#the handle seems fine but like who knows if you can restore it WITHOUT cutting off the wood

[roughentumble]

man. you know i generally dont ascribe maliciousness to the step-sis's behavior, i think generally she's just a dumbshit teen(<-neutral term), but. its pretty hard to see it any other way when she(mid teens) puts a wood-handled cast iron pot in the dishwasher(has cast iron at both houses)(isnt supposed to put wood in the dishwasher and knows it)(didnt even wash it out first so it had a thick crusted-on ring from the simmer pot)

like. girl. there's doing something stupid cuz youre a teen and youre not thinking. and then theres like. Nuclear Level Fuck Ups.

[paganwitchisis]

"Pint Sized Terror" Chapter 2

Chapter Two: Pranks

Summary: Due to unforeseen circumstances, Astarion is turned into a small child again! Tav and the gang have to figure out how to help the tyke while taking care of him. Things aren't all sunshine and rainbows as trouble finds them. Set after Cazador’s demise in Act 3. Spawn Astarion.  

Word Count: 2,626

Rating: E for Explicit

Trigger Warnings: Smut, Fluff, Creampie, PinV Smut, Angst, kid fic, Consent, Adult Astarion Smut, Otherwise a kid fic, Magic, Consenting Adults

AO3 link is here

Pairing: AFAB Female Tav/Astarion

*Adult content is before and after the situation - when Astarion is 239 years old. I do NOT do otherwise*

Story:

It turns out elven children don’t have to sleep as long as Tav did, so when she woke up alone, she should have been concerned, but then again, he wasn’t a baby, right? What could he have gotten himself into?

“Tav! Get your child under control, or I will…” Shadowheart’s voice came from the other side of the room. Tavaria got up out of bed and laid eyes on the sight before her. On the floor was Astarion drinking something out of a glass container with Shadowheart standing over him looking fairly unhappy. She flickered magic to her hand in a warning that got Tav over to her new charge when she realized it. Astarion wasn’t drinking just anything. He was drinking Shadowheart’s special vintage wine they found in the blighted village months ago. The same wine that Shadowheart had hidden from Astarion and kept for when the absolute fell and they killed the worms inside their heads.

It appeared the young boy had drunk the entire bottle.

Scared about alcohol and the effect it could have on him, Tav scooped the young child who still held the empty glass container and she ran off to Halsin.

Thankfully the man was already awake and privy to the entire scene, chuckling at the antics the little rascal could get into. Halsin waved his hand over the tyke and green magic flowed over the child who just giggled through it all.

“It seems we’ll have one drunk little boy for a few hours, but otherwise, he is fine.”

“Mommy!” Astarion said with a hiccup. Tav sighed. It was going to be a long day.

Tav held the little guy who fell asleep as she questioned Halsin. “Don’t you have a spell to make him...I don’t know? Not drunk?”

Halsin chuckled and replied. “I wish I knew a spell like that! I can keep him asleep if it helps until it runs its course.”

Tav thought it over while looking over the sleeping child and smiled. “Keep him asleep, and if you can, can you do something about his hangover? Taking care of a child is hard, but one who is sick?” Tav shuddered. She would take care of Astarion no matter what may come, but that didn’t mean she would invite him to be sick. If she could spare him the nausea and headache of his actions, she would.

“Nothing that Lesser Restoration can’t fix.” Halsin explained and waved the magic in his hand until it turned blue. The child slept more comfortably in her arms following this.

“I don’t know if I’m cut out to be his...’mother’…” Tav said the last word apprehensively.

“Nonsense. No one is prepared for motherhood, but I am confident in you. No one knows what they’re doing at first. You just kind of wing it and make it up as you go along.” Halsin gave a warm smile and held his arms out. “why don’t you get some rest, let me handle him for a few hours. I’ll let you know when he wakes up.”

Tav thought it over for a moment and nodded. An hour nap would do her wonders, she surmised, so Tav made her way to her bunk and fell into a troubled dreamlike state.

Tav dreamt that Astarion was an adult again and was kissing her. Showing her love with gentle small touches and the endearing way his eyes would appear more rounded when he was gazing at her. He looked so vulnerable, so open and exposed in these fleeting moments. Tav didn’t realize how much she  relied on Astarion until she went a day without him. Sure, he was around, but not as she knew. Not as him.

Tav began to deepen the kiss in her dream. Astarion’s unique taste and the smell of bergamot, rosemary, and aged brandy reminded her of home. Tav didn’t smell his scent on his child-like self, so Tav didn’t realize how much she missed him, all of him. Tav felt his cool hands drift against her skin and fondle her breast. She felt his other hand begin to travel south – just like the last night they shared together.

She felt alone without him. She didn’t need him sexually, but after Cazador fell, Astarion expressed to her that he was enjoying sex again. They couldn’t keep their hands to themselves when they were alone and Tav figured he just enjoyed sharing his body with her. But it was more than that. It was deeper than just sex. They shared each other’s bodies, their hearts and souls when they made love. Astarion was always ever present and when they were one, it felt like she was on another level of intimacy with him. She was just missing the intimacy they shared. The times they were curled up in bed next to each other. The times when Astarion would kiss her forehead. When Astarion and Tav would bathe together and make weird hairstyles on each other with the soap and shampoo. Tav missed all of it.

Tav was starting to visualize more in her dream when a voice called out her name. Tav could feel like the voice was familiar but she couldn’t put a name to it. Not yet.

The voice called once more.

“Tav? Wake up.” the familiar voice began making her stir awake and the fog began to clear in her head.

“Mmm…” Tav moaned as she stretched her arms above her head. Tav slowly opened her eyes and Jaheira stood looming above her, except she looked...different.

“Take your charge before I teach him some manners!” Jaheira commented while handing over a giggling boy. Tav sat up and took him in her arms before asking Jaheira something she had on her mind. Tav noticed the boy was dressed in his clothes from the day before.

“Why is Astarion with you, and not with Halsin?”

“He had to use the bathroom and when I wasn’t looking, your charge…” Tav was happy Jaheira was saying charge instead of child “…got a pair of scissors. Now? He is lucky I don’t cut his hair like he did mine!”

It was then that Tav noticed why Jaheira looked so odd. Part of her hair on the bottom left side was significantly shorter than the rest. Tav blushed in embarrassment and looked at the boy.

“Astarion, no! We can’t touch other people or their things!”

At once, Tav regretted it because Astarion began to cry.

“What if we kill him? Withers can bring people back from the dead, yes? Why not have Withers bring him back to normal.” Lae’zel offered an idea. This prompted Astarion to cling to Tav and cry harder, scared of the green woman.

“No.” Withers interjected before Tav could react. She held the boy tighter to her and glared at the Githyanki.

“Mommy! Don’t let the bad guy hurt me!” Astarion wailed. Tav looked around to look for her stuffed owlbear, but she couldn’t find it, so she tried to sooth the child another way. She held him and kissed his forehead.

“No one is going to hurt you.” She reassured the child. Thankfully Karlach came up with Clive in hand and offered it to the child who took it, his cries subsiding into sobs

“Are you sure about letting him borrow that, Karlach?” Tav asked the red woman before her.

“Yeah, Astarion was the one who sewed him together. I figure it was fitting that he hold on to him considering the circumstance.” Karlach ruffled Astarion’s hair, who pouted, before he ran to her and hugged her which surprised Tav. She knew that Astarion had more in common with Karlach than some of the others, but she was surprised by his reaction. Then again, this was him as a carefree child. Not the adult she knew and loved.

“Hey buddy! Just the person I wanted to see!” Wyll came up to Tav from behind Karlach. “Do you want to take some sword play lessons while your…mother…” Wyll pronounced her new title tentatively. “gets some shopping done? How does that sound?”

“Yes!!!” Astarion jumped out of his seat on Tav’s lap and ran to Wyll who took him by the hand and led him away. Tav was thankful for their strange family of sorts as she got ready to go out into Baldur’s Gate. Tav got her armor on and asked Lae’zel, Jaheira and Shadowheart to come with her. She chose these three not because of their fighting abilities but rather their distaste for the child she was leaving behind. She didn’t want anything else to go wrong or for Astarion to feel like he was in danger. It took him so long to know what feeling safe meant that she didn’t want a comment from Lae’zel, for example, to jeopardize that.

Tav headed out and found herself a shop that had children’s items and clothing. She picked up a couple more sets of clothes, something else to substitute for his bed time clothes and she got a few toys to keep him occupied. Finally she left the store to head to the local general store for her grocery needs.

“I never thought I’d say this, but I actually preferred the adult version of Astarion better.” Shadowheart commented.

“I still think that killing and reviving him would work. Look what happened with the lance.” Lae’zel walked a little faster to be part of the conversation.

“Wait...what lance?” Jaheira asked.

“Nothing. We promised we wouldn’t speak about this…” Tav said through partly clenched teeth. She was not happy with the thought of the pain she forced Astarion to ensure as they retreated from a bad decision she made. It made Tav feel guilty. It made her want to make it up to him but the him that she longed for so much was now pint sized and couldn’t remember the lance. It made Tav’s chest feel tight and it made her feel a little down to realize there was a chance that Astarion may never come back to her. That she could be raising him until he grew old enough to find someone else. To live a life with Tav as his mother instead of his lover. Tav didn’t want to be his mother. Tav wanted to be something more than what they were. It was disturbing to Tav on some level that she missed and wanted to be held by a man who no longer existed. That she was caring for the child sized version of him seemed partly immoral but Tav was clear in her head that the man she wanted, that occupied her thoughts was the adult version. A man who went through trials and tribulations with their party.

Tav wanted the man she fell in love with.

Taking care of the younger version was something she did because she loved the man, but Tav didn’t think she could stay his mother if they couldn’t restore him to normal. It would be too painful for her.

Tav could only hope and pray to the gods and goddesses that Gale could figure out how to reverse the spell.

“You’re being rather quiet,” Shadowheart commented “you okay?”

Tav shook her head a moment and replied. “Yeah. I will be.” before heading into the store they were traveling to.

Tav picked up fresh fruit, vegetables, meats and a single piece of candy that Tav intended to use to bribe the child if need be. Tav knew the child couldn’t be faulted for not wanting Gale’s cooking. They were eating reheated fish heads and not even Gale could make that taste good. Tav tried not to spend money on food but in this case it couldn’t be helped. Plus Tav was sure everyone wanted her to make this trip so reheated fish heads wouldn’t find itself their supper for the fourth day in a row. Why was there so much fish on their travels but little of anything else?

Tav headed back and upon making it back into their room, she was happy that everything seemed in order. Astarion was trying hard to match Wyll who tried to train Astarion in the middle of the room. The others were either lounging or reading, not used to the lack of missions due to the situation.

“You have to parry those blows.” Wyll gently instructed as Astarion grew more frustrated with the lesson.

“I don’t wanna do this anymore.” Astarion said and looked around the room. When he saw Tav, his face beamed.

“Mommy! You’re back!” Astarion squealed, running up to Tav with his arms outstretched. He ran into Tav, hugging her the best he could while she carried a few bags into the room.

Tav put the bags on her bed and picked the little boy up, smiling warmly at him.

Astarion was brought to the bed and was handed a piece of fruit to tide him over as she gave Gale the ingredients. Tav let the boy eat before picking him up and getting him a refreshing bath. Tav dressed him in his new pajamas just in time for Gale to be finished with dinner.

Tav took her attention away from Astarion for one moment so that she could put away his clothes when a yip and a squawk got her attention. Tav turned around to find Astarion with a handful of feathers attempting to ride Scratch, who was not having it.

“Astarion! Get down! You don’t ride pets!” Tav commanded as the youngster disembarked the dog. “And where did you get all the feathers?”

“Um… Nowhere?” Astarion answered as Tav noticed their resident owlbear limped from the side, his poor behind was red and bare of all his brown soft feathers. Tav quickly went to her pack and grabbed a Potion of Animal Speak and downed the bottle in one go.

“Are you okay? I am so, so sorry.” Tav spoke to the young owlbear who whined in pain. “Here, take this.” Tav helped the creature drink a potion of healing. Tav wasnt sure if it would help the creature but she had to try. Soon, the agitated skin was no longer pink and Tav had to ask again. “Are you alright?”

“Small person hurt me for my feathers. It isn’t your fault. I’m okay now. I don’t like little person.” The owlbear said and backed up and away from Astarion.

“Astarion! That is wrong! You do not pull out his feathers and you most certainly don’t mess with the pets in any way.” Tav chastised the young man who began to cry.

“Are you okay?” Tav asked Scratch who jumped around in place.

“Yes! I’m doing fine.” Tav let Astarion cry but she felt guilty for making him so emotional. Tav had to remind herself that Astarion was punished and that this was normal.

“Look…Astarion. You can’t just do what you want. You need to behave.” Tav tried to rationalize with the child. “Think about what it was like for the owlbear if you were him?”

“I’m sorry.” Astarion lamented and ran off to his bed to lay down.

Tav sighed in frustration and brought her hand up to her face in disappointment.

Tomorrow would be a better day...wouldn’t it?

[ckret2]

Alright let’s talk GVK spoilers!!!

My reactions as best I can remember them!

- love how Kong is humanized from the very first scene, like every time he shows up he’s humanized so much more than other titans are. If that was at the expense of other titans being made likable I wouldn’t enjoy it so much, but like, Godzilla is made pretty lovable over the course of Monsterverse, Mothra is too, and all the titans featured for long are given recognizable emotions that let us see them as more intelligent and feeling than “just” animals; so all of them are made understandable/likable/sympathetic. But of them all, Kong is the only one really humanized. Which makes sense, because like, big monkey! Basically our distant cousin!

- And they kept playing, like, normal songs for him, which cracked me up.

- I really appreciated how you could SEE the titans in this movie. After all the weather effects to hide the titans in KOTM, there was such a clear difference in this one from the very start. Kong in the daylight! Godzilla makes his first attack at night, and even then you can see him much more clearly than you can for most of KOTM! Nice!

- after the Iwi were portrayed as silent stoic witnesses in Skull Island, I really appreciated that they took an Iwi character, made her a main character, and gave her dialogue and a real role to play in the story while also keeping her deaf/mute. I think that was a good way to improve on the way that the Iwi got got sidelined in the last movie while still maintaining the worldbuilding!

- I didn’t appreciate so much that, y’know, they murdered the rest of her people off-screen in order to do it. Couldn’t they have gone “her parents died so she got adopted by a Monarch agent that was close to her family, but like, the rest of her tribe is fine”? Or at the very least “their island got fucked up so they had to be evacuated but like they’re settling in somewhere else”? “They’re living under this island dome with Kong and they know what’s up and Monarch’s keeping them in the loop and they decided they’re chill with their new dome home, but this one girl likes to go on adventures with Monarch”? Something? Did we have to kill them all off? Y’all make up an entire fictional indigenous culture and then murder them off-screen when you don’t need them? Just let them live.

- a few minutes in I was like “hold on, we’ve got two characters that speak sign language, we’ve got a giant gorilla, gorillas learn sign language, is there any reason they can’t teach Kong?” and then later I was like “OOOOOH!!” Humans and titans learning how to communicate with each other has been one of my favorite themes to explore in Monsterverse fanfic so I was absolutely tickled to see it getting explored in canon, too.

- That said I think it’s hilarious that the girl managed to teach Kong to sign without, like... anybody seeing. Kong’s hands are above the tree line and there are cameras everywhere, how did NOBODY with Monarch see him signing.

- Bernie’s weaponized being an annoying coworker to such a degree it can only be called an art, and I really appreciated it.

- Godzilla’s extra chonky in this movie and I dig it. Roomie noted he was extra crocodilian and I dig that too.

- “There’s been no confirmed titan sightings in three years” I don’t buy that for a minute. They’re BIG. Rodan NESTS IN VOLCANOES. They found a MOTHRA EGG. Humans have A SCARILY WELL-FUNDED ORGANIZATION DEDICATED SOLELY TO FOLLOWING TITANS AROUND. Like, most of the lore in GVK that I don’t personally like, I can be like “eh... I can tweak it just a little bit with headcanons to make it work for me...” but NO confirmed titan sightings? You expect me to believe ALL of them moved underground when we’d previously seen them all prefer to live above ground? You expect me to believe that now that they’re all AWAKE, they learned how to HIDE?? Uh-uh. And at the end of KOTM there was stuff in the credits about using titan droppings as biofuel, obviously they’re still walking around up top! Can’t take that from me. Nope.

- Who the FUCK is Ren Serizawa and how is he related to Ishiro Serizawa? IS he related? Maybe they just dropped the surname as another “yeah this is a Godzilla movie for Godzilla fans” easter egg but I have a hard time believing that he can’t be somehow related to the other character with the Very Important Last Name who was so important in the last two Godzilla movies. If he is related I’m sure it’s been explained in a tie-in comic or the novelization or something, I’ll look it up later.

- I had to look up how much weight huge battleships can carry while writing a KOTM fic where Ghidorah hitches a ride on one, and y’all, I had to pull weird gravity-negating magic to get him to ride on that boat. Godzilla and Kong woulda sunk that boat like a rock. All I could think during that scene is “this wouldn’t work and I know that because I DID THE RESEARCH and I wasn’t even getting PAID.” I’ll choose to believe that Monarch gets special heavy duty ships designed to carry titans but nobody mentioned it because it wasn’t relevant to Kong’s journey.

- The bit where they could see where Godzilla was swimming because he’d got half a ship hooked to him that was bobbing around on the surface, didn’t Jaws do something like that with a buoy? It’s been ages since I’ve seen Jaws. Anyway good reference.

- Insert “they’re gonna need a bigger boat” joke

- I LOVED the part where they shut down all the ships to get Godzilla to leave. Both because, one, it’s a spectacular callback to KOTM’s “turn off all the guns so he knows we’re not a threat” that makes it seem like now that’s just what Monarch knows what to do to get G to chill out, and two... we know that Godzilla backs off either when he’s killed his enemy or when his enemy has yielded to him. At the end of KOTM—and the end of GVK—the act of yielding is presented as very ceremonial and uniform across species: everyone lowers anything they’ve got that could be dangerous (claws, fangs, beaks, axes) and bows to show Godzilla they’re not gonna fight. Battleships, obviously, can’t bow, but even without being inducted into whatever secret titan cultural intricacies might be going on, humans have figured out their own way to “bow” to Godzilla: cut all the power, so their ships can’t move and can’t use weapons. I know the movie presented it as “playing dead,” but c’mon, if Godzilla could hear MechaG power up from halfway around the planet then he could hear that Kong’s heart was still beating, and he’s been around enough boats to know humans can turn them off and on when they want. The humans bowed to Godzilla. He accepted that they yielded and left.

- Mark Russell looked like such a dad in this movie, like he’s retired 100% from being a rugged action hero and now he’s just Pure Dad. I like him better when he’s a dad, it’s a good development for him. He got like 3 lines and I’m like “I appreciate this character development.”

- Despite all my qualms about how conspiracy theories and extremist groups are handled in Monsterverse (and WHICH conspiracy theories they decide to reference), I really love Madison and Bernie’s dynamic. The adult man who’s the excitable wide-eyed believer in every BS conspiracy you can possibly imagine; and then the serious, severe Teenage Girl On A Mission who’s hypercompetent because she was raised for five years by a friggin doomsday cult militia; and despite having wildly different personalities they’re just, in total agreement about everything. Handled just a BIT differently (like, leaving out the more gross IRL conspiracies) they would be a wildly fun comedic duo—especially with Josh the Only Sane Man coming along as the hapless sidekick. And they all play off of each other so well! Both in a comedic sense, and in more serious moments—when Bernie talked about his wife, there was a real moment of empathy between him and Madison with very little said. I’d watch an entire movie just about the three of them. I’d watch a TV show.

- On the one hand I wasn’t too much of a fan of KOTM’s “all titans... are inherently In Tune With Nature... nature has a Balance, because that’s a Real Thing and not an anthropocentric concept to describe how we like nature to act, and they automatically restore it... because they’re like, some kinda borderline divinities or something... we should probably be worshipping them...” thing; but, now that it was totally absent in GVK, I sorta miss it. Like I feel like there needs to be a balance, a few humans who are like “i lowkey worship these dudes?” and a few others who are like “they’re cool but like, that’s a lil extreme” and that neither side be presented as Right in how they regard titans’ relationship with nature.

- “All titans come from THE HOLLOW EARTH” nah I don’t buy that it’s silly. Basically, what I object to is the idea that all titans have some sort of intrinsic similarity (they all come from the same hitherto-unknown location; they all are part of the same pack that has the same alpha; they all are fueled/fed by the same energy source; etc) rather than letting them be SEPARATE species whose only unifying traits are “they’re all big enough to fuck everything up everywhere they go” and “they’re big enough that the typically-insurmountable barriers between different biomes (mountain ranges, valleys, long distances with terrible weather) aren’t insurmountable for them, so even if they’re specialized in different environments they still all have to deal with each other pretty often.” I’ll make some exceptions for convergent evolution (i.e., claiming multiple titans developed similar traits that are relatively easy to spontaneously evolve and a prerequisite for a creature to survive at such a large size). But I can’t buy “this big gorilla has more biologically in common with this big crocodile-iguana than he does with, say, gorillas,” or most of the other “all these titans have THIS IN COMMON” claims that Monsterverse makes, including “everyone’s from hollow earth.” So I’m tossing that out the window and substituting my own headcanons. Some might’ve evolved there but some evolved on the surface. Maybe a majority of them like ducking in and out of the hollow earth like some kind of titan shortcut system. Kong’s species, I can buy, IS native to hollow earth, considering that they built a whole-ass society down there with tools and architecture.

- I’m SO curious about the little underground Kong home, the Godzilla motif in the floor, and the axe that appeared to be made with a Godzilla scute. What’s the story there??? We know Godzilla’s species and Kong’s species are ancient rivals. Is it because Kong’s species hunted Godzilla’s to steal their scutes to make weapons, seeing them as a valuable resource the way, like, early humans considered woolly mammoths a valuable resource—thus making that Godzilla on the floor equivalent to cave art of mammoths made by people who hunted them—until the Godzillas got pissed and started fighting back en masse? Or were Godzillas and Kongs already enemies when Kongs decided to start making weapons out of their corpses? Did they use to be allies, fighting together, with Godzillas voluntarily offering shed scutes and/or bones of their deceased members to Kongs, and that place used to be a shared home until they started fighting?

- What about that power source, is it something that was already there that both Kongs and Godzillas started to deliberately harvest for technology/atomic breath? Or did Godzillas automatically channel that stuff and Kongs exploited/borrowed/traded with Godzillas to utilize it too? Or is the power from Godzillas who collaboratively poured a bunch of power into the place thus that Kongs were able to use it too? I doubt Godzilla’s species CREATED all that weird energy but the question remains of whether, like, they channel it FROM underground, or naturally produce the same thing in their own bodies, or what.

- Godzilla using his atomic breath to dig a hole STRAIGHT TO KONG just to KICK HIS ASS is hilarious. How lucky that Hong Kong just HAPPENS to be straight over Kong’s house! Were all the tunnels to the hollow earth made by pissed off Godzillas who wanted to kick monkey ass??

- I loved the aesthetic of the battle scene in Hong Kong, with the brightly colored neon building outlines, VERY cool look. The choreography of the battle scene was great too, especially

- we literally broke into applause when Kong shoved the axe handle in Godzilla’s mouth. Love it, perfect callback, that was the ONE thing from the original King Kong Vs Godzilla I was hoping to see referenced and there it was.

- You could really see a difference in how Kong and Godzilla fought—Kong doing a better job at using tools and the environment, Godzilla fighting more like a reptile. They seemed to emphasize Godzilla’s more animalistic behaviors in this movie to accomplish that contrast—he was down on all fours and moving like a crocodile more often, he was clawing at Kong’s chest—but even though it seemed a bit different of a combat technique it also didn’t seem out of place compared to how he fought in prior movies. And we’ve already seen that if Godzilla’s involved in a fight and one of the combatants knows how to use the environment, it’s typically not gonna be Godzilla. (See: Ghidorah using the reflection in a building’s windows to see what’s behind him, and recognizing a nearby power source and biting it to juice himself up.)

- So many of Godzilla’s enemies seem to have specialized in negating his atomic breath in order to combat him! The MUTOs directly suppress his ability to use it—and it makes sense that that’s an inborn ability they have, since they evolved to use Godzilla’s species as prey. Kong has a weapon that both acts as a shield to absorb the breath and turn it back against Godzilla’s species—they didn’t evolve to counter Godzilla, but they developed tools once a rivalry happened. Ghidorah’s the exception—which makes sense, since he came from space—but even at that we see him using tactics specifically to take into account Godzilla’s most powerful weapon (such as keeping one head on lookout for when he starts glowing so that they know when they need to dodge).

- LOVED the reveal that MechaG was based off of Ghidorah’s brain, it has vibes of both the Kiryu Saga and the way that Heisei MechaG is based off of Mecha-King Ghidorah. Not the most surprising plot twist, since we’d theorized that they might use San to make MechaG, but I wasn’t 100% sure they were gonna go with it until they finally did. Even when I was going “huh, the mecha pilot’s chamber looks weirdly organic” I didn’t make the connection to WHY until the reveal, lol.

- “Ghidorah’s necks are so long that the heads have to communicate with each other telepathically” that’s COMPLETELY WILD but I love it, it follows very well from their prior portrayal as telepathic empaths in Heisei, it lines up with their emphasis on electricity (because BRAINWAVES AND ELECTRICITY, hey ho movie monster pseudo science!), and it very much compliments my own private headcanon that they’ve got some psychic/mind control abilities.

- The movie ended with both “Godzilla won, technically” but also “since they teamed up as equals, the ending doesn’t FEEL like ‘Godzilla wins, Kong loses’ but rather ‘they both won against a common foe’” and since I’m on both Team Godzilla and Team They Should Be Friends, I’m happy with this outcome. Plus since the last time they fought, the Japanese movie company graciously let the American monster win, so it’s only polite that the American movie company graciously let the Japanese monster win.

- There were just a few too many humans in this movie. I was intrigued by Ren but we didn’t get much out of him, but like I guess somebody had to be in the pilot’s seat other than the Apex CEO. Didn’t care for the author of the hollow earth book, I feel like his role was superfluous. Didn’t need the Apex CEO’s daughter there at all, coulda done without her. How about this, combine all three roles. Instead of having a whole-ass author who knows about the hollow earth, just casually reference that Rick from KOTM wrote a book about it since he was the expert, and (since he wasn’t in this movie) say that he tragically died going to explore the hollow earth himself, and that way we’ve got the book with the “titans are from there” theory AND an excuse to share the “humans die when they go underground” info. Now, have Ren be working for Apex as a pilot for Mechagodzilla, but have him be MechaG’s pilot because he’s also a good pilot in general, and can fly those HEAV things. Have Apex send him to Monarch to be like “hey, you guys trust me right, since I’m Ishiro Serizawa’s relative? We at Apex have heard all about your failed hollow earth expedition, and due to Ishiro I’ve got some past ties to Monarch so I’ve got high clearance with y’all, so I could bring over this useful Apex tech that’d let you go underground and use what I know about hollow earth from my past time at Monarch to help guide things.” Once they’ve got the little chunk of energy stuff and go topside, he hustles it straight to Apex and straps into his seat to run MechaG. Bam, you’ve combined “person who knows enough about hollow earth to help the expedition,” “person who represents Apex’s interests and gets the energy,” and “person who pilots MechaG” into one character, in a way that takes three flat/underdeveloped characters and turns them into a single interesting character with a lot going on and some intriguing ties to the rest of the cast.

I think that’s everything?? Hoo.

[thiswaycomessomethingwicked]

Was Napoleon a tyrant? I don't necessarily think he was: at least, I believe he was a better alternative to the absolute monarchs he was fighting. But there are those who disagree. What are your thoughts on the subject?

This is a can of worms to be sure.

I mean....how are we defining the word tyrant? All monarchs are tyrants to someone. Monarchy, by its very nature, is tyrannical in one way, shape, or form, no matter who is at its head. Even in the more neutered forms we see now days with the British. The Queen still exerts a ridiculous amount of power, all things considered.

Napoleon was no better or worse than any other monarch in Europe at that time. Indeed, better than some, worse than others. Because you know, he was human!

-

This got VERY long. SO LONG. Choice excerpts from below the cut:

"'Power was encroaching with large strides behind the words order and stability,' as Thibaudeau put it."

"(And I suspect he was concerned about seeming too eager for power/setting up a monarchical system. Fouche: You're about as subtle as a canon going off right next door. Napoleon: Hush.)"

"Theeeeeen the little bastard (affectionate) became Emperor."

"Napoleon Vs. Jeff Bezos: fight! fight! fight! (I'm putting my money on Napoleon.)"

--

tl;dr: a more or less benevolent emperor who had his faults and who was intimately aware, for better or worse, more than most monarchs, that the head is only tenuously attached to the body. (Skim to the bottom for my thoughts on the personal things i.e. how I interpret Napoleon's actions and brain)

But, more seriously, as with most absolute statements, I am opposed to calling him a tyrant because it is reductive and serves no purpose except to make broad sweeping political statements that I believe are far more about the person making the statement exemplifying their modern political, republican position (as in, actual republican-I-support-the-existence-of-republics not the gop) rather than expressing any sort of truth about the past. (wHaT iS tRuTh.)

For historical purposes, it can over-simplify the situation and lead to skewed interpretations of events because you're coming in with this word that has a lot of modern, 20th and 21st century baggage to it.

And, because these people are coming in with this big, bad word of tyrant as a label for Napoleon, it doesn't allow them to engage with the nuance and complexities of his reign.

Anyway.

Napoleon, as emperor, supported centralized power held in his own hands, with support from other governing bodies (senate, council of state etc.). However, Napoleon had a lot of influence in the structuring of these governing bodies and the subsequent appointments as a means to exert control over entities that would otherwise be able to act somewhat independent from him and impinge his power.

We see this consolidation of power beginning, obviously, under the consulate. 'Power was encroaching with large strides behind the words order and stability,' as Thibaudeau put it.

There was the whole theatre around the Tribunate offering to extend Napoleon's tenure as First Consul for another ten years as a means of thanks/showing gratitude for all he did for France (Fouche was like: fuck that, let's just make a statue of the guy). Napoleon played the part of Humble Servant of the Public and refused both statue and the ten year extension. (Very Julius Caesar: You all did see that on the Lupercal, I thrice presented him a kingly crown, which he did thrice refuse. Was this ambition?)

