#and I agree so much and really appreciated hearing someone older and wiser say it!! :D

[fortes-fortuna-iogurtum]

.

[altsvu]

a little jealous, i suppose?

pairing: aaron hotchner x bau!female!reader

wc: 2.8k

summary: after being called in for a case in the middle of a romantic date, you and hotch have to talk to the lieutenant on the case, but they end up flirting with you at the same time. hotch gets a little jealous and proves it when you and him get back to the hotel room.

tw: sex talk, A SHIT TON OF SMUT, some fluff, swearing.

a/n: this is a long one lovelies! i had so much fun writing this! jealous hotch can be a bit naughty... but this is my first (completed) smut fic with hotch and i hope it doesn’t sound super weird or whatever bc i lowkey suck at smut

criminal minds masterlist! ✯ taglist! ✯ text messages!

✯✯✯✯

You and Hotch had been dating for almost a year and a half now. Upon dating, the two of you had decided that it was best to not say anything to the rest of the team. Although you wanted everything to be kept under wraps, everyone wanted the two of you to be together though, and they picked up on the many interactions that you exchanged with each other. It had been easy to keep the relationship a secret, or at least the idea of either you or Hotch being in a romantic relationship, until now when you came into the BAU floor wearing a revealing dress and a full face of makeup.

“Well, well, well,” Morgan whistled. “Looks like someone’s going on a date.”

“Shut up Morgan, you’re just jealous it’s not with you.” you laughed. “I am not jealous at all. You do look really good though.” he responded, in which you blew him a kiss.

“You look so beautiful! Your date is definitely gonna fall head over heels for you.” JJ squealed, coming up to give you a hug. You knew exactly who she was talking about. Hotch. She was the only person you were able to confide in about your relationship with him even though you had practically become best friends with everyone on the team. “Thank you JJ.” you smiled.

“Who’s the lucky guy?” Reid asked.

“Or girl?” Penelope said.

You looked for some of your items from your desk, trying to avoid the team’s burning questions. “All I can say is that he’s... definitely older.”

“Well, you know what they say, the older the wiser.” Emily suggested.

“Yes, this man is very wise.” you replied, putting your badge and gun in your purse. Little did everyone know that they were talking highly of Hotch.

Rossi came out of his office. “Well, you’re not going on a date with me.”

“Unfortunately-“ you frowned, then paused mid sentence when your phone rang. You pulled it out and broke away from the group to make sure they couldn’t see the name.

“Sweetheart, you know I can’t wait to see how beautiful you look.” Hotch mused. You could tell he had a smile on his face. “Well babe, lucky for you, I’m about to leave. See you in 5 okay?” You replied.

“Of course.”

You hung up and dropped your phone in your bag, grabbing your coat. “Alright everyone, I’m off. Don’t miss me too much, I’m a big girl, I’ll be okay.”

“Walk you to the elevator?” JJ asked. You nodded sincerely. You then said your goodbyes to everyone and walked out with JJ.

“He’s lucky to be with a woman like you.”

“Yeah, I like to think that. I’m just glad he doesn’t treat me like a child, ya know. I may be the youngest here, but when we’re alone, everything’s just different.”

JJ lifted an eyebrow. “Ohhhh, I see.”

You playfully smacked her on the shoulder as the elevator door opened. “Girl stop. It’s more than that.” You walked into the elevator, blowing a kiss at JJ.

“Have fun!”

✯✯✯✯

“You look absolutely amazing, did I tell you that already?” Hotch complimented as you got out of the car.

“Yes you have, about 5 times already, but I appreciate the compliments. You look quite handsome yourself, Aaron.”

“Thank you, my love.” he said, kissing you on the lips.

The two of you went inside the restaurant and followed the waiter to the reserved table, which had seating next to each other instead of across and the environment was pretty chill since there weren’t a lot of people inside, so it felt even more romantic. It gave you more freedom to perform many forms of PDA, which was something that Hotch wanted to experiment more with.

“So... everyone on the BAU floor is questioning who I’m dating,” you started. Hotch looked up at you mid bite. “Really? What’d you say?”

“I’m dating an older man who’s very wise.”

Hotch sneaked an arm around your waist. “I’m glad that you think I’m wise.”

“I can think of a lot more.” you whispered. You then crept your hand up to the nape of Hotch’s neck and pulled him closer to you, planting a passionate kiss on his lips.

“Mmm, I know what I’m gonna do to you when we get home.” Hotch murmured into your ear after kissing you back. “I’m going to fuck you so hard, you’re gonna be shaking when you walk into the BAU tomorrow.” His fingers tickled your bare skin, and you hoped you weren’t getting an orgasm from his touch.

“Oh what a naughty, wise man you are.” you mused, taking the opportunity to kiss and nibble on the soft skin that was Hotch’s neck. You sucked on it hard, leaving a dark red mark.

You went back to enjoying your meal and chatting when you were interrupted by a phone call.

“It’s Garcia.” Hotch whispered. He then proceeded to answer the phone. When he got off the phone with her, he looked disappointed. “What is it?” you asked.

“We’re being called in.”

“Fuck.” you muttered under your breath, hearing your phone ring too.

Hotch took your face in his hands. “It’s okay. We can finish date night another night.”

✯✯✯✯

You had texted JJ that you would be meeting them on the plane to avoid suspicions from the rest of the team and you would be briefed when you arrived. JJ had grabbed your go bag for you as well.

“Y/N, how was your date?” Emily asked.

It was tempting to smile and look at Hotch but you were able not to. “Despite it being cut short, it was amazing. We had... plans after dinner.”

“Oooo, risqué.” Morgan cocked his head to the side. You pinched his cheek and collapsed in one of the chairs, wanting to sleep. In a way, you were a bit upset that you and Hotch had to be called away from your date, you seriously wanted him to be all over you, kissing you, sucking on your skin, massaging your forbidden spots.

“Very. Where are we headed?”

The rest of the team then briefed you on the case and when you landed, you’d have to go with Hotch to talk with the lieutenant that was the lead on the case and set up at the field office.

While you were looking through your copy of the case file, you got a text from Hotch.

SSA Hotchner BAU ❤️: That hickey on my neck won’t be going away for a while, Rossi’s already asking about it

SSA Hotchner BAU ❤️: he thinks i had “a little rendezvous” before being called in.

You stifled a laugh.

You: well... you did. With me of course

You: Keep him wondering, I’ll give you more in our hotel room 😘 and i’m also holding you to that promise

SSA Hotchner BAU ❤️: the things i want to do to you... i wouldn’t even be able to count

You bit your finger and looked out the window, wanting the day to go by fast. Hotch was sitting across from you, so he looked up at you for a slight second with a grin on his face, which caught your attention quickly. He gave you a wink and looked back down. Moments later, the jet was arriving at the team’s destination and you were eager to just change out of your date night clothes.

“Do we have time for me to stop by the hotel we’re staying in?” you whispered to JJ while getting off the plane.

“My beloved friend, we’re on a time crunch.” JJ started. “But, I’ll let you come with me to get the keys for our rooms.”

You sighed in relief and smiled a thank you.

✯✯✯✯

“I kinda wished you didn’t have to change out of that dress.” Hotch admitted. You side eyed him, knowing that he was joking. That was until you turned to look at him and he was staring at you, examining you almost. “Me too,” you smiled, turning to look at him. “But obviously that would be super inappropriate.”

“Well of course it would be.” Hotch growled, pulling you closer to him.

“There’s cameras,” you hissed.

“Good.” One of his hands grabbed your ass and you let out a gasp. Clearly Hotch did not care whatsoever about the cameras, all he cared about was you, and how amazing you looked in front of him. That, and closing this current case as soon as possible. He took your face in his hands and kissed your lips ever so passionately, stopping just in time for the elevator door to open. As you were approaching the lieutenant, you straightened your shirt in hopes that he wouldn’t think that anything suspicious was going on.

