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penmansparadise · 2 years

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Loki Laufeyson Imagine ~ The Blacksmith’s Daughter

*THIS IS NOT MY GIF* *CREDIT TO GIF OWNER*

Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x Asgardian Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: Like two swear words and Odin being a dick.

a/n: Well, here is the imagine I said I was going to write. I actually really liked how this turned out. This is my first Loki imagine, so please go easy on me. I did my best trying to stay true to his character’s voice. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this!! Remember, my asks are always open, and my requests for select Marvel characters are now open as well. So, please, please, PLEASE don’t be afraid to request something!!! Thanks for reading, everyone!

The familiar sound of metal crashing onto metal filled Y/N’s ears as she sat and watched her father work. A stack of nearly finished swords sat to his left. It wasn’t uncommon for Y/N to watch her father work. Not only did it fascinate her, but she loved her father’s pride in his craft. Her father was a hardworking man who, despite being a member of the lower class, had made quite a name for himself. All the weapons and armor warriors in the Asgardian Army used were handcrafted by her father. He even made the royal family’s gear. That’s how she came to meet Loki. The memory always seemed to resurface when she was at her father’s workshop. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she remembered the first time she laid eyes on the dark-haired God.

It was a funny story, actually. Had Y/N’s father not forced her to help him at work that day, the two of them may not have ever met. But after that first time, she never missed a chance to visit the palace with her father. It all started when Odin had ordered new armor for his two sons. Something that would keep them safe, “Just in case those blasted Dark Elves decide to come back.” Those were his exact words. Y/N’s father obliged and created the most extravagant pieces for Thor and Loki. There was so much that he needed help delivering it, and who did he recruit to assist him? His lovely daughter, Y/N. While her father was helping Thor with his armor, Y/N took Loki his, and as soon as their eyes met, it was like the stars had finally aligned. For the first time, Loki was actually at a loss for words. He couldn’t believe that such a beautiful person could exist. He was absolutely enamored.

Their first interaction didn’t last very long. Y/N handed him his armor, and then Odin was ushering her and her father out the palace doors. Loki watched her walk away, and as soon as she was gone, he knew he had to see her again. He told his father that he needed new daggers, so Odin ordered them. He said his headpiece felt a little tight, so Odin ordered another one. At one point, he was so desperate to see Y/N that he told Odin the lock to his sleeping quarters wasn’t working, and the blacksmith and his daughter had to come to fix it. And with every call, Y/N and her father would go.

With each interaction, Loki got more and more confident. He would speak to Y/N a little more each time until, eventually, he was able to have a full-on conversation with her. But once Odin stopped falling for Loki’s lies to get Y/N and her father back into the palace, he had to find another way to see her. So, he started to venture off to visit her. At first, he pretended it was all business. But soon enough, it was clear that he was not there for weapons. It wasn’t long after that when Loki started taking Y/N on secret dates. He would whisk her off to little secluded areas of Asgard she had never seen before. The two spent many nights cuddling up together under the stars talking. It was on one of those secret dates where Loki, fumbling over his words, finally asked Y/N to be his girlfriend. It had been months since then, and much to Loki’s dislike, they still kept their relationship secret.

“Y/N!” Y/N’s father shouted over his hammering.

“Hm?” She asked, coming back from her reverie.

“Could you run out to the shed and grab the handles I made last night for these swords? They should be on the table next to the door.” Without a second thought, she hopped up and wandered out the back door toward the shed. Just as she was about to open the shed door, two hands wrapped around her waist, spun her around, and pinned her against the tiny building. Even after months of sneaking around, Loki still seemed to maintain the element of surprise. A charming smile graced his lips as he looked down at Y/N. His hair fell over his face, casting shadows that made his already perfect features even sharper. There was absolutely no mistaking that he was a God.

“Hello, darling,” he said, his words coming out so smooth they dripped off his tongue like honey. Y/N couldn’t help the butterflies that erupted in her stomach. Somehow, even after all those months, the way he spoke to her still made her feel giddy. Loki bent down and gave her a soft kiss, barely letting his lips brush against hers. Y/N quickly dragged Loki into the shed, slamming the door behind the two of them.

“Loki,” Y/N said, as she peeked through a small crack in the door, “how many times do I have to tell you not to come here during the day? Someone could have seen you.”

Loki rolled his eyes and took Y/N’s hands into his.

“And how many times do I have to tell you that I don’t care if anyone sees me. We’ve been together for months now. Don’t you think it’s about time we stop sneaking around?”

Y/N pulled away from Loki’s grasp to peek out the crack again. “Loki, I know you say that but what would happen if your father found out? I mean, look at us. You’re you, and I’m me.” Y/N’s words fell flat as she continued to monitor for people. Loki let out a sigh before he retook her hand and turned her to face him. He moved his free hand to cup her cheek.

“I wouldn’t care if everyone in the Nine Realms knew I’m in love with you.” Loki said, sending Y/N’s heart into a fit of flutters. “And, I’m not afraid of my father.”

“You don’t care what your father would say if he knew you spent your free time with someone so inferior?” Y/N asked with a playful grin. Loki gave a low hum that vibrated through Y/N’s whole body.

“Oh, darling, you are anything but inferior. And, no, I don’t care, and I’ll prove it.” Y/N leaned into his touch and let out a rush of air from her nose.

“How so?”

Loki’s mouth quirked upward at the challenge in Y/N’s question.

“Come to dinner tonight at the palace,” he said, earning a snort from Y/N.

“Are you insane?”

“Come on, Y/N. It’ll be fine. My mother will be thrilled to meet you.”

Y/N dropped her head and grumbled, “It’s not your mother I’m worried about.” Loki placed a finger under her chin, raising her gaze to meet his.

“And my father will behave,” Loki said firmly. They held each other’s stare, Loki’s eyes pleading before Y/N finally broke. She heaved a sigh.

“Fine.”

Loki’s face lit up at that single word before planting a swift kiss on her lips. Y/N couldn’t help but grin at Loki’s childlike excitement at the mere thought of bringing Y/N home to meet his mother.

“I’ll send a horse and carriage to pick you up, okay?”

Y/N nodded.

“Okay. Now,” she said, shoving Loki toward the shed door, “get out of here. My father probably thinks I’ve been sucked into a wormhole.” Loki chuckled, gave another chaste kiss, then disappeared behind the door.

The rest of the day seemed to drag by before Y/N finally found herself standing in front of her bedroom mirror. Her hair was pulled back half-up-half-down and adorned with a tiny golden pin. Her hands unconsciously flattened her dress down as she stared at herself. It wasn’t anything special. Being a member of the lower class, fancy fabrics were not as readily assessable. It was the nicest dress she owned, though. An emerald green floor-length gown that bared her shoulders and cinched in the waist. She stood there and sighed.

“Big date tonight?” Y/N’s mother asked from the doorway. Y/N smiled at her through the mirror and shrugged.

“I guess you could say that.”

Her mother nodded before entering and perched herself on the bed’s edge.

“He’s going to fall at your feet when he sees you in that dress.” She said. Y/N smiled at her mother’s comment.

“I’m not sure this dress is that dazzling,” she said, “I think he’s seen much nicer garb than what I’m wearing.” Y/N’s mother got up and moved to stand behind her.

“Nonsense,” she said, a playful glint in her eye, “the Prince would be foolish to do anything less.”

Y/N gasped.

“How did you…” she trailed off. Before Y/N could question anything else, her mother held a finger up.

“Another time, sweetheart. Right now, your chariot awaits.” And with that, Y/N’s mother was leading her to the front door where a beautiful ornate carriage being pulled by a stark black horse was waiting for her.

The coachman helped her inside before returning to the front of the carriage. And soon, they were riding off toward the palace. The closer they got, the more anxious Y/N felt. Several things were clouding her mind. What would the All-Mother and All-Father think of her? What if they didn’t like her? What if they didn’t even let her enter the palace? But all those thoughts floated away when the carriage pulled up in front of the palace, and Y/N saw Loki.

Standing at the foot of the palace steps, Loki looked transcendent. His black layered tunic and coat with hints of green swayed in the wind. He didn’t waste any time helping Y/N out when the carriage came to a halt. He swung the door open, and his staple smile played on his lips. Up close, he looked even better than before. His dark hair fell in lazy waves over his shoulders. In the setting sun, Y/N could see the intricate golden patterns sewn into his attire that she missed when she first arrived. Loki offered her his hand and helped her step out, taking in her figure. His eyes didn’t miss anything, climbing from her sandals all the way up to her frizzy hair. Y/N blushed.

“I’m sorry I’m not dressed in anything spectacular. This is the nicest gown I could find under such short notice.”

Loki took a step back, let his hungry eyes devour her curvy figure again and shook his head.

“Not to worry, love,” he said, when his stare finally met hers, “you look absolutely ravishing.” Loki pulled her to his body and snaked his arms around her waist. “Are you ready?” Y/N blew out a long breath.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

Loki smiled, placed a sweet kiss on her lips, and then took her hand, leading her inside the palace doors.

It was much larger than Y/N remembered. She couldn’t control her swiveling head as she tried to take in everything. Paintings covered the ceilings, and large golden pillars stood on either side of each corridor. It was beautiful.

“They tell the stories of my family,” Loki said, pointing toward the paintings. “One day, I’ll have to retell them to you. They’re quite boring, but the artwork is exquisite.”

Y/N couldn’t help the giggle that bubbled out of her. It was such a Loki thing to say.

As the two of them rounded the corner to the dining hall, Y/N’s heart felt like it was going to run off without her. Loki gave her hand a tight squeeze before pushing the doors open, revealing a large room occupied by only a long table with several chairs around it. Upon entering, it became very clear that they were the last to arrive. Thor and Jane were already sitting on one side of the table opposite Frigga, and Odin at the head. She whipped her head toward Loki.

“You didn’t tell me we were late,” she hissed at him.

Loki released her hand and moved his to her lower back. But before she could say anything else, they were at the table. Loki was beaming, his smile bigger and brighter than Y/N had ever seen it.

“I apologize for making you all wait. I would like to formally introduce you to my guest, Y/N.” Loki said, winding his arm a little more around Y/N’s waist until his hand rested on her hip. Y/N gave a weak smile and the best curtsy she could with Loki’s arm around her.

“I’m very grateful to be here tonight. Thank you for having me.”

Before Y/N stood upright again, Frigga was already on her feet and moving toward her.

“The pleasure is all ours, my dear. We are just thrilled that Loki has finally brought a young lady home.” She said, grinning wildly at Y/N. The nerves that Y/N were feeling seemed to disappear under Frigga’s soft stare. But just as quickly as she began to get comfortable in the palace, the tension came back in full force when Odin stood. His harsh leer was unmistakable as he took in her less than lavish dress. When his eyes finally met Y/N’s again, he just gave a dissatisfied grunt and took his seat. Y/N’s skin crawled a little at the disrespect Odin showed her, but she let it pass as she followed Loki to their seats.

It was quiet at first. The tension was thick in the air, and no one wanted to speak. Y/N’s leg began to jump under the table, only stopping when Loki’s hand gently rested on her knee. She turned to look at him and gave him a small smile before mouthing, “Thank you.” He gave her knee a little squeeze just as Odin cleared his throat, pulling them out of their little bubble.

“So, Y/N,” he said, his voice gruff compared to the melodic sound of Frigga’s, “tell us about your family.”

Y/N tensed but quickly regained her composure, straightening in her seat. She knew what Odin was doing. He was trying to make a point of singling her out. Showing everyone at the table that because of her lower status, she was less than. But she wasn’t going to let him win.

“Well, my father is a blacksmith. One of the most renowned blacksmiths in Asgard, and my mother is a servant.”

The pride in her voice was eminent. She didn’t care that she was surrounded by the Royal Family and one of the most famous Midgardian scientists. Y/N was not ashamed of herself or her family. Odin looked at Y/N, but she didn’t crack, holding her head high. He gave a disgusted grunt, and Y/N smirked before turning to face Frigga.

“The palace is beautiful. It’s so much bigger than anything I’ve ever seen.” She turned and placed a hand on Loki’s forearm. “Loki tells me the paintings are the story of your family.”

Frigga smiled at Y/N’s hand on Loki, then moved her eyes to meet Y/N’s.

“Why, thank you, Y/N. And, yes, those paintings carry a lot of meaning. I’m sure Loki will show you all the hidden paintings in the palace and tell you all the stories. He is a wonderful storyteller, after all.”

Y/N smiled at Frigga, but it quickly fell when Odin scoffed.

“The palace isn’t supposed to be for common people, but I guess that doesn’t pertain to our new guest.” He spit the last word like it left a sour taste in his mouth. Y/N wiggled in her seat, becoming visibly uncomfortable. She could tell that Loki was also getting irritated by how his back straightened and his jaw clenched. She placed her hand on Loki’s thigh in an attempt to calm him down as the servants began to bring the meal out. Although his body relaxed just slightly, the anger flooding his eyes was still there.

Once again, the tension weighed heavy in the air as the servants dished out the meal to each person. It was magnificent. Several dishes were filled to the brim with meats and colorful vegetables. She had never seen so many decadent foods piled on one plate. When the servant set her plate down, Y/N didn’t waste any time digging in. She hummed in delight, earning a scoff from Odin.

“It’s clear she doesn’t have any table manners either.” He let out a dry laugh. “Not that that is surprising to anyone considering the family she was born into.”

Y/N stopped chewing mid-bite, her fingers clenching around the fork in her hand. Loki stiffened next to her and, in the most graceful way, placed his utensil down on the table.

“Is there something wrong with my guest, father?”

Odin, clearly not expecting the malice laced in Loki’s words, leaned back in his chair. Even though he was royally pissing Y/N off, she had to admit the man looked regal.

“I just thought the first woman you would bring to the palace would be a bit more…noble.” He said causing Y/N’s face to twist as if she had just sucked on a lemon, and Loki’s eyes to narrow at Odin’s comment. But neither said anything.

“I mean, look at your brother,” Odin said, gesturing toward Thor and Jane. “Sure, he chose a Midgardian, much to my dismay,” he gave a half haphazard wave toward Jane, “but at least she doesn’t come from an inferior family.” It was that word that set Y/N off. Inferior. As if Y/N were subservient simply because her father was not a warrior or of royal blood. Loki and Y/N stood at the same time, sending their chairs clamoring behind them. It was evident that Loki’s blood was boiling. His usual pale complexion was tinted red, and his fists were clenched at his sides. Just as he was about to speak up, Y/N held her hand up. Y/N was equally as angry, and she wasn’t going to let Odin sit there and belittle her any longer.

“No, Loki,” she said, her bright tone gone, replaced with a coldness that even surprised Loki. “I can handle this myself.”

As Loki took his seat again, Y/N turned her fierce gaze onto Odin.

“What is your problem?” She asked, “Your son didn’t have to think of you, but he did. He wanted you to meet the woman he’s been spending the past several months with. Yes, I said months.” Odin’s face went through a transformation from rage to surprise and then back to anger. And with that, Y/N grew even more confident in herself.

“I’m not gonna sit here and be insulted by some decrepit old man because he doesn’t approve of where I come from. I’m proud of who I am and my family. Without people like my father, you wouldn’t have weapons for your army. And without people like my mother, you wouldn’t be able to sit on your ass all day complaining about how hard your life is. What a shame that would be, huh? And as for Jane,” Y/N said, looking at Jane, who had been staring at her in awe, then back to Odin, “she may not be Asgardian, but she is as noble as they come. On her planet, she’s one of the most prestigious scientists. At least that’s what Loki tells me. So, I’d say she’s pretty honorable.” Y/N shrugged, but when she looked at Jane, a small smile was playing on her lips, and an approving nod coming from Thor.

“I apologize for my outburst. I don’t mean to speak out of line, but I will not sit here for one more second and be disrespected. I just won’t stand for it. So,” she said, standing and facing Loki, who had admiration nearly seeping out of him, “Loki, as much as I’d like to finish this meal with you, I will be taking my leave now.”

Y/N pushed her chair in, nodded toward Frigga, who was trying very hard to maintain a straight face, then walked out of the dining hall.

One of the servants aided Y/N in navigating back to the courtyard, and when the fresh air filled her lungs, she nearly fell onto the nearest bench. Her hands were shaking, and her knees felt like they were Jell-O. Her mind was swarmed with mixed emotions. On the one hand, she couldn’t believe that she had done one of the worst things any Asgardian could do: stand up against the King. But on the other, she was proud of herself for defending herself and her family.

She took a moment, grounding herself on the bench, when she heard the familiar sound of Loki’s voice calling her name. Y/N’s heart raced in her chest. She thought for sure Loki was going to tell her that he never wanted to see her again. That her little outburst was uncalled for, and she needed to leave the palace grounds immediately. As he approached her, Y/N shook her head, and before Loki could say anything to her, she spoke.

“Loki, I’m so sorry if I just ruined everything. I just couldn’t let your father go on saying those things.”

Loki cupped Y/N’s cheeks in his hands, forcing her to look at him. Much to her surprise, there was no sign of distaste on his face. Instead, he was smiling.

“Darling,” Loki said, the nickname sending a flurry of butterflies to release in Y/N’s stomach, “you didn’t ruin anything. On the contrary. I have never been more attracted to you than in this moment.” Loki’s eyes held so much adoration that he was practically glowing. He let one hand smooth back Y/N’s frizzy hair.

“My delicate little flower is not so delicate after all. Are you sure you don’t come from a family of warriors?” Loki’s eyes narrowed, causing Y/N to laugh. At the sound of her sweet laugh, Loki’s face softened again.

“Hm,” she said, bringing a hand up to her chin, “I’m pretty sure. But even so, I could still kick your ass.”

“Oh, darling,” Loki said with a light chuckle, “I don’t doubt that you could obliterate our entire army.” The two of them shared a laugh before Loki pulled Y/N into a tight embrace.

“You stood up to the All-Father and lived to tell the tale. How does it feel?”

Y/N pulled back enough to look Loki in the eye.

“Empowering,” she said with so much conviction she could feel it in her bones. Pride covered Loki’s face again as he grinned.

“As it should.”

The two of them stayed in their embrace for another minute before Y/N spoke.

“So,” she said, “where to now?”

Loki released her from his hold.

“Wherever you’d like, love,” he said before leaning a little closer and whispering, “I’m all yours.”

Y/N’s heart soared before she perked up onto her tiptoes and pulled Loki into a sweet and passionate kiss. When she planted her feet back on the ground, Loki gave her a nudge.

“My mother really liked you, by the way.”

Y/N chuckled.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Joy bubbled inside of Y/N at the thought. Loki tried to keep down his laugh as he watched her try to conceal her gratified grin. Loki beamed down at Y/N before planting one more swift kiss onto her lips, then took her hand in his and walked off the palace grounds hand-in-hand.

#loki imagines #loki laufesyon x reader #loki laufesyon imagines #loki imagine #loki laufeyson imagine #loki laufeyson fanfic #loki laufeyson fanfiction #loki x y/n #loki laufeyson x y/n #loki laufeyson x reader #loki laufeyson x female reader #loki x female reader #loki #loki laufeyson #marvel fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #loki fandom #loki laufeyson fandom

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sonickedtrowel · 1 year

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I’m such a fan of yours you have no idea! 🌷🍌🍓

Anon you are so sweet thank you!!!! 😭😭😭 🌷 favorite sweet quote from a published work I think this qualifies as sweet haha, picking quotes is harder than it sounds!

“This— this is important,” River objected, though she still had her head tipped back and her fingers tightly wound in his hair. “We can do better for you than a utility cupboard, sweetie. And besides… there’s a lot you don’t know about me yet. But you will very soon.”

“Does it matter? Does it change this?” He took her hand in his, raising it to his lips to brush a kiss over her fingers.

“It sort of changes everything,” she said softly. “But… not this, really, I suppose. Not the important part.”

“Well, that’s all right, then,” the Doctor said, and kissed her again. He could definitely get used to being able to do that. When he looked at her and thought he’d burst from the ferocity of feeling gripping him, he wouldn’t have to just choke it down and turn away. It was a wonder his future self ever got anything done.

🍌 favorite funny quote from a wip Okay well I'm just giving all my secrets away here but.... there may also be a letter from Missy in the works. I LOVE WRITING HER OMG.

So I had to take a little peek at the one who made him forget such a lesson. Of course, he is a moron. Spending centuries going round bonding with humans? It’s like, you keep on buying hamsters, then come crying to me when it’s time to get out a shoebox? Maybe after the first twenty you’d start to see a pattern?

I suppose you’re a bit of an upgrade. More like a housecat. Or a bird that all your friends worry they’ll get stuck with in your will cos you did the maths wrong at the pet shop during your mid-life crisis.

🍓 favorite poetic quote from a wip

hmmm I think this one qualifies?? every time I try to find something poetic I'm like is this actually poetic or does it just have scenery in it lol.

His eyes blinked blearily open at last and came into semi-focus on a dusky sky, scattered with a handful of pale moons and sliced through by a broad white arc of planetary rings. Not New York, then. Wisps of cloud clung to the last light, their contours gilt in brilliant pink and gold. A few stars glimmered through the atmosphere, and he studied their alignment as his mind grudgingly shuffled back into some semblance of order.

#thank you!!!!

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teememdee · 1 year

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fatherly advice and memories

this is a short (750 word) bonus scene to chapter 2 of my fic the stars align for you and i, aka my K/DA Kahri (Kai'Sa x Ahri) Proposal Fic that I wrote last year :)

Kai’Sa pops her head into the living room as she comes down the stairs, and finds her father in his armchair, cradling a steaming mug in his hands.

“Good morning, Kai’Sa,” Kassadin says over the top of his drink, of which he then takes a sip. “Tea pot is still warm, if you’d like.” He nods in the direction of the kitchen.

Kai’Sa smiles her thanks, and returns to the living room couch with her own cup of tea. She settles into the spot on the couch closest to her father, and releases a contented hum as she takes her first sip of the warm comforting liquid.

“Still as much of an early riser as ever, I see,” Kassadin says.

Kai’Sa chuckles. “And you’re up before me, so that should tell you who I got it from.”

“Did you sleep well? I assume that bed is still okay, I know it’s sort of small.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry. Ahri is still asleep, she seems perfectly comfortable too.”

“That’s good.” Kassadin nods, and silence slips across the room for a moment.

This time, Kai’Sa is the one to break it first. “Don’t… feel too bad for asking about us getting married last night, by the way. I was already going to talk to you about it while I was here.”

Kassadin turns his head to face her, his eyebrows raised. “Does that mean something may be happening soon?”

“No, not yet, no ring or anything at the moment,” she says, quickly reducing his eager expectations. “But I’m planning on some time in the spring.”

“Well, now that’s very exciting.” Kassadin’s tone of voice is restrained, unlike his smile.

“Evelynn knows already, and I’ll tell Akali when we get back. I guess I just…” Kai’Sa takes a breath. “Of course I wanted to tell you ahead of time as well, but I was wondering if you had any advice on… that.” Her eyes very quickly dart to the top shelf of the bookcase in the corner of the room.

Kassadin doesn’t miss the movement, his own gaze lingering slightly longer before he returns his focus to his daughter. “You’re sure?”

Kai’Sa still hasn’t quite gotten used to him asking permission before speaking about her mother. Before, every mention of her was another burden, another heavy reminder of her absence and the space she had left that could never be refilled. For a brief time, Kai’Sa thought she hated her, as if she had chosen her fate and purposely left her to deal with her father’s broken pieces. But now, with both time and many long, tearful conversations, her memory no longer feels like a taunt over her shoulder, and so Kai’Sa nods.

Kassadin sets his mug down on the side table and instead holds the ring on his necklace between his thumb and forefinger, rocking it back and forth slightly. “Your mother cried for an hour,” he starts, smiling. “I don’t think I had ever seen her that happy before, and then I would see her happier at our wedding, and then even happier again and again after you were born. My point is that this is the beginning of the rest of your lives together, and no matter how much you prepare, neither of you fully realize that until you show her the ring.” He huffs a small breath of laughter. “And that’s why I cried even longer than Mama did. So be aware of that.”

Kai’Sa’s heart swells at the sincerity. “Were you able to actually ask the question? Did you have a speech or anything?”

“It took a moment to fully articulate through our tears, but yes, I asked and she answered. She said yes, obviously.” He gestures to the ring in his hand, and pauses for Kai’Sa’s chuckle. “Now I know you, I know you’ll have something very flowery and poetic prepared in your head, and that’s fine, just remember to not treat it like you’re reading from a script. Speak from the heart. That’s what you’re really giving to her.”

Kai’Sa nods. “Thanks, Dad.”

“Of course,” Kassadin says. “And again, I’m very happy for you — both of you. It’s very clear that Ahri loves you dearly and deeply, she’s wonderful. There’s no doubt she’ll say yes, and you’ll be just as happy for the rest of your lives.”

Kai’Sa’s cheeks warm, and she hides her embarrassed smile by taking a long sip of her tea. “Do you think Mama would like her?”

Kassadin hums. “That’s what I was talking to Ahri about last night, actually. Your mother would adore her. They would get along perfectly, I think.”

“I’m glad.”

#i have a lot of thoughts about this family feel free to ask me about them #basically mom dies to the void when kai'sa is 2 and kassadin became blinded by his need to avenge her that he failed to prioritize kai'sa #kassfam #kassadin #kai'sa #the agony of kassadin's wife not having a canon name #deadwife #kahri #kda #k/da #league of legends #tanner writes

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reidsnose · 3 years

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buggin

overview: reader enlists the help of her neighbor (who shes never met) to get rid of a gnarly bug in her apartment

genre: fluff

a/n: thought of this today after i moved the shower curtain, saw a centipede crawl out, and screamed for my dad to come help me. anywayyyss i thought its be cute so as always lmk what you guys think :)

masterlist

you walked into your bedroom, fumbling frantically with the buttons on your shirt as you raced to leave your house on time. hair brush hair brush hair brush. where was your hair brush? you knocked over countless items trying to find it but with no luck. bathroom! you quickly made your way to the bathroom, opening the door so fast that wind blew through your hair.

and then you saw it.

a gnarly, long, nasty, creepy crawly centipede.

you let out a loud shriek and promptly shut the door. if you didn't get to the interview one time, it would surely be a bad first impression. but then again so would showing up with a bird's nest of hair on your head. you tried who knows how many times to go back in and kill it or catch it in a cup but each time you saw its countless, spindly legs you backed out. you checked your watch, 10 minutes until you had to leave.

you walked out into the hallway of the apartment building, and in a frenzy, you bumped into a tall, handsome man leaving the apartment across from yours.

he chuckled an apology before looking to meet your eye, breath hitching in his throat as he did. you were arguably the most beautiful woman he had ever seen (despite a very questionable hairdo). and when a surge of desperation ran through your body you rambled an explanation to the stranger, telling him about your job interview and time crunch then promptly begging him to come inside and get rid of the centipede for you.

and something inside him couldn't say no. he wanted to, i mean when an objectively crazy looking person lures you into their home to catch a bug, generally one says no and goes on with their day. however, maybe it was his complete an immediate infatuation with you or maybe his empathy for your situation, he decided to quickly help you and then try and get to work as fast as he can.

he couldn't help but subtly and subconsciously profile you based on your home as soon as he stepped inside. he liked it. your decorations, the small mess that makes it feel lived in, the general 'vibe' as morgan would say was incredible.

you gave him a sheet of paper and a cup, per his request, and led him to the dreaded bug bathroom. you couldn't help but watch in awe as he walked in with no fear, explaining to you in great detail how this was only a house centipede and it only had 15 pairs of legs which kind of counters the name. and how it isn't poisonous to humans and infact eats other bugs. you loved his facts so much and you followed him all the way to the window where he let the bug out, listening intently to what he had to say and swatting away the apology that came after the ramble, insisting that you genuinely enjoyed it.