In actuality, though, he was pissed because he wanted it extended for life.

This resulted in the Council of State deciding "independently" (i.e. Napoleon wasn't present but he sure as hell influenced that Council session) to hold a plebiscite in order to ask The People two key questions: 'Should Napoleon Bonaparte be consul for life?' and 'Should he have the right to designate his successor?'

Napoleon nixed the second question saying to Cambaceres, 'The testament of Louis XIV was not respected, so why should mine be? A dead man has nothing to say.' Which is to say, he knew people would vote for him to be Consul for life, but the prospect of him choosing a successor, a la the Roman Empire, and having that choice be without input from the people and respected upon his death? Less clear.

(And, I suspect he was concerned about seeming too eager for power/setting up a monarchical system.

Fouche: You're about as subtle as a canon going off right next door.

Napoleon: Hush.)

For the Plebiscite, there were around 3.56 million votes for Yes to the question of Napoleon as consul for life and only around 8,300 for No.

The turnout rate was 60% which is uhh...impressive! (To be fair, there was no real evidence of tampering with the vote. Unlike in subsequent Plebiscites, such as the results for Do We Make Him Emperor, which were absolutely doctored. But, considering the highest turnout ever seen in the French Revolution was around 30/35%, double that is certainly something.)

Lafayette was pissed with this. He kicked up a fuss in the Senate and wrote to Napoleon saying that his 'restorative dictatorship' had been well and fine for now but has Napoleon thought about restoring liberty? and that he was certain Napoleon, of all people, wouldn't want an 'arbitrary regime' to be installed!

Napoleon: Bold of you to assume that, Lafayette.

There were, at this time, some mumblings and grumblings about tyranny from the liberals and those still wanting to continue the experiment of the French Republic, to be sure. They increased as time went on and Napoleon's power continued to consolidate.

Theeeeeen the little bastard (affectionate) became Emperor.

Lafayette: WhAt Is tHiS??

Napoleon: Look into my face and tell me honestly that you are shocked.

--

His government, as Consul and as Emperor, was centralized and very top-down in how it operated. Little was done without Napoleon's input.

The seemingly democratic institutions that had propped him up into power were retained and Napoleon used them as a means to facilitate his rule. As noted earlier, Napoleon had a heavy hand in appointments and the processes in place to fill various offices. Nothing was really...independent of him and his influence.

Though, in terms of Image Building of Empire, Napoleon worked hard to try and maintain the façade of impartiality as emperor. That he was head of state, sure, but all state apparatuses operated independent of him.

(Why is Napoleon's hat so big? because it is full of lies supporting the imperial image making machine.)

That said, when it came to filling those offices, Napoleon focused on merit more than anything as he wanted his governing officials to be capable, hardworking and, above all else, loyal.

(A good quote from Napoleon in one of his more Eat the Rich moments of the consulate: 'One cannot treat wealth as a title of nobility. A rich man is often a layabout without merit. A rich merchant is often only so by virtue of the art of selling expensively or stealing.'

Napoleon Vs. Jeff Bezos: fight! fight! fight!

(I'm putting my money on Napoleon.) )

--

This is getting really long and I feel that I've not addressed anything in a useful manner, but am I going to stop? No.

--

Napoleon, himself, at least in 1803, did express some conflicted views about assuming an imperial title. To Roederer he said, 'So many great things have been achieved over the past three years under the title of consul. It should be kept.'

Cambaceres said to Napoleon that upon assuming an imperial title 'your position changes and places you at odds with yourself.' No longer are you merely a public servant, an upholder of the Republic's ideals. Now you are a man wearing a crown, trying to be the upholder of the Republic's ideals.

(nb: I feel that duality is something Napoleon never fully got a handle on. He would veer strongly into authoritarian monarch then have moments of Rousseau-ian Idealism.)

Napoleon was insistent that his rule be a parliamentary monarchy (keeping the governance framework implemented in the Constitution of Year VIII, if I am not mistaken. But don't quote me on that.) and that the French were not his subjects but his people.

So, the imperial government worked thus with the Legislative process divided between four bodies:

Council of State which would draw up legislative proposals,

Tribunate which could debate on legislation but not vote on it,

a legislative body which could vote on legislation but not discuss it, and

Senate which would consider whether the proposed legislation conformed to the Constitution.

The Senate and the Legislative body could, theoretically, curtail Napoleon’s freedom/power. However, considering the fact that he was involved in the appointment process of these offices, and the general rhythm of daily governance, how much power they were able to exert over him was limited.

(This is at his height! Of course, towards the end we see a shift in that. But that's largely tied up in his military defeats and the British banging the door knocker demanding to be let in. Also they brought with them some friends. You might have heard of them? Bourbons?)

The initial terms the Senate brought to Napoleon with their offer of accepting him as a hereditary monarch included, but weren't limited to:

liberty cannot be infringed

equality cannot be jeopardized

sovereignty of the people must be maintained

the laws of the nation are inviolable

all institutions were to be free from undue imperial influence (e.g. the press)

the nation should never be put into a position where it needs to behead the head of state. Again.

Napoleon was uh. Not best pleased with this and had a new version drafted up that included acknowledgement of the sovereignty of the people, but a lot of the other things (e.g. freedom of the press) were cut out.

Yet, Napoleon maintained certain parts of the French Revolution's values which were reflected more in the 1804 Code Napoleon and other legislative and legal pieces than in the initial terms of Senatorial acceptance of his imperial title.

Some of the things enshrined in the Code that were carry-over from the Revolution include, but aren't limited to, the abolition of feudalism, equality before the law, freedom of conscience (to practice their own religion), gave fixed title to those who had bought church and émigré lands during the 1790s, and the equality of taxation was maintained (tax those aristos and the church). Also, there was affirmation of the idea of careers being "open to talent" rather than an accident of birth (as touched on above).

The Freedom of Conscience clause in the Code was a further formalization of several Articles Napoleon amended onto the Concordat in 1802. The Articles guaranteed the principle of religious toleration and made the Protestant and Jewish churches similarly subject to state authority (alongside the Catholic).

These are just a brief summary of some of the more liberal/revolution-informed aspects of Napoleon's governing.

The non-liberal ones I believe we're all pretty familiar with: suppression of the free press, roll-back of rights for women (women are for babies!), reinstatement of slavery (which he later reversed circa 1810/12-ish), top-down Emperor-has-final-word approach to ruling (Napoleon was all about Authority From Above, Trust From Below) etc. etc.

At the end of this, I would say Napoleon's empire falls into that "benevolent monarch" situation. For a given value of "benevolent." As stated at the start, he was like most other monarchs in Europe at the time. Better than some, not as great about certain things as others.

--

Really, it all ties back to Order and Stability.

Napoleon's assent, and his approach to strong, centralized ruling, was a result of uncertainty and constant government change over ten years of revolution alongside the growing belief, by 1803, that a republic like the Romans or Greeks was not going to happen any time soon. Not without constant warfare and the forever looming threat of a Bourbon restoration.

In addition, Napoleon was doing imperial drag. (If that makes sense.) He was dialing the notch of Emperor up to 11 - being the most emperor of all emperors. So, state control was absolute because he couldn't show any signs of weakness - either in his own body, his familial body, or the body of state. The court protocols were intense and over-the-top at times because he had to prove he was not just a second son of a parvenu lawyer from the sticks. No! he was worthy of this pomp. He was worthy of imperial majesty. He was worthy of the crown and scepter.

Napoleon was not raised to be anything other than a military officer and a middle-class head of a family (would have been a MASTER at doing Sunday Dad Puttering About the House). When he dawned the mantel of power, particularly that of empire, he had to make it up as he went along. For such a self-conscious and proud man, this was difficult. He never wanted to misstep and be embarrassed - on a personal level, political or military.

At the same time, he was reared on Rousseau and Revolution so still had those values and ideals imbedded in him, and those fears and memories. Napoleon knew as well as any Frenchman that a monarch's head is easily removable should it become necessary. Therefore, he sometimes ran roughshod over the liberty to ensure security. For better or worse, that was the choice he made.

--

Napoleon was a flawed leader with a complex approach to governing that was focused on a centralization of power within him while, at the same time, trying to be the Successor of the Revolution, the Roman Republic and the Roman Empire. Layers! Like an onion.

His approach as emperor really was within the realm of normal-for-the-times when compared to most other monarchs on the European stage in 1800. He also granted liberties to his people that were unheard of in other countries.

I feel like all my Napoleonic ramblings end with the same message: Dude was nuanced. Dude was complex. Dude did good things and bad things. Dude helped people and hurt people. Dude contained multitudes. Because he was simply human, at the end of the day.

--

ANNNNNNND we are done.

Gods bless all y'all who made it this far.

Have my favourite picture of Napoleon at Tuileries as a prize.

hmm that beautiful heavy, handed symbolism.

[ellsbclls]

The Fire Escape

warnings ➛ A couple of swear words here and there, mentions of death, endgame spoilers, and a dash of far from home erasure.

word count ➛ 4.7K

synopsis ➛ After the events of End Game, Peter Parker takes a break from his crime fighting persona, but when Spider-Man is called to a mission in Sokovia, he realizes that you might not be ready to handle the life of an Avenger’s girlfriend. There’s a little bit of angst, but not enough to keep you up at night.

“Y/N… Earth to Y/N.”

Peter ropes you back to reality with a light squeeze of your hand, a simple gesture that you return two-fold. On normal dates, the competition would ignite almost immediately, squeezing each other’s hands back and forth, under varying degrees of pressure, until one of you cried uncle — but this is far from a normal date.

It had started innocently enough. Peter had begged Dr.Banner to let him leave his “internship” an hour early just so he could surprise you at work. You assumed — after some superb groveling on Peter’s part — that Bruce agreed, because the end of your shift was met with a parchment wrapped dozen of blushing roses, accompanied by your equally blushing boyfriend. The two of you were able to snag one of the emptier carts on the N train, and were accompanied by a small Greek woman who sent a warm smile when you nestled your head into Peter’s shoulder. The smile disappeared as soon as he started using the poles as his personal jungle gym, but your laugh made up for its loss as he offered his hand out, begging you to join him with a Gene Kelly-esque flair. He ushered you into one of your favorite ramen places during your stroll down Ditmars, pulling out your chair when you were given a table, pretending not to notice how you snuck a noodle or two from his bowl when he wasn’t looking. Your heart felt so warm, you’re surprised it didn’t melt.

So why does everything seem so off now? You and Peter are walking side by side down 37th avenue, he’s rambling excitedly about some new enhancement he made to his web slingers, the evening breeze is kissing your cheeks as it waltzes around the autumn foliage, and somehow, you feel like you’re in the eye of a hurricane.

“Where’d you go?” Peter tries to reel you back in once more and succeeds, craning his head to meet your gaze.

“Oh, just a quick jog.” you tease. There’s a thin edge underlying your sarcasm, and you wonder if he can hear it, too. You’re only a block away from your apartment, and the tiny voice in the back of your mind rationalizes that nothing could ruin your impromptu date night if you were tucked away in your home — because you always feel safe when you’re home. Yet, with no solid evidence to confirm or deny the thought, you’re in a race with the block to dig through your purse.

“Oh, well don’t forget to warm up.” he teases back. His caramel hues, once alight with a mirthful glint, start to descend into an uneasy resolve that only confirms your suspicions, but you’re too occupied by the whereabouts of your keys to notice. “Speaking of warm up, actually, there’s something I have to ask you.”

“Shoot.” you reply offhandedly.

“Well, I- I don’t know how to say this.” The tremor in his voice is subtle, but just present enough to pull you from your search.   “There’s- uh- there’s something going on in Sokovia, or at least what’s left of it. There’s a lot of feedback coming off the maps, like a… a hotplate of cosmic activity, so Captain wants the entire team there.”

There it is — that dark cloud that hung over your head this evening finally drenches you in a sharp, cold blanket of realization. Your heart stops, aches, and then crumbles to the pit of your stomach, waiting to be washed away by the waves of terror that crash upon your airways, and despite the wash cycle of emotions you’ve just endured, you feel far from clean. In fact, everything feels heavy — from the weight of your heart to your ragged breath — paralyzed by the idea that each thump, each exhale, brings you closer to the moment where Peter has to leave.

You started dating a year and a half ago, and two years have passed since half of the population was restored to its rightful plane of existence. Iron Man’s death left a massive hole in Peter’s morale, as well as a nagging doubt that he would never be able to take on the mantle he was left with. So, for the first time since he was bitten by that radioactive spider, he cowered in the face of adversity. Not only had he lost a mentor, he had lost his friend — and when Tony Stark sacrificed his life, he was under the impression that the heroes he saved would continue to protect the world, but sometimes Peter wonders if that still reigns true. If Mr.Stark knew just how easily the team had crumbled, how easily he had crumbled, would he still leave? Three and a half years later and Peter still can’t find the answer.

Meanwhile, when it seemed like the world needed him most, Spiderman slipped into obscurity. Now he only makes an appearance when the newscast is a little too bleak to ignore, and even then, he usually sticks to the rogue bank heist or back alley mugging.

You try not to pry, knowing that each time you ask about his brief hiatus is like poking an open wound, and, albeit selfishly, you relish in the fact that your boyfriend isn’t throwing himself in harm's way. However, now seems like a better time than ever for an interrogation, seeing as this is not only the first Avengers mission he’s attended in your relationship, but the first mission to ever span past the Hudson.

No obstacle prior has conjured a looming sense of dread and anxiety as palpable as the one you’re toting now. You can already feel it bubbling in your chest, like a cauldron of endless toils, expelling a hazy fog that makes your head spin.

“Hey, hey, hey, don’t give out on me now.” You don’t realize that your knees buckled beneath you until Peter comes to your rescue, and you silently wish that all of his heroic excursions could be this simple. The warmth of his hand bleeds past your winter coat and business casual blouse as it settles against the small of your back, and your body betrays you as it melts into his touch. “Contrary to popular belief, I’m actually not CPR certified.”

“I- I’m sorry.” Your mouth is bone dry, and you can barely muster a laugh convincing enough to counter his attempt at humor, so you don’t. You opt on settling your gaze upon the entrance of your building, just over Peter’s shoulder, and trying to ground yourself enough to stand without his help.

Peter’s hand still lingers on your form when you shuffle away from him, moving from the small of your back to the curve of your elbow. He can tell that you’re shaken, he expected that much from the get go, so he doesn’t leave your side, encroaching on the space you so obviously seek.  

“I don’t know- I don’t…” You muster just enough courage to counter his gaze, and a tiny frown creases between your brows, confusion riddling every other feature. “What exactly are you asking me?”

He pauses, searching for the answer himself. “Well, I guess- I just wanna know how you’re feeling.”

You chalk it up to your sudden sense of irritability, but his question just pisses you off. How dare he throw out a semblance of hope, a faulty impression, that you’d have any choice in this matter. You climb the three steps up to the front door, dolled up in dismay, and still try to find purchase in the illusion that you have any control in the matter. Maybe that’s what pushes you over the deep end, your once honeyed voice now curdled by venom — the hopelessness of it all. “Oh, I’m fine! I’m amazing, Peter. After the way you buttered me up all evening, how could I possibly be upset?”

“Y/N, that’s not fair-” Peter’s visibly taken aback, his features mimicking your own. You can see the cogs turning in his head, formulating some way to diffuse this situation before it really begins, but now that the gates are opened, it’s too late for you to hold anything back.

“Why not? Cause it’s the truth?” You cut him off, freshly manicured nails digging into your palms in an attempt to keep your tone even. “Let me tell you what’s not fair — You don’t even know how long you’re gonna be gone, do you?”

You’re met with a mutual silence, which confirms just how equally unaware you both are.

“Exactly.” At this point, your nerves are getting the best of you. Whether you lay all of your feelings out to him tonight or not, a sickening thought will remain — Peter is going to leave, and there’s a chance he won’t come back. So you persist, your hues boring into his own with each word. “You don’t know what it’s like to sit in our bed and wonder if you’re gonna be in it the next morning. You don’t know how terrifying it is to watch the news and pray to god that you’re not a part of it. You’re never going to be in my shoes when it comes to all of this, and I pray to god that you never have to be because I never want you to feel this way. That’s what’s not fair.” You wish your voice hadn’t grown weaker with each blow, you wish you could utter your last few thoughts with an unwavering certainty, but you know you can’t — not when a sob threatens to bubble up from the back of your throat. “That you can just decide to swing across the globe and put your life in danger while I sit at home and worry about you, and the worst part is that it only makes me love you more.”

“Y/N, do you think this is easy for me?” he’s never raised his voice at you, especially not like this, but it looks like tonight is a series of firsts for the both of you. “I haven’t been on a mission with the Avengers since high school, since —” Since Mr.Stark died. You know.

It’s not like he didn’t try to say it, he did, but the name just felt so foreign on his tongue. After years of inactivity, the threat of unearthing all those memories, all those bright eyed, bushy tailed endeavors, was almost as bad as remembering that he was gone — or even worse, not remembering them at all. But where could he retreat to now? He’s stuck between a rock and a hard place, forced to choose between the thought of losing Mr.Stark, or the thought of losing you. His thoughts are raw and earnest as he tries to placate the latter. “I don’t want to leave you. It terrifies me to think of all the things that could happen to you while I’m gone —”

“Obviously it doesn’t scare you enough, because you’re still going!” You punch the last two words, as if you’re suddenly trying to talk to him from across the street.

“I don’t have a choice, Y/N! I don’t-”

Your argument skids to a screeching halt, rivaling the groan of the metal door that guards your apartment complex, and with it appears Ms.Nunez — the single mother that lives a floor below you, whose ability to juggle her graveyard shifts at the hospital with her two rambunctious toddlers is almost as impeccable as her timing.

She appears to be in a rush as she skirts past you, but not enough to stop her from sending Peter an all too knowing look — one that screams “what did you do to that poor girl?”, with only the view of your red, puffy eyes and guarded stance to back up her assumption.

And with an opportunity so golden laying at your feet, who are you to ignore it? You catch the door before it hits the frame and slip into the yellowed entryway, barreling up the stairwell before he can question her weighted stare. You leave Peter no choice but to slip past Ms.Nunez in your pursuit, without so much as a goodbye, but a few choice words still sit on the back of his tongue, waiting to be swallowed.

Normally, the five stories of stairs leaves you winded by the third, but you chalk your superhuman stamina up to adrenaline. Luckily for you, you’re able to reach the last flight of stairs as Peter climbs up the first. Unluckily for you, you seem to forget that your boyfriend actually does have superhuman stamina, and you swear to fucking god that he’s flying up the stairwell by the time you shut the door behind you.

The door slams twice more after that, one loud bang to signal Peter’s entrance and one to punctuate it. His voice pierces through the apartment, firm and unyielding. “This conversation isn’t over, Y/N.”

He has no idea where you’ve run off to, ruling out the kitchen once he drapes his jacket over the center island. All he can hear is your voice, muffled behind one of the walls, calling out to him with little emotion to spare. “Oh, yes it is. I’m over it. It’s over.”

“Well, that’s mature.” He mutters under his breath, not expecting you to hear him, let alone respond.

“Oh, I’m so glad you think so!” You chuckle dryly, ”‘Cause your judgment of maturity is oh so rational and not at all fucking batshit.” And he thought he had enhanced hearing.

“You know what? You’re right.” He scoffs, letting the slam of the bathroom door punctuate his final words. “I’m over this, too.”

🕷 🕷 🕷

“Y/N?” Peter calls out, but to no avail. It’s on nights like these where he wishes you weren’t fighting, knowing fully well that you would command him to the bed with a downward pointing finger and the best glare you could muster. You’ve always loved the way his hair curled into soft, chestnut waves, so you didn’t mind weaving through his damp tresses before he went to sleep. You would make up some excuse about how the process helped give his curls definition, and he would always end up way too tired and relaxed to call you out on it.

You’re nowhere to be found, though. Your comforter is still as haphazard as it was this morning, and the kitchen is void of your late night snack ravaging. The only sign of your presence is found in the open window next to you bed, and way the curtains float against the evening breeze, leaving him to ponder your whereabouts at a breakneck speed. 

A million visions of paranoia screen through his mind all at once, but he’s quick to dismiss them, oddly familiar with the prospect of losing someone, and all the fretting that comes with it.

And you know better than to wander the streets of the city so late at night — but with all of the venom being spewed throughout the apartment, Peter wouldn’t be surprised if you needed a small reprieve. Even for just a quick trip to the corner market. He’s well aware of the eagle eye you sport in the moonlit streets, as well as the switchblade that sits in the side pocket of your bag, but he knows better than anyone that you have to expect the unexpected in these streets.

He pulls out his phone, ready to shoot you a quick text when the bars of the fire escape let out a metallic groan. Despite your apartment’s... adequate amenities, you’d never had a problem with the fire escape. The finicky oven? Maybe, but never the fire escape.

Even without his spidey senses tingling, he has no choice but to poke his head through the window pane, and to his surprise, he ends up killing two birds with one stone.

“I didn’t know you were out here.” Peter balances on the window sill, crouching in a near feline stance as he surveys your position — bundled between the metal grates of the fire escape and your downy comforter. Your lips are parted in a tiny “o”, eyelids blanketing your hues, and with the street lights flickering to life across the seam of thirty-eighth avenue, you’re nothing short of angelic — features now outlined in a seraphic, dewy haze.

If he wasn’t feeling guilty beforehand, the sight before him guarantees he is now.

“Yeah, that was kind of the point.” you murmur. You don’t bother to open your eyes, not even when the iron beams start to squeak under Peter’s weight. “Can I help you with something? I’m pretty sure this thing has a weight limit, and this is a weighted blanket.”

You’re met with silence, and you hate to admit it, but you’d take his silent presence over your self-induced isolation any day. Despite the fact that you only moved in together four months prior, your body has grown accustomed to his presence, subconsciously weaving it into your daily routine. There were nights when you would splay out like a starfish in your childhood bedroom, waiting restlessly for the gentle wrap of his knuckles at the window pane, and that same restlessness bleeds into nights in your shared apartment,  which then bleeds into now. Sure, you can trick your body into sleeping, but rest seems to be boroughs and islands away when Peter’s not there to wish you a good night.

A terse silence settles between the two of you, and you blink up at Peter, expecting him to break it since you surely wouldn’t.

“Why here?” Peter exceeds your expectations with his query. His gaze is fixed on Manhattan’s skyline — even from the tippy top of the complex, he can still make out the jagged glittering, crust of the city’s bustling core — and it’s then he finds the answer to his very own question.

“I used to sneak onto the fire escape at my parents place, too.” you reminisce, the corners of your lips curling into a bittersweet grin. “The apartment walls were thin, and whenever they would fight, or talk shit about something I did that day, I would just sit on the fire escape until I fell asleep.”

“How?” He breaks yet another lengthy pause, and you fight the urge to chuckle at his candor, settling with a lazy grin. “I mean, no offense, but Astoria isn’t exactly a library.”

“Yeah, but inside, I knew exactly what they were saying, how they were feeling — it was all in the air. At least out here everything just… blends together. It’s kind of peaceful in a way.”

Your voice is so timid and gentle as you recall your childhood, reflecting on moments that seem lifetimes away despite the handful of years in between. Peter’s gaze is transfixed on your profile, skating down the slope of your nose and skirting the curves of your lips until he realizes just how small you are. He tends to hold you on a pedestal, a habit he’s retained since the very beginning of your relationship, so sometimes it still baffles him to know that you can be anything but perfect — that you too can be human, and make human mistakes.

“How come I’ve never seen you out here before?” He feels like a little kid, question after question slipping past his lips before he even has the chance to filter them.

“‘Cause I haven’t had a reason to hide since I moved in with you.”

And just when he thought he couldn’t feel even guiltier, he’s soon overflowing with it. It kills him to know that you felt the need to escape, and you’ll never admit it after tonight, but he was the one who pushed you toward it.

“I’m sorry.” Peter blurts out, not expecting you to say —

“I’m sorry.”

You furrow your brows, cutting him off before he can even open his mouth to protest. “I’m just so used to my Peter. Sometimes it’s hard to remember that I’m sharing him with the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.”

“Hey, hey — look at me.” His thumb traces the spot right under your eye, using his pinky to nudge the curve of your jaw upward, toward his gaze — heavy and drenched in a type of resoluteness that leaves your mouth bone dry. “It may not always seem like it, but trust me when I tell you that you’re always going to be my top priority.”

“Peter, you’re being dramatic.” You sigh, finding it hard to believe that your life could take any precedence over the safety of mankind itself.

“No, I’m being honest.” His voice, his gaze, they leave no room for protest. You feel a little awkward being the center of their attention, and so it’s a relief when they shift to the city’s skyline once more. “Look over there, you know what that is?”

“Central Park?”

“Mhm, good girl.” Crimson blooms across the valley of your cheeks at his choice of nickname, no matter how innocently he uttered it, but your attention still remains undivided. “I figured out that I can get home quicker if I cut through it.”

You quirk a brow, and he doesn’t need to ask to know exactly what you’re thinking — So what if he hasn’t figured out which trains he needs to board in order to make a dent in his homebound commute? It’s the thought that counts.

“Sometimes like to just stop for a second and watch some of the people in the park, but not in, like, a creepy way? You know what I mean?” A subtle hint of embarrassment tinges his features, but dissolves once he notices your understanding nod.  “Is there a word for that?”

“Yeah, it’s called people watching.” You snickered, trying to imagine your boyfriend and his attempts at roasting the New York natives. “MJ and I do it all the time.”

“No, but with less… shit talking.” He counters.

Ouch.

“Oh…” You’re stumped, unsure of where he’s heading and, quite frankly, a little humbled by his read. “Hmm… Carry on?”

“Well,” Peter lets his hand rest palm forward on his knee, fingers gently curled, and you’re well acquainted with the gesture. Almost instinctively, you hover your hand above his own, digits clumsily dancing with one another as he speaks, and for a fleeting second, everything is back to normal. “It’s just… mind-blowing sometimes. There’s so much life there, all at once. All of these people are just living their lives, making their way home, falling in love, falling out of love, buying overpriced hotdogs from the street vendors — The other day I saw this mom fishing her two toddlers out of that fountain on Terrace road and honestly, if they don’t end up with superpowers, I’ll be shocked.” He can tell he’s drifted wildly off track by the way you nod, slowly and unsure, as to not offend him and his train of thought. “The point is… I used to protect all of that, and it used to make me so happy.”

“You still do,” You murmur, not one to discredit the risks he does take in the name of New York. Just because his enemies aren’t held to the same caliber as, say, Thanos, doesn’t mean they aren’t worthwhile. “All that matters is that you’re doing what you can.”

You hesitantly intertwine your fingers with his, in just a delicate enough hold to let him reject it if he so chooses. Your lips softly quirk upward when he only tightens the grip.

“Thank you.” He offers a comforting smile, one that barely reaches his eyes, and you can tell that he has more to say. So, you squeeze his hand, silently urging him to continue. “Well, I just- after Mr.Stark… passed away… it was really hard to remember why I started doing all of it in the first place. Like- I hate saying this, but why do we keep protecting all of these strangers when all the people we do know just keep getting hurt?” He winces at his own words, so far removed from such bitterness that he can barely believe he once thought such selfish things. “But then- then I get to see all of the people that I’ve been protecting, and suddenly it all makes sense again. All I want to do is make sure people are safe, and happy, and hopefully… Hopefully, when we’re older, and we have kids that jump in the fountains at Central Park, someone like me will be watching… and they’ll feel the exact same way.”

When we’re older, When we have kids... Those promises of marriage, of a loving family, of a future — they bounce off your eardrums like a mantra. Soon, you can’t even imagine thinking about anything but Peter’s words, and how much you love him right now, and how you’ll love him until your heart can’t possibly take it anymore. You can read what he’s trying to portray loud and clear — He loves you, he can see a future with you, and if there’s ever a doubt in your mind that his feelings may have changed, you can look out into the world and find pieces of his heart in every passing face.

“I haven’t been doing everything I can to make sure that’s possible, though.” He breaches your lovesick trance, reminding you that there’s still a thread of discord dangling between you. One that you can see rapidly disappearing with each passing second. “I have to go on this mission, Y/N. I wanna start helping people again. I wanna do right by him.”

“I know.” You whisper, conceding to the fact that you will always want what’s best for him, even if you aren’t a fan of the circumstances. “It doesn’t make it any less sucky.”

“C’mere.” He can barely pat his thighs before you’re crawling toward him. He passes a warm hand under your thigh once you straddle his waist, scooping you further into his lap, and uses his free hand to encompass the nape of your neck. You feel like you could melt, being cradled between his strong, toned  arms, and the feeling only intensifies when his lips seek out yours. His lips are soft, and warm, and taste like listerine, and you couldn’t ask for anything more perfectly suited for you.    

“I love you.” He murmurs against your lips, without a trace of uncertainty. His thumb wipes the corner of your mouth, and he continues to plant a series of sweet, soft butterfly kisses over every patch of skin he can get his lips on — your cheeks, your nose, your temple.

He’s so wrapped up in his gentle ministrations that he barely hears you return the sentiment, eyes fluttering to a close as you breathe out, “I love you.”

“Please come inside,'' he whispers against your forehead, punctuating his plea with a chaste kiss.

You pretend to entertain the thought, tapping your index finger against your chin, before shaking your head with a waggish simper. Fortunately for you, it doesn’t take long for him to take the bait, and he disappears through the window. You can just barely make out the harmony of wild rustling and hushed obscenities coming from your room before Peter is returning to your makeshift bed, clad in the cheesy “The Floor is Lava!” hoodie you snagged from a street vendor during your trip to Pompeii the summer beforehand.

“I’m not gonna lie to you, Y/N,” Peter’s voice is tight, shuffling his knees across the fretted ground as he crawls into your lap. It takes him all of three seconds to make himself comfortable, collapsing between your thighs, and you seize the opportunity to weave your fingers through his soft, chestnut locks. “I don’t think I can make this a recurring thing. I can already feel the scoliosis forming.”

“You’re such a drama queen,” you scoff, only to be met with a scandalized set of caramel hues. “I think you can make it through the night without any permanent damage to your spine.” With droopy eyes, your body starts to hum with the tell-tale signs of sleep, and your voice drips with drowsiness as you murmur, “And I wanna savor as many nights with you as I can.”

“I know,” he whispers back, the aftertaste of guilt intermingling with the abashment that follows your sleepy confession. ”I know. I’m right here, babe.”

