#you can add these tags to the court case to prove that it was an act of coercion on my part

[mechformers]

Reypaytun

[Reypaytun [ˈɾɛj.paj.tun] - Blood red (color) ]

6.7k words | Masterpost |

Tsu'tey x Human Reader

Summary: Tsu'tey wakes up after a night of vigorous lovemaking to blood smeared between your thighs. He does not take it well, panicking hard as he "flees the scene", effectively leaving you behind. Eventually, he learns what really happened and once he does, Tsu'tey is not afraid anymore.

Content warning: Period blood, Period, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Period Sex, Period Cunnilingus, Period Fingering, Squirting, Stomach/Belly Bulge, Size Difference, Na'vi/Human. Idk I feel like "Tsu'tey is not afraid anymore" should be a tag of its own lol

Authors Note: So this was supposed to be pure, filthy porking and nothing more. BUT(!) as with most things that I do, it caught a case of the feels and it became both angsty and filthy, and way out of hand... Sorry? lol Also, I stared too long at that manip and now it just looks stupid and wrong all over lol Might add it on a later date though, if I can find a way to make it look okay, and most definitely to Ao3 when that day comes lol Sorry, I know it won the poll T.T

Tsu'tey didn’t know how he managed to end up where he currently was, curled up behind you, a sky demon, after a long night of intense lovemaking. For months, he had battled with his own emotions, punished himself for the sheer betrayal his heart was pushing on him once he realized what the speeding of his heart actually meant. At first, he had thought it was a side effect of surviving the war with the sky demons - after falling from such a great height. But in the end, he had to be honest with himself that the speeding of his heart had happened long before the war officially came to a head.

No, Jakesully was to blame for this, and no one else. He had brought you with him when he convinced Eytukan and Mo’at to welcome Grace Augustine back into the clan. Along this Normspellman person, you had walked in beside them, a tiny little creature, speeding as fast as you could with your ridiculously small legs to keep up. You had been so helpless and pathetic that the sheer sight of you had made Tsu’tey angry at Jakesully to have allowed you to even join them. Had you been present with Jakesully and Grace Augustine when his betrayal was revealed, however, Tsu’tey knew that he would not have dealt with the situation as reasonably as he had. As it was, however, he ended up falling from the metallic flying machine, littered with bullet holes. Crashing through the forest to the ground, the sky demons greeted him with even more horror. When he came to again, it was your small hands that tended to him until Jakesully and Neytiri could bring him to Mo’at.

After losing his kuru, Tsu’tey had not been kind to anyone, but especially not to you in particular. The words he had said, the strength with which he had grabbed or shoved you, were beneath him, but the fact that it had happened, he could never hide from. And nor did he. Once he got his feet under himself again, once his mind cleared enough for him to realize a thing or two about this new life of his - he had nothing but the wellbeing of the clan and you on his mind. Convincing you to forgive him, to give him a chance, however, had not been easy. In fact, it had demanded all of Tsu’tey’s spare time to prove himself worthy of your affection.

In the end, you reluctantly agreed to date him - a sky people invention where two or more people become mates on a trial basis, to see if you’re compatible. It pained Tsu’tey to no extent to know that this was all you were willing to give him, that you trusted him just about as far as you could throw him. But he had done this, had caused this situation, he needed to stand steady in it or leave you be. Now, Tsu’tey was a lot of things, but a quitter, he had never been.

The courting process - the dating - had been long and difficult, but eventually, you had agreed to live with him in the kelku he had made specifically with you in mind. it had everything you needed within it and although you had been skeptical at first, after seeing all the hard work he had laid down with you in mind, something seemed to click right for once. It made Tsu’tey relax a little, made his anxiousness calm down enough for him to noticeably lighten up again. The first time he had cracked a joke or two, laughing joyfully, Jakesully had choked with surprise. It had been a very good feeling indeed.

With you in his life, everything just seemed easier. Laughter came easier to him, his normally stressed and harsh demeanor mellowed out and despite the fact that you are a sky person, Tsu’tey has never been happier in his life. It’s probably why he lets himself lose control while making love to you. The sounds you make beneath him, the gasped whispers of endearment as you cling to him only fuels his need for you further. For hours, he plows into you, driving you over the edge time and time again until you’re a sweaty mess beneath him, your skin slick and salty, and warm. As his cock presses as far as it can go into you, bulging your stomach enough that he can feel himself, Tsu’tey knows that there is nowhere he would rather be than right here in your arms.

Releasing one last time inside of you, Tsu’tey kisses your lips so softly, it makes you whine. Smiling down at you, he notices how your eyes glitter as you stare up at him. The right thing to do would be to clean you up, to bathe your sore muscles, but at that moment, Tsu’tey loses against the voice in the back of his head that’s telling him to let his scent seep into the very pores of your skin. You fall asleep in each other's arms like that, with loving words and soft kisses on your lips. It is the best few hours of sleep Tsu’tey has had in ages, the best sleep he has had in the month you have lived in their kelku.

But when Tsu'tey awakens early the next morning there's something wrong. Distantly, he registers an iron scent on the air that he knows all too well, but as his mind is slowly waking up, he doesn't pay it much mind. Instead, he runs his large hand over your small body, grabbing your small breast in his large hands as he kisses your shoulder, smiling into your skin as you too awake with a positively satisfied sigh. Tsu’tey runs his hand down your body, over your waist, squeezing your curved and soft hip appreciatively before continuing down to your subtle thighs, pulling a breathy moan from your lips that has his own skin erupt in a million small goosebumps. Continuing on his joyous morning journey, Tsu’tey presses his hand between your legs to find your core already wet and waiting for him. Pressing a finger into you, he lets out a rumble from deep within his chest at how ready you are for him.

Pulling back, Tsu’tey guides you over to lay on your back before slotting himself between your thighs, your hot, moist core smearing slick over his breastbone where it presses into you. Grinning up, he bends his head down, kissing your shoulder, your breasts, giving each nipple a good suck, before continuing down to your molten core, never breaking eye contact with you as he starts his breakfast. Your beautiful eyes are probably why he doesn’t notice the distinct coppery iron scent or the blood that is smeared on the inside of your thighs. Your breathy gasp as his thumb circles your pearl is probably why he doesn’t notice the bloody trail that has seeped from your puffed and raw cunt before he’s there. It takes him back with such shock that he's on his knees between your widespread thighs before either one of you can register what has happened. Lifting his hand to reach out to the blood, he's met with the bloody picture of his own digits between your bloody thighs and core.

"I have hurt you, yawne," Tsu’tey mumbles low, his voice small, even to his own ears. Getting up on your elbows to see what's going on, you look at the blood on his hands and on his chest before you look down at yourself, noticing the blood smeared between your thighs.

"Shit," you swear, clapping your thighs together, hiding your core from Tsu'tey's eyes in apparent shame. "It's alright, Tsu'tey. This happens."

It is alright?

This happens?

Tsu'tey can't believe what he's hearing. His careless mating has hurt you, has caused you to bleed from one of your most sacred places. The immense pain you must have been in while he took his pleasures from you… Shame floods through him and before you're able to say anything more, he gets up to his feet, grabs his tweng and bow, and flees your kelku. Running as fast as his legs can take him, Tsu’tey doesn’t stop until he’s crashing to his knees by the river. Vigorously, he scrubs his hand and chest until his skin feels raw. He can’t get the image of your bloodied cunt out of his head, nor the vulnerable way you had looked up at him. With great shame and stones weighing heavy in his heart, he gets up to meet the hunting party he was to be a part of that morning, only for the hunters to stare weirdly at him.

“Where is your battle band, brother? Your blade?” Atan asks as he steps up to him, Takuk closely following behind.

Patting the bottom of his ribs, he finds the skin bare from its usual protective layer. However, Tsu’tey could not go back to their kelku, even though you might not be there anymore. The sheer thought of crossing your path makes his ears bend painfully low against his skull with shame. Closing his eyes he takes a deep breath before opening them again to stare at his old friend.

“I will go without,” He growls too harshly, making Atan look at him with concern.

“Brother, I do not think that is wise,” Atan starts, but Tsu’tey cuts him off.

“It will be fine,” Tsu’tey bites back at his friend.

“Go back home to get it, we will wait,” Takuk presses, his gentle voice making Tsu’tey sigh deeply.

“Let us go before the hunt will be in vain,” He doesn’t miss the way Atan and Takuk look at each other with worried expressions.

The hunt is not successful. Or at least, not on his part. Tsu’tey is unfocused and stressed, resulting in him missing each and every shot before he’s even able to let the arrows go. When they return, it is without honor for Tsu’tey. Without bidding his friends farewell, Tsu’tey leaves the party to stew alone. Unfortunately, it doesn’t take long before Jakesully finds him and somehow that is even worse.

“What’s wrong, brother? Trouble in paradise?” Jakesully ask, immediately souring Tsu’tey’s already sour mood.

“Go away, demon,” Tsu’tey growls, noticing how harsh the words are spoken, making him involuntarily wince.

“Demon, huh? That bad?” Jakesully hums thoughtfully, falling into silence beside Tsu’tey. It takes hours of the two of them just sitting in silence together, Jakesully waiting him out, letting Tsu’tey wallow in his own shame and misery until finally, Tsu’tey breaks his silence.

“I hurt Y/n during our mating,” Tsu’tey admits, the words all but a whisper of shame, but of course, Jakesully hears them.

“Good hurt or bad hurt?” He asks as if there is a difference.

“There is no such thing as good hurt, Jakesully,” Tsu’tey growls angrily at his stupid friend.

“Trust me, brother there definitely is and I can assure you, with your size difference, there absolutely is,” The cheeky grin on Jakesully’s face is beyond infuriating to Tsu’tey.

“I made her bleed from her core, tell me where the good hurt is in that, demon,” Tsu’tey hisses before his shoulders slump, and the anger at Jakesully bleeds back into shame at his own actions.

“Oh…” Jakesully hums, his brother finally understanding Tsu’tey’s distress.

“And do you know what she said to me?” Tsu’tey huffs a humorless chuckle, “It is alright. This happens. Which means that it is not the first time I have hurt her like this, without noticing it - without her telling me. I have let her suffer because of my own greed,”

“Are you sure it isn’t just her period?” Jakesully hums, “I mean, she said this happens, right? The Na’vi don’t have them, but humans do. And it’s not as if she’s stopped your mating, right?”

“What is this period you are talking about?” Tsu’tey asks, because no, you haven't stopped their mating before. If anything, you have been overly eager for it.

“It’s uh… well, Y/n could probably explain it better, but each month human females bleed from their… you know,” Jakesully gestures between his legs, as if the word were somehow shameful.

“From the cunt?” Tsu’tey deadpans, watching as Jakesully’s ears flatten and his cheeks darken with heat.

“So crude,” Jakesully sighs before grinning, “But yeah. It's their reproductive organs, their uh… uterus? The womb. Shredding itself to prep-”

“Shredding itself?” Tsu’tey interrupts, his eyes huge as worry overcomes him.

“It’s uh, it’s her body’s way of preparing a new egg to be fertilized so that she can become pregnant - uh with child, after the current egg didn’t take,” Jakesully hastily continues, his discomfort so clear on his face and in his voice.

“So she is laying an egg?” Tsu’tey fills in, feeling bad for not having succeeded in fertilizing the egg you had worked so hard to prepare for him - for them.

“What? Fuck, no,” Jakesully barks, wiping his hands over his face, “Shit… uh, female humans carry a child in their stomachs, in their womb. It’s a… aw hell, I don’t know what it is, alright. There’s an egg, you jizz in her, she might become pregnant and the egg will develop into a child. If she doesn’t become pregnant, the egg will get washed out with the blood before being replaced with a new one.”

“I see,” Tsu’tey hums, but in reality, he does not see anything. Whatever Jakesully is talking about sounds weird and alien to his ears.

“Some women are in really great pain because of it, while others… - brother, where are you going?” Jakesully shouts after him, but all Tsu’tey can focus on is getting to your kelku as fast as possible.

He had left you alone in your kelku while you possibly were in great pain. He had left you there, too caught up in his own shame and emotions to hear you out when you had tried to explain it to him. Passing his people, he takes no care of them as he rushes as fast as his long legs can take him. Eventually, he’s crashing through the doorway of your kelku making you gasp with surprise where you’re preparing a yovo fruit for yourself.

“Yawne,” He pants, entirely out of breath.

“Are you alright, Tsu’tey?” Your worried words greet him as you put the knife down to greet him.

“Am I… Yawne, I did not know,” Tsu’tey falls to his knees before you, pressing his forehead to your stomach as he bends in on himself. Your hands immediately come up to hold him, your tiny hands gently caressing the base of what remains of his kuru, as you hold him close.

“Are you in pain?” He continues after lifting his head when his worries start to soothe, “Is the egg causing you pain?”

“Ah, you’ve talked with Jake I take it?” You hum with a soft chuckle, your beautiful eyes glittering as you look up at him in amusement.

“I have,” Tsu’tey confirms, bending his head down to look at you. “I do not fully understand, Jakesully mentioned that you might be in great pain, and I… Yawne, I left you,”

“It’s alright, yawntu, this is new for you. I would have warned you, but I didn’t expect it to come so soon,” You look down at him with your gentle eyes as if he hung the stars in the sky.

“I thought that I had hurt you,” He mumbles shamefully, “That I had caused you to bleed,”

“So your first cause of action at seeing me bleed would be to run away, got it,” You grinned up at him, teasing him as if this was somehow funny to you.

“Yawne! I…-” He starts, the protest and shame flaring up inside of him. How could he have acted this disgracefully to his mate?

“I’m just kidding, I’m just kidding, Tsu’tey,” You laugh openly as you push his head down into your stomach again, your weak arms holding him close as you chuckle.

“I have disgraced our bond, Y/n,” Tsu’tey starts, his heart breaking in his chest.

“Hey, no, Tsu’tey,” You urge, pushing his head up so that he’s kneeling before you at eye level instead. “Listen to me closely, alright?”

You don’t continue before Tsu’tey reluctantly nods his head, your small hands still on his face, comforting him through what must be a quite distressing time for you.

“Reacting as you did to seeing blood is alright. Especially for someone who has experienced violence as you have,” You pause until Tsu’tey realizes that you’re waiting for him to nod his head in understanding, “We mate with such passion that your conclusion wasn’t farfetched,”

“I do not know this word; farfetched,” Tsu’tey looks into your eyes, reveling in your patience with him.

“It means that it was not a foolish conclusion to come to, that it was within your right to think of it,” You smile again as if he has hung the stars in the sky while your thumbs caress his cheekbones comfortingly. “I’m small compared to you, and you are certainly huge in all aspects of the word,”

Tsu’tey can’t keep his chest from puffing up with pride, no more than he can keep his lips from forming a smug smile. Huffing up at him, your fingers take hold of the base on his ears, making them twitch.

“Behave, yawntu,” You grin up at him, letting him know that it is all in fond fun. “You have never and will never hurt me while mating, Tsu’tey. I don’t know if you’re even capable of doing such a thing,”

You stare up at him while he lets your words sink in, coming to the conclusion that you know best and that Tsu’tey has to trust your judgment. Sighing with the release of his stress and worry, Tsu’tey bends his head down to rest his forehead against yours. It’s comforting the way you’re still holding onto him, grounding him as if you somehow already knew what he needed despite your young bond.

“This period, this blood, can you tell me more about it? I wish to understand it so that I can better help you when it comes,” Tsu’tey hums, opening his eyes to look into yours.

“Of course, yawntu,” You smile beautifully up at him before slowly pulling away.

Taking his hand in yours, you lead him over to your nest, waiting for him to sit down before you bend your small legs to sit between his bigger ones. Taking both of his hands in yours, you look up at him as you start to explain what a period is, chuckling softly at his horrified expressions while explaining about your uterus shredding and how that causes the blood to dribble out. You walk him through everything, about how to contain it, about how you usually manage the pain, and how there are different methods.

“How else may I help you ease the pain, yawne?” Tsu’tey presses on when he notices you’re holding something back.

“It’s uh…” You stutter, your beautiful face darkening with an embarrassment Tsu’tey doesn’t understand. “There’s the act of mating, of - of reaching completion,”

“Mating?” Tsu’tey parrots, his eyes growing huge as his ears rotate forward with undivided attention.

“The act of mating reduces the cramping and reaching completion eases the pain,” You mumble, not able to meet his eyes head-on, “But it’s not something you have to do. I’ve got my heating pads, warm blankets, and excellent pain meds,”

At the mention of medication, Tsu’tey wrinkles his nose with distaste. He had never been fond of the sky people medicine, and to hear that you regularly take them to control a pain he could be helping you with, makes his anger flare. Slicking his ears back with annoyance, Tsu’tey huffs loudly.

“It is no bother for me to mate with you, yawne,” He starts, noting how your cheeks darken even further, “A little blood has never scared me before and it will not start now. Please, let me help you,”

“You really don’t have to, Tsu’tey,” You try again, your embarrassed little face looking up at him full of love and wonder.

“I want to,” Tsu’tey whispers, bending down to rest his forehead to yours again.

“Are you sure, yawntu?” Your eyes portray it all, your uncertainty, your need for him.

“I am, yawne,” Tsu’tey rumbles as he crawls over you, forcing your small body to bend backward to lay back in your nest.

It brings him straight to your hot core, the coppery iron scent strong and warm when he takes a deep breath. He isn’t afraid anymore though. This period had personally insulted him, but now, Tsu’tey would show you what a man truly was. Growling, he plops down on you, the entirety of his weight pressing the air from your small lungs, just how you liked it. The warm heat from your core wraps around Tsu’tey’s lower chest, lulling him to grind his hips into the soft nest beneath your bodies.

“You take my breath away, yawne,” Tsu’tey breathes as he lets the bridge of his nose run up the side of your neck, smirking childishly when it makes your breath stutter in your chest.

“Tsu’tey…” You gasp as he reaches your lips, kissing you long and deep.

The way your small hands clutch at his shoulders to hold on makes something inside of him snap. It’s ridiculous how every touch from you sends him over the edge, breaking the hard-set control he has over himself. You’re simply intoxicating to him. Running his hand down your flank, Tsu’tey lets his fingers flutter over every dip and roll of your soft skin, taking pleasure in the way the contact makes you moan. It never ceased to amaze him just how soft your skin was. The very first time you had allowed him to touch, to feel you, he had lost himself in your body, emerging only when the sun rose once more. His eyes had been blown wide the following day, much to everyone’s amusement.

Now, it was no different. The very scent of you stoked the fire within him, edging him closer to the point of no return, to the point where there was no one but you and him in this life that Eywa had graced them with. Giving you parting butterfly kisses, Tsu’tey dips his head lower, letting his lips trace an incoherent trail until he reaches the top of your chest. He’ll have to part with your thighs around his chest if he is to continue. A part of him doesn’t want to, but the needier part of him claws at his insides for Tsu’tey to present him with the sweetest nectar of your core. It’s the part of him that wins, in the end. Wrapping his hands around your thighs, Tsu’tey gently parts them from around his chest, pushing them back, opening you up like the most precious of flowers.

He’s presented with the same sight as he was that morning, your cunt puffy and red, needy and ready for his ministrations. The blood that slowly comes from your parted lips doesn’t scare him anymore. It’s so… little? Yet, that very morning, it had seemed almost too immense for him to comprehend. Curiously, Tsu’tey runs the pad of his thumb through the red liquid, marveling at the way it colors the blue skin of his thumb. Wiping it away from your entrance, however, only produces more as he forces your lips to part. Smiling to himself, Tsu’tey bends down to kiss the inside of your knees before starting his journey to the core of his desire. He takes a moment to marvel at your own stripes, the silvery, pink, brown, and purple smooth grooves that paint your skin in some places. Never would he have believed sky people worthy of such beauty, but yet again, you had proved him wrong. Your stripes are so different from his own, more like the lightning that crosses over the beautiful Pandora skies. Running his fingers over the stripes on your lower stomach, Tsu’tey marveled at your beauty for a moment before getting to his stomach between your spread thighs.

This close to your cunt, Tsu’tey can see everything. Hears your heart beating frantically in your chest as your blood courses through your veins. Tsu’tey can smell everything. And it makes something wild within him roar to life. His mind zeroes in on one thing and one thing only. Distantly, he registers that you’re talking to him, that your small hands find their way into his braids, but he’s lost in the spell you have over him. Running the pads of his thumbs along the outer lips of your cunt, Tsu’tey is helpless but to lick his lips as your red speckled slick coats his journey. Pressing gently on the silky smooth skin, he watches as your cunt opens up for him, watches as the impossibly small slit stretches the further he pushes.

Repeating the motion, Tsu’tey growls desperately when a fresh dollop of slick emerges from your cunt, the red speckles in it almost beautiful as it slides downward. Unable to hold back anymore, Tsu’tey leans forward, bumping his nose into your swollen pearl as kisses the warm, slick core of your cunt. The sound is almost rudely loud in your otherwise quiet kelku. The slick sticks to his lips in thin strings when he pulls away just far enough to meet your eyes over the swell of your stomach and breasts. Licking his lips, his nostrils flare as the taste hits his tongue, effectively sending his brain into a frenzy. Almost immediately, Tsu’tey dives back in, this time plunging his tongue straight into your core, lapping eagerly at your soft, warm walls. His nose keeps hitting your precious pearl, the hot air from his lungs blowing over it in rapid succession as he dines on a taste he’s never had before.

The taste of your coppery blood combined with the impossibly sweet and heady taste of your natural slick had Tsu’tey all but whining between your thighs, his digits tightening around the plump of your thighs as he held on for dear life. Driving his tongue as far as he’s able to reach inside of you, Tsu’tey breathes heavily as he makes a seal around your cunt, sucking while he licks at your insides. The taste of you explodes on his taste buds with each lick, making him push further and further to get more. He feels almost desperate when your small hands pull hard at his braids, trying your best to lift his head from your molten core.

“T-t..” You stutter, your breath coming harder than his, “T’ey,”

“Yawne,” Tsu’tey answers your call, his voice husky and raw, even to his own ears.

But you’re too far gone. With the little break that you obtained, your head falls back, hitting their nest while you continue to breathe heavily, your small chest lifting and sinking rapidly. It fuels something so primal inside of Tsu’tey that he physically had to clutch onto the bedding to keep himself from pouncing on you. He doubts the stretch would have truly hurt you, had he not been able to hold himself back. The amount of slickness and the plump readiness of your cunt told him as much, but even though you had told him how much you loved the stretch, Tsu’tey was acutely aware of your size difference.

So instead, Tsu’tey eases two digits inside of you, grinning proudly when he meets no resistance, just the slick, plump heat of your hole. Spreading his fingers, Tsu’tey watches as your head bends further back, a moan escaping your gorgeous red-bitten lips as he adds another finger. Like this, you’ve told him, he’s bigger than any human male known to history. It makes his chest puff ridiculously with pride. Add his own cock to the mix and you were a pampered little mate.

“What are you thinking about, yawntu?” You huff a chuckle as you look down at him.

“Nothing, yawne,” Tsu’tey smiles as he leans up to kiss your lips.

Pulling back, there’s red smeared on your face. The realization that he’s wearing you on his own face has his tail whipping painfully behind him with excitement. There’s something so intimate about this, an experience a Na’vi mate could never give him. For a moment, Tsu’tey thanks whatever power Eywa had in changing his mind, whatever made him turn on his opinion and pursue you. Staring down at you, there was no doubt in Tsu’ey’s mind that no atokirina could ever compare to your beauty. Try as she might, the Great Mother could not create anything even comparable to the beauty you held in his eyes. Grinning smugly, Tsu’tey spread your legs even wider with his knees, huffing proudly when your breath hitches.

The way his chest breathes deeply makes his heavy cock glide through the slick of your cunt, your size difference enough for there to be enough motion between you. The sheer heat of your cunt never ceases to amaze him, and try as he might, he’s unable to keep his hips from thrusting, to keep himself from seeking out your tight, slick heat. Pulling back, Tsu’tey meets your eyes as the head of his cock catches on the slick, hot “O” of your cunt. Swallowing audibly, he watches as your body shivers, your cunt spasming, kissing his cock head with an excited greeting. Wetting his lips, Tsu’tey presses forward, feeling his cock crown the tight circle of your cunt before you clench, sending his cock sliding through your slick to end under your navel.

“Tsakem rä'ä si, txopu rä'ä si, yawne,” Tsu’tey growls, his accent heavy, “Do not do that. Do not be scared, yawne,”

“I could never, yawntu,” Lifting your small arms, Tsu’tey bends down for you to grab onto the back of his neck, letting your weak arms press him down into a gentle kiss that touches his very soul.

Leaning his forehead to yours, Tsu’tey tries pushing forward again. The angle is weird like this, making it difficult to line up, but he wants to be close to you, wants to watch the exact moment he breaches your body, just so that he can see your pupils dilate to nothing but black. His cock catches on the ripe, slick circle of your molten core, but this time, when he presses forward, you don’t clench beneath him, denying him access. Instead, your body grows boneless beneath him as you relax, allowing him passage to the innermost sacred place of your body. It’s the easiest, most difficult glide Tsu’tey has had in his entire life. Never before has your body felt like this, clutching onto him as if the very thought of him leaving sent panic through your slick walls.

Groaning, Tsu’tey stills, letting the stretch of his size cement for just a moment before he pulls his hips back, tutting at your distressed whining before he slams into you, this time guided by the slick from his first slide. It fills you up to the limit, the head of his cock hitting that gloriously smooth and plush thing deep inside of you. It caresses the shaft of his cock, just behind his sensitive head while le butts into your wall. Distantly, he knows that he can go no further, but he still tries, pressing until his hips finally meet the plush meat of the crook of your thighs. You’re spread so wide beneath him that for just a moment, he wonders how you haven’t broken yet. Instead, you’re clutching onto him as if your very life depended on it, and when he pushes up on his hands, pressing the full weight of his body on your connection, he can see why.

