#+ the fact that this verse is stuck in two languages in my head

[prismatic-bell]

So I got part of Avenue Q stuck in my head, and you know how people say something was "a product of its time" when talking about racism, sexism, etc.? It is occurring to me I finally get that. Because while sometimes it's just...wrong and was always wrong, I have to wonder how many people who either weren't into pop culture in the late 90s/early 00s or simply weren't alive then don't realize Christmas Eve is supposed to be poking fun at weeaboos. The show was written at a point in time where America just kind of went crazy about Japanese pop culture for awhile. Like. Everyone. Everywhere. A major pop singer (Gwen Stefani) literally paid for a group of "kawaii girls" to follow her around as part of her image, and Smile.dk (which had zero Japanese members) debuted with a song called "Butterfly" in which the singer "searches for a man all across Japan, just to find my samurai" and featuring some non-lyric vocalizations that I genuinely hope weren't supposed to sound like Chinese tonals because they really sound like someone botching Chinese tonals (and, you know, assuming All Asian Nations Are Japan). Pikachu was on the front of Time magazine, most of the weekday afternoon programming block on Cartoon Network was anime, kimono-style tops (although usually facing the wrong way) were a huge trend, and for those who still wanted tees or regular shirts with long sleeves, well...

Do I have any idea what that says? None. Did I own one of these? I did not--I owned three of them. All three of mine looked like lacquer boxes with koi or traditional flower designs. I found out later the writing on at least one of mine was complete gibberish. The designer just picked some kanji they thought looked cool. And yes, basically every top I owned that wasn't one of these was a kimono-style. Wearing chopsticks in your hair became A Whole Thing if you weren't flatironing your hair (and yes, people used actual chopsticks, not hair sticks--I'm not even sure hair sticks were really a thing in American fashion until this point). On the internet side of things, 2channel was possibly getting shut down and 2chan sprang up, and quickly got so popular in the western hemisphere that we got--yep--4chan, the same year Avenue Q debuted. 4chan is weeb culture, or at least, that's how it started. (In fact I think it's also where "weeaboo" was coined.) A couple of years later, MCR would include Japanese verses in a song just...because. Because that's what we were like at that point in time. 1998-2005 (or so) was when America had its own taste of Japonisme. And into all of this you get Christmas Eve. Who's loud, and brash, and assertive--not at all a docile me-love-you-long-time weeb fantasy. Her English is a little broken, but she's not stupid--in fact as far as we can tell she's the most educated person on Avenue Q (Kate and Princeton both have BAs and Rod probably has a master's in business, but Christmas Eve has two separate master's degrees, which she earned in her secondary language). Her accent is thick, but there's literally a song ("Everyone's A Little Bit Racist") where some of the characters get called out on laughing at her for it. And--crucially--the white man she marries is so far removed from anything related to pan-Asian culture in America he doesn't know he shouldn't call her Oriental. Is this absolutely terrible given he's marrying a Japanese woman? Yes. Is it kind of baffling that another character immediately says "the term is Asian-American," since Christmas Eve refers to herself as Japanese? Also yes. Is it weird that a guy who (according to the timeline) was born in 1970 would be using Oriental? Extremely. Is it a dig at the exoticizing that was going on at the time? Absofuckinglutely. (And that's why that anachronism is there. It's very much pointing out that society was treating Japanese pop culture the same way our Victorian forebears treated Japan in general in the Meiji era.) And like. I'm not saying Christmas Eve is some kind of unproblematic depiction here by any means. Even in 2003 her accent was...icky, and now it's downright unacceptable. And there's the question of whether they fell into one stereotype ("Asians are so smart!") while trying to mock another ("if you can't speak English you must be stupid"), and whether that's an acceptable trade-off. I'm not even going to get into her name being a Christmas cake joke because....look, I could sit here and explain all the puns in the names but that's a whole other post and it's literally easier to say "Brian, Kate, and Nicky are the only characters whose names aren't jokes."

But there's a huge nuance to why she was written as this bizarre stereotype-but-not-but-yes-but-not-but-yes-but-maybe mashup, and I think there's a big possibility you literally just had to be there to understand. It really truly genuinely is a product of 2003. You could not write Christmas Eve in 1983 and have her make any damn sense. You could not write her in 2023 and have her come across as anything but wildly racist. Like. Maybe that phrase isn't just don't-be-mean-to-your-elders bullshit. (At least, not all of the time.)

[bard-llama]

WiP Wednesday: Dragon Mama Zuko

Okay, so I have this new ‘verse that I’ll start posting tomorrow (under a side account, but apparently I’m terrible at keeping things separate, so...)

Anyway, the premise of this series is that the Masters (Ran and Shaw) choose Zuko to help repopulate the dragon species. Zuko is not delighted about this, because he basically ends up pregnant with a dragon egg. Anyway, here are some of my favorite scenes because I’m still stuck on Ch 2, but am working on Ch 8, so... yeah. Set during/after The Firebending Masters. Also, this thing is at 20k, so there are a lot of scenes here oops.

TW: eggpreg, crack treated (moderately) seriously 

Shaking himself, Sokka shouted for the others and headed towards the main landing they all gathered on. Appa would probably land there.

There were three odd things he noticed immediately. 

One – Aang was standing in the saddle while Zuko was actually the one holding Appa’s reins. 

Two – Aang’s voice was exasperated as he insisted, “your balance is still messed up, Zuko. You’re gonna fall. Just let me–”

“I’m not gonna fall!” Zuko snapped angrily, jumping down. He did manage to stick the landing, but like… barely. There was definitely some wobbling that Aang hurried to stabilize.

Three – Zuko looked… weird.

“Uh,” Sokka said. “Welcome back?” Was he supposed to ask about the whole weirdly big belly thing or–?

“Hey Twinkletoes, hey Sparky!” Toph called loudly, stomping into the area. Then she paused. “Uh, Sparky, why do you have two heartbeats?”

“What!?”

Well, if they were gonna acknowledge it…

“Better question,” Sokka said, “why do you look pregnant?”

Zuko flushed bright red and huffed out an irritated breath.

“Technically…” Aang started, and Zuko glared at him.

“Aang!” Katara raced to their sides, immediately pulling Aang into a hug – and not so subtly checking him over for any bruises or burns. She didn’t even notice the weirdness of Zuko’s whole look until she was satisfied that Aang was safe and turned to glare at her favorite person to hate.

Then she blinked. 

“What the fuck!?” she blurted out, and Sokka and Toph both led out scandalized gasps.

“Watch your language, Sugar Queen!” Toph scolded, a grin tugging at her lips.

“Seriously, though,” Sokka waved emphatically to gesture to the weirdness of this, “why does Zuko look pregnant? Aang, did you knock the Fire Prince up?” he joked.

Both Zuko and Aang turned scarlet. “What!?” they yelped, oddly in sync. “No!”

Sokka paused. “Wow. That was very convincing. So I repeat my sister’s sentiment: what the fuck?”

“Sparky, are you really pregnant?” Toph demanded. “Where’s the other heartbeat coming from? It’s kinda… weird. Though I guess I haven’t sensed that many pregnant people’s heartbeats.” She frowned in consideration and Sokka suddenly saw an involuntary trip to find pregnant people in his future.

“...sort of?” Zuko said weakly. His face was so flushed that steam was literally starting to rise from his head, which was honestly kind of awesome and hilarious, but Sokka valiantly maintained a straight face.

“You said you were going to an abandoned island,” Katara said, an edge in her tone that was moderately menacing, even though Aang was fine and Zuko was the one somehow pregnant.

A year ago, Sokka never would’ve believed this could be his life.

Aang cleared his throat, drawing everyone’s attention. “Yeah, so um. The abandoned island was not so abandoned. Also, turns out there are still dragons! Two of them, in fact. And um. No others. Yet. But there will be. Now. ‘Cause of Zuko.”

Zuko groaned, covering his face. His ears were still burning red. 

“...what?”

“Hold on.” Toph had a look of horrified delight on her face. “Are you trying to say that Sparky got knocked up by dragons!?”

Aang shrugged and Zuko let out an annoyed sound, dragging his hands down his face and gritting out, “more or less.”

“What!?”

“Hey guys,” Haru’s voice from behind them made Sokka jump and he whirled around to see their three other companions. “Everything okay?”

“Um.” Was okay a word that could be applied to this situation? “Zuko is pregnant with a dragon,” he said blankly.

Zuko sighed.

“...I’m sorry, what!?” 

Sokka could see the moment Haru, The Duke, and Teo got a good look at the Fire Prince, because their faces turned to a confused kind of fascination. 

This time it was The Duke who swore. “What the fuck?”

Katara gasped. “Who taught him that word!?”

“Katara, you literally said it like half a minute ago,” Sokka pointed out. The answer was most definitely ‘Toph and Zuko’, because they swore like sailors and egged each other on, but there was no need to remind Katara of how much she hated Zuko.

She never really forgot.

“...weren’t you going to learn firebending or something?” Teo asked slowly.

Zuko huffed a breath, then answered. “Yeah. We went to the Sun Warriors temple – and apparently they didn’t die off thousands of years ago. They are also hiding the last dragons in existence.”

Sokka needed a moment to digest that, but Zuko went barrelling ahead.

“The Sun Warriors – who are dicks, by the way – claim the dragons chose me to help repopulate the species because fuck me, I guess and blah blah blah fate and destiny and bloodlines and shit. So, um. Yeah, I’m pregnant with a dragon’s egg. No, I do not want to talk about it.”

“I have… so many questions,” Sokka breathed. 

“Too bad,” Zuko snapped. “Did you manage to hunt anything while we were gone?”

A little later:

Haru raised his hand. “Can we go back to the part where he’s pregnant?”

“With a dragon!?” Teo added.

“No.” Zuko’s voice was final. “Is anyone allergic to peanuts?”

Slightly later:

“Um. Okay? I’ll… go do that?” Zuko suggested awkwardly, more than aware that they preferred to keep him in sight.

Sokka glanced at the others. Yeah, they needed a moment alone with Aang. “Go ahead,” he encouraged and Zuko’s eyebrow arched slightly, but he didn’t question it, instead slipping away to get the supplies from his room and head to the kitchen.

Or – trying to slip away. Apparently Aang’s comment about his balance wasn’t unfounded because he ended up running directly into the wall.

Sokka tried very, very hard not to laugh as Zuko swore loudly and emphatically. And creatively, with several suggestions of what the Sun Warriors and the dragons could do with themselves. Was that even anatomically possible?

“Zuko!” Katara hissed, covering The Duke’s ears. The Duke wiggled out of her grasp, looking like he’d been gifted a present. Toph’s face was mildly impressed and highly amused.

“Ugh!” Zuko threw his hands up in as close to a temper tantrum as he’d thrown since joining them and stomped off down the hallway, grumbling about dragons under his breath.

They all watched him leave for a long moment, then turned back to Aang.

Sokka decided to be the one to start. “What – and I mean this with all my heart – the fuck, Aang?”

Over dinner:

That thought was extremely uncomfortable, so Sokka quickly sought to distract himself. Fortunately, there was a very distraction-worthy source sitting right across the fire from him, next to Aang (which, actually, was kind of interesting, because usually Aang chose to sit next to Katara, and she stayed as far away from Zuko as possible).

“Soooooo,” Sokka drawled, calling attention to himself. He held out his hands and counted on his fingers, “you can cook, you’re pregnant, you’ve got longish hair – are you sure you’re not a girl?”

“Sokka!” Katara snapped at him and oops, okay, he could maybe see why that question annoyed her.

“Actually,” Zuko started and everyone turned to stare at him. He blinked. “Um. No. I am definitely biologically male. But uh, clearly,” he gestured unnecessarily at his rounded stomach, “I’m gonna need a disguise.”

“...what does this have to do with being a girl?”

“Because that’s the disguise,” Zuko said. “Obviously.”

Sokka blinked. “Wait,” he said slowly, “are you saying you would voluntarily pretend to be a woman? Why!?”

Zuko just shrugged, looking remarkably unperturbed. “Why not?”

That just made Sokka sputter in response and Katara pressed her lips tightly together to keep from acknowledging that she was on Zuko’s side in this.

“The Fire Nation doesn’t really have gender roles in the same way the Water Tribes do,” Aang said. “They’re not as loosey duck-goosey as Air Nomads, but–”

“Loosey duck-goosey?” Zuko repeated disbelievingly. “Seriously?”

Aang laughed. “I mean, we are pretty casual about it. And we have over fifty different words for genders.”

Zuko frowned. “Fifty? I only remember like… thirty?”

“Oh yeah, there’s–” Aang started to describe the Air Nomad perspective on gender, but to be honest, Sokka kinda tuned it out, more focused on his food.

Later in the conversation:

“King Bumi?” Zuko asked. “Of Omashu?”

“Yeah! He became King later, though. Not really sure how?”

“Omashu’s King is chosen by tourney combat,” Zuko informed them. “The idea being that the victor is the strongest earthbender in the world.”

“Welp, I’m gonna have to become a King now,” Toph announced and Zuko chuckled. 

“I think you actually have to do the job, unfortunately,” he told her.

“Eh, that’s what advisors are for,” Toph scoffed, and Zuko full out laughed at that.

Sokka suddenly realized that he’d never heard Zuko laugh with anything except bitterness before.

A serious moment in the same convo:

After a moment, Aang asked, “would Azula really hurt her? Aren’t they friends?”

Zuko sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “With Azula, familiarity actually makes it worse.”

“What does that mean?”

“It’s…” Zuko paused, thinking about his words. “When she’s interested in you, she wants to see you react. If she doesn’t care about you, then as long as you don’t inconvenience her, you’re safe.”

“That’s not how siblings are supposed to be!” Aang burst out and Zuko scowled at him, but he turned to Sokka and Katara. “Tell him!”

Katara lips quirked into a mean little smile. “I dunno,” she said. “If he was my brother, I’d happily drown him.”

Sokka winced. He got that she hated Zuko, but jeez.

Zuko just nodded, though. “She tried once,” he said casually. “Usually she was more of a fan of smothering, but I’d told her how Father saved me from drowning when I was five or so and she got jealous.”

“Your sister tried to drown you!?” Haru asked shrilly.

“I was just glad we were on Ember Island and not at the palace,” Zuko said as if nothing was the matter. “By the time we got back, she lost interest in that, so the turtleducks were safe.”

“...turtleducks?” Sokka asked with great caution. Zuko was being way too casual about near death experiences.

“Oh, um,” Zuko flushed, clearing his throat. “There’s a turtleduck pond at the palace. I spent a lot of time there. But it can be dangerous if Azula knows you care about something.”

“Why do you care about someone like that?” Aang demanded. “All she does is hurt you!”

Zuko just stared back blankly. “She’s my sister.”

“And Ozai’s your father,” Sokka pointed out. “So what happens when we face him?”

Zuko froze, face unreadable. “Are you asking me to help murder my father?”

“No!” Aang cried out. “We can stop him without killing him!”

“Really?” Toph asked bluntly. “How?”

“I–” Aang faltered. “I don’t know. But we have to.”

“Why?” Katara said, voice level. “If anyone deserves to die, it’s him. Think about all the death he’s caused.”

Aang shook his head. “I can’t take a life. I can’t.”

Sokka noticed Zuko closing his eyes, looking pained. So he wasn’t wholly shocked when Zuko spoke, but somehow he still really was.

“You… might have to,” Zuko whispered.

“What?”

“He–” Zuko swallowed hard. “He’s my Father. I don’t want you to kill him. But he – he won’t stop. Not unless he’s stopped.”

“Then we find another way to stop him,” Aang said firmly. “I can’t kill him. I won’t. Air Nomads consider all life sacred. I can’t – I’m already all that’s left,” he said quietly, voice hoarse. “I can’t betray our teachings. I can’t.”

“Okay,” Sokka heard himself say before he knew he was going to. But fuck, it wasn’t like he could argue with that. “I’ll… try to think of something.”

Aang’s smile was watery, but genuine and it made the commitment worth it.

From a later chapter:

Zuko nodded. “If there were a lot of troops captured, I’m not sure where they’d keep them all. They might spread them out across different prisons. But the leaders – those they’ll keep at the Boiling Rock.”

“The what?”

“Boiling Rock,” Zuko repeated. “It’s the highest security prison in the Fire Nation and it’s located on an island in the middle of a boiling lake inside a volcano. It’s inescapable.”

“Oh,” Sokka said, voice small. He chewed on his lip, thinking about what to do next. He had to rescue his dad. He had to. The entire invasion place was his idea and he’d made the call to keep going, instead of retreating when everyone would’ve made it safely out. It was his fault. He had to be the one to fix it. 

“I’m going with you,” Zuko said.

Sokka blinked. Could Zuko read minds? “What?”

Zuko sent him a flat lool. “You’re about to do something stupid,” he said, and before Sokka could deny it, he continued, “I recognize the signs. I’ve done a lot of stupid shit myself. But if you’re gonna do something stupid, be smart about it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I inspected the prison for my Father about a month before the eclipse,” Zuko murmured. “Breaking out of the prison is impossible. However… it could be possible to break in. But not alone.”

Sokka was quiet for a moment. “It might be a one-way trip,” he whispered.

“Not if we do it right,” Zuko countered. “So let’s make a plan. That’s your thing, right? I can tell you what I know about the prison and its layout.”

Biting his lip, Sokka glanced back at the fire-lit circle they’d left. “I – I don’t want to tell anyone,” he said quietly.

Zuko tilted his head. “Why?”

“This was my fault. It’s my mistake and I have to fix it. I have to regain my honor.”

“That’s something I happen to know a bit about,” Zuko said with a wry smile. “And here’s the thing I learned about honor – it’s not something that you manage alone.”

Sokka frowned. “What does that mean?”

“Honor doesn’t exist in a vacuum,” Zuko said. “It comes from our actions and how those affect other people. And to treat those other people honorably, sometimes you have to ask for help.”

Scoffing, Sokka crossed his arms. “Sorry, are you seriously saying that?”

Zuko rolled his eyes, “I said it was something I’d learned, not something I figured out how to do yet. Anyway, the point is, don’t rule out the others’ skills and capabilities when thinking about how to do this. If you wanna keep it quiet, fine. But we should at least tell Toph.”

“What?” Sokka blinked. “Why?”

“Because she can help us build a miniature of the prison for you to use,” Zuko said. “But mostly because she’s already eavesdropping on us and will be pissed if we don’t.”

“Oh.”

A tongue clicked, “busted.” Toph laughed. “So, what can I do for you gentlemen?”

“Not sure Zuko counts as a gentleman,” Sokka muttered, covering his face. This was spiraling out of his control rapidly. 

“Hey!” Zuko looked offended. “Just because I’m pregnant doesn’t mean I’m not a man! I mean, I’m not, but like, there’s no correlation!”

“What’dya mean, ‘you’re not’?”

Zuko shrugged, “I thought I was for a long time, but turns out, I’m not.”

“So… what are you?” Sokka asked, and even Toph looked curious.

“I think only the Air Nomads have a word for it,” Zuko said, “but I’m some flavor of nonbinary. They have more specific words, but none really felt right.”

“Nonbinary,” Toph repeated. “What’s that mean?”

“Mm, it can mean a lot of things, but for me, it’s like something in between man and woman? But also like, not part of the spectrum at all? I dunno, it’s kinda hard to describe.”

“Hmm. I like it,” Toph decided. 

“You should talk with Aang about how Air Nomads view gender,” Zuko advised. “I mean, like he mentioned, they have over fifty different words for very specific genders, so…”

“See, that much is just too overwhelming,” Sokka said.

“Yeah, that’s why I choose nonbinary,” Zuko nodded. “It can be an umbrella for a lot of things, but it’s also… simple. Er, I guess.”

“Cool cool,” Toph said. “By the way, you two sneaking off to talk looks super suspicious, so the others definitely think you’re up to something. Which you are, but we can’t let Sugar Queen ruin our fun.”

“...our?” Sokka asked with some measure of resignation.

“Yeah, I’m definitely coming,” Toph said. “You’re going to a big hunk of metal, right? So the world’s only metalbender might come in handy.”

“She’s not wrong,” Zuko pointed out.

The next day:

“What happened?” Aang asked, stepping further into the kitchen to stand between Katara and Zuko.

“I told him who gave me my scar,” Zuko said, something tired and resigned in his voice. Sokka was kind of surprised to discover that he didn’t like it. Zuko was many things, but defeated had never been one of them. 

“Oh.” Aang’s face did something complicated, shadowed with horror, grief, and heartbreak.

“So… should we ask who?” Haru ventured uncertainly.

Zuko’s lips twisted. “They can tell you,” he said, waving at Aang and Sokka. 

Then, literally in the span of seconds, he was suddenly gone. Sokka blinked, trying to figure out where he might’ve gone, brain lagging with fatigue.

Aang ran towards one of the huge open air windows that lit up the kitchen (sunrise had begun). “Zuko!” he shouted, something like panic in his voice.

There was an annoyed groan from somewhere above them. “I’m fine,” Zuko said, still sounding so utterly tired that it made Sokka’s body feel heavier in sympathy. “I’m going to meditate. You can skip today’s, but you’re doing extra sets. Find me when you’re done.”

Sokka listened hard, hoping he would be able to figure out where Zuko was, but once he finished speaking, there was no noise at all.

“How did he even do that?”

“Zuko’s a ninja,” Aang said seriously, slowing moving away from the window with a frown. “He did break into Pohuai, so he’s probably fine climbing around the temple. And he’s been here before…” 

“Why does it sound like you’re trying to convince yourself?” Toph asked.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, back up.” Haru held up his hands. “He broke into Pohuai Stronghold!? When? How?”

“What even is Pohuai Stronghold?” Sokka asked.

This time it was Aang who sighed explosively. “Okay, so, it was just a couple of weeks after I first woke up. We flew through a really bad storm, and Katara and Sokka got sick.”

“You made us suck on frogs!” Sokka said accusingly.

