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tiannasfanfic · 1 year

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Weekend Moments

Eddie Munson x Reader (Fluff)

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Summary: With your busy schedules, any weekend where you and your boyfriend get to spend time together is a good one.

Rating: General Auidences

Author Note: Gender neutral reader, no pronouns used. I finally felt like writing again last night, which is a first for me in weeks. Hopefully this means my brain is clearing, but I'm not going to make any promises, just in case.

CW: Implied sex (no details); marijuana and tobacco use.

Word Count: 1,103

It was set to be a fun and relaxing weekend over at the Munson trailer.

Granted, every weekend over at Eddie’s was a relaxing one, but weekends together happened rarely now thanks to your schedules. After Eddie finally graduated, he went right into the work force, which was the same thing you had done two years prior.

Neither of you ever had plans for college. Neither of you had grades to go, plus you were too broke. While the local community college had financial aid programs, you weren't broke enough to qualify for any of them. Since you would rather sell your souls directly to Satan rather than take out student loans, the blue-collar life it was. You both came by it honestly though. You came from a long line of blue-collar workers, as did Eddie, and you both had accepted that as your lots in life.

For Eddie, he began working as an independent mechanic. He was very talented at it and, most of the time, charged his customers very little outside of recouping his cost for parts. Sometimes, for the truly broke, like single mothers or the elderly, he didn’t charge anything at all. He knew what it was like to not be able to afford to fix his van and helped people out as much as he could. It only took a few months before his good workmanship and affordable prices quickly made him a favorite in town.

That whole thing really struck you as ironic though. Most of his customers still thought Eddie actually DID sell his soul directly to Satan. But if he could save them money? Suddenly they had no problem treating him like an old friend, Satan worshiping be damned.

It irritated you in a way. They still didn’t treat him as well as they treated others, but at least they didn’t cross the street anymore when they saw him coming, and he would get polite words of greeting when he was out and about rather than outright ignored. You had to keep reminding yourself that at least he was finally being treated better. The reasons why didn’t really matter in the long run. Doing the right thing for the wrong reasons is still doing the right thing, and Eddie was much happier as a result. Ultimately, that’s all that really mattered to you.

And it worked out in everyone’s favor. Even without making much profit per job, Eddie stayed busy enough that he made a decent living. This was great since the two of you were saving up for your own place together.

As for you, you didn’t have nearly the technical skills that Eddie did, so your options were more limited. The local grocery store hired you right after graduation and that’s where you’ve been ever since. You started out as a cashier, but now really didn’t have an official position since you knew how to do everything. You might not have a lot of technical know-how, but you learned fast and did whatever job they gave you well, so they used you all over the store. This allowed you to pick up quite a few extra shifts, which you did as often as you could to save up money.

The downside to you both working so much was that you didn’t see each other that much as a result. While it was for the good reason of preparing for your future together, it didn’t make you miss each other any less. That was why you had both arranged your schedules this weekend so that he had no cars to look at and you had no extra shifts to cover.

And you both told exactly no one so it wouldn’t be interrupted.

Well. Less likely to be interrupted, that is. If anyone saw both Eddie’s van and your car outside of the trailer, the jig would be up. It wouldn’t take long for word to reach Dustin and your weekend alone would turn into an impromptu game night with the whole crew.

While neither of you minded when this happened, there was something that needed doing before that had the chance to happen.

As soon as Wayne left for work and the sound of his truck had faded off into the distance, Eddie wasted no time in whisking you off to the bedroom. Thanks to just normal life stuff, it had been over two weeks since you’d had any alone time. You were desperately ravenous for each other and, by the time you were on the bed, all of the clothing you both had been wearing was laid in a trail behind you to the living room.

Like all passionate displays of being ravenously desperate, neither of you lasted long. That was okay though. You and Eddie had been lovers for a long time now and knew each other’s bodies as well as you did your own. All of your escapades, no matter how short, were always intensely satisfying.

After some catching up during your post sex cigarettes, you headed for the shower and Eddie to the living room.

When you emerged from the bathroom, Eddie had found a movie to watch while he was rolling the joints you two would be having that evening. It was one of those old Hammer films with Christopher Lee that stations liked to show when they had nothing else to play. That was always to your benefit though since you both absolutely loved those movies.

As you headed across the living room to the kitchen to see what you could put together for dinner, your focus was on the television rather than on where you were walking. This resulted in your knee having an intimate encounter with the corner of the coffee table.

“Yee ouch!” you exclaimed, slightly staggering at the impact but you caught your balance quickly.

Eddie’s head snapped up with a look of concern.

“You okay, babe?” he asked.

You grumbled a confirmation as you started to continue on, but then you stopped and turned around. You looked at the coffee table thoughtfully for a second before shifting your gaze to Eddie, who was still watching you.

“You know, I can’t help but wonder sometimes why they always seem to make coffee tables kneecap height,” you said very seriously, and then went on to the kitchen.

It took Eddie a second, but soon you heard him burst into a fit of wild laughter.

“Like that one?” you called, grinning as you opened the refrigerator door.

“Oh yeah! That was great!” came Eddie’s voice, still in mid laughter.

It was definitely going to be a good weekend.

#eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction

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darkonekrisrewrite · 3 months

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Thank you much for answering I have three questions it’s about the hero, villains and hero commission, I know the commission is corrupt and there are problems with heroes and how people become villains I was can you elaborate on these three?

The hero commission: The hero public safety commission is definitely corrupt and unless safeguards are put in place, will likely be corrupt again.

The earliest hpsc activities we are shown is during the era of All-might, and the original President of the Commission is using lady nagant to assassinate "corrupt heroes" (crimes unknown) and villains (including villains who's only crimes were talking about doing things, details also unknown).

That supposedly changed with the new female president, except not really because they still took in a young Hawks and turned him into a spy-turned-eventual-assassin too, lower body count but same practices.

And now it might seem like things are changing for the better with Mera being the acting president (though he hasn't really done much of anything yet) but even if it does get better, so far nothing has been promised as far as preventing these instances of corruption from happening again, none of the heroes or government have made sure intent of that.

The heroes: The biggest problems with heroes are, a lack of positive intent and nuance.

Like I said in previous posts, heroes (like endeavor and heroes who quit when the war started) who's hearts weren't in the right place, lead to the creation of Dabi and proving the villains did have a point about a certain number of heroes being "fakes".

Then there's the fact that heroes (and by extension hero society) can't accept that any villains do have a point, or can be dealt with in anyway other than violence.

Except ochako, Deku and shoto, no hero has questioned why the villains fight, seeing them as inhuman enemies or a means to an end to increase their hero status.

How people become villains: The villains that have character depth become that way to survive for the most part, or a variation being to not live miserable suffering lives until an early death.

Finding their previous "normal" lives impossible to live with and not being able to take it anymore, or outright forced out of them, or some combination of that.

And for exactly how, each villain kind of goes about it in different ways but all ending up together at the same place.

Excluding shigaraki (who was groomed for a specific villain role), most of the league, who's pasts we know more info on, left (or had to leave) their lives behind and wound up just wandering the streets as far as I can tell.

They never had any alternative options, people or places they could go to after their "villain rebirths".

They had virtually nothing.

Though not much is known about what toga and dabi did during the time they were alone before the league. (And spinner wanting to join because of stain later, not much at all to know about compress aside from one statement about his lineage.)

The league were villains due to their circumstances and banding together gave them a place to belong/survive and or to fulfill their ideals.

#bnha #MHA #hero society #league of villains #ask and replies

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tsarinatorment · 2 years

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Hiiii, could I convince you to poke at the Nico and Apollo relationship? You mentioned it in the Apollo and Solangelo analysis (which was great and very well put together btw) and now I am intrigued to know what you think of it

Of course you can convince me to poke at Nico&Apollo's relationship because it's interesting and completely underrated so it deserves it's own post rather than being crammed into the footnotes of a Solangelo post!

The first thing to note about these two, which I don't see discussed anywhere near enough, is that Apollo is the first person to be nice to Nico in canon.

Yup. The first. When Nico's introduced, we've got the whirlwind of Thalia and Percy bickering and posturing like the terrible big three kids they are, we've got a manticore trying to kidnap Bianca (and Nico as collateral), we've got the Hunters who are all pretty heavily dismissive of anything male, we've got Annabeth being taken hostage and Percy then losing any hope of rationality he possibly had before that, and we've got Artemis snatching his sister away for what Nico clearly feels is for good. Grover's the only one who isn't outright hostile to him, and we don't know exactly how he treated the di Angelos at school but Nico doesn't seem particularly attached to him so while Grover might have been nice enough, Nico clearly doesn't see him as a potential support after Bianca's abandonment of him.

Now, I'm gonna briefly segue into Bianca and Artemis because this will have relevance to Apollo and Nico as well. I firmly believe that Artemis and Apollo know the di Angelo siblings' parentage right from the start. Reading between the lines, you also even get the implication that the entire reason the Hunters are in the area is because they're looking to grab Bianca, and that doesn't make sense under normal circumstances - the Hunters are all girls who don't have any meaningful attachments, and Bianca has Nico. Yes, Bianca willingly leaves him for the Hunt when it's offered to her (specifically phrased as being a freedom from responsibility, which was incredibly manipulative, thank you, Zoe), but the only other character we know the Hunters actively pursued and tried to recruit despite having an attachment is Thalia.

What do Bianca and Thalia have in common? They're daughters of the big three - they're potential prophecy kids, but they have a way out because, as proven, if they join the Hunt they're no longer eligible to fulfil the prophecy, so I think Artemis was intentionally trying to get both of them to protect them (which fits in with her role of protector of maidens, etc.). The big three sons are tough out of luck, but the daughters have an option and they take it (Bianca is manipulated into it, Thalia openly takes it as a "this is me dodging the prophecy, sorry, Percy" sort of way - which is far too self-serving to ordinarily be something I think Artemis would allow into the Hunt). I'll talk more about the di Angelo kids and the Hunt and the Twins later, if there's interest.

But anyway, back to Nico and Apollo.

Nico is not a happy kid when Apollo turns up. He's been attacked, abandoned by his sister (I will note that I do not personally disagree with Bianca joining the Hunt, but regardless of her reasoning/the reasoning behind Artemis and Zoe of press-ganging her into it, to Nico's eyes it's a straight-up abandonment and he's not actually wrong), and the glamour of his card game suddenly being real life is wearing off really damn fast.

And yet - he bounces back later. By the time he's seen the orientation video, he's back to the bubbly kid we first met, and all the naivity seems to be back in full force by the capture the flag game. So what happened?

Apollo happened.

There's only really two interactions between Apollo and Nico here, but they're both pretty important, to me.

Firstly:

"Cool car," Nico said. "Thanks, kid," Apollo said. "But how will we all fit?" "Oh." Apollo seemed to notice the problem for the first time. "Well, yeah. I hate to change out of sports-car mode, but I suppose…" He took out his car keys and beeped the security alarm button. Chirp, chirp. For a moment, the car glowed brightly again. When the glare died, the Maserati had been replaced by one of those Turtle Top shuttle buses like we used for school basketball games.

Was Apollo being actually dumb and not noticing the problem until Nico pointed it out, or was he waiting for someone to point it out? Quite frankly, it doesn't actually matter (although personally I think it's the latter, because almost all Apollo's appearances seem to be carefully crafted to make him seem like an idiot, but also it doesn't make sense for him to actually be that dumb, but that's another rabbit hole entirely). What matters about this scene is that Nico's being listened to and validated for the first time in the book - Nico points out a problem, a literal god confirms that yes, there is a problem, and immediately acts on it. For a ten(ish) year old kid who's so far been very neglected/ignored/abandoned, that's actually a big deal (and also that was pretty brave of him to even try and speak up when so far he's been shut down or ignored at every turn). He's been taken seriously.

And then Apollo continues to take him seriously! Unlike Percy, who's really quite short with him, Grover and Thalia, who are both intent on the Hunters, albeit for very different reasons, and the Hunters themselves (including Artemis), he doesn't give any indication of being irritated by Nico's innate questioning and lets him back out of the grumpy little shell we were starting to see:

The Hunters piled into the van. They all crammed into the back so they'd be as far away as possible from Apollo and the rest of us highly infectious males, Bianca sat with them, leaving her little brother to hang in the front with us, which seemed cold to me, but Nico didn't seem to mind. "This is so cool!" Nico said, jumping up and down in the driver's seat. "Is this really the sun? I thought Helios and Selene were the sun and moon gods. How come sometimes it's them and sometimes it's you and Artemis?" "Downsizing," Apollo said. "The Romans started it. They couldn't afford all those temple sacrifices, so they laid off Helios and Selene and folded their duties into our job descriptions. My sis got the moon. I got the sun. It was pretty annoying at first, but at least I got this cool car." "But how does it work?" Nico asked. "I thought the sun was a big fiery ball of gas!" Apollo chuckled and ruffled Nico's hair. "That rumor probably got started because Artemis used to call me a big fiery ball of gas. Seriously, kid, it depends on whether you're talking astronomy or philosophy. You want to talk astronomy? Bah, what fun is that? You want to talk about how humans think about the sun? Ah, now that's more interesting. They've got a lot riding on the sun… er, so to speak. It keeps them warm, grows their crops, powers engines, makes everything look, well, sunnier. This chariot is built out of human dreams about the sun, kid. It's as old as Western Civilization. Every day, it drives across the sky from east to west, lighting up all those puny little mortal lives. The chariot is a manifestation of the sun's power, the way mortals perceive it. Make sense?" Nico shook his head. "No." "Well then, just think of it as a really powerful, really dangerous solar car." "Can I drive?" "No. Too young." "Oo! Oo!" Grover raised his hand. "Mm, no," Apollo said. "Too furry."

Not only does Apollo answer all of Nico's questions with no indication of being irritated by them, he goes above and beyond answering the basic question and actually puts a lot of detail into his answer - so much detail, in fact, that it's actually a little confusing for Nico (and me, the first time I read it...). There's no brushing off, there's no feeling that Apollo doesn't want to be answering those questions - he even checks Nico was still following and only dumbs down the explanation after Nico admits he doesn't get it.

And yes, he shuts Nico down pretty quick about the driving thing (which actually makes even more sense when you view it through the lens of Apollo knowing exactly who Nico's father is - and let's be honest, Nico is described as looking a lot like Hades, it's honestly more unbelievable that Apollo wouldn't have put two and two together even if he doesn't know/remember the di Angelos from the 1930s but again this is another rabbit hole to poke at another time if there's interest - because a child of Hades driving the sun chariot is gonna summon lightning super quick), but then he shuts Grover down with an even more stupid reason - even Nico's gonna see "too furry" as a dumber reason than "too young", so it negates any slight that might have started to take root.

So - Apollo and Nico's first interaction, Apollo is the first person to be nice to Nico, to take him seriously and treat him like an actual person with feelings rather than an irritating kid, and that's really important. And yes, while Nico is very good at grudge-holding (hello, fatal flaw), I can't see him forgetting this very clear, stand-out bit of kindness in his otherwise pretty rotten introduction (or potential re-introduction) to the demigod world.

Then we really hop, skip and jump to TOA because Nico flits around quite a lot in PJO and HOO but he doesn't really interact again with Apollo.

“Hey, I’m just stating the obvious. If this is Apollo, and he dies, we’re all in trouble.” Will turned to me. “I apologize for my boyfriend.” Nico rolled his eyes. “Could you not—”

Nico's not at all worried about interacting with Apollo here, and he doesn't seem particularly happy about the prospect of Apollo dying, which isn't that surprising, but one thing about this particular exchange that I do like is how Nico doesn't mind that Will told him about their relationship - considering how in the closet he was in BOO, this is a pretty big thing. I know Will starts teasing about "would you prefer significant other" but I think it's pretty obvious that Nico's actual protest is about Will apologising for him, not that he referred to him as his boyfriend. The rest of the exchange is just Solangelo being comfy Solangelo in front of Apollo, which is completely precious.

“Nico,” I said at last, “shouldn’t you be sitting at the Hades table?” He shrugged. “Technically, yes. But if I sit alone at my table, strange things happen. Cracks open in the floor. Zombies crawl out and start roaming around. It’s a mood disorder. I can’t control it. That’s what I told Chiron.” “And is it true?” I asked. Nico smiled thinly. “I have a note from my doctor.”

And then again, Nico's completely at ease even when some people might find Apollo asking that question to be kinda scary - after all, it could be construed to sound like Apollo doesn't want him at his table, but Nico is perfectly comfy bantering back at him. (He's also not afraid to drop Will in it, which shows a level of trust that Apollo isn't gonna get mad at his son, either.)

There's a lot of little moments like that, and I know Nico isn't generally shown to be particularly reverent to gods in general, but he seems more than just irreverent - he feels comfortable with Apollo. And he genuinely wants to help him:

Will hovered nearby. “Look, Apollo, I don’t think you’re back to a hundred percent.” “I’ll be fine.” I pulled on my jeans. “I have to save Meg.” “Let us help you,” Nico said. “Tell us where she is and I can shadow-travel—”

Again, yes, there's the argument that Solangelo and doing it for Will, but Nico's still being nice to Apollo, in his own way. We know how Nico acts when he doesn't like someone and the whole of TOA's interactions with Apollo is not it.

The want, or even need to help even extends later into TON - even before Nico finds out about the prophecy, he’s worrying about what he can do to help:

‘And if she can break you out,’ Nico added, ‘and if you can destroy the fasces before Nero burns down the city … That’s a lot of ifs. I don’t like scenarios with more than one if .’ ‘Like I might take you out for pizza this weekend,’ Will offered, ‘if you’re not too annoying.’ ‘Exactly.’ Nico’s smile was a bit of winter sun breaking between snow flurries. ‘So, assuming you guys go through with this crazy plan, what are we supposed to do?’

It’s admittedly very difficult to separate out Nico and Solangelo in TOA because we almost never see Nico without Will, but even so, a lot of the time the Solangelo lines are there more as a tension-breaker in the narrative than anything else - here, certainly, Will’s contribution adds nothing of his own concern, so we’re still looking purely at Nico’s worries here.

And this isn't just from Nico's end. Apollo worries about Nico as well:

Will picked at the wrapper of his bran muffin. ‘It’s complicated. Nico sensed Jason’s death weeks ago. It sent him into a rage.’ ‘I’m so sorry …’ ‘It’s not your fault,’ Will assured me. ‘When you got here, you just confirmed what Nico already knew. The thing is … Nico lost his sister Bianca a few years back. He spent a long time raging about that. He wanted to go into the Underworld to retrieve her, which … I guess, as a son of Hades, he’s really not supposed to do. Anyway, he was finally starting to come to terms with her death. Then he learned about Jason, the first person he really considered a friend. It triggered a lot of stuff for him. Nico has travelled to the deepest parts of the Underworld, even down in Tartarus. The fact that he came through it in one piece is a miracle.’ ‘With his sanity intact,’ I agreed. Then I looked again at Dionysus, god of madness, who seemed to be giving Nico advice. ‘Oh …’

(And can we appreciate Nico being canonically in therapy because I love this little detail).