Beneath your navel, there’s the clear indentation of his own cock beneath your skin. It isn’t the first time Tsu’tey has seen it, but there’s something about it this time that sends him over the edge. Involuntarily, his hips thrust hard, sending your body upward with the sheer force behind it. Your small shoulders meet his wrists, stopping your journey as his cock presses further into you from beneath. It’s a surreal thing to see. One moment, you’re gasping, eyes wide in shock, and the next, there’s something hot spraying from your cunt against his abdomen as your cunt ripples harder around him than ever before while you scream. Your orgasm lasts longer this time, squeezing Tsu’tey’s cock hard as your cunt tries its hardest to milk the juices that it so longs for. But it’s not the orgasm that has Tsu’tey perplexed.

“What was that, yawne?” Tsu’tey asks, his voice unrecognizable to his own ears.

But all you respond with is a series of ‘oh god, oh god, oh god’ while you covered your face from his eyes. Now, Tsu’tey was no fool, he knew your rambled string of words meant that you were in incomprehensible pleasure. It had happened the first time he ate from your core, the first time his fingers had entered your cunt, and especially the very first time his cock had stretched you around his size. So with that knowledge, Tsu’tey set out to get the same reaction again, if only for his own pleasure at seeing it.

With the same eye for detail, Tsu’tey repeats his motions, pulling back before entering you halfway once again. It sends your head back with a long wet moan, your puffy lips parted as you grab a hold of his wrists, preparing yourself for what you so obviously have anticipated to come. Grinning, Tsu’tey slams into you a little harder than he had meant to, but it’s all the same to you. Your loud moans fill your kelku as Tsu’tey presses further, testing the limit. It doesn’t happen immediately, like the first time, but Tsu’tey isn’t deterred. He is a man on a mission, a mission he is hellbent to succeed. And sure enough, after a while, your mouth starts forming that series of ‘no no no no no’ that always comes before something mesmerizing. It spurs Tsu’tey on, his mind chasing that burst of excitement, so pure, from your body’s core.

Thrusting faster, harder, Tsu’tey is not disappointed when he looks down just in time to see that same clear spray emerge from your core, coating his abdomen not just once as before, not twice, but four times. In time with your cunt contracting around him, Tsu’tey was helpless but to give into your core’s demand. With a final thrust, he sheats himself as deep as he’s able to while his body pumps you full of his seed. He’s breathing hard as he lays down on top of you, holding you captive beneath him while you breathe.

“You are,” Tsu’tey pants, taking deep breaths before continuing, “Amazing, yawne,”

Kissing your forehead, your cheeks, your gasping lips, Tsu’tey takes pity on you for a second, balancing most of his weight on his elbows, only for you to whine in annoyance. Huffing a chuckle, Tsu’tey slides down carefully once more, watching you closely as his full weight is on you again. Never would he have imagined his weight to be such a comfort to you, but as you hide your face between his pecs, Tsu’tey is left to drift on the sensation of your combined bodies while you land. He doesn’t know how long it takes, but by the time you emerge from his chest, the chill of the setting sun has started to creep into your dark kelku.

“Welcome back to Pandora, yawne,” Tsu’tey teases, only for you to clench your cunt around his sensitive cock, making him hiss.

“You are a cruel man, yawntu,” You huff, but the poorly hidden amused smile lets him know that your words have no bite to them.

“I am,” Tsu’tey agrees, grinning widely as he kisses your lips. “What does that make you, ma muntxate?”

“An innocent bystander?” You try, your sheepish grin mesmerizing Tsu’tey’s heart.

“You, ma yawne,” Tsu’tey starts, leaning down to hover over your lips, “Have never been innocent a day in your life,”

It brings the most beautiful laughter from your lips, a laughter that doesn’t immediately die down, but instead continues on until it gradually fizzles out. At this moment, Tsu’tey wishes that he could make tsaheylu with you, that he could show you the love that blossoms in his heart, a love that is so strong he’s not certain he could stay true to Eywa if challenged. But you do not have a kuru and he… he does not have his kuru anymore. Still, with everything that you are, you try your best to fill the gap he’s missing, letting him know how much he’s loved without actually having said the words before.

“I love you, Tsu’tey,” Because, of course, you would read him so easily. The notion is no less meaningless to Tsu’tey’s ears though.

“I love you, yawne,” He hums, kissing your lips slowly before hovering above them again, catching your eyes in his, “I have for a very long time,”

It’s an intimate moment, one heavy with emotions, with trust, and honor. You’re both from different worlds, but somehow, together, you have made it work, supporting each other with everything that you were. Tsu’tey knows that there will be nothing in this life or the next that can keep him apart from you. Beneath him, you reach a hand out to brush two of his braids beneath his ear, your small fingers gently rubbing his ear on your way back. Smiling, Tsu’tey gets up to his knees, watching his cock move inside of your small cunt. Pulling out, he watches as your red-speckled slick and his luminescent seed stick to his cock. There’s a mixed string connecting the head of his cock to the puffy mouth of your cunt for a moment before it breaks in the chill evening air. A moment later, however, his seed runs out of your wide-stretched, red hole. It’s beautiful.

Leaning forward, Tsu’tey attaches his mouth to your open cunt once more, sucking his seed and your slick from your abused and tired hole. If possible, your cunt is even hotter, even softer than before as he digs his tongue inside, slurping loudly even to his own ears. The plush of your thighs has collapsed shut on each side of his head, your cute weakness trying to push his head away, but Tsu’tey will drink his fill of you. Not even your gasped whines from above stop him in his ministrations before, as you desperately ramble, something sweet hits his tongue and face once, twice before your thighs fall dead from his head.

It takes him a moment to realize what has happened, but when he does, his cock twitches with interest. You, however, lay completely boneless above him, your breathing coming hard and fast, your eyes closed. Taking pity on you, Tsu’tey licks his lips before gathering you up in his arms. A bath would do you both good before some food and sleep. In the morning, Tsu’tey would quench his thirst for knowledge and you would let him, one way or the other. Grabbing a blanket, Tsu’tey wraps it around you, covering your modesty as he learned the hard way how sky people valued that sort of thing. Walking out of your kelku, Tsu’tey headed toward the river.

“Brother,” Jakesully shouted from the entrance of the communal meal, “Dinner was served a while ago,”

“We will eat at home, Jakesully,” Tsu’tey turns to his… friend, only for the man in question to holler loudly.

“Yo, Tsu’tey got his wings, alright!” Jakesully announces loudly, pulling the curious stares of Atan and Takuk.

Tsu’tey pays them no mind, however, as he continues his walk down to the river. He has a mate to take care of, one who brings him such joy he hardly believed he was still alive some days. To know that you felt the same as he - Tsu’tey could ask nothing more of the Great Mother.

That pesky egg of yours, however…

[xf-cases-solved]

Welcome to My Unhinged Project

Hello, I'm Diz, and I'm happy you've come to join me in my unhinged project that no one asked me to do!

I started watching The X-Files when I was five years old, and twenty-six years later, here we are. This used to just be a general X-Files blog, so if you're looking for the stat posts, each one will be tagged "txf cases solved" and then the relevant episode title (ex: s1e1: pilot). I'll add stats as I go, and if you have any suggestions, feel free to hit up my inbox.

Also, while most of the stats on the episode posts will be pretty self-explanatory, I wanted to show you the scale I'm working off of to determine whether or not a case has been solved. See below, and have a nice day.

SOLVED IT SCALE

Yes: Unequivocally captured the one who did the crime and the case was and/or could be prosecuted in a court of law. (If the culprit died, but could have been prosecuted if they had lived, it still counts as a yes.) Alternately, if it's determined that no actual crimes have been committed, or no arrests are even necessary, but they have an answer to the question posed by the case that they can take back to D.C. and not get yelled at, I will give it to them. A case MUST BE a solid "Yes" for me to consider it definitively solved.

Yes, but: They stopped the crime from happening and unequivocally know who the culprit was, but there is not enough evidence to prosecute in a court of law and/or the culprit is not human and therefore is not bound by human law. Or, alternately, the culprit escaped. Whupsie!

Maybe: They have a guess, but it's too impossible to prove/the episode does that thing at the end where it suggests they missed something important and then it fades to black.

No, but: They do not know who did the crime, but the crimes have stopped and/or they gathered new information to level up in their experience in the search for The Truth.

No: Yeah no, they got fuck all.

Uh-oh, mind wipe!: For some reason, they have no memory of the crime ever occurring, rendering the entire investigation moot. 

This episode is too weird to fit any of the above: This is my fail safe for if I missed something. It does what it says on the tin.

[randomshyperson]

Wanda Maximoff/Reader - Land of Thieves - #ChapterNine

GIF is not mine, and i’m running out of options haha.

Summary: When you were a child, you swore that no matter how high the reward in your head, she could always count on you. Life as an outlaw in the west is not easy, but you believe that train robberies are still easier than asking a pretty girl to dance. Land of Thieves, also know as your love story with Wanda Maximoff in the Wild West.

Chapter Summary:  The one where an old friend return.

AO3> Land of Thieves

Warnings:  18+, explicit language, explicit violence, slow burn, childhood friends to lovers, cursing, blood. Chapters Warnings: Slightly smut, panic attacks.

Words: 53.380K (All chapters)

tags: @mionemymind @whosedevil​ 

You wake up to a whistling noise. Wanda moves against you, burying her face in your neck, as you open your eyes, getting used to the clarity.

- Good morning, girls! - Nat says suggestively at the entrance to your tent. Wanda mumbles softly against your collarbone, not moving from her position on top of you. 

- Good morning, Nat. - You retort, letting your hands go up to Wanda's back. 

- Good morning, Nat. - Wanda repeats the greeting, but her voice is muffled against your neck. You don't mind.

Nat chuckles, walking into the room with her arms crossed.

- You guys are adorable, and everything. - She teases. - But we have work to do, Miss Maximoff. 

Wanda grumbles, and Nat nudges her quickly in the ribs, causing her to wriggle against you and almost knock you off the bed. She keeps poking Wanda until she demonstrates that she is going to get up. You just laugh at the interaction.

- Fuck you Nat, I'm going. - Wanda retorts, pulling out of the hug and standing up. You let out a sigh, missing her body heat immediately.

She stretches and gives Nat a gentle shove that makes her laughs and exits the tent, while pointing to the watch on her wrist.

- Good luck. - You tell her imagining she was already following Nat, but Wanda turns to you and climbs into your lap as she leans her body to give you a firm kiss on the lips.

Your body warms up quickly, but as you bring your hands to Wanda's thighs, you hear Nat shout that she would throw a bucket of water on you both if Wanda didn't come soon, so you end the kiss, and Wanda leaves your tent.

You lie there for a few minutes, eyes closed, smiling with the memory of Wanda's warmth, before you get up. You know you have a long day ahead of you.

Shortly after you delivered Stephen's letter to Steve, and talked to him about the plans to steal the gold from the Rhodes families, you approached Bucky as he was sitting in his tent.

- Would you help me with something? - You asked him shyly, and he just smiled, signaling for you to sit in the chair in front of his bed.

You sat down, a bit awkwardly, and then handed over the letter Erik had given you.

- A man looked for me yesterday in Saint Denis. - You told Bucky. - His name was Erik Killmonger.

Bucky frowned, looking worried. And then he opened the letter, reading its contents. 

- Did Killmonger say how he found you? - he asks seriously. And you look at him curiously.

- No. He didn't. - You reply. - Actually he didn't have time to tell me anything. - Seeing Bucky's confused expression, you add as you look away to the floor - Someone murdered him.

- Shit. - Bucky retorted, placing the letter on the bed, and running his hand through his hair. - Did anyone see you with him?

You blink in surprise at Bucky's nervousness.

- Only the guy who attacked him. - You reply. - But he must be in jail now.

Bucky shakes his head in denial, and then stands up, closing the tent. He sat down in front of you again, looking really worried.

- You can't tell Steve what I'm about to tell you, okay? - he asks, causing you to raise your eyebrows in surprise. But then you nod, and Bucky lets out a sigh before continuing. - Do you remember the time when I was away from the gang? A few years ago? - You nod in agreement. - I was up north. Helping the Wakanda people establish a reserve there. You didn't know her, but my sister lived with the Wakanda people, and she asked me to move there with her and her husband. - You were surprised by this information, but you didn't interrupt. - Unfortunately, explorations in that area started happening, and although no one can prove it, we know that the army attacked the reserve. My sister and her family died in the attack, and I rejoined the gang.

- I'm sorry about your sister, Bucky. - You say, and he smiles sorrowfully at you.

- That's all right, dear. It was a long time ago. - he says. - But what I want to tell you is this. A year after I returned, a group of Wakanda warriors set up a gang. A gang like ours. They call themselves the Panthers. - He tells you, and you nod, knowing exactly what he is talking about. - They came to me when we were in New Austin. They needed as much help as possible to get revenge on the soldiers who killed their families. And I accepted. - Bucky confesses, and pauses for a moment, as if lost in his memories. - Erik Killmonger was one of these men. We rode together to Fort Wallace, and together with the rest of the Panthers, we killed more than fifty federal soldiers.

- My God, Bucky. - you exclaimed. Bucky just looked at the ground. 

- After that the Panthers became the protectors of the Wakanda people. They are not thieves, and they only kill in case of defense. - He continued. - The gang grew in size, and spread all over the country. What we did that day, unfortunately, only delayed the inevitable. - Bucky affirms, and then grabs the letter from the bed and places it in front of you. - Killmonger has obtained the court license issued by Captain Vasily Karpov for explorations on the lands of the New Elizabeth reservation. 

- But what does this mean for the Wakanda people who live there?

- Death. - Bucky answered simply, and you held your breath. - And that's why Erik contacted you. He's trying to repeat what we did years ago. 

You bite your lips thoughtfully. And then you turn your gaze back to Bucky.

- Erik told me to save someone. - You tell. - Maybe he wanted me to find another way to help them.

- I don't know. - Bucky rebuts. - I see no other way out but to fight. Wakanda will not leave their land, and they are completely justified in staying.

You let out a sigh, trying to think. And then an absurd idea strikes you.

- What if the land was bought? - you ask suddenly. Bucky looks at you with a raised eyebrow in confusion.

- We literally have less than $500...

- The scam, Bucky! - you exclaim, smiling. - We'll get more than five hundred dollars with those gold bars.

Bucky laughs, but then he realizes your expression.

- My God, are you serious? - he asks incredulously, and you nod. - Child, we don't even have the money yet! And we don't even know if we're going to get it. On top of everything else, the army will send troops to the area in a few days. We simply can't help them!

You don't answer Bucky, because you are too busy thinking about the whole plan.  Bucky looks at you with a raised eyebrow.

- I need a paper and pen please. - You ask him, and he hurries to look for the items in the room.

When he hands you the objects, you turn toward the table next to the chair you are sitting on, and start writing down the plan as you explain everything to Bucky.

- If we do this right, we don't need to put anyone in danger. Especially the Wakanda people. - You say and Bucky nods slightly. - I really hope Tony Stark agrees to help us, or I'm going to need someone who looks a lot like a feudal lord.

Bucky laughs and picks up the plan sheet. He lets out a sigh and looks at you proudly.

- Let's do this, kid.

You don't tell Steve about your plan. Bucky doesn't like to talk about his past, and he thinks that this operation is something that only disrespects you and him. So he asks you not to mention anything to Steve, that he would find a way to tell him about it. You feel that they are distant lately, but you don't mention anything.

You have to go to Saint Denis, to pay Tony Stark a visit, so you leave after lunch. You'd like to kiss Wanda before you go, but she's not at the camp, and you figure she's still in Rhodes with Natasha.

It doesn't take that long to get to town, you quickly realize that your mare is quite sturdy and can run for a long time.

Now that you are in town, you need to find a way to find Tony Stark. The only place you know that has information on everyone is the saloons. 

So you spend much of your afternoon pulling conversations with strangers and buying them drinks, while trying to find as much information as possible. Finally, while you are at a card table surrounded by well-dressed drunks, a man tells you that Stark lives in a mansion at the northern end of town. You say a polite goodbye after he describes the house, and then you leave the saloon in the direction of the place.

You figure that the guards standing in front of the gate, and scattered all over the entrance area will not respond to an outsider's request to see their boss, so you go around the house, looking for a way to get in without being seen.

You find a ledge in the wall, and scale with some difficulty, but finally enter. Then you walk around with your head down, and enter the house through one of the windows.

You have never been in a mansion before, but you imagine that they are all as beautiful as this one. The floor was so shiny that you could see your reflection in it, and you suppressed the urge to let out an impressed hiss.

Finding the stairs to the second floor, shortly after ducking behind a couch when I heard a maid walk by, you went upstairs.

You had to look through many empty rooms before you found Stark's.

Opening the door carefully, you frowned with confusion at the image you found. Tony was sitting with his legs spread on the floor in front of his bed. Many bottles of drinks surrounded him.

He raised his gaze to you as you entered, and let out a dry laugh.

- Are you here to kill me? - he asked, clearly drunk, and then laughed again. 

- This is sad. - You commented with a light sarcastic tone, closing the door as you entered the room.

You walked toward the closets, looking for something for Tony to wear. You threw a set of the most comfortable clothes you could find on his bed.

Then you walked to the bathroom suite, and filled a metal pot with water. 

- Sorry about that, Tony. But I just don't have the time. - You told him before you poured the water over his head.

He let out a mixed exclamation of anger and surprise, and sank his face into his hands. You put the bowl on the floor, and stooped down beside Tony.

- Did that sober you up enough, or do I need to get more water? - you asked, and Tony just flashed you his middle finger, eliciting a laugh from you. You stood up, looking around the room, amazed at the number of items there. You were going through the books on the bookshelf when Tony finally finished dressing after he had gotten up complaining of a headache.

- What the hell are you doing here? - he asked as he approached you, taking the book from your hand and putting it back on the shelf.

- You treat your friends very badly. - You sneer and he lets out a laugh, turning in the opposite direction toward the room's exit. You follow him through the house to the lower level, where he leads you into the living room, and you sit in one of the armchairs while Tony pours a drink for you, and water for himself.

- To what do I owe the honor of your visit? - He asks with a slight irony as he sits down on the sofa.

- I need your help with something. - you say. - But I would also like to know if everything is okay with you.

Tony seems really surprised that you would ask him that. He rests his legs on the living room table and assumes a lost look.

- Everything is fucking great. - He replies sarcastically. You frown, and he looks like he is going to cry at any moment. - I live in a house with twelve rooms. I have employees at my disposal twenty-four hours a day. Everything is just fine.

- Tony.

- No. - He interrupts. - I don't want your pity.

You sigh, crossing your arms and placing your legs lying on the table next to theirs.

- I don't pity you, Stark. - you say. - I was going to tell you to have a little self-respect and stop sinking to the bottom.

He laughs lightly, and you follow him. You fall silent for a moment, and you assume a serious expression.

- This is about your father, isn't it? 

Tony's gaze is focused on one point in the room, as if he is not really there at all. But he nods slightly. You wait until he is ready to speak.

- I don't... My father and I, we didn't get along very well. - He confesses, looking down at his lap. - We had different opinions about many things. I never wanted his legacy. And then he died, and all his responsibilities fell to me. 

- This isn't about you assuming his business, is it? - you ask after a moment. Tony laughs humorlessly.

- No. - He confesses, and when he speaks again, thick tears stream down his face. - I just miss him.

Tony wipes away his own tears as they fall, apologizing. But then he sobs, and you get up, and throw yourself on the couch next to him, hugging him tight. 

- Damn, I'm sorry. - he says when you part, several minutes later. - I am a complete mess.

You nod in disagreement.

- Stop it, Tony. You don't have to apologize for your grief. - You tell him, and then put your hands on his shoulders, and give him a smile of mixed amusement and sarcasm. - But if I see you drown yourself in booze again, I'm going to punch you in the mouth, okay?

Tony laughs, hugging you one last time. He then gets up and asks one of his employees to prepare dinner for you both. 

He beckons you to follow him to the table.

- You still haven't told me why you are here. - He says without sounding accusatory, just curious, while pouring you some wine. 

- I need your help with a job. - You say. - I need you to pretend to be interested in buying some land for me. 

- Maybe this is a good time for me to tell you that I am bankrupt. - He says, and you let out a laugh. He seems surprised by your reaction.

- Yeah, I heard. - You say. - People talk more than they should when they are drunk in saloons.

Tony laughs, agreeing with a wry nod. Two servants enter the room next, and serve you both your dinner. When they leave, and Tony sees your face toward the plate, he lets out a chuckle.

- Sorry, is this not appropriate for your refined palate? - He mocks, and you take one of the cutlery to poke at the food that has been placed in front of you.

- I don't mean to be rude. - you say. - But this doesn't look like food.

- This dish costs almost a thousand dollars.

- That's exactly why you're bankrupt. - You joke, making Tony laugh. 

- It's called Caviar, by the way. - he says, eating some of the food. - You will hate it.

You laugh, and push your plate slightly forward. Fortunately, there were also other options you liked.

- Now tell me exactly what you want me to do. - He says after you finish putting some deer meat and mashed potatoes on your plate.

You explain to Tony that you need him to open a purchase order for the land in the New Elizabeth reservation area. He needs to prolong the negotiation as long as possible, until you have the scam money. You tell him what the Wapiti and Wakanda people went through there, but you don't mention Bucky. And when you finish, Tony drinks some wine.

When he nods in agreement, you let out a sigh of relief. And he laughs at your expression, but raises his hand to the table, holding yours.

You sleep in one of the rooms of the mansion, the bed is extremely soft. And then you are surprised that Tony is up bright and early the next day, excited to help you with your plan. He puts on his best clothes, and as you say good-bye at the front door, he tells you that he will keep in touch by correspondence about the negotiations, but that you should visit him as soon as you can to buy the land. You tell him that you intend to continue visiting him even after this scam, and he hugs you before you get on your horse.

Riding back to camp, you miss Wanda. You think you would like to share a large bed with her. And you feel your cheeks flush when you think about what this implies. How far away you were in your relationship. You realize that the next time you lie down with Wanda, you will most likely not sleep at all.

- Jesus, you're making that face. - You hear Pietro sneering while you are playing cards.He is sitting in front of you, while you are sitting at one of the camp tables. 

- I'm not making any faces. - You retort, looking at your cards. Pietro chuckles.

- You can't even hide it when you're thinking about Wanda. - He teases.

You had arrived at the camp a few hours ago, and when you realized that Wanda was still away with Carol and Nat, you accepted Pietro's request to play. You had also talked to Bucky about the reserve plan just before you sat down to play.

Maybe you were too distracted, and now Pietro was teasing you.

- I'm thinking about my next move. - You hit back.

- On the game or on Wanda?

- God, Pietro. - You grumble blushing as you kick him under the table. 

Pietro just laughs, and you play again in silence. When you win for the third time, you feel someone covering your eyes with their hands.

- Take a guess. - whispers a voice in your ear that you know well. You smile, raising your hands to Wanda's on your face.

- I think it' s the prettiest girl in camp. - You play along and hear her shyly laugh as she lowers her hands to your shoulders and kisses you on the cheek.

- Who's winning? - Wanda asks and you try not to mind her touch on your shoulders. She begins to massage them lightly and you ignore the shivering in your body. 

You turn your head back slightly to look at Wanda, but she turns around and sits on your lap. You suddenly feel very aware of her presence, and try not to blush so much. The position warms your body, but you say nothing.

- You know very well that I can't beat Y/N. - Pietro grumbles, leaning his elbow on the table and his face in his hand. Wanda imitates her brother's gesture, and this causes her butt to bend over your lap, and suddenly it's hard for you to breathe normally.

- Play with me then. - She says to Pietro in a tone of defiance and playfulness. Pietro shrugs, and begins to deal the card between the two of you. You rest your head on Wanda's shoulder, watching the game, as you move your hands up to rest on her lap, hugging her.

Wanda is a good player, you watch them play in silence. And then Nat joins you next, looking tired.

- By the way, how was your work? - you ask.

- Fucking boring. - Nat mutters, looking at Pietro's cards as he observes the table. Wanda let out a giggle at her answer.

- At least we have a hint. - Wanda said a moment later, and Nat nodded in agreement, and then laid her head against the table.

- What hint? - asked Pietro, buying a card from the table.

You signaled a move to Wanda by raising your hand quickly to her set, and she smiled.

- A load of moonshiner leaving in two days. - Wanda answers Pietro after following the move you showed her. - We will follow and find the breach to steal them.

- This is cheating. - muttered Pietro watching you help Wanda again. You laugh, taking your hand away from her cards. 

A few moments later, Wanda wins the game. Pietro lets out a disgruntled grumble, and Nat laughs at his expression. But then he lets out a loud exclamation as if he has remembered something.

- Girls, I completely forgot about the bear bet. - He tells you, and you roll your eyes playfully.

- We tied, Pietro. - reminded Wanda, but Pietro just shook his head in denial, a playful smile on his lips.

- That doesn't break the bet. - He says. - One wish for each. 

- That doesn't make any sense. - Nat commented humorously, but she seemed interested in where this story was going. - Please wish him to stay in silence for two weeks.

You and Wanda laughed at the idea, but Pietro was contemplative.

- I think it would be fair if we each got a wish from the other two. - He said with mischief in his eyes. You knew he would find a way to make very good use of it. 

- That's fine with me. - You agreed, shrugging your shoulders, it wasn't as if you'd thought of anything. Wanda then nodded.

Pietro seemed to get excited, and slapped the table lightly afterwards. 

- Great! I want you two to handle all my chores for next week. - he declares, and Wanda lets out a dissatisfied sigh. You roll your eyes, and then say:

- You are so predictable, Pietro. - You comment. - My request to you is that you take over Wanda's chores for the next month. 

Pietro looks shocked, and Nat laughs. Wanda turns her head to give you a little smile, and then turns to Pietro.

- And mine is for you to take over the monthly Y/N duties. - She says, and Pietro looks really annoyed that he didn't see that coming. You, Nat and Wanda laugh at his reaction.

- Plot should be against the rules. - He says angrily as he gets up and walks out toward his own tent.

Nat gets up next, stretching.

- You two are all hugs and cuddles, aren't you?  - She teases you about your position, but you and Wanda just giggle. She then leaves with a smile.

You lean back against the chair as Wanda turns in your lap, her legs splayed out to the side, allowing you to see her face.

- How are you? - you ask as you twirl your arms around her and intertwine your hands around her waist to hug her. Wanda smiled, leaving one hand on your forearm and one on your neck, her fingers playing with the hair on the back of your neck.