“...what?” Haru looked completely lost. 

“I found an herbalist nearby and she said that they had to suck on the frozen river frogs,” Aang explained. “So I went to go get some. But I was attacked and captured – by Zhao.”

Haru’s face showed no signs of recognizing the name.

“Admiral Sideburns,” Sokka provided.

“Ooooh,” both Toph and Haru said. 

“At the time, Zuko and Zhao were both hunting me. But even then, I don’t think Zuko would’ve ever strung me up like that and threatened – well.” Aang cleared his throat. “Um, so I was captured by Zhao and I couldn’t move like at all, not really. I would not have been able to get out of there without help.”

“You said it was Zuko,” Sokka murmured, “who saved you.”

“To capture you for himself,” Katara corrected.

“Maybe,” Aang shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe I’ll ask him some time. But whatever his reason, he helped me and he committed treason to do it. And I think it cost him, too. Did you know Zhao blew up his ship?”

“Wait, seriously?”

Aang nodded. “Um, anyway, Zuko rescued me from Pohuai Stronghold. He managed to sneak in, cut off my restraints – oh yeah, did you know he has swords, too? – and we almost got out without incident just by sneaking. Zuko is like really good at sneaking. And I’ve seen him scale a building, so climbing up the temple shouldn’t be that hard.”

“...he literally walked into a wall yesterday,” Haru pointed out.

“Yeah, but that was because – oh monkeyfeathers! He’s still pregnant!” Aang slapped his hand to his face, then leaned out the window and called, “Zuko! Come back! You’re gonna fall!”

There was no response.

“Should we… look for him?” Sokka suggested slowly, not quite sure how worried he should be.

“Eh, he’s fine,” Katara sniffed.

“Relax, Twinkletoes, he really is fine,” Toph announced, wiggling her toes. “And honestly, if he’s already compensated this well for the new weight distribution and shit, then I wanna see what he’s like with swords.”

“You can’t see anything,” Sokka said, extremely proud of himself for catching the joke. But his amusement faded as he thought about it. “Neither can he. Er, I mean, not from that eye, anyway.”

“Oh.”

A little bit later in the same convo, but after Aang leaves:

Sokka sighed, catching Haru’s eye over his sister’s shoulder. He jerked his head slightly to the side and Haru nodded, quietly slipping away.

“Katara,” Sokka said. “Talk to me.”

“About what?” she asked, a mulish twist to her mouth that indicated she knew exactly what.

“I get being mad at Zuko. I get not liking him. But–”

“But you’re being a bitch,” Toph said bluntly.

“Excuse me!?” Katara screeched. “Have you forgotten what he’s done!?”

“I remember,” Sokka said. “I can also see that the Zuko who’s here with us now is miles different from the Zuko that crashed into our village. Which he even apologized for.”

Katara scoffed.

“You just learned that a kid had his face burned off by his father,” Toph said, “and your response was to call him stupid. Yeah, you’re being a bitch.”

Sokka held his hands up placatingly, “look, we’re not asking you to be friends. But could you maybe lighten up a little? Where’s the girl who faked Appa being sick just to help some Fire Nation villagers, huh? You said you’d never turn your back on anyone who needs you.”

“Zuko doesn’t need me,” Katara spat. “And I wouldn’t help him if he did!”

“We all know that’s a lie,” Toph said.

“No, it’s not! He’s – he’s – he deserves–”

“Don’t you dare finish that, Katara,” Sokka warned. “He told me he can’t really see or hear on his left side at all. He said he was used to it and that the dragons must’ve healed him because he isn’t in pain anymore. As in, he’s been in probably constant pain for three years, Katara. I don’t care what he’s done, you can’t wish that on anybody.”

Katara swallowed hard. “He’s the face of the Fire Nation. He’s everything I hate about them,” she whispered.

“Is he, though?” Toph asked, voice surprisingly gentle. “Or is that what you want him to be so that you can hate him?”

Katara didn’t answer.

Okay, I think that’s all for now lol. Hope you enjoyed!

[safethrucloth]

me before encanto: haha there’s no way a disney movie will affect the trajectory of my life :)

me after encanto: 🎤 A 🎶 SEVEN 7️⃣ FOOT 🦶 FRAME 🖼 RATS 🐀 ALONG ⚠️ HIS 👨🏾 BACK 🔙 WHEN 👄 HE 👨🏾 CALLS 🗣 YOUR 👻 NAME 😧 IT 😮 ALL 💀 FADES 🎚 TO 😨 BLACK ⚫️ YEAH 😩 HE 👨🏾 SEES 👀 YOUR 👁 DREAMS 💤 AND 😨 FEASTS 🍽 ON 😳 YOUR 🖐 SCREAMS 😱 WE 🙌 DON’T ❌ TALK 🗣 ABOUT 👣 BRUNO 👨🏾

[apocalypticgargoyle]

Ok you amazing person. Demon Sapnap, but the reader is really sick or maybe is in an accident and ends up in hospital. Sapnap and Dream both visit and get jealous of eachother. Eventually Dream leaves and Sapnap is just there like 👁👄👁 And then after a day or two the reader is finally home and Sapnap is like really pent up because he has been jealous Horny and reader has been in hospital and he just rails them, but softly because reader is still weak. Basically jealous soft-dom Demon Sapnap.

This is just an idea- by no means do you have to write it :)

I'm begrudgingly writing Dre as Mr. Steal Your Girl for obvious reasons (/ j), but also I couldn't pass down this idea for incubus 3 ;) I'm also going to include a few other requests I had about Sap's backstory and some smut. enjoy!

𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐒 & 𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐒. ⛧ 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐮𝐛𝐮𝐬!𝐬𝐚𝐩𝐧𝐚𝐩 (𝟏𝟖+)

warnings: smut (18+), spanking, degradation, thigh riding, domination, literally quoting the b!ble

here's a playlist for those of you that were asking for it. i would love to see what the rest of you are listening to :)

previous part

You opened your eyes slowly, the ache in your body fully coming to your attention as you noticed the metronome of beeps coming from the machines connected to the tubes in your arm. You turned your head, squinting as your eyes struggled to focus on the figure beside you. After a few minutes, your brain pieced together his features and your heart eased when you realized it was Sapnap. For some, obviously ungodly reason, his presence brought you a sense of calm.

His feet were kicked up on the edge of your bed, his eyes scanning over a magazine as he chewed on his bottom lip absent-mindedly. He was dressed more casually than he usually was, probably an attempt at blending into the general public. You reached out a hand, fingers brushing against the soft material of his dark crewneck to get his attention. His gaze moved to look at you, a smirk painting across his pink lips.

You cleared your throat, tongue feeling like sandpaper. “What happened?” You grumbled, reaching beside him for the remote to elevate your head.

He watched your movements carefully. “You got a fever and then passed out cold,” he reminded you softly, making you groan. “Dehydration.” You couldn’t remember what he was talking about, only feeling nauseous in the middle of the night.

“How long have I been here?” You asked, rolling your head on your shoulders as your neck cracked, your limbs popping as you moved slightly. The IV pinched your arm as you moved, making you hiss quietly, making his eyes focus on where it was attached.

He hummed in thought. “A few hours. They wanna keep you until tomorrow, just in case you die or something,” he shrugged, tossing the magazine on the couch in the corner of the room.

You rubbed one of your eyes, a yawn rippling through you. “And why are you here?”

He chuckled. “Obvious reasons,” he stated, nodding towards the bite on your shoulder. “Also, Saint Dream was the first on your emergency contact list, so…” You pulled your knees to your chest as you looked at him.

“Even if it’s just because you have a quota to meet, I’m glad you’re here,” you muttered and something flickered behind his eyes, a smug expression tugging at his lips.

He leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, feet planted on the ground. “You’re not part of my quota, baby.” Your cheeks flushed at his words but before you could respond, he tensed up, eyes clouding with a darkened gold. They always shifted when something was intruding. You furrowed your brows at him. “Lupus in fabula venit enim ad me,” he mumbled darkly, the venom of sarcasm dripping from his voice as a knock came at your door.

Clay stuck his head through the threshold, eyes softening at you. Sapnap watched him silently as he stepped inside, rambling off how worried he was about you. Clay seemed to ignore Sapnap’s presence as he settled a batch of roses on your nightstand. Sapnap rolled his eyes and once Clay finally acknowledged him, he made a face like he was smelling something rotten. Sapnap looked like he was ready to snap Clay in half if he approached you closer, yet his dark demeanor didn’t dissuade Clay. In fact, it seemed like Clay was hell-bent on ruffling his feathers more, pulling up a chair on the other side of you.

“I didn’t think he would be here,” Clay commented, voice dipping slightly as his sights shifted toward Sapnap, irises flashing brighter. You perked an eyebrow at him.

Sapnap scoffed, leaning back in his seat. “I’m here because she wants me here,” he commented, nearly with a boasting tone. “So, it seems like I’m in the right role to ask what the fuck you think you’re doing.” You kept silent as the two played their game of wits and egos.

Clay smirked at him as if he was in possession of some esoteric knowledge. It dawned on you that you weren’t sure how old either of them actually was. You had dated Clay for god knows how many years, yet you learned more about his past from Sapnap than you had in any of the years you were together. “It’s still in her best interest that she be given options that don’t involve your kind,” he gritted.

Sapnap laughed shortly, a cockiness settling into his appearance. “Oh yeah? In her best interest or in yours, you selfish prick.”

Clay’s jaw tensed, a sigh flooding from his nose. “We can do this more maturely, you know? Like fucking professionals.”

Sapnap shook his head. “I’m not up for negotiating,” the stated bluntly. “Go near her again and I’ll report you,” he assured, his deadpanned stare making your heartbeat quicken.

Clay swallowed, eyes glued to Sapnap’s as the pair of them flexed their dominant personalities. Clay’s eyebrow twitched as if he had thought of something, almost mockingly. “Begone, Satan, inventor and master of all deceit,” he began, making Sapnap roll his eyes again before cutting into Clay’s quote.

“-enemy of man’s salvation. Give place to Christ in Whom you have found none of your works,” he mocked. “Try and exorcise me all you want, feather boy.”

Clay’s hand moved to curl around your wrist and Sapnap leaned against the bed, as if asking Clay to make his next move. “Be alert and of sober mind. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour-“

“Resist him, standing firm in the faith, because you know that the family of believers throughout the world is undergoing the same kind of sufferings,” Sapnap cantered without a thought. “It’s not even the right verse for this, stupid bitch,” he grumbled.

You cleared your throat, pulling your arm away from Clay and trying not to look as if you were slinking towards Sapnap. “You should leave,” you stated, Clay’s lips pursing at your words. “I need to rest.” Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Sapnap’s sly expression cutting into Clay.

After spending another night in the hospital, you were finally unlocking your apartment door and letting Sapnap help you out of your coat. You mumbled something about getting yourself a drink and he brushed you off, already doing it himself. Your mind was racing with questions after what you had witnessed between Clay and Sapnap. You hadn’t doubted the authenticity of Sapnap, but your mind still ran with what had happened to him. He handed you a water, sitting down on your couch as you paced slightly.

He broke into your thoughts. “Go on, tell me what you’re thinking,” he stated, unbuttoning his shirt slightly. You wanted to hex him about the fact that he probably already knew what was pounding against your temples to be asked.

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, rolling over your questions to censor some of them. “The bible’s been translated and reprinted so many times, how are you still…” you gestured with your hands, unable to explain where you were going with your statement.

He chuckled, brushing a hand against his chin. “It really doesn’t matter if it’s actually God’s word or not. It’s a guide, like an outline. Rules, I guess. Think about it like the Constitution.”

“I thought demons like… burned up when someone quoted the bible at them…”

His face fell a bit at this. “No, we just can’t read it,” his tone was almost regretful, sending guilt to pulse through your body because you had asked. “It’s like it’s in a completely different language, and each time I look at it, it shifts around the page. When you get dragged into hell, something happens with your eyes.” He huffed slightly, wetting his lips. “It's kind of like an isolation thing. He wants you to be completely aside from him.”

Your mind clicked, eyeing your heirloom display case. “Can I try something?” You asked, popping open one of the doors after he hummed in response. You fished out your grandmother’s rosary, the cross feeling almost heavy in your hands. You turned on your heel, bringing it closer to him before dangling it in front of him. His eyes drifted away from it, his gaze turning up to you. “Does this bug you?” You probed, making him snort. He took it in his hand, thumb caressing over the design.

He shook his head, chewing on his lip. “It’s a shameful thing really. I feel guilty whenever I look at this kind of stuff,” he muttered; you sat on the arm of his chair and looked over his shoulder. He turned, looping it around your neck. “Does it bug you?”

You held it away from your chest. “For different reasons, I guess.” You stood again, putting it back in its spot beside a photo of your grandfather. “Why’d you get kicked out?” You queried softly, peering over your shoulder.

He was watching you. “Maybe another time.”

“What about your childhood?” You asked. “Did you have one?”

“I know more about your childhood than I do my own. Why all the questions?” He countered with a soft laugh.

You shrugged. “I want to get to know you…” You mumbled, your hand drifting up to rest on your shoulder, feeling heat coming off of his scaring bite mark. “How do you know when to show up?”

He sighed, leaning his back against the chair and stretching his legs. “I can feel when you get anxious. Angels have some kind of block though, that’s why it took me so long to realize you needed me when that bastard was over here.” He shook his head almost like a new fire about Dream had been lit. His eyes flickered up to you. “Unless you weren’t scared.” You shook your head quickly at his joke. He chuckled. “How does it make you feel that I’m in your head sometimes?”

You approached him again. “Narcissistic,” you answered plainly, sinking to your knees before him. You ran your hands up his thighs, a smirk growing on his features as he sat up to be closer to you. “What happens after I die? Eternal damnation?” You questioned, as his hand went to brush against your arms.

He pressed his lips to your neck before digging his fingers into your hair as if he’d been waiting to touch you for days. You hummed as he kissed you, the slight scruff of his unshaven face feeling soft against your cheek. “You shouldn’t have to worry about that. I think I’ll make you immortal or something. Being with me should be enough damnation,” he jeered, making you laugh. “Most of my colleagues take the souls of their targets and leave, but I enjoy your company,” he teased.

“But you already have my soul, right?” The line felt strange coming from your mouth.

His lips brushed against yours. “There’s still an innocent piece of you that I haven’t tapped into. Everyone has it; I like it in you.”

Your eyebrows perked at this, fingers digging into his thighs to make him groan. “What do you mean?”

He kissed you briefly, actions getting needier the longer you were between his legs. “It’s completely pure. Untampered by sin or desire. When a demon gets it, they go feral,” he mumbled, nose pressing into the crook of your neck, teeth dragging across your skin.

You tilted your head to the side, fingers tracing over his zipper. “Take it from me,” you breathed, leaning into his touch.

“No,” he answered blatantly.

You moaned as his tongue slipped against your collarbones. “I want you to have it,” you continued, voice uneven. His fingers tugged at your hair.

His breath was warm against your shoulders. “I’ll take it after a few years. I don’t want it now.”

You pushed him away from you, his eyes already blown with lust as you looked into them. “You just said demons want it so badly. Take mine.”

He chuckled, hands dropping to your jaw. “No,” he repeated, voice light.

You sat back on your heels, looking up at him with a tilted expression. “Is mine not good enough for you?”

He wheezed. “No, it’s perfect. I just… After I take it, it’s like you’re dead. You’re not the same. Your humanity is gone.” He pulled you back up towards him. “I’ll take it when I’m ready to escort you to hell.”

You quipped an eyebrow. “Oh, so you just don’t want me to see your place?” You joked, making him roll his eyes. “Maybe Clay was right. What’s the verse about confession?”

His eyes darkened playfully. “For with the heart one believes and is justified, and with the mouth one confesses and is saved.” It was mind boggling how he could probably quote the whole Bible and was as… sinful… as he was. “Bring up Dream again, and I’ll make sure you can’t walk for a week.”

Your eyelashes fluttered. “You bargain for a fun game," you quipped.

He chuckled darkly. "It was more a light-hearted threat, dove," he muttered.

You sat forward and pressed your lips against his hungrily, letting him pull you into his lap as his fingers curled into the loose ends of your hair. Your fingers ripped at the buttons of his shirt, exposing his chest to you as he tugged at your own clothing. Your teeth dragged against his lips as his hips ground up against you, needy for friction.

You pushed your tongue into his mouth, moaning as his hands moved to your thighs, his blunt nails raking against your jeans. You rolled your hips against his lap, feeling him harden beneath you. He spread his legs further, coaxing you to grind against him as his hands pushed you down to rut against his leg.

You were breathless as you pulled away from him, one of his hands fisting in your t-shirt to bring you close to him, lips and tongue pressing against your neck. "I didn't tell you to stop riding my thigh," he commented darkly, bouncing his knee to make you moan.

Your hand wrapped around the wrist of his hand holding you in place, tugging your bottom lip between your teeth as heat spread across your body. He pulled your shirt over your head, your bare chest at his mercy. Your mind blurred at the sensation and the feeling of him sucking his mark into your skin, making it clear who you belonged to.

You moaned, digging your face into his neck as he rolled his hips against your leg. "Please, Sapnap. I need you," you whimpered, voice a soft whisper in his ear. He chuckled darkly, ripping your pants down your legs as you fumbled to unzip his slacks.

He pulled you onto him without warning, a groan leaving your lips as he suddenly filled you up. "Bold of you to beg for me after associating with that bastard," he bit, thrusting up into you. "I should tie you up and let you suffer for that."

You moaned at his dark tone, grinding your hips against him. Your lips ghosted against his as your cheeks began to feel warm from the stimulation. "I might like that," you jested, your sentence breaking with your voice as he harshly grabbed your hips, driving himself into you harder.

"You're lucky you're still weak," he nipped, voice swirling with lust and power. "I'd throw you over my knee for that comment." His fingers dug into your hips, grinding against you as you bounced on top of him. You moaned at his words. His hand snaked up to wrap around your throat, threatening to apply pressure as he continued to direct your movements, thrusting into you at a deep and reserved pace. "Dirty girl. You want me to punish you, don't you?"

When all you could do was mutter a small beg, he pulled you closer to him, lips meeting yours in a mess of hair, teeth, and tongue. He moaned into your mouth, the taste of his breath was addictive and bliss-inducing.

He pulled you off of him and onto the couch beside him, slipping his shirt the rest of the way off. "I'll fuck the angel lover out of you," he joshed, a hand coming down sharply across your ass; the pain making you moan his name, hands gripping the couch as he pressed your shoulders into the cushion.

He dragged your hips into the air, pushing into you again, rocking his hips against yours with a small grunt. His teeth were sharp against your skin as he pounded into you and an animalistic pace, your mind numbing at the feeling. He pushed your knees further apart to pump himself deeper into you.

You moaned as his weight settled on the hand pinning you to the couch, your hair sticking to your sweaty face as he spanked you again, hand gripping your irritated skin. "Good girl. Take it," he nearly growled, making your skin crawl with an added layer of pleasure. While his pace and mannerisms were ruthless, he was definitely holding back, knowingly going easy on you because of your already weak body. That didn't mean he wasn't reminding you of your sour attitude as he pulled your arm behind your back, his hips snapping against your own to firmly instill his name in your mind.

You reached for the arm rest, a grounding element for you as his motions drove you over the edge in a teeth gritting orgasm, boy flushing with goosebumps under his command. You rocked your hips back against him as he pulled out, jerking himself off instead of giving you the satisfaction of finishing him off.

You groaned as you turned to look at him. "Feeling okay?" He asked, pressing his lips to your shoulder blade. You shook your head quickly and his eyebrow quipped ever so slightly. "Good," he stated, pulling you up and onto the ground in front of him again. He grabbed your cheeks. "I still don't think you've learned," he muttered, leaning back into his previous position. "Blow me," he directed, tucking an arm behind his head. "And with the mouth, one confesses and is saved, remember," he taunted.

Your eyes flashed up to his devious expression as he leered at you from his commanding spot.

It was going to be a long night.

And you were ready for it.

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[sunlightwoo]

Run With Hell | Ride Along Prequel

☀︎ pairing: bad boy!sunwoo x fem!reader

☀︎ genre: summer fling au, angst, squints of fluff, bad boy au, lovers to exes au warning: suggestive/sexual language and content, mentions of alcohol and partying

☀︎ wc: 4.1k

☀︎ plot: summer hues may bring in the summer blues, but this one person you spend your summer with just so happens to be the one person that you needed in that moment. instead of the place that he needed to end up being in, he lets you take him back to your place and see where it goes from there, thinking that maybe it might just be a summer bet and nothing more than that. 

☀︎ a/n: this was originally a scrapped idea back from like 2018 and i never brought it back up to surface until recently these last few months actually from when i started planning ride along and then sunwoo’s verse in hate came out, which sparked more ideas!! so i hope you guys enjoy the prequel to it, in which you learn more about the history between Sunflower and Sunwoo’s relationship, even though this is not one of my best oneshots im sorry :( it can be read as a standalone, but it’d be cool if you read this and then ride along if you haven’t read it yet!!

read ride along here!

track one: moonlight | i never knew, you could hold moonlight in your hands

The soft breeze of the summer winds blew past your hair, your arms wrapped around yourself as your eyes were trained on the scenery in front of you. Comforts of the beach seem to have always made you calmer than you have been, and you think that these last two years of your life had been a fever dream considering the roller coaster of events that you have been through. 

You remember waking up in a hospital the night that your brother, Jacob, had an important race to compete in, and because of that, you didn’t want to break his winning streak by being bad luck. The moments prior to that were unable to be recalled for as the only reliable information you can get was from the doctor, explaining that you had consumed something before you had blacked out that had made you almost comatose, if it weren’t for someone that had saved you that night. 

There were often times where you thought about what had happened at that exact moment, but it didn’t distract you from where your mind had been leading you the following day when you were discharged already because of Jacob. You weren’t sure where he had gone that moment, but all you could remember was reading a note with his scribbles that mentioned where he had left it.