"thank you so much,.." you trailed off, not knowing his name.

"Spencer." he filled in, offering a tight lipped smile.

"Spencer! wonderful. well again thank you so much and i owe you once I'm back from this job interview!" you smiled as you both walked to the door.

"oh you don't have to-" he began.

"no i insist! just knock on my door when you can and ill take you out." you stated, causing his eyes to widen, " not with a gun! i meant like ill buy you coffee or something!"

"i didn't think you meant with a gun?!" he laughed, handing you the hairbrush this whole ordeal was about. you laughed along as you closed and locked your apartment.

"I'm sorry i'm like completely fazzled right now! i have to go or else i'm never gonna get this job ill just brush my hair in the car! ok bye Spencer!" you called as you jogged down the stairs.

"wait i don't know your name?" he called after you.

"ill tell you when i buy you a coffee!" your giggle echoed through the building followed by the loud shut of the downstairs door.

he smiled to himself, wondering if he should tell the team about his funky morning encounter. he smiled the whole train ride to work, and then the walk from the stop to the building and then the elevator trip up. he just couldn't stop smiling. he thought about you brushing your hair while you drove and even giggled to himself on the train causing a few strangers to toss him some concerned looks.

how could he be living next to such a beautiful stranger?

when he walked into the bullpen, he saw the. whole team huddled around a desk, staring quite obviously at hotch's office. a new curiosity piqued his interest though his thoughts of you continued to be front and center in his mind.

"whats going on?" he asked, joining the group and craning his neck to try and see into the office.

"new agent interview." jj whispered.

"really? since whe-"

"shh!" Garcia shushed.

"you cant even hear them!" Reid defended.

"quiet helps us read their lips." prentiss whispered.

Spencer continued to crane his neck, moving around yet only being able to see hotch, who was throwing his head back in laughter. hotch laughing? wow this new agent must be pretty cool!

"oh my god! i've never seen him laugh like that before!" Garcia squeaked.

"she has to get the job now," morgan added.

"ah we have to wait for the handshake, thats when we see if he really approves," Rossi countered, "if he double hands the shake then its a done deal."

they all watched excitedly, waiting impatiently for the end of the interview. after a few minutes they saw hotch stand up and shake the possible new agent's hand with his right, firmly clasping his left over the handshake.

"was that the double handed handshake?" Garcia asked excitedly.

"yup." Rossi replied, popping the p.

as soon as the door began to open, the team tried ever so gracelessly to disperse, bumping into one another and murmuring fake excuses. a familiar outfit caught Spencer's eye as the new agent left hotch's office and he dared sneak a glance.

no way. his mind raced, thoughts of this morning flooding it a mile a minute. could it really be the girl from this morning? he watched as you excitedly left the building, beaming far to much to notice any other people as you left.

"bug?!" was all he could muster. not even loud enough for you to hear. unfortunately, loud enough for the people around him to.

"theres a bug? where?" morgan asked, looking around.

"no um...bug-she..is bug- um. nothing." he stammered.

"did you nickname the new agent bug?" jj laughed.

"what? no! do not say that in front of her!!" Spencer stammered.

after a couple teasing remarks, to Spencer's relief, they seemed to have let it go. the day was case-less and flew by quickly, the most exciting part was the morning interview and hotch's announcement that there would be a new agent starting tomorrow.

you sat at home, beyond excited about your successful interview, all thanks to handsome neighbor Spencer. you couldn't help but feel extra indebted to him. you feared you may have scared him off when you offered to take him out but it was the best way you could think to say thank you. but your nerves had transferred mainly to the upcoming first day of work.

as he got hone he debated knocking on your door but decided against it, knowing you were probably busy preparing for tomorrow.

when you arrived tomorrow a series of seemingly unfamiliar faces sat in the conference room, awaiting you and hotch.

when you stepped inside your eyes scanned over each of them, all looking very excited to meet you.

and then you saw him.

handsome neighbor Spencer was sitting RIGHT THERE. the stars have aligned and finally life is in your favor. after a brief introduction the meeting began and you took the only seat open which happened to be next to Spencer.

you gave each other polite smiles though both of your cheeks glowing red told a different story than two people who had just met.

"wheels up in 20." hotch concluded.

you all walked out together, the team making sure you felt included.

"so hows the first day feeling, y/n? or should i be like my friend Dr. Reid here and call you bug?" morgan asked slightly amused.

"oh my god you told?!" you laughed, looking wide eyed at Spencer.

after a high pitched denial from Reid and tears of laughter from the team as you told them of the events of that morning, you already felt like you were a part of the team.

as you boarded the jet, you decided to sit next to Spencer.

"you know, i still owe you a coffee," you mentioned nonchalantly as you pulled a book from your go bag, trying as hard as you possibly could to not blush.

he smiled slyly, picking up his own book to hide the rouge that fell upon his cheeks, "and ill hold you to that, bug."

ultra mega super cool taglist:

@mac99martin @imhreid @spencersmagic @hollydaisy23 @raelady1184 @a-broken-pact @padfootswife @star-stuff-in-the-cosmos @hey-there-angels @sonnydoesrandomshit @averyhotchner @laurakirsten0502 @reidyoulikeabook @rem-ariiana @spencerreid9 @vampire-overlord @takeyourleap-of-faith @s1utformgg @violetspoetic @b-a-utiful @aperrywilliams @eevee0722

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somewhatgreatexpectations · 3 years

Text

Wouldn’t It Be Nice? (Wanda Maximoff/ Reader)

Hello! May I present you all with part 2 of the "Love Goes” sequel. I’m still trying to decide on the name for it, but I’m really appreciating all the suggestions so feel free to keep sending them. A fair amount of dialogue from Wandavision is still used since it was necessary, but less than the first part for sure since the story is developing.

Songs used are “Wouldn’t It Be Nice?” by The Beach Boys (1966) and “This Magic Moment” by The Drifters (1968). Hope you all enjoy!

Summary: As Y/n and Wanda attempt to settle into 1960s Westview, what shenanigans will they encounter? Will they be able to fit in?

“You’re a mystery around here, you know?”

Glancing up from your desk, you noticed the familiar figure of your partner leaning against the entryway of your office with a friendly smile on her face. “A mystery you say?” You questioned in amusement.

Instead of answering right away, she moved further into the office and took a seat in one of your chairs. “Yes. We’ve been partners for weeks and I barely know anything about you besides the information that everyone already knows because you were an Avenger.”

You shrugged and leaned back in your chair. “Maybe that’s how I want it.” Was your cryptic response.

“If you say so.” The woman rested her head on her palm thoughtfully. “One day you’re going to have to let someone in.”

“Maybe I already have. Maybe I’ve learned better.” You raised an eyebrow in challenge.

For a moment she just stared at you, analyzing you. “So, you regret it then? Letting someone in?”

“I could never regret it.” You replied quickly, easily.

She leaned forward with interest. “Does the reason for your mystery have a name?”

There was hesitation in your voice as you responded. “Wanda.” If you were going to be partners, it was only a matter of time until she found out anyway.

Her eyebrows raised slightly in recognition, everyone who worked there knew who Wanda was. “Hmm.” She hummed, her expression neutral. “I actually came in here to ask if you wanted to get dinner together? Maybe lift the shroud of mystery a bit more.” Her tone was teasing.

A soft chuckle escaped your lips. “Sure…” A name followed the word, but it was muffled. Almost as though you couldn’t remember it even in dreams.

“Y/n.” The women said as you looked up at her with furrowed eyebrows. “Y/n. Y/n. Y/n.”

With a jolt, you sat up in bed, relaxing slightly when you realized you were in your shared room with your wife. “Y/n.” You heard again. Turning your head, your eyes landed on Wanda who was looking back at you with wide eyes.

“Yes, my love?” You answered groggily through a yawn.

Her expression became shy as she fiddled with the sheets. “I think I heard something at the window.”

Glancing towards the window you heard nothing but silence. “I’m sure it’s nothing, sweetheart.” You said reassuringly but got up when you saw her expression remained the same. “Allow me to put your mind at ease.”

Pushing aside the curtains, you glanced outside and saw nothing but the picturesque garden Wanda had lovingly put so much effort into. “What do you see?” She probed tentatively.

“Only your lovely rose bushes.” You answered as you scanned the yard once more. When you were satisfied, you closed the curtains and turned back to face Wanda who still looked skeptical. “I assure you, I saw nothing amiss. You have no reason to be frighten-”

A bang against the window interrupted your sentence as you let out a squeak and dove into your bed to seek safety. You pulled your covers up to your chin.

Wanda stared at you with an unamused expression as the disembodied voices laughed. “You were saying?”

“You know, I was reading an article in the newspaper about suspicious activity that’s been recently occurring in the neighborhood.” You mumbled defensively from behind your sheets. “Who knows what that could mean. Robbing house, vandalizing property-”

“Manipulating the earth, moving objects without touching them?” Wanda cut you off sarcastically.

You tilted your head curiously. “You think they were referring to us?” Before Wanda could respond another thud against the window startled you both. You gasped and Wanda magically pulled the beds together. “One of us should really determine the source of that sound.” You suggested meekly.

Wanda set her lips in a line and shook her head at your antics. “Yes, one of us should.” She grumbled sarcastically. Another thud tapped against the window, making you both jump again. “Oh, this is getting ridiculous. I’m going to take a look.”

You grimaced as you both turned towards the window. Wanda waved her hand to open the curtains, only to find that the source of the sound came from a tree branch tapping against the window from the wind.

There was an awkward moment of silence as you both merely stared at the true source of the sound. “Well… I think we handled that well.” Wanda said lightly with a playful smile.

You turned on your side to face Wanda with a smile to match hers. “Yes, I’m very proud of us. All the trees in the neighborhood will know not to disturb us from now on.” You said teasingly. You glanced down at the bed with a smirk. “I’m even more pleased with the way you’ve seized the opportunity to redecorate.”

Wanda grinned suggestively. “This is better, isn’t it?” She questioned as she waved her hand. Immediately the two separate beds transformed into a one large bed.

“Wanda, darling.”

Her eyes twinkled mischievously. “Yes, dear?”

You shifted closer. “Get the lights.” Wanda waved her hand to turn off the light as she pulled the covers over both your heads. As soon as the covers were over you both, you could feel her eagerly climb on top of you and connect your lips fervently. The disembodied voices gasped scandalously.

“You know, I’m beginning to think I should have been the assistant, darling.” You called out as you adjusted the hat that was placed precariously on your head.

There was a short pause before Wanda shouted her reply, “Just say the line!”

Sighing at her response, you turned back so you were facing out into the room. You took a moment to close your eyes and take a deep breath as you got into character. If you were going to do this, you were going to do it right.

“Ladies and gentlemen, for my final trick, I bring you…” You paused for dramatic effect. “The cabinet of mysteries.”

You gestured out into the open air where Wanda should have been, rubbing a hand down your face in amusement when she didn’t respond. “Darling. That’s your cue.”

“Did you say cabinet of mysteries?” She called from the hallway.

Stepping back, you gestured dramatically to the open space once again. “I said… Cabinet of mysteries!” You repeated even more theatrically.

“Oh. That’s my cue.” Wanda said cutely as you could hear her struggle to push the large box into the room.

Quickly rushing over to help her, you huffed at the weight of the object as you pulled it. “Doesn’t this seem like a bit… much?” You asked hesitantly.

Wanda waved her hand dismissively. “You should hear about what some of the others are planning. Let’s keep going.” She urged, her eyes shining brightly with excitement.

When she looked at you like that, you were unable to deny her anything she wanted. You would have given her the moon and all the stars if she asked for them.

You quickly got back into character. “Yes, okay. Where was I?” you mumbled to yourself. “Ah, yes! Watch closely as I, Terra, make my captivating assistant, Glamour… disappear!” You bit back laughter as Wanda posed dramatically.

In unison, you opened the doors as Wanda stepped in, her eyes locked on yours adoringly. “You really are very stunning.”

A blush spread across your cheeks as you smiled bashfully back at her. “Thank you, darling.” You stood with your hand resting against the doors. “Fear not, Glamour. I vow to bring you back exactly as you were.” Again, you had to bite back laughter at Wanda’s expression.

A overly dramatic gasped escaped your wife’s lips as you closed the door. “Abracadabra!” You exclaimed as you tapped the box three times with the plastic wand. After a beat you opened the door once again to reveal the empty box. “Ta-da!”

Wanda began clapping as she stepped out from behind the trick door, a delighted smile on her face. “That was amazing!” When she received no response from you, her brows drew together apprehensively. “What’s wrong?”

“It still seems a little much.” You admitted sheepishly. “Plus, I think you’re a better fit for the magician than I am. Your powers are more aligned.”

Wanda stepped out of the box and made her way over to you. “Darling, it’s fine. In a real magic act everything is fake.” She reassured you “The talent show fundraiser is the most important event of the season. It’s our neighborly duty to participate… And our chance to appear as normal as possible while doing so.”

“We are the very definition of normal, dear.” You replied teasingly as you allowed yourself to float for a moment to emphasize your point before settling back to the floor.

That’s new, you thought to yourself.

If Wanda was surprised by your actions, she didn’t show it as she gently took your hands in her own and pulled you closer. “This is our home now. I want us to fit in.” There was vulnerability in her eyes which immediately put a stop to your joking.

Tenderly, you stroked the back of her hand with your thumb. “Oh, Wanda… We do. We will. I’ll make sure of it. And we’ll be the best act out there.” You promised her earnestly. Once again, you’d do anything for her.

Wanda leaned forward and placed a short kiss on your lips in appreciation.

“Especially with you wearing this.” You added with a wiggle of your eyebrows as you picked up her stage outfit and held it in front of her.

Wanda shook her head in amusement. “That’s actually the rest of your costume.” She quipped teasingly.

With a shrug, you held the costume against yourself. “I did say I would be better off as your assistant…” You trailed off as the disembodied laughter once again drifted into the air.

With a light hit to your shoulder Wanda took the costume back in her hands. “There will be no backing out now, Y/n.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” You pressed a soft kiss to her temple.

Briefly Wanda glanced down at her watch. “Well, I better get going if I want to make the planning committee meeting.”

Reaching over, you grabbed your cardigan off the couch and began pulling it over your blouse. “I should be off as well. I have a meeting with Ellie.” At the mention of your publisher’s daughter, Wanda’s eyed you, an uneasy expression on her face.

“Why are you meeting with her, darling?” Wanda questioned with a tense smile.

Occupied by the buttons on your cardigan, you missed her expression. “It seems she takes after her father as she is the chief publisher of the town’s newspaper. After last night’s scare, I want to make sure the town is informed and prepared for any potential dangers.” You said seriously.

The tension in her shoulders melted away at your response as Wanda affectionately tugged you forward by the cardigan. “That’s a swell idea. You make sure you let all the tree branches in town know who’s boss.” She pulled you even closer and pecked your lips.

When you pulled away she adjusted your cardigan. “Would you look at us? Fitting right into Westview. Who would’ve thought?” You teased with a wink.

A short laugh escaped her lips as she looked at you fondly. “I’ll see you at curtain call.” She announced as she moved into the kitchen. You chuckled and departed through the front the door.

Shortly after you left a loud thud caught Wanda’s attention. When she stepped outside a vibrant object in the bushes stood out easily against the monotonous tones that surrounded it. She looked around nervously. When she plucked the object out of the bush, she stared at it for a moment. The confusion in her eyes was clear as she held the object as though it was a threat.

The vibrant red helicopter was clearly out of place.

“Look, it’s the star of the show!”

Wanda jumped at the sudden voice as she dropped the toy back into the bush. “Agnes,” She gasped out as she clutched at her chest. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

Agnes’ smile never faltered as she raised the cage in her hand. “Oh, I brought my pet rabbit for your magic act.”

“Yes, of course! Thank you, Agnes.” Wanda said appreciatively as she took the cage from her and began walking in the direction of the house again. “We will take good care of him.”

With a proud smile, Agnes called after Wanda, “Señor Scratchy just loves the stage. He played baby Jesus in last year’s Christmas pageant!”

Unsure of what to say to her comment, Wanda turned and laughed awkwardly as she placed the rabbit inside. ___________ When you arrived at the Westview tribune, you found Ellie’s office easily, except she seemed preoccupied by the papers in hands. The soft sound of music drifted quietly from the radio at her desk.

Maybe if we think and wish and hope and pray, it might come true. Baby, then there wouldn't be a single thing we couldn't do. Oh, we could be married and then we'd be happy. Oh, wouldn't it be nice?

The music distracted you temporarily as your thoughts wandered – essentially entranced by the unfamiliar tune. Static over the song cut into your thoughts as what sounded like muffled speaking rolled over the instruments. Ellie didn’t react to the change in sound, almost as though she chose not to hear it. You figured she was just engrossed in her work. The muffled sounds lingered for a second longer before fading into the music once again. With a shake of your head, you remembered why you were there.

To get Ellie’s attention you knocked softly on the entryway, smiling politely when she looked up. “Hi, sorry to interrupt. Is now still a good time to discuss the neighborhood safety article?”

“Y/n. You’re not interrupting at all.” Ellie said dismissively as she leaned back in her chair and waved you in. “Lay it on me.”

You took a seat in one of her chairs. “Well, I was recently reading an article in the tribune about suspicious activity in the neighborhood and I thought it might be relevant to feature an additional article discussing safety protocols and tips.” You pitched enthusiastically.

A minute passed without a word. “I think that’s a swell idea, Y/n.” She finally said with a smile.

An excited smile crossed your features as you attempted to contain yourself. “My wife said the same thing.” You admitted bashfully.

With an amused smile, Ellie rested her head against her palm as she scrutinized you. “Well, it’s clear she has excellent taste.” She paused briefly. “She is married to you after all.”

Unsure of how to respond to the comment, you decided to ignore it entirely.

Hesitantly, you stood up and offered her a hand which she easily took. “Thank you for meeting with me today, but I really should be going. I want to get to the talent show location early to get everything ready for Wanda. Today means a lot to her.”

Ellie stood with you and stepped around her desk. “The talent show isn’t for a good while. Stay and chat. Maybe lift the shroud of mystery a bit more.” She said playfully.

Her words caused you to recoil as remnants of your dream from the night before flashed through your mind. “Sure… Ellie.” You responded unsurely.

“Are you alright, Y/n?” Ellie’s eyebrows knitted together in concern as she took a hold of your elbow.

For some reason, you couldn’t help but feel something familiar in the action. It wasn’t flirtatious, it was comforting. Like the touch of an old friend. “I’m fine.” You paused as you attempted to gather your thoughts. “Just déjà vu.” You insisted.

There was still hesitance in Ellie’s eyes as she released her hold of your elbow. “If you say so.” Suddenly, she snapped her fingers, which caused you to jump slightly. “Maybe you can get into the neighborhood watch committee.”

You nodded eagerly, relieved her focus was back to the article. “I can do that.”

“Between you and me, I think it’s just an excuse for the men in the neighborhood to eat pastries.” She whispered in a mock-conspirator voice.

A short laugh escaped your lips. “Even more of a reason to join.” Once again, you glanced down at your watch. “I really should be going now though.”

Ellie nodded, knowing there would be no convincing you otherwise. “Before you go, do you mind helping me get a box of books down from my bookshelf?” She gestured to the box on a shelf slightly above your height, but just out of Ellie’s own reach.

“Sure thing.” You made your over the shelf and began sliding the box off the shelf, so you could get a better hold of it.

Just as the box was teetering precariously along the edge of the shelf the static on the radio flared as a single word slipped through clearly. “Y/n.” The sudden appearance of your name startled you as the box fell off the shelf and knocked you in the head, causing you to fall.

A surprised gasp escaped Ellie’s lips as she rushed over to kneel by your side. “Are you okay?”

When you looked up, there were three different versions of the woman before you swimming in your vision. “’m fine.” You mumbled out as you rubbed the side of your head.

Cautiously Ellie helped you up, her eyes skeptical. “If you say so. Here, at least take this pain reliever.” She quickly walked over to her desk and grabbed the medicine before handing it to you.

To appease her you took the medicine. “Have a nice... work time.” You said unsurely as the thoughts in your head became muddled. On unsteady feet you made your way out of the office and began your trek to the location of the talent show, not wanting to keep Wanda waiting. ____________________ Hurriedly, you rushed up the steps to the gazebo where your wife was waiting anxiously. On the last step you stumbled and fell on your side. An amused chuckle escaping your lips. “Wanda,” You said unsteadily with a crooked smile when your wife came into your view. “You look breathtaking.”

“Where were you? Did something happen?” Wanda rushed over and helped you up, her brows knit together in worry.

Her question fell on deaf ears as you leaned heavily against her. Your eyes settled on the women who was on your other side seemingly ready to catch you if you fell again. “Well, hello there.” You said with a goofy grin. “Have we met? I apologize if we have, I don’t even know the name of my desk mate. My name is Y/n Y/ln… or is it Maximoff? We never discussed the logistics.”

Much to Wanda’s relief the woman seemed amused by your antics. “We have not. I’m Geraldine.” The women replied, offering you a hand which you shook rapidly. With an awkward smile she stepped back. “I’ll be over there checking on the other acts.”

Geraldine walked away, and you continued leaning into Wanda. “Where were you?” she repeated, her eyes still wide with worry.

“Was just at the tribune. I might have gotten lost on the way here. I heard the loveliest song.” You rambled deliriously with a wave of your hand.

Ignoring your words, Wanda tried to get you to stand on your own. When you were properly upright, she took your hand in hers, her expression serious. “Listen, something strange happened today, Y/n. It’s hard to explain.”

Your eyes widened in an overdramatic fashion. “Did the man in the radio try to talk to you too?” you said in a poorly executed whisper.

“Man in the radio? What? Y/n, no. What is going on?” Wanda questioned, her concern growing.

Geraldine rushed over, interrupting the conversation. “You are!”

Indistinctly you could feel Wanda adjust the hat on your head as she rushed away. You began fiddling with the ring on your finger as your mind wandered. “Hey! Hey! You’re up!” Geraldine whispered urgently as she ushered you out onto the stage.

When stepped onto the stage, you felt as though the floor below you shifted which caused you to stumble into a post. “Pardon me, I’m sorry.” You mumbled as you staggered down the steps. “Hello, Westview!” You shouted dramatically. “Good afternoon, it’s lovely to be here! I’m Terra, Glamour’s assistant!” you declared confidently.

“What she means is I’m Glamour, her assistant and she’s terra the illusionist.” Wanda corrected with a dramatic wave of her hands.

“Yeah… what she said.” You turned towards the audience with wide arms and a deliriously bright smile. “Today, we will lie to you and you will believe us!” You shouted boldly as Wanda’s smile faltered slightly. “Because you are all naïve and easily amused by simple slights of hand. And fooled by basic illusions due to how little you’ve seen! Flourish!”

The strained smile on Wanda’s face remained as you wandered over to the opposite side of the stage. “You just do it, you don’t say it out loud, honey.”

You waved a hand dismissively as you attempted to search through your muddled mind for the rest of the act. “Now, my wife and I will delight in your dumbstruck little faces. Flourish!” You repeated as you allowed yourself to float into the air.

Thinking quickly Wanda waved her fingers and a rope attached itself to you as the crowd chattered excitedly. You turned sideways in the air from the rope as Wanda maneuvered it to lift you higher. You felt your head spin even more than it was before. “Wanda! Darling, let me down! I’m feeling dizzy!” You shouted indignantly.

Thankfully Wanda let you down moments later, her concerned expression breaking through her show façade.

You attempted to recall the next portion of the act, but eventually gave up when you spotted a car parked just off stage. Metal. Perfect. “How about a fantastical feat of strength?” You maneuvered your fingertips so that they were barely resting on the bottom of the car. With a quick wink to the audience, you turned to focus on the car again.

With a slight wiggle of your fingers the car began to float just above your hand, so it looked like you were picking it up.

“Illusions!” Wanda shouted nervously and made her way over to you after she wiggled her fingers. “Terra is the master of illusions! Allow me.” She took the now cardboard car from your hands, making sure the audience saw that it was indeed cardboard.

When she turned she winked at the audience. “Whoops! You weren’t supposed to see how we did that trick.”

Feeling yourself getting sleepy, you decided to jump forward to the final part of the act. A portion that you actually felt you remembered. “Ladies and gentlemen, for our grand finale, I bring you the box of… magic?” You shouted semi-confidently, unable to think of the name you had practiced just that morning.

Wanda took the hint and began wheeling out the box. “The cabinet of mysteries!” She corrected.

“Yeah, yeah. What she said.” You pulled open the doors to show the box was empty inside. “I will now make my wife disappear!”

“Are you sure you don’t want an audience volunteer named my husband Ralph?” Agnes called out from the audience.

You forced a chuckle along with the audience, “Haha- no.” You mumbled flatly as you closed the doors to the cabinet. “Abracadabra!” you weakly hit the box with the plastic wand, proud of yourself for remembering that step.

Wanda looked around nervously. “Uh, sweetheart?”

“Yeah?”

“Hi.”

“Oh.” You said, realizing you forgot the most important step. The crowd quickly started chanting what’s in the box.

Both you and Wanda exchanged timid glances as Wanda’s smile became strained. Her body language showing her obvious discomfort with the situation. Subtly, she wiggled her fingers once more.

With hesitant hands, you pulled open the doors with Wanda to reveal a very confused Geraldine.

The crowd cheered enthusiastically. All three of you took hands and bowed. “Flourish.” You muttered sheepishly for the final time. “Let’s get out of here.” You mumbled to Wanda as you ran off stage.

When you were safely backstage, you turned towards Wanda with a guilty look on your face. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m so stupid.” You cried as you sat yourself on the floor and covered your face in shame.

Wanda hastily made her way over to you and delicately placed her hands on your cheeks as she tried to get you to look at her. “Y/n. Y/n, it’s alright. Hey, it’s okay.” She reassured you as she attempted to urge your eyes up to meet hers. “But what is going on with you?”

You threw your hands up in frustration. “I don’t know! It all started when all of Ellie’s books fell on my head and then she gave me medicine that made me feel worse.” You whimpered.

Wanda’s eyes softened. “Oh, sweetheart. Let’s get you home, so you can sleep it off.” She gently coaxed you up. “And before Dottie and the planning committee can string us up for ruining the show.

Wordlessly you agreed with her plan and took her by the hand as you both attempted to sneak passed the audience.

“You two! Stop right there.” Wanda’s hand tensed in your own as you both turned to face Dottie who was on stage. “Nothing like what you two did has ever happened in the history of our talent show.”

You squeezed Wanda’s hands comfortingly as you stared down at the floor in shame. “Dottie,” Wanda began fearfully. “We are so-“

“Hilarious!” The woman interrupted Wanda. You both shared a look of surprise. “That was the most hilarious act we have ever seen. Wouldn’t you all agree?” The crowd cheered.

Dottie gestured you both on stage which you both uncomfortably complied with. “On behalf of the planning committee I would like to award you with the inaugural comedy performance of the year.” Wanda beamed proudly as she took the offered trophy. The look on her face made everything worth it to you.

