#third: EYE SPY THE ENGAGEMENT RING

[raainberry]

Last Waltz

« A last dance refers to the final opportunity for someone to engage in or enjoy an experience before it ends. »

Spy!Yeji x Vigilente!reader

Angst

synopsis - you and yeji’s ambiguous rivalry gets tangled in a last waltz

wordcount - 1.9K

T/W - Violence (?), Blood (mentions), Death (allusion but not really)

A/N - In celebration of Itzy’s latest banger and Yeji’s solo, may I present to you my latest piece of work that i finished half an hour ago but started two weeks ago. I did not mean for it to be as dark but alas, the voices. Too late Enjoy!

You squinted your eyes as you looked through the glass ceiling.

It was hard to focus when your own reflection kept getting in the way, staring back at you within such an obscure silhouette.

You struggled to see past it at times, but the changes you witnessed were necessary. You needed to become someone else to take on such a mission.

Cold blood was the most difficult trait you had to develop, you hated feeling it running through your veins. It’s been years now, and you knew it would never go back to the way once was, back to normal: warm and senseless.

Now it seems as though it could only run in two extremes.

Ice cold, when facing the enemy. Whoever it was, you couldn’t bring yourseld to care. Getting them out of the way is all that matters.

Burning hot was a rare one. Losing your cool was something you forbid to yourself, or else you’d be as good as dead. It only happened twice, and twice you escaped death by what you could only take as pity.

If her tongue held itself back, her eyes made sure to let you know.

She could have easily killed you both times.

Third time’s a charm?

You wondered as you reminisced about Yeji’s figure the last time you’d crossed paths. She seemed so flawless from afar. The way her dress fit her body, an accomplice in the act she put on around all those unlawful citizens…

Both of you had a past, one that lead to very different paths until they became one in this hunt of evil.

The chase brought you together, got you close enough to dance around danger and betrayal for far too long.

As far as you “knew”, she was part of that ring, attached to that man’s arm like candy he waved around to subdue whoever he needed.

You couldn’t blame anyone involved, she was stunning. Strikingly gorgeous in both literal and figurative sense.

She wasn’t your target. She never was, but it seemed as though she decided to be. You always ended up fighting her instead of her boyfriend.

A too powerful ring leader, one that caused harm on a much bigger scale than any criminal should be able to.

You couldn’t help but wonder how she’d landed by his side.

Such talent. Such beauty. It was almost too pure of a stain in the midst of all this filth.

To some extent, it felt wrong to feel bad for her. You certainly regretted it when it caused you to lower your guard the first time. When you let that sweet, tempting smile lure you to the harmful consequences of a brainless heart.

Waking up in need of stitches to several spots on your face didn’t prevent you from lowering it again a second time, weeks ago. She’d become too familiar. You’d gotten too comfortable. The bathroom of an underground Gala would have become the stage to your public execution if it weren’t for the public itself.

“Get in my way again, I’ll take you out of it for good.” You remember hearing.

Her voice was distorted, taken over by the ringing in your ear as the cold tiles beneath kept you conscious.

The sound of her heels against them as she left… It was identical to the one that had followed you into this third meeting.

A once cold and deserted hotel in which heat and chaos had emerged as you made sure to take everything out of your way…

It was obvious there was no one to care for what was within these walls in years.

The curtains danced in the wind welcomed by the missing bay windows as you slowly walked alongside them. Each step offered a new view, new information to take in.

The moon highlighted the dust on the ground, various trash items undoubtedly accumulated by some brave and rowdy teenagers. You made sure not to kick any of it, mindful of your surroundings.

The dim emergency lighting made it difficult to assess them, but you remained focused. Broken chandeliers glimmered, fighting for your attention along with the detailed marble floors.

The design was sophisticated. A perfect, oddly beautiful ambush spot you’d willingly stepped right into.

All because of her.

The air suddenly felt cold on your face, allowing it to breathe after so long in that mask you proudly wore for years now.

It felt good. If only your lungs were allowed the same breath as the skin on your bruised cheeks.

You choked up, feeling a fifth punch landing on your jaw. Not that you kept count, you couldn’t even tell how many of your own fingers if you were to hold some of them up.

That girl could fight. She’d rightfully earned her title in your books, all you cared about at the moment was to make it out alive.

Not because you had to live, rather because you couldn’t give her the pleasure of seeing you surrender to her blows.

That kind of pleasure she only could relish from pride. It made your blood boil.

If you could just get everything to stop spinning… Maybe you could try to bruise that ego of hers.

“I have to say, Y/N, you got me used to better.” You heard her say. Her voice was distorted again. Almost unfamiliar if it weren’t for the echo in your mind. “Get yourself together.”

Her foot found your stomach, making you aware of how low you’d fallen. That last hit had sent you to the ground, and the kick only made you sink further into it.

The marble felt as good as it looked earlier; cold to the touch and so relieving to your burning, wounded skin, but the feeling startled you.

You couldn’t give up. Not against her.

So you listened to her, pushing yourself up to your knees, and sitting back on your heels. You were thankful she allowed it, but wondered what she had in mind.

Her eyes were darker than you remembered. They looked so pretty just a few weeks ago, you couldn’t blame yourself for falling for them.

“So much for not showing me mercy, Yeji.” A broken smile pulled on your lips in an attempt to taunt her.

Months of rivalry. You knew her patience ran as thin as a strand of her own hair.

“The spy I know would have broken my back already.”

The moonlight betrayed her cold features, shedding light on the way your words managed to get to her.

It was for a split second, but you caught that eye twitch. It filled your worn out body with hope. You still had a chance.

“Spy…?” She repeated, out of breath.

You knew this whole time? Or had you figured it out? If so, how? When?

She’s been undercover so many times before. This wasn’t her toughest job, but you sure made it difficult. As if getting in her way wasn’t enough, you’d now just revealed yourself to be a genuine threat to her mission.

In her eyes, it was a permission to kill.

“Get up.” She ordered through her teeth.

The weak chuckle you gave in response only riled her up. She didn’t know what was with you, but something made her want to push not only you but herself as well to your absolute limits.

Some vigilente popping out of nowhere, sabotaging plans she’d spend days on, ruining a reputation she spent years building within her division—she could never let you get away unscathed.

Much less alive now that you’d blown her cover.

Though, if this was the last time she’d fight you, she had to make the fun last.

She reached for the collar of the rough tactical gear you mainly wore to look the part, furrowing her eybrows at the feeling of the fabric.

She hated the sight of it. It was as though you were mocking her silently, replicating and treating her uniform as a mere costume.

Your body suddenly rose closer to her, her pull strong enough to hold it there as she stared right into your eyes.

“Fight me.”

If that last laugh of yours hadn’t used up most of your remaining strength, you’d have done it again.

Was she begging? It sure sounded like it. What you were sure of was she certainly intended for her words to come out as an order.

Unfortunately, her voice betrayed her the same way her eyes had.

“I know you’re doing this on purpose.”

You smiled. She knew you so well.

You’d caught enough of your breath to retaliate, grabbing her waist and leg in order to pull her to the ground.

She barely had time to blink that her back hit the floor, the latter knocking the wind out of her lungs. The bit of air she managed to gasp for was soon trapped when your arm found her throat.

You made sure to look into her eyes as you applied just enough pressure to make her panic. You wanted to see it; her desperation to stay alive.

It showed she was human too, despite seemingly doing her best to hide it for that character of hers.

“All I’m asking for…” You panted, “Is you get out of my way.”

Taking that ring leader down was another job her boss had assigned to her.

You… You’d assigned it to yourself the day his power spread enough to reach your family.

She always got the job done, and she was set on completing this one too, going so far as going undercover and infiltrating the ranks as the leader’s girlfriend.

Unfortunately for her plans, you promised to yourself that man would be ruined beyond one could imagine by your hands.

“I was looking forward to this.” She managed to croak out.

She struggling as much as you were, but her words made you lessen the pressure on her throat as they made you realize something.

So were you.

Your eyes were defiant against hers, yet no pity in sight. The blood felt cold in your veins, despite her ever so provocative smile.

A soft chuckle left your lips in disbelief. You finally managed to overpower her.

Yeji fought to even get a couple breaths in, but she wouldn’t be caught wasting a single second to overthrow her opponent. She exploited that second of vulnerability your own body displayed against your will.

Another blink, and her hands shoved you away from her before her boots launched you back to the ground.

It was a last effort kind of move on her part, although not in the desperate way you might think. She was set on putting an end to this rivalry tonight, and nothing could stop her.

This was the last effort she’d put into this side quest. Her last attempt at getting you out of the way for good. It had to be.

She dragged herself up, making sure to look down at you as she walked to your side, priding herself at how weak she’d rendered you.

The glow in her eyes was entrancing. The longer you looked into them, the more you confused the weak fluorescent light it came from as sympathy.

“I told you to get out of my way…” She taunted from above.

You could only stare at her, following her hypnotizing figure as she lowered a knee to the ground. You would have loved to look at her a little longer before your eyes fluttered shut under her touch.

It was light as a feather. Her fingers were so delicate all of a sudden, it almost erased the blood she’d spilled from your veins.

“Why didn’t you listen?” She whispered.

She could draw a small shape with the amount of it on your face that night.

Maybe it was the fruit of your imagination. A last attempt at hope from your weakened brain as it fought to stay afloat.

You swore you she’d drawn a heart before plunging it under the surface.

[holocene-sims]

next // previous

may 25, 2021 7:30 p.m. grant's house

watching television lost its glimmer hardly half an hour after grant stressed himself out again by checking his phone, so he escapes his mental prison by doing what he should have done in the first place. he braves whatever fears he still has and heads upstairs to play skyrim like he intended. so what if he does run into päivi later on?

skyrim more fun than brooding all afternoon and he’s quickly sucked into the game again with no external thoughts even crossing his mind until hunger brings him back to consciousness. he exits the game, realizes it’s well after 7 o’clock, and leaves to fetch something from the kitchen.

he never heard the creak of the front door, but there’s no doubt päivi is back from work by now. grant spies her shoes by the door and her leather bag hangs in its place on the coat rack. when he goes to open the refrigerator, he can’t help but notice her car keys and a magazine or something of the sort laying on the counter.

without thinking, grant abandons his search for sustenance and picks up the paper item.

he looks for only a moment before the paper morphs into a hot potato and he discards it in a hurry, putting it back under her car keys where it belongs.

planned parenthood.

it was a planned parenthood pamphlet.

not that he’s surprised, of course, or against the purpose of the pamphlet. he knows why she’d have it.

but still.

grant turns his back to it and awkwardly opens the fridge from the side, refusing to acknowledge his mistake of rifling through päivi’s things.

he ends up reheating another serving of the homemade macaroni and cheese his grandmother sent him back with. he saved it for last, and sure, he’s eaten in three days in a row, but he could never get sick of eating it. plus he decides not to banish himself to the basement. no matter what, he will walk back into the office, sit down, and eat his dinner in peace. he bought the house with his own damn money and he’s going to use it.

grant steps out into the living room, food in hand, and–

oh.

päivi is sitting on the couch. just sitting there twiddling her thumbs expectantly.

“you were waiting for me, weren’t you?” grant asks, gripping tighter onto the bowl in his hands until his fingers blanch cold white.

“can i please talk to you for like five minutes?” she pleads.

her tone is remarkably different than it has been every other time he’s spoken to her in the last two weeks. it’s more like the päivi he knows well. soft, gentle, relaxed. and for a moment her demeanor fools him. he almost abandons his plans to instead join her on the couch for a conversation, but no, he stands his ground. grant remains firm where he is and stares straight ahead at her, saying nothing.

“okay, fine.” she purses her lips, frowning. “i get it. i, um...i thought maybe...i don’t know, we’ve been together for a long time. i thought it’s only fair we settle affairs.”

“what affairs? like the one you had?”

she plays the silent game, too, for a while. päivi stares back at him, waiting until he cracks, though he never does.

but the tension in the room is shattered by an ear-splitting crash of thunder and the rattle of the house as the energy flows through it.

“never mind.” päivi waves him off with a flick of her wrist and a callous eye-roll. “anyway, you’ll be glad to know i'll be out of here in a couple weeks. i have some, um, things to take care of first, but don’t worry about it. i'll have my shit out of here before you even know it.”

grant sighs. “good.”

he vanishes and shuts himself away in the office, though the immediate sound of päivi’s crying as he closes the door is enough to steal his appetite and replace it with churning nausea. grant sits there at the desk for a few minutes stirring his food with a spoon idly, not eating a bite.

it’s over. he knows it is. he came to that conclusion days ago. nothing could or should salvage this. but maybe he could have been nicer. he could have heard her out that time. she had been palatable. she could have meant well this time.

grant anxiously shrugs off the thoughts as a chill runs down his spine. his hand quivering, he finally takes a bite of food. a second later, the bedroom door across the hall slams shut.

[togrowoldinv]

The Godmother

Natasha Romanoff x Female Reader

You and Natasha ask Maria an important question

Note: This fic is a result of a head canon I have for my soft mama Nat family. There needs to be more Maria Hill softness in this world tbh. Enjoy!

Natasha Romanoff Masterlist 1, Natasha Romanoff Masterlist 2, Main Masterlist

Natasha sits on a bench with one of her best friends as she watches her two children run around the playground. She smiles as they help each other scale the ladder and go down the slide happily.

“This is nice,” Maria breaks the silence.

“Yeah? I wasn’t sure if you’d want to come. Y/n was insistent that you would like a day outside of the compound though,” Nat explains.

“I do have to say an invite to the playground was an interesting call from you,” Maria says. Her smile is soft as she too watches the kids play together. “And we’ve had many interesting calls.”

Natasha chuckles and takes a sip of her coffee. It’s a cool morning, but warm enough for a park trip for the first time in a while.

“So, what’s the real reason you asked me here?” Maria skips to the chase.

She, a great soldier and spy herself, can see the way Natasha’s hand fiddles with her wedding ring. A clear sign she has something to ask, but is being careful as to when to say it.

“Can’t get anything past you, Hill. What gave me away?”

“The ring.”

“Damn. I told y/n I needed to wear it on my necklace today,” Natasha says. She’s not upset that Maria read her tell. Maybe she even wanted her to notice it.

“So, what’s up?”

“There’s something I need to ask you. And it’s okay if you need some time to think about it, or even if you say no,” Natasha begins.

She’s nervous but as soon as she sees the subtle glance Maria makes towards the children when she hears a shout, she feels better about what she’s about to ask.

“Y/n and I have been talking and we want to ask you to be the godmother to Ali and Ivan.”

Maria blinks hard once, twice, and a third time. She looks over Natasha’s face and sees no inkling that she isn’t being serious.

“Oh, I- me?” She can’t find the right words. Maria never saw herself as the type to be a godmother. Her own insecurities start to flood her mind.

“Yeah, you. We just think that- Maria?” Nat calls after her as Maria excuses herself to the car.

She walks quickly, cursing herself internally for not just saying yes or that she’d think about it. As she gets in the car, she sits and watches on as Nat gets up to play with the kids.

Natasha panics in her own right and texts you to come to the park. You are working from home, but immediately leave your files behind and drive to the park.

“What happened?” You ask as soon as Nat and the kids are in ear shot.

“She just panicked when I asked her. Maybe I did something wrong, I don’t know. She’s in the car over there,” Nat explains. You catch sight of Maria.

“I’ll go and talk to her. It’s okay, baby. You did everything right,” you assure Nat with a hug and kiss to her lips.

As you approach the car, Maria takes a deep breath. You open the door and slide into the passenger seat.

“Hey,” you greet her, trying to be casual. In reality, Maria intimidates you with how calm and collected she always is during missions.

She only greets you with a soft smile. You can feel her nerves floating through the air.

“You see how Ali always keeps her eyes on her brother when they’re up high?” You think maybe if you steer the conversation in this direction then you can get through to her.

“Yeah. She’s a good protector,” Maria says. She can’t help but grin at the sight of the little girl.

“She is. She gets that from Natasha. You know she never thought she would be capable of being the mom she is, but she’s the best part of these kids’ lives,” you explain. Maria squirms in her seat a little. “And you’ve always been so supportive of me and Natasha.”

“Well it’s not hard. You two are great together.”

“Did you think that when you interrogated me when we got engaged?” You ask. You’re almost serious, but there’s a slight humor in your tone.

“I just wanted to make sure you were legit,” Maria remarks.

“So if I’m legit, then don’t you think that me and Nat thought about this a lot?” You poke at the real issue at hand.

She finally looks at you and she can’t help but soften at the way you’re looking at her. Maria takes note of your body language. Your shoulders are open to her and your hands rest on the center console. You’re not closed off in the slightest.

“I guess I’m just shocked,” Maria offers. “I don’t see myself as the type to be worthy of this sort of honor or responsibility.”

“Maria, I’ll be honest, you scare the absolute hell out of me. But it’s because you’re such a strong and capable woman. I can think of no one better to be the godmother to my children.”

Maria takes a deep breath and looks your expression over. She ponders your words and comes to a conclusion. “This was your idea?”

You nod affirmatively. Maria doesn’t say anything but she opens the car door and steps out. You follow her towards the children and Natasha. They are sitting on a bench as Nat gives them snacks.

“Hi Maria!” Ali sweetly greets the woman.

“Hey kiddo,” she replies. Then, she turns to you and Nat. “Can I talk to you two?”

You nod and take a few steps away from the kids, but are sure to keep them in sight and ear shot.

“I’ve got to admit it scares me, but I’d be honored to be their godmother,” Maria says. The words come out fast like she’s still a little scared to say them.

“Thank you so much, Maria. We’re so happy,” Natasha says. She smiles as she pulls Maria into a hug.

You watch them before Nat pulls you into the hug as well.

“I want a hug!” Your son, Ivan, runs in to join the group hug. Perfectly, he pulls on Maria’s hand and she lifts him up into the hug. Ali joins in too in Natasha’s arms.

“I love all of you,” Nat tells the group.

“We love you, babe,” you reply.

The kids mutter I love yous before running off to play once again. You sit on a bench with Maria and Nat.

And just as the first time she met Natasha, Maria feels like she has a family.

Tag List: @gracebutnotgraceful @i-wished-for-you-too @wandasbb @be-missed @likefirenrain @hehehehannahthings @mythosphere-x @readings-stuff @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @madamevirgo @milfloverslut @mrswidowjohansson @alotofpockets @ggrangerdanger @maia-lightwoood @xxromanoffxx @peanutbutterprincess @karmasgxrl @picnicmic @wandaslittlewhore @exhaustedfangirl @when-wolves-howl @natashalovers @sammi1642 @jujuu23 @the-night-owl-blr @strangegardentaco @avatarsnips @romanoffswoman @natashasilverfox @imthenatynat @sayah13 @rach2602 @cordyandbilliehavemyheart @lovelyy-moonlight @huitzilinthebudgie3 @juicyy444 @youralphawolf72 @btay3115 @red1culous @lenam07 @randomwriter1021 @rightwereyouleftme @natismywife @dumb-fawkin-bitch @natashaswife4125 @karsonromanoff @bookfrog242 @theprinceofmarvel

[iliveiloveiwrite]

The Rain || Colin Bridgerton

Request: Heyy! Could I request a Colin Bridgerton fic please? Maybe one where he proposes to the reader and then later their wedding? - anon

a/n: thank you so much for your request, and I am so so sorry for the wait.

warnings: bad weather, fluff, cute, established relationship, wedding, marriage, proposals, engagements, churches but no strict mention of religion.

word count: 1.2k

bridgerton masterlist | fandoms masterlist

Not a single person expected the rain; the paper had promised clear skies, and the way the sun shone in the sky all suggested that the day would remain perfect. No-one expected the rain, least of all Colin.

The first drop landed in his hair, startling him slightly but nothing he remained focused on as he reached for your hand across the red gingham blanket. The second drop landed on the back of his hand; it quickly turned to a third drop then a fourth and before long, the blanket was thrown over the both of you in an effort to keep the both of you dry.

Neither of you get very far; abandoning the blanket and accepting your fates as you pull Colin to a nearby bench. “This isn’t how I pictured today going,” Colin laments, groaning into hands.

A sharp giggle leaves your lips. “Not even Colin Bridgerton can control the weather.”

Colin peeks between his fingers; mirth beginning to shine in his eyes as he takes in the glee written on your face. You had always loved the rain; everything from the sound of it landing on the pavement to the smell of the grass after a rainfall. Colin shakes his head. “I should have realised that rain would be the perfect time to do this.”

“To do what?”

He fumbles for a moment; patting the pockets of his deep green jacket before finding what he needs, what he wants. He takes a moment, a single moment before pulling the ring box from his jacket.

You inhale sharply when you spy the small, red velvet box sitting in his hand. “Colin…”

“I had it all planned perfectly,” He laughs, the blue of his eyes shining brightly with gathering tears. “The only thing I didn’t count on was the weather, but for as long as I have loved you have you loved rain.”

Colin opens the box; the hinges squeaking as he reveals the ring nestled in the fabric. His heart pounds furiously in his chest as he takes in the clear shock written on your face. His eyes search your face, looking for any sign that this could be a bad idea, but all he finds

“Will you marry me?” Colin asks; his voice no louder than a whisper as he lets his emotions get the better of him.

“Yes,” You breathe, hand shaking as you reach for the man you love with your mind, body and soul.

————--

As the day of the wedding grew closer, Colin began checking and double checking the weather. He would read and reread the paper, consult his mother, and beg his eldest brother to check with his fellows at Oxford and Cambridge. He knew you loved the rain, but the last thing Colin wanted for your wedding day was a torrential downpour that could possibly ruin your dress and day.