A final decision that he had to decide on with a gig that he had gotten for his music career was what he had been working on, and you couldn’t be happier for him. That following morning, you found yourself at the cafe that was across from where you were staying temporarily, eyes darting across the beautiful cursive chalk that was written on a board for the menu, and you couldn’t help but feel like there were a pair of eyes that were stuck onto you. 

With a quick glance around the shop, even if there wasn’t a line behind you, you noticed a guy that sat by the window with his eyes trained onto yours. An accidental eye contact, you might’ve thought to yourself as the handsome stranger had given you a small smirk across his lips, but you have already turned back around to quickly place an order for a tea that was taken to go. 

You had known who he was, considering his name was already spread among the city that you lived despite it being your summer before your first year of college. How it had easily slipped from your own tongue if anybody were to ask you, who is the biggest playboy that is known in your graduating class, and it had to be him. If it weren’t for the fact that he had an overpowering aura that radiated from him, then maybe you would’ve gotten to know him more.

But you didn’t want to, because you knew what guys like him were like.

It was guys like him that made you want to hide away into the comforts of your personal safety net because you knew he was too beautiful and confident to be good. A chaotic driven force that you think was meant to be encountered with was what he had seemed like, ready to clash into your lawful good that the more that you thought about it, you wondered what more of him was like if you were to say hello. 

Now it was a little over a year later in the summer before your junior year of college and you think that it’s comical that somehow the same stranger had caught your heart. After a semester and a half of trying to win you over as a friend throughout your first year, he was able to convince you that maybe hanging out one spring night at the beach wouldn’t be too bad, right?

“Sorry I’m late, Sunflower. Got stuck trying to find a way to park the car without dealing with some asshole again.” 

Your eyes look up to meet the same warm ones that welcomed you as the red hair he had coated this time around seemed to have blended in with the night sky. He takes a seat next to you and wraps his arms around his knees that were being hugged close to his chest, until he takes a look over to you once more with a soft smile on his face. 

“It’s okay, Sunwoo. I haven’t been here that long anyways.” You reply quietly, giving him a smile back as you bit back everything that was on your tongue. 

You had already been there for almost two hours waiting for him, collecting your thoughts as you wondered what the two of you were in that exact timing. There were times where you wanted to just kiss him as a way to shut him up whenever he rambled or said something dumb, but there were also the mixed signs that made you wonder if he had ever thought about you the same way that you did in the past two years.

One too many shared secrets and kisses were often exchanged, but the two of you had always remained friends with too many benefits as you found your way back to the other. It was almost as if you were magnets, opposites that attracted to another and now you were trying to find a way for it to make sense under the moonlight that was brightly shining tonight above you.

“Can you sing me a song, bubs?”

His eyes turn to look at you, who had been staring at him after breaking away from your own thoughts, as he nods in response and opens his arms for you to find your place in them. He wraps his arms around you securely, holding you close to his chest as the soft voice that came from his throat produced a sweet song that you easily recognized as one that he had told you about for a while. 

It felt like you were being put under a sleeping spell as you looked at him, wondering how even under the moonlight, he was almost the most ethereal being in the world. It was as though he was carrying that luminescence in his hands and placed it above his head at all times, making sure that whenever you needed to just be held, he was there to do so for you; another reason why you were so conflicted with what you both had.

However, maybe it was after a confession or two after that soft lullaby that it ended up being enough for you. Maybe being with him was enough for you, and for that you had also regretted it at the same time, because you knew that you were in for a ride with hell’s spawn.

track two: sometimes | cause we’re collecting moments, tattoos on my mind

“Are you ready for our getaway?” You hear someone say behind you and turn to look at Sunwoo, who had been standing at your front door for a moment now. 

It was the hot morning of July first after a long night being with him, and it was a spontaneous decision to head out on a little road trip away from the city. You wanted to go to the seaside, you had told him just hours prior, and he had told you about a little place that he used to stay whenever he was in a mood to go on vacation and escape the realities of the world.

So you packed your bags and were ready to go as you walked up to him with a big smile on your face, one that mirrored his own as he pulled you close. By placing his hand against your lower back, the space between you both becomes almost invisible as he pecked your lips in just a quick second, and you couldn’t help but giggle at the sudden action that came from him.

Even after a month or so of dating, it still felt like you were floating on cloud nine despite the fact that you had been doing this for two years or so already. Being with him felt like you were able to conquer on the world, and you knew that might not stay long despite the shared whispers of the cursed eight letters that were often said when you spent nights together.

You wanted to tattoo every moment that you were with him into your mind, because from then until now it had only felt like you were living in a daydream. He had given you nothing but love and made you happier than you would’ve imagined making yourself, but you were okay with also accepting the fact that it might not last long considering there were often times where you might clash thoughts and argue.

By the time that you both made it to where you were staying, you were amazed with how elegant it looked on the inside, despite the fact that it seemed smaller on the outside. You think that maybe you were in a movie as you looked around, but it wasn’t until you turned around to see Sunwoo being busy on his phone that you wondered if this mini getaway was going to be worth it.

“Everything okay, bubs?” You ask while putting down your stuff, sitting on top of your bag as he gives you a small smile before nodding in response. 

To him, he thinks that you are one of the most beautiful things as the sun was practically shining on your face as it seeped through the large glass windows of the house. It’s almost amazing that he found himself falling for you quickly, but he wonders how much of that smile will last on your face before he does something to mess it all up. 

He wants to tattoo the moments where he’s able to make those smiles on your face with his sincerity, the him that he wants to be with you rather than the person that he decides to be to everyone else. Yet somehow, there was something about your innocence to him that made him want more than just what you had then and now, but he was scared of what he might become if had actually gotten it all for himself.

“Yeah, everything’s okay. Let’s go sleep for a bit before we spend the night having fun, hmm?”

track three: bad decisions | You've become my favorite sin so let 'em keep on talking

He knows that he isn’t good for you.

His reputation of being the residential bad boy was no match for your heart, and you both knew that. After spending the first two weeks getting to know the ins and outs of the bay, you made some quick friends even though you spent a majority of your time back at where you were staying with Sunwoo. The way that his hands had always felt like fire on your skin was exhilarating as every kiss you shared was more intoxicating than the last. 

You could tell that he was getting tired of it already, because you’ve noticed that the fire that was once in his eyes was dying out, and you were scared of it. Even his words of reassurance of loving you and for not leaving your side by then was made, but you couldn’t find it within yourself to trust his words every time that he spoke of them. 

“Are you sure that you’re in love with me?” You whisper after the highs and frustrations that were spent into what you had done earlier had been let out. 

The two of you had argued about how he never seemed to have paid more attention to what you were doing when the two of you were out at the street markets today, his phone seeming more important than exploring the depths of shops that were opened by small businesses. You confronted him about it, thinking that maybe he was involved with someone else and that you were just wasting your time putting your love into a relationship that was one sided. 

However that wasn’t the case, as he told you that one of his friends was updating him on a situation that involved their family.

“Why wouldn’t I love you?”

Those toxic eight letters felt so foreign at the tip of his tongue as he looked at you, who laid your head on top of his chest. He didn’t know what love was, and he felt like the biggest jerk for also leading you on knowing that in the end, he was going to leave. He wasn’t sure when he was going to do it, but he knew that you were slowly catching onto his plan, and he hated himself for making you feel as though you weren’t enough for him to stay. 

He wants to give you the pain that he had felt once in the past, and ruin the sweet innocence that you held in your eyes. He’s heard stories about you as well, the same way that you had heard stories about him, and he knew then that there was something about the way you talked and expressed your beliefs that made him want to be indulged into you more. 

“We don’t feel the same anymore.” You whisper, eyes meeting him as the moonlight that used to capture his eyes so perfectly seemed as though it was dying out. 

Your heart was pounding in your chest as you watched him stay silent for a moment, his eyes still looking into yours but he still held you close to his heart. He doesn’t know what to say at all and he regrets it a little more for dragging you into this game that he started playing with his own heart on his sleeve, but he doesn’t know when he should stop, because to him, it feels like this game that he made was still not done yet. 

But he can’t find the heart to tell you to run, before he can do it.

“I promise I’ll love you more than I should be loving you. You’re my sunflower, the same way that I’m your sunshine, and it’ll stay that way.” 

track four: leave me lonely | you’re a dangerous love, maybe you’re no good for me

It was a little over a month into your getaway, and it feels emptier than it was when you first started the entire trip.

The nights that you shared together were less filled with meaningful words and actions, but more filled with moments that were there to make the empty void that was present full with whatever you two had wanted to do. You could tell that he was on the verge of just walking out the front door and leaving you because of how the increasing arguments that were made continued to be more present, and you could’ve sworn that if he wasn’t going to be the first to leave, then you would. 

It was another occurrence tonight where you had gone out to eat as a date, since you wanted to fix what might’ve been missing these last few weeks of summer that you might’ve not done. However, it didn’t happen to work as you noticed how Sunwoo was already preoccupied on his phone almost the entire time, and you were fed up by the end of the night as he was driving you both back home and he had taken the time to text back whoever it was that seemed more important than you, who had been nothing but patient the entire night.

“Am I seriously not fun anymore, that you’ve spent the entire date texting whoever it is on the other end?” You half jokingly asked while turning to him, watching as he had given you a confused look on his face while the two of you were waiting for the traffic light to turn green to go. 

“I haven’t been texting someone the entire time-”

“Then what did we do today, besides eat at the restaurant because we sure as hell didn’t talk the entire time that we were there.” You retort, the joking tone that was previously in your tone no longer there as he looks at you for a split second before putting his phone into the cup holder that was between you both in silence. 

The green light finally switches and he drives again as you could tell that he knew you were right, the silence overbearing you both as neither of you spoke afterwards. You wanted him to bite back, but you couldn’t help but be impatient this time around with what he had to say, because he always seemed to brush it off these days about what he has been doing when he wasn’t with you, or when he leaves mid-argument and comes back the next morning making it up.

“You’re just overreacting, don’t worry about it, Y/N.” 

He hasn’t called you by your name in a while considering he had only been calling you by Sunflower for a long time now. It was almost like whiplash as you stared at him, who was now driving back to your place with the night sky behind him and you wondered what you had even done wrong when you were just wondering who he would keep texting. 

Maybe he was cheating on you and he didn’t want to admit it, you think to yourself as you curled up into a ball in your seat and looked outside your window to hide the pain that was present in your heart. Was there could’ve been something that you might’ve done wrong that could just made him bored throughout the last two years that you’ve known each other, where it was you that might’ve been in the mess up stance?

That night, you couldn’t even remember whether or not you have slept properly considering he didn’t sleep with you, but rather slept on the couch in the living room. 

Was this what the start of heartbreak was like?

track five: touch it | Why do you say you want me, then tell me you're not coming in?

“How long have you been lying to me about everything?” 

Tears were pricking the corners of your eyes as you stared at the individual in front of you with your heart on your sleeve, wondering what his next move was. Your throat was raspy from how much you were yelling out of anger and frustration earlier, and you wanted to know how long you had been playing his game.

“Two years.” He replies, his facial expression never faltering as his hands were in his pockets and eyes boring into your own. 

His phone was placed on the couch beside you as you had found his texts with his best friend about how being with you was all for a bet of money; and he had won. All he had to do was to make you play his game and purposely break your heart, only to win some sort of prize that he would win at the end, but at what cost.

“I didn’t mean anything to you, did I?” You whisper as you cross your arms in front of your chest, waiting to hear whatever else he had to say, but you couldn’t help but wipe away the stray tears that were already falling down the apples of your cheeks. 

Yes, you meant everything to me, he wants to say as he looks into your heartbroken eyes, and he was willing to give up everything to walk over to where you were to wipe your tears for you. But there was also the thrill in his blood that made him feel a bit prideful that he succeeded in being the asshole that he made himself out to be to everyone but you. 

He had won the game, he acknowledged and it was over for him but he also knew that there was just a little bit of guilt that still lied inside of him. He doesn’t know what to say as he watches you start to crumble in front of him internally, and he knows you’re tired of all the lies that he had been feeding you since the first day. 

So he had decided on running away after he said his last words, because like you had predicted, he was hell’s spawn that loved creating a chaotic masterpiece. As much as you hated him in the moment, he knew that you wouldn’t be able to let go for a bit, and maybe this was his chance to leave so that he doesn’t have to think about you anymore. 

And he does as he walks away with the wind as he closes the door on you both, leaving with the sounds of his car already leaving and you know that he wasn’t coming back. 

You think that it’s your fault anyways for wanting to believe in what you had was genuine, with every time that he had said it was true. But like you thought in the first place, where guys like him wouldn’t last, was true, because now you were in the place that held everything that reminded you of him. You wanted to trash the beautiful pain that was in front of you, but you also felt numb at the same time, not wanting to do anything but to just mourn the stained heart that was on the sleeve of your arm. 

It was there for the world to see; tainted with toxic love that only you had for him, and it was now spilling out with his last words echoing in your head.

“I never loved you in the first place, because you were only just a game to win.”

bonus track: lovesick girls

The loud silence of the crackling fire resonates in your ears as you stare at the burning car that was less than 50 feet in front of you. Your knees were tucked into your chest as you stared at it, wondering where it all began to go wrong as the numbness of your heart continued to stay there. He had been gone for weeks, as you had expected him to run away for that long, and you hated yourself for falling for a guy like him in the first place. 

He was intoxicating, addicting; the one person that you had given your entity to, only to have it crumble up in the palm of his hands. 

You hated him and knew that this would be the last time you’d ever want to see him, since you were going to start going back on track with your goals and dreams. Starting next week you were set to start the fall semester into your junior year of college as it was now almost mid September and ready to run for the life that you wanted to have from the start of the summer before you had met him. 

You think to yourself that maybe it was him that had ruined it all, or maybe a piece of you didn’t want to admit that it was also your own for not being cautious enough. The entire summer felt like you were running with the devil himself, and that the air you were breathing in now, the very one that you can finally collect your thoughts in, were your moments of freedom as you blinked back the tears of the memories that had played in your mind of last night that ended it all. 

“All you ever did was run away from us in the first place, Sunwoo-”

“And I was wrong for doing it, that day that I walked out and left,” He says and you could see his eyes glimmer with what seemed like sincerity in the form of tears, just as the sun that was setting around you both began to make your skies darker than they were before. 

“But that doesn’t mean that I regretted walking out, because I knew that we would’ve only hurt each other more if I had stayed.”

The silence that was overtaking you both was faster than that as your eyes continued to lock onto one another’s. You weren’t sure what you wanted to do in this situation, because you very much so loved him and all his imperfect beauties. However it felt like he was the constant fire that was burning your skin with every touch that he was able to make, and you didn’t want to be a part of that cycle that would continue with him, especially after finding out about his bet with his best friend at the most. 

So in retaliation, you did what you should’ve done in the first place, resent and ignore him, as you knew that this should be the last time that you see him again in this life. 

“Then I think you should just leave for good then, Sunwoo. Don’t ever try to find me again, and if you do... we will never do us again.”

[waokevale]

Sanders Sides

-The Snow Queen AU-

[In this ver. The Frost King]

I just had to do this one after I reconnected with the book, yet...I made some major changes (big ones) for the roles to be more interesting and fitting, not just random I suppose.

[ If you haven't read the book, and wish to do so...I suppose it does quite matter for you to understand more but do as you wish from that point.........]

This version of the story is happening in the beginning of The 18th Century, and the characters who play the roles of the ones from the story, or have changed/replaced roles with suposedly similiar Input here are:

• Kai - Remus - (The boy who was the victim of the broken mirror’s fiendish shard.)

• Gerda - Roman (The main protagonist, i suppose)

[In the original story Kai and Gerda are not quite related but are as close as siblings can be, in this one although, of course the twins are, well...the twins.]

  • Instead of the Grandmother we have the father of the boys, that no one, literally no one would guess who plays the role of him.......Patton...!

• After that, there is also Logan, who gets the role of being The Frost King, The Cursed Frost King in fact (and by cursed I mean he literally pissed someone off [or broken their heart...] centuries before and they turned him into an ice dude)

• Speaking of curses and magic, Janus is the young Sorcerer instead of the Elder Sorceress from the canon story. And in this verse, let's say that Sorcerers are Immortal beings like vampires, because I felt like it, and let's say he's like... approximately 957 y.o

Janus in this version does not keep Roman for a while, because he is a really bored selfish prick, but because he is desperate and genuinely still sad from the time he lost his own kid (guess who that might be...If you know my obsession with familial anxceit you already know who I’m talking about, yes..) Virgil. 

[And no, Virgil is not dead as you see in the fanart, he is cute, alive and well.]

• Speaking about him, he is intended to replace the role of the robber girl. But in this version he was stolen from his Pa/Ma one Summer night...

He didn't age at all because...Well, I just said it, Janus is immortal and Vee in this one is actually his biological kid, so Virgil himself is like 53 y.o

• Pryce and Valery are the Prince and the Princess in the upper corner of the picture. (They are meant to be siblings here)

In the other corner are Thomas and Talyn playing the roles of these magical Finn and Lapp people. (I honestly have no idea how else to call them)

And the Crow and the Raindeer are Remy and Emile, because why not.

[To put it simply, like in the canon of TSS no one here is evil (well except the douchebags of Virgil's kidnappers, but they are not canon characters)]

Also before all of that, I wanted to have a little summery and explanation of some of the situations and short stories from this au

-Remus at first is quite a dork (heh) but really he is a pretty friendly and goofy kid, sure he is quite strange in general but he does show love and affection towards his family (well until the shard of The Mirror got stuck in his eye)

-Logan used to be a Prince from the 10th Century who supposedly felt no emotions and was like a stone husk, or a living statue as people used to say, which made his father desperate enough to the point, he literally set up a very great award for anyone who would make him.. feel something in that matter (The emotionlessness was more of an odd and quite unrealistic version of depression, as to be portraid) 

-There was one and only one person who succeded in the act and in which fell head over hills for him in the process actually (before the magic mirror of evils broke into pieces, one of the first ones then fell into his own eyes, destroying all the progress and hurting the one who loved him the most, who was the very exact person who freed him from his deep shelled abyss before.) 

[I’m not going to say who that was, you’ll have to figure it out by yourself, if you even bother, that is of course]

-Patton is a single father (wow)

He actually managed to find a way into the Garden of Enternal Summer when he was a kid and... As I quote myself:

 “ As a faint Memory, The boy saw the most Elegant and quite The most Beatiful man he’d ever seen, yet with a face halfly scarred with scales as if one cursen upon his soul, his outfit too as his posture spoke was vastly gorgeous, painted mainly in golden and black, but what was yet even more so intriguing, was what he held under his arms, ever oh so gently as it were a small and fragile feather. It in fact..quite was at some point, as it was a small child, very young actually from what it seemed...An Infant it was. The man then walked up to him and offered him his hand, one that wasn’t either of his main two, but nonethless he did so and shared one of the warmest of smiles too, no living creature, no beast nor no man would at this point decline and reject his proffer.”

[Yeah...I’m not good with poetry, especially as English despite it all is my second language...I’m even worse with my main one, so eh.]

Buuut he eventually left either way, so..

[Almost no one could find the secret pathway into the Garden of the Enternal Summer as it was well hidden behind the forests, lakes, caves and mountains. So Roman and his family were quite lucky at this point.]

That is all for now I suppose, I have only one question though...

-Roman is a very sweet kid who talks with animals and plants (but let’s make it a bit more realistic here, the plants do not respond in this version and he is confused but still continues to do so) He is although flawed because a character without flaws is like...A Pizza without the Sauce or a Knife without its blade, blunt and boring that is. Yeah...He has anger issues and is quite impatient and stubborn which is interpreted in both good and bad ways.

-Virgil was gifted with a flower magical hair clip (to help him whenever he was in trouble), a violet scarf and a guardian pet Goliath Birdeater Spider shafed like a Purple Pinktoe Tarantula to protect him from any dangers.

Do you think this is an interesting AU?

[frodo-with-glasses]

Thoughts on “Journeyman”

(From some PMs to a friend)

- I didn’t write this whole thing in one sitting. I had the idea to take “You Are My Sunshine” and add a chorus and some other verses with different metaphors, oh, I dunno, a year or two ago?? So the first two choruses and anchor, compass, and firelight were already sitting in a word document and in the back of my brain. There was also “rainfall” and “reason (not to lose hope)”, but those didn’t really fit the new theme or structure of the song.

- So I was making dinner and thinking about the whole “let’s hear about Frodo and the Ring!” conversation that Frodo and Sam have in this chapter I just read, and the refrain “I hope they tell a million tales/But it would never be enough” got stuck in my head and I was like “why does that sound familiar?? OH” and so I dug the document out again and added the bridge and “lighthouse” and final chorus.

- It’s from Frodo’s POV. The first verse itself is actually really emotional too if you think about the context of going into Mordor where the light is constantly obscured by “grey clouds”, and yet having Sam with him is like bringing sunshine in—which has narrative significance even in the book itself. Heck, Sam makes Frodo LAUGH, genuinely laugh, on the path of Cirith Ungol, and Tolkien himself says a sound like that hadn’t been heard in those parts of the world “since Sauron came to Middle Earth”. Sam made Frodo laugh and BREAK A SILENCE THAT’S BEEN THERE SINCE THE SILMARILLION. I JUST. I. Shut up I’m crying. But anyway it’s really easy to overlook the first verse ‘cause “bleh we all know ‘you are my sunshine’” so that’s what the other verses are for.

- The theme of travel throughout anchor, compass, and firelight actually surprised me with how apt it was for Frodo and Sam. Then again, I named the song “Journeyman”, even back then, so I think it was intentional. I love the fact that the first verse says “traverse these seas” because it makes me think about Frodo and Sam going to Valinor and ughhhhh—

- Oh yeah also “I could write a million poems/stories” fits in with a headcanon of mine; Frodo’s love language is Words of Affirmation, right, and I think anytime after the Quest when he’s not bogged down by Depression Fog, he’s constantly trying to write poems and songs about Sam, just like Bilbo used to write about his adventures, and he keeps getting frustrated because nothing short of Elvish poetry, he feels, would be enough to express how much love and gratitude he has for Sam. Again, something from the old draft that nicely paralleled my current thoughts.