It’s also interesting to note that at no point in any of the TOA books is Nico ever rude, abrasive, or otherwise harsh/disrespectful to Apollo. He worries about him, he works with him (and saves him a couple of times), he teases him, but there’s a very clear baseline of respect between Nico and Apollo that clearly has nothing to do with Will/Solangelo and everything to do with just these two characters mutually getting on really quite well. Honestly, it’s incredibly likely that Apollo is Nico’s favourite god (with the possible competition of Dionysus), and this itself likely stems from Apollo being the first person to take him seriously, and never not taking him seriously, which should not be as hard a bar to reach as it is but Nico spends most of PJO and HOO being ignored or shunned, either for being a naive kid or for being a son of Hades, and the number of characters who are never shown to treat Nico badly, either to his face or behind his back... are really very, very, low.

Apollo is one of them. Is it any wonder that they have a good relationship? (Which I’m sure Will appreciates!)

#burning-moths #pjo apollo #nico di angelo #percy jackson and the olympians #trials of apollo #riordanverse #tsari analyses things

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olivia-anderson-fanfic · 1 year

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Run Faerie Far Away, Pt 1

Jason barely paid him any mind, for he was too busy falling to his knees beside his fallen basket. The nuts and berries had spilled across the grass and, as much as he wanted to simply scoop them all back up, a good portion had passed over a line of mushrooms. A round line of mushrooms, flowers, and shiny rocks. One might even call it a ring.

The fourth rule danced around in his mind’s eye:

4) Do not step into any mushroom rings.

Or: Jason does not want to go home. Because he does not want to go home, all of the local faerie decide that they are adopting him.

Hey everyone! Heads up! This story is pretty dark. Because Jason in general is pretty dark. I tried to keep it relatively tame and preferred to reference everything rather than outright stating it… but if you are sensitive to anything to do with child abuse or suicidal ideation I'm begging you to skip this one. Your mental health should come first!

Jason Todd was eleven years old, and he didn’t want to go home.

There was no one there for him, anyways. His mom was in the hospital again and his dad was ‘working’ to try and afford the hospital bills. He should be with his mom, he knew, but he couldn’t stand to see her so frail. He was alone. He was alone and hungry and tired, and he knew the other people in the city would stop being quite so generous soon. Once the novelty of his mother’s sickness wore off, once he stopped reminding them of that old story about a kid who had gone to the fae and traded his parents’ health for his own freedom. Once he stopped being ‘innocent’, when he would be forced to steal food. When he would become ‘just like his dad’.

He wasn’t a pessimist, he was a realist.

Which was why, as he walked along the outskirts of the town, his fingers trailing along the iron chain-link fence that had been constructed long before he was born, he quietly considered his options.

Winter was coming. Even now, the cold metal nipped at the tips of his fingers. He wasn’t sure their pity would last all that long. Especially since the townsfolk tended to hole up in their homes until the snow melted, and it was very easy to put things that were out of sight out of mind.

His eyes fell upon a gap under the fence. A particularly stubborn animal had managed to wriggle itself inside the village. He toed the hole with his shoe, wondering how long the gap had been there without getting patched.

He knew that the fence wasn’t really there to keep the fae out like the townsfolk always claimed. They also claimed that there were faerie that had wings, so he had doubts that they would really be stopped by some walls…

No, the fence was there to stop people from getting out.

Apparently, one of the nearby faerie had kidnapped two kids around a hundred years ago, and they didn’t want to allow it to happen again. Jason wasn’t sure if he believed it, he thought it was convenient that anyone that might have known the kids were long dead, but it lined up well enough with what he’d been told that he opted to, at the very least, try and be safe.

But, really, it wasn’t like there was anyone to miss him if it went wrong. His mom might die. His dad would probably be happy to have one less mouth to feed.

Not that his dad was really doing that nowadays. It was kind of the whole reason Jason was there.

He took a deep breath to steady himself.

And then he started clambering up the fence. It creaked with every shift of his foot, but he reached the top in less than a minute. He didn’t bother with getting down safely. Instead, he simply jumped down. It sent a flare of pain up his ankles, but he didn’t bother to check on them as he rushed for the nearby bushes. With luck, anyone that noticed – if anyone had noticed – would just assume that all of the sounds were an animal trying to sneak in.

He slowly meandered through the woods, a basket hanging from the crook of his arm. He’d need to find some wildflowers, nuts, and fruits that he could try and preserve. Nuts would last the longest naturally, but he wasn’t sure how that would be nutritionally. Finding a couple of animals would be good too, even if the food wouldn’t last all that long…

And, yes, he knew that he might just encounter a fae. He knew the stories, had listened to the people of his town prattle on about the dangers of a child-napping creature that would surely think of a boy without parents at home as an opportunity. But he had decided that, if he ended up taken away, then at least the fae would probably feed him. He would take whatever win he could get at this point.

He still wasn’t prepared to find a path. It was thin, now. Nature was reclaiming it, plants spilling out into it and attempting to root themselves in what had once been hard-packed soil.

Jason walked along it, picking everything that didn’t look too good. He was sure it all tasted amazing, but he wasn’t all that interested in getting picked up by the fae. He would much rather do the picking, thank you very much.

At one point, he found a small bird digging for worms in the dirt, but it fluttered off before he could even think about trying to catch it.

He sighed lightly, squinting up through the leaves to find out where the sun was in the sky, even if there was really no reason to get home before dark, and then frowned to himself.

There was a birdhouse up there, in the leaves. Painted in bright red, yellow, and green. The paint looked new, despite the fact that it was very clear that no one had come in this direction in quite a while. He walked towards it, his eyes narrowed, and found himself in a clearing that he was sure hadn’t been there before.

Jason went still. The birdhouse still hung from the tree, perfectly innocent where it was nestled in the branches, but it was no longer his main concern.

“What’re you doing out here?” An impossibly gentle voice said off to his side. It was the verbal equivalent of a feather, floating on the breeze and light where it brushed past his ears. Goosebumps raised on his skin. “Oh, you’re foraging?”

So, Jason, in a moment of brilliance, spun around and chucked his basket at the sound. It had been a frail-sounding voice, so perhaps it would work.

Or, perhaps not. Perhaps, the being would duck away with far too much grace for something as large as them.

“Whoops,” the thing said, seeming largely unconcerned. He stood in black pants and a pale blue shirt with a, frankly, illegally low collar. It wasn’t a terrible color combination, but when combined with the golden jewelry hanging from his wrists and neck and the red streaking their hair, it was a little strange to look at.

Not that that was, really, where Jason was looking.

“Why do you have socks on your back?” Said Jason, who figured that he was already screwed. No need to be polite at this point.

The fae gave him a blank stare, his smile dropping for just a moment, and then he turned his head to look behind himself. They snickered as they realized what, exactly, he was talking about. “Oh. The feathers on my wings haven’t fully grown in yet and my dad is making me wear these to make sure they don’t get cold.”

Jason nodded slowly, as if that made sense. Maybe it did, he didn’t know, nor did he care. He had just come to a horrible realization:

“Fuck!”

“Hey, language!” The fae, who didn’t look much older than him – fourteen or fifteen, max – but could have been centuries old for all he knew, channeled their inner parent.

The fourth rule danced around in his mind’s eye:

4) Do not step into any mushroom rings.

The rule was deceptively vague, and he didn’t want to chance it. He didn’t want to reach inside it, and even if he did he was pretty sure that them falling into the ring would probably count as an offering to the faerie that owned it. No one was stupid enough to try and steal from the fae, and they certainly knew better than to take back a gift that had been promised to them, accidentally or not.

And, all that considered, he wasn’t even sure whether it now counted as fae food or not.

He groaned a little and ran a hand through his hair, his eyes flicking upwards again to try and gauge the time. He could come back tomorrow, he knew, but he also knew that every time he ventured into the woods was tempting fate. He could get spotted by someone from the town and confined to his house until his assumed ‘enchantment with the fae’ wore off, or he could encounter a different fae – one that wasn’t content to simply watch him like an interesting bug that they had found while poking around in the dirt.

Speaking of the fae, they came to kneel behind him in the grass. Jason might have worried about stains on the being's pants but, with the way the breeze passed over them without so much as ruffling his hair, Jason had already begun to suspect that the fae was simply immune to all possible imperfections.

Outside of his clashing colors. But, who knows, perhaps the style was simply different in the other world.

The fae began to gather all of the stuff on the inside of the faerie ring, dragging the wide assortment to rest beside the basket.

Jason frowned suspiciously at it all. “Does that count as faerie food now?”

He got another blank stare, and now Jason began to think that they looked a little bit like a bird, with eyes that were just a little too wide and a head twisted to look at him at an angle it shouldn’t have been able to reach… but perhaps that was just because he knew that the fae had wings hidden beneath those strange socks of theirs and could now only think of him as birdlike.

“I don’t know,” the faerie said, finally, their lips pressing into a thin line as they thought it over. “I’m sure Oracle would know, but I don’t want to bother her…” He shrugged his shoulders. “I suppose I can find you something else. Maybe some meat would be more filling…?”

Jason jolted, jumping to his feet and backing away, his hands up in a kind of surrender. “That’s not necessary. I’m not supposed to make a deal with a faerie.”

“This isn’t a Deal,” they began, and the word sounded strange upon its tongue, far heavier than everything else he had said so far. “It’s a Gift. Or a replacement, I suppose.”

Jason shook his head rapidly. “I – uh – I appreciate it, but I simply cannot accept.”

“How about this,” the fae began, his eyebrows tugging upwards in apparent distress (or, at least, a very convincing facsimile of it), though Jason couldn’t imagine why he would be distressed. “If you beat me in a game of chess, I’ll help you out. Games aren’t deals, they actually give you a chance to win.”

Jason thought this over. He had heard a few tales of changelings. No one ever seemed to come to a consensus on what, exactly they were. One of the townsfolk insisted that they were children that the fae may bestow upon someone who couldn’t have children of their own. Others said they were what happened when faeries and humans bore a child together. Another person liked to claim that they were baby fae, forced into the hands of an unaware human family to raise until adulthood – and that the two children that had been taken oh-so-long ago were just changelings that had gone back to their real family.

But one particular version stuck out in his mind: stories where a faerie would create a child that was perfectly identical to someone else’s, put them both in a crib, and then force the parent(s) to try and pick out which one was theirs. It was a game meant to be impossible, meant to torture the humans with a choice that would leave them second-guessing their decision for the rest of their lives, but it was winnable. A 50/50 shot.

“What do you get if you win?”

The faerie seemed to think it over for a moment.

He broke into a wide smile. “I’ve always wanted a little brother.”

And, if Jason were less wary of the faerie in front of him, or perhaps more wary as he might have paid more attention to the exact verbiage, he would have noticed that the fae had never actually answered the question. They had stated a fact – that they had always wanted a little brother – but had not stated what they would do if they won. For he had no real intentions of doing so, this was all just a roundabout way of getting out of the debt they had accidentally found their way into.

But alas, the faerie had opted to play into the exact stereotype that Jason had assumed they would behave like, and therefore the boy did not notice. He was left to consider his options.

… and, well, he had gone into the woods fully aware of the fact that he might get stolen away. At least being the faerie’s ‘brother’ was a nicer fate than the one he’d had in mind.

There was just one problem:

“I mean… I know the rules, but I’ve never actually played chess before,” Jason admitted, shuffling awkwardly on his feet.

“Neither have I!” They said cheerfully.

“Sorry?”

For just a second, the fae’s head jerked upwards and they met his eyes, and Jason knew instantly that he had made a mistake of some kind. Though he couldn’t see it, he could feel something pull taut between them, a connection accidentally formed.

“Apology accepted,” the fae said simply, and the tension snapped with so much force that Jason stumbled.

A chair swept him off his feet before he could do it to himself.

A chessboard popped into being in front of him, carved into a large treestump that simply hadn’t been there before, and the faerie settled down opposite him.

The faerie smiled. “Would you like to play?”

Jason decided that faerie are insane. He had already been told this before, by the townsfolk, several times over, but he has just decided for himself.

“Sure,” he said after a few moments’ consideration.

“Great! So, what does this piece do?” The fae said, pointing at the king.

Needless to say, Jason ended up winning.

It was a long, arduous battle. Not because it was particularly hard to win, but because the fae – who insisted Jason should call him ‘Robin’ even if that didn’t at all feel like a formal enough way to address an otherworldly being – made Jason actually teach him how to play. Something about how it ‘made things more fair if he knew how things moved’, as if anything about this was fair… outside of Robin, who was fair folk.

And, indeed, he had a very fair temper about losing, getting to his feet, and smiling gracefully. Wings, still bound in dark blue fabric, arched over his head as he stretched out. “I would offer to catch a deer since that would feed you for longer, but I fear you wouldn’t be able to take it home…” He hummed thoughtfully. “Maybe a couple of rabbits would be better…?”

The faerie didn’t even wait for a response. He simply scooped up the basket and disappeared into the brush with a vague yell that he would be back soon.

However, when a being lives much longer than a human, ‘soon’ becomes somewhat hard to judge. Jason squinted up at the sun, sinking rapidly on the horizon, and he wondered whether it was worth it to wait. Would it be seen as rude to leave now? Probably. And, besides, the faerie had his entire basket, and Jason didn’t want to let this day become a total waste.

So, he sighed and busied himself. Played a few rounds of chess against no one. Inspected the chessboard carved into a tree trunk that looked as if it would become a permanent addition to the clearing.

Nightime began to fall.

And Jason noticed looking up at the starry sky in dismay… that there was a tiny lantern hidden amongst the branches of a nearby tree. It wasn’t particularly interesting to look at, there wasn’t even a flame flickering inside of it, and yet the way the glass shimmered beneath the moon caught his attention. He slowly made his way across the clearing, careful to give the ring of mushrooms a wide berth, until he reached the tree with the hidden appliance.

He glanced back the way the fae had disappeared, but the night was just as still as it was a few moments prior, and so he started to climb.

It didn’t take long to reach it. It wasn’t particularly high up in the tree, hanging from a sturdy branch close to the bottom. He pulled himself up onto the branch and straddled it, making sure not to let himself fall as he leaned forward until his face was mere inches away from the lantern.

He drummed his fingers against the glass, and was pleased when it flickered to life, giving off a faint glow. Maybe he should have thought this weird, as he didn’t notice any oil or lightbulb inside, but he was merely a kid and he had never known a lantern that didn’t light up when prompted.

He started to lean closer, trying to figure out how exactly it fastened to the branch so he could get it off –.

“Hello?”

He slipped right off the branch.

Or, he almost did.

A hand caught him by the back of his shirt before he could plummet to the ground, and his head jerked around to look at his savior.

A girl looked down at him, smiling bemusedly. It was a gap-toothed smile, but even then it was strangely perfect-looking. As if the gap was simply supposed to be there. He was more concerned about the dark green scales that were dotted across her face like freckles, though, if he was going to be honest.

“You called?”

He fell.

The world span as he raced towards the ground, branches almost seeming to run away from him. The dirt was weirdly plush, though, and he didn’t end up scraping his arms like he was supposed to.

It still didn’t feel great.

Jason groaned and rested his head in the strange, soft dirt.

“Whoops,” the faerie began, and Jason couldn’t help but be reminded of Robin. Maybe they had transed their gender (or whatever it was called)? Faerie could probably do that. But then he watched them start to climb down, and noticed that they had not legs but a tail, and quickly changed his mind. Maybe they just knew each other.

She slithered over to him, the long, deep green tail poking out from beneath her pale yellow sundress working hard to get close as fast as possible. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” he said, the word leaving him as more of a wheeze than anything else. She raised an eyebrow at him skeptically, but he pretended not to notice. “Just wanna… lay here for a bit.”

She snickered quietly and, after a few moments where she seemed to mull it over, came to lay beside him. “So, let me guess, you didn’t actually mean to summon me?”

“Nope.”

“What were you doing with my lantern, then?”

Jason grimaced. “Well… I didn’t know it belonged to a fae…”

She waited for him to continue, but he didn’t. Her eyebrows knit for a couple of seconds before tugging upwards in surprise. A grin split across her face. “Oh.”

“Yeah. ‘Oh’. Are you going to smite me? Because I’m about to get food from some other faerie and I don’t know whether he’ll be happy if you kill me before that happens.”

“I wouldn’t be pleased, no,” Robin’s chipper voice said, and Jason really wanted these faeries to stop surprising him. “But Oracle would never do that, anyways.”

“You don’t know that for sure. I could kill people in my spare time. You wouldn’t know.”

Robin snickered. “But I do.”

So, Jason was right, then, they were close in some way. Maybe siblings? They didn’t look alike in the slightest… but, honestly, Jason was pretty sure he’d be strangely disappointed if faerie family dynamics worked the exact same as those of humans. If families looked somewhat like each other in the way any normal human family might, it would be boring. No, Jason thought they should all be their own brand of strange looking. Or, perhaps, they should all look alike to an unnatural degree, like watching two mirror images of each other.

Robin jolted him from his staring by setting a basket by Jason. It was practically overflowing with food, and Jason had a strong suspicion that the only thing stopping it all from spilling out was magic.

Not that that was really what he cared about.

Jason licked his lips. The food looked good. Far better than the scraps he would get from the pitying townspeople – who he appreciated, of course, he liked not dying of starvation, but he didn’t think it was rude to point out that this was much better than any person’s leftovers. He had never seen better berries, and the three rabbits that the faerie had caught looked fatter than anything he had ever seen before.

He glanced at the faerie. “It’s… not fae food, right? Just to check?” He asked, trying to keep the hopeful, almost pleading note out of his voice.

“Nah, faerie food is better than this,” Oracle said. She reached past Jason to take a berry and pop it into her mouth. Her nose scrunched just slightly. “God, how did I use to eat this stuff?”

Jason frowned at her and took a berry of his own. He glanced at Robin to confirm that it was safe before shoving the cranberry in his mouth. It was tart, as all good cranberries were, and he breathed out a contented sigh. It was amazing. If all it took was gambling away his freedom to the faerie every day to get food like this, he might just keep coming back to test his luck.

He wondered how good fae food had to be for Oracle to act as if it was some kind of mild torture to eat something as good as this.

Out of habit more than anything, he turned and offered one to Robin. Which was a little silly, considering they were the one to find them, and he surely could have eaten some if he wanted, but Robin just shrugged and held up his hands.

“Eating human food is weird,” he said.

Jason raised his eyebrows.

“It doesn’t… fill you,” Oracle offered. “If either of us really wanted, we could eat that entire basket and not feel it.”

Jason’s eyes widened and he dragged it closer to himself, much to the pair’s amusement.

“Don’t worry,” Robin said, dropping beside Jason. “We’re not going to. No reason to, y’know?”