-----------

Colin gazes up at the clear, blue sky with promise in his eyes. Clouds travel across the sky; the sun shining brightly as if trying to tell Colin that there would be no rain fall today.

“It will be fine, brother,” Anthony promises, clapping his younger brother on his shoulder. “The weather will hold.”

“One can only hope,” Colin states, meeting his brother’s happy gaze.

“Come now,” Anthony whispers, guiding Colin through the doors of the church. “Let’s get you married.”

Colin smiles as his brother guides him down the aisle to where he is to wait for you. On the way, he spies his beloved mother, already dabbing at her eyes with a silk handkerchief. Benedict sits next to her; a proud smile on his face as he whispers something their mother, bolstering words to help her get through the day so she doesn’t feel the absence of their father so keenly.

Anthony leaves Colin there; not without a word of encouragement. Not that Colin needs it; he knew he was going to marry you the moment he saw you at Lady Hoover’s summer masquerade ball.

Colin’s breath catches in his throat the moment he spies you at the end of the church aisle. The organ strikes up, and Colin mentally thanks the volume as no-one can hear the hitch in his breathing as you step closer and closer to the altar.

Taking your hand, Colin whispers, “Good morning.”

A blinding smile crosses your face; unshed tears already lining your eyes. A sniffle, a short laugh. “Good morning,” You whisper, voice breaking on the words.

Turning to face the priest, Colin drops your hand in favour for hooking his pinkie finger with yours. He takes a deep breath and meets the rest of his forever.

He feels as if the wedding flies by; the prayers, hymns, and vows, they almost all blend into one as Colin thinks back on it through the carriage ride back to Bridgerton House. The one thing that stood out was the taste of your kiss: the happiness and love pouring through you into him.

Colin freezes when he hears the first roll of thunder. That first rumble combined with the tell-tale patter of rain on the roof of the carriage has Colin’s heart sinking in his chest even if he sees the wide smile cross yours.

What started as a slow trickle turns faster the moment that carriage rolls to a stop outside Bridgerton House. Colin doesn’t need to be told that the celebratory breakfast has already been moved inside; if he focuses hard enough, he can see Gregory and Hyacinth fighting over their spot at the table in the grand dining room.

The frown remains fixed on Colin’s face as he helps you down from the carriage. He presses a soft kiss to your cheek, trying not to let the disappointment of the weather ruin his mood too much.

“Darling,” You call, pulling Colin to a stop as he marches through the courtyard. “Whatever is the matter?”

“I wanted one day for you,” Colin stresses. “I wanted one day where your special moment wasn’t going to be ruined by the rain.”

“The day hasn’t been ruined, darling,” You reassure, smiling at the dramatics of the man you so desperately love.

“I checked everything. I bought every broadsheet in London, I pestered my mother, I made Anthony call in favours from old school friends. I did all that I could to ensure the weather wasn’t going to turn out like this, and yet…” Colin huffs; his frustration at its highest as he venomously glares at the fat drops of water leaking from the sky.

“You did all that for me?”

Colin nods; turning his gaze to you, at the drops dripping from your hair and soaking your dress, at the mud now staining the hem of your dress. “I know you love the rain,” He murmurs, “But I wanted you to have one day of perfection.”

Your heart thrums in your chest; the golden wedding band sitting on the fourth finger of your left hand now shining with the force of your love for Colin rushing through your body. “I love the rain,” You whisper, reaching for the man you could now call your husband. “I love the rain, but not half as much as I love you.”

******

Bridgerton taglist: @heloisedaphnebrightmore @now-its-time-for-a-breakdown @janelongxox @sexysirius @wallwriterstuff @magicalxdaydream @darkestbeforethedawn16 @gryffindors-weasley @spideysz @iammirrorball @joyfullymulti @nuttytani @freyathehuntress @otterly-fey @odetostep @bo-mitski @pinkcloxds​ @rosie-posie08​ @acaceta​

[write4tomorrow]

Part 3: Meeting Modredus

Pairing: Druig x Reader

Summary: **** (SPOILERS) **** AU where all the remaining Eternals stay on earth. You are a sorcerer like Doctor Strange and have been working as his assistant since Thanos’ downfall. Doctor Strange has been keeping close watch over the Eternals after the Celestial emerged from the ocean.

Genre: Adventure / Fluff

Word Count: 2250

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Epilogue

You understood the plan: go undercover with Druig, convince Modredus that you were a fine arts dealer, play the part of Druig’s fiance, and then get close enough to Modredus to discover if he was an Eternal or not. Sersi assured you that if you felt unsafe or needed to leave, they would be there in a heartbeat. Additionally, if you saw Modredus using powers like an Eternal, you were supposed to leave immediately. Druig would be with you every step of the way if something went wrong.

Unless Modredus separated the two of you, you thought.

Admittedly, that possibility made you nervous. Modredus was rumored to enjoy taking things that weren't his. He had a reputation for going after partners that were already married, engaged, or had been dating for a long time. You told yourself that you could handle him. All you had to do was spy on him. Easy. After all, you were a good spy. You told yourself that over and over: you were a good spy. You reminded yourself that you were not really engaged to Druig and who knows, perhaps Modredus would take an interest in Druig instead.

For the third day in a row, you woke up in a small but ostentatious apartment in Vienna, Austria. The dawn light was starting to shine through a little window by your bed. And - like clock work - you heard pots and pans clanging in the kitchen of your apartment.

As you threw on some clothes, you tried to mentally prepare yourself for day four of living here with that menace, Druig. You slipped your sorcerer’s ring onto your fingers and strapped your powder pouch on your hip before looking at yourself in the lavish floor to ceiling mirror. The stylish clothes you wore definitely seemed like something an art appraiser and connoisseur would wear. It was a far cry from your usual sorcerer’s robes.

“You’re up early today,” Druig said as you walked into the kitchen and dining area.

“I couldn’t sleep,” you mumbled as you took a seat at the kitchen bar. You watched Druig drape a cloth over his shoulder. His back was to you as he worked on something over the stove.

“Besides,” you mumbled, “I was having terrible dreams that I was a princess, stuck with a beast who was cursed to wake up with the sun every. single. morning.” You watched as the muscles in Druig’s arm tensed before he turned to you. He had two cups of coffee in his hands, just like he seemed to have every morning. He liked making coffee and often had enough left for you, too. Expectantly, you held out your hand for your mug.

Druig crossed to the sink and, without breaking eye contact, poured one of the cups of coffee down the drain. His smile only widened as your mouth fell open.

“Coffee can give you nightmares, I hear.” Druig took a sip from his own mug and leaned back against the counter.

“And the nightmare continues,” you hissed as you left your seat to make coffee for yourself. Luckily, Druig was stopped from making another comment as a phone rang. You knew it was Druig’s and you knew who was calling.

Druig picked up the device and answered the call. His phone was unusual and he had explained that Phastos made it for him a few years ago. Series had offered to get him a smart phone like the one she had, but Druig decided to use the device Phastos made. When he answered the call, a 3D hologram appeared above the phone. Sersi and Thena looked back at you and Druig.

“Oh, y/n,” Sersi said with a smile, “you’re up early today.” You rolled your eyes and found Druig smiling at you like a cat with prey. If Sersi wasn’t so nice, you would have thought that the Eternals were making fun of you. Sure, you weren’t normally out of bed when Druig had his daily check in’s with Sersi, but that didn’t mean you slept through the whole day.

“How are Kingo’s actors doing?” Druig asked. The whole point of living with Druig these past few days was to establish yourselves as wealthy underground art collectors that were in town. Kingo’s people were in charge of spreading rumors through Vienna so that Modredus would hear that you were here. He was supposedly looking for an art appraiser after his last appraiser had quit under unknown circumstances.

“Modredus wants to meet with you both,” Thena said in her low voice. Her eyes were on you as she spoke. You took that opportunity to make a mug of instant coffee. You knew it wouldn’t taste as good as the slow roasted coffee that Druig made, but it would be better than nothing.

“From what we can tell, he plans on ambushing you.” Sersi said. You looked at Druig who seemed to be just as concerned as you felt. Sersi continued, “He isn’t going to formally contact you. Instead, he has sent people to follow you around the city. He’ll arrange for an ‘accidental’ meeting to happen.”

“So we need to make ourselves available to him.” You sprinkled some of your defensive powder into your mug of coffee as you spoke. Druig watched as you swirled some of the powder into your drink, and you were once again reminded of a cat watching it’s prey.

“Spend the day looking at art or go on a date,” Thena said as her lips slid into a grin. Before you could say anything, Druig cut you off.

“We’ll think of something,” Druig said before he hung up the phone.

“Remember your cover story!” Sersi warned as Druig closed the device.

"Think you can handle another afternoon married to me?" You sipped your coffee, watching Druig tuck his fancy phone into a pocket. He glanced back at you.

"I'm not the one living in a nightmare, princess," Druig answered. You could feel your temper begin to flare. You put your coffee cup down and strolled over to him.

"Oh please, sweet beast," you said in your most helpless voice, "let me take a walk in the sun."

"Make me," Druig answered. You were surprised by the challenge you found in his eyes but you smiled and moved to push him away. You had to get ready for your "date".

As you placed your hand in the center of Druig's chest to push him away, he grabbed your wrist. He held your hand to his chest, not letting you move. There was no force behind his grip. It was just strong enough to make you freeze in your tracks, fingers gently curling around the fabric of his shirt. The two of you were so close that you could smell the coffee on his breath and you found that you didn't mind the scent.

You stood looking at one another; you fist resting on his chest, his hand resting on your wrist. His eyes seem to push you further, as if telling you to keep going. You only leaned forward, giving him a doe eyed look.

"Your breath smells like coffee," you smiled. Druig let out a surprised laugh and let go of your wrist.

*****

Several hours later, after the sun had risen into a cloudless sky, you and Druig were walking through the streets of Vienna. You had a couple of small clovers tucked into your hair - curtesy of your Merlin ring. During the past few days with Druig, your ring had sprouted several clovers. You plucked each one out and tossed them away, but more always appears sometime later. This afternoon, your ring had produced two and, instead of tossing them away, you tucked them in your hair. Druig seemed to be confused each time your ring made a new one and you delighted in the eye roll he gave you when you started placing them in your hair.

“I used to own a village with little girls that liked to wear flowers in their hair,” Druig said as he saw your ring make a third clover. His voice swayed and his accent seemed to make your toes curl. Strange.

“Good for them,” was all you said as you tucked the new clover behind your ear.

“If we were there, I would have them make a flower crown for you.” Druig watched as you looked down at the sidewalk.

“No sense in killing good flowers for me,” you said, finally looking back up. Druig noticed that you avoided looking at him, though.

You already visited a small gift shop and planned to go to a little culture museum next. You and Druig walked nearly shoulder to shoulder, not quite touching one another.

After the call with Thena and Sersi this morning, you and Druig didn’t talk very much. Instead, the two of you finished your drinks in silence, avoided looking at one another, and tried to prepare for the rest of the day. When was he wasn’t looking, you watched Druig saunter around the shared apartment. You told yourself that you watched him so closely in an attempt to learn more about him. How much noise did he make when he walked? What were his little ticks? Did he have any physical weaknesses?

The spy in you wanted to learn everything you could about him. Still, some part of you was distracted when you watched him too closely. Your mind wandered and you found yourself flustered in those moments. There was work to do. Distractions shouldn’t be tolerated. Yet, you were particularly distracted when the sleeves of his shirt stretched and strained to cover his toned arms. Those arms.

“What are you thinking about,” Druig asked as the two of you stopped at a street corner. While you waited to cross the street, you quickly relaxed your face into a neutral expression. After years of practice, you felt like you had mastered your poker face. You looked over at Druig who stared back, unblinking.

“Nothing,” You shrugged. Druig gave you a half smile.

“You’re blushing,” Druig said with a raised eyebrow. You swatted him away and crossed the street without waiting for him. He quickly caught up to you.

“Tell me what you’re thinking about, little witch.” Druig stood in front of you, forcing you to stop walking and face him. You could tell that this was a game to him. Fine, you could play along.

“Make me,” you said with your sweetest smile. You knew it bothered Druig that he couldn’t get into your head like he could with most humans. Almost as soon as you issued the challenge, you felt the not-so-subtle pulse of a headache in your mind. He’d tried this trick a few times during the past several days, but he had been unsuccessful.

“Hey, wait a minute,” you said as an idea came to you, “can you mind control the other Eternals?” The headache stopped and Druig blinked.

“No,” he said slowly. You smiled then, a simple plan forming in your mind.

“Why don’t you just try to mind control Modredus? If you’re successful, then he’s not an Eternal. If it doesn’t work, then he’s an Eternal!” You were speaking in an excited whisper, practically bouncing on your toes. Druig watched you for a small moment, before nodding.

“Clever witch,” Druig mumbled, but smiled nonetheless. You let out a laugh and felt a mild sense of fatigue set in. Even with your yellow powder, it still took a mental strength to fend off Druig’s powers.

“Can we get something to eat before we go to the museum?” You gently rubbed your forehead and Druig must have realized that he pushed your mental shield too far. Gingerly, he grabbed your arm and pulled you to the nearest cafe while you continued to rub your temples. He guided you into a chair that sat outside of the cafe entrance. You closed your eyes and tried to will the pending fatigue away.

Without warning, Druig cupped your face in one of his hands and forced you to look up at him. When did the sun get so bright? You squinted up into the bluest eyes you’d ever seen. He looked over your face and must have seen something he didn’t like.

“Stay here and I’ll go get a drink for you,” Druig brushed his thumb along your cheekbone before quickly entering the cafe. You looked down and rolled your eyes. Your ring had sprouted two clovers. You plucked them off and slumped back in your chair, eyes closed. There was a warm feeling lingering from Druig’s touch along your cheek.

With your eyes still closed, you heard the chair opposite of you slide along the sidewalk.

“The service here must be amazing if you’re back already-” You froze as you saw a stranger sitting across from you. He had long dark hair that curled into his eyes. His black collared shirt sleeves were rolled back to reveal tattoos along his arms. He flashed a bleach white smile at you.

“Hello gorgeous,” the man purred. You felt adrenaline suddenly running through you, but you forced your face to remain neutral.

“Too stunned to speak? I get it, don’t worry. I have that effect on people. But you, my goodness, tell me your name.”

“My fiance calls me, y/n,” you say sweetly, remembering your cover story with Druig.

“Well, y/n, my lovers call me Modredus,” he replied, smile widening. “Word on the street is you appraise art! I happen to be in need of an art appraiser.”

“Actually, I-” you began but Modredus held up a hand to silence you.

“We don’t need to discuss payment here. Why don’t you come by my hotel tomorrow night? I’m having a gathering there and you and I can come to an agreement there. Hell, you can even bring your fiance.” Modredus reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a small business card with an address and time already written on it.

“It was nice to meet you, gorgeous.” Modredus stood and left the table with a wink. Head pounding and mouth gaping, you watched as Modredus disappeared down the bright, sunny street. You almost didn’t notice your so-called fiance as he returned to your side. Druig sat in the chair that Modredus was just in, two cups of something delicious in his hand.

Wordless, Druig picked up the business card while you took one of the drinks. You popped the lid off the paper cup and sprinkled a little of the yellow powder from your pocket pouch into the liquid. You closed the pouch of powder and tucked it back into your pocket before looking at Druig. He was rubbing the card between two fingers but his eyes were back on you. To your surprise, Druig didn’t ask about Modredus.

“Are you okay?” Druig’s voice was low, but it wasn’t a whisper. There was an edge there you hadn’t heard before and it made you hesitate before answering.

“Yes dear,” you said in character, “I think we have a date tomorrow.” You took a sip of your warm drink and instantly felt better.

Part 4

A/N: Modredus is such a fun character to write! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please let me know what you think. :) @misselsbells06 @caswinchester2000

[dreamwritesimagines]

Burn The Witch 2 - First Impressions [Bucky Barnes x Reader]

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful support and feedback to the first chapter my loves ! ❤ Here’s chapter 2, I hope you like it as well and please let me know what you think! ❤ Thank you! ❤❤❤

Word Count: 2500

Warnings: Mentions of blood, sex, violence, death, manipulation, language.

Summary: First impressions can be wrong.

Chapter 1 

Being a spy for years had taught you to be able to tell whether a mission would be dangerous or not before they even sent you there.

For example, the mission they had put you on three years ago where you had to poison the target in a very crowded ballroom while pretending to be an artifacts expert was a dangerous one.

Or five years ago when you had quite literally brought a dagger into a gun fight in a storage unit, that was also quite dangerous.

But something told you that going after Bucky Barnes would be the most dangerous mission you’d ever had so far, and you weren’t even going to be engaged in a fight.

Instead you were expected to make him fall in love with you, which-

To be honest, engaging in a fight would’ve been much easier.

“This is unacceptable.” Your best friend paced in the empty conference room while you nibbled on the chocolate, keeping your eyes on your phone. “You should’ve said no.”

“I can’t say no, it’s a mission.”

“No, it’s my father treating you like a—like a—“ she threw her hands up, “Honey trap!”

You shrugged your shoulders, scrolling down on the screen but then looked up when she snapped her fingers in front of your eyes.

“Y/N!”

“Chloe if I nail this mission, I’ll get the position I want. I could be a handler next year, do you know how big that is?”

“You need to stop pretending like you’re fine with this.”

“You’re sending me the files tonight right?” you asked, ignoring her huff of impatience and she sat down, crossing her arms.

“Yes,” she said, “Everything there is to know about Bucky Barnes is in there, lots of things you could use. I gathered it myself. His past, his interests back then, what he has been doing since he got here, his favorite porn, his favorite musicians—“

“I’m sorry, what was that last one?”

“His favorite musicians?” she played dumb, grinning and you shifted your weight.

“You wouldn’t do that background check on me, would you?”

Her grin widened as she wiggled her brows, “Just so you know, you’re such a cliché.”

“Jesus Christ.” You slipped a little in your seat, your cheeks burning, “I hate you so much.”

“No you don’t,” she sang and you tried to focus on the screen, but the door to the conference room opened, gathering your attention. Your jaw dropped as soon as you saw the figure stepping inside and you jumped on your feet as Chloe gasped.

“Keith?”

Keith was the third member of your small friend group. He was a field agent just like you were, and for years you, Chloe and Keith had always had each other’s backs, in or outside of missions.

Back at the academy you were inseparable and it had been months since you had last seen him.

“Figured I’d find you two here,” he said, “I just followed the scent of despair.”

“I thought you were still in Prague!” You rushed to hug him and he ruffled your hair before you batted his hand away.

“I was but I got called in at 5 in the morning. General’s orders.”

“It was about time my father did something right.” Chloe came to kiss his cheek, making him grin, “Gosh, it’s so good to have you back!”

“Good to be back, gorgeous,” he lifted her up in a hug before setting her down as she squealed, “I missed you.”

Your jaw dropped when you saw the file in his hand, “Hold on. Is that what I think it is?”

“It could be,” he told you, “That is, if you’ll have me in your mission.”

“The best news I got since I landed.” You pumped your fist in the air “Yes! Yes I do want you in the mission!”

“So then,” he said as he sat beside you and put his feet up on the table while you leaned back, “Is what I heard true?”

“Yes and you need to tell her she’s being ridiculous,” Chloe motioned at you and Keith pursed his lips.

“I just thought we put this whole honey trap thing behind us back in 1950s.”

“Exactly!”

“Guys come on, if Accords pass—screw that, even if they don’t pass, think about how we can use Barnes.”

Keith clicked his tongue, tilting his head.

“Will we use him more than we’re using you right now?” he asked and you rolled your eyes, grabbing the file in his hand.

“Your alias is Whistler this time?”

“Yep,” he nodded, “General says yours is Shrike?”

“Mm hm.”

“Considering what this Barnes mission entails, I’m surprised he didn’t call you Swallow.”

You kicked at his boot and he let out a laugh, holding his hands up.

“What? That was the terminology back in the day for agents seducing people for the mission, wasn’t it? Raven for guys, swallow for girls.”

“Hilarious,” you deadpanned and Chloe sat on the table, still pouting.

“You’re both fine with this then?”

“Chloe, the guy was around in World War 2,” you said patiently, “If I don’t want to sleep with him, I’ll just tell him I’m waiting for marriage, it’s probably not a foreign concept for him, old times and all. Happy?”

She arched a brow, “If you say so,” she said, “But you know there are examples of undercover agents falling for their targets, right? Especially in situations like these.”

Keith chuckled, “Yeah, that’d make a great story for your grandchildren.”

“Except that I wouldn’t get to have those grandchildren because I’d be killed.”

“Don’t say that!”

“Just let me know beforehand if the Winter Soldier decides to make an honest woman out of you,” Keith said and you stuck your tongue out at him.

“Look at you, making jokes.”

“I’m a funny guy, thank you very much,” he said, “So what are we doing tonight?”

“Killing some Hydra scum,” you said, “There’s this gallery opening, apparently evil guys love art nowadays. Who knew?”

“You need a spotter?”

“Sure thing.”

“After you guys are done killing that target, can we hang out?” Chloe asked, “We need to catch up.”

“Only if I get to pick the movie,” Keith made a face, “I don’t trust your taste after the last time.”

“10 Things I Hate About You is a classic!”

“Do you want to hear the one thing I hate about you, Chloe? Spoiler, it’s your taste in movies.”

“Play nice, kids,” you said, skimming the lines on the screen and Chloe huffed.

“Fine. And after that, we can work on the seduction mission.”

“You’re in on that as well?” Keith asked and Chloe nodded.

“Duh.”

“Look at us, Charlie’s Angels is back.” Keith said, “Wait, does that mean General is Charlie?”

You supressed a laugh and shook your head fondly, looking at Keith.