- The bridge is new, like I said. It’s all about this moment on Cirith Ungol that Frodo gives in to despair at seeing the armies of Morgul. He lies on his face and cries before they leave, and Gollum makes them climb some more, and then after they get up the Stairs, Frodo and Sam have that conversation about being in the great stories someday. And it’s literally a spot of light in the darkness in Frodo’s head. He doesn’t think he’ll make it. He barely thinks he’ll survive to finish the job. But he’ll keep putting one foot in front of the other, until he stands there alone on the precipice of Mount Doom, if only because Sam is there to help him on the way.

- LIGHTHOUSE. HNNNG. Okay I had to chose my words REALLY carefully for this verse because I wanted to keep up the metaphor of a lighthouse but ALSO foreshadow Sam’s ship landing in Valinor. “It seems that you must stay while I must leave” makes sense well enough; the tricksy bit is “but when I see you on the shore”. Which shore?? If you’re just thinking of the metaphor of a lighthouse, you’ll think the speaker is talking about returning home from being at sea, because lighthouses don’t move. But in the STORY Frodo sees Sam on the shore of VALINOR—the lighthouse comes to HIM. And then “this ship adrift we’ll finally moor”, which, again, continues the metaphor of a lighthouse, but it also stands for a) Sam’s literal ship that will be moored in Valinor and b) the feelings of being unsettled and incomplete that both Frodo and Sam had until they’re reunited in the afterlife. “Be at home forevermore”?? Not in the Shire. Home is where Sam is, and now, Sam is here with him. I just. AAAAAAHHH—

- And then the final chorus pulls us back to the moment Frodo decided to give Bag End to the Gamgees. That’s the “home” part of “my life, my love, my home”. I had a lot of fun singing this part because it has this sense of triumph and passion about it that just makes me happy to think about Frodo experiencing, because normally he’d be so bogged down by trauma and depression that he physically wouldn’t be ABLE to, so the moment he can actually put his head above water and feel like this, write like this, SING like this, is just a beautiful sense of victory to me all on its own.

- Also Frodo doesn’t even want his own name in the stories at this point. All he cares about is making sure everyone knows what Sam did for him. “I hope they tell a million stories/And etch your name in stone”. Sam’s name. Not his. Hhhnng.

- Anyway yeah that’s all I’ve got LOL

- WAIT NO I DON’T; WOULDN’T IT BE FUNNY IF I PULL THAT THING THAT TOLKIEN DID WHICH IS “ah yes this nursery rhyme, ‘The Cow Jumped Over the Moon’, is actually a fragment of a much older and longer song and also it was written by a hobbit” BUT IT’S “ah yes ‘You Are My Sunshine’ is actually the only surviving fragment of A SONG THAT FRODO WROTE FOR SAM” AHAHAHAHAHA

[thran-duils]

Am I On the Screen? (P.1)

Title: Am I On the Screen? (Part One) Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Fem!Reader Summary: Hugh is a prick and the reader gets herself into trouble with him with her attitude. Hugh has the perfect plan to keep her in line though. Words: 2,116 Warnings: S M U T, language, dub-con, blackmail, masturbation, online sex Author’s Notes: If something like this has been done already, welp, I suck.

Part Two || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

Are you, are you filming me? Am I, am I on the screen? 'Cause it feels like your watching me 'Cause it feels like they’re watching me Am I on the screen?

-- Are You Filming Me? // twst

Marta’s laugh faltered and she cleared her throat, her eyes averting from the doorway quickly. You turned your head to look over your shoulder and saw what had made her stop laughing. Hugh. He sure had a way of sucking the air out of a room, especially with that glower he was pointing in the two of your direction.

“Hugh,” you greeted him civilly, turning the shrimp over in the pan. “Are you hungry?”

“Not for anything that you are making,” Hugh responded rudely, walking past you towards the fridge.

You shot Marta a vexed look and she rose her eyebrows, shaking her head slightly.

“Well, there’s some take out on the second shelf in the fridge that I can assure you I had nothing to do with. I just picked it up for my lunch. If you want, I’ll trade you that for a plate of what I’m making,” you said, unable to help yourself.

Hugh stopped, his hand on the handle of the fridge. Unamused, he stared at you for a few moments before saying, “You should watch your mouth, Y/N.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you quipped, turning the stove off, and moving to arrange Harlan’s plate.

You could feel Hugh’s glare burning into your back and you smirked to yourself at having gotten under his skin even just a little bit. The prick deserved to be knocked down a couple pegs.

<><><>

Gym bag slung over your shoulder, you slammed your car door closed and locked it. On the way up to your townhouse door, you unlocked your mailbox and grabbed the papers inside. You were looking forward to your shower, thinking of the sweet relief you would get from the hot water.

Upon opening your front door, you almost stepped onto an envelope that had been slid underneath the door. You closed the door and turned around, placing your bag down along with the other mail on the entrance table. You swooped down and picked up the unmarked envelope, confused why it had not just been slipped into your mailbox.

“What…” you muttered, staring down at the photos.

Bile rose in your throat realizing what it was. They were screenshots of you from your OnlyFans account during one of your live events. And you quickly noticed it was not from just one; there were a handful of them, you in different lingerie, different toys. A note was with the pictures.

I want you to say my name when you’re riding that large, pretty, purple dildo tonight.

Who sent you this and why? There was no name attached to it. And how the hell did they know where you lived? A chill crept down your spine, thinking of all the true crime documentaries that you had binged and all the women who were kidnapped and murdered, their bodies never found.

Unnerved, you tore the photos and the note up, rushing towards the kitchen. You shoved the ruined remains in the trash, shoving them as far down as you could. Stepping back, your eyes were glued to the trashcan, anxiety creeping. What if you had a stalker?

You bit your lip, trying to think of all the ways you could protect yourself if you were approached on the street or god forbid, someone broke into your home.

The clock caught your attention, and you swore, realizing you had been standing there for fifteen minutes worrying and had cut into your shower time. You still needed to get to work. Trying to ignore the nagging anxiety, you rushed to get ready.

<><><>

Throughout the day, your mind had continuously returned to the note and the pictures. You could not go to the police to file a report or anything, they would think you were being over dramatic. Plus, you were not keen on sharing your account and really, no one had done anything illegal. Still, you were frightened.

At the end of the day when dinner was finished and you had breakfast set up for the morning for Marta to get ready for Harlan when she got there in the morning, you stopped at the bathroom on the way out the door to relieve yourself before the drive home. When you opened the door, you jumped seeing Hugh standing there, just waiting, looking very much a predator.

Hugh rested his hand on the doorframe, leaning in and effectively blocking your way out of the bathroom.

“Do you need something?” you asked, your tone short. On top of the anxiety you already had, you did not want to deal with this dickhead. When had he shown up anyway?

His smile did not reach his eyes as his eyes wandered down, unabashedly soaking you in. Your mouth set into a thin line. If he was trying to unnerve you by being a pompous ass, he was going to have to try harder than throwing you a lewd look.

“Did you get my gift?” Hugh asked nonchalantly. Your brow stitched, confused. He leaned in closer, a malicious glint in his eyes. “I’d prefer it if you reverse cowgirl’d it while you’re saying my name.”

Your breath froze in your chest and he knew the moment that it clicked for you, an arrogant smile painted on his lips.

“You… bastard,” you got out, before trying to move past him.

He blocked your way again and you clenched your jaw, fury thrumming underneath your skin at the smug look on his face.

“Does my grandfather not pay you enough? I would imagine he does but maybe you’ve got more expensive tastes than you give off,” Hugh ridiculed you. He rose his brows and whispered, “Or maybe you just like knowing there are people getting off to that perfectly round ass.” You tried to get around him again and he chuckled, blocking your way once more. “Did I hit a nerve, babydoll?”

He gripped your jaw and you tried to jerk away but he clamped down harder, stopping you from doing so. “I’ve been watching you for a while. You put on quite the show. I just can’t seem to bring myself to actually bury myself inside you though. I’ve certainly thought about it… showing up at your place and making you wrap those beautiful lips around my cock. But I beat off to whores, not fuck them. Keeps me clean.”

You slapped his hand away, angry tears stinging at your eyes. “Get. Out. Of. My. Way.”

“Not until you tell me you’re gonna do like I asked.”

Scoffing, you told him as calmly as you could, “I don’t do it for free.”

“Oh, you aren’t,” Hugh assured you. “I already pay to subscribe, remember? But trust me, your job is on the line. What if I showed my grandfather what his cook is doing afterhours? Do you think he would want to keep a slut employed and tied to his name? That is a lot of money on the table and so you aren’t doing it for free. And don’t even think about quitting because I’ll find out where you work. And I have no problem sending the photos there too. So… you’re kind of stuck with me, pumpkin.”

He gripped your chin with his thumb and forefinger, forcing you to nod as he mimicked a higher pitched voice, “’Yes, Hugh, I’ll beg for you’.” In his regular voice, he practically purred, “C’mon, Y/N. Say it nice and clear for daddy.”

You had no choice. You knew he would make good on his threats; he was not one to mess around about people not following his orders.

Strained, you told him, “Yes, I’ll do it.”

He cupped his hand to his ear, “’I’ll do it…’”

You grated, “Daddy.”

“Perfect. You’re a peach,” Hugh told you grinning. He leaned back, dropping his arm. As soon as you saw the exit, you made to rush past him. At the last second, he reached out, grasping your arm and stopping your momentum. “Oh, and by the way… that purple heart plug too. Just to match.”

He gave you one last self-satisfied smirk before letting go of you and you took off, feeling his eyes burn into the back of your head.

<><><>

Legs spread in front of the camera, you tweaked your nipple through your black lace bra. You had put your garter and thigh highs on to match but were panty less. You had already stripped and done some oral play, something the commenters could not seem to ever get enough of.

You uttered his name for the first time, “I want Hugh.”

Your finger running tantalizingly slow down your slit, staring into the camera. You hated how much it sounded like ‘you’, meaning anyone could be hearing it thinking nothing of it. But you knew Hugh was getting off on knowing you were saying his name.

Pressing your fingers in, you spread your lips, showing yourself off to the camera. A new slew of messages popped up, encouraging you to play with your clit.

“I’m sure you wish it was you,” you breathed, well versed on dirty talk during your live feeds. “I’m sure your fingers would be so much better…” You slipped a finger in. “Your fingers instead filling me up. Getting me ready for that big cock of yours.”

You were good and wet now, comments coming in lusting after the glisten on your lips. Remembering what he asked, your fingers left your sex and you got up, moving the camera to the ground and angled upwards. Grabbing the dildo, you wet the bottom of it, suctioning it to the hardwood floor. For good measure, you added a healthy amount of lube to the dildo, making sure the camera could see your hand massaging it, a sly smirk on your face.

None of this would be out of the ordinary if it was not for the fact you knew Hugh was watching. You could not get the image of him sitting behind his screen, his hand stroking himself watching you abide to his whims.

Spreading your cheeks, you showed off the plug and heard the chime of new messages being sent. You could not help but smile, knowing that was a treat for the viewers. The head of the dildo entered you and you moaned softly. You started slow, adjusting to the girth, moving inch by inch down the length. Gradually, you increased the depth and speed, encouraging whoever was watching to think about their own dicks fucking you like this.

“I want Hugh to fuck me,” you gasped, riding the dildo quickly, your fingers stroking your clit. You were getting close and you leaned completely into it, your mind a haze. “I want Hugh to fuck me so bad. Hugh can cum inside me, fill me up. I’ll take every inch, daddy. Please fuck me. I’m your dirty girl.” Your hand was moving erratically and a few more strokes sent you tumbling over the edge. You gasped, seeing stars, clenching around the dildo.

You sat there for a couple moments, relishing in your high.

As your mind cleared, your cheeks burned thinking about all the things you had said lost to your passion. The thought of Hugh’s hand covered in his cum, head thrown back at your complete submission to his request flashed through your mind. Thankfully, your face was away from the camera and you swallowed, trying to calm yourself down. And also thankfully, your red face could be attributed to that mind blowing orgasm you just gave yourself.

The dildo was wet when you came up off of it and you picked up the camera, taking it with you to sit it back down in front of your station.

Your eyes met the camera again and you gave it a sensual smile, your eyes flicking to all the new comments, positive encouragement ringing throughout them. Your hand slipped down to your cunt and you brought your fingers up to your lips, sucking on them gently.

“I think I’m gonna take a shower. I’ll think about your hands washing me down,” you told the camera before blowing it a kiss. “Good night.”

As soon as the camera was off, your hands shook as you brought them back to your lap.

That had been a great orgasm. And you hated it.

Your phone buzzed and you whipped your head around to look at it over on your bed. Standing up, you picked it up, staring down at the text. You did not have the number saved but you knew damn well who it was and how he had gotten it in the first place.

