the other’s mind.” 

“I—“ Mako huffed, closing his eyes. “I want to be selfish with you, (Y/N).” He released her hand and stood, walking out of her room without looking back. 

(Y/N) crawled beneath her covers. her stomach rumbled in protest, but she felt too sick to even think about eating. She closed her eyes and fought for sleep. 

When (Y/N) opened her eyes, she was only a little alarmed to see someone sleeping beside her. As her mind came back to life, she recalled Korra coming to check on her. She must have seen the worry etched onto (Y/N’s) face because she had taken off her boots and crawled into (Y/N’s) bed like they used to when they were little. 

(Y/N) turned over and stared at Korra, silently willing her to wake up. Her stomach rose and fell as she breathed easily, but (Y/N) caught the quick upturn of her lips. She moved closer to her friend. 

“You’re so weird for staring at people when they sleep,” Korra said quietly, her voice gravelly from sleep. 

“You’re grumpy in the morning,” (Y/N) replied back. She laid down on her pillow. “Mako visited me last night.” 

“I know. I saw him leaving your room. Part of me thought that maybe you guys had—“ 

“We didn’t, but if you’d like the conversation to go in that direction I’d love to hear how you spent your time with Asami.” 

“I didn’t spend any time with her.” (Y/N) groaned. 

“So now I have to invite her back to the palace just so you can make a move. You’re despicable. Next time I need to be there to make sure you actually do something.” 

Korra chuckled, then opened her eyes and turned over to face (y/n). Her expression was softer. “What happened with Mako?” 

“I told him that I wanted him to be king. and he said no, because it would mean that I left.” 

“Swoon,” Korra sighed. 

“Not swoon. What am I supposed to do now?” 

“You could stay.” Korra's blue eyes locked on hers. “I don’t understand why you’re so eager to leave. You have a good life here, (Y/N).” 

“I know that, but it doesn’t feel like my life. I feel like an imposter whenever I do anything even remotely royal. I was never supposed to be—“ 

“Enough about you not meant to be the heir. Yes, your mother was pregnant when she passed away, but that doesn’t mean she would have had a boy.” 

“The doctors said—“ 

“The doctors are wrong about things all the time. They said you’d be taller than me, and look where we are now.” (Y/N’s) face formed a pout. “You are meant to be the heir, because you’re here.” 

(Y/N) shoved her face into her pillow and screamed. Korra patted her on the back. “Look. If what you really want is to run away and never be heard from again, then I’ll support you. I don’t like it, but I’ll support you.” 

(Y/N) felt a stinging pain in her chest. Korra was a much better person than she was. Braver, stronger, selfless. (Y/N) turned her head to look at her once more. 

“I asked my father to keep you here,” (Y/N) said. “I couldn’t bear the thought of you going out into battle. A monarch shouldn’t behave so selfishly.” 

“(Y/N),” Korra sighed, wrapping her arms around her friend and pulling her into her chest. “I asked your father to keep me here, with you. You’d end up falling down the stairs if it weren’t for me.” 

(Y/N) gave Korra a light punch in the stomach, but smiled and hugged her friend back. “I don’t want to do royal things today.” 

“You don’t have to. Tis the blessing of being the one in charge, hm?” 

“But I have meetings.” 

“Hm, yes.” 

“And Tenzin wanted to talk about my birthday celebration.” 

“Oof, that’ll be a fun conversation.” 

“But maybe if I had a really fantastic friend who knew me very well and would be able to make decisions based on what I would want, then I’d be able to stay in my room all day…” 

“It’s a shame you don’t have one of those.” Korra laughed. “Alright, I’ll be queen for a day. But first I need to make sure you eat. Your stomach was so loud last night, I wanted to kick you.” 

So the princess sat in her bed, munching on fruit. She wasn’t sure what she would do on her day off, so she sat in contemplative thought. She could read, but she always read. Would Korra be upset with her for going outside? She wondered what excuse Korra might have made on her behalf. 

(Y/N) stood and decided to at least get dressed for the day. She chose a simple white tunic and trousers, securing the middle of her shirt with a belt. She slipped on her boots and took a look at herself in the mirror. Sometimes it was nice to not look like a princess. 

A knock at her door made her jump. She opened it, surprised to find bolin standing before her. “Korra said you weren’t feeling well,” Bolin said. his face glistened with sweat. “So I asked Tonraq if I could check on you for a few minutes.” 

(Y/N) smiled. “That’s very kind of you, Bolin, but I’m quite alright. I just needed a day off. Being a princess isn’t all sunshine and rainbows.” 

“What’re you gonna do?” (Y/N) shrugged. 

“I haven’t figured it out yet. What has everyone else been up to?”

“Well, Korra and Mako have been going to all of your meetings.” 

“Mako? Why would he—?”

“He didn’t tell you? Mako decided that he’ll take your throne if you plan on giving it up. Huge weight off my shoulders, honestly. I don't think I'd be a very good king.” 

(Y/N) felt as if the breath had been knocked out of her. What had changed his mind? 

She and Bolin parted ways and (Y/N) sneaked through the castle, hoping to not be seen by any of her advisors or servants. Mako’s advisors and servants. Her brain was muddled. Bolin's news came as a shock to her, considering how Mako had behaved the night before. She tried to press it to the back of her mind. 

Suddenly, an idea popped into her head. She ran into the nearest room, a storage room with dusty boxes, but with a window big enough for her to fit through. She threw it open, inhaling the cool afternoon air. She lifted herself over the ledge and secured her foot to a protruding brick. Slowly, she shimmied down the side of the castle. 

“What are you doing!” a voice shouted, startling (Y/N) so much that she nearly lost her hold on the side of the building. She looked down, glaring at the perpetrator. Mako. He stared up at her, his face etched in worry and concern.

“Are you trying to make me fall?” She called down to him, taking another step. 

“Are you trying to kill yourself?” 

“Just shut up, will you? You’re gonna draw attention to me!” 

“As if scaling down the side of the castle isn’t doing that already.” 

(Y/N) continued climbing down until she was just a few feet off the ground. She landed on her feet, perfectly unharmed. “See?” She gestured to Mako, spreading her arms wide and rotating. “I’m fine.” 

Mako crossed his arms. “Korra said you weren’t feeling well. Something about you throwing up everywhere.” 

(Y/N) should have known better than to trust Korra with creating an excuse. She crossed her own arms. “I needed a day off. Shouldn’t you be in a meeting or something? Bolin said you’d been going to them all morning.” 

“You spoke with bolin?” 

“Why did you change your mind?” she questioned, her eyes narrowing. “You seemed very adamant about not taking the position last night.” 

Mako pressed his lips into a thin line. “I guess you could say I had a change of heart.” 

“Well.” (Y/N) swallowed, casting her eyes to the ground. “Thank you, really. The kingdom will be better off.” 

Mako said nothing for a moment before changing the subject. “Tenzin wanted us to tell you that your birthday celebration will be at the end of the week.” (Y/N) groaned. “What, you hate your birthday now too?” 

“I don’t hate my birthday. They just make a whole ordeal of it. Fancy dresses and customary dances and absolute asses begging for my hand in marriage while also insulting me. It’s a mess.” 

“Sounds like a fun time to me,” Mako said with a smile. (Y/N) rolled her eyes.

“It’ll be easy for you. You’ll have women falling in front of your feet to get a chance with you.” 

Mako raised an eyebrow. “And why’s that?” 

(Y/N’s) face flushed hot. “It’s the title,” she said quickly. “The title is what they’re all after, normally.” She looked up at the cloudy sky. “Well, I must be off to do my day off things.” 

“Care for some company?”

“But your meetings?” Mako shrugged. 

“Korra can handle it.” (Y/N) broke out into a grin. 

“She’s going to hate us.” 

(Y/N) wasn’t sure what she wanted to do, so she had to think on her feet. She’d like to go into town, but was far too tired for the social energy that required. So, she decided to take Mako to the ruins. 

The ruins were a forgotten part of their kingdom, ignored by all except (Y/N). She had discovered them once on one of her long walks along the castle grounds. They were the remnants of a great castle, probably even greater than the one she lived in, just a few miles away. She had scoured every book in their library, hoping to have some clue to who the ruins had once belonged, but had no luck. 

“I’ve only told Korra about this place, but she doesn’t like coming here. Says if she wanted to be surrounded by old dusty things, she’d spend time with Tenzin.” Mako let out a laugh at that. 

She led him up the entrance steps and through the threshold. They stood in the foyer, light pouring in through the absent ceiling. Before them stood a great staircase, leading up into each level of the castle that had once been there. “I think it’s beautiful,” (Y/N) continued. “It's like a whole world people forgot about. I used to make up stories about what happened here when I was little. I'm sure they’re still tucked somewhere beneath my bed.” 

“You’ll have to read them to me one day,” Mako said, tucking his hands into the pockets of his pants. (Y/N) smiled sadly. 

“Let me show you the best part.” 

She led him up to the tower, the only remaining fully stable part of the castle. Ivy vines curled up the base of the tower, having grown so much that they now started to cover the inside as well. Instead of windows, the tower had complete openings in the brick. It made it very cold, but it held a better view of the kingdom than (Y/N’s) own castle. In the distance were the mountains, the entire town nestled in a little pocket beneath them. Closer was the castle, its entire structure and grounds in complete view. (Y/N) glanced up at Mako, but his eyes were trained on the view before them. she smiled. 

“I hadn’t been expecting to come here,” (Y/N) said, wrapping her arms around herself. “Or else I would've brought a jacket.” 

“It really is exceptional,” Mako agreed. “Thank you for bringing me here.” 

(Y/N) shrugged. “You should know what’s in your kingdom. You’re going to be King Mako, after all.” She smiled brightly up at him. 

Mako’s cheeks flushed a pale pink. (Y/N) couldn’t tell if it was from the wind or from something else. 

She returned to her room, surprised to see Korra sitting on her bed and twiddling with her bronze dagger. “I thought you were going to stay in your room all day.” 

“I got bored, went to the ruins. How was your day?” 

“For the most part, boring. I’m never doing your job ever again. Although you should’ve seen Tahno and Mako today. It was like two starving dogs fighting over a piece of meat.” 

“Really? And what was the meat?” 

“You.” (Y/N) nearly choked on her own air. “Tahno kept insisting that he come to your chambers to make sure you were alright. I would’ve punched him in the face, but Mako was all, ‘I forbid you,’ and Tahno said, ‘Who are you to forbid me?’ And Mako said ‘Your new king.’ It was very dramatic, I wish you could’ve been there. Although now I think everyone is under the impression that you’re going to marry Mako.” 

(Y/N) rolled her eyes. She would have paid thousands in coins to be able to see that conversation. “I’ve decided I’m leaving after my birthday celebration. One last hurrah, you know?” 

Korra sat up quickly, a frown on her face. “Where will you go?” 

“Somewhere,” (Y/N) shrugged. “Not far away from you, of course. Someone has to keep you in line.” 

“You won’t be my princess anymore. I won’t have to listen to you.” (Y/N) laughed. 

“As if you ever listened to me anyway.” 

(Y/N) had struck a bargain with Tenzin for her birthday celebration. She would go all out, as he wished, as long as the people in town were invited. She wanted to make sure that her last act of being royalty would be good and that it would help people. Begrudgingly, Tenzin agreed. 

A birthday such as this one called for something more than the dresses that were in her closet. She could have paid to have one made, but a better idea had taken root in her head and wouldn’t leave. For the first time in years, (Y/N) walked into her mother’s chambers. 

The room had been well taken care of, as per her father’s orders. No dust shined in the sunlight. It was cleaned every day, each element inspected to ensure that there had been no damage to her mother’s memory. Carefully, (Y/N) stepped through the doorway and to her mother’s wardrobe. 

There had been one dress that her mother had worn that was always her favorite. She found it in the middle of the wardrobe, sticking out just a little more than the others as if it were calling to her. It was a beautiful sage green dress, made of the finest satin. It’s neckline came just below her collarbone, exposing the smooth skin of her shoulders. It’s sleeves reached her elbows, widening out into a bell shape. The dress’s design was simple, but (Y/N) felt that something this beautiful did not need extra frills. 

Once the handmaidens had helped her dress, she looked at herself in the mirror. Her mother stared back at her. “You look just like her,” said Katara, the oldest of the handmaidens. She had been with (Y/N’s) mother since she was a baby, and had been with (Y/N) for nearly the same amount of time. (Y/N) smiled down at her. 

“Thank you.” Katara moved over to the glass cabinet that contained her mother’s jewels. Inside sat the queen’s crown, each diamond polished to the utmost brilliance. (Y/N) bent down so the small woman could place it on her head. 

Korra met (y/n) at the top of the steps, dressed in her royal guard uniform. “You look beautiful,” Korra said, her eyes glistening with tears. This would be the last night the two friends would see each other. 

“So do you,” (Y/N) said with a smile. “You clean up well.” 

“Hush,” Korra said, elbowing (Y/N) in the ribs. (Y/N) giggled before looping her arm through hers. 

“I may or may not have extended a personal invitation to Asami,” (Y/N) said as they walked down the grand staircase. They could hear the voices coming from the ballroom. 

“I know,” Korra said with a smirk. “I may or may not have hand delivered said invitation.” (Y/N’s) eyes widened with excitement. She’d have to try her best to keep her eye on Korra throughout the night. 

Bolin and Mako waited at the bottom of the steps, too engaged in their conversation with each other to notice the girls approaching. Korra cleared her throat as soon as they were right behind them. The brothers turned around. 

Bolin spoke first, a bright smile coming to his face. “Hey! You guys look great!” Bolin wore a deep green suit, paired with a gold cravat. 

“You don’t look too bad yourself,” (Y/N) beamed down at him. She turned to Mako, whose eyes were trained on her. 

(Y/N) had never held much reverence for the boys that surrounded her as she grew up. They were all stuck up or arrogant, eager to impress the princess so they would have a chance at being king. She ignored them as best as she could. Her life was too busy to focus on anything other than her duties. Whenever she had gotten a free moment, she preferred to spend it with Korra. 

