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forpiratereasons · 6 months

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all right. i'm ready to talk about izzy.

izzy is a great character. in s1 he sits in this great position as an antagonist that's close to the main characters, and in s2 he sits in this great position as an antagonist who's gotten everything he wanted, and found that actually - fuck! - that's not it at all. the world changes enough in s1 that there's no satisfaction in izzy getting what he wants out of blackbeard. and it's not just ed that's changed, it's not just the crew, izzy himself is fundamentally changed too. even before s2, and that change continues to grow and flourish through the series.

in reality, death is cruel. and death is senseless. and death is unfair, and shitty, and it happens to the wrong people at the wrong time, too early, with too much to live for, who mean too much to too many. it happens.

maybe izzy's death is all of those things, but i don't think that's the point. it's not meant as a lesson in mortality; it's not meant as retribution for past crimes; it's not meant as a commentary on who deserves to live and who deserves to die. it's not about deserving. if anything, it's about the fact that deserving doesn't come into it at all.

the point is that izzy healed.

a lot has been made of the fact that izzy is the only character who bears visible scars from the kraken era - the scar on his head, as well as the leg. but i don't think they're meant as a reminder of the injury, or as a sign that izzy is "damaged" post-kraken era. they're representative of the fact that izzy healed. the scar is there to remind you that izzy survived. you see it heal over multiple episodes because that's the work izzy is doing - he's healing from blackbeard's actions, from his own actions, from his history, from his constraints.

it's not too late to heal. it's not too late to find your place. it's not too late to come out. it's not too late to let people in. it's not too late.

and all those things are worth doing despite the fact that our time here is limited. we are all going to die. but we are here right now, which means it's not too late, and it is worth it to free ourselves to be who we need to be regardless of who we have been and who we are now and what time we might have left.

izzy isn't suicidal in ep 8. he's healed from that. izzy isn't abused or depressed or alone in ep 8. izzy is strong, and competent, and respected, and loved.

and some folks have been disappointed it's not romantic love. i get that. but i think it's super important too that izzy's healing is worth it without romantic love. familial, platonic love is so fundamentally important to the queer community. found family. friends. solidarity. the look when some stranger sees you and you see them and you both know the other is family, that they're safe. the way we fight for each other - for our rights to love who we want, fuck who we want, to marry, to adopt kids, and also for housing, for jobs, for healthcare. for our rights to use the bathroom, for our rights to choose our own names and our own bodies and our own families. we're fighting for our right to exist and that, guys, it's not romantic. the foundations of our community is about - well, i'll let izzy say it:

it's not about glory, it's not about getting what you want. it's about belonging to something when the world has told you you're nothing. it's about finding the family to kill for when yours are long dead. it's about letting go of ego for something larger. the crew.

ed and izzy, following s2e3, interact and communicate on izzy's terms, and that's made clear. that's the last relationship for izzy to heal. when izzy finally approaches ed in ep 6, it's - not great. it's a start. you gotta start somewhere. he lets ed apologize, in their very closed, guilty way of speaking to each other, but then goes back to the crew, back to his safety.

he finally finishes his healing arc with the drag performance and la vie en rose, and then he and ed DO have good moments. he teases ed about stede. he directly reverses his previous actions in s1 and tells ed to listen to his good feelings. that's where djenks is getting this (imo, still a bit weird) father-figure business. the scene in the republic where ed's watching fishermen and izzy comes to say hey, it's all right, hey, listen to your gut. they don't need to directly come out and have some deep serious conversation about their relationship because that's just not like them, man. they're doing their healing their way. i think it would be nonsensical to expect these two to be open and honest with each other regardless of how they are with everyone else because their relationship is not like their relationships with anyone else.

until they run out of time.

and this, i think, is important. izzy controls this last conversation because it's what ed needs to hear, because izzy no longer needs to hear it. izzy doesn't need to hear that ed's sorry, izzy knows ed's fucking sorry. ed's whole arc this season is about the guilt he's carrying. izzy says what he says because he knows ed needs to hear it. ed, you weren't a monster all on your own. ed, i saw you. i saw you outgrowing him, and i didn't want that to happen because i was worried about what it meant for me, but i see now that it could have meant this all along - family. balance. something to die for, sure, but something to live for.

you could argue that ed and the crew don't think of each other as family. i think it's a bit more complicated than a yes or no on that one, but when izzy says, ed, you're surrounded by family, maybe it doesn't matter whether that's fact. maybe it's a statement of possibility. look at this family who can love you if you let them. look at this family who will forgive you even when you don't deserve it. look at all the ways you can still heal. look at how worth it it all is.

just be ed, izzy says, there he is.

he says it to ed because izzy already knows he can be just izzy. izzy already knows he's dying surrounded by family. izzy already knows that love and belonging and family are worth it, and he uses his dying moments to make sure ed knows it too because despite everything, despite everything he did and despite everything ed did and despite not being ed's romantic choice, he loves ed. it's worth it to use his dying moment to make sure ed knows this because izzy loves him.

it's worth it.

izzy is the stand-in for the stereotypical pirate, the villain - the representative of how repression and oppression work together, of how race and class and colonization interact with each other, of the lines between love and obsession and power and rage and fear blurring beyond recognition - and he heals. guys, the point of his story is not that he was all those things and paid that price. the point of his story is that he could grow beyond all those things and that growth and healing was all worth it despite the fact that yeah. our lives will inevitably end.

historically, israel hands is said to be one of the only major pirates who survives the golden age of piracy, and he doesn't survive it well - according to the contemporary account of "captain charles johnson" (almost certainly a pseudonym) in A General History of the Robberies and Murders of the most notorious Pyrates, published 1724, hands dies a beggar in london sometime between 1719 and 1724. it has been suggested by some pirate scholars that hands may have actually been the source for much of the information johnson is able to relay regarding blackbeard - and that johnson's apparent wealth of information contributed significantly to the legacy blackbeard left behind and his lasting fame. i had actually really hoped to see this play out in ofmd - izzy protecting ed and stede through perpetuating stories about blackbeard's 'death' (fake, i'd hoped) and legacy.

but i think - he is. in his way. he's there on the hillside, keeping watch. he's there to hold all the stories and all the memories of pirates and what it meant to belong to something, even as the golden age of piracy sets. he's there to show what it is to love and to be loved in return: eternal.

i don't like that izzy died. i think he's a great character, i think he's great fun to have in the ensemble, i think his dynamics with ed and stede are so fucking chewy and delicious. i think con o'neill has done the work of a lifetime on this character and, i hope, had and continue to has the experience of a lifetime with this fandom. my heart goes out to those of you who are devastated; i've been there in past fandoms, i know how achingly difficult that is. i'm so sorry.

but izzy's story is worth telling. izzy's story is worth celebrating. izzy is about making mistakes - bad mistakes! - and finding your way back to something better. izzy is about healing, and about community, and about hope that even when things are shit and people are shit - they can change. things can change.

and maybe - yeah. it's about the role stories play in our lives. about using fictional little scenarios to deal with our traumas. we're here. we're alive. we're coping. we will heal.

not moving on is worse.

#ofmd #our flag means death #ofmd s2 #ofmd s2 spoilers #izzy hands

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roseglazedlens · 6 months

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⦑ THE FUCKING DEAD ⦒ 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥’𝐬 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 ➠ series masterlist | ⏪prologue | 🔃boy’s route | ⏩resolution

𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓┇𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐑┇𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐅𝐈𝐂┇𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐒𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐀𝐃𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 JILL VALENTINE X AFAB GN! READER ADA WONG X AFAB GN! READER synopsis: You split ways with Leon and Carlos, choosing to accompany Jill and Ada to Glenn Arias' office. One of you is already infected... content: 𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓 𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈, dubcon, threesome, zombie fucking, oral (reader & f! receiving), toys (vibrator + strap-on in one hole), squirting, fisting, knifeplay, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, latex kink, face sitting, cervix penetration, tonguefuck, hand & finger kink, nipple play, mating press (kinda), choking, body marking, body horror, slight objectification, body fluids, and pet names (kitty, darling). a/n: am gay thanks for cumming to my ted talk « 6 k words | general masterlist | ao3 | reblogs appreciated! »

The five of you parted ways—for better or worse. Is there a choice for you anyway? This is unanimous from everyone. So, you decide to follow the most logical choice: complete the mission as you are instructed, instead of seeking distractions with time you can’t afford to lose.

Leon and Carlos bid the three of you farewell, venturing underground to locate the source of a gas that may or may not be a distraction or an ambush. You, Jill, and Ada will continue upstairs to infiltrate Glenn Arias’ personal office, retrieving the concentrated sample with utmost priority, and regroup with the rest before Arias has a chance to discover his merchandise has gone missing.

The plan is perfect, what’s there to be worried about?

“Our intel says Arias’ office should be on the top floor. The coordinates are on your watch. Proceed with caution, everyone.” Rebecca calls out into your earpiece. Twisting your elbow, you glimpse at your watch. It blinks with your location in green, and destination in red, two floors above you.

“Copy.” You and Jill acknowledge Rebecca, but Ada ignores, simply hiking forward with her pistol leading the way.

“She must be fun at parties.” Jill snorts, following behind her.

This is the first time Jill talks after splitting up with the boys. And even then, she only ever converses with you, and never to Ada. They have almost nothing in common between them, besides their stubborn attitude that only butts at each other’s heads. If you aren’t around, there will only be an air of dead silence between the duo.

But these two are your friends, and you like them both for different reasons.

You recall a past memory between you. “She’s not usually like this outside of missions. We went to a bar one time, and Ada got me free drinks all night. Poor suckers, she swindled them all.”

“Just the two of you?”

“No, it was an afterparty. Rebecca was there. I think you had to stay back for work that day. Why?”

Your eyes meet Jill in confusion, and they quickly dart away. Jill clears her throat to speak again. “So you and Ada are close, huh?”

“I think so,” Jill’s face hints a bit of disappointment, but she tries to force her lips to upturn into a nonchalant smile. You don’t notice this and continue talking: “But not exactly. She saved me a few times, so I’m grateful for her. But I wouldn’t call us friends.”

“And that’s all?”

You wonder where all of this is coming from. Didn’t take her for the kind who enjoys bars and loud spaces anyway. Spending time with Jill is usually just the two of you watching TV, laughing at the over-the-top reality drama from the comfort of the couch, cuddling up right next to each other like a couple of platonic best friends. Before you can speak, you feel a presence in front of you, standing in your way. You pause quickly at the last minute, almost colliding into the figure. Ada. She only looks at Jill when she’s talking.

“You two lovebirds done? Stay alert.” Ada deadpans with no intention of being friendly and warming. “Don’t hold me down.”

“Take care of your shit and I’ll take care of mine.” There’s bitterness in Jill’s voice, and Ada ignores her because your watch is beeping. The green and red dots overlap each other. You’re here.

You put your game face on. You land yourself on the other side of the wooden door to Arias’ office, while Jill and Ada have their backs against the wall closest to the door knob. Ada signals, counting down from three, and then finally kicks down the door. The three of you rush in, guns aimed forward in order to take down any security patrolling the perimeters.

“Huh?” You raise an eyebrow. You lower your gun when realisation sets in that you are indeed in an empty room.

You recognise this dark wood flooring. It adorns proudly, and even more repetitively, throughout the mansion. This room is no different. The desk, cabinetry and shelves are crafted with the same sinister timber that weighs down Arias’ office. Rows of portraits from Arias’ ancestors stare down at you with hollow beady eyes. A tall window, slightly ajar, to let in the cold nocturne wind. No mould.

This room had been cared for—dusted, cleaned, and prepared. Papers spread across the table, fresh ink, even the nameplate is polished into a shimmer. Arias frequents here, either for work—or for other sorts of shady businesses.

Ada immediately gets to work, and she finds a painting with a secret hinge to the side. It opens into a safe with two rotary dials. The sample is so close now, so close to your reach.

“I’ll check for any other clues that may help us.” Jill declares, and she’s flipping through papers on the desk for any information she can send to Rebecca.

But your eyes are still fixed upon Ada with her back facing you. Not leaving her even for just a second. Ada might have saved you a few times, but the amount of times she betrayed you is far greater. A memory sticks out from a conversation in the saferoom when Leon pulls you aside:

“Be careful. Something is very wrong about this place. I don’t know what it is yet…” His words hold weight and sincerity as he speaks. “And about Ada… I don’t trust her. You shouldn’t too. Don’t make the same mistake as I did.” Then Leon loosens the grasp on your arm, and reluctantly lets go…

You refocus, keeping your eyes peeled on Ada, before noticing how beautiful her hands are. How they pinch the dial with ease and precision, almost gliding as she hears the very faint click inside the clockwork of the safe. Her nails are short, painted dearly with scarlet red polish, palms so silky that they almost glisten lightly under the moonlight. You didn’t know the hands of a mercenary can be so pretty, unlike yours, calloused and scabs healed over.

“Are you done watching me?” Ada is still listening to the safe, but she knows you’re looking.

“Huh? I wasn’t—” Your cheeks redden from being caught.

“You think I’m as dense as that rookie? I see you guys talking. Did Leon tell you to watch over me?” Oh. She must be talking about Leon’s warnings in the safe room.

“It… wasn’t about you.” You hesitate and fiddle with your thumb. You are not a great liar, not by far.

“Just tell me.”

Ada turns around to look at you now, telling of how much she knows you. And it’s definitely well enough to see through your lies like translucent paper. Your words tumble under pressure: “He’s just concerned. Told me to keep an eye out.”

Ada scoffs; she’s turning the dial a bit more aggressively this time. “Of course he did. Predictable. The rookie thinks I’m out to get him every single time.” There’s another sigh of exhaustion.

“Well, isn’t that what you did?”

“That’s besides the point. It’s his fault for getting in my way.” Ada clears her throat. “Rest assured, I’ve been compensated well for this job, so you’re safe.”

“For now. I’m not taking my eyes off you.”

“Didn’t take you for the kind to let others tell you what to do.”

You clamp your lips shut. She’s right, and you know it. Your brain racks within itself for a comeback to defend your integrity, and realising instead: Why are you trying so hard to prove yourself to Ada?

Ada is challenging you for sure. Or entertained by you. You can’t tell the difference with her teasing grin that could be either, or both. Are your eyes fooling you, or does Ada seem more... relaxed? Her demeanour is drastically different from when you were in the saferoom, or when you were speaking to Jill. If you didn't know better, you swear Ada actually enjoys your company, maybe even a little bit more than friends.

The safe beeps, signal flashes green, and the hinge loosens to an open. The two of you peek inside. There’s a gold bar. A stack of paper (letters?) bound by a delicate string. But beyond that, nothing.

You hear rustling in the background. Papers falling to the floor. You turn around to see Jill frozen.

“We got the safe open. Did you find anything?”

Jill’s eyes are far off, fixed upon a particular spot. You look towards the direction of her glance, and beyond the window, it overlooks the mansion’s luxurious home garden, overgrown with weeds and wilt. Behind that, a bench and what appears to be either a figure or the trick of a light. It’s too dark to tell.

“Jill.” Ada repeats, slightly raised eyebrows indicating suspicion. Jill returns from her far off location, and sees the two of you in front of her.

“You okay?” You ask, wanting to put your hand on her shoulder. She shrugs you off.

“I’m fine.” Jill’s fist is holding some paper, and she scrunches it to hide it in her back pocket. “Nothing useful. Just old accounts… and stuff. You know.” Ada is watching. Jill changes the topic fast.

“But look what I've found in the drawers.” Jill removes a box from inside the drawer and opens it. It contains a bunch of oddly shaped devices, attached by a belt or some sort.

“Are those what I think they are...?” You question, not quite sure what to make of it just yet.

“In every colour too.” Ada says. “Seems like a 'hobby' of Arias'.”

“Maybe Arias had been using this toy in this room.” Jill snickers, pulling one of them out by the belt, and the girth of the black shaft is thick and erected.

“Jill, stop playing with it.” Your face looks visually disturbed. “Oh my god, my pure and innocent mind...”

“Don't tell me you've never used one of these before?” Ada is grinning, as if you just asked a silly question.

“And you have?”

“Who hasn't?” Jill laughs too. Meanwhile, you are still standing, a look of confusion in your eyes. They look at you, and look between themselves, a synchronous 'oh' left their mouths at the same time. You are still confused.

“Don't worry about it. So what do you guys got there?”

You pick up the stack, and read aloud the first sheet that is addressed to someone.

Dear Sarah, The world had been too cruel to us, separating us from each other far too suddenly, far too soon. Our lives were only just beginning, and fate had to take you away from me. We should’ve had so much more time. And we will. Don’t worry, Sarah, all of this is only temporary. I took your wedding dress to the dry cleaners and safekept it for your return. I still remember how beautiful you looked in that dress walking down the aisle. Yours forever, Glenn

You bring the sheet back to read the next letter.

Dear Sarah, My research was successful. I did it, Sarah, I DID IT!! I can finally bring you home, my love. Didn’t we always said we wanted a child? You told me underneath the moonlight you want to name our daughter Renee. And now, we can finally have them. We can finally be together. Things are in order to make this happen. Me, you, and Renee, for eternity. I’m so excited I’ve painted Renee’s nursery in your favourite colour, green. So much work to do, I’ll write to you again soon, Sarah. You won’t have to wait any longer. Yours forever, Glenn

“Is this Arias’ wife? What do you mean ‘bringing her back’?” Your whole body shudders at the thought.

“She’s dead. One of the many innocents that died in the wedding.” Jill almost punches the wall. “It should’ve been him.”

“He’s trying to revive her? …And have children with the dead?”

“What kind of fucked up shit is he planning?” Jill is shocked, grossed, disgusted all at once on her face.

Meanwhile, Ada, calm and unreactive as ever, is rummaging through the safe again. “No sign of the sample—” Ada confirms, and she withdraws her hand holding a gold bar to transfer it into her gear’s pocket. “—another dead end.”

“Did you just steal something?” Jill is in disbelief.

“Mind your business.” Ada shoots back a glare at her.

“There’s something really fucked up going on in this mansion, and this is how you act? Have some sympathy for the dead, would ya?”

“It’s been dead for a while. Doesn’t matter what we do or what we say, they can’t hear it. All we can do is focus on the present.”

“Why you—” Jill stops midway, like she accidentally swallowed back her words down the wrong hole. Her head is throbbing, heart racing, body attacking her from all sides within. Her throat is closing up, and for a second, Jill can’t breathe. She falls; collapsing onto the table with a loud thump, barely supporting herself with her elbow. Jill coughs; there’s blood.

“Jill! Are you okay?” You cry out, running to her aid, your arm rounding across Jill’s shoulders. It feels cold. Dry. Like you’re touching the furless coat of a dead animal with no warmth left in them.

“I… nnh, I’m fine.” Her voice is straining, but there’s some breathing at least.

“Don’t be stubborn. The colour on your face is gone.” You dip your hand onto Jill’s forehead. The cold sensation fades, and now it’s warm to the touch again, burning like a fever. You question yourself whether the coldness before was an illusion. Bringing your arms around her, you reach to your earpiece. “I’m calling Rebecca.”

“No. Don’t.” She coughs even harder with her weight leaning against you; she’s turning frailer and frailer by the minute. “I’ll be fine. We need to s-stop Arias.”

That is when you hear a click, cold metallic surface pressing against the fabric of Jill’s back. The safety’s off.

“Ada?” Your voice escapes like a pleading squeal, a forced laugh through hopeful desperation that it’s all a prank, that Ada isn’t going to hurt and betray you, just like all the other times. “…What’s up with you?”

“Jill. Get off. Now.” Ada raises her volume to a stern demand, and this time, you know she’s definitely not joking. Jill ought to do as she says soon, or else both of you may catch the bullet with a press of Ada’s finger.

“Ada—” Your voice shrivels into a pitiful whisper. Betrayal again? After everything?

“Jill’s infected. Face it. Thought it was weird why you’re acting funny. The virus is in your body as we speak.” Ada points her gun at Jill.

“Wha—What’re you talking about?” Jill’s face turns white. She coughs once more, hard. There’s blood all over her hand and on the corner of her lips.

“Ada. We need to take her to the hospital now.”

“Does she look okay to you? I’m not going to save your ass again. So get out when I tell you to.” Ada’s finger is firm on the trigger. Determined.

Jill scoffs. “This again? So you’re working for Wesker? You’re trying to take us out one by one. It’s not gonna work.” With a weak grip, Jill grabs her pistol with her remaining energy to aim right back at Ada. Ada doesn’t shoot. She should’ve, but she can’t.

Ada’s guard is up again. “Believe what you want. If you’d like to die today, be my guest. I won’t hesitate to shoot.” She flicks her wrist, demanding you to move aside. “This is your last chance.”

“Ada, please listen! She wasn’t bit. We were together the entire time. You were there too, Ada! She can’t be infected. She can’t be—” You yell in distress, but your sentence trails off into a mumble.

“The gas. The gas has something to do with it.” Ada says.

“Won’t the two of us be sick too?” You say.

Ada’s eyes glare harshly against the two of you, but you can see her thinking, the cogwheels in her brain processing the facts, and her speculation wavers. There’s pity behind the cold blooded glint. Sympathy. Ada’s pistol lowers—

And that was the mistake that costs their lives. Jill turns, roundhouse kicking the pistol off Ada’s hand in her moment of vulnerability. The gun falls, crashing against the rug far from reach. Ada is already reacting, drawing her TMP out but Jill moves faster. Too steadfast. Too superhuman. She tackles Ada to the ground, hands steady against her neck.