I’m gonna break my rule. Don’t shower. Keep that pussy glistening for me.

~~~

Tags: @coconutqueen21

[slightlyrebelliouswriter23]

Fine Line | Jurdan Quarantine AU

Written for Jurdan Week 2020, hosted by @jurdannet​ | Day 4- Song Crossover (Adore You by Harry Styles requested by @mysweetvilllain​ )

Chapter Rating: M

CW: mature themes, explicit descriptions, vulgar language, eventual explicit content.

Summary: Two vindictive assholes. One shitty apartment. And a vow to get under each other’s skin. Stuck in hate together twenty-four-seven, this can only end in a crime of passion.

Next Chapter    |    Fine Line Masterlist    |    Masterlist    |    AO3 

Chapter 1- Adore You (Verse 1)

[Cardan POV]

The minute I walk into the kitchen, I know I’m fucked.

She’s sitting there on one of my bar stools, at my island counter, eating my strawberries straight out of the plastic container. I say “my” because I’m still in denial that I have to share this shit-hole with anyone. Especially her.

When I put the ad up online, I was skint and desperate. I would’ve taken anyone short of a serial killer, really, but I was hoping for normal. Or at the very least, boring. It’s just my luck that the only person who responded to the ad was someone so insufferable.

We were civil with each other for all of a day. Three weeks had me almost driven to moving out. Me. Moving out of my own damn apartment because even that is easier than living with Jude Duarte. 

That’s when corona hit, so I guess I’m stuck.

It’s been a fortnight of isolation. Putting up with her unmitigated bullshit. Her ceaseless presence and mulish disposition. Our constant butting heads. 

On a good day, I give myself over to the ashen taste of resignation. On the bad ones, I want to throw myself down the stairs just so I can spend the night in hospital. 

Anyways, I’m fucked because my wretched flatmate is sitting there in her baggy black sweatpants and oversized hoodie. Her knees are tucked up to her chest, giving me a plain view of those stupid rainbow socks she’s always wearing. Her hair is a mess on top of her head. Everything about her sets off a tick in my jaw.

Except the way she eats strawberries.

Her full pink lips wrap around one now and—fucking hell. I swear my cock twitches. When she sinks her teeth in, those lips come away red-stained and glistening. A line of juice dribbles down her chin as she chews. Then, she pops the stem into her mouth and eats that, too.

I find myself imagining her on her knees, strawberry lips wrapped around something else of mine. The way the back of her throat would feel as I ram into her mouth—

I blink. My lip curls. I need coffee, and maybe a cold shower.

The former is closest, so I stop standing in the doorway like the twat that I am, and walk into the kitchen. Thankfully, she’s got earphones in and is so immersed in whatever the fuck she does on her laptop all day that she hasn’t noticed my blatant ogling.

If she notices me at all, she doesn’t acknowledge it.

Good. It’s better this way. The less we talk the less we end up screaming at each other. It’s only happened twice. The neighbors came round both times.

I pull a mug and the instant coffee down from a shelf.

It irks me. Just last night, I was standing in this very spot, doing everything in my power not to lose my shit after finding a pile of her dirty dishes in the sink. For the third time this week. She always says “they’re soaking”, and I always end up doing them later anyway, because I can’t stand the mess.

She does things like that a lot. Dishes and crumbs and wrappers. Stealing my food. A week ago I found a pizza crust jammed in between the cushions of the sofa. She denies all accountability, of course.

Not to mention, she sets her alarms for the ass crack of dawn. She’s such a heavy sleeper that I’m invariably wide awake well before she is, listening to the incessant shrill of her phone through the walls as she hits snooze, over and over.

I’m certainly not without my faults, of course. I know she hates me just as much as I hate her. She’s told me as much. Which is why I’m miffed that suddenly, without any warning, I want to fuck her into the kitchen counter.

There’s a spoon in the drying rack and I use it to stir my coffee. 

Nicasia hated me, I think to myself. She loved me once, but she hated me for a while before she did anything about it. Then, I stop. Because I don’t want to uncork that bottle today. Point is, maybe it’s not completely out of left field. To want someone right when they’re giving you the very least of their attention.

I tap the spoon against the lip of my mug. Usually, I’d retreat back to my bedroom at this point. Instead, I throw the spoon in the sink and turn around to lean against the counter.

She’s still sitting at the island, honed in on her computer. I can hear the thin, metallic wail of a guitar coming from her earphones. She bobs her head slightly to the beat.

It’s not as if she isn’t attractive. In her own, unique way.

She’s strong. If I didn’t hear her pummeling that blasted punching bag she’s got hanging in her room every night, I’d have known she boxed just by the way she looks. She’s got a fighter’s build about her. It lives in her shoulders, in the barrel of her chest. As if every line of her was made bold and unyielding. With intention. 

Again, I have to stop my own wandering thoughts. I’m starting to wonder if maybe my dead end job that has me editing bad romance novels for a living is starting to go to my head. 

It pays the bills until it doesn’t. And then it rots my brain. Maybe I should quit.

Still, I tell myself it’s the quarantine talking. That if I wasn’t trapped in here with her, I wouldn’t find anything about her attractive. That I’d probably be willing to whore myself out for one cigarette right about now. And I don’t even smoke.

But then she looks up at me, mid-bite. Those honey-brown eyes are wild. They threaten to cut straight through me. She squints, accusatory. Chews her bite, slow. Swallows.

My mouth goes dry as the fucking Sahara.

“What are you staring at?” she demands, glare blazing.

Apparently, I’m in the mood to walk that fire, because I take a sip of my coffee and say, smug as I can, “You.”

Sometimes, it’s better to be completely honest with Jude. The truth always seems to appall her far more than any lie ever could. As if she expects everyone to be deceiving. Or maybe it’s just that my truths are so outrageous to her that she doesn’t believe them.

I wouldn’t blame her there. I can hardly admit to this truth, myself. Whether she believes me or not, though, it gets under her skin.

“Right,” she scoffs. “Is it because I’m pretty? Is it because you like me so much?” She bats her lashes at me, mocking. I am stunned by the fact that, for a moment, I wish it was real. That I’d gladly lose myself in that look if it came from her eyes in earnest.

Then I shake my head. I sound like the biggest shit-for-brains. It’ll take more than a few eyelash flutters to make me surrender.

“Oh, no,” I say, trying to match her taunting tone, “I don’t like you. I adore you.”

That makes Jude roll her eyes. “Please,” she says. “You’re probably plotting ways to stick me in my sleep or something. Fucking psychopath.”

It’s that last part that makes me take a step toward the island, lean forward to rest my elbows on the counter so I’m nearly in her space. She doesn’t draw back. Just gives me a scathing look from over the top of her screen.

“If I’m ever depraved enough to stick you,” I tell her, smirking, “I guarantee you won’t be sleeping, love.” Which may come off as anything from perverted to downright murderous, but I don’t care. The face she makes is worth it.

It’s all jaw dropped, vicious gaze, blush creeping into her cheeks like red smoke. I’ve never challenged her before. It makes her look at me like she despises me. Like the only thing she’ll ever do is despise me. I don’t know why that eggs me on, but it does.

“Would you look at that,” I hum, “You’ve got the face about right, too.”

Her nostrils flare. Jaw sets. There’s a lovely shade of puce coming up on her already heated cheeks. She’s absolutely livid, and I can taste it in the air between us. It’s like static on my tongue.

That’s when something cold and slimy hits me dead between the eyes. Jude’s half-eaten strawberry plops to the counter. I’m so surprised I almost laugh.

“You’re disgusting,” she says with as much derision as I feel coursing through me.

Part of me wants to give into that anger. Sling a string of curses at her. Throw the strawberry right back in her face. Those things won’t annoy her half as much as what I actually do.

Keeping an unbothered expression, I pluck the strawberry off the countertop and pop it right into my mouth. Stem and all. I lick my fingers for good measure. All while keeping direct eye contact with the little menace sitting across from me. Her gaze flits to my lips. So I swipe my tongue over them. She blinks.

“Delicious,” I say.

She looks just the right amount of scandalised for me to straighten, take my coffee back up in one hand, and saunter out of the kitchen. I don’t say anything about the strawberries. Or how stealing isn’t a very good exercise in courtesy.

We’ve never been courteous with one another, anyway.

When I’m back in my room I lean against the closed door and scrub a hand over my face. My heartbeat is raging since I did not.

Sometimes, I think the irritating things she does are all on purpose. Just to get under my skin. I rarely give her the satisfaction of knowing it works, but I don’t like letting her trample all over me, either. It gives me an oily feeling. Like I’m back to being under someone else’s thumb, and I hate it.

But that—whatever that was—felt more like fighting back than I ever thought I’d have the balls to do. I feel more alive now than I’ve felt in months.

Maybe that makes me a bastard. C’est la fucking vie.

I start shucking off my clothes, throwing them into the hamper in the corner, one by one. My bedroom is mercifully en suite. If I wanted to, I could live in here for days at a time without leaving.

I don’t know why I ever bother.

I go into the bathroom and turn on the shower. As I stand there under the cold stream, I think about how dangerous it is, this game I’ve entered. Flirting with Jude to get a rise out of her is one thing. That’s clear cut. A direct retaliation.

It’s another thing entirely if part of why I’m doing it is to take the edge off of my own perversions. I mean, what kind of sick fuck has sex fantasies about someone they hate? Someone they’re stuck in isolation with, twenty-four-seven, for the foreseeable future? Someone who hates their guts, too, and could probably easily take them out if it came to physical blows?

I guess that sick fuck would be me.

It’s a fine line to walk but there’s no turning back. I’ve already begun.

☽☽☽☽☽

AN: So I guess I’m hopping on the quarantine fic bandwagon 😅 this is definitely not what I expected to come out of this song crossover prompt, but I kind of like it? It’s (very loosely) based off of Adore You by Harry Styles- the threads are there if you look for them 😉

I’m planning on making this a 12 part series (one chapter for each song on Fine Line) so if you’d like to be added to the tag list for this, or to my Jurdan Forever tag list, let me know in the comments/my messages/inbox and I’d be happy to add you! 

-Em 🖤💫

Title Inspo: Fine Line (album) by Harry Styles, Adore You (song) by Harry Styles

Tag List: @velarhysismine​ @knifewifejude​ @the-mithridatism-of-jude-duarte​ @clockworkgraystairs​ @thesirenwashere​ @judexcardanxgreenbriar​ @nite0wl29​ @aelin-queen-of-terrasen​ @whocares-idont​ @babycardan @mysweetvilllain​ @aesthetics-11​ @storiesandschemes​ @jurdanhell​ @poeticbrownmermaid @thechainofiron​ @random-llama-socks​ @villanellevi​ @lady-thea-of-narnia​ @b00kworm​ @flowersinvegas​ @vanessa172003​ @cardanstrickytail​ @queen-of-glass​ @doingmyrainbow​

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[cheesyficwriter]

hey there! I cannot express my love for your work (Isolated and lost in translation were *chef's kiss). Could you please write #75 for Romione? Thank you so much, I hope you have tons of cheese:)

Hi @shybrunettepainter! Thank you so much for reading and for your kind words 💜 what a fun prompt that definitely challenged me a bit! Just to preface, I am not well-versed in Shakespearean language, but I figured neither is Ron, so I definitely channeled him here 😉 hope you enjoy!

Prompt #75 - Speaks in a terrible Shakespearean/Elizabethan style to woo/make the other laugh.

Thee Maketh Me Happy

Hermione closed and locked her trunk, just as a knock on her bedroom door sounded. Hermione grinned and practically ran to open the door, revealing a beaming Ron on the other side. He had just arrived at her parents' home, with his father, to pick her up for a visit to the Burrow. They were two weeks away from starting their sixth year at Hogwarts and Hermione would be staying with the Weasleys for the remainder of the summer. 

“Hiya, Hermione!” Her stomach flipped wildly as she took in Ron's appearance. How was it possible that he had grown even taller in the last month or so since she had seen him? Despite the fact that he towered over her, he seemed to be filling out a bit more and she could make out his increasingly muscular frame under his tight shirt. 

They stood there awkwardly in the doorway for a mo, both unsure of what to do next, until Ron finally let out a strangled chuckle and opened his arms, inviting her in for a hug. She eagerly wrapped her arms around him tight and sighed. 

"I've missed you," she heard him muffle into her hair. 

"I've missed you, too."

Ron released his grip on her, but Hermione noticed he didn't step back. "Well, are you all packed and ready to go? Wait...it's you. Of course you are," Ron teased. 

Hermione swatted at him but gestured him inside her room. "Yes, I could probably use some help with my trunk."

When she turned around, she found that Ron wasn't listening, instead his eyes were raking curiously across the shelves of books she had lined up against the wall. 

"What is Shaks-spar?" Ron inquired as he retrieved a dusty and tattered hardbound book from the shelf.

"It's pronounced Shakespeare."

"Fine, then. What is it?"

"Not what, who. William Shakespeare was an extraordinary muggle playwright and poet, who has written some of the most beautiful works of English literature out there. I mean Romeo and Juliet, Hamlet, Macbeth…"

"Who's Romeo? Who's Juliet?" Ron asked, confused. 

"They’re characters from one of his plays. A tragic love story…" 

“Hold on a second, tragic? What’re you doing reading this depressing shite?” Ron wrinkled his nose in disgust, holding out the book at arm's length. 

“It’s a work of art, Ron!” Hermione responded, exasperated. 

"Yeah, well, not interested if it's intent is to crush my soul."

Hermione rolled her eyes at his theatrics. "I didn't realize you were interested in books."

"Ha, bloody, ha," he stuck out his tongue at her playfully. Hermione couldn't help but smile before pointing to the cover,

“That book contains a list of Shakespeare's most timeless quotes, as well as provides English translation.”

"It's in another language?" 

“Shakespearean -- otherwise known as early modern English. Most of the words are still used today in standard English.”

"I bet you a galleon that I can make you laugh with this rubbish." He sent her a challenging smirk that made her weak in the knees. Yet, she firmly held her stance, not willing to give in to the blasphemous retorts spewing out of his mouth. 

"It is not rubbish, Ron! It's a work of art!" She repeated, almost stomping her foot in irritation.

"Let's see, then!" Ron cleared his throat dramatically, as he flipped to a random page. He planted his finger on a quote and began reading, "Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate." He squinted his eyes at the page he just read from. "What the bloody fuck is that supposed to mean?"  

Hermione sighed heavily. Her visit with Ron was going well so far. Sarcasm intended. "It signifies long-lasting love, that goes beyond a single season."

"Then why doesn't he just say that?"

Because it's poetry," Hermione responded curtly through gritted teeth. 

He only hummed in response and kept reading. "All that blisters is not gold."

"Glitters. All that glitters is not gold."

"What? That's not what it says!"

"Yes it does. You read it wrong." 

Ron pursed his lips as he reviewed the text. "Oh, well, bugger me. Here's another -- what's in a name? A rose by any other name would smell as sweet...Rose. That's a pretty name, I guess."

Hermione smiled. "Yes, it is." 

They locked eyes for a moment before Ron shook his head and returned to his reading. "Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown...if I had a crown, I'm not sure I would feel uneasy but that's just me…"

Hermione exhaled loudly, clearly fed up with his sarcastic comments. "It's simply saying that being royal comes with a lot of responsibilities and having those responsibilities can be daunting." 

"Off with his head!" Ron shouted with vigor. 

"You think you're so clever, don't you?" 

"Oh Hermione, I know I am. And just to prove my point further, let's see if I can make you blush, yeah?" He flipped to the section with word translations and spent a few moments deciphering, his eyebrows scrunched up adorably. 

"Okay, here's one to start with. I like thy...curly hair?" Ron kinked an eyebrow up at her expectantly. 

"Acceptable." Hermione remained neutral with her face but secretly gushed inside at how Ron has just outwardly admitted he liked her hair. 

Ron's eyes lit up. "Brilliant!" He went on to search for more. 

"Uh...thy eyes art like chocolate…do I detect a smidge of color on your face, Miss Granger?" Ron's blue eyes sparkled back at her as he studied her face. 

"What? N-no...just keep going!" 

"Thee art...the smartest...wench...in the whole land." Ron paused in between words as he checked the book. 

"Wench?"

"That's what it says right here!" He pointed to the translation of woman on the page. 

Hermione crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows, almost daring Ron to try again. 

He obviously took the bait as he offered one more, leaning in close, "Thee maketh me happy." Ron smiled brilliantly at her and Hermione thought her heart might possibly explode. 

"What are you saying, exactly?" Hermione breathily whispered, not able to contain the flush of pink that crept onto her cheeks.

"Aha!" Ron pointed a finger in her face to triumphantly show victory. He clearly had forgotten her question, so Hermione brushed him off.

"You did not win, you were just standing so ridiculously close to me…"

He looked down at the book one last time before cheekily stating, "The lady doth protests too much, methinks."

"Oh, honestly!"

 

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Forever

A Very Rogers Christmas. Part 3- From Head To Mistletoe

Summary: It’s Christmas Eve and Steve has a little accident in the bathroom. Once the trauma is dealt with the Rogers family head off to visit Pepper and Morgan before coming home to settle in and wait for Santa. And Steve’s hell bent on unwrapping one particular present early…

Warnings: Language, smut (NSFW, 18+)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

A/N: The final part of my Stark Spangled 2020 Christmas special- A Very Rogers Christmas.  I hope you all enjoy and thank you for your support when my other blog was flagged as obscene. Next year SSB will be ‘relaunched’ through the new blog, and I will take the time to change anything that I didn’t quite like. I look forward to seeing you all there. But for now, I leave you with this hot mess and wish you all a VERY MERRY CHRISTMAS. Thank you for being as invested in Stark Spangled as me.

And to my Evangers… @sweater-daddiesdumbdork​ , @icanfeelastormbrewing​ , @southerngracela​ and @ohthankevans13​ I would NOT have got through 2020 without you. This one is most CERTAINLY for you girls. I love you 3000.

Steve groaned as he heard Rori's angry voice from the landing.

"Jamie, tell Stark to stop chasing Erica!"

"He's a dog!" Jamie responded. "It’s what they do, they chase cats."

"Well, stop him!"

"How?" Jamie's voice was punctuated by laughter. "It isn't like I make him do it!"

"Hold still." Katie warned Steve and he let out a sigh, his hands gently smoothing up the back of her thighs as she concentrated on ensuring the lines of his newly shorter beard were neat.

"Sorry, Doll." He muttered, watching her face as she concentrated, her green eyes following the trimmers as her right hand steadily guided them across his left cheek. "Listening to them argue is setting my teeth on edge."

"Baby, I only have the other cheek to neaten, then you can go and tell them both off." Katie stepped back to admire her handy work. "I was kind of hoping their Christmas Eve boxes would have kept them quiet for a little longer."

"Well," Steve turned his head to peek into their room where Harry was sat in the middle of their large bed, looking at the activity book he had gotten in his, "worked for him."

"Always does." Katie chuckled. "He's so well behaved compared to those reprobates."

They watched him for a moment or two before Katie reached up and moved Steve's face sideways so she could start on his right cheek, giving him a soft kiss as she did so. "You look incredibly handsome." She practically purred and Steve grinned, feeling his cheeks and neck grow warm as they always did when she looked at him the way she was doing.

Seventeen years and she could still turn his insides to mush with a single look.

"Yeah?" He asked, her lips still brushing his as she nodded. "Even though I've shaved the beard?"

"Well-" she kissed him again, "-technically you trimmed it, not shaved it. It's just shorter. But yes, I'd still find you devastatingly good looking without it, as you know."

Steve grinned, turned his head to allow Katie to finish and just as she had raised the clippers it all went horribly wrong.

There was a yell again from the landing and a moment or two later the door to their bedroom flung open, causing Steve to whip his head round.

"STEVE!" Katie cried out a warning but it was too late. As Steve turned his head to look at Rori as she barrelled through the door to their bathroom, he managed to catch his cheek on the clippers and he heard Katie gasp. He froze, looked at his wife and then stood hastily up to glance in the mirror and gave a groan. A large chunk of his beard was now completely missing from his right cheek. And he could tell as he looked at it that no amount of trimming was going to save it.

"How many times do I have to tell you?" He closed his eyes and took a deep breath as he turned to Rori and she swallowed, eyes growing wide as she registered the tone of his voice. It was deep but quiet, the voice he always used when he was pissed off. "You knock before you come barging into mine and your mother's room, Aurora."

"I'm sorry." Rori blinked, the use of her full name not passing her by. "But Jamie-"

"Don't wanna hear it."

"Yeah, but he-" "What did I just say?" Steve’s voice rose in volume as he glared at her. "I'm not interested in whatever stupid little argument the pair of you have got going on. It stops now. You understand?'

Rori stared back at her father, her face positively mutinous and Katie hastily turned away before she burst out laughing at the fact they were stood in identical poses, arms folded, feet apart as they engaged in the silent stand-off. Whilst Rori undeniably looked like her, she had so many of her father's mannerisms, all the kids did to be fair, and her middle daughter was a perfect blend of both the Stark and Rogers sass and stubbornness.

She was a nightmare at times but at others amusing as hell.

As Katie busied herself straightening a few bottles on the bathroom side she heard Rori give an exasperated sigh.

"Look, I'm sorry I barged in here okay? But Jamie really is being a pain!"

"Right now you're being a pain." Steve shot back somewhat childishly. "A huge pain in my ass."

"Language!" Harry chanted as he looked over towards his father, and that was it, Katie couldn't hold it any longer and she burst out laughing.

Steve turned to her, arching an eyebrow and she shook her head. "I'm sorry, Steve, but..."

With a groan Steve rolled his eyes. "I'm gonna go speak to Jamie, then I'll come back and sort this out." He gestured to his face before he turned and headed out of the room, calling to Jamie as he went. Less than ten minutes later both brother and sister had been told to quit it, Rori was in her room with the cat whilst Harry had wandered into Jamie's room and settled on a bean bag by his elder brother to watch Back To The Future. Flossie had, miraculously, slept through the entire scenario and …well, she was mourning the loss of Steve's magnificent beard he had sported for so many years.

"I can’t believe it." She whined. "Stevie, I wanna cry.”

Steve rolled his eyes, whilst he had to admit it wasn't exactly what he had planned, he wasn't as bothered about it as her. "It'll grow back.”

Katie eyed him shrewdly, cooking her head to one side. He'd come back from the barbers yesterday with a shorter cut than he had sported in a long time. It reminded her a lot of how he had used to wear it when they first started dating. Short on the sides, slightly messier on top. Coupled with his now smooth face, she had to admit, it did make him look somewhat younger, although you could still see the odd fleck of grey here and there spattered in his dark, blonde locks.

"You know, if I didn't know any better I'd say you were having some some kind of midlife crisis" She looked up at him and he snorted. "Although you gotta admit, babes, you're a bit late to the party age wise so to speak."

He stood up with a shake of his head and glanced at the mirror. He hadn’t seen that reflection in a very long time.

“Bucky’s gonna have a field day when he sees this.”

“Well, lucky for you he’s away with Jen and the family for the holidays so you won’t have to face him until New Year, same goes for Sam. Morgan, on the other hand…”

“She’s seen me without a beard before.” He shrugged before he turned and headed into the bedroom.

“Not for a while.” Katie followed him as they both left their room and headed onto the landing.

“Yeah, I know but surely it-“

He was cut off by a loud scream and then the sound of crying which erupted from Harry as he stood in the doorway to Jamie’s room.

“Hey.” Steve frowned and made his way over towards the toddler “Buddy, what’s…”

But Harry continued screaming and he backed away from Steve, running into Jamie’s room and hiding behind his big brother who looked at him, then to his dad, a puzzled expression on his face. Steve glanced at Katie who was also frowning as she made her way into Jamie’s room and crouched next to their son who was gripping onto his brother’s sweater for dear life.

“Harry? Baby boy, what’s wrong?” she asked him softly, smoothing his hair back.

“That man!” he cried, his voice wracked with sobs “Who...where’s Daddy?”

“Oh, Honey!” Katie chuckled, picking him up. “That is your daddy!”

“No!” Harry screamed, shaking his head and burying his face into her neck. Steve stood dumbfounded in the doorway of Jamie’s room, absolutely stuck for words. He felt awful and completely helpless as Katie tried to soothe their son but Harry wasn’t having any of it.

“It is Harry!” Jamie spoke, looking at his brother who glanced at him, then to Steve and then continued crying.

“Steve, sing the song.” Katie spoke suddenly as she was hit with an idea. “The one you always use to sing him to sleep.”

“Erm…” Steve cleared his throat, before he gently began to croon the song he’d sung to all of their kids as young children. “Would you like to swing on a star…” his voice croaked a little, as he found the pitch to the Bing Crosby song, “carry moonbeams home in a jar.  And be better off than you are. Or would you rather be a mule?”

At the sound of Steve singing Harry stopped crying and peeked across the room at him, his hand fisted in Katie’s hair, his cheeks tear stained, but his expression was almost curious now, not fearful.

“A mule is an animal with long funny ears, he kicks up at anything he hears” Steve continued as Katie rocked Harry a little in her arms, nodding to Steve as he tentatively walked into the room. “His back is brawny but his brain is weak, he's just plain stupid with a stubborn streak. And by the way, if you hate to go to school. You may grow up to be a mule”

Harry studied Steve a little more, his sniffles subsiding slightly.