But as she stared at Mako, with his quick eyes and permanent smirk in a deep red suit, she felt something she had never experienced before. A pulling at her chest, deep and fierce at the bottom of her heart, that made her breath catch as soon as he smiled at her. 

(Y/N) had always felt out of place in her royal life, like she was constantly keeping up an act. It made sense, then, that she would have fallen for the boy whose life was completely opposite to hers. 

“You look beautiful,” he said quietly, just loud enough for her to hear. (Y/N) felt her face grow hot. He offered her his hand. “May i?” 

(Y/N) looked back at Korra, who gave her a wink and disappeared into the crowd with bolin. She turned toward mako and nodded, placing her hand in his. 

The first few dances of the night were group dances, the kind where the pairs swapped partners throughout. (Y/N) would be lying if she said she hadn’t completely ignored all of her partners as they tried to talk to her, instead searching the crowd as she spun around until her eyes landed on Mako. Sometimes, it seemed like he had been looking for her too. 

After Tenzin announced her birthday and the crowd erupted into cheers, the music slowed and quieted, playing softly as the guests mingled amongst themselves. It was then that (Y/N) found Mako standing at the edge of the crowd. 

“Where’d you learn to dance like that?” (Y/N) asked as she approached him. Mako smirked. 

“Commoners have parties too, you know.” (Y/N) grinned. 

“I'll have to go to one sometime.” Mako shifted on his feet. He seemed nervous. 

“I didn’t get the chance earlier, but happy birthday (Y/N).” She smiled again. 

“Thank you, Mako.” 

“Could you walk with me? I hate to take you away from your guests, but…” 

“It’s really alright. I told you, I'm not the biggest fan of these sorts of things.” She took Mako’s hand in hers and let him lead the way. 

He took her through the hallways of the castle and to his room, a simple guest bedroom on the floor below hers. “Wait here,” he said, before disappearing inside and shutting the door behind him. (Y/N) raised her eyebrows, confused. whatever she had been expecting, it certainly wasn’t this. 

After a few moments, Mako opened the door, one of his hands behind his back. “Alright, you can come in.” 

Slowly, (Y/N) entered his room. It was simple, but there were elements of it that were so Mako. It was hard to explain why it made (Y/N) feel giddy being in there, or why butterflies had nestled themselves in her stomach. 

“I got you a present,” Mako said. 

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” (Y/N) chided. 

“I know, I wanted to.” He placed a small box on the wooden table between them. (Y/N) reached for it. “Before you open it, I want to say something. I sincerely thank you for bringing my brother and I into your home. for giving us the means to lead a better life. And while I’ve accepted your offer of taking the throne, I just wanted to say…” He paused, chewing on his bottom lip. “I wanted to ask if maybe you would change your mind.” 

“I'm not changing my mind about this, Mako. I don’t want the throne.” 

“Not that, I couldn't care less about the throne. I wanted to ask if you would change your mind about leaving.” 

(Y/N) blinked at him, unsure of what to say. 

“I didn’t accept your offer because I want to be king.” 

“Then why did you?” 

“Because if I don't, if I force you to stay here, I could be preventing you from doing what is best for you. So I agreed to be king because I didn't want you to be trapped here. Which is why I’m begging you now, please stay.” 

“Mako…” 

“You can’t tell me there isn’t a part of you that isn’t unsure about leaving. I saw it that night in your room. You might not want the crown, but you’re not certain that you want to leave.”

“If I give up the crown, there’s no reason for me to stay. I can’t just live in the palace as a commoner. I'd have to leave, it’s the only thing to do.” 

“I want you to lead the life you want. I know your plan is to leave the kingdom tonight. If leaving is what you think is best, I understand.”

(Y/N) stared up at him. She was unsure what would be best. She had no plan, no idea what she wanted to do once she had walked through the castle gates. She anticipated that things would figure themselves out. 

But the man in front of her was throwing a wrench into her plans. He stared at her so honestly that (Y/N) thought he might be staring into her soul. Was leaving what she really wanted? She would leave behind everyone she had ever known. Tenzin, Korra, Bolin. And Mako. 

“If leaving is what you truly want,” Mako continued. “After tonight I will send you away with everything you need. I won’t bother you again. But before you leave, you have to know. I need you to know. That I love you, (Y/N). You are reckless and brave. You once called me kind and selfless, but those are the qualities I see in you. You asked me to take the throne and I did. I’d take on the weight of the world for you if you requested. If you leave, you’ll be taking a piece of me with you.” 

(Y/N) looked up at him, searching his face for a smirk or a trick, but Mako remained serious. Genuine. 

“If you don’t feel the same, I understand. I just needed to tell you before it was too late.” 

(Y/N) swiftly crossed the distance between the two of them, fisting her hands into his dress shirt and pulling him down toward her. Her lips collided with his. In the fairytales she used to read, it always took someone a moment to get used to being kissed by the other, but Mako was quick. His arms wrapped around her frame, pulling her so tightly to him that she felt like she might burst. 

They pulled away a few moments later, Mako leaning his head against hers as they caught their breath. He separated first, reaching back toward the small box that had sat forgotten on the table. mako’s nimble fingers untied the box, guiding one of her hands to it. 

She opened it, revealing a ring. Its band was gold, with a large diamond set in the middle and two smaller diamonds surrounding it. It was simple, but it was the most beautiful ring (Y/N) had ever seen. 

“It was my mother’s,” Mako said quietly. “Even if you leave, I want you to take it with you.” 

Tears streamed down her face. “What’s wrong?” Mako questioned, lifting his hands to her face to wipe away her tears. “Did I upset you?” 

(Y/N) shook her head fiercely, trying to gather her voice. “You’d give me something so precious to you, even if I decided to leave?” 

“You are precious to me,” Mako insisted. “I want you to be happy. No matter what you choose, (Y/N), I won’t hate you.” 

She looked up at him through watery eyes and stood on her toes, kissing him once more. When she pulled away, she laughed. “I tried to convince myself that I didn’t have feelings for you. I thought it would make leaving easier. But every moment I spent with you made me sad, because it meant that I was one step closer to the last.” She lifted her hand to touch his cheek, her thumb stroking his cheekbone. “I never expected for you to have my heart, but it’s yours.”

Mako breathed a sigh of relief, a bright smile coming to his face as he drew (Y/N) into his arms. He spun her around the room, both laughing before he set her back down again. 

He took her right hand and slid the ring on her middle finger. They exchanged a knowing look. Not yet. 

Once (y/n) had composed herself and Mako had sneaked his fair share of kisses, the two left his bedroom and returned to the ball, filtering back into the crowd completely unnoticed. 

A tap on her shoulder startled her, and (Y/N) turned around to find Korra smirking down at her. “Where have you been? Tahno hijacked the ball for a bit. Said he wouldn’t let anyone leave until you accepted his proposal.”

“Did he?” (Y/N) questioned, her grip on Mako’s arm tightening. “I must’ve been distracted. I trust you took care of it, then?” 

“Duh,” Korra smiled. “I enjoyed throwing him through the palace doors.” 

(Y/N) squinted at Korra's face before reaching up and rubbing at the corner of her mouth with her thumb. Lipstick, in a shade strikingly similar to Asami’s. 

“I can explain that,” Korra said quickly, wiping at her face with her sleeve. (Y/N) laughed. 

“You can tell me all about it in the morning.” 

“In the morning?” Korra repeated, her blue eyes going wide. She glanced at Mako, who looked absently elsewhere, but the corners of his lips were turned up just slightly into a smile. 

“See you tomorrow, Captain Korra. Feel free to arrive a bit late.” (Y/N) gave her a wink before pulling Mako further into the crowd to dance.

---

tag list!

PERM TAGLIST: 

@beifongsss , @aroyaldarknessblr , @musicalkeys , @thefandomimagines , @blondie0458 , @kairiririri , @awesomelupe , @zukosvice , @tomshollandz , @lavendercrystals , @astralsaf , @realimbo , @mycollectionofnuts , @wingeddemonclub , @gingersnap126126 , @aangsupremacy , @marvel-ing-at-it-all , @davnwillcome , @someoneovertherainboww , @sokkas-honour , @breadqueen95 , @buttholland , @noodlesfluffy , @busyforkuvira , @error-loading-sorry , @bombardia , @la3divine , @just-a-teal-android , @theeavtrkyoshi , @brokennerdalert , @sukifans , @sunflower-mami , @atlabeth , @lizziel1410 

[heliads]

Over the Edge

Based on this request: “One shot of reader getting shot and hides from everybody including Wanda. She ignores it and continues to fight sword agents. At the end reader faint due to the injuries she has and Wanda take him and goes to the cabin where she cries.”

masterlist

You feel as if you’re standing on a precipice. One push, one shove, and you’ll be falling down, beyond the reach of anyone save a dark-winged angel.

You’ve always known that there will come a moment in time when your life will end. An injury, a sickness. A battle, maybe. You could sense that something would stop you from living life until the last- old age may be a guarantee to some, but to you, it was a privilege that you would never attain. No, you would die a moment too soon, a time before all others.

You had a certain affinity for seeing into the future. Your gift was frustratingly vague, always coming when you least wanted or expected it and never showing the final result. Your death was one of the first things you had ever seen. It was fitting, in a way: your birth of power was used to show how you would die. You would be alone, maybe. Whatever it was, it would be before you got the chance to grow old.

Ever since you’d gotten that first vision, witnessed the horrible sensation of something utterly wrong happening to snuff out your last breath, it was as if you’d been haunted by the promise of what would happen. You always checked behind you for someone watching your back, for an attacker or accident that could fulfill your vision. For a while, you were safe in the knowledge that your death wouldn’t be coming for a while as you had visions involving a future you, but you have no idea when those would run out, spelling the end for you.

The Avengers had come for you after the rumors spread. They always seemed to show up for cases like yours, cropping up like flies before the bodies can rot on a battlefield. This time, you’d predicted something too well: an attack on S.H.I.E.L.D. in the form of a HYDRA mole. You had seen the entire organization crumble as friend turned on friend, and no one had believed you.

Your family and friends had laughed. HYDRA? Shield? Girl, you’re stuck in fairy tales and ghost stories. Then it happened, the Triskelion falling flame to fiery explosions. Suddenly, your freak hallucinations weren’t quite so funny after all.

Representatives of the Avengers had shown up after that. No one knows about S.H.I.E.L.D. until after they come, that’s the way it always is. Yet you had known, and you would have to explain it all. You were sure that they would kill you for knowing, and that’s how your abrupt death would begin. However, you weren’t to be granted that reprieve of life just yet- when they offered a gun, it wasn’t a barrel pointed at you but a handle offered to you. A job, not a death sentence.

You took it. Of course you did. There is no way to politely turn down an organization with that much power, with that many members willing and able to dole out death like a greeting card. You had agreed, taking the job, and flowing along with the tide wherever it took you. No matter where you went, though, no matter how many prophecies you made, you always kept returning to the precipice. Somewhere, somehow, you would die. Did anything before that really matter?

The knowledge haunts you. It is hard to avoid. You might have saved yourself from certain death by taking up the Avengers’ offer, but by starting down that line of work, you might have damned yourself even more. Death threats and violent confrontations were a cup of coffee in the mornings with the Avengers, and by involving yourself with them, you increased the amount of times you could die. Sometimes, you wished you had never spoken those words allowed, never made the prophecy so they wouldn’t have found you.

Then you met Wanda Maximoff, and that was when you realized it might have all been worthwhile after all. She was like you- fleeing death, doing her best to do it on her own times. She practically sang with the tune of the dying, of her city and parents and brother. People tended to avoid you, afraid that you would see their end and they’d have to live with it just like you. Wanda, on the other hand, was not afraid. She’d seen enough death to know that you were no harbinger, just a Cassandra born to speak aloud. Why fear the speaker if you’ve seen enough of the stories?

The two of you stayed together. She woke up screaming on nights when the air was cold and the sights reminded her of all the damage she’d lived through. You didn’t want to speak for days at a time, when you’d had another vision and were horrified by what would come to be. No matter what happened to either of you, you’d always be by each other’s side.

It was good for a time. Maybe too good. Maybe you should have known then, that nothing in this world ever stays good for too long. You’d seen enough stories fracture to never place any trust in hope. Yet when you had that vision, seen the Infinity Stones brought together under Thanos’ watch, it had still torn you utterly apart.

You had told the Avengers, been the first call to muster the forces and prepare for war. It didn’t do much in the end. They still fought, bled, and died. Thanos snapped his fingers, and you were one of the first ones to go. Wanda had reached out to you just before you went. She was just a hair too far away. Her outstretched hand was too slow to reach you before you turned to ash and dust. In your last moments, you weren’t afraid at all. You had known it all along, hadn’t you? One last step off the precipice. You had seen it coming for years.

You had expected that to be it, that Thanos’ snap and your resulting death fulfilled your very first prophecy. However, your eyes still opened on the battlefield. From what they told you, it had been five years. You had spent a very long time in the dark, forced to behold hundreds and thousands of prophecies. Your mind felt like it could scream and tear itself apart from all that you had witnessed, yet you kept fighting as they asked. A wind up soldier, dealing out destruction wherever they pointed your weapons.

You knew that the fight wouldn’t end, even after Tony Stark sacrificed his life to save you all. The precipice would still loom. You had found Wanda in the fight, and she had finally wrapped her arms around you and pulled you close. Later, she would tell you that not being able to reach you in time had been one of her greatest regrets. It was one of the first times you had truly been separated in many years. She had never felt more alone as she died, even though it would bring you closer to the same home in the dark.

You had found her after the battle, after the funeral. You had told her in a trembling voice of all that you had seen, the countless prophecies and visions you had witnessed. If the Avengers or S.H.I.E.L.D. knew about them, they would send you down to record everything until your mind ran dark with blood and you went mad. Some of the visions weren’t yours to tell, you knew that, but spies have rarely cared for the price of secrets. By now they would already know that you had seen too much, and already be on the move. You had seen people following you for the past couple of days. It had already begun.

You didn’t know what you thought Wanda would say. You weren’t the mind reader, and you had only seen bare glimpses of what she would do in the future: a rushing wall of red, loud sobs, a house in the mountains. Twin boys. You had no idea what any of it would mean, just that she would continue to live. That alone was enough for you.