And he swore, in that very moment, that nothing would change that.

[justthehiddleswrites]

Destiny Has Other Plans | Loki x OC | Chapter 8

Pairing: Loki x OFC

MASTERLIST IS HERE

Summary: When Loki goes to ask his father for permission to marry, he is shocked to discover his destiny has already been made for him.  He is already betrothed to Sjofn, the daughter of the King of Vanaheim.  An arranged marriage to bring the two kingdoms closer together and strengthen the bond.  Never mind that Sjofn and Loki can’t stand each other.  

After The Battle of New York, Loki is sent to live at Avengers Tower as punishment for his misdeeds.  But it doesn’t mean he has to like it.   A year later, he has adjusted to life on Midgard but has avoided any romantic or emotional entanglements, still bitter over his lost love.  Dr. Alexis Randall is skilled at helping others fix their relationships as a couple therapist, but can’t help her own love life.  A chance encounter with Loki in a dive bar has life altering consequences for both of them.  Now, Alexis and Loki must figure out a way to co-habit without killing each other in the process, plus navigating impending parenthood and other roadblocks along the way.

This Chapter: Loki and Alexis find out just exactly what Odin has done and life for them is further complicated.

Warnings: Arranged Marriage, Forced Marriage, Pregnancy, Unplanned Pregnancy, Smut, Angst,  Semi-Public Sex, Mentions of law enforcement, Oral Sex, Cursing, Vaginal Sex

Taglists are Open, please let me know if you wish to be added.

-

“I demand to speak to Odin!” Loki commanded the guards at the doors of his old bedchambers. “At least let me see her.”

Odin had left the healing room without an explanation or another word. Soon Asgardian guards entered and escorted Loki here. And here he remained. More frustrated and confused as the seconds passed.

One guard sighed. “She is safe, Prince. You will see her soon.”

“Thank you.” His posture relaxed a bit, knowing Alexis remained safe.

Several hours passed before someone came to fetch him.

“The Allfather wishes an audience.”

Lok frowned as he pushed past the guards. “Good, because I have questions.”

They walked in silence down the opulent hallway. Loki rushed to the throne room doors as he saw Alexis pacing there, her own set of armed guards nearby.

“Darling!”

“Loki!” She ran to him. He captured her in his arms and kissed her passionately. “I don’t understand what is going on.”

Loki pulled back and cupped her face. “All that matters is that you and…” He placed his hand on her stomach. “... this little one are safe.”

“I’m scared, Loki.” Alexis’s voice cracked.

Loki pressed his forehead against her. “You have nothing to fear with me by your side.”

One guard cleared his throat. “Odin is ready to receive you.”

Loki took a deep breath, and Alexis did the same. He nodded at the guards and the doors opened. Alexis grabbed his hand and squeezed hard as they walked in. It wasn’t until they reached the front of the room that they realized Odin wasn’t alone.

“Father and—”

“Father?!” Alexis exclaimed.

Loki’s head snapped to face her. “Father?”

She pointed at the other man sitting next to Odin. “That’s my father, but he died when I was three, I only remember him in pictures. How is he even here?”

���An excellent question. Care to answer, Freyr?” Loki seethed.

“Odin…” Freyr hissed. “… you said you handled this.”

“I said I would handle it.”

“Then I suggest you do it!”

“Will someone just answer the question?!” Loki’s voice bounced off the walls.

Freyr sighed. “I am her father.”

Loki stumbled. “That would explain why my spell didn’t work. And why—”

Alexis’s shrill voice cut through everything. “WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?”

All eyes in the room turned to her. Her eyes wide in terror, clutching her baby bump. Loki reached for her, but she jerked away.

“Are you saying that I’m… I’m…”

“Vanir. Yes.” Odin finished.

Alexis’s eyes darted between everyone in the room. “No, no, no, no. I’m human! My parents died in a car crash when I was three. An aunt raised me.” She wobbled on her legs and Loki lunged to steady her.

“What have you done to her?” Loki demanded.

Freyr again glanced at Odin, who returned with a silent nod.

“When your plans failed to overthrow Odin, and he banished you to Midgard,” Loki rolled his eyes. “Sjofn believed we had cancelled your pending nuptials. And when she was told they would proceed…”

“News to me. Father.” Loki scowled at Odin.

Freyr continued. “She became hysterical. Destroying rooms in the palace, fighting guards, running away. Reckless.”

“I can’t imagine why.” Alexis sneered from Loki’s arms. “The two of you are monsters for putting a poor girl through all that. An arranged marriage.”

“Not some poor girl. You.” Freyr stared at Alexis. “Odin and I thought it best to send you away. Give you time away from everything until it was time for the wedding.”

“And take away my memories?! My powers?!”

“Not erased.” Odin offered. “Just… blocked. Tucked away until you were ready.”

“You always make it sound so congenial.” Loki stepped in front of Alexis. “As if you are doing your victim a favor. I noticed you conveniently sent her to New York, the same place you banished me.” Loki’s lips curled into a sneer.

“That was my idea.” Odin piped up, strolling down the stairs to join Freyr in front of the couple. “Let serendipity work.”

“How romantic of you.” Alexis snapped.

“I did not expect my son to be so cavalier with his manhood.”

“ENOUGH! I am not your son!” Loki bellowed. “But some pawn in your grand plan. We both are.” He pulled Alexis, Sjofn, whoever, against her. “Restore her memories and let us leave.”

“If only it were that simple.” Odin commented back. “It will take time to restore her memories.”

“Fine. Then have your guards fetch us when you are ready.” Loki grabbed Alexis’s hand and stormed out of the throne room.

He pulled her along, only to be stopped by Frigga.

“Did you know, Mother?”

Frigga folded her hands in front of her. “Only after the deed was done. And I never suspected that Alexis was Sjofn until Odin entered the healing room.”

“Well, I guess that is a minor comfort.” Loki pushed past her, dragging Alexis with him.

“Where are we going, Loki?” Alexis questioned, digging in her heels. Loki stuttered to a stop.

“To my chambers, to await Odin and Freyr’s word.” His brows furrowed.

She tugged her hand free. “I just found out my entire life is a lie. I need some time and space to process.”

Loki stepped towards her. “You’re not doubting us, are you? Odin and Freyr—”

“—will catch hell for the havoc they wrecked.” Frigga stepped. “Perhaps I can take young Alexis back to my chambers until the Allfather is ready for her.”

Loki didn’t want that. He wanted to comfort her himself. He wanted her. But one look into Alexis’s eyes and he knew having her go with Frigga was the best idea of the day.

“Thank you, Mother.”

“You are welcome, my son.” Frigga linked arms with Alexis and turned to head towards a different corridor. “Now, Alexis, is it? I imagine you are starving.” Alexis nodded. “Well, I will have some food brought up and you can tell all about how my son has been treating you on Midgard.”

Loki regretted agreeing to allow his mother to care for Alexis, but they already had disappeared down the hall towards Frigga’s chambers. He could hear the sounds of laughter echoing off the large pillars. He turned to head to his own chambers for rest and sustenance, only to run directly into the chest of his brother.

“Thor…” Loki grumbled as he stumbled backwards from the impact.

“Apologies.” Thor reached out to steady Loki. “Care for some company?”

“If it is all the same with you, I prefer solitude at this time.” Loki sidestepped Thor and continued on his way.

“What Odin did was wrong.” Thor called out. “To you and Alexis. I am sorry.”

Loki glanced back over his shoulder at Thor. “Thank you.” And then he continued on his way.

-

When no one came to get him after several hours, Loki took to pacing again, jumping at every sound. He was about ready to jump out of his skin when a guard popped his head in.

“They are ready for you in the throne room.”

Loki nodded, and the guard walked away. He took a few moments to collect himself and straighten his clothes.

“It’s Alexis, Loki. Pull yourself together.” he muttered to himself before heading out the door.

He got about halfway there when something or someone pushed him behind a pillar.

“I heard you were back, but I had to see for myself.” A familiar voice growled as small hands undid the buttons of his shirt, exposing his chest.

“What are you doing?” He tugged his shirt closed. “Who are…” His voice trailed off as he registered the fair hair. “Sigrun.”

Sigrun giggled. “Of course, it is me, silly. I always knew you would come back for me.” She pushed him back against the corridor. She kissed his lips, catching Loki off guard. “I knew you loved me.”

Sigrun’s fingers tangled in Loki’s hair and her lips crashed against his with passion. Loki struggled to push Sigrun off of him.

“I love—” Loki explained when he was cut off.

“Once a snake, always a snake.” Alexis cried, not even bothering to wipe the tears away. “I should have known.”

“ALEXIS!” Loki ran after her, catching her fingertips only to have them slip away. “I can explain.”

She didn’t stop walking or bother to turn around to acknowledge Loki. “There’s no need. You made it clear you didn’t want any emotional entanglements, and now I can see why. She seems just like your type, blond, big boobs, and no brains.” Her words shot straight to Loki’s heart.

“Things have changed, I… I…” Loki sputtered to get out the words.

Alexis stopped, her fists clenched at her sides. “You are right about that, because now I have my memories back. And I have the power to make sure you never find me and hurt me or this child ever again!”

Loki took a step towards her and Alexis spun around and flung an energy dagger at Loki, who just managed to avoid it.

“You don’t mean that. Come with me, I can explain.”

“Stay away from me, Loki. I never want to see you again!” And with that she flashed away in a column of blue light.

Loki stood in shock, staring at the spot where Alexis, Sjofn, whoever once stood.

“She is pregnant with your child?” Sigrun asked from behind the column where she had been cowering through the entire exchange between Loki and Alexis.

“Yes.” Loki’s head dropped.

“And she is the reason you have returned?” Sigrun continued.

“Yes.” Loki’s tone grew more and more terse, growing weary of Sigrun’s questions.

“And you love her?”

Loki exhaled. “Yes.”

Sigrun’s hands fiddled in front of her. “Are you terribly cross at me?”

Loki’s eyes flashed as he stalked towards her. He got right in front of her face. “Yes.”

[boredoverlord]

Bucky X Reader - Hold the Line

I came in here to show you a good time, so here's my personal work and my very first fanfiction of all time. And because I'm a thirsty bitch, of course it's smut.

Summary : As a young and talented psychologist specializing in difficult people in prison, you believed in a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to work with the SHIELD. Turned out you were tricked to work for HYDRA.

For three years they made you do horrors in the name of an ideology you despised, but you may have found the occasion to finally make a change for the good, when they introduced you to your new patient. 

The Winter Soldier.

Rating : Explicit, please kids, look away ( of course you won't because you're cute little rebels, but please do it)

Word count : 6.4k (chapter 1)

TW:   Light BDSM (for now) Because Bucky is a massive Sub and it seems nobody agrees with me, so I have to do the lord's work here.

Foul language, mention of violence and murder, Masturbation, male orgasm and a tiiiny bit of choking. I started lightly 

 Please consider reading this on Archive of our own or read it below the cut. Lemme know what you think !

Chapter 1: A Story of Almost Everything

You never were the type to brag. But one thing you know is : you’re damn good at your job. Years and years of psychology studies, you barely got to parties, you hardly made any friends, and your sleeping schedule is still a nightmare. Those were sacrifices you did for one sole purpose : helping others. To be the last resort for people who have lost everything. You always firmly believed that you could make a change in the world, even the slightest, even for just one person. That would have been enough to make your lifetime worthy. What's more noble than just a genuine try to make it better, after all ? So you wasted your youth on studies, without a damn blink. And never one ounce of regret. You did it because it felt right. You’re not very brave, but you decided to face your fear a couple of times. You even were an intern in a high security prison, talking to broken men and women who hated your guts. Trying to lead them to another path of life. You heard stories that could break any mind. Only time could tell if you actually helped them. But that’s part of the job. Hope. And hard work.

  That’s why when you started to have a growing reputation, at 26 after five years of studies and several years working in prison and rehabilitation, you were ecstatic when S.H.I.E.L.D contacted you. You quit everything, starting with your homeland in Europe, to fly to Washington DC, to visit the headquarters. The new building, the thrill of novelty, the clean rooms, the medical wing, and Alexander Pierce himself coming to shake your hand and telling you personally the wonders they have in mind for the psychology field. You could prepare people to save the world, you could have all the resources to make research, and fix minds that were supposed to be beyond repair. It was supposed to be just a quick trip, but the visit wasn’t even done when you looked at your guide with enthusiasm : you weren’t going home. Just cancel the fly. You’re taking the job immediately.   It was three years ago.

Enough to understand how fucked you are.

 You didn’t save anyone, you didn’t even work to make the world a better place. Oh but you did work to make a change. A change for HYDRA. They tortured you to make you swallow their ideology, but even if your body surrendered, your mind didn’t, even if it was still a perpetual work on yourself. You never believed in this masquerade, but you know it doesn’t matter. Because HYDRA knows how good you are at your job, and you’re a precious asset. So precious that they pushed all your buttons to make you obey. You tried to act and escape. Their last resort is the Damocles sword they put over your family’s head. Next act of rebellion, heads will roll. And it won’t be yours : no, no. HYDRA won’t give you this relief. It will be your loved ones. So you’re doing what you have to do. It’s the most cowardly choice, you know it. And you’re ashamed. But you’re too terrorised to make it otherwise. So you’re here to twist people's minds to swallow whatever Hydra wants. You make them understand the importance of the organization, when they can’t take it anymore, you make them understand that not only they can, but they must . You saw vulnerable people giving their life to this awful cause, and you are the person to make them understand it was the right thing to do. They gave you kind people with dreams, morals and passion, and you turn this into anger, hate and war, worshipping a crazy doctrine that spoils everything you believed and fought for. You have blood on your hands. You’re THAT good at your job.

 So when they called you for a highly secret mission, you weren’t exactly surprised. Just disgusted by them, and mostly yourself. In the guts of what was called the Ideal Federal Saving Bank, you’re obediently following the chef himself : Alexander Pierce, to your next place of action. “I believe you have read your mission’s order, Y/N ?” “Yes Sir.” You said. “It did mention I will have the whole file today, though. I need to take a look at my patient so I can work in proper condition.” “Whatever you call it.” He said, opening the door of the clandestine laboratory in the now abandoned bank. If not for the machinery, we could still believe that those art deco walls filled with safes would still contain treasures of a lifetime for some people. Now there is nothing of value in here, not even the very skin of every PoS present. And you were including yourself. Making your way in the middle of the heavy set up, you slowly reach the pod in the middle, chewing secretly the interior of your cheeks. You know what’s inside, and it makes you want to puke. Mr Pierce continued “Doctor, as your mission was presented to you, your one on only assignment will be the physical and mostly the psychological perfect condition of the Winter Soldier, for the entire length of this mission on american soil.” Basically, be sure his brain is a fucking slushy. You reluctantly nodded and drew closer. “What’s his condition ?” At the top of your height, barely 5’3, you tiptoed to actually look at him by the window of the cryostasis chamber, since you never got this close of a look, not without the file and basically crumbs of info that were thrown at your face. They expected you to keep a dog on a leash, not making actual work on him, and it shows. White man, late 20s to early 30s, approx 5”7, long dark messy hair, not shaved, geez, it seemed like the poor guy was barely cleaned up before being pushed here.  Good physical condition, breathing was steady. You could see the steam of his breath on the glass. He may be clinically asleep, but she highly doubted he would be in his best shape. He looked uncomfortable, and tired. It wasn’t a restorative sleep. It was a prison. You couldn’t help but notice his prosthetic arm, even if that was the only thing you knew about him. It’s a fascinating work of science, that’s for sure. And even if transhumanism and biomechanical wasn’t your forte, you wanted to have a closer look, to satisfy your curiosity. One of the scientists watching his screen responded : “He’s gently defrozing, should be half conscious in 5 minutes. You may want to take a step down.” You ignore that, and lean your hand to your superior. “May I finally have what I have been asking for ?” With the most irritating smile, he gave you the Winter Soldier’s File and you quickly opened it to have a first look at all the fuss. Basic physical information, previous missions report, date of entering and ending of cryostasis, bare minimal medical record, notes by her predecessor, fucking trigger words to make him kneel like a 12 years old in front of any boysband... nothing about his previous life, his antics, his name, actual disorders, no name, nor adresses… You glaced a bit at Pierce and threw a polite smile. He knows what he’s doing, and he knows you know. You’re extremely good with very violent patients. You have endured rapists and murderers spiting in your face and swearing to bite your head off and fucking your skull. You were traumatized and you cried yourself to sleep, but the following day you did your job again. You’re just here to handle the worst of the worst. And you’re going to do it.

Or he’s going to break your neck and fuck your skull. You’re fine with that.

“Thank you it’s going to be very helpful.” As helpful as a band-aid on a wooden leg. “What’s this device ?” You point your chin to another machine not far away from it. One of the two men finishing installing it, raised his head to look at you. “A memory suppressing machine. Usually he doesn’t need it as much as he used to, but it’s mainly for safety. He must be prepared.” “He’s in a state where he willingly takes it. So don’t hesitate if he’s starting to be annoying, or excited. That can happen. But that mean you would probably have to work more with him to make him fully ready for his mission,” “Understood, thank you for clarification gentlemen.” You smiled and they smiled back. You’re a woman, so you’re used to it. Basically this shit was supposed to hack his brain, and it must be painful. “I would strongly recommend not using it at such a time. From what I quickly read he needs stability and time. Wiping everything out will more likely create more confusion.” You took a look at the file again and took it upon yourself to not have your eyes double in size and screaming at this bunch of idiots. “... and it does seem he’s using it a lot.” 

“We want the asset to be as focused as possible.”

“I understand that, but that's a temporary solution at best. He’s got a brain, not a harddrive. We still don’t know how it can store information, and if it can…” “The last time we used him was five years ago…” Started Pierce, with diplomaty, but also with a tone that wasn’t allowing any more debate on the matter. “And this mission is an absolute priority. The asset is strictly under cryostasis procedure as soon as he’s not needed anymore. The machine will be used if needed.” “I understand your point.” You absolute psychopath. “Then my request is simply to be here if it happens, and to be able to control the shocks. Also, I insist that he must be in perfect condition when you launch the procedure, I’ll personally make it happen and give you a green light.” “Thank you for your hard work.” He said, raising his hand, that you promptly and politely shook. You could feel the angry grasp. “I know you’re the perfect woman for this hard job. Your work is an inspiration for us all.” You wish you could end your life right here right now, instead of being told such atrocities. But you think about your mom and dad. At this time of year they start to prepare the pool for the summer, for the future neighborhood barbecues where they will brag to everyone about their incredible psychiatrist daughter who is doing secret stuff over sea to help save the world. You have to be strong. At least for them. At least for now.

“Hail Hydra.”

“Hail Hydra.” You responded, while your tongue feels like sandpaper.

  “Ok he’s starting to wake up…” Someone warns, as Pierce leaves the room, unbothered. The pod opens before your eyes, as the asset -you hate this term- is being roughly handled and carried away by two dudes to his seat. The one dangerously close to the memory suppressing machine. You squatted in front of him, the time for him to blink several times and look around him. Confused, but it’s not exactly his first rodeo either. His eyes are quickly focused on the first thing in front of him : you. He looked like he was trying to remember who you are, but quickly realized he didn’t know you. Two blue spears digging right into your soul. That’s making you a bit uncomfortable. The same weird feeling of unease you have when a cat is watching you taking a shower. “Hi.” You started, in english, even if he could be from italy you had no freaking clue. You guessed that he was probably slavic. But the file says he’s speaking more than ten languages. And it wasn’t specified when and how the hell did he learn that. “Can you hear me?” He took a few more seconds to look at you, probably the time to finish reading every embarrassing moment of your life, right into your eyes, like your drunk 18th birthday when you finished in your panties swimming in a city fountain, but he nodded eventually. You actually know this look. But it’s the first time you have a super soldier in front of you so it’s of a rare intensity. He’s dissecting you. Gathering information. His eyes moved slightly down : a recent scar on your neck. Right : an ex piercing on the top of your ear, now unusable. Down left : he just realized you’re slightly unbalanced so he knows you have a hip issue. And down right : he’s looking at your hand, you don’t really know what he saw here, maybe calculating how to break them ? You were literally a foot in a viper’s nest. Were you terrified ? Absolutely. Will that forbid you to do your job ? Nope. “Can you follow the light ?” You asked, moving slowly your phone’s lamp from left to right in front of his eyes. He did it without questioning. “Ok good.” You tried a smile, not really knowing why. If he was at least a tenth as clever as the file said he was, he perfectly know that you’re here to fuck him up. But you couldn’t help it. Poor dude. He was visibly more or less your age. He could have been a prince, or thief, a womanizer, or a priest, whatever, HYDRA took everything from him. From his free will, of his right to grow old, to his sleep. “Can you tell me your name ?” He frowned, perplexed. “Winter Soldier.” Shitty answer but at least he was fully aware, and his tongue was working properly. “Nice to meet you, I’m doctor Y/N. We’re here to work together in preparation of your next assignment. Do you understand ?” He nodded, unimpressed. “Good, can you get up ?” He did, so you did it too. And he realized that you were… very short. His eyes literally went up and slooowly down. That was a bit mean, actually. You carefully took a glance behind you, and your eyeroll could probably trigger an earthquake. “Can you all nice gentlemen let down a bit of their weapon ?” You said at the 6 dudes with rifles literally fixed on him, ready to shoot at the wrong twitch of muscle. No wonder he wasn’t talkative. “You won’t say that when he will break your neck with two fingers, ‘mam.”

“He’s pretty stable for now. Plus he’s not fully awake, let’s give him time before threatening him, shall we ?”

Nobody moved for ten seconds before one of them complied, since you didn’t move. The rest of the bunch reluctantly followed . You looked at your patient, hoping that that would have made him a bit more relaxed. Nope, he didn’t give a shit. He wasn't even looking at them. He was looking at you. You’re the mystery of this room to him. But you didn’t need extra vision to understand that Docs treated him like a guinea pig, so he was very understandably extra careful with you. Standing on his feet, all his muscles ready for action,  that’s the exact moment you realized how close you two were. Indeed, if he decided to, your jaw would fly across the room in a single move. You never had such a display of sheer raw strength, and you could feel the heat of his body radiate.

 “He needs a shower, and clothings.” You said, having a look at his 5 years old combat suit still reeking the smell of his sweat. It was intoxicating. They didn’t even allow him to clean himself. Poor dude was frozen in his own filth for the last five years. And you didn’t know why you took an even deeper breath. “And I’m talking about comfy workout clothes, no combat suit. Please escort him and handle him with care, before bringing him to my office.” You actually decided to be sure he wouldn’t be mistreated, by waiting outside the man’s bathrooms. You weren’t certain of how he could react, and you didn’t trust anyone here. If one of them decided to do a piss contest with your patient, it could end badly. So you put your hands in your pockets, looking at the two armed men waiting for the most dangerous assassin in the world to finish scrubbing himself with soap. The atmosphere was heavy and the silence was loud in itself. Even the sound of the shower was stressful and menacing.

 When the Soldier was escorted to your improvised office into the archive, directly linked to a storage room that will be your bedroom for the next weeks, you let him take a seat and promptly blocked the access to the room of the two escort members. “Thank you sirs, that will be all. Please wait here.” They look at you like you just told them you were dating their daughters. “Sorry Miss, but we can’t…” “Sorry Doctor , and I can’t work properly with weapons in my office.” You raised your hand, showing your device on your wrist. Something that would not only call for aid by a simple pressure, but could stun an opponent. Neither them nor you were stupid : it wouldn’t stop The Winter Soldier, maybe he would blink a second at most. But you really wanted to be alone with him. Was he dangerous ? Yes. Were you absolutely certain that you would leave this room alive if you closed this door to their face ? No. But it’s been three years since your priority wasn’t your survival anymore. So you forced a smile and slapped the door. They needed you more than you needed them, so they will obey.

“Douchebags.” You muttered to yourself while coming back to your desk. Your patient didn’t even move a muscle at your little argument. He wasn’t totally inexpressive actually, mostly terribly broody. His hair was still wet from the shower he took, wearing cargo pants, heavy boots and hoodies, generic clothes by HYDRA. You got those too, since you’re not allowed to carry anything personal for mission to mission. You had a tablet for books, music and movies, but that was it. You haven’t opened your shelves yet, but you know it’s full of ugly clothes and generic black panties of doom. 

You took a large inspiration, sat on your desk in front of him, and started : “Ok ‘Winter Soldier’... how are you doing ?” He didn’t even flinch. He was staring into your soul with his eyes lost into dark circles. Depriving someone of proper sleep is a basic rule for brainwash. “You enjoyed the shower ?” Nothing. You waited for a bit to see if he would finally respond. Ten seconds. Twenty. fourty. a minute. When he gathered that you were actually looking for an answer, visibly a first one for him, he finally gave you the courtesy of one. “Yes.” “Perfect.” You didn’t hide your slight smile and tiled your head. “I’ll be sure you’re in your best condition for your next mission. If something’s on your mind, I need to know about it. Nothing will get out of this room. Both of our priorities are your goal, and your condition is the key to success. Which makes you , my high top priority. Do you understand me ?” “Yes.”

“Ok so let’s get going.” You took another file, and took a picture out, ready to handle it to him. “Is the name : Nicholas Fury, ringing some bells to you?” “Yes.” He took it inside his titanium fingers and finally moved his piercing blue eyes away from you to look at the picture. “In two weeks, you’ll be in Washington DC. An entire squad will be deployed to assassinate him. Fury is the leader of the S.H.I.E.L.D, not a mere target. He will break free and fight back. That will be when you’ll show up.” He wasn’t looking at the picture anymore. One thing for sure : at least he was paying attention to you, and what you were saying. And that made you actually kind of proud of yourself. “That was part one. I’ll personally supervise your training with the VR machine and your physical health and condition. I really need you to communicate with me all the time about anything that could be in your mind. The more focused you are, the more Hydra’s plan will succeed.” And what’s that plan ? You have not a single clue. You were a cog in the machine, disposable. Not much more than him. “Do you understand ?” “I understand.” Oh shit, two words this time!

“Good.” You smiled. He didn’t. You move your hands closer to him, to take a grip on the picture. He opened his prosthetic hand, leaving you to take it back. Nothing in his gesture seems dangerous. Just normal, somehow cordial. “I must ask : are you in any pain right now ?” His eyes significantly get from right to left. He must probably wonder why you are asking him that. Did nobody ever ask him such basic questions like : ‘are you in pain?’ This man's sole purpose was to fight, that made no damn sense for you.

“Sir ?” You insisted for an answer, even if the ‘sir’ sounded absolutely ridiculous to your ears. You didn’t know his name, and you don’t feel comfortable calling him “Winter Soldier” , “Soldier”, “Sir De Winter”, “Hey you,he soviet assassin” so it will be “Sir” for now. “Sir are you in pain right now ?” “I’m not in pain.” A complete sentence, that’s progress. You breathed a bit better “Ok good.” You got up from your desk, which was honestly barely taller that him remaining on his chair. He didn’t let go of your eyes and you decided to make a bold move. For now, he was always being responsive so you slowly moved your hands toward him. To his prosthetic hand. “May I take a look, please ?” You glanced at each other, nobody made the first move. In complete silence, if it wasn’t for both of your breaths. You’re almost sure that it has been at least 5 minutes since you decided to speak again. Slowly, and gently, with no signs of confrontation in your body language or speech. “I will not do it until you comply. And you can refuse the contact.” He didn’t answer right away but he finally nodded. 

Slowly, you took his hand into yours, lifting it from his thigh where it was resting. At the beginning it was just taking a look. But he wasn’t making any moves, so you decided to take your observation a little further. You used your other hands to start to move each finger separately, taking a step closer to him. Finally, you made one  of your hands slowly sliding into the hoodie, to feel the muscles, the nerves, how it feels like a real arm. It was cold, but you felt it shudder to your touch. That was the line you decided to not take it further.

“Thank you, Soldier.” You said with a smile, taking away your hands from him. You moved behind your desk, opening your notepad to take a bunch of notes, breaking the contact with him. Just a second. But when you raised your eyes again, The Winter Soldier wasn’t in sight.  

 You shuddered and didn’t make a single move. If it wasn’t for your fingers grasping your desk. You did your best to have a steady respiration and not start to panic. Your throat dried up immediately. You took a deep breath and say : “Please, get back to your seat.” You slowly moved your head to look right back at him. He was standing. His eyes were black, taking loud deep breaths, fixing your behind your shoulder. Tall. Dangerous. You were terrorised. And he could smell it. He didn’t move so you stood up as well, and slowly faced him. You try to remain in total control of your body and not start to fidget. You could scream for help, but for whatever reason, you still had the feeling you could handle the situation. Trying to convince yourself that it wasn’t the first time a patient was disobedient. The only difference was that this one could crush your skull in a bat of an eye, 

 “Get back.” You said once again, bearing his piercing eyes, but he didn’t budge. So you took out your hand and put it on his chest. You felt like an ant against a mountain, but you pushed him a bit. “We will go nowhere this way.” You resumed trying to get a step closer, even if it will be creating a proximity that could be even more lethal to you. “So please, get back to…”

Something happened. It was obvious, and clear as day : you felt the bulge between his legs. Right above your navel. Hardening even more now that he could feel your body. You decided immediately to repress the shameful feeling of your very inside warming up and tickling you. “Winter Soldier.” You growled, angry but trying your best to remain as professional as you could. Of course, of fucking course. This guy was gorged on serum and hormones, quick, violent actions, and adrenaline. Pumping in his veins, burning 24/7. His body was on the edge all the time, and he just awoke from a dreamless slumber. He was a human, whatever all these idiots were thinking, not a freakin’ cyborg. When was the last time he saw a woman that he didn’t smash the head on a wall ? You even suspected that Pierce was counting on it. Nonetheless, you were alone in an office, literally glued with the world's most dangerous assassin, who was having a massive hard-on. Throbbing against you. You had your share of very awkward situations in your short life time. But nothing, nothing prepared you for this. And you had even less of an idea of what to do because he was doing nothing . He was feeling uncomfortable, that you could say, but he wasn’t really doing any moves to attack you, or even take you. He was standing here, with heavy breathing, his eyes still piercing you. And you slowly slided your gaze to his lips, finding the vision of his hard laboured breath strangely mesmerizing.