“Or would you like to swing on a star, carry moonbeams home in a jar, and be better off than you are, or would you rather be a pig?” Steve was just wondering how many more verses he was going to have to go through but thankfully, at that point, Harry gave a hiccup and held his arms out towards him. With a smile, Steve took him from Katie and held him securely, looking at him as he reached up and squished Steve’s cheeks with his little hands.

“Hi Daddy.” He whispered, wrapping his arms round his neck and Steve chuckled a little in relief, one large hand falling to the back of his son’s head as he kissed his cheek which was wet with tears.

“Hey, pal.”

“What’s going on?” Rori appeared, Erica in her arms, purring loudly as she scratched the kitten behind her ears.

“Oh, nothing.” Katie looked at her, “Harry got a little upset that’s all.”

“Why?”

“Because I shaved my beard.” Steve explained before he snapped playfully at Harry’s finger which was prodding his nose.

“Well, what did you do that for?” Rori scoffed.                  

Steve looked at her as she gave a dramatic roll of her eyes before she spun on her heel and left heading back to her room. Steve turned to Katie and Jamie, the pair of them stifling laughter.

“Anyone got a seven foot block of Ice I can take another seventy year nap in?” he grumbled.

**** As was tradition on Christmas Eve, they celebrated with Pepper and Morgan. This year it was Pepper’s turn to host so just before 11am they all piled into the car, the roof rack packed with presents and made the hours trip upstate to the lake-house, Emmy and Peter set to meet them there.

As they walked up to the house, Katie carrying Flossie, Morgan came out to greet them stopping dead as she looked at Steve.

“Huh.” She mused, taking in his clean shaven face.

“Yeah, yeah, get it over with, Moo.” He rolled his eyes.

“I’m not laughing.” She shook her head seriously, looking at him from dark brown eyes the exact same as her fathers, the familiar Stark nose accentuating her face. With a sad sigh she walked over to Katie and lay her hand on her Auntie’s arm. “I’m so sorry for your loss. That beard, well it must have been hard to take.”

At that Katie burst out laughing as Steve let out a groan as he spotted Emmy doubled over on porch, howling.

“Did you tell Em what happened?” he looked accusingly at Katie who shrugged.

“I may have mentioned it before when she called.”

Steve rolled his eyes as they trudged inside, stomping their boots on the mat to get rid of any excess snow, a wave of loud chatter hitting their ear the minute they did. The room was warm, fire blazing and dotted around stood Rhodey, Happy, Pepper, Peter and his Aunt May. Greetings and hugs were shared, Happy taking the opportunity to coo over Flossie as she was much bigger than the last time he had seen her some months ago, and Katie hugged Pepper tight, accepting the glass of champagne that was passed to her.

As was the usual tradition, Pepper had laid on a glorious buffet which went down a treat. And once the food was eaten, Jamie and Morgan both wrapped up and headed out to give Gerald the Alpaca some of the vegetable trimmings that Pepper had saved for him. The younger kids settled in front of the TV to watch a film, Emmy and Peter both happily choosing to sit with them and Katie took a moment out of the wonderful madness to watch as Steve was actively engaged in some discussion with Rhodey, both men laughing and joking. With a smile she then turned her attention to Happy who had his arm looped around May, the pair of them chatting to Pepper as she topped their glasses up with a bottle she plucked from the fridge.

It had been this way for almost seven years now, how they spent Christmas Eve, and whilst Katie loved being surrounded by this patchwork, extended family, she couldn’t help but notice the huge Tony shaped hole.

A hole which, like the one he had left behind in her heart, failed to get any smaller as the years passed.

With super stealth skills that Natasha would have been proud of, Katie silently made her way from the room, grabbing her jacket and headed out, her feet crunching through the layer of snow that lay on the ground as she walked across the lawn and down to the small jetty from which they had laid Tony’s Arc Reactor onto the lake the day of his funeral.

She always felt a sense of peace being here, like there was some part of Tony still present. And to be fair, there was. Said Arc Reactor had sunk to the bottom of the lake once the wreath had rotted. But it was more than that, it was the only place she still felt truly close to her brother and she understood why. It was because this was where he’d gotten everything he’d ever wanted, a daughter, a wife, a home…the very things he’d sacrificed his life for.

With a sniffle, Katie stood at the edge of the small jetty and sighed, looking out over the partially frozen water. “Merry Christmas, Tone.” She whispered, wiping her eyes as her tears trickled slowly down her cheeks.

Back inside the house, Steve looked around for his wife only to notice she wasn’t there. Knowing instantly where she would be, he excused himself from the conversation and grabbed his coat, making his way down to the lake. Sure enough, he saw her stood at the end of the jetty, but before he could cross the snowy lawn towards her, he spotted Jamie and Morgan making their way back from Gerald’s little hut. Jamie stopped, spotting his mom and he turned and said something to Morgan, who nodded, and the pair of them trudged towards her. As Jamie reached his mother he gently slid his arm round her waist, and she turned towards him, dropping a kiss to his head, her arm draping over his shoulder. She then smiled at Morgan, her other arm looping round her niece and the three of them stood still for a moment, Katie’s cheek leaning on the top of Jamie’s head.

Steve gave a little smile, once more the pride and love welling in his chest at how damned thoughtful and willing to look after Katie his son was. As a cold wind whipped against his cheeks he took a deep breath and let it out softly, where it fogged in the air in front of him.

“Merry Christmas Tony.” He said gently before, satisfied Katie wasn’t alone, he turned round and headed back inside.

****

They stayed at Pepper’s until just early evening, when Katie suggested they head home as they still had a few things to do before they got the kids settled and tucked up for the evening. Rori opted to ride home with Emmy and Pete, much to Jamie’s delight, and at just gone five they headed back where the usual Christmas Eve chaos began. In true Rogers-Stark tradition, everyone had a new pair of Christmas Pyjamas to wear, as purchased by Katie, and once showers and baths had been had they all dressed in them and met in the den, Emmy and Peter roaring with laughter at Steve’s which bore the slogan ‘you Jingle my bells’. Rori’s were sparkly and pink, with a unicorn wearing a Santa Hat, Jamie’s were a replica of an Elf Uniform, Harry’s had a huge Christmas pudding on the front, Flossie’s little romper made her look like a reindeer and Katie had gotten Emmy and Pete matching Santa and Mrs Clause ones.

Once the tradition of singing a few carols around the piano was done, Rori insisting Katie played ‘Santa Baby’ three times,  they moved into the living room, the adults with a glass of wine or beer, kids with a hot chocolate and then began the usual discussion about which film they were going to watch.

“Do we have to?” Jamie groaned, as Rori demanded The Muppet Christmas Carol.

“I thought you liked this one?” Katie looked at him as she stood in front of the DVD rack.

“Yeah but we’ve seen it like a thousand times already this year.” He sighed. “Can I go watch It’s a Wonderful Life in the other room?”

“Erm…” Katie took a deep breath and Steve could tell she was trying to keep her face from falling at the fact Jamie didn’t want to sit and watch with them, which would break their tradition for the first time, and he gave a little cough and leaned towards Jamie who was sat on the chair next to the couch.

“Let’s watch The Muppets, and when they’ve all gone to bed you can stay up with and we’ll watch your choice.”

“Really?” Jamie looked at him.

Steve nodded “You keep telling me you’re older now so, well, you can stay up a little later. Just don’t mention it, okay?”

“Sure.” Jamie grinned, before he cleared his throat. “It’s okay mom, I changed my mind.”

Once the film was on, Katie settled down on the sofa, tucked under Steve’s arm as he pressed a kiss to her head, her hands lightly trailing shapes over his arm which was crossed over her chest, holding her close to him.

They laughed and sang their way through the movie, the only movement being Pete and Steve taking it in turns to keep the adult’s alcohol supply topped up and once it was done Rori jumped up, grinning and exclaiming loudly that it was time to leave the treats out for Santa.

Katie and Steve both headed into the kitchen where Katie handed Rori the large plate that Steve had painted years ago, which identified spaces for each separate item, and now sported Flossie’s name alongside the other four and with a loud instruction for Rori and Harry to calm down, Steve handed, Harry a carrot before he grabbed a mince pie and a bottle of beer for Santa- well, he can’t have milk in every house, that just gets boring- and he made his way into the living room where Rori placed the plate down in the middle of the coffee table and they set about arranging the treats.

But Rori wasn’t happy.

"Daddy it's wrong!" "What’s wrong?" Steve looked at Rori and she pointed to the plate.

"There's only one carrot."

"Yeah, for Rudolph."

"But what about Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Vixen, Comet, Cupid, Donner and Blitzen?" Steve blinked as she dropped her hands to her hips, giving him a look so reminiscent of the one Katie shot him when she thought he was being a dumbass. "It isn't all about Rudolph, Daddy" "Well, we haven’t got any more carrots, Princess." He pondered "You think the reindeers would like broccoli?" "Don't be ridiculous." Rori shot back but at that point Peter interjected "They do, Titch. I left it one year. They ate the lot" Steve didn't miss the way Emmy looked at Peter as he nodded seriously to Rori, his eldest daughter’s eyes wide with pride and love and he bit back the smile threatening to spread across his face. "It’s true Rori." Jamie added, playing along. "They like most veg." "Ooh, okay! I’ll go ask momma for a selection." She exclaimed, running out of the room. Steve turned to Pete, clapping him between the shoulders "Nice one Queens." He then shook his head "Why the hell is leaving just one suddenly a problem this year?" "Yeah that might be our fault." Emmy grimaced a little "We watched the Christmas Chronicles earlier at Auntie Pep's" "Figures." Steve sniffed. "I suppose I should be thankful she's being so kind. She does love animals." Jamie snorted "Yeah go tell that to Mom now little miss Diva is in there demanding half the veg prepped for dinner tomorrow." Steve groaned "Ahh shit, Honey!" He quickly exited the lounge and headed to the kitchen in time to see Katie stood, frowning as Rori hastily explained the issue. "So I need some broccoli, and cauliflower and...erm...what else is there?" "Potatoes, cabbage, green beans and sprouts." "Yeah. Sprouts!" Katie looked up at Steve, mouthing what the fuck is going on and he snorted as she shook her head and moved to the pans on the stove. She pulled a few pieces of each veg out, placed them in a bowl and handed it to Rori. "Thanks Momma!" She grinned, carefully carrying her precious reindeer food from the room. "Nine reindeer huh?" She looked at Steve as he laughed and crossed to room to give her a kiss. "Reckon you just saved Christmas Eve, Mrs Rogers." "Hmmm." She grinned, her arms sliding round Steve's neck. "How fast do you think you can get them into bed?" Steve arched an eyebrow as his hands landed on her hips. "Why? You got plans?" "Yes." She deadpanned, causing him to chuckle. "We got another film to watch with Jamie first." Steve's fingers flexed against Katie's hips and she gave a sigh. "I forgot about that. God, why does he have to keep growing up?" she grumbled, and Steve laughed as she pressed her face into his chest."I wish I'd known last year it was gonna be the final time he believed in Santa." "Well, I'm kinda pleased that the fat, sack carrying bastard doesn't get the credit for all our hard work with at least two of them." He shrugged causing Katie to snort. "The amount of effort we go to only for him to take the plaudits takes the piss." "Steven Grinch Rogers." Katie looked at him as she pulled away. "You sound like Tony."

"Well, he didn't always talk crap." Steve smiled and Katie grinned as he gave her another soft kiss. Together they left the kitchen and headed back to the lounge where the kids were now dotted about. Harry was sat on Emmy's knee looking at a book, whilst Rori was busy prodding at her tablet showing something to Peter. Jamie was snuggled with Stark and Erica on the chair and Katie had to smile, the kitten had taken a liking to her rescuer, much to Rori's irritation. "Okay kids." Katie clapped her hands. "It’s getting kinda late and I'd hate for Santa to arrive and not be able to come in so..." "Bed time!" Harry grinned, jumping up and off Emmy's lap, the young woman scoffing indignantly. "If only you were this enthusiastic about going to sleep all the time."  Steve mused, swinging Harry up into the air, smoothing his hair back, planting a kiss to his cheek. "But we don't get presents all the other times when we wake up." Rori shrugged. And Steve couldn't really argue against her logic.

***** Jamie fell asleep halfway through It’s A Wonderful Life, and when the film finished Steve gently woke him up where he stretched and let out a yawn before he rubbed his eyes, coming to. He stood up and bid them all a good night, and by the time Katie went upstairs to tuck him in, he was once again crashed out.

Steve, Katie, Emmy and Pete then all settled in the kitchen as it was the furthest part of the house from the bedrooms. Katie pulled a charcutteri board from the fridge as Steve cracked open the Asgardian Bourbon for him and Pete, Katie and Emmy remaining on the champagne. With Christmas songs playing in the background they played a few games of Go Fish, which grew louder and more competitive the more drink they consumed. Eventually, when Pete claimed the last game, Steve tossed his cards down with a disgusted grimace.

“Outrageous.” He shook his head, laughing as Emmy nudged him hard in the ribs.

“You’re such a sore loser, dad!” she scoffed and he looked at her, arching his eyebrow.

“Carry on and Santa won’t be leaving you anything tonight.”

“He isn’t anyway.” Pete grinned, “She’s firmly on the naughty list.”

There was a pause as Steve turned his head slowly to look at him and Pete flushed furiously, recoiling in his seat as he realised what he’d just said as Katie tipped her head back, letting out a huge laugh.

“Aaaaand that’s our cue to leave.” Emmy stood up. “Come on Pete, you fucking moron.”

“Language!” Steve shot out, pointing at her and she replied by flipping him off.

“See you in the morning.” She smiled, giving both her parents a hug and a kiss before she headed out of the door, Pete simply smiling sheepishly as she tugged him behind her and across the garden to the cabin.

And then it was time to set out the presents.

Katie began to clear the table as Steve headed out to the garage to retrieve the gifts from their hiding place, setting them out in the lounge into separate piles before Katie came in with the smaller items she’d hidden in the under-stairs storage for the stockings which were hung over the hearth. Half an hour or so later they stood back to admire their handy-work, new bikes for Jamie, Rori and Harry taking centre stage on their piles, whilst Emmy and Pete’s gift was a little smaller, as keys to an apartment in London didn’t really take up much room when all was said and done.

“I can’t believe it’s Christmas already.” Katie sighed, looking around. “I mean this time last year we were getting ready to have Floss, and when I think back about everything that’s happened since then…”

“It’s been a heavy year.” Steve nodded, his arms wrapping around her as he hugged her from behind. “But we made it. You’re amazing, you know that.”

“Team effort.” Katie leaned back into him, “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Steve gently moved one hand and reached up to sweep her hair away from her neck. His fingers softly brushed her skin and she gave a little shudder as he dropped his head, his lips kissing softly beneath her ear.

“Gram mo Chroi…” he whispered and she let out a soft sigh, his lips kissing up to her jaw line before she turned and ran her hands up his chest, bringing them to rest on his shoulders.

“Still?” her eyes were bright a she peered up at him and Steve smiled, nodding, knowing full well she was referring to the first time he’d said those words to her on Christmas Eve some seventeen years ago.

“Til the end of the line, pretty girl.” he dropped his head to give her a kiss, one hand on her hip, the other cradling the back of her head as he held her to him, his mouth locked on hers. Soon she felt both of his hands on her back, then they slowly slid down her body, cupping her ass.

“So, about those plans you had…” he muttered against her lips and she smirked, pulling back a little.

“Thought you might fancy unwrapping one of your gifts early.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah…” she grinned. “I mean I’ve been a very good girl, Santa.”

“That’s debatable.” Steve’s smirk grew even wider. Although the sooner I can get out of these hideous pyjamas the better!”

“You know they’re gonna have to go back on after, right?” she laughed as she reluctantly untangled herself from him so she could turn off the lights on the tree and the garland over the hearth. “None of that lot are knocking tomorrow morning before they come in to wake us up.”

“Remind me again why we have no lock for the door.” Steve asked as he took her hand and they walked up the stairs before they took a quick peek in on their kids. All four were sleeping soundly, Stark curled round Jamie’s feet, Erica round Rori’s head on her pillow.  As Katie gently pulled the door to Rori’s room shut, she turned to Steve who pulled her back towards him, his hands sliding down and grabbing the top of her thighs, hauling her off her feet, causing her to giggle.

“Now, where were we Mrs Rogers?”

“Debating whether or not I’m on the naughty list.” She grinned, her legs locking around his waist.

“I think that’s a given, Doll.” Steve smirked, kissing her as he carried her into their room. “When it comes to being naughty, you’re very good at it.”

Katie let out a chuckle as he dropped her onto the bed, wasting no time as he stripped her bare, before he dispensed of his own pyjamas, falling over her, his hands running through her hair as he looked at her.

“You’re beautiful.” his lips ghosted hers, noses bumping and she smiled against his mouth.

“You’re not so bad yourself.” She whispered before he kissed her again, deeply and slowly, the desire and love flowing between the pair of them was evident as Katie let out a soft whimper, her back arching a little into the kiss which broke a moment later as Steve trailed hot, open mouthed pecks across her jaw line to that spot below her ear. He watched carefully, Katie’s facial expression forming into the one he knew so well as she sighed, his mouth dropping down her neck to her collar bone, his teeth gently grazing over the skin.

His hand trailed down her side, tracing the curve of her hip, the pads of his fingers barely touching her but it was enough. She started to clench her legs together as she bucked her pelvis up and his other hand gently reached up, curling around her jaw as he turned her head back to look at him.

“Patience.”  He instructed, his voice a deep, quiet chuckle. Her eyes widened and she swallowed, a whimper escaping her mouth as he kissed her again, his tongue sliding over her lips before it tangled with her own, grazing the roof of her mouth. He broke the kiss again, but this time their mouths stayed pressed together, each breathing the other’s air as his hand moved down over her stomach and gently parted her folds. Katie moaned as he softly ran his fingertips up and down across her slick, his touches soft, teasing nowhere near enough to satisfy her at all and he knew that. He kept his strokes feather-light, just enough to keep exciting her, coaxing more and more wetness from her as his mouth moved down her neck, sucking at the hollow before he moved then to her breasts. His tongue lapped at her nipples in turn, teasing them to hard peaks slowly, as his fingers were working her and she trembled underneath him, the subtle touches not nearly enough.

“Steve…” she let out a choked whisper of his name that was almost a sob. “Please.”

At that he pushed one finger inside of her, curling against her spot, his thumb gently stroking over her clit. Katie’s back arched violently off the bed and he moved again, his mouth back on hers. She responded by kissing him back, and as the kiss grew in intensity so did the pace of Steve’s fingers.

This was torturous pleasure for Katie, Steve just toying with her as he wished. The fire was burning in the pit of her belly, but it was like the low, dull burn of an ember which was waiting to burst into flames. And it was driving her wild. But, as always, he knew just how and what to do and sensing that she was reaching her limit he picked up the pace a little, inserting another finger insider her as he continued tracing circles on her clit. Her back arched off the bed again, and her core tightened before she gave a strangled, low groan which died in her throat as a wave of pleasure washed over her, her legs growing stiff a little before she stilled, her breathing deep, breasts heaving in the dim light of the lamp.

Steve didn’t give her a second’s reprieve. His mouth was back on hers, both large hands cupping her face with a strong grip as he rather unceremoniously nudged her legs apart with his knee. As Katie bent her legs to accommodate him he shuffled forwards, and she reached down with one hand, grabbing at his solid cock, guiding it to where she needed him most.

He slid into her easily, his hands gripping into her hair as he rest on his elbows which were planted either side of her shoulders. His thrusts were deep, slow, controlled, each roll of his hip forward brushing against that spot inside of her. It felt so fucking good that Steve was in no rush for any of this to end, enjoying the fact he was loving his wife in a way only he could. Their bodies were moulded together in the most intimate of dances, Katie’s moving slightly with Steve’s as his hips drove into her, lips pressed together in a barely there kiss, mouths open, as he pressed his forehead to hers.

“So good,” He whispered. “Always so good for me, sweetheart.”

Katie sighed back, it was all she could do as Steve gave a small whimper, his head pressing further to hers as her hands slid up his back, tangling in his hair. As her nails dug lightly into his scalp, Steve tipped his head back a little bit and gave a harsher thrust into her making her cry out a little, her hands tightening around his blonde locks.

He repeated his action, barely pulling back an inch, rolling into her as opposed to thrusting and she felt the familiar, tingle brewing in her belly and upper thighs before with a final silent cry she bucked underneath him, her walls clamping down on his dick as she came, her entire body going rigid before she sagged back underneath him, utterly boneless.

Steve picked up the pace a little, chasing his own release, his mouth back on hers, his groans gathering volume as his hips increased their momentum. With a dirty grunt, which he stifled into the crook of her neck, he came hard, and the world felt like it was completely tipping on its axis as his hips slowed to a stop and he dropped down, pressing his weight onto his wife.

Neither of them moved for a while. The room was silent bar the deep, ragged breathing from the both as they lay still. Katie could feel Steve pulsing inside her as the final throes of his orgasm subsided before he lifted himself a little, his mouth seeking out hers as her fingers danced down his neck.

The kiss was soft, his hands once more cupping her face, thumbs softly stroking over her cheekbones as he pressed his forehead to hers, his nose gently sliding against hers as he pulled away ever so slightly to look at her.

“I love you,” his hands brushing her hair off her face as he kissed her again, enjoying the feeling as her lips curled into a smile against his, “from your head to your mistletoes”

At that she burst out laughing, her head falling back further against her pillow as she looked at him, her eyes shining as she shook her head slightly.

“Your dad joke game is strong, old man.” She snorted before she moved her hands from where they had been stroking the nape of his neck and cupped his face in the pads of her fingers. “I love you too, jingle balls included.”

At that Steve gave a bellow of laugher which she hastily stifled beneath her hand so as not to wake their children. As his chuckles subsided, he gently wrapped his fingers around her wrist and kissed her palm.

“Merry Christmas, Sweetheart.” He smiled, letting go her arm as he dropped his head.

“Merry Christmas, Soldier.” She whispered, before his lips captured hers once more.

[defenderrosetyler]

Chapter One

A/N: No real triggers this time!!  WC: 1.9k Chapter 1:

“So every person in this book is a fairy tale character?” Emma Swan says to her ten-year-old son. 

The boy had introduced himself as Henry, had brought his mother to Storybrooke. Of course, Emma had given Henry up for adoption when she gave birth to him.  But to have her son seek her out made Emma uncomfortable. He had come to her claiming to be the savior of the storybook world. Henry spun a tale about a curse and how all of the characters of the Enchanted Forest were stuck in a town called Storybrooke, Maine.

Henry had with him a brown leather storybook that was thick but didn’t appear to be heavy. Henry seemed to carry around with no problem. One thing Emma found off when they arrived into town was the clock tower. As she observed it, she couldn’t help take note of how it never seemed to move. She led Henry back to his mother’s house. Henry’s adoptive mother, Regina Mills, was the mayor of the town. Henry claimed she was the Evil Queen from the story Snow White. Emma found this silly. Then again, Emma wasn’t one for fairytales anyway. Fairytales are for kids. 

Inside Granny’s Diner, Sam Winchester sat inside waiting for his brother Dean. Granny’s was usually closed at night since Granny went to work at her bed and breakfast in the mornings, but Ruby was always there at night to serve the night owls who couldn’t sleep. 

Ruby wasn’t the only one working the night shift. She worked with Y/N Y/L/N. Hardly anyone saw  Y/N working in the morning. This usually led to rumors that Y/N was hiding something.  The story was Y/N stayed locked in Rowena’s shop.

Rowena MacLeod was a private woman. However, she was a businesswoman, a loan shark, if you will. Rowena was very good at getting what she wanted through these tactics. She would let her client borrow money with the promise of paying it back fairly and on time. However, many clients don’t read the fine print in her contract.  Resulting in them having to pay double or triple what they borrowed. Rowena had helped Sam and Dean’s parents with a large sum of money to keep their business, Winchester Mechanics, afloat. Leaving their two sons, Sam and Dean, to foot the bill. Dean paid her as much as he could, but with not many people coming or going from Storybrooke, business was slow. 

This left Sam to find a way to help Dean find a way to help pay Rowena back too. But he wasn’t having great success either. Sam had started working in Mr. Gold’s Pawn shop until he found himself interested in Law. Under Mr. Gold’s tutelage, Sam had become well versed in the laws created by the town council. This led him to also find work in the Sheriff's office as a prosecutor. Often being a rival for his own boss at the Pawn Shop. It only made Mr. Gold admire Sam more.  

“Ruby, can you please help them?” Y/N begged, trying to hold back an eye-roll at the two men that walked in together, sitting across from one another. Having a conversation amongst themselves and trying to not get in an argument, again, over the amount of money they owed to Rowena. Their next payment was due within the week, and they didn’t have the funds. 