- I miss you. - She says, ignoring your question. Her eyes sparkle with something that means something else, and makes you swallow dryly.

- I'm right here. - You joke breathlessly.

- I miss touching you. - She confesses softly before she brings your mouths together. Her tongue caresses yours with slowness and sensuality, making your whole body tremble. 

You kiss like this for a few minutes, and then Wanda breaks the kiss, but keeps your foreheads together. You are both breathless as your mouths part. You think about saying something, but your mind is completely blank. And then Wanda is brushing her lips shallowly against yours again, as if deciding whether to kiss you again. She licks her lips, and this makes her tongue rub against your mouth because of the closeness, and you let out a low moan.

- God, keep it PG. - You and Wanda are startled as a voice sounds mockingly from beside you. Wanda sinks her face into your neck, you can't tell if she is embarrassed that she was caught or if she is trying to calm down. You look at who is talking, and find Carol with a suggestive look in her eyes. - I hate to be a bother, girls, but I need to steal Y/N away for a little while.

You let out a sigh, and from the look on Carol's face, you know what you are talking about. The blonde nods her head for you to follow her, and walks off in the direction she has pointed. 

You raise your hands along Wanda's back, stroking her tenderly to get her attention. Wanda looks up at you next, a dark gleam in her eyes, mesmerizing you, but a mischievous smile on her lips.

- I have to go. - You mumble, clearly preferring to stay. 

- Go before I kiss you again. - She says, looking down at your lips. - If I do, you're not going anywhere.

You let out a breathless laugh, and Wanda stands up. She smiles at you before you walk over to Carol's tent.

- What happened? - you ask as soon as you enter the place. Carol is waiting for you with a cigarette on her lips, standing beside you as she looks around the camp.

- Bucky told me about your little adventure. - She says without looking at you. You can't tell if she is angry, but you are surprised that she knows. You put your hands in your pockets while you wait for her to speak again. - I've been thinking about the whole situation. Do you have any idea how Killmonger even found you?

- No. - You shrug. - He died before you could tell me.

Carol takes a long drag on her cigarette before speaking.

- I'll find out if he was following us. - She says. - I wouldn't want to end up bringing other people to us.

You nod knowing that she is referring to the feds and bounty hunters.

- You want me to come along, right?

- You'd rather stay with your wife? - Carol replies with a teasing tone and a sideways smile. You can feel your cheeks flush, but your tone of voice is also provocative when you say:

- Wouldn't you?

Carol lets out a giggle, and throws the cigarette on the floor, putting it out with her boot. Then she turns to you.

- I'd better ride alone. - She says. - I'll attract less attention. And besides, Killmonger looked only for you, so maybe it's better that you are not seen investigating.

You nod, and Carol pats you on your back before walking off in the direction of the horses. 

You return your own tent, and Bucky enters at the back, carrying a letter in his hands.

- This is for you, kid. - He says, handing you the paper. - It's from Tony Stark.

You thank him and hurry to open it. 

- He made it. - You tell Bucky as you finish reading. - We have a week until the buyer arrives to meet with Tony.

Bucky nods, looking anxious. You place a hand on his shoulder.

- It'll work out, okay? We'll do it together. - You assure him. He gives you a short smile, and a pat on the arm before leaving.

You throw yourself on your bed then lie down as you stare up at the ceiling of the tent. You feel slightly anxious. You trust Stark, and you will have to be content with that. The other alternative was to die in a gunfight defending that territory. 

You end up napping for a few hours. When you wake up, it is very late at night. You walk out of your tent, and many huts are closed, indicating that much of the camp is asleep.

You walk over to the campfire area, where Nat and Bruce are sitting by the fire. 

- Hey. - You greet them with a smile, which they respond to. 

- Hey, sweetheart. - Nat says. - Do you want to sit down?

You shrug, looking around. You are cold, but feel that you are interrupting them both.

- Not really. - You deny it and your heart races slightly when you notice Wanda several meters away, staring at the lake. - I-I'm going to...

- You can go. - Nat cuts you off with a smile and an insinuating look. You give an embarrassed chuckle, and walk away in the direction of the lake.

You hug your jacket against your body as you walk toward Wanda. She is right on the edge of the camp area, and when you are arriving, you make sure to make your steps louder so that it doesn't startle her. And then she turns her head slightly to the side, and gives you a shy smile, before looking away again towards the lake.

- Someone is pensive. - You comment with a slight playfulness in your tone as you stop beside her. Wanda is quick to entwine her arm in yours and suddenly you forget that you were cold.

- Take a good look over there. - She says without looking away from the front. - Can you see the swans?

You squint your eyes to see through the darkness, and at first you see nothing. But then, several meters from where you stand, floating majestically on the water are swans. And they are white like the moon, and completely hypnotize you.

- They are beautiful. - You remark. - Do you remember the last time we saw swans, Wanda? When we were little...

- And we ran away to get married. - She interrupts with a giggle. - Oh yes, I remember well. - You laughed as Wanda turned to you. - We ran away to get married in secret and Bucky and Steve followed us for two days. 

You laughed as you remembered.

- We were, what, fourteen? - you ask, and Wanda agreed with a nod as she laughed. - Wow, that sounds like a lifetime ago.

- Yes. - She says looking at the lake. - I think I would do it again.

- What? - you ask with a smile. - Run away?

Wanda turns to you, her eyes glowing tenderly.

- I would run away again with you. 

Your heart skips a beat, but you hold her gaze and smile

- Where would we go? - You find yourself asking as Wanda brings your bodies closer together, and rests her forehead against yours.

- I'd go anywhere with you. - she declares.

- Wow, you are loaded with declarations of love today, Wands. - You sneer breathlessly, Wanda laughs and hugs your neck, burying her face in your hair. You wrap your arms around her waist.

- I'm glad that we don't have to run anymore. That I... I can love you without worrying.

Wanda lets out a sigh against your neck, and then looks up at you with misty eyes, a shy smile on her lips.

- I love you. - she confesses. - And I'm happy with you.

You nod slightly, your heart racing, and then kiss her. Tenderly and softly, just savoring her taste. And when you part, you remain holding hands as you watch the swans migrate away.

[whats-rambled-rambled]

Long Nights - part 4

Neil x Reader

Chapter 4: World gone mad

(see chapter 3, 2, 1)

summary: inverted heist calls for inverted training

warnings: 18+, explicit language, gun mention, crackheadery, and possible whiplash

author’s note: Hi, yes, I know, took me ages, but hey, I hope it's worth the wait! 5.2k words, how even--

Anyway.

The song for this part is Bastille - World Gone Mad

Enjoy! All feedback is greatly appreciated, let me know what you think?

——————

Tag list: @cxnnienikas @neutron-stars-collision ​ @ergunbilge @invertedneil @wanderedaway @mellifluous-cosmos @wonderwoman292 @buckysgoldenheart @townmoondaltwistle @theriverbeneaththeriver (please let me know if you want to be added/removed from the list)

-----

The fact that you knew how to handle guns wasn’t equal to you being very good at it. Or enjoying it, for that matter. Sure, you could more or less hit the target, especially with some useful tips you got from Neil regarding a trigger finger discipline, but still - you’d rather avoid reaching for a pistol altogether.

You put back the weapon you’d been training with and Neil handed you another one. You couldn’t really tell the difference, at least until you checked the magazine. The lack of ammo meant you finally got to the fun bit that Neil teased in The Protagonist’s office and you smiled, looking back at your companion. He grinned at you, the gaze sparkling behind yellow-tinted safety glasses as he pointed at the wall next to the targets you used for practice.

“Just aim and pull the trigger. ” Seeing your nod, he added, “Okay now, be careful, it might feel--”

The bullet whizzed back into the chamber of your pistol and your eyes widened.

“Oh fuck me sideways,” you hissed under your breath.

“-- a bit weird, yeah.” Neil chuckled at the shock painted on your face. “All right?”

“Yeah, just processing.” Trying to blink the consternation away, you asked, “How do you make these? You put it into that...turnstile and voilà?”

Neil shook his head. “No, it’s not that simple. We receive a stash every now and then, we don’t know how to manufacture those,” - he smirked - “at least not yet. I do have a few theories I’m working on in my spare time, but...” hesitating for a moment, he raked a hand through his hair and sent you a nervous smile. “Wouldn’t want to bore you to death, though.”

“Dude, come on, with that smooth and soothing voice of yours? You could read the yellow pages to me and I’d still listen like that--” you mocked a dreamy heart-eyes expression, watching with satisfaction as that remark pushed Neil further into a flustered state.

Apparently, when explicit teasing got a little-to-no reaction now, you could still make him blush with a more wholesome compliment. As you started laughing, he rolled his eyes and scrunched the nose slightly, joining you with a stifled giggle. Grinning, you continued a little softer, “I’m not gonna lie - I probably wouldn’t understand a majority of the physics jargon, but I’d still want to hear all about that.”

A thankful look you got in return made your chest clench painfully, and your mind wandered off to those breaks near the river, and Neil’s animated rants. You knew one thing. Anyone who had ever ridiculed him for his passion for even the nerdiest things could rot in hell, and you’d gladly see to it personally.

A disgruntled huff coming from behind made you both snap out of the moment.

“Oi, lovebirds, I’d appreciate it if you could leave all that to after I prep you for the mission.”

Bottling down your annoyance, you batted your lashes at the commander, who’d just come back with keys to one of the conference rooms near the range.

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry, you have my full attention now.”

Ives nodded, waving at you to follow him. Meanwhile, Neil’s small smirk let you know that he noticed that faint undertone in your voice, but he said nothing, patiently waiting for the events to unfold.

Another person was waiting for you at the door. You recognized the woman who’d driven you to that abandoned factory on your very first day - you’d never gotten properly introduced, but you remember asking Neil about her once and he called her Wheeler. To be honest, with these guys you never knew if they used their real names, nicknames, codenames, or whatever. Not that you cared, quite used to it in your own line of business. You exchanged a court nod with her and went into the room.

As you sat down at the big table and Ives booted a projector, your eyes bore into the man. Definitely one of those types who enjoyed his beret and the paramilitary structure of the field branch of the organization. Probably a bit too much. You bit back a smug grin.

Those were particularly fun to mess with.

Ives caught your piercing stare and stopped the brief of the location.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you said, propping the chin on your palm, a polite smile on your lips. “It’s fascinating.”

He furrowed his brows, perplexed.

“What is?”

“How your commanding presence literally adds you inches,” you said, using all your willpower to keep a serious face. “I wonder if it works only for your height or--”

Neil’d futile attempts at masking an amused snort with a cough didn’t go unnoticed. Ives shot him daggers and then glared at you. “For fuck’s sake, would you focus?”

Your eyes flared up at the threat in his voice and you pouted, taunting him further.

“Or what, you’re gonna spank me?”

“No, I’m gonna shoot you,” he deadpanned.

You raised a brow.

“Kinky.”

Ives groaned, turning to Neil.

“How you survived this long without choking her is beyond me.”

Neil puffed his cheeks and gestured vaguely, but as he opened the mouth to answer, you chimed in, with a shit-eating grin plastered on your face.

“Oh, he very much did so, all right.”

The awkward silence that followed was pretty satisfying.

“Can we keep her?” asked Wheeler casually, leaned back in her chair, fiddling with a bullpen.

Ives gaped at you all, then slumped his shoulders in defeat, sliding a hand through his features. He was so done you could almost hear The Sound of Silence playing in the distance, but apparently, his sense of duty was stronger than the urge to leave you without finishing the briefing, so he just drew a deep breath and continued.

“...anyway…”

You caught Neil’s glance and you couldn’t help but poke the tip of your tongue out at him. The mischievous sparks in his eyes reflected your own as he shook his head, tugging the bottom lip between the teeth. Wheeler’s curious gaze flitted between you two, and as you didn’t feel like drawing too much unnecessary attention to yourself anymore, you focused on the plan that Ives was persistently going through.

Time frames. Blueprints. Entry points. Exit routes (you spotted at least one additional way he left out, but you weren’t sure if you could drag Neil through there, judging by that alley performance, so you didn’t bother to mention it out loud). Everything seemed clear enough. You still had no idea how being inverted would affect the lockpicking, but when you voiced that, Ives promised you some time to figure it out before the mission.

The mission. Huh. It wasn’t that much different from your usual assignments - at least if you forgot about that tiny insignificant detail like moving backwards in time - but something in this paramilitary and/or espionage vibe made your heart beat faster with excitement.

It had been quite a long time since you had company at the job. Working alone had its perks, but you wouldn’t mind a trusted partner in crime having your six for a change.

Another thing that you certainly wouldn’t mind - seeing Neil in tactical gear. Not that either of you would need one, but the image got planted in your head and suddenly you wished you’d had a bottle of water.

You realized that everyone was looking at you expectantly. Shit, was there a question or…?

“I’m good,” you said, shooting in the dark, hoping that would be enough to cover your distracted ass.

Ives squinted, but fortunately, that was an acceptable answer.

“Well, as you two can proceed straight from here - Wheeler, they’re all yours.’

“Okay,” - she smiled and stood up - “we don’t have any turnstiles on-site, but there’s one in the base outside the city, I’ll talk you through the basics on the way.”

So that little daydream cost you a chance to come back home to prepare? Grand. The problem was - you needed your heavy-duty tools, but you’d rather eat rocks than back away in front of Ives. Luckily, he called on Neil to wait for a moment, so that was your chance.

“Umm, Wheeler?” you asked quietly, following her outside.

She glanced at you curiously.

“What’s up?”

“I know I said I’m good, but could we stop by my apartment for a second, please?” An awkward grimace ran through your face. “I gotta pick up my tools. You know, just in case.”

She wasn’t surprised by your request. Moreover, she sent you a knowing smile.

“Sure thing,” she said and winked, and then it was your turn to present a slightly flushed face. “I’ve got you.”

----

You didn’t know what to expect from the whole inversion process.

The first time your brain stuttered was when Wheeler pointed at something she called the proving window, just in time for you to see the three of you coming out on the other side. You caught inverted-you glancing back at your present self; the schooled expression, but with the gaze shining with anticipation.

The second time was when it was you on the other side, looking at your wide-eyed past self. Feeling the incoming headache, you took a deep breath and followed Wheeler and Neil to the stand with oxygen masks.

“How are you feeling?” asked Neil, handing you the equipment.

“Weirdly normal.” You shrugged. “Or maybe not more backwards than usual, if that makes any sense.”

He smiled lightly.

“It’s the airlock. When you see the outside, you’ll get a whole new perspective.”

Wheeler nodded. “What he said. And to recap: you’re inverted, the world is not - all forces will be pushing back on you. Besides gravity.” She double-checked the oxygen bottle secured to your belt. “Just mind things that might be rising instead of falling.”

You furrowed the brows.

“Wait, didn’t Ives mention the rain?”

Neil smirked from behind the mask.

“Afraid of getting wet?”

“Never.” You grinned, meeting the sparkling blue eyes. “Should know that by now.”

Wheeler snorted and shook her head, walking to the panel near the exit.

“You’ll have plenty of time to finish the job before you move far enough to catch up on that. Although, if you ever find yourself in the inverted rain, here’s a tip: pop your collar.”

“Why would you--” Oh. The sole thought of the water going up from the ground to the sky made you nauseous. You swallowed with effort, leveling your breath in the mask. “...right.”

Wheeler opened the door and you almost gasped at the view. The golden rays of sunset (...or was it technically a sunrise now?) flickered on the training grounds’ equipment as the sky painted the scarce pools of muddy water with greyish violets and reddening oranges. Leaves shuffled in the wind, their dance almost satirical with that inverted spin.

Wheeler’s voice stopped your mind from wandering further into the landscape.

“Okay, ready? Ives asked me to remind you not to try any cowboy shit, you need to be in one piece at the end of the training.”

“Yes ma’am,” you mocked a salute and stepped outside, stretching your limbs, readjusting to the reality being slightly off. Neil stood right beside you watching you warming up, ready to take you to the obstacles section.

But as soon as the airlock’s doors closed behind you, you spun around, tapping his shoulder - “Tag, you’re it!” - and without waiting for his reaction, you leaped towards the assault course.

Surely that turned out overly optimistic. You counted on the element of surprise and a head start, but Neil had an experience with running while being inverted, while you… well. You tried.

“B+ for effort,” laughed Neil, catching up on you even before you reached the first obstacle and tapping you back. “But you can do better than that.”

“Just you wait!” you retorted and vaulted over a low hurdle, the mild confusion caused by the dumbfounded senses slowly eased up as you tuned out the brain and let the muscle memory guide your movements. Because hey, in the end? Yes, the natural forces were acting up against you. Yes, Neil had years of inverted training behind him. But you’d been challenging different obstacles your whole life, and courses like this one were your favourite playgrounds.

You caught on him by the next wall, playing dirty and tugging at his leg, pulling him down before he could jump to the other side. The exasperated huff he gave you in protest got lost in the squelch of mud under your feet, the sound more like a suction instead of the much-expected splash. Shuddering with disgust at such abomination, you rushed to the set of monkey bars, hearing Neil following up closely. You gritted your teeth, swinging your body to help yourself get through the part, and that’s when you felt a light tap on your foot.

You glared to your left, where Neil was gaining an advantage over you.

“Damn you and your infinite legs, man! It doesn’t count!”

“Losing looks good on you,” he said, landing and then instantly ducking under your reached out hand.

“Too bad it’s not gonna stick,” you scoffed as you ran after him to jump on one of the parallel logs. Balancing was easy enough, even with inversion; it gave you the perfect opportunity to plan ahead, while Neil had to maintain full focus. “Must say - all that sass definitely makes you like... ten percent hotter.”

But you’d taught him well, apparently, and instead of losing his pace, he only shot you a quick glance accompanied by an arched brow.

“Only ten?”

“Dunno, come over here and let me take a closer look,” you teased, getting a short chuckle in response. “No?” - you sighed - “Alrighty then.” And you leaped to the side straight into Neil, pushing him off the log. He yelped and grabbed you by the shirt, the momentum sending you both straight into the mud. You landed on top of Neil, collapsing into his arms for a moment to catch a breath and to stop laughing.

You leaned back to look him in the eyes.

“Okay, maaaybe fifteen,” you panted, booping his mask as you would do to his nose.

Neil snickered and nodded.

“I’ll take it.”

When your gazes met, his features softened, and he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear gently. You smiled behind the mask and sat up, straddling his waist. Neil was studying you closely, his hands grazed your sides and rested on your hips. Nibbling at your bottom lip, you leaned over him again and slowly reached out, and--

“Simba…” you choked out with reverence, brushing a muddy thumb across his forehead.

Tears from the held-back laughter threatened to spill any second as you observed Neil blanking out in utter confusion. The five stages of grief ran through his expression and then he closed his eyes and sighed theatrically.

“The fate of the world is in the hands of a complete madwoman.”

...the what now?

You tilted your head, grinning.

“Aren’t you a little dramatic?”

Then, without a warning, Neil shifted under you, rolling you off him and pinning you down.

“Birds of a feather and all that,” he said, clearly enjoying the way you squealed and squirmed as the mud got under your shirt. “You think you got a hang of the inverted movement already?”

“I don’t know,” you shrugged. Neil realized your intentions a second too late. A handful of mud splashed on his face and you chuckled with satisfaction. “Yeah, now I think I’m ready to go.”

You turned up at the airlock soon after, looking like something that cat dragged in, but beaming widely. Dreaming of a hot shower and a clean set of clothes, you put down the mask and the oxygen container and headed to the turnstile.

Wheeler was waiting for you near the machine, and seeing the state you were in, she just gaped at you both, trying to come up with an adequate question.

As you noticed her quizzical look, you gave her a thumbs up and smiled.

“If you ain't dirty, you ain't here to party! Wooo!” you whooped, throwing your hands up and trotting past her straight into the turnstile.

Right before reverting yourself back to your original state, you heard Wheeler’s hushed question.

“You two all right?”

And then Neil’s answer.

“Don’t worry, we’re good.”

--------

The truck’s engine hummed steadily, which could only mean you were on some sort of highway. At least the container stopped wobbling, so you could practice in peace.

No wobbles meant no excuses, though. You sighed, readjusting your grip on the tools.

Neil had fallen asleep some time ago, after making sure you figured out the locks and hearing your solemn promise that you would follow him soon.

One day after that eventful night, then inverting and going straight back without proper sleep. You knew he was right and you needed at least a nap. But you couldn’t. Not before you were absolutely sure you got it. The usual locks weren’t that bad. The inverted ones were a whole other story.

It’d taken you long enough to crack them in the safety of your own apartment, without the weird physics, ever-present even within the air-locked container. Without the pressure.

The fate of the world.

What the fuck was that supposed to mean?

You didn’t even know what was that thing you were supposed to retrieve soon. It was okay, you didn’t need to. It was a quite common situation in your work history. That kind of knowledge could be dangerous, after all.

The pin clicked and you sighed again, squeezing your eyes shut to stop the burning sensation even for a moment.

Besides, you were doing it for Neil. The memory of that panicked look on his face when he’d seen the documents was enough to keep you going.

But did he have to say that?

You had to do it. Not only because you felt responsible for him, in a way. What you’d told the boss was true and you weren’t the only one at fault for Neil not being fully ready for that assignment. He was your friend, wasn’t he? And there was no way you’d leave a friend in need.

You pressed your lips together, forcing yourself to breathe.

Probably a stupid joke, nothing more.

But what if he was being serious? What if that thing out there was really that important? And you were about to fuck everything up because you couldn’t get your shit together fast enough to figure out the bloody inverted mechanism again. And with every minute wasted and not spent on resting there was a higher chance of messing up at the actual location.

Hell of a locksmith you were, huh?

The feedback from the tools came with a final warning like a sobering slap. If you were to continue, they would snap any second now.

You let out a shaky breath and retraced from the lock, hiding your face in the palms.

A gentle touch on your shoulder almost made you flinch. Of course, he had to wake up in the middle of your breakdown.

“Go back to sleep, we still have a few hours left,” you muttered into your hands, trying to collect yourself.

“Not before you talk to me,” said Neil as his fingers slid down your arm. He was crouching right beside you, the blue eyes boring into you with concern. “What is it?”

You sighed and shifted in your seat to face him.

“Wanna make sure I got it, that’s all.”

Neil’s brows knitted together.

“But I saw you open that lock once, why--”

“Once! And that’s exactly the problem!” you fumed and glared at the table. “I can’t crack it again, I--” your voice wavered and you gritted the teeth in frustration. “What if it was a stroke of dumb luck? Should I start praying for another one to happen there?”

Another delicate touch, this time on your knees, was enough to make you look back at Neil. A shade of smile tainted his lips as he searched your gaze.

“Someone used to tell me all the time that if you did it once, you can do it again.”

You hung your head and huffed, “Maybe that someone was full of shit.’

“I know for a fact that she wasn’t,” he chuckled, taking the tools out of your clenched fists and putting them back at the table. “She was utterly brilliant,” he continued, reaching for your cramping, trembling hands and taking them in his, ”and always reminded me to take a break instead of agonizing over a stubborn lock.”

That you did, all right. Your laugh sounded awfully close to a sob. God, if you weren’t exhausted.

Mustering enough strength to look him in the eyes, you squeezed his hands, trying to convey all the gratitude in the gesture. And hide that bit of embarrassment, too.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he said and his thumbs brushed over your knuckles. “Scoot over.”

You moved back on the provisional bench, making enough space for him to sit next to you. And so he did, not letting go of your hands even for a second. He started rubbing small circles into them and you grunted softly. Neil gave you a knowing smile and soon enough, his fingers glided between your forearms and fingertips, applying pressure to the tensest places, careful strokes and precise moves bringing a much-needed release. You couldn’t help small groans escaping your mouth, every one of them adding to the self-satisfied grin hiding in the corner of Neil’s mouth. But then, instead of teasing you, his features softened and you caught his glance, warm and sheepish.

“I don’t think I properly thanked you for offering to help me with this mission.”

“I couldn’t let you have all the fun,” you laughed and winced as Neil’s thumbs worked on your wrists. “Don’t thank me yet, we still need to pull it off first.”

“Well, maybe we already have, from the typical point of view,” - he pondered, lighting up - “seeing that we are moving back--”

“Neil, please, I’m all for discussing it later, but right now it’s about to give me a pounding headache.”

When you met his eyes, you noted with relief that he didn’t mind you cutting him off like that. He knew that you were tired, nothing more.

“Right, sorry.” Then he looked at you with determination, suddenly serious. “Whatever happens… thank you. It means a lot.”

“Of course,” you said quietly as your heart ached with unexpected fondness.

Neil smiled, shaking off the sentimental moment. His hands cupped yours and gave them a light squeeze.

“Now would you please get some rest?”

“Will you tuck me in?” you grinned and batted your lashes at him, earning an amused snort in return.

“I can even sing you a lullaby if that means you’ll fall asleep faster,” he said, standing up and tugging at your hand.

“Ah, I’m afraid I’m gonna crash too fast to properly appreciate it,” you giggled as he kited you all the way to the resting area at the front of the container. “But I’m definitely taking a rain check on that.”

“Sure.” One final brush of his thumb over your fingers and he let go of your hand, smirking. “Now sleep, I’ll wake you up when we get there.”

-------

Neil proved to be an excellent companion.

You disabled the alarms simultaneously, paying attention to all the possible silent traps. Forcing the main locks went smoothly, almost surprisingly so. For having something of such importance hidden there, the owners of the place seemed strangely old-fashioned; it shone through the antique decor of the lofty apartment as well as the security choices. Too easy. Tuning out an intrusive thought rattling in the back of your head, you scouted the dark rooms, careful not to leave any traces of your presence.

There.

The office you saw in the photos.

...but they’d redecorated.

“That’s one fancy safe they got there,” you said nonchalantly, eyeing the ornament piece of metal lit by your flashlight, “Too bad it somehow got left out at the briefing.”

Neil’s face dropped when he followed you inside the room.

“Christ, and what now?”

Good question. You’d worked with safes before, hell, you’d cracked a fair share of them using simply manipulation. But never going bloody backwards in time. How would that even work? Was it normal or inverted?

Well, there was only one way to find out.

“I’ve got this.” And that’s how you felt, despite the initial panic. There was a method to it, and you had most of the things you needed with you. Perks of overpreparing. The only issue was-- ... “It might take a while, though.”