Jill’s gaze is obscured by flames, something blinding and controlling from something within her veins and arteries. Despite looking directly at Ada, she can’t see, nor can she distinguish friend or foe. Her hand tightens around Ada’s windpipe, leaving her grasping for air.

You pull up your rifle in a panic frenzy, unloading your round onto Jill. But she does not flinch, does not even look your way. There’s a dent in her skin where your shots land, but there’s no blood. “Goddamit, what the fuck, Jill! What is wrong with you?”

But Jill can’t hear you. Only the crackle of flame and roar of wildfire burning and reverberating through her head. Echoing twice and thrice over. Ada is grunting soundless moans, still attempting at escape with how she continues to fumble for the TMP on her waist belt. Then, Jill steps on Ada’s hand with sheer force and unnatural strength, crushing the smooth palm with the sole of her feet, twisting it until all the delicate bones become unrecoverable. And all hope was lost again.

Jill sinks her teeth into Ada’s neck, not with much mercy either. There is a sound of flesh torn, a blood crying scream to taint the air. The blood velvet rug paints a deeper red and Jill releases. Ada flops to the floor, paralysed, but not deadly enough for a fatality. Her beautiful skin, once full of vigour and charm, stained red with her own blood, the veins around turning deeper purple thriving like tree roots across the earth.

You look at Jill—and she’s smiling. It’s not the slight curve of her lips you’re used to when you tell her that her haircut is nice. Or the reluctant embarrassed grin she has when you thank her for standing up for you. This was something else.

This was something from hell.

She’s no longer the Jill you know. ‘Jill’ turns around to meet you in the eye. You back away, rifle aiming forwards despite knowing it’s all fruitless. Your hands shudder from within, none of your shots will hit even if you try. But you had no choice. You have to try even if it’s fruitless. Then you aim at Jill directly on the head. It’s harder than it looks, killing your best friend, even if they are a zombie.

It misses and lands on her shoulder instead. There’s a notable grimace on Jill’s face as she flies to catch the bullet from within her shoulder. She flicks the bullet away and her grin spreads widely, and she chuckles a sinister giggle. “That hurts, you know…”

“Jill?” These BOWs aren’t supposed to speak. They should be monsters. This is your first time meeting one of these too, and you did not expect them to be one of your closest friends. You should be careful. If they can speak, do they have the intelligence to manipulate you too?

“What’s wrong, kitty?”

“Fuck you.” You grit your teeth. “I’m not turning into one of you.”

She merely laughs. “Admit it. You think this is hot.”

“Fuck off.” You have Jill’s eyes locked, other hand inching closer and closer to your back pocket, reaching for the radio. But it was no use. A hand—bloodied and broken—grabs you by your wrist, twisting it behind you forcefully. You wince. Ada is right behind you, her eyes looking into yours with the same blank stare Jill has. She’s turned. And so quick too?

“Our darling, can’t seem to stay put? I think it needs punishment.” Ada’s breath is blowing against your neck. You shiver.

“Oh… like what kind?” Jill’s eyebrows are raised and intrigued.

Jill answers the question herself by unsheathing her pocket knife. You swallow hard as she takes each purposeful step towards you, savouring in your fear. Your wrists struggle against Ada’s grip, which she responds by tightening it further that your bones are almost breaking from her touch.

“It’ll hurt more if you resist.” Jill drawls out her words, licking the surface of the knife. She brings her knife forward, laying the flat edge of the knife against your cheek, drawing a little blood at first, then a bit more droplets gather onto the knife. She slurps on it, licking the crimson nectar clean off her knife. “Just relax, kitty. It’s us. Jill and Ada. Your teammates.”

“We won’t hurt you, darling. You can trust us.”

For a moment, through the hazy blink of a spell, you see your friends. Ada, mysterious yet always saving you during trouble. Jill, indifferent yet is always the first to defend you. They’re absolutely right. These are your friends. They mean so much to you, and you’ve just realised that now. You’ll do anything for them.

You let your body relax, your eyes stare into Jill, then Ada, then back at Jill again. She caresses your cheeks in her palm, bringing your face closer to hers with lips that only want to close the distance, and you close your-

Wait! No. Stop this! This isn’t right!

-eyes, before your lips crash together in a series of tingles. Jill deepens the kiss, her tongue prying between the seams of your lips, meeting your own tongue in the middle. You still taste a bit of blood, but that doesn’t deter you from returning the kiss. Jill licks your lips once more before finally parting with a heaved gasp. You slowly open your eyes, before another pair of familiar lips comes colliding back on yours and you’re nudged to close them again. This is Ada’s lips, rounder, thicker, with an unexpected forwardness. She nibbles on your lips, demanding, making room between the gaps of your lips, and kiss you just as passionately as Jill did.

Between kisses, a button pops off. Then another. You help each other out of your fabrics. Earpieces removed, abandoned by the floor. Jill strips off Ada’s dress and bra, and you help Jill out of her skinny jeans. A paper scrunches up from her back pocket. It’s been torn by hand, scribbled a note on lined paper where the words are either smudged or peeled off. Only one word is still faintly visible.

[ WATER ]

What could it mean?

You spend no time to ponder with Jill pulling you back into the present. Your naked torsos flush against each other as the duo fight for another taste of your lips. They catch your breath, one after another, with no intention of letting you out of their sight. Jill brings her hand around you, her fingers are already sending-

I need to get out of here! I need to warn-

-a violent fizz through your body, and Ada helps you fall to your legs onto the velvet rug underneath you. All the whilst your lips are trapped in Jill’s, and so is your body.

“That’s it… Be our good little darling.” Ada slips right behind you, letting your relaxed body lean against her, then running a hand up your torso with the friction of her latex gloves, before settling against your neck in a firm grip.

“We’ll take care of you, kitty.” Jill whispers into your ear, and you can’t hear any malicious intent. Jill and Ada aren’t hurting you, some part of you is very sure about this.

Then you hear something. A faint sound in your mind, a warning, a scream from far away. It’s telling you to run, run so far and fast before it’s too late. “Nnh… I…” It rings in your ear like a constant drum, forcing you for a response. But why? You feel so good right now…

“Stay with us, darling.” Ada coos, moving downwards to kiss along the strip of your neck. She’s gentle, enchanting you in her lovingness. The voice grows fainter, like a distant chatter that fades into the background.

And their hands are all over you, exploring every curve your skin has to offer. The crook of your neck, the gentle folds between your belly, thighs filling out into their palms, plushness against plushness. With how both of their breasts lay against you, it reminds you of a marshmallow cloud, and you’re drifting away into it. Away from the mortal world where only the three of you remain.

Ada runs her hands down your body, her latex glove palming your cunt now, circling it fully and firmly. You feel everything move, your hips rutting to find more friction against your clit. And she retracts her hand, pressing down against your clit as if you hears your demands, holding you and your emotions hostage, before repeating all the motions again.

“Shh… We’ll take care of you, kitty.” Someone says this, you don’t know who. You are much too focused on the pleasure throbbing in your body to notice. Ada moves her head downwards to watch your cunt more closely, pleasant to see you already drenching, soon to succumb to the inflictions of her loving touches.

“Goodness, so wet for me, darling.” Ada rewards herself with a finger down the stripe of your cunt, scooping your juices with the latex and licking her finger clean. Ada is taking her time with you, pecking gentle kisses along the seam. A few times you feel the firm pad of her tongue on you, but she retracts it before you can truly react to it.

Jill is still kissing you; her hands are groping her own breasts to satisfy herself, while you lay limp under the command of the two. You moan back into the kiss, clearly aroused by Ada toying with your body underneath, and she grows increasingly jealous: “Having all the fun without me?” She abruptly parts your lips, and gently lowers your back onto the floor.

“Come on, kitty. Help me come too.” Jill pecks one final kiss on you, which you, too engrossed in the knot in your chest to struggle to even pucker your lips. She rounds her legs over your face, and your face is shaded with the shape of Jill’s cunt. Her arousal glistens in the darkness, seemingly twitch, maybe a bit vulnerable with how your eyes are fixed upon her aching parts.

“Put that tongue to good use, kitty.” Jill drops herself onto your face, fucking herself onto your nose. A moan escapes her lips, and yours too, your grunt muffled underneath the pressure, but she can still feel the vibrations through her cunt. She ruts against you, a signal for ‘more’, and you obey. You stick your tongue in, swirling and springing your tongue to feel Jill’s walls against the flat surface of your tongue.

Jill lifts herself temporarily, just enough for you to breathe and release the groaning mess that is trapped in the back of your throat. She slams herself back down onto you again. Your breath quickens, back arches in; you’re close. So fucking close. Ada isn’t stopping now, her lips are flushed against your cunt, extending her entire tongue inside of you to tonguefuck you until your heavy breathing is inside of Jill’s cunt.

“I.. nnh…fuck…” You cry, a tear gathering in your eye.

“Don’t be shy, kitty. Just let it all out.” Jill looks down at you, grinning, taunting. She drives her cunt deeper onto your face. And with her encouragement, you do. The sensation wells inside of you, stimulated on both end bringing your orgasm to escalate in speeds unimaginable. Your juices start to flow, without warning—you couldn’t control it even if you tried—and all your fluids spills directly onto Ada’s face, catching into her eyes.

“That’s it. Well done, kitty.” Jill praises, smoothing a hand over your hair.

Ada doesn’t wince from your juices in her eye, she doesn’t even feel the pain. Her irises are shifting red from her kind hazel brown. Her skin, paling, wherever she was applying pressure at you, those parts of her turns distinctly blue. And that’s when reality hits you: you don’t know them. But there’s no stopping now. It’s too late. At least you can make your death memorable—enjoyable—by getting fucked inside out.

Jill is feeling it too, her hips shaking, your tongue going into overtime eating her out, until she finally releases. She tries to lift herself off, but it was too late when Jill begins to squirt, her one finger guiding herself on her clit, drenching your face and some of your hair with her fluids. You wipe your face off with your hands, huffing and puffing. Whatever you two had, it was intense. Far more intense than any relationship you had with any other sex.

Ada lands right next to you on the rug. She’s reaching down to circle on her own clit and thrusting her fingers inside of her dripping mess at the same time. God, Ada looks so hot touching herself.

“Please. Ada. I want to taste you too.” You nudge Ada’s fingers out of herself, giving them a lick to clean those pretty, battered fingers off. Even damaged, her manicure is still perfect, and the skin still feels soft to the touch. You roll on top of Ada, exchanging places with Ada’s fingers to bottom her out.

Ada’s cunt is so smooth, cleaned and trimmed, just as put together as the rest of herself. Her hole is wide open, as if taunting you with how much she can take at one time. You hook her legs over your shoulder now, pressing them down closer to her body and reaching over to her swollen nipple to pull against it. When your fingers enter her, it’s like dipping your finger into melted butter. With one finger, it was loose. So you add one more finger, then another, until all four of your fingers are deep in her cunt.

“God, Ada.” You swallow back a heavy drool. “You’re all stretched out.”

“I have higher pain tolerance like this. That’s the best part about being a zombie.”

“Does that mean I can…” You thought four fingers was Ada’s limit, but after wiggling your hand around, you manage to slip the fifth finger inside. Ada lets out a delighted whine, swallowing your entire fist with a quick rut of her hips.

My god, Ada looks so beautiful like this. With how big she’s taking in, you swear that she’s more used to this than she’s letting on. But you don’t get to ponder long, because Jill is right behind you. She’s watching over you, grabbing your cheeks from behind and something is nudging between your thighs.

“I want to try something on you.” There is a belt around her, and a strap bouncing high and proud into the air. “Stick up your butt for me, kitty.”

The idea of getting fucked by Jill excites you very much. You perk them up, despite your eagerness, you don’t want to lose momentum with Ada in front of you, still squirming under your control. You expect your cunt to meet with Jill’s silicone tip, but instead she puts some kind of device inside of you. It vibrates in the lowest setting, only a tingle of sensation in your already aching and throbbing pussy.

“J-Jill?” You let out a low grunt, unsatisfied. The device is so small, you still feel empty even as it vibrates within you.

“Don’t worry, kitty. I’m just gonna write some thing on your body. It won’t hurt, I promise.” She picks up a knife, previously abandoned in the corner. She runs the sharp end of the knife along your ass cheeks, and you wince as Jill drags the knife down until it carves off a letter. ‘J’ on your left cheek, ‘A’ on your right cheek.

“Kitty looks amazing with our initials on it.” Blood is trailing along your butt. Jill lied. It hurts a lot. But the combination of pain on your skin and pleasure of the vibrator takes you to your wits end. Jill makes up for it by consoling the cuts, planting kisses and licking the blood off your cheeks. Then she grasps harshly onto the plush meat, and the pain is back again.

“Kitty…” She coos, fingering out some of your stickiness to lubricate the silicone. It lines up against you, ready for entry. You take in a deep breath, and Jill shoves all of her length in one go. Your body flinches, tongue stopping for a moment to recollect your composure as your internal walls fight to wrap both the vibrator and Jill’s strap at the same time, filling you up so fully.

“That’s it, kitty. Take in both me and the vibrator. Feel so good right now… So good for us.”

But she’s not stopping. Not intending to stop until you come over and over again, until you stain the rug with every bit of your juices. Moans ripple through the room. Each thrust heavy and welcoming to your pussy as you stretch wide to accommodate to this newfound size. You chase your euphoria, as it crash at you wave after wave of limitless pleasure. Jill tips you further into overstimulation, fucking the fluids of your orgasm back inside of you.

But you can’t speak, despite the desire to release your choked out breath, you are determined to make Ada come too. She’s close. You press her legs further down to flex her into a pretzel, her thighs touch her head, and your fist finds its easier to reach her cervix, abusing at her favourite spot over and over again until she’s bound to release her fluids onto your hand.

“You’re mine now…” Jill and Ada speaks almost simultaneously.

And the rest of the night was a blur. You aren’t sure how many times you came tonight, you only feel the aftermath of it. The inside of your walls are sore, penetrated repeatedly by tongue and silicone, and you find your consciousness fading… and fading… until you are gone completely.

A buzz. It rings in your ear like a fly in your sleep. Is this your alarm? No… Did you not leave for Arias’ mansion? How long ago was that? Why are you asleep? And where’s Jill and Ada?

You are alone. The portraits watching your naked body as you lie—criticising you? You hear the windows clacking against the hinges, night air whining inside and all over your bareness. But you don’t feel cold. Your body hasn’t felt anything in a while. Joints weakened everywhere and your lips feel like something dried over.

You hear the buzz again. This time much closer. There’s static. It’s saying something.

“Ji- Ad-”

You move your limbs, cumbersome from the soreness of your muscles, to reach to the sound underneath your clothes. An earpiece. You fumble it on.

“Jill! Ada! Are you guys there? Come on, why won’t this damn thing work?”

It’s Rebecca. You know this girl. From somewhere. It’s getting harder to think.

“Reb—” You try to talk, but it escapes like the low grumble of a zombie. You don’t have much time left.

“Finally! Thank god it’s you! Are you guys safe?”

“Water... It’s the water… The water’s infected…” You muster whatever bit of strength left to talk.

“Hello?? Shit. I can’t hear you… What did you say about the water?”

Your eyes feel heavy. It sinks without intention. All that remains is a fragile pulse at the hearth of your body. Not enough for you to move or think. Darkness envelops you, and there is silence once again in Arias’ office.

Then, a man steps into the room.

thanks for reading! come check out my other works. —yours truly, rose. kissing @scar-crossedlvrs and @obsolescent for beta reading this!!!! tags: @j3llyd0nut @ovaryacted @daydreamrot @madcap-riflette @access--granted @obsolescent @briermelli @secretiveauthor @ghosty-frog @navstuffs @slowcryinginthedark @rentaldarling @lesbntired @redvleanli @vinsiliors @whoisgami @gaylorvader @wxwieeee @eddsthemunson © roseglazedlens — please do not repost, plagiarise, or feed to ai.

#꒰✒️ rose fics ♡.꒱#jill valentine x reader #ada wong x reader #jill valentine #ada wong #leon kennedy #resident evil x reader #resident evil fanfiction #resident evil x you #resident evil smut #kinktober 2023 #resident evil fanfic #resident evil vendetta #glenn ariasres #jill valentine x you #ada wong x you #smut #resident evil x y/n #resident evil

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seelestia · 1 year

Note

Dunno why I felt compelled to do this, but-

Here's some dialogue I just thought up regarding that angsty af Zhongli oneshot that a certain someone requested (who could it be I wonder 👀👀)

The ones talking are Ganyu and the Reader.

"Do you regret it?"

"Regret what?"

"Your love."

"..."

"I regret not being born earlier."

"I regret not being a goddess."

"I regret not being the first."

"I regret not having the long straight hair he so misses."

"But most of all, I regret not being her."

"But you had no control over any of those! It's not your fault!"

"...That's exactly why it hurts."

We love angst 😩💅💅👍✨

- Ever so sadly yours, 👹✨ Jae (also hi Lia :D been a while since I been in your inbox huehue)

— 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭.

a continuation to do you love me? choose a decision at the end! only 1/2 endings available as of now.

summary: a cracked heart is like a cracked jar; it can only hold so much within before it shatters — what if you've come to terms that you cannot take the pain of the truth any longer? (1.2k+ words)

genre: angst, "loves you but not most" trope, lovers to ???? (open-ended / cliffhanger i'm sorry.) + read the alt text on the header for extra summary!

characters: ganyu, zhongli, guizhong (implied).

cw: descriptions of crying, one pet name.

thoughts: you came into my inbox after a while and you brought pain with you. i'm not particularly proud of this but here you go, i cannot be blamed for these buckets of tears any longer. (/j)

✰ main masterlist. // series masterlist.

The night was young in Liyue, the breeze was gentle as it swept across the lands — but oh, how you wished the wind could also blow the sadness in your heart.

Blurry sight, soaked cheeks, sheer and pure numbness. For how long had you been like this? Seconds felt like minutes, minutes felt like hours, and hours felt like days. Whatever perception of time you had left just seemed to crumble to dust.

You couldn't help but wonder why? Ha, what irony when you knew very well why.

Wasn't it the truth that was relayed to you some time ago? Wasn't that why you decided to sneak away whilst your lover was sleeping, why you were crying in the company of a concerned friend, why you were here right now?

"I'm so sorry—" you choked out an apology to Ganyu through bated breath.

Your friend was out for a midnight stroll when she saw you and upon seeing how red your eyes were, she didn't leave your side out of worry ever since. You tried to reassure her that you'd be fine alone, really — but she looked so devastated, equally as sorrowful as you were like the very sadness in your heart was her own.

But you felt pathetic; so pathetic and so pitiful.

Nothing had been the same after that day, as much as you wished to deny it. Curiosity did kill the cat, after all; in your case, curiosity was what condemned your soul to a void of nothingness.

They said love was what filled a human's soul and if that were true, then you would be nothing but a shell of a soul. Zhongli gave you a love that you wished to cradle with your all forever — but he was never yours, never completely yours. Yet, how could you blame him? How could you ever blame him for experiencing a love so great he wasn't able to forget it?

"I'm not her. I could never be her," you finally forced the words out, clutching onto the railing of Liyue Harbor until a stinging pain greeted your hands. It had been the simplest conclusion, yet the hardest pill to swallow. A fate you couldn't change even if you wished you could so bad, someone unrivaled you could only imagine holding a candle to. Bitter and self-deprecating were the quiet laughter you let out at the realization.

Never was, never will.

"[Y/N], you don't have to apologize," was all Ganyu could afford to utter. She knew she should've said more, but the words escaped her barren mind; perhaps, it would be better to listen instead of saying something that could make matters worse. You could tell that Ganyu was disappointed in herself for not being able to provide you with profound wisdom or the right words of comfort.

Truthfully, you couldn't help but feel terrible for putting her in this situation, for possibly ruining her night with your mood. But when the Adeptus placed her hand on the crook of your elbow as a physical reminder that she was here for you, you smiled. Then, you turned your head towards the ocean and closed your eyes.

Finally, the pain of crying finally caught up to you, hoping that the blowing night breeze could somewhat soothe the stinging dryness and heavy bags underneath your eyes. As you did so, in the corner of your mind, a single thought passed by and you caught it by its tail.

Was it a thought meant to be voiced or buried? Either way, you brought it to life and wondered out loud.

"...Would it be better if I broke things off instead?"

Your question seemed to take Ganyu by complete surprise.

You knew why so; before your relationship with Zhongli came to be, Ganyu was one of the listening ears to your constant rambles about him. How much you admired him, how flustered you were when he smiled at you, or how you felt like you could float to the skies whenever he spared you a single glance. You recalled the surprised look on Ganyu's face when you first told her about your feelings for her Lord, but she was supportive towards your endeavor.

Now, here was where both of you stood. Oh, how time flew.

"Do you remember when he accepted my confession?" Even with your eyes closed, you could almost feel Ganyu nodding at your words. You were the same, you felt as if you could recall it like it had only been yesterday too. "I was so happy I felt like I could float to the clouds and never return. The man of my dreams is finally mine! I thought," you laughed, but there was no hint of mirth evident in your tone.

"What was it like? Being loved by him?" That sort of question sounded foreign to Ganyu but still, she asked, a willingness on her part to indulge in your nostalgia.

"Warm like having someone wrap a blanket around you and comforting like feeling the steam from a cup with your favorite tea on your face after a long day," you hummed. If loving Zhongli and being loved by him were a feeling, it would've been one that you'd never let go of... but you knew this feeling was no longer the same after the truth.