You smiled deliriously at the sight as you rubbed your head which was still spinning.

As the crowd cheered you gestured Geraldine forward into your final bow, everything after blurring together so much that you couldn’t remember it. _______________ When you came to again, you were on the couch at home. Your head resting in Wanda’s lap as she stroked your hair soothingly. “Hi, sweetheart. How are you feeling?” She asked softly when she noticed your eyes flutter open.

You sat up and blinked a few times. “Much better, my love. Heads all clear again.” You answered as you knocked lightly on the side of your head. “Though I don’t remember everything that happened.”

Wanda chuckled softly and pecked your cheek. “I think it’s better you don’t, darling. While you were amusing in your delirious state, nothing can beat the Y/n I know and love.” Wanda leaned into your side as you wrapped an arm around her. “I don’t know what I was so worried about. It wasn’t so hard to fit in after all.” She admitted.

You rubbed your hand up and down her arm tenderly. “And all we had to do was be ourselves.”

“With a few modifications.” Wanda added with an amused smile.

For a moment you both just settled in the comfort of the moment before you stood up and made your way over to the radio, turning it on. “Let’s celebrate.” You suggested as you fiddled with the knobs.

Sweeter than wine, softer than the summer night. Everything I want I have, whenever I hold you tight. This magic moment, while your lips are close to mine, will last forever. Forever ‘til the end of time.

Satisfied with the music, you turned back to Wanda and offered her your hand. “I was wondering if I may have this dance, my love?”

Wanda stared up at you with loving eyes as she took your offered hand and stood up. “You certainly may.”

Gently, you pulled her closer. Your arms wrapped securely around her waist as hers rested over your shoulders. The feeling was comforting and familiar. Everything either of you ever needed. Wanda’s eyes stayed on yours, glimmering with pure love and happiness, the look mirrored in your own expression. For a moment you both just swayed in place to the rhythm of the song, your heads pressed gently together as you cherished being there in that moment.

The moment was short-lived as static rolled over the music playing much like it did earlier in the day. Both you and Wanda pulled away to stare at the radio.

Once again, the muffled speaking began, this time much stronger than before. “Wanda.” The voice called out clearly, this time addressing your wife. You didn’t know why but you knew that you recognized the voice. You just couldn’t place a name to the voice. “Wanda. Can you hear me? What happening, Wanda?”

You turned to look at Wanda, unease in your eyes. “What’s going on?” you questioned, but her eyes remained locked on the radio.

Before Wanda could say anything, a loud thud outside caught your attention. The abruptness of the sound making you jump and effectively distracting you both from the radio. “If it’s the damn tree again, I’m going to rip it up by the roots.” You announced as you stormed outside, the radio forgotten as Wanda followed closely behind you.

You walked to the edge of the yard, looking around as Wanda stopped beside you. “I don’t see anything.” She said lightly.

Almost as soon as the words left her lips, a mysterious figure came out of the drain cover. “Wanda. What is that?” you stepped protectively over to her, your arm wrapping around her from behind.

The figure turned their head in your direction. “No.” Wanda said sharply.

Satisfied with the music, you turned back to Wanda and offered her your hand. “I was wondering if I may have this dance, my love?”

Wanda stared up at you with loving eyes as she took your offered hand. “You certainly may.”

You froze slightly when Wanda stood up. “Um. Wanda.”

“Hmm, what?” She questioned with a cute tilt of her head. Your eyes fell to her abdomen which had become round with the signs of pregnancy. You delicately placed your hand on her stomach as she gasped. “Y/n… is this really happening?” The smile she gave you was so bright that it could have rivaled the sun.

You brought her hand up to your lips and pressed a soft kiss to the palm of her hand. “Yes, my love. It’s really happening.”

Lovingly Wanda leaned forward and connected your lips in a sweet kiss as the disembodied voices cooed at the action. When you pulled away Wanda cupped your cheek, a surprised look in her eyes when she looked at you. “Y/n.”

You both looked around in awe as the home around you became rich with vibrant colors. Like magnets you were drawn back together as you both met in a loving kiss. . . . . . . . . The group once again watched you and Wanda share a sweet kiss as the credits rolled on the screen before them. A moment of tense silence hung in the air as they attempted to process what they just saw.

“You got her pregnant!” Natasha finally shouted at Steve, smacking him in the back of the head.

Darcy tried to choke back a laugh at the sudden comment as she fumbled with the technology, not wanting to get caught in the crossfire. “I don’t think that’s how pregnancy works.” She mumbled to herself.

Steve rubbed the back of his head with a frown. “I didn’t get her pregnant, Nat.” He huffed in annoyance. “And I might not be a scientist, but I know Y/n couldn’t impregnate her either. I’m pretty sure Wanda got herself pregnant.”

“Yeah, well, one minute they’re dancing and then you try and talk to them and suddenly Wanda’s pregnant. I blame you.” Natasha countered with a roll of her eyes. “Which, by the way, while Y/n was lifting heavy objects over her head? Really?”

Darcy’s eyes widened in amusement as she tried to keep her expression neutral.

“That… wasn’t my finest moment.” Steve admitted shamefully as he rubbed his temples in embarrassment.

As the two Avengers were arguing Fury shut off the television. “What’s done is done. Now that we have Monica in there under the guise of working for S.W.O.R.D. we can potentially receive some intel. Even though she seems deeply immersed in her character. And,” He waved a file in his hand. “I know who Ellie Hart is. You two might want to hear this.”

Part 2! I will admit I had slight trouble writing this since it was still fairly restricted by Wandavision because it’s necessary to set up the story still. Well, as always, I hope you all enjoyed! And let me know your thoughts, remember they are always welcome! :)

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yaneyanedaze · 3 years

Text

Our Goddess In Love and War

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Yandere! Royal! Pillarmen x Reader

Summary: Reader-Darling is a girl that lives in a village close to the kingdom ruled by the three kings: Esidisi, Whamuu and Kars. She doesn’t see what everyone else sees in them, and keeps away, but one day, she’ll catch their eyes, and they won’t ever leave her.

Warnings: smut later on in this chapter, yandere behavior, obsession, possessiveness, death, mentions of torture, jealously, Kars puts his foot down with disrespectful maids, reader-chan tries to leave because of threats.

A/n: I apologize for how long this took, But i’m glad to be back writing my big series! I hope you guys enjoy this long awaited chapter update!

(Unrelated but i was listening to Montero by Lil Nas X while writing this, and It was giving me Mad Kars vibes lol but I’m gonna put my playlist for this story at the bottom)

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I sighed and plopped down onto my comfy bed and slipped out of the dress and heels, I didn’t care about my hair, I’d just get up and wash in the morning. I snuggled into my pillow, at first I didn’t want to do any of this, but now I can’t help but feel some type of attraction to the male. I mean he’s going to officially be my husband in a few days, but I still couldn’t shake this feeling that something was wrong..

….And something bad was gonna happen….

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(First Pov)

I was nervous.

I was dressed in a wonderful purple dress, a slit along the side, matching golden heels on my feet. Several maids were running around my room, preparing everything for me. My hair was styled and had many pieces of golden jewelry dangling off my body, I smiled at myself in the mirror.

“I can’t believe this is happening…”

A few giggles were heard around me, one maid with blonde hair and baby blue eyes smiled at me. Her name is Liza, she was the maid in charge of making sure that I was perfect for events like this. She was the only other person in charge of my dress besides Stella. Liza speaks up as she places the finishing touches on me,

“Oh Believe it My Queen, We can tell how much his majesty loves you, so we are happy!” She says, giving me a twirl as the other maids clapped. I nod smiling along with the women before a rapid knock was heard at the door. All of us turned towards the door and let out a sigh as it was only Stella at the door. Stella gives a sheepish smile as she walks in.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but his majesty is asking for his Queen.” She says. Liza and the other maids nod, picking up the end of my dress, I began walking out the door with the girls following close behind me.

As we walked down the hallways, they were decorated with (f/c) flowers, gold and various other precious metals aligned the hall we walked down. I could hear the hustle and bustle of the people outside, nervousness creeping right back up on me. I took a deep breath as two guards opened the door revealing me to the outside world.

Many cheers were heard, so many people were screaming and yelling. I winced at the bright light, a deep chuckle came from behind me, arms wrapping around my waist. I tensed up a bit, only earning a laugh. “My love there is no need to be afraid, it is just me..”

I sigh and relax a bit, Kars felt strangely warm and comfortable, i felt his hands move down to my hips as he moves us both forward.

We stood on top of the stairs, both of us waving to the crowd, I giggle at some of the kids that I met in the village yelling to me and holding up signs that said. ‘We are best friends with the Queen’. Kars stepped away from me slightly, and I let out a soft whine before I knew it, I blushed, quite embarrassed but Kars just chuckled again.

“Save your whines for tonight my love, Because I’ll have you saying and thinking nothing but my name.” He whispered in my ear before stepping away to get the crown.

My face went completely red as I tried to regain my composure, I walked down the stairs to greet some of the townspeople. Smiling as a group of kids handed me a pretty bouquet of flowers, “Why thank you all.”

“Your welcome Miss (y/n)!” “Will we be able to visit you in the castle?” “Is the king nice?” “Are you gonna have kids of your own?” I laughed at the many questions they asked before getting taken away and scolded lightly by their parents.

“(y/n)!!” “Oh my baby you look wonderful!”

I looked up and had a half smile, My mother and sister walked up to me, both of them with tears in their eyes. I rolled my eyes but took both of them into my arms, allowing some tears down my face. Though I still held some anger towards my mom for just giving me up, but I couldn’t help myself, I was glad to have her in my arms.

“My love, Please come up here, It is time.”

I stand up and turn to walk back up, seeing Kars with the same beautiful crown that I saw when I first arrives, the jewel dangling beautifully from it. A smile graced my lips as I stood right infront Kars, I felt a feeling of Joy in my body, the fear that I had when I first came was slowly going away. Kars returned the look as he turned to face the crowd.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, We are gathered here today to celebrate the arrival of my Beautiful, Wonderful and Lovely Queen.” Kars started, I nod along, watching his every movement, He was beautiful, an absolute masterpiece. I still wondered what he would want with a half baked potato like me. I was pulled out of my trance by a weight on my head, realizing he had placed the crown on top of my head. He looked down at me with a look that I’ve never seen before on him, Care, Love, like he genuinely loved me. He then turned back to the crowd pulling me close to him.

“I do hope that you all will continue to watch over us, and grow alongside us.” He spoke before placing a hand underneath my chin. He lifts it slightly before leaning down to capture my lips in a soft, loving kiss, I was shocked, but only for a bit. I soon wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him in to deepen the kiss. This must’ve surprised him because he pulled away slightly and whispered. “Oh you little minx~ Just wait until we get behind closed doors..” He placed another quick kiss on my lips before backing away and waving to the cheering crowd. He placed a hand on my lower back as I raised my hand to wave as well, seeing many of the crowd was moved to tears.

I guess seeing one of their own go from literally rags to riches is enough to get anyone crying.

Kars led me back inside, humming to himself softly, his hand firmly placed on my hip. “Kars..may I ask a question?” I ask, making the male let out a soft laugh. “My love, You just did.. But go ahead” He teased, making me puff out my cheeks in tiny annoyance. I sighed and went ahead with asking my question. “Um..Is it okay if my Mom and Sister come and live with us?”

Kars stopped walking, I thought it was because of what I said, but sighed with relief when he was just opening his room, well our room door. He ushered me inside and closed the door behind him. “Of course they can, My Darling…” He started, locking the door, pulling it to make sure it was secured. “But that’s not what I’m worried about right now.” He purrs, a sultry undertone in his voice. I could feel another blush coming on, I went to sit on the bed and just flopped on my back. I let out a groan of satisfaction as to how soft his bed was, making Kars let out a low growl, one that sent shivers down my spine.

“You do not know how hard it was for me to not take you where we stood.”

I let out a squeak as the male was now on top of me, I didn’t notice that he had moved from his place by the door. He placed his face in the crook of my neck as he kept me pinned down, strong hands holding mine against the bed. He let out another low growl as he continued. “It took everything in me to not take you in front of the crowd, Letting them all know that you belong to me now.” He finished, placing kisses on the side of my neck. I could only let out a sigh of content as his kisses moved lower. I watched as he hovered over my chest, which was still covered by the fabric of the dress. He sat up and smirked, I looked at him confused before in one movement he ripped the dress. Going up from the slit until it reached my chest, he then removed the torn fabric from my body, chuckling at my reaction to the coldness of the room.

“I’ll buy you another one, my love, but right now, I need you more than ever.” He said, he then lifted my legs up onto his shoulder, earning another noise of shock from me. He let out another groan of annoyance before ripping my panties from my body. I shuddered at the new cold, but before I could comment, I let out a loud moan. Kars smirked before giving another long teasing lick “Don’t worry about me tonight. It’s all about you Darling, but after tonight, I will not hold back.” He says before he started to tongue fuck me. A completely new feeling that already having me seeing stars and it did not help that Kars was unrelenting either.

He pulled back a bit licking the slick that was left on his lips off before rubbing two fingers against my folds. He looked at me as if asking for permission, and when I gave him a soft nod he smirked once more, slowly pushing two of his fingers into me. He groaned at the sounds that I was making, he picked up the pace quickly, barely giving me anytime to adjust.

“K-kars..” I moaned out, my hands gripping the smooth silk sheets below me. He hummed in response, glancing back over to me. “Hmm? What is it, my love?” He asked teasingly as he increased the speed of his digits, I squirmed underneath him as I struggled to find the words to say. “D-don’t..” I managed to moan, feeling a knot building up, I was close and he seemed to know it. “Say it my love, I know you are enjoying this so much, the way you are clenching around just my fingers. It makes me wonder how you’ll take my cock~” My body automatically reacted to his teasing words, my hips bucking against his fingers, his pace brutal now. “D-don’t hold back..” I couldn’t even believe what I was saying just now. I’ve only had sex once before and it was clumsly to say the least, so for me to practically beg the King not to hold back was surprising.

He must’ve been surprised too because began chuckling before full on laughing, he removed his fingers causing me to let out a whine.

“My Darling woman, are you sure?” He asked as he stood up off of the bed. I nodded, my head cloudy, still whining from feeling empty. Kars quietly removed his bottoms, kicking them somewhere off to the side of the room, he pull me by my legs to the end of the bed.

I looked at his face, and a different expression was there. Lust. Eyes clouded over as he looked over my body. He teasingly pressed himself up against my folds and I gasped. Looking down this man was probably 9.5 inches with about a 1.5 girth, ‘How in the hell is that supposed to fit in me?!’ I thought.

Kars chuckled at the expression on my face. “I know, i know my love, I’m going to take my time so you can get adjusted.” He says, slowly guiding himself inside me. Just from his head, I already felt like he wouldn’t fit, but as he slowly inched more and more inside, he stretched me out wonderfully. Once he was fully inside of me, he gave a slow experimental thrust, pulling almost all the way out before snapping his hips back. I cried out in pain and pleasure, he set a slow pace, everytime, he snapped his hips in just the right way to hit that spot. The pain was fading fast, and I wanted more than this slow pace he had.

“Kars..Please just fuck me…”

My words must’ve made him snap, soon after those words left my lips he began thrusting at a more violent and fast pace, making me cry out in pleasure. His name was falling off my lips like a mantra, He was hitting just the right spot everytime. I managed to look up at him, his eyes were half open, jaw locked as he let some groans and grunts. One thrust had me seeing stars, I did not care how loud i was being at this point and I’m pretty sure any servant that walked by could hear.

One of Kars hands slowly snaked its was up to my neck and gave it a slight squeeze. “Tell me who’s fucking you this good, Tell me darling.” He growled out. I moaned out his name loud, practically screaming it at this point. He smirked “Louder. I want them to know who you belong to (y/n)”

“You Kars!”

“Louder!”

“KARS!”

I cried out feeling that familiar knot unraveling, I could feel myself clenching around his cock, making him curse and growl.

“That’s it..That’s it..You’re mine, No one else's..”

He moans out, feeling his thrust start to get sloppy until that came to a complete halt and he was spilling his seed into me. He stayed in place until he finished before slowly pulling out. He moved to lay beside me and pull me into his chest. I turned to give him a kiss but he just held me in place. “Shh..My Love, You’re tired..Let's just rest, Tomorrow you can relax all day and I’ll have someone come check in on you.” He mumbled, running his hand through my hair, I hummed in response, feeling sleep starting to creep up on me.

“I love you Kars..” I mutter, feeling my eyes getting heavy, I hear him chuckle and place a kiss on my forehead.

“I love you too My Darling~...”

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When I awoke,it was still dark outside.

I was dressed in a nightgown and Kars was gone, I yawned softly and got up out of bed. I nearly fell because the feeling in my legs was barely there, I blushed remembering the activities. I slowly made my way to the door only to have someone else open the door.

“Ah Good Hello Stell-”

“Don’t you Hello me you whore.”

I was taken back by her words and angry expression. “Excuse me?” I was confused. She let out a yell of frustration. “It’s your fault! You are the reason I am not Queen! A common bitch like you!” She barked. I was hurt, I thought of Stella as a nice woman, but now she’s showing a totally different side of herself. I moved to push past her and head out the door but her words made me stop.

“Hell You’re just gonna be like the other girl before you!”

I stopped and turned to face her. “Say what?” She laughed at me before crossing her arms. “You thought you were picked out because they thought you were interesting? No, It’s because you look like Kar’s previous wife. He killed her. He only wants someone who is powerful enough to use the stone thats on the crown.” She saunters her way over to my crown and holds it in her hands. “You’re just going to be another dead body.”

I stood horrified, Mom told me that the previous Queen had died of illness, not that she was killed by Kars. “No..No He wouldn’t do that to me. He loves me.” Stella lets out another loud laugh before looking at me with a deadpan look. “He told me that too. He told me he loves me and that I’m special. I was going to be queen if it wasn’t for you.” She growled, marching forward, “So why don’t you do me a favor and run away. Run far from here..So that My King, no my Husband would have to dirty his hand with more blood” She said.

I could feel tears welling up in my eyes and I ran out of the room, hearing her evil cackles from the room.

I went up to several maids and butlers to ask where Kars and the other kings were, but even they would not talk to me. I could feel even more tears run down my face as I ran through the halls, I burst open a door feeling the coldness of the outside and run down the stairs.

At the bottom of the stairs stood Kars himself talking to a guard. I turned to take another way around the castle, an exit that I saw earlier when I first arrived. It was cold,I was freezing, but I couldn’t not bring myself to look Kars in the face anymore. What if I was just another body? What if he’ll ditch me and get another woman? Hell, if Stella said was true, was he just using me?

So many thoughts were running through my head, I didn’t even notice that I had bumped into someone. “I’m s-sorry..”

“My Queen, what are you doing out?” It was Esidisi, I gasped and began crying even more as I dropped to my knees. “He doesn’t love me Esi! He..He is..Just using me..” I cried out, my cries loud and echoing off the outside walls. Multiple footsteps could be heard running up to us.”My Darling?” I hear Kars call out, I continue to cry, I should have known that royalty like him wouldn’t love a commoner like me. I might as well give up the crown and just go home.

I could feel someone pick me up and hold me bridal style in their arms. “Esidisi. What is she doing out here?” “I don’t know, She ran into me crying about how you do not truly love her and you are using her.” I heard Kars suck in breath and hold me even tighter. “Who said this to you?” He asked me. I shook my head and kept crying, he shushed me and carried me back inside.

He holds me in his arms continuously telling me how much he loved me and to not listen to those rumors. When he entered the main ballroom where most maids were cleaning. “Excuse me. Who in the world told my Queen that I don’t love her?” he barked. I wiped my eyes, watching as each and everyone of the servants who gave me the cold shoulder. Kars sucked his teeth before moving to carry me like i was a child so he could have a free hand. He gripped one maid by her hair, making her let out an ear piercing scream. “I said tell me.”

“AH One of the Head maids your majesty!! She started spreading rumors, but Stella tried to stop her but she kept going.” I rolled my eyes knowing this fully to be a lie. Kars threw her across the room with his brute strength. “Oh you’ll receive a proper punishment soon. But now I have to deal with my Queen.” He said coldly, moving back to holding me with two arms. I lay my head comfortable on Kars shoulder, my cheeks stained with tears as I ended up falling back asleep in his arms.

“My Queen, don’t you worry..I will find out who did this to you..who lied on my name and made you feel unworthy of my love.”

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To say he was pissed was an understatement. Kars had laid (y/n) back in their shared bed, he then charged in the servant quarters scaring all of them.

Those servants wished that they would have spoken up, or comforted the queen in that moment, they suffered severe beatings, threats and some of them were even sent to the dungeon.

All while Stella Listened and laughed.

“One step closer...Just one step closer.”

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I hope you enjoyed this chapter!

My playlist for this entire story is

Montero By Lil Nas X

Alejandro and Bad Romance by Lady Gaga

Streets By Doja Cat

Paparazzi: Kim Dracula

What songs does this story make you think of?

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#pillarmen #jjba pillarmen #yandere pillarmen #pillarmen x reader #Yandere Kars x reader #kars x reader #jjba kars #yandere kars #jjba esidisi #jjba wamuu #jjba #JoJo's Bizarre Adventure #Jojo no Kimyou na Bouken #Jjba x reader #jjba fanfiction #jjba fanfic #x reader #yandere x reader

284 notes · View notes

ive-tumbled-down-a-rabbit-hole · 3 years

Text

Stories of Paris

I have no self control this week and have just finished this wip I'll update 2 days on the trot (mainly as I've become word blind and can't see the words for the letters). This is a flux occurrence and is likely to never happen again unless it's like a month with 2 full moons and the stars have aligned wonky and theres a north wind blowing and Fae stuff like that....

Will eventually post on AO3 when like the tech sprites are feeling nice to me and the gremlins have disappeared.

Masterlist

Part One Part Two

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Alfred checked in on his small charge, making sure he was still asleep, before heading to his own room. The last couple of months had been hard. Much harder for young master Bruce but still hard. He had lost his employers, who were closer to friends really. He'd become an unexpected full time guardian on top of a full time workload of running a manor house, which he was originally employed for. Gone were his fortnightly day off. His evenings to himself to meet up with friends, his whole life was turned upside down and he was grieving.

As much as he adored Master Bruce he wanted, no that's not right, he needed a break to grieve too. Grieve the loss of his friends, the loss of his freedom, the loss of his own life expectations.

Once he reached his own personal sanctuary he got out his personal phone and dialed the one person who got him. She may have been a foreign agent but she had taken him under her wing, looked after him and treated him like a son before they both retired (for different reasons). She was like a mother to him after he lost his own. She was always a grounding rock. It was this point, in his early 30's he needed someone to talk to this overwhelming, unexpected, humongous responsibility he'd stumbled upon.

"Ciao?"

"Gina, Are free to talk?"

"Alfie darling!!! Of course I am free to talk to you! I'll always make time for you darling! How are you doing stateside? The family in your charge still treating you well? Or do they need to be dropped so you can come adventuring with me?"

Suppressing a stifled sob Alfred tried to answer Gina's questions.

"They, they died Gina. The couple. The… the Wayne's were murdered in front of their son… They left me in charge of looking after him. I'm his guardian… I've looked after him for 2… 2 months..."

The stifled sob broke loose. After 2 months of being in complete control over all the emotions in favour of protecting and supporting Master Bruce he finally let them all out.

".... Shhhh shhh, there there il mio piccolo… Let those tears flow. Don't hold it in. Let those feelings out… "

Alfred sat in his room allowing himself to crack with Gina providing soothing words to him. After a while the sobs died down and he recomposed himself.

"Are you feeling better Alfie sweetie?"

"... Yes …"

"How often do you get your own space? Time to care about yourself? When was the last time you had a 'you' day?"

"... Before, before all this I would have days and time to see friends. Now, it's all about Master Bruce. He needs someone. He's just lost his parents. I can't abandon him as well.''

"So not for 2 months then. Hmmmm… you need to get a babysitter and make time and days for yourself"

"I don't trust anyone in Gotham Gina to look after Master Bruce. I've built a network up but not a 'child friendly one'."

"Good thing then I have the perfect candidate for you. My granddaughter is in Gotham as part of a study program or something like that. My little fairy is good with bambini. And it would benefit us having someone we trust to physically check in with her too. Being an ocean away makes it hard for us to check she is actually ok and not what she is presenting to a screen or phone."

"That, that might work Gina. How old is she? I know you wouldn't suggest it if she wasn't suitable…"

"Currently 17 but soon to be 18 and planning to stay Gotham way for a while. She seems to adore the architecture."

"That… .this might work. Could you check with her that she is happy to do this and we can arrange a meeting to see how it goes. It will be dependent on how well she connects with Master Bruce as to what happens next."

"Sounds like a plan Alfie! You're a strong resourceful man Alfie. You'll get through this. Do call me again if you need anything. And I do mean anything! Also be certain I'll be visiting in the nearish future to check on you and the lad.

Now go to sleep and I'll have a chat with my little fairy to see what we can do. You're not on your own in this son. Rest now and I will be in contact soon."

"Thank you Gina. For everything. Just being able to talk to someone has been a huge help. I'll go rest now. Bye"

"Bye Alfie"

After hanging up the phone Alfred took a deep breath and for the first time in a long time he felt he could finally breathe. Gina had never led him wrong before. Having someone to watch Master Bruce even for a few hours would allow him the space to set up a new network and reconnect with people. The overwhelming task would become manageable. Hopefully Gina's granddaughter would be willing and that Master Bruce liked her.

With those thoughts in mind Alfred finally turned in for the night.

…………………………………………………………..

Bruce continued to stare at the teen in his living room. It was an unexpected guest in his eyes. Alfred had informed him of a visitor, an old friend's granddaughter who was studying in Gotham, and Alfred's friend wanted him to check up on her. So Alfred had invited her to the manor. That was all fine. What he didn't get is why HE needed to be about. He didn't want company, he wanted his parents back. He wanted that man who destroyed his life brought to justice. He wanted to do research not listening to some inane talk. He wanted to be left alone to wallow. And maybe have Alfred about too for quiet company and provide tea and snacks. Not this stranger in his home.

As he stared (glared) at the girl he lost focus on the ongoing conversation she was having with Alfred to sulk.

He was drawn out of his musing when he saw the girl out down the cup she was drinking from and gave Alfred a hug. She whispered something to Alfred and much to Bruce's amazement, Alfred's whole being seemed to loose some of the tenseness it held. A glimmer of a spark he once held seems to re-enter his being.

"*cough* Right Miss Marinette. I can tell you are related to your Grandmother. Gina holds a magic way with words too."

"It's ok Monsieur Pennyworth. I learnt a lot about how words have power and how they can affect people under Hawkmoth's rein. Nonna helped me refine the skill."

"Hawkmoth? Miss Marinette could you explain further?"

"Yes, he was a supervillain. He held the power to manipulate people with negative emotions and turn them into temporary villains which Paris superheros had to defeat.

It was exhausting to live through. Watching what you said and how it could affect others. Keeping your own emotions in check. Nonna was a great help in learning to read body language so I could preempt and defuse situations before Hawkmoth could attack."

The girl, Marinette, went back to drinking her tea as if what she said was common knowledge and that having super heros was a normal thing.