Neil nodded.

“Let me know if you need anything.”

“Keep an eye on the time for me, I gotta focus,” you said, reaching into your backpack and accidentally pulling on the thin tube. Right. “...and maybe on the oxygen levels as well?”

“Will do.”

Your brain switched into the challenge mode, and your fingers tingled to give it a try. Armed with a sound amplifier and a little notepad, you sat down next to the safe and got to work.

Figuring out your way in was meant to be a hit and miss, doubly so with the goddamn inversion. But minute after minute, click by click, you determined the first contact points, and the years of experience took you from there. You scribbled numbers and variations in the notepad, fully focused on the task. Almost there.

Another combination. Inhale. Exhale. Pull.

Gotcha.

“Neil?” you called out in the hushed voice as the beam from the flashlight landed on a small metal box of a peculiar shape.

He was next to you in no time.

“That’s it,” he said, kneeling down. He reached inside and took out the box, then carefully placed it inside his backpack. The blue eyes glimmered in the dim light. “Good job!”

“Thanks,” you smiled and closed the safe. “Now let’s get out of here.”

You gathered and packed all your stuff, double-checking for any leftover signs of your entry.

Then you heard it. A faint, slightly off patter against the huge windows. You froze in place as your mind tried to grasp the view of trickles of rain coming up the glass.

Neil glanced outside, not mindful of the absolutely bonkers scene that wiped any coherent thought from your head. Although judging from how quickly his face lost all the colours, the view he got was even more disturbing.

“Christ…” he uttered, shooting you a panicked look. “We’ve got company.”

You dashed to the window to see for yourself. A group of people was crossing the empty street, moving pretty much normally, and that only meant...

Fuck.

“The owners?”

Neil shook his head. “Impossible. The third party, probably.” With his hand already on the holster, he hesitated, considering the options.

But there were only two: fight or flight. The problem was - the numbers didn’t look good for you to try pushing through the crew downstairs. And as for the second one, your initial exit routes seemed to be cut off already.

Although, there was still one path left. You almost smiled to yourself. He was not going to like it.

“Let’s go through the roofs.”

Neil’s eyes widened. “Are you sure?” he asked, scanning your face for any sign of doubt.

There was none.

“Yes, but we have to leave right now.”

He swallowed with effort and nodded.

As soon as you bolted out of the apartment and rushed up the stairs, the footsteps coming from the lower levels quickened. Time was running out.

You were about to barge outside when Neil grabbed your hand as if he sensed what was going to happen next. The doors opened and you lost the momentum, startled by the view. Heavy showers replaced the drizzle you saw through the window, intensifying the nauseating effect.

The last strands of sanity threatened to leave you, but Neil’s touch was like an anchor, grounding you and keeping you from spiraling further.

“Which way?” he shouted through the hammering, almost deafening rain.

You blinked rapidly and looked around to match the data from the brief to the actual location.

“Over there!”

Wishing you’d had a goddamn collar to pop, you leaped to the side, guiding Neil through your only escape route. You let go of his hand to vault over the vents, and just as your feet touched the surface again, you heard distant yells behind you. Shit.

The high density of the area was working in your favor, but only for so long. There was meant to be a gap between the buildings sooner or later, and one of them was coming right up. The jump was doable, even for Neil - all you needed was speed and a decent launch.

But when your companion noticed the edge of the roof, he slowed down and stopped by a low parapet wall, cursing.

“No fucking way!”

“Yes fucking way, Neil, come on! We don’t have time!” you urged him as the voices behind you grew louder.

He swallowed with effort, too transfixed on the gap. You bit back an impatient groan and grabbed him by the shoulders, forcing him to look at you.

“Neil, listen to me. You can do this. All you need is a run-up.”

He didn’t seem convinced. You gritted your teeth, trying to keep your own rising panic in check.

“Do you trust me? Yes or no?”

He met your eyes and his features hardened. There.

“I do.”

And when you opened the mouth again, the first bullet whizzed past you. You flinched, but maintained the eye contact, afraid to lose Neil’s newfound confidence. “Then go first, I’m right behind you.”

Neil nodded and backed away quickly. Watching him jump, your heart skipped a beat, but he landed on the other side without too much trouble. Good. Your turn.

You dashed towards the rim and another bullet missed your legs by a hair’s breadth, hitting the parapet wall right ahead of you. A little close to the top, as you noted, jumping on it to leap across the gap.

But the realization came a moment too late. The wall crumbled under your feet.

Enough for you to not make it to the other side.

Someone screamed.

Was it you?

It didn’t matter.

The world dissolved in a flash of agonizing pain.

And darkness.

----

Static beeping. The smell of disinfectants. And your every particle throbbing in dull pain.

Somebody was having a quiet conversation nearby. The Protagonist… and Neil?

A wave of relief flooded over you. He’d made it.

Grunting, you opened your eyes and squinted, waiting for your sight to readjust to the poor light. Weird. Why would they keep you in such a pitch-black room?

“Gents?” you called out, carefully shifting upwards, wincing. “Would you mind getting the lights?”

The conversation stopped and you heard a gasp.

“Lights? But it’s the middle of the day?” said The Protagonist, but Neil cut him off.

“You’re awake!” Footsteps and a sudden touch on your hand. Neil’s voice trembled slightly, as well as his fingers. “Are you okay?”

You bored into darkness, hoping to see the familiar face.

To see anything.

To see.

(next chapter ->)

[ncssian]

A Favor: Part Six

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: nsfw sort of?? barely

***

Cassian is going to kill Nesta.

He’s never met a woman so stubborn that she would rather throw herself under a bus than accept help from others.

“What happened to your rants about universal healthcare and redistributing wealth?” He gestures furiously between the two of them while keeping one hand on the steering wheel. “I’m trying to redistribute the wealth!”

She scoffs from the passenger seat. “Nice try, comrade. I’m not letting you dangle your wallet over me while I live with you for free. It’s disgusting and manipulative.”

Cassian wants to grab her by the shoulders and shake her. “Why do you automatically assume I’m trying to manipulate you?” he says incredulously.

“You don’t get to pay for my things,” she snaps. “They’re mine.”

“I know you’re already broke from that MRI—”

“That’s none of your business.”

They pull up to one of the university buildings. “Oh, great argument.” Cassian brings the truck to a stop. “Are you gonna use that one in court?”

Nesta buttons her blue blazer and furiously grabs her things, not saying a word.

“What are you thinking now?” Cassian pokes, the hardness dissolved from his voice a little.

She shoves the passenger door open. “How much longer it’s going to take to get my car fucking fixed,” she bites, hopping out of the truck and slamming the door shut on Cassian’s face.

Clenching his jaw, he watches her walk sharply for the building, tension ratcheting her figure. Impossible woman.

She does look damn good in a pantsuit, though.

***

Nesta has to take deep breaths before she enters the mock courtroom, refusing to let Cassian get to her head right now.

It's not his offering to pay for her endometriosis treatment that pisses her off, but it's that he won't take no for an answer. She wishes he could just let her dig herself into a hole of debt and despair like millions of Americans already do every day. She wishes he wouldn't demand an explanation from her every time she screams and cries about getting her way.

Later. Her mind clears through an imaginary filter. You’ll deal with him later.

Now, she has a case to win.

Nesta strides into the courtroom with her file of documents and takes the speaker’s bench, her opponent already seated on the other side of the aisle. Emerie Nikolis is five feet nine inches of Mediterranean goddess, and the only student at Prythian Law who’s been able to challenge Nesta for her spot at the top of the class. Not that she’s succeeded.

Nesta’s never been up against another woman for a moot court, though, and it adds a buzz to her nerves. Men always come into the courtroom with too much confidence and not enough research, and from there Nesta can steadily dismantle their arguments until they’re left spluttering. From Emerie’s cutting hawk eyes, Nesta knows she doesn’t function like that.

As student judges file in and head for their seats, Nesta leans over and mutters to Emerie, “Good luck defending the side that represents everything morally corrupt with this country.”

Emerie brushes back her ponytail and smiles mockingly at Nesta. “You mean the side that powerful white men have chosen since the beginning of time? I won’t need luck.”

Nesta scowls at the panel of student judges. They are all white men.

“You’re lucky I enjoy a challenge,” she hisses, and sits back in her seat as they start calling oyez.

***

Cassian doesn’t mean to fall asleep.

He’s cleaning up around the house while Nesta is gone, and ends up finding a worn paperback trapped between the leather cushions of the couch. Pulling it out, he takes one look at the cover and nearly chokes. A half-undressed man graces the cover in regency-era clothes, his flowy shirt unbuttoned to reveal toned abs. A woman with golden curls clutches onto him passionately, only dressed in a corset and underskirt.

A slow smirk spreads over his face and he snickers. He didn't know people read these anymore. A glance at the back of the book proves his point: published in 1999, a true vintage piece.

Plopping onto the couch and laying back, he opens the paperback. If Nesta doesn't want him reading her books, she shouldn't leave them lying around the place.

Flipping to a random page, he frowns when it isn't a smut scene. Boring. He keeps flipping until he finds one, and props his feet onto the armrest to get comfortable. Now what exactly does Nesta Archeron get off to?

Over an hour and a hundred pages of surprisingly tender romance later, his aching eyes finally slip closed. The open book falls onto his face, and the scent of faded ink follows him into sleep.

Cassian is in a dim candle-lit room. Foiled wallpaper and overstuffed furniture decorates the space, and there, by the small window, she waits.

She turns her head to speak over her shoulder, “You came.”

“I did.” The line comes to him naturally.

Without turning around, her hands reach up for her hair. She starts removing pins from her updo, golden curls falling apart one by one. Once the last pin drops, she finally turns around.

Gleaming locks now frame her soft face and shoulders; her pale breasts rise and fall above the low curve of her thin nightgown. Under the candlelight, she looks freshly forged and porcelain-like at the same time.

“Could you help me?” Nesta says.

Cassian is stuck in his spot, unable to move. He's never seen Nesta like this: so heavenly, but so different.

“Cassian?” she asks again.

“Oh,” he stutters, “um— what do you need?”

She steps closer. “You.” His breathing stops. Nesta slips her slender hands up his arms, to his shoulders. She's holding him close. “I need you to tell me something.”

“Anything.”

Her breath fans over his face. “Do you want me?”

Cassian is very still.

“Do you want me like I want you, Cassian?” she repeats, pressing closer to him. He can feel her nipples through the wispy fabric of her gown.

“Yes,” he breathes shakily. He doesn't know which hurts more: wanting Nesta or being wanted by her.

“Have you been very lonely, Cassian?” She drags her hands back down his arms, finding his hands and placing them on her shoulders. “Is that why you like having me around so much, because you’ve been lonely?”

This Nesta knows him… a little too well. His breath hitches as his hands, directed by Nesta’s hands, slowly pushes down the sleeves of her nightgown. In a flash, the fabric has dropped to her waist, baring her unblemished chest and stomach. Before Cassian can even absorb what's happening, her arms are winding around his neck again, and now she's pressing entreating kisses into the crook of his neck.

“Tell me,” she mutters onto his skin. “Do I make you feel heard, or am I just a pretty face to you?”

“Nes—Nesta.” Cassian tries to swallow air.

She smells so good. She feels so good, and she's not even doing anything to him, just holding him.

“Heard,” he gasps when she goes for the buttons of his shirt, her mouth finding his chest. “You make me feel heard. I like it when we talk and you listen to me. Nobody listens to me.”

She pulls away from him, mouth shining. He just now realizes how jarring the gilded ringlets of her hair are.

“That’s so good,” Nesta purrs, reaching up to clasp his face. Her hands feel thin and rough, like paper. “You’re so good.” She reaches in, her lips chasing his, and—

Awareness seeps into the corners of Cassian’s reality, and his eyes peel open. He blinks between two different worlds until he finally realizes— it was a dream.

Of course it was a dream. Nesta doesn't have blonde hair or curls. And her skin isn't porcelain smooth, but dotted with freckles and moles. And yet, the arousal stirred in him is very much real, evident by the ache in his dick. Fuck.

A throat clears softly and Cassian jumps. The romance book is still on his face, he notices, and his world is darkened by the rough pages. Batting it away, confused, he fully awakens when he sees who’s in front of him.

She’s still in her pantsuit from this morning, but her hair is undone and her cheeks carry a rare flush. Her clothes are rumpled.

“Nesta.” He scrambles upright, painfully aware that he was just dreaming about her half-naked. He carefully arranges his elbows on his knees, his hands dangling between his legs. “You’re back,” he says casually. Taking notice of the blackness outside the windows, he becomes concerned. “You’ve been out this whole time? Oh God, I was supposed to pick you up—”

“No, no,” she says quickly. “Didn’t you see my texts? I went out with some people from moot court.”

Cassian widens his eyes. He’s never heard her mention any friends from school, much less leave the cabin to hang out with other people.

“I totally kicked this girl’s ass in the Title IX case I was telling you about,” Nesta goes on, “and she wanted to take me out for afternoon drinks, and some other guys ended up tagging along too…” She twists a piece of hair around her finger, the experience sounding as brand new to her as Cassian suspects it is. “And yeah, then she got me a cab.”

He raises a brow and leans back. “You willingly let someone else pay for you? Wow, you really are drunk.”

The smile blossoming on her mouth drops and the cold veneer returns. “So you go through my stuff while I’m gone?” she scolds. “How many times are we going to have the boundaries conversation?”

Cassian picks up the paperback still on the couch. “Oh, this? This was just a little light reading. You know, since I share my Netflix and Prime with you, I figured you could share your period-piece smut with me.” He fans through the pages, trying to find the spot he left off on. “I didn’t even know people read physical romance books anymore. That’s like me keeping VHS tapes of porn instead of using my phone.”

Nesta stomps over and snatches the book out of his hands. “It’s not like I enjoy owning books with ugly covers,” she hisses. “I get headaches reading e-books. And this is a classic.” She carefully wipes at the cover as if Cassian got dirt all over it.

Cassian tries to snatch it back. “I wasn’t done with it,” he grits. “Nesta, give it back.”

“I’m glad we brought up boundaries,” she says instead. “Because we need to talk about this morning.” Shoving the book into her pants waistband, she peels off her blazer and takes a seat on the coffee table in front of Cassian.

Cassian blinks, gripped by the authority in her movements. Nesta pokes a finger at his chest. “What you said bothered me all day. Nearly ruined my night. So I’m telling you now, I’m not taking your money for anything, ever. And if you bring up the topic again, I’m moving out.” She sounds dead serious.

He’s not afraid of her. “I’m bringing up the topic now,” he pushes back, his tone hard. “As someone who considers you a friend, I don’t like to see my friends struggling.”

Nesta blinks, and maybe finally accepts that she can’t fight her way out of this, because she drops her finger. “I can’t be financially dependent on a man, Cassian,” she admits, refusing to look away from him. “I’ve done it before, and it’s no way to live life. I don’t care how nice you are; I’m not taking your money. And you can’t make me.” She doesn’t shout or hiss that last part. It’s said with a quiet strength, and it makes Cassian want to concede everything. If this is about her ex-boyfriend, then he doesn’t want to be anything like him.

But it doesn’t change the fact that her health is still on the line. “What if you don’t take my money?” he says quickly. “What if I make you work for it?”

Law school doesn’t allow for part-time jobs on the side, and Nesta’s been scraping by with scholarships and leftover money from her father’s will. The suffering is worth it now, she told Cassian once, if she’s at a law firm the year after next with a starting salary of 100K.

Nesta purses her lips, skeptical. “What kind of work?”

“You can be a legal consultant for Night Court.”

“Do I look qualified to be a legal consultant?” She’s glaring now.

“Well, it’s either that or you get to be my personal assistant.” Nesta looks even more outraged at that, and Cassian holds up his hands. “I respect your need to stay independent,” he says, “but you can’t convince me that a handout or two is worse than going broke.” Cassian himself would be dead right now without all the handouts he got over the course of his life. “Please, Nesta,” he says quietly. “Think about it for me. And if you still hate it, I’ll never bother you about it again.” Even though it would kill him.

Nesta stares at him, the gears in her brain visibly turning. Finally— “Rhysand’s company does run on handouts anyway,” she mutters, glancing away. “What’s one more?”

Before Cassian can drop to his knees and thank her, she whips her head back to him. “But I want to do real work, Cassian. Not the pretense of work while I get a fat paycheck.”

He bursts into a grin and grabs her arms. “I’m gonna work you so hard.” He kisses her hard on the cheek.

Nesta makes a choking noise and starts coughing, and Cassian realizes how that sounded. “Did I say something wrong?” he plays innocent.

Nesta’s face is red for reasons other than alcohol now, but she covers it up by shoving Cassian hard enough to send him into the couch cushions. “Asshole.” She pulls her book out of her waistband and throws it at Cassian’s chest. “Have your romance back, I’m going to bed.”

“Hey— wait, it's six p.m. What about the puzzle?” he calls after her. She ignores him and keeps walking.

“Fine,” he says to her back, “but don't go to sleep with your contacts in again; you're gonna hurt yourself.”

As she reaches the stairs, he adds, “I’m proud of you for the moot court, by the way. I’m telling everybody you're the smartest person I know.”

Nesta pauses briefly at that, before saying, “Goodnight, Cassian,” and continuing up to her room.

Later that night, Cassian does want to tell everybody that Nesta is the smartest person he knows. She's the smartest, coolest, and wittiest person he knows, full stop, with killer looks and a criminally underrated personality. But something is holding him back from sharing his feelings with the rest of the world.

It's the same feeling that's had him avoiding Feyre these last few weeks. The unspoken knowledge that not everybody sees Nesta the way Cassian does, paired with the fierce desire to protect her from any sort of criticism.

He doesn't have any definitive proof to justify his feelings, but he knows he can't stop thinking about Nesta. He knows his friends will take notice of the change in his behavior eventually, so in a fit of restlessness, he reaches for his phone to test a theory.

Scrolling through his contacts, Cassian eventually settles on Mor. She's close to Feyre and Cassian both, has an inclination to gossip, and she’s never interacted with Nesta. Perfect.

Cassian: what do you think of Nesta?

He's straightforward with her the way he always is, the way she always is with him.

Mor answers quickly without question: didn’t she let feyre work her ass off at age 14 while she sat around and did nothing?

Mor: she sounds like a bitch and i have yet to see anything to the contrary.

Mor: she has very nice eyes though

Mor: if u know what i mean ( . )( . )

Cassian wishes he hadn’t even asked. He doesn’t even know how to reply to that, so he’s about to turn his phone off when another message from Mor comes in.

Mor: why do you ask? how are things going with you two?

Cassian sighs deeply, not in the mood to start a fight with one of his best friends. He never told Feyre about taking Nesta to the doctor, or the following MRI and diagnosis. The last time he had a real conversation with Feyre was the first night of Nesta’s period, when he was worried sick over how to take care of her.

“What should I do, Feyre? She's crying herself sick upstairs and all I have is this stupid hot towel.”

“You don't have to do that,” she sighed tiredly over the phone. “Nesta goes through this every month. She’ll survive. Don’t get yourself worked up over nothing.”

That was when he decided he was calling a doctor no matter what.

And now… He’s confused and upset and he doesn't know why. Instead of arguing with Mor, he texts back, it’s nothing. A second later, he adds, but she's not a bitch.

He wants to say more, but texting Mor an essay on why she’s wrong for judging Nesta without knowing her would make him look crazy, among other things. He doesn’t know why he has to clarify that Nesta isn’t a bitch in the first place.

Either way, Cassian’s theory was proven correct.

He decides not to mention Nesta to his friends anymore.

***

Nesta lays in bed, thinking about the absolute day she’s had.

If getting drunk with Emerie Nikolis and Eris Vanserra at two in the afternoon wasn’t enough, stumbling back home to find Cassian like that finished her off for good. Her cheek has been tingling for hours.

She remembers how this housing agreement between them first started: I need you to know you can enforce whatever rules and boundaries you want while you’re here.

Nesta huffs a laugh. Boundaries are for strangers. Cassian seems content to poke and tug at Nesta’s boundaries whenever he wants, and Nesta… is okay with this. A mere month ago, this would have been her worst nightmare— living with a man who pushes her on every decision, who never does what she wants but somehow always knows what she needs.

But now they're friends, and Nesta is slowly learning that the rules are different with friends. Not everything has to be spelled out, because Cassian will understand what she's trying to say anyway. Not everything that is unknown has to be scary, because Cassian is never scary.

He’s allowed to read her books because he won’t make fun of them. He's allowed to know about her personal health matters because he won’t tell anybody else. And apparently, he’s allowed to give her a job so she doesn’t go broke trying to afford endo treatment.

These are the new rules.

She’s ridiculously glad that she told Lorene she won’t be coming back to the apartment for a few weeks. She doesn't know what she'll do after then, but for now she is okay.

***

a/n: hello i love writing cassian pov and learning more about him so much :) also thinking about having cassian call nesta 'baby' when they get together more often than 'sweetheart' just bc i think it would be a good look on him. pls share ur opinion.

tagging: @ladywitchling @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @sensitiveillyrian @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @queenestarcheron @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies

[presumenothing]

“So you’re sure you haven’t dragged any disasters behind you this time?”

“You talk like I caused the last apocalypse!” Ed grumbles. (Riza definitely does not laugh at the way Roy inevitably winces at ‘last’, a fact she will happily swear to at court martial if necessary.) “No, I really was just passing through Central on my way outta here and figured I’d stop by to see your ugly mug! That’s meanin’ the General’s here, not yours, Major.”

Riza nods sagely. “Duly noted, Edward, thank you. General Mustang, it seems your image among the citizenry could still do with some improvement. Please continue working on that.”

“Working o– my image is perfectly fine!” Roy splutters over Ed’s raucous hoots of laughter, but under that Riza’s pretty sure they’re both thinking along the same lines: while Alphonse had arrived with an itinerary and a silent offer to pass along any messages that needed passing along non-diplomatically, Ed almost certainly has no specific plans beyond outta here.

(Riza hopes he’s at least brought some amounts of foreign currency with him, but she’s not optimistic. Not that Ed’s necessarily bad with money or anything, especially when it comes to spending on himself – she’s seen the expense reports – but spending several formative years with access to an essentially unlimited bank account leads to some… interesting habit formations.

But anyway. She’ll just raid the emergency go-bags they have stashed around the compound and sneak it in Ed’s traveling case during one of the distractions Roy and the team will inevitably provide before the day is out.)

Ed kicks back the chair to balance on an alarmingly few number of legs, and raises an eyebrow. “So? Any last-minute requests? And not for souvenirs, mind you, I’m pretty sure I won’t have space in my trunk after Winry’s three hundred mile long list. I don’t think I’ve even seen so many metal composites in my life.”

“It’s rude to complain about a lady’s wishes, Elric,” Roy lectures, and wisely barrels on before she can pointedly present an overdue stack of paperwork to his face. “Just don’t die, that’s all.”

A half-dozen expressions flicker across Ed’s face at that before settling into a smirk. “Any difficult requests?”

This time Riza beats Roy to it before he can even open his mouth. “Send word back at least once every three months. I’ll provide you the codewords we give to informants, all messages tagged with that at any military outpost will reach us within two weeks. How else are we supposed to establish that you’re accomplishing the first point?” she adds blithely.

“Yeah, yeah, fine, jeez.” Ed’s chair lands back down with an equally concerning thunk, and Riza is proved right in finding the ensuing beat of silence foreboding. “So hypothetically, how fast could a message reach you from outside Amestris? If something came up.”

(Riza levels him with a look, variant Edward Elric if you dare start an international incident before the year is out I will personally make you regret it, so help me.

Both him and General Mustang quail under the pleasant threat of it. Fairly satisfying, she thinks, and decides she’ll start by raiding the go-bag Falman hid in the archives, since that’s most likely to have various currencies instead of communications equipment or food.)

.

.

(more fics here)

[scribomaniac]

One Step Ahead Ch 10

Read from the beginning here!

“You’re in?” Aelin stared at him suspiciously. “Just like that?”

Rowan nodded, not trusting himself yet to speak.

Aelin opened her mouth, then closed it quickly. She looked like she wanted to push him further, learn what his motives were. But, deciding not to look a gift horse in the mouth, instead she said, “Well then. Let’s get to work.”

Rowan and Aelin re-entered the manor side by side. He was relieved by her lack of questions, unsure how he’d handle any more scrutiny tonight.

When they returned, it looked like no one had moved an inch. There were no open seats left in the room—and even if there were, Rowan would never put himself in such a compromising position—so he leaned against a wall instead. Looking around at the rag tag force Aelin had managed to muster together, he pursed his lips and asked, “So what’s the plan?”

Clearing his throat, Athril leaned forward. “The only way we’ll even have a shot at putting Maeve away is if we have hard evidence putting her in the house the night of the murder.”

Looking over at Aelin, Rowan raised a brow. Sounds easy enough to me, he told her. You’d just have to testify.

Noticing their exchange, Arthil shook his head. “I can’t put Aelin on the stand. For starters she was only a child when it happened. Any good lawyer will argue she misremembered Maeve being there that night, or thought it was Maeve when it was someone else. And then of course there’s the fact that Aelin Galathynius is still considered a missing person.” He rubbed the back of his neck and grimaced. “The only form of identification she has is as Celaena Sardothian.”

“So we’d just have to prove she’s Aelin,” Rowan shrugged. “That can’t be too hard. We’d just have to match her DNA to a sample of her parents.”

“Or to mine,” Aedion shrugged. “Your mom was an Ashryver, so that’d work, right?”

“Look,” Athril snapped, “I’m not putting Adarlan’s Assassin on the stand. I’m taking a big enough gamble as it is. If someone leaks your identity as a wanted killer then we’ll be laughed out of court.” Looking around the room, daring anyone to object, he said, “We need to do this without Aelin.”

“Then tell us what we should do,” the old man in the chair said calmly, though the young man behind him looked like he was ready to start throwing punches.

Aelin stepped forward, her eyes zoned in on Rowan’s, “We need someone on the inside. Someone who can gather intel and evidence.”

Rowan lifted his chin, and Aelin nodded.

“No one is perfect,” Athril continued. “Maeve may have an army of killers and cleaners at her disposal, but there’s got to be a misstep somewhere.”