 Short of ideas, your reflexes took the best (or the worst) of you, and without you realizing it, your hand was around his neck. Your palm pressured on his glottis, and you clearly felt him swallow. As clearly as you felt him becoming even harder. Your breath was starting to shake, as you felt a not-so subtle chill coursing your spin. You drew his face and your face closer, as you finally moved forward, forcing him to move as well. Forcing was a strong word : the last time you hit a punching bag, you hurt yourself and sobbed for an hour. But for whatever reason, he did whatever you wanted. As if he was testing your resolve to make him obey. But there was nothing on his file about this behaviour. He tried to attack, kill and escape. Nothing about testing the limits of anyone.

“You. Will. Sit. Down!” you spat, through your teeth, forcing even more your grip around his neck, as your other hand was reaching for his hair. You pulled it, not too harshly, but you could definitely smell the musk, and the wetness of what stayed of his shower.

You did it. He was sitting down again. And your bodies departed for one another. For once he tried to escape your gaze, which was a strangely human reaction. You both managed to get your breath back, before you decided to call the guard to adjourn your observation.

As soon as the door closed behind them, you felt your legs giving up and you sat on the ground, back against your desk, a small wimp leaving your throat. You felt your eyes starting to wet, and your teeth rattled a bit so you tried to cuddle yourself to try to retake control on your body. Your hands were shaking uncontrollably as his intoxicating smell was still all around you. It was by far one of the most terrifying experiences you ever felt, and it was all clouded by the phantom feeling of his body against yours. You could still feel his gaze, his heat, his… well, his cock against your belly. You were still chilling, trying to repress whatever you were feeling at this instant. Because it wasn’t right, for you. Nor him. Everyone in this godforsaken organisation was treating him like a dog, just here to attack and do tricks, but you swore to yourself not to do the same. You will succeed at your mission, but you’ll do it from the crumbs of humanity and morality that HYDRA left you. You will do anything possible that the mission will be complete, the most painless possible for this broken man you just saw. Wait a second.

Painless .

You jumped on your feet, ignoring the numbness of your legs caused by the shock, and you ran at the door, screaming at the three men at the end of the corridor. “HEY !” The guards startled a bit and looked at you “I changed my mind. Bring the Winter Soldier back to my office.” They briefly exchange what seems to be a bunch of insults about you, but they comply to bring the Soldier back. Him ? He seemed absolutely unbothered. 

You closed the door behind the both of you, to the face of the guards yet again. He was standing here, showing his back as you slowly got back in front of him. Hands in your pocket, not really sure of what to do nor how to do it. He was looking at you, this same feeling of unease than before. And for reasons : a small glance confirmed that he was still rock hard. You didn’t make any move for a long time, until you finally put your hand on his chest. You felt his breathing becoming slightly quicker. “You’re not in pain.” You whispered, and he shook his head, negatively. “That was the wrong question. I’m sorry... “ Without you noticing, you had the palm of your hand on his cheek, scrubing lightly his stubble with your thumb as an apology. You breathed in, just couldn’t believe what you were about to say. “Do you need help ?” His expression didn’t change, but his eyes ? They became a bit brighter, you could even see a bit of relief when you saw him nod.

You swiftly move your other index on his pillowy lips as you still lower your voice. “They cannot hear us.” He nodded again as the only feeling of your finger as close to his mouth made him shiver with anticipation. He was literally dying of anything that could relieve him. And for what you understood, as your conversation continued, he trusted you with his body, to provide him with the sweet touch he has been totally deprived of. You slowly push away your index to gently slide your thumb between his lips, and he sighed with pleasure as he took it with an eagerness you would never have believed possible. The most deadly assassin in the world, the legendary Winter Soldier that everyone wishes he wasn’t real, was purring while sucking your finger. If you weren’t the shrink, you’ll be needing one immediately. You gently moved him to make him sit in his chair, he was way too tall for you to handle this with ease. “What about the showers?” You asked him, as you removed your thumb to make it gently slide on his lips, your other hand crawling across his chest to his pants. He swallowed before whispering. “I could but... “ his well built square jaws started to tense, with a visible revulsion. “... They can watch.” Disgusting. He couldn’t even close the damn door of the shower. “You’re safe here.” You said as your hand was finally reaching the bulge behind his Hydra cargo pants. You didn’t know what you expected but… it was way beyond that. He hissed a bit at the feeling of your hand as you started to touch it gently over the fabric. 

Now he was panting, looking at you as you were a single oasis after years of thirst in the desert. “Please…” You heard, barely audible when he was starting to lose it. “I got you, but you have to promise me to be good.” “Anything. Please…” 

And at your very surprise, you obliged him. Using your hand to plunge into his pants, while the other fast pressed into his mouth, muffing the immediate deep moan that escaped at the very second you touched his pulsing penis. He started panting even more, as he used his flesh arm to drive you onto him. His forehead against yours. You couldn’t stop yourself from getting closer and closer. Actually you let go of his -massive- erection a second to just drop out his pants, and his breach. You stopped a second, only to watch him begging you with his eyes, as you could feel his saliva at the palm of your hand while you muzzled him. It was it. You realized what kind of power you have over this man. He has been used and abused in every single way, but for once : someone’s finally doing what he wanted. You had his pleasure in your very hands, and for once in years, you could finally help someone. So you’re gonna do it, you’re going to make him feel good. Very good. “Good boy.” You muttered, without knowing where the hell that could come from, and you reached him again. Stroking your hands up and down his shaft, nourishing yourself over the vibration of his muffled moans against your hand. His eyes weren't leaving yours, if it wasn’t for when they seemed to roll to the sky. His vision periodically blackened by the waves of forbidden pleasure he was feeling over his body, who was barely him anymore. Your eyes were gorging on the vision of his handsome muscular man, surrendering himself to your touch, sweating, trembling and panting for you. You were saluted by an utterly satisfied noise the moment you decided to lean over his manhood to drip a large amount of your own saliva moist what was already on the edge of ruin. You rolled your thumb against his tip, massage his veins with just one finger… anything to make him feel something. Anything that wasn’t pure anger, hatred or apathy. You were inclined to believe the file saying that he was nothing but a perfectly built weapon for HYDRA to command. But now, when you tickled, teased and made him shiver, and you felt all his sincere gratitude, you were certain : There is a man in here. And he was finally feeling good .

But soon, it wasn’t enough anymore. Seeing his bare thighs, powerful, thicken by years of training and super soldier serum, tensed by all the nerves and muscles deliciously answering to your call, made your inside warmed up. Your core was aching, screaming for proximity and intimacy, and before you understood what happened, you sat astride on his left thigh. The soft flesh between your legs immediately responded with delight, making you shiver. Almost instantly, you felt his grip on your hip, of the cold metal digging into your flesh with despair. It was a super soldier, with the stamina of several dozen men, but it’s been so long, and you were touching him with perfection. You felt his head on your shoulder, and slowly you started licking his temple, tasting the very fruit of your hard work : his sweat. 

Galvanized by his intoxicating smell, and the thrusting he started giving to your hand, you started to move like a snake, rocking against his skin, looking for some pressure despite the fabric of your pants, mercilessly acting like a barrier of your own pleasure. You could get it off, but it was a limit that you forbid yourself to cross. But it’s true, as you were working him, you couldn’t stop yourself to think of how this would feel. Sliding inside you. You were so very short and fragile, and compared to your hand, his phallus was gigantic. He could ruin you, split you in half, using his bare hands and make you do anything. But the only person in control here, were you. And only you. You never felt anything like this before. And it’s highly probable than neither did he. You tried to vanish the thought, but the more you could feel his thigh between yours, the more you became obsessed.

 The more he was approaching, the more eager the soldier became. Both of his hands firmly gripped on your behind, almost certain that it will leave bruises, but you didn’t care at this very moment. His grunts against your hands became more and more intense, and you started to feel he was about to give in. In between your fingers, small drips of salivas were started to escape. You couldn’t give up your grip now, so you made it even more tight, drawing your lips closer to your hands, you whispered as your sore wrist fastened its path “I’m here for you. Give everything to me.”

 His panting became incontrolable, his eyes rolled out, his head dropped back, before he finally reached his peak. You felt the deep vibration of his ultimate cry on your hand, as your other hand was dripping of hot seed. You slowly removed your other hand from his face, and could contemplate your masterpiece :  the Soldier absolutely looked like a mess, with his red face, his eyes blinking furiously, covered with his own saliva. You left his leg, both your hands dripping of his bodily fluids. You used the one that was on his lips to pick his head and forced him to look at you. You ravished your vision of this man who absolutely surrendered to your good care, deeply satisfied with your attention. You cradled his face, and you took a large lick of his spit from his chin to his mouth. Where he leaned for a wet and warm kiss. You took a good taste of him, intoxicated by whatever pheromones he could diffuse around you.

 You look at him another few seconds, before recluandly moving away, to the bathroom where you not only washed your hands, but came back with a wet towel. You first cleaned with infinite care his face, and then his genitals, making sure he wouldn’t have any kind of unpleasant sensation as he had a big day ahead of him. You were his doctor and caretaker, and he had a mission to prepare. He seemed to respond well to the cleaning, not really expressive, but he made no sudden move. You could see him sighing with ease, closing his eyes as he rubbed his cheek in your palm again, when you were caressing him with the wet towel. You could still hear a loud satisfying purr. If you didn’t specifically ask him to kill someone less that an hour ago, you would actually find this absolutely adorable.

 You breathed in and out, making sure he was okay. “Are you feeling better ?...” He nodded, visibly relaxed, as he was closing his pants but not much more expressive than before. He stood up, in front of you, like nothing happened. “Yes.” But to your surprise he added a second later. “Thank you, doctor.” You smiled at him as you couldn’t keep yourself from making your knuckles caressing his cheek, and finally tracking the shape of his jaws. “Good boy.” You heard yourself say, wondering what the fuck was wrong with you.He didn’t react. All the shivers, purring,  sighing, and moans disappeared as soon as his pants closed. It was for the best, and you quickly took your hand back, clearing your throat. You call the guards. The Winter Soldier was fully ready for his mission preparation, and you asked them to give him some time to recover from… his cryostatic, before you would start the procedure.

 In the meantime, you need a shower. A long, hot, steamy, shower. 

[mari-beau]

GIVE ME A REASON: PART FIVE -A Rogue One fanfic

I honestly don’t know this was going to take the detour it did, but hey, that’s fine. Anyway, Jyn is very confused about her attachment to Cassian, and his own messy feelings.

Also on AO3

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Title: Give Me A Reason: Part Five

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Characters: Jyn Erso POV, Cassian Andor

Pairing: Cassian/Jyn (mostly pre-ship?)

Spoilers: Rogue One; Episode IV A New Hope

Setting: Post-Rogue One AU (Cassian & Jyn live); Also during/post A New Hope

Warnings: Implied Bi!Cassian; References to Naked Times in the Shower; Characters being hot messes and confused about Feelings

Words: 3,226

Story Summary: Jyn’s entire universe has been turned on its head, so maybe she’s clinging a little too hard to the one thing she feels certain of (strangely enough) as she tries to figure out her place in the galaxy. And maybe she’s being a little overprotective of a wounded captain.

Also can be found on AO3.

The energy level in the large mess hall was an incongruous mix of highs and lows. Quite a number of people were congregated at various tables, but it wasn’t at capacity. Some groups were chattering away, with a happiness and lightness Jyn honestly couldn’t recall witnessing in anyone in a long, long time, on any planet or moon. But there were other groups, and individuals, that were quiet, lethargic, mostly just nursing cups of restorative drinks and pushing bland food around their plates. Hungover.

Jyn supposed that made sense. Either way, no one was really in a down mood. They were either still excited about the Great Victory, or suffering the consequences from being too excited about it the previous night.

Why did she feel like Cassian and herself were the mopiest pair in the entire mess hall? Yes, it was really gratifying to know that their suicide mission hadn’t been entirely in vain. They had more than succeeded, the plans had been transmitted to the rebels, and the rebels had used them to destroy the Death Star. But still… The feeling of loss weighed heavily on Jyn. And she sensed it was yet another burden laid on Cassian’s shoulders. In a vulnerable, pained moment, he’d told her that maybe it would’ve been better if she’d left him on Scarif when they’d miraculously been spared from the blastwave. And perhaps near the end there (what should’ve been the end), he’d embraced the release from his conscience as hard as he’d embraced her.

She understood. She’d felt the peace there on that beach, as well.

The thing was, she still felt it, with him. Even when filled with other confusing emotions, some of which he was the cause of, she still felt… content… even happy? Was this what happy felt like?

Well, no, maybe not this, not still half-mourning a father she’d lost decades ago but then lost again, mourning the loss of the friends she’d made in just a matter of a day but who had been truer than any others in her life, coming to terms with the guilt of leading so many on a suicide mission, which she then survived.

And Cassian had survived.

“I’ll get the food,” Jyn said after they’d found a table tucked in a corner and Cassian claimed the seat that allowed him to put his back to the wall. (Of course). Jyn would’ve chosen it herself, but she didn’t protest that she would be forced to sit with her back to the entire mess hall. He was rubbing at his leg. The memory of the surgical scars running down his hip and thigh, barely a week old, a fresh pink against olive skin, popped abruptly into her mind. She shoved them aside. “Is there anything specific you want?”

“No.” He was smiling even as he shook his head. “Beggars can’t be choosers. I’m not picky.”

“Me, neither.” Force, sometimes they were so much the same, their lives filled with the same sort of deprivation, that it hurt. It hurt to think of the little boy Cassian had been, not having a favorite food, because having food at all was something to be grateful for. Something Jyn had known herself, still knew, and would never unlearn her associated habits of eating too much (if given the opportunity) and too fast.

“I’ll be right back,” she said and headed towards the serving line.

A couple people stared as she added more than two helpings of everything to her tray, but she thought it was more out of shock over the disproportionate amount of food to her size than anger that she was maybe taking more than her share. By the time she’d collected enough to feed an entire unit of Wookies and headed back to Cassian, two humans in non-uniforms (which wasn’t uncommon for the rebels) had sat down at the table.

They were the type of people who took up more space than they needed. An amateurish attempt at intimidating others through establishing dominance. Jyn had learned to be more wary of those who drew no attention, who lurked in the shadows, who had unassuming appearances disguising a lethality the brazen could never hope to possess.

So it was really just instinct that had her assessing gaze passing over the two trying-too-hard-to-have-swagger rebels to the slight man sitting quietly in the corner. He was a killer, undeniably. But not by choice. And Jyn knew something she thought most didn’t remotely suspect; Cassian Andor was soft deep down inside. And every terrible thing he’d done tortured him. Which made him even more dangerous, especially to Jyn, who she feared may be the only one to have ever seen his vulnerability, his humanity. To everyone else, he was just some Rebel super-spy-assassin, a good little soldier.

He’d locked eyes with her, but neither of his companions had seemed to notice, instead going on about some miraculous feats of badassery during some mission or other.

“You’re in my seat,” Jyn said, interrupting the bigger of the pair mid-sentence.

The man who was easily twice her size froze, puffing himself up when he looked at her, not that he needed to with that bulk of muscle, but his first instinct was obviously to meet her firm tone with aggression. She knew the response of those who’d survived on the streets well. And even if this was no seedy back alley or dive, this was her territory. And she wasn’t going to be the one to back down.

“Am I?” Big man said.

Before Jyn could respond, Cassian’s quiet voice cut in.

“You are.”

The big man looked at the wounded captain and his entire demeanor changed. Apparently, the soldier knew Cassian for the dangerous creature he was.

After a brief moment in which the expression on Cassian’s face gave nothing away, Big Man’s attention returned to Jyn.

“Uh, sorry,” he said, vacating the chair. Setting the heavily-laden tray down, Jyn plopped into the spot opposite Casian as the big guy lumbered off to find another chair, seemingly to rejoin them. Ugh.

Jyn slid the tray across the table in front of Cassian, then dragged her chair to sit directly beside him. There was no way to lift any of the dishes off the tray without losing some of the impressive pile of food. They could share.

She reached across Cassian and grabbed some sort of bread roll and- oh, force, he smelled good, like the cleanser from the shower and freshly washed skin that was silky smooth except for the scars and- she shoved the roll in her mouth before she did something embarrassing like hop onto his lap and bury her face in his neck.

The very large rebel’s companion had remained at the table, and was staring. Yes, at Jyn, but also at Cassian, at the pair of them, at the pile of food she’d torn into but Casian was contemplating eating with an actual utensil like some sort of civilized person. And the man’s gaze dropped, but Jyn knew it wasn’t to assess her attributes, none were visible beneath the loose-fitting clothes she was wearing, Cassian’s clothes. Oh. Right.

“You must be Jyn Erso,” he said and held out a hand, which was surprisingly clean, so Jyn shoved the last bite of roll into her mouth and shook it. Firm but not too firm, and his dark brown eyes were surprisingly soft as they met her gaze, a little guarded and very curious. This one was obviously the more intelligent of the pair.

“That I am,” she said after swallowing the large piece of bread that threatened to lodge in her throat. “And you are…?”

“Oh,” he laughed self-consciously. He had a nice, easy going smile. “Sorry. Yeah. I’m Tarrek Zin.” His large friend returned with a chair. “And this is Utto.”

The giant known as Utto nodded, grunted in response, before sitting down in the chair that was obviously ill-equipped to handle his bulk. A man of even less words than the spy.

“And you’re… friends of Cassian?” she asked, trying not to appear too interested. Who were these people? Cassian didn’t have friends. Not that she’d known him all that long, but she was pretty certain the man was a resolute loner. Aside from K-2SO, who was lost to him now.

“Yes,” Tarrek said at the same time Cassian said, “No.”

She withheld her laughter because Tarrek Zin seemed genuinely a little hurt by the terse captain’s response.

“We’ve worked together before,” Cassian gave as further explanation. “They’re…”

“Freelance,” Tarrek said.

Cassian gave a little snort of laughter. “That’s one way to put it.” He took a larger bite of the mystery protein.

“Oh, what does that mean?” Now, Jyn was intrigued. They were an odd sort to find on a military base, even amongst the ragtag collection of rebels that formed the Alliance. They were both human, Jyn thought, although there could be a bit of something else in the big man, who was surprisingly not unattractive for a bruiser type, with thick brown hair and a symmetrical face with a square jaw and only a small crescent scar on one cheek. The smaller man was by no means small, taller than Cassian, well built with flawless brown skin and a friendly, appealing face with just a hint of scruff neatly trimmed into a goatee. And a charmer’s grin, which he turned on Jyn.

“We find things.”

Again, that ironic little half-laugh from Cassian, who finally looked up from the pile of food.

“They steal things,” he said, pointing his fork at them. “Don’t let Tarrek try to pretty it up. They’re nothing more than thieves.”

“So’s your girl, from what I hear,” Tarrek said. “Didn’t you all find her in Wobani, serving time for forgery and assault amongst many other crimes?”

“She’s not my girl,” Cassian said, not denying her criminal record. And Jyn would be lying if she claimed the denial that she was his girl didn’t hurt a little. Even though it shouldn’t. She wasn’t a possession. And neither was Cassian, so she could stop feeling possessive of him, as well, really-

“Then you’re a free agent?” Tarrek flashed that charming grin of his again, with an edge of mischievousness. And a bit of something else in his eyes as he lookd at Cassian. “Because with the Empire scrambling after the destruction of their favorite new toy, no one’s going to notice if some stray things get found. We could use your skills on at least a dozen different jobs I can think of…” Tarrek shot a brief glance to Jyn before returning his attention to Cassian. “And Not Your Girl for that matter.”

“I think I’ve made it very clear I will not be going on any jobs with you,” Cassian said. “Even if the Alliance thought we’d need someone with your skillset again for some reason, I’d find someone else.”

Oh, wow. That seemed a little harsh, even from the jaded captain. The hurt on Tarrek’s face was blatant, and he looked away. Jyn couldn’t help but think there was some sort of complicated history at play.

“May I…?” Utto asked, indicating the crispy poultry leg sitting near the edge of the tray, the big man oblivious to the undercurrents of the conversation.

“Uh… be my guest,” Jyn said and large, burly fingers snatched it right up. Unsurprisingly, the whole drumstick fit in the man’s mouth. He ate even faster than Jyn, chewing a bit then pulling the bare bone out, picked absolutely clean in less time than it took Cassian to cut another bite off the brick of vegetable-thing or whatever it was. Food. That’s all Jyn needed to know.

“Well, we better get going if we want to get a good seat at the ceremony, seeing as we’re not guests of honor,” Tarrek said, seeming to have recovered from the hurt feelings enough to tease. Cassian made a displeased noise but said nothing as Tarrek got to his feet and locked eyes with the rebel captain. Some sort of weird exchange passed between them, that seemed almost- “The offer always stands if you change your mind.”

“I won’t,” Cassian said, then went back to studiously eating.

Tarrek rolled his eyes but then gave Jyn a broad grin, leaning over to whisper loudly, “You think about it, too, Jyn Erso. Maybe you can convince the captain here not to throw his life away for the rebellion.”

Jyn just gave him a nod, disconcerted about the man’s extremely accurate knowledge of Cassian. Or maybe his unwavering loyalty was just that obvious.

“Let’s get out of here,” Tarrek said to his large companion, who appeared about Wookie-size when he stood up, only beefier.

Utto lingered a moment as his friend walked away, and Cassian frowned at him, that furrow forming between his brows. Jyn’s curiosity was also piqued as the moment stretched out awkwardly long, Utto’s fierce blue-grey gaze scouring Cassian’s face.

Cassian broke first, dropping his fork onto the tray with a clatter and sighing loudly.

“You have something you want to say, Utto?” he asked.

“You hurt Tarrek,” he said. “Don’t change your mind about joining us. Unless you mean it.”

“Understood,” Cassian said. “Is that all?”

“Yeah. That’s it.”

Utto glanced at Jyn, then gave Cassian another assessing look before grunting and shaking his head, then stalked off after his partner.

Cassian returned his attention to the food in front of him, like nothing had happened at all.

“What was that?” Jyn asked, her mind racing, trying to put everything she’d just witnessed into some sort of context.

“Nothing,” Cassian said. “Just two of many I’ve pissed off.”

“But they’re angry because they want you.” Jyn was pretty sure about what she’d just witnessed, albeit confusing.

“The Alliance used them to break into an Imperial facility. We were after intelligence stored there. Tarrek and Utto made out like the bandits they are by stealing the tech stored there and selling it on the black market. It was their most lucrative job ever. They still pick up odd smuggling tasks for the rebellion, but they want me to help them with more heist like that again.”

His face was closed off, but Jyn needed to know if she was right, needed for Cassian to continue to let her in, needed his trust and confidence.

“I get that,” she said, “but they want you… like physically. At least, Tarrek does.”

Cassian met her gaze, slowly closed his eyes, sighed and shook his head.

“I never should’ve kissed him.”

“Oh.” Well, that explained both the heat and the chill in Tarrek’s gaze when he looked at Cassian. Apparently, it hadn’t been just one-sided. And maybe she’d been reading Cassian’s looks, the way he touched her, all wrong. Maybe the intimacy they’d shared in the shower, naked but not uncomfortable, washing one another with tender caresses, had only held sexual undertones on her side. Maybe he wasn’t attracted to her in the same way she was to him. Maybe he- “You er… kiss males?”

“Sometimes,” he shrugged. “When it’s necessary to complete a mission.” He licked his lips. “Sometimes just because I want to.”

Jyn stared at the pile of green puree of what she hoped was a vegetable of some sort, trying to swallow down the stupid feelings clashing inside of her; jealousy and possessiveness, hurt, and even a little bit of titillation contemplating Cassian’s sexual history.

Long fingers skimmed the back of her hand and curled around hers, squeezing gently until she met those rich, dark eyes of his.

“Sometimes I kiss females, too.” He held her gaze so she resisted the urge to stare at his mouth.

“When it’s necessary to complete a mission?”

“And just because I want to.”

Did he want to? Jyn felt like he did, thought everything in the way he looked at her indicated a deep affection and need for her. But at the same time, she knew he wouldn’t, not here in a public place, not when he hadn’t even kissed her when they were alone. Not even when they were naked, standing under the spray of water, his hands buried in her hair, rinsing out the cleanser, her hands wrapped around his waist, helping to support his weight, her skin prickling with the closeness of his body, the caress of his fingers on her scalp, the feeling of his-

“We should get moving,” he said, releasing her hand to push his chair back and stand, looking only a little unsteady on his feet. “We need to find you some clothes that fit.”

“Why?” Jyn said, standing as well and brushing her hand over the front of the loose shirt. At least Cassian wasn’t an extremely large man, or else his clothes would fall right off her. As it was, she’d had to roll up the sleeves of his shirt and tuck as much as possible into the fatigues that she’d belted to cinch in at the waist, which would’ve been entirely hopeless if he wasn’t a lean man. She’d also had to roll up the hems to her ankles. She had no other option than the infirmary shoes. Okay, she looked ridiculous. But she didn’t care. The clothes smelled like Cassian and made her feel perpetually wrapped up in him.

“It’s not exactly fit for being presented to a princess.”

Cassian reached to pick up the tray, which Jyn felt a little bit of guilt for not having completely cleaned of its contents and wasting food, but there had been unforeseen interruptions. She grabbed it before he could, doubting his ability to walk and carry a laden tray a few days after major surgeries and with bones still healing. But had he said,

“Princess?! What princess?”

“Princess Leia will be hosting the ceremony.”

“Oh.” Jyn headed across the mess hall to bus the remains of their meal, perhaps moving a little too quickly for her wounded companion, a sort of panicky nervousness fluttering in her stomach as their potentially being the center of attention approached. It would be brief if they were, she tried to tell herself. The last time she’d been the center of the Alliance’s attention hadn’t gone well. Had, in point of fact, ended in a rogue suicide mission.

“You’ll be fine. She’s Bail Organa’s daughter. Sensible woman. Fierce.”

Jyn shoved the tray into the reclamation unit a little harder than necessary. “And how do you know her?”

Cassian laughed, light and genuine.

“I don’t know her, not personally.” His hand went to her shoulder, seemingly to guide her but she knew the request inherent in it and snaked her arm around his waist to let him lean a little of his weight on her. “Let’s see if we can track down your missing clothes.”

Jyn didn’t care if they couldn’t. Let the princess see her in Cassian’s clothes, let everyone think they were together. Because whether or not he kissed her, whether or not it was romantic, Cassian Andor was hers. Even if he sent her away and she never saw him again while she lived, he would always be hers.

Force, she needed to get a handle on this possessiveness. Because it owned her. He owned her.

His palm came to rest on the back of her neck as they left the mess and headed towards the storage and supply wing of the base. His thumb stroked along her nape and she leaned into him, relaxed as a Savarian cat being petted.

Dank farrik, did she ever belong to him.

[inforapound]

The Devil Inside  -  Part 3

I really meant for this to be the last chapter but it got away on me. I’m sorry. Also, please don’t date anyone who acts like Ivar. This chapter really makes me miss high-school though. 😬 It actually will be a couple of week before the finale is posted.

Pairing - Ivar and you

Warning - SMUT

The rest of the weekend was quiet and you spent it at home, declining invitations to meet up with friends. Instead, you studied, baked banana bread, and overall did as many wholesome things as you could to restore moral balance after your movie theatre shenanigans.

In truth, you felt a little sick over it, like you had been duped but what would you have even said to Ivar if he had called anyway? Thanks for the rub? Nope.

It was rare those days that your mom and dad were both home at the same time, or at all, as each traveled so much for work and you were pleased to have a family supper that Sunday night and pretend that you were still a kid.

Of course, the events of your Friday night did not leave your mind and you found yourself zoning out, remembering how Ivar had looked at the theatre and how he smelled, and what his mouth felt like on yours. God, his tongue had been inside your mouth as if wanting to taste your orgasm. More than once you had thought about his words, the part where he said “he knew that you were a good girl.”  How exactly did he know that? And if you were good, what was bad?

By Monday the entire event seemed less vivid and it was easier not to think about. But walking out of the school at lunch and seeing that black Camaro brought back that same rush of uncertainty. Was he there for you? Of course, he was, you almost rolled your eyes at yourself. He was parked right beside your car instead of his usual spot across the lot. God, you felt anxious but weren’t you also a little relieved? Shit... and where were Kim and Amanda? You needed them. As if they heard, your phone chimed but looking at your screen it was not a number you recognized.  

    : Are you going to stand there all day?

It was Ivar. Obviously. He apparently had your number after all.

Walking toward him, you were acutely aware that he was watching your every move. You could feel those cold blue eyes and because of the small size of your hands, when you got to the car, you struggled to open his car door with its stiff classic car handle. It was impossible to miss how he rolled his eyes when he leaned over to help open it from the inside. You felt stupid and awkward and by the look of him, you were already on his nerves.

“Hi,” you said meekly as you slid down into the seat.

Not saying anything back, he glanced over but continued to stare out the front window watching kids head to their cars.

It was quiet and felt strained and just… nope…. you weren’t doing it; his attitude, his sighs, and rolling eyes. Forget it. You had some self-respect and weren’t going to be ignored while sitting in his car.

“So, I was thinking... the other night,” you started and he glanced at you again, his face unreadable but the frown he often wore was there. “It was kinda crazy and I just don’t want to...”

“To what?” he snapped.

Hesitating you waited in case he was going to say more but when he didn’t you licked your lips and his bright blue eyes flicked down to catch that subtle movement. “So... I was saying,” you continued and he locked eyes with you again, “I don’t want you to think that you’ve got to follow up or, I don’t know, take me out...”

“You don’t want me here?” he cut you off again, his eyes were narrowed at you, assessing.

Oh no, you had not given enough thought to what you were trying to say. You had obviously insulted him.

“No, no,” you repeated, reaching over and putting your hand on his arm, his leather coat feeling soft. “I only meant...”

“Meant what?” his eyes narrowed further and he made a face like you had just blown salt at him.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized, shaking your head. “I’m bad at this. I only meant it feels backward, doing something so... intimate and then seeing each other and trying to... I don’t know...” you shrugged, sounding defeated.

Leaning over the console between your seats, he smirked. “Kiss me then.”

“What?” you couldn’t help but smile at his instant change in mood and you leaned back slightly to better look into his blue eyes. God, were they ever electric.

“If you’re not sure what to say, just kiss me. Everything else will come.”

Your enormous grin forced him to smile and you did, you kissed him. His hand came up and held the side of your face and it felt so amazing you sighed. You actually sighed. God, was this happening?