It sparked Bruce's interest. The 8 year old boy adored comics telling granduese stories of adventures. This Marinette may not be as awful as he originally thought. She had experience of heroes and what they could do. In the small boy's head, he needed to get as much information as humanly possible from her. She might know how they came to be. How they got their powers. She knew about justice and how to take down bad guys indirectly. That meant joining in the conversation so she might come again.

"Thank you for coming round Miss Marinette. Are you sure I can not interest you into staying for dinner?"

"No, thank you Monsieur Pennyworth, for having me. I would have loved to stay for dinner, Nonna tells tales of your fabulous culinary skills, I must however decline. The family I am staying with is expecting me back soon.

It was a pleasure to meet you though. And you Monsieur Wayne."

Bruce was drawn out of his thoughts of superheroing and taking down bad guys. His information source was leaving. He needed to keep her here somehow. Or get her return.

"It was nice to meet you too Marinette. Would you like to come round and visit Alfred again?"

Alfred looked at the young master in surprise, the young boy had appeared to show no interest and huge distrust of Miss Marinette, but apparently looks are deceiving. Somehow she had won the boys interest and he wanted her to return. Gina was right about the girl, she was talented and seemed to know how to work her audience especially children. Maybe, just maybe Gina's idea would work.

"I would be delighted to visit again Monsieur Wayne. Monsieur Pennyworth has my details. I'm sure we can arrange another occasion to meet."

"If you would like to follow me Miss Marinette, I will escort you to the door."

…………………………………………………………..

"Gina"

"Alfie!!! How are you? It's good to hear from you!"

"I am well thank you. Much better than when we last spoke. I must say though, thank you! Your idea has been perfect. Your granddaughter has been amazing. She completely worked her magic with Master Bruce."

"Mmmm hmmm"

"She has got him talking. Not much. But he isn't as wallowy as he was before we met her. She got him kneading bread. And basically got him to beat his frustrations into it. The kitchen was a disaster from it all but he seems happier."

"YOU sound happier darling too!! The kneading thing likely comes from my Tom. He got my fairy doing that a lot under Hawkmoths rein. Baking for her has become a way to process/deal with her emotions. The nasty fella. I'm glad he is all done and dusted for my fairy. He left his mark on her."

"I can honestly see a way forward now Gina. Thank you. Bruce and I, we will get there. But back to your comment, Left his Mark? Did Miss Marinette get hurt? Has she an injury that I need to be aware of. Every time I've seen her she seems well, with the occasional spacey moments. She seems to navigate a conversation well to avoid topics that cause her too many anxieties."

"Not physically that I am aware of. Emotionally it has taken its toll. She is good at masking and misdirecting emotions as you've probably seen and noted. She's grieving too. She's left Paris as it has too many memories for the moment."

"I see.... I can see how that is likely helping her and Master Bruce connect. Thank you Gina, truly. Our little family has hope now that your fairy has arrived. We will see if we can also watch out and help her."

…………………………………………………………..

Had Bruce realised at the time that Marinette's original visit was an informal interview to see if he connected with her, Bruce may have paid a bit more attention. He might have noticed if had paid attention but that's neither here nor there. In his unfocused state he had somehow agreed to her becoming his babysitter. And as much as he protested to Alfred that he was perfectly capable of looking after himself. The small fire he created in the kitchen when he tried to make toast (this time) shortly before his declaration destroyed his argument.

The bonus was that with each occasion Marinette babysat him he was learning more and more about superheros (and got freshly baked treats). And she knew a lot about both.

"Mon poussin, shall we go bake some cookies before Alfred returns?"

"Ummm… I might have been err banned from the kitchen since you last visited Mari."

"Banned mon chéri? Why on earth were you banned?"

"I tried to make the cookies we made last time for Alfred as a surprise. The fire this time was much bigger than normal"

"Are you banned from baking or just being in the kitchen? I kinda need to know what rule we're about to bend"

"Bend? And errrr baking and kitchen. Alfred said 'Young master. Please can you refrain from attempting to bake and using the kitchen equipment. You are banned until I see fit that it is safe for you to learn again'"

Bruce caught a glint of mischief entering Marinette's eye and a smirk grew upon her face.

"Perfect!!! You're banned from the equipment for baking. I'll use the equipment then and you can still be in the kitchen then. Bending is working with the rules and looking for where they are flexible and looking for loopholes. Alfred for example according to you said baking. Well baking is different from cooking. So technically you could cook. Though as it's Alfred I'd probably give it a miss."

"Yeah, I don't fancy getting on the wrong side of Alfred."

The pair started to walk to the kitchen to bake with Marinette leading.

"The Parisian's superheros used that technique a lot. The police there weren't particularly welcoming in the beginning so they followed the rules the police set out and twisted them to work best in their interest. It's something you see business people do too. Something I'm sure you'll encounter when you're older sadly."

"How did they get their names? Paris's superheros"

Marinette smiled ruefully as she got the ingredients out for cookies.

"I told you that I was friends with a blogger at the time"

"Uh-huh" Bruce nodded.

"For the most part she named them. I believe, from what I remember her saying, is that Chat Noir introduced himself as that, but Ladybug, she focused on the task at hand and ignored the media for the most part at the beginning and they named her. The blogger from what I recall named her and then created the blog 'the ladyblog' as a pun on the name. Lesson to learn there is that if a hero doesn't want to be named by the media they should have a name ready to provide and introduce themselves with. Winning the media and public over made the job easier from what I could tell"

"And what made them superheros Mari?"

"They had powers mon poussin. Police, firepeople, doctors and nurses. They are all hero's fighting to protect others everyday. All within the law. These superheros had powers. They had magic."

Bruce looked at Marinette in awe.

"Magic?"

"A curse and a blessing, magic is Bruce" Marinette in such a serious way that was so out of character it startled Bruce.

"There are so many types of magic out there Bruce. For the most part it's benevolent, neither good nor evil just existing in balance. Old magic though. Old magic tends to come at a cost. Yes it can help but there is always something required to balance it out. A negative payment. Hawkmoth, he used the magic in a negative way and it cost him his family. His life as well.. Ladybug and Chat Noir they both had to use their powers to balance the other one out."

Bruce absorbed the information like a sponge. He loved when Marinette forgot his age and just spoke her thoughts. Her memories. He was learning so much from her about these heroes when she drifted to narrate the past. Superheroes. If Alfred let him he was going to look this blog up on his computer later.

With such melancholy Marinette continued.

"Hawkmoth turned out to be my friend's dad. His dad was awful so it wasn't a huge surprise. But, his misuse of the magic caused the death of my friend to balance it all out. Magic isn't inherently bad, it's the side effects that people forget about and neglect to think."

Marinette let out a big sigh.

"These cookies are going to taste sour with this sad mood growing. Mon poussin, what superpower would you want if you could have one?"

She enquired trying to lighten the mood about the past as she put the cookies into the oven to cook.

Bruce mulled over the question.

"I'm not sure Mari. What you said about magic and powers seems like a bad idea. If I had a superpower, what would it cost me? I don't want to lose Alfred or you. I'd want to do it without powers''

*Chuckling* "Oh mon poussin. That's what you got from what I've said. Mon chéri, you won't lose us. You're family now"

Marinette stated before booping his nose with a floury finger.

"But you said people were heroes without powers Mari! I wanna be like that."

"So a secret ninja hero with lots of gadgets then."

Matinette giggled at the boys antics "Remember secret identities are key. No-one but your selected trusted support network can ever know them so you are all protected as well."

"Hmmm ok Mari that's good advice"

They both sat in silence after that. Marinette, still trying to recover from the memories of losing Adrien, Bruce pondering what Mari had said.

"How'd you train to be a ninja Mari?"

"Hmmm ninja training I guess Bruce."

"What's that though"

"I guess ninjas train in martial arts, gymnastics and stuff like that. Maybe in weapons. I don't really know Bruce. I've never met a ninja before."

Marinette smiled at the small boy. He reminded her of Manon with all the questions on heroes and Alya with her obsession in her teens. She never remembered being so fascinated with them but many of the children she had babysat especially in Paris had a huge fascination with them. It was times like this she missed Paris and her family there. Nonna recommending her to Alfred was a stroke of luck. Bless Tikki. She was starting to feel like she had a family over here now too.

Bruce mulled over the information Mari had given. Maybe he would get Alfred to sign up for martial arts lessons. That would help towards getting skilled enough to bring justice, even if it didn't bring his parents back.

When Alfred returned back to the manor, he found the pair giggling in the kitchen. Cookies cooling on the side as the pair pretended to do silly ninja moves while watching ninja warrior clips on Miss Marinette's phone. Alfred smiled to himself while craftily snapping a photo of the pair. Miss Marinette was an excellent babysitter and was slowly bringing happiness back into the manor. Bruce's sour moods from grief definitely improved with her presence.

Gina's recommendation was perfect.

…………………………………………………………..

Marinette had almost become a permanent feature in Bruce's life. She was round at least once a fortnight. Sometimes once a week and had been for the last 9 months and he had grown to see her as almost an Aunt or cousin or something more than a babysitter. She was becoming family. He desperately missed his parents still but having Mari and Alfred he didn't feel quite as alone on the bad days.

The pair were both doing homework in the garden while Alfred was out when Mari's phone rang. She switched to another language on answering. Bruce paused from his work and watched. He didn't know the language and felt left out not knowing what was being said. He would ask Alfred to sign him up for language lessons when he returns. The martial art lessons were awesome in the boys eyes. Language lessons would help connect more with Marinette. And help in spying and his secret hero training.

Watching her though she seemed to flit through a range of emotions in quick succession which were a blur to interpret before they went. They disappeared from her face. He couldn't read what she was thinking or feeling. Bruce knew he was fairly good at reading adults. It was helpful to avoid getting into trouble at school (and with Alfred). It was amazing and scary to not be able to do so with Mari.

"Mari…?" Bruce gently asked when the call had ended "How'd you do that?"

"Hmmm.. do what mon poussin"

"Hide your feelings. How'd you do that?"

"Hide them?" Marinette mused over what Bruce was meaning. "I didn't really hide them mon chéri. I just sifted through them as I felt them and checked if they were helpful to me or not. If it wasn't helpful I parked to deal with it at a later date so I could focus on the call with a clear head. Given who I was talking to, getting upset, angry or frustrated wouldn't benefit me at all. Why do you ask?"

"Can you teach me?!" Bruce demanded with enthusiasm. To be able to be able to do that would be so cool. To do it in games with peers and hide what he was feeling and therefore thinking would be awesome.

Marinette laughed at her temporary charges determination.

"It takes time and patience to learn mon poussin. And I started by learning to meditate and recognising my own emotions. Learning what I'm truly feeling and working out what I need to do to process it.

If we complete our homework soon I'll teach you some basic mediation and we can go from there if you like?"

"Yes!! But don't have to do homework first….. can't we skip it pleeeeeeease"

Marinette just raised her eyebrow, in a very Alfred manner, at the boy who ducked his head in return.

Much to Alfred's surprise he came home to find the pair sitting in the garden as Miss Marinette took Master Bruce through a guided meditation. He hoped that this may be the start of Bruce starting to openly process his grief.

#maribat #maribat au #ml x dc #dc x ml #dc x mlb #mlb x dc #ml crossover #marinette x bruce #marinette x alfred #plantonic #friendship #babysitting #found family

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everythingsinred · 3 years

Text

Let's Talk About NatsuMikan: Natsume (pt. 9)

Previously we talked about how Natsume gave up on trying to make Mikan hate him in order to support her on her mission to retrieve Iinchou's alice and an antidote for Hotaru's wound. We also discussed his feelings of insecurity and contrasting surrender with not being relied upon by Mikan. He simultaneously accepts that she shouldn't get close and also hates that she doesn't call out to him when she's in trouble.

Today we'll talk about the cementing information about Natsume' life-span, as it has consequences on his relationship with Mikan, as well as the harsh differences between Natsume and the others on this mission.

Chapter Thirty-Six

This arc reveals several things, but this chapter specifically addresses Natsume’s differences from the rest of them. This isn’t his first life-or-death mission, and he has experience with this that the rest of them lack.

When they wake up in the mountains, Natsume and Ruka are quick to try and find information about their surroundings, and Tsubasa establishes that eating should be a priority as well.

Mikan wanted to be useful in this way, having packed food for this occasion. Unfortunately, Pengy is in her backpack instead, having eaten everything she prepared. Natsume is adamant that Pengy be discarded, as it’s already proven itself to be a hindrance. Mikan sticks up for it, saying that it was a gift from Hotaru, but Natsume argues that that’s nonsense.

This is a great example of the difference between them. For Mikan, this may be a noble adventure where she will go on a journey and save Iinchou and Hotaru, but for Natsume, this is his second life. He knows how this sort of thing goes. This isn’t a game, it’s a deadly mission where they might get killed. They could starve. They could get injured. Hindrances like Pengy only increase the chance of that happening, as it’s already shown.

Natsume came along to help the journey be smooth and as safe as possible, so really he's just doing what he came to do.

Mikan promises to take responsibility for it, so Natsume begrudgingly allows it, but there’s tension between them now. Pengy’s behavior needs to be in line, or Natsume will have been proven right.

And then almost immediately, Natsume is proven right.

Pengy gets itself trapped by a flesh-eating plant, and Mikan and Ruka rush to save it. The enchanted trees nearby are awakened and irritated, so they start spitting sap and acorns at each other, with the kids in the crossfire.

Natsume is covered with sap and leaves and, although he is annoyed, doesn’t really react until Ruka is attacked by a swinging branch and crashes against another tree trunk. Because Ruka has been hurt, Natsume goes berserk once again, setting all the trees in the area on fire for what they did to his friend. This is an example of how going berserk can actually be useful, as Natsume is able to take out the threat and keep them all safe.

The tension is even worse now. Natsume had to clean up after Pengy’s mess, even after Mikan said she would take responsibility. Mikan gets defensive and argues, even attempting to downplay the role Pengy played, but Natsume is in no mood to listen. He has a point, after all, because this situation is much more dangerous than any of the rest of them fully comprehend.

The DA class was going to dispatch experts (children, but still experts) to take out Z, and now he's going in blind with very little intel and a group of unexperienced kids who have no idea how dangerous this really is. Natsume comes close to death on a regular basis, and even as readers we have no idea if that regular basis means weekly or even sometimes daily. From what we’ve seen in the Reo arc, we’re aware that Natsume is always prepared to die, but will do what it takes to survive and accomplish the objective. This time, in order to accomplish the objective, they can’t lose their food or get attacked by trees and flesh-eating plants. In order to survive and do what they came for, Pengy should be discarded.

What’s more is that Natsume is angry because Pengy caused Ruka to be hurt, and he’s still upset about it. The damage could have been worse, and Pengy would have been responsible. He doesn’t want something like that to happen again, especially because two of the people on this mission with him are people he cares very much about and doesn’t want to see hurt.

Natsume isn’t usually one to get distracted by tense conversations either. He immediately jumps back into action to alert the others that something isn’t right--they’re in the territory of an embedded medusa alice and are in danger yet again.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Once again, Ruka is put in danger because of Pengy, whom he attempts to save from the medusa alice. This time, Mikan is able to take responsibility, and uses her nullification, amplified by Tono’s alice stone, to protect the both of them from the embedded alice.

This event brings some information about alice stones, but it’s just a taste of what we will later learn. If anything, it’s just an appetizer before the meal that we will have later on.

Natsume, ever observant on missions and always analytical, has been noticing a lack of fruit trees in the area and realizes that the animals that have been sharing the fruits have been traveling through warp zones. Natsume has so far been planning and strategizing, and Ruka, being so eager to prove himself, has been trying to be just as useful. As soon as they woke up, Ruka started communicating with animals to get info, and now that Natsume has brought up another possibility, Ruka instantly goes to work again.

Natsume can see how much Ruka is trying, and because of that, he insists that they all rest, because Ruka has overworked himself. Natsume wants his best friend to feel as important as he is, that he can be relied on. He specifically wants Ruka to know that he relies on him and trusts him, and that he is valuable on this mission.

They are winding down for the night, and Natsume has decided that since Mikan is taking too long getting the water, he’ll go get some himself. In the process, he ends up overhearing the conversation Mikan had with Ruka about alice stones.

Ruka doesn’t reveal much more about alice stones, just says that as they get stronger, they can all make alice stones. Then he promises to give Mikan his stone when he makes one someday, attaching all the romantic intent there with it. He’s content that Mikan swears the same, despite the fact that she doesn’t know what such a promise entails.

Ruka feels guilty for this, and runs to get Natsume.

But Natsume was listening the whole time, and revealing himself would embarrass Ruka, or make him feel even guiltier, so he keeps himself hidden. Even something as small as this is a selfless act.

But he can’t help it that Mikan finds him.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Mikan starts blabbering, but he responds unkindly at every new topic. His biggest concern is that Mikan doesn’t actually know what she just promised to do with Ruka. Natsume and Ruka both know: it’s more or less like a proposal of commitment, like dating or even marriage. She has no idea that there’s a romantic meaning with exchanging alice stones, but he can’t tell her either, because it would embarrass Ruka and put him on the spot. So when Mikan asks what it means, he elects not to say anything and ignores her instead. She has the right to know, of course, but Natsume won’t say it when doing so would throw Ruka under the bus like that.

As a result, there is a long, awkward silence that Mikan doesn’t enjoy, but Natsume can’t break.

Eventually, she breaks it, just to randomly say that one day, when she grows up, if she can make an excellent alice stone, she will give it to Natsume.

You know when you really want something, and suddenly it seems like the stars have aligned in all the wrong ways--you CAN have this thing, but you really shouldn't take it? Yeah, that's what this is. For me, this usually happens with food, but with some people I guess it's more meaningful.

It’s the last thing he expects, and he’s taken aback. He has done nothing obvious enough to deserve an alice stone from Mikan. He’s mean to her all the time, has even argued with her on this very mission, and told her he hated her only a couple days ago. There was so much anger between them because of Pengy, and yet she still promises that she will give him her alice stone. Natsume has a low self-esteem, and thinks the only thing that should be noticed by anyone is what he wants them to notice. His secret kindness doesn’t make up for anything else he does. He should ultimately still be the last of anyone’s priorities. He doesn’t think he’s worth an alice stone, because for years he’s been told that he isn’t even worth his own life.

Persona made it clear to him that the only thing he was good for was his performance on missions. If he cannot service the school, then he is no longer valuable. He should die. And because he does these missions to protect Aoi and Ruka, then ultimately he is only so valuable as long as he is protecting others, sacrificing himself for them. Even before that, Natsume has been self-sacrificing, but to have it drilled into you that your value is conditional--there’s no way something like that wouldn’t have grave consequences on a child’s self esteem.

To be told by the girl he likes that she wants to give him an alice stone… It’s unimaginable.

And he shuts it down.

He reminds her she already promised hers to Ruka, and tells her she couldn’t make more than one with ease. She only needs to make one for Ruka. He doesn’t want it.

Natsume could easily take advantage of the fact that Mikan has no idea what the alice stones mean and accept it. He could tell her what she’s promising. He could ignore her.

Instead, he rejects it, adamantly.

This is just so silly!

They end up bickering and splashing each other with water, acting like little kids (which they are) and getting entirely soaked.

Natsume looks at her, his memory focusing on when she said, “when I grow up.”

"When I grow up..." Damn, Mikan, don't rub it in. That's the thing he's sensitive about!

Natsume rejected her for many reasons. He will put Ruka’s happiness before his own. He doesn’t want to trick Mikan into anything. He doesn’t think he deserves it. It wouldn’t mean the same thing to her that it would to him. And, most tragically, he’s not going to grow up to be able to receive it.

By the time Mikan is able to make a fabulous alice stone worthy to give to someone, Natsume will certainly not be the one to receive it, because he will probably be long dead. Why would he allow her to make a promise that would be impossible for her to keep?

No, he has no choice but to reject her here, stomp out any chance that she would ever consider him again.

They’re both soaking wet, and she’s tugging at her hair, trying to wring it out, and all he can do is look at her.

And then he tells her that her pigtail hairstyle doesn’t suit her. In five years, she should wear her hair down. He thinks she looks better that way.

Might as well tell her now because he won't be around in five years, and wouldn't it be a travesty if nobody let her know?

Natsume has been selfless for most of the conversation, choosing Ruka’s feelings over everything else whenever he could. This comment of his is the first selfish thing to come out of his mouth this whole day.

They were all aged up before, because of the Gulliver candy, and Mikan’s hair had been in her customary pigtail style. We already have the feeling that Natsume likes her with her hair down, since he was so vehement that she didn’t put it up back during the musical. Now we (and Mikan) get verbal confirmation.

He tells her now, because in five years' time, he won't be alive to say it.

He must not think much of this, in terms of how it will affect her. Maybe it felt safe to say something insignificant, like “your hair’s nicer down”, after all the rejecting he’s had to do so far. He had to tell her he hated her, rejected her stone, and argued with her all day. It must be tiresome to lie all the time, especially when his real feelings are the opposite of what he’s letting on. He just wants to let a little of the affection he has for her out, especially when he’s looking at her like this. It’s not a love confession, or a promise to exchange alice stones. If he ever shows any affection, it should be small and almost imperceptible, nothing grand and obvious like Ruka’s. Natsume would never try to purposefully undermine Ruka’s wooing.

It’s not his fault that the smallest comment like that has such a huge impact on her.

They return to camp and find Tsubasa and Ruka absolutely wasted on grapes that Pengy has found. Yet another con on Natsume’s endless list of Pengy cons. Tsubasa sobers up, but Ruka embraces Mikan. In his drunken stupor, it almost seems like he might try to kiss Mikan. Although Natsume might be willing to put his best friend’s happiness before his, that doesn’t mean he’ll allow a wasted Ruka to kiss her. There’s plenty of reasons that could go wrong, after all, and there’s no doubt Ruka would be horrified come morning. So he pulls Ruka off Mikan and together they sleep, with Ruka nestled in the fur of a bear, snuggled up among animals. Natsume is uncomfortable, but he won’t tear his hand away from Ruka’s grip because it’s meant to comfort his friend.

He only separates from him a little later, when he starts coughing uncontrollably and we’re faced with yet another realization about Natsume.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

The chapter opens with Tsubasa watching in concern as Natsume coughs, until he coughs up blood. Once he’s coughed out his blood, Natsume catches his breath and reaches for the healing alice stone he keeps around his neck. For all of Tsubasa’s concern about it, Natsume almost seems nonchalant. He’s not shocked or disturbed at all to see blood in his palm. His biggest concern is that Tsubasa keep it down because he’s being too loud and it might wake up the others.

Because even when Natsume’s life is nearing its end and his body is quickly decaying, all he is concerned with is Ruka. He coughed up blood. So what? All he cares about is that he isn’t worrying anybody. Natsume’s crippling martyr complex manifests here as a complete disregard for his own health, as long as everyone else is ignorant and happy. No matter how concerned Tsubasa is about him, Natsume is never on his own list of priorities.

Natsume is the least important person in his own life.

But he still informs Tsubasa that he’s been in this shape for a year, as a result of going on frequent missions for the school. Natsume has never told anybody this, but Tsubasa already knows one damning thing, so might as well just tell him everything. It must be a relief to him, to be able to confess it, after keeping it to himself this whole time.

Tsubasa is adamant that this is a big deal, and that he wouldn't feel right, letting Natsume continue on the mission while he's in this state.

So Natsume must once again point out that he’s different from the rest of them. His alice isn’t intended for use as a parlor trick or fun little hobby. His is to destroy and hurt, and not just the school’s enemies, but himself as well. His alice is incredibly powerful, a consequence of the life-shortening ability type, and at only ten years old he has an excellent, almost prodigal, grasp on controlling and utilizing it. Natsume can make an alice stone with ease, ignite or put out a fire no problem. And because of his position in the DA class, he’s also tactically and strategically advanced, so missions like the one they’re currently on are nothing he isn’t used to. He’s their ace, and that’s what Natsume is trying to stress to Tsubasa. He’s a great player to have on the team because of his experience and ability.

So don’t fucking spill about it, okay?

Because he’s capable and willing to retaliate, and if he does, it won’t be pleasant.

But what sticks in Tsubasa’s mind (and probably the reader’s) is that all that experience and ability comes at a steep cost, one that isn’t really worth it, not that Natsume has a choice in the matter.

Natsume leaves the conversation, going right back to Ruka and cuddling up with him again. He hadn’t wanted to leave Ruka’s side to begin with, understandably concerned that Ruka should get plenty of rest after a long day of using his alice and then getting drunk. Natsume is more than willing to help Ruka and fret over him, but he never gives Ruka the same opportunity, because he doesn’t want to put anybody, least of all his close friends, in that position. Natsume should be the one caring about people. He should be the last priority to everyone else, just like he is to himself.

And the next morning when Ruka wakes up, confused over what happened as he doesn’t remember anything, Natsume gets right back into the mission. Just like last night with the alice stones, he doesn’t want to embarrass Ruka.

As they continue their journey, Tsubasa continuously tries to voice concern for Natsume while not letting Mikan or Ruka know, as had been requested of him. Natsume responds with insults, because of course he does. Tsubasa then mutters, “And here I was, worrying about you!” but that’s exactly the effect Natsume was trying to have in the first place.

Natsume is really funny though, I think we can all agree.

Natsume has several go-to moves for his selflessness, and though they vary depending on the person and situation, most of them involve him being a jerk. In this case, he is being a jerk on purpose so that Tsubasa won’t worry about him. It’s hard to be overly concerned about a person when they’re bugging the shit out of you, after all. This is absolutely intentional, a technique Natsume uses often.

It backfires on him though, because Tsubasa is frequently surrounded by bratty kids with too much of a mouth on them. As they head up the mountain, Tsubasa keeps his eye on Natsume, who is obviously struggling physically with the trek. So Tsubasa picks him up and throws him over his shoulder to carry him part of the way. Natsume’s annoying attitude only further frustrates Tsubasa to this point. He even threatens to tell the others if he doesn’t comply and allow himself to be carried. Naturally, Natsume fights and kicks and scratches and even bites his way out of Tsubasa’s grasp as Ruka and Mikan watch, dumbfounded, but this exchange shows us two things:

Tsubasa and Natsume’s relationship is slowly evolving. They’re connected now and have a tie beyond Mikan. Tsubasa knows information about Natsume that nobody else does. It forces Tsubasa to see Natsume as more than just a little brat, and forces Natsume to put his trust in this person he’d hated with his whole chest before.

Natsume is extremely uncomfortable when he is being cared for. He’s used to being in the caretaker role, as I’ve mentioned previously in the Reo Arc. Even then, when Mikan carried and protected him, he was quick to encourage her to leave him behind. Now, with Tsubasa, Natsume cannot stand it. It’s not just that he isn’t quite as fond of Tsubasa, it’s also just the knowledge that someone is worrying about him, slowing themselves down and inconveniencing themselves for his sake. He goes out of his way to seem rude and unpleasant to avoid this exact kind of situation, so Tsubasa putting in the effort despite Natsume’s best efforts is distressing to him.

It only makes things worse that all the care Tsubasa is suddenly giving him might give things away to Ruka or Mikan, and Natsume will do anything to avoid that.

Natsume gets his chance for revenge when he kicks Tsubasa down a warpzone with full force, flinging Mikan in right after for good measure. They reemerge near the mouth of a volcano and discern that they must be in the right place when they discover that there's hallucinogenic smoke coming from the mouth. They fall through the crater and end up in a strange room.