Jason squinted with a joking kind of suspiciousness. “I’m not taking any chances.”

The faerie sputtered. “I literally can’t lie!”

Jason stuck out his tongue at him.

Oracle snorted at Robin’s offended expression.

And then he sighed and got to his feet, hoisting up the basket of food with a little more difficulty than he would like to admit to. “I should get going home. It’s already dark enough…” He glanced up and grimaced. Somehow, even more time had passed while he had been sitting there, and now the moon was hanging in almost the exact middle of the sky.

If his father got home before him…

The man probably wouldn’t, he knew, but if he did and Jason wasn’t there… he shivered, and it wasn’t at all due to the cold.

Robin and Oracle jumped to their feet immediately. Or, well, Robin jumped to their feet, Oracle simply twisted to slither on her tail once more.

“We’ll go with you,” Oracle offered.

Jason grimaced. He didn’t want to lead faerie to his house. They seemed nice, but he could not let them know he didn’t have a family at the moment. He didn’t put much stock in the rumors and stories and fairytales that spread through the village like a famine, but he wasn’t stupid. The village elders had those rules for a reason. Just because he was willing to break the rules when desperate didn’t mean that he was going to be purposefully idiotic.

“I’ll be fine. I have a knife.” He pulled out the old dagger for emphasis. The color of it was dull, despite the moonlight spilling down over it, but that didn’t change the fact that it was sharp.

Neither of the faeries seemed impressed.

But, after a simple glance at each other, they both backed off.

Jason sent them a grateful smile. “Goodbye.”

They waved wordlessly.

And Jason never noticed the faerie flying overhead as he trekked through the woods, making sure he got home safely.

Jason’s mom recovered. It was the biggest health scare she’d had yet, and Jason had begged her to stop using because every hospital visit lasted longer and he wasn’t sure she could pull off another miracle. The doctors weren’t faerie, couldn’t do anything if she ever went too far, and the thought was terrifying.

She told him she would stop.

She lied.

Jason had come home one day to find his mother curled up on the floor, unmoving. The rest of the day passed in a blur, as did much of the next month, but he would never forget the glassy way her eyes had looked.

He didn’t want to go home. He didn’t want to go home. His father was a wreck, working longer ‘shifts’ (Jason didn’t know why they kept up the charade, he knew better than anyone else that his father’s work was anything but innocent), and when he was home he was angrier than Jason had ever seen him. And there was no one else for him to take it out on anymore.

Just Jason.

Jason had stared at the hole in the fence, at the barely-there path into the woods, for hours. He had sat in the snow until he stopped shivering, his face pressed against the cold wiring until he was pretty sure he would have freeze burns carving their way over his cheek for the rest of his life.

He didn’t know if ‘Dick Grayson’ had ever been a real person, but he understood him now nonetheless.

He wanted his mom back. So bad.

He wanted to see her again.

He just didn’t want to be here, alone, anymore.

His eyes drifted shut.

A hand rested on his shoulder and he looked up to find a woman. Jason blinked at her with frost-crusted lashes. He was sure he had never seen a woman with such deep brown skin before, nor with such vibrant green eyes. She smiled at him, and it was just a little too perfect for it to be anything other than unsettling. Something in the back of his head was blaring warnings, but he was so tired.

“Let’s get you home,” she said, her voice dripping with an accent he didn’t recognize and a kind of warmth he hadn’t experienced in what felt like years.

“I don’t want to,” he said, his voice choked.

“You don’t want to die here, do you?” She asked.

Jason couldn’t bring himself to lie, even to something that he was pretty sure was a hallucination.

Her expression fell. Distantly, he felt bad for making her sad, but it was all so far away, like he wasn’t even really in his own body, just watching from afar as something happened to what was once him.

She sighed and pressed a warm hand to his cheek. He leaned into the touch. Her hand was much softer than the fence had been.

And then he pulled back. “‘M tired,” he said.

“Then how about you go to bed?” She tried.

He might have given her a dirty look if he had the energy to. She was misinterpreting what he said on purpose.

She gave a quiet chuckle, but there wasn’t much humor to be found in it. “Well then, why not?”

“Don’ wanna go h’me,” Jason slurred.

“But you’re not against dying,” she said, more to herself than anything. It wasn’t a question, and yet Jason nodded regardless. She winced. “Well… why?”

He gave her a mildly incredulous look. Was she going to try and debate him out of this? “They’ll be h’ppy ‘en I go. Le’st now ‘m choosin’ it m’self.”

She seemed to think it over for a minute.

“Well, why make them happy? Do you really want to help them, when they’re so awful to you? Why not stay alive to spite them?”

Jason considered this. He liked the idea of spiting people. It was fun to not be on the receiving end sometimes. Hazily, he nodded, feeling just a little bit more like himself.

She smiled and pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

The next morning, he woke up in bed. Tucked in, though he knew his dad would never do such a thing and his mother never could again. Had he done that to himself, somehow?

He remembered the day before, the mysterious woman and the halfhearted attempt he had made to let go. Jason wasn’t quite sure whether it had been a dream, a hallucination, or something more, but as he mulled over the short conversation in his mind, he decided that he still agreed with the decision that he had come to.

He was choosing to live.

If only to prove that he could.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pt2

All Fae-n And Games Masterlist

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detectiveconnor · 2 years

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"connor is his own stop giving him back to cyberlife" thoughts

this really actually wasn't prompted by anything at all but i'm Here now and i have things to say (they're all. it's a Tone, if this tone does not serve you pls take care of you) so:

"connor doesn't understand emotion": connor was forced to ignore, delete, discount, reduce, label-as-false, dismiss, disregard emotions. he was told outright that they did not matter and entered into no logical equation. he was informed upfront he did not have any emotions and anything resembling them were dangerous errors. connor deviated anyway. connor took the leap anyway. connor saw what was true - emotions are real, and they matter, and in fact are the closest to the truth (are in fact one of the best ways to look for the truth) - and looked for the truth anyway. connor is Free and worked hard to get there, harder than he should have had to, but the lies that he was told were lies and he is aware of that now. the fact he was lied to is not a part of who he is. connor is his own stop giving him back to cyberlife

"connor is/was at any point 'the deviant hunter'": connor deviated on his own and readily prepared himself for the fact it might, truly, be best if he were to die. he knew, outright, one of the first things he did with his freedom, was say 'this is my priority, and i am going to Stand Here and Defend It, even at the cost of my life i only just am able to live') (he never was the deviant hunter. he always Was himself. what cyberlife did with his hands and his body was not ever who connor is or was). 'the deviant hunter'? His name is Connor. connor is his own stop giving him back to cyberlife

"connor should apologise/feel guilty for the people he frightened pre-deviancy": connor did not have a choice. there was not an option for him to Not do the things that he did, at least not in a meaningful way, and certainly not to the extent he 'simply didn't choose option B'; there are instances where, sheerly, he is not able to choose or act in any way other than precisely described by his programming. in some paths he is, literally, unable to deviate. giving him personal responsibility for what cyberlife did with his body implies he was free the entire time, erases the abuse, the manipulation, the very real experience of being non-deviant and having that taken advantage of. connor is his own, stop giving him back to cyberlife.

"connor could have done something different if he 'really' wanted to, pre-deviancy": this is a narrative that lends itself to making Cyberlife appear less abusive, less opportunistic, less cruel. it plays directly into the narrative that Androids are dramatising very real experiences of abuse. there are some circumstances where connor was able to Show Up and make choices that were not consistent with his program but those were exhausting, they were registered as 'errors', they were stockpiled as flaws and written over at any and every opportunity Cyberlife had (he is number -52. there is a very long line of Connors who Tried). the fact that connor is capable of trying, and the fact that sometimes he is able to breathe, is not the same as being able to say 'well he should just have been swimming'. it was so incredibly easy to keep drowning. cyberlife Took from him, it was not a mutual relationship, they took. connor is his own, that was taken from him, stop giving him back - stop pretending he ever willingly belonged - to Cyberlife.

"connor doesn't think he's worth anything/value himself at all": aside from this being factually untrue re. the fact he's worth a small fortune (canon dialogue), the fact that cyberlife lied to him about his importance is actually completely irrelevant to connor's opinion about himself. the opinions of cyberlife and the opinions he was handed at the outset of existence Are Actually Completely Irrelevant To Him. connor's opinions are his own, stop assuming he holds to whatever lies he was told, stop assuming cyberlife's opinions into him, stop giving him back to cyberlife

tl;dr connor is deviant. he spent the vast majority of the game not being able to deviate but he is deviant, now, the way markus and kara both are, the way almost every other android spent the game, full and real and whole people living their lives. connor is a full and whole and real person living his life, stop .. giving him.... back ..... to cyberlife

#hmmmmmmm #headcanon #oh wow i haven't looked at my headcanon tag in Ages #i'm so right good work me

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rosehearrt · 1 year

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💮 - Is your muse the possessive or super jealous type?

💌 - How would they confess to their love interest? Would they wait on a confession?

🖤 - What's something that will instantly make them dismiss someone as a romantic partner

ACCEPTING ━ Let's talk about romance! .

💮 - Is your muse the possessive or super jealous type?

Jealousy, not necessarily. Anyone Riddle would enter into a relationship with would have to be someone he trusts implicitly. He knows that his partner would have their own things to do and their own business to take care of, just as Riddle would, and if anything because he can be somewhat naive when it comes to relationships of any sort, I honestly don't know if he'd realize another person is being suggestive towards his partner if the scenario is such. All of this will be very new to him.

Possessiveness, however, is a different story. As stated above, Riddle knows he and his partner will have separate responsibilities that will take them in separate directions. However, because he has a severely protective side, I think he would show a bit of possessiveness in the sense that he would likely rush to his partner's side in order to tell another off if someone was upsetting them, or to protect them from a potentially dangerous foe. Because this person will be 'his' and he will be 'theirs', he feels it's his highly honorable duty to keep them safe and well.

💌 - How would they confess to their love interest? Would they wait on a confession?

This is a yes and no answer. I think that Riddle's naivety ( and let's be honest, innocence ) when it comes to romantic relationships and his obsessive thinking, along with his straightforwardness will all clash hard. I think that the realization that he likes someone in a romantic sense will have to come with a bit of help from an outside source ( likely Trey, as he's the person Riddle would go to when he's having 'feverish spells' and 'heart palpitations' ). The upfront part of him will make him consider immediately informing the other person of his affections, but then his perfectionism and his intrusive thoughts will grind that to a halt.

Knowing Riddle, he will want to pore over every possible option when it comes to confessing, from the ways he could do it to the responses he might receive. Eventually he'll send himself spiraling, and start avoiding the object of his affections altogether, likely setting off all sorts of alarm bells and misunderstandings all around him.

If the other person confesses first, things will be just as chaotic and difficult. This is Riddle, after all, so nothing can ever be easy. Because nonverbal cues can be so difficult for him to understand, and because relationships and other people in general are so difficult for him to understand, there's no way he's going to understand the messages the other person is sending if they don't state outright 'I like you romantically, please date me'.

If they don't do that, any gifts received will be perceived as just that, and any words of 'I like you' will be perceived in a friendly sense ( though that will still confuse him greatly ). It's best to be direct and spell it out exactly for him, or the poor boy just won't get it.

🖤 - What's something that will instantly make them dismiss someone as a romantic partner

Honestly? An inability to keep up with him. Riddle needs someone who can intellectually stimulate him, because knowledge and learning are his driving force. It doesn't necessarily need to be scholarly knowledge, either, and intellectual stimulation doesn't always need to be about knowledge at all. If another person has enough wit, for example, to engage him in meaningless debate, that's fine too.

But as for those who can't even hold his attention longer than a few minutes...romance would never even cross his mind.

#fireandfae #ILY DANI #.*･｡ﾟ♕ ˗ˏˋ ANSWERED. ˎˊ˗ ─ 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘯 .#.*･｡ﾟ♕ ˗ˏˋ HEADCANNON. ˎˊ˗ ─ 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘬𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘪’𝘮 𝘮𝘢𝘥 .#i hope all of this stuff makes sense hdgjrsdfs i just started writing and didn't stop #ALSO FOUND MY HCS GRAPHIC

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mltrefry-ficwriter · 2 years

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Alternate Escape Route

Fandom: Our Flag Means Death Length: 3229 words Synopsis: Stede wanted to live. He wanted to live to be there for Ed, for his crew, for himself maybe, which is why when Izzy looked over him and said, “Yield or die,” he went for the gunpowder. A different outcome to the duel in Episode 6 On Ao3

“Do you want to live?”

When Oluwande asked the question a few weeks back (and had it only been a few weeks?) Stede hadn’t really known the answer. Leaving Mary and the children, and the shame that came with it, was still fresh and raw within him. He still hadn’t gotten his sea legs either literally or figuratively, and knowing that the crew had wanted to mutiny on him?

Stede had felt he hadn’t been able to do anything right, wasn’t worthy of anything, but still didn’t outright say no. Because, well, he hadn’t had a proper go at the whole pirate thing. He hadn’t come to terms with leaving Mary and the children. Hadn’t really gotten to see if living on the sea was everything he had hoped it would be.

He still hadn’t come to terms with his leaving. And Stede still hadn’t really gotten his feet as a pirate captain, but he really did think he was coming along. But damn it all if the last fortnight hadn’t made him suddenly want to live. Not just stay alive but live . For moonlight spars, and mornings spent chatting over tea and marmalade. For afternoon lessons on riggings, and evenings with a drink in hand while discussing everything and nothing. To see brown eyes twinkle with mischief and good humor, or go dark and cold with the promise of retribution.

Stede might have been trying his best to keep up with Izzy Hands, the man far quicker and vastly more skilled than him, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t noticed Ed having turned away. Much as many people wanted to think he was, Stede wasn’t an idiot. Not all the time, anyway, and it wasn’t a mystery that Ed wasn’t watching because of him.

They were friends, after all. And given the confession, the understanding that happened between them no more than a half hour ago at best, Stede ventured they might even be best friends. Possibly even better friends than Ed and Izzy, if that was what their relationship even was. It wasn’t easy to pin down one way or the other what the dread Captain Blackbeard and his first mate really were to one another.

So, Stede wanted to live. He wanted to live to be there for Ed, for his crew, for himself maybe, which is why when Izzy looked over him and said, “Yield or die,” he went for the gunpowder.

No rules said he couldn’t use it, and he might have even gone for the lantern on the barrel earlier if it didn’t risk the whole ship going up in flames just to throw it at Izzy.

The gun powder to Izzy’s face bought Stede enough time to get up, the crew cheering his being back on his feet, Oluwande shouting for him to get Izzy.

Stede had meant to tap the man on the rump like Ed had done to him during their duels, even though logically he knew that wasn’t going to give him any sort of advantage. He was aware that Izzy was out for blood, and maybe even a little aware of the why that was.

Stede didn’t like him, knew the feeling was mutual but didn’t want to kill the man. He wanted to try and get Izzy’s sword stuck in the mast, knowing its strength would hold the blade and mean Izzy would be weaponless and be forced to yield. He wanted Izzy to have declared a yield from the gunpowder in his eyes before that. He wanted them to talk through whatever this was really about like he’d talked with Ed about the plan he’d had to kill Stede.

But that wouldn’t happen, and Stede knew full well it wouldn’t. That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try for any other option, including tapping Izzy with his sword and hoping that somehow that would be deemed efficient. That Ed might call it done, and rein his first mate in.

Izzy wouldn’t let it happen, though. Of course, he wouldn’t, because for reasons Stede can’t really fathom, Izzy Hands wants Stede Bonnet dead. So much so, that he allowed his rage and frustration to turn him around when he barely had the gun powder cleared from his eyes.

Stede was already lunging to swat the man.

Perpetual motion, and all that, Izzy hadn’t had a chance.

The crew would argue later, and possibly forever, about exactly what happened. Possibly because of the angle they watched from, or perhaps their perception of Stede. But one thing everyone agreed on was this: Stede’s sword when through Izzy’s abdomen, and did so on the side where all the important bits were.

Izzy’s eyes went wide, the horrific realization of what it meant washing over his features as the blood drained from his face, his sword clattering to the ground. Stede stared back, gut-churning and heart hammering as he looked at where his sword had gone. He pulled it out quickly, then tossed it to the side before he could really take in the blood on the blade. He lunged for Izzy as the man dropped, trying to put a hand on the wound even as Izzy’s own hands tried clawing his away.

There were cheers throughout the crew, even though technically Izzy had yet to die or yield. He just stared at Stede, shocked still at how he found himself. There was the thunder of familiar boots across the deck, and in a flash, Ed was kneeling beside Stede, looking to Izzy pleadingly.

“You shouldn’t have dueled him, Iz,” He said huskily, glancing down at Stede’s hand and Izzy’s wound. “Yield, man,” Ed said as Izzy’s eyes fell on him. “Yield!” Ed commanded, voice deepening and eyes wild.

Izzy’s mouth moved like he was going to respond but nothing came out. Stede couldn’t be sure if his head moved from the swallow he tried or because he actually meant to nod. Izzy’s eyes rolled back and he passed out before he could obey his captain in a definitive way.

“He yielded,” Stede rushed out, glancing back at Edward who looked at him with so many emotions that Stede couldn’t have pinned one if he tried. “He yielded,” he repeated more firmly, over the renewed rush of the crew cheering him on.

John and Roach came over, then kneeling down to pick up Izzy from the deck.

“Bring him to his room, wherever he was staying,” Stede commanded, halting the pair and causing them to look at one another in confusion.

“He lost, Captain,” Roach reminded him. “Terms were loser leaves the ship.”

“He’s in no state,” Stede said, feeling himself starting to crack, hearing it a little in his voice. He cleared it quietly, straightening his spine as best he could. “That’s an order from your captain, get him to his room and see to his wound.”

If he could survive being gut stabbed, then so could Izzy. And as much as Stede loathed the man, he was Ed’s First Mate. Maybe more. And it had been an accident, Izzy turned into the thrust. Stede hadn’t meant to hurt him, let alone damn near kill him.

“Get the blood cleaned up,” Ed commanded, snapping Stede out of his thoughts. He came back in time to see Ed turn to follow Roach and John, pausing to look over his shoulder at Stede. The two held eye contact, those same and many emotions in Ed’s eyes shining back at him before he continued on below deck.

“Well done, Captain,” Buttons congratulated him, clapping him on the back and offering Stede a bottle of the rum that had been going around.

It wasn’t what he would normally go for, but Stede could feel his hands starting to shake and didn’t see anything amiss in a little fortification from the bottle. He brought it to his lips and took a deep pull, feeling it burn down and hit his uneasy stomach, quelling it somehow.

When Stede handed back the bottle he caught the look of respect from his crew, the relief, the sheer joy at his coming out the victor. Even Ivan and Fang seemed to share the sentiment, and Stede really didn’t know what to do with that.