Wanda had stayed silent for a minute. You were used to her silence, welcomed it as much as a hearty conversation. At last, she rose, taking your hand to guide you back to the road. We will have a home, she had said, and they shall not hurt us here. When you arrived at Westview, New Jersey, you at last understood. You had seen this very sign when you were dead, and you had seen the scarlet barrier before even as Wanda casts it now. The very scope of her powers is astonishing, but everything was proceeding as it had been foretold. There is nothing you can do to stop the tide of time from flowing, nothing to stop the precipice from drawing ever closer.

When you look around you again, you’re still in Westview. Technically, your feet haven’t moved an inch. But the town itself is different- walls are brighter, people are happier. If you look closely, you can tell that something is wrong. This isn’t the way people are supposed to move, like they’re being jerked around on strings. This isn’t the way time progresses, or the way everyone seems to look at you like they’re screaming for help. This is wrong, horribly so, but it’s so tempting to be safe for once that you can glance away and pretend not to see.

It’s just so good here. So nice. Wanda smiles at you, and you smile back. They cannot hurt you here, cannot reach you. There are no labs or interrogations or people begging for details on your visions. For once, you’re not living in the future, but the present. You haven’t made a prophecy since you came, and your head is blessedly yours. Wanda understands what it is like to be a prisoner of your own powers, and she’s given you a chance to live.

You can tell which people are being manipulated by Wanda’s magic, which people are given scripts and lines to rehearse. You are not among their numbers; Wanda wants you to be you, and that means that you two can have your perfect future. It’s not a prison, it’s a refuge, and that means that you won’t need protection from her.

For the first time, you have the chance to grow old. You have always loved Wanda, and it is so easy here. There are no wars, no guards, no soldiers. You pick wildflowers in the park and present them to her with a flourish, she makes the entire town look like your favorite sitcom so you can practically be living in your favorite reality. You are both fighters who have bled for too long, but for once, you are whole. It’s an opportunity you wouldn’t give up for the world.

When the sky begins to fall, you pretend you don’t see it. You’re silently begging with the future, pleading it not to come. It has never listened to you before, but you can’t help but hope it will stay its hand this once. You see Agnes become Agatha, see the twisting wires of purple magic infiltrate the red. You see S.W.O.R.D. arriving outside the town, and you turn away. Please, you ask, just this once. Let me live this once.

Your pleas are ignored. They send people through the barrier, then armored trucks and weapons. Suddenly, your picture perfect home is shot through with rot, your happy future crumbling away to ash. You try to find Wanda, but she is gone, locked away with Agatha. Everything comes true. The cycle will always turn. You cannot find your love, and you cannot live as you hope.

When it breaks down fully, you know what must happen. So does Wanda. She finds you before she takes down the barrier, holding you in her arms. You can feel her on your hands, breath hot against your cheek. You’ll never stop being on the run from the precipice, from the watchers who want your visions. At least you had this with her. It was worth it, all of it.

The fight begins as they always do. Guns rattle, people cry out in terror. You have seen this scene before in countless different ways and places. However, you’ve taken part in enough battles to know how to continue. Knock out a soldier, take his gun. Keep fighting. Wanda is by your side, lovers staying together once more.

You hear the gunshot from across the town square. Distantly, a voice in the back of your head cries out in relief. This is it, what you’ve seen all along. The bullet hits you a moment later, a piercing pain that seems to shake your very bones. Your hand presses to your stomach, and when you pull it back only a second afterwards, scarlet is already starting to dye your shirt red. You look up, searching for Wanda. She doesn’t know yet. No one does.

Clarity is falling upon you. This is it, at last. The precipice. You stand up, forcing yourself to keep moving. You have always been born to die. At least let your last moments be worth something. S.W.O.R.D. agents fall, but it’s not enough. Will it ever be enough? You don’t have a choice. Wanda is turning to you now, eyes widening as she at last sees the red smear on your side.

When your head hits the pavement, you realize that it’s finally over. The gun falls from your head, clatters to the pavement. Wanda lunges for you, but she arrives too late again. Why is it that she is always one step too far? You don’t have any more visions of yourself, just of her. You’ve always been looking at her. When you die, you have a smile on your face.

Death is not peaceful. It never is for you. Your eyes are forced open by invisible hands, and you watch once more as the future is laid bare for you. I’m dead, you want to shout, stop making me see any more. But the prophecies keep coming. You are the one who sees them, and so you must see the world through. That is how it works.

Wanda, however, is not willing to give you up so easily. You’re not sure what price she paid to put breath back into your lungs and keep your heart beating, but when you wake, you’re in a cabin in the woods. You’ve seen it before, you realize, when you died the first time. This means you’re still alive, and you’ve eluded the precipice once more.

Wanda is leaning over you, relief written in every line of her face. When she sees you look at her again, she starts to sob in earnest. “Don’t ever do that to me again. I can’t take your death.” It is a shame, then, when you know how it ends. For now, though, you manage to crack a smile. “I don’t much enjoy it either.”

Death still weighs upon you, heavy as an anvil. There will come a day when even Wanda’s magic won’t be enough to save you, when love falls through the gaps and you will finally be laid to rest. The precipice still looms, as it always will. But for now, you sit up and take Wanda’s hand. At least when you face that fight, you will have your lover by your side. You can look far enough into the future for that. For now, you can keep on fighting, even when the precipice seems inevitable. You’ve accepted your death, but you would live for her.

marvel tag list: @mycosmicparadise

wanda maximoff tag list: @mionemymind​, @xxxtwilightaxelxxx​

[tilltheendwilliwrite]

Cat Got Your Tongue

Chapter One

Master List /  Series Master List

A/N: This series is set in the same world as Bare In The Woods (a one-shot were-bear Henry Cavill story). This series will be cross posted between Tumblr and AO3. As Tumblr has no way of preventing minors from reading the smutty bits (and there will be smutty bits) those chapters will only be available on AO3.

My archive work is available to Register Users Only. This means Yes, You Must Have An Account with Archive to read my work. If you'd like more information on how to acquire your Free archive account, please see this post. All you need is an email address to sign up. That's it. Just do it people.

Read on AO3 here!

Summary: The community of Salvation holds many secrets, not the least of which is the diversity of were-folk who call it home. Ember Porosha is one resident for who Salvation isn't just the town's name but her saving grace. After outrunning her past, she's resigned herself to playing surrogate to everyone else's children and never having her own. A mate was not in her future, and she was learning to live with that. Until he walked through the door of The Last Book and Brew.

Thomas Loki Hiddleston wasn't going to be in town long. Here for the naming of Henry and his wife's baby girl and presentation to the weres of Salvation, he planned only to stay a few days. A small town like this could never offer him the outlet he needed for his cat's dark desires, nor could he hide what he was for long. His nature would eventually need an outlet and Salvation held nothing for him. Or so he thought. One wiff of Ember's unique scent and he knew he'd found a long thought lost to him future.

But when she doesn't fall at his feet, and proves more stubborn than a mule, can he resit taking her in hand long enough to win her heart? Or will the bond between true mates not be enough to tame this wild hellcat.

Series warnings: Were-Creatures, Cats, Bears, Smut, Shameless Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, Explicit Language, Dom/sub, Blood, Blood Kink, this one could (will) get kinky

***

When the sleek black car drove through town, Ember gave it only a passing glance. It was odd, sure, but anyone who drove a Jag was so far out of her league they were playing on a different ball diamond altogether. The car screamed money, something she cared little about.

Sure she needed it, everyone did, but Ember was content with what she had, and in this sleepy town cradled lovingly between the mountains, she didn't need much. She had her sweet yellow cottage, her bookstore, and a community of friends when she desired company. And now, with the snow falling thick on the ground, she would have another singular pleasure. 

Ember's little snow leopard heart leapt at the thought of running through the high passes and sliding down the long slopes, her wide paws keeping her above the snowpack instead of sinking in while her thick coat kept out the cold. It had been too long since she'd last played in her were form, and was looking forward to going out to the ranger station in a few days to visit with Henry, his wife, and their little cub. 

The sweet baby girl already had Henry wrapped firmly around her finger, and Ember couldn't help but laugh at the goofy smile that perpetually graced his face when he looked at his family. 

If a pang of jealousy jabbed her heart, Ember didn't let it show. She'd resigned herself to a lonely life a long time ago. 

The bell over the door of her little shop gave a merry jingle, and she placed the last of the new James Patterson novels on the shelf before dusting off her hands and stepping out from behind the bookshelves to smile at Lorraine, the town's most gossipy raven.

If she was fluttering into The Last Book and Brew, then Ember was about to hear an earful.

***

Tom swept into the charming inn and forced himself to smile at the woman behind the desk. He'd spent a miserable six hours on the road, driven through a blizzard, and killed his cellphone when he'd dropped it in an icy puddle two hours prior as he'd filled the car with petrol. But there was no alternate way to get to Salvation, buried deep in the mountains, except to drive. 

And Salvation was where he needed to be. 

His old friend, Henry, was celebrating the birth of his first cub, and Tom dropped everything to come and see the little darling Henry was blessed with. And to meet the woman who'd tamed the giant bear after all this time. Sadly, he'd been unable to attend their wedding, but he refused to miss the welcoming of a new were into the community, whether he belonged to the Salvation clan or not.

That didn't mean he wouldn't give Hen the gears for choosing to live in some backwater nowhere even if it was beautiful here. 

Still, Tom preferred the city for its indulgences and entertainments. No, he couldn't fall on all fours and run through the concrete jungle he called home, but he'd long come to terms with his destiny. It wasn't as if there was a panther out there waiting to run under the moonlight with him. 

He was going to be a lone cat, a bachelor. He'd resigned himself to it, for no matter what anyone said, no one - were or human - had ever submitted wholly to his dark desires and chosen to stay in his possession afterward. They were all far too soft for his liking, ending in no more than a one-and-done.

At least, he could stalk the clubs and play with those unaware of his darkest needs and wants in the city. Tom was not a Dom to be denied, and those who gave in to the allure of his pretty face soon learned all about the devil underneath his Gucci suit.

"Hello, darling," he purred to the desk clerk. "Thomas Loki Hiddleston, checking in. I believe I have a reservation."

She blushed to the roots of her hair, sputtered, and nodded. "Of-of course, sir. If-if you'll sign a few things and put your card on file, I can get you situated on your back- In your room!" she corrected, staring at her hands. 

Tom couldn't hide his smile, but he swallowed his laughter. It was always the same. The sweet little birds flocked to him, but they had no idea a predator was stalking them.

He went through the incidentals, signed her documents, collected his key and listened intently when she told him about the room, breakfast, the restaurant, spa, and pool. His ears perked up at the last. He did enjoy a refreshing swim. 

"And if you fancy something other than regular coffee or black tea, there is The Last Book and Brew just down the street. Ember makes the best scones and tea."

"Does she now?" he murmured, eyeing Irene - her name on a little plaque pinned to her chest - as she handed him back his credit card. "Perhaps I'll check in on it. A cuppa does sound delightful." The drive had been long, and tea might be just the pick-up he needed before calling round to Henry's. 

He nodded to Irene and headed for the stairs instead of the elevator. Three floors were nothing for his long legs, the exertion minimal, as he hiked to the third floor and down to the end where he fit the old-fashioned key into the antique lock and pushed open the door. 

Tom was pleasantly surprised to find a mixture of well-kept antiques and modern furnishings decorating the space. While the bed and mattress were new and covered with clean, white duvet and sheets, the dresser - upon which sat a television - was a heavy mahogany buffet with curved Queen Anne legs. The bathroom was a revolution of modern plumbing though a cast iron tub stood on clawed feet beside a glass shower big enough for two. Gilt framed mirrors hung above dual vanities into which water poured from brushed gold fixtures. 

It was all very romantic with its old-world charm though the inn was showing its age. Wallpaper lifted at the edges, millwork was chipped and rubbed in places, and a few of the lovely old tiles on the floor in the bathroom were cracked. But with the likely age of the building, it wasn't so surprising. If the gorgeous stone building weren't at minimum a century, he would eat his scarf. 

She could be an absolute beauty with effort and enough money. Yes, he would be comfortable here for a time. The Salvation Inn would suit him.

Tom made his way to the windows that looked out on Salvation's main street. The road was a mess of dirty snow, sanded and salted for ease of travel, but the thick white flakes floating down turned the quaint replica gas street lights into white-topped monuments of winter. Storefronts glowed with welcoming light, still running their Autumn displays, creeping toward American Thanksgiving. The commercialization of Christmas had yet to appear, giving everything a cheerful, colourful cast he found pleasing to his senses. 

Cars moved without hurry, mimicking the people coming and going about their business. Everyone was bundled up, but no one seemed to mind the cold and the snow. To be expected, he supposed. They lived in the mountains where snow fell early and lasted late. 

As his gaze traversed the lane, his attention landed on The Last Book and Brew and caused him to tilt his head, intrigued. Unlike the other traditional storefronts with their brick faces and colourful awnings, gold filigree writing on wooden signs, the little bookstore had a distinctly different feel to it. 

The door, window frames, and brickwork that accented the front of the building were painted a shiny, deep black. There was no awning but three stunning lanterns hung above the windows on wrought iron arms, beautifully curved like the elegant lines of a woman's body. A sign in the same black iron hung perpendicular to the door. Shaped like a shield or some family crest, the words The Last Book and Brew glowed crimson outlined in gold, while a raven of the same black iron sat guard, casting judgement on all who entered. Red velvet mounded in the windows, lovingly cradling the displayed books like sacrificial offerings. 

Someone knew what they were doing, for that was the sexiest storefront Tom had ever seen.

Utterly enchanted and desperate to see if the interior matched the exterior, he left his leather valise unpacked on the bed, pocketed his key, and headed for the door.

Irene looked up as he passed her, but Tom paid the clerk little mind. He was on a mission, a hunt now, needing to discover the answer to the mystery of just who this Ember of Last Book and Brew was that she could create with such aplomb a store so alluring. 