Pulling his lips away, he looked at you and his expression was serious but you could feel that his entire demeanor had softened. He was less on guard.

“Are you hungry? Wanna grab food?” he asked.

“Last block was home-ec; I ate everything in sight but I’ll go wherever you want so you can eat.”

Nodding, he straightened and turned the ignition; the engine firing up with a roar.

Less than five minutes on the road and you could tell where he was taking you. Driving through the gates, the impressive Tudor house came into view and he parked right in front, not saying a word as he got out and headed in, his crutch making a soft clicking sound as you trailed behind.

Inside, no one was around but you heard a TV or radio in the distance perhaps from the kitchen or that family room.

Down the hallway and into his room, you stood in the center looking around as he balanced his crutch against a hip and took off his leather coat, tossing it onto the loveseat. Flipping on music, he looked over at you and sat down on the end of his neatly made bed. You were dragging out the moment and when your eyes met his eyes, you knew, that he knew you were stalling.  

“You said you weren’t afraid of me.”

“I’m just trying to get a sense…. I don’t actually know you.”

Tipping his head to one side, he looked at you. Really looked, seeming to simultaneously analyze your appearance, your meaning, your reasons for coming, why you had let him do all those things to you. You didn’t actually know what he was thinking but that’s what it felt like. Regardless, it was clear, he held the power in the room.

“Come here,” he nodded to the bed beside him, his eyes not giving away his thoughts.

Clearing your throat, you made your way over, slowly sitting down, your hands running over your thighs to smooth out your skirt. Turning his head, he continued to look and you glanced up nervously.

“I know something about you,” he crooned, his expression a little more playful.

“What?”

“I know you are smart. Top of your class. I know you don’t go anywhere without those two chicks. I also know you dated some rugby player from Reynolds.”

“How do you know all that?” you asked your body picking up that static in the air that tended to play between you.

“Mark,” he answered matter-of-factly.

“I see,” you shifted on the bed, feeling squirmy. “I’m at a disadvantage then. I know nothing about you. Other than you have two brothers.”

“Three.”

“And that you go to Clairmont,”

“I don’t…I do school online.”

“Oh. I know that you are a good kisser,” you peeked up at him seeing how your comment brightened his face. “But that’s it.”

You weren’t sure why you couldn’t hold his eye contact but it was then that his fingers brushed back the hair hanging over your shoulder, and you stayed frozen as he pulled the collar of your white blouse aside. Slowly he leaned in closer and closer, his face reaching the crook of your neck and he pressed a kiss just below your ear. Ahhhhhh, you nearly melted as his lips continued lightly across your throat, gently sucking your skin into his mouth, making your body shiver. But you didn’t move…..

Pulling back, he looked at you and then sighed loudly.

“You’re so tense,” he breathed out. “Fine! What would you like to know?”

“Pardon?”

“You feel like you don’t know me. So… ask.” He lifted his eyebrows and shook his head like what he was saying was obvious. “I never lie.”

“Ohh-kay,” you said cautiously feeling unsure of where to start but not wanting this window to close.

“Where are your parents?” you started with the basics.

“My father is never around. Overseas working and my mom died two years ago.”

Okay, that was NOT where to start. “I’m sorry,” you turned your head and looked at him.

Swatting the air as if to move on, he gawked, impatient for you to continue.

“What do you want to do after school?”

“I don’t know.”

“Who was your last girlfriend?”

“Skip.”

“Wait you said...”

“I didn’t lie,” he cut you off. “I said skip.”

“Ohh-kay,” you replied, thinking quietly for a moment and you could tell this game was nearly done. “Do you deal drugs?”

He actually flinched and flared his nostrils, and you kept your eyes on him watching his reaction. Glancing around the room, he seemed to be steadying himself obviously hating this game.

“Weed,” he said almost bitterly. “I don’t deal drugs,” he mimicked some voice as if it was yours. “I sell weed. Nothing more than that.”

“Why?”

His head snapped over to look at you again and you could tell he was trying not to glare. God, he was not an open person.

“For the money,” you smiled, indicating you were joking, trying to lighten the mood.

“I started smoking it a couple of years ago. I went through a bad time after my mom passed. My legs were pretty bad,” he glanced over, “I have a disorder that I was on a lot of pain meds for and then the Drs gave me more shit because I was messed up over my mom. My dad basically ditched and I was not doing well. I had to quit all that shit. I knew I was heading toward a point that you can't come back from. So,” he shrugged, “I dropped the pills. Quit everything and just smoked weed.”

You were silent for a moment. “I see,” you said and it felt like the safest response.

“I started buying it in big qualities. Didn’t want to deal with small-time sellers. Didn’t know where their shit came from or what was in it. Just started selling a bit here and there and pretty quickly it paid for it. And then some.”

“Were you selling to other people who were in pain? Instead of them taking, like, pharmaceuticals?”

“Fuck no,” he scoffed. “Anyone with cash.” He rolled his eyes but it turned into a smile. “I’m done with your questions.”

With one hand, he pushed you abruptly back onto the bed.

“Ivar,” you gasped as he quickly scooped an arm around your waist and yanked you up until you were both laying on the pillows.

Meekly, you tried to resist, but he called bullshit and held your free hand back before pulling you against him and kissing you. His lips felt good, his tongue working its way into your mouth, his knee pushing between your legs. He knew exactly what he was doing pressing his thigh up against your crotch, his hand squeezing your ass, and running down the backs of your thighs.

You were going to stop him. You were. Just a few seconds more of his hot mouth, his amazing taste, and smell that flooded your head warming your body right down to your center. Oh god and the sounds he made. Small grunts like the more he kissed and touched you, the more he realized he wanted.

In one swift movement, he rolled on top, leaning on his elbows, his kisses becoming borderline rough. It was the bulge in his pants grinding against you, your hips rolling up against him that felt way too much. Way, way too much.

“Ivar,” you pulled your mouth back but he simply diverted, sucking on the side of your throat, one of his hands magically arriving at your cleavage and beginning to work on the buttons of your school shirt.

“Ivar, stop,” you said a little louder.

“What?” he asked, glancing up, managing to open two more bottoms with the flick of his fingers. How was he so good at that? Instantly, his hand was inside, squeezing and groping your breasts through your bra.

“This is too fast,” you muttered.

“Not for me,” he puffed, working his mouth back up to yours.

“Ivar, stop,” you turned your chin enough to escape him.

Letting out a resigned sigh, he tilted his head back to better focus on you.

“I don’t even know what is happening between us?” you continued sounding...well... a bit whiny.

“Don’t be childish,” he dismissed.

“I just want.... to take it slow. This is all new.”

“New?” his eyes flashed. “Not for me. I have wanted you since last the summer.”

What, you thought?! Last summer? Seven months ago? This was bewildering, you just met him.  

“I just fucking knew when I saw you,” his face grew serious, and he reached up, brushing your hair back from the side of your face.

“Knew what?”

“I just knew.”

Woah, this was overwhelming. His blue eyes were searching yours and you then understood how sincere he was being and how excoriating it was for him to be like that.

“Can I just... have a minute?”

“No,” he frowned but his features softened and he leaned down and kissed you again. It was a soft kiss, a beautiful kiss, his gorgeous lips pressing against yours, holding still as if pouring out the feeling behind what he had just shared. Dropping his head into the crook of your neck, his arms tightened around you.

“Don’t push me away, okay,” he whispered and you heard the anxiety in his voice.

It melted your heart and gave you some insight as to why he was such a weirdo. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you embraced him back.

“Why are you so.... cool with me sometimes. You’re unsure?”

Shrugging, he lifted back up to see your face but looked away, and you realized he was embarrassed.

“I don’t wanna freak you out. I can be…. a lot.”

No shit!

“Enough of your yapping,’’ he looked back and you could tell the subject had been changed.

“Ivar!” you gasped as his hand shot up your kilt, grabbing the waistband of your blue underwear.

Squirming, you latched onto his wrists to stop him but he clucked his tongue as if you were the one being naughty.

“These can fuck off,” he said yanking your underwear down your legs, slipping them off, along with your black shoes, and tossing everything onto the floor.

Narrowing his eyes at you, he looked wicked and smug and so incredibly sexy and you found yourself just watching, seeing what he’d do. Kissing you one more time, he moved down your body, nestling between your legs, and attempted to push up your kilt. Mouthing the word ‘noooo,’ your hands shot down to hold it against you.

“Move your hands!” he ordered.

“No, wait, this is crazy.”

“Move your hands or I swear to god,” he glared as if insane but it morphed into a grin. “Move your hands!” he barked, this time actually looking a little annoyed.

So, fuck it, you did. You moved your hands and he flipped up your kilt.

Oh god.

Even as your self conscientiousness began to burn, your bare box a mere five inches from his face, the glee that came over him made you laugh. But within a second, some darkness moved behind his blazing eyes and he just stared down at your pussy. Grabbing the back of your thigh, he bent your knee up, opening your legs wider.  

Oh god.

“Can we close the blinds or something? It's so bright in...”

“Shush,” he quieted you not looking up. “I want to see what I’m doing.”

Oh god.

With his free hand, he carefully spread the lips of your pussy, and you looked up to the ceiling, your cheeks hot, unable to watch. It was so weird, your legs instinctively tried to close but he clucked again, pulling them back open.

“Don’t hide from me. Ever,” he whispered and you glanced down just as he looked up at you. “Plus, you said you would go anywhere so I could eat,” he grinned wildly, looking handsome, like a total deviant.

You jumped when his fingers touched you a second time, his fierce eyes watching your face as he began running his thumb over your clit. Fucking hell, it was intense and you had never had a guy just hang out down there, staring at the details of your body. His mouth fell open alittle and you watched curiously as he spread your lips even further, rubbing that same spot that you knew was starting to swell under his soft strokes.

“Do you know how fucking perfect you are?” he asked, glancing up again, his expression looking somehow pained.  “Do you like that?” he kept staring at you, observing your reaction, his thumb gliding over and over. It felt amazing and by the way his head tilted to the side, gazing at your pussy and swearing under his breath, you knew he appreciated how wet you were getting.

“Fuck!” he rushed out loudly, “I could barely sleep last night. I was thinking about you. About kissing you. Everything at the movies. How wet your pussy was. Fuck!” he swore again. “Like it is now.”

His thumb pressed harder, and your stomach flinched making him laugh but he quickly grew serious and without breaking your gaze, he lowered his face, extending his unnaturally long tongue and swiped up the center of your folds. Jesus, it felt good and you glanced at his door noticing there was no lock.  Steadily, his fingers spread you further apart, so wide it almost hurt and he grunted, sounding very pleased, his tongue descending again and licking you, lapping you, feeling warm, circling your clit. Within a few seconds, your hips began to gently rock and your breathing became shaky.

Time was obviously not of the essence as he took his time swapping back and forth between tasting you and running his thumb over your slit and each time you twitched or shuddered, those menacing eyes were back on you, studying your reaction, seeing what made you moan.

“Please,” you heard yourself whimper and it made him chuckle.

“Please what?” he asked, clearly loving it.

“Please,” you whined as his thumb and his intermittent licks began to drive you mad. Your pussy was wide open and needing more.

“You will have to be more specific, beautiful.”

“Please,” you tipped your chin down and looked directly at him. “Make me cum, Ivar, please,” you added the ‘please’ just to make him happy and his eyes flashed.

With that his mouth dropped down to your flesh, sucking your soft layers and clit right into his mouth. He was devouring you and it was raw and wild and the carnal sounds he was making made you imagine him as some beast. The climb to your finish was fast and powerful and when you finally came, all inhibitions were gone, you bucked your pelvis and grabbed his perfect hair, grinding your cunt up against his mouth, incoherently crying out. It was messed up and you had never once felt anything like it before.

“You are so beautiful, baby,” he murmured, kissing the inside of your skin and running the palm of his hand up and down the inside of your thigh. “You are so fucking beautiful. I have wanted this for so long,” he spoke against your skin as you came down from your climax.

As you untensed and simmered, he slid back up beside you, his hand snaking inside your blouse and grabbing your boob.

“You almost made me blow in pants,” he smiled and you just gazed at him, blissed-out, taking in how dreamy he looked.

“Oh shit!” you said, lifting your head, your eyes trying to find a clock.

“What time...”

“Relax,” he tightened his hold on you. “We’ll leave in 15 minutes. Plenty of time.”

Resting your head back down, you closed your eyes loving how much larger his body was than yours and how it felt to be in his arms.

“Plenty of time for what?” you asked, opening your eyes again.

“I’m not done.”

Oh god.

Sitting up, he grabbed you, roughly flipping you onto your tummy, his body quickly covered yours and pressing you down into the bed. It was so fast and you were confused but still too spaced out to speak. Pushing your legs apart, he shifted his weight to one side and flipped up your kilt uncovering your naked ass.

“What....” you rushed out, feeling too exposed. Your bottom, the back of your you-know-what, everything just out in the open.

“Stop fighting me,” he pressed his mouth to your ear. “You have a perfect ass, by the way.”

Fidgeting you realized he was opening and pulling down his pants and panic shot through you.

“Ivar, I can’t...”

“Shush, I’m not going to have sex with you. Relax.”

What was he doing, your mind started to reel? Was he lying? Was he going to try? If you were being honest, part of you wondered if maybe you’d let him. It was crazy.

You jumped, sucking in air when his hand touched the back of your pussy, his fingers rubbing between your lips and around your entrance. As the tips of his fingers dipped inside, the sounds of his approval fired back up. Bracing for it, you were thrown off when his finger didn’t push inside but instead traveled up the crack of your ass, circling around your asshole. Your eyes bugged out at the odd sensation and it hit you what he was doing; he was using your own slick to lube you up. But for what?

“What are you doing?”

Ignoring you he lowered himself back down, his weight feeling heavy, and you felt his hard bare cock land right in the crease of your ass. His elbows settled on either side of you, boxing you in, and just as you were about to tell him to get off, his face and chin burrowed back into the side of your neck. Slowly, he rolled his hips forward, his cock sliding between your cheeks, slippery and hard and feeling so unexpected. Pulling his hips back, he rutted again and his strained breathing showed you he loving it. It was different and hot and the sound of his panting in your ear was such a turn on. Not to mention his intimidatingly large rock-hard dick, touching the back of your entrance.

“All that panic for nothing,” he grunted and you could tell he was smiling. “I just needed to feel your perfect ass.”

It felt good. It felt surprisingly good and without thought you pushed your bum up toward him, immediately making his hiss.

“That’s it, my beautiful girl,” he grunted in your ear, pumping against your behind even harder. “Your little body knows exactly what to do, doesn’t it? Fuck!” he swore as his pace picked up.

Leaning on one arm, he snaked his hand under your tummy, finding your crotch, pulling you up toward him so your butt was at a better angle. Spreading your own legs a little wider, you dug your knees into the bed, arching your back even more. He fucking loved it and made you cry out when his fingers connected with your overly sensitive clit.

“Do you know how badly I want to fuck you? Hmmm? Put my dick inside you. Your beautiful little hole?”

He was moving faster and faster, it was so slippery and wet and you felt filthy because of how much you wanted him, wishing it might just slip and jab you.

“But I’m not going to rush you. I can wait,” he kissed the side of your head, his fingers rubbing your front which was a dripping mess at this point, your own hips moving in time. Everything began to feel funny and you realized you had never, not even once, had two orgasms in a row.

“You’re so wet,” he groaned as his hips moved faster and his fingers pressed harder. His breath grew even more ragged in your ear and everything began to distort. You couldn’t tell how long you’d been under him, grinding, panting, bucking up against him, and starting to whine his name. The air felt thick and your skin felt hot and you wished you were naked instead of your kilt being bunched around you. His arm was securely under you, his fingers slipping relentlessly over your clit, his cock sliding over the back of your pushed up ass. It was all too much and, in that blur, your second organism rolled, rocking you hard and stretching on so long you weren’t clear if it was still going or you were just that sensitive. You couldn’t breathe or think or move and or even make a sound. It was Ivar, crying out into the air above you that drew you back, his hips stuttering against you hard, and then you felt it, a warm pool of cum at the top of your crack.

His body went slack and he flopped down, half on and half beside, his leg and arm still wrapped around you. Catching his breath, he brushed the hair that was sticking to your tacky forehead away to uncover your eyes and pressed a breathy kiss to your lips. You didn’t open your eyes but felt him snuggle in, your faces very close and you guessed he was looking at you.

“I want you to be that person in my life… who….” his voice dropped off as if unable to finish what he wanted to say and you thought you heard him whisper your name. “God,” he continued. “I just want to be with you. So badly.”

Woah……

----

Not once on the short ride back to school did he let go of your hand, even bringing it to his mouth and kissing the back a couple of times. If you had any mental capacity left after your two earth-shattering orgasms and his heart breaking-ly sweet admission, you would have realized that you were in shock. Was it good or bad? It was hard to tell but he was swooning over you, smitten with an entirely different warmth in his eyes.

Kissing him goodbye and swinging the door closed, you walked toward the side entrance of the school, wondering if it was possible to bruise a tail bone and seeing your two best friends, waiting. By their expressions, it was clear they wanted to talk.

Great, you thought, you had to tell them that, like it or not, Ivar Lothbrok was your boyfriend now. And despite your hesitations, you did, you liked it very much.

Next chapter

*Happy Valentines Day❤️

@youbloodymadgenius  @whenimaunicorn @ceridwenofwales   @sweeneythots @funmadnessandbadassvikings @redama @mdredwine@didiintheblog   @londongal2810 @fields-and-fields-of-poppies  @oddsnendsfanfics @youbelongeverywhere @flowers-in-your-hayr @hecohansen31 @naaladareia @gearhead66 @blonddnamedhandz @lisinfleur @geekandbooknerd @xbellaxcarolinax @edythofhastings @ivarsgoddess  @where-beauty-goes-to-die @zuxiezendler @punkrocknpearls @snatcherheart  @lordsexmachine @fuchsiagrasshopper @wilhelmyna @heavenly1927 @cececolbert​ @peachyboneless​

[mintvender]

UTOPIA [ 3 ]

Pairing: BTS x Y/N

Synopsis: Y/N L/N, the name of the current monarch of Corea. They became the ruler after successfully ending the previous king along with the dynasty as well. In their harem, countless men are present to help balance the court’s power. However, is this truly their intentions? The palace was always a place that needs to be proceeded with caution but as time goes by, recklessness would most likely outweigh it. You found yourself unable to prosper the kingdom without being too connected to it.

HaremAu!

Warning: None

Word Count: 4.1k

A/n: Finally finished part three of Utopia. Feedback are always welcome. Anyways, enjoy 🌿.

Masterlist

Focusing at the familiar sensation you were feeling on your back, you couldn’t help but let out a low groan. Satisfied with the pressure that is currently being applied, you obediently lay on the bed and let the magic occur. Combined that with the calming scent of lavender with a hint of rosemary, you couldn’t decipher whether or not if this was truly reality.

Continuing to let yourself sink into the mattress, you couldn’t help but be annoyed at the stare that you were getting.

“ A little harder on my shoulder blades?”

Feeling a heavier pressure applied to your tense shoulders, you could only sigh and not enjoy the entire experience because of a particular someone.

Despite you wanting to ignore it, luck was apparently not favouring you today. Well, you should have known that ignoring was never an option.

Hissing at a particular hard jab, you felt the pressure being lifted along with a line of apology. Little shuffles were then heard, until the person was standing a good distance away from you.

“ I… apologize?”

Scrunching your eyebrows at his tone, you were confused why he was using it. Turning your head around to meet his gaze, you offered him a curious look.

“ Do you need anything, Namjoon?”

At the mention of his name, Namjoon uncomfortably directs his gaze anywhere but you, obviously trying to avoid your questioning.

“ You seem weird today,” you commented, “ Do you perhaps have a fever?”

Quickly scanning his body, you tried to find out where the problem lies. Reaching your arm up to position it against his forehead, you tested his body temperature.

Seems normal.

While you were busy trying to come up with a potential reason, Namjoon could feel himself flushed in surprise. Stunned at what you were doing, he couldn’t help but stared at you, wide eyed.

Noticing how shocked he seemed, you removed your hand away, and chuckled.

Raising your left eyebrow, you teased, “ Why are you so stunned?”

Flinching at getting caught, Namjoon’s face continued to burn a crimson color.

“ I-I…”

Seeing how you manage to make the overly wise Namjoon speechless, you decided that it would be better to save your teasing for another day. After all, there are more important things to talk about as of now.

“ I trust that you will be more than capable of taking care of yourself,” turning around, you relax against the soft material, “ If you don’t, I don’t think that you have the ability to be by my side.”

Namjoon, a person who has been with you for years, is also a master in his own rights. Unlike Taehyung, Namjoon is well versed in the realm of medicine. Having memorized countless documents from ancient manuscripts to the most recent, Namjoon could be considered as a living medical dictionary.

With how long you have known each other, you know more than anyone how powerful Namjoon can become if he would put some effort in building his public relations. However, no one could ever be that perfect, every person has at least a flaw of their own.

“ … yes, your majesty.”

There it is again.

“ You don’t have to be so formal, Namjoon,” you reminded him, “ We, basically, have known each other for most of our lives.”

Not only has he learned many valuable information from the countless documents he had read, it had also somewhat affected his ability to be casual with others. Normally, it would only happen when he is with friends and whatnot, but never with you nor Taehyung. However, Namjoon seemed to become much more closed off the moment you guys took up your positions within the palace.

Maybe it was the difference in rank, but knowing Namjoon, he wouldn’t have cared so what’s the actual reason?

“ But, yo—“

You interrupted, “ No, I know what you are going to say… I don’t care if I am your current superior.”

Pushing yourself to your knees, you drowsily sit on the bed, still feeling the impact from earlier.

Sighing, you continued, “ Namjoon… before becoming the monarch, you were my friend first. You should know this better than anyone else, Namjoon… that our roots are intertwined.”

Hesitantly nodding at your word, Namjoon seemed to be more conflicted than before. You, this time however, waited for him to sort those feelings out himself.

The moment he called your name, you nodded and moved on, careful to not make him too uncomfortable.

Rubbing your back, you asked, “ My back is fine, right?”

“ Your back is fine. The soreness you are feeling is your body’s reaction to such an abrupt impact.”

Nodding at the reasonable answer, you reach your right hand over to your left shoulder and massage them, attempting to relieve your shoulders from its tense state.

“ Hwan is really big nowadays, she must’ve thought that she is still a puppy,” you said, finding how cute she is.

However, thinking back to earlier, your body couldn’t help but shudder at the feeling.

Groaning at the heavy weight on top of yourself, you tried to push them off but to no avail. Somewhat having an idea who this could be, you definitely have to handle it with care. If not, someone was going to be extremely mad at you.

Suddenly, you felt a chilling sensation on your left cheek, feeling a shiver wrack your body. Instinctively you brought your hand up to your cheek and wiped the substance off your skin. Wrinkling your face at the substance, you helplessly ruffled the big ball of fluff that was currently nibbling at your neck.

Purring at the feeling, it digs its head to the crevice of your neck and cuddles into you.

Normally, you would have also cuddled into the pile of fur if you were in a more private setting. However, with Taehyung screaming at someone, that scenario seemed far too out of reach, especially with you being stuck under a portable comforter.

Unable to contain your exhaustion, you let out a sigh, wondering why no one was helping you.

Am I really that cuddly? Why does everyone have to hug me today?

You flapped your arms around, silently gesturing for help which was thankfully answered by General Kim’s assistance. Lifting up the large body off you, he also assisted you on your way back to your feet.

Feeling painful pricks continuously nib at your feet, you waited for some moments to get blood to travel back to your asleep lower body.

Patting your attire to get rid of any dirty particles, you looked over to the pile of fur that was now hiding behind a certain person. You would have deceived yourself for its pitiful form if you didn’t see its excited eyes, piercing at you.

Looking up, you met the new arrival’s eyes who was awkwardly rubbing his neck, silently apologizing for his dog’s actions.

“ You should have put her on a leash!”

Taehyung, who had seemed to fully restore all his energy, was full on ranting at the person situated opposite of you, who was now pouting because of the lecture. He then looked over to you, silently sending another apology in the stead of his dog.

“ You don’t have to go that far, Tae,” you reassured him, “ Besides, Hwan didn’t hurt me. I was just taken by surprise by the abrupt greeting.”

Clapping your hands, you looked over to Hwan and signaled her to come over. While waiting for her to enter your arms, you shot Tae a soothing look, hoping to ease him up. As expected, Taehyung could only helplessly sigh and stop his ranting.

Watching your interaction with Hwan, Taehyung couldn’t help but pout. However, that was dismissed by all of you.

After having your share of exercising with Hwan, you look up and smile at the male who was proudly admiring you and Hwan the entirety of your little playtime.

Picking yourself up from your kneeled position, you walked over to the group with Hwan happily following your steps.

“ How have you been, Hoseok?” You greeted.

Smiling in return, Hoseok replied, “ I have been doing well, you’re majesty.”

Happy that he was doing alright, you threw a stick in the opposite direction, waiting for Hwan to go and retrieve it.

“ That’s good to hear. After all the mishaps within the palace, at least someone is doing well.”

“ I’m hoping that I’m not the only one,” Hoseok chuckled at your response, “ How have you been doing, your majesty?”

“ I—“

“ You definitely aren’t the only one doing well.” Taehyung interrupted, “Besides, I am sure that Y/N is doing quite well.”

Not knowing what to do, you could only shut your mouth, and tried your best to give a natural smile.

Immediately after, the atmosphere became a little too awkward for your liking.

Shooting Taehyung a glare, you silently warned him of his actions. However, not only did Taehyung not look apologetic, he even did a little ‘hmph’ to prove his point.

Lucky for you, with Hwan rushing back to the group, placing the stick in front of you, dispersing the tense atmosphere was much more achievable.

“ I’m doing fine, Hoseok,” directing your gaze to meet Hwan’s, “ Hwan is getting so big.”

As if waiting for the particular comment, Hoseok happily nodded, reaching his hand over to pet Hwan.

“ She indeed is,” Hoseok smiled, “ Though, she seemed to be a little puppy yesterday to me.”

Noticing how fond Hoseok is towards Hwan, you silently coo at how closed they were. However, that was cut short once again by the one and only Royal Consort.

“ That dog’s too big, it might even endanger your majesty’s life with its weight,” Taehyung interjected, “ Yeontan is much better.”

Normally, you would have dismissed the comparison if it was between the two of you. However, with Hoseok being here, you cannot just let him act whatever way he wants to. You knew that Taehyung did not fully intend to insult Hwan, but it was enough to offend Hoseok.

Even after your initial warning, he still decided to disobey your words.

Looks like I spoiled him too much.

Instead of repeating your previous reaction, you decided to ignore the male next to you and instead focus on who's opposite of you.

Seeing how awkward things have been, General Kim decided to intervene in an attempt to lift the tension.

“ May this servant ask the Noble Consort the reason for you being here?”

Previously nervously glancing at the bush nearby, Hoseok perked up at his title and smiled in return.

“ Originally, I did not plan to go out today,” Hoseok explained, “ However, this little rascal hasn't quiet down since last night. As a result, I figured to get some exercise while at it.”

Nodding at his response, an idea suddenly came, whooshing into General Kim’s mind.

“ If you do not mind my suggestion, your majesty,” General Kim looked over to you, “ Since the Royal Consort is training his physical body, if we were to have another person join, he would have a partner to practice with.”

Curious at what he was hinting, you urged him to elaborate.

“ To be more specific, I think that the Noble Consort would be the perfect candidate.”

Looking between the two, you contemplated at the suggestion.

Hoseok was quite agile by just how he carried himself. His moves also seemed quite sharp but with him wearing a hanbok, you can’t really figure out if it was true or not.

While you were busy thinking about the possibility, the mentioned couple were glancing at each other, too shocked to say anything. However, before Taehyung could even think about denying it, you beat him to his own game by fiercely glaring at him. Making direct eye contact with you, Taehyung couldn’t help but cowered slightly, unable to utter a witty comment. Looks like your little tiger has lost once again.

Smiling in triumph, you couldn’t help but puff your shoulders slightly, proud of winning your guys’ little game.

“ Hoseok, what do you think?,” you asked, “ Would you mind being Taehyung’s partner?”

Looking at Hoseok, you can immediately sense his nervousness and hesitation at your offer.

If you were being truthful, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to have Hoseok accompany Taehyung. However, you weren’t a pushover, you wouldn’t force Hoseok to so something he doesn’t want to. Though, you still hope he accepts your offer.

“... I would be more than happy to do so,” Hoseok said, “ However, would the Royal Consort not mind my presence?”

“ Of co—“

Before Taehyung could reject the idea, you interrupted, “ No, Taehyung definitely would not mine. Am I correct, Taehyung?”

Shivering at your tone, Taehyung immediately nodded.

Satisfied with his response, you happily entrust Taehyung’s training to General Kim and Hoseok.

“ Then I’ll entrust Taehyung to the both of you,” you said.

“ Of course, your majesty.”

“ … Yes, your majesty.”

At the tone of Hoseok’s tone, you were reminded of a certain etiquette used specifically within the palace.

Pretending to be oblivious to his tone, you looked at him, confused.

“ Do… you perhaps need anything, Hoseok?”

Hoseok, realizing that he got caught red-headed, could only sheepishly nod his head.

As expected, you had to fulfill a request of his for the time he would spend with Taehyung.

Although the palace could sometimes be considered to be quite mysterious, whenever it comes to favour, there is no grey space, only black and white. If you have asked a person for a favour, expect that person to do exactly the same to you when they need it. That’s the basic rules that all need to understand when entering the palace.

If not, it’s easier to die than to live within the palace walls.

Knowing this, you had to grant Hoseok one of his requests. Though, until now, you could tell that he is not a malicious person, but it’s better to be extra cautious now that you are always the center of attention.

“ Tell me.”

Not meeting your gaze, your mind immediately branches out to various possibilities.

Maybe he wants me to get him something? Or maybe to grant Minister Jung an audience with me… Maybe he … wants a divorce.

Somehow, your heart unexpectedly tightens at the thought of Hoseok leaving. With just a few months of knowing him, you have grown quite fond of his bright personality. However, your expression still remains composed as you wait for Hoseok’s reply.

“ I would like to go outside.”

“ Hmm?”

Surprised, no shocked at his utterly humble request, you couldn’t help but let out a confused expression. You understand that this man is not like others but how is he so innocent to ask for such a thing?