“Lieutenant Baker, I’m SSA Aaron Hotchner and this is SSA Y/N .” Hotch said, shaking hands with Baker. When he got to you, a smile creeped up on his face and he lingered a bit after shaking your hand. A bit odd, you thought. “Thank you for coming,” he finally replied. “These suspicious murders have been going on for too long and I’d like to put an end to them as much as you do.”

“And that’s why we’re here.” Hotch agreed. “Is there a place for us to settle?” He led you and Hotch to a conference room with an evidence board, and as you were walking, you felt a familiar hand on your back, creeping to your waist. Goddammit Hotch. You glared at him to stop before he got caught and he only looked back at you with a smile on his face.

The rest of the time in the field office wasn’t bad, but you had a very huge feeling that the lieutenant was trying to make some moves on you.

It’s not like you weren’t used to this, men just found you super attractive. But you only found one man that was attractive.

Aaron Hotchner.

“Hey.” you turned around to find the lieutenant standing next to you. “Is there anything that I can help you with?”

“Nah, just putting these pictures and visuals up. Hotch and I are gonna review the case files until the family comes in to talk to us.”

“Ok, that sounds good.”

You noticed that Baker was still standing in your vicinity. “Is there something that you need from me, Lieutenant?”

“No, not at all. Let me know if you need anything from me, I’ll be trying to round up some potential witnesses.” Baker said, squeezing and rubbing your forearm for a moment and walking away to his office. He had a side grin on his face.

You, on the other hand, stood in your spot truly dumbfounded. Your mouth slightly gaped, you turned and watched Baker walk away. Suddenly your eyes made their way to Hotch, who was looking at you across the room, a grin also on his face.

“What was that about? He ask you if you were dating anyone?”

You rolled your eyes and finished putting up the map for Reid to use later. “Please, no.” Hotch was then standing by your side, leaning against the wall beside the evidence board.

“That wasn’t just any touch there.”

“Yeah well, it didn’t mean anything to me. Did you forget that I love you or something?”

Hotch pulled you into a kiss. “Of course not.”

“Good,” you whispered. “Then what’s the issue? A little jealous, I suppose?” You put emphasis on jealous.

“Agents? The victim’s mother is here.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant.” Hotch replied. He turned back to you. “We’ll talk later.”

✯✯✯✯

It was nearing the end of the day, and everyone was tired. It was only the team’s first day in a small Nevada town, but a lot was accomplished.

Riding in the car with Derek, Emily, and JJ back to the hotel room, you let the breeze flow through your body. Nervousness washed over you as you thought about the morning upon arriving at the field office.

Hotch always had underlying meanings to even the simplest things he would say, which is why you couldn’t stop wondering if he was the slightest bit upset at the lieutenant for advancing on you, the person he loved with all his heart.

“Hey.” JJ poked at your arm. “What’s going on? Trouble in paradise?”

You smiled a bit. “No, uh, I guess there was a bit of tension since the lieutenant was flirting with me.”

“He was actually good looking, I think he’d be a great match for you.” Emily suggested, turning around.

“Y/N does attract almost every male species.” Derek commented.

“Guys, stop, I’m just... not interested in him.” You said simply, turning back to the window. The only thing running to your head was what Hotch had planned for tonight.

When you got to the hotel room, you found things the way they were, only Hotch’s go bag next to yours. You pulled out your robe and shower essentials from your go bag - you hated using hotel soap - and started to strip. When Hotch came out of the bathroom, you were only in your underwear, slipping on your robe, and he was only in a towel.

“You didn’t say when you came in.” Hotch whispered, planting a small kiss on your head.

“I know, I didn’t wanna bother you. I’m gonna shower quickly okay?” He nodded and you then went in the bathroom. When you were done, Hotch was in bed wearing a white shirt and grey boxer shorts. God, he looked so hot.

“What conversation did you want to have earlier?” You asked, wrapping your robe around a bit tighter.

Hotch gestured to you to lay next to him. “You know how I get when it comes to people flirting with you.”

“Yeah, you go feral. Internally, of course.” You paused. “Wait. Is Aaron Hotchner... mad?”

His hand snuck inside your robe, trailing up to your chest, cupping your right breast, sending chilling shockwaves to the rest of your body.

“Let’s just say I wanna show you that you belong to me.”

Oh, Hotch was jealous alright.

You turned to face him and that’s when he worked his magic. One side of your robe slipped off, and next thing you knew, he was teasing your clit, making you wet. Your shallow breaths and whimpers filled the emptiness of the room. He continued teasing you for a bit, then you watched as he pulled out his cock, stroking it a bit while staring at you dead in your eyes. You knew exactly what he was doing. He wanted to make sure you knew he was the one in control, and that he would do anything to get off on your pleasure.

He made extra sure of it when he started cockwarming you.

Oh fuck you Aaron, you said in your head as small whimpers escaped your mouth.

“Yeah, you like when I do that to you?” Hotch- well Aaron, asked roughly. “You like feeling my cock inside you, don’t you?”

He was enjoying the sight of you, close to him, almost orgasming on the spot. But he wasn’t gonna let you get off that easily.

“What’s wrong, my sweet girl? Hmm?”

“I- I need you, Aaron,” was all you could croak out.

Aaron shifted on top of you and you curled your legs around him.

“Sweetheart, you’re gonna have to speak up for me to give you what you want.” Aaron teased, taking of his shirt.

“I need you Aaron,” you repeated a bit louder.

Aaron smiled and thrusted hard and fast into you, in which he took no time. “Good girl.” He let out a fierce groan when he did so.

“Who makes you feel good?”

“You do,” you moaned. “You make me feel good Aaron.”

He kissed you fiercely in response with one of his hands gripping your neck and the other holding on to your leg. “God, you look so sexy under me, my sweet, sweet girl. You take me so well.”

He knew you wanted to come, your flushed face gave it away. But when you asked, ever so politely, he responded with a firm no.

“You don’t get to come until I do.”

“But Aaron, plea-“

“No.”

As he was going faster, you felt yourself nearing an orgasm, and all you wanted to do was melt under him.

He pulled out just after he reached his high and smashed his lips against your clit, stimulating you even more. When he finally let you come, it came on strong and heavy, and a loud, broken “Aaron” escaped your lips. You did not care whatsoever if two of the other team members in the next room heard you. Aaron on the other hand was enjoying every moment of it. “Oh, my sweet girl, you taste amazing.” he mused.

When he was done he collapsed next to you.

“Hey, are you okay?”

“Yeah, just... that was super hot.” you breathed, moving closer to him.

“It was. I think now you know who you belong to.” Aaron whispered, caressing your cheek.

“Much more than I did before.”

Aaron offered to clean you up, and after, the two of you slept soundly for the rest of the night.

✯✯✯✯

taglist: @averyhotchner @storiesofsvu @ssaic-jareau @blackbeautifulqueen @dr-omalley @morcias @mstrinnyb

[ladyloptr]

•The Noisy Neighbor•

Request: twt@LOKIBARBZ (So, we literally had a whole discussion over this, therefore, I’ll just make a summmary of this.) Loki moves into an apartment in NYC, recently being officiated as an Avenger after some pleading from Thor. He is comfortable in his apartment, as it’s nice and quiet, until a loud new neighbor moves in next door. He slowly goes mad, until one day he seeks to end the nonsense once and for all.

Fandom: MCU AU

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Warnings: Smut, Hate-Sex, Rough-Sex, Angry-Sex, Hair Pulling, Scratching, Choking, Degradation/Name Calling.

{————}

Loki isn’t sure what he expected to be greeted with when he returned to Midgard with his older brother. After the attack on New York City, he wasn’t foolish enough to think they’d welcome him with open arms.