There was no wind when he trotted down the inn's exterior stairs and out into the snowfall. Traffic was light, so he crossed mid-street, avoiding puddles and snowbanks in an attempt to keep the Italian leather of his shoes dry while large flakes of falling snow collected in his dark ginger locks. He reached the door and admired the ornate handle before opening the door into another world. 

Tom stepped inside and stared in amazement. He'd never thought a bookstore could be moody, but this one certainly was. The floors were highly polished ebony wood that led into dark railings which spiralled past the sunken first-floor cafe up a short flight of stairs toward the bookstore beyond. 

He admired the cobblestone floor in the cafe, again shiny with polish, sealed he suspected to make cleanup easier. Upon them sat a virtual Mad Hatter's Tea Party of chairs, all shapes and sizes separated by wrought iron tables topped with glass. And though the chairs were unique in shape, they matched for colour, upholstered as they were in the blood-red and black brocade that turned them into a sexy indulgence he prayed were as comfortable as they looked. 

And hung above it all, like a lady's magnificent fascinator, was a chandelier worthy of the name. Clearly electric, it appeared to drip ropes of black jewels and crystals as long as his palm, lit by three dozen candles that flickered with faux flames. It was spectacular.

Beyond, the cafe counter, like a walnut dream, appeared to be a repurposed and rehabbed saloon bar where elegant scrollwork on a pristine chalkboard announced the daily specials. He could see the cakes and pastries in their glass case, and while his stomach rumbled to remind him of the last meal he'd eaten, Tom was too enthralled with the decadence of the store to allow himself to be led by his nose when a small sign at the foot of the stairs requested no food past that point. 

Another small sign asked him to wipe his feet, which he did without thought, before heading up the short but wide curved stairwell to the second floor into the fantasy world of someone's most magnificent mind. 

He felt guided by the hand of a fae as he wound his way through ebony bookcases over hardwood floors, beneath more hanging lanterns and delicate chandeliers. The soft white of all the lights allowed him to read titles and leaf through pages without feeling as if the overhead lights would eventually dry out his eyes or buzz their annoyance through his brain. Every so often, he came upon stands of lightly scented candles, or soaps, or lotions made with all-natural products and tingling with the lightest touch of were-magic, causing Tom to look at the store with deeper senses. 

The corners and cardinal points of the space had crystal wards, he realized, and the soft pulse of benevolent magic left him at ease. Whoever this Ember was, she bid all who came to her sanctuary welcome. 

Even more intrigued than before, Tom found his way toward the counter where voices spoke in hushed tones, intent on finding the owner and congratulating her on the sensual, slightly erotic nature of her store. It left him breathless in a way that was hard for him to come by, and yet even as it pulled at his dark, seductive nature, he knew a family could come into such a place and find it magical, like falling into the rabbit hole of a dark Alice fantasy.

"That's nice, Lorraine, but I don't think Henry would approve of you gossiping about his friend."

Tom stopped in his tracks. Warm brandy and velvet bled over his senses, stroking straight through him to the soul of his cat. The panther purred and preened, wanting the owner of that voice to pet him and whisper words of seduction in his ear. 

"Poppycock! Some big-city fella isn't going to care if we mountain folk talk about him."

Ugh, raven. He'd know that grating tone anywhere.

"Besides, he's some fancy lawyer or something," the raven, Lorraine, continued. "I'm sure he's used to people talking about him."

"It is still impolite."

Tom shivered, eyes half-lidding. He had to roll his head, stretching his neck to keep from sprouting fur. What he wouldn't give for one night with the owner of that voice. 

Never one to hide in the face of scrutiny, Tom glided out from behind the bookshelf and smiled at the two women. "Actually, I run hotels."

The raven eeped and jumped, spinning to face him. She was older than he'd suspected, her dark hair thoroughly saturated with grey though her eyes remained clear brown orbs. The other, oh, the other, he could not help but stare.

Her face was the kind that would make angels weep with sharp, classic features, high cheekbones and a pointed chin like a sweet little fox. Her big eyes widened in surprise, showing off the shocking green, so pale and light they were almost neon when the light caught them. The heavy fall of thick curls that slipped from her shoulder left his mouth dry with the desire to sink his fingers into the mass that started black at the root and faded into tones of silver and dark grey, hinting at patterns like small rosettes. 

A sleek, lithe body lovingly caressed by a sweater of raspberry wool and leggings of black knit glided out from behind the cash desk, her steps silent in small silver ballet flats. "Mr. Hiddleston?"

"Indeed," he purred, accepting her hand when she offered it. He captured it between both of his rather than shaking it as presented and held it lightly. "Thomas Loki Hiddleston, at your service, love. My friends call me Tom."

"Ember Porosha. Welcome to Salvation and The Last Book and Brew." She tilted her head, causing all that lovely hair to slide to the opposite shoulder. "Henry speaks highly of you."

"Mm," he chuckled, adjusting his grip to lightly press his thumb into the palm of her hand as he brought her knuckles to his lips. "Brags, does he?"

"Terribly," she agreed with a smile.

Tom smirked and pressed his lips to her skin. He inhaled and went rigid. That scent, the sweet smell of pine and snow somehow laced with the delicate notes of summer dreams, drowned him, flooding his lungs until he was sure he would never be able to breathe again without breathing in Ember's delectable fragrance. 

She tried to retrieve her hand. Tom growled, low and deep, more a purr than a reprimand, and opened eyes he knew would glow green with his cat. 

"Well, hello, pet," he smiled. "It seems I was wrong." He wasn't destined to be alone after all.

Sharp claws latched into his hands. "I've no desire to start anything with you, true mate or not."

He dropped her hands and brought his to his mouth to catch the blood seeping from the minor wounds. "We will see about that."

She hissed at him. 

Tom threw his head back and laughed before gliding into her personal space and threading his fingers into her hair. "Spit all you like, little kitten. I always get what I want."

"I think it's time you left, Mr. Hiddleston," Ember growled, her hand on his chest to keep him at bay. 

"Tea first," he smirked. "I'm gagging for a cuppa. Haven't had a decent one all day!" He stroked the silvery strands before letting them fall through his fingers. "Is your coat just as soft, Kitten?"

She glared daggers at him. "Leave."

He chuckled but stepped back, practically able to see her tail flick in anger. "Until later then, Ember."

***

He turned on his heels and sauntered away, leaving her seething behind him. How dare he. How dare he! How dare he assume such liberties when they'd only just met. When it was clear he was only passing through and would leave nothing but devastation in his wake.

"How dare he!" she hissed and stormed toward the back of the store to her office to calm down, forgetting Lorraine was still there.

Ember didn't slam the door, knowing he was still in the store, and she'd be damned before she gave him that much power over her. She would not be brought to heel like some… some… Kitten!

She growled a low sound and clenched her fists, determined to get control of herself and that snow leopard rolling like a damn hussy inside her.

She'd smelt him the moment he'd stepped beyond the books—dark spice and leather, mandarin and rosewood, with notes of cinnamon and vanilla. Ember's mouth watered with the desire to taste his skin and see if he tasted as good as he smelled.

"No," she said firmly. Her cat scoffed. "He won't stay here. He's a big city panther, and we will never go back." She was determined to live alone, be alone because she was safer that way.

Salvation was, well, their salvation. When she was most desperate for a new start and a place to hide from her past, Salvation was there with open arms, and an established were community.

Her cat settled down with the reminder and left her alone to pick up the phone.

Ember dialed the number by heart and waited for them to answer. "Hey, Henry, it's Ember. About tonight. Something has come up… I'm… not going to make it."

Next Chapter

[sweetsunflowerkisses]

rest.

Pairing: Pietro Maximoff (MCU) x Fem!Reader

Genre: Soulmate AU

Warnings: Mild language, cannon divergence, reader is kind of an oblivious shy dumb-ass who avoids her problems TvT

Summary: After everything life has put you through you just want to walk through life unnoticed and unbothered, but that seems to be out of the question when you're an enhanced working for the avengers and catch the eye of a certain speedster who just so happens to be your soulmate.

Word Count: 3.1k

a/n: this is very shitty and doesn’t make much sense im sorry i haven’t written something like this in so long :’) 

Sokovia. 2015.

“Glad you like the view, Romanoff. It's about to get better.” Fury said punching buttons on his data pad, “Nice, right? I pulled her out of mothballs with a couple of old friends. She's dusty, but she'll do.” Fury laughed, looking over at the small but capable team of Ex-SHIELD agents, smiling, as the old helicarrier pulled up beside the ever rising city.

You looked out of the window as the battle raged on in the city, you still weren’t sure why Fury had asked you to come with him. After all, you didn’t exactly have a useful skill set for this fight, you couldn’t operate the fancy systems that kept the helicarrier in the air, and despite being enhanced you definitely didn’t have the fighting set to help out the avengers, who were fighting in the city, saving the planet from total destruction once again.

You sighed, turning your back to the window and going to stand next to Fury, who rarely let you out of his sight.

“Sir, I’m grateful you trusted me enough to bring me along but if I could ask, why did you bring me?, My skills aren't exactly useful here.” you said with a frown.

Fury looked down at you grimly, “Just a feeling Mrs. [L/N].”

You nodded, turning your attention to your colleagues, who were diligently aiding in the rescue of the sokovian citizens, and the battle raging on outside. You watched in awe as Tony Stark- or rather Iron Man and War Machine began to destroy the bots that had begun to attack the helicarrier.

Suddenly Agent Hill’s voice rang out “INCOMING!”. You barely had time to jump out of the way as a robot crashed through the front window, Maria immediately emptying her clip into it as Fury finished it off with a piece of metal debris.

“And here I was thinking I wasn’t going to see any action”, you quipped, staring at the mess of metal and oil on the helicarrier floor.

You sighed, trying to even your breathing, absentmindedly running your fingers over the inky black words imprinted on the inside of your wrist. In this world everyone had a soulmate, all 7 billion people, and the first words they’ll say to you appear on the inside of your left wrist when your born, which turns red after you have your first kiss with your soulmate, however you don’t have any expectations to ever meet yours, and you don’t really want too, after all life moves pretty fast when your an Ex-HYDRA experiment and an Ex-SHIELD trainee, and these days you really just wanted to spend the rest of your days unnoticed and unbothered - aside from work of course.

You were broken out of your thoughts when a voice crackled over the comms, “Guys we have a problem!” It was Agent Barton, his voice was panicked and his breathing was ragged, “Pietro’s been hit, I can’t tell if he’s alive or not.”

Fury looked over at you, his face as stoic as ever, but you could see the slight bit of fear in his eyes “Showtime kid, let’s see what you can do.”

You nodded, taking off down the hall and jumping into a small craft, piloting it to the city where you could see Barton leaning over someone’s body. You landed, running over to them, it was one of the twins, a fellow enhanced experiment of HYDRA. You leaned down placing a hand on his bullet riddled chest, a small teal light eminitated from your hand as you closed your eyes and concentrated.

Suddenly your eyes snapped open, you looked up at Clint, “He’s alive,” Clint let out a sigh of relief. “but just barely, I  need to get him back to the medical bay immediately.” You finished. Clint nodded, helping you get the man loaded on the craft you arrived in, he gave you a small nod of thanks before running back to the rescue transports.

Back in your lab you had him hooked up to nearly every medical machine available, while your abilities had managed to stop the blood and heal the internal damage there was still the possibility of him not making it through the night, after all he had yet to regain consciousness and enhanced powers could only do so much, bringing back the dead wasn’t really one of those.

You sighed, leaning over his resting form, brushing a stray piece of his bleach blonde hair out of his face. You studied his face, he was quite possibly one of the most handsome people you’d ever seen, and that was even with the blood and dirt caked on him.

You turned gathering a cloth and a bowl of water, deciding it would be best to at least clean what grime you could off of him. You started with his face before moving to his chest, it was still caked in blood and dirt from where the bullets had ripped through him, though the wounds were closed and healed now. You took note of how well built he was but tried to focus on that as little as possible, after all he was your patient and you hadn’t ever even spoken to him.

As you ran the wet cloth over his body your mind began to wander, however you were broken out of your thoughts when a hand grabbed your arm. It was Pietro. You let out a squeak, mildly startled by his sudden consciousness, however it was clear that he was extremely disoriented and out of it. You moved, setting the washcloth and bowl back on the counter before gathering your clipboard to write that he had regained consciousness.

“Are you an angel?” He asked weakly, you turned looking at him, shocked. Those words, the ever familiar words that had been carried with you since birth, it was him. You inhaled, pushing all that aside, shaking your head as you approached his side.

“Rest.” Was all you said, before you walked out of the room, and for the rest of the night Pietro faded in and out of consciousness, only holding on to the fading sound of your voice.

Avengers Tower. One Month Later.

It had been a month since Sokovia. One month since Pietro Maximoff had almost died. He often found himself wondering what would have happened if he had died, would Wanda have been okay? Would anyone have cared? The other question that seemed to plague his mind day and night, the thought that had burrowed it’s way into his dreams and his absent minded musings, was the thought of seeing that girl that had saved him again.

He didn’t remember much about that day after he was shot, but everytime he closed his eyes he could see her, the girl with the (y/h/c) hair and the soothing voice, he couldn’t remember her fcae or if he had said anything to her but he could remember her touch and he craved to feel it again. The word “rest” also filled his mind, the way it sounded rolling off her tongue, it was the same word that had kept him grounded over the years, and the word that he so often traced on the inside of his wrist. He found himself feeling like the prince from that old animated mermaid movie Wanda made him watch as a kid, looking for the girl that saved him. Looking for his soulmate.

He broke himself out of his thoughts when he heard Maria Hill, one of the many people that had eagerly welcomed him to the Avengers and the remnants of SHIELD calling his name.

“Agent Hill, what can I do for you?” He asked, lifting himself off of the couch, turning to face her.

“Are you doing anything around 1:30 today? I’m supposed to be giving a tour to our newest Avenger today but I have a prior obligation around that time and was wondering if you would mind running it instead, normally I would ask someone else but I feel that you would be the best option in this case due to your…” Maria trailed off trying to come up with the word “Commonalities.”

Pietro’s ears perked up, a new member? Commonalities? Needless to say it was intriguing and would definitely provide a good distraction from his thoughts. “Okay.” He said, shrugging.