“I missed you, asshole.”

“Missed you too, trouble.”

                                                       ***

Working for the division you did had its advantages, and it never stopped to surprise you how you could always get the newest gadgets before going on missions. Chloe had installed certain features into your “sniper costume” as she put it, and one of them was a ring that would call the nearby agents of your team to your location, and the other one was a ski mask that was both bulletproof and could change your voice.

“Batman does it, why not you?” she had said before making you try it.

“Shrike, ma’am?” Keith’s voice echoed in your ear and you adjusted your earpiece before checking the harness around your waist, just in case you needed to jump off the building. Your team was already in position if you were in any way compromised, and you started setting your sniper rifle.

“Since when do you call me ma’am?” you asked Keith and he chuckled.

“Since they put you in charge of a team.”

“Don’t listen to him, guys,” you said to the rest of the team and took a look at the city lights, taking a deep breath.

Rooftops were always peaceful, even when you were holding a sniper rifle.

“ETA of the target?”

“Two minutes.” Keith said and you pressed your lips together, pointing the rifle at the entrance of the gallery, looking through the scope.

“So I think I found a movie for tonight,” Keith said as you shook your head slightly, trying to focus.

“Later.”

“James Bond?” he asked, “We can take a shot every time the movie gets something wrong about being a spy. We’ll probably be hammered by the end of the night.”

“One minute, Shrike.” One of the agents said and you exhaled through your mouth, your finger on the trigger.

“No seriously, don’t you guys like James Bond? I think it’s because of that movie I chose this line of work, but—“ Keith was cut off when you pulled the earpiece out of your ear to have a moment of silence so that you could concentrate when the target arrived, but as soon as you grabbed the rifle again, you heard the familiar sound of someone racking the slide of a gun, followed by a calm voice.

“Easy there,” he said, “Put the rifle down.”

You cursed at yourself in your head, then withdrew your hands from the rifle. Your earpiece was off, meaning that no one in your team could hear you, and you checked whether you could grab the gun from him, but he wasn’t standing close enough.

Professional.

You held up your hands, then slowly turned to see who was threatening you before your heart dropped to your stomach.

Damn it.

This was definitely not the way you were supposed to meet Bucky Barnes.

Thankfully you were wearing a ski mask, so your identity wouldn’t be compromised and the next time you met him, you could pretend.

And he would be none the wiser.

You pressed on the ring Chloe had given you to alert the others, keeping your eyes on the barrel of the gun.

“I thought I saw a glimpse of a scope.”

“Congratulations,” you deadpanned, trying to stall so that your team could get there, “You want a watch as a prize? A refrigerator?”

He looked almost surprised at your snarky comment and you shrugged your shoulders.

“Listen, it’s my target. So if you want to kill him, too bad. I was here first, early bird and all that, shoo.”

Even you could see his confusion that lasted for a second and a small smile pulled at your lips.

“Ah. You don’t know who my target is.”

“I know I’m not going to let you kill someone in a pretty crowded gallery.”

“Even if it’s some Hydra scum?” you asked and he pulled back.

“What?”

You stole a look at the entrance of the gallery over your shoulder as the limo pulled over.

“Mm hm. You really shouldn’t be stopping me Barnes. We got this, you can go and play the superhero with Wilson.”

“You know who I am.”

“Everyone knows who you are,” you stated, making him pause for a moment.

“I didn’t catch your name.”

You tut tutted, “Don’t be greedy.”

“Well, how do I know you’re not lying about your target if you can’t even give me your name?”

“Why would I lie about my target?”

“So that I would let you shoot him.”

“Aw, you’re cute,” you taunted him, tilting your head, “But I don’t recall asking for your permission.”

He stared at you for a couple of seconds.

“Who are you?” he asked and you grinned as you heard the footsteps coming closer.

“Until next time, soldier.” You said as the team burst through the door, guns blazing. He turned around to point his gun at the agents, immediately taking cover as you picked up the rifle again.

It was time to get back to work.

You looked through the scope, found the target and pulled the trigger, blood splattering over the walls and chaos erupted over the street instantly, people screaming and running everywhere. You looked over your shoulder to see your team managing to keep Barnes busy with the constant gunshots, then you checked the harness around your waist again and jumped over the roof to land on top of the car waiting for you in the street. The rope went up to the roof as you unbuckled it and got into the car, pulling the ski mask off your face.

“You weren’t compromised, right?” Keith asked and you shook your head.

“I’m not an amateur,” you said as he stepped on the gas, the car breezing through the road. 

“You don’t look so happy,” Keith said after taking a look at you and you pursed your lips together, deep in thought.

“He didn’t take me hostage.”

“Hm?”

“When the team burst through the door and I turned around to kill the target. He’s a super soldier, he could’ve grabbed me, use me as a leverage to get out of there. That’s what I’d do but he didn’t attack me or the team, he took cover.”

“So?”

“Keith, it’s the fucking Winter Soldier we’re talking about. He can kill a team of agents in seconds, but I bet he just got out of there. Without hurting anyone.”

“Maybe he’s just a good person.” Keith chuckled and you slipped a little in the seat, biting at your fingernails.

“I guess.”

“Would it be so bad?”

“It would make no difference,” you muttered, keeping your eyes on the city lights, “Good person or not, he’s my mission.”

“Clearly, but aren’t you going to feel just a little guilty if he ends up being a good guy?”

You scoffed a laugh and turned to him.

“I’m no use to anyone if I develop a guilty conscience,” you stated, “Much less to myself. You know that.”

A silence fell upon the car before he heaved a sigh.

“Listen, Chloe has a point as always,” he said, “These kind of missions are hard, okay? The longer you’re playing your part, the easier it will be to believe it. Feelings get involved, there are bunch of agents who ended up hesitating when it was time to bring their target in, so if you—“

“I won’t hesitate.”

“Y/N.”

“I won’t hesitate,” you repeated, “I swear. The minute this mission is over, I’ll bring him in. Orders are orders.”

Keith let out a whistle, “If you say so.”

You bit inside your cheek and leaned your head on the window, fixing your gaze outside.

“Considering the lack of alternatives,” you rasped out, “Yeah. Yeah I do say so.”  

Chapter 3 

[laurie-stark]

Get up and get out

Summary: Sort of part two to Unwanted. A year after fighting in Germany, y/n has to deal with the insufferable Peter Parker being around the house all the time. 

Pairings: Peter Parker x stark!reader, tony stark x daughter!reader, Natasha Romanoff x daughter!reader. 

Warnings: swearing, angst? i guess? mentions of blood. mentions of panic nightmares 

A/N: Again, I want to make it very clear so there isn’t any confusion: Y/n is Tony’s biological child, however, being raised also by Natasha, Steve and Pepper, she calls them Muma, Pops and Mom. Hopefully that makes sense LOL oh and also i’ve never written like...kiss scenes before so just go with it okay?

He was here again. Third time this week that he has come barging into my home and taken over my training center. Okay, to be fair, it was not my training center but still. Peter Parker will never stop being a pain in my ass. Ever since that stupid trip to Germany, he has been coming over and training for hours, or working with Dad. Three times just this week I’ve had to endure listening to Peter talk with his stupid little voice and walk around my house like he owns the place. Who does he think he is? And every time I have to sit through another dinner of Dad blabbing on and on about what a miraculous boy he is.

               “Really y/n, I think you two would be great friends,” I rolled my eyes as I picked at my dinner. The rest of the family ate in silence around the table. The last thing I wanted to do is spend more time with stupid Spider-boy. On the afternoons when he was here, I tried my best to stay out of his way. I would stay on my floor and he stays on his. Simple. I don’t need a new friend.

“…And he’s coming by again tomorrow, so I was thinking of showing him A.P.R.I.L. if you wanted to join us-” Dad continued.

What the hell? I thought. “No!” I snapped. “No way. A.P.R.I.L. is mine, I don’t want him messing with her.” Dad frowned at me. The rest of the table looked up in my direction. My shoulders tensed up as I faced my father. A.P.R.I.L. is my baby and I was ready to go toe to toe with him if I needed too.

“What do you mean no? I thought you’d be excited to share that with him,” he started.

“Well I’m not, so back off,” I sneered. The shift in his expression made me want to bite my own tongue. “Please.”

“I seriously do not understand what your problem is. You’ve been complaining for years how there’s only adults but the second a kid your age comes by you’re all “oooh no don’t talk to me Peter!””

I scoffed. “Sorry, I guess I just don’t want to bother you and your new best friend.”

“There it is. Why are you so jealous of him? He’s not that cool. He hasn’t made a fully functioning A.I at the age of 15. He just spits sticky stuff out of his fingers. Honestly y/n, you’re making zero sense right now.”

“Whatever, I’m over this,” I said, pushing my chair back from the table. I grabbed my untouched dinner plate and headed towards the kitchen. “I’m not hungry. And don’t show him A.P.R.I.L., I mean it!” I dumped my plate in the sink and marched right down the hall towards the elevators. My dad was right. I wasn’t making any sense. Ever since I made A.P.R.I.L I’ve used every excuse I could find to shove her down people’s throats. Anyone who would listen to me, I would tell them. Tell them all about how I programmed her to have realistic personality. How she’s running through the walls of this place, through my room, even inside the bracelet I never take off. All I knew is that I didn’t want Peter Parker anywhere near her.

I shut the door to my hard, and flopped onto my bed. A.P.R.I.L. reminded me that slamming the doors usually results in a punishment. I acknowledged her with a half-hearted grunt. I started programming A.P.R.I.L. when I was thirteen. Or rather, reprogrammed. A.P.R.I.L. was made from an older prototype version of F.R.I.D.A.Y. The base stuff was already there, I just moved some things here, recoded there until she was perfect. I don’t know why I got so defensive about Peter meeting her. Or why I had to pick another fight with my dad.

It was easier these days. To fight him, I mean. I suppose I never got over the whole “Peter is better, I choose him over you, blah, blah” thing as much as I thought I did. So, I would pick fights. Fighting over Peter was the simplest way to go, considering he was the reason I was so angry in the first place. Sometimes we would fight over him, other times we would fight over silly things. Like how I keep forgetting not to put my coffee grounds in the garbage disposal. Most of the time it was all just bickering that would blow over in thirty minutes, give or take. Sometimes it was explosive, like today.  I took in a shaky breath and sprawled out across my sheets. Sometimes this family is a fucking nightmare.

Dad didn’t come by this time. It threw me off for a second because he always comes by. Even if it’s six hours later and neither of us should be awake, he still comes by with a box of milk duds that we share in silence before one of us apologizes first. That’s how we work. When it finally sunk in that he was not planning on coming, I put A.P.R.I.L. on the job. I figured perhaps he left the compound, maybe took Mom for a nighttime stroll.

“Your father is on floor B, Miss Stark,” A.P.R.I.L. informed me.

“Jesus A.P.R.I.L., how many times have I said to cut the formalities,” I muttered.

“My apologies, y/n.”

Floor B. What the hell is he doing on floor B at…12:00 in the morning? Floor B is strictly for members of household and other Avengers. There are a billion different training rooms down there. Weight rooms, boxing, a huge pool, stuff like that. Not to taint his image, but I can safely say the last time my father willingly worked out for fun was probably before I was even born. Why was he down there? Unless…

“A.P.R.I.L. who else is on floor B right now?” I asked. “Throw it on the hologram, would you dear?

The sounds of the hologram starting filled the room. A.P.R.I.L. pulled up the security map of floor B, like I’d asked. There was my dad, floor B in the boxing room of all places. Pops and Sam looked to be going at it in another one of the combat training rooms. My confusion only rose when another nametag popped up on the screen. My brows furrowed.

Peter Parker

What was he doing here? Why was he boxing? Why was he not in his own home at midnight on a Thursday? My mind was spinning with questions. A knock at my door startled me.

“Come in…”

Natasha popped her head through the doorway. “Hey there…whatcha doing kid?”

I swiftly swiped away the hologram screen and sat up straight. “Nothing. What’s up?”

“Well, we’re getting a little worried about you,” she said. We being everyone else at the table who had to witness my brawl with Dad. She sat down beside me. “You haven’t fought back like that in a long time and I’ve noticed you’re fighting with him a lot recently. You want to tell me what that’s all about?”

I wanted too. God, I wanted too. I hadn’t told anyone what my father said to me that day after the airport, not even my mom. But it didn’t matter. I’d get over it sooner or later, so there was no point troubling anyone else with my problems…right? My eyes started to well up but I blinked away the tears. “No. Everything’s fine,” I put on a smile.

Natasha tucked me in under her arm. “Okay then. Maybe tomorrow.” That was Muma for you. She never pushed me to talk but knew I would come around at some point. In the meantime, she just held me. I cried into her embrace. She let me cry into her shoulder for a long while, until I was empty. After a time, I let go and she got up, giving me a kiss on the head before wishing me a good night.

I rubbed my hands over my face, brushing off any remaining tears. “A.P.R.I.L. bring the hologram back up please.”

“Are you sure y/n?”

…

“Yeah.”

Peter was still in the boxing room but my father was not. Upon further digging, I found the nametag reading Tony Stark on my floor. He’d gone to bed. I pondered to myself as to whether or not I should venture downstairs. What is the worst thing that could happen? Peter is secretly a Hydra spy and kills me? No, I shook my head. Don’t be ridiculous. Another minute passed and I’d made up my mind.

“A.P.R.I.L. engage “I am definitely here”,” I commanded.

“”I am definitely here” protocol engaged. Volume minimized to 5% and your tracking tag will be pinned to this room,” A.P.R.I.L. responded. “Good luck on your mission small agent.”

“Oh shut up,” I chided. I closed the door to my room as softly as I could. It was nearly one in the morning, most of the hall would be asleep. Or at least they should be. The hallway was silent, except for the soft noise of my socks padding along the floor. I cursed myself for looking so ridiculous. If anyone caught me, I could easily say that I was just getting a midnight snack. Not sneaking down to spy on Spider-bitch. Boy. Whatever. Sneaking added to the excitement.

I made it downstairs all in one piece. Steve and Sam nearly passed me in one of the halls, but I had ducked into a briefing room. I could totally be a spy. Maybe I’m a Hydra spy. I thought. And they sent me here as a baby to take down the Avengers from the inside. What was I going on about? This was why I should really be in bed, I was clearly delirious. Once again, distracting myself in my thoughts led to me getting startled. I hadn’t even realized I was outside the boxing room. I would have walked right in if not for the handy wall that I smacked into.

Peter was in the ring, practicing his punches. He’d lowered down one of the punching bags from the ceiling and it was close to ripping at the seams. He was really going ham on it. The questions piled on. So, he came over to my house at midnight to…train? Something he had all afternoon today to do? God, he was weird. I suppose I didn’t quite know what I was going to get myself into when I finally walked in to confront him.

“What are you doing?” I asked, arms folded tightly across my chest.

Peter started and looked down at me. Sweat was dripping down his face. He looked exhausted. “Training,” he said bluntly. He returned to treating the punching bag like it had run over his dog.

“At one in the morning? And after you spent like six hours today doing just that?” I was not letting him off that easy. Peter ignored me and continued punching. “Your form is shit.” I mocked.

That made him stop. “Funny coming from the girl who never leaves her room. When have you ever trained? Like ever?”

“I still beat your ass.”

“Yeah like, a year ago when I was barely an avenger.”

I rolled my eyes. “You still aren’t.”

“What do you want?” Peter spat.

I shrugged. “Dunno.” I stared him down with a smug look on my face.

“You are always such a bitch, you know that?”

I faked a pout. “Aw…bite me.”

Peter was chewing the inside of his cheek in anger. “If you’re going to stay here and pester me, you might as well get a few punches in.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Consider it a rematch.”

I studied his physique for a moment. He’d grown a lot since Germany. He’d also trained a lot since then as well. I had done little of either. I knew that entering that ring would probably end up with me losing my dignity and maybe even a tooth. But I was not going to let him stand there with his stupid, sweaty face and get away with it. This is not a good idea, I thought as I took off my socks. I moved the ropes and stepped into the ring, standing a foot in front of the boy.

“I’ll still win.”

“No powers either.”

“Deal.” Not like I’ve touched my powers since…since the incident.

Peter took his stance and I did my best to mirror him. I realized in that moment that I had no idea what I was doing. I didn’t know the first thing about boxing. Or sparring. I didn’t know how to fight without my powers. Oh, sweet Jesus.

We kept our distance at first, fists up. He threw a few punches and missed. I followed in suit. I finally got the first hit, a nice throw to his chest. He took it like a champ and didn’t flinch. Or rather, I couldn’t hit for shit and it didn’t hurt. He threw a punch to my left, only to miss on purpose and punched me square across my jaw. Ow. I chuckled lowly. The taste of blood filled my mouth from the fresh cut on my lip. I wiped the back of my hand across my mouth. All I could see was white rage.

Forget form, forget rules, forget everything. I lunged at him with everything I had. Lunged at him for all the bullshit he had brought into my life. For all the bitter things I had to hear my father say that weren’t even Peter’s fault. He was clearly not expecting my attack because we both fell to the ground. We fought tirelessly on the mat. He was physically stronger than me, so by default he was winning. He wrestled me until I was pinned under him. One hand was pinning my hand above my head, the other arm pinning down my body. In any other circumstances I would be amused to find myself in such a scandal. I looked in his eyes briefly and I could already tell he thought that he was winning. If there’s one thing I learned from Nat, it’s to always step on their moment. I hooked my leg around his knee and used all my force to flip us over. I had him pinned down now, my hair falling around my face. We were both breathing heavily.

“Told you,” I taunted. I was mentally preparing him to punch back but he didn’t. He snapped his arms out from under me and shoved me off him, hard. I fell back against the mat. He rose to his feet, brushing his hands off on his pants. “What the hell?” I exclaimed. I jumped to my feet while his back was turned to me and gave him a taste of his own medicine. He stumbled a few steps after I pushed him. Slowly, he stretched back up to reach his full height.

“You’re right,” he turned to face me and extended a hand. “Shake on the truce?” I took his hand, accepting his surrender. Only, he was not really surrendering. The moment my hand touched his, he yanked me towards him. I tripped over my feet and fell into him. My chest crashed onto his. The world was a blur as he grabbed me with force and spun us around, so he could push me up against the ropes of the ring.

“Stop, Peter get off me you bitch!” I fought back. I flailed my whole body around, trying to break loose. One hand reached up to grab the back of my head, pulling my hair and forcing my head back. I froze. His face was dangerously close to my exposed neck. His shift let my opposite arm break free. I took a breathe and reeled it back, ready to smack him in the across the face. He caught my wrist in time without taking his eyes off mine.

He lowered his head to whisper in my ear, “I win.” His breathe trickled down my neck. He had won, but he wasn’t moving. One hand was still in my hair, the other was pinning me against the ropes. His chest breathed heavily against my own. His grip on my head loosened slightly and I was able to look him straight on. He had that same smug look pasted across his face. His eyes moved from mine, trailing down my face, my neck, my body, before they settled on my lips. I momentarily lost the ability to breathe.

He kissed me hard. I tensed up slightly before giving into him completely. It tasted like blood and sweat and I felt like I was losing my mind. He pulled me closer, if that was even possible and claimed my mouth with his until my knees gave out. A newfound wave of warm washed through me. The hand in my hair gave a slight tug and my lips parted while that same hand moved to cup my jaw. For all I knew, the entire compound was wide awake and watching but I did not care. I brought my fingers to his hair, tugging at the ends. I smiled cunningly when he groaned into my mouth. He kissed me greedily and fully. Like he hated me. And I hated him.

We broke apart, limbs numb and chests heaving. The moment had passed, and our actions sunk in. What. The. Fuck. He lifted the ropes for me, and I climbed out of the ring. My head was still spinning from that kiss and my lip stung. Consequences I suppose, for kissing someone with a busted lip. I silently pulled my socks back on and Peter handed me a towel. Neither of us said another word. I left the room and didn’t look back. I could hear him behind me, but I was in no rush to have to look him in the eye ever again. What just happened?

 I woke the next morning to A.P.R.I.L. alerting me that “Father Dearest” was outside my door. He came in and sat on the edge of the bed. We both stayed quiet for a while.

I spoke first. “Where were you last night? You didn’t come by after…” I let my words trail off.

“I was going to, I swear. But then something came up with Peter and I had to go take care of that,” Dad answered.

I frowned. “Typical. Peter over your own flesh and blood, right?”

Dad inhaled sharply like he was going to bite back, but changed his mind. “That’s not true and you know it. Peter is…he’s going through something and I knew how to help him. Not everything is about you, you narcissist,” He said, joking at the end.

I had to push down my own smile. “Yeah well where do you think I got it from?” I sat up and leaned into my father. He brushed a hand down my back. “So, what’s wrong with Peter then?”

“I really shouldn’t tell you, it’s personal.” I looked up at him with my doe eyes. He rolled his eyes and sighed, nodding a silent defeat. I felt like I was nine again and he was gossiping with me about the latest secretary. Like every fight had been forgotten in this moment. “He’s been having some nightmares ever since DC. You remember the ones we used to get after Loki?” I nodded. “Now you, you always amazed me at how you handled those. But for me and Peter, we needed a different outlet. So, I let him come over in the middle of the night. I didn’t think anyone would notice.” I hummed in response, not sure what to make of that information. I mean, I kind of felt bad for the guy. He was still a bitch, but those dreams suck. No one should have to deal with them. “He really isn’t as bad as you think, you know.”