Then again, it’s not like he had much of a choice in coming here.

After waiting in his cell for nearly a year, he was finally placed on trial. They sentenced him to serve his punishment on Midgard, to help The Avengers in their efforts to protect their realm. Among the many different options that the Æsir courts could’ve picked, he’s merely grateful to still be alive.

The Avengers, of course, wouldn’t allow him to take up residency in the tower as a result of his last visit ending in Tony being tossed out of a window. Thankfully, Tony, at the very least, agreed to find him his own apartment somewhere nearby and pay his rent, so long as he behaves himself.

The apartment complex is very nice, and most importantly, quiet. Tony rightfully assumed that it would be wiser to house the God of Chaos in a quiet environment where he’d be least likely to interact with neighbors. The last thing they need right now is for Loki to take it upon himself to permanently silence his Midgardian neighbors for making too much noise.

For a long time, this arrangement worked. Loki typically walks to the tower with headphones in, playing an array of Norwegian music, most of it sung by the artist Aurora. Her music reminds him of home, so he is quite appreciative of her work.

Thor sometimes questions his reasoning for walking instead of teleporting, but Loki finds the walk to be very calming, considering he leaves the apartment early enough to avoid pedestrian traffic. Then late at night, he walks back to his apartment, headphones in, still somewhat aware of his surroundings. Despite what The Avengers constantly say about the city at nighttime, robbery or any kind of assault is of little concern to Loki, considering-well-he’s a literal deity.

Slowly, The Avengers began to warm up to him, with the obvious exception of Natasha and Clint, who are always suspicious of everything. Loki eventually found that he favors the company of Bucky and Wanda, as opposed to the constantly annoying presence of Tony or the self-righteousness of Steve. He also prefers to keep a fair distance from Bruce, much to Bruce’s understanding.

Nothing was amiss, everything was going pretty well.

Until, a new neighbor moves in next door.

Generally, Loki doesn’t care for the ordinary Midgardians that roam the city, he finds them to be incredibly shallow and rather dull. None of them intrigue him in the slightest, and he finds that many of them have an ornate ability to talk much, but at the same time say absolutely nothing.

However, he swears to The Norns that you, the girl who just moved in next door, have been designed specifically to get a rise out of him.

Loki has always been known for his patience and tolerance of others. Even at this chaotic stage in his life, it still truly takes much to get him to snap, but you seem to be naturally gifted at winding him up.

For one, you purposely went out of your way to introduce yourself to him. You went out of your way to bother him, when none of the other neighbors dared to acknowledged him.

Maybe if he were younger he would’ve enjoyed the attention, but now? This Loki likes not being acknowledged, he likes being left alone, and doesn’t care about whoever else is living in this apartment complex.

He doesn’t even really remember what you were saying to him, he just remembers blankly staring down at you for a few minutes and then impolitely shutting the door in your face.

(Unbeknownst to either of you, back on the Bifrost, Heimdall let out a chuckle of amusement.)

Secondly, you’re just too bloody loud. You talk loud, your footsteps are loud, and you play loud music well into the night until one of the other neighbors have to come knocking on your door to tell you to keep it down.

He overheard you rattling off to one of your neighbors in the lobby, and unsurprising to him, you’re pretty young, twenty four, just graduated from NYU, and you have a degree in fashion design-whatever that means. Loki isn’t well informed on Midgardian credentials, and he’d rather not ask Thor (who has a better grasp on degrees thanks to Jane), lest his brother misunderstand his curiosity for infatuation.

Mentally childish, cheery, loud, and obnoxious.

All the things Loki doesn’t like, compressed into one tiny person.

You make him want to turn you into a mouse whenever you’re nearby, and when you speak, sometimes he wishes he could just take a knife and cut out your vocal cords.

It’s such a shame that he finds you so attractive, if only he could tear your face off and place it on another, quieter woman.

On the flip side, you aren’t particularly fond of him either. He always comes off as rude and dismissive. You are convinced he’s the spirit of an old grumpy senior citizen wearing the skin of a beautiful young man.

So, tensions continue to escalate over the course of four months. The loud music, the loud talking, the loud everything.

He could just ask Tony to move him to another apartment complex the moment you began to stoke the fire, but he would rather not concede defeat. Eventually, you’ll be asked to move, with how loud you are and how often you inconvenience the others around you.

But, another month passes and it still hasn’t happened yet.

He’s not sure how long he can put up with this nonsense.

Six months became his limit, after you tested his patience on the wrong day.

That afternoon, Doctor Doom had infiltrated The Avengers tower looking to steal technology from Tony. Doom easily brushed aside the team’s efforts to prevent him from getting anywhere near the lab. With Thor temporarily lending his assistance to Asgard, The Avengers were without one of their strongest members. Loki eventually managed to subdue him, but his seidr was almost completely spent. He was left feeling fatigued and rather irrate.

When he finally returned to his apartment, he was greeted with some much needed peace and quiet. He fell asleep on the couch, too tired to get undressed from his armor or walk to his bedroom.

It wasn’t until you returned home late from a runway show, that his peace was interrupted. He could quite clearly hear your vain and vulgar Midgardian music playing loudly in your apartment nearby.

“I said certified freak.”

“Seven days a week.”

“Wet ass pussy.”

“Make that pull out game weak!”

Finally fed up, Loki exits his apartment, slamming the door shut behind him, and stomping to your front door. He knocks loudly and frantically, eager to get you to shut off that stupid music.

Hearing the knocking on the door, you quickly pause your music, knowing that it’s probably one of your irritated neighbors again. When you open your door, you are greeted with the sight of a scowling deity. You tilt your head and smile at him brightly. “Well, Loki, how may I help you?”

“You may help me by shutting off that incessant, vain, rhythmless dribble you call music.”

“It’s the national anthem. I am paying homage to our country’s independence.”

Loki grimaces, leaning in slightly. “Do you take me for a fool?”

“No, but I take you for someone with an old man mentality.” You raise an eyebrow. “Are you sure you’re not Bill Clinton in a skin suit?”

“It is one in the morning and some of us are tired.” Loki hisses. “Mortals. Always only concerned with themselves, so selfish and blind to the needs of others.”

“Selfish and blind? You’re one to talk.” You cross your arms. “Didn’t you kill like, hundreds of people when you invaded New York City because you wanted a throne?”

Loki’s eyes narrow dangerously at you, as you slowly cross into no-man’s land.

You pout and pretend to cry. “Boohoo, I am Loki, I was born into a rich family, and I was given everything I ever wanted except a throne.” You pretend to wipe your eyes. “So I killed hundreds of innocent humans because I wanted to be king.”

“You have no idea what you speak of, mortal.” Loki growls, his voice low and grave now. He steps forward, passing through your doorway. “You know nothing of me, or what I am capable of.”

“And what are you capable of, Loki?” You ask. “Besides killing hundreds of innocent people because your daddy didn’t like you, of course.”

You are caught off guard when Loki pulls the door shut behind him and locks it. He immediately pins you against the wall by your arms, and glowers down at you.

“Scared, mortal?”

“No.” You answer truthfully. “You don’t scare me anymore. If you really wanted me dead, you would’ve done it already. You’ve gone soft.”

He growls at you, and leans forward, pressing his lips against yours. You hardly have any time to react as he forces his tongue into your mouth. He’s actually surprised when you begin to fight him for dominance, your tongue aggressive pushing against his, and your teeth nibbling on his lips. Eventually, you have to give up your fight, your need for oxygen cutting your fight short.

“Such a shame, a pretty face like yours bound to someone with such an ugly personality.” Loki’s hands release your wrists and slowly travel down to grip your hips.

“Hypocrite.” You say. “Between the two of us, you’re the one with the ugliest personality.”