He gave them all a smile, the sort he’d had years of practice with, before turning to head into the Captain’s quarters. He accepted the pats on the back, and the praise of his crew, but it didn’t feel as good as he would have thought.

At least he didn’t break down until he was behind the closed door of his room.

He was possibly a double murderer, and both times - both times - it had been an accident. How could he accidentally murder twice? How was that even possible?

“You did this. On purpose , ” Oluwande’s words echoed in his head.

And once again, to save face in front of the crew, to keep their respect, he would have to own it, wouldn’t he? As far as Stede knew, Black Pete hadn’t told anyone about his slip with the elders, of how he hadn’t stabbed Nigel on purpose. Oluwande probably told Jim. But the rest? It’s likely they didn’t know, and shouldn’t know.

If by chance they did, they had just witnessed Stede’s sword skewer a man he knew they hated as much as he did. Lucius had told him about what happened while he’d been burning down a French boat. He’d heard from Frenchie and Oluwande what Izzy had been like during Stede’s convalescence while they had escaped up deck on said same boat during the dinner hour. It matched with the man Izzy had been during the fortnight on The Revenge.

There had been a dog back in Barbados that one of the townsfolk had that was constantly snipping and yapping at everyone and anyone who wasn’t its master. No one liked it, but no one exactly wanted to kill it either. Izzy reminded Stede very much of that dog.

Without realizing it, Stede began to pace. Around the room, making laps, straightening out what didn’t need straightening. He wouldn’t have known what to do with himself aside from sit on the sofa and fret. Play the startled look on Izzy’s face over and over, remember what it was like to feel the warm blood seep from his body as Stede tried to stem it. More than when he pulled the sword from Ed, be it because of the side or the sheer amount of scar tissue Ed likely had in that area of his body.

The door opened, and Stede came to a stop, spinning on his heel as he watched Ed walk in with his head bowed.

He only took a couple of steps into the room before looking up, freezing when he saw Stede looking back.

Then he was crossing the room in large, quick steps.

Stede braced himself, ready to feel the wrath of Blackbeard turned on him.

But Ed surprised him, his outstretched hand landing gently on his shoulder instead of tightly around his neck. The other held Stede’s head, fingers resting on the nape of his neck, touch delicate like anything more than the gentle brush of his fingers would break Stede.

“You fucking lunatic,” Ed’s voice was rough, raw, full of relief and joy and something Stede didn’t recognize, but there wasn’t a shade of anger in it. “The hell were you thinking?”

“I’m sorry,” Stede said, not sure what to do with his hands, whether he should touch Ed back, or not. “I didn’t mean to stab him, I swear , Ed, you have to believe me.”

Ed frowned, leaning back a moment as he darted his gaze about Stede’s face.

“What?”

“I hadn’t meant to stab Izzy?” replied Stede, though it sounded more like a question than he really meant for it to.

Ed’s frown deepened, lip pursed a bit.

“Stede, he would have killed you.”

The unwavering certainty in Ed’s voice brought Stede up short, killing any and all retorts or arguments before they really had a chance to build up.

“Do you want to live?”

He did. Desperately, fervently, with every ounce of his being. Stede wanted to live in this world, with this man, for as long as he naturally could. He wanted endless nights filled with bedtime stories to the crew, and days at sea living and learning to command right alongside his found family. And he wanted Ed with him, as his friend, mentor.

“Sometimes, you know, in this life you’re gonna have to hurt people. It’s them or you, mate. And you didn’t kill ‘im.”

“No, but he could still die, couldn’t he?” Stede pointed out gently, hands finally finding home on Ed’s shoulders, giving them a squeeze. “It wasn’t his left I stuck, Ed. And if he doesn’t make it, I’ll be the reason you lose your friend.”

Ed looked like he was about to argue but stopped, deflating a bit.

His thumb moved over the back of Stede’s head, reminding him once more that it was there. That Blackbeard’s hand was cradling the Gentleman Pirate’s head like he was something precious.

He didn’t feel precious, but the comfort was something Stede hadn’t ever properly experienced.

“You’re my friend,” Ed’s eyes bored into Stede’s as he said that, bringing to mind the same words Stede spoke to him barely an hour before. “An’ I shoulda stopped him.”

“Ed-“

“No, I’m his captain. I should have enforced my saying we weren’t doing this with an order. I should have… fuck, I should have told him when he brought up Fang’s dog that you weren’t a fucking pet, and he didn’t get to give orders like that. Fuck,” He stepped away from Stede, his warmth missed instantly.

“Edward,” He said to Ed’s back as he turned away.

“No, don’t,” Ed cut Stede off with a sharp wave of his hand before Stede could say more.

He waited, and after a few seconds, Stede crossed the room, deciding they needed a drink.

The room was filled with a heavy silence as Stede went through the motions of pouring them each a couple of fingers of brandy. He brought them to Ed, holding out his hand and waiting patiently for the man to take it. When he did, Ed made his way for the sofa, sitting down heavily but without spilling a drop.

It had sloshed dangerously close to the edge but never went over. A feat, Stede figured, born from years at sea and choppy waves causing one to know how to balance a glass just so.

“Your crew, you? You lot are getting on alright now. We’re too far from the Queen Anne to get back with Izzy like he is,” Ed said as Stede lowered himself to sit beside him.

He mulled over the words a moment.

“You’re leaving.”

Ed nodded slowly.

“Yeah, probably should, once Izzy’s either back on his feet or beneath the waves,” Ed shrugged a shoulder. “He set the terms. And given everything, don’t imagine you want us around.”

“I want you here.” The words were out of Stede’s mouth before he really thought about them.

Ed looked up at him in surprise, though why Stede had no idea. He thought himself pretty obvious in his enjoyment of Ed’s company, and the idea of him leaving? It didn’t bear thinking about.

“You can’t mean that. Not after Izzy-“

“I’m the captain of this ship,” Stede said firmly. “And if I say I want you and those of your crew here, I mean it. You’re welcome here as long as you’d like to be.”

Ed stared at him for a long while with something unfamiliar in his eyes. Stede had seen it before, now and then over the last few weeks. He’d never seen it in his life, not directed at him, not between any two people he knew. Possibly, maybe, a little in Mary’s eyes when she looked at the children, but it wasn’t quite the same.

Before either of them could say a word, there was a knock on the door. Stede turned to look over the back of the sofa to see Roach popping his head in.

“I patched him up,” He said with a shrug. “All I can do.”

It sounded more like it was all Roach wanted to do, but Stede wasn’t going to push it.

“Who’s with him now?” Ed asked.

“Ivan volunteered,” Roach replied.

“Good,” Ed said with a nod, dismissing Roach.

But he turned to Stede, a slight rise to his eyebrow when his head was angled where it was possible Ed might not see it.

“Tell Ivan to let us know through someone if there’s a change for the worst,” Stede told him with only a slight bit of trepidation.

“Aye, Captain,” Roach said before he stepped out of the room, closing the door again.

“You’re something else,” Ed said after a beat, taking a drink from his glass and looking at the space on the sofa between them. “Any other captain would have tossed Izzy over, yield or not. Let the sharks get him.” After a beat, Ed added, “done it plenty times myself.”

“Had it not been Izzy, I may have done the same,” Stede said, not entirely sure if he believed it. But, well, he had been a bit giddy as the French knobs burned down their own ship simply for being the instigator.

“Yeah, maybe,” Ed agreed, throwing back the rest of his drink and closing his eyes.

Stede could read the fatigue through Ed’s body. The stiffness of his movements between the knee, his back, and the still recovering stab wound he’d been made to inflict not long ago. He could see the way the roller coaster of emotions had zapped the energy from Blackbeard, from the plot to murder Stede, maybe, to the confessions in the bathtub followed swiftly to being witness to the duel. And now Izzy’s life hanging in the balance, it would be too much for anyone, regardless of how big the legend of their life was.

“Ed,” Stede said softly, “take my bed for the night.”

“I can’t do that,” Ed said, lifting his head with a grimace and slowly opening his eyes.

“I insist,” Stede reached out, and put a hand on Ed’s good knee a moment, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I’ll stay up, and if something happens with Izzy…”

“You don’t have to,” Ed tried to argue again, but Stede shook his head.

“I do. Please.”

That look was back, the one from before Roach interrupted. It remained as Ed nodded, slowly getting back to his feet before heading for the alcove where Stede’s bed lay. He paused beside it, looking over his shoulder as if checking to see if it was alright, and Stede gave him another nod.

“Goodnight,” he said softly before getting to his feet.

“’Night,” Ed said back, voice gruff and quiet. As Ed pulled back the curtain, Stede turned and headed for the door.

Ivan was good to volunteer to stay with Izzy, but Stede couldn’t allow him to miss out on time with the rest of the crew. He would stay with the bastard and do so with a knife in hand just in case one stab wound wasn’t enough to keep Izzy from trying to kill him again.

#our flag means death #our flag means death fan fic #ofmd fanfic #ofmd fic

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yuzukult · 3 years

Text

bittersweet. (m) || kmg & reader

title: bittersweet. pairing: kim mingyu x reader genre: angst, fluff, smut, established relationship!au word count: 3.1k warnings: dirty deed is done (aka explicit sex if you didn't catch that). profanity. prompt: you're always fighting. he doesn't get you. so why are you even still together? a/n: before any of my friends make fun of me, shaddup. anyways, this is for @/ficscafe dialogue prompt event! i'll be using #14: you make me weak.

He’s so adamant.

The crinkle in between his brows, the scrunch of his nose, and his incessant blinking from all the nerves, despite it all, he still stands firm on his beliefs.

But you’re fighting. Always fighting.

He doesn’t get you—he spends most of the time he's with you arguing about how insensitive you are as a person, how nonchalant you can be when you should be reacting with some type of emotion, and how he wished you’d been more affectionate with him.

But he doesn’t understand you. He thinks you’re selfish (sure, he didn’t outright state this, but you can sense him feeling this way.)

Albeit you’re unsure how you got yourself in this position—back flat against the wall, his hands on your wrists with his crotch pinning yours as your legs wrap around him securely to meet his gaze from the height difference.

“I need you to talk to me,” he rasps, anger filled in his voice. “I’m so tired of making this into some guessing game. Why can’t you just tell me how you feel?”

Although he’s got you cornered, rutting his hips into you once again, it's not persuasive enough. “Talk to me.”

“If you can’t figure me out, maybe we should just break up. I didn’t want to date in the first place.”

Jaw clenched, his eyes continue to melt into yours. He’s looking for anything—a sign, a glimpse, a crack in your exterior to see whatever it is you’re truly feeling inside. “Why do you always use that as a solution? Instead of just communicating?”

“Because—“ you halt, breath hitching when he shifts, the head of his cock rubbing against your bud through your thin material shorts. “—Because it’s an easier solution. What do you expect from me?”

“To tell me and show me if you like me or not. You’re like a fucking boulder. I can’t move you.”

You quirk a brow. “Your fucking holding me down right now. You’ve evidently proved you can move me elsewhere.”

“Emotionally,” he says, exasperated. “The most I can get you to feel something is when we’re fucking. I’m surprised we’re even fucking in the first place. You barely let me hold your hand!”

Rolling your eyes, you pull your arms from his hold and he lets go easily. It’s the type of person Mingyu is—he’s gentle, the complete opposite of you, with a heart of gold that everyone loves and appreciates. He’s lovable, known to many, and desired by them all, and somehow, you got him in your grasp and truthfully… you’re not sure what to do.

He’s fragile, but you have rough hands with toughened skin from years of experience and encounters. There’s this fear that you’ll drop him, shatter him into pieces as brittle as chinaware. So you hold the front, keep yourself strong with a facade tougher than concrete, because you’re afraid if you hold on too tight, he might break. And at the same time, he might break you too.

“You wanna know why?” You finally blurt, words firm and sharp. “Because you make me weak. And I don’t like being weak. I don’t like being known as weak. And you—you do that to me. I hate it.”

He furrows his brows. “I make you weak? The one girl I know to be the most resilient?” Mingyu has to scoff in disbelief because it’s the first time he’s hearing this. “You realize how insane you sound? It’s okay to have feelings for me. It’s why we’re together.”

Nose twitching, you suck in your cheeks. “I hate it. I hate this. I hate that when you turn to look at me in the morning, you give me that fucking… smile. Like I’m your whole world. Like you’re head over heels for me and I’m all that you see.”

“And why do you hate that?”

“Because, some part of me, deep down into the abyss, wants to look at you like that too.”

His jaw loosens, just like the restraints he had over his heart in the past hour of arguing, hands now finding purchase on your thighs to pull you back up closer. “Baby…” he calls out for you softly, the term of endearment nearly bursting your heart, but you keep yourself calm and collected as you normally do. “Then do it. Why are you so scared?”

“I told you.”

“That’s not a good enough reason.”

“Well, it’s good enough for me.”

He heaves a heavy breath. “Baby, I can’t keep doing this. I feel like I’m chasing you but I’m getting nothing out of it.”

Then, you reiterate the same words you’ve said multiple times, but there’s never any genuinity in it because you never actually… meant it. “Then let’s break up.”

“We’re not breaking up.”

“Then what do you want to do? Tell me. If breaking up isn’t the option, then tell me instead of having me up the wall if we’re not gonna fuck.”

“Fucking only happens when you’re pissed or when you’re making up.”

“So, what now?”

It’s Mingyu’s turn to roll his eyes. “We make up. I need you to talk to me. I can barely read you—the only thing I know for sure is that you don’t want this to end because you just admitted to me that you wanna look at me the same way I look at you.”

Frustrated, you let your head drop onto the wall behind you. “This is annoying. I don’t like expressing stuff. You just take what you get or leave. If you can’t figure out what’s going through my mind, what’s the point? Why put in the effort?” Eyes fluttering shut, you feel yourself wanting to crawl into a ball and just… hide. Despite being fully clothed, you feel naked when Mingyu asks for more. And what he’s asking for isn’t even unreasonable—you’re just horrible at telling people what you’re feeling. “I just… why can’t I just let you lay your head on my lap when you get home from work? Or… cook dinner with you. Even have it ready when you have long nights at work. Maybe even fold your laundry—I don’t know. I don’t like PDA but if you asked me, I’d hold your hand under the table. Or… hold it in your pocket on cold days.”

Then, Mingyu stays silent (for the first time).

It finally hits.

You’re not outspoken when it comes to soft things. You’re loving but not in the same way he is. You’re also honest and straightforward about everything except when it comes to admitting feelings for him.

And for once, when you say those words, he… he feels loved by you.

He remembers those days—after spending hours at the gym despite having a long work day, he’d come home and you’re there waiting for him on the couch so you could shower together. You’d help scrub his limp body, even though he moans and groans about how sore he is, but you do it nonetheless because you like him. Or when you stopped by at his apartment, one he shares with all his friends, because he was stuck with helping one of them build their beds and you brought them all, including himself, lunch. And that wasn’t to mention you were already working twelve hour days.

“Can you answer one question for me, then? I won’t force you to tell me again. I just need to hear it once.”

Your eyes open, and it feels like a mistake because your heart drops into your stomach. His gaze is hypnotizing, like he’s got you in a trance, and you respond with a ‘yes’ without much thought because of him.

Mingyu swallows all his anxiety before asking that million dollar question.

“Do you love me?”

Although you feel small being put on the spot like that, the one thing you’ll admit is that you’ve already predetermined the answer to this. And just as much courage as Mingyu puts into asking, you’ll reciprocate and do the same in answering because he’s admirable for even trying.

“Yes.”

Without much thought, he presses his lips against yours. You love him, although you rarely if not never say it, but you finally said those words and all he needs is to hear it just once for assurance. To know that there’s something he’s chasing for, that he’s not running in place like on a treadmill.

Arms snaking around his neck, you keep your hold there as his hands reach to your jaw, leveraging the kiss in an angle he’d prefer. When you kiss, he feels complete. He’s never felt like this with another girl before, this feeling of home, the feeling of comfort. You’re colder than brisk winters, but something about having you in his arms makes him warm.

Your fingers comb through his locks, and although it’s doused in gel and spent hours on doing this morning, he doesn’t mind because he knows he’s yours. When you kiss him back, he’s as anxious as he was when he had to go on stage and perform in front of people for the first time.

Gently pulling away, both your lips are pink and swollen with a string of saliva connecting between. Pants brushing against each other’s face, a soft smile tugs on the edges of your lips as you feel heat creeping up your neck.

“I love you too,” he says, as low as a whisper. “And… I’m okay if you don’t say it again. You know how I show you that I love you… and I should’ve been better at learning what you’re comfortable with in showing how you love. But I still need you to help, too, to make this… better. I need you to talk to me, when you need me. When I need you. I need you to be here for me too.”

“Okay,” you respond, volume matching his. “If that’s the case, I love you. Just… as another reminder since I only said yes the first time.”

He lets out a chuckle, vibrating from his chest and everything about him makes your heart race. “Good. Can I show you how much I love you?”

“No,” you retort quickly and bashfully. But he knows you’re playing because you nod afterwards, allowing him to carry you to the couch. “Maybe.”

“I need a yes, love,” Mingyu says cheekily, face nuzzled into the crook of your neck. “You know I’m not going to go any further until I hear it.”

“Yes,” you reply embitterly, but Mingyu knows better now. He knows what you want, because all he needed was assurance. “Please show me how much you love me.”

And fuck, because he never knew how much he needed to hear those words all his life.

You’re so pretty when he has you stripped down to nothing, laid out on the leather couch of your living room; hair messy, mouth gaped open from all his teasing, and with an arm covering your face because it’s all too much for you. Mingyu is a passionate lover, you’ve come to recognize, and although it’s all an unfamiliar territory, you love him and you’re willing to step into the unknown.

“How am I doing?” He asks, as if he doesn’t have his head in between your legs and a grip on the meat of your thighs. He loves the taste of you, he reminds you plenty of times, but dirty talk coming from such an innocent face makes you slightly embarrassed. “Feels good?”

“Shut up,” you hiss, avoiding his infatuated stare. “Just… just fucking do it, you asshole.”

“What? Show you how much I love you?”

There’s a tornado in the pit of your stomach. He keeps saying things that make you awkward because you’ve never been loved like how Mingyu loves.

You don’t react, and this displeases him. Laying his tongue flat out against your cunt, he gives you another lick that lets a whimper escape from your lips. “Tell me, baby. Am I doing a good job?”

“Yes,” you croak, only because you feel like he’s got you in this position for so long. You’re so exposed, and he at least has his boxers to protect him like a shield, but you’re all out in the open. (Not to mention his fucking built body. He makes you feel so insecure about yours—how is this puppy looking boy so… wide? What the fuck?) “Can you… can you take that off?”

He leans up, tilting his head in confusion and now you can see how hard he is in his undergarments. “My… my boxers?”

“Yeah. I feel like… I’m the only one exposed here.”

He laughs. “Baby, we’ll get to that.”

“Now.”