"I am not his greatest love, yet he is mine," it was something you stated solemnly, having come to terms with that fact yet not being able to fully withstand the ache that came with it yet.

When you continued, your voice broke and you frowned, "Why does it have to hurt so much? I want to stay with him, I want to pretend I didn't hear anything that day, I want to go back to the time where I knew nothing about her — but I couldn't."

The corner of your eyes began to sting once more, welling up with tears at a possibility of euphoria which you could never go to. "If only I could, then I wouldn't spend all my nights awake, wondering why I wasn't her or thinking of ways I could somehow be better than her in his eyes. If I could, I'd be sleeping happily in his arms right now and... I wouldn't feel this pain anymore."

There was no stopping the waterfall running down your cheeks now and you could feel that stinging pain again as a result. "But that's a fantasy," you breathed out. You were just so tired and your knees were beginning to feel weak — but still, you looked at Ganyu through your blurred vision.

"...What should I do? Should I save myself or dwell in blissful ignorance?" You whispered with a smile that was unbefitting of your melancholic question. Ganyu hesitated but before she could formulate an answer, a familiar spoke from behind the two of you.

"...My love," a voice that was all too familiar and a nickname that caused all that was going on in your brain to halt.

You froze, veins running cold.

"R-Rex Lapis?"

Ganyu's shocked yelp confirmed it all.

There Zhongli was, standing there. A few strands of his hair looked amiss as if licked by the wind from a fast-paced trip, as if he had just gone places, as if he just went everywhere searching after waking up with you nowhere to be found in his arms. Maybe, that was exactly what he did.

His amber eyes were downcast and the way he was standing so fixedly instead of looking like he had just arrived instantly made your heart clench — because that could only mean one thing.

He heard everything.

[ WHAT IS YOUR NEXT DECISION? ]

↪ Stay quiet and dwell on your thoughts of breaking up with Zhongli.

↪ Wipe away your tears and put on a smile as if Zhongli didn't hear anything. — COMING SOON!

─ ⊹ ⊱ ・・・・・・☆・・・・・・・⊰ ⊹ ─

#genshin x reader #genshin x you #zhongli x reader #zhongli x you #genshin angst #zhongli angst #seelestial.inks #dylm.series 🍵

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bosbas · 5 months

Text

Chapter 10: writing letters addressed to the fire

series masterlist previous part || next part

pairing: benedict bridgerton x best friend!fem!reader WC: 3.8k words

Warnings: period-typical gender roles, idiots in love being idiots in love, angst, pining, like a lot of pining, anthony being controversial

Summary: You and Benedict have been best friends since childhood, but things change dramatically once you come out in society. You’re struggling to find someone you’re as compatible with and who knows you as well as Benedict, all while trying to quell your ever-growing feelings for him. Shenanigans ensue.

A/N: they're so in their evermore era i can't

July 7, 1814 - The expectations were as high as the chandeliers at the Bridgerton Ball two nights prior. And the night did not disappoint. Our forgone diamond of the season made an appearance at the social event. A fact that is expected given the close relationship between the Beaumonts and Bridgertons, but a pleasant surprise given her recent absence from social happenings. While previously the center of attention, Miss Beaumont danced only once at the Bridgerton Ball with one Mr. Alexander Beaumont. Yes, dear reader, her brother. This leaves us with the lingering question: why did Miss Beaumont choose her brother over the allure of a potential match? It seems that Miss Beaumont is simply tired of the ton's social scene, or perhaps she has lost some of her shine now that her best friend has left for the countryside.

He cleared his throat, rubbing his thumb on his lower lip. Finally meeting your eyes, he said, "Well, I was wondering if you'd want to marry me."

You choked, completely taken aback. "Are you alright, Anthony?" you asked, nervously laughing. "Was the whiskey too strong for you after all?"

He pinched his nose, annoyed at your flippant response, but couldn't help the chuckle that escaped his lips. "Be quiet! I'm trying to help you!" he said, laughing.

You were in hysterics now, too. "Help me?! Help me how, pray tell," you managed to get out between giggles.

"You are impossible! How Benedict deals with you so regularly, I have no idea!" he shot back, poking you in the arm as he said each word.

You gasped in mock offense. "Low blow, Anthony, even for you," you said, shaking your head at him, unable to keep from laughing. "Surely you're joking. Why should I let you marry me?"

"Let me marry– Bloody hell, Y/N, and excuse my language, but really, I am coming from a good place here, and you are making it so difficult," he responded, clearly exasperated by your inability to take him seriously.

You ceased laughing and looked at him directly, cocking your head and widening your eyes when you realized he was being sincere. "Anthony? Surely you're joking, right? Does Alex know? He'll kill you if he finds out you proposed to his little sister."

He sighed deeply, shifting in his seat. "Look, I am not joking. But let me explain first, and then you can ask me questions."

You could do little but stare at him, lips parted in confusion. "Go on, then," you said finally, very interested in hearing an explanation for this incredibly unexpected proposal.

Anthony looked over to where Alex was sitting, deep in conversation with your father, and then looked back to you. He turned in his seat so he was fully facing you, one hand on the back of his chair and the other on his knee, contemplating how best to explain himself without sounding insane. "I know it sounds like a crazy idea. Trust me, I can barely imagine it myself. But I do think it might be a good one," he said finally, hoping to get some kind of response from you, only to be met with a blank stare. You were still entirely unconvinced of his proposal, barely believing that he was being serious.

"Listen, what you said two nights ago is not something I take lightly, given that you mean so much to us, to me and Benedict and our family. And I can see that you're having a rough go of it. The roughest go of it, actually," he continued.

"And you think marrying me will solve my problems because...?" you cut in, not quite following Anthony's logic.

"Well, I've been trying to explain my thought process for the past five minutes, but you're making it awfully hard, Y/N," he shot back, raising his eyebrows at you, amused. You rolled your eyes good-naturedly in response but sat back so you could let him continue.

"This might make more sense if I explain my side of things a bit more, actually," he decided, mentally rearranging what he was going to say to you. "Alex and Simon already know this, but my intention has never been to marry for love. Above all, I view marriage as a duty to my family. Since my father passed, I have been the one responsible for them, and they are the dearest thing in the world to me, as you well know."

At the mention of Edmund, you reached out and placed a hand on Anthony's, remembering how difficult it was for the family when his father passed. He shot you a grateful smile, covering your hand with his and clearing his throat before he continued speaking.

"I will be perfectly candid with you, Y/N, because you deserve nothing less. I was planning on looking for a wife next season, but even so, I believe that pursuing love is an unpleasant and unimportant endeavor, at least for me."

You gasped, slightly taken aback at his cynical views, though yours weren't much sunnier. "Don't you want to fall in love, Anthony? Don't you think you'll find a partnership like the one your parents had?" you prodded, overwhelmed by a sense of sadness. But you also felt somewhat understood, knowing now that Anthony had an unconventional view of marriage.

He gave you a knowing look, saying only, "Don't you?"

Knowing he had a point, you let up. "Fair enough, I suppose," you answered. Is that how you sounded when you spoke of getting married? You were completely disillusioned with the notion, but you had given it more than a few honest tries, while Anthony was set on never looking for a love match. It was quite ironic, seeing how much your parents loved each other and the love between Daphne and Simon, that you and Anthony had developed such depressing views on marriage. You saw Anthony nod in your direction, seemingly happy with your answer.

After a slight pause, Anthony winced, knowing he was about to share much more than he usually would. However, he knew that this would potentially benefit you both, so he fought through the discomfort. "Seeing my mother fall apart after Father died was awful to watch, and I would never want to cause someone that pain. My goal is not to find passion but to secure my family's future. And I was hoping to find someone who would want this different sort of partnership," he said, looking at you pointedly. You had already started connecting the dots in your head and thought you were catching on to where this was going now.

"So you want to have an unconventional marriage together, then?" you asked, hoping you had understood correctly.

He patted your hand, relieved you finally understood what he intended the proposal to sound like rather than the abrupt and blunt question he had asked earlier. "Yes, precisely. Of course, I want you to take as much time as you need to consider this decision since it is quite important. I doubt we would seek an expedited marriage license, but obviously, we can sort out the minutiae later if you decide to do this. There is no pressure one way or another, I simply wanted to give you an option you had probably not considered before," he said, searching your face for any reaction.

However, you remained guarded, still unsure about your feelings. Saying yes to this proposal would definitively mean saying no to Benedict. But Benedict had not even asked you anything, you argued internally. There was nothing to say no to. In fact, he had been the one to say no to you. But you didn't know if you were ready to give up all hope yet. Perhaps you were a fool, but then again, you always were when it came to your best friend.

If you accepted Anthony's proposal, would the now-permanent ache in your chest worsen at the knowledge that you could never have Benedict? Or would you feel better, getting closure Benedict would never give you?

You felt a surge of anger shoot up your spine. Why couldn't Benedict be the one asking you this? After twenty years, why was he the one who left you alone and confused while Anthony was left to pick up the broken pieces of you Ben left behind so carelessly? Even setting aside the added issue of your unrequited feelings for Benedict, Anthony was being a much better friend than him right now. But your anger dissipated quickly, dissolving into desperate sadness. You missed Ben so much; the short letters he had been sending were unsuccessful in placating the ever-growing need to feel his presence beside you. The overwhelming sense that something about you was missing was almost too much to handle, and you felt yourself going around in circles in your head about what you wanted to do.

You knew it could never be the same with Benedict regardless, so you reasoned that you would at least consider Anthony's proposal. You owed it to yourself to consider someone other than Benedict and something other than perpetual singledom without any children to raise or read to.

Realizing Anthony was patiently waiting for you to say something in response, you spoke up. "In theory, this doesn't sound like a terrible partnership," you started, laughing when Anthony snorted and muttered a short "Why, thank you."

"Shush! I'm trying to consider your proposal, and you're making it quite difficult to spend longer than twenty minutes with you, let alone the rest of my life," you joked, stomach dropping slightly when you mentioned the concept of forever. Pushing through your fear, you kept speaking, "I know you, Anthony Bridgerton. And I know you would not do something like this without a plan. So tell me your plan, and I will consider it and give you my answer once I have one."

Anthony couldn't help but laugh at your scolding tone, "You're not wrong." However, he knew he had to be careful about how he presented his reasoning for this proposal. It was no secret that he thought his brother a complete buffoon for refusing to marry you. Anyone could see that your best friend was madly in love with you, and Anthony was beyond confused as to why Benedict was being obtuse and frankly stupid when you so clearly loved him just as much.

It was hard to miss the alarmingly fond looks the two of you exchanged, not to mention what must be dozens of sketches of you in Benedict's studio, try as he might to make it look like there weren't that many. But what really made it the most obvious was Benedict's manner of speaking about you. It was beautiful to hear when Ben forgot himself and spent nearly an hour discussing a fascinating observation you had made about one of his paintings. Or when he saw Eloise reading a book you had read and launched into a speech about your genius way of interpreting a particular passage. Or even when Anthony inquired about any of the paintings of you in his studio and his brother began a lengthy explanation of how he wanted to paint your eyes in a way that captured your thoughtful yet soft gaze, in Ben's words. Benedict's unwavering and wholehearted admiration of you rivaled that of his parents. It seemed to Anthony that you were the sun, and Benedict was happy to be in your orbit if only to relish in the warmth and comfort you brought him. And the same could be said for you.

So, choosing his words carefully, Anthony avoided saying anything that would upset you, knowing you were still raw from Benedict's sudden departure a few weeks ago. "To start, a legal union between our families would only strengthen our bond, and I know we both would still like to remain close with our families after we are married."

Gauging a positive reaction from your raised eyebrows and slight nod, he continued. "Perhaps the most obvious advantage is that we would have the marriage we both want. I would, of course, encourage you to continue pursuing your studies after we were married, and though I would like to have children, and I know you do as well, I am in no particular rush if you don't feel ready yet," he continued.

To be fair, Anthony made a compelling argument. Although your ideal marriage was still the one you had imagined with Benedict as a child, Anthony was realistically the best option for you, especially with the men of the ton being as dreadful as they were and Ben off in the countryside for who knows how long.

"I don't want to feel suffocated by my husband, Anthony," you warned, earning a laugh from him.

"I know you think I'm insane, but I promise I don't want to be a suffocating husband. We want a lot of the same things, just for different reasons," he responded, ready to answer any and all rebuttals you had. Anthony knew this would be a difficult decision, and he had come prepared with the utmost patience to ensure he got rid of all of your doubts to the best of his abilities. Having watched you grow up and grown up alongside you, he had a deep fondness for you, often feeling as protective over you as he did over Eloise or Daphne. Anthony cared about you and wanted the best for you, no matter what that might entail. And if he could find a wife a season earlier than he had expected while you got what you deserved, that was just an added bonus.

In the back of his mind, Anthony hoped that if you accepted his proposal, Benedict might come to his senses before the engagement progressed too far. But he would be a fool to count on his brother to do so, based on how Ben had acted so far. Anthony knew it would be cruel to tell you this and raise your spirits only to be disappointed again. If it came to it, Anthony would be happy to marry you. It was a very practical union, and Anthony quite liked practical things.

"It makes sense, in a way, I suppose. We do want similar things," you muttered to yourself. "And you'd let me read as much as I wanted?" you asked, needing reassurance.

"I promise," answered Anthony, smiling sweetly at you. "Besides, we are already very acquainted with one another, having grown up together, and I'm sure it'd be good fun to be married. Well, at least I think so. And you know me well enough to be able to make that decision for yourself."

You nodded thoughtfully, mulling over all of the possible caveats you could think of to bring up to Anthony. If you were going to go through with this, you needed to be absolutely sure that it was what you wanted. Although it was getting difficult to find negatives about this possible union. It seemed that you would have much more agency with Anthony than if you were married to anyone else, bar Benedict, or as a spinster.

"What about Alex?" you settled on asking. "Have you talked about this with him?"

Both of you subconsciously turned to look at your older brother and then at each other. Anthony gave a slight shake of his head. "No, not yet. But I have a feeling he'll understand and even be supportive. Especially after the other night. And especially now that Benedict left."

You furrowed your brow, confused. What did Anthony mean, especially now that Benedict left? You were about to ask for clarification when Anthony cut in.

"Anyway, don't worry about Alex. I will talk to him and your father, and I know they will be on board with whatever you choose. So all you have to do is decide if this is something you want to do or not," he said quickly, trying to make up for the fact that he had revealed too much before. Anthony knew Alex had similar feelings to Anthony, perhaps even more pent-up anger at Benedict than he did since Benedict was hurting Alex's little sister. But he hadn't meant to tell you so directly. Anthony mentally kicked himself for rubbing salt on your metaphorical wound. Although it seemed that you had let go of his comment, for now, he noted as he watched you rubbing your temples, deep in thought.

You sighed deeply, coming to the realization that this could be it. This decision could change your life forever, and perhaps Benedict's life, depending on how he handled the news. If you accepted the proposal, of course. You couldn't help but feel a slight twinge of guilt, knowing that you could never feel for Anthony the same way you felt about Benedict.

"And you'd be alright with me not being in love with you? I don't think I can do that again. After Benedict," you said softly, still wanting to avoid thinking about losing him as much as possible.

"Yes, I would prefer it, actually," said Anthony, smiling at you. But his playful demeanor was wrapped in a careful tenderness. He understood you better than most people, having learned to see you, above all, through Benedict's eyes. He knew you were terrified. Of being married and not being married, of losing yourself and of staying exactly the same as you were now.

He was terrified, too, to be honest. He knew Benedict would be impossibly angry with him, even though he really had no reason to be, and feared their relationship could be fractured. Not to mention that Anthony had been dreading marriage ever since that fateful day his father fell ill from a bee sting, leaving his mother alone in the empty shell of their loving partnership. He supposed the two of you did sort of make sense in a peculiar way.

"Alright, go away, please," you shooed Anthony away. "I have to actually think about it now. But no matter what happens, I want you to know I'm grateful for your offer. I know it's coming from a very generous place, and it really does mean the world," you added, squeezing his hand as he stood up.

"Of course, Y/N. I'm not Benedict, but you're very important to me nonetheless. Take as much time as you need," he responded, returning your squeeze and making his way over to Colin and Theo, giving you space to mull over your decision.

That was precisely the situation, you thought. Anthony wasn't Benedict. And you had to decide whether or not that was good enough for you. It was a very compelling offer, and you knew it might be your only chance to have anything close to the sort of life you had hoped to have before Henri and the rest of the men of the ton so pointedly crushed your dreams. Benedict was the only reason not to marry Anthony, and he had been quite clear in saying that he wouldn't marry you. But you wanted to enjoy a few more days of imagining that Ben could be yours in some capacity before you had to move on from him forever.

---

Shoving a pile of unsent letters aside, Benedict set a fresh sheet of paper down and started yet another letter he was unlikely to send to you. Now that he had ceased going to parties and bringing home a different woman every night, he found himself with ample bouts of time that he dedicated almost exclusively to thinking about you.

With each new letter you sent, Benedict found himself lost in your words, re-reading them constantly and clinging to any fragment of you that he could still claim as his. In response, he wrote pages and pages of prose he would never send. These ranged from letters he could plausibly send to you, responding to every comment you had made about the book you had read that day. Others were less tame. Sometimes, he found himself unable to keep his overflowing feelings inside of him any longer, choosing instead to write heart-wrenching confessions of a love so deep and all-consuming that it permeated every fiber of his being. But Anthony's words reverberated in his head, warning him not to lead you on, every time he contemplated addressing these letters.

But Benedict loved you. The real, soul-crushing sort of love that only came once in a lifetime. The kind of love that grew from years of being by your side, knowing every detail of you, and still wanting to know more. He was far past the point of denying it and had now stumbled on an agonizing feeling of wanting. He wanted you by his side while he painted, quietly discussing the colors or the shading he was working on. He wanted to put his head in your lap as you sat in the garden, feeling your fingers running softly through his hair. He wanted to look over at night and find your sleeping form beside him, less than an arm's length away as he fell asleep holding you. Most of all, he wanted to be content in the knowledge that he could hold your hand, breathe in your scent, and twist your hair in his fingers as he kissed you every single day for the rest of his life.

The moment in your garden by the rose bushes from the day before he left, where he came so close to kissing you, haunted his every waking moment. He couldn't seem to forget the way your lips parted, moving ever so slightly closer to his. The feeling of your soft breath against his skin, luring him in. He had been so close to just giving in and touching your expectant lips with his. It was all he had dreamed about doing ever since he had come back from Oxford and felt you in his arms, realizing that he never wanted to spend another day apart from you. He still wondered what would have happened if he had just done it. If he had just leaned over a few inches to join your lips and brushed his thumb on your cheek as he grabbed your waist. But he hadn't. Instead he had fled to the countryside, where he was missing you more than ever and ridden with jealousy at the thought of you with another man.

Benedict didn't know if the ache of longing would ever fade. All he knew was that you were a permanent mark left on him he would never be able to wash off even if he wanted to. A part of him would always be you. The proof of that was on his desk cluttered with letters that would never find their way to you and in his studio housing nearly a dozen unfinished portraits of you.

Clutching to a sliver of hope, he held onto the fact that no news of your engagement had reached him. Yet, each day brought with it a tormenting dread as he approached his unopened letters, torn between the desperate hope for a letter from you and the paralyzing fear that he would receive an invitation to your wedding. But for now, he could still pretend you were his, at least partially.

—

previous part || next part || buy me a ko-fi!

Tag List (lmk if you want to be added!): @bellahadidnt16 @like-gabriel-and-castiel @riverraingrayworld @5sos-calm @elissanatok @titanicnerd-blog @noonenuts @moonwayne @lilasblogg @mmontgomeryb @fulltacoparadise @joyfullymulti @sopanngon @fanfiction-she-wrote @aureolinb @ambitionspassionscoffee @bbubbllejisoo @marvelspogue @avengersgirllorianna

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ao3commentoftheday · 2 years

Note

I recently got the strangest comment ever on a fic. I'm working on a multi part series of single chapter fics. I only write when im inspired so it can take a while but it's something I intend to continue and so there hasn't been an "ending" to the story.

The comment started with "No, I refuse to let it end like this..." and they poceeded to post a multiparagraph "continuation" of my story as a comment on the latest installment. It's so off from both my story and characterization that it doesn't even feel like it was actually inspired by it. I'm sort of flattered but mostly very uncomfortable that they used my comment section to post their own work.

Comments are like gold and I don't want to come across as mean when someone clearly enjoyed my work, but I'm pretty upset about this and feel like I should say something, especially since I'm planning on continuing the story they took it upon themselves to "finish".

How do you think I should approach this?

Thank you♡

How nice do you want to be to this person?

Authors on AO3 have control of their comments. You can choose to leave it up or delete it. You can choose to reply to it or ignore it. If you're not comfortable having it there, you are totally able to remove it and never think about it again.

If you want to be nicer than that, maybe reply back and suggest they post it as a oneshot of their own and use the Inspired by option? Or just respond that you appreciate how passionate they are about your story and you hope they aren't too disappointed that you're going in a different direction.

What do the rest of you think? If you're an author - how would you respond? If you're a reader/commenter - what would you like to get back from the author (if anything)?

#asks and answers

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huginsmemory · 1 year

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Trigun and Christianity

In lieu of trigun Stampedes choice to make Wolfwood an undertaker instead of a priest (to, well, my disappointment), I thought it might be interesting to look at some of the Christian themes in Trigun, and then also look at why they might have decided to choose for Wolfwood to be a undertaker then a preist, and a potential reason to why Trigun has these Christian themes. Also, btw, this is chock full of manga spoilers so, beware!