Natsume and Tsubasa’s bickering over the large and suspicious door distracts them from the shaky ground which crumbles under Mikan’s feet.

She falls, pulled down by a skeleton. The boys all look on, horrified. Tsubasa holds Ruka back and Natsume reaches desperately for Mikan, calling for her by name, but it’s too late. She’s gone.

The last thing she does is begin to call for Natsume, but she’s lost now. Finally, Mikan is calling for him, wanting to rely on him, but he’s not able to protect her.

The one time she calls out for him, he can't help her.

Natsume has been trying to keep up appearances and the charade of disliking Mikan, but reaching for her with desperation is something he has to do, even if it reveals that he cares. They have absolutely no way of knowing what Mikan will find in that hole, or if she’ll even come back out in one piece.

Chapter 40

The ground closed back up as soon as Mikan fell through. As Tsubasa and Ruka discuss what could have happened, and Pengy cries, Natsume sits and contemplates. He remembers that Mikan is Yuka’s daughter and comforts himself with that knowledge. He will put faith in the fact that Yuka probably won’t let any harm come to her own child and steels himself. Although Mikan has just been forcibly separated from the group, knowing that she’s not in immediate danger is important to be able to keep going on with the mission. That’s Natsume’s specialty after all, and because of him, they can stay focused on where to go moving forward instead of panicking about the ground opening and swallowing their friend.

But his newfound composure doesn’t change the fact that he had acted in desperation already, calling and reaching out for Mikan in front of both Ruka and Tsubasa. As they make their way through the door that suspiciously opened for them, Tsubasa teases him. First he earnestly tells Natsume that getting angry won’t help anything, least of all with bringing Mikan back, but then he continues to prod. He tells Natsume not to blame himself, even though it must be hard for him to deal with not being able to save Mikan after all of his big talk. This sets Natsume off.

It's almost like Tsubasa wants to be blown up.

It hits too close to home because Natsume is blaming himself. He came onto the mission specifically to use his experience to keep them all focused and safe, so that they could be efficient and effective and make it back in time. Despite all his strategy and quick thinking, he wasn’t able to do anything about the sand trap. In fact, he’d been distracted when it first happened. He may be a child soldier, but the crucial part of that is that he’s still a child, so it makes sense that he would occasionally make mistakes. Still, in his line of expertise, mistakes get you or the people around you killed.

Natsume thinks about his new discovery of the stealing alice as he keeps going, having just blasted Tsubasa away from him. He’d never heard of such an alice, but to him, someone with such complicated feelings of hatred towards his ability and what it has always represented, it’s enticing. One touch and he’d be free forever. Maybe he could get what he’d always thought was impossible, what he’d never dared to imagine: an actual future he’d get to see.

Natsume, Ruka, and Tsubasa get led out of the tunnel by lasers into a vast room, where Shiki and a group of other Z members are waiting for them.

Conclusion

We see further proof of what we'd already known: that Natsume has a fundamentally different life than the rest of them do. His arguing with Mikan over Pengy might seem needlessly cruel, but he does have a point and he's motivated by keeping the group as safe as possible. We also talked about Natsume's imminent death, and how his knowledge of it affects his relationships, particularly with Mikan. Most importantly, we can see that Natsume has failed in his primary goal: he was unable to keep Mikan safe.

Tomorrow, we'll talk about how all these conflicts come to a head in the Z Arc, and what the lasting repercussions might be.

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#gakuen alice #alice academy #hyuuga natsume #natsume hyuuga #natsumikan #sakura mikan #mikan sakura #my meta #ga #mine #ga meta #ga meta: nm #ga meta: manga #ga meta: manga nm #let's talk about natsumikan #let's talk about natsumikan: natsume #im baaaaaaack #this is a lot of text sorry. i have lots of thoughts abt small scenes so theres a pretty ridiculous ratio of text to pictures. yikes #i hope its still interesting tho!#i have a lot of work this week too. ill be working 5 days in a row come wednesday #hopefully it wont affect me a lot. i managed to push ahead in my essay last week after all so. ive got faith in myself #natsume is crazy tho. this kid needs one thing more than anything and thats a self-esteem or general feeling of self worth #well. he also needs to be protected bc all the adults in his life have failed in that regard but #yeah protection and self worth.#so many human rights violations at the academy. im disgusted.#edit for song: demons by imagine dragons wbk

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shelby-love · 3 years

Text

MATT CASEY

Hatred and fatherly love.

Requested: yes

Prompts: none

Warning(s): none

Author's note: I had a lot of fun with this one. I'm still thinking about whether or not I should just keep the ending as it is or make a part two where (as requested) they fall for each other. But if I'm being honest I kind of dig feisty Y/N that stands her ground.

PART // 2 //

MASTERLIST

"Justin what you did was wrong," You fumed, handing him the last of your boxes to load into the truck. He took them without saying a word, letting you take out your frustration on him. "I can't believe dad would do that."

"Oh come on," Your older brother groaned. "Now you're acting like Erin."

"Damn right I am," You agreed. "Unlike dad, Erin and I want you to learn from your mistakes. Obviously, that's not gonna happen if dad keeps babying you."

"So what?" His words came out immaturely, making you punch his shoulder. "Ow! What was that for?"

"For being an asshole! That little boy is paralysed from the waist down because of you!"

"You're overreacting."

"You know what, I give up." Your hands curled around the car doors before they released when you shut the door closed. Anger took permanent residence in your chest.

You shot your brother a glare before jumping into your car. "Thanks for helping me pack."

And with that you sped off to your new home.

***

The apartment complex you moved to was considered to be a jackpot. With that being said, if there was one thing that you liked about having Hank Voight as your father, it was the very comfortable lifestyle you could afford with just your name.

Of course, you were mad at your father right now. What he did to get your immature brother out of trouble was all kinds of wrong, and you didn't support it at all.

"Do you need help with that?" A cool voice told you in passing. You had your hands filled with boxes, and you could barely register what was in front of you.

Before you could say anything hands were already easing the weight in your arms. You smiled sheepishly, scratching the back of your neck shyly.

"Thanks. I just moved here," You explained quickly before looking at the man who offered his help to you. He held the two boxes in his one hand, the other one free for you to take in a greet. "I'm Y/N. Nice to meet you."

"Matt Casey. You can call me Matt."

Inside, you were panicking. The firefighter who currently hated your father and brother with a passion was standing in front of you.

You smiled shakily before a voice called out. "Miss Voight. There are some papers you need to sign."

The way Matt's eyes narrowed at you looked sinister, almost as if he was ready to swallow you up in flames or maybe even leave you in a burning building to die if it ever came down to it.

You didn't know what to say, only mumbling apologies to him before scurrying over to sign some papers.

And when you came back to where Matt once stood, you found your two boxes down on the floor.

Great. My new neighbour hates my guts.

***

Over the next few days Matt and you had managed to establish a routine. You'd both see each other in the hallways very frequently but never actually greet each other. By Tuesday, you were already used to the icy glares and the feeling of being the most hated woman on earth.

You even managed to make a game out of it. What does he think I do for living, it was called. Your number one guess was that he thought you were a dirty cop. Like your father obviously.

But then again, you swore you could see his eyes linger on your legs in passing every time you wore a skirt or a dress. So yet again, another one of your guesses was that he thought you were a stripper.

As fun as it was to make games out of your non-existent relationship it hurt you to be treated in a way you didn't deserve.

The truth was - you worked as a nurse, specifically working with little children. Every day you saw their parents take down stars in order to make their little ones happy and as messed up as it sounded you saw yourself categorizing your own father with them. The only difference between them and your own father was the fact that your father did what he did to protect you in a way that some people didn't seem to find fit.

People like Matt for instance.

And while you understood both sides, you leaned toward Matt. What Justin did was awful and your mind was set in stone - he deserved time. He had to sit in a cell and feel what is like to be at the bottom before he could even begin thinking about changing for the better.

Sadly that's not what happened.

As you walked back to your new apartment the bags under your eyes became more evident. You had lost a patient today. A little baby girl lost to cancer in a battle called life. It left a mark at your heart, and her smiling face was still misty in your mind.

Your eyes spotted Matt who strode down the hallway dressed in a simple button up and jeans, looking extremely handsome.

You couldn't really blame yourself for ogling him. No matter what you told yourself, Matt Casey was still the type of man that had you on your knees.

His eyes returned to his usual glare and while normally you weren't affected by that, today his eyes were the last straw.

Your lip started to tremble, while your eyes were filling with moisture and hands were aggressively stuffed in your purse in a frantic search for your keys.

Matt's face immediately softened but before he could reach you, you had jumped inside and locked the door behind you.

Exhausted by life, you slowly slid down the door until your bottom had hit the dark laminate. You sobbed in a matter you thought was quiet.

But it wasn't.

Matt had pressed his ear against your door and listened closely. Your whimpers entered his ears and he felt everlasting guilt consume him. Did he do this?

He decided then and there that he was going to let go of his prejudice and make things right between you two.

***

Once the sun came out you realized that you were obligated to wake up and start your new date. Just like every time, you pretended to turn over a clean sheet and start your day as your best self.

Your morning routine passed rather quickly. Pretty soon you were sat in your new colorful armchair with tea in your hand and a magazine in the other.

You, just like many others, learnt how to leave your days work in your uniform. Last night being an exception. Once you put that blue uniform back on you were sure to welcome back the dark feelings, but until then, you enjoyed the feeling your silky pyjamas provided.

Your phone rang, and you reached out to answer it. One look at the phone had your face scrunched in distaste, "Yes Justin? How may I be of help today?"

If your brother noticed the sarcasm then he sure did a good job concealing it. Monotonously he greeted you back, "Can't I just call my favourite sister to see how she's doing?"

Rolling your eyes you trekked to your room to change, "Make it quick. I have to go to work."

"Dad's in jail."

"What?" You stopped in your tracks, hardly believing what's happening.

"You know dad." He said, "Don't worry sis. He'll be out in no time."

"This isn't funny Justin," You scolded, throwing a dark purple shirt over your head while your phone sat on your vanity, Justin on full volume speaker.

"Well... I thought you should know."

And with that he hung up.

Annoyed beyond words you grabbed the phone and threw it on your bed. It landed on your creamy sheets safely as you wrestled your jeans.

After that spectacle you grabbed your bag and stormed outside only to clash into something strong.

"Shoot I'm sorry-" You hastily apologized. Your hair was all over the place and you barely had enough time to collect your strands of hair behind your ear before looking at the person you had assaulted with your clumsiness not even twenty seconds earlier.

Matt Casey.

Oh how the stars aligned for you two.

"You." You spit.

He raised a blonde eyebrow at you as if saying that you had no audacity to say anything remotely accusing to him.

"Me?"

"Yes you!" You stomped your heeled boot like a child. "My dad's in jail because of you!"

It was like a switch was turned in his head. Matt took a menacing step closer. "Because of me? He did that to himself when he sent someone to kill me!"

"K-kill you?" You whispered, almost inaudible for him to hear. Suddenly your own words worked against you.

"Just because I wouldn't pull back my report." He explained to you. "And I'm glad I didn't. Your bastard of a brother deserves it for what he did."

You fully agreed with him but the emotions that bubbled inside you came to a boiling point. You could no longer hold back, and so you took a deep breath and spoke. "You think I support him? He got that little boy paralysed and you have the audacity to think I would support someone like that? He may be my older brother but that doesn't mean he has my love and support. I'm the first one in line when it comes to saying he needs to do time."

Your words were getting through to him, you could see it. "And as for my dad... He has his own issues, I admit. But there's one thing you need to know about him: he would do anything for his kids. And I mean it. He might be a dirty cop to you, but he's my father. Justin's too. Don't blame him for thinking that his son is able to change, because I'm damn sure you would do the same if you were in his shoes."

And with that you stormed off to see your father and give him a piece of your mind too.

MASTERLIST

#matt casey x reader #matt casey fanfiction #matt casey imagine #matt casey #chicago fire fanfictio #chicago fire #chicago fire fanfiction #chicago fire imagine #chicago pd imagine #chicago pd fanfiction #chicago pd

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wistfulwatcher · 3 years

Note

Hello I saw your tag on that "im 25 and dying post" please tell us how it got better for you. Im 26, still living with parents, currently having a fight with my boyfriend, and i still have a year until I get my bachelors. The comparison to everyone younger than me is killing me.

I'm really sorry to hear that you're struggling, but I hope you can take some solace in the fact that that post has a lot of notes and you are absolutely not alone in feeling the way you do! I can certainly try and share my experience, but unfortunately I think the biggest factor is just time (and like, a buttload of self-reflection).

I moved back home after college and worked full time at an administrative job I was doing during school breaks. I majored in psychology and anthropology in college, and was planning to eventually go into forensic psychology, but wasn't interested in going straight into grad school. So I did that administrative job for about a year, and tried to find something that was a bit more stable and at least semi-related to my field. I did end up finding a new job when I was 23 - stable, semi-related to my field (a psych/research background was required), and decent pay (especially as I was still living at home). Exactly what I needed, since I still wasn't ready to start looking into grad school.

I was doing pretty well, until I started getting comfortable at that job, and then I started getting hit with the "I'm not doing enough," and "I need to look into grad school," and "will I ever find a boyfriend?" (friendly reminder that 23-year-old me thought she was straight, yikes), "how will I afford to move out, I have to save my money and do it soon!", "I'm not doing anything but watching TV, I'm wasting my life," "I'm lonely, but I'm too tired to try and make friends," etc., etc.

But it wasn't constant. I'd have a flurry of those questions and fears, and then days where I was just living life and doing my job and taking care of my dogs, without any of that. And I don't think I felt good or particularly comfortable those days, it was more like I just wasn't actively thinking about it, like when you feel "good" after a physical pain goes away and you're just normal.

Eventually, I started thinking about all of these concerns I had, and the fact that it felt like it was URGENT whenever I thought about them. It felt like I needed to get my shit together immediately. I also started to acknowledge that there was this big sense of guilt around those concerns; I was too old to be living at home, I was too old to be single, I was too old not to be starting a career. I felt like I was wasting my life (cue the guilt), and I realized that part of why I felt like I was wasting it was that I felt like I was missing milestones I wouldn't be able to do at a later time because the older I was past "normal" the more humiliating it would be to try (cue the shame and embarrassment, hard).

I also started to doubt that I wanted to go into forensic psychology. More importantly, I started to seriously doubt that I wanted a "career" at all. My job (as I kept that same semi-related to my field one) was absolutely a job, not a career. And I think this was a huge tipping point for me, because a career had always been a given in my life. I'm passionate about what I'm interested in, so it literally just never occurred to me that I would be content with a job. I also started acknowledging that I had some messed up associations about being content with a job meaning that I was lazy (because the only way to be ambitious is with a career and, more damaging, a lack of ambition is fundamentally bad).

Now, I need to clarify that all of the above occurred over the course of years. I was constantly seeing "friends" (i.e., of the facebook variety) go to grad school, start careers, get married, buy homes, etc. And with all of that alongside the entire mess I've outlined in the above paragraphs, it was really, really, tough. It gets hard to find a foothold in better thinking, I believe, when seeing all of these people (some younger) doing things "right" was really just compounding my guilt and shame. (I feel like it's worth mentioning, too, that I was always "an individual" growing up, march-to-the-beat-of-my-own-drummer, yada yada. I feel like that's worth pointing out for others who may be in the same boat, because I think it can lead to another layer of shame in comparing yourself to those around you - especially if it's a big part of your identity that you DON'T do that, because I think it's inevitable as you get older, and you're looking to reach these milestones that prove you're an adult.)

So, here I am, acknowledging that I feel guilt and shame about what I'm not doing. And suddenly I ask myself my first really important question: Do I want a career? The question hot on its heels is: Do I want to go to grad school? Honestly, my answer is no. There is nothing in me that's excited by the prospect. But what, does that mean I'm just going to work my job for the rest of my life? How is giving up going to make me feel better about Not Doing Enough?

As I'm opening this door (remember, years), three things happen: 1) I realize I'm gay, 2) I watch Dirty 30, 3) I start playing D&D.

First, realizing I'm gay. Woohoo! Not only was this exciting because girls are amazing, but it made me seriously look at myself. Realizing I had spent 25 years assuming one thing about myself that turned out to be completely wrong made me question everything for a while. I started to ask myself, "Do I really like this?" more often, which seems like a really obvious question, but I'm not convinced that it's one people ask themselves consciously all that often. But once I did, I realized how freeing it was to answer, "No," and move on to something I did like.

Second, I watched Dirty 30, the Grace Helbig/Mamrie Hart/Hannah Hart movie. It feels dramatic to say that it changed my life, but the older I get the more I honestly think it did. Mamrie Hart's character is a dental hygienist who is freaking out about turning 30 and feeling very much like that text post I reblogged. But (spoilers), at the end of the movie, she decides that she loves her job (job, not career!) because it's comfortable and she has fun at work, and that it makes her happy. She has other things going on, but the idea that a character in a film is content with her job and choosing to "settle" into her life as-is and she's genuinely happy about it? I honestly can't think of a single other time I've seen that happen on-screen. I still think about that ending very often. And after seeing it, I started to ask myself another question regularly: "Am I happy?" Again, this feels pretty obvious, but I think there is something incredibly empowering about making sure you are happy on a regular basis, instead of just assuming that you're fine until something hurts.

Third, I started playing D&D. This is not a plug for D&D! (Well, maybe a little.) One thing that happened to me when I started to get into the urgent-guilt-shame-confusion mess of my mid-20s was that I got very much into a routine of go to work, come home, sleep, go to work, come home, sleep, be totally brain-dead on the weekend, repeat. I found it very difficult to feel creative because I was just wiped, and as all of my creative outlets (gifs, fanfic) are self-motivated, it was really easy to brush them off. I ended up starting Critical Role (this is also not a plug for CR! well, maybe), and I wanted to give D&D a try myself. (I was VERY lucky - my best friend happened to be listening to the Adventure Zone at the same time I started CR, and she wanted to try to run a game. The stars truly aligned!)

I started playing, then DMing, and found that it was a great fit for my interests. I used to be a theatre kid, and I was getting to act again (something I didn't realize I was missing). I was getting to build and flesh out characters, which is what I love the most about writing fanfic. I was also discovering that I was stretching myself - world building and plot had never been my strong suit, but as a DM it became the majority of my creative effort. It gave me soft deadlines with people I didn't want to let down, and it made me truly social again for the first time since college. Essentially, it was filling in all of the gaps of what I felt lacking in my life. This isn't a D&D plug because it wasn't D&D specifically, but rather a hobby that satisfied what was missing in my life. For example, I didn't realize how isolated I was before D&D until I had regular interactions with friends, and that isolation absolutely made the urgent-guilt-shame-confusion worse.

D&D gave me that final push to realize that I was OK with having a job and being passionate about hobbies instead of trying to fit myself into a career, because I was getting out of that hobby what I had been convinced I would get out of a career. I started to really value that I could punch out and go have fun doing exactly what I wanted to do. (It feels so obvious as I type this, but it took me a long time to get here! Sometimes it really is that simple!)

The above is specific to my job vs. career struggle which may not be in the mix of things you're struggling with. But what I do think is universal/can be your take away, is that sometimes you just have to actively choose to let go of the pressure to be doing things. Which, I know, sounds so much easier than it is (and part of why I think it just takes time/is part of growing older). But I think it's something that can be worked at over time, by checking in with yourself about what you feel, why you feel it, and what you need to make yourself feel better in the present.

It's been 6 years since I started that semi-related job, and I'm still there. I still live with my mom. I'm still single. My circumstances have not changed since 24, but honestly? I'm OK. When I check in with myself about it, I do enjoy living with my mom and our dogs (even though I'm 30 and "real" adults move out). I am happy more often than I'm not (much more, actually!). I have a job that allows me to be done after 8 hours, and I have hobbies I look forward to doing each night (and the energy to do them, most of the time). My weekends are free to play D&D with my friends and laugh until I cry. That is what I've worked out as my definition of what I want life to be right now. You'll notice it includes none of the "milestones" that those younger than me have hit.

As I noted on that text post tag, I still struggle with this. I definitely have days where I think, I'm a mess, I'm not DOING anything. It's hard. But time does help, those days become fewer and farther between.

I know that was probably a hundred times longer than you wanted it to be, but I did want to illustrate just how much of a process it is. It takes time. My summary advice is to check in with yourself often, be honest about what you want and what you need, do not let anyone else define where you "should" be. And if you aren't living life how you want to be, identify what you can do (however small) to make yourself feel like you're getting closer.

#ask #me #personal #i am so sorry this is a novel #i hope that it helps you even a little!#can you believe i can write about myself for 2 hours? embarrassing lmao #long post

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writefightandflightclub · 4 years

Text

Marching far away (Din Djarin x reader)

Summary: some things are more potent in their absence. Din misses you, but before he can let go, he has one more promise left to fulfil. PURE ANGST with eventual comfort.

Author’s note: this is me breaking the tin can man’s heart for a spell. Sorry? Also, this is only my 2nd Din fic and I’m insecure, pls validate me? Or, come join me to simp, okay? (This has Cara in it- was written b4 the G*na drama)

Word count: 3k, oh hell. Was meant to be a blurb. Kriff it. I have no control.

Warnings: strong themes of grief, death of a loved one (reader). Hints of depression + trauma linked to that. A mess of angst and metaphors, tbh. Brief mentions of wounds, blood -not too graphic.

GIF: stunning, and from @qviism

The Mandalorian has awoken to many recurring thoughts in his time, most of them unpleasant. For many years, Din was jolted awake by memories of his parents, their love imprinted on him like a brand which never stopped burning. Yanked from sleep by a noise and grasping for his helmet before he grasps for a weapon, so that everything he is built of -everything he has promised to be- cannot be unmade. Rising to worry; to thoughts of what he is missing and fear of what might be taken away.

Nowadays, he awakes to thoughts of The Foundling. And, Din always, always awakes to the lack of you.

Some things become more potent in their absence. Din knows this. He knows it deeply. Never is the warmth of the sun craved more acutely than in the depths of a dead night. Din certainly finds you more potent in your absence. He finds himself wearing the memory of you like a perpetual perfume, clinging to his body and refusing to be scrubbed clean. Even when he has shed the heavy layers of beskar, in the dark and the solitude, the ghost of you still lingers there, enveloping his skin like a shroud.

Sometimes, Din wonders why he must always bear a weight on his body. A weight over his heart, like this, even when he’s stripped down. Still, like the armour, you are a vow he bears willingly. The only thing worse than bearing this would be losing you entirely. And losing you entirely, would be worse than losing his creed.

Din’s creed is immeasurably heavy.

You are heaviest. Immeasurable.

This morning, as the weight of you settles on his chest, Din stirs.

He peels his eyes open for another day of folding rituals into his seconds and minutes and hours until they become his Way of life. Another day of folding all of the promises he made to you into his heartbeat, his sinews, his bones, until you become a part of him.

As soon as he awakes, he longs for sleep again. Din isn’t sure he can take it any longer -watch yet another day blaze without you by his side. To admit that something fresh was possible would be to let you go. To extract “you” from “him” would be like trying to tear out his own skeleton and keep his heart beating. You are inextricable. Unforgettable. All he can do is hold on to you with every fibre of his being.

This morning, as the weight of you threatens to pin him down to the bed for another day, Din is relieved to find the sound stirring him is Cara, rapping on his door with a characteristically heavy fist. He is relieved not to be alone. He is relieved that today -especially today- Cara can help bear some of the weight of you. He hopes his burden can be made just a little lighter. Prays it can, for he doesn’t know how much longer he can carry you. Still, he is not ready to bury you. Not yet.

Not yet.

Din misses you. He misses you so badly. This is how you are able to cling to his body like perpetual perfume. To weigh on his breast. This is how you’re amongst every layer of him, from armour to bones. Because Din Djarin wears you like a creed. Because he chooses you, every day, and he folds you into the layers of him. The vows, the promises, the rituals. Until you are his way of life. Or, the lack of you is; some things are just more potent in their absence.

A dead body is heavier. Heaviest.

“Din? We gotta go.” Cara states perfunctorily through the door, cutting through Din’s spiral. “There’s some caf on the floor for you.”

Din’s face softens gratefully, the simple morning ritual a reason to crawl out of bed. This is how he gets through the day. One ritual at a time until the sun goes down.

“Din! Are you ready?” Cara asks, rapping on the door again when nothing but silence greets her.

Ready? Is he? He’s never ready to face another day without you. It always kicks the feet out from under him. You always tackle him in those first moments of the morning, before he can put his armour on over the cracks. You always attack him when he’s most vulnerable.

“Yep. Coming.” Din responds, his rough voice grogged by tattered remnants of sleep.

He reluctantly reaches for his armour. He stumbles into the refresher. He dresses himself, layering himself in ritual. Binding himself in his creed until none of his cracks are visible and he is shining like the glint of dawn over a horizon. Until he appears whole and unbreakable. If he didn’t have his creed to bind himself in, Din may have fallen apart altogether.

Din shuffles towards the mirror, where he has your necklace pinned. A pendant with an emblem of a sun, rising over mountains. With each new day, he repeats the mantra which has become familiar to him.

“Ni su’cuyi, gar kyr’adyc, no partayli, gar darasuum.

“Ni su’cuyi, gar kyr’adyc, no partayli, gar darasuum.”

It’s a promise. A promise to remember you. He says it into the mirror, to a face that you never even saw. He repeats your name under his breath, folding it into the air filling his lungs. Each breath becomes a ritual. A habit of breathing, for you. For the Foundling. For Cara. Maybe, eventually, for himself.

Din keenly downs the strong, bitter caf before cloaking his face inside his helmet. Today, he resents the helmet, just a little. Wishes he could show the cracks, instead of his smooth dome of beskar, just for once. But weakness is not a luxury Din Djarin is used to being afforded. Strength is part of his code.

Din shuffles lethargically, quietly to the cockpit of the Razor Crest, trying to minimise the heavy thud of his boots. It’s early. Early enough that even The Foundling is sleeping. It’s still dark outside too, stars littering the skies up above like spilled sugar. It would be beautiful if it wasn’t so tragic, he thinks -so haphazard.

Din had used to believe that stars aligned. That there was some order to the chaos. He had believed that most wholeheartedly when he met you, by complete chance. But now... now he simply believed they were a mess. That fate was cruel. That all was chaos. That the universe was nothing but spilled sugar.

The Mandalorian places a gloved hand on Cara’s shoulder and she turns, arms folded and her face already awash with tears, eyes littered with stars too. Angry stars, like fate has been cruel to her as well. She misses you, too.

Cara smiles thinly, caught-out in her grief but pleased that he’s up, and Din lowers himself into the pilot’s seat with a heavy thud, manoeuvring the craft up and away. There is no time for comfort. He knows he needs to make the canyon before sunrise. Has to watch the daybreak peek over the mountains. It’s what he promised. So, he flies in silence, Cara quiet too.

It all seems eminently doable to Din… until he lands the ship. Until Cara takes his hand and attempts to lead him out of the craft before the glowing embers of day set fire to the sky. Then, suddenly, the interior of the helmet tastes like salt, his wet tears of grief lining the insides.

“Din,” Cara says, her voice tinged with panic. “Din, please. The sun’s coming up. We can’t miss this, you understand?”

“I can’t do it, Cara. I can’t do another day without her,” he rasps through the vocoder, his voice a patchy rumble like an old stuttering engine.