“Yeah,” I hummed. “I think you’re right.”

tag list:

@runawayolives @ creation-magician @ eridanuswave @ markhyucksmells @ beep-beep-losersclub

[extremelyblackandwhite]

handmaid - 02

PAIRING: mob!sebastian stan x ingenue!reader

WARNINGS: age gap

A/N: you guys have been so extremely sweet with this new work i don’t even know how to thank you!! thank you so so much for supporting my writing, it always makes my day. i hope you enjoy xx

NEXT CHAPTER

Y/N was laying in her new room right stuck in between the guest and Gwen’s bedroom. It was a rather bleak room if she was being honest. The walls were all white in exception to one of them that like the entrance was covered in floor to ceiling windows. There was little to no furniture in exception for a king sized bed, a white chest of drawers and a wall embedded wardrobe where she had put most of her clothes already. 

She wondered why a man of such income would like to be surrounded by such bleak colours. From what she had noticed his whole place was decorated in shades of grey and black with the occasional beige and white. Sure, it looked lovely, sleek even, something worth of being in the cover of an architectural magazine, but it wasn’t a home. A home had warmth, lived in sheets, walls and floors, this house however was ... was ghosted, almost as if no one lived in it. 

Rolling onto the comfortable white sheets, she took the contract into her hands, looking at the lettering on the cover itself. Y/N fully understood why he wanted all his employees to have a binding legal document, what she didn’t expect was to see the first line constricted her breathing. “The individual agrees not to follow any legal action against the employer in any circumstance”, it read. This was definitely not what was she expecting. 

     - Y/N? - she shoved the contract under her sheets as Gwen’s voice sounded through the room, her head peaking through the opening of the door. - What are you up to?

    - Not much. How are you? Do you enjoy the new room? - Sebastian had put her in a different room from his, something she had expected but still found odd. They were to be married after all and despite it all being a business move and transaction, it was still a valid marriage. However, none of them seemed to eager to at least try and create some chemistry. 

    - Boring. I need a favour, though. Please and when you decide remember you’re my oldest and best friend since we were babies. - Y/N knew that face and she did not like it. It was the same face that got them both stranded in the Carribean because she just needed to get to know some guy from the opposite terminal before catching the plane. However, she also knew Gwen to be a great driving force of making her do things she didn’t exactly want to do, so she decided to nod her head yes, already overwhelmed with the move and the contract. - I need to head out for a few minutes, could you cover for me?

     - What ... where are you going? 

     - I have a date. - she cheekily entered the room, closing the door behind her after checking if someone was in the hall. The redhead sat in front of her, a childish grin on her face as if she were in high school going out with the captain of the football team. - And he’s really sweet.

     - Gwen, you’re engaged. - the big sapphire in her left hand’s third finger was all she could look at. Of course Y/N wanted to be happy for Gwen, she really did and she really shouldn’t put too much effort in the thought that she was going to get married, after all it was just a strategy, but her mind was screaming at her that it wasn’t right. - Don’t you wanna at least give it a go before you completely give up?

     - No, I wanna go out with Chuck. - she took her engagement ring off, placing it on Y/N’s white sheets. - Please cover for me, please.

     - What if Sebastian notices you’re gone?

    -  He won’t because you’ll cover for me, besides, he probably won’t even leave his office. Please, Y/N? - Y/N sighed. What was the use of saying no if she was gonna leave any other way? Besides, if she were right and Sebastian didn’t leave his office, it should be alright. Losing whatever piece of resolve she has in her, she let out a soft smile, nodding her head yes which led the redhead to hug her with a death like grip. - It’ll one be for a few hours. I owe you one.

     -  I’m pretty sure you’ve own me one since we were one. - Gwen let out a celebratory chuckle before grabbing her bag and leaving Y/N on her own once again. 

The whole house was constantly silent, almost as if all the employees were scared of making a sound which when it came to the demanding presence of their boss, she wondered if that was the case. The only disruption of silence that could be heard was the soft rain against the windows which was enough to lull her to sleep. She would’ve possibly remained asleep if it hadn’t been for a slight knock interrupting her slumber. She took her head off her pillow, confused as if she had slept for so long, Gwen had returned. Another knock made her get from the bed, sleep still in her eyes as she opened the door to come face to face with one of the dressed up employees. 

    - Miss Y/N, dinner is served.

    - Just Y/N please. 

    - I believe it would be more of Miss Forrest’s comfort if you were to inform her dinner is ready. 

    - Oh ... Miss Forrest ... she’s, she’s not feeling very well. 

    - Should we call a doctor?

    - No, it’s just ... you know, that time of the month. - Y/N had the most nervous smile on her face, but as the man heard that specific term, he scrunched his face for a few seconds before returning to his normal formal and stoic posture. Maybe she had gotten away with it. - I don’t think she’ll want any dinner.

    - Oh, alright, would you still like to have dinner, Miss Y/N? - he questioned. She was rather hungry, after all, all she had before coming in was dinner and after sleeping she always awake up feeling like snacking, therefore dinner sounded like a good idea. 

She followed the man into the kitchen that similarly to the rest of the house had the same simple yet modern design to it. The floors were in the same shade of marbled black with few specks of grey, the walls were white with a black wooden backsplash and one of them had the same full amount of windows which gave a beautiful view of the Upper East Side. There were various balconies connected to the walls but the biggest one was in the middle where some chairs were laid. 

Y/N watched as a woman, probably middle aged, set the table. Just like the man who had brought her to the kitchen, she was dressed in sleek, working clothes with her hair held in a perfect bun up-do. 

     - I hope you like goat cheese and bistro salad, m’am. - she set a beautifully prepared plate in front of Y/N as she took a seat in the table. - I can prepare you something if you don’t like it, m’am.

     - No, it’s beautiful, thank you so much. - yes, she was used to living in some sort of high fashion style due to the environment she had brought up with but this, this was different. This was expensive in all sorts, from how the employees dressed, to the way the food was presented. However, Y/N noticed that instead of being surrounded by other people eating like it would normally occur at her prior home, she was instead surrounded by staff watching her eat, no Sebastian in sight. - Is Mr. Stan not joining us for dinner?

     - Oh no, m’am, Mr. Stan eats in his office. - the woman replied. 

     - What about you guys? Don’t you wanna eat? 

     - It’s fine, m’am. We’ll eat after you finish. 

     - Alright ... - Y/N pushed her plate slightly away from her, turning on her chair so she could face the two staff who were now staring at her as if she were any sort of threat. - Where me and Miss Forrest were raised, staff is treated just as well as family members. I don’t know what orders you follow from Mr. Stan but when you deal with me or Miss Forrest, you sit down and have dinner with us if you wish. 

The dinner went a bit better after she gained some company. The staff was sweet, very professional still but sweet nevertheless. After dinner and fighting a bit with the woman named Anna so she could help with the dishes, Y/N decided to walk around the house. Gwen still hadn’t returned and despite her countless messages sent to her, they were seen but not replied to. Thankfully, Sebastian hadn’t left his office as promised which meant she only had to lie whenever any member of staff would ask if she needed something. 

The penthouse was pretty much a regular place with more rooms than she could ever imagine with some being locked and others being open and perfectly decorated yet seemed to be non inhabited. However, what had sparked her interest was the very last room she checked. The room’s wall except for one were filled with book shelves which were filled itself with endless amounts of books. She looked around, wondering if someone was spying on her, before entering the room, her hands grabbing the first book she saw. The Great Gatsby. It sorta made her chuckle how that had been the first book she caught, the story of a wealthy man who lives by himself. The book itself was in rather good condition with the traditional blue cover with those unsettling eyes staring right back at her. She opened the book, her eyes going to the date of print making her realise what she was holding. April, 1925. A first edition. 

      - Looking for a good read, Miss Y/N? - she dropped the book out of surprise, not expecting the voice. Her head snapped in the sound’s direction, watching as Sebastian walked over to her, slowly crutching down to grab the book from the ground.

       - Are these all yours? - this was the biggest self collection of books she’d ever seen, it was somewhat hard for her to wrap around her head it belonged to a single person, specially first editions. 

       - My father made sure I got an expensive education. 

       - Have you read all of these? - her eyes widen at the mere thought of it. Just reading one shelf of books looked like it would take at least five years, at beast. 

       - Not all of them ... some are in Greek. - he couldn’t help but be entranced by her as she lowered her head to hide the small smile that settled itself on her lips. - Are you one for reading?

       - I majored in English Literature, reading was all I did for three years. 

       - Fits. - he put his hands on the pockets of his formal trousers. - You wouldn’t lie to me, would you Miss Y/N? 

       - I wouldn’t think of it, Mr. Stan. - Y/N wasn’t one for lying unless necessary, specially to someone who had a reputation for ignoring empathy and other human emotions. 

       - Where’s my fiancée, Miss Y/N? - the mere question knocked the air away from her. - And please do not use the same excuse you used with my staff. I know everything that goes on in this house and I know for a fact she’s not in her room. 

       - I ... I don’t know. 

       - I think you need to figure out where your loyalty lies, Miss Y/N. - he picked her chin, making sure she looked into his eyes. If there was something he knew was to intimidate someone with his gaze alone, however, she looked embarrassed to be caught in a lie rather than scared. - As my employee, you owe me your loyalty and the truth. 

     - My loyalty lies with Gwen ... not with you. - she took a step backwards. He sucked his teeth, arms crossed on his chest. - I don’t mean to disrespect you, Mr. Stan but ... Gwen’s my friend and my employee and I owe her my loyalty. 

     - You do realise that if Miss Forrest gets hurt it is you who’s gonna be held accountable. 

     - Please don’t be mad at Gwen. - she rubbed her arms. - She’s never really wanted to get married, at all, to no one. This is a bit of a change she has to adapt to.

     - Don’t flatter yourself, angel. Genevieve Forrest is not exactly the type of woman I’d personally chose to be with but I’m not being childish about it. If you wanna have a good time under my employment then you better reconsider telling me the truth.

taglist: @sideeffectsofyou​

[ilikefandom]

Protection: Severus Snape x reader

Genre: Dark Fluff

Synopsis: Severus takes his fiancee, (Y/n), to a death eater meeting

Pairing: Severus Snape x Fem reader

Warrnings: Violence, Threat of Violence, Snakes, Abuse of Power

Sitting in her seat at the banquet (Y/n) shifted her body uncomfortably. Being engaged to Severus Snape was wonderful, however, his friends were less savory. As she listened to Lucius Malfoy drone on and on over his new bill idea for the ministry, something caught her attention. The younger Malfoy was rubbing his left arm almost unconsciously, almost as if his dark mark was new. Bellatrix was picking her nails with a silver knife, stealing glances at the door, and observing (Y/n) like she was a challenger in the colosseum.

“Severus,” (Y/n) whispered to her fiance, “could we leave soon? It feels awkward that the owner of the home, a.) talks of nothing but himself, b.) judges the ring you bought me because it’s ‘not high class enough, and c.) does not sit at the head of the table which remains empty.” She took a deep breath and continued. “Is somebody else coming?”

“Yes,” Severus hissed into her ear, “And when he arrives, apply the occlumency I have been teaching you. He is a skilled legilimens, even more so than I, he will try to gain entry to your mind.”

“Who is he? The minister?” (Y/n) asked with some fear in her eyes, if it was who she thought he was, well, there would be a reason to hide her memories with Severus. 

“Yes and no,” Severus explained, badly. 

The doors at the end of the hall opened and the sound of scales on stone rang throughout the room. 

(Y/n) grabbed his hand under the table, panic in her eyes, “I hate snakes.” She said quietly, shivering.

Narcissa, the nicer of the two hosts caught her eye from across the table and smiled reassuringly. (Y/n) took a deep breath and calmed her mind, so that the panic wouldn’t break her focus. The snake slithered into the candlestick near another man’s head.

As soon as the man, pale as snow, face of a snake, stepped into the room the room fell silent. He slunk, like his serpent into the chair at the head of the table.

“Severus,” Lord Voldemort said, as he looked up at the man in question. “You bring news I trust, and a lovely young lady I see. Come here girl.”

(Y/n) swallowed the air in her mouth and got out of her seat. She made her way to the front of the table and stood next to the dark wizard. 

The tendrils of intrusion tapped at her mental wall and found the door in the side. Memories came through her mind. Sitting at her desk dealing with Draco Malfoy who had used the Muggleborn slur, saying that he is entitled to his beliefs, but the use of the word ‘Mudblood’ is against school rules. Severus, holding her hand for the first time, on their first date, when he proposed, and having a meltdown when his third year class could not seem to grasp the use of moonstone in potion making. All of the memories, mundane and boring as they were, a shield for what she knew of Severus’ Order activities. 

“That is a lovely ring.” The dark wizard commented before gesturing at her to leave.

(Y/n) took a deep breath and sat down again. Severus tapped her on the knee letting her know that she did well. 

“You bring news, I trust, Severus.” Voldemort asked as he stared down the man in all black.

“It will happen next Saturday, at nightfall.” Sevurus stated as he stared back into the slitted pupils of Lord Voldemort’s eyes. 

Another death eater interrupted Severus as he said “I have heard differently my Lord. Dawlish the Auror has let slip that the Potter boy will not be moved until the 30th of this month, the day before he turns 17.”

Severus looked directly at the man and responded, “This is a false trail, the Auror Office no longer plays any part in the protection of Harry Potter. Those closest to him believe we have infiltrated the ministry.”

(Y/n) sat quiet, she was unaware of when the young man was to be moved, she wasn’t working as a spy, but rather another pair of eyes to observe the scenery. 

Another death eater piped in, “Well, they’ve got that right then.” 

The entire table of dark witches and wizards began to laugh, (Y/n) chuckled along, just to be polite, she wanted no part in the murder of a 16 year old boy. 

“What say you Pius?” Asked the dark lord, staring down the table at the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. The room fell silent as he spoke, almost as if his voice extinguished the rest.

“One hears many things my Lord. Whether the truth is among them is not clear.” The man spoke, his charisma and effortlessness oozing within every word.

Voldemort laughed, looking Thicknesse in the eyes, “Spoken like a true politician. You will, I think, prove most useful Pius.” He smiled at the younger man, his teeth glinting in the firelight. The ministry member smiled back, just the slight raising of his lips. 

The Dark Lord then turned back to Severus, “Where will he be taken? The boy?” He asked with conviction, giving (Y/n) a slight glance as she held her gaze on the fire. Desperate to look anywhere but those snake eyes. 

“To a safehouse,” Severus responded, sliding his hand to hers, stroking it in a comforting gesture. The feeling of his, rough, calloused hands on her smaller ones felt like home. “Most likely the home of someone in the Order. I’m told it has been given every manner of protection possible. Once there, it will be impractical to attack it.”

The sound of a throat clearing echoed throughout the hall. “My Lord.” Bellatrix said, her voice grating across the stone like nails on a chalkboard, “I would like to volunteer myself for this task, I want to kill the boy.” The desperation in her voice was plainly obvious, she not only wanted to fulfill his expectations, she wanted him, romantically. (Y/n) almost gagged on the air. 

A strangled cry tore through the room and (Y/n) jumped slightly. Severus’ hand tightened on hers, keeping her in her seat.

“Wormtail!” Voldemort shouted at Pettigrew. “Have I not spoken to you about keeping our guest quiet!” His anger was apparent and (Y/n) was happy that she was not in the line of fire. Severus still held on to her hand as if to pull her behind him at any moment. 

“Yes my Lord, right away, my Lord.” The mousy man in the corner coward as he flicked his wand at the body floating at least five feet off the ground. 

(Y/n) recognised the woman from somewhere, but she had no clue of where.

“As inspiring as I find your bloodlust Bellatrix, I must be the one to kill Harry Potter.” He spoke to her as if she were a child, and, after he did, Bella hung her head in either shame or disappointment. “But,” Voldemort continued, “I face an unfortunate complication, that my wand and Potter’s share the same core. They are, in some ways, twins. We can wound, but not fatally harm one another. If I am to kill him I must do it with another’s wand. Come, surely one of you would like the honour, hmmm. What about you, Lucius?”

Lucius Malfoy who had paled at the mention of his name looked up at his dark master, who now stood behind him. “My, Lord,” he choked, unable to come up with words for the situation he found himself in. (Y/n) almost felt bad for him, but as she looked at the weasel struggling, she had to admit it felt good to watch him squirm. 

“My Lord,” Voldemort mocked, his sense of superiority clouding every syllable. “I require your wand,” he said as he stretched out a poorly manicured hand to accept Lucius’ wand. 

Narcissa looked straight ahead, but, as she sat across from (Yn), the latter could sense the panic flowing out of her eyes.

Lucius’ hands shook as he removed his wand from its cover and handed it to Lord Voldemort, not daring to look the other man in the eyes.

“Do I detect elm?” Voldemort asked, ushering glee into his voice as he manipulated his puppet. 

“Yes, My Lord.” Lucius responded, his voice barely above a whisper.

Voldemort snapped off the handle of the wand, causing its owner to flinch.

“And the core?” Voldemort examined the wand a bit further to exploit Lucius’ discomfort. 

“Dragon, dragon heartstring, my Lord.” Lucius murdered as he looked away from his broken wand, eyes fixing to the table.

“Dragon heartstring.” The Dark Lord repeated, rubbing salt into Lucius’ wounds, tossing the handle onto the table, causing Lucius to flinch once again at his master’s actions.

Voldemort moved away from Lucius, flicking the broken wand at the woman’s body, causing it to drift over the table. 

“To those of you who do not know, we are joined here tonight by Miss. Charity Burbage.” The evil man said, his voice soft, but commanding.

Charity, (Y/n) knew that name, she was the woman that Severus had introduced to her at Slughorn’s last party of the year. She had not liked Charity’s pushy point of view on muggles. Not that she disagree with half bloods, but her approach on teaching was a bit, well, opinionated.

“Who, until recently, taught at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Her speciality was Muggle Studies.” The crowd of death eaters laughed at the woman who was trying to escape her magical bonds. “It is Miss. Burbage’s belief that Muggles are not so different from us. She would, given her way, have us mate with them.”

The assembly of death eaters jeered at Charity making faces of disgust and yelling insults at her. Bellatrix laughed as the body passed by her, making her point of view on muggles quite clear. 

“To her,” Voldemort continued, “the mixture of magical and muggle blood is not an abomination, but simply, to be encouraged.”

“Severus,” Charity whimpered. “Severus, please.” The woman begged, with her eyes, for Severus to set her free. He did not move. “We’re friends,”

Severus stared at the woman with a blank face, his face twisted into a mask of indifference.

Voldemort casted the killing curse upon Charity, causing her corpse to hit the table. 

(Y/n) jumped at the clunk, as well as several other death eaters. The hissing of the snake almost drove her into a panic attack. 

“Nagini,” Voldemort spoke to the snake that had slithered up to the table. “Dinner.”

Severus, knowing what was going to happen next, lunged to press (Y/n)’s face into his chest, a move that was laughed at by several of his colleagues. 

Nagini lunged at Charity’s body and began to devour it. Severus kept his large hand pressed to the back of your skull. And it was at that moment that he knew. He would watch any number of his colleagues die to protect (Y/n). Even if he had to do it himself.

Hi readers! This is based off of the Meeting at Malfoy Manor scene from the Deathly Hallows pt.1 movie. I do not own Harry Potter. Please send in requests and asks! - Author

[statticscribbles]

Glow Pt 2

Summary: Malachai/Reader Request: Glow Pt 2; this got a little out of hand

“So; should we get dinner?” You turn to Malachai your hand tracing his chest and the faint glow from it. “Hmm, well we should; but..” You smile and he looks over to you fondly. “But what?” “As my soulmate you’re meant to be my perfect fit; we’re meant to be together but we’re.” Your fingers trace the skull tattoo on his side. “ I don’t care.” “I can’t leave the Serpent’s I’m sorry.” “I don’t care. You want to be a Serpent that’s fine.” “I can’t spy on them for you; I-“ “Did I ask that? We both have jobs; that’s all this is. Maybe your boss wants me dead sure, but your job doesn’t effect my view of you.” “But-“ “Does my job effect your view of me?” He asks frowning and you shake your head.

“It does; doesn’t it.” His face sinks and you chew your lip. “It’s dangerous; I don’t want you getting hurt and-“ You scowl as he laughs. “Baby; oh my god, we’re both in gangs; I could say the same about you!” “No! You’re a gang leader! That’s way more; oh my god I’m dating a gang leader.” Malachai grins, tears in his eyes as he tries to quiet his laugher you smack his shoulder, his chest glowing brighter. “Stop that! This is serious!!” “Come on Y/N it’s not; you’re just being silly.”

“Say the one who takes his gang on thrifting road trips every other week.” “Team bonding is essential to our gang!” “Going on cross country road trips to pick up leather jackets and studs from crafts stores is not essential.” He gasps mockingly and you shake your head. “Well what do the Serpent’s do for bonding then; hmm?” “We drink, party; go for ice cream; the usual gang activities.” “Ghouls do that too!” You shake your head. “Not like Serpents.” “Do not make me have a party and invite the snakes; we’d probably all get murdered.” “Ah but to die by your side, such a heavenly way to die.” You smirk and he shakes his head, hand pulling yours against his chest which pulses a light green. “Why does it do that? I always though the glow was supposed to go away once you found your soulmate.”

“It does; to everyone else; once you’ve met your  soulmate;” He nods to you, fingers twining yours as his other hand runs up your arm. “Once you’ve connected.” It threads through your hair nudging your lips against his. “No one else has need to see our connection but us.” “But why is is so pale?” “Because you’re close, the farther I go;” he steps backwards and you notice the almost sea foam green darkens a shade. “The brighter it becomes.” “Like a lighthouse.” You smile and Malachai frowns. “A lighthouse?”