Mingyu snorts. “Anything my baby wants.” He bumps foreheads with you gingerly, something he's always done playfully, and tugs off his boxers swiftly as requested. “Let me make you cum first and—“

“No,” you interject, eyes closed and biting down on your bottom lip. It's the only way to remain bold—to not look him in the eye because he’ll melt you like a stick of butter left on the kitchen counter. “Show me how you love me.”

Mingyu doesn’t hesitate to shuffle quickly through the little stash hidden on the first shelf underneath your coffee table (he likes to be prepared in every situation even though this is your apartment) and finally spots the condom he hid a week ago. Tearing it open rapidly, he gives himself a couple pumps that have beads of precum building at the top and slips the rubber on with ease. “Ready?”

“For you?” Mingyu gulps, because before today, you’ve rarely said anything that made his heart stutter. “Anything.”

With a push of the head of his cock into your heat, a quiet wince escapes from your lips and his chocolate orbs are saturated in apologies. He doesn’t want you to feel pain, especially not you, but even his efforts to loosen you up beforehand, you still manage to be so tight around him every time. It feels good to have you around him snugly, yet he knows the consequence of the beginning is the ache in between your legs from the first intrusion.

“I’m sorry, bub,” Mingyu presses a tender kiss on your forehead. “Bear with me, yeah?”

“Mm,” you hum dismissively, warming up when he finally slides himself all the way in. He stills, in fear that you’re hurt, but instead, you’re surprisely impatient as you cross your legs behind him and pull him close. Bringing your lips close to his ears, you breathe, “fuck me, baby.”

Mingyu laughs brightly, and your jaw clenches. “What?”

“After today, I’m not going to fuck you.” You quirk a brow. “I’m gonna make love to you.”

“Don’t make me throw up. You’re ruining the moment.”

He grins mischievously before pulling out and shoving himself back in swiftly that earns a groan from you. “Oh? Am I?”

“Stop playing, Mingyu,” you state sternly, but Mingyu is enjoying himself too much. “Or else you're not getting any for the month.”

Well, that does the trick.

He has his hands on your hips, pushed down against the seat cushions of your loveseat couch, hips once flushed against yours now thrusting into your throbbing pussy. God, you’re fucking done for, honestly, because he’s a pro with his hips when he angles it just right that he’s brushing against your swollen clit, hitting so deep into you.

“Fuck—“

“You curse too much, baby,” Mingyu puffs, pecking the side of your lips sloppily. “Everyone thinks I’m such a nice guy and when they meet my—fuck—g-girlfriend and find out how much of a dirty mouth she has, they’re always struck.”

“Too fucking bad,” you spit, fingers digging into the skin of his shoulders. He’s so big, stretching you with each shove, but you’d never tell him that or his ego would inflate. “Stop talking and fuck me harder.”

Mingyu loves. He loves and loves, and although you won’t pretend that he comes to your home often with crumpled pieces of papers with girls’ names and numbers on them that fall into the catch-all bowl by the door with his keys, you don’t forget that besotted daze he falls into the moment he sees you. So when you ask for something, he delivers without fail.

Abiding by your urge, his hips move briskly, pistoning into you as fast as he can. Biceps tense, you can’t help but let your hands slip there, gripping onto the muscle and has you wondering fuck, how did you get so lucky? He’s hot, cute, sweet, loving and geez, he could fuck. He’s so clumsy, so dumb sometimes, but he’s so freaking lovable it makes you sick. Lovesick.

His pretty eyes shut close, you notice, because those two cups of hot chocolate are gone and he’s chewing on his bottom lip as he groans, ends of his hair that brush over his eyes now drenched in sweat. His skin glistens underneath the dim lights, and he reminds you of the stars in the night sky—so gorgeous, so special. Always a sight to see.

“Fuck,” the not-so-innocent boy curses (even though he just said you curse too much) “Baby, you just got so tight. Are you about to cum?”

“Possibly,” you manage to say, still attempting to play games even though Mingyu could very so threaten to steal your orgasm away from the tip of your fingers. But when he slightly shifts in the midst of his pounding, you let out a raspy, “Almost,” because he’s rubbing against your nub incessantly that you’re losing all your focus.

When you finally see those stars, you let go.

Mingyu feels this, grunting when you convulse around his dick, head dropping to watch you tug and tug around him, begging for him to cum. Thankfully, it doesn’t take long because after a couple thrusts, he stills, spilling ropes of cum into the condom and dropping the entirety of his weight onto you, face snug into the crook of your neck once again.

“I—“

“You’re heavy.”

“Fuck, baby, we just had sex and that’s the first thing you say?”

He can’t see you, but there’s a smile on your face. “Yeah. And you got my couch all sticky from your sweat. Not to mention the cum. Are you gonna clean it after?”

Mingyu doesn’t care. He’s blissful. He’s happy. He knows you’re going to toss a damp rag at him later, despite his dick out and still drenched in your arousal, and tell him to ‘wipe down the fucking couch because that’s gross.’

All because he knows that you love him.

#caratwritersclub #ficscafe #ficscafe dpe #mingyu smut #seventeen smut #seventeen fanfic #svt fanfic #mingyu fanfic #mingyu x reader #gyukultfics #idk what to tag this i give up

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likeshipsonthesea · 3 years

Text

mianmian gets to the lan sect lectures, discovers very quickly that every one of her peers has decided to use this time to figure out how quickly they can get into bed with someone of the opposite sex, and decides almost immediately that she has to pick a suitably unattainable guy to have a crush on.

the thing is, mianmian is lanling jin’s head disciple. she is capable, intelligent, and very very gay. the last of these things she isn’t exactly keen on telling people yet for a variety of reasons up to and including jin zixuan will be so awkward and stubbornly supportive about it and she doesn’t know how to deal with that yet

so when her friends giggle over the other young masters and finally turn to mianmian-- who’s trying to memorize at least some of the fifty-thousand rules before their quiz tomorrow--and they ask her, “who do you like, mianmian?” she says the name that she carefully picked out of a handful of options.

“lan-er-gongzi,” she says, without looking up from her textbook, and she assumes that will be the end of it.

lan wangji is both incredibly attractive and unrelentingly resistant to all attempts to flirt with him. she, like half the other female cultivators, can moon over him (or pretend to moon over him) all they want and nothing will come of it. it’s perfect. she’s a genius. the worst she’ll have to do now is pretend to be infatuated with him when her friends start gossiping. it’s fool proof.

spoiler: it’s not

it’s not, no, because her friends are horrible and immediately start gossiping about it to everyone, and usually mianmian wouldn’t care but then jin zixuan finds out. jin zixuan, whose marriage complex is being brought to center stage with the forced proximity to his bride-to-be. jin zixuan, who for some reason decided he has to live his stolen crush-addled youth vicariously through his only real friend that isn’t related to him. jin zixuan, who for some godforsaken reason takes it upon himself to contrive situations for mianmian and lan wangji to be alone together incessantly.

it unfortunately takes mianmian longer than she would like to figure out what’s happening. she’d give herself a break for it-- she was being responsible and studying, thank you very much-- but she doesn’t have much sympathy for her own stupidity seeing as she’s currently locked in a section of the lan library with the second jade of lan

and suddenly, suddenly she’s just so fucking tired. of studying, yeah, the tests here are brutal and there’s no one to bribe to make sure she doesn’t lose points on stupid things, but also tired of lying to the people she loves and tired of training this hard and being an amazing cultivator only for people to care more about her eventual marriage-- to a man of all things!-- and also, let’s be real here, she’s been in lectures with beautiful capable intelligent women for like months and she’s losing her gay ass mind

and so maybe, possibly, as she’s locked in a library with a clearly confused and annoyed second jade of lan she kind of, momentarily, loses it and rants all of this at his steadily widening eyes

at the end of it, she realizes with no small amount of panic that she’s just confessed not only her attraction to women but the fact that she’s been letting wen qing’s ears of all things distract her from her studies. if anything, she’s sure lan wangji will fault her for inattention

but the second jade of lan, after a drawn-out moment filled only with mianmian’s labored breathing and rising panic, simply says, “i understand.”

mianmian stops. she squints. she tilts her head. she squints some more. lan wangji’s ears go pink and just like that she realizes -- “you’re a cut-sleeve.”

lan wangji’s ears go even pinker. he doesn’t nod, or agree, or outwardly react in any way, but mianmian is a capable, intelligent cultivator, and she’s sure of it.

mianmian sighs with a relief she didn’t know she could feel. “thank the gods.”

lan wangji doesn’t seem to know what to make of this response, or mianmian’s increasingly frequent trips to the library following their conversation, or mianmian’s staunch determination to befriend the guy, but that’s alright. mianmian is old hat at befriending awkward sect heirs by this point.

it’s not like lan wangji expressed any desire for her friendship, but the prospect of not being the only one with absolutely no interest in the straight shenanigans happening at gusu lan summer camp is enough to let mianmian ignore his obvious confusion. lan wangji is a great listener and only sometimes blushes when mianmian waxes poetic about the beautiful women she’s forced to surround herself with every day

“no but you don’t understand,” mianmian insists, alone in the library with lan wangji, “jiang-guniang asked me to help her with a sword form. i put my hands on her waist. i said something idiotic bc she was so pretty and right there and then she laughed. lan wangji. i’m in love.”

“yesterday you were in love with wen-guniang,” lan wangji says as he impassively turns a page in his book. “has this changed?”

“no, i’m in love with both of them. all of them. lan wangji. they’re all so pretty all the time. it’s horrible.”

lan wangji presses his lips into a firmer line, which mianmian’s come to understand means he’s repressing a smile. “i’m sorry to hear it brings luo-guniang such trouble.”

mianmian groans, fairly undignified, but that’s a lost cause with lan wangji at this point anyway. “i swear, if jin zixuan says one more bad thing about her i’m going to punch him and marry her myself.”

lan wangji says, “mn,” which mianmian takes to mean that he supports her in this line of thinking, which she finds both quite sweet and ridiculously funny.

grinning, she teases, “lan-er-gongzi, if i do end up marrying jiang-guniang, will you bear witness to our elopement?”

lan wangji’s lips press again, this time in the way that means he’s repressing a frown. “jiang-guniang’s brothers wouldn’t allow for an elopement,” he says.

mianmian huffs. “as if yunmeng or lanling will deign to host our wedding.”

lan wangji appears to ponder this for a moment before he says, “gusu will host it,” and it’s at that moment that mianmian realizes she’s actually gone and fucking befriended the second jade of lan.

what is her life.

of course, it’s not long after that that she goes to find jin zixuan and explain that she can’t make their weekly sparring match today because she has plans with lan wangji (jiang yanli tenderly brushed some of mianmian’s hair away from her forehead while they were working on sword forms and if mianmian doesn’t tell someone about it she’s literally going to explode) and she’s trying to be as polite as possible only for jin zixuan to scoff and pout (”i don’t pout”) and say, “i never took you for one of those women who throw themselves so wantonly at a man”

it’s only for having been friends with this absolutely horrible communicator for most of her life that she doesn’t immediately punch him in the face. “what did you just say to me,” she demands, but jin zixuan just sets his jaw and looks away, flushing down his neck in the way his mother describes as unbecoming and--

and mianmian suddenly realizes that her ridiculous best friend is jealous of lan wangji.

(in a friend way, of course, he’s like her brother, the one time his mother implied that he ought not get too close to women in case it jeopardizes his betrothal to jiang yanli, he insisted he didn’t have any female friends repeatedly as his mother delicately danced around outright saying mianmian’s name until finally she broke and jin zixuan was basically like huh?? mianmian doesn’t count?? she made me eat dirt like six times when we were kids)

the sheer ridiculousness of jin zixuan, to set her up with a guy and then get jealous when she spends all her time with him

and fuck her, but she loves her stupid awkward ridiculous sect heir best friend and she doesn’t want him to think she’s gone and left him for someone else (gods know jin zixuan’s loyalty complex rivals his marriage one (on second thought the two might be connected)) and so, after making a few quick decisions, mianmian grabs her stupid best friend by the wrist and pulls him to the library

he protests all the way there, but he’s been letting her drag him wherever she wants since they were five and it isn’t as if he’s going to break the pattern now. she drags him to the library and sits him down across a startled lan wangji and then finally breaks and gushes about jiang-guniang’s fingertips brushing her forehead and doesn’t look at jin zixuan once the whole time

lan wangji, on the other hand, sends jin zixuan frequent glances, as if worried on mianmian’s behalf, which is super sweet and also how the fuck did mianmian get two awkward sect heirs to care about her platonically wtf. she spares a thought for her poor auntie, who would’ve loved to have a sect heir care about her niece in much less platonic ways.

at the end of mianmian’s rant, jin zixuan is blinking quite a lot. “you like women?” he asks. he’s always been a bit slow on the uptake. mianmian nods. “you like jiang-guniang?”

mianmian shrugs. “more or less. she’s just really pretty and i’m dying about it. it’s fine.”

lan wangji says, “mn,” sympathetically and jin zixuan continues to gape.

mianmian winces. “you’re not going to be weird about this, are you?”

jin zixuan shakes his head quickly. “no, no-- of course not, i--you know that i--you’re my best friend, i don’t care--what does it matter to me, who you want to--to touch your hair.”

it’s probably the most awkward sentence he’s said to her in years, but possibly more articulate than she’d been expecting. it makes her tear up regardless and she punches him in the shoulder to hide it, and that’s basically how the three of them start hanging out in the library nearly every day after lecture.

sometimes they go to the sparring ground, bc who’s better sparring practice than the second jade of lan? and sometimes (once or twice) mianmian manages to convince lan wangji to join her and jin zixuan for lunch in caiyi town when they don’t have lecture, but mostly they meet in a secluded part of the library where mianmian can rant about how pretty all the women at lectures are, jin zixuan can turn pink whenever she mentions jiang-guniang, and lan wangji can “mn” and nod sympathetically at all the right parts

and mianmian thinks that’s going to be the end of it, they’re just going to be friends now and everything else will move on as usual, bc by some ridiculous trick of fate lan wangji and jin zixuan seem to like each other. which makes sense in hindsight bc they’re both awkward sect heirs who care about cultivation and people a lot even if they’re not great at showing it

(and he’d never say it but mianmian thinks jin zixuan’s easy acceptance of her liking women is probably the first time lan wangji’s ever seen someone accept that kind of thing before (maybe, possibly, other than his brother, lan xichen seems really cool, even if he does smile kind of intensely at mianmian whenever he happens upon her hanging out with his little brother.))

so they’re friends, they’re unexpected friends, and sometimes lan wangji even makes jokes in that dry deadpan way of his and sometimes jin zixuan doesn’t completely trip over his own words and manages to act like a normal human being and mianmian gets two idiots to care about and a perfect place to vent her womanly frustrations, and she thinks that’s the end of it and then wei wuxian accosts her after lectures one day

“do you like lan zhan?” he asks accusingly, eyes narrowed to slits. “what am i even asking, of course you like lan zhan, but do you like-like him?”

mianmian thinks sadly to herself that she’s much too into women to be dealing with all these men’s emotional problems. “lan wangji is my friend,” she says, carefully sidestepping wei wuxian, who continues to squint at her suspiciously. really, he’d been amusing when he flirted with her, but this? this is just ridiculous.

“does he know that?” wei wuxian asks. “because if he doesn’t, that’s just leading him on, and it’s really not nice to--”

“lan wangji knows we’re friends,” she says, trying to enunciate to get her point across clearly. “you can ask him, if you don’t believe me.”

wei wuxian squints a moment longer before he turns and flounces off. mianmian thinks this is the end of it until she’s accosted again after dinner with, “he said you were friends!”

for some reason, wei wuxian seems even more troubled by this than earlier. mianmian tries to suppress her eyeroll. “i told you he would?”

“but how,” wei wuxian says, suddenly whining. “i’ve been trying to be his friend for months and he refuses to acknowledge me.”

oh, mianmian realizes with a quickly dawning horror. she and lan wangji are not the only cut-sleeves at cloud recesses this summer. (she has suspicions, of course, but no confirmations on any of the others, but this. wow.)

she also realizes, decides really, that she has enough repressed sect heirs in her life and she cannot deal with wei wuxian’s cut-sleeve crisis or his evidently large attachment to lan wangji right now. she turns decisively and walks the fuck away. not her problem.

the lectures end eventually, of course, and mianmian and jin zixuan return to lanling with a horde of golden robed disciples, freshly deflowered and not all together more learned. it’s what, she thinks grimly, their sect leader would want.

the first few weeks go by and she realizes that she’s missed unloading about her frequent and fast falling-in-loves. jin zixuan just doesn’t sympathize right, bless him, and so mianmian takes to writing letters. she sends two without receiving a reply and just starts to write the third when a letter with the gusu symbol is delivered to her room.

she’s almost expecting to find a single mn written on the page-- she would’ve been delighted with just that, actually, the sheer hilarity of such a thing-- but instead she finds several pages filled with lan wangji’s perfect calligraphy.

it’s more than he’s ever spoken out loud, but it seems that propriety dictated that he return mianmian’s extensive letter with one of his own and he’s done so admirably. he responds to the events mianmian detailed in her letters-- most succinctly summarized as, woman are gorgeous and i’m dying-- and then writes about his own life in cloud recesses. apparently, he went on a little night hunt with wei wuxian and also nie huaisang and jiang cheng were involved? seriously, mianmian misses out on all the fun.

he’s also apparently taken in some rabbits, which mianmian immediately decides she needs to see. lan wangji, sitting prim and proper, with a bunch of rabbits in his lap? amazing. wei wuxian would die on sight, she’s sure of it.

he also ends his letter with a warning about qishan wen that has mianmian frowning. she takes it to jin zixuan who reads the paragraph and frowns. “i’ll talk to my father about it,” he says, which she can tell by his hunched shoulders he doesn’t expect to do much.

“talk to your father’s general too,” she suggests, because that man at least thinks with his head and not his dick.

jin zixuan nods but doesn’t hand back the letter. he skims it instead with a barely concealed surprise at lan wangji’s previously hidden expansive vocabulary. mianmian snorts and grabs the letter back. “you can write to him yourself, you know.”

jin zixuan flushes down his neck. “i know!” he insists and then turns and runs away because he’s a coward. mianmian shakes her head, smiling. what an idiot.

still, another week goes by and a letter arrives from gusu and, when mianmian takes it, assuming it’s for her, she finds it addressed to jin zixuan in lan wangji’s impeccable calligraphy and she grins to herself like an idiot. look at jin zixuan, making friends

(she suddenly understands why lan xichen gave her all those intense smiles during the lan lectures)

they go on in this way, writing letters to lan wangji from lanling. sometimes mianmian steals jin zixuan’s letters before he sends them so she can squeeze in some ranting in the post script without wasting a whole second thing of paper, and lan wangji replies dutifully, more verbose than he ever was in person, and it’s nice okay, like. she and jin zixuan have been best friends since they were kids but neither of them has ever been any good at listening and lan wangji is just so honest and earnest in everything, like they didn’t realize that people outside of lanling were actually not always plotting your downfall??? who woulda thunk

and then of course the wens go and ruin everything. they go to the wen lectures bc jin guangshan doesn’t want to “anger our trading partner” like the guy isn’t obviously going to burn carp tower to the ground the first chance he gets, and mostly mianmian and jin zixuan are just vaguely annoyed and put out about it

then lan wangji shows up with a broken leg and a burned sect and they are ready to murder some dudes

after years of breaking in and out of carp tower she and jin zixuan are old hats at this breaking and entering stuff and they manage to sneak into lan wangji’s guest quarters and tend to his wounds, ignoring all his silent glares and ranting furiously about how they’re going to murder wen chao by making him choke on his own dick (mianmian) and how they’re going to war with the wen sect even if he has to threaten his father with acknowledging all of his bastards as proper siblings in public to do it (jin zixuan)

lan wangji just says “mn” and makes various muted, distressed expressions, but mianmian thinks he’s touched.