“Sorry, Duckling, it's your turn. I helped them the other day.” She says, giving her a sentimental look. 

Ruby had been watching Y/N and Sam’s exchanges cringing internally whenever they walked in the door, knowing Y/N would try and pass her along to either herself or Granny. Ruby heard rumors about why Y/N and Sam had disagreements, but their arguments were getting harsher with each passing day.

Y/N scoffed, rolling her eyes, grabbing her order pad, heading over to greet Sam and Dean. 

“Evening, Y/N,” Dean says pleasantly. 

Sam muttered under his breath a greeting, and it sounded like he muttered a nickname only her friends gave her, earning a glare from Y/N in Sam’s direction. 

“What is it now, brains?” Y/N says. “Too buried in your debt to Rowena to speak louder and call me a name in front of my face?”

Dean sighed. Here they go again. “Just our usual if you would please,” he says, trying to cut the tension between the two. 

Y/N nods glaring at Sam before she heads back to the kitchen. 

“You didn’t need to butt in like that,” Sam scoffed. “I had it completely under control.”

“Oh sure, that’s why you and Y/N seem to fight or have some sort of disagreement every time we come in here?” Dean huffed,  “Who knows whatever the hell happens when you bump into her while she’s alone at Rowena’s,” Dean sassed,  “Oh wait, you’re too busy working at Gold’s shop, fighting for a chance to work a case in his place, or at the jail with Graham,” the elder brother snapped calmly. 

“Says the man who works in a shop with no cars to work on,” Sam snapped back, “How’s Amaya? Did you ever fulfill your promise to help her out?

“You keep that bitch out of this,” Dean growled. “I’ll figure something out. For now, I’m gonna see if I can get a second job somewhere.” 

“What do you mean? What other job could you get here? Think Granny can hire you as a short-order cook? At least she gets business!”  

“It’s something to get the debt paid back to Rowena, Sam,” Dean muttered as Y/N brought out their meals. Both were polite, and their bickering died down, and they went back to talking about their days. As uneventful as they were, they had a lot to talk about. 

Y/N sighed as she went back behind the counter, “Ruby, I’m gonna head to bed. Dawn wake-up call comes early.” She says with an eye roll. 

“Goodnight, Duckling,” Ruby says, smiling kindly to her, “I’ll clean up.”

===========

Enchanted Forest

“Dean, is target practice really necessary?” Sam says, looking at him. “I need to be looking for Odette, not shooting powdered arrows over at the servants’ asses.” 

“And what are you gonna do when you can’t hit your mark?” Dean questioned, “What of Odette needs saving from some Ogres, and you miss?” 

“Is that before or after the fact that you're catching fireflies at all hours of the night?” Sam asks, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Are they for you or to feed the frog that follows you around and hides on your dresser?”  he snaps, glaring at the older brother.

“I do not go out at night to catch fireflies for Amaya,” Dean scoffs, “besides, she goes out and catches her own meals.”

Rolling his eyes, Sam grabbed his red powdered covered arrows, game face on. Assuming the probability that Dean would let him win, again. Sam took an arrow from his quiver, sliding it into place. Pulling back the string once he nocked it, aiming it at his first mark, the butler, Crowley. Whom the brothers affectionately dressed up as a brown moose. The arrow left the nocking point, hitting its destined target in the center of his rounded ass. 

“Hey!” Crowley muttered, rolling his eyes. He brushed off the powder as he glared at both of the brothers. 

Dean was finding this amusing. The exercise was primarily for Sam. Why couldn’t he have fun too?

Just as Dean was about to take his shot, Castiel, the head advisor to his father, walked out onto the grounds. He intended to stop the game before it fully began. “Your Highness?”

Startled by the sudden interruption, Dean whipped around,  the arrow released from where it was nocked, hitting Castiel square into his chest. Before he could even react, a second followed by a third engulfed Cas in a powder of blue.

“If you children are quite finished,” he huffed, dusting the powder off himself, “my liege, you have a visitor. Something about a poisonous toad needing collecting?”

Dean fired one more arrow before stalking towards Castiel, “it better not be a waste of my time. My brother and I are training.” 

“Training for a lost cause if you ask me, Sir,” Crowley says, observing the body language of his employer. “For all, we know the Princess is dead as well, just like her father. God rest his soul.” He adds, making the sign of the cross. 

Sam’s head turned quickly at the Butler’s words echoed in his ear. Eyes flashed in anger, rushing over towards the pair. “Take it back! You don’t get to talk about Odette like that!”

“Forgive me, Samuel. However, I truly believe this to be a fool's errand,” Crowley says, standing closer to the trio gathered in the middle of the courtyard.

“I will find her, Crowley,” the younger prince declared, “I have to find her.”

Shaking his head, Dean followed Castiel inside to handle the visitor.

Needing an actual outlet for his anger, Sam walked with a fast pace over to the stables. The staff tended to the horses, but Sam usually liked taking care of his mare. It gave him a sense of responsibility. 

Sam’s mare, Onyx, was a beautiful black Friesian. Her height was just above 18 hands, given his six foot four stature, she was just as tall as he was. Sam was okay with that though. Grabbing a body brush, Sam slowly brushed out her black coat. It had become dirty from the loose dirt flying around.

Meanwhile, as the sun set on the edge of the trees in the forest, a beautiful white swan flew across the canopy. Odette had grown accustomed to the dawn and the dusk. Knowing she had to be on the lake’s surface as the moon touched it before she would become a woman again. 

As per her usual routine, Odette flew over Winchester Castle. Wondering if Sam would be looking for her. Who was she kidding? Sam only wanted to marry her for her beauty. Prince Samuel Winchester didn’t care about her.

Dusk approached, the swan moving to make her graceful descent down into the crystal colored water. “Was wondering if you were gonna be on time tonight dearie.” Rowena says, hands placed on her hips. Odette gave Rowena as much of a glare as a swan possibly could. The princess was always on time and never late. The other party that was never late was Rowena’s incompetant son Crowley. 

“Evening Mother, Odette,” he greets, giving his mother a nod of acknowledgement. Crowley’s appearances had begun to be a routine over the past week. Rowena’s son came every evening, giving Rowena the opportunity to ask her the same proposition in order to remove the curse. Marrying her son. 

Much to the annoyance of Rowena, Odette answered her the same as she had every single time she’d asked. One single word was her reply, but not the one the sorceress was looking for. 

“No.”

“Oh for the love of Dagda” She scoffed, rolling her eyes skyward. Eyes focused back on the maiden that stood before her. Hair glowing in the shimmering moonlight. “Need I remind you, I placed this curse on you, and I can just as easily reverse it. All you need to do, is agree to marry my dear Fergus. Once you're wed, I can give you all the riches a Princess could ask for.” 

“Far better than the Winchester’s that's for sure.” Crowley adds as a comment. 

“I’d rather be a swan over marrying your childish, pathetic son.” Odette snapped. 

“That can be arranged.” Rowena snapped, allowing the princess to mull over her choices.

[thegeminisage]

hi, sorry for answering you both so late, i am putting your answers together since they are sort of related!

the short answer is, i can’t write a “real” sequel to broken road but the third part of the triptych would be the indirect dean/cas spiritual sequel, except with way more porn. the long answer is:

i just don't think i could write a true direct sequel to broken road set in that same continuity because i don't have anything left to say about john and how he gets along in the real with his family world now that he’s stuck there and they’re all stuck with each other. my main three points of interest that i felt were left unresolved would be the continuation of dean and cas's relationship (more on this in a sec), sam and eileen (ditto), and figuring out if john and mary ever made it work or called it quits for good. so if i wrote a sequel to broken road it would just be a bunch of john/mary stuff that i feel underqualified for because it WOULD involve their sex life and i DO NOT want to write john having sex. them fucking offscreen in broken road was as close as i'm ever getting and even that was weird. and then somehow i’d also have to work sam and eileen into that and it’s not at all related. it would take two fics and i don’t even want to write one. also, i really kind of want to leave the question of john and mary open anyway - i have my own thoughts about how things ultimately end up but i prefer to let the reader imagine what ending they like best, since people have such strong feelings about it. i know that's a little bit of a cop-out and i'm sorry! but it feels beyond the scope of that fic and also a little beyond my scope and area of interest as a writer.

if it helps you any, i imagine going forward their dynamic is a lot like it is in the epilogue, which is part of why i made the epilogue so long, was to give you a good idea of what life is like for them now. but here’s what i imagine might go down after the final curtain call (this is LONG, skip to the section labeled “dean” for the triptych answer):

john & mary: 

john continues to suffer and bite his tongue and probably do a lot of complaining and DEFINITELY do a lot of avoiding being alone with dean or cas or dean-and-cas. john was expecting to retire after yellow eyes died so he really wouldn't know what to do with a family that still hunts for "no reason" and i imagine he'd be pretty pissed that they still hunt at all. i expect he and sam would butt heads over that

mary would probably keep attempting to be supportive and keep being bad at it, and spend a lot of time trying to put a brave face on it while secretly dying inside, because she's constantly at war with herself. here she has john back, but not the john she remembers, and spending time with him is difficult because she wants to let herself have him and take comfort in him and also she doesn't want to be anywhere near him because he abused their kids

eventually mary or john or both would have to leave, though mary would come back - in canon she's in and out a lot anyway, she stays for awhile and visits regularly for game nights. i think john would miss the first game night, get one "seriously?" text from mary, and then show back up every week that he possibly could but also not visit unless it would make things worse if he didn't. i don't think he particularly enjoys spending time with his family for a long time, if ever, because much like season 12 mary he came back to a family he barely knew or recognized (and because of what he knows now spending time with dean would be particularly awkward). HIS sons would be getting married to women and retiring and having biological children. this gay adoptive whatever the fuck makes them feel like they are not his sons. 

anyway, i imagine john and mary would do much better when running into one another outside of the bunker, on their own separate hunts. they might even take one or two together. there’s probably some very guilty sex in their future at some point because mary is real fucked up. john post broken road does a lot of shutting up but i think around mary he would be the most like his old self. they do this will they/won't they dance for the next decade at least before finally making up their minds one way or the other. i do think they all still go on hunts together sometimes, maybe even with the apocalypse world hunters, and since that's sam's deal john is probably kind of quiet and falls in line and does what's needed without chatting much to anyone. i bet the first few times people don't even realize he's sam's father because he's so quiet. it's his way of trying to apologize to sam and also if he steps out of line when sam is in charge sam would <3 deck him. yes. but yeah i see it being very brisk and professional and awkward, until they all get used to each other again

sam: 

as i said earlier the only thing i didn't fix in broken road was eileen, so at some point sam would figure out a way to get her back - since in this verse jack never becomes soulless and chuck never returns and we never get season 15 it's possible she shows back up because she didn't go with her reaper, or because someone fucked up a summoning spell, or sam realized she was in hell and decided to spring her, or she just crawled out on her own like a badass. i think it would be kind of funny if john was involved with her resurrection but maybe accidentally somehow, so it's not like oh sam learns to forgive his dad because john did this really nice thing for him it's more like UGH why did it have to be YOU why are YOU involved in this important thing that has nothing to do with you slkdjfghl but also if you hadn't done it she'd still be down there or something, so, it cancels out. or idk maybe john had to work hard at it or give something up to make it happen. he has to genuinely shut up and be selfless and not fucking complain and feel sorry for himself the entire time, that might be fun too. either way sam would not thank him

(though i do think sam deserves space to explore the fact that he loves john even still, even despite the fact that he also hates him/is very angry with him and always will be. i don’t imagine sam and john ever fully reconcile but i imagine john behaving BECAUSE OF SAM SPECIFICALLY offers sam more catharsis than he thought possible.) 

anyway, john would be so relieved to see sam with a woman even if she is a deaf hunter but then it turns out she hates him like sam does so like. sucks to be him! meanwhile sam and eileen get to catch up and he finally has a willing ear (so to speak) that isn’t cas or mary to talk to about this stuff and of course SHE has someone who very much understands what it’s like to come back from hell. part of what i really love about sam and eileen is the way they sort of instantly and intrinsically recognized and understood one another, even across something that resembles a language barrier, and this hypothetical future would be no exception. there’s no way they don’t get engaged inside a year, and much like in the 15.18 fixit they’d sometimes hang at the bunker and sometimes not. i imagine with the apocalypse world hunters going in and out though it’s never exactly empty or lonely there. 

whether or not their family unit ever retires and/or moves out of the bunker in this verse is sort of beyond me because my feelings on it change daily but you can imagine whatever you like! however i am adamant that the furthest away from each other sam and dean will ever get permanent-living-situation-wise is next door/across-the-street neighbors. their weird little codependency is part of what i like about them and i have a Whole Thing about not “gentrifying” dean. but for the most part sam would be very much doing his own thing which involves john very little, and healing from his own damage with people OUTSIDE of his blood relatives which he very much deserves. and he has moved so completely past the need to care about john that like john is a backdrop in his life, albeit one with baggage. but mostly he becomes someone to keep an eye on in case he makes trouble, no different than a hundred other surly hunters sam’s known. and he can still be there for dean without his life revolving around dean because now dean has other people there for him too. (i ALSO have a whole thing about sam being in the life for dean specifically, that he’s giving up some or all of adulthood for dean because dean gave up childhood for him - kind of the way someone takes care of their kickass single mom in old age. it’s a guilt/love/debt/devotion sort of thing.) 

and speaking of the Eventual future, if babies ever come into this picture (sam and eileen’s, to be clear, dean and cas are probably satisfied with jack, NOT THAT JACK ISN’T ALSO SAM’S CHILD) john is allowed to see them but never unsupervised. i’m picturing like sam and eileen both on their third day of no sleep and sam lets john change a diaper because he’s exhausted and john considers that the best their relationship has been since sam was 6. mary always wanted to raise babies and sam likes her better so she’d get to pitch in with much more enthusiasm (and aw they’d finally get to bond a little more), and dean has raised a baby already so he’d probably try to like help and get waved away a lot like no no raising other peoples babies is no longer your job it’s ok. there is eventually a fight about this

cas & jack: 

castiel lives a great life caring for his newly re-graced son and staring at john when he enters or leaves rooms, and i imagine eventually jack gives him his wings back, since he can do whatever the fuck he wants (i'm not giving jack his own section but he also probably keeps acknowledging dean and cas are a couple like out loud which would be fine except for dean is still half in the closet like a skittish traumatized cat so eventually cas would have to explain very gently that nobody was supposed to know that yet and jack should cool it to give dean time to adjust)

anyway i DON’T believe in human cas, i believe he likes being an angel, so he just gets to stay an angel forever and now he has wings too <3 and he can teleport which spooks john in the exact same manner it used to spook dean in s4 <3 except this time cas is being <3 malicious on purpose <3

cas fully won here because like john does NOT want to speak to or acknowledge him much less be in the same room as him so they tend to have a dynamic where like all 6 of them are in the room and cas dean sam mary and jack all talk to each other and john dean sam mary and jack all talk to each other but cas and john do not talk to each other. cas doesn’t have to threaten him or glare at him constantly anymore like all he has to do is look at him. and john is like. man what’s he gonna do. that guy is having sex with your son and there’s nothing you can do about it! so dean doesnt have to be like ok cool it cas anymore because cas has literally won in every possible way. i think at most it’s very much cas being like “if i were trying to kill you, you’d know it <3″ and john can’t return those vibes to sender because then dean would be like ok cool it at his DAD instead. it used to be cas don’t piss off dad and now it’s dad don’t piss off cas. anyway i think that since cas has let dean lean on him so much it would be nice if he could lean on dean a little. again more on that in a minute

dean: 

and finally, as for dean...i think he needs a year minimum to dean with people acknowledging he and cas are a couple and another 3 for it not to be weird to say cas’s name in front of his dad. absolutely zero pda in front of john ever but he might like eventually get to the place where he and cas can lounge around together on the couch while they watch movies with the rest of fam and it’s not a big deal. sneak an arm around him at a movie theater. kind of the same vibes as the 15.18 fixit but with less anxiety. because like the worst possible thing (getting outed to everyone) has already happened and aside from the outing itself being completely horrible nothing that terrible even came to pass as a result, so he’s just Adjusting. i think he sort of has to unlearn and relearn his habits - his mediator thing, his defending dad thing. i think there’s a lot of times where he just walks out of a room when shit is too much for him to deal with because he has let go of some of the need to constantly micromanage his family’s interactions to make sure they don’t boil over. michael already took that scenario to the max and mary already dumped john so there’s really not much left to be afraid of. i think he gets told “that’s not your job” a lot and maybe listens more than he used to. and to bring us around to the second question...

i also think dean would get weirdly hung up on the fact that he and cas’s sex life is Not Normal - as in, they fooled around a little and that was it. i think dean would have a huge problem with that. like, obviously he has A Few Hangups About Gay Sex given his history but if you’re a couple you’re supposed to bang on the regular and it’s totally homophobic if he doesn’t bang cas as much as he’d bang a lady he was committed to, right? he’s not gonna give cas less than he gave cassie or lisa, that’s not fair to his best buddy and number one pal! 

meanwhile castiel, known asexual, is utterly and wildly neutral to the whole idea except that it’s a way to be close to dean. cas would be just as happy fucking like champions for a six-hour marathon or spending that same six hours curled up in bed together while he plays with dean’s hair. like, same diff. you know that thing about like “cas thinks everything is important he gives the same gravitas to the apocalypse and a nine year old’s birthday party”? like it’s exactly like that with sex and cuddling and sharing a meal together and driving together and watching dumb movies like it’s all time spent With Dean so it all matters just as much.

so we have this conflict where dean is tearing himself apart over the fact that he’s taking a normal human amount of time to “work up” to the whole thing and cas is like. but it’s fine. it’s literally fine. and dean’s reaction to this would be something very offended like hello excuse me i am super hot and fuckable and you don’t WANT me?

if this all sounds familiar that’s because i’ve written similar stuff to it before! if you go to the fic page for broken road, you'll see it's part of a series now (the "triptych"), with my dumb little 15.18 fixit as the prequel. even though continuity-wise these are two totally separate fics i feel very strongly that that fic is the spiritual prequel to broken road, and eventually, a long time from now, after the next @cambionverse​ fic is done or at the very least well underway, i'd like to write a spiritual sequel. a triptych is three works that stand on their own but also make a more complete whole, so even though these three stories would not be related at all in continuity of where they take place in canon, they each set the stage at a different part of the dean/cas relationship. so fic #1, the get-together, had no sex at all, and it was very short. fic #2, pre-established but just barely, had a little sex in it and it was very long. fic #3 then would be pre-established but like VERY pre-established and have a fuckton of sex in it, and be medium length. i’m ha ha basically writing my own nc-17 porn coda since SOMEBODY won’t do it for me (if you got that joke you’re entitled to financial compensation). 

except i actually really do want to tackle this subject myself, it’s stuff i only got to touch on in the other fics because it felt off topic, so in this fic it WOULD be the topic! i really found a groove i like with cas who has almost no trauma around sex but doesn’t care whether or not he has it vs dean who really really wants to have sex but has a minefield of past bad experiences he has to watch out for. and i like writing porn anyway and i didn’t get to write very much these past two fics. i’ve always said that i think dean would snowball (not like that, gross) - it’d take him FOREVER (literally a decade plus) to work up to kissing cas but a fraction of that time to start fooling around with him and a fraction of THAT time to blow him etc etc. the more he does the easier it gets. i feel like it’d be a lot of fun to write. 

so, this third fic would not be an official broken road sequel, because there’s almost no plot outside of the porn to speak of anyway, but if what you wanted was to see how the dean/cas went from where it left off, hopefully that will be satisfying in that regard.

i should say, while the third fic would be almost exclusively porn there is one plot element involving ********** that i am not going to talk about on tumblr because it would ruin the surprise. i have told a few people privately and i will tell you if we know each other pretty well but if you know (or guess) don’t tell anyone! 

see, the other thing i would want to tackle in that fic is how cas has his own traumas and baggage, even if they’re a little different from dean’s, and i think dean sometimes gets so deep in his own stuff he kind of...not forgets that exactly but forgets how profoundly it still affects cas, because by and large cas deals with that sort of thing a lot more quietly and in much healthier ways than dean does. not that his self-sacrificing ass is the poster child for mental health, but for example cas recognized suicidal ideation in himself and actively worked to keep himself away from situations that would make it worse. he translates his bad feelings into meaningful action (well, he attempts to, even if it usually goes wrong). so he hurts kind of quietly and in late season especially most of the worst moments of his life are behind him (barring jack’s death, which doesn’t happen in this verse). so he’s also further along in his healing process which mean dean kind of forgets how fucked in the head he can be. and in the uh...unusual situation...they find themselves in because of this minor plot, it becomes something that he can’t not notice, that they can’t just not talk about, and cas gets to lean on dean a little, they sort of get to know each other better. so that’s part of the point of that one little plot element. but the rest of it really is porn.

i haven’t started work on the third fic yet - i don’t have a title and my outline is just a bunch of choppy ideas and i have about 2000 words of the middle of the fic jotted down out of context. (it was originally going to be a shorter unrelated thing before i realized how well it tied to what i already had.) i have another obligation to see to before i can get started on it (again, @cambionverse​, you should read it if you havent, the concept might sound unappealing but almost everyone who tries it likes it and it’s way better than broken road). so it’ll probably happen a very VERY long time from now! but it IS happening. >:) i just hope after the first two fics in the triptych were so well received that it doesn’t disappoint 🥺

[onlythebrave-91]

Analysis of “champagne problems” by Taylor Swift

I love champagne problems so much and I think about the lyrics all the time so I thought I would write out my thoughts on it. 

Verse 1:

You booked the night train for a reason

So you could sit there in this hurt

Bustling crowds or silent sleepers

You're not sure which is worse

The song opens with vivid imagery of a train station. She poses a good question, when you're heartbroken, would you rather be in a crowd of people or alone with your thoughts?

Chorus: 

Because I dropped your hand while dancing

Left you out there standing

Crestfallen on the landing

Champagne problems

The chorus opens with one of Taylor’s most frequent metaphors, a comparison of love to dancing. She has used this metaphor numerous times since her first album fifteen years ago but she somehow keeps coming up with inventive ways to reimagine it. Here, she uses it to describe the moment the woman rejected the proposal. He thought she would say yes, but she rejected him, leaving him without a dance partner.

She also uses beautiful imagery to describe the proposal. Details have always been one of the greatest strengths of Taylor’s writing. The more detailed she gets, the more powerful and universally relatable her music seems to be. “Your heart was glass, I dropped it” pulls the image together perfectly and makes you feel like you're standing right there, watching his face as he realizes that he’s losing her.

Verse 2:

You told your family for a reason

You couldn't keep it in

Your sister splashed out on the bottle

Now no one's celebrating

This verse reveals how sure he was that she would say "yes". He told his friends and family and brought champagne to celebrate. It also reveals more about their relationship- how well did he really know her if he didn’t even realize how much she was struggling? Why was he so sure she would say "yes"?

Chorus 2:

Dom Pérignon, you brought it

No crowd of friends applauded

Your hometown skeptics called it

Champagne problems

You had a speech, you're speechless