To start it off... trigun is actually... pretty heavy on Christian themes. Fuck man, the main character is basically an angel, and in one of the first volumes they literally describe the plants as something divine (although they are later declared to be something humans made... But nevertheless the very clear imagery is there). Also what features very strongly is pacifism and the themes of unconditional love; Vash's refusal to kill coming from believing that going forward, anyone can change, even when he is literally being harmed or attempted to be killed by others. These themes of pacifism and unconditional love are very Christian, and Vash's actions very much centre him as a Jesus-like character. In fact, even the way that he (and knives) was born, a virgin birth, also could be seen as an allusion, as well as the way that he holds a physical form as a human while being more than human- Jesus being considered a 'son of man' while also being the son of God; ie, something in-between, something both divine and human. Knives as well is written in that angelic and divine light, although he is done so in a dark opposite of Vash, with an emphasis on his 'divinity' for imagery as he is obsessed with it. Interestingly, contrast to Knives, Vash, who goes around as a human, is multiple times called a Devil for his reputation, although he is the one that actually is virtuous... This in a way also alludes to him as a Jesus-like figure, as that Jesus was ultimately sought after by the authorities and in some places hated and even driven away by people.

12 disciples

As well, Nightow is pretty blatant that the gung ho guns, of which there are 12, is a allusion to the 12 disciples; hell, Wolfwood calls them straight up disciples when he is at Jeneora Rock. One might argue that then whether that posits Knives as a Jesus figure as that they follow Knives directions, or if one would consider Vash to be the Jesus figure, as the 12 literally seek out, and 'follow' Vash, and of which one of them literally betrays (although, technically, Wolfwoods betrayal goes both ways). However, I don't think that argument is really one that matters, as it's more of the aesthetic of Christianity that Nightow likes in this matter, not the philosophical implications.

As well, as mentioned above, Wolfwood is very Judas-coded; he gets close to Vash, only to inevitably betray him and deliver him up to his fate, while clearly being torn up about it. Vash is not surprised at all when Wolfwood tells him that he was one of the gung ho guns, and you get the sense that he knew about it all along, and knew exactly what he was walking into. Yet he still loves and forgives Wolfwood for all of it. Which... is exactly the same thing that occurs between Judas and Jesus, Jesus willingly going with Judas even though he knew what lay before him.

Wolfwood

As well, quite obviously adding to the heavy Christian themes of trigun, is that Wolfwood calls himself a priest. Although indeed it's part of his front, it's clear Wolfwood in the manga is religious, challenging and calling upon God in response to seeing the Knives born, and his response to the fifth moon incidence where he questions if it was the hand of God (which, actually, is caused by Vash's hand... again alluding to the 'divinity' of Vash and Knives). This clear religious affiliation continues through the series, such as when he is rescuing Vash from Knives, and even praying while he is on the ship with the people that helped vash.

Wolfwood also throughout the series is very clearly is morally wraught with guilt over his choices and sins... Something that's very Catholic/Christian. Hell, the fact that the punisher, the insignia of his murderous profession, is a literal heavy cross that Wolfwood carries with him, is poetic irony; he's literally carrying around the embodiment of his sins and his guilt from his profession and choices, which weighs both heavily on his physical body but also him emotionally. Wolfwood's guilt over his sins and choices comes to its climax when he's about to die when rescuing Vash from Knives, after betraying him; where he questions whether he can be forgiven for what he has done and whether he was wrong, and in response Vash saves him, declaring that he is not wrong; not wrong to go against orders, leaving his vocation of being a murderer behind, in trying to save Vash and moving forward. In declaring Wolfwood that he was not wrong, what Vash (heavily implied divine, Jesus-like character) is declaring is that Wolfwood can be forgiven for his sins, is already forgiven for his betrayal (unconditional love, anyone?), and that Wolfwood can change, that his past doesn't define him, because his future is also a blank ticket.

As well, this is followed up later by Wolfwoods confession to Vash that he hates killing:

The confession and the way he phrases it- seeing all humans as his brethren (although, in this sense he may be speaking tangentially about Livio) is something that also has Christian overtones. (Also, the way that they mention Vash sees the whole of humans as his relatives, also ties into that; except personally I'd argue that's more of a Indigenous view then a Christian, but theres plenty of things that overlap with other theologies and philosophies within the manga that aren't just characteristics of Christianity).

Redemption via acts

There's also a theme of redemption via acts, which both Wolfwood and Vash lean into heavily as a result of guilt from their 'sins', something that is very... Well, again, Christian, especially Catholic. Vash, from being unable to stop Knives and having obliterated July and just his and knives general existence, and Wolfwood from his profession, and so they both struggle with immense feelings of guilt. As a result both are very self-sacrificing; Vash very obviously so throughout the series, and Wolfwood in a quieter way, in choosing to continue to work to protect the orphanage, even though he desperately wants to escape the life he leads and hates killing people. They both don't believe they deserve to be loved because of the weight of their sins, and so they redeem themselves the only way they know how by self-sacrifice; this literally causing Wolfwoods death as he didn't reach our to Vash for help, and is evident in the way Legato looks at Vash at the end and realizes he sees a man that only sees himself as a tool and hates himself. This belief of Vash's that he doesn't deserve love/nice things is something that is also interesting, because he so aggressively pushes the 'blank ticket of the future', ie, unconditional love, while clearly being unable to apply it to himself.

Tldr: the point is, Trigun is very heavily Christian themed, both in aesthetic and philosophy, and the characterization of both Vash and Wolfwood reflect that. The show is rampant with such Christian philosophical themes as unconditional love, sin and guilt, confessions, forgiveness and redemption through self-sacrifice; for aesthetic ones, well, literal 'angels' as main characters, Wolfwood being a priest and carrying a cross, the 12 gung ho guns as 12 disciples.

Wolfwood as an Undertaker

Since Trigun is so heavily Christian themed, it makes it... well, a bit of a strange choice to pull the fact that Wolfwood is a preist out, since him as a preist further emphasizes the moral quandries within the story and the themes of sins/guilt/forgiveness and unconditional love. However, as one other post here on tumblr mentioned, stampede as an iteration of trigun is more directed towards a more modern and Japanese audience, some of which can be seen with the revamp of the character designs to make them more relatable, and I think they mentioned some specific character traits with Meryl. This re-vamping, especially one specifically for a Japanese audience might explain why Wolfwood becomes a undertaker instead of being a Christian priest. Nightow in the back panels in the manga is clearly is very enthralled with American culture- and his knowledge and love of the American genres shows pretty strongly in the themes and the setting for Trigun. In fact, the 1998 anime was better recieved in the west then in Japan, and a possible likelihood for it's higher popularity within the Americas is going to be directly because of the western audience being more familiar with the Western genre, as well as specifically, the Christian themes within the show (since western countries cultures are Christian based, even if one wasn't raised religious). As well, compared to the other typical gunslinging space western anime, Cowboy bebop, Trigun contains more Christian themes, which would make it less relatable, and less popular to the Japanese audience (of course there are many other differences in the shows, so I would be reluctant to chalk it up to just the religious themes in trigun- hell, Cowboy Bebop makes some great criticisms of capitalism that is not present in Trigun). Circling back to them revamping the show, if they are trying to make it more relatable to a Japanese audience, then removing more overly American influences, such as one of the characters literally being a Christian priest, would fit that bill quite well.

Trigun and Christianity... Why?

Also, I personally think that Nightow didn't exactly mean to make a story that is really heavily Christian themed. My sneaking suspicion from reading chapter 0, is the Nightow thought that writing a western with a main character gunslinger that is a pacifist would be a fun and interesting prospect, and then when he began to elaborate on it, he began to pull in more western (both cultural and genre wise) themes and aesthetics into the story, resulting in something that is very heavily Christian themed in the end.

EDIT: it's been raised to my attention by the lovely @trigum, that it says in the wikipedia on Nightow that he was raised buddhist and converted to Catholicism, although there is no source for that information. If so, this would, well, very obviously explain why Trigun is so heavy on Christian themes and negates the paragraph above. I'm not giving him enough credit then, my apologies Nightow!

EDIT 2:

Edit 3 (Feb 3): made a somewhat part 2, specifically looking at the phrase the 'bride of Christ'.

#trigun #trigun spoilers #trigun maximum #trigun anime #trigun 1998 #trigun stampede #wolfwood #nicholas d. wolfwood #vash the stampede #knives millions #feels wierd to write about Christianity #uh. yeah if thjs is incoherent please ignore me hah #also not to say that trigun is a very Christian bit of media but also??? it kinda is?#as ex christian the amount of guilt coming off these characters is so v me in middle school figuring out im queer #also sad about wolfwood not being a preist for both poetic irony but also. let's be honest that poetic irony is hot #also like. nightow best charcter design ever. sorry no one will be able to design a better character then trained assasin priest #who carries a huge cross machine gun and is full of guilt over his sins #and loves children #is this also tangentally vashwood #yes. ignore me #vashwood #if ur like ur writing is rambly sorry! i know a bit of it is repetitive #do i care? nope not any more #nightow slapping both vash and wolfwood: these boys can fit so much christain guilt in them

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simmerandwrite · 1 year

Text

Sink Into Me - 01 - mob!Steve Rogers x plus size! reader

Pairing: mob boss!Steve Rogers x plus size female reader

Summary: You were simply doing a good deed, pulling the handsome stranger out of the way when a car jumped the curb. Little did you know that the life you saved belonged to Steve Rogers, the Army veteran turned art dealer with connections to the Brooklyn crime syndicate.

Steve Rogers, who won’t stop calling you his guardian angel.

Steve Rogers, whose new goal in life just might be repaying his debt to you.

Steve Rogers, who isn’t shy until it comes to his feelings and will stop at nothing to keep you safe.

Chapters: 01 02 03 04 05 06 07 08

Wordcount: 4.2k

Warnings: canon level violence (series), body image issues (series)

Notes: So, this just happened, okay? On the one hand, it helped me unslump when it came to writing. On the other, it's been a very serious distraction from other important writing, currently. I promise you a fun ride with this one, though. if you see me in the wild, i’m @simmerandcry

---

You were goddamn grateful it was Friday. The entire week had felt like walking through wet, heavy sand - each day had been harder and harder to survive and you were so happy to be finally on the other side of the busy season at work. And you had rewarded yourself with your favourite overpriced smoothie from Juice Press - the Pineapple Mango Tornado.

It was the easiest way to reward yourself not only after the long work week, but for agreeing to go to a ‘Happy Hour’ spin class with your old roommate Maria. Despite your insistence that the average spin bike would not support your hips and ass, she had peer pressured you into the entire thing. Mostly based on the premise that she required your opinion on the spin instructor and whether or not she was out of Maria’s league.

By the time the class was over, you decided that A. yes, the instructor was super hot, and yes, Maria should pursue, and that B. spin was not being added into your new fitness routine. You weren’t sure you’d even be able to walk soon enough because your quads were still on fire.

You hoped that your dog Hercules, a rescued pitbull staffy mix, would be happy with a very short walk that evening.

The next street you cut down was relatively quiet and you were grateful for that, too. You weren’t afraid to admit how much of a creature of habit you were, regularly choosing the same path to and from the subway in the most efficient manner. Of course, you tended to notice when things changed though - like how the scaffolding was finally removed outside of the building that was being renovated just up from the corner.

When you realized a new restaurant was opening up, you were both excited and disappointed. You loved having new places to check out but trendy restaurants always brought extra foot traffic and real traffic to the neighbourhood.

(Maria, on the other hand, insisted there was no chance the restaurant was going to be real and open to the public anyway. Apparently she’d heard a rumour the owner was connected to the mob. The mob. You couldn’t get over how dramatic she could be.)

This new place (that was definitely not run by the mob) had a patio going in too and well, that made up for the potential disappointment of overcrowding at least. Just as you were approaching and gawking at the patio furniture, you caught the eye of a man exiting the brown paper covered door pulling a phone up to his ear. And holy shit, what a man.

Dressed in a blue linen suit, whomever this person was exuded a kind of confidence you couldn’t even bear thinking about for too long. When your moment of eye contact continued for one too many seconds, you panicked and reached for your phone because apparently anything was enough of a distraction to keep from hyperventilating over this man’s stare.

By the grace of God, he flipped his sunglasses down from his head and ran a hand through his perfectly messy coiffed hairstyle as he made his phone call.

Keep it together. All you needed to do was keep staring straight ahead and get on your way home. Your phone buzzed in your back pocket, with a message from Maria who was stuck on her subway line as she headed home. She had sent a sweaty faced selfie along with the text.

You took a selfie to reply with, too, featuring your own post-workout face and your smoothie.

Then you heard it.

You turned at a sudden noise behind you, the screeching of tires and a roaring engine pulled you away from your phone. You pivoted on your heel quickly, only to see the sleek black SUV speeding up even more. And not only was it coming closer at a dramatic pace, it seemed to be veering off towards the sidewalk too.

The sidewalk you were standing on. Just a few feet ahead of you, Blue Suit remained oblivious with his back turned and phone to his ear.

For some reason, you sprang into action.

“Hey!” You sprinted ahead of the vehicle as quickly as your heavy legs could carry you, reaching your hand out to the suited man and grasping onto his bicep. With all the force you could muster, you pulled him towards you and you both tumbled to the ground, with your head ricocheting against the stacked tables as you fell towards the concrete sidewalk.

The man landed directly on top of you, unscathed from the car that had crashed into the glass storefront of the future restaurant. His body acted as a shield from the spray of glass and before you could even understand what had happened, the engine revved again. Despite the damage to its front, the SUV backed up and adjusted its path, coming towards where you and this man were laid out.

He grabbed onto your shoulders with a tight grip, rolling you both through the shards of glass and closer towards the tables and the building. Just quickly enough too, as the SUV narrowly missed you both before it sped away from the scene.

What the fuck just happened?

You heard shouting as your ears rang, the raspy sound of Blue Suit’s voice from above you as he removed himself from practically covering your entire body as you remained laid out on the ground. You tried to pull yourself up too but you were thwarted by the spinning feeling in your head.

“Steve - what the fuck happened?”

Hah, you and whoever had just run out from the restaurant were clearly sharing the same sentiments.

“I don’t fucking know - but I can only guess it was..” Blue Suit trailed off, shaking his head of whatever that thought was as he kneeled before you. You blinked a few times, realizing he was speaking to you. “Hey, hey. Look at me. You okay? What’s your name? Did you hit your head? Are you in any pain? Can you sit up?”

Slowly, you blinked and tried to focus on him. Narrowed blue eyes laced with concerns stared down at you. You took in a slow breath. “That’s a lot of questions..” You clenched your hand then released it, running your fingers over the ground for your phone.

“Why the fuck did you do that?”

His question caught you off guard. “What? Are you seriously mad that I..” You tried to sit up and immediately recognized the bad idea. How hard did you hit your head? “Oh my god, I’m going to..”

“Woah, woah. Okay, just stay here on the ground, angel.” Above you, he adjusted and shed his jacket, folding it quickly in his hands and cradling the back of your head to place it under as a neck support. “No passing out. Oh, shit. Are you bleeding?”

“Angel?” You closed your eyes and tried to resist arguing. Stay on the ground. The ground was safe. The ground was stable and not spinning. Spinning equals bad. “Wait. What?” Using your hand, you searched your head and - fuck, yep. That was blood, just near your hairline. You could hear a crunch of glass underneath your back too.

The man twisted his head, looking back towards the shattered window and door of the restaurant behind him. The familiar sound of police sirens called out in the distance. “Sam, we’ve gotta get her checked out-”

You hissed out in pain when you tried to sit up again. Stay on the ground. “No, please. I’m fine. Just give me a minute..”

The other man shouted back. “Listen, I’ll deal with the blue. Hopefully Ward isn’t on duty today. Call Katy, she should be nearby.”

“Hey! Hey. Wait. Please.” You grasped Blue Suit’s hand as he turned back to you. “The co-pay on my insurance is terrible, I- I can’t afford a hospital bill and-”

“You don’t have to worry about a hospital bill, I promise.”

You turned your head when you caught the crack in his voice, the sincerity in his tone. A multitude of questions and arguments raced through your mind but when you met his eyes and absorbed his soft gaze, you faltered.

“It’s the least I can do, angel. You saved my life.”

---

You had to chalk it up to the rush of adrenaline - how it just made sense to go with this man and get into a car and trust he was really going to get you medical attention. It wasn’t until you were actually arriving at a little clinic further into Brooklyn that you were hit with the gravity of the whole situation.

That and the pain that was radiating through your skull hit you in full force.

Speaking of full force, why did you throw yourself into this situation? RIght, because that car was going to barrel into the man. And if you could help prevent that… Though it was just occurring to you that you could have been hit by that car too. You both could be dead and -

“Hey, come on. Let’s get you inside.”

Blue Suit had managed to vacate the front seat and open your door in the back in seconds. You quietly said your goodbyes to the sassy dark haired woman who had driven you both and reluctantly grabbed his hand as you stepped out of the car. Slowly he helped guide you into the quiet little building, home to the Roosevelt Clinic.

Under normal circumstances, you might be annoyed by how Blue Suit was resting his hand against your back, carefully walking you past the front desk, giving a quick nod to the woman who sat there. She had motioned him down the hall towards a certain room and when you got to the door, he paused.

“Listen, Sarah is the best nurse here and she’ll take a look at that cut and make sure you’re okay.” He peered down at you with the most sincere look, finally moving his hand from where it was splayed against your spine and dragging his fingers across his beard. He seemed more shaken now, a bit less secure in his words. “I don’t know how to say thank you for..”

You offered him a tight smile as he trailed off. “Don’t worry about it, that’s not..” You were lost for words too, nodding and stepping into the small medical room. Not before watching him speak quietly to himself as he walked away, tugging his phone from his pocket.

Inside the room you sat on one of the chairs, reaching up again to analyze the cut on your forehead. The bleeding had stopped, at least. You barely had any extra time to think about it before someone else came into the room.

You could only assume this was the nurse, Sarah. You weren’t sure what to expect, but the woman standing in front of you put you at ease. Her graying sandy blonde hair was pulled back into a low bun and she offered you a small smile, grabbing a pen from the pocket of her scrub pants as she took a few steps in towards you.

“I’m Sarah, I’m a nurse practitioner at this clinic,” she said as she dropped into the rolling stool beside you, showing you her identifying badge before tilting her head as she studied your face. Her eyes landed on the cut. “Can you tell me your name, honey?”

You nodded and gave her all your information as required and moved your hand as she inspected your cut.

“Oh,” Sarah let out a small whistle. “How did this happen?”

“I, uh,” you took a deep breath and released it. “That guy who brought me in here. I don’t even know his name.” You laughed, though it was short lived as Sarah started to brush a small wipe across your forehead to clean it up. You hissed in pain.

“Steve?” She asked. “In the suit?”

“Blue Suit, yeah. Steve.” You bit your lip as she moved along. “I kind of tackled him to the ground because a car was veering off the street in his direction. Hit my head on the way down.”

Sarah paused her hands and pulled back, moving her stool slightly to the side to get a better look at you. “You tackled him?”

“I mean,” you laughed again. “I’m not strong but clearly if I have enough momentum and, you know, mass - it can cause some movement. It was sort of like a full force hug, I guess. But it meant he didn’t get squashed in front of that car…”

Sarah laughed stiffly too, shaking her head. She stood and crossed the room, opening up a cabinet. “Are you okay if I use some temporary sutures on that?”

You nodded again. “Sure.”

“Steve,” Sarah pursed her lips as she said his name. “He brings a lot of his friends here. I’m happy to patch anyone up for him, really. But this is a first. Usually he doesn’t bring me any strangers.”

You frowned. “Oh. I’m sorry if we got in the way of any real patients or..”

Sarah stopped you with a hand, grabbing her supplies and returning to the stool. “No, no. You didn’t get in the way, honey. This is good. I’m glad he brought you in.” Her smile was unusually joyous, grateful even, and you couldn’t figure out why. “And thank you for doing that, saving him.”

“No one needs to thank me,” you replied, “Seriously. I just… well, what else was I supposed to do but try to help?”

Once Sarah had taken care of the cut and gone through any possible concussion symptoms with you, she offered you some mild pain medication then stood again.

“Did you go to Briar College?” You asked when she stepped away. “I just noticed that lanyard you’re using..”

Sarah reached into her pocket and pulled out the badge again, running her fingers over the bright blue lanyard. “I did. I’m a proud alumni of that little place.”

“I didn’t mean to be invasive,” you apologized. “My mom went there too. She did her nursing degree part time when I was in high school.”

Sarah quirked an eyebrow. “What year did she graduate? I did the same thing when my son was a bit older, actually.”

You shared a few more details and, well, wasn’t the world small. It turned out Sarah was in the same class as your mom, although they hadn’t really stayed in touch beyond their classes. They had shared some experiences in a few group projects though, bonding over being the older women in the classroom.

You and Sarah were really chatting like old friends when there was a knock on the door frame.

“How’s it going in here?” Steve reappeared in the doorway, dragging a hand across the bottom of his jaw as he watched you and Sarah. He looked much more collected than he had before, perhaps having taken the time to sit with whatever he couldn’t say earlier. And god, even under the fluorescent lights above him, he looked good.