Cara hasn’t seen Din breakdown like this since it had first happened. No-one has seen it. Even now, his voice is the only clue that he is broken. His armour may be smooth and unblemished, but the Mandalorian is cracked from within.

His pain travels through his body, though, becoming more visible. Din curls his spine and his shoulders in on himself, his body sagging under the weight of you. Under the weight of this. His gloved hands clench and dig into the arms of his flight console.

Din wants to run. Wants to turn the Razor Crest around.Wants to be weak, after so long beign strong.

“Din, you promised her.”

Promised? Promised?

“I promised nothing,” Din snaps at Cara, launching himself from his seat, his voice gruff like the snarl of animal. Like teeth tearing a chunk out of her. “She died before I could promise her a damn thing.”

Cara squares up to him, ready to suffer his outburst, but the fire leaves Din as quickly as it came. He’s simply a wounded animal lashing out. Even as Cara’s chin tips up at him, Din is falling to his knees on the floor, his head bowed into his gloved hands.

“Din,” Cara soothes, dropping to the floor with him and clutching his hands in hers, gently peeling them away from his helmet. “Din. Hey.”

Din’s voice is barely audible when he speaks again. “I wasn’t there at the end, Cara. I wasn’t with her.”

The Mandalorian finally tips his head up and meets the mercenary’s eyes. He finds them swimming with pain. With pity. Din hadn’t been there at the end. He couldn’t even hold you. He wasn’t even there to tell you that he loved you. That he would have married you. To tell you all that he would have promised and vowed to you.

Cara had been there, at the end, so Din supposes it’s a cruel thing to wish for. Especially as he can see from the distress in Cara’s face that she is replaying it. That her face contorts around all the details she left out so that Din didn’t have to know exactly how you suffered. Especially as she chews on the omitted details and prepares to smooth them with kind, white lies to ease his pain.

“Well, I was, Din. I was. And I told you what she said, yes?”

Cara had been the one to convey your dying words to Din. Had come back to the Mandalorian with your body in her arms, her hands stained red and her cheeks stained with glassy tears. Cara had been the one to hold Din as he yelled into the sky. As he crouched over you and blood bloomed through his gloves as he pressed his hands to your flowering wounds. As he took a boot and then his fists to the exterior of the Razor Crest. She had been the one to soothe him, and remind him of the Foundling and all he had left to live for as he dropped to his knees, just like this. Cara had told him what you’d said, with your last breaths. As you expended your last moments folding Din into your bones. Into your heart. Punctuating your story with him.

“Tell Din... I love him. And... m-make sure he watches the sun c-come up.”

“I told you what she said, but did you understand it? Did you understand what she meant?” Cara searches the T-shape in Din’s helmet as if she could truly read it, no longer holding back her own tears.

“She knew, Din, you tin-head. She knew every damn promise you would have made to her,” Cara says, clutching Din’s hands more tightly in her warm grip. “In her final moments, she was thinking about what her Mandalorian would need. Her man would need to know she loved him. Would need something to believe in -something beautiful. He’d need the promise of a new day. And a friend by his side to get him through the night. So, Din, there’s no kriffing doubt she knew you loved her, because she knew exactly what you would need to survive losing her.”

It was symbolic, Cara knew, but you understood Din. You understood his need for rituals and symbols. You wanted him to watch the sun come up, and you wanted Cara to make sure he did so again, even after the longest and darkest of nights without you.

Din leans forward into Cara’s shoulder as if all of his tendons have suddenly been cut. He hadn’t realised how badly he needed to hear his friend’s words. But you knew that he would need her.

Of course.

Even when Din thought all the promises has been lost, you forced him to look ahead to the promise of a new dawn; a new day, one day at a time. It was about marching forwards, with whatever rituals he needed to get him through. Like watching the sun come up over the mountains. For you, for Cara, for the Foundling. Until he could do it for himself too.

As Cara moves to wrap her strong arms around Din in comfort, suddenly he raises himself from the floor as quickly as he fell, until he is standing above her. Her brown eyes find his as she rises to meet him.

He extends his hand to her, and instead of taking it, she simply looks at him, a soft smile blooming at the corners of her mouth.

The only time Cara had known Din to take the helmet off was when he was horrifically wounded. And he’s so horrifically wounded now. She knows exactly what he needs.

“Why don’t you go out alone, Din Djarin?” Cara asks in a soft, earnest voice. “Why don’t you feel the sun on your face for a little bit? I’ll give you ‘til the sun hits that second peak, then I’ll be right out, okay?”

Din doesn’t speak; can’t speak, at such a kind gesture from a friend who knows him too well. Who knew you just as well. Din can’t find the words. All he knows is that he suddenly feels so much… lighter. He brings a gloved hand to the side of Cara’s face and dips his beskar dome forwards, gently touching foreheads with his friend in gratitude. She gives him a soft smile and an encouraging nod, and the Mandalorian shuffles out of the craft alone, his heavy boots dragging through the dirt. He faces the mountains. Faces the beautiful view across the canyon and collapses into the dirt, parking his butt and sitting cross-legged at the cliff edge.

The sunlight spills over the horizon, the light finding him and daybreak gleaming off of his armour; at first, Din reflects it back like he doesn’t want to know. Like he wants to remain in the darkness. But then, ever so slowly, he reaches his hands up towards his head and slips his helmet off, baring his face to a new day. Feeling the warmth on his skin. The light dancing in his warm, caf-coloured eyes. And he smiles. He smiles while thinking of you, for the first time in a long while.

Din is here because it has been a year. A year since you died.

In that time, it hasn’t grown any easier. But, today, Din is here with Cara to remember you. He wants the carry the memory of you with him forever, but he doesn’t want it to be so heavy. He doesn’t want to only remember you in death, even if you died with such honour. He wants to let your memory be something that can dance around him. Dance with him. Maybe even march along beside him. That’s how he wants to remember you; with joy, because that’s what you gave him, before you gave him grief – if only he would remember.

Din takes a few deep breaths and allows his soul to be stilled as the sun rises through the craggy, oranged peaks in front of him, drying the tears from his cheeks like the brush of a lover’s fingers.

He repeats the words under his breath.

“Ni su’cuyi, gar kyr’adyc, no partayli, gar darasuum.”

I’m still alive, but you are dead. I remember you, so you are eternal.

That’s the thing about rituals. They mean something. They’re never supposed to be passive. They’re a way of life, folded into the seconds and minutes and hours of each new day. Folded into your heartbeat, your sinews, your bones.

Din looks out at the beautiful scene in front of him, and his smile spreads wider even as fresh tears threaten at his eyes. This time, they ball, but don’t fall. They twinkle in his eyes like stars blazing. Like suns.

Maker, he loved you. Loves you. And, Cara must have been right; you must have known he loved you too, then? Because why else would you think he would need this - exactly this, if he lost you?

The Mandalorian watches peacefully until the sun rises beyond the second peak, and, true to his word, he savours the warmth before slipping his helmet back on over his head. True to her word, Cara’s heavy gait kicks-up dust as she approaches, plonking herself beside him on the dirt and looking out across the canyon in gentle awe, suns balling in her eyes too.

After a moment in silence, she bumps his shoulder with her own, looking him dead-on in the T-shape. “I need you to talk about her,” Cara admits. “I know you can’t forget her, but you have to remember her too, Din. That’s how you keep her alive, instead of being haunted by ghosts. Or, that’s how we keep her alive.” Cara scrunches her face up, as if she knows how cheesy she’s about to sound. “Together. You’re not a clan of one anymore, Mando.”

“I know,” Din says gruffly, his voice lighter than it had been before dawn. He nods his head in agreement. “I know.”

The two friends wrap their arms around one another as the sun rises above the mountains, held together by its beauty, the possibility of a new start, and the memory of you.

Din tugs in the deepest of breaths and lets it go, as if he shrugging off a long-held weight from his shoulders.

Cara is the first to break the silence, looking towards her dear companion. “How about you shimmy indoors, clear out the snot from your helmet and come back with some hot caf? The child will be waking up in a couple of hours. ‘Til then maybe we can enjoy the views and figure out the best stories to tell him about his mama?”

Din rises, like the sun. Somehow looking fresh. He obliges Cara, giving her a moment alone with her memories too, and he wanders into the interior of the Razor Crest. As he retrieves his cup from inside the craft, he repeats his mantra once more under his breath.

“Ni su’cuyi, gar kyr’adyc, no partayli, gar darasuum.”

Up to now, Din realises, he had been repeating it. But he hadn’t been living it.

Things were set to change today. As long as he remembered you, Cara remembered you, the Foundling remembered you, you were not gone. You were simply marching far away.

Din would have married you. If there is something after all this, if there is anything true about the Force, Din hopes that one day, somehow, he gets a chance to make a whole new vow. Hopes that one day he might get to walk beside you again, and keep walking with you for always. Until then, he will keep marching on. And, most of all, he will remember you, so that if he ever comes across you again, he will recognise you, even if you are marching away.

Folding your name into his breath, Din joins Cara beneath the risen sun to start a new day, with a friend by his side. No longer a clan of one. Not alone, even wihout you.

THE END

Like this? I hope the story brought you some joy and that’s more than enough, especially at this moment. However, if you do have the energy and inclination please do reblog, and consider sending feedback in a comment or ask. (It gets me through the day, ngl).

Want more? Whether you want more angst or need recovery fluff, I got you. You can check out my Masterlist in my bio to read more of my works! I write for Star Wars and Oscar / Pedro characters. I have more Din and a Cara fic on there too, and plenty of Poe Dameron being silly if you need a cheer up.

Want even more? Just ask if you’re not already and you’d like to be added to my permanent tag-list / character tag-lists. Also, you can always check in my bio if requests are open rn if you’d like to see something specific. Request guidelines are at the top of my masterlist. Tagging: @iamthe-shadow-on-the-wall @holybatflapexpert @himbopoes @arabellathorne @yourbucky084 @mandoplease @mylifeliterally @arkofblake @multifandomlife22 @yougottakeeponkeepinon @justrunamok @aisling-beatha @mndalorians

#din djarin #din djarin x reader #star wars #star wars x reader #din djarin angst #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x reader #mando x reader #cara dune #cara dune angst #star wars fic #mandalorian fanfiction #pedro pascal #gina carano

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roman-writing · 3 years

Text

no great revelation (7/8)

Fandom(s): The Haunting of Bly Manor / Star Wars

Pairing: Dani Clayton/Jamie Taylor

Rating: M

Wordcount: 6,244

Summary: Jamie just wants to enjoy a drink after a hard day’s work on the Telosian Restoration Project. The last thing she needs is to get herself caught up in a mysterious woman with a lightsabre at the local bar.

Aurthor’s notes: Please note the rating change

read it below or read it here on AO3

VII.

—

Jamie swiped up on the tablet to throw the video to the feed at the centre of the table.

"Rebecca, this is everyone," Jamie said. "Everyone, this is Rebecca."

"I thought that maybe you'd been making up your Jedi friends this whole time. Nice to see I was wrong about that." Rebecca gave a little wave. "Hi, Dani. How's the ghost?"

Dani sank down a little in her seat, and her answering smile was more of a grimace. "Hi. Sorry," she mumbled.

"Yeah, about that," said Jamie. “Back on Quint’s ship, you said you knew what was happening at House Thul.”

“Oh? Finally ready to listen to me, are you?”

“Don’t push me,” Jamie growled, jabbing the tip of her finger at Rebecca’s face on the screen. “Remember. Galaxy’s Biggest Favour.”

Rebecca rolled her eyes. She had taken the call with her back to a wall, so it was impossible to glean her surroundings. "The Empire wants a foothold on Alderaan. It's a strategic location in the Core Worlds. They have been working over Lord Wingrave after the death of his brother and sister-in-law, helping him fabricate claims to the House, claims to his niece and nephew, claims to a position in the Republic Senate. You know the drill. Traditional blackmail."

"What else?" Jamie pressed.

For a moment Rebecca glanced over the top of the camera as if looking at something else out of frame, but then her attention returned back to the screen. "The children are Force Sensitives. The Sith have been helping Lord Wingrave keep that under wraps, so that The Order wouldn't take them away to the Temple for training. My sources tell me that the plan was for a Sith Lord to create sleeper agents out of the children through the use of some ancient Sith device containing a ghost."

"Which Sith?" Hannah asked.

"I'm not in the business of keeping tabs on Sith Lords. By the way," Rebecca pointed through the screen at Hannah. "How have you found shaving your head? Because I've been thinking of cutting my hair back, but I’m not sure about going all the way."

Running a hand along her shaved scalp, Hannah said, "There's nothing quite so freeing."

"Good to know. Thanks.”

"Oi," Jamie snapped her fingers. "Focus. The Sith Lord."

"What else is there to say?" Rebecca replied dryly. "They're a Sith Lord. They're scary. They're dangerous. They're not to be fucked with. Your Jedi friends probably know the drill better than me."

"I hope not," Owen said under his breath as he took a sip of tea.

Hannah sat up a little straighter, hands clasped neatly on the table before her. "Do we know where they are? Where they're going, perhaps? Any information you give us may be vital."

Leaning her back against the wall behind her, Rebecca pursed her lips in thought before answering with a shake of her head. "I know they want the children, and I know they want the holocron. So - Alderaan."

"But the holocron isn't on Alderaan," Dani pointed out.

"They don't know that," said Rebecca. "Peter lied to buy himself time, and told them it was still in the estate of House Thul."

"But -" Dani frowned. "House Thul has its own militia of guardsmen. I know Sith are powerful but the Empire would need to send troops if they wanted to break in and hold ground."

"Then I guess the Sith Lord will be invading with troops as well."

Sighing deeply, Jamie lowered her face to her hands, letting her fingers scrub through her hair. Then she looked up again, hands hooked behind her neck. "Right. Guess we're off to Alderaan, then."

Rebecca laughed. When nobody else joined in, she stopped. "Wait. You're serious? Did you not just hear me say 'Most likely a Sith Lord is going to invade House Thul?' As in — with a shock legion. As in over a thousand soldiers led by a malevolent Force User, who can and would probably kill a room with a snap of their fingers?”

Lowering her hands, Jamie said, "Yeah, you - uh - you mentioned that. Good thing you'll be right there with us."

"You have got to be joking."

Jamie said nothing. Just gave Rebecca a long look.

"Jamie," said Rebecca, her expression horrified, "You can't be serious. When I said 'favour' I didn't mean 'suicide.'"

"We can’t let them have those kids. Trying to mobilise Republic troops or The Order without enough evidence is a fuckin’ waste of time. We need to get into the estate of House Thul," Jamie gestured around to everyone at the table. "You're a smuggler. So, smuggle us in."

Rebecca pinched the bridge of her nose. "Alderaan is Republic territory. Why do you need me to smuggle you onto the planet, when you can just fly and land there yourself?"

"Because of her." Jamie gestured towards Dani, who looked both startled at being mentioned and guilty. "I don't want Pasha and his Troopers linking Dani to this in any way. They can't know she returned to House Thul. She has to come out of this squeaky clean."

Groaning, Rebecca said, "Fine. When do you want to go?"

"As soon as possible," said Owen.

"I'm -" Rebecca looked over the top of the camera again, craning her neck slightly. "Thirty two hours from Alderaan through hyperspace. Meet me in orbit around the planet. How's the ship I gave you?"

"Rude," Jamie said blandly. "It keeps insulting me."

A smile tugged at the corner of Rebecca's mouth and she began tapping at the buttons below her screen. "That sounds like Jane."

Jamie's face screwed up. "Jane? It has a name?"

"It's a JN class droid uploaded into the ship’s mainframe. It likes being called Jane. Didn't you ask it?"

"No?"

"Well, no wonder it's rude to you. By the way, I’ve just dropped you those pictures of my godson that you asked for last time. They should be appearing on your device now.” Rebecca waved with a little flutter of her fingers. “See you in thirty two hours.”

The video feed winked out.

"I rather like that young woman," Hannah said.

“Get in line,” Jamie grumbled.

The video had been replaced by a file icon. Jamie clicked it and brought up the first photo of Rebecca carrying a blue-skinned Twi’lek child on her back, both wearing big beaming smiles.

“Oh, they’re adorable,” Owen sighed.

Fuming, Jamie flicked to the next photo, which was equally adorable. “Fuck. Okay. Yeah. They are.”

—

After cleaning up in the dining room and kitchen, Hannah gently nudged Jamie's arm and indicated she should follow her. Jamie glanced over at Dani, but she was engaged in a lively conversation with Owen while they dried dishes together. Dani's smile had lost its tentative edge the longer Owen spoke to her, but there was still a tenseness to the way she held her shoulders, the same tenseness that had been present back in Ho'kyn's bar on Telos IV, as though she were afraid someone would batter down the door at any moment.

Jamie followed Hannah, who led her up a set of stairs to a mezzanine floor where the walls were floor to ceiling scrolls and books and objects of cultural curiosity.

"Find anything new?" Jamie asked. She leaned back against the railing of the mezzanine which overlooked the lounge below.

Hannah plucked a tome from its shelf, dusted it off, and opened it to a page that had already been marked with a length of ribbon. "Yes and no. Nothing helpful, anyway."

She came to stand beside Jamie so that she might also look at the book. Jamie peered at it from the corner of her eye, not recognising the script around the drawing of a grey-skinned woman in dark red robes with a deep cowl.

"That a Sith?" Jamie asked.

Hannah hummed a curious note. "A Witch of Dathomir. Dark-aligned, for the most part, but not Imperial. They're the only practitioners of possession I've been able to find record of at all. I believe The Lady might have been an early precursor. Or perhaps they developed similar techniques independently."

Jamie stood straighter, hands tightening around the railing. "Wait, so - you can reverse it?"

Hannah snapped the book shut. "No. Though a visit to Dathomir might be in order, should we survive. However, if you chose to go, I won't be accompanying you. They dislike Jedi as much as they dislike Sith."

"Good thing I'm not a Jedi."

"I doubt they'll see the difference," Hannah said, and she tucked the book beneath one arm. "Failing that, the only other people who might know anything about this ghost are the Sith themselves."

Jamie scoffed, smiling. "Right. I'll just sail into their capital on Dromund Kaas and ask for help, then. Great advice."

A flick of the Force against Jamie's ear made her wince.

"Don't be cheeky," said Hannah.

Rubbing at her ear, Jamie opened her mouth to retort but stopped. Beneath them Dani and Owen walked into the lounge, still talking. Dani moved her hands when she spoke, and Owen watched her with a fond if guarded smile.

"I am afraid for her," Hannah murmured so that they would not be overheard.

Jamie nodded. "Yeah."

"For someone like our lovely Miss Clayton, the Dark Side is not a lure so much as it is a glue trap," Hannah mused aloud. "It has a gravity of its own, the darkness. And once there, it becomes more and more difficult to claw your way free. Even if you want to. Even if you know you should, but can’t bring yourself to try. Fear is her failing. And fear is the relinquishment of logic."

Jamie glanced at Hannah. "Can you teach her when this is all over? You're the best of the best in The Order when it comes to balance in the Force."

Without looking at Jamie, Hannah lightly smacked her arm, just a dismissive tap with the back of one hand. "Don't try your flattery on me. I've known you too long for that nonsense."

"That nonsense," said Jamie, "has gotten me out of more sticky situations than you know."

"But it won't get Miss Clayton out of this one."

Muttering a curse under her breath, Jamie sank down a bit, gripping the railing as she did so until she stood bent over and leaning against it. "Don't you start, too. I had Owen in my ear last night about it."

"Good man," Hannah murmured appreciatively.

"Bloody hypocrites. The both of you."

"You can't solve everything with your curmudgeonly charm," said Hannah.

"I fuckin' can."

"Sometimes," Hannah turned, leaning her back against the railing, arms crossed over the book gripped loosely to her chest, "a helping hand can only do so much. A person needs to want to help themself."

Jamie scowled. "So, what? If we can't help her we just ship her off to the Empire? 'Here, have a new Sith apprentice?' You haven't even given her a chance, and you two are already lecturing me on how I need to let go." She shook her head with a bitter chuckle. "Unbelievable."

And of course Hannah remained infuriatingly unflappable, her voice calm when she replied, "I will do everything I can, as I know Owen will, too. But — even should we survive this ordeal — our time with her will be limited. She will not be safe on Tython, where some overzealous Knight will surely sense her presence and jump to conclusions."

Jamie's mouth went dry. She swallowed. "Then where am I supposed to take her for training?"

Hannah smiled and placed a warm hand on Jamie's forearm. "Wherever you want, dear. So long as you're there."

Face screwing up in confusion, Jamie straightened. "But you just - You were just telling me how I needed to keep my distance and all that shite."

"Was I?" Hannah murmured, and she let go of Jamie's arm to instead toy at a gold earring. "I don't recall saying that at all."

And with that she crossed back over to place the book on its shelf.

"What do you mean? Hannah?" said Jamie, turning around.

Humming to herself as if she hadn't heard, Hannah drifted off down the stairs.

"Hannah," Jamie repeated, louder this time.

"We really must pack, Owen," said Hannah, ignoring Jamie completely.

Hitting her fist against the railing, Jamie turned back around to glower down at Hannah, who appeared on the floor below. Hannah urged Owen down a hallway with instructions to pack for the trip, leaving Dani standing in the middle of the lounge, alone. Dani looked up, and Jamie's fist loosened.

The last time Jamie had seen her from this angle, Dani had been in the full thrall of The Lady back on the luxury cruiser, her red-gold gaze piercing through a camera in the ceiling. Now, Dani blinked up at her with none of that cold malice to be found. She opened her mouth to say something, but then Hannah's voice called down the hallway.

"Miss Clayton, what's the weather like at House Thul?"

Dani turned and began walking towards the sound, already answering Hannah's question, and leaving Jamie staring after her from the mezzanine floor, lost.

—

The gangway automatically lowered to the ground when Jamie got within a certain distance from the luxury cruiser still docked where they had left it.

"Good afternoon, Bollocks," said the cultured male baritone of the ship's computer. "You've brought guests."

Beside her, Owen mouthed the word 'bollocks?' at Hannah, who looked like she was trying very hard not to laugh.

Jamie rolled her eyes and shooed the two of them up the gangway, trailed by Dani. "I have, yeah. Anything interesting happen while we were away, Jane?"

There followed a pause that was slightly too long for a droid of this calibre, and then the ship's computer replied, "Nothing of note. I did not tell you to call me that."

"Oh? Don't like it? Should I call you bawbag instead?"

Another pause, this one affronted. "Jane," said the ship's computer, "is perfectly serviceable."

"Glad to hear it, mate," Jamie drawled and stepped into the ship proper.

As Dani stepped up behind her, the ship's computer said, "And a good day to you, too, Miss Clayton. You're looking very alive today."

"Uh -" said Dani, and she ducked her head sheepishly. "Thanks."

The gangway lifted and sealed behind them once everyone had entered the main atrium, where the ship’s computer had already sent out a small service droid on trundlers bearing glasses of some kind of pale carbonated alcohol.

“Don’t mind if I do,” Owen murmured, picking up a glass and taking a sip. He made an appreciative noise.

“Where would we like to go?” the ship’s computer asked.

Jamie waved the service droid away when it tried to press an insistent drink into her hand. “No, thanks. Jane, calculate a route to Alderaan. We need to meet someone in orbit around the planet in thirty two hours.”

“Route calculated,” the ship’s computer replied almost immediately. “The journey is only expected to take twenty one hours through hyperspace. I will chart a circuitous route so that we arrive on time. If it would please you, you may make your way to the dining lounge. I have prepared a light lunch before we depart.”

Frowning, Jamie looked up at the ceiling. “How the hell did you even know we were coming?”

“I have access to the station’s security cameras and systems.”

That gave everyone pause. Owen froze in the act of draining his glass, while Hannah and Dani shared looks.

“You hacked the station’s security system?” Jamie said.

“Negative, Bollocks,” said the ship’s computer. “I asked the mainframe for access very nicely.”

“Are you lying?” Jamie turned to Hannah and Dani. “Can droids lie?”

The ship’s computer did not answer. Which wasn’t concerning. Not at all. Owen suddenly looked a bit queasy, and he gingerly lowered his near empty glass back onto the tray held out by the service droid.

“You need not fear for the condition of food and drink aboard this vessel,” said the ship’s computer. “I am programmed to care for and protect any legitimate member of this crew as designated by the Captain and owner.”

Jamie pointed jokingly at Owen and said, “Better watch yourself, then.”

Placing a hand over his chest, Owen pretended to look insulted, then followed Jamie further into the ship towards the dining lounge.

“May I ask,” started the ship’s computer, “what are we going to be doing on Alderaan?’

Jamie dragged her hand along one of the polished white walls as she walked. “Getting in over our heads.”

“Please clarify.”

“We’re going to have a fight. Why?” Jamie asked dryly. “Do you also happen to have ion cannons strapped to your shiny exterior?”

“Negative. But I do come equipped with some accessories the crew might find useful in the event of a boarding attempt.”

One of the panels beneath Jamie’s hand pressed inwards, and a whole section of the wall peeled back to reveal racks upon racks of blaster pistols, blaster rifles, grenades, vibroweapons with wickedly curved blades some small enough to strap to the leg, others long enough to be wielded with two hands. Everything that would make a Republic Trooper get all hot and bothered.

All four of them stopped in their tracks and stared.

“Definitely an ex-Czerka ship,” Hannah muttered under her breath.

Hand on the hilt of the lightsabre at her hip, Dani said, “I think I’ll stick with this. I’d be more likely to shoot my own foot.”

“Likewise,” said Owen.

Meanwhile Jamie reached out and hefted a blaster pistol. She turned it over in her hands for closer inspection, careful not to graze anyone with the barrel, but all defining marks or serial numbers had been either scrubbed off or hadn’t made it far enough in manufacturing to be stamped in the first place. With a shrug, she took one of the holsters and belted it around her waist.

Owen gave her a look. “Really?”

“What?” Jamie holstered the blaster pistol and waved at the other three. “You all have lightsabres, and we’re going up against who only knows what. Am I supposed to just hide behind a pillar while you lot do all the fun stuff?”

Before they could answer, the ship’s computer chimed and said from its hidden speakers in the ceiling. “Not to interrupt,” said Jane, “but the tea is getting cold.”

Immediately Owen’s eyes brightened. “Oh, tea?”

It was in fact high tea. Three tiered platters. Fine bone china. Petit fours. The whole lot. They amused themselves in the various lounges and quarters of the ship for hours before departure, at which point the ship’s computer insisted upon harnesses being secured. The jump to hyperspace left Jamie feeling on edge, as though she had left her stomach behind on Tython. And she couldn’t have been the only one. Their talk had been too forced, their laughter too loud, Owen and Jamie swapping stories to the delight of Dani and Hannah, who would chime in every now and then. And when Jane rolled out a more formal dinner, it felt like some kind of last meal before execution at dawn by firing squad.

Jamie couldn’t find it in herself to enjoy the meal. Every bite tasted like ash. The ship’s computer on the other hand seemed thrilled that its crew was finally taking part in its carefully scheduled meals and activities. More than once Jamie thought she heard a low-pitched contented hum from the belly of the ship. Or perhaps that was simply the engine room.

Eventually, Jamie made her excuses and left the others to their own devices. Jamie walked into the same bedroom she had taken during the initial trip on this vessel. First one on the left from the main lounge. There were at least four other rooms of generally equal size and accommodation on the ship; Jamie had simply picked this one because it was closest to the helm, easy to access and nothing more.