Maria smiled, handing him the manilla folder that was your file. “Her name is [Y/N] [L/N], she’s talented, all the necessary information should be in there.” Maria sighed inwardly as she clasped her hands behind her as she watched Pietro speed read through the folder.

To be honest, though she’d never tell Fury, she was hesitant to let you join the Avengers. You were talented no doubt, but she worried about you, maybe it was the fact that she had been the one to rescue you all those years ago, before the fall of SHIELD, before she ever worked for Stark, but still something told her maybe it was too soon, after all you had seemed pretty shaken after the Ultron ordeal.

“Well, you’ll need to meet her at the west elevator on floor 34 in an hour. Just take her through the itinerary there and get to know her, make her feel welcome.” Maria said with a smile before leaving back the way she came.

Pietro smiled as he waved goodbye, before looking down at the picture of you, of his soulmate, the girl that saved him.

Avengers Tower Floor 34. One Hour Later.

You rocked back and forth on your heels. It had been a month since Sokovia. One month since you had saved the man who was supposedly your soulmate. After that fateful day you went back into hiding with Fury, back to training with Fury, but now, according to Fury at least, it was time for you to join the Avengers as their medic.

You walked down the long glass hall, Agent Hill had told you that your guide would meet you outside the west elevator. She had also told you that your tour guide was one of the twins, due to your “commonalities” both in being enhanced and in being the newest members. You hoped it wasn’t going to be him, after all you still hadn’t really had time to process it all. Of course, life never really listened when you asked it for things.

The elevator dinged, signaling it’s arrival, you turned your attention from your wrist to the elevator,pulling down your sleeve to cover it as the doors slid open to reveal the gray clad speedster.

“They told me we were getting a new recruit, but they failed to tell me of your beauty.” Pietro smirked leaning against the elevator wall. You blushed, looking down at your shoes before sliding past him and stepping into the elevator. “Not talking huh? It’s okay I'll get you to crack eventually.” He smiled, winking at you only causing your face to flush even more.

As the tour went on Pietro did what he could to make you talk, though you usually only answered with one or two words. He was confused to say the least, did you not know? It was as the tour came to a close that he finally asked you the question that had been plaguing his mind the whole time, wondering if you would admit to him that you knew or if you were just clueless. “So, [Y/N], they tell me you are enhanced, like us, with healing abilities.” You nodded, “Were you there in Sokovia? Last month I mean, when Ultron attacked.”

You looked up sharply. “Um yeah, yeah I was.” You sighed, fidgeting with your sleeves.

“Then you're the one who saved me that day, thank you.” He smiled, bringing your hands into his, “I’m very happy you’re with us, and I hope that you will allow me to thank you properly? Maybe dinner?” His eyes were hopeful.

Did he know? You wondered, would he bring it up then, ease into it, charm you? Or had he been too out of it to even realise and was simply trying to be nice? Either way it was too much too fast.  “Um, I’ll think about it, I’m just kinda tired right now.”

“I understand, I’ll see you in the morning then beautiful, yes?” He smiled walking you down the hall to your room. You nodded, before looking down at the floor again. “Well if you need anything Wanda and I are both on this floor and if we’re not here we’re likely on the common floor.” He smiled watching you nod once again before retreating into your room.

Pietro sighed, running a hand through his hair, you had to know by now, if he hadn’t spoken to you that day what he said on the elevator should have been the words on your wrist? Why were you so hesitant? Did you not like him, was he not everything you had ever hoped for in a soulmate? He let out a short breath as he pushed the button to call the elevator, fine, he was charming right? He’d do whatever it took to convince you that he was the perfect guy for you, after all you were an angel to him.

A Stark Party at Avenger Tower. Two Months Later.

It had been two months, two months since you had joined the Avengers and you were still just as shy around Pietro as you had been on your first day. He couldn’t understand it, while you were shy around most of the other members too, save for his own sister and Sam Wilson, yet you seemed to purposefully avoid him. He couldn’t help but wonder if he had done something to make you mad or uncomfortable, he couldn’t understand why but it hurt, it hurt more than getting shot in Sokovia had, it was raw and painful but he did his best to hide it and simply be as polite and nice to you as possible.

“Hey there speedy, you seem quieter than normal and I don’t think I’ve heard one smart remark out of you today, what’s going on?” Clint Barton said, placing his hand on Pietro’s shoulder. Despite Clint’s general teasing of the younger man he did genuinely care for him and that was something Pietro was grateful for.

“I’m just lost in thought, thank you though Clint.” Pietro sighed, taking his coffee and heading to his room, after all Stark was having one of his infamous parties tonight and even if he wasn’t there with you Pietro still wanted to look nice for you.

Nearly six hours later everyone was downstairs, the floor alive with people, and Pietro found himself seated at the bar, nursing a whiskey as he watched you converse with his twin. You looked amazing, your gorgeous body clad in a gray knee length cocktail dress with gorgeous lace sleeves and accents. Despite the fact that you rarely spoke to him somehow, some way every little thing you did imprinted itself in his brain and only made himself fall harder and harder for you.

His mood quickly changed however from adoration to jealousy as he watched a group of suit clad men isolate you from his sister and begin to speak to you. Under normal circumstances he would have simply let you be, never wanting to make you uncomfortable or angry, but you were picking at your nails, something he had noticed you only did when you were uncomfortable.

So he did what any love-sick gentlemen would do, and he went to rescue you. Within seconds Pietro was by your side, snaking a hand around your waist, secretly praying to god that he wasn’t making you more uncomfortable.You tensed at the contact but relaxed with a sigh of relief as you looked up to find Pietro.

“Hello my love,” Pietro smiled looking down at you before turning back to the group of men, “Hello gentlemen, I hope you don’t mind if I steal my soulmate for a minute, it’s important Avenger business, you know?” He smirked, giving them no room to respond as he turned and led you to the balcony.

When you arrived on the balcony you sighed as you let the cool air roll over you. “Thank you for that Pietro.” You said softly. “I’m really grateful.”

Pietro smiled softly, “Of course, what are friends for.” He turned heading for the door, but stopped when your voice rang out.

“I’m sorry Pietro.” He turned back to look at you, your eyes trained on the floor, “I’ve been cold and distant and all you’ve done is try and be nice and make me feel happy and safe and welcome here and I’m just so sorry.”

Pietro sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You’ve known this whole time haven’t you. That we were soulmates.”

You looked up meeting his eyes, they were blue and piercing and oh so gorgeous but they were filled with pain.

“Yes, I’ve known since Sokovia. When you first regained consciousness you asked if I was an angel, I couldn’t focus on the fact that we were soulmates in that moment so I pushed it away, after that I just began to wonder, I mean I’m so different compared to you, you're so handsome and kind and talented and I’m just plain and boring, I figured that the universe probably made a mistake, and that you would be better of with someone else, but I never meant to hurt you,” You looked up at him, his face filled with a mix of shock and pain “I’m so so sorry.” You said, your voice breaking as you looked down, tears rolling down your cheeks.

“You are the most oblivious girl I’ve ever met.” Pietro chuckled, your head snapping up to look at him, “For one I’ve been flirting with you since you got here, you’d think that that would be a sign that I find you attractive, No?” You chuckled, “Second, Not talented? You saved my life, I was nearly dead and would be without you. Not kind? You have made my sister feel so happy and so welcome, you’ve given her the best friend she’s always wanted. Not pretty? My Angel, you are the most beautiful girl at this party. I’ve loved you from the minute I saw you, your smile can light up a room, and your laughter can make any sadness fade away, you my darling are perfect.” He smiled softly at you, cupping your cheek as you stared up into his eyes. “I love you moy angel”  

You stared up in awe at the silver haired speedster, “I- You’re so perfect, you have been so understanding and-” Your voice broke as more tears rushed down your face, Pietro simply whispered sweet nothings as he wiped away your tears. “I love you too.” You whispered smiling softly.

“Could I kiss you?” Pietro asked with an airy chuckle, you smiled,nodding before pressing your lips to his, letting the world around you melt away, as both of you reveled in the warm feeling of your marks changing from black to red.

[firstfullmoon]

what are some quotes that are so visceral they feel like a gut punch to you?

“A man's heart is a wretched, wretched thing. It isn't like a mother's womb. It won't bleed. It won't stretch to make room for you.”

— Khaled Hosseini, A Thousand Splendid Suns

“At the trial of God, we will ask: why did you allow all this? And the answer will be an echo: why did you allow all this?”

— Ilya Kaminsky, “A City Like a Guillotine Shivers on Its Way to the Neck”

“I want someone to tell me what to wear in the morning. I want someone to tell me what to wear every morning. I want someone to tell me what to eat, what to like, what to hate, what to rage about, what to listen to, what band to like, what to buy tickets for, what to joke about, what not to joke about. I want someone to tell me what to believe in, who to vote for, and who to love, and how to tell them. I just think I want someone to tell me how to live my life, Father, because so far I think I’ve been getting it wrong.”

— Phoebe Waller-Bridge, from Fleabag

“Les femmes de notre famille, nous sommes engluées dans la colère J’ai été en colère contre ma mère Tout comme tu es en colère contre moi Et tout comme ma mère fut en colère contre sa mère Il faut casser le fil.”

(The women in our family are all stuck in anger I have been angry at my mother As you are angry with me And as my mother was angry at her mother The thread must be broken.)

— Wajdi Mouawad, Incendies

“I know what I want: an ugly, clean woman with large breasts, who tells me: what’s all this about making things up? I won’t have any dramas, come here immediately!—And she gives me a warm bath, dresses me in a white linen nightdress, braids my hair and puts me to bed, very cross, saying: well what do you want? you run wild, eating at odd times, you could get sick, stop making up tragedies, you think you’re such a big deal, drink this mug of hot broth. She lifts my head up with her hand, covers me with a big sheet, brushes a few strands of hair off my forehead, already white and fresh, and tells me before I fall asleep warmly: you’ll see how in no time your face is going to fill out, forget those harebrained ideas and be a good girl. Someone who takes me in like a humble dog, who opens the door for me, brushes me, feeds me, loves me severely like a dog, that’s all I want, like a dog, a child.”

“I can feel myself holding a child, thought Joana. Sleep, my child, sleep, I tell you. The child is warm and I am sad. But it is the sadness of happiness, this appeasement and sufficiency that leave the face placid, faraway. And when my child touches me he doesn’t rob me of my thoughts as others do. But later, when I give him milk with these fragile, beautiful breasts, my child will grow from my force and crush me with his life. He will distance himself from me and I will be the useless old mother. I won’t feel cheated. But defeated merely and I will say: I don’t know a thing, I am able to give birth to a child and I don’t know a thing. God will receive my humility and will say: I was able to give birth to the universe and I don’t know a thing.”

— Clarice Lispector, Near to the Wild Heart

“I know that my phrases are crude, I write them with too much love, and that love makes up for their faults, but too much love is bad for the work.”

“I’m restless and harsh and despairing. Although I do have love inside me. I just don’t know how to use love. Sometimes it tears at my flesh.”

“But when winter comes I give and give and give. The excess of me starts to hurt and when I’m excessive I have to give of myself.”

— Clarice Lispector, Água Viva

“And that was what I felt when reading your book: that solitude.” “Imagine the solitude of the person who wrote it.”

— Clarice Lispector, from an interview

“suppose the body did this to us, made us afraid of love—”

— Louise Glück, “Crater Lake”

“When I put my hands on your body, on your flesh, I feel the history of that body. Not just the beginning of its forming in that distant lake, but all the way beyond its ending. I feel the warmth and texture and simultaneously I see the flesh unwrap from the layers of fat and disappear. I see the fat disappear from the muscle. I see the muscle disappearing from around the organs and detaching itself from the bones. I see the organs gradually fade into transparency, leaving a gleaming skeleton, gleaming like ivory that slowly resolves until it becomes dust. I am consumed in the sense of your weight, the way your flesh occupies momentary space, the fullness of it beneath my palms. I am amazed at how perfectly your body fits to the curves of my hands. If I could attach our blood vessels so we could become each other I would. If I could attach our blood vessels in order to anchor you to the earth, to this present time, I would. If I could open up your body and slip inside your skin and look out your eyes and forever have my lips fused with yours, I would. It makes me weep to feel the history of your flesh beneath my hands in a time of so much loss. It makes me weep to feel the movement of your flesh beneath my palms as you twist and turn over to one side to create a series of gestures, to reach up around my neck, to draw me nearer. All these memories will be lost in time like tears in the rain.”

— David Wojnarowicz, from The Half-Life

“A child weaned on poison considers harm a comfort.”

— Gillian Flynn, Sharp Objects

“and cain said, There’s an idea I can’t get out of my head, What’s that, said abraham, There must have been innocent people in sodom and in the other cities that were burned, If so, the lord would have kept the promise he made to make to save their lives, What about the children, said cain, surely the children were innocent, Oh my god, murmured abraham and his voice was like a groan, Yes, your god perhaps, but not theirs.”

— José Saramago, Cain

“I’d like to jet-ski / straight out of this life because right now I am / way attached to real things like for instance / people how they are all so tender how they / love to just go walk around and someof them are / wearing pink now and it hurts me and they / bathe their dogs”

— Heather Christle, “This Is Not The Body I Asked For”

“The idea of deserving love. And then watching love being given to people who did nothing to deserve it.”

— Anaïs Nin, from her journal

“And he cries and cries, cries for everything he has been, for everything he might have been, for every old hurt, for every old happiness, cries for the shame and joy of finally getting to be a child, with all of a child’s whims and wants and insecurities, for the privilege of behaving badly and being forgiven, for the luxury of tendernesses, of fondnesses, of being served a meal and being made to eat it, for the ability, at last, at last, of believing a parent’s reassurances, of believing that to someone he is special despite all his mistakes and hatefulness, because of all his mistakes and hatefulness.”

— Hanya Yanagihara, A Little Life

“The veals are the children of cows, are calves. They are locked in boxes the size of themselves. A body-box, like a coffin, but alive, like a home. The children, the veal, they stand very still because tenderness depends of how little the world touches you. To stay tender, the weight of your life cannot lean on your bones.”