There hadn’t been time before to really take the man in, but as he took up most of the doorway, you couldn’t help but scan him. From his well kept beard, down his wide chest hidden behind the vest of his suit - what kind of man wore a three piece linen suit? And was that a gold chain and tattoos hiding on his chest, too?

You sucked in a breath but let Sarah answer for you.

“I think we’re all done.” Sarah stood up, turning away from you a playful smile on her face before moving towards Steve. When she pulled him into a hug, your mouth twisted into a confused frown. Then you thought about their matching blue eyes and…

“I’m okay, ma,” Steve muttered out, placing a kiss on the top of his mother’s head before he pulled away. “She saved my life.” His eyes flicked to you and suddenly you felt guilty about watching the personal moment that had been playing out.

You weren’t sure how to react to that. “Seriously, it’s not…” Maybe you were better off not arguing about it now, as you realized what a worst case scenario might have been. If this Steve guy needed to have a soft moment with his mother, that was fine.

I’m okay, ma..

It was a bit odd, in a way, that Steve’s busy, working mother dropped whatever she was doing to help whomever he brought in. And for you to be the first stranger he had guided through the doors, you couldn’t help but wonder just what kind of friends this guy kept if they ended up needing medical care so frequently that there was a room always ready for them at the clinic.

Clearly you had been consumed by your string of thoughts enough to not even realize Sarah left the room because when you blinked again, Steve had taken a few steps in.

“Are you feeling okay?” Steve started, thankfully. You had no clue what to say or do now, given that you were somewhere in the heart of Brooklyn with a minor head injury. Life saved, head stitched, exchanging awkward platitudes might have been next…

You nodded. “Yeah, pretty good, considering.” You pointed to your forehead and laughed. “Sarah was very helpful.”

Steve let out a quiet laugh. “You know, I’ve almost died before. A couple times. I was sick all the time when I was a kid, bad lungs..” He tapped against his chest with his hand. “I got a really bad infection and it was touch and go for a few weeks when I was in fifth grade. I also survived a lot of bad fist fights, a bullet to my hip and-”

Your eyes grew wide. “A bullet?”

“I served overseas after college,” he brushed it off. “I’m here on the other side of it. But for the last hour, all I can think about is that my time might have come to a quick end today if it hadn’t been for you, angel.”

“Please don’t call me that,” you shook your head. You insisted he call you by your first name instead. And after you gave it to him, he repeated it to himself, as if he was committing it to memory.

“Steve, I was just right where I needed to be, I guess. It doesn’t have to be that…complicated.” You were really trying to relieve this man of his guilt. “Anyone else in the same position would have done the same thing, I’m sure.” You could tell he wanted to say more but after letting out a long breath, he must have changed his mind. “Plus, you saved us both, really. When that car zoomed past us again and-”

“And I rolled you through the debris and glass. Sure. But I just feel like I owe you,” Steve sighed, raising his hand to drag across his neck. “I’m in debt to you forever.”

“Could you just cover my taxi fare for a ride home?” You reached for your phone to check the time. Shit. “Hercules is gonna be so pissed.”

Steve’s eyes narrowed for a brief moment. “Your boyfriend’s name is Hercules?”

“What?” You blinked a few times, shaking your head as you finally stood up. “No, Hercules is my dog. What kind of person would be named Hercules in this day and age?”

“Listen, my best friend goes by Bucky. Anything is possible.”

“I usually take Hercules for a walk right after I’m done with work, he’s been cooped up all day.” You couldn’t hide your frown as you thought about the journey home. “Maybe the subway would be quicker-”

“Let me give you a ride, please.” Your name left his lips as he pleaded. “It’s the least I can do.”

You supposed it would be the quickest way back to your neighbourhood. And given you had already gotten a ride with the man and had just met his mother and you knew where she worked so…

As you headed back out to the front of the clinic, you were surprised to see a police officer standing there. Steve took a few extra strides to get ahead of you, greeting the officer first.

“Hammond, it’s been a while,” he started, extending his hand out to shake that of the policeman.

“Has it?” The officer shot back, a small grin appearing on his hard lined face. “What have I told you about leaving the scene of a crime, Rogers?”

Steve scoffed, pulling his hand back and crossing his arms over his chest. “We have different answers for what makes a crime scene.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“She was bleeding, I couldn’t wait around.” Steve gestured to you now.

You gave a small wave to the officer, feeling a bit unsettled about what the heck was unfolding ahead of you. “Uh, hello.”

After he introduced himself to you as Officer Hammond, he took out a small notepad and gave you that same small smile. You assumed it was supposed to be comforting but it came off a bit stiff. “I just need a statement. You saw what happened? Did you see the driver’s face?”

In the middle of giving your recount to the officer, alongside all your contact information, you froze. “Oh my god. Would it help.. Would it help if I had a picture of the SUV?” You shook your head and reached for your phone, quickly scrolling through your recent pictures. Then you hesitated, given how unflattering your face looked when you had taken that earlier selfie to send to Maria. But, you could see the car as it approached behind you in the photo and maybe they could do something with that. Police departments must have fancy technology that could decipher a bit of information from it.

You turned your phone to show the officer. “It is a selfie, unfortunately, but..”

Hammond just nodded. “Yeah, that could help. Can you email it to me?”

Steve had a really nice car. A car nicer than anything you had ever sat in before. And despite the overwhelming day-to-day insecurity you held about your body, it didn’t feel like you were squeezing yourself into the vehicle. Inside, the leather seats looked immaculate. Steve weaved through traffic with ease, exchanging very boring normal small talk as neither of you seemed to be able to connect your true thoughts after everything that had happened. But dammit, if he didn’t look attractive with one hand on the wheel, as his other worked the gear shift. Had that sort of thing always been sexy or was it a Steve thing?

Because until an hour ago, you didn’t think anyone could pull off a blue linen suit and now…

Maybe you had hit your head harder than you thought.

By some miracle, the parking spot in front of the townhouse, home to your basement apartment, was free so Steve effortlessly parallel parked his car into place. Was that sexy too? You made a mental note to check with Maria if you were insane. Maybe you had brain damage after all.

“Well, there we go. One ride home. We’re even, Steven.” You laughed at your own joke, feeling a tiny bit proud when you saw a smirk rise on his face.

He said your name as he shifted in his seat. “Listen, I’m not going to say thank you again. Or call you Angel.”

You smiled. “Appreciate it.”

“But I believe in the universe putting people in the right place at the right time and..” He closed his eyes and took in a breath. “I’m truly in your debt forever.” He reached into one of the front consoles of the vehicle and grabbed a small card. After retrieving a pen from the inside pocket of his jacket, he scrawled onto the back of it.

“I owe you a thousand favours, alright?” He handed you the card. You stared at his handwritten phone number. “Call me to cash them in, anytime.”

You reluctantly took the card, knowing there was no point in arguing. Besides, this was a gesture. If he needed to hand you off with this promise, you’d play along and accept it. “Sure.”

“That photo you shared with Hammond - do you think you could send it to me, too?”

You frowned, struck between confusion and, well, embarrassment. You hadn’t taken that selfie with the intention of anyone other than Maria seeing it. Sharing it with the police officer made sense but sending it to this Very Handsome Man felt really awkward. Wasn’t it police evidence now?

“Uh, yeah. I could do that.” You sighed, glancing at his email address on the card then twisting in the seat slightly to look at him. “Just don’t laugh, okay? It was not meant to be shared with the world.”

“I’m sure it’s not that bad, An-” He stopped himself, letting out a short breath before saying your name. “Thanks. Stay safe, okay? And like I said, a thousand favours. If you need anything, anytime - you reach out.”

Chapter 02

What's next? well, you can look forward to flirting, romance, danger, protective Steve Rogers, some smut, some drama and moreeeeeee.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x plus size reader #steve rogers x plus sized reader #simmerandcry #simmerandwrite #mob boss steve rogers #protective steve rogers

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smolvenger · 5 months

Text

A Court of Mischief and Purpose Chapter Fifteen (Loki x fem! Reader Crossover Series)

Series Summary: Based on Sarah J Mass's A Court of Thorns and Roses series with the Tom Hiddleston characters. You are a woman of 1880's in Aldwinter in Essex, England, dying of tuberculosis. Never to be married to the local Lusty Vicar. When Loki appears to you and offers to heal you...if you spend a week of every month with him

Chapter Summary: You and Loki return from the cabin. Stella returns back home. Thomas opens up about the identity of the Weaver's form and his history. Then the cauldron's location is at last revealed.

Word Count: 6K

Warnings: Smut in the beginning (dirty talk, doing it on a table, p in v sex, use of restraints via Loki's shadows), mentions of physical and sexual abuse and violence. I interpret the Thomas/Lucille relationship in Crimson Peak as non-consensual. I choose violence. Grammar and spelling mistakes that miss my radar. But some fluff.

A/N: Wanted to get this done before my play opens tomorrow. Also...if Sarah J Maas put me through it, you guys have to go through it too. Enjoy.

DICK-Tionary: Smut begins at "Let's begin what we started last night" and ends at "You’re wonderful, my dear, truly wonderful"

Series Masterlist

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

Taglist: @asgards-princess-of-mischief @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @cheekyscamp @mochie85 @fandxmslxt69 @skittslackoffilter @mischief2sarawr

The next morning, it was another beautiful day. You both kissed each other good morning. Holding each other as the sun rose, and the drifts of snowflakes fell. Then slow, lazy morning lovemaking. To only feel each other- greet each other’s bodies, claim each other. You could not help but admire Loki- his muscular back, wide chest, the little chest hair he had that was as dark as the hairs on his head. It almost made you disappointed when he got to change into his clothes. You followed suit with normal clothes, though a little worn and smelly from the day's change. No doubt his magic would have you all cleaned.

The cabin had breakfast. You both sat down, helping yourself to warm oatmeal with honey and eggs scrambled with cheese on them.

But how handsome, how free he looked by the fire! You couldn’t help it- you grabbed him and kissed him again. You couldn’t help but get into his lap.

He spread your legs wide as you straddled him. Continuing to kiss him, he moaned. He was panting as your hands explored him, as your hips met and you began to grind.

You reached back, touching the table, pushing aside the plates, and guiding him on.

“Let’s finish what we started last night,” you urged as you grabbed him.

He let out a smile, pulling up your skirt and petticoat.

“My- already-so much desire! And your second day…but how fortunate your lovely clothing has such…simpler access,” he said.

He leaned over to kiss you, getting wetter as he cupped your face. But his pants were still on him, you felt his hardness brush against you.

“You’re eager too. Again! My mother would tell me, that men can only finish once and then take a lot of time after to recover!” you recalled.

“My dear, you’re forgetting something…”

He undid his pants, grabbing your hips closer once he was freed. But you kept your eyes on his smirk, feeling his hard length just at the start of your entrance.

“I am not a man.”

He thrust on there, his grunts in your ear. Your laughter melted with moans. Immediately, it was intense, faster. Now this- this would be called “fucking,” you thought. He pounded into you, what little dishware shaking.

“Yes-yes-Loki- yes-please-for gods’s sake-your sake-oh-oh yes,”

His pants and grunts, his soft repetitions of your name, the table shaking as he kept on. “Yes-yes, darling- I want to want to take you on every surface here- everyone, until all the corners have felt your-your beautiful bare skin- and not one place isn’t ringing with-fuck-you scream-screaming my name when you cum.”

As he thrust, he let out a grin that bared his teeth. Then a green light shone in his eyes.

“Let’s make this a little more fun,” he voiced.

Then two shadows went up, crawling from him, they held you back. Then one reached up your leg so they were high in the air. Then the other you felt grab your wrists, holding your arms up tight. It was a deep angle.

“Oh-oh gods!” you cried as he reached there.

“Yes- and that god is me now-” he grunted. “Yes-yes keep there- keep there-darling pet-fuck-good-good little pet-”

He kept thrusting wildly. The shadows holding you close. The spin crawled up inside you, tightening everything. Ready to let go.

“Should I-I-I stop?” he teased, still that slight smile, continuing his pounding.

“Please-Please Loki- oh-oh-please no- oh gods-I’m going to cum- I’m about to-about to-”

With that, your release hit you even stronger. The world spun as it all relaxed and released inside you. You made a sound with it- Loki did as well as you felt his release inside you. Both of you stopped for a while, looking at each other as the high ran its course and then washed down. His chest heaving with the breath lost. He pulled out, pulling you up to press your forehead to his.

“You’re wonderful, my dear, truly wonderful…” he breathed out.

The shadows around the room stretched out to the walls. You looked at them as Loki smoothed your skirt and helped you back up, though keeping a hand around your back.

“Loki…how much magic does it take for the shadows?” you asked.

“Quite a bit,” he answered. “It just….flew out of me.”

You looked around to see the Shadows fixing the dishes that fell. They set them back up. Loki kept an arm around you and you placed a hand on his chest to observe. You noticed the green light still shining in his eyes. Then they shrunk, returning to him. You felt a brush past you like a cool mist. They went back to his toes and the green light from his eyes dimmed.

“Your powers are restored!” you cried.

You looked around- the safe, warm cabin surrounded by snow. A table with little water paintings. The smell of warm bread and lovemaking. The crackling, comforting fireplace. The touch of the warm blankets and embraces and reassuring kisses were as delicate and soft as the snowflakes that flew down outside the frosted windows. Then back at him.

“Then…we must go…” Loki said.

“I wish we could stay here longer…” you sighed.

“As do I, Y/N darling. Just be patient, my dear. We will complete our quest…and then we can return whenever we wish…”

Loki went to the fireplace and leaned down. You raised your eyebrows as he reached in but the fire did not burn him. He took the orange orb in his hands and returned unscathed. The fire continued to crackle as normal, though you wondered without the orb it would die and if the food would spoil.

He used his free hand to create a portal. Clutching his arm, you both went to Asgard.

At once, you were in the throne room of Asgard again. Before you were The Variants, Stella and Sif, and Thor in a circle all talking loudly and worriedly. As the portal made a sound as it closed, their heads all whipped back to you two and they were silenced.

“I hope none of you missed us too terribly,” Loki announced.

They gasped and turned to you, all hugs and smiles, reassuring words. Loki went to Thomas and handed over the orb.

“Here we are-long promised. We went through quite the trouble, so it should help.”

“It shall,” Thomas assured him, amazed that the fiery-looking orb did not harm his hand.

Thor then went up and hugged Loki so tight it almost shook the life out of him.

“How I missed you, brother! We must celebrate! All of us!”

As he let down, Loki returned to you and held your hand in his.

“Yes- took a little longer than expected. We apologize- but we are back and safe. I’ll have to tell you all about Y/N’s incredible rescue,” he boasted. He then raised your hand and kissed it. You couldn’t help but smile big.

Stella looked between you two.

“May I speak with her in private for a minute, please?” she asked.

“Oh, of course!” replied your True Love.

Immediately, Stella led you back to her room and closed the door.

“YN! Please- tell me! The way he touched you! The way you looked at each other…are you….did he…say anything!?” she asked with an excited smile, grabbing your arm.

Your eyes were full of happy tears and your smile grew.

“He loves me, Stella!” you cried.

She went up and hugged you, rocking you back and forth.

“Oh, I’m so happy for you! It finally happened!” she cheered.

She then released the hug, lighting and patting your chin.

“Well, you have spent much time surrounded by all of these handsome men! It only seems fair you should pick one of them!” she teased.

You chuckled at her and then went back to holding both of her hands, the words spilling out from you.

“I can’t stop smiling, and yet crying and I feel shaky and humbled yet alive and thrilled! I…I don’t know what to do! I’m crying and yet I’m also laughing so much…” you rambled on, tears spilling out of your eyes.

“Here, let me get a handkerchief…” she offered.

She wiped your face with her handkerchief.

“That’s much better!” she said.

She hugged you again.

“I am so glad after seeing you brave through such misery to be this happy! To see you loved and in love…” she said.

Releasing the second hug, you returned her handkerchief to her.

“I will tell you, Asgard is my home now. But Stella…what of your home?”

She fixed a few blonde hairs that fell out of place in her braid back in.

“I want to go back home. Yes, I spoke with the others but, I decided to leave after it was confirmed you were safe and returned. I miss my family… Dante playing the piano, Edith sighing about all the gloves she wishes she could buy, Elliott and Brian discussing which girls they are infatuated with, my parents on their chairs by the fire- I miss them all! I waited for you and I know you are safe.”

You nodded.

“Loki will be glad to make you a portal back home.”

“Y/N, I promise I will visit- and I will write letters and Thomas will deliver them until then. He’s nice enough to do that-i could never imagine! A baronet delivering my letters!”

You both smiled and then you clutched her hands.

“Oh, you are always welcome here! I will make sure of it. I promise you, Stella, you will always find friendship and safety in Asgard, in the palace at least- and you will be the most welcome guest of them all!” you cried.

“Oh, wonderful! Now…could you come with me to the kitchen, please? I have some things to make and I want you to tell me all about what happened with you and Loki-do not hide one thing from me!”

She revealed that she was in the process of baking goodies for a long time in the kitchen to thank everyone. You told her what happened in Jotunheim. And you did not hide from her about losing your virginity at last to the god of mischief. She blushed but kept listening, never once lecturing you about waiting until marriage. If she thought that, she kept it to herself. She said she was only happy that Loki made you so happy.

The next day was the day of her departure. She made all sorts of little cakes and biscuits to thank them all and handed them off in little baskets that the group opened to gape at. Sif sniffed her hazelnut biscuit curiously, but taking a bite, raised her eyebrows to admit she enjoyed it. Jonathan carefully nibbled his little chocolate cake, but his eyes never left your friend. She dressed in her clean dress and her blue beads around her. Her vase and flowers are in one hand. She then got out a little cloth reticule and set it on top of a suitcase. She went over to enjoy one biscuit before she left. But you eyed the purse dangling on the suitcase.

“What’s in the reticule?” you asked.

“I found all these blue pebbles in the streets and the gardens. They’ll look lovely with the rest of my collection! Oh- and I cannot wait to press those flowers into my journal!” “It does sound like an impressive collection,” Thomas remarked. “Where do you keep it?”

Jonathan’s eyes flickered to the Baronet, an uneasiness to them, and then back to Stella.

“Oh- in my boxes back home, though they are getting a little full-”

Loki conjured her a special blue box. She gasped happily and then moved the items to be placed in.

“Oh, thank you! Loki- I am only so glad you make my dearest friend happy. She truly deserves it- may you always love her and treat her well!” she said.

“Of course, dear Miss Harris.”

She looked at them.

“Thank you all. Thank you to Y/N for listening to me, and for sending help, of course. Thank you, Jonathan, for taking me out of there. I don’t know what would happen to me if you did not. As well as your gift.”

He smiled at her.

“Of course, Stella,” was his quiet reply.

“Thank you, Miss Sif, for guardian me. Mr. Lancaster, Dr. Laing, Sir Sharpe- you all have been so welcoming and warm to me- and tell the Queen and Prince Thor I’m glad to have met them too…now…goodbye everyone! I will write and return and say hello again, I promise!”

She waved them off and stepped into the portal back home. She easily landed on those brown streets and white houses. At once, her family ran through the door. You could briefly see through the family all hugging her and kissing her. A pile of happy Harris’s welcoming her back. Nothing but warmth and love. Then the portal melted back to normal.

You smiled. As much as you would miss her, you were happy for her and her family.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Later that day, Loki said he had to go find his mother to discuss something. He held it up and kissed it tenderly. You gently touched his cheek, a smile on his face. Then, almost hesitantly, he let go and went back up.

As you went over to eat with the others, you saw Hal, Robert, and, most surprisingly, Thor, at a table enjoying some ale in large cups. Your eyebrows shot up at the blonde god of thunder.

“Why, what are you doing here?”

“I much missed the company of these fine fellows- so here I am!” Thor declared. “Besides, we have something we want to discuss! I hear you and my brother are much in love, Lady YN!”

You sat down, feeling warm. Smiling at them.

“Yes. Yes, we are- and we are! And I’m happy!” you cried.

Robert leaned forward, folding his hands and smiling. Though it was smiles they all shared between them.

“Oh, we all knew about it!” the doctor teased. He took a pastry, you weren’t sure if it was one made by Stella or the Asgard cooks, and took a bite of it.

“Loki spoke of you not long after he met you from his trip to Midgard. He was already at least a little besotted. I told him to court you, and pursue you as any suitor should!” Thor recalled.

Robert nodded towards Thor.

“Oh, it was pretty clear you both were interested in each other, we just had to stand by and watch it all and wait for you both to admit it.”

Hal took a bite of his food and then looked at you.

“My lady, you should have seen the day when Jonathan came forth as a messenger, saying that Loki had brought you to Asgard after your apparent cry for help,” he recalled. He gestured to the others there. “He was already watching everything from his shadowy corners. Then he came up to us in this room as we all sat to tell us what occurred.”

There was a little repressed snigger among them.

“We asked if Loki had wooed and won his lady love, especially after her great rescue by a god,” Thor began. The corners of his lips twitched up.

“And what did Jonathan say?” you asked.

“He said you threw a shoe at him,” Robert answered.

They finally burst into laughter. Laughing so hard, Thor’s voice seemed to shake the walls for nothing about him could be minuscule. Hal dipped his head back, baring his teeth in a wide smile. And Robert turned bright red and placed a hand over his stomach.

“How I wish I could have seen it myself! Even now- we cannot help but laugh at that!” Hal chuckled.

You laughed along with them, accepting your ridiculous actions back them. Then Thor turned to you, wiping tears from his eyes.