“Yeah; its calling me home.” Malchai turns fixing the items on the shelf above the chair. “Or warns you away from the rocks.” “Like you’d willingly hurt me. You’re avoiding looking at me cause you’re blushing again.” You laugh when he stalks forward trying to look threatening. “I can hurt you worse than you’d imagine.” “You wouldn’t.” “I would.” “Prove it; I’m sure you have a knife on you right? Just like me?” You grin flicking your blade out and he grins back rolling his eyes. “Y/N, sweetheart that’s a toy.” He grins pull his out, it’s not double the size of yours but it’s close. “I’d say you’re compensating for something but we both know that wouldn’t be true.” He smile smugly, nodding proudly.

“You need to meet the Ghouls; officially.” “As what the Ghoulie Queen?” “Pffft. The what? Oh my god is that actually true?? The snakes actually- oh my god, fuck that is hilarious.” “Hey, no you can’t let anyone know trade secrets.” “You know our trade secrets.” Malachai nods gravely and you roll your eyes “Thrifting is not a trade secret!!!!” “Well not when you shout it out for everyone and their mother to hear like that.” “I’m sure the Serpents aren’t going to get wise to your secret thrifting locations and then buy all the skulls and dead things before you can.” Malachai narrows his eyes but nods towards the door. “Everyone’s waiting.” “For the record the this is a horrible idea.” Malachai nods. “If you agree then why are we doing it.” “Have to do it at some point otherwise we’ll be trapped in the house of the dead’s bedroom for eternity.” “That doesn’t sound too bad.” Malachai rolls his eyes as he opens the door stepping through it. You watch half the ghoulies turning towards you eyeing you curiously. You see the group from Pop’s and watch as they step forward. “What happened now?” Malachai looks annoyed at them. “Nothing; just wanted to say we’re happy Y/N’s here.” “Really? That’s all? Nothing about the BBQ you’re apparently throwing in my yard?” “It’s a welcome party.” One of them grins and winks at you, you grin back turning to Malachai.

“Yeah we talked about it before you picked me up at Pop’s; don’t you remember?” Malachai scans your face confusedly. “You talked to them before?” “Yeah they came in and ordered food, gave me a burner phone and said they were sick of you whining.” “I did not whine!” He glares and the Ghoulies hide their laugher. “You did; just a little, he may have cried when we showed him that picture you have up; the one with hot dog the third as a puppy.” “That’s just low; no one can resist a puppy.” You nod wrapping your arm around Malachai. “Now, apparently I’m supposed to meet everyone here? So lead on oh fearless Ghoul King.” You grin and watch his chest brighten.

“I thought it only got brighter when we were apart.” “Yeah, must be a malfunction.” He shrugs avoiding your gaze to call over a group of teenagers. “These are the newbies; newbies, my soulmate Y/N.” They all nod and you return it. “A malfunction?” You question and he shrugs pulling over Evan and Jacob his second in commands to greet you. They pull you into hugs before you can say anything. “He telling lies about the soulmate glow again?” Evan grins and you nod. “Yes! He won’t tell me why it gets brighter, even though we’re next to each other! He’s awful!” You watch your chest brighten as you say it.

“It is true. That it get’s brighter the farther away you get; but it also gets brighter when you think about each other; like loving thoughts; it gets dimmer the more negative you think.” “Wait so every time he thinks about me it’ll get brighter?” “Basically yes; so depending how in love he is with you; how aware of it he is; the brighter it gets. So what colour is it now?” “Ironically the same as my Serpent tattoo.” “Oh woooow that’s, uh, interesting.” “What?” “I bet you you could ask almost anything of him and he’d do it.” “No he wouldn’t; he’s a gang leader he’s not going to go soft just cause he has a soulmate.” “Wanna bet.” Evan grins and you nod.

“Bet you a weeks worth of Pop’s.” “And two hundred.” “Deal.” You grin as Evan shakes your hand Jacob laughs and Malachai turns from where he’s talking to him and another group of Ghoulies. “Babe;” You watch as he fully turns walking towards you. “What’s up?” “Evan said you wouldn’t take me on your next thrifting trip.” You smirk and Malachai frowns. “You can come if you want; it’s usually an all day thing I assumed the snakes wouldn’t-“ “I saw this adorable ice cream parlour on the way out of town when I went on a job and if it’s on the way could we stop in?” You grin and Malachai rolls his eyes. “If this is a ploy to get ice cream-“ “Noooo.” You avert your eyes grinning. “What do you want. Come on; tell me.” You smirk. “I want you to marry me.” Malachai freezes and you’re completely distracted from Evan crumbling to the ground in shock; by the same blinding glow that blocked Malachai from your vision when you first met him.

“That’s not ice cream.” He nods to you and you grin back. “I said it wasn’t a ploy to get ice cream. You just didn’t believe me.” “Well I can’t marry you; I mean one, I don’t even know your ring size so I can’t get it altered for you; two if you think the ghouls and the serpent’s are going to be able to come together for a wedding we’re going to need to stockpile enough vodka to drown Russia; and three- what. “You have a ring? That you have to get altered?” You stare and him and Malachai nods. “Of course; what kind of idiot doesn’t have an engagement ring ready once they meet their soulmate.” “You bought a ring yesterday?”

“Anyway, since you’ve met Jacob now we just have to meet a few more members and-“Malachai nods towards a group that look to be in physical pain. “What’s wrong with them.” You watch worriedly and one of them sucks in a breath “Evan passed out.” He speaks before returning to what you realize is trying to quiet laughter. Malachai turns nudging Evan with his foot. “He’s not passed out just dying of laughter, one of you turn him on his side so he doesn’t choke if he pukes.” “So is there a rule against laughing? I mean all of them seem pretty-“ “They can laugh; they just sound like a pack of dying hyena’s and half of them have those laughs that make you laugh more from the sound. Lance I swear to god if those are helium balloons.” Lance nudges the balloons back onto the table and turns away from them.

“So why is everyone laughing at my attempted proposal?” “Attempted?” Malachai looks hurt when he closes the door to the house. The muffled laughter is almost deafening. “Well yeah; I mean I don’t have a ring and as much as I want to marry you I can’t do that without a ring. Besides I don’t think my family would be too excited if introduced you as my soulmate and fiance in the same breath as them meeting you for the first time. Like surprise I’m marrying a gang leader; I know you wanted so much better for me but he’s all I want. They’d be a little bitter about it. Mals; you okay? You know I want to marry you right?”

“You met me two days ago pretty much; we’ve been enemies for years..” “It’s been almost a week; and yeah we were enemies because I didn’t know much about you; but that doesn’t matter because you’re my soulmate; we’re meant to be together; and I want that. To be with you.” “Okay well uh first things, I lied about the ring.”

“Oh thank fuck I was going to be a little freaked out if you already had a ring.” “I have three, I wasn’t sure if you were going to like this one and the other two I saw in the shop when I went up so I figured options was good. Well actually that one is my great grandmothers on my mom’s side so it’s pretty traditional so, options, good idea right?” He grins confused slightly when he just sees a green glow.

Support My Writing?

[middleinthenight21]

With the heart in his hands

Credits and dedicated to @deep-in-mind67  Thank you for your art and Malik! I hope you like it and @ravenfan1242 so beautiful and kind. 

Stay safe and fight for justice. 

He had heard stories about fatherhood, men looking with love at their children, feeling that they had gained a precious treasure, could change their lives forever. They promised that they would protect them, it was like a roar inside, something beautiful and unexpected and they would never be the same again. It marked a before and after.

Damian never had that. His mother was a murderer, a cold-eyed woman who was used to every day being a struggle. A part of him assumed that she had loved him in a twisted and dominant way. She loved him the same way you treat a valuable object, she worried when he strayed from the path they had carved out for his life, and his grandfather was a man who put himself in a high position, always forcing him to look up and disguising his dominance and control under discourses on belonging and devotion. Damian thought it was the best he had and if he ever faced the world it would be for Ra's Al Ghul, they both left him at some point in his childhood. Then, his father came, who is someone who dedicated his life to a city consumed by crime and corruption, lived in an eternal search for justice that consumed everything around him, including his own family. thought it was the best he had and if he ever faced the world it would be for Ra's Al Ghul, they both left him at some point in his childhood. Then, his father came, who is someone who dedicated his life to a city consumed by crime and corruption, lived in an eternal search for justice that consumed everything around him, including his own family. Bruce Wayne watches him with love and earns his appreciation, but he will never be his top priority, just as he was not for Talia and Ra’s Al Ghul.

He has never complained about his life. Complaining and lamenting is for the weak, and Damian Wayne would never be either, but he wants to have better references for his son, so he could hold him in his arms without feeling like an idiot.

Damian can maneuver all the weapons in the world, assemble and destroy any object using only his intellect, but his three-week-old baby was different.

He had been gone for two weeks. Just over five days after the birth of his son, as he had to train the new killers for the league, which involved intensive preparation before the new recruits joined the League of the Assassins and he trusted no one but himself, but that had separated him from his family. Two weeks might not be long, yet it was long enough for his son not to recognize him.

Damian knew it, but Raven insisted there were other reasons why he cried when he got close. Still amazed at her ability to do her homework and tend to their son, Raven is caring and dedicated, in a way that makes him envy her and wonder what would have happened if she stayed instead of attending to her duties as head of the League of Assassins.

Looking out the window, the snow falls, and that morning in the Himalayas the wind sounds like the roar of an angry leopard. Damian had had a quiet night. Since it was Raven who took care of the baby by letting him sleep after he appeared last night acknowledging his tiredness, secretly thanking her, since he would not know how to recognize the requests of his son.

He is sitting on the bed drinking tea with a slice of lemon and brown sugar, it is a family drink, but the situation is different. He would be missing fingers to count the times he has had tea looking at the landscape with Raven at his side. They would simply lean against each other in silence, he would be full of secrets and confessions. He had never felt that way with another person, but the space between the two now a new person fills it.

Titus sleeps near the fireplace. Alfred the cat who had been adopted a few months ago was lying a few meters from them, curled up with green eyes fixed on the couple and the baby, as if watching them.

The room is warm, the fireplace is lit with a low fire and looks like an island of warmth in the middle of winter. There is an intricately patterned rug in gold tones that they had chosen together a few years ago, and the bed was comfortable with no exorbitant luxuries. Different from what the Demon Head would be thought to have, but this room in Nanda Parbat was a corner of privacy; no one would disturb them here. There are little memories imprinted on these four walls, secret moments and reminiscent of the engagement ring that they keep in a drawer that they never used. They don't need it, they don't have to wait for white dresses, bouquets and altars.

I don't want a ceremony. Raven had confessed after his proposal and had felt the disappointment and pain hit her face as if a bucket of cold water had been thrown at her refusal. My father played the ceremonies with my mother and ended in evil. I don't need a ceremony, protocol and jewelry, just ... need you, Damian Wayne.

Damian had understood her, her reasons were clear and for a person like Raven with a tragic past involving rituals and ceremonies it was easy to understand her rejection of marriage, it was not a refusal to be together. It was at that moment when the lights were off, her eyes were illuminated by the faint moonlight that appeared from the window and he analyzed the features of his girlfriend and realized that they did not require names or labels. The curtains rose and the room was dark as night lit up, like a new dawn and he swore no one would make him feel this way.

Peril of hope, resonates in his head, but it is only the name of a poem, since this is very real and he would share his entire life with her. It is not an illusion, it is not a promise that was taken by a glow that would change the world, this is their future. They could be two stars that orbit around each other, finding some point in their lives.

There are more hopeless futures.

Damian had lived his entire life with third-party plans for his life. Promising that they would bring out the best for him and put out all his thoughts of having an everyday life. He accepted it and raised his head, like a winner, but everything that surrounded Raven was soft and his life was imprinted with small moments in which he was surprised of himself, of the words that come out of his mouth when they are talking and of the actions that he dedicates. He had become accustomed to being with Raven, now he needs to learn to take care of their child.

Damian wants to be a better father.

"You know I'm empathetic, right?"

Observes his girlfriend. His eyes are fixed on his son, the baby is lying on the bed, on top of a small cloth in a pastel tone and he is amazed at how small he is. He is wearing bluish clothes, a miniature hat that drops dark strands like the tar, his skin is of a golden tone very similar to his; He would like to see aspects of Raven, but he looks a lot like him.

It is puzzling.

Looking at his son leaves him stunned. He can't take his eyes off each time he meets him and wonders how he could conceive of something so beautiful, innocent and pure; It makes him feel like a dirty person when he touches him, because he has taken lives. His life was full of authoritarian figures, how could he be what he deserves?

"I can feel your emotions, Damian Wayne," Raven reminds him. She leans towards the baby; he watches him move his little hands. Squeezes her little finger, holding on as if his life depended on it, and it seems like such an alien scene, he feels like a spy. She makes it look so easy. "It's not easy for me either", she whispers, and Damian is surprised. "Some days I think I won't be able to, that I'm not enough for someone who watches me with so much love and devotion and a person like me doesn't deserve a family" Raven adjusts her clothes. Even if he doesn't need her and the baby moans, but he is silent when he hears her voice and watches her with his eyes wide open, as if something about his mother's face had surprised him greatly "but I have him".

He remains silent.

"I was born with a purpose. It would be a door to destroy worlds. There was no other future for me, and my mother sometimes observed me as a stranger realizing my powers… You know my relationship with my father" She looked away. The baby grimaced and clenched his hands into two perfect fists as if the mention of his maternal grandfather would displease him. She ran her fingers over his palms, relaxing her son's hands, just like she did when she thought he needed to relax. "I feared for many things, but not for this. Not from Malik. "

The name echoed in his head and its meaning could not fit better, his son could be the king of their hearts. Damian had inadvertently given him a part of his heart ever since he learned of his existence.

Raven strokes Malik's small foot covered in a woolen sock "You're afraid".

He crossed his arms. One part yelled at him that this was not the case, but it was no use arguing because it is the truth.

Instinctively he moved to be by her side as if to demonstrate with actions that this was not the case, but it was useless because as soon as his son saw him, he began to complain and his mouth twisted into a grimace that threatened to cry.

He was about to get up and leave, in order not to disturb his baby. All his theories about what he considered a stranger were confirmed, but Raven stopped him with a glance and he remained in his place on the bed as if supported by a rope on the edge of the precipice.

He clenched his fists on the blanket covering the bed and watched as she carried Malik who was crying. The boy twisted in her arms and continued to complain, but now he was silent because he was being breastfed.

Alfred the cat yawns and turns his back on them, falling into a deep sleep.

Damian grimaces, wants to be more helpful and not just sit around not knowing what to do. He brushes her hair away so that she could breastfeed more comfortably. Stroking her shoulders with a massage, and Raven sighs intently at her son when he decides he's had enough.

Malik is looking at him now.

"Hold him" He almost protested, but by then she had already put him in his arms.

His eyes fell on Malik, the baby was looking at him with a frown and he wonders how someone so small can do such a thing. His eyebrows are black and thick, it seems that he was analyzing him, checking if they had a similarity or not.

He's light, barely weighs in his arms, and let’s Raven guide his hands holding his head and back. His hands are big compared to his baby, he was full of calluses and he is afraid to break him from the pressure, he seems fragile and is so small ...

"Just relax".

He lets out a breath, and she abandons him completely, but is looking at him.

Malik is still frowning. For the first time in weeks they look into each other's eyes. His son has green eyes with purple specks, as if two jewels had fused inside his iris and he is giving it different meanings, he invents theories and processes.

This is a different kind of love, one that almost filled his eyes with tears and would travel the world if this being asked him, but he also feels impure, not worthy of his son.

He doesn't deserve it.

"He looks like you," Damian says, wanting to break the order of his thoughts. He concentrates on his slightly bluish hair, it catches the light and turns it into a bluish glow, he wants to think that something so beautiful belongs to Raven and not to him. "He has your features."

She lets out a snort that sounds like tongue-in-cheek laughter, gently runs a hand down the baby's chubby cheek and he tries to capture his fingers to hold on to them.

"You are kidding, right?" Damian does not stop observing the face of his son, but he is listening to her. Trying to find places that belonged to Raven, the shape of the eyes, the subtly upturned nose and the way she clung to someone. "He looks like you", Raven leans closer and leans her head against his shoulder. "Malik has your features and expressions, he frowns just like you, he clenches his fingers into a fist when he feels threatened, he usually growls when he is irritated. He is serious and he has your temperament", she enumerates" Someone help us", she jokes.

Damian smiles to himself, tries to find everything she had said about their baby.

He has his eyes, the elongated shape marked by the lashes is his. Damian recognizes the tan tone of his skin, the eyebrows widened in the middle and he almost seems to see traits of his father that have touched Malik. See’s how his lips twist into a grimace, he has a small mouth and with each babble a dimple is marked on his right cheek.

Raven has no dimples.

How can someone like him make something so beautiful?

"This is our life now." She kisses him on the chin, he almost leans towards the touch of her lips and wonders how he has been able to deprive himself of this for two weeks, he would never have enough. "We can do it" He smiles at her. "Even if we are wrong, we always try to make the best of each other".

His mouth drops open as he watches Malik yawn and close his eyes in his arms preparing to sleep. He fights against unconsciousness as if he doesn't want to miss this moment and almost rolls his eyes with grace to see how he insists on staying awake.

"You have to sleep" he whispers to him. His voice is in a tone that he never hoped to ever use, different from the voices of the authority figures who had ruled his life, it is charged with sweetness and brotherly love. He guides one of his fingers towards his small hands, he clings to his index finger and is strong "You must have had a long day".

Raven smiles placing a kiss on his shoulder.

"A tired day for a three-week-old baby."

He rolls his eyes, prefers to focus on his son who opens his eyes every time they are talking and babbles, as if he wants to participate in the conversation.

"You have to go to sleep, Malik."

The baby closes his eyes, allowing himself to be overcome by sleep, a thread of saliva comes out of his mouth and he smiles. Raven wipes the saliva with a piece of cloth and is laughing.

"I can't believe he has that about you, too."

"What?"

"You also drool when you sleep. Don't worry, I haven't told anyone. "

 "Intelligent" he murmurs.

He gathers his son in his arms, he sleeps with his head resting against his shoulder and feels his breath against his neck. It reminds of someone.

"You do this."

Raven raises an eyebrow as she folds Malik's clothes down onto a piece of furniture. "What?" She asks absentmindedly.

He clears his throat "You hide your head on my neck when we are sleeping, Malik does the same".

A smile appears on Raven's lips and she feels that she is complete.

In his past he never imagined that he would have a partner. That he would be willing to wait for her and give in, fight against the whole world for Raven. He always thought that love is an idea in collective thought, it was a deal, that if he were with someone it would be to get resources or benefits of any kind. He thought that if he had children it would be so that his bloodline would remain.

Here he is years later wanting to share his life with someone beyond contracts. Wanting to burn formalities in front of institutions and authorities, accepting this force of gravity in the form of a person that she was, holding his son in his arms vowing to protect him and would do anything to keep a smile on his child's lips like a deity promise.

"We've had so many wounds and scars," Raven whispers. Their eyes are fixed on Malik and both join their hands, intertwining their fingers. "Sometimes I feel like I will open my eyes and it will be a disaster again."

Damian says nothing but understands her. He feels the same way.

He watches his son, who is sleeping, hiding his face in his neck. His breathing is the flapping of the wings of a bird. He is so small and fragile, his chest rises and he does think that in his life he has performed acts that he has never thought about doing much more now, he leans forward and places a kiss on his forehead. Presses his lips on his forehead, feels how he relaxes in his gesture and finds himself smiling.

Maybe he would live his whole life thinking he didn't deserve this, but he's willing to explore that kind of love that couldn't hurt and makes him feel like a better person. One who would build a family and swears he won't see the same thing that marked him, in his infancy. His Malik, his child in his arms, paints his future in green and purple, just like his eyes.

Raven leans in, sighs against his shoulder and wishes she was nowhere else but here.

[lizacstuff]

EPISODE 34 - Sen Çal Kapımı/Edser Asks

(asks under the read more)

Anonymous said: Thoughts on the episode? I finally see the light at the end of the tunnel which is the end of this current storyline. Very much looking forward to Eda & Serkan being reunited at which point I will delete episodes 30-34 from my memories. This episode to me had the same vibe as 32 which overall had the feeling of actual progression for Eda & Serkan. It has been said before but the amnesia storyline and Serkan falling in love with Eda again could have been much more enjoyable with better writing and no Selin or Deniz but this is the plot we were given. So hoping for another Edser filled episode that includes Serkan professing his love to Eda in front of everyone.

YES, LIGHT AT THE END OF THE TUNNEL. Me too. I think we’re close to being rid of Selin and Deniz. 

As for the episode, it was a LOT better than the last one and was probably the easiest episode to watch since 28, but it’s still part of this unenjoyable arc. I agree that it had a similar vibe to 32, which was one of the best of this stretch. The writers seemed to have fixed the Edser screen time issue that plagued the last episode. I always want more, but there was enough in this episode to where at least I didn’t feel cheated. The episode was a lot lighter and had more of a romcom feel than any since Serkan lost his memory and I welcomed that as well. There were a number of very enjoyable Edser scenes AND the icing was very little Selin. 

That gave the episode room to breath, and room for Serkan and Eda to breath, which was much needed. 

Their bickering, starting at the station was fun to watch. And while I was pretty skeptical about an episode centered on Serkan trying to get Eda to admit her engagement is fake, it lead to some fun scenes. Him taunting her in the office about love gave us back some of that old romantic comedy sexual tension. Engin’s couple game gave us a few good moments, but, wow, it was really, really poorly constructed. Seriously, Serkan, you have to find someone savvier to do this sort of work for you. Leyla would have been better, even Erdem would have done better! Probably.  But the looks that Eda and Serkan were giving each other through that sequence gave me life. Squinting, peering one eye open, but always finding one another. Good stuff. 