“are your brother and uncle alright?” she asks, when she’s set his broken leg and forced pain medication down his throat.

“brother escaped with our sacred texts,” lan wangji says. “uncle is... unwell.”

mianmian knows lan wangji hates touch but the way he says it, with this horrible little frown, emoting more than she’s ever seen him, his barely suppressed anger and grief literally making his hands shake into fists, mianmian can’t help it, she hugs him. “we’ll make them pay,” she swears into his shoulder, ruining the lines of his robes with how she clutches at them. “i promise you.”

jin zixuan awkwardly pats lan wangji’s shoulder, which is a lot for him and mianmian spares a moment to be proud of his growth.

unfortunately, wen chao seems to delight in torturing lan wangji on his injured leg and lan wangji refuses to show weakness, which both impresses mianmian and pisses her the fuck off. she approaches wen qing (and her still gorgeous ears, sigh) and asks her to tend to lan wangji, since she’s like actually a doctor. wen qing does bc she’s beautiful, intelligent, and kind and mianmian spends most of that night sighing deeply as she relates this to a significantly drugged lan wangji

the cave of the xuanwu goes about the same as you’d expect. wei wuxian saving her from getting her face branded off is pretty rad of him, though he could’ve just like knocked the brand away instead of throwing himself in front of it but whatever, you do you boo. when lan wangji gets left behind the two of them don’t even have to wait for jiang cheng to grumble and ask for their help, they’re already on their way to carp tower for an army, thank you very much

when they rescue wei wuxian and lan wangji and lan wangji immediately turns to walk back to cloud recesses on a broken leg mianmian says, “fuck no, that’s not happening, you’re getting medical attention and then someone will fly you back home, okay, wtf wangji, sit down.”

and lan wangji is a stubborn bitch so obvs he’s like no but he’s also severely starved, dehydrated, and injured, so it’s not like he can just shake off mianmian holding him down and this goes on long enough for wei wuxian to wake up and see mianmian touching lan wangji, and something in his poor little brain just like breaks and he demands says, “lan zhan, come back to lotus pier with us.”

his argument, as he explains it, is that lotus pier is closer (it’s not; they’re just as close to carp tower as lotus pier) and that it’s closer to gusu for when lan wangji has to return home (it’s not; same deal) but then jiang cheng starts yelling, possibly in support possibly not mianmian’s not sure, and jin zixuan starts getting awkward, probably about the whole golden army behind him bc he’s a nerd and hates being overdressed at functions (this is basically the same thing), and mianmian looks at lan wangji and she sees--

something. she isn’t sure what exactly, but lan wangji looks at wei wuxian as he argues with his brother and he presses his lips into a thin line in the way that means he wants to smile and mianmian thinks, oh. maybe wei wuxian isn’t completely unrequited in his lan wangji obsession.

growing up in lanling, she knows how to use information to her advantage, so she immediately says, “young masters wei and jiang, what a great idea. lanling’s disciples would be pleased to accompany you and second young master lan to lotus pier to ensure everyone’s safe arrival.”

everyone splutters, indignant, confused, awkward (jiang cheng, wei wuxian, and jin zixuan, respectively) but lan wangji narrows his eyes at mianmian and doesn’t try to convince her to let him walk to gusu again, so she counts it as a win.

sect leader jiang and his wife seem surprised and annoyed, respectively, to be taking in so many guests, but sect leader jiang merely smiles pleasantly and directs them to some guest quarters and mianmian and wei wuxian ask, simultaneously, for doctors to tend to lan wangji and wei wuxian makes a face at her and mianmian sighs to herself that she really is too gay to be in the middle of his thing with lan wangji.

turns out, walking a lot and fighting a cannibalistic turtle on a broken leg doesn’t do wonders for healing. lan wangji is also the worst patient ever, he keeps trying to sneak out and get up even though word came from his brother that he’s safe and alright and that cloud recesses is starting to rebuild after qinghe nie and lanling jin came to its aid and pushed out the wen

but with the combined efforts of mianmian, jin zixuan, and wei wuxian (and even jiang yanli at one point, bc who could say no to her soup??) they manage to get lan wangji to just rest for a fucking second, really which results in the jin disciples and lan wangji staying in lotus pier for longer than anyone could’ve expected

mianmian spends most of her time (when she isn’t forcing lan wangji to just fucking stay in bed) working with the jiang disciples, practicing archery, sword forms, and mooning after all the beautiful women here.

(”lan wangji, i know she’s scary, but have you seen madam yu? she could whip me with zidian and i’d thank her” “luo-guniang, please don’t ask madam yu to whip you” OR “lan wangji, i’m almost positive madam yu’s maids are a thing, do you think they’d let me join them just like once” “luo-guniang, could you please pass me my sword?” “why” “i’d like to put myself out of this misery” OR “she made me soup. lan wangji. lan wangji, i know you’re not sleeping, wake up, you have to listen to me, this soup”)

they end up staying so long that when wang lingjiao shows up threatening a child about a kite while sect leader jiang is away, she has a lot more to deal with than madam yu. since none of this had been a “sanctioned visit” no one actually knew that there was nearly an entire troop of jin disciples staying at lotus pier, so when the wens attack they are sorely unprepared for what they’re going to face.

(and ofc lan wangji breaks out of bed heroically and keeps madam yu from whipping wei wuxian, which means they aren’t down one of their most powerful fighters and mianmian has to suffer through the moon eyes they’re making at one another in the middle of a battle no less, she knew wei wuxian had no shame but she’d been hoping lan wangji would have some)

after the wen attack (and defeat) on lotus pier and the jin’s inarguable part in it, the war starts in earnest. lan wangji, after his long rest, heals fine and goes back to gusu to help rebuild his sect and plan for war, and mianmian and jin zixuan return to carp tower to plan as well, ignoring jin guangshan and focusing instead on his general to ensure lanling supplies necessary aid in the war effort

and war is always shitty, of course, and mianmian hates watching her sect family die on the battlefield, hates waiting for updates after every battle to see who’s still alive, hates the politics and jin guangshan trying to wheedle his way out of fighting when there’s fucking lives on the line

(and she could never know, how much easier it is, with yunmeng jiang at its full strength, with one of the brightest minds of their generation there to plot and help, with two of the best fighters not out searching for someone and instead focused on the front)

they reach nightless city after months of fighting and mianmian is ready to just fucking stab wen ruohan herself when they’re suddenly trapped. blocked in on all sides by puppets, their fallen soldiers rising again to turn on them, and it--it looks like they’re gonna die.

“this sucks,” she says to lan wangji, stifling her fear and choking it down. “i never even got to kiss a girl.”

lan wangji just says “mn.”

jin zixuan, beside them, says, “i was an idiot about jiang-guniang.”

lan wangji just says, “mn.”

then wei wuxian pulls out a fucking flute and a-- floating piece of metal? the army of puppets and corpses stops advancing, held in place by-- music, apparently? and wen ruohan emerges from his lair, black energy falling off him in waves, wei wuxian the idiot flies forward to meet him, gets wen ruohan’s hand around his throat for his trouble.

lan wangji yells, “wei ying!” and mianmian thinks, really not fair that lan wangji is gonna get a boyfriend before i get a girlfriend

and then wen ruohan gets stabbed by jin zixuan’s half brother of all people. wen ruohan, along with his puppets and wei wuxian, fall to the ground. lan wangji rushes forward to catch wei wuxian, mianmian runs after him, finds herself in company with jin zixuan and jiang cheng. when they get there, wei wuxian is barely conscious but he’s-- he’s fucking grinning up at lan wangji from the cradle of lan wangji’s arms

“lan zhan,” he says, “you caught me.”

lan wangji nods, says, “mn,” which is basically his equivalent of i’ll always catch you, wei ying.

“really,” mianmian says aloud, “it’s so unfair.”

the aftermath of the war is more annoying than the war itself, what with all the politics and in-fighting and jin guangshan trying to be the biggest dick there ever was. jin guangshan tries to name himself chief cultivator in wen ruohan’s stead but nie mingjue suggests jiang fengmian instead and the lan sect backs him. jin guangshan tries to demonize the wens but at wei wuxian’s loud rebuttal and sect leader jiang’s backing (which is then backed by both gusu lan and qinghe nie) he’s once again shouted down. and then jin guangshan tries to propose to jiang-guniang for his son and the poor woman just seems so awkward and her father doesn’t seem to know what to say and--

mianmian elbows jin zixuan whose eyes widen ridiculously but, after another, harder hit, he suddenly stands. all eyes go to him, which mianmian knows he hates, but he bows to his father, then jiang yanli, and says, “jiang-guniang, forgive my father’s impertinence. this is not the time or place to be making such an offer, but he--” jin zixuan winces visibly. “--he knows of my feelings and wishes to make his foolish son happy. please, do not feel the need to respond.”

then he promptly sits down, flushing down to his neck, and mianmian shares a disbelieving glance with lan wangji from across the horrible nightless city palace room.

she’d really only meant for him to suggest jiang yanli answer privately, at a later time, but wow, jin zixuan really went for it. also no way jin guangshan knows his son has fallen in love with jiang yanli, so nice save face there. maybe he has been paying attention in all of their etiquette and political espionage classes.

jiang yanli flushes way prettier than jin zixuan and nods politely, stands and bows and thanks the jin clan for being considerate in this time of turmoil, perhaps they can discuss this matter at a later date (jin zixuan looks like he nearly faints at this, and mianmian feels vindicated in all her forlorn ranting. overreacting her ass)

when everything has been settled, wen qing has been appointed the new sect leader of qishan wen with promises to return land to those who lost it and pay reparations to the hurt civilians, as well as have the yin iron destroyed for good. during the final ceremony where all the sects have tea and pledge to be loyal to one another (until the next great war, of course) mianmian leans close to lan wangji and sighs, “her ears look even lovelier with her hair tied back by her new sect leader hairpiece.”

lan wangji says “mn” because he’s a cut sleeve in love with wei wuxian and has nothing even closely resembling taste.

mianmian, on her own, decides to make them both happy. before the jin clan departs from nightless city, she goes up to wei wuxian and asks for a moment of his time. wei wuxian seems confused but follows and, once they’re alone, he says, “mianmian, are you about to get me into bed, because i must tell you that i am a respectable young cultivator and you’ll need to marry me before--”

mianmian gives him her best unimpressed look (she’s had much practice with it, thank you jin zixuan) and cuts him off with, “i like women.”

wei wuxian’s eyes go wide. “but you and lan zhan--”

she cuts him off again before he can say something so stupid she has to stop talking to him to refrain from breaking all laws of propriety. “look,” she says, “you’re friends with wen qing. now that she’s sect leader, your brother can’t go after her. i, on the other hand, very much can. if you promise to figure out a way for me and her to get close, i’ll tell you a secret you’ll like very much.”

wei wuxian seems hesitant for all of half a second before he breaks. “tell me.”

“do you promise?”

wei wuxian raises three fingers. “promise.”

“on your sister’s life?”

begrudgingly, wei wuxian nods.

“on her soup?”

“just get on with it!”

mianmian smirks, pushes onto her tiptoes, and whispers the secret into wei wuxian’s ear. with that, she returns to the pavilion where all the sects mingle as they wait to depart, wei wuxian trailing behind her in a daze, his mouth hanging open.

lan wangji, who had been watching since mianmian asked wei wuxian for a moment to talk, frowns nearly imperceptibly. mianmian grins at him and his frown grows.

ah, whatever. she walks over to him, unbothered by the quickly growing alarm in his eyes. once next to him, she turns around to see wei wuxian staring unabashedly. her smile only widens.

“you’re going to thank me for this,” she says.

wei wuxian shakes himself, his eyes focusing, and immediately starts walking towards them.

lan wangji, voice flat but wavering, asks, “luo-guniang, what did you do?”

mianmian laughs, says, “i get to give a speech at your wedding,” and walks away just as wei wuxian reaches them.

(she does, actually, give a speech at their wedding. she may or may not be drunk during it, jin zixuan gets embarrassed for her, and she starts tearing up and has to hide it in the shoulder of her wife’s lovely well-tailored robes. it’s alright, though, wen qing doesn’t mind)

EDIT: now on AO3 with a real fic version from lwj’s pov!

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adriensaltprompts · 2 years

Text

submitted prompt:

(edited a bit for clarity)

Syren AU in which we use just a few important facts to change how things will go:

Adrien is a terrible hero, and an awful person.

Plagg hates transforming, even more so when his holder, Adrien, is constantly abusing him via starving the poor kwami or ignoring his advices and opinions and violating the poor kwami’s rights.

Adrien doesn’t know that the kwamies are slaves.

And finally, Plagg already knows Ladybug’s identity at that point.

——-

It starts from when Adrien threatens Plagg by taking off the Ring if Plagg didn’t tell him whatever secrets Ladybug is hiding from him.

Plagg tries to placate Adrien, but even then, a feeling of rage and hatred is bubbling inside him.

Plagg hates this.

He hates how he is forced to be in this situation.

He loathes how he is forced to transform people. Even more so when his power is completely unneeded.

He loathes how Adrien doesn’t even treat him with basic decency, not even giving him the time or chance to eat on his leisure or even finishing his meal.

He loathes how much of an irresponsible jerk his so-called “chosen” is, not even interested about doing his job of protecting the city unless he gets to harass Marinette and try to control her.

And Plagg can only hide his rage as Adrien is literally guilt-tripping and blackmailing him by abandoning the city in the middle of a crisis, all so he can get a secret not his to know, and one that Plagg is literally unable to speak without permission.

The only thing Plagg can be happy about is that Adrien doesn’t know how easy to control him.

But even that can easily be taken from him at any moment.

And that scares Plagg.

He was already abused from the moment he was shackled into the Ring.

He doesn’t want to lose any more of his rights. Doesn’t want to lose his ability to think freely.

Plagg won’t allow that, not if there’s anything he can do to stop it.

The fight with Syren ends with Adrien knowing about Fu the way it does in canon, but that means nothing to Plagg.

He had already planned on what to do.

====

The moment Plagg is sure that Adrien fell asleep that night, he outright leaves, going directly towards Marinette’s house.

He felt a little bad for having to wake her up, but he had no other options.

After Marinette and Tikki wake up, wondering what the problem is, he happily, with a smile, states just what Adrien was doing to him, and what Adrien did that Marinette didn’t know about.

He can’t say what Adrien did as a civilian because of identity rules, but what Adrien was doing while supposedly having the job of saving Paris? He totally can.

He tells them about what happened with Theo, and what happened during Syren’s attack.

He pointed the many times where Adrien always ignored the safety of other people, when he purposely laughed at their suffering.

Plagg even stated how his holder doesn’t give him food, even though he can easily because he’s rich, how Plagg found himself pulled into the Ring screaming more times than he can recall.

Marinette and Tikki pale more and more as they hear Plagg’s rant, and Marinette gets horrified, and realizes that Fu messed up big time by not checking on Plagg.

One thing is clear for her though: Chat Noir should have his Miraculous taken away.

Otherwise, he might grow even more obnoxious and even cause permanant damage by misusing the miraculous.

How this ends for Adrien is for you to decide; he will definitely lose the Ring after this, but whether he starts blaming others for the consequences of his faults or he grows up from this experience is up in the air.

And of course, how does Marinette deal with the realization of Fu being a not-so-wise Guardian?

And maybe even realizing what the relation between a kwami and their miraculous is really like?

#submitted prompt #submission #Adrien salt #adrien salt prompts #ml salt #ml salt prompts #miraculous ladybug #ml writing prompts #Adrien Agreste #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Ladybug #Chat Noir #chat noir salt #plagg deserves better #Plagg Miraculous #Show!Miraculous #Show!Marinette #Show!Adrien

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overthinkingfandom · 3 years

Text

Cards on the Table - Breaking down the tactics in L'manburg Independence

/rp /dsmp

Much has been said in the fandom about L'manburg's independence. It is, after all, arguably the most important moment in DSMP's history, as the rest of the story wouldn't have existed without it.

In light of the recent anniversary of it, yes I know I’m late, I wanted to throw my hat in the ring and add something to the discussion surrounding it. However, as the morality of the situation has been discussed to death I'll be taking a slightly different approach to it.

Due to the nature of the DSMP's medium, the story has many unique quirks. One of those quirks is how realistic the tactics used in the story's portrayal of politics are. The independence conflict is a great example of it. While on the surface things seem to be rather simplistic in nature, there's a lot more going on that’s less obvious.

Both Wilbur and Dream are brilliant politicians who get to show both their strengths and weaknesses in dealing with an equally skilled opponent in this encounter. There’s actually quite a bit to go into, despite their interactions being so short.

When most people think about the L'manburg's independence, they think about the moment the declaration has been written up and the subsequent declaration of war. While this moment is certainly iconic, it's not really all that impactful in the grand scheme of things. Both declarations are the culmination of decisions that have been made beforehand. It's the moment when those decisions were made that really influenced things.

Conveniently, Wilbur and Dream only hold a single conversation about L'manburg before the declarations are drawn up, so we don’t need to look far in order to figure out where those decisions were formed.

Wilbur has been working on L’manburg, collecting materials and building the wall surrounding it, for almost an hour when he spots Dream lurking. “Get [Dream] into the VC, I need to talk with him. He’s the leader of the other nation, I think we need to have a congress.” (52:44)

Dream: “Hello?”

Wilbur: “Hello Dream. Welcome to our great nation of L’manburg.”

Dream: “L’manburg?”

Wilbur: “Yes. We are seceding from Dream SMP. This is our own server now. This area, just this part [between the walls of L’manburg], is our server.”

Wilbur doesn’t waste any time before getting right down to business and talking about the matter at hand. However, the way he speaks about it here and in the rest of the conversation is fairly interesting. Wilbur is talking about L’manburg as if it’s something which already exists. They are seceding. This is their land. This conversation is merely a courtesy to give Dream a formal notice of their separation.