“You dare to speak to a god in such a way.” Loki groans lowly, grinding himself up against you. You gasp, feeling his erection pressing up against you. “I’ll have you know, where I come from, you’d be punished.”

You let your fingers get tangled in his hair and then you tug on it. You grin as he lets out a soft moan. “Are you telling me you’d like to punish me?”

“I am unsure.” His hands travel up your shirt, and cup your breast. You’re internally grateful that you decided to ditch your bra today. “I have a feeling you’d enjoy it too much.”

Loki stills as your hand travels between the two of you and gently massages the bulge in his pants. “Well, why don’t we find out?”

You yelp in surprise when Loki drags you by your arm to the kitchen. He pushes you to bend over the kitchen counter, pulls your pajama pants down, along with your panties.

A sharp gasp escapes you when he shoves two long fingers inside of you and pumps them steadily inside of you. He continues this until your wetness is practically running down your thighs.

You hear him unbuckle his belt behind you, and soon, he flips you around, so you’re now lying on your back on the counter. You close your eyes as you feel his cock pressing up against your entrance.

“I’m going to break you, fragile mortal.” Loki growls. “I’m going to break you, and relish the moment you come undone underneath me.”

You let out a chuckle, which only serves to irritate him. He enters you in one swift thrust, and you whimper as you feel him stretch you out more than you ever have before.

Loki wraps his fingers around your throat, and begins thrusting hard and fast. He hisses as you drag your nails hard against his neck.

“You should be worshipping me, mortal.” He growls. “You should feel honored that I’m here splitting your quim instead of resting, like I wanted to do.”

“Oh, fuck you spoilt rich brat!” You snap at him.

“Oh, but I am fucking you.” Loki chuckles darkly, tightening his grip around your throat. “And when I’m done, you’ll be positively ruined for any mortal man who tries to lay with you.”

“Bold of you to assume you can make me cum with that weak dick of yours.”

You let out a lewd moan when he changes his angle, his cock head brushing up against your g-spot.

“You were saying, whore?”

“Shut the fuck up. You’re the whore, coming here to fuck someone you don’t even like.”

Loki groans, watching as his cock is literally splitting your cunt. “You asked for this, you stupid girl.”

When you begin to feel a familiar tightening in your stomach, you start to claw and scratch at him, not willing to let him push you over the edge.

“Fight me all you wish to, mortal.” Loki groans in your ear. “You’re going to cum for me, whether you like it or not.”

“I hate you!” You practically scream at him.

“I hate you as well, but here we are.”

You gasp and moan as you feel the coil in your stomach snap. You are somewhat thankful that Loki choking you is preventing you from screaming at the top of your lungs. Loki grunts loudly as he falls over the edge after you, his hips stuttering to a stop as he releases inside of you.

You both stay like that for a few minute, your back on the counter and cum oozing onto your thighs, and Loki resting some of his weight on top of you.

“I might just retire in here for tonight.” Loki grumbles. “I am completely spent.”

“So tired from one round that you can’t walk back to your own apartment?” You chuckle. “You have shitty stamina for a god.”

“I was tired before I arrived here. I said this already.”

You roll your eyes. “Then you should’ve gone to sleep instead of coming here.”

“I wouldn’t have come here if you hadn’t been playing your music loud enough for Asgard to hear!” Loki snaps, biting at your neck in annoyance. You wince. “You’re an obnoxious wrench. It’s a wonder how you haven’t been asked to move elsewhere.”

“The landlord is my mother.”

Loki is silent for a few moments, now absolutely livid. The landlord is your mother?!

“I’ll be having words with your mother, then.”

You laugh. “You can try. Who do you think I got all of my obnoxious traits from?”

You hear Loki scowl next to you, and nip you on the neck again. “You Midgardian women are bothersome.”

[iturbide]

(CheeseAndCake here) It is done. More CC!Edelgard in Heroes has been sent! I tried to make it clear that, while Edelgard has changed a lot, and is showing the dragonkin propper respect, her mind is still jumping to the thoughts she used to have before she gets a hold of her thought process. It’s still there, but she doesn’t let it show or let those thoughts dictate her actions and is doing her best to change it. I’m so proud of her.

You and me both her development as a character is absolutely fantastic, especially in the way that she still jumps to certain thoughts and then forcibly grapples with those very thoughts because she’s conscious of the fact that she needs to work on that.  I especially liked how she reminded herself that it’s the second thought that’s important rather than the first, because that’s really important for people who are trying to change: if we tell ourselves that the first thought is the only thing that matters, then we just feel ashamed and guilty for reacting in ways we’ve been conditioned to, and it stymies progress.  She really is working hard on changing, and that is absolutely something to take pride in.

You know who else would be proud of her?  The Bad End AU folks.

In the interests of keeping this at least kind of contained, I’ll just stick to the core group: Claude, Hilda, Ashe, Annette, and Nika.

Claude

After getting summoned, would take pains at first to avoid any Edelgard, in part because at the time he was summoned the Edelgard of his world probably doesn’t know he survived; he might even be going by his given Almyran name rather than his adopted Fodlani one, both to safeguard his identity and because he’s spent years back home where they use his true name...though the resemblance between him and the other Claudes would still give him away to some extent, even if he is older and wiser than they are.

CC!Edelgard would probably be the only one to actively seek him out, since the others tend to be very focused on their tasks and don’t care to make small talk with those who aren’t in their immediate circle of confidantes (Hubert, Byleth, etc; occasionally they would chat with Lysithea, but part of it would be trying to coax her to the Imperial side).  The first time she does, he would spend a solid ten seconds trying to size up the situation (because he’s pretty sure that’s Edelgard, but she’s not in the Imperial reds, but is she just trying to get him to lower his guard, or is there something else going on here?); having known someone very much like him for quite a while, it would be all the proof she needs to say with certainty that this is, in fact, Claude, because she doesn’t know anyone else that will just stare so intently at something (or someone) they’re trying to figure out.

She might try for the same Almyran icebreaker that she used with Legendary Claude, and for a split second he would get chills because fuck did Edelgard conquer Almyra too -- wait, no, if she did she’d probably make Fodlani the standard language, huh. The only sign of those internal thoughts would be a slight sharpening of his gaze as he looks at her, which would soften again once he comes to his far less dire conclusion and actually processes the words she said -- though at that point he’d laugh because him?  Ruler of Almyra?  He’s an advisor, she clearly has him mistaken for someone else.

Of course then she tags him as ‘heir’ instead (using the Almyran term), and his smile gets a little sharper, because if he’s guessing she only figured that out recently -- if she knew he was a prince at Derdriu, he suspects that she wouldn’t have tried to kill him.

CC!Edelgard let him go, of course.  But this is about as close to a direct admission as Claude’s ever come, and despite the maelstrom of thoughts and feelings swirling through her she pushes herself to ask if he’d like to talk about it over a game.

Claude isn’t one to pass up a game, honestly.  So the board is set, and they talk about their worlds over several matches; they don’t realize how time passes, engrossed as they are in the games and conversation.  Someone quietly brings them a meal once it gets late enough, and they each offer a distracted word of thanks, eating without ever putting the match on hold.

They discuss his world, and how the Edelgard he knew ordered his death, only for their professor to land a non-fatal (but convincingly mortal-looking) blow; how the situation in Fodlan made his dream as good as impossible, so he took an advisory position under his father when he returned to Almyra while establishing an information network stretching beyond its borders that he hoped would do Judith proud; how news of a Blaiddyd brought him secretly back to Fodlan to evacuate Dimitri’s half-brother Nikita, and how he’s tried to give Nika a life of his own choosing rather than molding him into a leader for Faerghus; and most of all, about the dire situation in Fodlan, and how Claude is willing to take the fight back across the border if that’s Nika’s choice once he comes of age so that the people there can live by their own choosing again.  