“Sometimes being offered tenderness feels like the very proof that you've been ruined.”

— Ocean Vuong, On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous

“I know we’ve just met but I feel like maybe / you’d feed me and tuck me into your big bed / and only touch me as you covered me with the comforter.”

— Kim Addonizio, “Party”

“The body has no thoughts. The body soaks up love like a paper towel

and is still dry.”

— Kim Addonizio, “Body And Soul”

“I don’t know how God can bear / seeing everything at once: the falling bodies, the monuments and burnings, / the lovers pacing the floors of how many locked hearts.”

— Kim Addonizio, “The Numbers”

“I keep wishing for you, keep shutting up my eyes and looking toward the sky, asking with all my might for you, and yet you do not come. I thought of you, until the world grew rounder than it sometimes is, and I broke several dishes.”

— Emily Dickinson, from a letter to Minnie Holland

“The unknowness of my needs frightens me. I do not know how huge they are, or how high they are, I only know that they are not being met.”

— Jeanette Winterson, Oranges Are Not The Only Fruit

“I used to be a hopeless romantic. I am still a hopeless romantic. I used to believe that love was the highest value. I still believe that love is the highest value. I don’t expect to be happy. I don’t imagine that I will find love, whatever that means, or that if I do find it, it will make me happy. I don’t think of love as the answer or the solution. I think of love as a force of nature - as strong as the sun, as necessary, as impersonal, as gigantic, as impossible, as scorching as it is warming, as drought-making as it is life-giving. And when it burns out, the planet dies.”

“As for myself, I am splintered by great waves. I am coloured glass from a church window long since shattered. I find pieces of myself everywhere, and I cut myself handling them.”

— Jeanette Winterson, Lighthousekeeping

“I SAID I LOVED YOU AND I WANTED GENOCIDE TO STOP I SAID I LOVED YOU AND I WANTED AFFIRMATIVE ACTION AND REACTION I SAID I LOVED YOU AND I WANTED MUSIC OUT THE WINDOWS I SAID I LOVED YOU AND I WANTED NOBODY THIRST AND NOBODY NOBODY COLD I SAID I LOVED YOU AND I WANTED I WANTED JUSTICE UNDER MY NOSE”

— June Jordan, “Intifada Incantation: Poem 38 for b.b.L.”

“Maybe when I wake up in the middle of the night I should go downstairs dump the refrigerator contents on the floor and stand there in the middle of the spilled milk and the wasted butter spread beneath my dirty feet writing poems writing poems maybe I just need to love myself myself and anyway I’m working on it”

— June Jordan, “Free Flight”

“It’s not that I gave away my keys. / The problem is nobody wants to steal me or my / house.”

— June Jordan, “Onesided Dialog”

“What reconciles me to my own death more than anything else is the image of a place: a place where your bones and mine are buried, thrown, uncovered, together. They are strewn there pell-mell. One of your ribs leans against my skull. A metacarpal of my left hand lies inside your pelvis. (Against my broken ribs your breast like a flower.) The hundred bones of our feet are scattered like gravel. It is strange that this image of our proximity, concerning as it does mere phosphate of calcium, should bestow a sense of peace. Yet it does. With you I can imagine a place where to be phosphate of calcium is enough.”

— John Berger, And Our Faces, My Heart, Brief As Photos

“I wept and wept. I had come to believe that if I really wanted something badly enough, the very act of my wanting it was an assurance that I would not get it.”

— Audre Lorde, from “Zami: A New Spelling of my Name”

“You kiss the back of my legs and I want to cry. / Only the sun has come this close, only the sun.”

— Shauna Barbosa, “GPS”

“It has to be perfect. It has to be irreproachable in every way. (...) To make up for it. To make up for the fact that it’s me.”

— Suzanne Rivecca

“I hope it’s love. I’m trying really hard to make it love. I said no more severity. I said it severely and slept through all my appointments. I clawed my way into the light but the light is just as scary. I’d rather quit. I’d rather be sad.”

— Richard Siken, Self-Portrait Against Red Wallpaper

“We have not touched the stars, nor are we forgiven, which brings us back to the hero's shoulders and the gentleness that comes, not from the absence of violence, but despite the abundance of it.”

— Richard Siken, “Snow And Dirty Rain”

“Love, for you, / is larger than the usual romantic love. It's like a religion. It's / terrifying. No one / will ever want to sleep with you.”

— Richard Siken, “Litany In Which Certain Things Are Crossed Out”

“The hardest thing still remains. It remains the hardest, to bear all the tenderness and only to gaze on.”

— Ilse Achinger, “Mirrorstory”

“i killed a plant once because i gave it too much water. lord, i worry that love is violence.”

— José Olivarez, “Getting Ready to Say I Love You to My Dad, It Rains”

“Mother says there are locked rooms inside all women; kitchen of lust, bedroom of grief, bathroom of apathy. Sometimes the men - they come with keys, and sometimes, the men - they come with hammers.”

— Warsan Shire, “The House”

“I’ll take care of you. / It’s rotten work. / Not to me. Not if it’s you.”

— Euripides, Orestes, tr. Anne Carson

“We have this deep sadness between us and it spells so habitual I can’t tell it from love.”

— Anne Carson, The Beauty of the Husband

“There is no question I am someone starving. There is no question I am making this journey to find out what that appetite is.”

— Anne Carson, Plainwater: Essays

“I wish I could peel all my sadness in one long strip off my skin & toss it in a bucket. No one would have to carry it. It would just sit there & be punished. It would just sit there & think about everything it’s done.”

— Chen Chen, “Elegy For My Sadness”

“There is too much or not enough room in my stomach for everything we will do to each other.“

— Adriana Cloud, “Bento Body”

[rhysismydaddy]

Unholy Matrimony Pt. 1 (Nessian)

Nesta’s part of the Damnation Series.

OOF this took so long sorry. I rewrote it, changed it, then deleted it entirely about 9 times. I literally started writing the version before you, from scratch, on Sunday. All parts are linked below, so I’m only tagging people on this version! To go to the next chapter, there is also a link at the bottom <3

ALSO, an important caviat: Nesta is an only child in this one! I originally wrote it for her to be adopted and not know it, but it wasn’t really relevant to the story, so... idk. Just ignore that plot hole I guess.

Parts 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 -- pls like each part I’m insecure

______________________________________________

~Cassian~

“You’re getting married.”

The glass of bourbon halfway to my mouth pauses, because despite being known for being rash and unpredictable, even I’m surprised by the sudden change in conversation.

My eyebrows raise as I look over at Rhysand, my best friend and Capo, trying to figure out if this bastard is serious. His tone says he is, but that doesn’t make sense, because before a few seconds ago, the word “marriage” was in neither of our vocabularies.

He’s been single for as long as I have, although I’m starting to suspect he’s got a bird in the city. He’s too damn happy these days, and the other day I saw him laugh at something on his phone.

Which is weird, because we both know long-term commitments don’t really do well with our lifestyle.

We were raised to not give a shit about anything except the job. We kill without remorse, live in the shadows, and whatever other shitty euphemism you want to use. Settling down in some suburban, picket-fence prison has absolutely no appeal to Made Men.

Don’t get me wrong, most of us get married at some point. But never for love.

Some men choose a bride that’s pretty and sweet. Someone who will donate to charity and help clean up their image. Governors’ daughters, women from old-money families, and social princesses make up this category.

Some men marry to advance their station in the Family. Second sons who will never inherit the business marry daughters of Underbosses to get a nice boost to their status.

And then there’s the ones who are forced to marry by their capo--ie. me-- so they choose whatever attractive woman that’s in the Family and available. Those are always the happiest.

But regardless of the reasoning, marriage in the mafia is heartless, political, and for me, unnecessary.

I know I’ll have to pick someone eventually, but there aren’t a whole lot of desirable options at the moment. Not many of the other Underbosses have daughters that are over the age of fifteen right now, and I have no interest in doing the child-bride thing.

Plus, there’s no way I’d marry someone outside of the family. At my rank, it isn’t an option.

That leaves... a widow?

The only one I know is Ianthe, and considering I highly suspect she killed her last husband and the fact that she’s crazy, there’s no way in hell I’d legally bind myself to her for life.

So he must be joking.

I take a pull from my cigar and look over at Rhys with narrowed eyes. “Uh huh. Sure. To who, exactly?”

“Volchonok.”

The Wolf Cub.

The cigar snaps in my fingers.

“You’re fucking kidding,” I say, honestly hoping that’s the case. He’s either that or insane, and I’d hate to lock someone who’s like a brother to me in a padded room.

Rhysand’s unflinching gaze doesn’t change, but his tone morphs from that of my friend to my boss. “You will marry her, Cassian.”

“She’s a fucking Russian,” I spit, not understanding. That should be reason enough for him to be joking.

In our world, being Russian is a crime similar to stabbing the Pope.

We’ve been at war over New York with them ever since they decided to try and get a stronghold on the east coast, and I’ve killed more of them than I can fucking count. Now I’m marrying one?

“Yes, she is, and so is her father, Alexei Olov.” Aka the Bratva Boss responsible for blowing up half of St. Petersburg last year when the local police refused to buy his weapons. “You will marry her, move to New York full time, and run the city with her by your side.”

“Why? Two or three more years, and we’ll have the city anyway.” Every day the Russians get weaker, and I’ve been responsible for pushing them out of my city block by block.

So there has to be a reason we’re suddenly okay with the enemy.

Rhysand sighs. “It was his idea, not mine. Orlov has agreed to sell our coke in Moscow and Seattle instead of his usual dealer and will supply us all the weapons we need for five years. There will also be no more midnight raids, bullshit arrests on bullshit charges, or missing shipments. He’s offering you a dowry, too.”

I don’t need his money, but the old fashioned term makes me laugh.

“Yeah? And how much does he think his wolf cub is worth?”

His lips twitch. “Ten million.”

“She must be a real pain in the ass, then, if he’s going to pay me that much to take her,” I chuckle.

Not that ten million dollars is anything but pocket change for the man. Orlov may be losing the fight in New York, but the bastard is richer than sin. 

Selling arms to half of the entire world will do that to a person.

“I hear she’s beautiful,” he says, trying to tempt me to not fight him.

“Then you marry her,” I shoot back, not ready to give up the argument.

“I don’t feel like it.” Fucking typical. Rhysand sighs. “You and I both know we can work this deal to our advantage, so what will make you say yes?”

He could order to me to say yes and I’d have to, but he hates enforcing that kind of authority with me.

So I think it over, make a show of lighting a new cigar. “I want Sera.”

It’s a burlesque club in New York I’ve always been a little envious of, owned by Orlov and operated by his men. I’d tried to buy it a few years back but hadn’t had enough leverage on the Russian to strongarm him into selling.

Now I do.

Rhysand--the only one who knows about my failed attempt to buy the place--nods and tells me he’ll make it happen.

“When’s all this happening, anyway?”

He looks like he might laugh. “Wedding is in a month, but she’s flying in tomorrow night.”

A quick laugh forces its way out of me. Also typical of him to give me absolutely no time to change my mind.

Well, I have a month. That’s already longer than any relationship I’ve ever had. 

Sighing, I stand and shake his hand, cementing the deal before I can even lament the loss of my bachelorhood.

~Nesta~

“Chto sluchilos?”

I slide my gaze to my father, because seriously, that’s the stupidest fucking question I’ve ever heard. 

What’s wrong? What’s wrong? Everything.

“Nichego,” I lie, assuring him for what feels like the tenth time as I look out the window. The plane picks up speed and lifts off, taking me towards an uncertain future, an uncertain place.

I might have told him nothing’s wrong, but inside, I’m screaming.

Three days ago, I woke up to find a marriage contract on the pillow beside me. There was a blank space where my name had been typed and a pen waiting for me to remedy that.

I still haven’t.

I’m not signing anything until I meet this... Cassian. 

God, what an Italian name.

An image springs to mind, one of a slumped-over, hairy-chest beast with slicked back hair and a gold chain. 

I know it’s stereotypical and hopefully incorrect, but I’ve never been to Italy and Alexei strictly forbids me watching movies that portray Italians as anything except revolting. 

But looks aside, there’s one thing I don’t need to guess to know. 

My future husband will be like all the other men in my life: controlling.

Men in the world I live in take what they want, don’t ask for permission, and feel like they’re entitled to anything and everything. I’ve dealt with it my entire life, so it’s more amusing than anything at this point.

I guess I’m a bit non-traditional in that sense, considering most of the women around me have no problems taking orders from their fathers or husbands. But Alexei and I figured out pretty early in life that wasn’t going to work for me.

As he frequently likes to tell me, I started telling him to fuck off when I was five.

What did he expect? All the kids I hung out with were the opposite sex and at least five years older than me, so my vocabulary and mannerisms became pretty... colorful early on.

Regardless, I’m just not looking forward to having to deal with yet another man who thinks he can control me.

“Ty vresh',” Alexei accuses, lips twitching. You’re lying. 

“Konechno.” Of course. 

Of course I’m upset, but I understand what’s happening. I might have found out about it three days ago, but I’ve known it was coming for far longer.

As the only child of the great Alexei Orlov, Wolf of Moscow and Pakhan of the Russian Bratva, I’ve been told my entire life that I will one day be used as a pawn to gain more power.

It would--should--piss me off, but I’ve also been told I’m to one day take my father’s place and run his company.

So by gaining more power for him, I’m also doing the same for myself.

Not that I really give a shit about that kind of thing. I started officially working for Alexei years ago, and I already have enough money saved to never have to work again. 

But in the Bratva, there’s no getting out. I was put in this world by birth, and the only thing that will take me out is death. 

In case it isn’t obvious, I’m not a typical business woman. 

My father is an arms-dealer. 

A less than legal one, if you believe the heinous lies the media spreads about him.

He sells weapons to governments, private armies, and whoever the fuck else has the money to buy. 

He’s also built himself a shipping empire to haul said weapons around the globe, runs the drugs and prostitute rings in Moscow, and has enough real estate to rival most small countries.

It probably sounds like I don’t care, and that’s because I don’t. 