Love slipped beyond your reaches

And I couldn't give a reason

Champagne problems

This song addresses the fact that we often don’t acknowledge mental illness for what it is. We like to avoid topics that make us uncomfortable so when we talk about people with mental illnesses we often use euphemisms like “crazy” or “psycho” which dehumanizes and belittles people. In this case, the people in her hometown say she has “champagne problems”.

Bridge: 

Your Midas touch on the Chevy door

November flush and your flannel cure

"This dorm was once a madhouse"

I made a joke, "Well, it's made for me"

How evergreen, our group of friends

Don't think we'll say that word again

And soon they'll have the nerve to deck the halls

That we once walked through

One for the money, two for the show

I never was ready, so I watch you go

Sometimes you just don't know the answer

'Til someone's on their knees and asks you

"She would've made such a lovely bride

What a shame she's stuck in her head, " they said

But you'll find the real thing instead

She'll patch up your tapestry that I shred

Taylor is known for writing brilliant bridges and this is easily one of, if not the, best bridge she has ever written. The imagery, the metaphors, the alliteration, the allusions, all come together into perfect storytelling.

“Your Midas touch on the Chevy door": In Greek mythology, Midas turned everything he touched into gold. Although this made him rich, he quickly realized that turning things to gold was a lot more trouble than it was worth. In the end, he tragically turns his daughter to gold, killing her. One of Taylor’s common motifs is using the colours red, blue, and gold, to represent different types of relationships. Typically, a golden relationship is a happy one. But in this case, she is saying that their love is falsely happy. A Chevy made of gold certainly wouldn't work very well. Their love appears golden, but ultimately it doesn't function the way it should. In champagne problems, the man sees his partner as better off than she actually is. She is struggling, but he only sees the parts of her he wants to see.

"November flush and your flannel cure": This is one of my favourite lyrics of the whole song. It has attention-grabbing alliteration and vivid imagery. It’s a creative reimagining of the cliche rom-com moment where the guy gives the girl his jacket to keep her warm. It shows that their relationship wasn’t all bad. Even though she may not be emotionally in the right place to get married, she sees him as a good man who cared for her.

"This dorm was once a madhouse"/I made a joke, "Well it's made for me". We've all made a self-deprecating joke at one time or another and this conversational line makes the narrator feel more real and relatable.

"How evergreen, our group of friends/Don't think we'll say that word again": This is the first time in the song where she uses plural pronouns, “our” and “we”. She’s acknowledging that their relationship is over now and they will no longer be doing things together.

"And soon they'll have the nerve to deck the halls/That we once walked through": As much as this breakup is devastating to them, the world keeps turning and soon enough their friends will keep living their lives normally. Earlier in the song, she said, “Your heart was glass, I dropped it”. After something that devastating happens to a person, it's hard to believe that the world keeps going, but it does.

"One for the money, two for the show/I never was ready, so I watch you go": This line comes from a nursery rhyme. In full the rhyme is "One for the money, Two for the show; Three to make ready, And four to go."

It is traditionally used to mark the beginning of a race or game. This is a really clever way of saying that she wasn't ready to get married.

"'She would've made such a lovely bride/What a shame she's stuck in her head,' they said": This line ties back to the idea that people often use crude or dehumanizing language to refer to people with mental illness. This adds to her loneliness, she doesn't have anyone in her life who properly respects her. Their friends and "hometown skeptics" see it as her fault that their relationship ended without acknowledging that her partner didn't recognize how much she was struggling.

Chorus 3 and Outro:

And hold your hand while dancing

Never leave you standing

Crestfallen on the landing

With champagne problems

Your mom's ring in your pocket

Her picture in your wallet

You won't remember all my

Champagne problems

You won't remember all my

Champagne problems

"But you'll find the real thing instead/She'll patch up your tapestry that I shred/And hold your hand while dancing/Never leave you standing/Crestfallen on the landing/With champagne problems": As we return to the dancing metaphor, we see that she hopes her partner will find someone someday who can treat him better than she can. She repeats the same description of the proposal as before, this time with the pronouns "she" and "her" instead of "I" and "my". It also shows that the reason she rejected him may not be just because she doesn't feel ready for marriage, but also that she feels insecure. She doesn't feel like she's enough for him.

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs, “Eating Everything.”

I am working my way through the list of suggestions that you guys left me, so this is the first installment from a Anon ask. I don’t know if this is what you wanted to read or where expecting to read, but this is what I came up with.

Intergalactic Journal of Biology and Medicine

Humans have one of the most resilient digestive tracts in the known universe. As an Omnivorous predatory species, humans are capable of digesting muscle , fat, carbohydrates (simple and complex), proteins and fibers taking many nutrients and extreme energy from them. Their use of carbs gives us an explanation as to why humans are so powerful because they require a lot of energy to use their bodies. Additionally, the stomach acid of a human is capable of digesting, non-food items though no nutrients can be pulled from it.

Generally speaking, the rule is that if you can eat it, a human can eat it, though, whether it is to their taste or not is questionable.

Furthermore, the human body reactivly ejects toxic substances once detected, so within reason, humans are capable of trying many foods without the negative consequences many of us would associate with sticking foreign substances in our mouth.

There GA intergalactic summit was held, on what was Earth time, November 5th, 4022. All members of the GA council were expected to attend, or at least a representative for every species in the known universe. At this time that would include the Rundi, Gibb, Tesraki, Bran, Vrul, Drev, etc. but worst of all, the humans. 

The Rundi steward, a class of government official who was specifically tasked with dealing with the drudgery of bureaucracy, was not pleased in the slightest. It was primarily his job to put everything together, and depending on how well he did, it could either make or break him in social hierarchy of his species. The Rundi were a primarily governmental planet, everything they did was based upon a structure of hierarchy and rule. Government was the greatest form of service, and Anarchy wasn’t even an afterthought in philosophical debate. The rundi were not capable of anarchy.

It was a planet of politicians in some form or another, every interaction had political underleanings, and their speech was always heavily guarded. For this reason, the Rundi had been the first in suggesting an intergalactic system of government. The terasaki had agreed only upon realizing they would be tasked with overseeing economics, but had benefited from the Rundi system of government seeing as they tended a bit towards social anarchy, a thought that the Rundi had seen as horribly barbaric, especially since their system was based primarily on the equal distribution of goods to support government structure. 

The Vrul had only agreed to join based on their own personal interest in survival. Generally they wanted nothing to do with intergalactic politics and would have been happy to maintain their own peaceful homeworld, but the introduction of other species into the galaxy had offered a great threat to them, and they had decided, out of necessity, to join the GA as being friends with the other species was in their own self interest. In turn that had meant sending their very, very skilled workers to help the rest of the galaxy, and that included their scientists and their doctors, and their mechanics.

And then of course there was the issue of the Drev and the humans, both scarily similar in social hierarchy and temperament. The Drev were warlike and honor bound, but once choosing a leader, they had been surprisingly willing to join in as long as they were given the opportunity to participate in any and all armed conflict that happened to take place across the galaxy. 

The humans….. The humans were another story. There was no one characteristic that helped to identify their motivations. The humans themselves were well versed in war, politics, economics, and science, but they did everything to the extreme. Where the Drev practiced war for honor,when humans waged war, they did it to kill, while the Rundi maintained government and played games within their own circles, the humans played against each other often mixing war and government into one. Their economic practices varied widely, but their current system played for keeps and focused on the greatest accumulation of wealth possible far beyond what the Tesraki did. Then when it came to science, they never considered WHETHER they should do something, but only if they COULD do something. 

And now here the steward was forced into the position of setting up this summit for all the different types of species. The catering alone had been a complete nightmare, and he had been forced to ship different sorts of food for thousands of miles in order to feed everyone in the proper manner. There were some species he did not have to worry about, like the Vrul, who were more plant based and so did not eat, but there were others, and that included the rundi and the Tesraki, who had every strict diet consisting of only very specific foods to eat. He found that he could tack the Drev onto some other species, seeing as their bodies were capable of metabolizing almost any plant as long as it retained a similar structure to human plants and fruit.

However, the humans themselves were the hardest part, because the range of food was so wide, he could hardly determine what was going to work and what was going to be a massive disaster. He honestly didn’t know, different sources said different things, and he couldn't bare to think about putting MEAT on the table…. That was just against his constitutions.

In fact, he was scrambling right up until the council had convened for the evening, and the mass tide of bodies came pouring into the room filling the vaulted ceiling with rockus chatter in dozens of different languages.

He could hear the humans coming a mile off.

The humans and the Rundi had a similar register when it came to hearing, and humans were known to be able to mimic Rundi vocalizations to some degree simply because they generally tended to communicate in deep grunts, hums and guttural vocalizations. The humans, wlel their language was just as varied as their culture clicking, hissing, snapping, humming and grunting filling the air with discordant and somehow, rhythmic quality..

Their presence turned heads.

They walked with the Drev delegation, which was no surprise to anyone. The humans had been unable to send their usual representative due to a social disagreement between earth and its neighboring sister, Mars. So who had they gone and sent….

Them….

The rundi Steward knew all about them….. Crewmembers of the UNSC Harbinger, the widest ranging vessel in the entire galaxy, and home to a crew that was indisputably certifiable. They were the most reckless, most dangerous, and most terrifying amalgamation of creatures in the galaxy somehow including one Drev, and a rather out of place Vrul whose behavior suggested he had caught whatever brain malady had overcome the humans, and was just as insane as they were.

He cringed horrifically at the sight of them.. Humans were a destructive force, and were known to cause chaos and mayhem wherever they went, even at the best of times, so this was bound to get interesting.

The delegates were seated, and the Steward welcomed them with gracious words of introduction he had spent months preparing. It was a very political thing for him to do, and included subtle compliments to all delegations involved, laid down some ground rules but made sure not to undermine the authority of the people he was speaking too..

However, to the humans, the attempt was obviously heavy handed brown nosing, though none of the other delegations seemed to notice.

He invited them in for refreshments and encouraged discussion between the parties.

Of course, the humans weren’t exactly ones to pass up the idea of food and were some of the first to the table examining the contents with great interest even the food that was not theirs. They seemed very amused watching the other delegations pick up their specific food and then move away to sit.

“What is this.” one of the humans commented holding up a rather stringy green tube that wriggled and squirmed in his hand, “Are these worms?”

One of the Tesraki looked over, “No, it’s a Cavestalk, a kind of plant. Probably not to your taste, they are known to be poisonous to other species. In other words, not human food.”

The human raised an eyebrow, “Buddy, humans are the sharks….. Or wait…. Maybe that's the goats of the universe, we can eat anything within reason, and even a couple of things outside of reason if given enough time.”

The Tesraki made a sort of shrug and wave with its large ears and then walked away. The steward watched the humans with a worried expression. It wouldn’t due to allow the humans to make themselves sick on his watch, but it seemed as if that idea was only becoming more and more likely as the humans poked and prodded at the leftovers of other species hardly bothering with the food that had been laid out for them…. Mostly strange fibrous plant materials.

And that is when it came, “I dare you to eat it.” 

The two humans locked eyes, one still holding the wriggling Cavestalk, “What.”

“I said, I dare you to eat it.” The human stuck out his chin at the other human in a primitive position of posturing, “How much do I get if I do.”

There was a moment of thought before, “Twenty credits. I’ll give you twenty credits to eat it.”

“What happens if it poisons me?”

There was a hand wave, “We have a doctor on board, he can just pump your stomach…. Chicken.”

A moment of silence passed between them, and the Rundi steward began moving towards them to stop something horrible he felt was about to happen. He wasn’t fast enough, and before he knew it, the human had thrown back his head and dropped the wriggly green thing into his mouth swallowing it whole like an alligator or a snake. 

People around looked on in somewhat fascinated disgust as the predator’s throat bobbed and he smacked his lips making a face, “Eh, I can still feel it moving…. Eh.” He paused, “Though, taste wise it isn’t so bad kind of like a wiggly asparagus.” After a moment his eyes narrowed, and he smacked his lips again, “Spicy asparagus, uh, that’s really really weird.” 

He reached the table just as the Vrul came running up shoulders squared in a very un-vrul way, “HE LITERALLY JUST SAID IT WAS POISONOUS TO OTHER SPECIES, AND NOW YOU’RE EATING IT! AND YOU OVER THERE.” A human looked up at him from where it had been prodding the Drev coiltree berries, “GET THOSE OUT OF YOUR MOUTH!”

They had attracted the attention of some of the closer tables now who were looking on in entertained confusion and worry.

A human waved a hand, “It’s alright Doc, we have you don’t we”

“I AM NOT THE MAGIC CURE FOR NEUROTOXIN.”

Another shrug, “Well it’s a good thing that I’ll throw up before anything really bad happens.” 

The rundi steward tried to intervene as the humans began prodding through the other food, “Drev can eat human fruit, so I bet these things are like fruit.” one of them pointed out popping the berries into his mouth and chewing with a contemplative look on his face, “Not bad.”

“Please, please, if you would remain within your own food groups.” The Rundi begged. HE was now realizing he should have written up some legal documents to avoid litigation if the humans were to be damaged on their property, but now was too late.

A human waved him off, “Don’t worry, everyone else is done eating, besides.” He Pointed towards the human food, “That's literally a pile of lettuce, I am a man, not a horse.”

“Horses don’t eat lettuce, also that’s not lettuce,it’s spinach.” Another human piped up prodding at a strange squishy red ball sloshing with a strange pink nectar, “This looks like candy.”

“Please don’t put that in your mouth.”

The humans swarmed away from the two dissenting voices. One of them picked up the strange pink orb and licked it. It’s eyes lit up and it bit into the piece wiping pink juice from it’s face as it did, “Ok, this, this is good 10/10 would try again.” And that only caused all the other humans to move over to try one.

“I SAID GET THAT OUT OF YOUR MOUTH!” The vrul demanded. 

The Rundi steward looked on in horror and worry. Vrul didn’t behave that way, everything here was just wrong. 

A Drev joined the party just then pointing to the pink orb, “I love those, but you should definitely try these too.” 

“No, no they should not.”

He was ignored, and the humans scooted over to look. It was a strange spiral plant in a light yellow color that made  a distinctive crunching sound as the humans bit down. They shrugged, “Sort of just like space celery if you ask me.”

Did these creatures have no sense of self preservation!

A group had gathered around the table strangely amused at the humans, who just ate…. Everything.

The Rundi steward almost keeled over watching his future go down the drain as other species began offering humans food. Whatever it was, they seemed unable to resist putting it in their mouths. A human made a face spitting something back out into his hand, “Ax bleh, tastes like Satan’s feet.” “Quick question. When was the last time you licked Satan’s feet.” “The last time I was at your mom’s house.” 

The humans made strange noises at each other as the Rundi stepped in and began grabbing things from the humans only to find the Vrul to be doing the same, “Stop it! Stop it all of you!.”

The human’s paused, as did the other delegates in surprise.

“STOP PUTTING THINGS IN YOUR MOUTH THAT YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT THEY ARE.”  The intervening silence was broken as one of the humans loudly crunched on one of the pink orbs. Everyone turned to look at her and she just glanced around the group.

“What?” She wondered past a mouth full of food.

A human waved a hand at him, “Keep your shorts on, we promise you won't get in trouble if one of us dies.” 

The Rundi stared on incredulous.

They were going to kill themselves, they were really going to kill themselves.

Maybe it was best if he resigned before being fired, at least he would be able to keep his dignity

[jessiebanethedragon]

Can we get a fic where the bad batch is on a mission and they find a SUPER shy 16 year old girl (the reader) who lost her parents in the war. The men take the reader with them and take care of her. But they don’t know that the reader has been trained in advanced martial arts her entire life and they find this out when the reader takes out a bunch of droids by herself. The bad batch take the reader in as their little sister in the end.

kinda long, i hope thats okay, and as always i really hope you enjoy it! 

You’re found underneath a mountain made of rumble, mud, water and ash. The Bad Batch takes hours moving debris for Wrecker to pull you out of a still smoking room that was once your family's apartment. 

Your people were an interesting folk, training their young in intense forms of defensive combat. You could speak more languages than you could count on your fingers, and years of being taught anything and everything, one could consider you to be a perfect soldier. Except for the fact that your people dedicated themselves to the natural wonders of the universe and were neutral in every notable war the republic had ever seen. 

The separatists did not see it that way. 

“What do we do with it?” Crosshair asked when they returned to the camp, you haven't said a word. And clone force 99 was starting to wonder if you even spoke basic. So far you had only moved when necessary and they only realized you were even human once the dust, mud and blood had been cleared from your face. 

“I think the ‘it’ is actually a ‘she’.” Tech corrects side-eyeing you from where you sit close to their fire. 

“What are we going to do with she?” Crosshair repeated, annoyed. But enjoying the mumbling from his brother about ‘grammatical insolence.’ Wrecker and Tech both shrugged as Hunter sighed and took a plate of rations over to you. 

“Hey, you need to eat.” He said pushing the plate towards you, watching as you watched the plate, but made no move towards it. 

“Can you tell me your name?” Hunter asked, trying his hardest to sound not like a hardened military sergeant. He sees your lips move but can barely make out the sound that travels past them. “Can you just be a bit louder maybe?” He asks for the first time ever, given his enhanced hearing. He catches your name as it wisps by him, repeating it to make sure he’s got it right.  

“Do you have anyone? Anyone off-world or that might still be…” He stops himself before the word ‘alive’. And you shake your head ‘no’ anyways. It’s only after Hunter gets up to leave that you slowly reach for the plate of food. 

“She has to come with us.” Hunter relays to the group, who are keeping their distance from the shy young girl they’ve found. Each member nods, none of them seem to know what to do with you, but they know you’re safest with the Bad Batch. 

It takes weeks before any of them hear your voice, your real voice. So far you’ve stuck to mumbles, nods and hand gestures. No one seems to mind, except for when you make Wrecker jump out of his skin when you seemingly appear out of nowhere. 

“Crosshair you di'kut!” Tech shouts one morning running into the main area of the Havoc Marauder. Everyone has to suppress a chuckle at the sound of Huttese coming from his helmet. “How in the kriff am I supposed to fix this?” Tech throws his hands in the air, slamming his bucket on the table. 

“Would you like me to fix it?” You offer from your corner of the ship. Stunning everyone into silence. “I am fluent in huttese.” You explain reaching for Tech's helmet, and matching holopad. No one says anything as you tap a few things and place it back down. 

“Thank you, mirdala.” Tech says in awe. Opting to compliment you in mando’a rather than basic as to not make you uncomfortable. 

“I also speak mando’a.” You add, looking at him with a smile. 

“Kandosii'la!” He exclaims happily, “nice to finally have some more brains around here.” Tech smiles at you while his brothers come over the shock of hearing your voice properly for the first time. 

After that morning things begin to shift a little bit. The batch takes to calling you mirdala as a nickname and constant compliment. (And to try and get you out of the sarlacc pit of shyness you live in.) And you slowly start to chat rather than just talk with the men you find yourself in the company of. Yet you still don’t talk about your home at all, eventually they stop asking. Until one day Hunter presses a small blaster into your hands while the five of you are standing on the ramp of the marauder. 

“Just a precaution, this place shouldn't be  dangerous. But I'd rather you have it and not need it then need it and not have it.” He tells you, and places a hand on your shoulder. “Know how to use it?” You nod, flipping it around in your hand, it’s foreign and familiar all at once. The click of the safety sounds a bit janky and the hilt is slightly off kilter. Hunter watches you inspect the blaster with the precision of a GAR clone. 

“Thank you.” You say to him, tucking it away, and following the group off the ramp and into the market. 

It takes all of one half of an hour for all hell to break loose. One battalion of droids verses one bad batch’s Wrecker didn’t exactly go well, the two of you attacked from behind unsuspectingly leading him into throwing you onto the nearest roof and going through the droids one by one. You hear the whir of commando droids before you see them and take off, launching yourself onto the next roof as blaster bolts rush by. Running through the second market that rests on the rooftops of the one below you dash between stalls, people and droids as you scramble away. One last jump into what you think is the side of a building but is actually air covered by a mass of cloth sends you into the  ground below winding you. 

“Mirdala!” Crosshair shouts in surprise as you seem to literally fall from the sky above him. This brief distraction allows for a droid to take a shot at him and you know he’s too preoccupied to save you. 

That's fine, you don’t need saying anyways. 

Falling into a fighting stance is so familiar to your muscles, you could close your eyes and you’d be back in your training centre. It feels so real you can almost smell it. Elbows and feet fly, echoes of advice ring in your ears. ‘Your elbows carry power, your feet are the most important weapons, stance is everything.” At this point the blaster is basically useless, you’re the weapon Hunter wished you didn’t need. And so when Crosshair barrels into you, throwing the two of you behind a crate as a detonator goes off, you both face plant into the ground. 

“You okay Mirdala?” Tech asks pulling you off the ground, dusting your shoulders off.  

“Where is everyone?” You ask worriedly looking around for everyone, once you see Hunter, Wrecker and Crosshair near you, you begin to calm down. Wrecker comes over to you looking far too happy for a man who was just in battle. 

“That was amazing Mirdala! Shoulda seen ‘er Sarge!” He says nudging Hunter harshly. You can’t help but blush as Wrecker rentals how you flew from building to building. Letting Crosshair summarize your skills with ‘she fights well.’ (Before taking over and gushing about you again.)

You’re sitting outside as the sunsets, being alone is preferable right now. Today was, for lack of a better term, a lot. But of course, naturally, the Batch joins you. 

“You ever gunna open up to us mirdala?” Hunter bluntly asks, looking scared and worried. You nod but stop yourself, pushing the shyness for a verbal answer. 

“Yes, just not used to it.” it's a short answer, much shorter than it should be. But it’s a small win and Hunter is happy for it. 

“I researched your home world, were you going to tell us about your skills?” Tech asks, eyes meeting yours. 

“I thought it was normal.” You explain, looking around for others before sighing. “I’ve never been off-world before, not even outside of my city. This is very unusual for me.” You say trying to explain that your people keep to themselves even where they're around those they trust. 

“What else can you do?” Wrecker chimes in, curious as ever. But adds “never mind” when Crosshair elbows him. 

“You’re trained like us...” The sniper says, catching the curves of a small smile beginning when he says this. “Vod’ika.” He adds slowly, careful to watch your face to make sure he didn't upset you.

“Come out of your shell vod’ika, our shell most certainly has room for one more.” Hunter says, looking not at you but at the setting suns of the planet. 

“I always wanted a little sister!” Wrecker encourages with an excited hop. You turn to Tech waiting for his take on the situation. 

“Makes logical sense.” He teases, putting his helmet over your head. “Fits well, looks good vod’ika.” The helmet doesn't fit at all, flopping from side to side as you look around. 

“Sounds good to me ori'vod.” you say with a lopsided smile on your face. As the suns finally start to  turn into stars. 

“Aliit ori'shya tal'din” Hunter says, prompting his brother to repeat it after him. 

“Family is more than blood.” You translate to basic stunning at the touching words. 

“Come lil’ sister. It’s kriffing cold out here.” Crosshair says getting up off the ground, Wrecker immediately scrambles to piggyback you to the ship. The five of you teasing each other and laughing all the way.