They discuss her world, and how she saw her conquest through, only to realize too late that she’d been deceived and manipulated from the start by Those Who Slither; how she was taken captive again, subjected to worse than she’d suffered as a child, until Claude and Dimitri’s cousin Ivanna created enough chaos for her to break free; how she joined them in the fight to put an end to what she had forged, casting aside the title of Emperor and seeking only to atone for her past evils in whatever way she could -- beginning with changing herself, expanding her view of the world and her understanding of its people along with it.  

Claude never imagined that Edelgard von Hresvelg, Emperor of Adrestia and Conqueror of Fodlan, would tell him that he’s right to try and stop her.  But then, this particular Edelgard has seen where her ambitions end up.  It’s heartening, in a way -- and while he doesn’t think she deserved what happened to her (no one deserves to suffer the way she did), he’s still glad that she’s managed to realize how narrow her previous worldview was, and he’s proud that she’s trying to broaden her horizons.  They might not become friends, necessarily, but he would be willing to help her work on that in much the same way that the Claude she knew did, which she would appreciate.

He’d also teach her more Almyran just because he can.  She’s going to go back able to hold basic conversations and just wait until her Claude hears that.

Hilda

Much like Claude, she might also be going by another name -- though in her case, it would be an assumed Almyran alias, since using her own name would be dangerous with her supposedly dying at Derdriu along with Claude.  She’s gotten used to it, for sure, but she also can’t wave off suspicion anywhere near as well as Claude does, since she has the classic Goneril Pink palette going on (and, as Claude’s mom pointed out when they first met, she’s too old to be Holst’s kid, so sister makes more sense -- and Holst only has one sister, officially).

Also like Claude, she would do her utmost to avoid any and all Edelgards, and for much the same reason: she was supposed to have died at Derdriu, so Edelgard realizing she didn’t could put her and Claude both in danger.  Lucky for her, most of the Edelgards don’t have much interest in cross-House socialization; however, CC!Edelgard takes an interest in Claude, and if there’s one thing Hilda absolutely will not allow, it’s someone threatening Claude, so when she sees the two of them in conversation, the second she recognizes that this is an Edelgard -- something that wouldn’t be immediately obvious to her, given the outfit change -- she’d be putting herself bodily between them with her axe at the ready.

Claude is far more amused by this than Edelgard is.  She’s not big on having weapons pulled on her, understandably, and there’s a momentary face-off between Hilda with her axe and Edelgard with her dagger before Claude inserts himself between the two women and suggests they just talk this out like reasonable people.

“Since when has Edelgard ever been reasonable?” Hilda scoffs.

“Since I was robbed of my freedom and nearly my life at the hands of foes I’d underestimated too long, and Claude offered me a chance to atone for my past.”

That’s enough to make Hilda take a step back.  Claude has no interest in speaking for or over Edelgard, but he acts as a mediator between them as they talk, calming arguments before they can get out of hand and generally guiding the flow of conversation.  Hilda isn’t as quick to trust Edelgard as he is, but even she can’t deny that what the former Emperor went through was something no one should have to face; she’s at least willing to give Edelgard a chance to change, and show proof of it -- and even she has to admit that the former Emperor’s progress is stark, in comparison to their last meeting.

Ashe

Unlike Claude and Hilda, Ashe doesn’t have a reason to hide his identity.  He wasn’t part of the final battle at Fhirdiad, having been charged with Nika’s evacuation before the Imperial Army arrived at the Kingdom capital, so there’s no illusion that would be broken by discovering that he’s alive.  His goal is to safeguard Nika’s life, and that’s what he intends to do.

Of course, this means that he has absolutely no love whatsoever for Edelgard or Hubert, since he believes (and Claude agrees) that it was the Emperor’s right hand man who’s been sending assassins after the young Blaiddyd.  Claude might have a fair-minded perspective when it comes to Edelgard (though he still condemns her actions, make no mistake, he just recognizes that she’s still human and has potentially deeply flawed motivations that drive her), but Ashe still harbors some intense hatred and resentment toward her.

Hilda might be willing to listen to CC!Edelgard (with Claude’s mediation), but Ashe has no interest in hearing what any Edelgard has to say.  He’s not openly aggressive with them, but he prefers to avoid them when possible -- and when he has to work with them, he’s terse at best, following orders to the letter so that he can distance himself from them as soon as possible.  CC!Edelgard would have to put in a concerted effort just to talk with him, and even then he’d be unimpressed.  She murdered his friend, her own step-brother -- something Claude’s secured proof of -- destroyed countless lives in the Kingdom (not to mention the Alliance and Empire), robbed nations of their independence and forced obedience on them...he might have done things he’s not proud of in the past, but he never committed atrocities the way she did.

He wouldn’t condemn her attempts to change.  He knows the importance of getting another chance, of making amends and atoning for past crimes -- but at the same time, she took so much from him that he wouldn’t be able to forgive her.  The pain she caused him is too deep and too personal, so while he would certainly acknowledge her growth and progress, he wouldn’t forgive her for what she did to him and his. 

She would acknowledge that he doesn’t have to forgive her, though.  She’s not going to try to win him over or change his mind -- but the apology is still important, because she recognizes the harm she caused him.  She’s going to keep striving to better herself whether he accepts her apology or not -- and when she leaves, promising that she’ll let him choose when and if they speak again, Ashe would know that she really means what she says.

Annette

Similar to Ashe, Annette doesn’t have a reason to hide her identity.  She wasn’t there for the fall of Fhirdiad, since Dimitri sent her off with Nika to keep him safe; the Empire has no reason to think she’s dead, so her being alive doesn’t need to be a secret.  All she’s trying to do is keep Nika safe, and that’s exactly what she intends to do.

Unlike Ashe, though, she doesn’t go out of her way to avoid the Edelgards, and generally only leaves shared spaces with them when she has something to do.  She knows how dangerous the Adrestian Emperor can be and generally is, so she prefers to stick closer to her friends in order to help keep them safe, specifically placing herself between Edelgard and her companion.  Ashe removing himself from places where Edelgard is present generally ends up removing Annette, too, since she’d much rather stay with him than linger around Imperials.

CC!Edelgard would likely be the first and only one who actually bothers approaching Annette -- and the moment she does, Annette would be on her guard.  If she’s with someone, she would try to send them away so they’re not in danger; if she’s alone, she would just be wary but open to at least trying to listen, since Claude has made some good points about Edelgard being human and therefore having very human motivations, however flawed the execution might have been...but at the same time, she’s still nursing raw wounds of her own.  Not only is Edelgard responsible for the death of her closest friends, she also saw to the death of her father -- and estranged or not, she wanted to give him a chance and try to rebuild their family.  None of that even gets into the fact that she can’t go home because of what Edelgard did to the Kingdom, or the fact that she ordered the murder of a child -- Blaiddyd or not that’s unconscionable to her.

Compared to Ashe’s icy loathing, Annette is much more passionate and emotional when it comes to her rebukes.  Nothing Edelgard could ever do will bring back Annette’s family or friends, and after all the harm she caused...Annette can’t forgive her.  Even if she understands what this Edelgard is doing, she just can’t bring herself to forgive that hurt.

But Edelgard would certainly understand that, by now.  And she would explain that she’s not trying to make Annette forgive her: the apology was necessary as an acknowledgement of her own wrongdoing, and so that Annette could know that she recognizes the pain she caused.  She’ll keep moving forward, striving to change and atone and avoid committing the same mistakes again.  And that would be what finally cements in her head that Claude was really right about her: she really is a person, someone driven and flawed...but also someone who can change, if she wants to.

Nikita

Nika, unlike the others, has never had a personal encounter with Edelgard at the time he was summoned.  He knows of her, primarily through accounts from Claude, Hilda, Ashe, and Annette, but he’s never seen her in person: he would only know to avoid her because the second they see her, Ashe and Annette would point Edelgard out to him and tell him to avoid her at all costs.