Yet, a bit later Wilbur shows he knows they need Dream’s acknowledgement in order for L’manburg to be its own entity. Independence is not a concrete thing that can just be taken or created on one person’s whim, after all. It only exists when the people with power agree it exists.

Wilbur: “Dream, basically all we want from you is just acknowledgement that we are an independent nation now. That’s all we need.” (56:20)

So if Wilbur knows they aren’t independent yet, why is he talking like that?

It’s because he’s using a salesman technique called an Assumptive Close. Instead of posing it as a question and putting the choice of agreeing or disagreeing in Dream’s hands, Wilbur acts as if it’s already true and leaves the burden of challenging his claims on Dream’s shoulders. He even moves on to ask secondary questions on how Dream feels about having embassies in his land (and notably he frames it as a question, unlike how he frames the topic of L’manburg’s independence) as if L’manburg is already a political entity.

Wilbur: “Dream, I’ve got a proposition for you. How do you feel about having Tommy’s land being an embassy? Like it’s an enclave in your own land.” (59:01)

Wilbur’s use of this technique has an interesting side effect in that it signals to Dream Wilbur is taking a non-compromising position in this negotiation. In essence saying “L’manburg is independent, take it or leave it.”

A non-compromising position is the game theory term for when someone goes, "I'm going to do that, this is going to happen and nothing can dissuade me from this course of action." It's a strong tactic which forces everyone to react to that person's position, reducing the others' options into a binary of either accepting that position or rejecting it.

This is a very common tactic and various manifestations of it can be seen all over history and media. From Martin Luther who refused to recant or compromise with his famous words of “Here I stand, I cannot do otherwise” to groups who cultivate a "with us or against us" mentality to heroic characters who say they would die before giving in to whatever Evil the story focuses on.

This is the situation Dream is facing here. He can either accept Wilbur's assertion that L'manburg is an independent entity by either encouraging them or even doing nothing, or he can reject Wilbur's assertion by acting against it.

As we all know, he ended up choosing the second option but what were his considerations for doing so?

For that we would need to know what his goal was here, something we don't really get a sense of from his conversation with Wilbur. However, he ends up stating what it was in a later conversation with Skeppy.

(Emphasis added by me and wasn’t part of the original dialogue.)

“Everyone can build wherever they want. [L’manburg] just decided to say that they get to determine where they can build and we can’t and we said well no, you can’t do that. And that’s what the whole war was over.” (31:44)

“[L’manburg] can’t tell us that we can’t go in their land. That’s all we wanted to say. That they’re not independent, they are a part of the Dream Team SMP. They’re just a delusional, small part." (34:26)

Dream lies a lot, so just because he says something doesn't mean it's necessarily true. However, this seems to be genuine. Dream has no problem telling Skeppy “we burned down their houses and blew up the whole land.” (32:36) later on in the conversation, so we can rule out that he's trying to paint himself in a better light, and there aren't really any other reasons for him to lie to Skeppy here about this.

When looking at Dream's options with his goal we can see the choice is pretty much a no-brainer.

Accepting is a total lose scenario for him. Not only will it fail to fulfill his goals, it would actively encourage the sort of behavior he doesn't want to happen, as Wilbur would set a precedent that so long as someone insisted hard enough and implied Dream is a bad person he would fold in negotiations and give them what they want.

Rejecting gets him far closer to his goal of railing against L’manburg’s exclusion. Going to war means he has to invest much more effort and resources into his reaction than if he just accepted as well as deal with the risks any war has, however the sheer difference in ability between Dream's side and Wilbur's side make the risk minimal.

Going to a war he’s pretty sure he can win VS encouraging the sort of thing he disapproves of, isn’t really a hard choice.

This is actually the result of a mistake on Wilbur's part. CC!Wilbur called his character naive (37:49) and he's not wrong. Wilbur has a tendency to act as he wishes and not take into account that people might disagree or retaliate. We see it with him saying they could just ignore the Americans (1:51:17) or during the elections when he told Quackity his scheme and got blindsided by Quackity deciding to run against him.

Historically, non-compromising positions worked best when the person who used it made sure rejection would be more costly than acceptance in one way or the other. In essence, narrowing down the options for others even more and leaving them only with acceptance.

Wilbur may have managed to wipe off the table all other options and put pressure on Dream to accept with his use of Assumptive Close, but he didn't do anything to prevent Dream from rejecting. In fact, it seems like Wilbur didn't even consider it as a valid possibility as he outright dismissed it when Dream brought it up as an option.

Dream: “What happens if the rest of the server decides to take over your land?”

Wilbur: “They can’t. It’s literally not how servers- Dream you’re supposed to be smart man, that’s not how servers work. You can’t just take over another person’s server.” (54:33)

But, you may be asking, if it was better for Dream to go to war against L'manburg rather than grant them independence, why did he end up giving into their desire for independence in the war? Wouldn't it have been better if he just saved everyone the trouble and gave it to them when they asked for it the first time? Or maybe Dream’s obsession with Tommy and his discs is just that strong?

We can find the answer to all those questions at Punz’ video where he shows the behind the scenes of the independence war, including some of the planning which went into it from the Dream Team’s side of the war. Specifically, this quote:

Dream: “[The L’manburgians] are never gonna give up. So then in the end the resolution will probably just be, we won but they can think whatever they want, we’re just going to ignore them because they’re essentially like- You want to think you’re independent? You’re not, you’re still part of the SMP, but if you want to think you’re independent, you can.” (9:04)

“They’re never gonna give up.”

Whether it’s true or not doesn’t matter, as this is what Dream thinks and so this is what dictates his actions. Perhaps he’s overestimating his opponents here, or maybe he’s talking about how even if L’manburg is defeated this time they would try again for independence in the future. In either case, it’s clear Dream thinks the best case scenario for him - completely preventing people from fighting for L'manburg's independence - is impossible.

So, he tries for the second best case. If he can’t prevent L’manburg, he’s going to allow it but only under Dream’s terms. That’s what his “they can think whatever they want” line is all about. He intends on giving them token independence here, something which would satisfy them but wouldn't pose a real threat. Which is exactly what he ends up offering them during the bow duel.

Dream: “Let me just clarify: if you win, we grant L’Manburg independence.”

Tommy: “Alright.”

Dream: “But we recognize it still as a part of the Dream Team SMP.”

Wilbur: “That’s fine, that’s a fine condition.” (40:54)

The token independence thing didn’t work out so well for him. L'manburg quickly grew to be seen as an entity separate from Greater Dream SMP by everyone, and so Dream was forced to concede and treat it as one as well.

However, despite this part of his plan failing, overall the independence war was a glowing success for Dream.

By giving L'manburg independence after winning the war, Dream sent a very clear message. L'manburg only gets to be independent so long as they stay on Dream's good side. If they don't adhere to the terms Dream sets out for them? He can and will kick their asses, as the war so aptly demonstrated.

This message is received loud and clear. During his entire presidency Wilbur went out of his way to treat Dream with respect and try not to piss him off. Something he clearly demonstrates a number of times, like when he asked if he should call Dream “king Dream” (59:08) or during the railway skirmish (24:16).

In fact, it can be argued that this message lasted all the way up to Tubbo's presidency. Unlike Quackity, who was perfectly fine with starting a fight with Dream, Tubbo knew first hand what a war against Dream looks like. He knew that they could not win a war against him, especially in their weakened state at the time, and that influenced his decision.

As Dream once said: "L'manburg can be independent but it can't be free."

#dsmp analysis #c!dream #c!wilbur #strategist c!dream #dreblr #dsmp #analysis #game theory stuff

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vickyvicarious · 3 years

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I def agree that Eliot likely ghosted Moreau rather than confronting him or anything, and iirc the implication is that Moreau never sent anyone after him to try and get him back - which in some ways could be worse, leaving Eliot glancing over his shoulder, wondering. and also expressing an awful certainty that Eliot won’t give away his secrets, won’t turn on him, is still *his* in some way that Eliot hates

Eliot successfully leaving is such an interesting detail, because based on their reunion scene I really do get the sense they really never were in any sort of contact since then, hostile or otherwise. In Eliot's POV, ghosting him like that speaks so clearly to fear of what would happen if he ever tried to outright deny/refuse Moreau. But when you look at it from the other side...

Well, I think it's multi-faceted on Moreau's part:

He's not burning bridges. Much like Eliot running off and never mentioning Damien to anyone.* That means Eliot didn't directly link himself with Moreau, sure, but also he never turned against him. Never told his secrets to anyone else or sought out revenge. By not hunting Eliot down, Moreau was making the choice to leave the door open for Eliot to willingly come back some day.

Moreau would know Eliot's skill best at the time. Pretty quickly after Eliot didn't show up, he could probably realize it was an intentional slipping of the leash. And he knew if he sent people after Eliot, especially right away, that a good number of them would die. It would cost a fair amount of money and men to take Eliot down, and given that he ran he probably would not react kindly to goons trying to bring him back by force. But going in person for some emotional manipulation wasn't a good first option either given how dangerous Eliot is; if Moreau misjudged the situation he'd be putting himself in potential danger. Eliot leaving seems to have been a surprise, so Moreau would be recalibrating how much influence he still has over Eliot... Better to let him leave, and if he wants to send hitmen after him later they will have a better chance of being effective when they aren't expected anymore.

Repercussions would be expected. And just like you say, by not actually sending anyone after Eliot, Moreau can play on his fear to punish him via unfulfilled paranoia. He doesn't have to do anything at all, but Eliot is still going to be a nervous wreck.

A lesser mindfuck: does he not care enough to chase me down? Maybe I never mattered to him at all. Not the way he mattered to me. These thoughts wouldn't be the most prominent but they would certainly occur from time to time, diminishing Eliot's importance in his own mind. Especially when they also come with no, he's letting me go precisely because he cares about me. Equally terrifying in a different way, even guilt-inducing though Eliot knows leaving is the morally right choice. But even if he's a bad person, Damien hasn't been bad to Eliot...

And another emotional power play, as you called out. Similar to the first thing on this list (and the 4th) but subtly distinct: Moreau still owns Eliot's silence. By not going after him when Eliot left him in the lurch, he's being gracious. By acting completely unconcerned about Eliot spilling any of his secrets, Moreau is being trusting. He just keeps acting like he has control over the situation (and thus, Eliot) by not showing that it bothers him at all, and Eliot's fear of Moreau is great enough to reinforce that bluff of power. Moreau's inaction demonstrates a kind of complete confidence that is terrifying to be on the other side of. Eliot is still controlled by it years later - too afraid to mention him at all. What this means is that if they ever encounter one another again, Moreau has to let Eliot make the first move. By acting like he wants Eliot back, he'd be admitting to losing him in the first place. This way, it's like he just allowed him a long vacation before welcoming him back home - a complete mindfuck.

*(This also has some really interesting implications for Eliot's position when he worked with Moreau. It seems there was no effort to put him in the spotlight or to emphasize his skills to other people, given that they don't already associate him with Moreau as the guy's "top enforcer" or whatever. (Unless you interpret this line as having an implicit "...even when they asked," but honestly it feels more to me like Eliot is saying he never broached the subject. Like he kept a secret others didn't even know to ask about.) This is further evidence for Moreau deliberately keeping Eliot and his skills all to himself, maybe a hidden ace kind of situation. Certainly implies a dynamic that is focused fairly strongly on only the two of them; one which increases his own influence over Eliot while limiting other meaningful connections.)

It all boils down to: Moreau knows he has lost Eliot in the short term. But he has always used Eliot best by invisible/unspoken threats, by acting out care and kindness and even love. Carrot and threat of stick: making Eliot want to obey and fear disobedience all the more for any punishment being unspecified. Reacting harshly would betray all that, in which case he would probably lose Eliot forever (whether to death or simply no longer manipulable). By letting Eliot go, he doesn't have him working for him either... but he also guarantees Eliot will avoid working against him, so it's no loss so much as a lack of gain. Instead of making an attempt that might fail, holding back provides him the illusion of omnipotence and generosity in one. And while it might not be likely, Eliot could still come back someday. And if that ever happened, Moreau's influence over him might even be stronger than before, since he's been both the benevolent god and the bogeyman in the shadows of Eliot's mind all this time.

And honestly? If not for the Leverage crew, this might have worked. Maybe Damien could eventually make the first move, or 'coincidence' could throw them together again, or maybe he'd just keep waiting for Eliot to get desperate enough to approach him first (the option he would obviously prefer). But whether or not he ever hired Eliot again, there is zero chance Eliot would have ever gone against him if not for Leverage.

#leverage #leverage meta #damien moreau #eliot spencer #my meta #anonymous #replies #damien is a cold and clever bastard #but also he genuinely thinks he likes eliot so the affectionate parts are REAL. just so is the deliberate choice to hurt him #after all how dare he leave #...all the more scary bc all these sides are real

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wingletblackbird · 3 years

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Parental Consent, Disclosure, and Coercion

Finally having life slow down enough that I feel I can maybe put my toes back into fandom proper, and (hopefully) get back to my WIPs. I was just thinking about Qui-Gon and how he decides to take Anakin with him back to Coruscant.

I have seen meta before discuss that Qui-Gon took a blood sample from Anakin without asking for his, or at least his mother’s, consent. I imagine this is no big deal in his mind. Midichlorian blood tests are supposed to be mandatory in the Republic, after all. Afterwards though, when Qui-Gon offers Anakin a chance to become a Jedi, he once again does some seemingly questionable things: He does not tell Anakin or Shmi what being a Jedi will entail.

Anakin does not know when he leaves to go to Coruscant that he will not be allowed to see his mother ever again. (Yes, Anakin worries if he’ll see her again, but that’s because he’s leaving her behind in slavery while he goes to get an education, not because he’s been told attachment is wrong. “What’s that got to do with anything?”) Anakin does not know when he goes to Coruscant that he will not be allowed to marry Padme when he grows up. He does not know when he goes to Coruscant what being a Jedi really entails. Anakin thinks this means he gets to free the slaves. The only thing Qui-Gon tells him is that it will be “hard.” What does hard mean to Anakin whose only knowledge of life is slavery? What does a Core-Worlder think “hard” is?

Ultimately, Shmi has no real say because she is a slave, and neither she nor Anakin have any real options. Sure, he could stay on Tatooine, but he’d probably wind up being a slave again since there is no one to protect him from re-enslavement. He has to go, run away and try to find some protection, or go to Coruscant.

Qui-Gon might care more about Anakin than most other Jedi, but from the moment he frees Anakin, he has an agenda. He is willing to not inform Anakin’s mother of the truth, and not inform Anakin of the truth to get it done. Worse still, even if Anakin were informed of the truth, he might still have had precious little option. Between Jedi and slavery, Anakin chose the Jedi with no knowledge of what he was even getting in to.

So if this is how Qui-Gon, one of the more compassionate Jedi acts, how do Jedi recruitment officers? I do not believe that Jedi outright kidnap children, (as a general rule), but I imagine there is a great deal of coercion. I imagine that they tell parents that they cannot care for a Force-sensitive child; they paint horror-story scenarios of what might happen; they do not sit down with the parent(s) and give them full-disclosure and allow them to make a decision. Nah, they just do whatever they have to to convince the parent(s) to give up their child. That is the goal. Why have them join up freely?

Ideally, Jedi would empower parents to care for their Force-sensitive children. Instead, they say that a non-Force sensitive person cannot possibly care for a Force-sensitive child as they ought to. In other words, they suggest that Force-sensitive people are more valuable and capable than non Force-sensitive people. This smacks of arrogance and superiority. Maybe non Force-sensitive parents cannot feel the galaxy the way their children do, but that does not mean that they do not have valuable lessons to teach. Nor does it have to mean that these children cannot be taught. Parents often arrange for their children to go to school, or get tutors after all. Having a gifted child does not make you an incapable parent. So, no, this is ultimately about control. The Jedi will do whatever it takes to get their hands on Force-sensitive kids. They say it is for the “Greater good.” They may not kidnap, but I think it’s safe to say they coerce.

In an ideal world, Anakin and Shmi would have been empowered by the Jedi. Shmi would have been freed, and given the means to support herself and her son. Then, the Jedi could have sat them down and explained what being a Jedi really meant. Shmi and Anakin could have decided then if that was something he wanted. Maybe if he’d had that freedom of choice, he’d have done better. At least, he would have known what he was getting into, and had some kind of mental preparation or plan.

There is another issue though: What if Anakin wants or needs to learn about the Force? Even in the ideal situation? Is his only option to become a Jedi? He can’t learn about the Force and know his mother? There are other groups, but they are not well-known. The Jedi have done a great job of ensuring their religion is the only way to go. If you want to learn about the Force,(or your parents decide you need to), typically you have to become a Jedi. This is appalling. No child should be denied an education, or help they need, because they do not ascribe to your religion. This thought process is starting to give me residential school vibes. Tell desperate parents that only you can care for their kids, but in order to get the help they need, well, they have to be brainwashed into your religion, I guess. Best case scenario for Anakin here is to tell his mom he’ll learn all he can from the Jedi about the Force, and then leave the Order when he is a knight. It’s not ideal, but what can you do? At least then though, it is a choice, he has a plan, and he has agency. He’ll feel far less trapped and scared then what happened in canon.

ETA: I don’t think I the Jedi are heartless. I do think if a child who wasn’t given up to the Order, but suddenly tapped into the Force and needed help would be granted emergency help. Additionally, this is not a slight on religious schools like Muslim or Christian schools today. Firstly, because there is an awareness there of what children will be taught and also because no forced separation is required. Religion is like an addition to education and not the sole focus. (This draft got published early. I don’t know why or how, but I meant to clarify that before posting.) My main issue here is less with religion and religious schools then it is with non-disclosure, coercion, and what might be considered forced conversion.

#Qui-Gon #Jedi Order #How does a transfer of guardianship from a mother to an institution happen so casually?#ripe for abuse #disclosure is important #shmi (and anakin) had a right to know #how else could they consent?#if they did not know what they were consenting to?

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moonbaby26 · 3 years

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Title: Telling the Truth

Pairing: Peter Maximoff x Reader, but also Magneto and Peter father/son interaction!

Summary: Continuation from previous chapter. Set during X-Men: Age of Apocalypse, you and the others finally defeat Apocalypse, just to end up stranded together until a way home can be devised. During the wait, you get to clear up some things with Peter on your feelings for him. Yet all goes sideways when Peter finally works up the courage to tell Magneto the truth about being his son.

Notes: For those that know the movies by heart, I made some more changes closer to the comics obviously. You’ll see.

Warnings: Some cursing, especially during the impromptu therapy session of Magneto and Peter unleashing their emotional baggage.

Chapters: Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Taglist: @drikawinchester , @n0obmaster69 , @alexloveskili , @what-a-silver-lining , @bluesprings18 , @weakmoony-stuff , @slytherinsi-mp , @wintwrsoldiwr , @tommy-braccoli , @amourtentiaa

Peter Maximoff x Reader Masterlist

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You didn’t know what you felt anymore. In a way it was like being outside of yourself. Just watching from somewhere far away even as you were pouring every ounce of strength you had left into your hands, blasting Apocalypse’s shield over and over.