Seeing your unresponsive state, Hoseok couldn’t help but be uncertain at his request, thinking that it might be too much. As a consort who serves the monarch, he technically can’t have any public relations outside of the palace so he understood that his request was quite absurd. However, he had seen the Royal Consort leave the palace a few times so he figured that it would be alright, but does have to ask for your permission first.

“ You want to go outside?”

Directing his gaze to the voice’s direction, he nodded, confirming Taehyung’s question.

“ Hoseok… you do know that you could go out whenever you want right?” You asked, “ Or was there any misunderstanding that I have yet to catch on to?”

Immediately shaking his head in response to your question, “ No, you did say that but I figured that it was only … out of politeness... I’m sorry.”

You gently waved your hand, dismissing his apologies, “ No it’s fine. If you want to go outside, then go ahead. I don’t restrict people from those types of things.”

Hoseok happily yet hesitantly nodded and thanked you. Somehow, the way you had phrased that particular sentence sounded quite off to him. However, Hoseok ignored it and thanked you for your kindness.

Nodding at his response, it seemed like the perfect time to end the conversation. And with that you went back to caressing Hwan’s soft fur.

Unfortunately, that memory was cut shorter and more abruptly than you would have liked to admit.

“ Y/N? Are you listening to me?”

Flinching at the mention of your name, you were snapped back to reality with Namjoon yelling your name.

“ I apologized. What were you saying?”

Knowing how your mind tends to drift away whenever you just experienced a dramatic scene, all Namjoon could do was helplessly sigh and restart.

“ It’s alright,” he said, turning back to what he was doing, “ This is a combination of lavender and chamomile which would help relax your nervous and digestive system.”

After he had finished combining the two scents, Namjoon makes his way to the chair nearby, settling down on it. Picking up the book on the little table nearby, he gently flipped through the pages to where he previously was.

On the other hand, you have once again lie down on the mattress, your muscles silently aching at every movement you do. Ignoring the pained feeling, you take a moment to inhale the air within the room, noticing how the fragrance was indeed different from the previous one and slowly relaxes your body.

“ You know what Hoseok asked me today in return for being Taehyung’s partner?”

“ The Noble Consort?” Namjoon questioned.

“ Mhm… he asked me to allow him to go outside.”

In response to your comment, Namjoon hummed in interest while still focused on the content of the book.

“ Hoseok, that child, sometimes reminds me of Taehyung,” you said, “ Although they have similar personalities, each of them still shine in their own way. While Taehyung is bubbly and cheeky, Hoseok is … quite innocent when you get close to him.”

“ Innocent and a child? The Noble Consort is only a year younger than you,” Namjoon replied, “ More than that, he is turning twenty-three this year.”

Rolling your eyes at his sarcastic response, you continued to breathe in the calming scent, continuing to feel your body relaxing.

Now that he mentioned that, most of the people that are within your inner circle are quite similar to you in age, with the exception of a few. Maybe it’s because all of you are so young that you guys have bonded through your high ambitions. However, even if they were to be in your age group, they still have to have similar roots as you.

So how did these people manage to befriend me when it has only been 3 months?

Deciding to dismiss the question and postpone to another day, you answered, “ I understand that Hoseok is the same age as you and is an adult. However, the way he carries himself just reminds me of a curious child, especially whenever we talk in depth about a particular subject.”

No, more like a curious child who has been deprived of the most basic education about the way of life.

Somehow, Namjoon found himself nodding in agreement with your observation.

“ Also, with how often he smiles, and so brightly even, just proves the point of how much innocence he has,” you added.

Sometimes, you envy how positive Hoseok is in any situation. Just having a genuine smile in a tense situation can brighten the entire room up. However, not many can be as positive as that.

“ He might seem innocent to you but why would a noble, who has spent his entire existence bathing in riches would suddenly go out to the dirty streets?”

Thinking about what Namjoon just said, it really truly doesn’t make sense. Hoseok, who can have all the things he wants in the world yet still remains to be so innocent and humble. How unbelievable it sounds.

Is this really the real him?

“ I’ll send someone to investigate him further,” you said, sitting up, “ They found almost nothing suspicious about him during the first round of inspection. Maybe, he is hiding something much deeper…”

“... or is working as a spy for Minister Jung within the harem.”

You nodded, expression sharpened at the possible thought. It was a possibility that you have already thought of but ultimately dismissed it after the initial investigation. However, it seems like you should be diving deeper, much deeper. In any case, preventing the worst possible outcome should always be the top priority.

Though, I hope that my intuition is right about you, Hoseok.

“ Be careful, Y/n.” Namjoon warned, “ You never know what or who is involved.”

Silently thanking him, you make your way out of the comfort of your bed and begin walking towards Namjoon.

“ Jungkook.”

At the mention of his name, Jungkook quickly opened the door and entered.

“ Yes, your majesty.”

“ Go and invite Taehyung to come over,” you ordered, “ Quickly.”

Immediately after, Jungkook then greeted you and ran out the door, feeling the need to hurry and bring the Royal Consort back with how urgent you seem.

Knowing this was not the time to question your words, Jungkook focused fully on bringing back the Royal Consort as soon as possible.

Meanwhile, you settled on the seat positioned around the center table, waiting for Taehyung.

After what seemed like quarter of an hour, your chamber doors finally opened.

Normally, you would have waited for Taehyung to even out his breath, but with the possibility of a rat within the harem, there was no time for that.

People might say that you are being too abrupt but with personal experience, how could you repeat the same mistake?

Waving your hand to dismiss Jungkook, “ You can leave, Jungkook. We’ll be fine.”

Nodding at your words, Jungkook then exited the room, knowing to leave your courtyard fully.

You gestured for Taehyung to settle on your right side while Namjoon took the seat left of you.

“ Taehyung, I apologized for suddenly calling y—”

Feeling a light gust of wind entering the closed space, you stopped yourself from saying anything further, “ Looks like we have another guest.”

Quickly standing up from your spot, you quietly make your way towards the shelve on the left side of the room, and grab your sword, that was proudly displayed on the main compartment.

Blazefury, a bonguk geom made especially for you by one of the most skilled blacksmith in the nation, maybe even wider than that.

The single-edge sword was quite long, making it much easier to injure the enemy at a greater distance. Like any other sword, the blade itself is quite sharp. With how much time you put into taking care of your sword, the blade still reflects whatever is put in front of it. The handle of the sword is a deep red, while a scarlet tassel is attached at the hilt, contrasting with the silver metal of the blade.

To say the absolute least, you couldn’t be any more honoured to have this sword within your possession. After all, the sword is a masterpiece on its own, even without having to say who brought this sword to life.

Unsheathing the sword from its leather scabbard, you pointed it towards the window opposite of you.

Smilingly, you slowly close the space between you and whoever was behind the thin windows.

Though, you do find it weird that the person is not moving even after finding out that they have been caught.

How could they be so careless to hide behind a window composed of mostly paper? To spy on me? No, there are other ways. Maybe they just want to finish me?

When you are finally in front of the window, placing your left hand against the window, feeling the rough paper on your fingertips. Gently tracing the outline of the frames, you wickedly lengthen the moment much to other’s displeasure.

To you, however, it truly doesn’t matter if you were to open the window now or later. After all, even if they want to escape, it would be too late to even move a meter.

The only thing that would make you hesitate is if the person would call for backup. You would be able to handle them all, but with Taehyung and Namjoon here, both yet to master any type of martial arts except for the most basic defence exercises. Looks like you have to prepare for the absolute worst.

Finally gathering force to your left hand, you forcefully open the window, purposely creating a large bang.

However, before you could even register what was about to come, the person in front of you dropped their weapon, silently surrendering.

While you on the other hand felt your smile getting wider, eyes sparkling in interest.

“ What are you doing here, Panther?”

Definition:

Bonguk geom - a type of sword or sword skill. It is said that the phrase ‘bonguk geom’ originated from the Hwarang of the Silla dynasty. As a result, it could even be called as Silla Sword or Singeom. Bonguk geom literally means ‘national sword.’ The appearance of it is quite similar to a katana ( I believe it is the sword used in Yoongi’s track, Daechwita but please correct me if I am wrong).

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All rights reserved.

[iturbide]

the fact that edelgard is the villain in 3/4 routes and yet intsys STILL glorifies her to no end enrages and annoys me. no other villain has been given that perspective of “well actually maybe they arent so bad” except for the hypocritical tyrant. even when she has *literally become an inhuman monster* intsys is still like “oh no dont worry she was right actually!” and it upsets me deeply

It upsets me, too, friend.  IntSys seems to really like glorifying people who don’t deserve it, especially in recent games (Walhart in Awakening, Rudolf in Echoes -- I can’t say if his whole ‘orchestrating a plan to have his son murder him’ thing is carry-over from Gaiden or not, but it definitely exists in the recent remake so I’m including it), but Edelgard actually ends up as a bit of a weird case. 

(I have a lot of thoughts about this, so I’m just going to cut preemptively.)

Now, I’m actually not opposed to Edelgard being the protagonist of the fourth route in Three Houses.  Anyone who’s been here a while knows that I generally see Grima, a figure that IntSys generally tries to paint as a rote villain, as at least a sympathetic villain (and possibly even a secret hero in the events of Awakening itself); it’s entirely possible for someone that’s a villain in most of their appearances to have legitimate reasons for what they’re doing and why, and revealing that in their personal route could be incredibly powerful if done well. 

And here’s the thing: Edelgard really is a compelling character, in large part because of her moral ambiguity.  I actually agree with her when she says that the Church of Seiros is corrupt at its core and the system needs to change.  She’s right about that!  While Seiros might have had decent reasons for establishing things this way, over the past thousand years human societies have changed while the church itself remained stagnant -- something potentially exacerbated by her selfish ambition to restore her mother -- and this has led to a structure that once served an important purpose becoming a toxic and destructive mess for humanity at large.  Edelgard has a completely valid point there, and it’s something that I could absolutely get on board with if she had gone about achieving change in some other way, because she does have other methods available to her that she writes off without real reason -- and even that can relate back in part to her deep trauma and difficulty trusting people after the betrayals she faced at the hands of her “uncle” and her own father’s powerlessness to stop the nightmare she and her siblings suffered through. 

IntSys probably could have crafted a narrative that showed from her perspective why she believed war against the Church was the only valid option available to her.  The issue is that she undercuts her own argument by targeting all of Fodlan, rather than specifically going after the Church: she doesn’t give the Kingdom and Alliance a “stay out of my way or else” warning, she literally turns her sights on the Kingdom as soon as the monastery falls and attempts to fully annex it once Cornelia sets up Dimitri’s fall, leaving the Alliance only because she has her hands full with Faerghus.  She didn’t have to take Cornelia up on her offer of making the Kingdom into the Dukedom of Faerghus and sending troops to finish the job: she could have just left the woman to her own devices, forcing the Twisted to utilize their own people to maintain and secure full control of the region while she worked on addressing the systemic issues, which would have had multiple benefits:

The Imperial Army doesn’t get overwhelmed and exhausted fighting in conditions they’re not equipped to deal with, leaving them stronger overall while the Twisted forces are potentially weakened by the same

Hubert is able to better assess the threat they’re dealing with, including learning their capabilities and possibly even where they’re coming from before Merceus

Edelgard actually puts her money where her mouth is and ends up helping the people she claims to be doing this for, rather than just using them as fodder for the war to grind up

Unfortunately, the way she’s written ends up just making her an imperialist.  She’s not just going after the corrupt core of the Church, she’s trying to forcibly unite the continent and return Fodlan to some long gone ideal where it was all united under the Imperial banner because she refuses to believe that Adrestia could have split by natural causes.

Crimson Flower ultimately ends up being a particularly egregious example of this glorification phenomenon in action because they give her a personal route that makes no effort to critically examine her actions and make her face consequences for them.  This, I think, does her a massive disservice as a character, because that aforementioned moral ambiguity that makes her so interesting could have been utilized to great effect -- and the proof is actually there already, because they do it in Dimitri’s route.

Dimitri is himself another interesting character, and outwardly presents as Edelgard’s polar opposite: he recognizes that he doesn’t have all the answers, struggles to figure out the correct course of action when presented with difficult subjects that have  no clear-cut answer -- like the fact that reliance on the Crest system is toxic for noble families, but it’s those very Crest-bearers and their Relics that help keep Faerghus safe from invasion by Sreng -- possesses incredible strength but specifically refrains using it in most cases to avoid harming others, and generally takes everyone’s problems onto himself to his own detriment.  He’s also deeply traumatized and was never given a chance to deal with it in a healthy manner, which contributes to how he snaps -- and Azure Moon starts with Dimitri being so far out of reach that you can’t unlock any of his supports and can’t even engage with him in the weekly discussions.  He’s lost himself to his survivor’s guilt and need for vengeance, considers himself to be nothing more than a monster, and has no qualms about killing if it helps advance his quest; as the story progresses, he faces a direct consequence for this murderous inclination in the form of Fleche who attempts to exact vengeance for her brother’s sake in the same way that he’s attempting to claim it for his family and friends -- only to lose Rodrigue, and have his dying words be a plea for Dimitri to live for himself rather than those who died before him, at which point Dimitri sets his sights on opposing Edelgard rather than killing her and seeing to atone for the crimes he committed.  While I think the game made the change a little too abrupt, it’s handled well overall, and shows a real development arc complete with both actions and their associated consequences that directly relate to Dimitri’s growth as a person.

Contrast this to Edelgard in general and Crimson Flower as a route.  Edelgard believes that she has all the answers despite not trying to engage with anyone outside her own House, decisively chooses what she believes to be the right and proper course of action regardless of how difficult the subject matter, possesses great strength (both physically and of sheer will) that she uses to dominate others, and forces others to join her in addressing what she sees as problems -- such as her line about making her own people into “worthy sacrifices” for her “higher cause.”  Crimson Flower is the only route where her attack on the monastery fails to capture Rhea, but once Byleth returns she sets her sights on attacking and subjugating a territory that has remained entirely neutral through the past five years, turns on the Twisted while she’s still in a vulnerable position which ultimately causes the deaths of at least a third of the forces she left at Arianrhod once they fire their warning shot, lies to her friends and allies about what happened there, murders her step-brother, and allows a city full of trapped civilians to burn unchecked while she deals with what she considers to be the “real” threat on the opposite side of the Faerghus capital -- and all of this is capped off with her never dealing with the Twisted, and cute little endcards that talk about how everything worked out fine and there were no problems ever, The End.  Edelgard doesn’t get a development arc in her route: she’s never challenged, she never faces real consequences (and the one she does face she literally lies about to her friends and then leaves as a problem to deal with later), and she pretty much ends the game exactly where she started it: completely assured that she made the right choices.  The moral ambiguity inherent in her character is instead cast as “of course she’s in the right, she’s so great and there’s nothing at all wrong with what she’s doing or how she’s going about it, isn’t she wonderful?”

At least in the main game, Hegemon Husk Edelgard is treated with real gravity, shown as the pinnacle of her drive to see her ambition come to fruition and the tragic consequence of her inability to change course and find another path.  The Forging Bonds event just takes the CF brush and paints her actions as the right ones, even though what made her so compelling is that her reasons were right while her methods were horrific.  Edelgard really could have been wonderful.  The potential is right there in her character.  But IntSys completely botched the execution of it, so that her route feels rushed, incomplete, and at best unsatisfying (or, if you’re me, utterly disgusting for how it glorifies imperialistic conquest), and her Heroes appearances only make it worse.

[roseworth]

Risk It All (cause i’ll catch you if you fall)

word count: 4430

description: Rapunzel's memories since she left the tower are completely wiped. She doesn't recognize her friends (besides Eugene) and Eugene needs to keep her calm and secure until they can find a way to regain her memories. At the same time, Rapunzel starts connecting some dots as to what really happened to her. (takes place during Season 2)

(title inspired by If My Heart Was a House by Owl City)

for New Dream Appreciation Week Day 7- Memories @autumn-ravenclaw @gleamful-lanterns

AO3

“Eugene, if you don’t stop that pacing, I’m going to break your legs,” Cass growled.

“Sorry,” he said, opting to sit down in a nearby chair instead, but he couldn’t stop his leg from bouncing nervously.

A merchant in town had been showing off her potions, and one of them had rendered Rapunzel unconscious. The merchant swore to them that she would wake up naturally, but that honestly hadn’t calmed Eugene down at all. He had made a mental note of her face so he could find her and kill her if Rapunzel didn’t wake up.

Eugene, Cassandra, and Lance had brought Rapunzel to lie in a bed in the caravan as they watched over her. She had been unconscious for a while, with no clear sign that she was going to wake up, which was driving him crazy.

He leaned over and checked her pulse for the 50th time in the past hour. It was still normal, which only made him feel slightly better for about 10 seconds.

“How long has she been out?” he asked.

“About 5 minutes longer than the last time you asked,” Cass mumbled. She was stressed too, but was clearly dealing with it very differently than him. He had been full of nervous energy ever since she went down, while Cassandra had just slowly gotten increasingly aggressive.

“Eugene, buddy, why don’t you go take a walk to clear your-” Lance started to suggest.

“No, I’m staying here,” he interrupted. He glanced at Rapunzel, still out cold. He internally cursed himself for not doing more to keep her safe. He should have steered them all away from the merchant as soon as she started dealing with her weird magic stuff. He should have made sure she never got hurt.

As he mentally berated himself, he realized she was starting to stir. His heartbeat quickened as she took a breath and slowly started to lift herself up.

“Wha-”

“Blondie!” he exclaimed, engulfing her in a hug. He squeezed her tightly, relief washing over him. She’s okay, nothing happened, it’s fine, he told himself as he held his love.

“Flynn… what’s going on?” she asked, slightly struggling away from him.

Everything froze for a moment. Did she just call me…

He let her go and pulled away to look at her confused face, then glanced over to Cassandra and Lance. They looked as shocked and scared as he was feeling. “What did you say?”

“I asked what’s going on,” she answered, straightening her back. She looked over to the others. “And who are they?”

Cass’s eyes widened as she tried to understand what her friend was saying. “Rapunzel, what’s the last thing you remember before you woke up?” she asked, as calmly as she could.

Rapunzel’s brow furrowed. “Um… Flynn and I were just about to leave my home to go to the kingdom,” she answered, unsure of whether or not she should be telling them.

Eugene’s stomach twisted. She hadn't called him "Flynn" since he first told her his real name. Hearing her use that name felt like nails on a chalkboard. He had been Flynn for almost half his life, but Rapunzel calling him Flynn again put a bitter taste in his mouth.

The potion must have erased all her memories since leaving the tower. That was almost a year and a half of memories. She didn’t remember him or her friends or her parents or anything. His thoughts started to spiral. Would they be able to restore her memories? Could she really just forget everything that has happened? Would she have to relearn everything after she had spent so long getting used to the world?

“Flynn, can we talk?” Cass said, grabbing him by the ear and dragging him outside. “You too, Lance.”

When the three of them had left the caravan, Eugene automatically started pacing nervously again. “What are we gonna do? Are her memories going to be gone forever?”

“Don’t worry, we’ll find a way to get them back. I’ll bet that merchant has some kind of reverse potion we can get,” Lance reassured him, not entirely believing his own words.

“What if she won’t give it to us?” he asked, speeding up his pacing back and forth.

“I have multiple weapons on me, I think I can persuade her,” Cass said shortly. “Lance and I will go find the merchant. In the meantime, you watch Rapunzel and keep her out of trouble.”

“Why me?”

“She knows you, and at least kind of trusts you. And we can’t just leave fresh-out-of-the-tower Rapunzel on her own.”

Eugene scoffed. “You’re really not giving her enough credit. Even right out of the tower, she was pretty capable of handling herself.”

Cass raised an eyebrow. “She told me she nearly had a heart attack over a bunny in a bush.”

“That’s… out of context. But fine, I’ll make sure she doesn’t get hurt,” he agreed. “But be quick finding the antidote.”

“Great, we’ll be back as soon as possible,” she said. “Also, make sure not to tell her too much.”

Eugene looked at her like she had just told him to cut both his arms off. “Are you serious? Why?”

“First of all, we don’t know if whatever antidote we find will regenerate her memories correctly if we tell her everything. Second, a lot has happened over the past year. It would scare her.”

He wanted to argue more, but instead just sighed. The longer they had this conversation, the longer Rapunzel had to stay without her memories. “Fine, fine, I’ll keep details to a minimum.”

“Good luck,” Lance chimed in, patting his friend’s shoulder in an effort to comfort him. “We’ll go as fast as we can.”

Eugene smiled in thanks as the two of them walked away. He sighed, getting ready to go back inside to talk to Rapunzel. He took a deep breath, trying to quell his nerves. Cass and Lance are getting a cure, it’s gonna be okay. She’ll be okay. There’s absolutely no reason to be nervous. He pushed open the door to see Rapunzel still sitting up on the bed they had left her in, her knees tucked to her chest.

“Where’d your friends go?” she asked.

“Theyyyyy..., well, see, you, uh… you kind of lost some of your memories. They’re trying to see if they can find a way to get them back,” he explained. Way to act natural, Fitzherbert.

The look on her face made Eugene understand why Cass said that too much information would be an overload. She looked shocked just knowing she had lost memories in the first place, he couldn’t imagine how she would feel knowing all the memories she had lost.

“I lost my memories? How long has it been?”

He cringed a little bit. There was no way he could lie to her, but he didn’t know how she would react to finding out just how much she had forgotten.

“A little over a year,” he told her. Her eyes widened even more.

“A year? And I’ve forgotten all of it? What happened?”

“We’re not entirely sure, but like I said, my friends are working on getting them back,” he insisted, trying to reassure not just her, but himself too. He stuck out a thumbs up for good measure, which didn’t seem to convince her very much. “So I guess we just... wait for them to come back.”

She nodded as they fell into silence. He sat down to keep himself from pacing again. He didn’t want her to see that he was nervous or she would get nervous, and he was trying to keep her as steady as he could. She must already be on edge from finding out about her lost memories, plus she didn’t really know him. Not like she should.

He wanted to scream thinking about what she must think of him right now. She only knew Flynn Rider. The guy that had only agreed to help her after she forced him to. The guy that was trying to trick her into giving him the crown back. Great.

He looked over at her, watching her brush her fingers through her hair awkwardly from where she was seated. For the first time ever, he had no idea how to talk to her. He wasn’t sure he could hold a whole conversation with her without either revealing everything or lying, and both of those options weren’t exactly ideal.

So they sat in silence.

~

The silence was killing her. She could tell there was something Flynn wasn’t telling her, but she couldn’t figure out what it could be. She had lost over a year of her memories. She didn’t know where she was, or who those people in the room when she woke up were. She didn’t even recognize the dress she was wearing.

Not to mention, Flynn was acting strange. From the short interaction she had had with him before (well, that she remembered, that is), she knew that he was very outspoken. Now, he was acting nervous and quiet, fidgeting uncomfortably from across the room.

“So, Flynn,” she piped up. “Did we get to see the lanterns?”

She noticed the way he smiled a bit as he answered, “Yeah. Trust me, it was just as magical as you dreamed.”

“So why are you still with me?”

His head shot up, his face filled with a mix of shock and concern. “What?”

She shrugged. “I was going to keep up my end of the deal and give your satchel back once we saw the lanterns. Why didn’t you leave after you got it back?”

He hesitated, then smiled again and answered, “I found something worth a lot more to me than that crown.”

She waited for him to continue, but it was clear that he wasn’t going to explain further. That was… cryptic, she thought. She didn’t know how much that crown was worth, but given how badly he wanted it, it was probably a lot. What did he find that was worth more than that?

She still needed answers to what was going on. A lot must have changed in the past year. “Does Mother know where I am?” That question had been in the back of her head since Flynn told her that she lost a year of memories, but she was almost scared of the answer. Surely Mother would be worried that she wasn’t in her tower. Or maybe Mother had found out that she had left, and saw that Rapunzel really was ready for the world. That must be it, right?

“Your Mother isn’t really concerned about where you are anymore,” Flynn said quietly.

Rapunzel was conflicted with this answer. That must mean that Mother had let her out to see the world! And the scary girl and tall man that had been in the room when she woke up were her new friends!

But why wouldn’t he tell her that? What was he hiding?

The most concerning part of his answer was the fact that he had added “anymore” onto the end. Did he say that because something had happened to Mother? Was she hurt?

And why isn’t he giving me any straight answers?

Something was clearly wrong. Flynn was watching over her instead of leaving like he had been trying to before. And he wouldn’t tell her anything about what was really going on.

Slowly, the pieces started to fall into place.

He had done something to Mother. He must have hurt her to keep her away. Mother would never leave Rapunzel on her own in the world, she was always concerned with her safety. Plus, Flynn said he found something worth more than the crown. He must have found out about her hair, and wanted to keep it for himself.

Mother had always told her that people would only want her for her hair, and she was right. Flynn was trying to use her hair for himself, and his ruffian friends, too.

One thing was clear. She had to get out and get away from him. Maybe she could find Mother, and heal her from whatever Flynn did to her.

She started to hatch a plan. She couldn’t just run away now, or else he’d be able to catch her before she got far enough. He might hurt her and Mother even more than he already must have.

She had to find a way to get out of this room so she could find a way away from him. Sometimes she could get what she wanted from Mother when she tried to gain sympathy, so she could try it on Flynn, too. Maybe she could find some kindness from him if he didn’t suspect anything?

~

“I guess I don’t have any memories of being outside the tower,” Rapunzel said. “What’s it like?” Eugene felt his heart sink. Not only was he giving incredibly vague responses whenever she tried to talk to him, he was actively keeping her trapped in this room.

He really wasn’t any better than Gothel.

She couldn’t remember any of the world. She loved the world, even if she didn’t know it at the moment. And now he was the one keeping her away from it.

So, screw what CassANdra would say, he was going to help Rapunzel experience the world for the first time again. “You know what, Blondie, maybe we should get some fresh air.”

Her face lit up in the way that always made his heart melt. Knowing she didn’t remember their relationship at all was eating him up inside, since all he wanted to do was sweep her up in his arms and kiss her.

He’d make sure to do that once Cass and Lance found a way to restore her memories.

~

The first part of her plan had worked. He had agreed to let her go outside. She was coming up with her plan on the fly, but she was confident that she could figure it out. All she had to do was find a way to get away from Flynn. From there, she just needed to find out how far she was from the Tower, and figure out how to get back. Once the sun went down, she might be able to use the stars to find her way.

Right now, though, she had to focus on getting Flynn off her trail. Which would be hard, since he was right next to her, watching as she was leaving the caravan.

As she took her first step outside the door, she realized this really would be her first memory of being outside. The last thing she remembered was right before her foot hit the grass, so she had no recollection of how it felt.

Forgetting the situation at hand for just a moment, she couldn’t help but smile as she looked around, feeling the soft ground beneath her feet and the light breeze on her face. She shuffled her feet as the grass brushed against her skin. The sun looked different from on the ground, too. Somehow, it looked much brighter and happier. She ran her hand over a tree next to her, feeling how rough the bark was. Despite her fears, she laughed brightly. Maybe Mother really was wrong about the world, she couldn’t understand how anything this beautiful could be as terrible as Mother said.

Mother. Right, she needed to get away from Flynn and find Mother. She looked around, looking for some kind of escape. She knew that Flynn was watching her. She wasn’t sure how she could get away. From what Mother told her, she was weak and slow compared to the people out in the world, which probably meant that he could catch her and overpower her if she tried to get away.

But she didn’t exactly have another option, she just hoped she would have an advantage since he didn’t know she was trying to get away.

So she sprinted away as fast as her legs would take her.

~

In hindsight, Eugene should have seen this coming.

Gothel had told her not to trust anyone, and he was definitely not acting trustworthy. If he had been thinking at all, he would’ve been prepared for this.

Before he could fully process what he was doing, he took off after her, trying to make sure she didn’t leave his sight. In all honesty, he wasn’t really sure what he would do once he caught up to her. It’s not like he was going to tackle her or physically stop her, so he wasn’t really sure if he had a plan at all. He would just figure it out as he went along. Maybe eventually she’d just get tired and stop running.

Yeah, that wasn’t exactly a promising plan.

~

Flynn was getting closer. She desperately searched for the next step of her getaway plan, but was coming up empty. He was about to catch up to her, and she wasn’t sure if she would be able to fight him off. If only she had looked for a frying pan to defend herself before running away, then she might have a chance.

But the fastest her legs could take her wasn’t proving to be fast enough, not to mention she had no idea where she was going. Flynn probably knows these woods better than her, so maybe she wouldn’t have even been able to get away in the first place.

She let out a yelp as something pulled her back. She lost her footing and fell face first onto the ground. At first, she thought he had grabbed her, but as she looked behind her she realized that her hair got caught on a tree branch. Oh no. She desperately tried to yank it away, but it was stuck.

She watched him draw near, and she couldn’t help but realize that Mother had been right all along.

The world is dark and cruel, and she hadn’t been ready for it.

~

He let out a sigh of relief after seeing that she had stopped running, making it easier for him to get to her.

“Rapunzel,” he breathed out, stopping in front of her. He almost smiled as he tried to catch his breath. It was still hard keeping up with her when she was out in the world (but the fact that she was trying to get away from him honestly kind of put a damper on the feeling).

“Get away,” she demanded, her voice small. She was slightly trembling, trying to back away from him. She had tripped and was lying on the ground, her hair stuck on a stray branch.

That was when he realized how threatening he must seem. She was told her whole life that everyone was out to hurt her, and he had just chased her down until she couldn't get away. And now he was towering over her in a place she didn’t recognize. 

He cursed at himself under his breath, then knelt down at a safe distance from her so she wouldn’t feel intimidated. “Blondie, I’m not going to hurt you, I promise.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I know, and I’m sorry. But trust me, I would never want to do anything to harm you.”

“Why won’t you explain what’s going on?”

He sighed. “Rapunzel, a lot has happened since you left your tower for the first time. After we saw the lanterns, you found out you were the Lost Princess, and your Mother was lying to you your whole life. Once your hair was cut, you went to the castle to be with your real parents. And you met Cass and Lance, who are the people you saw earlier. And you touched a black rock that made you grow all your hair back, and now we’re following the trail that these rocks are making.”

Talk about an information overload. He really should have been easing her into all that information instead of spewing everything at her all at once, but it’s too late now.

Her expression had gone from terrified to confused, like she was trying to decide whether or not to believe him. A flurry of emotions flickered across her face as she tried to process everything.