Westfall raised his hand, as if he were in class about to ask a question, “I’ll keep reviewing the old case files and see if any of the neighbors or staff have anything new to add.”

“This was personal, too,” Faliq added quietly. To the untrained eye, she looked bored as she stared blankly ahead of her. But Rowan could see the intensity behind her eyes. She was planning something. “Maeve might have kept a memento, or a keepsake.”

Aelin walked over to where Rowan stood, looked into his green eyes for a long moment, then reached out for his hand. His fist was clenched, but it wasn’t until Aelin’s fingers pushed his apart that he realized how tightly he’d been holding onto the ring. “I know this is a lot to ask,” Aelin said quietly, too quietly for anyone else to hear. “But you’re the only person who Maeve trusts enough. If I give this to you, if I trust you to take it to her,” the golden ring in her eyes flashed, “can I trust you to help us?”

Heart stuttering in his chest, Rowan couldn’t tear his gaze away no matter how hard he tried. She was trusting him. This girl who had been betrayed so many times—by her family, by Arobynn, by her friends—and she was trusting him. Suddenly the ring in his hand felt much too heavy.

Curling his hand around hers, the ring locked between their grasp, Rowan nodded. You can trust me.

Aelin’s eyes softened. Good, they said.

“Good job, cuz,” Aedion said, standing up suddenly and coming to sling an arm around Aelin, “Sounds like you’ve got everything covered.”

“Not everything,” Havilliard chimed in. Everyone looked back at him. “How do you plan on regaining your family’s fortunes once this is all over?”

Grinning slyly, Aelin said, “You don’t have to worry about that.”

More than mildly concerned, Rowan narrowed his eyes at the young assassin, but didn’t ask. This wasn’t the time or the place.

Rolling his eyes, Havilliard pressed, “Fine, but then what about back up? If Maeve finds out what we’re up to before we get to trial, or tries to off us during trial, we need to be ready, and like Athril said, she has an army of killers.”

“The police will protect us,” Westfall said, so confident and sincere.

Faliq snorted, drawing Westfall’s glare. She raised her hands to signal peace. “Look, the police might protect some of us but definitely not all of us.”

“And some of us don’t need protection,” Aedion grinned, his face almost identical to the one Aelin made earlier but with a touch more teeth. “Besides, we’ve got the Bane to back us.”

Havilliard hummed. Then, ever so delicately, he pulled out his phone and began to type. “If you say so.”

“Hey,” Aedion frowned, “who’re you texting?”

Looking over his shoulder, Westfall sighed and shook his head, “He’s just on Tindr.”

Faliq slapped a hand over her eyes and Aelin laughed.

“What is Tindr?” The old man asked.

Shaking his head, the young man behind him patted him on his shoulder, “I’ll tell you tomorrow, grandpa. It’s late though, let’s get you to bed.” He looked up at Aelin, “We’re done for tonight, right?”

“Yeah, Ren,” Aelin nodded. “Thanks for letting us crash here.”

Rolling his eyes, his responded blithely, “Anytime.”

Once Ren and the old man, Rowan looked around the room. There were only a couple of couches and he didn’t see any blankets or pillow. Holding back a grimace, he resigned himself to a night on the hard floor. “So who’s taking first shift?”

“No one,” Aelin answered him, opening a closet door and pulling out some blankets and pillows. “This house may look like its about to fall over, but Ren’s done a good job with the security system.”

Havilliard got up and stretched. “Besides,” he yawned, “I need my eight hours or else I’m useless come morning.”

Rowan had to wonder if the mayor’s son was truly ever useful.

“Come on, Chaol,” the dark-haired man called over his shoulder as he headed for the door.

“I’ll come up in a few minutes,” Westfall went to follow, pulling out his phone, “I just need to call Yrene first.”

Faliq snorted, “A few minutes—yeah, right.” She went to follow them out. “You two have never had a conversation shorter than two hours.”

Sputtering, the police officer blushed a ruddy red, “That’s just—we have a lot to catch up on, okay?”

And then Rowan was alone with the cousins.

Aelin pulled the cushions off one of the couches, throwing them all about the room without a care. Looking at Aedion, Rowan raised a brow.

Aedion sneered back. “What she we do with the Cleaner? Everywhere’s full.” And you’re not bunking with me, his eyes practically screamed.

Crossing his arms, Rowan silently replied, I’m heartbroken.

“He’ll sleep down here with me,” Aelin said simply.

Rowan blinked, looking back at the young assassin and watching her pull on a handle to bring out a pull-out bed.

“What?” Aedion barked, his brows raised. “But he could—”

“What?” Aelin repeated, standing straight to look at her cousin. Placing a hand on her hip, she continued, “Try to kill me? If he’s going to try anything like that then it’s best he’s near me.” Her blue eyes locked onto his green ones. Try anything buzzard and I’ll end you.

Rowan’s eyes narrowed, I’d expect nothing less.

“Now go on,” Aelin shooed Aedion out of the room. “You still have to check in on the Bane.”

Obviously unhappy with the situation, Aedion gave Rowan once last glare before heading out.

When Aelin turned back to him, he cleared his throat, “I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“Yeah, you will,” she tossed him a couple blankets.

They spent the rest of the time preparing their beds in silence. Aelin kept trying to fluff up her pillow with no luck.

Laying down on his back, Rowan made sure both Aelin and the room’s entrance were within his eyeline. He didn’t really think Aelin would try to slit his throat in his sleep—she could have done that easily in the car—but there were too many people underneath this roof for him to let his guard down even an inch.

Sighing, Aelin gave up on her pillow and flopped onto her back. “What do you say, buzzard?” She asked, “Light on or off?”

“On,” he replied easily.

Aelin snorted but then rolled over, facing away from him. Staring up at the ceiling, Rowan thought of what tomorrow would bring. He and Aelin would return to the city and part ways. She’d return to her shadows and he would return to Maeve with her ring. He wondered how she’d react. Would she be happy? Would she celebrate him and praise him?

Lorcan would be furious. Connall too, probably. Vaughan wouldn’t care, fully expecting Rowan’s return. Fenrys would make a joke, most likely calling Rowan an errand boy or something equally trivial. Gavriel though, he’d smile kindly and raise a glass in Rowan’s honor.

Chest tightening, Rowan thought of how they’d react once they learned of his betrayal. The six of them had been together for years now. They’d fought together, killed together, helped each other survive. They were a cadre. And even though Gavriel was the only one Rowan could safely call his friend, he would miss them.

He’d been relieved, earlier, when Aelin hadn’t pushed him for a motive. If she had, Rowan didn’t know what he’d say. That he knew what it was like to lose someone you loved? That if he could he’d tear the people responsible apart with his bare hands? No, he shook his head, dispelling the thoughts of a soft smile turned bloody, of dark eyes looking vacantly up at him. Swallowing thickly, Rowan took a deep breath.

“Rowan?” Aelin’s voice, so soft and quiet, called out to him. Rowan blinked, having thought she’d fallen asleep already. “I,” she paused. Then, “Thank you.”

Brows furrowing, he asked, “For what?”

Aelin turned over but didn’t look him in the eyes. “For believing me. For helping me.” Finally, her blue and gold eyes met his, and something inside Rowan’s chest loosened. “Thank you.”

Rowan held her gaze for a few moments longer, then he nodded.

Turning over again, Aelin’s breathing soon evened out. Rowan wasn’t sure if she were truly asleep or if she were just pretending to be and found himself not caring. Closing his eyes, Rowan listened to the rhythmic beating of his heart and let it lull him into a light sleep.

He woke up a few times in the night. First because Westfall was trying to find his way in the dark to what Rowan could only guess was the kitchen for some water. Then around midnight Aedion snuck in to check in on him. The third time was just as the sun was cresting over the horizon, and it was because Aelin rolled over to get out of bed and the mattress creaked.

Looking over at him with a wince, Aelin whispered, “Sorry.”

Dragging a hand down his face, Rowan shook his head, “It’s fine.” He should get up anyway. They had a long day ahead of them. “Any chance I can take a hot shower?”

Aelin nodded, “Yeah,” she stretched, showing a bit of skin along her belly. “The bathroom upstairs works fine.”

Pursing his lips, Rowan was more than a little suspicious at Aelin’s words but left the room all the same. In the light of day, the house looked even worse. Rowan could see scorch marks along the stairs and was pretty sure there was mold growing in the hallway. To his surprise, though, the bathroom was completed rehabilitated with white tile, stainless steel faucets, and even a glass shower. Frowning around at the room, he tried to figure out why this one room was perfectly up to date and untouched by the decay that plagued the rest of the house. Knowing there really wasn’t time to dive into that mystery, Rowan quickly disrobed and jumped into the shower, thanking whatever gods existed for the scalding hot water that came from the pipes.

After finishing, Rowan put his clothes back on and then found some mouthwash to swish in his mouth. Feeling more like a human, he headed back downstairs and found Aelin, Havilliard, and Aedion in the kitchen.

It was surprising to find the mayor’s son up and awake so early. According to his sources, the modern-day prince liked to live a life of luxury and rarely got out of bed before ten.

“Still alive, huh?” Aedion grunted around a mouth full of toast.

Ignoring the pup, Rowan asked Aelin, “What time are we leaving?”

Buttering her own slice of toast, Aelin shrugged, “Once everyone’s up and ready. Before noon. I want to make sure we have on last check in.”

Nodding, Rowan grabbed what he hoped was a clean mug from a cabinet and filled it with coffee. He was just about to sit down when a knock came at the front door.

The room snapped to attention.

“What the hell?” Aedion snarled.

The person knocked again. Louder this time. Footsteps were heavy and frantic overhead.

Havilliard, looking much too relaxed, took a sip of his coffee and asked, “Should someone answer that?”

“That’s not our knock,” Aelin answered, pulling a pair steak knife out from a drawer and handing one to Rowan. “Bane?” She asked her cousin.

Shaking his head, Aedion looked at his phone. “No one could’ve gotten past them.”

Barreling down the stairs, Westfall ran into the room with wide eyes and a gun in his hand. “What’s happening? Are we being attacked?”

The knock turned into a slam, the person on the other side obviously not happy about being left waiting.

“Oh fine,” Havilliard sighed. And then, with a surprising burst of speed, he slipped past the four of them and bee lined it for the door. “I’ll see who it is.”

“Dorian!” Westfall hissed. He reached for his friend but was too late.

Opening the door without a care in the world, Havilliard greeted the stranger. “You’re just in time!”

“What,” Chaol took in a deep breath before continuing, “the fuck, Dorian?”

Rowan stepped forward to see a young woman standing across from Dorian. Her hair was whiter than snow and she barred her teeth at them in an iron-like smile.

“Rutting hell,” Aedion swore, looking pale.

Aelin stepped forward, a glare on her face, and said, “Manon.”

[hela-avenger]

poison & wine- part 12

Author: hela-avenger

Word Count: 1271

Summary: Prince Loki of Asgard is in need of a date to take back home. That’s where you come in with a task of your own to make the whole trip with an insufferable prince worth it. Too bad that things don’t always go as planned and you end up giving more than you can take. Fake-Dating AU.

A/N: Sorry for the impromptu hiatus. I just needed a break for a hot minute. Please let me know if you’ll like to be tagged!

“You must tell us everything,” Lynn exclaimed as she took the seat next to you. Loki had a seating area by a magnificent fireplace. It was embellished in his colors as everything in his room was and though you weren’t a fan of the color scheme you had to admire the intimate detail in everything. “Once we heard about your courtship, we’ve been dying to know about every single detail.”

“The prince said you would be a bit shy at announcing your relationship with him,” Datya pipes in as she dropped to sit on the other side of you. “But now that we know everything makes so much sense.” 

“How so?” you asked a bit confused. 

“You spoke of him with such a casualness that no one ever has,” Datya answers.  

“Yes! You are unafraid of his mischievous behavior and his title. The prince has finally met his match with you,” Lynn adds on. “Now go on, tell us how you came to fall for the prince. How did you meet? How long have you been together? Does his tongue serve any other purpose beside spreading lies?” 

You can’t help but laugh at the last question. As much as you wanted to offer some answers, you knew better than to string a story now. The lie that Loki had planted was too fresh for you to start embellishing it suddenly. As if sensing your hesitancy, Iana steps out of the closet from where she was previously working in. 

“Lynn!” Iana reprimands shooting the young girl a glare. She turns to look at you apologetically. “We are very happy for you, Lady Y/N, and we wish for you eternal happiness, but...” 

You look up at her nervously and wonder what kind of reprimand she has set for you. Iana had been hard to read since you first met her so you didn’t know which direction the conversation may take. 

“...King Odin holds no regard for Midgard. There is a chance he will reject the courtship.” 

You have to restrain from laughing because that wasn’t an issue you had expected to hear. It was nice to know that there might be a loophole in all of this but your end of the deal wouldn’t be fulfilled if you didn’t continue on with the fake courtship. 

“Right, well…” you sigh out with a shrug. “That is a matter between the king and the prince. I never meant for our relationship to be mixed with politics so if that issue arises we will deal with it accordingly.”

“Spoken like a true princess,” Datya comments with a grin. “Oh my, you will make such a great queen!”

“The first mortal Queen of Asgard!” Lynn continues with the same excitement. “Imagine all of the stories and tales that would be written in your honor...”

“Girls,” Iana interrupts, sending them a sharp glance. “That’s enough now. We have much to do.”

Lynn and Datya are quick to rise and start to work once more. Iana offers you one last parting glance and you can tell she’s apologizing for something that isn’t her fault. 

The courtship was false but the girls had brought up certain scenarios that you hadn’t expected to hear. Though you suspected that Loki had no intention of letting this fake courtship end with an engagement. Yet, you knew there were things he was leaving out but you expected that this wasn’t one of them. 

Or at least you hope it wasn’t. 

And just as things couldn’t get worse, a knock on the door pulls you out of your thoughts. You move to stand and answer it but Lynn was more than happy to drop her recent task to assist. Few words are spoken and Lynn returns with a message meant for you.

“It’s Queen Frigga,” she states. “She wishes to speak to you.” 

Loki was no stranger to the pointed stares and hushed whispers that uttered his name when he entered the royal courtyard. Many lords and their wives were milling around hoping to gain some favor from the Allfather but Loki knew it was pointless. Odin was far too busy to care for the relationships within his kingdom. There were far more pressing alliances to keep outside of Asgard for his father to tend to the ones within his home. 

But that certainly didn’t mean the king was blind to the occurences within his sight. Odin’s ever watchfulness of his court was proven by Loki’s sudden summoning to court to have an audience with him. 

The prince walked past the gossiping court and entered the private throne room only to be greeted with a glaring Odin who sat on his golden throne. 

Loki could only grin in amusement. 

“Odin, for what reason have you called this meeting?” Loki asks with faux innocence.

“You know for what reason,” Odin answers simply. “You’ve created quite the scene earlier this morning. The court has yet to stop talking about it.”

“Ah, I’m sure those are simply rumors,” Loki brushes off.

“I’m certain they are not,” Odin states. “For the mortal is now being moved to rest in your chambers as we speak. Am I wrong?” 

Loki remains silent and simply looks around the throne room as an attempt to avoid the question. 

“What are you playing at, Loki?” Odin demands. “Bringing the mortal into royal affairs?”

“I’m not playing at anything,” Loki snaps. “I am courting her.”

“I can see that or your attempt to make it appear that way.” 

“Why must you always insist I’m lying?”

“Because you are not the God of Truths,” Odin remarks. “You are the God of Lies and Mischief and this sudden courting of this mortal has your signature mockery all over it. So tell me, how did you coerce her into agreeing to this lie? Did you bribe her? Did you threaten her?” 

“I am not lying,” Loki states. “For once, I speak the truth.” 

Odin takes note of the dejected expression on Loki’s face. It was convincing enough to make him second guess himself. 

“The timing of it all seems too convenient,” Odin points out. “We just spoke yesterday of the new requirement of the throne and then you go on and do this.” 

“Yes, I am aware,” Loki sighs out convincingly, keeping up the pretenses of being humble. “I had no intention of revealing my relationship with the Lady Y/N but you made this new demand and I feared you would invite the first Vanir princess you could get your hands on and pawn her off to me.” 

Odin was not at all happy at the revelation. He was still convinced that this was all a trick. Not only was the timing of this revelation suspicious, but Loki’s relationship with the accompanying mortal was meant to irritate him which it did. 

“I do not know how you spend your time in Midgard, nor do I really care for it,” Odin declares. “But if you insist that this courtship of yours has developed to such an advanced state with Lady Y/N, then I trust you can prove it to be true to me for the rest of your stay here in Asgard.” 

“It is true,” Loki lies under his breath. 

“Sure it is,” Odin mocks with a chuckle. “If that is the case then you should have no trouble courting to the standards we have here in the court of Asgard which means…”

Loki lets out a sigh knowing what was coming up next and how unprepared he was for it. 

“I’ll like to formally meet her as your partner and give her my blessing.”

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[comrade-meow]

GERMAN CHILD-PROTECTION REGULATORS are on the verge of blocking one of the world’s largest pornographic websites. The officials are set to issue a blocking order to the country’s biggest internet service providers saying a pornographic website, believed to be xHamster, should be made inaccessible to Germany’s 83 million people.

The blocking order, which may be issued in the coming weeks by the Commission for the Protection of Minors in the Media (Kommission für Jugendmedienschutz in German, or KJM), follows a failure by xHamster to introduce age-verification checks to stop under-18s from accessing pornography. The order is the latest salvo in a two-year campaign by regulators to compel all pornographic websites accessible in Germany to implement age-verification checks.

Legislators around the world—including in Canada, France, the UK, and some US states—are looking to introduce more measures aimed at stopping children from accessing adult material online. But the move by Germany is one of the most sweeping measures taken so far, with critics comparing it to censorship.

German officials are taking action against four major pornography websites, says Marc Jan Eumann, chair of the KJM. The group, which represents the country’s 14 state media authorities, is responsible for enforcing a broad treaty agreed upon by all states around the protection of children. It is in addition to other German laws on child protection. Eumann refuses to confirm the four websites the KJM is taking legal action against. However, German reporting says the cases are against xHamster and three websites, YouPorn, Pornhub, and MyDirtyHobby, all of which are owned by MindGeek.

The regulators have been trying to force pornographic websites to introduce age-verification checks—which can involve the uploading of identity documents—since September 2019. Much of this has been pushed by one state regulator, Tobias Schmid of the State Media Authority of North Rhine-Westphalia, who has been criticized for his views on sex, but the matter is now also being handled by the KJM.

Eumann says companies should put in place age-checking systems to make sure their visitors are not children. The law says pornographic content should be accessible only by adults, Eumann says. In all four of the cases the pornography websites, which have German-language versions, are accused of not introducing age-verification systems.

One pornographic site, thought to be xHamster, was first contacted by regulators in March 2020 and then the others by June 2020. The requests for age verification have now turned into a legal tussle, and three cases are waiting for hearings in one of Düsseldorf’s administrative courts, Eumann says.

In the case of xHamster it is believed there was no response from the website’s owners. As a result, the case is thought to be the most advanced and could result in the order issuing the site to be blocked in Germany in the coming weeks. At the end of June 2021 the KJM identified the company that hosts xHamster and asked it to make the website unavailable. “We have a blocking order for the hosting provider, which is based in the Netherlands,” Eumann says. “If the host provider does not comply, we will take the last step.” That order expired at the start of this week, the KJM has confirmed. “The last step is taking actions, a blocking order, against German access provider,” Eumann adds.

In reality this means issuing a blocking order to Germany's biggest web providers—including Vodafone, Deutsche Telekom, O2, and 1&1—demanding that they block the website for people trying to access it in Germany. The largest providers will be targeted first, with smaller ones following, and it is likely a block would happen at the Domain Name System (DNS) level. When you are browsing the web, the URL that you type into your browser’s address bar is converted to an IP address by DNS. Imposing a DNS block would mean anyone typing the pornography site’s address into their browser wouldn’t be able to see the page.

It’s likely German web companies may challenge any blocking orders through the country’s legal system—meaning the battle over age verification could be dragged out for years to come. Officials initially tried to get the web companies to voluntarily impose web blocks on xHamster in August 2020, documents show. The internet providers refused to block the sites voluntarily, potentially setting in motion a lengthy legal showdown. “We've already talked to them, they are not happy,” Eumann says.

A spokesperson for 1&1 says it would “assess” any blocking order as and when it is received. “Legal requirements for website blocking orders are quite high according to the Supreme Court (BGH) Judgements,” the spokesperson says. A Vodafone spokesperson says they would look at any order if and when it is received. None of the other web companies replied to a request for comment. MindGeek did not respond to a request for comment and xHamster declined to comment, citing ongoing legal proceedings.

Making pornographic sites introduce age checks to make sure people accessing them are over 18 isn’t a new suggestion—but it is one that’s proved controversial. In 2017, the UK passed the Digital Economy Act, which required adult websites to introduce age-verification technology for all visitors from the UK. But the law, which was dubbed the porn block, was delayed multiple times before collapsing altogether in October 2019.

History could repeat itself in Germany but the idea of age verification is taking off around the world. Europe’s Audiovisual Media Services Directive requires companies to put measures in place to protect children, a bill in Canada is looking to introduce age verification but has faced privacy concerns, Australia has recommended using digital IDs to access pornography and officials in Utah have been pushing a law that would require new smartphones and tablets to have pre-installed and on-by-default pornography filters. France has also threatened to block pornographic websites that don’t put age-verification systems in place.

But German regulators are the closest to introducing any blocks—and the approach is proving divisive. Paulita Pappel, a cofounder of adult site Lustery and the curator of the Pornfilmfestival Berlin, says the worst-case scenario would be if Germany “creates this firewall, that they start blocking sites and say France follows suit. That would push production companies even further to the margins. They would probably move their servers”.

Pappel says that such moves are “comparable to China's censorship” and could put the pornography industry back decades in terms of its reputation. She worries the focus on age verification will filter down to adult companies with less resources to implement them. “Smaller companies, queer performers of color, these are the people that are going to suffer the most,” Pappel says, adding that there should be more of a dialogue between regulators and the industry to ensure positive outcomes and provide young people with better education around sex.

Eumann argues that the actions it is taking are not about pornography itself, but rather protecting children. “We're not going from this perspective that we have something against pornography,” he says. “It's not against net neutrality, it's not against freedom of speech. It's just for protection of the minors.”

Since the UK proposed age-verification checks around half a decade ago there have been questions about the effectiveness of any such systems. A multitude of age-verification technology companies have sprung up, and experts say to best protect people’s privacy and security there need to be consistent standards in place. This also applies to laws around the world: it is easier for pornographic websites to put age verification in place if multiple countries have the same requirements. One point of tension is social media: Some proposed age-verification laws focus only on commercial pornography websites and ignore the huge amount of adult content on websites such as Reddit and Twitter.

“There is a legitimate question about how effective this kind of legislation will be,” says Neil Thurman, a professor in the University of Munich’s department of media and communication, who has studied pornography regulations and people’s opinions on them. Thurman recently surveyed 1,000 16- and 17-year olds in the UK and found that 63 percent of them had seen pornography on social media, while 47 percent of them had seen it on dedicated pornographic websites. (It also found those seeking out pornography would be more likely to do so on dedicated pornographic sites).

Then there’s the question of how well any such systems work. Simply using a VPN or Tor allows you to get around location blocks that are placed on content. Someone in Germany can easily set their location to the UK to avoid local restrictions in much the same way that some people use VPNs to access US Netflix in the UK or BBC iPlayer in Europe. And both teenagers and regulators are very aware of these limitations. Thurman’s research found that 46 percent of the teenagers surveyed had either used a VPN or Tor in the past—another 23 percent knew what they were. The KJM says it doesn’t expect its age-verification laws to stop every person under the age of 18 from accessing pornography.

To date, only one major international pornographic site has introduced age-verification checks in Germany. On May 25, subscription-based website FanCentro, which lets adult performers sell access to their content and has ten million users, introduced age checking developed by UK-based firm Yoti. Nicholas Hörger, FanCentro chief sales officer, says the US firm decided to follow German rules to protect its adult influencers who could potentially be held liable if their subscribers don’t complete age checks. The company spent six months reviewing different age-verification options before picking Yoti’s.

Hörger says the move has gone down well with its German influencers but says he suspects other companies are waiting to see the results of regulations and legal challenges before they adopt any such technology. “In addition to the potential loss of adult consumers, a platform must pay for each verification attempted, which can become costly, depending on your business model and platform,” he says.

So has the age-verification tech made any difference? Hörger refuses to share specific numbers on whether it has resulted in a decrease in users but admits there has been a difference. “There is a percentage of adults who still don’t feel comfortable uploading their ID on an adult site,” Hörger says. “FanCentro’s age verification check happens after they’ve input a credit card or bank details, so we know it’s not an issue of age, but rather concerns about privacy. It’s possible this will change over time.”

[wrenhyperfixates]

Ever Since We Met

Prologue

Pairing: Loki x reader Series Summary: After making a bet with Odin, Loki finally has a chance to prove he is worthy of being heir to the throne. Under mysterious circumstances, you find yourself stranded on Asgard, left with no option but to team up with Loki and help him win the crown. Now posing as visiting royalty, you must be careful of rumors in court that say you’re not who you claim, all while battling your growing feelings for the raven haired king. But some things are easier said than done because secrets, you’ll soon learn, can be deadly. Chapter Summary: Before Odin leaves for Alfheim, Loki makes one final bid for the throne. A bet that has the power to alter his future. Chapter Warnings: none :) A/N: Greetings guys, gals, and non-binary pals! I am beyond excited to share this story with you! It takes place pre-Thor 1 and will update every Friday until we reach the end in about six months. Without further ado, I hope you enjoy!

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Disclaimer: Gif not mine.

Thankfully, the halls outside the throne room were empty, leaving plenty of space for Loki to pace back and forth. He never would have let his anxious energy show in front of others, but right now it was just him. The guards had gone in to announce Loki to his father, gain permission for him to enter. It was ridiculous that he couldn’t just waltz in, the prince thought. Then again, that’s all he was. A prince. Not the king.