“Nevertheless, I am glad for it. You make my brother happy and I love him. I’m glad to see him so,” Thor said.

You grinned up at him.

“Thank you so much, I will do everything I can to make sure he is happy,” you promised.

“I believe you already have,” said Thor, clasping a comforting, large hand on your shoulder.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The orb was taking time to work. And Jonathan was completing the last of the translations. He said he would take it upon himself, and he went to the library to focus on that so Thomas could focus on the device. Divide and conquer, as the old saying goes.

You couldn’t help but be curious about this little room where Thomas made his inventions. It was a smaller room. Three desks full of parts, gears, and knick-knacks cluttering all over sat in each part. You noticed all sorts of children’s toys lying about- music boxes, mechanical animals, dolls. There was one device that sat in the corner behind you. It was a lovely little room full of gears, but also little mechanical toys. Devices, miniature machines, and all sorts of things. The tracking device itself looked like a little compass attached to what seemed to be a mechanical crane with wires near a typewriter with a blank sheet of paper in it- untouched. No location yet.

But there was a figure wrapped in a plaid shawl sitting on a chair- the room could get a little chilly. His back to you. Quiet and focused on something on that desk. His dark, curly hair was so much like your True Love’s hair. He turned over with a smile.

“Oh! It’s you” Thomas greeted.

“Hello, Sir Sharpe…how is it all going?” you asked.

He looked over at the tracking device.

“It should take another day…but then it should all be ready. This device shall sense where it is and the typewriter shall write it down,” he answered.

You observed over at some of the little dolls sitting on the desk. Some of them are in cloth dresses like the ones worn in Asgard.

“Thomas- did you make all of these?” you questioned.

“Oh, yes. Sometimes for the business here. But all of my life, I had ideas. I was fascinated by how machines work. I love to make toys. Let me show you- here! This one!”

He gave you a miniature of the machine he was working on.

“This one. It digs up clay and dirt in the ground and harvests it. Perhaps it shall be useful soon after all of this. Now we have to use it to support the Asgard economy. And here…this one….this is the one we need magic for!” he explained excitedly.

“I bet you will help so many others!” you encouraged.

He nodded, setting the device down on his desk.

“Yes…yes, I will. I wish I could open a shop to sell them. Even if it were simply toys for the little children here, I would be happy,” he said.

He looked around at his various devices. And then he turned to you.

“I know you are wondering about what happened in the Weaver’s Cottage…” he began.

“Yes, I do, and I know Loki told me it is personal…” you assured him, a hand flew up before you to pause.

Thomas’s smile melted down, and you heard him take a deep breath.

“Miss, I believe I am ready to tell you…” he began.

He gestured for you to sit on a chair next to him. He removed his shawl. He then folded his hands, slightly leaning over. He rubbed his hand once, and then looked into your eyes.

“The Weaver- her form was that of my elder sister, Lucille.”

It seemed she always took the form of someone personal to your friends. If it was Munrow for Robert, you had your suspicions, from what you gathered of their stories, whose forms she took for Hal and Jonathan…and Loki too.

He looked sad.

“Thomas…you were frozen in that little cottage. And she said something about women dying and you doing nothing to stop it…did Lucille…harm someone?” you asked.

“We have known each other and have been friends long enough, I can tell you…”

He swallowed.

“I grew up under the baronetcy of the Sharpes. We lived in a grand mansion in England in the middle of the countryside. A plain field with no trees. Where the town was a long, lonely walk away. Isolated, imposing, and grand. The mansion I had known for all of my life was twelve times the size of a normal house. One would think my childhood was full of playing through the halls…but Mother locked us up in the attic. All I can remember was having to stay there. And if we snuck out or misbehaved…Father would beat us. Like he beat mother.”

You turned cold inside.

“He broke her legs. Lucille was allowed in and out then to nurse her…she did so much, there was something of protectiveness in her. Once, we were caught sneaking out of the attic and she took the beating in my place. The words my father called her. His daughter. A child…I could never repeat them to you. We would cling to each other in the dark attic. She would sing me a lullaby to help lull me to sleep. I would come up with little toys from the knick-knacks. One night she was sobbing and I embraced her. We made a vow to never abandon or be apart from each other. One we would keep- we were all each other had. Then…then…”

He hesitated. Then taking in another breath, he continued with his eyes looking right into yours, even if they began to blink rapidly.

“I was nine I think…she was already blossoming into adolescence. And she told me….told me one day to…to take off my clothes. And to lie down on the floor in the dark, I didn’t know what was happening. I felt myself crying. But I was curious and I wanted her to feel better…and she…lifted her skirt and she…she…”

He paused. You felt sick to your stomach.

“You can imagine the rest.”

Your mouth opened wide and you set a hand over it in a silent gasp.

“She continued for years. I didn’t know how I felt. Sometimes it was uncomfortable. Sometimes it was nice. I just kept being called over by her…to do it. Bring her some solace. But yet..I…I didn’t know…I didn’t even know what was happening to me when it did…”

He swallowed.

“Then Lucille had enough of our father. His cruelty. Her rage burned up inside her. Until One day, I managed to get out and his bleeding corpse was on the bottom of the stairs… and she was on top, the blood on her hands…”

“So it meant your mother could let you out?”

“No- she still kept us confined. Years passed- I was about twelve. Lucille Fourteen. Then one day she…she caught us in the middle of it.”

You didn’t have to ask what.

“My eyes were shut- they shut whenever it happened. I don’t remember my mother's face, but I remember her crying ‘Oh my god!’ and calling us monsters. But my eyes did open in time…to see Lucille split an axe into her head.”

He swallowed, blinking, and then continued.

“Then the police arrived. Had us separated- I Was sent to boarding school and she to an institution. I learned while she suffered. Part of me always pitied her. I still do, in a way. She loved me so much, and did everything for me…so when I graduated, I kept our promise and I got her out. To survive, to have the money for us, our house, my inventions…she came up with a plan. I’d marry a rich woman and once we had their money transferred to us, she’d kill them.”

“Did you enact it?” you asked.

He nodded.

“Yes. Three times. With three women. Each with little to no family, so no one would come by knocking if they were to disappear. Though I never fell in love with them, I promised Lucille I never would…yet still I…I pitied them. I would bring them here, smiling. Ignorant of their doom. And dread curled in me. And I smiled anyway. Lucille had a special tea she would brew to poison them, weaken them. I would be the one to bring it to them. Kiss their heads, tell them everything was going to be splendid. They would grow sick, and cough blood. Grow weak. They would think it was consumption..”

You felt a chill. Recalling your past illness that led you here.

“But Lucille was impatient. And eager for blood. So once they signed away their money to go to our family, I would go away. Say it was a business trip. Kiss them one last time. Then I left for town. So I would not hear the screams, their pleas for help, for me, for anyone as Lucille took her blade and shredded them apart.”

You were quiet. Thomas looked utterly white.

“I might as well have stabbed myself. I let it happen. I never once laid with them. Lucille always beckoned me, telling me she loved me, and that it was all for me as she began to do acts on me again…only sometimes my body would feel pleasure… yet I always felt…like an animal doing tricks. Doing things since my youth to please her- since it was all I knew, it was at least what I could predict. She spoke to me always harshly, making me go back to her more- for no one in this world I could rely on more than her…she broke me.”

He laid his head down, looking at his own hands. Then he looked back at you, a few tears in his eyes.

“I have so much…shame and guilt. More than I think anyone could understand…I felt like I could never say no to her. Y/N, I know you must think of me as less than a man for refusing to stand up to her-”

“Of course not! You were merely a victim of it all!”

“But I let her do everything- including murder those women. I wanted to escape...but if Lucille was alone, she would…I’d feel…guilty, she was still my sister, who took everything and did everything…then Loki appeared.”

He looked around his inventions, then back at you, wiping the tears off with his hand.

“He knew it all. He knew I…I could never refuse her, or fight her off. He told me if I did, she would kill me. So he offered me an escape, a solution. He said I could move into the palace in Asgard. To a place where the walls didn’t creak and the red clay from the ground didn’t bleed into the floors. Invent for him, for his special quest. He promised me Lucille would be safe and cared for. That there would at least be a…duplicate of me to be there with her so she wouldn’t be alone as she always feared she would be. And he would conjure enough money so that we would not harm any more poor women. And he brought me here.”

He let out a deep breath.

“…I felt bad, but I was trapped in that place. It became a prison. And Lucille and I were long dead even though we still breathed…”

He picked up the shawl and curled it over himself. There was a brief silence between both of you.

“Dear god, Thomas…” you voiced out.

“Now all I want is redemption, from my shame and guilt….from being in her bed since I was young…”

“You were a child taken advantage of!” you cried.

“Lucille was young too.”

“She was old enough to know better!” you pointed out.

He glanced out at the window where sunlight seeped through. Peaceful and joyful.

“And here- here, I can redeem myself from…allowing Lucille to harm three innocent women? From lying to them and leading them to their death?”

“Loki was right. If you refused or denied her, Lucille would have killed you next…” you mused.

He began to blink a little again, his eyes on the window.

“Lucille could have been a wonderful woman, an extraordinary woman even if the world was not so harsh to her as a child….in some ways, she was…but yet…in that haunted, creaking, broken house she was always at home. And me, I felt…felt trapped…”

You reached over and touched his hand to comfort him. His blue eyes went from the window to yours.

“You can call me a villain, Y/N. I am one. I know it,” he said softly.

“Thomas, you were hurt and abused by your entire family. Left alone with no one who would genuinely love you to respect your boundaries and wishes. Left to please those who hurt you to survive…how could I think less of you?” you asked.

He pulled the shawl further over him like a blanket

“I just…I sometimes still feel like a child. Like that little boy…helpless and alone…” he confessed.

You squeezed his hand, continuing to look at him.

“What would you say to that little boy if he was here now? The little boy. Alone and scared. Cooped up in an attic. Beaten by his parents, and molested by his sister… What would you tell him?”

He paused. Truly thinking of it. He looked around as if searching for the right words. Then when he faced you, he had tears again in his eyes.

“I would tell him…if no one would care for him, then I will. I will make sure he never has to suffer as he did…” he answered.

You hugged him and let him cry a little bit more. You then asked a servant to bring him some water and a little food. He cried a little bit more, shaking it, squeezing his long-repressed story out. You brought him your handkerchief for him to wipe off his face. You gave him a small smile, and a hand to rub his arm.

“I’m glad you told me, Thomas. You are a hero now. Helping so much. Making so many things that saved us, and will save even more people. You’re free from it all now. And you have a life where you are loved and valued and won’t be hurt…I think you’ve redeemed yourself plenty…” you consoled him.

He wiped off a few more quiet tears with the handkerchief before he returned it to you.

“Thank you…I must get back to work, but thank you for listening to me, as disturbing as it was.”

“You are my friend, of course, I shall listen to you. Is there anything else about it you need to speak of now?” you replied.

“No…I would also like to congratulate you. I am overjoyed you and Loki are together. You both found someone to love without conditions or control or hurt…”

He picked up a little from the other desk. He smoothed her hair out of her little face, Looking at her with longing.

“I hope someday the same can be said of me someday…” he wished.

“I’m sure you will- I keep noticing you at every banquet and party! All the Asgard ladies keep giggling over you! You will have their pick of them in no time!” you reminded him.

He smiled at you. His posture relaxed. Thanking you genuinely, you said your goodbyes and he continued to his work.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

That evening, you joined your True Love in the garden after dinner to watch the sunset. The roses were in bloom with yellows and reds. Trees rustled with the wind. It was the perfect temperature. Not too frigid or warm. He got out chairs for both of you, as you watched the sky melt into pinks and oranges. Smiling at it as you held each other's hands. Then he turned to you.

“Robert and Jonathan told me about these inventions they had for transportation in their time- they’re called cars! They have no horses and run completely by motors!” Loki reported.

His hand opened and conjured an image of a little car above his palm. Your eyes widened, seeing the bright green shine on it and the tires spinning like a mill wheel.

“Thomas knew of them, but he was astounded they looked like that! And there’s another one- for his great quest against Roper, Jonathan had what is called a Motorcycle! It is like a bicycle from your time, only there are motors inside it too!” he continued.

“A motorcycle!? What does it look like?” you asked.

Loki conjured an image of a little black motorcycle and it spun around. You gaped at it in wonder, partially distracted from the ambiance of the place.

“ How does one ride it? It’d make me frightened to fall off!” you commented

“He said you hop on it and push the right buttons and knobs. Then you take off!!” Loki recalled. He made it whirr into place and then drove through the air before it vanished in a shimmer of golden light.

You smiled wide. Then you held hands, watching the sun glow even brighter as it dipped into the horizon.

“To think, it all is almost done…Thomas’s tracker is going to reveal the cauldron. The dagger will be finished and the spell translated any day now,” you remarked.

Loki let out a deep sigh as he took your hand again in yours. You leaned a head against you as you both embraced.

“Indeed…all those days, and adventures…finally this- are you frightened, my dear?” he asked.

“Yes…I am…I only hope all of that training is in good use, should anything occur…”

“We’ll be ready…we all shall…and I trust you as well, my little warrior mortal,” he commented.

You shifted over to sit on his lap. You hugged each other as the sun got lower. You took a hand to smooth his curls. The sky darkened and burst into stars and planets shining above. You could feel his heartbeat soften in his chest, and feel the rumble as he breathed in.

“Whatever occurs…I am only glad to have met you, my dear…” Loki said.

You smiled at him as he lifted a hand and kissed yours.

You both continued to talk quietly. He helped you off of him and you went to stand.

“Now, my dear…I think we should walk through the city. I assure you, it’s perfectly safe,” he said.

“I may be frightened…but I feel like I can face anything as long as you are with me,” you told him.

His hand never left yours as you both started your walk there. ─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The next morning, Jonathan and Thomas rushed into the room as everyone ate breakfast. Thomas’s curls fell a little out of place from excitement. Jonathan clutched the book.

“It’s translated…and the device found where the cauldron lies,” Jonathan reported.

Everyone moved quickly before the Asgard royal family could ask questions. Finally, all of you went to Thomas’s workshop. The device shuddered once with the orb inside, and then its gears ran. The typewriter finally began clicking on the paper. Thomas reached and then took off the paper.

He looked at them, Hal had the dagger. Jonathan a copy of a journal with the translated spell.

He then looked at it, squinting, and reading it carefully.

“Svartalfheim- it’s in Svartalfheim in the Cave of Baldir,” Thomas said.

Everyone nodded, hearing it. The answer is finally there. The weight and yet relief washing on everyone. Thomas folded the paper and put it in his breast pocket.

“Then, let us arm ourselves, dear friends,” Hal said.

Clothes were brought for you to fight in. They matched the leathers of Sifs with iron armor for your middle body, shoulders, and knees. You were amazed at the pants- comfortable enough that you could move freely. You sheathed a sword and several daggers. Testing your hand, a bit of fire came out and then back. The ring from the Weavers cottage was placed on your finger. A reminder. A decoration. Still fitting perfectly, the emerald glittering.

Loki then opened a portal and all of you headed through silently.

Svartalfheim was a barren place. Like a desert with nothing but long dunes of tan sand and grey storm clouds. When the sky peeked out, it looked yellow and sickly.

“Now, let us not waste any time,” Loki began.

You sensed out. There was the Baldur cave- it was close! You felt it like a bell ringing in the back of your head. You pointed in that direction to the men.

“It’s there! Everyone hurry!’” you urged.

Off you ran. Then you saw the cave seeping out from the sandy, dry ground like a burrow. All of you walked inside, quieting your steps. Things became dark, only the light from the sun in the back slowly dimming the further inside you wandered. You clutched one hand on your sword.

But a few steps into the cave you already heard bubbling. You stifled a gasp of joy as the dimming light from the mouth shone on something before you-

A cauldron. Large enough that four people could sit inside and as tall as your head. Green liquid swirling about when you peeked in it on your toes. Green steam rose above it like it was a pot of soup.

Everyone smiled and nodded. Jonathan held out the spellbook as Loki held out the dagger, he began to tap it. He began to chant the ancient Norse as he touched it. You held your breath as the phrase was completed.

Nothing happened.

Loki was frowning.

“The spell didn’t work…it is the same as normal, how come?” he asked.

Then out from the shadows, arms reached over and grabbed you.

You let out a scream as well as Loki and the other variants. The dagger and book fell from their hands as they turned around.

Grendel’s men appeared from the shadows in armor just like the ones in Asgard.

You reached over a hand to shoot out the fire- but nothing happened. Loki reached out a hand, but his face fell as nothing hopped out.

And you realized- you had not sensed them. You fought against one- but they held you. Then you heard a voice, smooth, low, baritone, and confident- but it sent shivers up you.

“Congratulations, you fell for the trap, hook, line, and sinker. Welcome to this lovely little cave- there’s a special spell here. No one can perform magic here except me.”

The soldier holding you brought you forward to the voice. A man emerged from the shadows. Dressed still in a black suit like your own times. A pointed chin and sharp features. You recognized the face from your dream- dark hair, green eyes, and pale skin. He could have been handsome, but you knew what he did.

“Grendel…”

He gestured as his men all held your band of friends together.

“All of you make quite a band. Adorable…but quite pitiful.”

“What do you want from her? Don’t you dare touch her!” Loki cried out from where he was. He struggled hard, but they held him tight.

The soldier then let go of you, you tried to rush over to them, but with a flick of Grendel’s finger, an invisible wall came up. Loki struggled and got out, but he realized you were blocked- able to hear and see everything.

“Why…why am I separated from the others- what are you going to do to them?” you asked.

He folded his arms, with a wide smile.

“I made a promise. I always live up to my promises,” he declared.

“Promise? What kind of promises are you even capable of making?!” Robert cursed definitely, tugging against the men holding him back.

With a big smile and dramatic hand, Grendel gestured towards a shadowy corner of the cave.

“Mortal Lady, I upheld my end, and you shall yours…” the villain said.

You turned over to the shadows and saw something. A figure moving.

A green scarf.

Before you had time to process it, the Reverend Will Ransome walked into the light.

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sammygems · 4 months

Text

Things I Have Noticed/Remembered from my MCDiaries rewatch

I will be updating this as I continue my rewatch, currently everything listed is out of order, cause I've started writing this as I am on episode 64 of season 1 and I don't feel like fixing it to be in order, so sorry!

What the fuck was Garroth's "plan" he mentions to Zenix in the first episode 😭

Zenix seems to be younger then Garroth in Diaries, considering the way that Garroth talks about him, but I think in MyStreet, Zenix is either the same age or slightly older then Garroth, so far this is like, the only obvious age difference between the series (besides Travis and everyone else of course)

I forgot how entertaining Brendan's character is, he's far less annoying then I remembered

ZANE AS AN ACTUAL BAD PERSON, I LOVE HIM

I love Vylad, but I legit forgot how much he was in Diaries season 1, I thought he was in it far less

Currently at the stage of Diaries where there is no lgbt+ people, i'm very disappointed by this (we haven't even reached the queerbaiting)

KC's character is....not as bad (racist) as I was expecting, still not great though. I'm choosing to believe that KC is from Tu'lu and Maid Cafes are a thing there, and "Kawaii~Chan" is just a stage name for her work.

Y'all know how Cadenza went missing and she was actually turned into a chicken? Yeah, the way Hayden, Castor, & Laurance talk about her to Aphmau makes it sound like Cadenza is a small child. But then it turns out she's the same age, if not older, then Laurance and Aphmau.

Aphmau should've just made Joh and Hayden lovers, I'm so serious, it would make the whole Cadenza and Laurance being "close like siblings" in season 1 to I think actually being called as siblings in season 2 and in MyStreet a lot easier to understand and make a lot more sense.

Why does Kenmur have like, some sort of romance with all the girls from Meteli??? He was engaged to Sasha and is stated to have feelings for Cadenza.

I love when the episodes open from Sasha's POV, and she goes and talks to Gene and there's just no voices. I love having to pause to read what they're saying. (this point is sarcasm)

The way literally everyone reacted to learning Laurance was blind was....icky. Like, I understand Cadenza and Aphmau reacting as like "we need to find a way to bring his sight back", but the fact that it was literally EVERYONE who decided he needed to get his sight back was so weird.

I don't mind Laurance ACTUALLY getting his sight back, but I wish it was done differently. Like, personally, I'd have him like, have to wash his face with the water of the fountain of Lady Irene.

Emma & Corey, Dale & Molly, and Logan & Donna are very sweet couples.

After Zoey and KC were able to turn Cadenza back to her human form, Zoey mentions that she "recognizes Cadenza from somewhere", but I don't think this goes anywhere???? I'm assuming it was supposed to hint at like, Cadenza's backstory.

ngl, I kinda wish we got more of Zane and Kiki's relationship, I really wanna know what side of Zane Kiki actually saw.

Anyway, Kiki is currently expecting.

Nicole (my beloved) has showed up. I've decided I won't question the logic behind her iron fists being able to break bedrock, and instead say that her referencing her iron fists just made me think of Ace from One Piece and Natsu & Gajeel from Fairy Tail.

I COMPLETELY FORGOT ABOUT NICOLE'S FOX, ROXY, AND ABOUT THE WYVERNS IN GENERAL 😭

I need to mention that in one episode (before Aphmau went to Scaleswind and learned about Lady Irene), Garroth says to Aphmau "by the seven", which I think she was hurt, but the use of "by the seven" is similar to how the same phase would be used in Game of Thrones or to how irl lots of people say "oh my god", so I'm really wondering if there were originally supposed to be 7 Divine Warriors instead of 6.