“But you didn’t explain why you’re here,” she said after a beat of silence. “What was worth more to you than the crown?”

“You are! You are worth more to me than any crown ever could be,” he exclaimed. “I fell in love with you, Rapunzel. I fell in love with you the minute I saw you for the first time, and I fell in love with you again at the campfire, then again when we watched the lantern festival together. I fall in love with you again and again every day, and there is nothing worth more to me than you. That’s why I’m here. Because I love you.”

If he hadn’t already scared her, he definitely had now. Eugene wanted to kick himself for confessing his undying love while she barely remembered him at all, but it all just came pouring out. He had to pretend to not be in love with her for only an hour and it was too much for him. He hoped she wasn’t completely scared of him, though he figured he had probably already freaked her out.

Her eyes widened as she thought about everything he said. At least it seemed like she knew he was telling the truth. He was about to apologize for dumping all that on her at once when started to move towards him.

“Eugene?”

His heart fluttered as he looked into her eyes. He hadn’t told her his name. She knew him, at least a little bit. A soft smile broke out across his face. “Hey Sunshine.”

Before he knew what was happening, she ran up to him and pressed their lips together.

~

As she kissed Eugene, all her memories slowly made their way back. She was starting to see clear pictures of everything she had forgotten. The lanterns, of course, were sticking out in the front of her mind. That moment meant everything to her, and all her memories truly center around it.

She wrapped her arms around Eugene’s neck and pulled him closer, deeper into their kiss. Memories continued to pop up. Her family, her friends, her kingdom. She had only been without those memories for a short amount of time, but gaining them back was so relieving.

“Well, I was going to come back with bad news, but it looks like you’ve got it handled.”

They broke apart to see Cass and Lance standing a few meters back. “Hey, Cass,” Rapunzel greeted brightly. “No antidote?”

“No, but I did make sure to turn that merchant in for drugging you.”

Lance ran up to her and scooped her up into a hug. “Aw, I’m so glad you’re okay, Princess!” he gushed. She giggled and returned his embrace.

“I’m glad to be back,” she responded.

“Alright, sorry for interrupting the moment, you two go ahead and go back to making out,” Lance declared as he set Rapunzel down. She felt her face warm and she glanced over to Eugene, who rolled his eyes.

“Well, when you set the mood like that,” Eugene snorted. He grabbed Rapunzel’s hand and grinned at her. “Y’know, I’d hate to inflate my own ego, but it is a fact that our kiss was so spectacular it brought all your memories back.”

Cass groaned in annoyance. Rapunzel laughed and lifted herself onto her toes to kiss his cheek. “It was pretty magical,” she agreed between giggles.

~

That night, Rapunzel had insisted on sleeping in the same bed as Eugene, saying that being with him was helping her memories. He knew that was true, although he was pretty sure she mostly just wanted to spend the night with him. Not that he was complaining about it.

“Are you doing alright?” he asked.

She nodded. “I think almost all my memories are back now.”

“How are you feeling, though?”

She paused for a few seconds before answering. “I don’t know,” she said honestly. “It was… strange to go back to thinking the world was out to get me. And I was so worried about Moth- about Gothel and what she would think. I guess sometimes I still think about what Gothel would think of me now.”

Eugene grabbed her hand and gently brought it to his lips. He knew that she still thought about Gothel. That wasn’t her fault, that woman had raised her for 18 years, and manipulated her every thought all the while. But it still hurt that she felt like that (and it made him a little upset that the frog was the one that got to trip that witch out of the window and not him).

“I’m sorry for running away from you,” she said as she turned to face him.

“You don’t need to apologize for that, I should have been telling you the truth from the beginning. You had every right to run away from the creepy guy that refused to give an actual answer.”

She smiled softly and rested her forehead against his. “Also, thank you for helping me discover the world again. There’s no one else I’d rather have by my side when I see the world for the first time for the second time.”

He laughed. “That was all you, both times. All I did was stand aside so you could be a part of the world like you were meant to.”

Her eyelids started to droop as she snuggled up closer to him. He smiled as her eyes drifted shut, and he assumed she had fallen asleep until she spoke up once last time.

“I feel the same way about you, you know. What you said about falling in love every day. I do, too, and I wouldn’t have it any other way,” she mumbled.

He was almost glad her eyes were shut, otherwise she would have seen the way he smiled like an idiot hearing her say that. He knew she loved him, but it still caught him a bit off guard every time he heard her say it.

He kissed her forehead and rested his head down on her pillow. “I love you, Sunshine.”

He only received a snore in response, but he didn’t mind. Getting to hold her in his arms was more than enough as he drifted off to sleep himself, replaying all his memories with her in his head, and thinking about all the new memories they would make.

[tossawary]

Chapter 19: “Weddings and Funerals” of “pride is not the word I’m looking for” random favorite lines with commentary because I’m doing a re-read. Not a full list or full commentary. 

-

 When Shang Qinghua told Mobei-Jun that he didn’t need Shen Qingqiu assassinated, it wasn’t because he thought everything would somehow work out if he just sat back and didn’t do anything. It definitely wasn’t because he was planning a so-called “perfect murder” and didn’t want the demon lord messing up his plans. The Problem of Shen Qingqiu has always been a lot more  complicated than “just get rid of the guy potentially making my nephew’s life a living hell”. That’s why it’s a real problem! 

- 

AN: Shang Qinghua’s thought process: “Can this problem be solved by: 

A) Waiting for the problem to go away? 

B) Murder? 

C) None of the above? 

If the answer is C... 

Fuck, it’s a real problem.” 

- 

 Shang Qinghua thinks that might actually be possible, though he’d have to do some research and smack his head until his Author God memories hopped into line. He thinks that the youth-restoration procedure would probably do the job, but he also thinks that Shen Qingqiu would probably rather be dead than be physically sixteen again or something (super fucking understandable) and have to start the cultivation process over from scratch (ah, that would be so annoying and embarrassing). 

- 

AN: Given that I actually invented a de-aging potion for this fic (if one that’s difficult to put together), the AU of “Original Shen Qingqiu is physically 16 again” has been rattling around inside my head ever since I wrote these lines. Shen Qingqiu was like, “Wait, let me picture how unbearably overprotective Yue Qingyuan would be... hmm... no, I’ll just stay like this.” 

- 

 Luo Jiahui seems a little anxious about the empty spaces at the table, but she fills the space as best she can by chattering about assorted restaurant business. At least until she abruptly takes a deep breath and says, “Hua-Ge, I have something to tell you.” 

 Shang Qinghua freezes in the middle of taking a drink. His unhelpful brain immediately races to guess the worst possible conversational subjects. His sister-in-law has somehow figured out that he’s a transmigrator?! His sister-in-law has decided that her son is not going to the Demon Realm under any circumstances?! His sister-in-law knows Binghe better than he does and has realized that the young protagonist is being abused after all?! Oh,  fuck, what is it? 

 “I’m getting married!” Luo Jiahui announces, breathlessly. 

 “Oh,” Shang Qinghua says, heart rate going at the speed of sound. “Wait,  what?” 

- 

AN: This chapter is why I didn’t go into the details of LJH/LQG in the last chapter, immediately post-timeskip. I wanted to blindside everyone with an “Oh, it’s THAT serious?!” moment. The last chapter established that “SQH is handling things”, then this chapter establishes that, as the plot goes on, “SQH is only barely handling things”. Which helps prep the following breakdown with the System World Update in chapters 20-22. 

- 

 “You didn’t have any time for yourself,” Shang Qinghua agrees, following this conversation of very obvious things that he already knew so far. He didn’t have any time for himself back then either, between organizing a conference and finding a cure on top of the usual day-in-day-out of the sect. “You did a really good job looking after them all by yourself!” 

 “They don’t always agree with that,” Luo Jiahui says, smiling but self-deprecating. 

 “Aha, well, they’re young.” 

 The disagreements of what was best for the children is why Shang Qinghua really had to get Fanli (who didn’t see herself as a child) out of the house by any means necessary. He was at a bit of a loss at how else to help. She was never part of  Proud Immortal Demon Way! Not even as a fragment of backstory mentioned in passing! Shang Qinghua struggles to compensate for these extra people who were never characters sometimes. 

 “Qingge was very understanding,” Luo Jiahui says. “But… well… then Fanli was gone and I had the restaurant keeping me busy, but that was all my own choice… and what good was waiting really doing us? It didn’t have to be everything or nothing. So… we talked… about what we wanted and what- what we were afraid of… and we decided to go forward slowly.” 

- 

AN: I said in the Author’s Notes on AO3 that I was going to use Jiage to shame Moshang and Qijiu, and I meant it. TALK TO EACH OTHER!!! Shang Qinghua, you need to talk to Mobei-Jun about what you want! Shang Qinghua, you can’t keep putting things on hold because of the plot! 

- 

 No offense to either his sister-in-law or his junior martial brother, but aren’t love stories supposed to be a little more… fiery? 

 “When I was younger, I thought that falling in love was supposed to be all excitement and passion and not being able to live without someone even for a second,” Luo Jiahui admits, a little wistfully. “I thought that it was supposed to be thinking about them all the time, not being able to stay away from each other, and needing to know what they’d been doing every second they were away. It was like becoming a completely different person. I thought that being in love was about one of us getting horribly jealous every time we even talked to someone else, doing things I didn’t really understand and changing myself just to keep him happy, and keeping secrets and sneaking around just to keep things from exploding. Because love is not being able to help yourself like that, right?” 

 Shang Qinghua can’t really manage to speak right now. 

 It’s like someone has cut his fucking throat. 

 Which is fine! 

 “But that ended really badly for me,” Luo Jiahui says, with a nervous huff at her own understatement. “It was very exciting, but looking back, being in that kind of love was also very frightening sometimes… and it was a little lonely too… being in love with someone I couldn’t really talk to or trust.” 

-

AN: This is more specifically vagueing SVSSS Bingqiu than Moshang, but it’s also shaming Moshang too. Airplane Shooting Towards The Sky wrote some extremely messed-up romances and he would have said, “Yes! It’s all super messed-up! That’s kind of the point!” But it also means that the man can’t really conceptualize (at least at first) or articulate the kind of relationship he would actually be happy to have with Mobei-Jun, especially when his relationship with Mobei-Jun had such violent beginnings 

- 

 The first person he tells himself is, weirdly enough, Qi Qingqi. Liu Qingge apparently already told both Liu Mingyan and Luo Fanli before he left, so Shang Qinghua heads over to see how the girls are handling it. (Also, he wants to pump Liu Mingyan for information on her mother’s opinions on weddings and marriage, in a really pathetic attempt to ready himself for the rumble.) He makes her agree to keep the information to herself before telling and she does, like a bro! 

 And then he tells and she laughs in his fucking face! Eventually, she realizes that he’s looking for sympathy, he’s not just here to let her enjoy his suffering, as a form of payment after everything he and Liu Qingge have inflicted on her. Then she laughs at him again, even louder. 

 Sure, he’d laugh too if he was in her shoes! But not to her face! Rude! 

 - 

AN: Qi Qingqi also pointed while laughing, I think. It’s funny because it’s not her dealing with Liu Family shit this time. 

- 

 Shang Qinghua expected, this time last year, to be laser-focused on the plot! His attention was not going to stray even a little bit, he promised himself; he was going to be 110% dedicated to making sure that everyone he tripped into caring about made it through the least shitty version of  Proud Immortal Demon Way  possible. He was going to be a  machine  of a transmigrator! No distractions! All he wanted was for his family to make it through the quickest, least shitty bare bones of a plot! And he was going to  achieve, damn it! 

 Instead, he finds himself planning his sister-in-law’s wedding and it eats up time he didn’t fucking know he had to give. Immortal Alliance Conference, eat your fucking heart out! Cang Qiong Mountain Sect? Did he work there? Nope, he’s never heard of the place! He’s the Peak Lord of wedding planning now! 

- 

AN: This is me telling myself I’m going to get my life 100% together and then getting into a new video game and baking cookies instead. Or ditching my housecleaning plans to hang out with friends at a moment’s notice. 

- 

 At the wedding itself, Fanli tells her sister’s father-in-law that Binghe is also  very into birds and Shang Qinghua’s nephew spends a good chunk of the rest of the celebrations (and his precious time away from Qing Jing Peak) held hostage by his own politeness, listening to his new grandfather earnestly tell him about the various migration habits of demonic birds. 

 Well! Better him than Shang Qinghua, honestly! 

-

AN: Inspired by that time we went on vacation and one of my brothers got mistaken by one of our travelling companions for a budding serious birdwatcher instead of someone who just thinks they’re neat - and also likes to point at them and intentionally call them by the wrong name. 

Also, LQG’s Dad in this fic and SY would probably get along super well. 

LQG and his dad in this universe have gone out on month-long camping trips to in which they pretty much don’t talk the entire time. They stalk monsters through the wilderness and have a great time.

- 

 Shang Qinghua is too busy keeping an eye on Luo Fanli and being  not talked to by Liu Mingyan, who is eighteen-ish years old now he thinks and still deeply embarrassed by the fact that he told her off for her real person fiction. (He doesn’t want to discourage her passion for writing! She’s pretty good for a kid! It’s pretty cute! Everyone needs their escapist hobbies! He just doesn’t want identifying information about his family being spread around freely, even if the characterizations of the couple are… uh… wildly reimagined, and he doesn't want to have to spend his very valuable time keeping a lookout for more illicit fiction.) It’s difficult to read her expression through the ever-present veil, but… yeah, she’s still pissed off at him.

 Ugh, teenagers. 

 Binghe is not allowed to bring several hundred nieces-in-law into Shang Qinghua's life. Just... no. Fuck, no. 

 He doesn’t even get a date to commiserate about this with. 

 It’s a very small wedding, family only (Luo Jiahui’s shitty parents  don’t count  and her older brother was forced to decline the invitation), so that Luo Jiahui and Liu Qingge can keep their privacy. Madam Liu huffed about it - the battles in talking her down were both great and terrible - but her son stood his ground! Sure, people might whine someday about not being invited, but the great thing about Liu Qingge is that they can more or less just say,  “Well, we couldn’t stop him from doing whatever he wanted!”  And people just have to take that unless they want to claim they could take on the Bai Zhan Peak War God! 

- 

AN: Trying to imagine the AU in which SQH brought MBJ as his date to this wedding. SQH would’ve liked to be able to bring MBJ as a date, but alas, they are not dating and the groom would probably try to kill the man. 

- 

 Shang Qinghua is not expecting, soon after returning from his sister-in-law’s happy and long-awaited wedding, to be solemnly informed that Shen Qingqiu’s health has only really deteriorated these past months. Wow, that’s a huge downer. 

 Also, he already knew that? He’s been getting Mu Qingfang all the right supplies to treat their shixiong. He didn’t actually abandon his duties to the sect for a family wedding. He knew that Shen Qingqiu had fallen sufficiently ill to need tending on Qian Cao Peak in the past month and he considered it, well, convenient timing in regards to Binghe’s permission to attend his mother’s wedding not being randomly revoked. Cold-hearted, maybe! But he had lots of other things to worry about at the time, like informing Mobei-Jun that his sister-in-law was getting married and so he’d be regrettably absent to attend the wedding. 

 Then he’s told that Shen Qingqiu is not expected to improve this time. 

  “Oh, shit, they really think he’s dying,” Shang Qinghua realizes. 

 This really wasn’t in  Proud Immortal Demon Way. 

- 

AN: I seriously contemplated cutting this chapter in half because of this mood switch. Like, I went in intending on writing a serious mood switch, but in practice, wow. It felt like a lot more in practice. 

- 

 “Our sect leader asks about the boy and his progress,” Shen Qingqiu rasps, his voice turning more and more accusing. “He’s  so very  concerned about the boy. We can’t have such a beloved child  crying  to his devoted family that he’s been mistreated or neglected, can we? How flattering these assumptions are. It makes a man wonder what exactly people think he’s going to  do to the boy.” 

 Shang Qinghua might have an itemized list somewhere, honestly. 

 “Ah, I can’t speak for anyone else,” Shang Qinghua says finally. “But please don’t take it personally, Shen-Shixiong. I don’t really trust anyone. Anything can happen behind a locked door, you know?” 

 Some honest cynicism can go over well with the man. 

 Shen Qingqiu laughs bitterly now. 

- 

AN: It can be fun in media where Character A is like, “Ahhh, I hope no one discovers my secret!” And Character B is like, “So, about this extremely obvious thing that you’re doing...!” 

Shen Qingqiu is as honest and open as he is throughout this scene because he honestly thinks that he’s dying. He’s determined to be blithe about it. 

- 

Shang Qinghua at least gets to see Mu Qingfang’s face journey as Shen Qingqiu accuses their sect leader of letting him think that he’d left him to die. As Shen Qingqiu yells about being treated like an unwanted ghost, as a potential blackmailer, as an embarrassing disappointment, as a petty troublemaker, as a spoiled child, as a problem to be solved, and as the last blemish on Yue Qingyuan’s reputation - anything but as someone worthy of being trusted with Yue Qingyuan’s problems and of being treated like an equal friend. 

 Yue Qingyuan tries to explain that he didn’t think Shen Qingqiu wanted to hear his excuses, and Shen Qingqiu shoots back that he would rather fucking die than beg the man he’d thought had forgotten about him to explain when exactly he became not worth rescuing as soon as possible. 

 Yue Qingyuan tries to explain that he didn’t want Shen Qingqiu’s pity or to force the man to be grateful that he’d  tried. 

 Shen Qingqiu tells the man to go fuck himself. How could it not hurt for someone he loved to hurt him and then just…  move past the hurt  like the pain wasn’t  who they were? 

 “All the world could revile me… reject me… leave me to die… and I would pay their hatred no heed! What do they truly know of what I am? Of who I am?” Shen Qingqiu demands. “But if  Qi-Ge  could throw me away… decide that I just wasn’t worth the  trouble anymore now that he’d had a taste of a better life… then I really must be wretched beyond all things at the root! If he believed it, then… then it had to be true.” 

- 

AN: Because I just wrote a Qijiu confrontation over this exact thing, like, a few days before, I thought that I could get away with writing out this entire confrontation in full. I think it works better if the audience has to imagine some of it. And because SQH is the POV character, it felt right that he not be in the room and not be a full witness to this scene. He doesn’t get to see everything. 

[darealsaltysam]

so... anyone up for a dream smp skyrim au?

listen. i’m happy with how this fic is turning out. i’m 5 chapters in and i thought MAYBE it’s time to make a promotion for it. so... here’s the summary!

Tommy Innit, a Nord living in Skyrim, was separated from his family at a very young age because of an event he isn't so fond on looking back on. When he arrived at the College of Winterhold to make his dreams of becoming a mage come true he thought his life would finally settle down - And for four years, it did.

But as a dragon attacks the College and Tommy absorbs its soul, learning he is Dragonborn, his life very quickly changes.

Forced to reunite with his brothers - An Empire-loving bard and the leader of Skyrim's anti-Empire rebellion, Tommy will not only face The World Eater on his travels - He will also face the troubles of things as simple as family and be forced to figure out just what it takes to get along with your brothers when the death of a loved one, shared years of resentment for one another, and worst of all, politics, get involved in the mix.

This sure is gonna be a ride.

if this fic sounds interesting to you, you can read it here! and don’t worry, all skyrim-lore stuff is explained so even if you don’t know skyrim you can enjoy the fic as a simple fantasy au! i’m sure you’ll love what i’ve written either way <3

and if that doesn’t convince you... read a little preview of the story below the cut!

 “Are you alright, Tommy?” Tubbo asked his friend as he finally took his seat. Quackity and Karl, in their rush to go search for their High Elf friend, ended up not showing them to their rooms – Which left them with no choice but to wait for them to return.  “Stressed. Tired. I dunno,” Tommy eventually admitted, sighing. “I just wanna go to bed. Forget about all this and start over tomorrow,” the boy carried on and leaned forward, grabbing a glass of water one of the girls working at the inn had brought him. “First Wilbur isn't here and then Sapnap goes missing. We came here looking for a person and lost one. Couldn't have gone worse.”  “I'm sure the Professor is fine. He can handle himself,” Tubbo said, himself drinking some of the water, too. “And... We'll find Wilbur. I'm sure he can't be that hard to track down.”

 The bard performing for the inn finished up his performance, getting himself a loud round of applause from the crowd gathered around him. He thanked them briefly and introduced his next song, this one being a classic (according to him) named 'Age of Aggression'.

 “We drink to our youth, for the days come and gone, for the age of aggression is just about done...”

 Tommy started thinking about everything, trying to think of where Wilbur would have gone if he had the choice to. He was still in Skyrim, that was for sure – He was the type to stick around the place that considered him some sort of celebrity. He needed a place with a large audience, a place where he could exploit people who knew nothing about him and paint himself as a hero. If Tommy didn't know any better, he'd say he stayed in Solitude, in the end. That seemed about right-

 “We'll drive out the rebels, and restore what we own...”

 Tommy froze. Surely it couldn't be that simple... Right?

 “With our blood and our steel we will take back our home...”

 The boy slowly looked to the side, where the bard was still playing his song. Despite being surrounded by a lot of people, Tommy could still see him quite clearly thanks to him sitting on the bar to make sure everyone could get a good look at him.

 “Down with The Blood God, the killer of kings!”

 Tommy rose to his feet as he recognised that incredibly frustrating grin, that punchable face, even that goddamn singing voice that was way too good for someone like the person who was gifted with it. There was no doubting it – The yellow-sweater, round-glasses donning brown-haired bard at the centre of The Winking Skeever was his older brother.

 “On the day of your death we will drink and we'll sing!”

 Tommy's blood boiled as he heard the lines of the song be joyfully sung out together with the strumming of the lute, standing at the centre of the inn and screaming out without thinking.

 “How can you sing about your own brother like that?!”

 The song was cut short. The inn was silent. The lute collapsed to the floor, making a strange sound. And the bard, a bard named Wilbur, for the first time in four years uttered the name of his brother.

 “...Tommy?”

 And in the corner of The Winking Skeever, Tubbo took another sip of his drink. This would be a long evening, no doubt about it.

read the fic here if you’re interested. thanks for giving it a try!

[ask-anti-cosmo]

The return of Anti-Cosmo part 4

Part 1 Part 2 part 3

“Hey Anti-Cosmo-“ you started to say but he cut you off and ignored you at the same time.

“And you, my little doll, I’m making you young again and I don’t get so much as a thank you?” he asked the old lady who now looked terribly young. You thought she had actually had turned into a doll, but her face still moved like a human, despite the perfect glass looking skin.

She didn’t say anything, but sat, quivering with fear. “I was always afraid you’d come back for me…” She told him.

“Why would you say that, you were always one of my favorites.” He frowned and leaned forward to her with a finger outstretched. As soon as his finger touched her nose, her whole face suddenly broke, cracks formed starting from her nose and all across her face. Small pieces of what looked like porcelain fell from the cracks. She shrieked in pain, and that’s when you couldn’t take it and grabbed Anti-Cosmo’s shoulder and yanked him away from her. Her face reformed to perfection when his finger lifted from her nose.

Anti-Cosmo looked at you with annoyance. “I believe I was in the middle of something.” He scowled.

“Well now you’re talking to me, because obviously you aren’t going to leave me alone anytime soon, so I want to enter in a contract with you.” You told him

His eyebrows raised. “Really?” He faced you, arms folded. “and what exactly inspired this feeling?” he asked suspiciously.

With his arms folded, this was the perfect time to catch him off guard. You snatched his wand from his hands and held it tightly away from him.

His eyes went wide as soon as he realized the wand was missing. “Wait! Give that back!!” he said and swiped at it, trying to get it back from you. You kept it out of his short arm’s reach and pushed him away with your other hand.

“You will listen to me.” You glared. He flinched and finally looked away from his wand to look you in the eye. He realized he wasn’t going to get his wand back until you spoke, so he stood up straight and pouted.

“Fine. Say what you want.” He huffed.

“First of all, drink my blood.” You told him. He narrowed his eyes at you.

“You complained so extensively about it earlier, and now it’s a demand?” he asked skeptically.

“Because earlier you took it without consent, but now it’s my choice.”

“It wouldn’t happen to be your choice because you know if I do, you would be owed a wish?” he frowned.

“That being said, the more blood you drink, the bigger the magic used for the wish, right?” you asked.

He narrowed his eyes at you before sighing with an eye roll. “Yes…”

“What are you upset about? You’re the one who shared too much.” You said and tucked the wand up your shirt into the back of your bra. It wasn’t comfortable, but it wouldn’t make it easy for him to snatch it back. “So that being said, start drinking. I have two decent sized wished.”

He glared a minute before leaning closer to bite you. You quickly took both his hands and interlocked your fingers with his. He flinched from surprised and looked at your hands, then back at your face with curious annoyance.

“So you don’t get wandering hands.” You glared. “now drink.”

“You’re lucky you’re blood actually recharges my magic faster than human blood.” He huffed and leaned in again and bit your neck. While trying to distract you from the pain, you looked around for something else to focus on. You saw the two women who were just recently being tortured by the Anti-fairy. The young woman chained down struggled to get lose, while the porcelain lady tried to untie her, but her fingers started to chip like glass from scraping at the metal.

Anti-Cosmo started to pull away after one sip, but you wrapped your arms (and his) behind his back and pulled him against your body. He flinched, looking very startled. He struggled slightly, but you held him still. “More…” you glared with a warning tone.

“I don’t like my women so bossy.” He huffed.

“And yet every women in here, you wanted to have boss you around. DRINK.” You commanded again.

He hissed angrily but obeyed and drank more blood. You started to feel lightheaded, but kept your consciousness about you. “That should be enough.” You told him but he stepped closer and pushed you against the wall, still drinking more. “Hey! I said that’s enough!” you yelled and yanked him off, but still held his hands tightly. He you shoved back into the wall, making his wand poke you in the back. “Knock it off! You owe me now, remember?!”

“Like you, I won’t obey so perfectly.” He insisted. “Now you’ve made your payments, give me my wand back!” he glared.

You pushed him away at arms length then let go of his hands. He agreeably let go of yours and held one hand out expectantly.

You slowly reached back and grabbed the wand, pulling it out of your shirt. “The first spell you cast will be my wish, got it?” you glared.

“Oh? And how will you garentee that?” he frowned.

“Because you’re not a liar. You twist your words and others, but you don’t tell flat out lies. You dodge the question a lot too. Now I repeat, You will agree to the first magic you use when you get your wand back, will be my wish.”

He sighed in exasperation. “Fine, I agree!”

You finally handed it over. He took his wand from you and saw a little blood on one of the star point. He smirked and licked it off.

“Alright, so what is this big wish you have in mind?” he asked, looking cocky again.

“Get your wand ready to grant it as soon as I’m done saying it.” You said.

“You seem confident that it’ll stump and or upset me.” He said cockily. “You drastically underestimate me. And I’m sure you won’t wish me back into a safe in the ocean, you saw the effects of last time, you’re too nice~”

You took a deep breath. It was time. “I wish that you are unable to touch or hurt me, unless it’s life saving efforts or I give permission. I wish that after every wish, spell, use of magic, your wand automatically comes to me, and that this is the only wand you can use until I die.”

His eyes went wide with shock but smoke erupted around you two and his wand was missing when the smoke cleared. Something cold was wrapped around your neck. You felt it to find a thin chain with a single black star on it. In the back where the links were was what seemed to be the handle of the wand.

“My wand!” Anti-Cosmo said with desperation and reached for you but his hand was repelled. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?!” he said, seeming more shocked than angry.

“I’ve made myself the only possible master you could have forever.” You smiled.

“You’ve CURSED YOURSELF!” He emphasized. “WITH ME!”

“Effective.” You smirked. You reached back to the necklace’s wand handle. As soon as you closed your fist around it and pulled, the wand changed back into it’s original form. You held it out to him again. “Now I wish you’d restore those two back to their healthy normal forms.” You said, pointing to the porcelain woman and chained down woman.

He choked, seeming too stunned to do anything for a moment. Then, to your great shock, he smiled and snatched his wand away. “You cheeky little thing.” He smirked waved it for your wish. The two women were back to exactly how you found them, and the wand was back around your neck.

“As annoyed as I am that my revenge has been disturbed, I can’t help but feel a little…joyous.” He smirked at you. “Though taking my wand like that is making me a little more than annoyed.” He huffed slightly.

You were disappointed he wasn’t throwing a tantrum or anything. You were hoping for a better reaction. He seemed more satisfied than you were.

“What shall we do now little master?” he said in a mocking tone.

“You’re shockingly calm for someone who was just swindled out of their magic, and freedom.” You frowned.

“Only pure stupidity infuriates me. Being bested by someone clever…honestly brings me delight.” He smiled. “I can outlive you anyways.”

“Can you though?” you smirked back. “You can’t hurt or touch me. You’ll have to wait for someone else to off me. I can’t die of old age either.”

“Every woman around me dies. Every last one of them.” He whispered the last part, making you curious.

“For now, just take us home.” You said and removed the wand from your neck and handed it to him again.

“Ooooh~ our home?” he smirked. He took his wand from you and swung it around playfully. He waved it and you both wound up back at your penthouse. “I’m fine with the sound of that~”

“Wow, you go from ‘I can’t wait to get away and get revenge’ to ‘oh goodie we’re living together as master and slave’!” you growled and felt the wand, back around your neck.

“And you went from ‘oh you’re the worst!’ to…well, not too far off from that, but now you want to spend eternity with me~”

“You’re definitely still the worst. What I don’t get is why don’t you go find a woman of your own kind instead of constantly hunting terminal humans?” you asked.

He actually hesitated and looked away. “…I had a bride…”

You looked back at him in surprise. “w…an anti-fairy one? What happened? Divorced?”

“No no…that’s not really a…thing with us.”

“Then…what?” you asked expectantly.

He was quiet a minute before smiling again. “She died…probably the first Anti-fairy in centuries to accomplish that.”

“How?? Wooden stake?”

He actually laughed. “We’re not that alike! Besides…there’s a lot you don’t understand about the fae and Anti-Fae…”

“We’re going to be together for a long time. May as well.” You sat down.

He fluttered up and sat in midair. “Its not like you’d find my fairy counterpart anyways. Despite being an idiot he hides very well, as all fairies do, anti or not. First of all, you may or may not have noticed this, but I have a scar. I usually use magic to keep it hidden cause it’s a bit unsightly, but…” he lifted his shirt to see a bizarre star shaped scar on his stomach. “Despite being a fairy, the doctor was an imbecilic making such a massive unnecessary incision.”