As for the boxing, I’m glad they waited to do that sequence for a time when she had some anger at him to deal with! It just wouldn’t have been the same if they’d been playfully sparring. I equally enjoyed her beating the shit out of him and how hot her climbing all over him was. 

The catwalk was hot. Like really, super duper, 5 alarm fire, hot. I love that the editors made a 30 foot runway seem like it was 300 feet. And when they turned and she put her hand on his shoulder. I swooned. I don’t even care that it makes no sense to ask your architects to walk in a fashion show... though when one of your architects is as next level beautiful as Eda, you can see why they’d want her. (Sorry Selin, they probably saw you walk at the charity show too, but passed) Though why did they want Deniz? He’s not famous or attractive. It would have made more sense if they’d wanted the famous and handsome Serkan Bolat from the start. Though this way was more fun. GO MELO. BEST FRIEND EVER. Can we get her some sort of prize? She has her dada’s back, ALWAYS.  Serkan and Eda are going to owe her for life.

Having Eda fall off the boat was... extra. Especially since I’m sure she will be fished out no worse for the wear right off the top. Is it too much to ask that Serkan accuses Selin of pushing her? Please!?!?!?

Anonymous said: is it bad that deniz is now annoying me more as a villian than selin.. granted, last ep selin had very little screentime (thank god) and when she was there was usually playing third wheel to edser.. but deniz is slowly getting worse and worse.. manipulating eda into continuing their fake game and now basically pulling the puppet strings with selin. as much as i hated how ceren told serkan about the fake engagement, i WAS rooting her on when she yelled at him about him taking advantage of eda.

Deniz needs to take a long walk off a short pier. Good gawd he’s really turned into a psycho, hasn’t he? 

Look, I know Eda and Serkan are both awesome. They’re insanely good looking and charming and smart and successful, BUT, PEOPLE, even they are not worth losing your dignity and your sanity over. Balca, The Prince, Selin and Deniz... all gone crazy over them.

With Selin this episode, though, she sort of struck me as resigned to her fate. Like she’s still going through the motions of being a psycho stalker and playing the game, but deep down she knows she’s lost.  She’s seen this movie before, she knows what it looks like when Serkan is falling in love with Eda, and she knows it’s happening again and that she doesn’t stand a chance. She’ll keep trying on the off chance Eda gets hit by a bus (or falls off a boat) and because she is seriously not right in the brain, but she’s lost all her swagger. 

Think about all StalkerSelin has witnessed. In 30 she saw them having intense moments by the fire, in 31 she saw them having intense moments on the boat. She knows Serkan took off on her birthday to go help Eda with the project and they spent all day together. Then later that same day she was abandon by him before she could blow out her candles so that he could go save Eda, then she saw him sleep snuggling with Eda, all so they could come back and she could go spy on him planting terrariums with Eda and then he lies to her face and she watches him go to meet Eda for dinner. In this episode, Eda and Serkan were bickering about whether or not Serkan was staring at Eda and they didn’t stop when Selin entered the office and neither one even seemed to noticed her! Serkan is fixated on Eda and Selin knows it. 

She was acting defeated before she got the photos. Now that she has them... what will she do? Crawl in hole and die? One can hope!

Anonymous said: just general thoughts: i was able to enjoy this episode way more than the previous ones and not cause there was miracle occurrence in the episode.. but because there was minimal selin lol. the selin fatigue is real!!! it also helps that while yes, serkan was teasing and trying to rile eda up, he wasn't using selin to do it this episode. for some reason with how it's going (and with neslihan's emoji spoilers for next ep) i do believe he's gonna remember at the end of next ep.

The Selin fatigue is real.  They really ruined what could have been an interesting and good batch of episodes by inserting her unnecessarily into the plot. I really think amnesia was enough drama and enough of a stumbling block without this aggravating nonsense. Every second she is on screen is a chore to watch. 

As for him remembering at the end of next episode, it’s possible. A lot of people are out there selling spoilers (which almost every source of spoilers has been so wrong so many times, that I’m not sure why anyone pays attention to any of them anymore) that he remembers by the end of the next ep. 

Here’s the thing though, he has to tell Eda he loves her before he remembers.  That’s what all of this has been leading to, him falling in love with her again from scratch, so as long as that happens, it’s plausible. But any theory that involves him getting his memories back and then going after her... doesn’t ring true to me. I mean with this batch of writers anything could happen, (because they have some issues) but if they do that, then I have no idea what this entire arc has been about. 

Anonymous said: The mystery person has got to be Ferit, right? ever since that first episode back, they've been sure to throw in one scene each episode where he's delivering some sort of warning to Selin telling her to knock it off. Unless its a random new/returning character that we haven't seen as part of this arc yet.

I don’t know. He’s definitely a suspect, but here’s my thing with that theory, a) Ferit is not the sharpest tool in the shed b) Ferit is usually such a straight forward, honest character. I mean this is the guy that blurted out in episode 1 how happy he was that Serkan was engaged to such a beautiful woman because he considered him his rival for Selin. No filter. 

It’s hard for me to believe he’s become this diabolical and sneaky and savvy. I feel like if he had the photos he’d just hand them to Serkan. But we’ll see. 

He’s on my list of potentials, but I also wonder if someone hired a PI or someone to follow Selin, and on that list of suspects for me is Aydan, Babaanne, Alptekin and Serkan himself. 

Anonymous said: one of my fav scenes from last ep was weirdly the girl talk scene between melo, eda, and ayfer. them talking about eda's feelings and encouraging her was much needed. and for once in the entire show, ayfer actually spoke some sense.. guess her little stint with alex woke up her eyes to love or something lmao. we need more scenes like that where character motivations are laid out plainly.

Ayfer made up for a LOT with that one scene. Wow, she actually wasn’t thinking selfishly and put Eda’s heart first and didn’t immediately vilify Serkan. A miracle! 

It was a very good scene. And when I rank characters (in my head) from best to worst, she’s now above Piril and Ceren! Oh man, Ceren really out did herself with the way she framed Eda’s fake engagement to Serkan. I really don’t understand where her rage at Eda came from, but she better seek help soon if she wants any chance at redemption. 

Also I know it’s terrible, but when Piril was upset about Engin potentially cheating... I LAUGHED out loud. I think I might have also yelled, “SUFFER BITCH!” I really can’t stand her and I loved seeing her miserable. After enabling Selin she deserves the pain. 

Anonymous said: So I kind of felt bad for Serkan because of Eda’s strong reaction to him kissing her but at the same time, not. His out of the blue invitation to dinner and the kiss with no explanation was just never going to go over very well after his recent behavior. And of course she was going to think he got his memory back because in her mind it is the only explanation for him kissing her at this point. But at the same time it would have been really interesting to see how he reacted to her just pulling him in for another kiss. He clearly would have been totally into it and then who knows how the rest of the episode would have gone 🤷🏻‍♀️. They are stuck in a bad cycle, he overlooks her sensitivity to things due to not remembering their past and she is unable to overlook his insensitivity due to their past together. And the writers want to keep dragging this out so Eda & Serkan are constantly interrupted before they can talk stuff out.

They did a nice job of finally having Eda talk about what’s going on in her brain box. She wants her Serkan back just as he was before. Which is understandable, but she’s pinning all of her hopes on Serkan remembering and when he doesn’t she loses it. 

Thank goodness Melo and Ayfer were there to gently talk some sense to her. It isn’t his fault that he doesn’t remember and he’s not doing it on purpose. And as Melo said he’s falling in love with her again, him walking in and kissing her was a big sign of that. I think we all worried he was going to say something jerkish to her after the kiss, but he didn’t. He was just honest that he didn’t remember, and I think slapping him was a little harsh. I mean she’s definitely not in the wrong here, he’s been a whole jackass at times, but she’s putting all her effort into getting him to remember, and she’s not succeeding, but she should maybe recognize when she’s making other headway with him. You know, like him arranging a dinner and walking up and kissing her. Maybe ride that wave and see where it goes! 

As you said, if she’d kissed him again, things would have ended differently. Or if instead of getting angry she had said, “Okay, you kissed me but you still don’t remember, where do we go from here?” However, slapping him in that moment is very true to her character. We know she reacts emotionally, and her spontaneity and volatility are a part of her, and he loved all of her. 

Anonymous said: I guess the writers pay attention to some details - seems the project that got cancelled in 32 was the same Serkan said was going badly in 28. But not other details - Leyla puts down the papers to say the project was cancelled without telling Serkan, knowing that he'd see them on his desk right away, and he does. So wouldn't he have noticed the envelope the day of the surprise dinner? He had plenty of opportunity. I thought this ep it would be revealed he saw the pics but he didn't seem to know.

I find it hella hard to believe that those photos sat on his desk all day and he didn’t open them (in 33) or that they hit his desk this episode after Eda handed them to him and he didn’t open them. So, yeah, either he’s seen them or this was a big writing fail. (Right now I’m thinking it was a big writing fail).

Though personally, at this point, I don’t want them to be found until after Serkan declares his love for Eda. Let him make the decision and then lets have the evidence that makes everything guilt free and easier to humiliate and punish S/D.

Anonymous said: Is Deniz trying to trick Eda into a real legal marriage? is that what is about to happen here? I can't decide if he is worse than Selin now. I'm going to need Ayfer to bring back her threat to expose everything.

They can be equally psycho and bad. I’m not sure overall he’s worse, yet, but he was definitely way worse this episode. How has Eda not noticed that he has interrupted intense moments between her and Serkan too many times to be helpful? That’s one thing I hate about this storyline is that they have had to dumb down both Eda and Serkan to make it work. 

I have no idea what Deniz’s end game is. Is he going to trick her into marriage? But even so, what then?  If she thinks it’s a fake ceremony, but it’s real, what does he think Eda is going to do? Does he really think she’ll think his lies and tricks are charming, and stay married to him? 

Or does he think that if he gets Eda to the wedding day, and Serkan doesn’t make a move, Eda will just go “Okay, then I guess I might as well marry you for real.”  Good grief. The guy is delusional. 

I admit that I yelled, “FUCK YOU” multiple times during his scenes. This was a very vocal episode for me. I was so happy when Melo outmaneuvered him at the fashion show. Finally, someone was able to turn the tables on him. 

Anonymous said: I am so tired of hearing on Twitter that the Eda is entirely to blame for Edser not being reunited yet. Nope, that does not rest entirely on Eda or Serkan’s shoulders. The writers have created a never ending cycle of the two of them hurting each other directly & indirectly and also being manipulated by their so called childhood friend/fiancés. This Serkan does not even believe in true love and has been manipulated to think Eda is an awful person. Eda has been watching the love of her life getting cozy with Selin and he has repeatedly told her that they do not have a future together not to mention Deniz’s manipulations as well. Regardless of what they are each feeling, they do not think the other person feels the same way. The fake engagement with Deniz is awful just like Serkan’s real engagement with Selin is but again not solely Eda’s fault. And saying that Eda needs to be the bigger person because she has her memories is not fair. She does not know if he will ever get them back and again he has repeatedly said they have no future together & he is with Selin. Eda walks into that office everyday to be close to him and she puts up with his crap comments and the bs from Selin in the hope that things turnaround. And for the boxing scene, yes, it would have been great if Eda has poured out her true feelings but not 100% sure the writers would have let Serkan reciprocate in that moment not to mention Deniz showed up 3 seconds later. The real people to blame are the writers that came up with this plot where no one wins.

Someone said Eda is entirely to blame for Edser not being reunited yet? Where are you hanging out on twitter? You need to find better people to follow who understand that Serkan HAS AMNESIA and is being manipulated. No need to play the blame game on this one, it’s a horrible situation for both of them. 

Eda has been dealt a lousy hand, very lousy, she and Serkan are both victimes here trying to find their way out. That being say, she decided to go on the offensive and play a game, and in that game she’s made some tactical errors. Which is not laying blame it’s just saying she’s made some missteps. 

Where she’s going wrong, as I said above, is that she is doing everything to get Serkan to remember, and she isn’t focused in on the fact that he’s falling back in love with her regardless of his memory. That’s pretty extraordinary! 

I really think when she answered “Yes” to loving Deniz and wanting to marry him, that was one of those missteps. A big one. I’m not saying she should have bared her soul right then and there, but I think she probably would have been better off not answering the questions at all. Perhaps telling him that he can’t ask her that while he’s engaged to Selin. Turn it back on him, but saying she loves Deniz when they were having a very serious, raw moment... mistake. And that’s why the whole thing is going to go right up until the wedding day.  Let’s hope one of them puts their stubbornness aside before she’s shackled to a psycho. (Don’t worry, they will). 

[skybird13]

MORE FG Analysis....(I think I might have a problem)

I keep rewatching and rewatching the Clover and Qrow scenes we have so far and trying to see the bromance thing or the platonic buddies thing and I just... can’t? 

Look, I don’t run around with shipping goggles on if that means anything to anyone. I got through the entirety of The Lord of the Rings and the first two Hobbit movies without shipping a single couple (Martin Freeman and Richard Armitage punched me in the heart in the third Hobbit film, but that’s another tangent for another time). I wasn’t even fully on Bumblby until volume 4. 

There’s just no other way to view these scenes. Things keep escalating between these two. I don’t really have a good scale for measuring romantic/sexual tension, so I’ll just try to pinpoint the moments in which things tick up a notch or two. Starting with...

The Mine Scene

The baseline here is the casual conversation that Qrow initiates. From there, here are the beats:

Conversation turns personal very quickly, thanks to Qrow opening up

Clover catches Qrow

They engage the Grimm

Qrow warns Clover

Qrow shares his semblance (again... Qrow is the one to get personal, which I find extremely telling)

Clover shares his semblance (and puts Qrow at ease)

Clover flirts (look, I’m trying to be as objective atm as possible, but the wink, the smile, the eyebrow wiggle, the full-body lean, and the lingering stare as he turns around... I’m sorry, there’s no other word for that. I challenge anyone of you to replace Qrow with a woman, show it to someone who doesn’t watch RWBY, ask what the tone of this still-shot is, and find me a single person who will tell you it’s not romantically charged. I dare you.)

Qrow stares back (this is absolutely from a myriad of emotions running through him and I will not discount that, but can we all at least admit that he seems to come out of this shock in a pretty okay place?)

They reach the main cavern and... more flirting/showing off from Clover. (The toss, the smirk, the salute, and the fancy-ass backflip which, considering he hooks Kingfisher to the ceiling and goes zipping upwards directly after this (thank you @fairgame-is-endgame​) was completely unnecessary.) 

The joke! How did I miss this?? Qrow doesn’t joke about their semblances for the first time at Schnee manor. He does it here! (Sorry, I couldn’t get the dialogue in there with Qrow’s eyes open.)

Clover counters with: “Hmm. No. I’d chalk that one up to talent.” (Already highlighting the difference between their attitudes regarding their semblances. For Qrow, everything bad that happens is his fault. For Clover, semblance isn’t everything. A very healthy person for Qrow to be around, no?)

The Truck Scene

Now we shift to the truck scene. Again, trying to pinpoint the beats where the romantic tension clicks up or something significant happens:

Clover initiates conversation. (Apparently, him mentioning Ruby is enough to put people on edge, but might I point out a few things? (Jesus lord, this is turning into another essay.) He brings up Ruby as “[Qrow’s] niece”, first of all. And that’s it. You know where he shifts the focus from there? On to Qrow. This is Clover’s next line in this exchange: “It’s a good thing they had someone to look up to and get them through it. Not everyone is so lucky.” Real nefarious there, guys. Way to have Master Spy Clover probe for info. Oh, don’t get me wrong. Clover is absolutely probing here but it’s for another reason entirely.)

Qrow shifts from being closed off and a little taciturn to making sure the conversation doesn’t drop. (He thanks Clover in case anyone wants me to be specific about that). 

Qrow gets personal. Again. He opens up about being an alcoholic.

And the peak of this scene? Clover calls Qrow on his self-deprecating habits and tries to offer him something solid and good to hold on to. Which I and others have written about ad nauseum, to the point where repeating myself is getting annoying, so have some visual aids instead:

James’s Office

Non-verbal communication. Here, surrounded by people that both Clover and Qrow know better than they know each other at this point, and their first instinct in this moment is still to seek each other out. Enough said.

Schnee Manor

The second inside joke between them about their semblances. 

Qrow flirts openly. Similar to Clover’s “You’ve had more of an effect on them than you realize” line delivery here, Qrow’s “I mean, they already invited you, didn’t they?” carries a very specific and multilayered tone. He’s playful, he’s open, he’s relaxed, he’s enjoying himself, and yes, the man is flirting. It’s in the voice, it’s in the smile, it’s in the body language. And it is absolutely in the lingering stare as Clover walks through the door (a mirror of Clover’s lingering stare in the mines, btw).

Final thoughts/speculation

Does anyone want them? You’re gonna get ‘em. 

I think the fact that Qrow is the one who gets personal when he has every damn reason right now to be guarded is ridiculously significant. In the last two volumes before this, his sister tried to have him murdered, a long-trusted colleague (Lionheart) turned out to be a traitor, and Oz was revealed to be a massive liar (I love Oz, I really do, but the man screwed up). Qrow has no reason to drop his walls for just anyone so you know what this tells me? He’s interested in Clover from the beginning. Qrow’s early-stage flirting style isn’t to wink and show-off (at least not anymore), it’s to lower his guard and see how the other person responds. I think he’s gotten to the point of “if you can’t deal with my ugly shit, you won’t be getting the rest of me either”. Qrow Branwen is doing a little probing of his own and, in light of this, you could make the argument that he’s the one to open the door for their relationship to happen. 

Clover’s early-stage flirting style, on the other hand, is very overt. He’s more guarded about himself personally (notice how he keeps the focus on Qrow quite a bit and even does a bit of deflecting of his own in the truck scene) but he is perfectly comfortable with making his interest known in a very straightforward and physical manner. 

There are reasons for this!! Reasons deeply intertwined with character and who these men are.

Qrow sees himself as the eternal monkey wrench that no one wants. He’s finally starting to recover from this viewpoint, I think, but he’s also very aware that no matter how healthy he might get, he is always going to come with a little... extra. He has his semblance, he has his depression, and he has his alcoholism. He’s tired of secrets and he’s tired of games, and if he’s going to get involved with someone, they sure as hell better be ready to deal with all of that, because it’s not going anywhere. The solution? Put it all out there and see how the person responds. He gets the wrong response, he’s going to shut that down and move on. The right response?? He’s going to keep moving forward to see where it goes. Clover is giving him all the right responses.

As for Clover, he’s not only military but he’s also the leader of the elite Ace Ops and the man with the good-luck semblance. I know we don’t have a lot on him, but I suspect that the pressures of all that get to him quite a lot, to the point where he has major trouble being personally vulnerable for anyone. He’s probably used to having to keep it together at all times, to presenting that tightly controlled professionalism he displays with Robyn and even with Jacques Schnee to a degree. He’s used to everyone else relying on him, including James. This means that even in the presence of mutual interest, he’s going to flirt in ways that are emotionally safe, at least at first. 

The balance inherent in this is so unbelievably beautiful. And, I’m starting to realize, a complete subversion of early expectations. 

Qrow isn’t the one who has to learn to open up. He’s already doing that. What he will have to do is learn to accept someone (outside of his nieces) loving him without strings attached. He’ll have to learn to trust that Clover (and by extension their relationship) isn’t going anywhere, even if/when things get bad. Clover can be the one who stays. 

Clover, on the other hand, is the one who is going to have to learn to open up. He’s going to have to learn how to return that emotional vulnerability that Qrow has already given him, and he’s going to have to learn that Qrow can be the safe place where all that confidence and self-control can finally drop. Clover might have to be the unshakeable support structure for everyone else in his life, but Qrow can be the one place where he can lean and just breathe.

[warrocketpodcast]

Is the "professor x just made a bunch of child soldiers" argument as tired as the "If Batman donated all the money it took to become Batman he'd do more good" line?

.No, but I think there’s an interesting reason why it’s not, and it has a lot to do with textual intent. 

In Batman comics, Batman IS the solution to the problems with Gotham City, which we know because WE ARE READING BATMAN COMICS AND THAT IS THE PREMISE, AND IF YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND THAT YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND FICTION. Billionaires in the real world? Terrible, inherently immoral. Billionaires in the fictional universe that has shit like Green Lantern rings and x-ray eyes? Literally the only thing keeping a crocodile man from eating your face. Bruce Wayne is a philanthropist on the side, but, as I’ve written before, writing a check to the local school district or offering comprehensive health insurance to employees of Wayne Industries does not solve the problem of A Murder Clown Is Poisoning The Water Supply Right Now. I do not understand why people claim they want to see fucking Batman meet with his accountant and figure out if construction of the Thomas and Martha Wayne Memorial Humanities Building at Hudson University is a good tax write-off for 20 God damned pages every week, which I assure you they do not actually want, but that’s not the point, really. The point is disingenuous refusal to engage with the text. The actual text of Batman comics is that Batman is a good idea.

The actual text of X-Men comics is that Professor X gathered teenagers and, in the guise of a school, turned them into a secretive paramilitary strike force that went on missions where they were sometimes killed. The argument is whether that’s the best way to go about things, which is an argument that people have within those comics. The text tends to come down on the side that he was right to do so because the alternative is getting murdered by giant purple robots made of racism, but there’s still an exploration. It’s why Cyclops is an interesting character, because he’s The Most X-Man — the guy who found out at 15 that he had to learn how to be really good at aiming the uncontrollable laser beams concussive force blasts that shoot out of his eyes because the alternative was that he and everyone he cared about was going to die. Like, that’s something that’s gonna fuck you up pretty bad, but according to the past 50 years of X-Men comics, it’s also 100% true. 