Jamie sighed and stopped in the middle of the room. She unslung the holster and pistol, dropping it to the ground, then began to unbutton the crisp white shirt she had stolen from the medbay. Back on Tython, Hannah had offered her a spare set of robes, which she’d declined. Jamie hadn’t worn robes since she was a padawan, and after years of boilersuits and undershirts, she wasn’t about to start again any time soon, thanks. Even if it meant dumb slacks and collared shirts made of some anti-wrinkle fabric that cost more than her apartment back on Telos IV.

She just needed to make it one more day. Just one more day. The last few weeks had shaved off a good few years from her life. Probably. And by this time tomorrow this whole ordeal would be over, alive or dead. Probably.

There was a knock at the door. With a frown, Jamie turned, hands paused in the act of unbuttoning the shirt halfway down her stomach. “Yeah?”

The door hissed open and shut again behind Dani as she stepped into the room. “Hi.”

Jamie blinked. “Hey.”

For a long moment Dani did and said nothing. Her mismatched gaze flicked down to the narrow v of skin and the dogtags revealed by the open shirt, only to dart quickly away again, studying the bedside table with a fixed intensity it did not deserve.

“Sorry,” said Dani. “I just - It's been a few days since we’d really spoken, and I wanted to check in.”

Jamie nodded. “Ah - yeah. I’m good. Are you -?”

“Yeah. I’m okay.”

Another lengthy pause.

Dani gestured to the door behind her. “Hannah and Owen are very nice.”

“They are, yeah. Good people. Trust ‘em with my life, and I don’t say that lightly.” Jamie tried to smile, to make light, but Dani had turned that wide-eyed fixed intensity upon her now. It was difficult not to squirm in place when Dani looked at her like that.

Dani took an abortive step forward, only to stop herself before she could venture too close. “Are we okay? It’s just - on Tython you seemed to want your own space, and I thought -” She paused to clear her throat, glancing briefly down at her feet. “Did I mess this up or -? I mean - I know I’m not the best option for anyone, and you deserve someone nice, someone who’s not completely messed up or possessed by an ancient Sith ghost or something. But I -” she paused to close her eyes and draw in a deep breath. “I really like you. And if you don’t want anything to do with me after this is all over, I would completely understand, but I -”

Jamie tried. She really did. But the next thing she knew, she had taken a step forward and pulled Dani in for a kiss. Dani made a small noise of surprise in the back of her throat that Jamie chased after, feeling her respond in kind, feeling the Force welling up beneath Dani’s skin like a hand reaching out in offering.

“Do you think -” Jamie said, pulling away just enough to speak, “- that I did all this because I don’t like you?”

Dani gave a breathless little laugh, her hands cupping Jamie’s jaw then sliding to cradle the back of her head. “I thought you did it because you’re good and noble and you’re drawn to a lost cause.”

“Can be lots of things, can’t I?”

They were close enough that Jamie could feel the pull of Dani’s smile against her own lips, their noses brushing.

“I know you like your life to be boring. So, I was thinking," said Dani, "how nice Corsin must be at this time of year. Just a getaway planet in the middle of nowhere. No Sith. No Jedi. That could be boring, couldn't it?"

Jamie swayed forward, eyes half lidded, and murmured, "Could be awfully boring."

Hannah and Owen be damned. The little voice in the back of her head telling her this was a bad idea be damned. Dani was kissing her again and every thought flew right out of her head until there was nothing but this. Nothing but today, this moment, the call of blood in her veins, life as it was and nothing else.

There was not push towards the bed, no drive to action beyond this. Still Jamie paused, one hand remaining anchored at Dani’s waist.

“You can still go alone,” Jamie said, “if you want. Doesn’t have to be with me.”

Even as she said it, Jamie dreaded the answer. Knowing Dani’s predilection towards shrinking away from things that were too difficult to face alone. Knowing her own history of always being the odd one out, passed from place to place, from Corps to Corps, unfettered, unwanted.

Dani’s hand tightened in her hair, holding her close. “Want it to be with you.”

Want this, Jamie thought as Dani kissed her again. Want this, too.

Removing Dani’s cloak and tossing it onto the floor beside the blaster pistol had never felt so easy. Kissing her, unhooking the lightsabre and setting it onto the table had never felt so easy. Unzipping Dani’s vest while Dani finished unbuttoning what Jamie had started had never felt so easy. Being with someone else had never felt so easy.

Jamie’s shirt was discarded onto the ground beside the bed just as Jamie sank to her knees there. Dani’s hair was mussed, her mouth parted, her eyes fixed and unblinking as Jamie began to slowly drag down the zipper of her trousers. She toyed with the chain of Jamie’s dogtags, winding it around her fingers at the back of Jamie’s neck.

When Jamie began to tug down the material, Dani sat on the edge of the mattress so her pants could be peeled off and placed aside. Jamie leaned forward and stroked her tongue along the soft skin of Dani’s inner thigh, feeling a hand grip her hair when she bit down gently, and making a low dark sound in the back of her throat.

Already Dani was moving her hips in small motions and Jamie hadn’t even started yet. Jamie laughed softly.

“What?” Dani breathed.

Jamie shook her head, but the movement was restricted somewhat by the tight grip Dani had on her hair. “Nothing,” she murmured and bowed forward to place her open mouth against slick wet and wanting heat.

Wanting nothing but this. The spread of Dani’s legs on either side of Jamie’s head. The taste of her when Jamie swiped her tongue in long slow strokes. The sound of her name gasped in Dani’s voice. The ache between her own legs as Dani rocked her hips to the rhythm Jamie set with a barely restrained urgency.

Where last time had been fast and hard, Jamie did the opposite now. She traced Dani with the tip of her tongue as if trying to map her to memory, finding the best reactions and storing them away for later, for a time again with her that may never come. One of Dani’s heels came up to press into the small of Jamie’s back, and Jamie could feel the way the muscle of Dani’s inner thigh trembled against the side of her face. The same way her fingers trembled as they combed back Jamie’s hair.

Want this, Jamie thought as Dani’s groan ended on a broken noise, as Dani’s hips arched up to press more firmly against her mouth while Jamie offered only a gentle suction. Want her. Want us.

Dani hauled Jamie up by the chain around her neck to kiss her deeply. The kiss was slick and messy and tasted of her, and when they parted Dani was panting.

“Did I mention,” Dani said breathlessly, “that I really like you?”

Jamie laughed and allowed herself to be pulled up onto the bed. Smiling broadly, Dani kissed her and rolled her over to start unbuttoning Jamie’s dark-washed slacks. Before she could do more than flick open the first of two buttons, Jamie placed her hands and Dani’s hips and encouraged her to rock against her thigh.

“That’s -” Dani swallowed back a reckless sound, her eyes squeezing shut. “I’m going to ruin your nice slacks.”

“Fuck ‘em.”

Dani’s answering laugh was breathless. “Do you mean that literally, or -?”

The question died on her tongue when Jamie pressed her knee up and wedged a hand between them just enough that she could brush her thumb just so. She watched as Dani’s face screwed up, as her mouth dropped open and her hips bucked out of time until she came again — smaller this time, but no less gratifying.

Dani slowed to a halt, trying to catch her breath. “All right,” she said. “It’s definitely your turn.”

When they’d finished, Jamie sank bonelessly back onto the mattress. Their clothes were strewn all about the room, and the ship’s computer had set the lights to dim automatically to match a normalised sleep cycle, so that the ceiling was a map of constellations. Dani was stark naked and wiping her hands clean on a shirt with a self-satisfied expression before she crawled back up the bed and snuggled into Jamie’s side.

Jamie rolled onto her side and draped an arm across Dani’s waist to hold her loosely there. She needed to take a shower, but couldn’t find the energy within herself to get up. Not when recent sex had turned her bones to jelly, and not when Dani started to trace the curving lines of Jamie’s monochromatic tattoo.

Exhaling slowly, Jamie sank further into the mattress. Her eyes slipped shut and she allowed herself this moment of brief respite.

“Do you ever think,” Dani asked softly, “this was supposed to happen?”

Blearily, Jamie opened her eyes, lulled half asleep by the way Dani was touching her. “What d’you mean?”

Dani shook her head, admiring the way her fingertips drifted across the pattern of ink on Jamie’s bare shoulder. “I don’t know. I just - When I chose the ship to Telos IV, it wasn’t the fastest or the cheapest or even the one leaving the soonest. I was still in shock, I think. From what had happened on Vurdon Ka. There was another transport leaving three hours earlier, heading towards the Outer Rim, but when the droid asked me what ticket I wanted I bought the one to Telos instead.” Her words slowed to a mumble, and her caress stopped. Dani stared at the flowers on Jamie’s skin as if in wonder. “I don’t know why I did that.”

“Coincidence?” Jamie offered, watching the flicker of Dani’s brow in response.

Dani seemed to be trying to remember something intently. “Maybe, but it was so strange. I had this - this feeling. And when I landed on Telos, you know, I -” She broke off with a small incredulous laugh. “I walked straight to that bar. Just - straight there. Didn’t even ask for directions.”

Jamie blinked, more awake now. That hum of energy had returned, threading between them like an arc. Dani’s presence was stalwart, nothing wavering or questioning about it.

“I don’t know anything about the Force,” Dani continued, “but I’m glad to have met you.”

A smile tugged at the corner of Jamie’s mouth. It was brief but the warmth pooling in her chest was verdant and budding. “Yeah. Me too.”

—

Rebecca’s ship dropped out of hyperspace only three kilometers from the luxury cruiser, so that the two vessels drifted in orbit around Alderaan side by side. The planet below was a vast curved horizon of blues and greens, struck through with white cloud. Sitting in the pilot’s seat, Jamie noticed how Dani’s gaze kept drifting towards the broad windows of the left wing, staring out at the planet below with her shoulders tense and her hands clasped behind her back.

The moment Rebecca’s ship came into view, Owen leaned over Jamie’s shoulder and hit the comm button, requesting a transmission, which was immediately picked up.

“Hello again,” Owen greeted jovially down the line. “We see you’ve just arrived in orbit. And might I say - your ship is exactly what I expected from a smuggler.”

“Aww, thanks,” said Rebecca, her video feed flickering into view. “I worked hard to get it just right.”

Rebecca’s ship was a single bladed shape of stark grey material, like a shark’s fin parting the surface of water. Jamie knew from experience that its small size could mislead larger ships into underestimating its speed and firepower. She also knew from experience that the sleeping cots were cramped and uncomfortable, and that more often than not Rebecca slept in a hammock strung up in the cockpit itself.

Jamie elbowed Owen in the gut so she could have more room. “Status report?”

Rebecca rolled her eyes. “What are you? Fleet Commander Taylor?”

“Just tell me how we’re getting down to the surface without being noticed,” Jamie said.

“Funny you should ask that,” Rebecca replied, trailing off.

Owen made a face. “Oh, no. Is it bad?”

“Well…”

“Get it over with,” groaned Jamie. She could hear Hannah and Dani walking closer to join the conversation. “Put me out of my misery.”

Rebecca hit a few buttons to switch over the feed, and the screen suddenly displayed a scene much nearer to the surface. She must have hacked into a few security cameras, because the view turned slowly alongside her tapping away in the background. A towering estate in slate greys with parapets like speartips jutting into the sky dominated the screen, flanked by snowy mountains. A broad bridge led to the front entrance, and a hundred or so guardsmen had set up allacrete bollards behind which they were taking cover to avoid incoming fire, peeking over to return volleys before crouching down again.

“That’s,” Dani said slowly, pointing towards a crest-emblazoned purple and red banner hanging from the manor walls on the screen, “House Thul.”

Jamie squeezed her eyes shut and tipped her head back towards the ceiling. “Don’t tell me.”

“They’re being besieged by the Sith Lord,” said Rebecca.

“I said don’t tell me.”

Hannah peered over Jamie’s shoulder to get a look at the screen. “Can you get us to the surface?” she asked.

“Yeah,” said Rebecca. “But after that, I’m all out of ideas. I told you: I’m not a Core World girl. I don’t know Alderaan from a bottle of spotchka.”

“I do.”

Jamie opened her eyes and lowered her head. Beside her Dani had lifted her hand slightly as though waiting to be called on in class. “There’s a side entrance used primarily by servants and staff.”

“What? A side entrance dug all the way through the mountains?” Owen pointed to the snowy peaks pressed in tight on either side of the estate.

“No, it’s here.” Dani tapped her finger against the screen just off to the side of where the camera was currently showing. “It’s where the guards sleep. You go through a security checkpoint and then down a tunnel which leads into a room off the great hall.”

“Don’t think the security checkpoint won’t be a problem this time,” said Jamie.

“Yeah,” said Rebecca slowly as a guardsman on screen was shot dead and slumped to the ground, only to be pulled back over the bollard by one of his comrades. “They look a little occupied right now.”

Chatter fizzed from another speaker on the dashboard. Frowning, Rebecca sat in the pilot’s seat and turned a dial until the frequency better matched. They could hear a staticky voice shouting frantic orders over the comm.

“That’s a Pub frequency,” Rebecca said.

“The Empire has revealed its hand,” Owen said. “The Republic will be arriving with reinforcements soon.”

“Yeah, but not soon enough,” Jamie muttered darkly.

Hannah hummed in agreement. “Unfortunately, yes. A fully fledged Sith Lord? They can tear this estate apart and be out with what they want before Republic troops make it into orbit.”

“Yeah, well, hopefully we can do the same.”

From the sidelines, Dani suddenly spoke, “Can we talk about the children for a sec?” When she had everyone’s attention, she took a deep breath and continued, “What’s going to happen to them now that we know they’re Force Sensitive?”

She looked towards Jamie, who raised both hands and shook her head, pointing towards Owen and Hannah. Hannah was looking at Owen, who shrugged and made a gesture, which Hannah reacted to with an emphatic tilt of her head, the two of them engaged in the kind of silent conversation only two people who had been together for so long knew.

“Are you going to share with the class?” Jamie drawled. “Or are you two lovebirds just going to keep having your weird psychic talk that nobody else can hear?”

Hannah gave Jamie an arch, brook-no-nonsense glare, while Owen stuck out his tongue at her.

“I think it best if we take them back to Tython,” said Hannah to Dani. “There they can be trained in the Force properly.”

Some of the tension held in Dani’s jaw slackened, and she breathed a sigh of relief. “Okay. Yeah. Thanks. I needed to hear that.”

“Anything else we need to discuss before we leap into the fray?” Rebecca asked from the pilot’s seat.

Silence.

“Right,” said Jamie, hand on the holster of her blaster pistol. “Let’s get this over with, then.”

#thobm #the haunting of bly manor #star wars #damie #dani clayton/jamie #no great revelation #roman writes

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matildashoney · 4 years

Text

All I’ve Ever Known // The Prologue

MOODBOARD // PREVIEW // TAGS // PLAYLIST // ASKS // LYTA

Let’s talk about Harry and Amelie!

Harry’s routine is always the same before a show. All of Live on Tour has been routine, at least.

That’s because Amelie has been around for nearly the entire tour, scheduling shows around when the meetings for her latest exhibition, her biggest exhibition – twenty pieces of art centred around boundaries and the journey to accepting them as they are – are going to be held, especially the mandatory meetings in-house with Susan – the agent that she’s started working with since she saw her work at an exhibition for up and coming artists two years ago and was thoroughly impressed – and Harry wanted to be as supportive as he could be. That meant being around, even if there was a world tour of eighty some dates across the globe.

Harry’s had the threat of losing Amelie once. He wouldn’t make that mistake, again.

His schedule for the day usually begins with getting to the venue, then soundcheck and tech rehearsal while the stage is being finalised, a light meal of some sort – usually that’s just Amelie eating and Harry having coffee and sitting with her because he’s a tad bit clingy – and a workout. Harry will shower and change, dragging Amelie into the bathroom and talking to her about any emails that she’s gotten, an update on any of the art and the designs that’s she’s been working on with the film that she was signed an artistic creative director for – which he was unbelievably proud of her for – and the dates that she would have to fly home to California to attend their meetings and go over the designs that the crew was working on.

Amelie and Harry were apart for a majority of the years before, nearly nine months apart two years ago and four months last year, graciously able to reconnect towards the end of the Live on Tour dates in late October when the major meetings were coming to a close regarding the exhibition and much of the creative direction was being sent through private emails and phone conferences. Harry was grateful that Amelie was with him, now, but he knew that she was stressed beyond measure. Amelie wears herself too thin, too often, and Harry doesn’t want to see her burn out like she had a year and a half before.

Harry would get changed shortly after his shower, getting in the chair and giving hair and makeup time to do their work, this being the moment that Amelie steps aside and tends to her computer work or talking with her cousin about where the best photographs would be taken for her to sketch out for a project she was working to give Harry for Christmas, that year.

Not that Harry knew this.

Then it’s Amelie’s turn, getting dressed in an outfit that most likely matches Harry’s suit to an extent. Harris designed a few dresses and pant suits for the final show to match what Harry had had selected for himself, giving her the options. Tonight, for the final show, Amelie is wearing the black and gold sparkled pantsuit that’s tight fitting to her chest and thighs, flaring at her calves, a new nose ring hooped into her piercing, her hair a new shade of platinum and curled the way she – and he – loves so much. Not that she admits it often, but it’s always her favourite when they match; it’s their hinted way of saying that they’re together without anyone actually catching on.

Three years in, and crowds are still oblivious to the relationship that they have, and it’s something they cherish, especially with how Harry is painted in the media more often than not. Helene is always very careful with their photographs, too, never sharing too much but always giving the pictures that she has of them backstage. Those might be their favourite shots, the ones where they’re kissing or Harry’s arms are tightly wrapped around her waist, or she’s wiping lipstick off his cheeks. Always a sweet reminder that they’re there, in this together, whatever it may bring.

And by the time everyone is done getting ready, Harry is ready to eat something light, warm his voice, and head on stage. Outside is buzzing with excitement, and they can already hear the crowd singing to “Olivia”, which is Harry’s favourite. Amelie’s computer is away, all of her attention ready to be set on her man, the love of her life, and admire him do what he loves on stage.

Harry was made to be there, to be the star of the show.

And tonight, this show, is bittersweet in a lot of ways. It’s the final Live on Tour date. Coming to a close of eighty-nine shows, all around the world, ninety minutes that tens of thousands can be themselves in one room, one arena. It’s special. It’s something that not many could do. Amelie knows that she surely couldn’t. It’s admirable and brave to be vulnerable to so many people. And although Harry would have liked to write an album a bit more authentic to his sound, what he loves, Amelie is encouraging him every step of the way that now he’s seen how many people adore him and want to see him be himself. He has a million chances to get it right, to grow, to change.

Anne is there. Fay and Luca. Phoebe and her girlfriend, Deb. Brandon and Autumn. Jenny and Dan, Amaya and Amari. All of their friends.

And Amelie. Always where Harry can see her. Always where Harry can know that she’s there to support him, and love him, and be the one that will hold him tight and say that’s she’s proud of him when the show comes to a close.

All of their entourage for the evening is gathered backstage, Amari on Jenny’s waist and Amaya standing close by to Uncle Harry as they all talk and decide on where the children will stay towards the end of the show. Harry’s extremely protective of his goddaughters – and his entire family – to say the least.

Jeff walks into the dressing room, telling Harry that’s it’s time to go, that the show is about to start. Sarah and Mitch walk in behind him, greeting everyone, Adam and Clare shuffling in. Harry is smiling, his heart full of love and so much happiness that isn’t quite sure what could be better.

That’s until Amelie brings him to the side, to the quiet corner in the hallway, taking a polaroid out of her pocket, one with Amelie kissing Harry’s cheek with a smile spread ear to ear on his lips, and sticking it inside the tiny slip in his suit jacket.

“Not one person in this arena could be prouder of you than I am,” Amelie smiles, her eyes wet with tears as Harry swipes a stray beneath her lashes, “and I want you to have this near your heart, to remind you that I fucking adore you and everything you do. All the songs, all the tears, all the love. That’s all you, inside of you. Less than two years and you’ve acted in a film, released an album, done two tours, and you’ve supported me like no one else ever has. Not one person on this planet will ever know the way it is to love you, and I’m beyond grateful that you chose me. I’ll do this with you forever, Harry.”

Harry’s on the verge of tears, now, cupping her jaw and kissing her in a way that could say everything he isn’t sure how to articulate. He loves her. God, he fucking loves her. And he’s sure that he loves her more than anyone could ever love another person in the entire world. That’s why there’s a ring in his duffle bag, a ring that her grandfather gave him the day they went to visit a day before his show, telling Harry that her grandmother always said that the person that falls in love with Amelie should have it, because it would mean more to her than she would ever admit. And Harry wants to give it to her, and everyday feels like the day.

“All for you, all of this is for you, you know that? Everything I do.”

Amelie wraps her arms around his shoulders, hugging him tightly, soaking in the way that for a moment, it’s only them and their love and how much of their life is surrounded by the way that they support each other. Her fingers toy with the curls at the nape of his neck, not wanting to ruin his hair, even though she knows that he wouldn’t mind. And they stand that way for a few minutes, knowing that someone is going to come and whisk him away for the show to start, and Amelie will stand right where the stairs are to be the last person he sees before going on stage.

“I adore you, Harry Styles. More than anyone has ever loved another person,” Amelie whispers into his neck, and Harry pulls away for a moment to look at her. “And I am unbelievably proud of you. Not just as your girlfriend, but as your best friend.”

“You’re the best thing to ever happen to me.” Harry stares at Amelie as if she’s hung the moon and the stars in the sky and aligned all the planets for them to live the life they’re living. Helene is hidden behind a wall, snapping pictures of the two in the middle of their moment, unable to hear the way they’re speaking so fondly of each other. They’ll want the memories, the photographs of the moment that only they shared. “You’ll be at the B Stage, right? I’m ready to sing my heart out to you.”

“Always.”

And Amelie’s right. Not one show has she missed being right there, standing in front of him, singing the words to the songs that he wrote for her, as his way to show the love that couldn’t be said in an everyday conversation.

“Harry, it’s time to go,” Tom says, kindly taking the two out of their bubble and patting Harry’s cheek. “Know where you’re going, Ames?”

Amelie smiles at the name, knowing that it’s all Harry’s doing that so many people in their life have taken to calling her that. “Always.”

“Great. Have to take him away but you’ll see him soon.”

Harry takes a deep breath, nodding to his manager and taking a few steps away and towards the huddled group in the centre of the corridor, all of his band and team and crew gathering to have a final few words before the show would begin. Amelie squeezes Harry’s hand reassuringly, stealing a kiss – not that she’s stealing much when she has about a hundred a day – and smiling, releasing him and gently nudging him towards the group, taking her backstage pass between her fingertips and walking towards the walkway of the stage, slinking down and hiding herself as security lights a path for her to the stairs. All of the band is shuffling quickly behind her, Harry talking to Jeff and giving Anne a kiss to her cheek before walking in their footsteps.

And standing there, listening to the arena cheering and screaming his name, the lights fading and the screens lifting, Harry knows that there is nothing that will replace this feeling. Euphoria, in a sense. Feeling completely at home and loved and free. He is well aware that having the love of his life there is a big part of that, because there is no better feeling than making the one you love proud of you.

There Amelie is, waiting for him at the edge of the stairs, his favourite smile on her lips, waiting to give him one last kiss before he steps on the stage, before he’s home.

“Enjoy every moment of this, baby,” Amelie smiles, taking his cheeks in her hands and kissing him sweetly. “This is all for you, you did this. I am so proud of you.” There’s a moment where they’re staring and it’s perfect. “Only Angel” is beginning to play, and the clock is ticking. “I’ll be right there singing back to you.”

“I love you,” Harry says, and there are no more words for him to express how wonderful he feels at that moment.

“All the way back to wherever you are, I love you. Always.”

One final kiss, and Harry is bounding up the steps, his in-ears pressed in place and the screams of the arena overwhelming him in the best way. His attitude changes to the stage presence that everyone loves, and he knows that this is the moment that he’ll remember forever. That this will be his, always.

Harry’s, and Amelie’s, and theirs – the fans – because there would be nothing, none of this, no opportunity to fulfil his dreams without them.

And for that, he will be forever grateful, beyond words.

Amelie rushes to walk around the stage, everyone beginning to file around her as security leads them into the arena and weaves through the audience, making sure everyone is settled in the area that Harry wants them, where he can see them. As always, Phoebe grabs Amelie’s hand, the two happily unaware of anyone recording them and the way that the tech and sound engineers are overly endeared by them. All that there is in the room is love and happiness and a whole lot of freedom that nobody could take away from them.

Amelie can’t not think about what the songs mean. Harry gave her the opportunity to really have her own interpretation of the lyrics before telling her what they’re about, the ones that she wanted to know, at least, and for a few minutes, she would sit in silence, listening to the track all over again, taking in the way he writes so elegantly about things that have cut him deep. For that, Amelie is unbelievably proud of him, because there is a lot of courage that comes along with being honest, even if Harry was still working up to being authentically himself.

Harry Styles is not about her entirely, and that’s nothing that’s ever upset her. Amelie knows there were experiences, relationships, love, heartbreak long before she was around, and there would never be a time that she would say something to make Harry think differently about what he was writing, because at the end of the day, his writing is the same as her art – therapeutic and cathartic; a way to release all of their thoughts and emotions in a healthy way, to get everything on the surface and share in the best way they know how.

Opening the show with “Only Angel” and “Woman”, there really was no need for a thoughtful interpretation. Harry including the line that Brandon said to him the day they met, that his younger sister is less than an angel and he would have to wait to find out, clearly oblivious to how their relationship came about to begin with. Harry writing in the line that was said to her as his face was between her thighs when she visited him in Jamaica while writing the album, only there for four days and he took full advantage of having her at his fingertips and as his muse. “Carolina” was always the song that made Amelie try to hide away, remembering particularly the night that they all went out and got absolutely plastered, blacked out, somehow winding up with a story of Harry nearly dragging Amelie to a toilet and taking her there, their friend bringing home a girl and telling the story of their night together the next day; and thus the song was born, a messy tale of sex and liquor and one night stands – for their friend, at least.

And everyone is dancing, singing, having the time of their lives. All of their friends and family are cheering and supporting the man she loves most in the world, and there is no greater feeling than how much she adores him and all that he’s doing.

Amelie’s arms fold in front of her chest as soon as the opening chords of “Meet Me in the Hallway” begin playing, thinking about how far they’ve come from the moments that inspired such a desperate song. That was the first song that Harry played for Amelie when showing her the album – not simply because it was first, but because he wanted to tell her why he wrote it – and there will never be a time that she listens that she doesn’t think of how much hurt their break, their arguing, their conversations caused for him barely two years ago. That’s how Harry felt, in devastating pain. There is something to be said for the way the outro to the song leads him straight to where she’s standing. Maybe Harry’s done it on purpose, maybe he hasn’t, but seeing the way his eyes light up with her standing right there says more about their love for each other than any words could.

Harry grins at Amelie, gathering his guitar and microphone and getting ready to sing the songs that are all for her, that were chosen to be sung to her, right there. He smiles as Amaya waves from where they’re standing, their Amari already falling asleep on her father’s shoulder, her headphones chunky on her head and making for a difficult way to be comfortable. His tongue wets his lips, taking a drink and playing the opening chords to “Sweet Creature” as he always does, trying his absolute best to have his emotions in tact as he stares at the love of his life crying in front of him, her eyes wet and her hand over her heart – with their niece’s hand over hers – the tiny h tattoo that she impulsively got in Amsterdam at the small of her wrist.