The way when Aphmau found Levin and decided to keep him and Garroth IMMEDIATLY decided he would be Levin's father figure.

The way when Laurance found out that Aphmau had a kid, his response was to play with Levin and say to Aphmau "you didn't tell me you had this little buddle of joy/energy".

That's all for now, I'll like, update when I have more to add.

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azrielslostshadow · 11 months

Text

Lemon Mousse

Word Count: 2264

Author’s Note: sorry for the wait lovelies. you know how it goes with finals and work and everything else that life throws at you. should i continue this series? lmk what you think.

pt.1, pt.2

“Huh, I figured you might not be back for a while.”

azriel’s head shot up at the sound of your voice. you were beauty and grace and light and love and oh gods you were looking right up at him. “w-what?” did he seriously just stutter? he’s the shadowsinger! he shouldn’t stutter or panic. especially not in front of a faerie who probably couldn’t even care less about him and what he does outside of buying lemon-flavored pastries that he doesn’t actually eat.

“well, I just assumed that you wouldn’t be coming in since the High Lord announced his trip to the Summer Court?”

of course! for the last few months, whenever azriel’s come in he’s ordered extra pastries just to talk to you longer, and when you asked what they were for he had said something about sharing them with feyre and rhys.

“oh- well yes of course, but they aren’t set to leave until tomorrow so i thought i’d stop by.”

he watched as you tilted your head, brows furrowed and a pretty pout on your lips, “i must be mistaken then. i thought feyre said they were meant to leave today?”

“change of plans. something about a meeting rhysand had forgot.” azriel was a terrible fae. lying to a beautiful shop owner all because he was to afraid to ask her to dinner. he figured he should muster up the courage soon before she found out that he actually hated lemons and sweets.

“well, besides the lemon tarts- is there anything else i could get you?” azriel had never seen you look so dim.

“anything new for me to try?” azriel wasn’t even going to eat it, but he wanted to make you feel better. you always lit up when you talked about your treats.

“just the mousse.”

azriel was shocked. you normally made it a point to be kind, oftentimes going out of your way to get him out of his own shell. “i like mousse.”

he was hoping you might engage in the lighthearted, flirty banter that you usually did, but was disappointed when you only let out a small huff of acknowledgment and moved to grab the dessert. you gave him his total, a tense smile, and sent him on his way.

he felt like his heart had been squeezed out of his chest- like he had done something wrong. especially when you didn’t even try to stop him from tipping.

------------

“now i’m no genius-”

“coulda told you that myself, cass.”

“but i think she knows about your little crush.”

once azriel returned to the house of wind, he immediately told cassian and nesta what happened. he thought they might be able to help, but clearly he was wrong.

“first of all.” he began, “there’s no way she knows about my crush. i happen to be the fucking shadowsinger thank you very much.”

his brother chuckled, “so you admit that you have a crush?”

“i admit that you’re a pain in the ass.”

“oh gods.” nesta was losing patience with the spymaster, “this is seriously starting to get so pathetic, azriel.”

“i don’t know what i did! or if i even did anything? we barely know each other, she- she could be upset about anything!”

“except you know her well enough to know something is bothering her?”

“anybody with eyes could see that she wasn’t okay! it wasn’t something special.”

“you should go check on her.”

azriel looked at nesta like she’d grown a second head, “what?”

“go right before she closes.”

“nesta, i already went once today! if i go again she’ll think something’s up.”

“oh what? like that’s a bad thing?”

“yes!”

“wait,” cassian’s face scrunched up, “i thought you liked her?”

“he does.”

“so what’s the problem?”

“he’s scared she’ll like him back.”

azriel sulked into the couch cushions, “i’m right here.”

“we’re well aware.”

------

regardless of how annoying the couple was, azriel still found himself outside the brightly colored shop five minutes left before closing. choosing to ignore his nerves, he pushed past the doors and into the bakery.

“i’ll be right out!” you called from somewhere in the back.

azriel figured this conversion would go one of two ways:

a. you’d kick him out for bothering you about something personal or

b. you’d actually want to tell him what was bothering you.

either way he supposed it was best if he just swapped the sign to closed and locked the doors, then he made his way past the counter and into the kitchens.

it was exactly how he had envisioned it to be. warm and inviting albeit a little chaotic. Flour covered the countertops, a couple of dishes were in the sink, and the floors needed to be swept, but it was entirely you.

“oh-?”

azriel turned and you might as well have ripped his heart out of his chest, “love?”

your eyes were red and your mascara had smudged beneath your lashes. it was clear you’d been crying and he’d give anything to make sure you were never burdened with tears ever again.

“sorry, az. i’m actually just about to close so if you don’t mind-”

“what’s happened?”

“i’m sorry?”`

“are you okay?” he meant to ask the question kindly, but it seemed to him that he’d failed when you immediately began to sob, “gods, i- i am so sorry! i didn’t mean to upset you!” carefully, he moved closer to you, hands spread out like you were a wild animal he didn’t want to spook.

“no- you didn’t i-i just,” you took a deep breath again and before he could ask another ridiculous question, you were crying again.

“oh, love.” he moved closer before he immediately stepped back again. he didn’t want to frighten you or make you any more uncomfortable than he already did.

but then you began to cry harder.

he was unsure of what to do. stepping away made you cry harder, which is what he figured should have happened if he moved closer. you were shaking, trying to hold yourself together and all he wanted was to just hold you. so he gathered up all of his courage and prepared himself in case you pushed him away, and moved to wrap his arms around you.

he half expected you to scramble away from him. azriel knew he was a rather intimidating faerie, he was taller than most, his wings were wide, his hands were terribly scarred, and his whole demeanor normally screamed run away now if you want to live. he assumed if he was lucky you would freeze, but still let him hold you.

instead, the second he touched you, you wrapped your arm around his middle, burying your head into his chest, and gripped his shoulders like you were afraid someone might tear the two of you apart.

for a moment azriel didn’t move, shocked that you actually wanted him.

once he recovered, however, he placed his arm around you, one hand on your hip and the other on the top of your head, bringing you closer to him.

the two of you stayed like that for a few minutes, holding each other tightly in the lemon-filled kitchen, until you lifted your head from his chest, tears dripping down the sides of your cheeks and an, “i’m sorry.” leaving your lips in a defeated whisper.

“don’t be.” he moved to wipe away your tears, cradling your face in his large hands, pride surging trough his veins when you leaned into his palms. “if you’d like, we could talk about it?”

you began to pull away, “it’s dumb. nothing really.”

azriel was a lot of things, but stupid was not one of them. he had been trained to see through a lie, and you were clearly inexperienced in the art of deception. he pulled you closer before you could hide away from him again, “no, it’s not.”

you took a moment to gather yourself, wringing your hands, eyes bouncing around the room at anything that wasn’t the illyrian warrior before you, “does feyre hate me?”

“what?” this was the last thing azriel thought would have upset you. feyre absolutely adored you! she spoke of you often to the inner circle.

“i just- i just want to know if i’ve done something to upset her. she was the first friend i made in velaris and now she never comes in anymore!”

azriel wasn’t sure what to do. he’d taken feyre’s place as your regular so that he could talk to you, but he never thought it would hurt your feelings. “she doesn’t hate you.”

“well, clara from the night shift has been telling everyone she does. that she got tired of my lemons and only sends you in out of pity!”

“the night shift? the bakery down the block?”

“yeah- with that horrible gray brick!” you grumbled, “her whole building looks like a fucking cinderblock with no personality whatsoever.”

he couldn’t help but lt out an amused snort- he’d never seen you angry before. he thought you looked quite like a mouse, “it is rather ugly isn’t it?”

“with horrible pastries too! i’ve never had such a bland, powdery scone in my life! i’m not sure why our high lady would ever prefer that to mine.”

“she doesn’t.”

“azriel. she hasn’t been here for months. most of my customers came in because they thought she loved my desserts. now business is slow, except for when you come in and your fangirls follow-”

“fangirls?”

“they always come in after and ask what you’ve ordered and get the exact same thing! i’ve had to start lying to them- you know i can only make so much of every treat!”

“love-”

“look if feyre really prefers clara’s treats, she really doesn’t need to send you in to make me feel better okay?”

“she’s never sent me in here.”

you froze at his words, “what?”

“well, except for the first time.” azriel wasn’t about to ruin your friendship with feyre or your business just because he was afraid to admit his crush.

“what the hell are you talking about? you get a lemon tart almost everyday!”

“i wanted to see you.”

“azriel-”

“i hate lemons.” azriel let out a breath at his admission. when your brows furrowed and you could only blink at him he began again, “and sweets. but i wanted to see you again, so i convinced feyre to let me come in for her.”

“i don’t-”

“i was too nervous to ask you out to dinner and i didn’t want to ruin my chances of getting to see you again so i kept it to myself. i’m sorry i made you feel like you lost your friend. i’ll tell feyre that she can come in again and I won’t bother you anymore.” azriel turned to walk away from you and out of the bakery when you grabbed his wrist, preventing him from leaving in embarrassment.

“you hate lemons?”

“i ugh- yes.” he looked to the ground like a child being reprimanded by their mother. He couldn’t focus not with you touching him. and especially not when you moved your fingers from his wrist to grip his hand in both of yours, bringing it to your chest, and pulling him closer to you.

“you came in every day to buy lemon-flavored pastries when you hate sweets and lemons?”

“yes.”

“and then you basically paid me double every single time?”

“yes.”

“because you were afraid i might say no to dinner?”

“well when you put it that way-”

before he could defend himself, words tumbled out of your mouth in a rush, “i was thinking about adding on to my menu.”

“what does that have to do with-”

“a new drink menu.”

“i’m not following.”

you smiled up at him, “bitter coffees, protein shakes, limeades, maybe something themed around the inner circle?”

“love-”

“maybe infused milks too? for nyx of course.”

“i really don’t-”

“you’d have to come in, you know- to try them?”

azriel realized that you were giving him an opening. you wanted him to keep coming in, you wanted to see him again. but you weren’t pushing him away or forcing him to ask you out if he wasn’t ready.

“yeah. i would, wouldn’t i?”

he watched as you let out a soft sigh of contentment, “walk me home?”

he couldn’t think of something he would enjoy more than walking you home, “of course.”

he watched as you finished closing up shop, leaving the dishes for one of your employees in the morning. then as the two of you began walking away from the yellow bakery, you looped your arm through his and smiled before leaning in to whisper something in his ear, “you could’ve asked me out the first time you came in, I would’ve said yes- still would.”

“yeah?”

“mhm.”

after that the two of you walked in silence for a while- comfortable, not forced.

eventually you stopped in front of an old building that azriel thought fit you perfectly, “yours?”

“yeah. thanks for walking me home, azriel.”

he scratched the back of his neck, “anytime.”

you squeezed his hand before walking up the steps and unlocking the door then you paused, “azriel?”

“yes?”

“my door’s always open.” you turned to him one last time, “dinner’s usually around eight, and i’ve got this nasty habit of making too much food for one person ya know?”

he smiled brighter than normal, grateful that you were the one to make the first move, “well, we wouldn’t want all that food to go to waste now would we?”

fin

Taglist: @andrewgarfield2022 , @azzydaddy, @off-beam, @elsie-bells, @goldentournesol, @bsenpai-blog, @leeknows-wife, @weirdo-fun, @graciereads, @thecraziestcrayon, @marigold-morelli, @hollyismentallyillhelp, @gamarancianne, @philosopherstoned, @maraudersrry, @acourtofmarvels, @fall-myriad, @ruler-of-hades, @bangtanbecks, @lahoete, @brekkershadowsinger, @lotusnegra, @dream-alittlebiggerdarling, @topaz125, @athena-roy, @tcris2020, @annaeli211-blog, @cullenswife, @fanworrior , @abewitchingwillow , @ksuumin , @naturakaashi , @marina468 , @theravenphoenix26 , @forsiriussake , @mich0731 , @elizarikaallen, @and-i-swear-we-are-infinte, @laylrin

#acotar #Azriel #azriel imagine #azriel shadowsinger #azriel angst #azriel fluff #azriel smut #az #acomaf #acosf #azrielslostshadow

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nonokoko-is-daydreaming · 6 months

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Post-graduation hcs part 1

I have been thinking about what might await the boys once they graduate, realistically speaking. I'm tempted to do another hc series similar but them as parents or with a s/o or something 🙈. Sorry, some are shorter than others. Hope you like them:

🌹 Riddle

He moved in an apartment with Trey and Chenya temporarily until he has enough savings to live on his own, alternatively moves in with his s/o, if he has one, ideally after graduation. He had been preparing for an independent life away from home post-overblot without telling his parents and when the moment arrives there's probably a big fight between them, especially when Mrs Rosehearts discover he won't study to become a magical doctor like she planned.

In his birthday vignette he shows interest in studying law, so I think he would be a judge. To me it's canon because it's a reference of how the Queen of Hearts was the judge in Wonderland trials.

Riddle disappointed his parents —more like infuriated Mrs Rosehearts— and had multiple arguments with his mom about what his future but he no longer cares what she says. He might like to continue being in contact if they come to terms he's free to do whatever he wants with his life; most likely only his father accepts this. #DisneyletRiddlehaveatleastoneredeemedparentchallenge

Riddle will need time to heal and accept this rupture is the best for him, but he'll still look at the past and mourn for the childhood and family he never had. He likes his job but sometimes he feels beyond exhausted after certain cases. Praying he gets the growth spurt or self confidence on his height he deserves 🙏

♠ Deuce

Deuce had one goal already in mind since his early freshman days, being a police officer, and by his determination you can bet he worked on it until the dream became a reality. Needless to say mama spade is super proud of her boy.

Oh the delinquent angsty teenager becoming a police. The irony. The amount of comments and stories his mom will share with his friends when they come to their hometown. They're not letting it live down.

Trey mentioned in chapter 5 that the best mages from fire and policemen are recruited by an international organization called Arcane Response Unit, which if I remember correctly it's the one that responds in OB cases when they aren't extremely dangerous. I find it sweet imagining Riddle and him keep seeing each other due their jobs.

❤ Ace

I'm sorry I have no idea which career he could be interested in (╥﹏╥) Maybe when we know his unique magic and more about him I'll write something else. But you know that joke shop the Weasley twins had where they sold magic artifacts and miscellaneous stuff?? Yeah, that could suit him. I believe he could have more ambition than just owning a shop though...idk

After graduation I can see Ace, Deuce, Grim and MC choosing to share an apartment while studying their major studies, if MC is still in TWST of course. Main trouble gang now as roommates, imagine the chaos.

♣ Trey

If he's roommates with Chenya and Riddle, they split chores: he's in charge of the cooking most of the time. He's also the one who keeps most contact with Heartslabyul classmates due his popularity as the "dad friend", but his closest relationships aside from Riddle are with Cater and Adeuce. Often reminds them via message to rest and gets upset if he finds out they have been slacking on a healthy lifestyle after moving away from home.

Either chooses to run his family bakery after his parents retire or becomes a chef in some restaurant. I imagine Azul would be interested in keeping Trey close or tries to hire him for his restaurant business.

♦ Cater

Your Cay-Cay keeps being fire on Magicam! ✧⁺ /hj

Just like Ace I believe Cater tried to make the most out of his school life, so planning from the start what he exactly was going to do wasn't in his top priorities. He knew he still wanted to have time for social media, and despite some minor existential crisis about his future he was realistically listing his abilities and cons in his search for okay-ish jobs.

Eventually he set up for working on social media management or marketing: him being able to read the room + being updated with the latest trends and internet language + meme culture + his obsession liking of Magicam + knowledge to make great pics to post = Best job for him!

In spite of the time being a publicist for brands and influencers take he still updates his Magicam account. Not exactly a worldwide star but I can see him having around +500K overtime and even hitting the million there or in his twst youtube channel. Because of his job and hobby he still cross path with Vil sometimes.

About his family... Just like Riddle I see him looking forward to move in #ASAP, but Cater kept in contact with his family because their relationship still could still be fixed. Therapy may be needed to further explore and heal his family issues and roots of his depression but eventually he's better, if anything still a bit salty with his sisters (don't get me wrong everyone here should go but Cater is in the list or easier to convince) Extra good sis points if they are the ones who talk with Cay-Cay about going to therapy and agree to go with him if asked <3

🦁 Leona

For a moment I wrongly thought "This man is filthy rich, I 100% can see him not doing anything with all the money he has if he feels like it." before the realisation that contradicts his character smacked me in the face. Seeing how he denied the idea of losing without a fight in the tournament I think he'll try to exit his title as being only the second born and make a name for himself.

Given he's a respected leader in his dorm and how he can put in work his leadership skills when the moment requires it Leona would want to be involved in his kingdom management.

Leona has a tattoo that resembles Scar's, and I think that was a symbol of the royal guard, so maybe he'd become royal guard captain. Something like an ambassador or related to military or diplomatic relationships, representing the royal family and travelling for politic reasons.

Knowing Leona he'd be keep ignoring his depression until others talk him out of that procrastinating attitude and force convince him to search help, most likely his s/o or Farena's wife scolding, since it seems he'd do what they tell him even if it's grudgingly. Cheka probably goes to RSA and by then any ill feelings towards his nephew are gone, although he'll always act like he annoys him.

🍩 Ruggie

In Ruggie SSR dorm card is shown Ruggie is fluent at Animal Linguistics. With his participation at the Animal Linguistics Speech Contest I'm positive he could find a job about it, perhaps work alongside Leona as the royal family interpreter.

Regardless of which career he chooses he'll make some good cash and after receiving paychecks he'll spoil his grandma and give small treats to his neighbours by buying a lot of food and making occasional meals for everybody when he visits.

🐺 Jack

Unless he marries somebody whose homeland is different I picture him living in his hometown tending to his cactus. He has a nice house, big enough to raise some kids, and space enough to grew his plants. Man has simple needs and he is content with it.

Definitely the most likely who ends up having a spouse out of all the students, closely followed by Epel and Rook imo.

At first I was blank about his career but thanks to a user on Reddit I agree with them that Jack could be a personal coach or some sort of athletic instructor, for instance ski/snowboard teacher since he likes it. Or a professional athlete.

🐙 Azul

Azul invests in the market and hit big numbers earlier than anybody else. Technically he doesn't need to work anymore or worry about making an income but he still runs a restaurant, expanding his empire as the owner of high quality restaurants both in land and sea. Chains like Applebee's are shit under his foot in comparison lol

Still trying to keep in contact with his dear classmates who he spent so many wonderful days Definitely not because he could use having the Asim new family leader or the royal captain or a honourable judge like Riddle or the STYX leader nono-

🐬 Jade & Floyd 🦈

The ones who mop the floor with Azul's competition

They are still by Azul's side, but they continue in their family business behind the scenes. Probably meet Riddle in the courtyard. Not because they are careless to leave traces behind mind you, Floyd just felt like squeezing some annoying dude and the law is being unfunny and charging him for aggression. Jade is never caught on the things his twin is accused of, but Riddle has the feeling he's never too far from the fights.

Each time the case is closed or paid with community services. Azul pays the penalty fees and the octotrio always act oh so casually about it while getting in Riddle's nerves. Poor golfishie thought he'd see the last of them after ending NRC and now he's near a mental breakdown when he reads "Leech" in his next trial file. Said trials must be a sight to behold, which is why Jade goes whenever he's not busy, amused.

👑 Vil

The octatrio preferably lives on land for different reasons: Floyd has an expensive and varied shoe collection he can't wear underwater, Jade happily built a greenhouse for his terrariums, and Azul has houses both in land and sea to supervise his restaurants and going on vacation when he feels like it.

Despite their shared shady business is likely the twins do secondary jobs to entertain themselves: Floyd keeps starting projects and dropping them once he gets bored, from modelling to participate in monster truck events. Jade studied economics and is in charge of the financial administrations of the business, but is member of a mountain lovers forum and its most active and enthusiastic user.

Vil had already planned his career since a child. However, he continued to expand his horizons: actor, super model, movie director, guionist, activist for lgbt rights and other causes, maybe helping Crewel to make a new fashion collection for upcoming seasons...you know, he takes Barbie's motto seriously. Probably loves being a director because he can envision and lead a movie while being on screen. He's Barbie because he can be everything he decides to be except being more popular than Neige

He keeps in contact with several classmates, including Rook, Epel, occasionally Cater etc. He has an online shop that sells products made by himself, except collabs he makes with other brands like Azul's moisturiser. Don't worry Floyd is okay, they found other merman to use :)

🏹 Rook

✨ Le chasseur de tes cauchemars ✨

Leona and company keep feeling observed, he has many people terrified. If hunter isn't his job then it must be related to beauty, but because he sees beauty in everything I'm not sure. Perhaps he has the same job as whatever his family worked to get all those villas but maybe they are just rich and inherited that CMON DISNEY TELL ME IF HIS FAM HAS A SHADY BUSINESS ALREADY! ARE THEY COPS?? WTF I NEED INFO

If he doesn't follow his family footsteps he could enjoy working as a photographer, capturing the inner beauty of the world both as a naturalist photographer and a fashion one. Hunting and stalking are his hobbies.

One of those who has higher chancer to get married at some point I think, but it's a bit tricky. He sure loves many things but something about it tells me in the present time he thinks he still has so many beautiful things and people to meet that he cannot imagine committing to somebody for the rest of his life yet?? Unless that person was fine he would marvel and compliment and stalk anyone he's around...