With Batman, the question is not “why doesn’t Batman provide real solutions to to the real-world root causes of crime” — because that’s an astoundingly stupid question to ask — it’s “how is Batman going to solve the problems that are presented to him in this fictional universe that is uniquely built around him?” 

With the X-Men, the question is usually “how are the X-Men going to survive this experience?” The idea of questioning whether Professor X was wrong all this time is a core component of that. 

The former is refusing to engage with the premise. The latter is asking the questions the premise invites. If you don’t like the premise, you don’t have to engage with the media. There’s a lot of stuff out there and if you don’t like Batman because that idea doesn’t make sense to you, I’m not going to hold it against you. I will, however, hold it against you if you try to break the premise to make it worse. 

Here’s a huge tangent where I just know I’m gonna get lost in the woods: 

I actually feel a similar way to opinions I’ve seen about the MCU, and how it’s built around a very militaristic idea of superheroes, which makes some people uncomfortable. And, you know, that’s fair! Those movies are built around that idea, because they were built on the foundation of a movie that was the absolute embodiment of transitioning from traditional action movies (ie, stories about loose cannon cops, spies, space marines, Kurt Thomas, and other heroes who usually have the backing of a larger organization) and superhero stories (which are almost always about heroes acting independently of, and occasionally in opposition to, those same larger forces). Those movies never really get away from the idea that Tony Stark, the guy who sets the tone for the entire roster of films to follow, is fundamentally a dude whose primary character trait and fatal flaw are that he always believes he can solve his problems by building a bigger gun. The militarized aspect of S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Avengers spins out of this as both a structural result of the action to superhero genre transition, and as a convenience to get Iron Man (former defense contractor), Captain America (literal soldier), Black Widow (spy), the Hulk (military scientist) and Hawkeye (for some reason a spy like in The Ultimates and not a redneck carny like he should’ve been). The odd man out is Thor, which, for all the problems with those first two Avengers movies, is why he first shows up as an antagonist in the first one and then completely bails on the whole thing to go deal with his own stuff on the second one. The military structure is literal plot structure.

So yeah, that gets kind of weird when it filters down to Spider-Man. A lot of that weirdness has to do with things that are beyond the control of the universe, in that Marvel’s most beloved character, the second big success the company ever had whose popularity has endured much stronger than the first one, the flagship superhero who was literally on their paychecks and has never not been popular, had to be a late addition to a universe that already had, like, the Vision in it. 

But because they had to work within those constraints, they had to work within the premise they were already given. It makes perfect sense that in that universe, Peter Parker would look up to the world’s most famous superhero nerd, and it makes sense that Iron Man would see Peter as this blank slate that he could stop from making the mistakes that had defined his life. That, to me, is a really interesting dynamic, but it’s also one that requires Spider-Man to take a lot of cues from Iron Man, which is not a dynamic that those two characters ever had in the source material. It winds up giving them different consequences.

And like, if that’s not your thing, I get it. Spider-Man being recruited by the superhero military and having a high-tech suit that talks to him is a jarring shift, even if they do a good job of bringing in most of the core tenets of the character — something about responsibility and... I wanna say... muscles? Is it muscles? — which I think they did. But, if you don’t like that setup, which is a product of the larger universe, then you don’t have to buy into the premise. Like, yeah, it sucks that you’re fundamentally not going to dig this Spider-Man movie, but how do you think I feel? I’m a Batman guy and I literally have to see these movies with their endless terrible premises for my job.

Back when Far From Home came out, I remember seeing someone talk about how the MCU Peter Parker was fundamentally flawed because he didn’t have Uncle Ben, and I don’t think that’s correct. For one thing, Spidey pretty clearly has an Uncle Ben in that movie, it’s just that the reference to him in Civil War is a little less explicit than it usually is, presumably because we’ve seen Uncle Ben die on screen like five times since 2002. Second, it actually makes it make more sense that he’d latch onto the next influential father figure who walked through his front door. Third, even if we got way more Uncle Ben in those movies, it wouldn’t change the fact that the Peter/Tony Stark relationship and the way it played out was a function of the larger universe and the way those two characters had to interact within it. I don’t want to generalize too much or claim to know what people are thinking better than they do, but I’d suspect that if you don’t like that stuff in Spider-Man, the thing you really don’t like is the larger structure of this take on the characters. And that’s fair! 

That’s not to say that a premise can’t be bad, or that a twist on a character that posits a new premise is always good by nature of including some of the stuff that works. Again, I’m a Batman guy, and the last three movies to feature Batman are bad partly because the premise is fundamentally broken (the other parts are literally everything else about those movies because they are irredeemably terrible on virtually every level). But, you know, none of them have Batman writing a check instead of fighting crime, so that’s something.

--Chris

[nettlestonenell]

Armie Hammer wants a sequel to The Man From U.N.C.L.E.—shouldn’t you?

This post is a long time in coming, Gentle Readers and @jammeke​, but now, though it might be here, before your very eyes, to think it will be well-laid out would be a mistake. It’s set to be just about as messy as Ilya’s misplaced loyalties and murky motivations.

How dare!

I probably first watched this film well over a year ago (courtesy @jammeke​ posting things about it). I used Sling OnDemand (I think on TNT). In the ensuing viewings I also watched it in that way, but as I was sitting down for a fourth(?) viewing, it kept coming to me that I was tired of watching it with commercials I couldn’t skip, and I had a sneaking suspicion that it had been edited for time and I was missing out on scenes. [pointless aside: I was also watching the film in chunks, and never as a whole]

Where is she now? What’s the time stamp? How far along did she get? Are you shagging the hotel hostess yet?

So, I, uh, set out to buy it on DVD—without any luck! In the sense that copies I could find cost more (w/ shipping) than buying it to stream. So, I bought it to stream on Amazon. Do I regret my choice, Gentle Readers? No, no I don’t. I do regret burden of knowledge in learning that TNT was already playing the entirety of the film. That was a hard pill to swallow.

Nope, I’ve looked. That’s absolutely everything. Nothing additional lurking around here...

So here it is, as it is, @jammeke, “My Notes on The Man from U.N.C.L.E.”

Look, I don’t know what this film is. I probably can’t fully articulate its appeal. Or maybe I can--certainly after transcribing four page I’ve tried. Number One thing to know about me and fiction/films is that a top draw for me is seeing something out of the ordinary, such as beautiful locations, a historical era, delicious costumes. There are times, frankly, this can trump weak story and undefined character for me. (The best films, of course, combine all three) Certainly, The Man... delivers in the delight of the eyes. Additionally, I must confess that growing up as a person older than @reblogginhood​ but younger than Miss Fisher, so much of what was on TV was essentially reruns of this film’s iconic Look(tm). So, when I see women dressed like Gaby I am just another three-to-seven-year-old overcome with the drop dead glamour of it all.

Darling, tell me how you really feel...

Some questions I have:

·         IS Armie Hammer a hulk of a man? Everyone in this film seems to think so, yet he always tracks to me as trim (rather than hulking)

·         Why translate via captions some Russian speaking, but not all?

·         IS Napoleon’s backstory directly cribbed from USA’s White Collar?

·         DOES Gaby have a German accent?

·         Does Ilya get preternaturally attached to all the people he’s ordered to look after? Also, what is his bonding rate with kittens?

Sorry, wrong iteration. 

 ·         If Lady Villain knows the lens is wrong—if her technical understanding is that in-depth--does she really need Gaby’s dad to make the bomb?

·         How old was Gaby during the war?

·         What happens when Ilya gets a NEW puppy assigned to him? (please let this be addressed in film #2)

Hooray for:

·         That bathroom fight! *all the Burn Notice feels!

·         Gaby is her own lady, and chooses sides as necessary—not always unilateral in her support for either male character. Case in point: she sides with Ilya over the clothes, and Napoleon over the incident of the wallet.

·         That delicious (speaking as Rusty, here) Ocean’s 11-stylized action. It’s pretty, so I’m not bored with it. Sometimes a sandwiched montage gets shown, so I’m REALLY not bored. I’ve got 18 tiny moving boxes of things to look at!

·         Pinkie rings. There, you’ve told me everything I need to know about that character.

·         Solo in a beret. English has not yet found a word for the feeling it evoked in this viewer. Somewhere between ‘precious’ and ‘oh, no’.

See, there? Now you’ve felt it too.

·         Goggles! All the accessories! Dune Buggies! (I mean, that’s what I’m calling Napoleon’s chase-scene ride)

Things I adore:

·         It seems (after some research) that more than a few folks view Gaby as a third wheel, and though she’s not exactly a Princess Leia commandeering her own rescue and exuding competence and a deserved take-charge-attitude at every corner, she IS a foci for both male characters (though romantically it would seem only for one), just as Ilya is a foci for both her and Napoleon [no one seems to worry about Napoleon, though they should--film #2, anyone?]

·         Mechanic Gaby not needing a beauty makeover, or being dragged into one. She gets some nice clothes, but it’s never suggested that she’s not attractive or acceptable before putting them on, and I respect, nay, embrace it.

Oh, my heart. She’s still not as tall as them!

·         Ilya, drab pigeon Ilya, knowing fashion

·         Oh man, don’t even get me started on the power of the statement, “it doesn’t have to match”

·         You knew it was coming on this sublist: the wrestle-fight. I mean, c’mon. Poor little Gaby, locked behind the Iron Curtain, living a life of always being watched. She’s in the swankest hotel (I mean, Napoleon chose it, so we can be sure it’s swank with an E). She’s trying to celebrate her freedom, her liberation. She’s playing verboten music, she’s drinking to excess. Girl wants—and deserves—a party. And Ilya is…not built for that (that he knows of). For some fun, just imagine if she had been given Napoleon to room with instead.

                            o   I will say that this scene, and some of their other interactions have what I would call early (non-sibling) Luke and Leia energy. Ilya seems to have moments of being struck by Gaby in a way Luke is struck by Leia in the early part of the trilogy. When Leia takes charge, and Luke accepts it. When Leia does something incredible, and Luke is left open-mouthed. *no, I don’t see OT Star Wars in everything. Shut up.

·         “He fixed the glitch.”

·         Again, shout-out to the non-action action.

·         “I left my jacket in there.”

·         The whole race to rescue Gaby I am in love with beyond words. [I have noted it as “Crazy Jeep Drive with Warhead!”] Probably b/c it comes across as totally egalitarian. Both men want her rescued. They’re no longer in competition. It’s just as important to Napoleon as it is to Ilya to catch up to her. Also, it is bonkers, like some sort of X-games version of a commercial for the vehicles they’re driving. And screaming Willie Scott does not make an appearance.

         Someone says “winkle” out.

·         Look! Another note about the screen divisions and how I love it, shout-outs to the original Steve McQueen The Thomas Crown Affair (a contemporary of when this movie is meant to be set), and TV’s 24.

Things that get a great, big NOPE:

·         Jerrod Harris: you’ve been in so much streamable content in the last decade I can’t hate you, but frankly, you’re terrible here—unless you’re supposed to be giving a mannered, not-campy-enough-to-be-enjoyable performance here. Your American English puts me in the mind of Alex Hawaii 5-0′Loughlin where it feels you’re concentrating so hard on your accent that you fail to convince anyone that you’re a harried, over-worked and exasperated spy handler. Your performance is at odds with every bit of dialogue you’re given to say.

·         That awful, mishandled title that doesn’t even connect to the film until the final moments (a sequel set-up, for sure)

·         Look, you don’t introduce Hugh Grant casually mid-way through your film in a throwaway appearance. I mean, he’s HUGH GRANT we all know something’s up now.

·         This is not exactly a great big NOPE, b/c I love a flat cap, Tommy Shelby—but I feel like a less tall man with a far rounder face in a flat cap would track more as Russian to me that AH does. To me, he just looks like he’s about to go golfing.

Over par? Unacceptable!

·         Is Victoria a British-accented Italian? A British woman who married—what? Gaby’s uncle isn’t Italian!? An Italian who went to school in Britain? My head hurts. Also, is her hair meant to be unconvincingly bleached?

Other commentary:

·         Napoleon’s adult ne’er-do-well backstory is so far from being emotionally equivalent to Ilya’s childhood trauma [and his enslavement to the USSR] it seems bestial when he calls it out on multiple occasions. Badly done, Solo.

·         Gaby is the film’s key (sorry, Buffy fans). Everyone is connected to her. Yes, she could have been given a bit more on the character front, but I don’t see her as as much of a flaw in the film as some others/reviewers seem to.

·         Look, essentially (and not very nuanced-ly), Ilya is a stalker. I think the film goes a certain distance in establishing that his early behavior toward Gaby is not normal, but concurrently it does not truly call him out on it. He’s essentially viewed as an odd-duck, sure, but not a true threat to her (should she not reciprocate or tolerate his intensity toward her). I think I might be able to cite his behavior when Gaby comes on to him (that he doesn’t jump at a chance with her) that maybe he’s given a little more nuance than a straight-on stalker, and it helps that he and Napoleon never get into a pissing match over Gaby’s person, only over her new clothes. But overall the film has to walk a fine line (and the jury is still out on how successful it is, I’d say) between playing Ilya’s laser-like attention to Gaby for its humor, and calling it out for the unsettling, threatening behavior it is.

·         Honestly, it wasn’t until I engaged the Closed Captioning that I understood Napoleon was calling Ilya the ‘Red Peril’. So, that was nearly three viewings in.

·         I give the screen credits A+, on both ends. Not to mention the end credits are actually INTERESTING with lots to see and learn! (Certainly we learn more about HG in them than we do at any time during the film)

Things I would have liked:

·         More of fish-out-of-the-Iron-Curtain Gaby moments

·         A better dichotomy shown of East vs. West Berlin/Germany. There’s nothing easy either visually or otherwise to distinguish the two.

·         HC being given a more specific American accent (from an actual locality). This, for an American viewer, works better than the flat, unlocated American accent many a British actor will bust out. *Mind you, HC does a generally good job, but he fails utterly on both “Immediate” which he pronounces at least twice as “immeedeejt” [rather than imm-E-deeot] and “Nazi” as “NAHT-zee” [rather than “NOT-zee”]. And let’s not get started on that late in the film use of ‘earnt’, a word that—well, it’s just not in the American English twentieth century lexicon.

·         C’mon. You gotta tease the Hugh Grant more.

·         Solo is a blank before the war. I’ve read thoughts on the film calling out Gaby as the blank character, but they’re wrong. Solo is the blank. He’s the ‘made’ man, his identity seemingly assembled during the war and after. For example, he doesn’t go into the war a thief, nor (it would seem) a particularly educated or urbane individual. Now THAT’s a juicy backstory I’d love to learn about, perhaps in film #2--or #3? What creates a Napoleon Solo? What would he be doing if he weren’t on the government’s leash/incarcerated? Is anyone left caring about him back wherever he calls home? I mean, who doesn’t love a gender-flipped 60s-era Holly Golightly backstory? [And yes, I would love there to be an ex-wife or even a current wife mixed up in his origins as well—Guy Ritchie, call me!]

Notes I have that I’m not sure if they still make sense to me:

·         Only mom calls me Napoleon (do he say it ‘mum’?) Is he a secret Canadian?

·         Solo’s torture, 1st view recall Napoleon’s childhood? *I think this means that after watching the first time I somehow erroneously believed that during the torture Napoleon’s childhood was a topic gone over. This was wrong. HOWEVER, this would have made far more story-sense than the backstory we’re given on an easily disposeable villain.

·         “Even the average Russian agent. You’re special.” ?

·         Uncle is Baddie (*so glad I made this note to myself)

·         Ilya’s dad IS an embarrassment. I’m not sure what genius commentary I had in my mind, here. Perhaps that Ilya himself is embarrassed of him? Not just Ilya’s handler’s? [Also, aside: Napoleon totally slut-shames Ilya’s mom, which is the doublest of double standards from ‘I got myself the biggest and most ornate suite b/c I-wanted-plenty-of-space-for-my-random-seductions’ and I really wish Ilya had thrown that back in his face] *yes, of course I know that Ilya and Napoleon would not likely equate a wife/mother’s sexual exploits with that of Solo’s, but let’s be honest, this film tweaks the nose of (I won’t say reverses, it doesn’t go that far) plenty of tropes and gender expectations, and this certainly seems like a missed opportunity to call Solo on the carpet (which I hope film #2 does far more)

Things I wrote down so long ago I don’t recall what they mean:

·         CC-save

In conclusion:

What does film #2 look like? What title does it get? Will the Peter/Neil White Collar dynamic continue to grow? *note that I have no confidence a second film will ever come to pass...

In the end, all I know is, “It didn't help when American Tom Cruise, who was slated to play U.S. spy Napoleon Solo, dropped out, prompting the casting of Cavill (who had previously read for the Russian role).“ I would not have watched that film.

[atinytokki]

H O R I Z O N

Chapter 4: Launch Sequence 

Mingi is already half awake when a shadow moves across his vision. The first night in a new place is always difficult, full of turning restlessly back and forth and missing his own bed pod and the neighbouring snores of his parents. Not that Jongho is a bad roommate, he’s just a bit standoffish and intimidating and currently tiptoeing out the door.

Currently tiptoeing out the door?

Mingi nearly catapults himself out of bed from the shock before deciding to take the tactical approach and follow covertly. 

Jongho creeps down the hall and takes the stairs instead of calling the elevator, Mingi following behind at just the right distance that he can’t spot him or hear his footsteps. What his roommate is even doing sneaking out is beyond him. He checks his wristband for the time as he gets on the tram in the car behind Jongho’s and it’s just after 4 A.M. Too early for all this spy business. 

As the lab buildings come into view, Mingi begins to realise what’s going on here. Jongho’s trying to break into the restricted facilities. 

Even as he gets off after him, he’s baffled that this is how his first night as a Horizon team member is going. 

“Hey!” He whisper-yells, catching up with Jongho. The younger boy turns where he was hanging back to avoid cameras and gives Mingi an annoyed look. “Why are you following me?”

“Why are you trying to break into the archives?” Mingi counters, crossing his arms and trying to replicate that you’re-in-big-trouble-young-man look his mother does occasionally. “Are you trying to get kicked out?”

“I am trying to get answers,” Jongho responds, and from the look in his eyes he’s completely serious. This is no joke. “The Project was just a means to an end. I’m here to find out what happened to my grandmother.”

Mingi furrows his brow. “Who was she? You think IPF archives can tell you?”

From Jongho’s panicked expression, Mingi realises he must have forgotten to whisper. “She was a very famous diplomat on one of the first Horizon Projects,” he answers, moving closer. “And if you’re going to help, I suggest you lower your voice.”

“Who says I’m going to help?” Mingi scoffs, still quiet compared to before because, however skeptical he is about all this, he doesn’t really want Jongho to get arrested. “How are you even planning on getting in there anyway?”

“I was thinking on my feet,” Jongho admits. “Mostly I just came here to scout out the security.”

“At least they don’t have guards,” Mingi begins to laugh before hearing footsteps and grabbing Jongho, yanking him into an alcove and eyeing the tram tube. Another one should be here soon, right?

“Okay, they do have guards,” Jongho huffs. “So you can make a distraction and then I can—”

“No, hang on,” Mingi objects, resisting the urge to raise his voice at his roommate’s presumption. “I’m not helping you!”

“Then what do you propose we do?” Jongho deadpans.

“Go back to the dorm and back to sleep,” Mingi whispers, pausing when Jongho goes to roll his eyes. “And you can come back later if you absolutely must. I won’t say anything.”

Jongho stares at him for a moment, eyes reflecting the artificial glint of the rings lighting the tunnel that connects the trams to the archives, and finally nods. “I can’t promise I’ll go back to sleep, though.”

“You know, it’s only fair if you tell me who she was,” Mingi says quietly on the ride back, when Jongho’s focus on the silently sleeping buildings wanes and his eyes become clouded over from a lost train of thought. “I’ve studied all the old astronauts, especially the diplomacy missions. Your grandmother was probably one of my heroes.”

“Choi Jieun,” Jongho says after a moment. The faint hiss of the air pressure lock engaging each time the tram opens its doors at a stop punctuates the silence. “And she was the diplomat aboard IPF’s fourth Horizon Project.”

Mingi gapes at him. “Choi Jieun? The xenologist who cracked the code of not one but two separate native languages on the planet Biso?”

“Yes, that Choi Jieun,” Jongho sighs as they step off the tram together and make their way into the dormitory. “Except that after she returned from that mission, she went to the Citadel and was never heard from again.”

  Mingi freezes where his finger was hovering over the call button for the elevator and looks at his roommate wide-eyed. “She didn’t die on a mission?”

Jongho shakes his head and the doors slide open. “They would have held a funeral like they always do for officials killed in action.” The elevator stops at their floor and the two step out, deep in conversation with their voices naturally hushed as they return to their room. 

“And what’s more is that I found out the Citadel’s construction completion date, and it’s only a year before she went missing. So, I’ve actually constructed a timeline of her life through other sources since I never knew her personally.”

“Can I see it?” Mingi asks, a slow smile spreading on his face because this whole thing smells like adventure and he absolutely wants in on it. 

Jongho stares back, sizing him up and evidently finding him trustworthy before tapping around on his wristband until a holographic display blows up and fills the room. Mingi claps excitedly and joins him on his bed to look at it from the same angle.

“So, here she’s born, here she meets my grandfather in school, here she joins the project, here is her training period and liftoff, here are the known dates of her early missions…” he points them out as the dots in time grow increasingly close to one another. “These are the early missions to Biso, the third one was her extended stay when she deciphered the languages. Then she comes back to Earth and gets married. She stays for a couple of years and gives birth to my dad, then she goes back to work where it appears to have been relatively peaceful for a year or two. Here is the day the Citadel was unveiled.”