See, Loki had been trying his whole life to prove his worth to his father, desperately attempting to show he was deserving of the throne. But nothing had worked, and whispers that Odin was going to announce his heir any day now were common throughout the kingdom. And not a single person was saying it was going to be Loki. Luckily, the younger Odinson didn’t give up so easily.

“Prince Loki,” one of the guards said with a little bow of his head as they re-emerged from the throne room. Loki immediately stopped his nervous movement and looked him in the eye. “The king will see you now.”

“Thank you, gentlemen,” Loki replied, regal as ever. “As you were.”

Taking a final gulp of air, he pushed through the heavy golden doors and walked towards Odin. As a child, Loki had always thought his father looked so imposing sitting on the throne, as if he had in his palm the fate of all people. Well, now Loki was grown, and he knew that the old man sitting in that glorified chair did hold someone’s fate. His. And if Loki wasn’t careful, Odin would crush his dreams, his destiny, without so much as batting an eye.

Loki’s heeled boots clicked on the cold floor, as if counting down the steps left before he could make his request. They were, perhaps, a bit more formal than something one might wear on a regular basis, but he figured why not dress to impress? His semi-formal cloak swooshed behind him, and he had to resist anxiously fiddling with the fabric. With his hair slicked back and combed perfectly in place, he thought he looked very princely, but if all went well, he was going to be far more than that.

“Your majesty,” he greeted Odin in the formal way he’d been taught since birth, bowing at his waist. Oh, how he so despised that part; if he had it his way, he’d never bow to anyone again. At least he didn’t have to kneel as most of the lesser nobles and commoners did.

“Rise my son,” Odin said with a wave of his hand. “Why have you felt the need for this audience so close to my departure?”

“Well, father,” Loki began. He summoned all his strength to keep up his nonchalant facade. “It has come to my attention that you have invited Thor to join you and mother on your diplomatic mission to Alfheim. An invitation, I might add, that he has accepted.”

“Yes, yes,” he yawned. “What of it? I hope you are not looking to come. The convoy is already full.”

“On the contrary, I think it best if I stay here.” Loki studied his father’s expression a moment before continuing. “To rule the kingdom.”

It was painfully silent in the near-empty throne room. And then Odin began laughing. Not chuckling, but full on laughing at his son. This was perhaps the most embarrassed Loki had ever felt, and there wasn’t even anyone else in the room. But all he wanted was to show his father he was capable of ruling. That he would make a far more competent king than his oaf of a brother. This was a critical moment, he knew, and he couldn’t let any cracks in his armor show. He kept his face completely neutral as his father slowly ceased his cackling.

“And why should I allow for that. You see, Loki, I have already chosen my successor, and it is not you,” Odin bluntly explained as Loki’s blood began to boil and hopes began to drop. Maybe this was just a nightmare, and he’d wake up to make his plea for real. No such luck. “The official announcement was going to come upon my return, but it seems cruel to keep it from you now.”

All the times Loki played this out in his head, it never went quite this poorly. Never in his wildest dreams had he been expecting Odin to admit what he already knew deep down; he’d lost. But all his training, his preparing, his effort to show that he was the one deserving of the crown, could it really be for nothing?

“Come now, my son,” Odin said when Loki took too long to reply. He wondered if his father was trying to have a comforting tone. If he was, he was failing miserably. “You always knew I would have to pick one of you. That only one of you could take the mighty throne of Asgard.”

Yes, but I should be the victor, Loki thought, ignoring the tears pricking the back of his eyes. The last thing he would do was cry in front of the Allfather. Especially when he still had a chance to make this work in his favor. All he had to do was keep it together for the next fifteen minutes and alter his argument a little. If Odin was taking drastic measures, maybe that’s what he had to do, too.

“I do not think you should act so rashly, father,” Loki spoke up, voice impressively even. “After all, you have yet to hear my proposition.”

“And what might that be? Speak, son, and tell me.”

“Let me rule Asgard while you are gone. If I do well, you wait to make your decision on who will be your heir, allow me to continue to compete for the crown.”

The old king laughed again, not as loudly as before, but just as unkindly. “Why would I do that? I see no way in which this benefits me.”

“On the contrary, as a prince, I would have the right to plead my case to the Allmother if you took me out of the running. It would be a long, tedious process if you had to go through all the right channels to prove my brother is better suited for the kingship. And then again, they might not even find that he is. Or I could even challenge Thor for the crown, if it comes down to it. Such scandal to mark the end of your reign would be a shame, do you not agree?” He paused for dramatic effect, and to let the words sink in. “However, should I do poorly on the throne, I would have no argument to make, and would back down peacefully.”

The tension was so thick, Loki was tempted to whip out one of his daggers to try to cut it, and give himself room to breathe. But even the subtlest of movements would give way to an accusation of weakness, so he stood where he was, his piercing gaze staring into his father’s one eye, waiting for him to speak. Odin tapped his fingers on the arm of his throne, mulling over the very thinly veiled threat. By the time the king was opening his mouth to speak, Loki felt ready to scream.

“Very well,” he finally conceded. “But your success will be according to my terms. There are three things a good king needs. The first is the respect of those he rules. The second, fear and awe of his enemies and allies alike.”

Loki’s eyes flitted down for the briefest of seconds before looking up with renewed confidence. “And the last?”

“Worthiness,” Odin continued, standing up and walking down the steps, “to have the crown on his head.”

More eagerly than he would have liked, Loki nodded. He was certainly clever enough to figure out a way to prove he had each of those. It seemed that his silver tongue had not failed him today. But before he could say he accepted the terms, Odin had one last stipulation to add.

“You may not set foot out of the kingdom. Everything must run smoothly while you are here. Is this understood?”

“Yes, father, it is. And you will not interfere with my reign,” Loki replied, distrusting something about the look in the old man’s eye. “So then, do we have a deal?”

He considered for a moment more. “Yes, we do. From the moment I leave tomorrow until the second I return, you will be acting king of Asgard.”

“Thank you, father. You will not regret this,” Loki said, bowing again before leaving.

Whether he left before his father could say anything or if he never planned to at all, Loki wasn’t sure. It hardly mattered anymore. Now, his future was nearly set, for certainly he was already admired to some degree, right? Or even if he wasn’t, he’d been preparing for this day his whole life, studying his father. He knew how to be king, and he’d be damned if he let anything ruin this opportunity.

After a fitful night of sleep, Loki saw his family and their entourage off at the Bifröst. True, he was more than eager for them to leave already, but he did his best to mask it. After all, his eagerness may be mistaken for arrogance, and that was no way to start his reign.

“Alright, brother. I bid thee well,” Thor said, clapping him on the back. As far as Loki was aware, neither he nor anyone else knew of the specifics of the bet that had been made, save for his mother and Heimdall, who had been tasked with keeping an eye on him. “Do not get too comfortable on the throne, though.”

“Good luck, my son. I have every confidence in you,” Frigga said, cupping his cheeks.

Loki looked to Odin for him to speak some final words of parting. When he didn’t, Loki said, “Thank you, brother, mother. I wish you all safe travels and shall be awaiting your return.”

He waited until they disappeared into the rainbow lights and, with a nod in Heimdall’s direction, headed back towards the palace. The throne. Almost reverently, he circled it once before sitting down. Feeling perfectly pleased with himself, Loki didn’t even notice the bright flash of light in the distance. Nor what came with it.

[curiousconch]

Come Find Me

Epilogue Ricochet (An Open Heart AU) 

Catch up here: Series Masterlist 

Chapter Synopsis: With Bryce and Heather miles apart, will they find their way to each other again? 

Pairing: Bryce Lahela x MC (Dr. Heather Song) 

Words: 1.9k+ | Genre: Crime, Suspense/Thriller, Romance

Rating/Warnings: Mature (16+) / language, implications of mental health issues

Author's Notes: This is the last installment of Ricochet, my first ever fanfiction series. Thank you for every single person who took the time to read, comment and reblog! Working on this story has helped me recover from a slump, and I hope in its own special way, it did the same thing for you.

Also, disclaimer: Majority of the characters are owned by Pixelberry, except the main character Heather Song.

23 Months Later

It was a long time coming, but the lonely nights and hard work has paid off for ADA Bryce Lahela. Well, District Attorney Lahela, as of that day.

With his relentless pursuit of grandslamming all cases, he was officially promoted. And ever since, Bryce Lahela was on a roll.

First, Jordan Peter Anderson was contrite, yet still convicted for life imprisonment on two counts of attempted murder and one count each of kidnapping and stalking. He would be transferred to a mental health facility however, due to needed psychiatric treatments.

Guilty.

Second, Declan Nash was found guilty by a grand jury on conspiring to kidnap and murder. Though he denied the allegations until the end, he wasn't spared from justice being served to him. To add insult to injury, his reduced sentence for his role in the Panacea scandal was also reversed when the Boston DA appealed for it.

Guilty.

Third, the Boston DA presented their case and helped senate managers to impeach Senator Ed Farrugia so he can no longer run for any public office moving forward. To save himself from further public prosecution, he plead guilty on counts of kidnapping and attempted murder.

Guilty.

On the sentencing trial of the the three main perpetrators, Bryce argued against bail and advocated for how much psychological damage has been made to the victim and their relatives, becoming the champion of the absent main victim, Heather Song. He succeeded to persuade the court to agree to the original terms. And Bryce, in his sharp gray suit as always, stood a little taller that day. But the latest scoop the press feasted on was the surprise federal conviction of the young DA's own parents, proven to have conspired with others to scheme against both Ed Farrugia and the Edenbrook doctor. This was announced by the federal court on Friday, almost two years after the almost fatal events. They both lost parole privileges and have been given hefty penalties by the FBI.

Bryce considered all of them a triumph. A satisfying closure to the bitter chapter of his life. Most importantly, it was a step closer to her. To reuniting with the love of his life.

Even in the middle of his newfound fame, it was her who motivated him. It was memories of her who helped him endure all those sleepless nights. Even the news of her triumphs in her field inspired him to work harder. When things went tough or didn't go his way, he would always think: what would she do if she was in his situation?

It has always been her.  And he missed her so much.

And on that final day of hearing, as the media clambered around him at the steps of Boston's city court, she was the only one in his mind. His head was kept cool even in the most stressful days by the simple thoughts of her.

Facing his adoring crowd, he thought of her and in a snap he was his usual confident self. Charming, even for the most livid of journalists with the sharpest of tongues. He addressed a barrage of questions about the latest development of the case. But a sudden, unexpected question made the ever-confident Bryce Lahela falter a little:

"What do you plan to do next, now that it's all over?"

In all of the past two years, if someone had asked him that very question, the answer would always be the same.

"I believe it's time to collect on the promise made to me by someone," he said with a smirk directed to the camera, consciously knowing that the person who needed to hear his remarks was listening. He excused himself and went on his way, several of those lens struggling to stay on his figure as he stepped inside his new sleek black car.

Hundreds of miles away, from a living room TV in Baltimore, a pair of hazel eyes watched the evening news earlier that afternoon. Still in her usual work clothes of a white ribbed turtleneck shirt and dark jeans, Heather Song couldn't help but grin back at the smug face of Bryce Lahela, chuckling as she held a glass of the same white wine that she once shared with him so many nights ago.

"Well I guess that's my queue to pack," she muttered to herself as she turned off the TV, and switching on her speakers. Shawn Mendes' crooning voice singing Fallin' All In You played in the background as she went to her bedroom, preparing for her long-awaited return to Boston.

As Heather collected her belongings, she thought of the life she built there in Baltimore. Living in a strange city with nothing to remind her of what she left in Boston was a surprisingly refreshing restart.

The first thing she did after moving in was to make an appointment for a therapist, who helped her deal with the trauma of everything she experienced. The months of consistently visiting her doctor helped her recuperate, as she worked on rebuilding the passion she somehow lost for a while when she left Edenbrook.

As she slowly found her strength again, she focused on her cancer research, providing a happy reprieve in her loneliness. The research she led has been lauded by the medical community as the most advance step medicine has made towards the cure for cancer. The plaque for which their team's efforts were recognized sat on a prominent shelf in the middle of her own office at Johns Hopkins. It was the work she was most proud of ever since she became a doctor. It was where she flourished, even more than as a diagnostician. In her video calls with her mentor in Edenbrook, she never forgot to thank Ethan for nudging her to the right direction. She often joked with Naveen as well, telling them they had good hindsight, and it was the best decision that she trusted them both.

Her friends frequently facetimed, often weekly and during drunken nights at Donahues. There was never a day that she didn't miss them.

Recalling the great times she has had in her isolation proved to be good for her. She was able to find herself once again, her mentors were right. Her career weren't overshadowed but instead shone in the months she spent by herself in Maryland.

Yet she missed this one person so much, but witnessing his career flourish certainly made it easier and the nights longing for him worth it. And she couldn't be more prouder. She watched every news coverage he was featured in, liked every post he was tagged in, asked for news of him from the gang once in a while. In her own subtle way, Heather continued to love him, even from afar.  But not knowing when and where she'd see him again ached her heart for so long. She tried to seek answers from him so many times, yet she wasn't able to dial his number.

She was in the middle of her thoughts when suddenly her doorbell rang.

"Must be Farley again," she sighed, lightly brushing back her now long brunette hair before she trudged to her entryway.

When she opened the door, she barely was only able to glance at her visitor before he dipped her down and kissed her.

The lips that pressed upon hers were soft and familiar. The visitor's scent she knew so well excited her, making her respond to the kiss. A couple of breathless minutes after, Heather can finally express her amazement, inviting the very much welcome guest inside.

"I told you I'd come find you," she said teasingly, beckoning him inside her apartment.

"There was no need, Heath, because my eyes never left you," Bryce winked at her and smiled his megawatt smile, making Heather melt inside. He was still wearing his gray suit from the press conference that afternoon, making it known that he flew straight to her after he wrapped up the case.

Bryce kept track of her, no matter how difficult. Sienna and Jackie had filled him in with updates from her, refusing to let go of his connection with her for the last two years as he waited and waited for the right time to reconnect.

It took a long time, yet finally, the months of waiting flew by fast. As if the calendar and the seasons anticipated their reunion.

Though it was agonizing to watch each other from afar, making their chosen path all the more difficult, it proved to be the final test needed for the love that they had. Distance and time apart can either make you or break you, but for them, it only made them long for each other more.

Not even for a second did Heather look at someone else, she was Bryce's alone, as promised. And she knew that, finding him tonight in her doorstep, it was the same for him.

As they stood in Heather's living room, staring at each other to trace the tiny changes in their appearances since the day they saw each other last, the unspoken longing was more than they could bear.

He pulled her once again in his arms and held Heather tight, savoring the jasmine scent of hers that he missed so much in the past. She wrapped her arms around his waist in return, finally able to lean on his warmth after so many cold nights.

"I hope you didn't mind me barging in here without so much of a warning," Bryce whispered into her ear, as he tucked his head in between the nape of her neck. Heather silently shook her head, struggling to stop the happy tears from falling, leaning into the warmth of the man whose arms she longed be in for a long time. "I couldn't wait a second more to move on from what happened and just be together, you and me, no hospital, no stupid senators, no overbearing parents, no threats, just us." Bryce said softly, almost afraid that this wasn't all real. He dreamt about this moment so much that he thought this might just be his imagination, conjured by the many sleepless and lonely days of the path they chose for themselves.

"I'd love that so much, Bryce," Heather spoke gently into his ear, hoping that those few words were more than enough to convey that this was real, and that the warmth and love she still felt for him is still true since that fateful day in a Boston cafe.

His lips touched her nose, her cheeks, then found her mouth once again, thirsty of her after so long apart. Heather allowed him, tilting her head to deepen the kiss as her hands settled on the nape of his neck, fiery passion and warm tingling slowly rising inside.

There were no more games, no more lies. The worries of losing Heather disappeared, finding her in this new place but seeking his same old embrace, his same old kiss. Bryce felt joy and an overwhelming relief, that finally, finally, Heather was his, and him hers and hers alone.

The promise that it gets brighter from then on was uttered. And a vow that when the rain does come, they'd hold each other tighter. No more letting go. Like a stubborn bullet that never quite hit its target until now, Heather ricocheted off Bryce Lahela's walls and broke them down until he couldn't resist being hit anymore.

The tenacious, snarky, and smart woman in his arms hit him where it mattered the most. And he knew full well that not another day will be spent looking behind, just forward. Because finally, he found the right woman to fall all in for. And that's Heather freaking Song.

Fin. A/N 2: Sorry for the retag, but I had to repost this because I somehow got the initial version deleted. 😑😥 Tags: @eleanorbloom @ejustlurkshere​ @choicesficwriterscreations​ @openheartfanfics​

[calenheniel]

Queen of the Ashes, a frozen fanfic | Epilogue

Frozen | Alternate Universe | Hans x Elsa | Romance, Drama | T+

They meet as children, each with a secret. Plagued by tragedy, their paths cross again many years later, and their secrets are unraveled.

Follow updates: #QueenoftheAshesFrozen

Read below, or find links to AO3/FF.Net/Wattpad on my Tumblr.

NEW: Extended author’s notes here. Read after finishing the Epilogue.

Author’s Note: As you can imagine, this story was quite difficult to end in a competent and thoughtful way. I hope I have done it justice, in any case. Thanks again to all of you for your kind support and comments throughout the last few months. Full reflections and notes on this story to follow in the next 1-2 weeks on Tumblr; follow the #QueenoftheAshesFrozen tag for updates.

»»————-　❈　————-««

Epilogue

“Your Majesty! Many hearty congratulations to you!”

The king bites the inside of his cheek to keep from frowning at the interruption; the offending duke is never one for subtlety at public events, and this one is no exception.

He smiles as he turns from his conversation with the Portuguese ambassador, who looks less than thrilled at the intrusion. “Welcome, Sir Alan. It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

The duke’s chest puffs out at the acknowledgment. “Indeed. I remember attending many glorious Christmas dinners in the Isles under your father’s reign, God rest his and your brothers’ souls. I hope Arendellian hospitality might improve to match it, under yours.”

The king’s lips twitch as he gestures to the Great Hall, full of laughing guests, music, and light. “I’m sure you can see that it already has.” He nods towards his wife, standing by the throne, for emphasis. “Our queen would want nothing less.”

The duke smiles, though there is the hint of a shadow tugging at his lips—the same shadow that the prince has seen all evening, dancing around the outlines of people’s bows and curtsies and obsequious tittering in his presence.

“And for that we are glad,” the ambassador cuts in, eager to redirect the conversation back to his party. The duke, sensing his imminent snubbing, slinks off in the background with a grumble. “She looks astonishingly beautiful tonight, by the way, Your Majesty. Compliments to her dressmaker.” A keen, sharp light slides across the man’s gaze. “You must feel very lucky.”

The king’s smile widens. “She does, doesn’t she? And yes,” he adds, “I can hardly believe my luck, that she would agree to marry such a poor old wretch as I.”

The ambassador and his party laugh at the king’s self-deprecation, if with a note of discomfort.

“Now, what were you saying about Carnival?” the king says, slipping back into the rhythm of the conversation without missing a beat.

The ambassador’s back straightens. “Ah, yes, well—if you’re both free and able to, we’d love to have you come and visit that time of year…”

The king nods along, appearing attentive even as his actual thoughts lie with the queen.

She stands by the throne as if nailed in place, staring ahead with an unreadable expression, speaking only when approached.

At such times, she is all smiles and grace and beauty, and those that come to her do not see – or do not care to see – anything amiss with her, distracted by the din of the ball.

Her husband, knowing better, notices it. However, drawn to the task of entertaining their guests, all he can do is glance at her in between mindless chatter, echoing their admiration of her long white-blue dress.

It shimmers like stalactites seeing the sun after forming during a long winter’s night, and is made of material so fine and unusual that she cannot explain its construction to anyone, except him. The fractal patterns on the dress, resembling snowflakes, reflect on her bare arms and hands, seeming to turn them into extensions of the glowing fabric.

Her crown of white gold with sapphire insets, newly crafted for the occasion, complements the outfit.

His own is a more standard fare, with fleur-de-lis patterns and pure gold in place of any precious stones. It is the crown her father once wore, and with every dip or nod of his head to the guests, he carries its weight with the appearance of ease and comfort, as if he were always meant to wear it.

The dignitaries and courtiers do not miss the opportunity to mention as much, complimenting his “suitability” to his new position, and flattering him with praise for his “storied” naval career.

He hears the words unspoken by each of them, and the suspicion laying just behind their eyes: that he has bewitched the young queen after escaping his homeland under dubious circumstances, with none left to challenge his claims or rights.

The king knows that his slate will never be fully cleared, regardless of his new title. Even so, it is enough for him to see and relish this sycophancy where there was only contempt before, false as the former might be.

To the conqueror of the elusive and mysterious Queen of Arendelle, after all, go the spoils—though the conquering itself was no easy thing, and he had hardly expected it to be, even from the first moment he stepped foot back in Arendelle, one year ago.

»» —— ««

His embrace with the queen at the docks against a lightning-streaked sky was witnessed by nearly everyone of importance, and soon after, news of it spread like wildfire throughout the kingdom and its neighboring countries. He even received a missive from his mad uncle in the Southern Isles, long and rambling, demanding to know what his deceased brother’s youngest son was doing in Arendelle.

He tore the letter up and burnt the scraps in his hand before he had even finished reading it, knowing that no others would follow.

It was thanks in no small part to the queen’s dogged defense of him in the following weeks that he was able to take up permanent residence in Arendelle, and begin his public courtship of her.

The latter became so controversial that the queen was forced to threaten her council that she would remain unmarried for the duration of her reign, like Elizabeth I, unless they accepted him as a suitor. Although this quickly silenced her opposition, the efforts of protecting him drained her, testing the boundaries of her already limited control over her secret powers.

He made sure to always be on hand to reassure her in such moments, caressing her hair, whispering sweet nothings in her ear, and melting away any overly conspicuous damage with fiery hands until she was calm again.

The princess, on the other hand, was thrilled: she wept with joy when the queen and prince finally disembarked the gangplank, their hands interlocked and clothes soaked through from the rain. Rushing towards them, she enfolded them in a loving, teary embrace, singing her sister’s praises through sobs.

In return, he continued to play the role of the charming, supportive older brother she had never had, keeping the princess as a close ally in his courtship of her sister. She often surprised him with her cunning in plotting ways for the two to be together, alone, out of sight of castle staff; appreciative of her stratagems, he snuck her chocolate as rewards from the kitchen in thanks, befriending the cooks so that they might slip him the choicest selections.

It was with the princess’s help that he became acquainted with the townspeople outside the castle, and, later, with the other provinces of the country. Although the two young women had been isolated from the outside world for most of their lives, the princess’s rambunctious and sociable personality, once fully unleashed, turned out to be a force of nature all its own.

She was keen on exploring everything that had once been forbidden to her, making the acquaintance of anyone she met along the way, commoner and noble alike. He accompanied her on many such trips, making a show of his friendship with the princess to the common people at markets, ports, and fetes.

To this end, whenever she extolled his virtues to them, he looked appropriately demure or humble, shying away from the excessive acclaim.

These events were as much a demonstration of his serious intentions towards the queen as they were his representing her to her people, as she was still often absent. Living in isolation had had the opposite effect on her from the princess, and the queen was slow to adjust, carefully declining most, but not all, of the invitations to meet citizens outside of weekly petitions at court.

His understanding of her reluctance, and protection of her time, helped him to keep the peace between the two sisters. More to the point, it earned him the confidence of the queen, who came to rely on him in an unofficial advisory capacity on various state matters.

Her trust allowed him to finally utilize the skills and information he had absorbed over his twenty-six years in a manner appropriate to his royal title, even if it rankled her council to know that a foreign prince was so closely involved in their affairs.

She refused to acknowledge her dependence on his guidance when concerns were raised, and if his unsavory reputation was ever questioned in association with it, she equally disavowed such claims as unproven and, therefore, slander against her legitimate (and only) suitor.

The citizens, like the council, were slow in warming to him. Knowing the tales and rumors just as well as those at court – though lacking the tact to not mention them to his face – they regarded his courtship with suspicion and skepticism, and showed him politeness only out of respect for their princess or queen when they were in his company.

It was not until the winter after the coronation that he was, at long last, given the chance to prove himself worthy of their affections.

For reasons unknown to anyone (although the prince had his suspicions), an extraordinarily harsh and bitter winter came to pass—worse than any other in recent memory. With the fjord frozen solid and all overland passages blocked by impenetrable walls of snow, foreign and domestic trade came to a standstill, and the inability to export lumber, fur, and fish crippled the economy.

The queen, thinking herself to be the cause of it, shuttered herself inside of the castle; the prince, meanwhile, seizing the opportunity to make a good name for himself, took to the cobblestoned streets with the princess and the servants.

With blankets and bowls of soup in hand, they distributed supplies to the commoners, making sure to mention with every handshake or nod that it was by the queen’s beneficence that the people were provided for in such hard times. The commoners, seeing him acting on her behalf, came to associate her undeniable goodness with him, thanking him and the princess profusely, often through tears, for their kind gestures.

Eventually, he was even able to coax the queen out of her solitude, and escorted her on several rounds of such do-gooding. Seeing the townspeople so grateful for her rare presence lifted the dark pall which had cast itself over the queen since the start of the season, and with its diminishing, so too did the winter ease.

Taking advantage of her higher spirits, he also convinced the queen that it was the perfect time to start working on controlling her powers. After all, he reasoned, the objections of the council had been quieted, and with the tide of public opinion turning in his favor, there was little left to stop them from exploring the extent of her magic.

At first, they conjured small objects together in the privacy of closed meeting rooms, just as she had done in her childhood: figurines of ballerinas, bears, and unicorns, and everyday items around her room. He matched her ice with his fire to encourage her, and after years spent hiding his own powers, he found that he enjoyed the exercises as much as she did.

Later, when the worst of the winter snows and storms had passed, he told the queen that they should venture outside the castle walls to experiment further with larger, more challenging structures.

She initially refused, afraid that creating anything too large might attract unwanted attention, and doubted their ability to travel to the mountains alone without raising suspicions of improper conduct. He persuaded her by reassuring her that the trips would be disguised as mountain retreats with her sister, and that they would only practice together when the latter was out of sight.

Though still unconvinced, she agreed to the arrangement, making sure that all correct precautions were taken and notices sent to her servants and advisers of where and when and for how long they would be gone.