“Whoa, I thought you healed fast! You didn’t have any scars from your deep sea adventure!” you said and looked at the scar closer.

“That because we are linked to our fairy counterpart’s. He didn’t have a deep sea adventure, so no scars. This scar was from an organ transplant. He took mine, I took his. While his organ was failing, mine was exceeding the use needed for an anti-fairy. It was mutually beneficial and I got out of fairy-worlds highest security prison as a bonus. But the only reason I got a scar, is because the same exact thing happened to him. Because we were inflicted the same injuries, permanent damage was done to us both.”

“So…your wife, did she die because her fairy half died too? And how?? Can’t imagine much that could cause real damage to you.”

“Care for a cautionary tale told between the Anti-fairy and fairy? It’s told as a reminder why the two Species don’t intermingle.” he smirked.

“A Fairy and an Anti, had one thing Akin

They both had same species folk, who’s lives were a sin.

So they combined their magic, mixed pure with perverse

But when the moment was done,

The trust was then none,

And they parted ways by hearse”

You blinked at him. “So…if the two species combine their magic, it can make a weapon that can kill them?”

“Basically, but there’s an anomaly…the story was they made bullets for their own enemies. They each took their share, but both shot each other at the same time. They say if one was honest, and the other shot at them, then they both would have survived. It’s only because they both planned to kill each other did they succeed. They made many bullets and only two were used. It’s said that after that, the fairies trapped us anti's to ensure their immortality. Only on Friday the 13th were some of us powerful enough to escape, but we were usually captured shortly after. Eventually we all escaped with the aid of a stupid child.”

He stepped towards your bed and laid on it, looking up at the ceiling. He held his hand out to you. “may I?”

You hesitated but gave him the wand. He waved his wand, and shadows began to form, some looking like him, another was identical women with curly hair, and the other was a tall crooked man. “ It was during on of my schemes to make the life of my species better. My wife, her fairy half, both were captured by some crackpot grade school teacher. Their capture only meant to hold them hostage, but he misaimed his bullet and hit both with the same bullet. It was pure …luck.” He said looking off into the distance as his shadows and wand vanished after acting out the scene he described. “They had no corpse’s. Unlike the rhyme, there was no hearse. No funeral. The Fairies…and the Anti-fairies. We all didn’t even know what to do…such a thing was only ever heard of in a story about not trusting one another.”

“That must have been painful. Have you mourned her properly?” you asked.

“I simply felt…no, nothing.” He looked away, rolling into his side. His wings cling to his back protectively, and his legs lifted closer to his body.

“Oh no. You’ve proven to not be the heartless monster you’ve tried to make yourself look like. You may have torture those women, but that was out of revenge. This was your wife, a being meant to live as long as you, probably the person closest to you. You’ve never really had to mourn before then, right?” you said, pulling him back to look at you. His face looked very sad and a little confused. “Why don’t we have an empty casket funeral? Maybe it’d help give you closure.”

He hesitated then his face cracked into a smiled. “I don’t need that, I need revenge. And now I know who to address my wrath to!”

“Did killing the human who killed your wife make you feel better?” you frowned, making his smile vanish. “Don’t tell me you didn’t seek revenge, not with how you’re acting now.”

“I did, but I have yet to find out how he found the bullets or even knew to look for them. Killing him was the most I could do for her. She often slowed me down anyways.”

“This is why you hunt women isn’t it?” you asked and he flinched. “You miss your wife but are constantly disappointed by the ones you come across. Let me guess, too breakable?”

“It doesn’t mater!”

“Oh yeah? What was your wife’s name?” you asked expectantly.

He hesitated a and looked away. “I-it doesn’t matter.” He said again.

“If it doesn’t matter, then just tell me. Or does it hurt too much to say her name?”

He got up from the bed and walked to the window. “I’m going for a flight.” He said as he opened the window.

“Avoiding me won’t help. I’ll still keep asking.” You said.

“Then maybe I won’t come back.” He glared.

“Without your precious wand?” you asked.

“I’ll get another one.”

“Part of my wish was this could be you one and only wand forever. So I doubt that.”

“Maybe I’ll learn to live without.”

“Good luck with your magical crashes.”

His fist clenched but he stepped into the window sill and vanished.

You decided not to worry about it for now and got busy. It was hard to find things to keep you busy since you’ve lived for so long, so lately you opted to videogames.

You sat on your couch and began to play a zombie killing game. You weren’t sure how long you played for, but eventually you heard the shutters open and bat wings flutter. You didn’t bother looking. You pretended to not notice and kept playing.

“Might I make a request?” he asked softly.

You paused the game and looked up expectantly.

“…another controller?” he asked and pointed to the one in your hand.

You rose your eyebrows but held the wand out to him. “I wish you had a matching controller.” You said as soon as he held it. In an instant, his wand was replaced with a gaming controller and he sat in the air with his legs crossed.

“So…how does this work?” he asked, trying to mimic how you held your controller.

You gave him quick short instructions and you both began to play till morning. The light hit his face first and his hissed before setting the controller down and rubbed his eyes.

“So…nice flight?” you asked as you set your own controller down.

“…Her name was Anti-Wanda.” He finally said. He reached into his coat and held a wallet out to you. You took it curiously but only found photos inside. There was pictures of him with a similarly colored woman with crooked teeth and curly blue hair. Her bright pink eyes stood out, just like Anti-Cosmo’s green eyes. She was using her feet to do odd things in some pictures, like holding a sandwich. All the pictures they were close and looked happy.

“You two look happy.” You commented with a smile.

“Id like to think so. I was always trying to make the conditions better for my kingdom and wife, but after she passed, well…I saw no reason to anymore, and just decided to hunt on my own.” He shrugged. “It was because of one of my schemes that she got caught anyways.”

“You didn’t expect anyone to be ready and waiting to catch her. Or be dumb enough to shoot his hostages. Stop blaming yourself. Besides, you have a designated food source now.” You told him. “We can go on our own adventures.”

“What about Anti-Binky?” he asked. “My revenge?”

“I don’t know about revenge, but maybe some justice is in order.” You said.

He cringed at the sound of the word “Justice”, but nodded. “That might be enough I suppose…”

“I’ve got a plan, don’t worry.” You assured.

“So do I. Might we Converse?” he asked.

“Sounds fair.” You agreed.

[seriouslyhooked]

I’ll Stay (Vulnerable)

Cannon divergent oneshot based in 3A when everyone is back from Neverland. CS-centric, and involves Emma coming to grips with her feelings for Hook much earlier.  Available on FF Here and AO3 Here.

A/N: Hey everyone! In this chapter, we are taking things back to season 3 and we are rewriting it. I know, I know, you’re all shocked. Me – a devoted follower of fluff and hope – is going to rewrite a storyline where Emma and Henry left everyone behind and forgot them? Yup. Absolutely. Would write this fic a hundred times in a hundred different ways if I could. In this divergent little drabble, we made it through Neverland and got rid of Pan without any more curses or nonsense. Everyone knows what could have happened, but they avoided it, and now Emma is grappling with the fact that something more than a ‘one-time thing’ is happening between her and Hook. Inspired by the song ‘Vulnerable’ by Selena Gomez.

The irony was not lost on Emma that sleep was eluding her.

After what felt like an eternity fighting to get Henry back from the clutches of Pan and from the brink of danger, they were finally home. They’d staved off another curse, circumvented another terrible twist that would have ripped them all apart once more, and, most importantly, her kid was safe, sleeping in his bed and on the road to healing from this terrible adventure.

Over the past week, Emma had barely closed her eyes. Leading them through Neverland and navigating the wickedness of Gold and his father was a constant struggle. The physical toil and the emotional pain had been profound. She was exhausted and weary, but still, sleep would not come.

Here in the loft, the air was quiet, and the mood was peaceful. The moonlight trickled through the glass pane of her window, and the curtains caught in the breeze filtering in from outside. The temperature was perfect, cool and refreshing, but warm under the covers. The bad guys had been beaten, Storybrooke was safe, and the calm seemed stable, at least enough to last through the night. But it didn’t matter. Despite her best efforts, Emma could not sleep. She’d tried everything, but none of it would work.

It’s never going to work, she said to herself dejectedly. Not until you face this.

“Yeah, that’s not happening,” she muttered aloud, shutting down the part of her that wanted to work things out instead of always avoiding.

She heaved out a sigh of defeat and tossed the rumpled sheets off of her. Climbing out of bed and tiptoeing to the kitchen, Emma made sure to avoid all the noisiest parts of this apartment. She didn’t want to disturb Henry or her parents, but she couldn’t handle being cooped up in that bed. It was getting her nowhere. In fact, it was making things worse. Lying there in the dark, she was bombarded by memories and what ifs. It all was overwhelming, and enough to drive her mad.

Wordlessly she moved to the kitchen and found herself reaching for the ingredients needed for a calming cup of cocoa. Despite the lateness of the hour, she knew it would be a small token of comfort in a long, unrelenting night. The motions of preparing the sweat treat were soothing. This was a ritual she had grown accustomed to, and was mindless enough to lose herself in. But this late-night activity, which usually saw her through the worst of days, didn’t yield the desired effect. Her thoughts still wandered, circling back to a particular pirate who perplexed and provoked her.

I don’t understand his motives, she said to herself, knowing this was her cynicism taking the lead. Why is he still helping? Why take the risk? What is he after?

Why does he have to be ‘after’ anything? The reasonable part of her brain replied. Why can’t you just accept that he cares about you?

Because it can’t happen.

It already has. The kiss, in Neverland…

It was a one-time thing.

It doesn’t have to be.

It does.

It doesn’t.

It does.

You’re scared.

Of course, I’m scared! He’s Captain freaking Hook!

He’s just Killian.

“He’s not just anything,” Emma murmured as she mixed in the chocolate, watching the warmed milk turn to a rich, silky chestnut color. Here was the kernel of truth she was terrified to admit. To Emma, Hook wasn’t just a villain or a pirate. He was more, intricate and messy and moving and intriguing.

During their time in Neverland, Hook had awakened something in her. It started with the kiss, that sinful encounter that drove her to distraction, but also struck her heart, piercing armor she had been building up for years. Okay, maybe it started before that. There were plenty of heated glances, and barbed bits of repartee between them that almost felt like foreplay, but the kiss lit a fuse she didn’t realize existed. It was meant to be a power move, a strategic plan to shut him up, maybe the vent some of her frustrations out, but the consequences lingered, and they were ones that Emma never saw coming.

She could still taste him even now, the ghost of that embrace tracing touches on her skin. Pressed up against him, the roughness of leather and metal, the scrape of his beard, the taut lines of his body… She’d given into him in that moment and lingered in the pleasure. When they kissed, Emma allowed herself a minute just to feel and to live. For a fleeting blip of time, the world wasn’t crumbling around her. She was restored and she was hopeful, but it had to be just once. She wasn’t meant to want any more than that. She certainly shouldn’t still be thinking of it now, but here she was. And she was thinking of more too, thinking of the ways he’d risked himself, the ways he’d supported her, the way he’d saved her father. She acknowledged in the silence of her self-dialogue that she had grown to count on him, and that she felt drawn to him, even when his obvious role had come to an end. She should have been eager for him to go, now that the task of defeating Pan was over, but the thought of him leaving left an aching, empty feeling in her chest.

Over the past few days, Hook had luckily shown no real signs of setting outward. He was still sarcastic and cocky and cutting. He was practically gleeful every time he got to torment David, and his actions towards Neal and towards Gold were downright frosty still, but there was honor underneath it all and a respect he gave the others and this town that spoke to a more gentlemanlike nature. She had seen him when they located Henry, and observed a genuine relief when she was reunited with her son. She noticed the way he minded the others, helping far more than he hurt, and how he bit back the bullshit bad guy act when they just couldn’t take it. He could read a room, and he often did, though he hid behind the swagger and the accent. And more than once there was something that colored his gaze, swimming in the blue depths of his eyes. When he looked at her, he hid nothing, and let the weight of his affection flow between them. He may not say the words aloud, but he laid it all out there, showing a vulnerability she never imagined but desperately craved. He wanted her, and Emma… well Emma wanted -

“Couldn’t sleep?”

Emma jumped, her hand moving towards her chest and making contact with the speedy pacing of her heartbeat. Adrenaline spiked in her system, but she immediately relaxed when she saw it was only Mary Margaret. Emma worried for a moment that the conversations playing in her head may have been whispered out loud, but her mother (God that was still so weird to say), showed no awareness. Seeing as Mary Margaret was incapable of keeping secrets, Emma knew her own were safe. At least for now.

“No. You?”

“I wish,” Her mother said, reaching into the cupboard and coming out with cinnamon, bringing a small smile to Emma’s lips. “I never can after these escapades. But your father? Out like a light the moment the bad things pass. It’s almost like it never happened.”

“Lucky guy,” Emma joked, and her mother chuckled, a thoughtful expression coloring her face.

“We are all lucky tonight. It was almost so much worse.” Snow’s words had the lilt of unshed tears hanging on the end. Emma could see the mistiness in her mother’s eyes, and felt the weight of her worry. “We almost lost you again, Emma.”

“I know, but you didn’t,” Emma said, placing a hand on her mother’s shoulder. Snow placed her own hand over it and took a deep breath, nodding. She wiped two stray tears away quickly but collected herself.

“Everything that’s happened… well it’s put things in perspective for me.”

“Like what?”

“I was wrong, Emma. In Neverland, when I practically interrogated you about Hook.” 

To say that this was unexpected was an understatement. Emma was shocked at the acknowledgement, even though she appreciated the words.

“It’s fine.”

“It isn’t,” her mother emphasized, and Emma stayed quiet. Snow was right after all. It wasn’t great. It had caused more pain in a series of painful events, but Emma planned to just move past it and leave the discomfort behind them. “I didn’t understand what you had been through. Even worse I jumped to my own conclusions. I was pushing you towards Neal, thinking Hook was the bad guy, but in the end, looking at the full picture, that’s not really the story, is it?”

“No, it isn’t,” Emma agreed. “Honestly, I can’t really follow the story anymore. I feel…”

“Lost?” her mother asked. Emma nodded.

“Yeah. Crazy right? We leave Neverland, and somehow I’m more lost back home than I was there.”

“Maybe,” her mother mused, as Emma poured two glasses of cocoa. She handed them to Snow for added cinnamon, but she was curious as to her mother’s hesitation.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, are you really lost, Emma? Or are you scared of facing what it is that you want?”

The words were a swift punch to the gut, but Emma sustained them, taking a sip of her cocoa and braving up to respond honestly. “The second one. But it’s insane. How is it possible? A few weeks ago, I’d never even met this man. He’s a pirate – a villain from a story that I read as a kid. Things are moving so quickly, and yet their standing still. I don’t know what to do.”

“Do you trust him?”

“As much as I trust anyone,” she admitted, the truth coming out for the first time since meeting him.

“Do you care for him?”

Emma nodded, not daring to say that part just yet. Her mother’s eyes softened, a look of love despite the strangeness of this suitor.

“Does it have potential?”

“I don’t know,” Emma whispered, but the feeling in her chest that had been there for a while now was blooming something fierce. This may not be her gut, per se, but it was something adjacent, an instinct and an emotion screaming out that there was more than meets the eye here. This was different. This was special.

“If you think about the future, is he there?”

“I think I want him to be,” Emma said, knowing there wasn’t much thinking to be done. That was what she wanted, and now, she’d finally confessed it.

“Then you have your answer. It’s just a matter of facing it and doing what you need to do.”

Her mother’s observation hung between them and Emma realized Snow had immediate expectations. “You mean now? But it’s late.”

“So? He’s a pirate. I don’t know much about them, but I’ll hazard a guess that they don’t keep normal hours.”

“This is crazy.”

“Affairs of the heart usually are, Emma. You’ll recall I once bashed your father in the head with a rock, and yet the thought of going one more day without him by my side…” Emma’s pulse skipped a beat at the mention of her heart. Another sign that deep down she had known for quite a while what she wanted. “You’ll never sleep until it’s settled, honey. Believe me, I know. You take after your mother, just as I took after mine.”

Emma didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry at her mother’s joke, but she found herself hugging Snow close and thanking her. From there, things got a bit hazy. She was working off of adrenaline, moving to her room and changing out of her pajamas before heading into the Storybrooke night. It was just after midnight, not tremendously late, but by small town standards it was as quiet as quiet could get. Everything was closed now, the diner, the inn. Even the bar was locked up tight, and that was as late-night as Storybrooke ever got. There was no one around, just Emma and the pounding of her heart. Still, she kept moving, following the advice of her mother and the sense of what-if that had nagged at her all evening.

Soon enough she was at the docks, following the lamp light, and headed in the direction of the Jolly Roger. It wouldn’t be difficult to spot, as the only Enchanted Forest vessel in the harbor, but still Emma worried. What if he’d left in the dark of the night? What if he believed her when she said this didn’t matter? What if she was too late?

When the ship came into view, she exhaled a sigh of relief, but it was quiet. The lights were out. There were no signs of movement anywhere. And then she heard it. Singing, feint at first, but louder as she approached the boat. The voice was deep, but ruggedly refined. She knew it was Hook, but she’d never actually considered what he’d sound like in a song. His voice was beautiful and a little haunting, the seafaring shanty being one of heartache and loss. It was somber and serene, but despite its content, it was also a little bit hopeful. At least to Emma. Because if Killian was up signing instead of sleeping in his quarters after all they’d faced in the past few weeks, maybe that meant he was thinking thoughts like the ones that she’d been plagued with.

On their voyage to and from Neverland, Emma came to know this ship intimately, and the wooden planks called out to her. They were familiar and welcoming, two things she never believed she would ever say. It would be so easy to come aboard and just announce herself. But instinctively she knew it wasn’t okay to board this ship without permission. Insecurities crept in at the realization. She was intruding. This wasn’t right.

This was stupid, she reasoned to herself. I should have waited until morning. I should have –

“Swan?”

The voice she most wanted to hear played strange tricks on her now, sending a shiver of anticipation through her system and a tiny bit of terror as well. She looked to the deck but didn’t see him, then she realized the voice had sounded out from a higher locale. Her eyes climbed the great mast of the Jolly and there he was, perched atop the crow’s nest. With a coordination and grace reserved for the movies, he swung down from the great height with a rope from above. The action only tensed the hard lines of his muscles even more, and Emma took each movement in, unable to look away.

Hook was still dressed in a way she was used to seeing, but now he was missing his jacket and his vest. His hair was tousled, and his beard a touch darker, or perhaps that was a trick of the moonlight. She’d never seen him like this before. He was somehow even sexier than usual, and it overwhelmed her. He descended from the ship at a hurried clip, moving towards her with purpose and precision. He closed the distance between them, until they were mere inches away from one another. When he was near enough, his eyes searched her whole being for signs of trouble, and his hand came out to reach for hers in a show of comfort. She extended hers in kind, and her body came alive at the contact. Her breathing caught as her eyes met his cerulean gaze, brimming with intensity and earnestness.

“Emma, love, are you all right? Is it Henry? Has something happened?”

The worry in his tone was evident, and the honesty she felt flowing off of him broke the last fragments of her will power. She couldn’t take it anymore. She was in this, and it was damn well time that she act like it.

She practically leapt into his arms, pulling him down by the v of his somewhat unbuttoned shirt and kissing him as she’d wanted to ever since walking away back in Neverland. The instant delight that came was heady and addictive, and this time Emma knew that she could savor it. There was nothing looming on the horizon – nothing poised to stop them or intrude on this big moment – and for the first time in a long time, Emma felt free. Free to feel and free to want something only for herself.

Hook needed only the briefest moment to respond. He practically purred out his approval, the growl he let loose buzzing through her and setting her ablaze. His expert use of hand and hook left her shaking. He pulled her even closer, closing the remaining space between them, and enveloping her in every part of him. Emma stopped knowing where she ended and he began. God, this was perfect. Easily the best kiss she’d ever had. How could anything possibly feel this good? His hard body had her squirming in his grasp, seeking any semblance of friction and relief. She’d been carrying desire for this man for too long, but compartmentalizing and hiding it away. Now it flowed freely, surrounding her, engulfing her, and leaving her breathless.

She wasn’t the only one trying to soak in every moment. Hook was just as ravenous, nipping and teasing her with touches designed to seduce and to entrance. He was hot and fierce and alluring, the scent of rum and salt and sea air clinging to him. It felt dangerous and daunting, but also natural and filled with need. Like magnets flung towards impact, two opposites attracting and finding something more. Many parts of this were familiar, but then it changed, sparked fire, and blazed to something past her comprehension.

With the benefit of privacy and time, Hook took control and guided the kiss. He was dominant and demanding in ways Emma never allowed another man to be. It set her soul on fire, and tilted the world into a whole new point of view. This heated embrace stole every shred of sanity Emma had left, but she wouldn’t trade it for anything. Neverland was about her making a statement, and tonight was as well. But Hook would have his say this time, and he showed her so much more through luscious actions than anyone ever had with words. This kiss was a revelation, a seduction any siren would be proud of, and here she was, caught within the storm but finding that she loved it all the same.

Coming up for air was a struggle, mostly because now that she had done this, Emma didn’t want to let go. But after the fervor of first contact, they both knew that they had to talk about this. For Emma, it was time to fess up, and to confess that the fear of taking a chance was overwhelming, but that the fear of losing a chance at this was even more jarring.

“It’s difficult for a man to determine if he’s dreaming when a woman as lovely as you appears like this, Swan.” Killian uttered the words as his fingers traced along her jaw. His hook held her hip in place, the cool metal a source of strange comfort. Emma nuzzled in closer, leaning against his palm and breathing him in as her eyes closed. “But in all my years I’ve never had a dream that compares to you. So it must be real. Please, Gods above, let it be real.”

“It’s real,” she whispered, pressing another soft kiss on his lips. “We’re real. I’ve been scared as hell to say that, but I…”

“I understand, love. It’s wholly unexpected. And I’m not exactly the kind of man a woman like you deserves.”

“Don’t say that,” she pleaded, and the pain in his eyes sent a sharp sting through her heart. Obviously he didn’t see himself the way she saw him. But maybe with time, things would be more clear.

“It’s the truth, Swan.”

“Do you trust me?”

“Aye.”

“Do you want me?” He nodded immediately, his hold on her tightening, whether or not he realized it. Her lips curved up to a small smile at that, and she not so secretly loved how sure and certain he was in this.

“Yes.”

“Would you ever hurt me?” she asked, her voice breaking slightly, and the pain of her past surging up in darkened memories.

“I might, love, but Gods strike me down if I do, because it’s the last thing in the world I’d ever want.”

“And that’s how I know,” she whispered. Looking at him with new conviction, willing him to believe her. “That’s the difference with you, Killian. I see you, I see your heart, and I know you see me. Not the savior, not the sheriff, not the lost little girl or the woman with walls. You see me. Just me.”

“You’re all I see, Swan. Have been for some time.”

She didn’t know who started their next kiss, but she felt the frenzy of it all the same. It was just as magnificent as before, but this time sincerity simmered throughout as well. The understanding they were reaching made it all the better. Knowing they were both going to jump here gave her comfort, but there were still some words to say.

“I don’t really know how to do this,” she admitted, running her hand across his chest as their foreheads touched. She looked down to avoid an embarrassing exchange. Patiently he waited, but when she stayed stock still, he tilted back and brought up his hook. He gently nudged her chin back up, prompting her to see that there was nothing like judgment in his eyes.

‘Neither do I. But we’ll see it through. Together.”

“I’m not good at letting people in.”

This time he grinned, looking like a man who was up for the challenge of scaling her walls. She almost rolled her eyes until he took her hand in his and pressed a gentle kiss upon it. It was an intimate gesture that made her heart soar. Who was this man who could be so roughish and rough one moment and yet gentle and sweet the next?

“That makes two of us.”

“I’m going to fuck this up,” she affirmed, assured of the missteps she would make and wanting him to realize she was so much less than perfect.

Now he looked frustrated, and his voice ground out in a graveled, gruff tone. “Not possible.”

“How do you know?”

‘Because you’re you, Swan,” he murmured, pressing sweet kisses to her face, to her neck and jaw, then her lips once more. “You’re rare and remarkable and real. You can do anything you set your mind to, anything but push me away. I’m in this, Emma. Entirely and completely. It’s soon to admit that, but you deserve the truth, and you’ll always hear it from me.”

“I really want to trust you,” she whispered, clutching onto his shirt and letting this one last worry live between them.

“And someday you will. In the meantime, I can wait. I will wait. As long as it takes.” That was all it took. Peace finally claimed her, and something in her settled.

“Okay,” she murmured, leaning in to hug him and basking in his heat and the gentle thrumming of his heart.

“Okay,” he replied, a lilted whisper in her hair as he held her close.

They remained out there for a while more, but neither needed to say anything for them to realize what must come next. Emma needed to go home, and he would see her there, safe and sound. They walked together, down Main Street in the moonlight, hand in hand, with the closeness of lovers, and the poise of two similar souls seeking comfort in each other. No one was around to see them, but Emma knew they would very soon. She wasn’t going to hide this, and someday they’d walk in the light together, letting everyone know exactly where they stood.

When they were back by the loft, Emma stalled, not wanting this to end. She wished she could invite him up for a drink, a drink that would no doubt turn to more, but she couldn’t. Instead, they needed to say goodbye for now, but she found she wasn’t sure how.

Killian took the moment to pull her in, kissing her one last time, and saying again with actions what words could only half describe. This kiss was sweet but insistent, a reminder and a promise of all that he would give and all that they could have if they chose to be together. When they broke apart, Emma was certain in him and in herself. This was happening. This was right.

“Until tomorrow then, love,” he whispered, pressing one last kiss upon her cheek.

“Good night, Killian.”

His eyes lit up and he smiled at her use of his real name. She made a promise to herself that she would use it more often. He waited for her to go inside, and only when she’d done so did he finally walk away. Leaning against the wooden door, Emma sighed in relief and smiled.

This is the start of something good. Something true. Something… happy.

And with those final thoughts, Emma headed back to bed, and found that sleep came swiftly, bringing with it dreams she hoped would come to pass.

……………..

If I gave you every piece of me, I know that you could drop it Give you the chance, I know that you could take advantage once you got it If I open up my heart to you, I know that you could lock it Throw away the key and keep it there forever in your pocket

If I gave the opportunity to you, then would you blow it? If I was the greatest thing that happened to you, would you know it? If my love was like a flower, would you plant it, would you grow it? I might give you all my body, are you strong enough to hold it?

If I show you all my demons And we dive into the deep end Would we crash and burn like every time before? I would tell you all my secrets Wrap your arms around my weakness If the only other option's letting go

I'll stay vulnerable, yeah I'll stay vulnerable, yeah I'll stay vulnerable

If I hand you my emotion, would you even want to take it? If I give you all my trust now, would you fumble it and break it? If I let you cross my finish line, then would you wanna make it? I think I'm ready, won't you come and flip the switch and activate it?

If I show you all my demons And we dive into the deep end Would we crash and burn like every time before? I would tell you all my secrets Wrap your arms around my weakness If the only other option's letting go

I'll stay vulnerable, yeah I'll stay vulnerable, yeah I'll stay vulnerable

If I show you all my demons And we dive into the deep end Would we crash and burn like every time before? I would tell you all my secrets Wrap your arms around my weakness If the only other option's letting go

I'll stay vulnerable, yeah I'll stay vulnerable, yeah

If I show you all my demons And we dive into the deep end Would we crash and burn like every time before? (I'll stay vulnerable) I would tell you all my secrets Wrap your arms around my weakness If the only other option's letting go

(I'll stay vulnerable, yeah)

Post-Note: So, what did you think? Honestly, I had no intentions of writing this chapter right now. I knew the song needed to be in the mixtape, as I love it, and it fits so well with this series of CS love stories, but I have a number of other fics I am working on now that need attending to. Nevertheless, here we are, and luckily, this has proved to be the perfect palate cleanse for my other writing. My multichapter stories will be back soon. I’ve already started writing, and in the meantime, we all get an added little romantic bonus. Hope you enjoyed this dose of fluff, thank you all for reading, and know that I’m wishing you safe, healthy, and well. xE.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9,Part 10,Part 11, Part 12,Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20, Part 21, Part 22, Part 23, Part 24,Part 25, Part 26, Part 27, Part 28, Part 29, Part 30, Part 31,Part 32, Part 33, Part 34, Part 35, Part 36, Part 37, Part 38,Part 39,Part 40, Part 41, Part 42, Part 43, Part 44, Part 45,Part 46,Part 47, Part 48, Part 49, Part 50, Part 51, Part 52, Part 53,Part 54,Part 55, Part 56, Part 57, Part 58, Part 59, Part 60,Part 61,Part 62, Part 63, Part 64, Part 65, Part 66, Part 67, Part 68,Part 69,Part 70, Part 71, Part 72, Part 73, Part 74, Part 75,Part 76,Part 77, Part 78, Part 79, Part 80, Part 81, Part 82, Part 83,Part 84,Part 85, Part 86, Part 87, Part 88, Part 89, Part 90,Part 91,Part 92, Part 93, Part 94, Part 95, Part 96, Part 97, Part 98,Part 99,Part 100, Part 101, Part 102, Part 103,Part 104, Part 105,Part 106, Part 107,Part 108, Part 109, Part 110,Part 111, Part 112,Part 113, Part 114, Part 115,Part 116, Part 117, Part 118,Part 119,Part 120, Part 121, Part 122, Part 123,Part 124, Part 125,Part 126, Part 127, Part 128,Part 129,Part 130, Part 131,Part 132,Part 133, Part 134, Part 135, Part 136, Part 137, Part 138,Part 139,Part 140, Part 141, Part 142, Part 143, Part 144, Part 145,Part 146, Part 147, Part 148,Part 149, Part 150, Part 151,Part 152, Part 153, Part 154, Part 155, Part 156, Part 157, Part 158,Part 159, Part 160, Part 161, Part 162, Part 163, Part 164,Part 165, Part 166, Part 167, Part 168, Part 169, Part 170,Part 171,Part 172, Part 173, Part 174, Part 175, Part 176,Part 177, Part 178, Part 179 , Part 180, Part 181, Part 182, Part 183, Part 184, Part 185, Part 186, Part 187, Part 188, Part 189, Part 190, Part 191, Part 192, Part 193, Part 194, Part 195, Part 196