Open to having a longtime and stable relationship but it would make more sense if he waits until later in his life to get married in my opinion, realistically speaking at least. But be could also jump straight to marriage if his love for his s/o is that big, if his s/o is Neige, Vil or someone he adores as much as them.

🍎 Epel

Another student who had his future somewhat well thought out since he was a freshman.

Not long after graduation he studies a major degree and works in his family farm, trying to improve the Harveston farmers laboral conditions by implementing innovative methods to grow apples more resistant to cold temperatures...First he has to convince the skeptic elderly that technology and science can mesh together with tradition just fine. (This idea is from what he says in the Harveston event)

As weird as it sounds I can see Epel gaining more muscle after all those years working out. I'm divided between him growing taller or being ripped but continue being the shortest of the first year gang lol

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beansterpie · 2 months

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Not to ramble about es21 but just saw a take on Twitter that presented Hiruma as someone who is clinging onto his persona (so his hair, the piercings, the threats— the things he allegedly does for the sake of scaring people) because he doesn’t see/understand himself, with the implication that he needs to stop clinging onto these things and face reality (eg, grow up). This is within the context of him in university and continuing to maintain his dyed hair. It’s a sentiment that I don't agree with and suddenly felt like rambling on about the topic lol.

For one, I don’t think the way he presents himself is solely for the sake of intimidating others. It’s definitely a factor, but I also think he just likes it. It’s like everything else he does— the renovated club room doesn’t do anything to intimidate rival teams but he did it anyway because he likes flashy, gaudy shit. His cartoon violence guns are certainly to intimidate people, but he also just likes guns. His trick plays are to confuse the opposing team and to make up for the lack of formal training that the Devilbats have, but he also just likes trick plays! It suits his personality, that’s just the kind of dude he is. He exaggerates aspects of himself to get a rise out of people, but they’re still aspects of him. Imo, what unnerves people is that he’s so unabashedly himself, and who he is is unhinged and calculating and contradictory and unapologetic. I’d even argue that his ‘unhinged’ side is him at his happiest, and when he gets quiet and pensive, he’s at his most tense or disappointed or like, bored with life lmfao.

And as far as canon goes, at least imo, it presents Hiruma as a person who is very honest with himself about who he is. He has no illusions about his limitations and isn't shy about letting people know that, not to mention how shameless he is in his goal of winning. He doesn't give a fuck what other people think of him, which I think is a pretty good indicator that he's comfortable in his own skin.

That being said, I do think he’s got trust issues when it comes to letting people in emotionally or allowing people to see his vulnerabilities. I think there’s enough in canon to suggest that this is probably because he’s been totally independent for so long and so learned to rely only on himself. Like, all we really know about his background is that he’s been living alone since middle school and has an estranged father lol. Throughout the series we see the exceptions to this in Kurita and Musashi, as well as new people joining those ranks like Mamori and to an extent Sena and the rest of the devilbats. Hiruma's arc is coming to trust and believe in his teammates, rather than solely operating on statistics and probability.

But I don’t think a guy having some trust issues necessarily means that he doesn’t know himself. For such a trickster-like character, he’s remarkably frank about what he wants and why.

And tbh, on a personal preference level, I find any future where Hiruma matures in a way that has him becoming more ‘normal’ low key a tragedy lmfao. I could see him choosing to stop bleaching his hair somewhere down the line because he can’t be assed anymore, but I cannot see him getting a more conventional haircut or developing more conventional tastes. Hiruma would continue to be a goth-punk who’s too into football and gambling even as an old man, change my mind.

#bean talking into the void #eyeshield 21 #es21 #hiruma yoichi

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spacedlexi · 2 months

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are there any narrative decisions/themes in twdg (the entirety of the series) that you really disliked/thought could be handled better?

*gestures vaguely at seasons 2 and 3* i dont think i really have anything new or groundbreaking to say about the ways those seasons were handled

honestly for the most part though even when i find the narrative decisions to be lacking or disappointing theyre able to at least stick to their themes and emotionally come to satisfying conclusions. clems personal running narrative throughout the series i think holds up pretty well. and her journey is like... the whole point of it all. so other characters or aspects of the series falling through the cracks is unfortunate but acceptable for me if its still working towards developing clementine as a character. seasons 2 and 3 might be messy and contentious among fans but like.. regardless of the issues i have with them i like where they push clem emotionally

leads to the kind of situation where i might not agree with the decisions that got us here, but i can at least appreciate what the Intended goal was narratively and thematically

but since im talking about clem the ONE thing i will say is: they pushed the "mother" shit especially in s3 way too hard. she got called a big sister Once and then they promptly moved on. other characters telling clem how motherly she is? sick ew yucky nasty. clementine herself choosing to raise aj because hes all she has left in this world and wants whats best for him? yes and also im crying. at least if you take the alone endings you dont hear that dialogue from kenny or jane so its less in your face but ugh 🙄 i actually liked in s2 that after aj is born clem can be uncomfortable with him or completely uninterested, but by the end of the season (especially if shes left all alone and its partially why i like the alone endings so much) clem decides to look out for him regardless, because theyre all each other has. hed die without her. and she needs something to fight for, to remind her that theres still good out there, because the toll this world has taken on her only continues to rise. they need each other equally. in a normal world they could have just been normal siblings. but in this one? shes ajs everything. and hes hers. and we can see All of that without characters telling clem what a "natural mother" she is 😒

#i usually HAAAAATE HATE hate hate when female characters are turned into 'mothers'#but in clems case her becoming ajs guardian works narratively as it mimics her relationship to lee and how he took care of her #lees influence on clem leading her to want to do the same for someone else because she personally knows how important it is #it works well as an overarching theme and it does it without reducing her down to just a 'mom' character #i like in s4 that they add more guardian pairs to the cast #vi and tenn/minnie and tenn. mitch and willy. comparing them to each other and to clem and ajs relationship is fun and interesting #twdg #incognito #replies with lexi

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runnning-outof-time · 2 years

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Birmingham | Tommy Shelby x Reader (Part 5)

Previous Part

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x reader

Summary: (Y/N) comes into contact with her family and then stumbles upon some of the Shelbys' business. Later on, Matthew receives a new title, and Tommy's got a choice to make.

Warnings: language, smoking

Word Count: 3501

A/N: things seem to be heating up now. Also, if you see any similarities to my other, finished series, To Be Alone…no, you don’t. I promise this will be different…trust me. Enjoy! :)

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in this series!

(Y/N) was starting to get impatient as the sound of the ringing tone continued in her ear. She wondered if the person she was trying to reach would even bother picking up. Why would she? she thought to herself, I only decided to leave without telling anyone where I was going. After the fourth ring, the call picked up. "Hello?" she quickly asked, wanting to kick herself for how desperate she sounded.

"(Y/N)?" the woman on the other line answered with shock evident in her voice. "(Y/N), is that you?"

"Yes, mum, it's me," (Y/N) responded, smiling as a sigh of relief escaped her lips. She'd been wanting to hear her mother's voice for so long.

"Oh, hunny, where have you gone off to?" her mother asked.

"I...I can't quite say," she was hesitant to give information for fear of who may be listening to the call. The call could be being monitored, or her brothers could have been present with her.

"Are you safe?" was the next question, and now her mother's voice had more worry laced into it.

"I am," (Y/N) answered the question definitively. There was no doubt in her mind that she was safe where she was now. "How is everything there?" she asked a question before her mother could get another in.

"Everything's fine. Clay's still bent up on where you disappeared to. Garrett's gotten past it, but Clay pulls him back in. Your father's also worried about where you've gone. I'll make sure to tell him that you're safe," she gave (Y/N) a run down on the family.

"And Mel?" (Y/N) made sure to ask once she realized that Clay's wife, and really the only other person in (Y/N)'s family that was friendly besides her mother, wasn't mentioned.

"Melanie's fine as well."

"Did she have the baby?" (Y/N) asked.

"She did," her mother informed her, "a baby girl." (Y/N) smiled at the news at first, but then her smile faltered slightly when she realized that her newborn niece's future would most likely turn out to be like hers...unless Clay had a son to pass his legacy onto.

"That's good to hear...what did she decide on for the name?"

"Marie. Like she said she was going to go with." There was an evident tinge of displeasure in her mother's voice, probably because Melanie had prevailed with what she wanted to name the child. Her mother felt that there were too many 'Maries' in this world already.

"Ah, ok," (Y/N) decided not to comment on her mother’s vocal tone, "I'm sure she's beautiful," she added, a smile playing on her lips once more.

"She's a darling," her mother agreed, "you'll have to come home and see her," she tried then.

(Y/N) hesitated before answering. "I can't, mum. I...I'll write to you," she assured her, hoping that the older woman would settle for her desired form of continued communication, "we can keep in touch that way."

"I'll settle for that," her mother agreed, the slight tinge of disappointment in her voice not going unnoticed by her daughter.

"I have to go now," (Y/N) decided against commenting further on the topic, instead choosing to wrap up the conversation.

"Ok, (Y/N). Please stay safe," her mother stressed, her care towards her daughter evident in her voice. Now if only her entire family felt the same way about her.

"I will, mum. I love you. Bye," (Y/N) said her final words.

"I love you," her mother echoed the sentiment before the call ended.

With a sigh, (Y/N) hung up the receiver and exited the booth. She then met up with Matthew, who was leaning against the closest building, and began her walk to the Garrison.

—

"Perhaps we should listen to what Mr. Shelby has to say...before we make our decisions," (Y/N) heard a man say as she entered the Garrison.

The scene that presented itself the second she walked through the door left her surprised. She didn't expect to come into a room full of men sitting around a table. She’d been asked to come in that night to help with stocking and arranging the books for Arthur. Seeing these men made the hair on the back of her neck stand. She hated the feeling of all the eyes being on her.

"(Y/N)," the sound of someone calling her name made her fall back onto the group in front of her. It was Tommy who was talking. "(Y/N), go to the back," he told her, the tone of his voice serious.

"O...ok, Mr. Shelby," (Y/N) quickly responded before she dropped her head from the strangers' gazes and walked around the group to head to the back of the Garrison.

"Who's that lovely bird?" she heard one of the unfamiliar men ask after she walked past, "ain't she a sight for sore eyes in this shithole of a town," he added, a grin evident in his voice as there was a chorus of agreements and chuckles from his men.

Before (Y/N) was able to turn and face the man who'd just said that about her, Tommy spoke up: "who she is isn't of importance to you. She's not why you came here," he said in the same serious tone as before.

"She's why I'd like to stay here," the man quipped, his sleazy comment making her skin crawl.

"Mr. Kimber," Tommy's voice was steely, his distaste for the topic evident. "Let me explain to you why this would benefit the both of us," he then moved the conversation back to what they were previously discussing.

(Y/N) continued to the backroom, where she found some boxes that needed to be unpacked. She decided that she would work on emptying them before going into the office to work on the books.

It only took her a short amount of time to get everything in the boxes stored away in their designated spots. She made her way down the hall to the office, straining her ears to try and hear what was going on in the main bar area but there was only silence in response. After sitting behind the desk, she pulled out and opened the books so that she could get started with the ledgers. It still felt a bit weird sitting in her boss' desk, but she was told by Arthur that she could, and she didn't necessarily want to be balancing the books on the floor.

Zoning in, she began working on making sure the ledgers looked correct and that the math was done properly. She was so focused that she didn't hear the person coming down the hall until they were standing in the office's doorway. "What're you doing in here?"

Tommy's voice made (Y/N) look up, and once she did, she stared at him with a slightly gaped mouth. She knew she had permission to be in the room, but the tone of his voice made her seem like she was trespassing. "I...Arthur told me that I could work here when I'm balancing the books," she told him, trying to retain her confidence under the rather intense gaze he was sending her. She'd been subject to a great deal of similar gazes from her brothers in the past, but being under this one felt entirely different.

"You're working on the books now?" Tommy questioned as he brought a cigarette to his lips, "I thought Grace was in charge of that."

"She is," (Y/N) answered him before elaborating, "Arthur's not good at any parts of the bookkeeping, so he's asked me to make sure that the math was done properly."

"Fucking hell," Tommy sighed as he dropped his gaze to the floor, "what use is he here then?" he muttered, more to himself than anything.

"He's good with making sure the customers are in line," (Y/N) stated, giving her other boss the benefit of the doubt. Tommy snorted at her statement, shaking his head slightly as he looked over at (Y/N) again. She was able to see the slightest hint of a smile on his lips, so she added another statement, "and he certainly makes sure that we only sell the best types of alcohol here...tastes all of it himself to make sure."

"Surprised he leaves any for the patrons," he quipped in response, his statement making (Y/N) laugh softly. He cleared his throat then before taking another drag from his cigarette. "I'm sorry you had to walk into that meeting out there," he said as he stepped further into the office. He moved over to the desk and stamped out the spent cigarette in the ashtray before he took a seat on one of the wooden chairs across from (Y/N).

"It's alright, Mr. Shelby," (Y/N) brushed his apology off as she went back to balancing the books, feeling rather comfortable with Tommy sitting across from her. "You addressed him as Mr. Kimber...was that the Billy Kimber?" she decided to ask, her curiosity getting the best of her. When Tommy didn't answer right away, she looked up from the book with furrowed eyebrows. "What?" she asked, recognizing the confusion on his features.

"You know of Billy Kimber?" he asked her, voicing his shock at the situation.

"Yeah," (Y/N) nodded, "my brothers tried to get in with him when they made a run in London. He didn't want to bother with some boys from Sheffield who had a distaste for playing by the rules," she shared the reason behind her knowledge.

"So he won't bother with me?" he asked, his one brow quirked.

"You're wanting to work with him?" now it was (Y/N)'s turn to be shocked. She couldn't understand why he'd want to do such a thing. He seemed so secure here in Small Heath. He had power over its people and was able to command respect; what more was needed?

"Something like that," Tommy shrugged.

"Play your cards right and he may let you," she told him, her statement making Tommy nod.

"I'll let you get back to your work," he said as he stood from the chair and walked to the door of the office.

"Mr. Shelby," (Y/N) called out before he was able to completely leave. Her voice made Tommy turn around and send her a look that let her know she could continue. "Do you know what you're doing? Toying around with Kimber and his men?" she asked, concern seeping into her words. Billy Kimber wasn't a man to be messed with.

"I do," he simply responded, slightly nodding his head to the side before he turned once more and exited the office. (Y/N) watched him leave, her brain still trying to connect the reasoning behind this move that Tommy was attempting. With a sigh, she chalked it up to something she shouldn't be worrying about at that moment and got back to work.

——

"Matthew?" (Y/N) questioned after she opened the door to her apartment and was met with him standing on the opposite side. "I'm not working today."

"I know," Matthew answered with a smile. "I wanted to ask you if you'd like to come out and spend the day with me?"

"In the park?" (Y/N) asked, her ears perking up when she heard his suggestion.

They'd been going to a place they deemed to be 'their spot' at the park on days where it'd still be sunny after her shift at the Garrison. There, they'd talk about a plethora of things, from their past to their ambitions...Matthew wanted something more than just being stuck in Small Heath. He found being with the Shelbys worked at the moment, but he wanted to springboard into the world of business and betting for himself and felt that this could possibly be one way to do so. (Y/N) had not much of a clue what she wanted to do. She was content here in Small Heath...she was content with working at the Garrison. Maybe that was because she knew that the life she had now surpassed anything she could have had back in Sheffield.

"Of course," Matthew grinned, his answer making her smile widen before she waved him into her apartment.

"Let me get changed," she said as she quickly made her way to the bedroom door.

"You look beautiful as is," he called after her, his words making her cheeks heat up.

"I'll change anyway," she brushed his compliment off as she worked on changing out of her simple house dress and into something more worthy of being seen wearing out in public.

Matthew's grin grew as she came back to the main room. (Y/N) looked away from him as her cheeks heated up again, not wanting him to see how she was reacting to him. "Ready to go?" he asked her then.

"Yes," (Y/N) responded with a slight nod as she composed herself enough to look over at him again. Matthew nodded before fixing his peaked cap so that it sat properly on his head. He then nodded to the door, allowing (Y/N) to take the lead before he followed in step with her.

—

There were people at the park but it wasn't too crowded, most likely because it was a bit overcast today compared to what it's been the past few weeks. (Y/N) and Matthew were relaxing up against one of the big tree trunks in the park. They were passing their time by talking about things they'd been doing. (Y/N) was especially excited to tell him about a lovely bakery that she'd found while she was out with Ada the other day.

"Did you have a special reason behind wanting to come here, Matthew?" (Y/N) asked when their conversation about local pastry places ended.

"I can't just ask you to come out and spend time with me?" Matthew responded, feigning shock and hurt as he brought his hand to his chest in a dramatic gesture.

"You can," she brushed his dramatics off before continuing, "today just seems special for some reason. I was wondering if you had something planned."

Matthew's grin grew just slightly as his eyes found (Y/N)'s. With a slight chuckle, he answered her, "I do actually have something special planned out," he told her.

"See! I knew it!" (Y/N) exclaimed in victory.

"I think I've finally worked up the nerve to tell you how I feel about you, (Y/N)," he admitted, making her victory cheers go quiet as she calmed down and looked at him.

"You what?" she asked for him to repeat himself, wondering if she'd heard him correctly.

"I want to tell you how I feel about you, (Y/N)..." he answered her question before he took a deep breath and swallowed his fears. "I wanted to tell you that over these weeks, I've been thinking about you a lot...about how kind you are, how driven you are, how you seem to light up at the smallest things. It's made me realize that I think I've fallen for you."

"Matthew..." (Y/N) trailed off when he finished his declaration, unsure of what to say. Her mind was going at a mile a minute and her stomach was now filled with butterflies.

"And I don't want to jump in and ask you to be my girlfriend right away, because that would be improper of me to do out of the blue. But just know that I have my eyes on nobody but you, (Y/N)," he continued, his smile growing as he spoke.

"This is crazy, Matthew," (Y/N) tried her best to articulate her thoughts. "I...I can't believe you've just said those things."

"Can't believe it in a good way or a bad way?" Matthew checked, starting to worry about the outcome this would have.

"In the best way," (Y/N) quelled his fears in four words. Her answer made him chuckle as the smile returned to his face. "You're the first person here that really worked hard to get to know me. You're sweet, you're funny, you care...and you're rather attractive, which certainly helps your case," she admitted, her statement at the end making both of them laugh. "I'd like to take that next step; to be exclusively with you," she told him then.

"That's such a great thing to hear," he stated, breathing a sigh of relief as his smile grew, "I will properly ask you to be my girlfriend when the time is right. For now, I wanted you to know how I feel for you and about you." (Y/N) only smiled in response as he moved ever so slightly closer to her. She felt her heartbeat pick up at his proximity. “Now that I’ve said that…may I kiss you, (Y/N)?” he asked her then, his voice dropping to just above a whisper.

(Y/N) bit on her lip out of anticipation before she nodded her head, unable to contain her smile. Matthew accepted her answer and leaned in, pressing his lips to hers in a soft kiss. (Y/N)’s hand went into his hair in her attempts to get closer to him, and his hand dropped to her waist to keep her steady.

They pulled away moments later, breathless as their smiles grew. “That was nice,” (Y/N) stated as she tried her hardest to not act like a little school girl.

“Very nice,” Matthew agreed as he laughed breathlessly.

——

Tommy was stuck with a tough decision. The Cheltenham Derby was fastly approaching and he needed to bring someone along with him to make sure that his plans were actualized. More specifically, this someone needed to be a woman who would be coming along as his date.

It was common for men to have a woman on their arm at these events, especially if they were going into the suites. For this to work, for him to get into the suites, he’d need a woman who looked regal and held herself with class. Two women came to his mind when he laid out these criteria.

There was Grace. Grace would look good on his arm. He was sure that she would be able to pull off an upper class look when wearing something other than her ratted barmaid’s uniform. He’d be lying if he said that he didn’t find her attractive…she looked so unusual and stood out in a sea full of dirty men in a dark pub. She’d be a quick and simple choice of a woman to have on his arm.

But then their was (Y/N). He couldn’t get (Y/N) off of his mind since their conversation a week ago. (Y/N) would also look good on his arm, very good actually, and she had something that he felt Grace lacked. Not only was she beautiful, a ‘sight for sore eyes’ as Kimber put it, but she had knowledge that only she could bring to the table. Sure, Grace was bright, but Tommy was sure that her expertise stopped at dealing with numbers and carrying out the tasks of a barmaid.

(Y/N) knew of Kimber…her brothers had already tried to make a deal with him. If she remembered any bits of the attempt they’d made, she could lend them to him and make sure that he didn’t make the same mistakes. She could make his go at this powerful business man perfect.

Grace came back into his mind then. She’d be a big help in getting him into the situation, getting Kimber’s attention, and would most likely do so without much ask. Given (Y/N)’s history with the man he was trying to make a move on, this might be what would make a difference.

Letting out a sigh before taking a drag from his cigarette, Tommy tried to consider all possibilities. He tried to place the odds on paper so that he could see how they were stacked against each other. In the end, the decision was close. One particular thing outweighed the other in his mind, he just hoped that it would truly help his case like he thought it would.

Both of the women were in the Garrison today. This didn’t necessarily help in making his decision, but it certainly would help him in asking them. The derby was fastly approaching…he wanted to ask the woman he chose as soon as possible so that she’d have enough time to get herself a dress she’d feel comfortable in…if she agreed to join him that is.

Settled on his choice, Tommy stamped out his cigarette in the ashtray and stood from the desk. He left the back office in search of the woman he’d be bringing to the derby with him and hoped that she’d agree to it.

Next Part

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