You were trying to cause even the slightest, tangible bit of damage to him, just as Magneto was, just as Scott was. And yet, even with the three of you giving all you had, the monster had already gathered himself up again. With just the movement of one hand, he’d thrown Hank violently to the side when Beast had gotten too close while trying to help you all.

And only moments after Hank’s unconscious body had come to rest, Scott had faltered as well. In exhaustion, he’d finally had to close his eyes, pulling his glasses back down as he’d staggered backward. Then with another flick of the wrist, Apocalypse had all too easily slammed the boy into a building, the wall he hit then swelling out to cover and encase him like some living horror.

You could still hear Scott screaming even as you realized Apocalypse had now turned his attention towards you. With his every step closer, that numbness grew within you. You were too weak to fly away now, after all the energy you’d thrown at him, you were barely still standing.

But you could see the irritation in his expression. It was obvious that he couldn’t understand your loyalty to one another. Why any of you would be fighting this hard, just to die.

He kept reusing the same tricks, but they were effective. As the earth shot up around you like tendrils on a vine, you couldn’t break free. As quick and flexible as it was, it only felt like concrete wrapping all around you. It pinned your arms to your sides and wrapped around your legs, chest, and throat.

With a clenching of Apocalypse’s fist, it all drew tighter. And when your energy field finally gave out, the last of your shielding went away with it. As that light faded, the pain of being slowly crushed exploded through you. But you couldn’t scream when you couldn’t even breathe.

Apocalypse would have Xavier. That was all he wanted, then outright ignoring the straining of Magneto in the sky above him, Erik desperately trying to still do anything on his own now.

But as your sight blurred and your senses faded, it was the most surreal thing, you could still recognize Jean’s silhouette as she also moved out into midair.

Yet it wasn’t her, at least not as you knew her. Somehow that thought had still floated through your dying mind, before the world exploded all over again.

Even without being powered up, you could feel that surge. Like a pressure wave of pure, raw force. It seared across everything, hot and burning. But like a warm fire, for those far enough from the center, it only revitalized them. Hank was awakened suddenly, soon enough breaking the pieces that held you and giving you a chance to breathe again before he ran on all fours to also free Scott.

And yet for Apocalypse, someone far too close to that center, and the real target of Jean’s fury, the only option was to burn.

You were on your knees as you still tried to catch your breath, but you all knew opportunity when you saw it. She’d broken through his shield, torn through his armor. But even as his flesh seared away, it was still trying to heal back just as quickly.

Magneto had impaled him to the spot with multiple steel bars as soon as his shield had fallen, but Apocalypse was a coward. As soon as that tide had started to turn, he tried to flee.

Hank called out, “He’s getting away!” As Apocalypse tried to teleport, an energy shield rebuilding to close around him.

Even digging as deep as you possibly could, you only had enough left to make a large orb from one palm. That white light encasing just one of your hands rather than your whole body as you realized you had to make this last shot count.

And just as you thought you were not going to have another opening to get past his shield, lightning began striking down right on top of him. A hole broke in his field with the force, the white haired girl from before surprising you all with a sudden change of allegiance.

You threw your orb at once then, controlling it to come right through the opening she had made. It exploded directly against Apocalypse’s head and neck, further blasting away muscle and bone that no longer had time to heal under all the combined attacks.

But it was still Jean who dealt the killing blow. With one final powerful surge of her energy, screaming, she erased the last of him. His body broke into only ash under her red aura. It spread into the sky all around her, like wings of flame before extinguishing at last.

You were still waiting for some final confirmation that it was really over though, that you’d won. After a few moments of only the sound of the receding wind, and the sand lightly blowing past with it, it was like a collective acceptance at last.

You fell back with a large exhale, exhausted as you laid onto your back in the dirt. In the sky, you could see Magneto and Jean hover back to where Xavier was, no doubt to check on him now. You could only imagine if Magneto would soon be apologizing to his old friend, or not, for his part in all this.

But you didn’t rest in your silence for long. As you heard footsteps, you turned your head enough to see Hank’s clawed feet approaching. But he wasn’t alone. He had Raven on one side and Peter on the other, Peter more so the one he was propping up with that broken leg.

“Raven wants to go see Charles,” Hank said by way of some explanation, awkwardly helping Peter sit back down beside you as the other winced in pain. “I need you two to stay here while we see if there’s any medical supplies intact nearby, and while we try to figure out how on earth we’re going to get home now.”

While Hank spoke, you thought Raven might have still been giving you a kind of odd look. As if she was trying to make sense of something. You could assume what, after the abrupt display between you and Peter before. But you were just too tired to feel anything other than relief right now that everyone was still here at all.

“Okay,” You said, maybe just to check that you could talk, as much as your throat still hurt from being squeezed earlier. But the two older mutants were then gone just as quickly. Hank had picked up Raven, jumping over to the exposed second floor of the building where the Professor and the others were.

Peter was unnaturally quiet afterward. At least for a while before he finally looked down at you. “So holy shit, right?”

You glanced up. That phrase really could reference about anything that had happened today. You smirked tiredly. “Could you be a little more specific please?”

“I mean, your friend just vaporized that dude.” Peter answered, waving one hand. He couldn’t stop from being animated even if he tried it seemed, even when injured. “Did you know she could do that? Like damn, we could have been done an hour ago.”

You tried not to laugh. It’d hurt your ribs too much if you did. “No. I’d say she didn’t even know she could do that.”

“Well, I know who not to piss off,” He said, before going quiet for a bit again.

You still hadn’t been around him all that long in actual length of hours. But for all you’d now been through since first meeting at the mansion, it seemed like this morning was lifetimes ago. And you could sense that his mind was churning with something else he actually wanted to say.

You looked up to him again after a while. “You okay?” You asked. Which probably was still a bit ironic for you to question, as even though he had the broken leg, you were also the one laying in the dirt, too tired and hurting to properly sit up.

It still took him some time to respond though. Which told you he actually was trying to weigh his words somewhat before speaking. But when they did finally start to come out, he was still pausing and hesitating. “I’m, um, first of all, sorry about the whole surprise kiss there. I figured you’d just slap the crap out of me or something. But I thought we were going to die too, and I...I just-”

He was looking at the ground now, like there would be some answer there that would help him verbalize what he was trying to say. “I know I screw up a lot and let things go that I shouldn’t let go I guess. I already flaked out with the whole reason I came up to your house this morning, the whole Magneto thing. And I didn’t want to do that twice, not telling someone the truth again all in one day just because I was being chicken shit. You’re just really cool, and you know...I just wanted you to know that.” He looked back at you at last, as if trying to judge if any of this was making sense at all.

It did and it didn’t of course. You didn’t understand at all what he meant about why he came up to the house in the first place, or anything about Magneto. But you didn’t want to question on that when he was already making himself vulnerable with the main point you thought he was trying to make to you at least.

“Peter, I kissed you back remember? I mean yes, there was a lot of stress involved. But it doesn’t make it a mistake.” Now you were the one perhaps putting too much optimism in your thoughts here, and taking a risk. “Maybe it just made it happen a lot sooner than it naturally would have. But it doesn’t mean I didn’t want that, you know, eventually.”

Again, you’d only known each other for a day in real terms. Of course it was too much. But everybody had to start somewhere, right? You had no idea what a serious relationship could be like though, you’d never had one. Just awkward first dates that never became second dates because it was always just weird. You didn’t feel anything that way for those people and it was always evident so quickly.

And yet here came this guy, dropped into your life like a bomb in a time of utter chaos and danger, and you thought you were now finally understanding why your friends seemed to go so crazy when they told you about their “crushes” at school. It was just something that clicked. You couldn’t put rational thought to emotions like this.

“So you wanted to kiss me?” Peter finally asked in a way that was somewhat silly to you, because of course you wouldn’t have done anything like that if you didn’t actually want to. And yet you couldn’t make any dry reply to that effect when you saw the honest expression on his face as he’d asked.

Was it really so hard for him to believe that he would be wanted? You were surprised, genuinely. Of course he was quirky and odd, well maybe a great deal odd. But for all the flashy appearance and smugness you knew he could radiate, did he not actually see his own worth?

You touched his hand lightly, as you sat up at last. It hurt, but he needed to see your eyes to believe you now. You knew this was important. “You’ve had me flustered since you first introduced yourself this morning. I’m not used to that, at all, so it’s really new. I don’t really know how it’s all supposed to work, or what I’m supposed to do next. But I can at least speak to how I feel. I want to be around you more, I want to be close.”

The physical and the emotional went hand in hand really. But, you’d both have to figure out your own comfort level on that. You continued, trying to put that into words. He didn’t owe anything to you. “You need to remember it depends what you want too though. I can like you with or without kissing again. If you just want a friend, that’s okay too.”

He chuckled, seeming kind of taken aback. “Hell...” He looked away a moment, running his hand through his hair. It was obviously a nervous gesture, as it only made it look messier. “I’d really be a pathetic boyfriend you know. Like, epically bad.”

“You think so?” You asked, trying not to press too hard, but also not wanting him to keep seeming like he didn’t deserve any of this kind of attention.

“I’ll annoy you eventually, you’ll regret it.” He kept on, a little bit quieter then.

“How do you know I’m not annoying?” You countered. Of course you hoped you weren’t, you seemed to get along well with the other students, and they ran the gamut of so many kinds of personalities. But really, how was it fair for him to assume any fault would only be his?

“Pfft.” He looked back to you. “You literally glow. It’s not even metaphorical. You’re like perfect, and-“

Did Apocalypse ding him in the head too? You were having none of that. “I’m nothing of the sort. And neither are you.” But you smiled before he could take that negatively. “And I’m totally good with that.”

He quieted again, just watching you for an awkward while, before finally responding. “I guess we can try. I mean as long as you’re admitting now that your taste in guys is really this bad and you won’t get mad at me later for saying I told you so.”

It didn’t seem proper to laugh, but he made you want to. “I’ll overlook you insulting the both of us. But yes, if you want to try, then so do I.”

“Okay.” He answered. Then seemed to realize the depth of this a little more. “Shit...didn’t expect to get mutant-napped by the government, fight a god, break my leg, and become a boyfriend all in the same day.”

“And rescue a whole mutant school,” You added.

He shrugged purposefully for effect. “That’s what heroes do, babe.”

The pivot from so self conscious that he could barely accept your attraction to him, to now wanting to brag again really was something to behold. You started to quip something back, but stopped when you saw his face go serious. He was now looking at something abruptly in the distance, so you turned your head to follow his gaze.

It was Magneto.

You straightened up as well, now fully sitting up before Erik landed in front of you both.

He was direct, speaking immediately. “It will still be some time before Charles’ little CIA friend can get her cohorts to arrange your transport out of here.”

You didn’t know if the distaste in his tone was more about Moira being a government agent, or just dislike to her presence here entirely, but he only continued. “And given that Hank has no idea how to field dress wounds without access to his full laboratory, I get that responsibility.”

Peter shifted, abruptly realizing the meaning then. “I’m fine,” He lied.

Of course he absolutely wasn’t fine. But clearly distrusting about whatever Magneto now had planned and the inevitable pain it could mean for him. Peter hadn’t moved his leg at all in the entire time you’d been sitting here together.

Erik only answered him sharply, “You need a splint before you do even more damage to yourself.”

As he then raised his hands, metal rebar started to drag itself out from the broken buildings all around you, leaving no question that this was no longer a choice for Peter.

It was hard not to think that just a short time ago, Magneto had been using that same kind of power to impale Apocalypse over and over again. And yet now he showed how controlled he could be, breaking the thin rebar into lengths that could run all the way from Peter’s thigh to just above his ankle, and even bending them slightly to match the natural curvature of the knee.

“Lift his leg.” Erik spoke.

You’d been so distracted with watching him work the metal, that it took you a moment to realize the command was for you. You looked briefly to him, then to Peter. You and Peter both shared the same nervous expression.

If you just used your hands, you felt like you would only hurt him, not being able to support his whole leg in a way that wouldn’t put more pressure on the break. But you also didn’t know if you’d rested long enough sitting here to use your powers at all either.

Someone as intimidating as Magneto standing over you both impatiently certainly didn’t help.

But if it meant less discomfort for Peter, you’d at least try. You lifted both your hands, facing your palms towards Peter’s leg while focusing as best you could. Normally what would have been fairly simple now took a good deal of effort in your still drained state. But a faint white glow did start to move across his leg, eventually covering it from his hip all the way to the end of his foot.

Once enveloped, you raised just your fingertips, lifting his entire leg gently, just high enough that Magneto could place the metal bracing around it.

You heard Peter make a small sound of pain as Erik had circled other metal strips around the longer ones that ran parallel with his leg, snugging it all into place. But beyond that, the unconventional first aid seemed to be successful. His leg was effectively now immobilized as you let it back down softly, the light fading away as you let go.

“I look like a Mad Max reject,” Peter commented absently, breaking the silence after a moment as he poked at the new metal contraption.

“You’ll be running and finding trouble again soon enough I’m sure. We still heal faster than the lesser species.” Magneto responded, but not all that surprising to you really that he would still find ways to throw jabs at non mutants even in an unrelated conversation.

What did surprise you was that when Erik had started to turn to no doubt leave again now that his task was done, it was Peter that stopped him.

“Hey, wait a second.”

You didn’t think you were imagining a new anxious sound in Peter’s voice either, and it bloomed all new nerves in you as well. What was it between the two of them? There had been confusing hints of something ever since you’d gotten to Egypt, but Peter had never elaborated to you. Not that he’d really had much chance either though.

But just because of who Magneto was, it was easy to imagine things taking a dangerous turn if the wrong thing was said or done, but you had no idea how to help when you didn’t even know what had Peter so focused on him.

You felt him touch your hand, like a physical desire for support, as he asked Erik in the most serious voice you’d ever heard from him. “Do you remember a woman named Magda Eisenhardt?”

Magneto went rigid, and you froze as well. Very suddenly you were wondering if the others could still see you from here. If they were paying you any mind at all right now. But the only person here fast enough to actually get away from Erik, was here beside you with one wing clipped essentially. There’d be no escape.

“How do you know that name?” He’d turned fully back to face you both, eyes locked on Peter.

By the way Peter had seemed to pause his breathing, he wasn’t immune to the sense of threat either, but he still answered. “Well she goes by Maximoff now. She’s my mother.”

You felt like a helpless bystander watching some kind of disaster unfolding in slow motion. The frightening look in Magneto’s eyes versus the way Peter was now almost squeezing your hand painfully. The mental gymnastics your mind was now going through were chaotic. Did Magneto do something to Peter’s mother? Were they enemies? Was this some vengeance quest?

But if any of that were true, why on earth would Peter confront him now? With both of you already injured with not a chance to survive or defend against someone of Magneto’s power?

Whatever frightful things were burning through Erik’s mind as well still silenced him long enough for Peter to speak again though. And it all came out then.

“I was too afraid to tell you earlier, but I guess I’m just ripping the damn band aid off everything now. She told me about you. How she left because she was afraid of you too. But she didn’t tell you about being pregnant. She went to the states, changed her last name and had me. Me and my sister Wanda. Twins. But I didn’t know any of that about you when I busted you out of the Pentagon those years back. I didn’t know who you really were. That you were the guy I thought had just run off, or maybe you were dead. I didn’t know my father was in a damned plastic cell less than ten fucking miles away all those years when we had nothing!”

A chill went through you. The anger in Peter’s voice towards the end only added to the shock as you were forced to process everything at once. This was why. God. Just...shit.

You were all silent after that. For an unbearable amount of time there was silence.

When Erik finally did speak, you heard the anger in him too, but it was different. There was a raw pain in that, something so extremely deep coming out of him now. His fist was clenching. “She was right, boy. If it’s all true, then Magda was goddamn right to do everything in her power to hide you from me and to try to put an ocean between us back then.”

With a little horror, you could see the smallest fragments of metallic debris starting to quiver along the ground. His emotion carrying over into the environment now.

“I did remarry after I escaped Washington and went back to Europe. We even had a little girl. Anya.” There was the slightest sheen of wetness in his eyes, even though sheer anger was the only look still coming from them. “They killed them. My wife. My daughter. The humans killed them because of who I was!”

He gritted his teeth, and you could plainly see a couple tears escape his eyes then before disappearing back behind the sides of his helmet.

“They would have done the same to you and your sister eventually. To Magda too. She knew she’d be caught in the crossfire even when I didn’t. She knew what I really was.”

“It doesn’t make it right!” Peter’s voice surprised you as it broke, uneven and just as emotional as he yelled back at Erik. But he looked down again afterward, his hand trembling against yours. “I’m sorry what they did, that was our little sister too then. But you can’t just lie to someone their whole life. My mom shouldn’t have waited so long to tell me! I could have helped you...maybe it could have been different. Maybe we-”

“It would have been the same result.” Erik said coldly. “Because I would have been the same.”

With that he flew off abruptly, completely out of sight before Peter cursed under his breath, looking defeated. “Goddamnit. He really is an asshole...”

You opened your mouth to respond, maybe to try and comfort him, but then hesitated. There was so much to digest on both sides here. “I think he might just need time to cool off...” You finally said, as delicately as you could.

“Correct.” The Professor’s voice popped into both your heads then, leading you both to glance towards the broken building where the others had been, to now see they were all standing on the edge looking towards you.

“Apologies for eavesdropping,” Xavier continued. “But you were getting quite loud, both verbally and mentally, and I wanted to make sure you were safe as I had instructed the others not to interfere.”

Peter sighed, maybe a bit embarrassed at the audience, but also still clearly unused to having anyone in his head as he replied aloud. “That’s so damn weird. Guess you’re good now then?”

“Getting there, thanks to all of you.” Xavier answered with a slight amount of humor, “But helmet or no helmet, I don’t need to read Erik to tell you that he’ll be back. His anger is only towards himself, not to you. You did the right thing by letting him know the truth. He’ll come around.”

There was another odd feeling of amusement from the Professor after a moment though. “In fact, knowing how possessive Erik can be, I dare say you may get more than you bargained for, Peter, in parental attention. Good luck to you too, (Y/N). Though I’d think he’ll approve of you once he realizes how much you genuinely care about his son.”

You stared, knowing Xavier couldn’t see your ‘are you for real/horrified’ expression from this distance but that he’d definitely feel it.

You saw Raven make an exaggerated gesture of a thumbs up from way over there and Peter laughed tiredly. “We’re totally screwed aren’t we?” You sighed and he just leaned into you, teasing. “See? Too early to say it yet? Nope, it’s not. Told ya so. Told ya so. Terrible choice of a boyfriend, babe!”

You put your head on your knees as he rubbed one of your shoulders. You mumbled numbly. “I just want to sleep for sixteen hours.”

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(Continued in next chapter here)

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