He would try, too.  Since he would spend a lot of time with his Kingdom guardians, he’d either end up leaving places with Ashe when Edelgard arrives or going elsewhere on Annette’s advice.  Hilda would be similarly defensive of him, though she would be confident in her ability to cover for him should Edelgard make a move and therefore wouldn’t encourage him to leave when they cross paths with the Emperor; Claude, meanwhile, would be the only person willing to engage with them, even if they don’t usually approach him.

Which is where CC!Edelgard comes in.  After they’ve started interacting on a somewhat routine basis, if she approaches Claude while Nika is with him, Claude would go out of his way to introduce them -- and since he would have discussed Nika before, CC!Edelgard would know exactly who he is. 

Nika’s heard a lot about Edelgard over the years.  Depending on where it comes from, it can be either scathing or even-handed but still critical.  And he would do his best to keep the latter in mind as he agrees to talk with her (with Claude mediating, because Nika would clearly want him there, judging by how he surreptitiously grips Claude’s hand when Edelgard makes the request).  He wouldn’t know what to expect from her, really...but the story she tells of her torture and manipulation at the hands of a shadowy force would be unlike anything he could have predicted.  There might be no real affection between the two, under the circumstances, but he would certainly be sympathetic to the suffering she endured, even if that doesn’t excuse her actions.

Given who Nika is, and what he intends to do, Edelgard might even try to help ensure his success as best he can: giving him what information she has about Those Who Slither, providing details on the Imperial Army’s structure and workings from her own world before everything went wrong -- anything and everything she can think of to ensure that when he goes back, he’ll be able to make Fodlan a better place than she did in her own world.  He would accept it with respect and gratitude and promise to do his all...but he would still feel very strange about interacting with the woman that killed his half-brother.  Even if he didn’t know Dimitri well, part of that is because she robbed him of the chance.

Ultimately he would be courteous and respectful, but he wouldn’t go out of his way to interact with her: he wouldn’t shy away from conversation when they happen to cross paths, but otherwise he would leave her to her own devices -- which, generally, would probably suit her, since she probably wouldn’t know what else to say to him.  Ultimately, though, Nika would admit that Edelgard isn’t the person that he thought she would be -- which, he supposes, goes to show how much effort she’s put into becoming a different person.

[seapandora]

Illusion, Part 3/?

Illusion｜Part 3/?

Bucky x oc!Lori

Warnings: Angst, betrayal, swearing, torture, violence

A/N: Part 3 already. And so many more parts to go! I´d be lying if I said I wasn’t tired of this particualr fic every now and then. Luckily for me, my brain knew this would happen. So, the old full part 3 and 4 are both done. Now I just have to edit them. I hope you guys enjoyed this holiday themed part, the next two parts will also be hoiday themed. I wanted them to be released before Christmas, but oh well… Again I hope you guys enjoyed this one! Comment/ share and like if you can! GIF-cred to owner as always! Holler if you want to be put on the taglist!

Summary: Reader is a supersoldier, one of a number, one of nine. Hydra´s backup for the asset. The group was started in 1974 and has been working under the radar, training for the day when the asset no longer exists. Lori is the only one left. Left in a cryo, she wasn’t discovered until 2023 when a certain captain and his buddy found her.

Words: 6557

Taglist: @selfsun​

2024

December was a weird month. It was dark and gloomy, but full of light and happiness. Bucky had been planning the trip to Steve for a while. He was always visiting Steve around Christmas-time, but he had a special plan this time. Lori would come with him, Sam would too. But it was the first time Lori would meet Steve. She knew all about him by now. Steve knew off her, but seeing as he wasn´t military or an avenger anymore, and he didn´t have access to her files. He only knew what Bucky had told him.

Lori had been made aware of the plans in advance so that she could plan a good gift for Americas golden boy. Even if the stories Bucky had told her didn´t paint him in that light. She liked hearing Bucky talk about Steve, and the time before the war. He had retrieved most of his memories from that time, but he liked talking about it because it made him feel less like a monster. Lori had thought long and hard about what she would get Steve. She really wanted to impress him.

December 23rd rolled around a lot quicker than anyone had expected, despite December being a very quiet month, with just one, very simple, mission. This was the day they were visiting Steve in his cabin. Peggy had passed away a few years earlier. Despite Steve going back in time, he hadn´t been able to change Peggys destiny, or her cause of death. It had taken a toll on the former Captain, but he was beginning to be happy, finally. He had his art and the occasional visit from his friends, and of course he had the kids he had made with Peggy.

Bucky was beyond nervous for letting the two super-soldiers meet, but he was looking forward to hear Steves thoughts on Lori. He was driving with Lori and Sam. The others had been sent on a mission the night before, and would be home that afternoon, meaning they missed out on meeting Steve. They had all agreed to go meet up with Steve around New Years instead. Lori sat in the back listening to music while Sam sat besides Bucky. They were bickering like always and Lori had decided music was the best way to cut them out.

“Newbie, hey Lori… Are you even listening?” Sam asked and reached back to grab her leg. Lori wisely moved her leg out of the way and slapped Sams arm. “What do you want potoo?” She asked and raised her eyebrows at the man in the passenger seat. She had taken to calling him potoo about a month ago, for no other reason than to piss him off. At first Sam hadn´t understood the joke but he had done some research and found out that potoos were weird-looking birds with crazy eyes. He wasn´t ashamed to admit that he was offended at first, but only until he realized that Lori would have had to go out of her way to look up weird birds to give him a nickname that was special to her, and her alone. After he realized that he had no issues with it. “We´re about to arrive so put your shoes and jacket on,” he explained and nodded to a small cabin showing up on the road in front of them.

She did as she was told. She wasn´t sure why, but Sam had accepted her as if she was his younger sister and despite everything, Lori trusted Sam. More than anyone really. Apart from Bucky of course, but Bucky was different. Much between Lori and Bucky was different. Bucky was the first one Lori had opened up to. She had already told him a lot about herself and her time with Hydra. He knew about most of the bad stuff she had been forced into. He had also seen her at her worst.

In October Lori had begun showing signs of post traumatic stress disorder, a disorder Helen had later given her. It had started with Lori being unable to sleep and she had instead stayed up for longer than she should. When she did start sleeping she had nightmares, bad ones. They were about her time in Hydra. Some were just filled with images of the people she had killed, others were about her missions. But most of her nightmares were about the punishments Hydra would give her. The nights they would tie her to a bed and torture her.

Lori would wake up in tears, and she wouldn´t dare to go back to sleep after that. One rainy, cold night Lori had gotten up and walked to Buckys room. She was originally planning to go to Sam and talk to him, but something had enticed her to go to Bucky instead. Her subconcious had said Bucky would understand her situation better. He had been awake and he had let Lori sleep in his bed curled up to his chest for the rest of the night. He had read somewhere that hearing calming sounds, such as rain patter, or a heartbeat, could be helpful, and thats what he tried to be.

That was the first night in a few weeks she had slept well. From that night Bucky made sure that Friday watched Lori during the nights, and he would be right outside knocking on her door when Friday alerted him to changes in her sleep. Lori really appreciated it. She appreciated Bucky for wanting to help her, and wanting the best for her. He was constantly there for her, even when she didnt know she needed him.

The air hit her as Sam opened the door for her. She was in the midst of tying her left shoe. It was cold, enough for both Lori and Bucky to want a jacket, and Sam was wearing a thicker jacket. He didnt have super-soldier serum, so he wasn´t as resistent to the cold as the two others. Being who he was he often complained about it as well, and he could become very grumpy when Lori or Bucky weren´t cold. It wasn´t fair in his books. He grumbled as he pulled the jacket closer around himself while Bucky and Lori kept theirs opened.