I like what I do in the sense that I have a mind for business. I went to business school and graduated at the top of my class, and I enjoy running the clubs and hotels I have. Trained by Alexei himself, I’m ruthless in negotiations, enough so that people started calling me the Wolf Cub by the time I was twenty. 

But despite being good at it, I’m not particularly fond of the aspect most people think of when they picture my career in the Bratva. I detest drugs, have never hired a prostitute, and don’t really enjoy selling arms to bad people. 

The alleyway meetups, the broken bones and bullet holes, and the blown up houses are all a little tiring to me.

Sure, it sounds exciting. And for a while, it was. I used to lose myself in the chaos, used to enjoy coming home with busted knuckles. But I honestly just got tired of it.

Right now, I don’t have to deal with it as much because Alexei’s still alive. But when he dies and I officially take over the family business, I’ll have to be more involved. Even if the thought makes me want to sigh.

I pull out my laptop and look over the financial report for Sera, my newest club in New York. As predicted, everything’s running smoothly. 

I turn the laptop around to show my father, grinning when he pulls out his reading glasses and leans closer. 

“Starik,” I tease. Old man. 

He flicks my forehead, then reads the report and nods. Then he turns to his phone, probably playing Angry Birds or some shit, and leaves me to work.

The plane ride goes by quickly, and by the time we’ve landed in Chicago, I’ve gotten ahead on my schedule for next week, slept, and changed into what I’ve chosen as the “meeting my future husband” dress.

It’s simple and sleek, the black material clinging to my curves without being obscene. It’s long enough to hide the holster on my thigh, not that I feel in any danger with four personal guards stationed near me at all times.

My heels click as I make my way down the plane stairs and across the tarmac to the waiting sedan, and once my luggage and belongings are unloaded, we head to the Italian Capo’s house.

We’re meeting here, finalizing the contract, and then Cassian and I are flying to New York. 

My new home.

“Try to look happy,” Alexei tells me, his heavily accented English almost ridiculous to hear. He speaks English only when he’s in the states, and considering he hasn’t come here since I graduated B school two years ago, he’s a little out of practice.

“I’m ecstatic,” I say, intentionally using a word I know he doesn’t understand.

His eyes narrow, because it isn’t the first time I’ve used this trick, but he doesn’t call me out on it. We continue to ride in ecstatic silence, eventually pulling up in front of the Capo’s... house.

It’s almost obscene to call it that, considering it’s fucking huge. Like obnoxiously huge.

I heave a sigh, step out of the car, and take in my surroundings. The neighborhood’s quiet, likely filled with friends of the Cosa Nostra too scared to make any noise. 

A butler--seriously, a butler--opens the door and welcomes us inside, and as soon as I step in, I have to repress the urge to roll my eyes.

The amount of dirty money in the air is suffocating. It drips off the vaulted ceilings, down the artwork on the walls, across the marble floors. It’s in the little details of the crystal chandeliers and the mahogany staircase. 

Ridiculous.

One look at Alexei’s disgusted face says he’s thinking the same thing.

Don’t get me wrong, we’re rich. Grossly so. Alexei could have ten houses just like this, if he wanted them.

But he doesn’t. He owns property all over the world, but most of it is commercial or apartment complexes--property that makes him money, in other words. This, however, is a massive waste of capital. 

The butler leads us further through the house and into an office where four men wait. 

One is immediately identifiable as their lawyer, his over-priced cologne making me have to resist the urge to sneeze. The humongous man in the corner is hired muscle, if the boxy shape of the guns under his jacket is any indication.

The man behind the desk is obviously in charge, so I’m guessing he’s the Capo. Rhysand or Rhyland or something weird like that. He takes me in silently, bright eyes not seeming to miss any details. 

That leaves the man leaning against the desk to be Cassian Azara.

My fiancé. 

Our eyes meet, his golden gaze beautiful and wild, and I have to remember to keep my expression bored. 

Because the stereotype, the horrible image I’d conjured up in my mind, couldn’t be further from the truth.

For one, he isn’t hunched-over. He stands tall, leaning a hip against his Capo’s desk with obvious confidence. But I see more than just self-assuredness in his eyes. He seems a little too rough around the edges, wild gaze almost like he’s daring someone to swing at him. 

If the confidence didn’t already make him attractive, his looks sure as hell get the job done.

His hairs long and dark and curly, half of it pulled up in a rouge manner that clashes with the suit he’s filling. He has a few days’ stubble, too, like standing still long enough to shave just isn’t an option. 

His shoulders are impossibly wide, narrowing down to trim hips and legs long enough to make him tower over everyone in the room. 

His knuckles are tattooed and split open, and there’s a cut above his eyebrow that tells me I was correct to assume he’s a fighter by nature. 

Usually, that would be a deterrent for me, but there’s something about the way he’s dressed in a dark suit jacket and crisp white shirt while also looking so untamed that has me cocking my head to study him some more. 

He studies me, too, beautiful eyes taking in the long blonde hair and bright blue eyes offset by pale skin. He looks at the dress like he can see everything underneath, and I have the strangest urge to blush. Jesus, he’s toxic.

He’s attractive, is what I’m getting at.

Which is not what I had planned on, considering I’d been trying to think of a plan on how to not sleep with him, but suddenly that’s all my mind can focus on.

His lips twitch like he knows what I’m thinking, and I realize we’ve just been standing here staring at each other for a bit too long.

So I turn back to Alexei and shrug like I’ve seen what my future husband has to offer and aren’t impressed in the slightest. 

I toss the marriage contract on the desk, grab the Capo’s fancy little fountain pen out of his hand, and sign my name on the blank above my name. 

Cassian watches, but I ignore him entirely until the ink has dried. Then I look up at him through my lashes and wink, turn on my heel, and leave the room.

~Cassian~

I think I’m in love.

Fuck.

She hasn’t said a single goddamn word, but the way she looked at me has me feeling itchy all over, anticipation and nerves rolling through me. I feel like I feel before I fight or something exciting happens.

Like I’m primed and ready and need it to happen now. 

Nesta Orlov, my bride to be, is nothing like I expected. 

I was fully braced for some meek little woman, similar to most of my friends’ wives, to come in and smile and say hello. 

But nope. Nesta didn’t smile; she came in like she was walking onto a battlefield. 

And she didn’t smile. She looked me over, clinical blue gaze noticing too much, and left me feeling winded. God, she’s beautiful. Just looking at her made me hot.

She also didn’t say hello. 

Just signed the contract and left, like this was nothing more to her than a boring business deal. I mean, that’s what it is, but... I don’t know, I expected more of a reaction. 

I’ve heard from some Underbosses that their wives cried or raged when they were forced to sign, but shit if that were the case with Nesta. She honest to God looked like she didn’t care.

Alexei, on the other hand, does look a little pissed about the situation, but I couldn’t care less of the old man’s opinion. He’s signed the contract, so to me, he’s irrelevant. Regardless, he and Rhys proceed to iron out some of the details about the wedding and other shit I’m not paying attention to.

Then they shake hands, and the Russian warlord turns to leave. 

He reaches the door and looks over his shoulder at me, and there’s amusement in his cold gaze as he mutters, “Udachi.” Good luck. 

As soon as he’s gone, Roman and the lawyer follow, leaving me alone with Rhys. 

He slides the contract to me, and I sign my name next to hers, making this shit official. 

“This should be interesting,” he comments, vague as usual. 

I sigh, because I have a feeling interesting isn’t going to cover it. 

_____________________________________________________

NEXT CHAPTER

Tags: @elorcan-trash @januarystears @emikadreams @sjm-things @santas-dwynwen @thebitchupstairs @sayosdreams @perseusannabeth @cursebreaker29 @a-bit-of-a-cactus @elriel4life @girl-who-reads-the-books @shinya-hiiragi @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @ireallyshouldsleeprn @highqueenofelfhame @rowaelinismyotp @nahthanks @ghostlyrose2 @lovemollywho @tillyrubes10 @claralady @tswaney17 @rowanisahunk @superspiritfestival @thegoddessofyou @awesomelena555 @booksofthemoon @greerlunna @jlinez @studyliketate @over300books @justgiu12 @masstrash @aesthetics-11 @bamchickawowow @b00kworm @sleeping-and-books @musicmaam @hizqueen4life @maybekindasortaace

[no-worshiped-roads]

I have been tempted to write a vampire au so we’ll just do basics

Please ask questions if you have them

So this is still modern times but anyway

Tatiana:

She’s been around the longest, like easily a couple hundred years

she’s pretty strict on the rules just so they won’t be discovered as vampires by hunters

Still has her in game powers, though they came with her turning

The vampire who turned her did not stick around, as they didn’t mean to turn her

Basically they try to drain her and she thought back by biting down on the arm not thinking about it

And she wound up waking up the next night a vampire (they were inside so it was safe)

Djss:

He add neon J are pretty close in age, probably about 100 years or so

Djss was turned by a vampire that was hunted down by hunters

There is no real connection between the two, the vampire simply found djss interesting enough to turn them

Like tatiana, his power surfaced after his turning

Neon J:

He was fighting in a war when the troop he was with was ambushed

He was left to die (with everyone else already dead) and was barely clinging to life when a vampire found him

It offered him a chance to live, to avenge his fallen comrades

Neon, not knowing he was talking to vampire, assumed the person was talking about healing him

So he accepted only to be turned

He’s a heavily scarred vampire

1010:

Beon j turned them to save their lives, but did warn them what it would mean

Zim: got into a fight that left him with a fatal stab wound

Eloni: abusive work place, being worked to death

Accident when was alone had him crushed under heavy material

Purl-hew: fell from a tall building, no one was around

Haym: very sick, dying

Rin: a serial killer at the time attempted murder on him, wounds were fatal

Team sayu and sayu:

About 50 years old

The team were all turned at the same time, by a vamp trying to build an army to fight hunters with

But after a while being stuck with him sayu managed to get them out of there while he was being killed by a hunter

Sayu had also been turned by this guy, and she was the one who tipped off the hunters to where he was

(For those who don’t know typically on the vampire turn someone they are bound to that vampire (in Tatiana‘s case he didn’t want her bound to him so she wasn’t))

Yinu’s mother and yinu:

About 90 years old

She was a happy wife with her husband and yinu was on her way

But there had been a vampire hunting through the town and it had bitten her

The husband was able to stake the vampire, only to find his wife dying

In desperation to save their daughter, she took some blood off of the stake he used to kill the vampire so she would become one

Yinu was born about a week later, but due to the circumstances was born half vampire (it is likely one of the few if not only child that was born partially vampire)

(Vampires cannot give birth)

Thing was it was noticeable that she wasn’t fully human, same with the mother, and the woman who helped her give birth ratted them out to the village

They tried to escape the mob, and while trying to hold them back, the husband was killed

Eve:

About 60 years old

A vampire tried to claim her as his bride and she was stuck with him for 10 years as she was bound to him

She would eventually spend her years trying to gain his trust in get him to let his guard down around her

When he finally did she would stake him through the heart

She would spend years wandering not really interacting with people unless she had to and so on

What happened with Zuke would leave her broken hearted for 6 years

And after those 6 years she would meet someone else

Zuke:

Not turned

He lived with west for a while, just living life

Zuke met eve and she found him to be a kindred spirit and that she could spend the rest of her immortal life with

So they dated for a while

then she revealed but she really was and offered to turn him as well, but handled it poorly and assumed he wanted it

He fled and got to a new city where he felt safe

6 years passed and in that time he met Mayday

Mayday:

Turned recently, still only 21

She came from a rather high class and rich family

As such her family were classist snobs who expected her to marry someone of high status and to take over the family business

So her parents had an arranged marriage set up

She hated it but felt stuck cause she’s never been able to get her parents to take no for an answer

(Since this is modern times her parents don’t have anything against her dating a woman, they just found this man to be the best match due to his status and well)

She’s tried it before and it always ended with them going ahead and doing what they wanted

Then she made friends with zuke, and later on, a very pretty lady

They helped keep her from a breakdown from all the expectations put on her and the upcoming wedding

And slowly but surely she began to fall in love with the woman

Of course she knew her parents wouldn’t allow it

She did confess to the woman and even told her that she wish she could leave with her but she was bound by her “parents’ law”

The night before her wedding, The woman visited her house via her window

After being invited in she revealed herself to be a vampire and offered to take mayday away from here as well as eternal life

May accepted, wanting A life with much more freedom

No one has been able to find her since that night

After May’s disappearance, zuke looked every where for her

And when he heard that she was last seen with a woman who really matched Nadia’s description, he panicked

He realized what had happened, but assumed it was forced on her

So he set out to try and find a cure for them

Bonus stuff

Dk west also knows Nadia is a vampire, and has multiple times tried to get her to turn him

He never succeeded, and part of him blames Zuke for it

The vampires have built a home in Vinyl city

It’s home to all sorts of mythical creatures, as well as some humans that are more friendly with the monsters

But it’s mostly monsters

Yinu due to her status does age but does so very slowly

She will be fully turned when she’s an adult, just matched her is almost like that fledgling status where until she feeds for the first time, she will only be partial vampire

1010 are in their 20’s

There will be an eventual ship between zuke and rin, but only after he stops trying with his cure nonsense

And after there’s some reconciliation between him and Nadia





[alexiessan]

Senses - Chapter Three - Soulmate AU

AO3

Previous - Here - Next

Master List

Damian was sitting in front of the computer in the Batcave, his hand on the mouse, the pointer hovering on a file with his soulmate’s name. He was hesitating and it annoyed him. He never hesitated, so why now?

After his family met Marinette when she had briefly taken over his body at dinner three days ago, Tim has made his research on the girl, and it was very easy to find everything he needed. His father and his brothers all knew everything there was to know about Marinette Dupain-Cheng, but Damian had yet to open the file.

It wasn’t the first time that they did research on someone like that. It was even a common occurrence, they couldn’t afford to trust people easily, and a background check was the bare minimum they did when a Wayne met someone they would have to interact with more than once. So, of course, they would do the same for Marinette, since she would be a permanent addition to Damian’s life, and that she would one day come to know their secret.