The princess, ever the eager adventurer, tried to lead the first expedition into the mountains, refusing help; when the party became lost after the first hour of hiking, the prince took over, navigating with maps that the queen had insisted they bring with them for backup.

Eventually they reached a small cabin which doubled as a winter goods store, and made it their encampment. They were met there by an ice harvester and his reindeer companion, sent on the recommendation of the castle’s stable master, and in short order, the gruff, awkward young man was enlisted as their guide for the trip. Being unused to any kind of polite conversation in his profession, much less with royalty, his brusque and blunt manners often led him to locking horns with the princess, as he objected to her naïve worldview.

The prince took advantage of one such confrontation to sneak off with the queen into the woods, urging her to make something grand and beautiful. To his shock, she constructed a cottage made of ice, with detailed snowflake patterns on the trimmings inside, a rocking chair, and a fireplace with a sculpture of a flame in the center.

He lost himself in these details, from the book of Aesop’s fables resting on the table by the chair, to the false wooden beams glinting blue under the sun. It was all the more remarkable for not melting by even one drop for the entire time they spent inside of it, though he was afraid to test the limits of the construction by touching anything directly.

It was only when the queen heard the princess call her name that the cottage’s facade began to crack, her fear causing jagged lines to ripple through the ceiling and floor.

Just as he had when they were in the castle, however, the feeling passed as soon as the prince placed his hand on hers, disappearing her anxiety – and her creation – in a single, slow exhale.

Other trips into the mountains followed the first, and the princess, ever eager to find ways to give the prince and her sister more alone time together, began to bait the iceman into quarrels so that he might be distracted from the other two wandering off.

(The tactic worked for the most part, though the prince noticed that the iceman increasingly shot him suspicious looks after the parties were reunited, and seemed to be catching on to the fact that the princess was provoking him for sport.)

With every second they had alone, another opportunity was born for the queen’s imagination to spark and fly, creating objects of ever-growing complexity and beauty. Her heart was light in such moments, and her smile as bright as the sun, bringing an unseasonable warmth to the mountains and valley below.

His only task at such times was to remind her not to get too ambitious with her magic, and risk it being seen.

Her displeasure with these checks was evident, if brief—for while she was getting more accustomed to her power and more enthralled with what she could build, one look at the princess ensured that she never forgot what she could also destroy.

»» —— ««

The king’s eyes drag over his wife’s elegant, iridescent figure across the room as she speaks to the princess, a rare smile flitting across her lips.

They are painted pink for the evening, just as her cheeks are decorated with a light dusting of blush, and he cannot help but marvel at her loveliness.  

»» —— ««

The prince had dared not make any overt advances towards the queen from the previous summer through mid-winter, other than securing her trust and loyalty. In spite of her remarkable gesture of affection on the day of his scheduled departure following her coronation – and the declaration of his courtship shortly after – he had been careful in how he approached the physical part of their growing intimacy.

The caution had also been purposeful insofar as wanting to keep her waiting, and breathlessly anticipating the moment in which they might finally consummate their growing feelings.

He ensured that it progressed naturally, as if they were young lovers who had met by chance at a ball: first, by holding hands when they were alone together; then, kissing her cold fingers; and, finally, her pink lips.

»» —— ««

A spark of heat shoots through the king’s stomach at the recollection of that first kiss, which now seems like a lifetime ago.

»» —— ««

It was in the library, where they had shared so many other of their private moments, just as the snow began to melt at the end of winter.

She was telling him about a palace of ice that she wanted to scale up from a miniature she had constructed in her childhood, to a full-scale building – and the uninhibited excitement shining in her eyes enchanted him so utterly that he took her hands in his, and kissed her without warning.

The connection was so immediate, and so electric, that he momentarily lost control of his powers, scalding her hands. His profuse apologies were waved off by the queen, who merely chilled her own skin, and then continued their kiss as before, pressing her cool hands to his hot neck.

They shared many more moments like this in the weeks that followed, growing closer and closer until they were fully embracing, allowing their hands to roam over each other’s clothed bodies whenever they were alone.

With each step forward, the prince noted a correlating dip in the queen’s abilities. It was as if their bond represented a third kind of power between them: one that inhibited her magic, and made her more pliable to his affections and influence.

He was not sure, at first, as to the extent to which she was aware of this effect their intimacy had on her. Over time, however, she became quieter, and less inclined towards sharing her innermost thoughts and feelings with him, as she once had.

Sometimes, he would catch her glancing at him with doubt, or even with fear, when she thought he was not looking. Thinking he knew what was in her mind, he would look down at his hands, and promise that he would never hurt her, as he had before; the queen would deny each time that this was the cause of her discomfort or odd looks, claiming that she had been lost in thought about the state of the country, or about some meeting on her agenda.

Eventually, she grew adept at deflecting such questions with a reassuring smile of her own, which, even though he could see through it better than anyone else, tended to have the effect of temporarily disarming him anyway.

By the beginning of spring, his concerns had been allayed enough to take the next – and final – step in making their partnership complete, and proposed to the queen. Knowing her aversion to public displays of any kind, he performed the act in the semi-private area of the rose garden where they had first walked together, many months before, bending on one knee in the proper form.

He presented her with a show of his affections in the form of a rose, shaped from flames, suspending it in the air. In accepting his proposal, the queen froze it over until it was made of ice, symbolizing their union, and kissed him.

In the kiss, he felt the traces of an uneasy tremor on her lips.

She insisted on starting the preparations for their wedding soon afterwards, and though he was pleased with the speed of the arrangement, he could not help but wonder at her urgency.

The same fear he had seen before began to return, little by little, and though he tried to pry further and discover the reason for it, the queen became annoyed or even angry with him on each new attempt. She would only bear the concerns of her sister, and even then, she was not always able to hide her growing disquiet.

The princess assured him that it was just premarital “jitters,” and that her sister would return to her “normal” self once the preparations and ceremony were over and done with. She reminded him of how anxious the queen had been in the lead up to her own coronation, and that a royal wedding – being an event of equal, if not higher importance – was bound to upset the young woman’s already fragile constitution.

It became an exhausting endeavor to placate the queen as the date drew nearer, and she took to her old, bad habits in her nervous spells, pacing her room for hours, icing over the walls, and casting snowdrifts over her bed. In trying to explain her behavior to him, she relied on the princess’s excuse of the council putting so much pressure on her over the wedding preparations, disregarding any other theories he might pose.

To his surprise, however, her erratic mood swings and accompanying loss of control came to an abrupt end the week before their wedding. She began to accept everything that was happening, and would happen, without protest, and the blue in her irises grew duller with each passing day.

Whether he asked her what was wrong, or what she would prefer for this or that aspect of the ceremony, or what type of music she would like to be played at the reception, she gave only cursory, short replies to him with a hazy, distracted expression. Likewise, she returned the prince’s physical gestures, whether in the form of embraces or kisses on her cheek or forehead, with the same, empty smile—or no smile at all.

The wedding followed in a similar fashion, with the queen compliant in all regards, save for the dress, which she had insisted from the beginning be of her own making. Though she looked resplendent in it, and was the envy of every young woman in attendance, she approached the altar with a countenance devoid of any feeling approximate to joy, and spoke her vows in a voice so hollow that it caused him to shudder.

When they kissed to seal their union, her lips did not tremble, nor make any movement at all.

She turned to the crowd with a smile convincing enough to make her sister weep, though it did not fool the iceman sitting next to her, who stared quizzically at the newly-married couple.

He was thus crowned king, and, taking his wife’s cold, limp hand in his own, they descended from the altar, the crowd’s cheers little more than faraway echoes.

»» —— ««

The queen trades a few words with the princess and her iceman before the latter have disappeared into the crowd again, the pair no doubt rebuffed in their invitations to join the dance that is about to start.

Her look is as hard as steel, the same as before, though the king can just make out the hint of something more behind it.

He breaks away from his guests to return to her side when the song begins, offering his hand. “My queen,” he says, bowing, “may I have this dance?”

“No, thank you,” she replies. “I’m quite tired.”

He nods. “Of course. I’ll stay here, with you.”

She does not reply as he stands next to her, and places his hand lightly on the small of her back. When he feels no physical response from the gesture, he turns his eyes back to the dance floor, finding the princess.

The younger woman is dragging the iceman onto the floor, ignoring his protests, and her partner is predictably hopeless in following the rhythm. The onlookers, including the king, chuckle at the scene, causing the commoner to blush from his neck up to his blonde hair, and finally to tear himself away from the princess and console himself by the chocolate fondue fountain.

When he glances at the queen, he is pleasantly surprised to see the faint outline of a smile on her face, though this vanishes as soon as she notices him looking at her.

“Are you enjoying the evening?” he asks anyway, smiling. “It seems like Anna is, even if at Master Bjorgman’s expense.”

His wife finally looks at him fully, unblinking, her eyes traveling from the crown atop his head, down to his hands.

“You’re wearing gloves,” she observes, ignoring his question.

He stifles a swallow. “It’s the least I could do, on such an auspicious day,” he replies, struggling to keep his smile in place. “It would look odd to have bare hands for our wedding, after all.”

Suspicion flashes across her gaze at the answer, but she says nothing, looking back at the dance floor. She watches her sister with something between longing and regret, though the emotions are so fleeting that the king cannot be sure if he saw them at all.

Unnerved, he suddenly takes her hand in his, and kisses the top of it. “You look wonderful, dearest,” he tells her, “and you have made me the happiest man in the world, today.”

He presses her hand, repeating his final vow from the ceremony. “I will always be your devoted servant, and love you until my dying day. You know that, don’t you?”

The queen’s lips part, and she pauses.

“I do. But love… isn’t always good.”

He frowns. “What are you talking about, Elsa?”

She turns back on him with a cold and inscrutable stare, withdrawing her hand from his. “You don’t remember?”

At his puzzled expression, she sighs and closes her eyes, reciting her next line with grim irony.

“And so the boy escaped, and went north, and became a King of another land. He never hurt anyone ever again.”

When her eyes reopen, they are tight, and her nose wrinkles. “It seems like the boy got everything he ever wanted,” she says with a pained smile, “but I don’t think that last part is really true.”

The king pales, and he is as silent as the grave.

“Elsa…”

Her smile becomes vacant as she places her hands in front of her, and turns her attention back to the crowd. Without hesitation, she descends the stairs to join her guests on the main floor, and matches the beat of a new song with her fingers, tapping them along the sides of her dress.

With each tap, the air grows a little colder in the room.

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hullo, Steph, and happy new year! Sorry if someone has asked this already, but I’m searching for Jealous John fics (preferably new ones). Just finished reading “White Knight” by DiscordantWords, and it is amazing!!! Once again, thank you SO MUCH for all the work and effort you put into this blog... the fandom wouldn’t be the same without you.

Hi Nonny!! 

Thank you for the well wishes! I hope you had a good holiday season yourself

I don’t have very many new Jealous John fics, but I do have some new ones to add to my past lists! So, why not, let’s update my Jealous John and Jealous Sherlock Fic rec list!!

JEALOUSY Pt. 5

See Also:

Jealous John

Jealous John Pt. 2 and Jealous Sherlock Pt 2

Jealous John Pt 3 and Jealous Sherlock Pt 3

Jealous John and Sherlock Pt. 4

JEALOUS JOHN

Anchor Point by trickybonmot (E, 49,856 w., 80 Ch. || Truman Show AU || Psychological Drama, Suspense, Slow Burn, Dark Characters / Fic, Alternating First/Third Person, Protective John, Anxious/Worried Sherlock, Tender Moments, Love Confessions, Hand/Blow Jobs, Cuddling, Jealous John, First Kiss/Time) – The world tunes in nightly for Sherlock, the ultimate in reality TV: Sherlock Holmes, a real person with a legendary name, unknowingly lives out his life in a staged setting contrived by his brother. Things get complicated when a retired army doctor joins the show to play the part of Sherlock’s closest friend. This fic borrows its concept from the 1998 film, the Truman Show. However, you don’t need to have any knowledge of the movie to enjoy this story.

Hell Sent, Heaven Bound by ConsultingHound (M, 64,381 w, 16 Ch. || Angels / Demons AU ||  Fallen Angel Sherlock / Angel Cop John, Alternate First Meeting, Slow Burn, Case Fic, John & Lestrade are Friends Before Sherlock, BAMF John, Mind Palace John, Friends to Lovers, John in Denial, Sherlock Picks Out John’s Clothing, Clubbing / Dancing, Mildly Jealous John, Awkwardness, Kidnapping, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Sacrifice, Worried / Anxious Sherlock, Angst with Happy Ending, Immortal to Mortal) – Ex-War healer and current angelic guard John Watson is not having the best day. He overslept, he’s underpaid, and now there’s someone tagging the Council’s building walls. However things may be about to get interesting: there’s an unusual stranger hanging around (the definition of tall, dark, and handsome), a literal underground cult is brewing, and rumblings are coming from hell. Can he keep his neighbourhood safe, how and why is he being connected to all this, and who the hell is Sherlock Holmes?

White Knight by DiscordantWords (M, 69,840 w., 13 Ch. || S4 Compliant/Post S4, Marriage For a Case, Jealous John, Pining John, Janine / Sherlock Fake Relationship, Serial Killers, Case Fic, Undercover as a Couple, Weddings, John is a Mess, Misunderstandings, Wedding Planning, Jealousy, Drunkenness, Love Confessions, Angst with Happy Ending) – Green. The word green was used to convey a great many things. Illness. Envy. Inexperience. Standing there amidst Janine’s chattering bridesmaids, watching Sherlock furrow his brow and study fabric swatches, watching him smile and simper and flirt, John thought it a remarkably apt colour choice. Because he felt quite sick to his stomach, he feared the source of said sickness might very well be jealousy, and he had absolutely no idea at all what to do about it. Or: Sherlock needs to fake a relationship for a case. He doesn’t ask John.

The Bang and the Clatter by earlgreytea68 (M, 137,049 w. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Baseball AU || Slow Burn / Dev. Rel., Possessive/Obsessive Sherlock, Jealous Sherlock, Mutual Pining, Body Appreciation, Depression, Closeted Sexuality, Family, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Ogling Each Other, Anxious Sherlock, Panic Attack, Drunkenness, Talk of Forever, Big Feelings™) – Sherlock Holmes is a pitcher and John Watson is a catcher. No, no, no, it’s a baseball AU. Part 1 of Baseball

Proving A Point by elldotsee & J_Baillier (E, 186,270 w., 28 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Me Before You Fusion || Medical Realism, Insecure John, Depression, Romance, Angst, POV John, Sherlock Whump, Serious Illness, Doctor John, Injury Recovery, Assisted Suicide, Sherlock’s Violin, Awkward Sexual Situations, Alcoholism, Drugs, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn, Body Image, Friends to Lovers, Hurt / Comfort, Pain, Big Brother Mycroft, Intimacy, Anxiety, PTSD, Family Issues, Psychological Trauma, John Whump, Case Fics, Loneliness, Pain) – Invalided home from Afghanistan, running out of funds and convinced that his surgical career is over, John Watson accepts a mysterious job offer to provide care and companionship for a disabled person. Little does he know how much hangs in the balance of his performance as he settles into his new life at Musgrave Court.

JEALOUS SHERLOCK

Santa Knows by Itsallfine (T, 1,719 w., 1 Ch. || Christmas Party, Love Confessions, First Kiss, Fluff, Matchmaking, POV Sherlock, Pining Sherlock) – Sherlock and John both get exactly what they want from the Yard’s secret Santa exchange. Pure holiday fluff.

Denial Isn’t Just a River in Egypt by satanatemycat (T, 2,107 w., 1 Ch. || Humour, Friendship, Texting, Bored/Cranky Sherlock) – In which John makes a bet with a co-worker. If he wins, she shuts up about him and Sherlock being a couple. If he loses… well, that doesn’t matter, because he won’t lose. Because he and Sherlock ARE NOT a couple. Right?

The Haunting of 221B Baker Street by earlgreytea68 (M, 10,388 w., 2 Ch. || Post TRF, Halloween / Ghosts, Pining Sherlock, Ghost Sherlock, Stroppy Sherlock, Sherlock POV, First Kiss/Time, Angry Sex, Ghost Sex, Love Confessions, Open / Ambiguous Ending) – In which Sherlock Holmes is a ghost.

The Burning of the Leaves by blueink3 (M, 15,915 w., 3 Ch. || Post S4, Angst, Reichenbach, Parentlock, Past Jolto, Idiot John, Sherlock’s a Mess, Puppies, Fluff, Possessive / Jealous Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Sherlock POV, Matchmaker Sholto, Melancholic Feelings, Emotional Sherlock, Domesticity, Love Confessions in the Rain, Kissing in the Rain, Pet Names) – After the events of series 4, Major Sholto invites John and Sherlock to lunch one day. It nearly proves to be too much for their tenuous relationship as the past haunts the present, putting the future that Sherlock so desperately wants at risk.

You’re On the Air by prettysailorsoldier (M, 20,616 w., 1 Ch. || Unilock, Matchmaking, Radio, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Sherlock POV, Pining Sherlock, Flirting, Bisexual John) – The Consulting Detective and The Woman dominate the airwaves of their university radio station, doling out advice on everything from meeting the parents to sexual positions. When their ratings start to dip before the holidays, however, manager Mike thinks it’s time for some fresh blood, and who better to fill in the gaps than rugby captain–and notorious flirt–John Watson? Part 1 of 25 Days of Johnlock

A Home for Us by sussexbound (M, 30,581 w., 12 Ch. || Scars, Bedsharing, Grief, Doctor John, Hurt/Comfort, Post-TRF, Implied/Referenced Torture, Sherlock POV, Pining Sherlock, Suicidal Ideation, Heavy Emotions, Clingy Sherlock, Hallucinations, Disassociation, Emotional Turmoil) – He has been on the road for two years, and he is exhausted. He’s almost accepted that he will never see London (John) again—almost. But then there are nights like tonight, where he is weak, and all he can think of is the warmth of the flat they once shared, the crackle of the fire in the hearth, the teasing smile playing at the corner of John’s lips, the boxes of half-eaten Chinese takeaway balanced precariously in their laps. He aches at the memory of it, at the realisation that it is something he may never experience again.

The Whore of Babylon Was a Perfectly Nice Girl by out_there (E, 32,897 w., 1 Ch. || Past Drug Use, Blowjobs, Toplock, Mentions of Switching, Rough Sex, Background Cases, Sherlock’s Past, Sherlock’s Sexual History, Experienced Sherlock, Past One Night Stands, Fingering, Cuddling, Possessive Sherlock, Paris Holiday, Bed Sharing, Naked Lie-Ins, Bathing Together, Confessions, Worried Sherlock, Laying in Bed All Day, Meddling Mycroft, Naked Lazy Day) – Sherlock walks into a room and takes all the space right out of it. He does the same inside John’s head.

Guidelines by WithLoweredVoices (M, 43,018 w., 15 Ch. || Winglock || Angels, Fantasy, Angst, BAMF! John, War, Jealous Sherlock, Possessive Sherlock, Jealous John, Falling in Various Ways, Needy Sherlock, Wings) – The Good Soldier, one of the oldest and strongest of the fallen, is offered a bargain: to live as John Watson and to Guide a fledgling archangel so that he will stay on the path of good. Of course, Sherlock Holmes has different ideas about his destiny. Fantasy AU. Warnings for violence, occasional gore, and a whole load of hurt and angst.

Being John Watson-ish by elwinglyre (E, 69,902 w., 17 Ch. || Bodysnatcher AU || Author John, Cranky Sherlock, Angst, Sexual Tension, First Kiss / Time, Falling in Love, BAMF John, Past Soldier John, Feelings, Inside Someone’s Brain, Shy Sherlock, Sherlock Loves John, POV Sherlock, Switchlock, Slow Burn, Internal Dialogue, Mental Turmoil) – When consulting detective Sherlock Holmes steps on one toe too many at a crime scene, he’s consigned to a desk job in an archaic office on the seventh-and-a-half floor of the New Scotland Yard. It’s in this bleak office that Sherlock discovers a portal into the mind of renowned author John Watson. Grander than his mind palace, this new wonderland affords Sherlock new vistas of experimentation. To learn more about the mystery behind the portal, Sherlock seeks out and befriends Watson. But then it all goes wrong when others find the secret portal door—including the man whose brain he visits.

[imagine-loki]

Pride and Prejudice

TITLE: Pride and Prejudice CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 46 AUTHOR: wolfpawn

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki was raised on Jotunheim as Laufey’s son after the war, but an agreement was then made that he would wed Odin’s daughter so Odin could secure the alliance of Jotunheim through the marriage. Loki, in turn, was raised to be king of Jotunheim, but how he views Asgard is far different from how Odin’s daughter is raised leading to a clash of cultures as well as uncertainty between the pair of betrothed youths.     RATING: Mature   NOTES/WARNINGS: Forced Marriage, not all fun and games. My first real step back into the Loki scene in over a year.

Tags - @skulliebythesea​ @asimovethroughthisworld​ @blackcherry26-blog​ @we-shadowhunter2901​

Loki did not know how to respond. “Coronation? But...why, you’re not...”

“Yes, your Coronation, and no, I am not dead, clearly.” Laufey walked around the table that separated them and went closer to his son. “Your actions on the battlefield, the manner in which you carried yourself and your tireless striving to better yourself for our realm prove to me that it is time for me to become the first-ever Jotnar king to step down and not die for my son to succeed me. I am old, weary and weak, I do not have the energy and fortitude to continue this role any longer and you are ready. With a child on the way also, you are the future of our realm. A young king is the way forward,” Laufey explained calmly.

“But you…”

“I am tired, my son. I want to live out the last of my days in the wings, watching Jotunheim flourish under you as it never could under me. I want to watch my grandchildren come to be, to rest after so long of carrying the weight of the woes of the realm. The thoughts of spending the last of my life enjoying my grandchildren as they start theirs, nothing could ever give me greater joy. Already two grow within their dams, with Helbindi and his mate, who knows, perhaps even a third to come in the near future. Watching my sons grow from the small little Jotnar learning the ways of the realms, chasing one another with snowballs into men, fathers and in the case of you, Loki, into a King.”

“Father…” Loki could not process what was being said. He knew that his father saw him as his successor and knew the day would come they would discuss such a thing but to hear him speak of such now, when there seemed little reason to consider it, he could not think of a more competent response. “I am without words.” “There is nothing to say. It is decided. I spoke with Arden on your return. I asked him if he thought you were ready, he agrees with me, you are. You are the way forward for our realm, Loki. With a mate such as Ella, you will bring Jotunheim into a new and glorious era.” Loki did not know what to say with regards to that. He felt a pressure on him which made the feeling he had at the prospect of marrying Ella before he got to know her feel like nothing in comparison to the weight he now felt with his father’s words.

“We must, however, prepare for any that would argue such a decision,” Laufey stated.

Loki frowned. “Why…?” “You know how some are with regards to a grandchild of Odin Allfather being heir to our throne but they are the mere few. You heard Kristoff in the throne room yourself, even your own heritage angers some ignorant few,” Laufey thought for a moment. “For this, I think we require another to add their thoughts. When your mate is rested, I wish to speak with you both regarding the matter. She has a way of looking at situations that we do not, she may see something we do not see. She adds so greatly to everything she involves herself in, I feel she would add to this also.”

Loki found himself nodding before even thinking to answer. It was true, Ella would see angles and aspects they could not. She also brought the wealth of knowledge of dealing with the Aesir court, which he knew were often quite vocal with regards contesting Thor’s readiness to rule, he had heard that from both her and from the camp which he had shared with the Aesir through the war. “I will speak with her upon seeing her again. I just need to deal with another matter beforehand.” “What matter is this?” Loki contemplated saying nothing for a moment before deciding to be honest with his father. Inhaling deeply, he readied himself for the reaction that would come. “I insulted her with my actions, not a moment before coming to see you so I wish to find a way to apologise to her for such with a gift before forcing her to be in my presence again.”

Laufey nodded slightly. “Acknowledging your wrongs and apologising for them is an integral part of being a mate. So long as you did nothing too great, it will be easily sorted once more. She cares deeply for you, that is plain to see. Show her that you are remorseful for your actions and all will return to as it should be soon enough.”

Loki frowned. “If I am honest, Father, I genuinely expected you to admonish me.” “For what? Having an argument with your mate?” Laufey laughed at the thought. “Loki, take it from a Jotnar that has had three mates in his life, if you’re not arguing or disagreeing with at least one of them at some stage or another, you are not actually mates. I am not talking about full-blown rows with shouting or such but you will disagree and you will have times where you will not see eye to eye, that is natural, you are living beings with your own thoughts and opinions. What does matter is acknowledging when you are wrong and trying to fix it.” He put his hand on Loki’s shoulder. “Getting her a gift and apologising is what you stated you wished to do and I cannot fault such thoughts, do it and speak with her on this matter.” Loki nodded slightly in agreement. “What do you want from her as a mate?”

His father’s question baffled him slightly. “Sorry?”

“Your mate, what is it you wish to have with her? What sort of a life? How do you see this being in a thousand years or so?” Loki frowned at his father’s words causing Laufey to sigh. “Bertha always was the one I have loved for her knowledge of food and her heart, Farbauti for her kindness, her ability to nurture our home and children, your mother,” Laufey smiled fondly as he thought of Nal. “Norns, she was kindness and intelligence. There was nothing we could not speak about together. My life is enriched by their mere presence. To this day, I think of your mother with only the fondest of memories. When I retire for the evening, I get a sense of happiness knowing Farbauti will tell me of what she has heard since my leaving the throne room today and her ideas for both you and your brother to ready for your respective children. We will speak of how Bertha would be excited and trying to make everything they would have needed and of other matters. But what of you, what do you see as the connection between you and Ella? What makes you happy to see her, what makes you look forward to returning to your rooms later?”