Steve was standing on the little patio in front of the cabin leaning on his cane. “I´ve got a fire going inside and Brooke made us all hot chocolate before she left, so come inside and get comfortable,” he said and smiled before he walked back into his cabin. Sam and Bucky followed after him while Lori took a bit longer. She didn´t analyze her surroundings, she trusted Bucky and Sam and their judgment.  If they felt safe in the environment, so did Lori. Bucky looked back to her and chuckled before he stretched his hand out to her. “Come on slow-poke,” he chuckled and watched as Lori took some slow steps up the stairs.

Lori gently took Buckys hand and let him guide her inside. They all took of their shoes, considering Steve himself claimed to be old to want to vaccuum every second day. Bucky helped Lori with her jacket and hung it up for her before they made their way further into the cabin. The seating area was small, and felt smaller with the original supersoldier, and the first winter soldier. Sure Steve had lost a bit of his muscle mass but he was still tall and he filled up a space like no bodys business. Bucky was just buff in general, muscular, tall-ish, and his broad shoulders really made him look bigger. Sam wasn´t as big as the other two, but he was still tall and muscular. Lori wasn´t small either, but she had a very different baseline from which the serum worked.

They all sat in silence for a while until Sam coughed a bit. “So Steve, meet Lori,” he said and gestured to Lori who waved shyly from her seat besides Bucky. “Lori, where are you from? I´ve heard a bit about you, but when were you born? And where?” He asked with a kind smile. He didn´t want to overdo things already, but he needed to know who she was before he trusted her. Before he could trust her to be around Bucky. Lori looked at him and played with her fingers. “Ehum, I was born in 1959 inSweden,” she answered and looked down at her hands. She didn´t feel intimidated by the supersoldier, but she felt like she had to show him respect. He was older, wiser and a better human being than she was.

Steve nodded and proceeded to ask Bucky and Sam about their latest mission. All to allow Lori to warm up to him. He didn´t want her to be nervous around him, he wanted her to consider him an ally, someone she could talk to if she needed. Lori stayed close to Bucky but looked around Steves cabin. There were one or two famous paintings as well as a few black and white sketches. Some were clearly of Peggy, a woman Lori would recognize anywhere. A few were of Bucky and Steve from what seemed like way back, possibly the time of the war. A few were simple landscapes, around the compound area. Lori had been on enough runs to recognize the scenery. Steve watched her and looked up at the sketches. “What do you think?” He asked and smiled at Lori.

She looked to Steve and then back to the sketches. “They´re beautiful. But I can´t say I´m not feeling a little uneasy by seeing a different Bucky.” She explained and sighed as she glanced to the Bucky she knew. “Oh, he isn´t different. Not really anyways, just hardened by what happened to him. When I see him I still see the Bucky from the 30´s and 40´s. He just takes longer to show that side of himself.” Steve argued and stood up. “Come with me, I´ll show you more sketches,” he said and smiled as he walked towards a room to the north of the cabin. Lori stood up as well and followed Steve.

The room was smaller than Lori had expected, but it didn´t have any furniture apart from a desk and a chair. However the walls were filled with pencil sketches. It was sketches of everything between heaven and hell. She looked around in awe and crossed her arms over her stomach. Sure the room wasn´t big but Lori felt small around the art. It was so beautiful, and meaningful, without Steve having to say so. Lori looked closer on a specific sketch of Bucky. She checked the date on it and realized it had been done in the summer of 2018.  That meant it was done after the snap, Bucky was gone by then. Steve noticed her looking at it and sighed. “We lost everything in the snap. For a few months I didn´t know what I was going to do.” Steve said softly and sighed as he sat down on the chair.

“Natasha took over the Avengers, or whatever it was by then. I couldn´t be around it all, I didn´t want to be around it all. I took over Sam´s VA-group, not that it was a VA-group by then. It was a way to help people understand what had happened.” Steve said quietly and drummed his fingers on the table. “I spent most of the five years sketching and trying to help people. I owed that to the world.” He continued. Lori looked at him and frowned. “But you did save the world. You reversed the snap, and you saved those who had been taken,” Lori exclaimed and tilted her head.  

Steve smirked a bit and shook his head. “I wasn´t alone in doing that, and Tony was the one to actually reverse it. “He said and rubbed the back of his head. Sitting there at his desk in front of the window with the snow falling outside, he looked lonely. “As true as that might be. I read that you were the one to inspire him to come back. That without you two making up, the world wouldn´t have been saved.” Lori said as her eyes slid over a sketch of Iron Man himself. Steve had sketches of all the team-members, well the original team-members at least.

“You and Bucky, huh?” He asked and Lori froze before she snapped her head towards Steve. “Wha… what? Me and Bucky, what?” She asked and looked terrified for a second before the look turned into confusion. “Oh you two aren´t fondueing?” He asked with a smirk, which he dropped as he saw the utter confusion on Lori´s face. “You´re not a couple? Youre not dating?” He asked instead and stood up from the chair. Lori just shook her head with a frown. “Oh wow, I´m sorry. It´s just the way you look at each other and the way you talk to each other and touch each other,” he said trying to explain his questions.

Lori looked down at her hands and sighed. “I… I like Bucky. He´s… he´s been very udnerstanding with me. I feel like there´s a trust between us that I´ve never had before. I really like Sam too, but more like a brother than anything.” She mumbled and picked at her fingers, a sign Steve often saw in people who were nervous. “Have you told Bucky about how you feel, or has he talked to you?” Steve asked and looked at her with interest. “No, no, no, I´m pretty sure he doesn´t feel that way,” Lori said quickly and put her hands up. Steve gave her a knowing look but nodded. “Alright, well I´m sorry I spoke on it when I was clearly unaware of the real situation. But please talk to Bucky about it. I´m sure it will all work out!” He said with a smile before he led Lori back into the livingroom.

Bucky looked up as Steve and Lori came back in. “Has he shown you all his sketches now?” He asked with a smile before he stood up to get the bag of gifts they had brought over. Lori smiled at Bucky and nodded her head. She couldn´t shake the feeling of what Steve had told her, and asked her about. She really hoped she´d get over it soon enough. She wasnt sure she was ready to make any of her feelings known. And she wasn´t even sure Bucky would care.

1973

Spring had rolled in with tons of rain. Lori wasn´t allowed outside but she heard it through the nights, and water was running down the cement-walls of her cell. It was wet and cold. Lori

hated it. She had never done anything to deserve this. She had never hurt a soul, she never wanted to hurt anyone. Now that was the only thing she did. Her captors forced her against soldiers every day, and so far she hadn´t lost one fight. If she had she wouldn´t be around. She did her best to stay in their good graces to not be tortured.

It had been a success, they hadn´t tied her to a bed in months. That meant Lori hadn´t been in any pain she couldn´t handle in a long time. If relief was a feeling she could still have she had it now. They had also given her a better mattress and a thicker blanket. It was awful that this was what Lori had begun to associate with something good. But her current situation had turned into being her new safe, her new norm.

She had just been woken up by loud banging in the hallway outside her cell. She had immediately gone into a fighting stance. Her entire existence was based on defeating others. Guards entered her room, there was five or six of them now, considering Lori had become quite strong since they started the super-serum experiment on her. She could easily take down two of the guards at once, but she had issues taking down four or more guards, they were quite strong themselves.

They blindfolded Lori and brought her out of the cell and past her usual training rooms. She knew the hallways fairly well by now. She was more scared when she felt fresh air and rain on her skin. She was outside. They had taken her outside. Lori hadn´t been outside since she was taken. It was strange, and she was now terrified. Would they kill her? Shoot her and dump her into a hole and then cover it up? Lori didn´t know and she wasn´t sure she wanted to know.