And yet, as Damian looked at the screen, he was hesitating. For three days now, he had sit at the computer, looked at the unopened file for long minutes before leaving the room, unable to open it. There was something in him that screamed at him to not open the file. That he should get to know the girl without checking every aspect of her life.

It also screamed at him that Marinette was respectful of his boundaries, letting him decide if he wanted to share things about him with her and never asking for his last name when he didn’t give her one.

His gut feeling told him that he shouldn’t open this file. Plus, if something were wrong with the girl, if she was dangerous for them or anything, his family would have found it and would have told him right away, not caring about his opinion on the matter.

Damian left the room and the file stayed unopened on the computer screen.

When he left the room, however, he didn’t find himself in the corridor as he should have, but in a very pink room. Marinette was sitting at her desk, scribbling something in a notebook.

Even if he couldn’t see what she was doing, deep inside, he knew exactly what she was doing.

“So, you’re into fashion,” he asked, his voice breaking the silence in her room.

He watched as she stiffened, not jumping at his voice this time. She turned around to face him, frowning.

“How do you know that?”

He shrugged, not really sure how he knew himself. “The bond, probably. I know it because you do?”

Her blue eyes met his green ones and she seemed to analyze him for long minutes before she tilted her head and said, “You like drawing, don’t you?”

He stiffened before forcing himself to relax. So it was really the bond that made them know stuff like that. He nodded and she kept watching him. She turned around abruptly, picking her pen up, and started drawing again, not asking him questions.

On one hand, it was a good thing. He didn’t want her asking questions. On another hand, he didn’t like how good she was at reading him.

“A friend’s birthday is coming up so I’m going to make her a dress. She likes pink and cute things so I’m trying to make it super cute.”

He nodded, not really listening. He didn’t care about her friends. He looked around, wincing at all the pink before his eyes stopped on her bed. There were a lot of animal plushies on it. A big cat, a dog, a hamster…

“You like animals,” he asked, his eyes not leaving the plushies. That’s something they could have in common.

He glanced her way when he felt her eyes on him and she had a fond look and a soft smile on her face.

“Yeah, I do. I always wished we could have a pet, but with the bakery, it’s not possible. I wanted a hamster for the longest time because it wouldn’t leave hair everywhere as a cat or a dog would, but even that was a big nope,” she sighed. “You like animals too, right? You seemed to love Titus very much.”

He nodded. “I also have a cat and a cow,” he shared with her. That was the only thing he was willing to share at the moment, he didn’t trust her with anything else.

“That’s nice,” she said softly.

But then, he wasn’t in her room anymore but in his, aware that he had made his way back to his room when the other part of him was with Marinette.

Alfred the cat was napping on his bed next to him and Damian sighed as he petted him softly, careful not to wake him up.

“I guess it’s a good thing I didn’t open that file…” he whispered to himself.

Just this once, Damian decided it would be better to learn to know Marinette the normal way.

Who knows how long it would take for her to gain his trust, or for him to gain hers — even if she shared things about herself with him, it was obvious that her trust was not easily gained. Something told him that it wasn’t always like that though — but he would do it the normal way.

Ladybug cursed at the sight in front of her. Paris was completely destroyed. Buildings had collapsed on themselves, people were screaming in the street, and Chat Noir was panting beside her, just as exhausted as she was.

An Akuma had appeared a little bit less than an hour ago and had done so much damage already. She didn’t care about their name and she didn’t think that this particular Akuma even gave them one in the first place, she only cared about how they were going to defeat him.

The Akuma could create shock waves, small ones, and big ones, which explained the collapsed buildings. Whenever they approached the Akuma, they would create a small one that would throw them away from her, and damn did it hurt.

She had hurt her head pretty badly earlier, and she was sure that she had a concussion if the way her vision blurred and how she struggled to speak full sentences were any indicators.

And then, to make things worse, Damian had to appear beside her right in the middle of an Akuma attack.

“What the hell…” was his reaction when he saw the amount of destruction in the French capital.

He then looked at her, his eyes widening. Yeah, she knew that she looked like hell, and like she was about to collapse any second now, thank you very much.

“You’re a hero,” he said in a serious voice.

Not really what she was expecting him to say, but then again, he was seeing her as Ladybug and not Marinette, so fair enough.

So much for secret identities.

“Now is not the time for that,” she said or tried to at least as her words came out in yogurt.

“What did you say,” asked Chat beside her but she paid him no mind.

Damian was in front of her in an instant, his hand cupping her face, inspecting the left side of her head where the blood was coming from. It was the first time they touched, she thought, and she could actually feel him, feel his warmth and it was weird but right at the same time and… And she couldn’t think straight with her head pounding like that.

The green-eyed boy cursed. “You got a concussion. A pretty bad one. Your partner needs to end this as soon as possible.”

Ladybug shook her head, making Damian release her face. “I can’t. I have to help him. I need to call my luck charm,” she said, but the look on her soulmate’s face told her that her words were yogurt once again.

She turned away from him and towards her partner who was looking at her, waiting for her to form a plan, to go back into the action, to just do something, but Ladybug didn’t know what to do anymore, she just wanted to lie down and sleep, and her head was killing her and-

And before her thoughts could spiral more, she called her lucky charm.

She honestly couldn’t remember what her lucky charm was, what her plan was nor what they did, but the Akuma was dealt with, the white butterfly released, and the Miraculous cure cast.

And Damian was still there, staring at her, his left eyebrow raised as if he was judging her.

“Are you going to talk?”

Ladybug sighed. It’s not like she had much of a choice now, did she?

Damian found himself on the Bat computer once again, researching Hawkmoth and the Akumas. Marinette had told him about the day the terrorist appeared, taking control of one of her classmates to wreak havoc in the city. How she had found her Miraculous and was basically told to go save the city. Her, a thirteen-year-old at the time, without any training or adult supervising her.

Who could be so stupid to throw a teenager in such a mess like that?

Yeah, Damian was younger than she was when he became Robin, but he’s been raised in the League of Assassins since his birth, he knew what he was doing, unlike Marinette who was acting on instinct.

Tim appeared behind him, his footsteps were silent.

“So you found out about her being Ladybug?”

Damian glared at him. “You knew?”

Tim raised an eyebrow at his younger brother. “You didn’t?”

Damian scowled and turned his attention back to the screen. “I didn’t open your file. I found out because I visited in the middle of an attack and she was in her hero persona.”

Drake was silent for a moment before he asked, a bit hesitant. “Why didn’t you open the file?”

“I just didn’t!” he snapped.

The oldest of the two raised both his hands as if surrendering. “Fine, fine! Is the situation there as bad as it’s shown in the French media?”

Damian nodded. “The city was completely destroyed when I was there. The Akumas are very violent and it’s only to Ladybug’s cure that it doesn’t stay like it or that they’re all still alive.”

“Nothing we can do, though,” said Tim, “the guy took control of a fucking baby more than once. Just a little bit of negative emotion is enough to be at his mercy. Better not get there.”

Damian had to agree with his statement.

It was supposed to be a good day, Marinette thought with a frown. She had woke up on time and got in class with five minutes to spare. Ms. Bustier wasn’t even here yet! She had told Damian everything about her situation two weeks ago already, and she was relieved that such a big secret was revealed already. That meant that she could be a little bit more open with him.

And she had been, in the last two weeks, they had seen a little bit more of each other. He opened up a little, but he really didn’t trust her enough to give her more than a little bit of information about what he liked or didn’t like here and there.

It was okay, she didn’t trust him 100% yet either. They would get there when they would.

Damian was cold and rude but she could tell that he was a good person. He was brutally honest, but she kinda liked that.

Getting to know her soulmate helped her move on from Adrien. She didn’t blush anymore around him, and her heart didn’t miss a beat or sped up anymore when he was around.

That was such a relief, to her, and to her friends, who were happy to see her moving on.

It didn’t mean that she was falling in love with Damian, though. She couldn’t even call him a friend yet.

But even if things were looking good and that it was supposed to be a good day, the sight in front of her told her that it would be anything but a good day.

Marinette frowned as she looked around. Everyone had changed their seats, the only one open was next to Adrien. She frowned even more at that. She was moving on from the model, she hoped that it wasn’t Alya deciding all of the sudden to pair them or something.

Speaking of, Alya waved at her in an attempt to get her attention.

“Hey, girl! Sorry, we moved the seats! Lila is coming back today, you see, and with her ear problem we thought she should get a seat in the front row, so we all moved to accommodate her,” she smiled at Marinette before pointing to the desk on the last row. “You’re over there by the way.”

Marinette looked at the back of the classroom to see the empty desk. They had put her alone in the back without even asking her.

“Alya,” she started, her hesitation obvious in her voice. “It’s not that I mind accommodating for Lila,” she did, because Lila was a liar, she probably didn’t have a hearing problem, but she was willing to give the girl a chance. “But why did we have to move everyone? Only one person needed to move,” she said in a small voice.

She noticed that Damian has appeared beside her, scowling at her friend.

“Well, Adrien volunteered to help Lila so Nino had to move but I didn’t want him to be alone. And then, Mylène wanted to sit with Ivan, and you know how it is, when more than two persons move seats, everyone wants to move too.”

Marinette bit at her lips. “But…”

But what about me? She wanted to ask, but wasn’t it selfish, to ask that? They all moved seats for selfless reasons, to accommodate a disabled classmate and they didn’t know that Lila was probably lying about that.

She didn’t have the time to say anything else as Ms. Bustier entered the room with Lila.

“Everyone, please, give Lila a warm welcome!”

Everyone talked at the same time, making it hard to understand anything, but Lila beamed at her classmates, clasping her hands together. Her voice alone made everyone shut theirs to listen to her.

“Thank you, everyone! I’m so happy to be back! My trip to Achu was amazing but so tiring! Helping Prince Ali to come up with ideas to fight world pollution was exhausting!”

Rose squealed somewhere in the class but she could only focus on Damian who scoffed. “The guy only works with children.”

“Tell me about it,” she whispered to him. Thankfully, no one heard her. Everyone knew about her soulmate and wouldn’t question her when she talked to herself, but she didn’t want Lila to know about this particular information.

“Oh!” Lila’s cheerful voice caught their attention again. “Did you leave the front seat open for me?” Everyone nodded and Lila smiled again, delighted. “Oh, guys! I’m so glad you remembered that I got tinnitus from saving Jagged’s cat from getting run over by a plane! Thank you so much!” She exclaimed as she took her seat next to Adrien and got closer to him until only a few inches separated them.

Damian let out a humorless laugh next to her, “As if. If that happened, she wouldn’t get tinnitus from it, she would be deaf. Engineers wear ear protection for a reason, imbecile.”

Marinette almost smiled at Damian’s comment but she was feeling a bit too bitter to let herself smile.

“Marinette,” Ms. Bustier’s voice resonated in the room. “Get in your seat so I can start the lesson!”

Reluctantly, Marinette did as she was told, and Damian followed, not wanting to just stand in the middle of the classroom, even though no one could see him.

“What, are you just going to let them order you around like that?”

Marinette just shrugged. She didn’t want to make a fuss about it. She would talk to Alya later about them forcing her to the back without asking her first. She knew that Alya only had the best intentions when she did it, so she wasn’t really mad about it, but she was a bit bitter with how easily she’s been disregarded, and she didn’t want to leave that unsaid. Alya would understand where she’s coming from.

Damian raised an eyebrow at her, watching her as she took her things out of her bad. Bustier was still getting ready to start the class and her classmates were whispering to each other waiting for the teacher to begin the lesson.

“So, what, you’ll let that slide?” he taunted. In the last few weeks, he had learned to know that she hated liars — he had laughed at the irony, what with her being Ladybug — and injustice.

The blue-eyed girl looked at him. “I’ll talk to Alya later. It’s not like I can just yell that she’s a liar.”

Damian’s eyes narrowed at her and suddenly it felt like she was forced out of her body. She was where Damian was supposed to be and Damian was in her place.

“Did you-” she sputtered indignantly, “did you just take over my body?!”

Damian looked at his hand — her hand — in wonder. “Huh. So I can do that on purpose,” he whispered. “Good to know.”

He then looked at the front of the class, where Lila was discussing happily with Alya, Nino, and Adrien — and why was Bustier taking so long to begin teaching, damn it?! — and he smirked.

Marinette shuddered at the sight.

He was going to get her in so much trouble, wasn’t he?

His voice — her voice — resonated in the class, getting everyone’s attention.

“You know that if you really were that close to a moving plane, you would have gone deaf, right?” he said in perfect French, his gaze locked with Lila’s.

Marinette gripped his arm — her arm, damn it, even if he was in her body, she saw him and not herself, and how weird was that? — and shook it a little, panicking.

“Stop. Please, stop!” She begged him.

She could see some of her friends scowling faces and, Gods, she hated that it was meant for her.

“What- What are you talking about, Marinette? I mean, I get where you’re coming from. I was lucky that I only got tinnitus from that incident.”

Damian scoffed in her body. Some of her classmates were confused, and she couldn’t blame them, it was so out of character of her.

“Bullshit,” he said and some gasps could be heard.

“Marinette!” the teacher exclaimed as Lila’s eyes were gathering tears. Clearly fake, Marinette and Damian could tell. “Apologize to Lila immediately.”

Damian was about to say something else, Marinette didn’t know what, but it wouldn’t be good for her, so she tried to control the bond, however it could be done, she just wanted her body back.

And she got it back, she realized.

Thanks, God.

“I’m sorry,” she said as soon as she got her body back, averting her eyes from the rest of her classmates.

She glanced at Damian, who was pursing his lips and frowning and he looked back at her, ready to say something.

But then he was gone.

She didn’t want to be mean or anything, but she was relieved that he was gone for the moment. He got her in enough trouble as it is.

Lila made a big scene of forgiving her and Ms. Bustier finally began her lesson.

She saw Alya giving her a look that told her they would talk later.

Marinette sighed. It was going to be a long day.

Next

Tag List:

@justafanwarrior @animegirlweeb @demonicbusiness @miracleofadisaster @iloontjeboontje @mochinek0 @lozzybowe @eliza-bich @faunrasthewinterelf @iamablinkmarvelarmy @thatonecroc​ @dood-space​ @clumsy-owl-4178​