“Well, the child…” “My son, please, please do not tell me that your answer is regarding the child?” Laufey implored, seeing Loki’s face, he sighed. “Loki, if all she is to you is a uterus to carry children and a mind to pick for use as you see fit…” “No, she is not.” Loki was quick to tell his father. It was true, he found himself truly enjoying being around Ella, though if he was honest, he was unsure as to what that was. “It is not like that. I...there is something when I am in her presence, it is like it soothes my mind, this knowledge that she cares so deeply, she was willing to risk her life to remain here because she felt it the right thing to do. She was willing to die for Jotunheim...Her loyalty to duty, it is incredible.” “It is commendable to a fault, but…” “But it's more than that. Her love for Jotunheim, for our home, is incredible, but how she...she knew everything about our realm she could before she ever came, thinking about that alone makes me feel as though she…” Loki thought of the sensation in his stomach in an attempt to explain it. “I cannot put it into words.” “Perhaps it is time to think it over and see if you can. For if you achieve that, you will be better able to embrace what you have and in turn, strengthen and better it. Then perhaps you will not accidentally insult her by making comment on her body changing to grow your child.”  

Loki scowled at his father. “I did no such thing.” “Good, do not do that. Take it from one who did, Nal had it that I, the King of the realm was not even allowed on the royal wing, much less my own bed for a week after that.” Loki stared in disbelief at his father. “I was not always the brightest of young men, I learnt more from doing the wrong thing than doing the right, as you can see with regards to my actions in the war. Norns, but I learnt a lesson there.” Loki could not think of an appropriate response. “Go and deal with your mate and discuss what we have spoken about here. With a nod to his father, Loki left, thinking over everything his father said.

He chewed on his father’s words as he left his rooms, thinking of what could make up for how he had insulted Ella as he did so. One thought came to him, so with an idea of what to do and a plan of how to do it, Loki rushed to deal with the situation.

*

Ella gave her mate a scathing look as he returned to their room. She watched as he cautiously approached her, his demeanour suitably meek as he did so.

“I’m so sorry.” Loki began with those words knowing that they were the least he could say. If she did not listen to them, she would most certainly not listen to anything else he said. “I am so sorry for rubbing your kindness, caring and understanding back in your face as I did. I am sorry I made you feel inferior as a mate, that I put some unrealistic definition of what is masculinity on myself and in doing so, insulted us both. There is no shame in being comforted by a mate, it is one of the reasons we choose mates as we do. You sought to care for my wellbeing and I threw it back at you so callously. I am sorry, Ella.” He noted the harshness in her features become less cold. He walked over, showing her what was in his hands, a significantly sized peculiarly shaped piece of ice. “I got you this, as an apology, but also because I saw it before I left for the war and genuinely thought you would like it.” She took the ice from him and looked at him for a moment. “Wait and watch,” he smiled.

Ella did as he requested, noting that the ice was incredibly thin and was melting quickly. She watched as it revealed its contents to her. “I…” She touched it. “It’s cold?” “It is not diamond, but permanent ice. It cannot melt, even on realms outside of this.” Loki explained. “It is not very common, we rarely mine it as it is a very difficult to source ice and it tends to not really be used for much since the realm is cold enough to simply use the ice around us, but…”

“It’s beautiful.”

Loki took the necklace and tied it around her neck before looking at her again. “It suits you.” “Thank you.” The tension remained between them for a moment, Loki unsure of if he should say anything more. “And thank you for your apology.” She gave him a small smile. “I know males have a skewed ideas of masculinity but you are not any less of a man for finding my shoulder comfortable and for getting startled at waking in your bed and not on a makeshift one on a battlefield, these are normal and entirely understandable. I cannot say I fully comprehend what you have endured, Loki, but I do understand enough to know you are tired, in body and mind and the least I can do is let you rest comfortably.”

Loki felt himself feel more guilty for his actions when he woke. He could see all she wanted was to be there in any manner she could for him. “I apologise again. I...are you alright?” Loki looked worriedly at Ella, stepping forward slightly as she froze, her hand halfway to her stomach.

“I...I think…” She took his hand and placed it to her side. “He moved…” Loki did not know what to say or think, he simply waited. For a solid minute, he kept his hand where Ella had placed it but there was no movement, feeling disheartened, he went to take his hand away but Ella stopped him. “It does not…” The words were taken from him as he felt a slight nudge against his hand, almost too faint to feel. “Is that..?” Another little nudge went against his hand.

“I think someone is reacting to you,” Ella smiled.

“It is not so simple.” “He waited for you to speak to move again,” Ella countered. “It is the first time I have felt movement, he waited for your return.” She looked down to where his hand remained on her stomach. “It’s so peculiar.”

“I do not think he realises such things as my being gone and here.” “It is entirely possible. On your return, my seidr would have surged slightly with my being happy and relieved about it so he would have sensed that if he has any seidr of his own, meaning he would realise it in some manner and my seidr reacting to you being close by, it’s not entirely impossible, pending his seidr’s strength, lest we forget that I caused my own mother to go into premature labour from the force of my own, he could very well sense it.” Loki felt his throat tighten slightly at her words. Not because of their son reacting, which was incredible in itself, but her admitting her seidr would react to her joy at him being back. He thought of when he left in the past to go to different parts of the realm on matters for different reasons, none he had shared his time with before Ella seemed to react as she had on his return, even Angrboða , who he had thought had loved him, seemed to be happy that her amusement had returned more than she was happy to see him. Ella admitting that she was so happy to see him that her seidr reacted to his return. He looked into her eyes to see that her words were genuine. He swallowed. “Thank you.” “Don’t cry. Your reputation is already in tatters because you showed some form of emotion already today.”

Though her voice was sarcastic, there was no denying that her eyes showed the words were in jest.

Loki did not even think about what he was doing as he chuckled before cupping her face with the hand that was not holding her stomach where their son had kicked, leaning forward and pressing his forehead to hers.

Ella was unsure of what to say or do. She knew that the act was one of deep caring and love in Jotnar mates, she never expected Loki to do such a thing, taking her completely by surprise as he sighed contently as he remained still.

[wolfpawn]

Pride and Prejudice, Chapter 46

Story Summary - Based on an idea I had that I submitted to Imagine Loki. Imagine Loki was raised on Jotunheim as Laufey’s son after the war, but an agreement was then made that he would wed Odin’s daughter so Odin could secure the alliance of Jotunheim through the marriage. Loki, in turn, was raised to be king of Jotunheim, but how he views Asgard is far different from how Odin’s daughter is raised leading to a clash of cultures as well as uncertainty between the pair of betrothed youths.

Chapter Summary -Loki and Laufey discuss the King's statement before Laufey asks his son a very personal question regarding his relationship with Ella. On his return to their room, Loki reveals his heart to her only to get a small reveal for him.

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NOTES - Okay, I’m done with this now, can my brain be so nice as to NOT be in some groggy fog all the time with the way things are right now. I want to write, I know what I want to write but my brain is like “Motivation, yeah, we don’t know that bitch.” 

I don’t do “Stay Safe” I do “Don’t be stupid”, so don’t be stupid my lovelies, though we’re the Tumblr crew, we hated going outside before it was fashionable. 

Loki did not know how to respond. “Coronation? But...why, you’re not...” 

“Yes, your Coronation, and no, I am not dead, clearly.” Laufey walked around the table that separated them and went closer to his son. “Your actions on the battlefield, the manner in which you carried yourself and your tireless striving to better yourself for our realm prove to me that it is time for me to become the first-ever Jotnar king to step down and not die for my son to succeed me. I am old, weary and weak, I do not have the energy and fortitude to continue this role any longer and you are ready. With a child on the way also, you are the future of our realm. A young king is the way forward,” Laufey explained calmly. 

“But you…” “I am tired, my son. I want to live out the last of my days in the wings, watching Jotunheim flourish under you as it never could under me. I want to watch my grandchildren come to be, to rest after so long of carrying the weight of the woes of the realm. The thoughts of spending the last of my life enjoying my grandchildren as they start theirs, nothing could ever give me greater joy. Already two grow within their dams, with Helbindi and his mate, who knows, perhaps even a third to come in the near future. Watching my sons grow from the small little Jotnar learning the ways of the realms, chasing one another with snowballs into men, fathers and in the case of you, Loki, into a King.” 

“Father…” Loki could not process what was being said. He knew that his father saw him as his successor and knew the day would come they would discuss such a thing but to hear him speak of such now, when there seemed little reason to consider it, he could not think of a more competent response. “I am without words.” “There is nothing to say. It is decided. I spoke with Arden on your return. I asked him if he thought you were ready, he agrees with me, you are. You are the way forward for our realm, Loki. With a mate such as Ella, you will bring Jotunheim into a new and glorious era.” Loki did not know what to say with regards to that. He felt a pressure on him which made the feeling he had at the prospect of marrying Ella before he got to know her feel like nothing in comparison to the weight he now felt with his father’s words. 

“We must, however, prepare for any that would argue such a decision,” Laufey stated. 

Loki frowned. “Why…?” “You know how some are with regards to a grandchild of Odin Allfather being heir to our throne but they are the mere few. You heard Kristoff in the throne room yourself, even your own heritage angers some ignorant few,” Laufey thought for a moment. “For this, I think we require another to add their thoughts. When your mate is rested, I wish to speak with you both regarding the matter. She has a way of looking at situations that we do not, she may see something we do not see. She adds so greatly to everything she involves herself in, I feel she would add to this also.” 

Loki found himself nodding before even thinking to answer. It was true, Ella would see angles and aspects they could not. She also brought the wealth of knowledge of dealing with the Aesir court, which he knew were often quite vocal with regards contesting Thor’s readiness to rule, he had heard that from both her and from the camp which he had shared with the Aesir through the war. “I will speak with her upon seeing her again. I just need to deal with another matter beforehand.” “What matter is this?” Loki contemplated saying nothing for a moment before deciding to be honest with his father. Inhaling deeply, he readied himself for the reaction that would come. “I insulted her with my actions, not a moment before coming to see you so I wish to find a way to apologise to her for such with a gift before forcing her to be in my presence again.”

Laufey nodded slightly. “Acknowledging your wrongs and apologising for them is an integral part of being a mate. So long as you did nothing too great, it will be easily sorted once more. She cares deeply for you, that is plain to see. Show her that you are remorseful for your actions and all will return to as it should be soon enough.” 

Loki frowned. “If I am honest, Father, I genuinely expected you to admonish me.” “For what? Having an argument with your mate?” Laufey laughed at the thought. “Loki, take it from a Jotnar that has had three mates in his life, if you’re not arguing or disagreeing with at least one of them at some stage or another, you are not actually mates. I am not talking about full-blown rows with shouting or such but you will disagree and you will have times where you will not see eye to eye, that is natural, you are living beings with your own thoughts and opinions. What does matter is acknowledging when you are wrong and trying to fix it.” He put his hand on Loki’s shoulder. “Getting her a gift and apologising is what you stated you wished to do and I cannot fault such thoughts, do it and speak with her on this matter.” Loki nodded slightly in agreement. “What do you want from her as a mate?” 

His father’s question baffled him slightly. “Sorry?”

“Your mate, what is it you wish to have with her? What sort of a life? How do you see this being in a thousand years or so?” Loki frowned at his father’s words causing Laufey to sigh. “Bertha always was the one I have loved for her knowledge of food and her heart, Farbauti for her kindness, her ability to nurture our home and children, your mother,” Laufey smiled fondly as he thought of Nal. “Norns, she was kindness and intelligence. There was nothing we could not speak about together. My life is enriched by their mere presence. To this day, I think of your mother with only the fondest of memories. When I retire for the evening, I get a sense of happiness knowing Farbauti will tell me of what she has heard since my leaving the throne room today and her ideas for both you and your brother to ready for your respective children. We will speak of how Bertha would be excited and trying to make everything they would have needed and of other matters. But what of you, what do you see as the connection between you and Ella? What makes you happy to see her, what makes you look forward to returning to your rooms later?”

“Well, the child…” “My son, please, please do not tell me that your answer is regarding the child?” Laufey implored, seeing Loki’s face, he sighed. “Loki, if all she is to you is a uterus to carry children and a mind to pick for use as you see fit…” “No, she is not.” Loki was quick to tell his father. It was true, he found himself truly enjoying being around Ella, though if he was honest, he was unsure as to what that was. “It is not like that. I...there is something when I am in her presence, it is like it soothes my mind, this knowledge that she cares so deeply, she was willing to risk her life to remain here because she felt it the right thing to do. She was willing to die for Jotunheim...Her loyalty to duty, it is incredible.” “It is commendable to a fault, but…” “But it's more than that. Her love for Jotunheim, for our home, is incredible, but how she...she knew everything about our realm she could before she ever came, thinking about that alone makes me feel as though she…” Loki thought of the sensation in his stomach in an attempt to explain it. “I cannot put it into words.” “Perhaps it is time to think it over and see if you can. For if you achieve that, you will be better able to embrace what you have and in turn, strengthen and better it. Then perhaps you will not accidentally insult her by making comment on her body changing to grow your child.”  

Loki scowled at his father. “I did no such thing.” “Good, do not do that. Take it from one who did, Nal had it that I, the King of the realm was not even allowed on the royal wing, much less my own bed for a week after that.” Loki stared in disbelief at his father. “I was not always the brightest of young men, I learnt more from doing the wrong thing than doing the right, as you can see with regards to my actions in the war. Norns, but I learnt a lesson there.” Loki could not think of an appropriate response. “Go and deal with your mate and discuss what we have spoken about here. With a nod to his father, Loki left, thinking over everything his father said. 

He chewed on his father’s words as he left his rooms, thinking of what could make up for how he had insulted Ella as he did so. One thought came to him, so with an idea of what to do and a plan of how to do it, Loki rushed to deal with the situation. 

*

Ella gave her mate a scathing look as he returned to their room. She watched as he cautiously approached her, his demeanour suitably meek as he did so. 

“I’m so sorry.” Loki began with those words knowing that they were the least he could say. If she did not listen to them, she would most certainly not listen to anything else he said. “I am so sorry for rubbing your kindness, caring and understanding back in your face as I did. I am sorry I made you feel inferior as a mate, that I put some unrealistic definition of what is masculinity on myself and in doing so, insulted us both. There is no shame in being comforted by a mate, it is one of the reasons we choose mates as we do. You sought to care for my wellbeing and I threw it back at you so callously. I am sorry, Ella.” He noted the harshness in her features become less cold. He walked over, showing her what was in his hands, a significantly sized peculiarly shaped piece of ice. “I got you this, as an apology, but also because I saw it before I left for the war and genuinely thought you would like it.” She took the ice from him and looked at him for a moment. “Wait and watch,” he smiled. 

Ella did as he requested, noting that the ice was incredibly thin and was melting quickly. She watched as it revealed its contents to her. “I…” She touched it. “It’s cold?” “It is not diamond, but permanent ice. It cannot melt, even on realms outside of this.” Loki explained. “It is not very common, we rarely mine it as it is a very difficult to source ice and it tends to not really be used for much since the realm is cold enough to simply use the ice around us, but…”

“It’s beautiful.” 

Loki took the necklace and tied it around her neck before looking at her again. “It suits you.” “Thank you.” The tension remained between them for a moment, Loki unsure of if he should say anything more. “And thank you for your apology.” She gave him a small smile. “I know males have a skewed ideas of masculinity but you are not any less of a man for finding my shoulder comfortable and for getting startled at waking in your bed and not on a makeshift one on a battlefield, these are normal and entirely understandable. I cannot say I fully comprehend what you have endured, Loki, but I do understand enough to know you are tired, in body and mind and the least I can do is let you rest comfortably.” 

Loki felt himself feel more guilty for his actions when he woke. He could see all she wanted was to be there in any manner she could for him. “I apologise again. I...are you alright?” Loki looked worriedly at Ella, stepping forward slightly as she froze, her hand halfway to her stomach. 

“I...I think…” She took his hand and placed it to her side. “He moved…” Loki did not know what to say or think, he simply waited. For a solid minute, he kept his hand where Ella had placed it but there was no movement, feeling disheartened, he went to take his hand away but Ella stopped him. “It does not…” The words were taken from him as he felt a slight nudge against his hand, almost too faint to feel. “Is that..?” Another little nudge went against his hand. 

“I think someone is reacting to you,” Ella smiled. 

“It is not so simple.” “He waited for you to speak to move again,” Ella countered. “It is the first time I have felt movement, he waited for your return.” She looked down to where his hand remained on her stomach. “It’s so peculiar.” 

“I do not think he realises such things as my being gone and here.” “It is entirely possible. On your return, my seidr would have surged slightly with my being happy and relieved about it so he would have sensed that if he has any seidr of his own, meaning he would realise it in some manner and my seidr reacting to you being close by, it’s not entirely impossible, pending his seidr’s strength, lest we forget that I caused my own mother to go into premature labour from the force of my own, he could very well sense it.” Loki felt his throat tighten slightly at her words. Not because of their son reacting, which was incredible in itself, but her admitting her seidr would react to her joy at him being back. He thought of when he left in the past to go to different parts of the realm on matters for different reasons, none he had shared his time with before Ella seemed to react as she had on his return, even Angrboða, who he had thought had loved him, seemed to be happy that her amusement had returned more than she was happy to see him. Ella admitting that she was so happy to see him that her seidr reacted to his return. He looked into her eyes to see that her words were genuine. He swallowed. “Thank you.” “Don’t cry. Your reputation is already in tatters because you showed some form of emotion already today.” 

Though her voice was sarcastic, there was no denying that her eyes showed the words were in jest. 

Loki did not even think about what he was doing as he chuckled before cupping her face with the hand that was not holding her stomach where their son had kicked, leaning forward and pressing his forehead to hers. 

Ella was unsure of what to say or do. She knew that the act was one of deep caring and love in Jotnar mates, she never expected Loki to do such a thing, taking her completely by surprise as he sighed contently as he remained still. 

[altumvidetur]

MCU Daredevil: MattFoggy Fic Recs

MCU Fic Recs Masterpost

So, I was thinking about the coronavirus pandemic and what I could do to help people out. I’m isolated because I’m at higher risk, so I can’t really offer to go out for my elderly neighbors or my family… but I thought I could try to help keep people entertained.

Because I don’t have an AO3 account right now, I’ve been compiling fic recs for my own amusement for a year or so. And I thought – maybe that’s the time to share these with everyone? So everyone will have plenty of things to read while they have to stay at home, or even to escape anxiety a little bit if you’re forced to go out.

Of course, these cater to my own tastes, so you may find stuff you don’t like around here. I never include works in progress. The Mature and Explicit works will be in italic. I ask you to READ THE WORK’S TAGS before continuing, so you won’t find anything that makes you uncomfortable.

I didn’t actually watch season 3 of Daredevil, so my recs are all from before that. I still plan to watch, so please take that into account when interacting with this post!

Fitter. Happier. More Productive., by what_alchemy

Matt tries to let go. He's not too good at it.

through the bookcase, imagining a scene, by returnsandreturns

“He’s back,” Karen says, making Foggy jump and drop his armful of books. She winces and drops down immediately to help him pick them up.

“Matt?” Foggy asks. It’s an optimistic guess—there are a lot of guys who could be back, like the guy who sits in a study carrel and eats peanut butter out of a jar with his hands and Uncomfortable Religious Missionary Guy, who is actually three different guys.

“Yep,” she replies, nodding and widening her eyes when she grins. “He’s flirting with the circulation ladies, which means you’ve got just enough time to steal my shift at the reference desk before he gets there.”

The Constellation of Touch, by what_alchemy

Months after Fisk is put away, nothing's right between the partners at Nelson and Murdock. But Christmas is here, and Matt is still expected at the Nelson house.

you won’t get better till you’re worse, by annperkinsface

The road to forgiveness has a lot of vodka.

my name on your lips, by unnecessary

It starts when Matt and Marci have coffee. Then Foggy and Claire have coffee. Then Claire throws a Christmas party, and really, it isn't like Foggy means to keep almost confessing to Matt, but can anyone really blame him? 

I Decided This, by patster223

“I’m contributing yet another lovely sign to our office,” Foggy says, brandishing the finished product with a flourish. Matt can’t see the sign, but he can probably sense the flourish, which is what matters. “It says, ‘It has been ‘0’ days since Matt made an idiotic decision.’”

“Doesn’t seem like it will inspire much trust from our clients.”

What the sign instead inspires: debates, understanding, a patented Murdock-level guilt trip, ice cream celebrations, a kiss, and perhaps even a way to finally move forward.

We Just Lost the Beat, by knight_tracer and lady_ragnell

Matt hears a lot in the city at night, sirens and crime--and the late-night radio show Foggy With a Chance, which sometimes runs a Daredevil Watch if he's been particularly active, but which mostly plays music. He probably shouldn't call in and request a song, but he does it anyway.

I’ll Most Likely Kill You in the Morning, by inkfingers_mcgee

Foggy and Matt never met at school. They cross paths for the first time while working opposite sides of a case, and Matt doesn't leave an impression beyond the superficial: a blind, pro-bono crusader who Foggy will feel really guilty about having to oppose in court one of these days. Seemed like a nice guy, but no one Foggy will worry about a week later.

He has more important things on his mind, like the masked vigilante who keeps cornering him in dark alleys to threaten him for information.

Touch Me, Don’t Feel Me, by fabella

Foggy struggles to navigate a casual sexual relationship with Matt after the events of season two. It's predictably complicated.

Hold Me Fast and Fear Me Not, by lady_ragnell

Something in New York has everyone walking around with iron in their pockets, and it seems like the vigilante they're calling the Devil of Hell's Kitchen is at the center of it all. Foggy knows how to steer clear of that kind of trouble, but when the Devil seeks him out, he ends up in the middle of it with him.

A Janet and Tam Lin AU.

jump, check parachute, by augustbird

Foggy Nelson: good at law, terrible at feelings.

Just Wanna Take Him Home, by lady_ragnell

Foggy mostly takes little old ladies to parties doing escort jobs, which he's fine with.

Getting hired to spend two hours hugging a lawyer is kind of a departure. He should have known it would all get complicated fast.

Daredevils Don’t Drink Decaf, by ChuckleVoodoos

“I really, really want to make a joke about bats and blindness. Will you punch me if I make a joke about bats and blindness?” Matt shakes his head, grinning. “Okay, so we’re Superspud and Blind-As-A-Batman.”

In which Foggy uses his law degree to peddle coffee to unsuspecting caffeine junkies, and Matt is his favorite customer. Who may or may not be Batman.

Say You’ll Still Be By My Side, by lady_ragnell

Bless me, Foggy, for I have sinned.  

Eres Mi Grande Avocado, by ChuckleVoodoos

Matt's got this way of speaking in Spanish that's just a little different than his way of speaking in English. In English, all of Matt's words are carefully weighed and measured and cut like crystal. They're precious but planned. With Spanish, the words seem to fall like drops of liquid gold, hot and rich and wild, and it makes Foggy want to gather them to himself and finally be warm.

Gazelle, Lion, Gun, by ChuckleVoodoos

The Devil of Hell's Kitchen has got some competition. Sassy sharpshooters do not make good crime-fighting partners, except that they really do.

Dream Catcher, by ChuckleVoodoos

When Matt has nightmares, so does Foggy. Unfortunately, Matt has a lot of nightmares. Even when he's not asleep.

Or: Matt visits Foggy after the bombings, and it doesn't go well.

Red Cross, by ChuckleVoodoos

Foggy is perfectly happy being a law-abiding physician with a weakness for cupcakes.

No one else seems to understand this.

Rocky Horror Pancake Show, by ChuckleVoodoos

Foggy falls asleep at exactly 12:00 AM, and he’s making a wish. He wakes up at 12:00 AM too—twenty-four hours before he fell asleep.

"Let's do the time warp again!"

The Boxer-Puncher, by one_flying_ace

“Matt, you’re my best friend, but you’re a goddamn idiot sometimes. It’s not about you. I’m not training, I’m not looking to get in a ring or do what you do. I just wanted to know a little more.” He says it fiercely, strongly, right into Matt’s ear like that’ll get it through to him any easier. “It’s not like I’m any good at it,” he adds, which is probably a mistake.

His heartbeat definitely spikes on the lie, because Matt flinches.

if ever joy surrounds you (you have to let it), by KiaraSayre

"I mean, I did think that maybe vigilantism is actually good for you in terms of, like, self-actualization or whatever, but - have you been seeing a therapist or something? Good talks with your priest?"

(Or, it's weird how weird things aren't between Matt and Foggy. Particularly when they're talking about boners.)

That Spin I’m In, by Werelibrarian and poisonivory

"What does that mean?" Matt asks Strange.

"Well, that depends," Strange says, unfolding his legs and letting his feet touch the floor again. Matt gets the distinct impression Strange is hedging. "Are you currently suffering heartbreak?"

Matt very carefully doesn't think about Elektra. Or Karen. Or Foggy. "Let's leave my personal life out of this."

Strange clears his throat. "Yes, well, that option may no longer be on the table."

Matt really hates magic.

How Your Heart Pounds Inside Me, by poisonivory

Hiring a surrogate alpha is supposed to be the simplest way to get through a heat - and Matt doesn't want to risk his heart again, not after the last time. But nothing in Matt's life is ever simple, and when his surrogate turns up again to oppose both Matt Murdock, Attorney-at-Law and the Devil of Hell's Kitchen, it's more than just Matt's heart at risk.

Just Our Hands Clasped So Tight, by poisonivory

If there's one thing Foggy Nelson knows about Matt Murdock, it's how tactile he is.

Will You, by poisonivory

Foggy's always joking when he asks Matt to marry him. Matt's always serious when he says yes.

- OR -

Five proposals Foggy forgot, and one Matt makes sure he'll remember.

Stay In My Arms (If You Dare), by poisonivory

The Defenders are the most elite bodyguard agency in the world. When Wilson Fisk's personal attorney Foggy Nelson walks in looking for protection from a mysterious man in black, Matt Murdock is more than happy to take Mr. Nelson's safety in hand. But Nelson's guilt is hard to prove, and Matt may have gotten himself in too deep - especially once someone besides the man in black starts gunning for his client.

I Would Know You by Touch Alone, by unnecessary

It doesn’t matter if Matt has a soulmate, because if he does, it’s not Foggy.

Written for this prompt on the kink meme: “Foggy’s soulmate mark is raised birthmarks that read ‘Matt’ in Braille.”

...Aaaaaand a series within the Spider-Gwen universe:

The Lawyer All the Wickedness, by poisonivory

(Summary by me: in which Foggy is, at turns, angered, baffled and aroused by scumbag defense attorney Matt Murdock.)