The dot he points to is almost at the end of the timeline. “This is the date of her last mission assignment and here is the date when the rest of her team was reported to have returned. And I managed to get this footage of when they were next seen on the news-- without her.”

The dates are quite far apart. Mingi tries to think of a good lead from the information presented.

“Do you think her teammates would be able to tell you anything about what happened?” He tries, knowing full well that if this has been a lifelong investigation for Jongho, he will already have exhausted it. 

“None of them returned to Earth after this,” Jongho sighs, letting the clip play through and watching the Horizon team wave cheerfully at the cameras. They certainly don’t look like they’ve just lost a member, but Mingi supposes they were used to smiling for the press by that point. “This team, the one that was formed her year, was the first to live out the rest of their lives on the Citadel. And all the teams followed after, effectively making it impossible to interview anyone without a secure phone call. And you know IPF monitors those.”

“But why not hold a funeral? Why not celebrate her the way Horizon teams are supposed to be celebrated?” Mingi muses. It’s the part he doesn’t get. That something would go wrong and an astronaut would be killed wasn’t a stretch of the imagination, but that everyone would act like she never existed the moment something went wrong-- it’s against everything Mingi knows about the IPF. 

Jongho shrugs helplessly. He’s considered it, too, and the answer escapes him. “Eventually after being turned away enough times, Grandfather stopped asking. ‘She disappeared.’ That’s all he says about it.”

Mingi purses his lips and gives a sympathetic smile. It’s probably a lot harder that way than if she had died on a mission to Biso or somewhere else. There’s no opportunity for closure, just a constantly open book turned to a blank page with only one word written. Maybe.

“Soojin might be able to help you,” he suggests after the display has been switched off and they’re both lying in their beds staring at the screws in the metal ceiling, unable to find sleep. Jongho is quiet for just long enough that Mingi assumes he must have gone to sleep after all when he whispers faintly, “I’m not sure if I trust her yet. I’m not really sure if I trust anyone.”

Mingi tries to pretend he didn’t hear it. He can’t blame Jongho anyway, when everyone walks around acting like your grandmother never existed and your entire life must feel like a lie, it must be difficult to trust even yourself.

Mingi tries not to take it personally, at least. Besides, he and Yunho passed, they’re going to stay together for the rest of their lives, and a new chapter begins in the morning.

___

Breakfast is an unceremonious, rushed affair. The cafeteria is sparsely populated, and the team doesn’t have time to really introduce themselves to anyone else before their first class meeting, which is fine with Jongho.

He ignores the girls from Team REV waving at him and pays attention to his food. It tastes quite good by his standards but his standards aren’t very high, so he watches his roommate Mingi to see how it suits his more middle class tastes.

Unfortunately there isn’t enough of a reaction to go by, considering the fact that Mingi’s mouth is a nondiscriminatory vacuum and he probably wouldn’t notice if he was putting moldy kimchi in it. 

In fact, the entire table looks too tired to care what exactly they’re eating. Must have been a rough first night.

Both potential leaders seem exhausted and sit at opposite ends of the table. It’s unlikely that they’ll actually be able to avoid each other considering that they’re roommates, but Jongho doesn’t really care which one wins. As long as they don’t interfere with him.

San has once again claimed a neighbouring seat and messes with his hair while pushing the food around his plate. He looks marginally more relaxed than the last time Jongho saw him, but it’s apparent he’s being careful not to eat too much in the event that he loses it again.

The purple-haired Wooyoung is in a light conversation with the young technician Youngseok but only appears to be half-listening, his eyes wandering around the room at the other teams scattered throughout.

Their medic Yeosang sits next to him, pale and stiff again, and if Jongho thought Wooyoung was distracted, Yeosang is full on zoned out. Maybe he’s thinking about the training ahead, maybe he’s thinking about the millionaire lifestyle he left behind. It’s none of Jongho’s concern.

On the other side of the table Yunho and Mingi have already cleared their plates and are laughing about something. It didn’t take long to figure out that they were childhood friends, and any inclination Jongho had of trusting Mingi has dissipated on seeing him whisper something into Yunho’s ear. He can only hope it’s about the girls staring at them and not the adventure last night.

Lastly, the other technician Junyoung sits tapping on his wristband with one hand and absentmindedly shovelling food with the other. “Hey, did you guys realise you can view your test answers?” He points out the text on his holoscreen and Jongho is tempted to take a look at his own scores. It’s still a mystery to him how he got in.

Before he can pull up the display, an alarm appears for each of them, reminding them of their class in five minutes and sending the team hurrying out and onto the tram to get to their classroom in time. Today may just be protocol introduction but being late on the first day is never a good move.

Class is hardly an upgrade from the usual educational procedures every student in Korea is familiar with. They find their seats, sit quietly and take notes, and Soojin lectures them on the outline for the rest of their training period. The first hour is full of exciting news and promises about all the cool weapons they’ll be trained with and all the intense simulations they’ll be exposed to, and when Soojin launches into the history of the IPF, half the class promptly tunes out.

“Nothing we haven’t heard before, huh?” Wooyoung leans over and whispers with a cheeky grin. Jongho simply shrugs in response, because there’s not much else to say on the subject. “Don’t you think it’s ironic, though?” the engineer points out more seriously. “The Horizon Project is touted as this elite squad with special training, and here we are doing the same routine as everyone else.”

He leans back over into his own space at a withering glare from Soojin, but Jongho smiles softly at his pragmatism. Soojin addresses the class with a question to engage their wandering attentions. “Can anyone tell me about the founder of the IPF?”

Mingi’s hand shoots into the air and Jongho isn’t surprised that he’s among the half that was actually invested in the lesson. “Mr. Kim Woomin,” he answers enthusiastically when called upon. 

“Mr. Kim was already an overseer of space expeditions at the time, and it was his suggestion to create an organisation of government officials from unified countries across the world that would act as a funding entity and representative of the Earth’s interests in interplanetary relations. His achievement led to the advancement of space travel technology and the discovery of multiple alien species. Kim Woomin was also the founder of the Horizon Project and it was under his supervision that the Project became focused on the goal of identifying new planets and investigating their suitability for becoming the new homeplanet of the human race.” 

Soojin is clearly pleased and Jongho doesn’t know why, but something in him makes him raise his hand. “How did he die?” He asks when Soojin nods him on and he hopes Mingi doesn’t notice and call him out later. He’s only asking out of bitterness at the fact that apart from his grandmother Jieun, every other astronaut in the history of the Horizon Project seems to have received a proper ceremony.

“There was an accident,” Soojin answers after a moment. She goes to pull up the video footage and Wooyoung begins muttering under his breath. “I’m surprised you haven’t seen this,” she hums pensively. “It was all over the news ten years ago.”

Jongho grinds his teeth together. “We didn’t get a news connection in my part of the city.” And even if they did, his mother would never allow them to watch.

Soojin tilts her head understandingly and the clip begins to play while she explains it. “Mr. Kim was in the spacecraft ready to take his final retirement trip to the Citadel when something went wrong and a fire broke out.”

Hongjoong excuses himself quietly but Jongho watches the ship practically fall out of the sky with fascination. An accident in the cockpit? Not the death he expected for the greatest public figure of their age, even if he was elderly and accomplished by the time it happened.

A sombre atmosphere settles over the room when the expected grand funeral processions stop playing and Soojin smiles at them before segwaying into the next part of the lecture.

“Accidents such as these have been prevented in following missions. Nothing inspires like the tragic death of a hero, and only the hardest workers get into the Horizon Project and influence the advancement of the field. The safety procedures are strictly enforced at all times…”

Jongho descends into contemplation about the history of the IPF. The organisation is essentially running the world on its own, with even the government body it answers to under its thumb. Which means asking around isn’t going to get him answers about whatever massive coverup they must have scrambled to create for his grandmother Jieun.

No, he needs concrete evidence. Which means he needs to break into the archives, uninterrupted this time. 

“Jongho?”

He looks up at Soojin in surprise. “Yes?”

“We’re discussing weapons safety now. Might want to pay attention.”

Jongho blushes and returns his gaze to the screen.

Oh, he will be paying attention. Close attention.

___

San’s hands are so sweaty he almost drops his chopsticks a grand total of three times, but he shakes it off and says hello to Wooyoung anyway. Honestly, he’s more intimidated by Yeosang sitting across from them. Not because he’s unfriendly, but because of his intense beauty. San feels tremendously plain compared to everyone else here but he knows that’s just his insecurity talking.

The group is at lunch before they split up and begin the hands-on part of their training, which is why San is attempting to get on the good side of his partner before they have to go familiarise themselves with the equipment.

“So you’ve lived outside Seoul your whole life?” Wooyoung chirps genially and San is immediately relaxed. “Yes, in the countryside. My village is quite middle class, though. Probably not what you’re picturing.” He rubs the back of his neck nervously but Wooyoung waves away his concern.

“Oh, don’t worry, I won’t judge. My father may be a stockholder in IPF but that means nothing to me.”

San sits back, surprised. He could tell from the fact that Wooyoung and Yeosang were friends that the former must be wealthy enough to reside in the same general area, but he hadn’t predicted the extent of that wealth. San doesn’t get a chance to comment on it before a muffled ringing sound breaks into their conversation.

All around the table, members check their wristbands and Junyoung is the one receiving a call. “I didn’t know we could receive calls,” he mumbles to himself before looking up for confirmation that he’s allowed to take it. “It’s my father.”

Soojin isn’t here and Hongjoong still hasn’t returned from wherever he went during class so Seonghwa takes the initiative and nods him on, Junyoung smiling gratefully and standing up to wander away a distance.

The rest of the table is distracted from trying to eavesdrop by Hongjoong’s reappearance. “Where were you?” Jongho asks casually, fooling no one with his apparent interest in the stew he was eating. 

“I—” Hongjoong’s mouth opens and closes as he struggles to explain. For some reason San wants to come to his rescue but Junyoung returns to the table and it seems he doesn’t have to.

“My mother’s in labour!” He pants, cleaning up his meal tray as if he’s about to leave. “Dad’s stuck at work and the twins don’t know what to do, so I really ought to go…”

“Go...home?” Yeosang scoffs. “Didn’t they tell us only yesterday that wasn’t allowed?”

“I’m sure Soojin can make an exception,” Junyoung insists, piling up his garbage and dumping it in the nearest incinerator. “Mother’s already had three children but that doesn’t mean she can have another on her own.”

“Hang on, Junyoung, let someone go with you to the offices at least,” Hongjoong sighs, abandoning his lunch just as soon as he’s received it. “It’s not likely they’ll allow you to go, but at least bring a witness.”

The two hurry off and San is again preoccupied with Wooyoung. The five minute reminder lights up their wristband screens again and the pair hurry off to their classroom. It’s only a day in but the two are in sync. Engineering lesson first, figuring out if Junyoung is successful later.

Both of them focus on their tasks, a series of exercises to help their supervisors assess their strengths and weaknesses, and while the lab coats conference with each other about it in the other room, San wheedles out Wooyoung’s entire backstory.

Wooyoung’s presence is entirely changed when it’s just the two of them. His energy and cockiness are significantly dialed down, and San thinks he knows the reason why. 

Yet, as loath as he is to come between apparent years of friendship between Wooyoung and Yeosang, he really wants a connection with his partner. Jongho tolerating his presence and Yunho sleeping in the same room as him doesn’t quite count. Not yet, anyway.

As fidgety as Wooyoung is, it’s obvious he wants a friendship too. And what better place to start than in the belly of a fake spaceship with the story of his father’s descent into alcoholism.

“That’s when my mother left,” he sighs as he concludes his tale. “And it’s been a nightmare at home ever since.”

“She didn’t take you with her?” San prods quietly. He could never imagine his own family in such a state, a neglectful father and an abandoning mother. 

Wooyoung snorts and shakes his head. “We haven’t spoken since. She’s probably remarried and living the highlife in Europe somewhere.”

“Well you’re out of there now!” San smiles brightly. “You can dictate your own life from this point on.”

Wooyoung visibly relaxes, shoulders lowering as any reservations he may have had about the conversation fizzle out.

“Thanks for telling me,” San tells him with every bit of sincerity. It’s clearly not easy for Wooyoung to spill his guts like this about such a sensitive childhood, and especially to someone he’s only known for 24 hours, even if that someone is his partner now.

“Thanks for listening,” Wooyoung returns. He needed someone to talk to and San was more than happy to be that person. 

San can see it in his smile; they’re going to be great together.

___

Yunho is having the time of his life. Holding a real L-24 IPF blaster is a completely different feeling than shooting fake lasers out of game consoles. 

“It’s so...light!”

He giggles and aims it at the nearest target before Jongho’s hand lands on his arm.

“Careful where you point that,” the younger boy warns, directing his attention to the sturdier line of targets on the opposite wall. “It’s switched to flamethrower fire not plasma beams.”

“How do you know where the projectile settings are?” Yunho splutters. It’s not like they passed these things out for practice in school.

Jongho steps back and shoves his hands in his pockets, eyes lingering on the weapon. “I had a deactivated L-24 growing up. It didn’t actually fire but it was convincing enough to scare the gangsters away.”

“Gangsters?” Yunho gasps, lowering the blaster carefully. He didn’t know Seoul even had gangsters. “What part of town were you in?”

Jongho smirks teasingly. “The bad part.”

Yunho returns the blaster to its holder sedately even as he side-eyes Jongho’s posture when he draws and aims another L-24. It’s honestly a little intimidating, but Yunho shakes the thought out of his head.

They’re not here to one-up each other, they’re teammates.

“I see you’ve already started, gentlemen,” their instructor Siwon deadpans as he enters the room. The door slides shut behind him with a decided click. “In the future might I recommend not touching the weapons until you are supervised?”

Yunho resists the urge to roll his eyes. This guy already reminds him of a teacher he had in school. One he didn’t like.

The gunners both acknowledge the order and settle in for an introduction to IPF standard issue firearms. At least the subject material is more engaging than school.

Time flies by and Yunho doesn’t even realise how hard he’s been straining until his stomach growls loudly in the presence of dinner. The cafeteria is even more sparse than it was for the first two meals of the day, and noticing some of his own team members are absent again, Yunho pockets some food and sneaks back to the dorms with it. 

Wooyoung and San are grateful to be fed while they look over some of their homework together at the common room table. Yeosang, too, accepts the smuggled meal when he returns from a lesson that went overtime. 

Hongjoong and Junyoung arrive in the common room just as soon as everyone else has wandered into their bedrooms for the night, but Yunho is faithfully there with the chicken bucket he saved for them to share.

Junyoung eats silently, watches the sun dip behind the skyscrapers through the window, and closes himself in his room when he’s finished. It’s only when Hongjoong collapses on the couch with a sigh that Yunho has his suspicions confirmed.

“They won’t allow him to go. It took the entire afternoon to argue with them, and they still wouldn’t budge.”

“You did your best,” Yunho encourages, popping a piece of neglected chicken into his mouth. Obviously, he wasn’t there, but he can only assume. And besides, if Hongjoong skipped his own class to vouch for Junyoung, that’s all the evidence he needs.

“It wasn’t enough,” Hongjoong grumbles. “But at least they let him call his family. His mother’s fine, the baby’s fine… but he won’t get to meet them. Not until they have clearance to move to the Citadel.”

Yunho snorts in protest. “Ridiculous. They’re really that serious about this?”

Hongjoong shrugs helplessly and makes to leave, but Yunho’s hand on his shoulder stops him.

“Sorry, I was just wondering…” His mouth goes dry mid-sentence and he struggles to complete the thought. “What was all that back in morning class?”

“Ah…” Hongjoong sits back and avoids his gaze. He knows what he’s asking about, but something’s stopping him from confiding in him. “I’m fine, it was nothing. Really, you don’t have to worry about it.”

His smile isn’t convincing but Yunho releases him with an acknowledging nod. “Sure, whenever you’re comfortable talking about it. I won’t tell anyone.”

Hongjoong raises his eyebrows and sizes him up quickly. “Alright,” he decides, leaving with no further comment. It may have been simple, but it was affirmative. He’s willing to trust Yunho, just not quite yet. Not on Day One, when all he knows about him is that he’s unnervingly tall, great at laser games, and nice enough to offer some chicken. Oh, and a bit of a crybaby. 

Yunho tosses the empty bucket and peeks at the office building out the window before tapping it to turn the glass opaque for the night. 

No leaving the facility, even to meet your newest sibling.

It’s tough luck, but Yunho doesn’t dwell on it much longer because it reminds him that there’s something he ought to do as well.

He holes himself inside his room, gazing out the window and putting out a sanctioned call.

His mother picks up halfway through the first ring.

“Yunho!” Her voice radiates comfort and love. Yunho suddenly feels awful for not calling her yesterday. He had been on a high then from the exam results and the whirlwind evening. He swallows tears and greets her happily. 

“How was your first day?” She almost whispers, like her excitement for her son has stolen her breath away.

“First day? First day! I can’t believe I’m saying that. It was…” he’s not even sure what to tell her. She’d probably go into a panic if he mentioned the firearms or the extreme conditions training regimen. He settles instead for a vague but truthful answer. “It was really cool. I definitely want to do this for the rest of my life.”

“Are you eating well? Are you making friends? How is the facility, is your room comfortable enough?”

He smiles and assures her gently, he isn’t wasting away from hunger. It’s barely been a day away from them.

“Maybe I can try sending you some things from home, just to remember us by,” she mumbles mostly to herself before her voice is directed at him again. “Oh, your father wants to say hello. And your brother, too. Actually the cousins as well, and your aunts and uncles. I think we’d better record a video message or something, so many people are here...”

“The whole family is over?” He laughs, surprised. Usually the only way to get Uncle Changmin and Uncle Jaejoong under the same roof is to throw a holiday party. “I’m really sorry I’m missing it.”

“Oh don’t be,” she tuts and he can imagine her batting a hand at him. “We’re together to celebrate you, love. And your incredible achievement.”

Another voice comes over the connection and it’s his father, husky with emotion but firm in what he says. “Have we told you how proud of you we are yet? Because we’re so proud, son. So very proud.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t say goodbye,” he chokes unexpectedly, hoping none of the others hear him from outside and come to investigate. “Mingi and I were just nervous and we wanted to get there early and study. It was a one in a billion chance either of us would make it anyway and we just... we just didn’t think we weren’t going home again.”

His father hums sympathetically at him and Yunho can hear one of his aunt’s voices in the background. “I don’t like all these rules of theirs. They ought to let the boys come home to be celebrated!”

“Shh, Sooyeon, don’t say things like that!” His father chides her and Yunho’s laughing at the night sky with their banter on the phone. “They record these calls, you know, we don’t want Yunho getting in any trouble.”

“Don’t worry about me, Dad,” Yunho assures him. “I can take care of myself now, I’m being trained for it and everything.”

“That’s our boy,” his mother’s voice reaches his ears again. It’s a bit shaky, like she’d needed to blink tears back a moment ago. She probably did. 

“Go make the world a better place, Yunho.”

“Actually,” now it’s Yunho’s younger brother and his voice is dripping with sarcasm but there’s a deep seated affection underneath it all. “Go find the world a better place. It’s about time we got off this planet.”

Yunho laughs heartily and says his goodbyes when the time comes. There’s a warmth spreading in him despite the chill of the metal room he’s confined to. 

Before he can dwell on the good feeling while it lasts, an alert lights up his wristband, directing him to the common room for an automated announcement.

Yunho sighs but obeys the order, figuring he had better get used to this kind of thing. He’s never been so policed in his life, but this is the most serious job on the planet, and protocol must be followed at all times.

Quietly, all ten of them assemble in the common room as a holoscreen lights up above the table. Youngseok is already in his pajamas and there’s a toothbrush hanging out of San’s mouth.

Which means unless he has an obsession with excessive oral hygiene, San has been loitering in the bathroom to give Yunho some privacy during his call. He smiles gratefully at San who points at himself in mock confusion before winking back. Yunho snagged an amazing roommate.

“Welcome, 2118 Horizon Project members,” the automated voice says. “The Project Coordination Council has officially approved the team lists for your simulation Dome training sessions.”

That causes them all to perk up and they’re on the edge of their metaphorical seats while the voice explains. “Report to the Dome tomorrow at 0500 with your teams. Team A: Hongjoong, San, Wooyoung, Junyoung, and Youngseok. Team Z: Seonghwa, Yunho, Yeosang, Mingi, and Jongho. Together your title is Horizon Team ATZ.”

Makes sense, Yunho thinks as everyone else swivels their heads around, looking for their teammates. Mingi and Jongho on his team-- Yunho must have gotten lucky. It’s a shame San won’t be with him, but Yunho would take everyone if he could. 

A hand taps his shoulder and he turns from the disappearing screen to face Seonghwa. “Hello,” the older boy says, fiddling with the edge of his jacket. “I know we haven’t really talked… but I’m excited to work with you.”

Yeosang, Mingi, and Jongho wander over as well. “The Dome,” Yeosang reminds them, pointing at it through the window. “It’s like a world within a world. Terrain, atmosphere, weather conditions-- all generated to create a mini-environment. People have died in there. Are we ready?”

Yunho exhales a puff of air and turns to face his friends. “As ready as we’ll ever be.”

...

Taglist (Let me know if you would like to be added): @mooneylooney1 @hwashinestar @delphinium3000 @kpop-choco 

This chapter’s recommended listening: Moon by Jonghyun 

A/N: Debated with myself about whether it was a good time to post or not, but I came to give you something to read and maybe take your mind off things if you’re struggling :) Don’t forget to let me know what you think and stay safe out there! 

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