All of this, whether she believed it or not, was for her. All of the songs. All of the emotions. All of the writing and travelling and work, because all he wanted was to make her proud, to make her happy. And she is. Completely and utterly happy.

“Hugs, Auntie?” Amaya whispers into her ear, noticing the tears on her cheeks as the song comes to a close.

“Absolutely,” Amelie smiles, hugging her tightly to her chest and kissing her forehead and adjusting her on her waist to have her tuck her face into her neck. One of them would bring them backstage once the miniature set was over, to have them there for when everyone hurries out and they all begin to make their way to celebrate the end of tour. “Uncle Harry’s going to sing a song for Auntie and then Daddy will take you back, okay?”

Harry grins as Amelie mouths the three words that mean the absolute most, his fingers beginning to strum against the guitar that she decorated as a birthday present before tour began in March. This was their song, the song that was meant for Amelie and only Amelie. All of the lyrics are about her, about how he would do absolutely anything for her.

Harry’s eyes meet Amelie’s, eyelashes wet with tears as she sings along, singing to him and him to her. “For your eyes only, I show you my heart. For when you’re lonely and forget who you are. I’m missing half of me, when we’re apart. Now you know me, for your eyes only.”

And for those four minutes, it’s as though they are the only two in the arena.

Amelie really thinks that, maybe, she and Harry might be.

“Kiwi” has the ground shaking, and by the time Harry is at the B Stage standing in front of her, once again, the smile on her face is unmistakeable for one that only can be caused by him. Her shoulder is tapped near the end of the third go, ushering her backstage where Harry would be waiting to squeeze her and kiss her as he always does.

Around the dressing room, there is a freshly made cake and champagne and liquor and balloons celebrating the show. Harry’s clothes are folded neatly on the vanity, waiting for him to change and get to greet everyone and give his gratitude to everyone that’s supported him – his team, his crew, his band, his family and friends, and his girlfriend when they’re home – and stay a bit later to watch the stage get taken down and absorb the last moments that existed of Live on Tour.

“Hi, baby,” Amelie grins, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and laughing as his hands grab her bum and lift her onto his waist, hugging her as tightly as physically possible. “That was fucking incredible. All of it. Every single second.”

Harry kisses her neck, gently setting her feet on the ground and feverishly kissing her, his hands tied in her hair, soaking in the way she is smiling against his lips and clinging to his arms. His mind is oblivious to everyone clapping and cheering around him, giving the two a minute to themselves before whisking him away to the makeshift party. “I love you. Merci pour tout.”

“This is all you,” she says, turning her head and kissing his palm as his lips touch her hairline sweetly. “Never need to thank me for doing what a best friend should do, what you should do for someone you love.”

“Amelie Fay, you are so much more than my best friend.” Harry kisses Amelie once more, interlocking their fingers and walking towards the crowd that is cheering and congratulating and sharing hugs.

Amelie hugs Harry’s waist, slinking away and walking in the dressing room, leaving him to talk to everyone and have his moment alone. This was Harry’s moment and Amelie knows that he’ll get distracted with her around and talking nearby. Her mother and father are talking with Anne, Phoebe and Maya talking with Brandon and Autumn as they all get ready to leave sooner rather than later. Jenny and Dan and talking mindlessly on the couch, their children sleeping on their chests and enjoying the quiet that surrounds them.

“Harry always gets them right to sleep,” Amelie laughs, taking a seat next to Jenny and staring lovingly at her goddaughter as she cuddles into her mother’s chest. “Did you like the show?”

“Loved it, as always,” Jenny says, pursing her lips together and staring into the corridor, likely ensuring that Harry wasn’t walking inside before speaking again. “Thought about this earlier when I saw you two outside.”

“Thought about what?”

“You and Harry getting married,” she says, shrugging her shoulders as her husband shakes his head. “Don’t shake your head at me, Daniel, I want to officiate it.” Jenny’s attention goes back to her best friend, “Do you think you’ll even get engaged soon? Don’t have to get married, right away. Thought about how great you two are so great together, in love more than anyone could’ve guessed you would be. Age is a stupid excuse, so I don’t want to hear that.” Jenny’s eyes narrow at Amelie as she opens her mouth, knowing what her best friend would say. “Obviously, you two are living very chaotic lives, right now, but have you thought about it? Talked about it, at least?”

“From time to time, yeah,” Amelie says, running her fingers through her hair. “Don’t really think about it much, right now, with tour and the exhibition and the movie, and everything. I mean, that’s not to say that I wouldn’t say yes if Harry asked me.” Harry’s voice gets louder as he nears the dressing room. “Think that us living together and having a cat and buying a house is what works for us, right now. Don’t think Harry would want to settle down that fast at twenty-four.”

“Think you’d be surprised,” Jenny shrugs, kissing her daughter’s hair and rubbing her back soothingly. “Harry talks about having a life with you all the time.”

“Maybe it’s because having babies almost feels inevitable after you get married, you know? Neither of us want to have children when everything in our future is so uncertain.”

“Makes sense,” she says, pursing her lips and taking a sip of her water. “Don’t ever rule anything out, though, alright? This is good for you. Harry’s good for you.”

Harry smiles as he walks into the dressing room, kissing his mother on the cheek, graciously accepting her tight embrace, hugging Amelie’s mother and father, and walking straight towards his love sitting on his chair at the vanity. “Hi.”

“Hi, baby.”

Harry instinctively moves into a spot where Amelie’s arms can wrap around his shoulders, where she can hold him. His hands hold hers, kisses set all over his cheeks as he laughs, their best friends murmuring something about how obnoxious they are together. His heart is obsessively full of love, nearly breaking his ribs with how swollen it is, his chest tight in the sweetest way. Harry grabs his clean clothes, tugging on Amelie’s hand and bringing her into the quiet bathroom with him, squeaking when his hands immediately move to her waist and his mouth attaches to hers.

His kiss is heavy against her swollen mouth, feverish and lusting and slightly out of breath. Her fingers thread through his curls, absolutely obsessed with the moment that belongs to only them, only their eyes, only their mouths. All Harry wants is to immerse himself into Amelie’s skin, her touch, her kiss. His yearning for her isn’t necessarily sexual, but craving the moments that they’re alone that all of his attention is on her, and he doesn’t have to speak to anyone, simply listening to her ramble and talk about what she loves about life and art and music and always most importantly, him. His greatest wish would be to be inside her mind, to know all that her thoughts are when she isn’t telling him, to know all that he doesn’t already. Harry loves Amelie so deeply, that he wants to know absolutely everything, feel everything, love everything.

Amelie gently nudges Harry away, smiling softly at the whimper that leaves him and the way his hands hug tight around her waist. “Everyone is going to look for you, Mr Styles. Can’t have sex in here and disappear from the world.”

“Can disappear if you really want to.”

Harry swears his heart could burst when Amelie giggles, laying her head on his sweaty skin and kissing his neck. “Get changed and we can celebrate.”

His fingers start undoing the buttons on his shirt, his trousers loosening around his waist. “Are you going to watch them take the stage down with me?”

“’Course,” she says, smirking when his head rolls against his neck, frustrated with the buttons that won’t come undone. “Let me.”

His tongue licks his lips as Amelie begins unbuttoning his shirt, each button slow and drawn out, giving him a moment to talk to her. “Having that picture in my pocket made me feel really,” he pauses for a moment, thinking, “loved. Made me feel even more loved, t’night. Thank you for it.”

“Have about three years’ worth of polaroids to take on stage with you.”

“Like having one of only you, only us, though. Gave me a reminder of who I’m doing it for,” Harry says, his eyes squeezing shut as Amelie kisses him, her warm hands on his sweaty skin, her thumbs pressing into the butterfly on his abdomen to steady her on her toes. “You.”

“Good thing I do the same for you, then, isn’t it? Otherwise that’d be awkward,” Amelie giggles, handing over his shirt and sweats and smiling to herself. “Couldn’t be more freaking proud of you, baby.”

“That’s the best feeling in the world.”

“Feeling?”

“Making you proud,” he states matter-of-factly, tying the inside of the waistband and folding the suit neatly, tucking the polaroid in his pocket safely and kissing her forehead as they walk outside. “Alright. There’s a party in the kitchen. Let’s go!”

Harry and Amelie leave a bit early, saying goodbye to their family and friends and taking to sitting in the seats in the arena to watch as the last of the stage comes down. All of the bittersweet feelings that remain clinging between their interlocked hands and Amelie’s cheek resting on Harry’s shoulder. Her head is buzzing with champagne, Harry’s mind slightly foggy with exhaustion and liquor and the adrenaline. All of it is perfect, the way it should be. Harry couldn’t have asked for anything better to finish out his tour.

Harry’s eyes sting with tears as they leave, clinging to the hand in his and savouring in the kiss that is wet on his cheek as they get into their car. Harry nearly laughs thinking about how this might be their first drive together where there is absolutely no music, and there is the temptation to bring about their very first conversation about having music on in the car from the very first day they met. His mind is going in a million different directions, and as they’re going into the garage, the engine turning and the door closing behind them, the realisation settles in that they’re about to have time to be together.

“Can we watch the sunrise?” Amelie whispers tiredly, reaching for Harry’s hand as she walks around the car and follows him inside, their cat waiting at the door expectantly. “Says it should be rising in about thirty minutes.”

“Gives us time to shower, then.”

Harry squeezes her hand, kissing her forehead and walking closely behind as they walk into their bedroom and begin lazily taking their clothes and tossing them into the laundry bin, a laugh echoing around the room as she shivers under the water. Holding hands and sharing kisses, the water washes over them warmly and comfortingly, soothing Harry’s aching muscles and drawing Amelie into relaxation that is more than enjoyed.

After their shower, Harry draws the curtains open on their balcony to watch the sunrise, admiring how the light shines over Amelie as she shrugs one of his sweatshirts over her torso, disregarding any underwear or shorts or leggings, climbing into their bed and waiting for him to tug clean briefs onto his legs and settle beneath the comforter. Her hand is holding their favourite poetry book – the one they’re reading, at the minute, at least – and lays on his lap, letting the dim light of his bedside lamp cast over the vanilla pages and lifting her neck slightly to let him bring all of her damp hair onto his thighs, his fingers gently scratching her scalp and carding through the curls. Her eyes fall over the words written in the scattered form, always reading silently to herself – although she always reads quietly aloud, which he loves – before reading to him.

Amelie’s voice is almost shy when she speaks, making Harry immediately turn away from the rising sun to meet her hooded eyes. “Harry?”

“Hm.”

“Do you think–” Amelie hesitates for a moment, trying to gather her thoughts and emotions before speaking aloud. They’ve never really had this conversation before, surely not at nearly six in the morning. Usually it would be the casual, I want to be with you forever or This is it, you and me, that would settle the lingering question that seemingly everyone but them would ask. “Have you thought about us getting married, about proposing? Maybe a future, with me, I guess.”

“All the time,” Harry says, his soft movements making her eyes fall shut every so often. “Have you thought about it?”

“From time to time, yeah. Like what we have going,” she says, staring at the man she loves dearly, a soft smile on his features as she licks her lips. There’s something in Harry’s demeanour that changes, as though her words are saying that she wouldn’t marry him, which is far from the truth. “But that title doesn’t really matter to me, at the end of the day. I want you, more than anything. As my boyfriend, my husband, my best friend, you name it. Could ask me to marry you and I’d say yes. All that matters to me is that we’re together.”

Harry thinks that their best friend might’ve said something about the engagement ring sitting in his duffle bag with the polaroid from his suit, and his heart falls to his stomach. He didn’t want to ask this way, sleepy and fatigued, the sun rising, their bodies utterly exhausted from the rush of the last two days.

“Not saying I am,” Harry laughs, kissing her hairline as she lays the poetry book on her chest and stares at him. “But, if I asked you to marry me, let’s say today, would you say yes?”

“Doesn’t matter if it was yesterday, today, tomorrow, or a year from now,” Amelie whispers, grabbing his wrist and bringing his hand to her mouth, kissing his palm as he caresses her cheek, “I’ll say yes whenever, wherever.”

“Mean that?”

“De tout mon coeur.” Amelie says, with my whole heart, and Harry knows that there is nothing that could be more perfect.

“Can we hold off on the babies, though? Like to enjoy you as m’wife for a bit.”

“How does four years sound? Think we can get married by then? Have a nice house in London and Malibu. Living lavishly.”

“Is that what you want, angel? Lavish?”

“Truthfully,” Amelie breathes, turning her cheek on his thigh to watch the sun rise over their balcony and through their window, Harry’s fingertips trailing up her neck and through her hair, “none of that matters to me as long as we’re together. As cliché as that all sounds, and I absolutely hate a cliché. Mama always said that nothing really matters if there isn’t love in it. Don’t think anything would be what I want if I didn’t love you and you didn’t love me.”

“Good thing that I’m absolutely in love with you,” Harry smiles, gently taking the book from her hands and kissing her cheek and her jaw. “Think the Universe made you for me to love, you know that? All along, the stars were aligning for us to have something special.”

“Think that we’ll make it through anything? Not like the relationships that have something bad happen and they’re irreparable.” Harry leans over to shut the light, the dimness in the room casting over her, reminding her of how tired she really is. “Can’t see us being that way.”

“Nothing could be irreparable with us. Not you and me, Ames.” His accent is thicker, now. He’s exhausted, his body and mind are craving sleep. But this is a conversation that he’s willing to stay awake for, that he would deny sleep for hours if that’s what she wanted. “Nothing could make me not love you.”

Amelie adjusts her body slightly, giving Harry space to lay flat on their mattress, his head sinking into his pillow. His hands nudge at her waist, sighing deeply when she lays her weight completely on him – well, nearly half of her body is slung over him – his arms around her waist. Harry liked to sleep like this sometimes, especially when they’re feeling especially close and intimate. Amelie doesn’t mind it. It makes her feel loved.

“Guess we should tell everyone to be expecting a ring soon, then,” Amelie laughs, kissing Harry’s neck and breathing in deeply as her eyes fall shut. “I’m proud of you. I love you.”

“Love you more.”

Amelie kisses Harry’s lips sweetly, sinking into his embrace and falling asleep, her breathing evening out against his skin and her lips parting on his chest. And Harry stays silent for a few minutes, kissing her hairline, soaking in the tenderness that surrounds him, thinking of the tiny diamond ring sitting in their wardrobe.

FOUR WEEKS LATER

Harry is sitting at the edge of the bed, fingertips picking at his trousers, his palms sweating against the quilted comforter. Amelie is in the bathroom, the door shut quietly behind her – which is awkward in itself because they’ve not shut the bathroom door since they moved in together two and half years ago – and there is the sound of the running sink echoing around the bedroom. Tigger is purring against Harry’s leg, and Harry wants to tell him to stop, to leave the room and give them a moment, but he knows that there is a sense of comfort in all of three of them being together in such a defining moment, a moment where they are nervous for what’s to come and what to make of their situation, a moment that could certainly change their relationship forever.

Harry’s eyes flick to where his girlfriend is standing in the bathroom doorway, moving his hand away from their cat’s head and holding his knees. He can see the tears in her eyes, the wobbling of her chin, the shakiness in her hands. Her anxiety is written in the furrowed brows and lines creasing her forehead, the redness lining her mouth as her teeth bite into her lips. His arms open, waiting for her to walk forward and sit with him, grateful that she decides to straddle his waist and wrap her arms around his shoulders rather than sit far away. His hands rub her back, kissing her neck lightly and waiting until she’s ready to speak.

“This isn’t what we wanted,” Amelie whispers into his shoulder, tears wetting her cheeks, her fingertips gripping his sweater as if he is going to disappear from beneath her. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, hey,” Harry soothes, trying to mask the fear in his voice, “don’t apologise, baby. Not all your fault, you know. Certainly, had my part in it.” His throat goes dry for a minute. “All your decision what you want to do, once that timer goes.”

Amelie can feel Harry shake his head against her neck as she speaks, his fingertips tracing along her spine beneath her oversized shirt. “Harry, the album–”

“Album can wait. Tour can wait. All of it can wait. Can’t do that without me, can they?” Harry wants to lighten the anxiety lingering in their chests, but he very well knows that that won’t happen until that timer sounds and the answer to their question is given.

“Don’t want you to resent me for ruining your life.”

Harry immediately pulls away to face her, his eyebrows furrowed together in confusion at how she could ever think such a thing. “Amelie Fay, do you really think I would resent you? And who said anything about ruining my life? Do you really think that having a family with you would ruin my life? How many times have I told you that I want forever with you?”

“Don’t know.”

“Didn’t you say to me, ‘all that matters is that we’re together’? Didn’t you say that?” Harry pauses for a moment, waiting for Amelie to silently nod to answer his question. “Have to believe that we’ll be alright, as long as we’re together.”

Amelie hides her face in Harry’s neck once more, ignoring the ringing timer going in the bathroom. “This anxiety is unlike anything I’ve ever felt before.”

“Come with me,” Harry says, squeezing her waist and kissing her cheek, “and we’ll do this together.”

Amelie nods into his chest, standing and taking Harry’s hand in hers, walking nervously into the bathroom and taking a second to turn the timer off and let Harry see the results first. He always has a steady hand, even if he’s feeling anxious himself. His stability grounded her in more ways than one, and it was something that made her feel as though, if this were to be real, maybe they would be alright.

“Can you look first?”

Harry nods, taking her hand and kissing her knuckles, squeezing her fingers as he turns the test over on the counter, his peripheral vision catching Amelie turn away. Harry gulps, taking in the blinking Pregnant + sign on the digital screen. His voice caught in his throat, unable to speak through his parted lips, his mouth going dry. Amelie was right, this isn’t what they wanted, what they planned. Harry wants a family with Amelie – of course he does – but that certainly wasn’t the intention until after they were married. Hell, Harry hadn’t even proposed yet. All of his thoughts are swimming in his brain, almost going unnoticed when her hand slips out of his and takes the test from the counter, staring at the words written on the screen and taking a minute to really take in all that this meant.

“I need you to not hate me for what I want.” Amelie sucks in a deep breath, tears stinging her eyes, a sob wracking through her body as Harry brings her into his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around her shoulders and touching his lips to her hair, desperately trying to soothe her.

“Could never hate you for that,” Harry says reassuringly, kissing her forehead and gently cupping her cheeks, bringing her to face him. “I’m with you, always.”

Amelie gulps, taking the test in her hands and staring at the way the bolded word is so intimidating to her anxiety, to the pressure that is felt on her chest as if there is a brick weighing on her lungs. Maybe this is another way to test her strength, to test how much she wants to be a better person, because this would be the perfect opportunity to slip into an anxious state, a depressive episode. Her mind is begging for it, for the comfort of being numb.

Harry nudges her chin, making her meet his eyes and all of the thoughts are subsided by ones that make her want to cry into his arms and say that she loves him. “Don’t get swallowed into it. Can shake these feelings, but we have to do it together, Ames. Look at me.” He knows her better than anyone does. He knows her better than anyone ever will. “I’m here, angel. I’m right here.”

Amelie nods, sucking in a breath through parted lips, leaning her forehead against his chest and blinking away the remaining tears in her eyes. Harry’s fingers brush through her hair as they always do, comforting her in the ways that he’s learnt over the three years they’ve been together. “Everything we do is together, right?”

“Always.”

And silently, Harry and Amelie turn to stare at the tiny word that is going to change their lives forever.

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aestheticaxolotl · 3 years

Text

Lets Talk About Gunnar Maelstrom

Evil Daddies is where it’s at.

One of the meanings of the word "Maelstrom" is 'A situation of state of confused movement or violent turmoil.

Let me start with Maelstrom, usung the Carmen Sandiego Wiki to break him down as a whole, starting with appearance and personality (Excluding the comments around his action in the show, this will be hard seeing his major inclusion to the story so please bear with me once more as I do this).

Professor Maelstrom is a middle-aged man with pale skin and white hair with a receding hairline. He has broad shoulders and wears a black blazer over a dark gray turtleneck. As stated previously, Maelstrom is seen as being an almost unnaturally pale color, hinting towards possible Albinism.

Now, Middle aged according to the wiki page is between 50 and 60. Seeing the receding hairline and the lines on his face (Also can someone point me to a source about those random chin hairs? Like please I need context).

He obviously has stress and sleep lines. I imagine these are due to his life choices and idiot operatives. His ethnicity is stated as being Swedish but continues to contradict itself when it later states that Maelstrom is from Scandinavia. I think this is to throw the readers and deep show watchers off and it would work better if both ethnicity and race were left as unknown.

Now we move on to the easier things, personality, which is LONG. So let me start writing!

Of the five members of V.I.L.E's faculty, Maelstrom seems to command the most authority and serve as the de facto leader of the group, being the first to speak as well as hand out orders. As one may expect, Professor Maelstrom is criminally insane, which is ironic, considering his forte is psychiatry. Professor Maelstrom often likes to tinker with his patients' psyches and enjoys psychologically evaluating students, much like someone finding joy in pulling the wings off a butterfly. He does possess some level of awareness to his own insanity, though he is quick to brush it off as a mere label that other weak-minded people have given him. He also has an apparent fondness for the more psychotic recruits. In keeping with his name, his main desire is to spread chaos and disorder, with any actual gain being a secondary concern at best. Carmen considered him to be creepy, and rightfully so after he and Dr. Bellum collaborated to wipe Crackle's brain. Professor Maelstrom loathes Cookie Booker as he has no tolerance for her stuck up behavior towards him. He seems to have a fondness for marine life, as his office hosts a giant aquarium filled with jellyfish and other specimens. His use of the term "bait" as a pun is in reference to fishing bait, and in the novel adaptation, it is used twice. Further expanding the psychological exam scene from the show, in the novel, he declares that Carmen gave the "wrong" answer to the Rorschach test, stating that the image was a seahorse. The novelization expanded his sense of humor, though it mentions that even that had a dark and unpredictable tinge to it, showing delight in the lengths that his students would go in order to not be called upon in class. The show does have him throw a small quip every once in a while, often tinged with exasperation at his colleagues' antics or ignorance. He also enjoys making Countess Cleo envious of his fashion style, having asked Le Chevre and El Topo in the "The Fishy Doubloon Caper" to acquire an Ecuadorian Eight Escudos doubloon to be melted into solid gold cufflinks.

As done in my previous post, I will be diving deeper into the statement in the bolded font.

Maelstrom seems to command the most authority and serve as the de facto leader of the group,

I don’t see any major reason for this face besides that there is a level of respect among the Faculty that centers around Maelstrom, seeing as he is one of the psychologically smarter than any of the other members, except Shadowsan but that is a post for another day. He is a very scary character because he is unpredictable, and possibly in the minds of the other, can be blamed for their crimes should they ever had been caught, but this leads me to my second quip with Gunnar Maelstrom.

Professor Maelstrom is criminally insane, which is ironic, considering his forte is psychiatry

When one looks up the term ‘Criminally insane’ we get the following “an accused person that is deemed to be suffering from cognitive illness or fault which frees then of lawful accountability for the unlawful behaviors” from https://psychologydictionary.org/criminally-insane/.

I cannot at all say that I support this terminology on the stance that Maelstrom is more than aware of his action, to the point where he logically makes the choices to leave his fellow faculty behind at the prospect of capture. One cannot say that a “Criminally insane’ person is able to make these choices so quickly and with such calculation as to pack a go bag and hire an escape driver. But I digress.

He does possess some level of awareness to his own insanity, though he is quick to brush it off as a mere label that other weak-minded people have given him.

I don’t think that Maelstrom can stand to be labeled by other people. The exact use of the phrase “Weak-minded’ points me to believe that Maelstrom sees himself as mentally stronger, powerful, and far beyond that of the average person. This points to his class, and I’ll explain this in the next part, being the most critical and important to V.I.L.E as a whole.

His main desire is to spread chaos and disorder

This is WAY too specific to just be a drop in detail. No character is created be be a chaotic mixture, but they are built to SPREAD chaos, and Maelstrom is the perfect character to do this. His favor to Paperstar is a direct jab at this detail about him, she is an element of chaos that he put into play, the disorder of her is why he places her, while the other faculty hate Paperstar, he finds her the perfect wild card.

Professor Maelstrom loathes Cookie Booker

I fully think this is, as the wiki and al of my sources say, Cookie Booker represents the original 1998 Carmen Sandeigo. And the loathing between them is a reference to the original game and books.

He seems to have a fondness for marine life, as his office hosts a giant aquarium filled with jellyfish and other specimens.

Not gonna lie, but I love this detail. The details, that caused me to GO BACK and watch the episodes with Maelstrom, was that the man likes fish. This adds onto the effect that he is rather cold and uncaring towards people, seeing them a thing to observe and keep. I also just love the idea of him having a fish tank and spoiling his goldfish that he named Clyde or something equally related to big time crime, like Al Capone or as said before Clyde.

He also enjoys making Countess Cleo envious of his fashion style

I’m sorry but Cleo and Gunnar challenging each other to see who is better in fashion? I’m sorry but they are the fashion police. Also I think this places WHO he is close to in the Faculty. I am very willing to bet that Maelstrom, who left Coach Brunt to drown and die, would NEVER leave Cleo or Bellum (Possibly) to die because they align more with HIS goals.

Brunt is... Dare I say... THE DUMBEST OF THE V.I.L.E FACULTY

WHAT DOES SHE DO?!?!

WHY IS SHE HERE?!

SHE’S STRONG AND THAT’S IT!

I digress (i used that phrase twice now), I just think his goals line up more with Cleo and (Again, possibly) Bellums’.

Now I go onto my favorite part of these paragraphs, the trivia/abilities. I love trivia/abilities, just because everyone sees this word and they are like ‘oh it’s just dumb facts’. BUT NO! It’s DENSTRAMENTAL to the character and links to their personalities.

He is capable of expertly performing a bait and switch. Professor Maelstrom specializes in psychiatry. He has been shown to have a favorite student, similar to the other faculty, in Paper Star; despite her disregard of the protocol in Mumbai. His grudge against Cookie Booker could be a subtle reference to the hostile relationship that his previous incarnation had with Carmen Sandiego in the 90's cartoon. As shown in the season three episode, The Haunted Bayou Caper, he has a fondness for Halloween.

Most od this is already covered, i know, so I won’t go over what I already did. SO let me just say... I know-

He is capable of expertly performing a bait and switch

I NEED to SEE Maelstrom just- *Pulls and Bait and switch* -STEAL FROM SOMEONE. Like. I could totally believe that Maelstrom is the sleekest, most sneaky, most Swiper is swiping guy in the world. I am okay with letting them tell me this, but NO okay with them not SHOWING ME.

Netflix, I HOPE you see this so you can give me a SHOW on HOW GUNNAR MET MY MOTHER, COUNTESS CLEO.

He has a fondness for Halloween.

Charlie Pants.

Do I need to say any more?

Okay, big ending time. So Gunnar Maelstrom, a deeply interesting character, mysterious backstory that a person can read into, different fun facts that lead to speculation and interest and amazing stories. I love Gunnar Maelstrom’s character, his personality, and his appearance. His effect? 100. His story? 100. His ability to make me rewatch the series? 100.

Thanks for reading this. I’ll have another one out soon! Requests are open

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