Lori could hear the sound of a car close by but she didn´t have time to think about it before she was pushed into the backseat of a car. She was uncomfortable but her arms weren´t tied so she could adjust herself. The guards told her to stay put, and she didn´t dare do anything else. The car started to move and Lori held on to the seats. She didn´t have any sense of direction and had to struggle against falling over whenever the car took a turn.

After an hour or so the car stopped and Lori felt hands tugging at her arms. She moved her legs out of the car and then the rest of her body. The hands guided her down some stairs and into some sort of damp bunker-like area. The floor was rough and Lori wasn´t wearing any shoes. It was clearly cement but she could smell something metallic and her best guess was that it was either the piping, of the bunker-like place, or iron covered walls.  

She was dragged to a room which was slightly warmer. After the experiment, Lori had become more aware of her surroundings. It was as if an entirely different part of her brain had been unlocked. The blindfold was removed and she blinked at the light and squinted her eyes. She refrained from reaching up to cover her eyes from the light. Her bad aclimatizing to the light meant she wasn´t ready for the slap that landed on her left cheek abrubtly turning her head. Lori groaned and closed her eyes again. She didn´t reach up to touch her cheek. There wasn´t any need to, that wouldnt be the last hit.

2024

The quartet ate smores and drank hot chocolate while exchanging gifts with each other. Well it was really the three avengers giving gifts to the retired avenger. They had gotten together and brainstormed Steves gifts one night and had then gone their separate ways to get them. Bucky had gotten Steve a new set of Aquarells and generally new supplies since he knew Steve was always running low by the end of the year. Sam had managed to get a deal on a warehouse just a few blocks away which now was Steves. It was a place he could store either his sketches or furniture from his house to fill it with more sketches.

Lori who barely knew Steve, but wanted to be liked by him, had gone all out. She had gifted him with a paid vacation to the Stockholm archepelago. It was the city she was from and she had always loved the ocean as a kid. Steve quickly declined her gift but Lori insisted. It was her wish that Steve would get to go there and make beautiful sketches in peace and not have to worry about anyone else. She had seen some of his landscape sketches and knew he could do amazing things with the right view.

They stayed for a bit longer, but decided that they should head back at around 3 pm. Steve had his family arriving later in the evening and wanted to clean up a bit, and the three avengers had to get back to the compound to start setting up things for christmas. They also had to get a tree on their way back. Sam asked Bucky to drop him halfway home. He had a few buisness to attend to. Bucky and Lori could get the tree themselves. The tree-farm was quite close to the compound, just one turn off actually. Bucky pulled up to the forest area and got out of the car pulling his jacket a bit tighter. They didn´t really get cold anymore but the wind still made his skin crawl.

A perfect tree stood right in front of them. Bucky thought it was perfect at least. Nearly every tree was perfect in his mind. He really didn´t care too much. Celebrating Christmas was something he did just for the others, he himself didn´t feel much of a connection to the holiday. Most of his previous ones had been spent killing or sleeping. He looked over to Lori, well, where she was supposed to be, but he couldnt find her. “Lori?” He called out and began to look around the trees to see if he could find her. The trees were quite a bit taller than Bucky and Lori was shorter than Bucky. She could have easily sneaked off and he wouldn´t be able to find her. She was a spy after all, and she had been trained by some of the best.

If she didn´t want to be found Bucky wouldn´t find her, but he did start to panick a bit when he had been searching for a few minutes. It wasn´t a big place, she couldn´t just disappear.  He had half a mind to try and call her when she came out from behind a tree looking for him. “Where did you go?” He asked with his voice slightly raised. “You can´t just run off,” he explained and sighed as he noticed Lori moving back a bit. He quickly realized it was because he raised his voice at her. He shook his head and held her hands up. “I´m sorry, I didn´t mean to raise my voice at you, I was worried. Did you find a tree you like?” He asked and gave Lori a soft smile to try and ease the blow from before.

Lori nodded and pointed in the direction of a row of trees a bit further into the farm. It was obvious why they had been placed farther away from where people would typically go. The trees were smaller and less perfect. Not awful, just slightly less ideal for a Christmas tree. “Are you sure doll? The compound is pretty big and we want a tree that can flourish in the environment, right?” He asked as he looked at the trees. If it truly was what Lori wanted he wouldn´t argue and he wouldn´t complain.  Lori looked over at Bucky and pouted a bit. “I know they´re not traditionally beautiful, but there´s a charm to them, don´t you agree?” She asked softly and touched one of the trees´ branches.

Bucky didn´t have the strength to say no to her so he simply nodded and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Pick whichever one you like the most,” he said, defeat clear in his voice. He wasn´t actually upset with it though, why would he be? It was just a christmas tree.  Lori walked around for a bit longer before she decided on a tree that stood around 5´6 feet tall. Bucky happened to know the average christmas tree was 7 ft tall. He hadn´t googled that, nope, not at all…  He hadn´t googled Swedish Christmas traditions to be able to give Lori something sepcial either. Not that he had found much, and he felt like he had to talk to Lori about it before he put his plan to work.

They got the tree into the car and Bucky drove them back to the compound once they had paid for the tree. “I was looking online for something I could do for you and I found some old, well not old, traditions. Like a showing of Donald Duck, or something at 3 pm Swedish time, which is like 9 am here, tomorrow. I´ve fixed us a VPN so you can watch it if you´d like.” He said and stared hard at the road ahead of them. Lori glanced at him and smiled to herself. “I haven´t seen the Donald Duck Christmas showing since I was five or something, I´d love to watch it.” She answered and hugged herself as she curled up in the seat. It was beautiful outside, quiet and light. The road to the compound was mostly unused. The lower-level agents had all gotten the holidays off and if any situation came up the Avengers were stepping in. They had had a few months off when Lori was found and were now getting that time back.

Considering the compound was empty the snow was clean, and it was glimmering in the light of the car. It was dark out by now, but a few lanterns had been placed along the road, which meant it wasn´t pitchblack. Lori looked out the window and let out a silent sigh. Her first couple of Christmas celebrations had been amazing, but around the age of 8 or so her mother had stopped caring about making christmas special for Lori.  She was rarely home ,and if she was she had been drunk and Lori´s christmas had been ruined. Her father had never been around and she didn´t have any other family.

Bucky patted her leg and hummed. “So Donald Duck tomorrow. Would you like your present tomorrow as well. I read that that was also a tradition?” He asked and frowned a bit. Lori looked at him and chuckled. “You´ve surely done youre homework. Yes we do get our presents the 24th, but I dont mind waiting until the 25th, it´s not a big deal,” she explained and shrugged. Bucky nodded and smiled. “Alright, well I want you to tell me what you want from this Christmas. It´s your first in many many years, and I want you to enjoy it!” He said as he drummed his fingers on the steering wheel.  

Lori blushed and bit her lip. “I´m sure I´ll enjoy it as long as the team is around. You guys have done so much for me and I feel like you are all family to me.” she mumbled and pulled at the sleeves of her sweater which were sticking out under the sleeves of her jacket. Bucky smiled and reached over to take her hand. “We are your family, and you will always be safe with us.” He said and stroke the back of her hand.

Sure the two had spent nights together, after nightmares, but it had just been cuddles and hugs. But this felt different? Or maybe that was just Lori overthinking. Had something happened at Steves, or did she just now start to see the way Bucky interacted with her. He was always attentive to her needs and he always seemed to put her thoughts, and wishes first.

Bucky pulled into the garage at the compound and Lori got out of the car and got to open the trunk to get the tree. She wasn´t quick enough, and only managed to get the trunk open before Bucky gently nudged her out of the way and picked the tree up. Lori huffed a bit but backed away to give Bucky some space. “You could have just said you wanted to take it, instead of pushing me over,” she said and crossed her arms. Bucky laughed at her antics. “Hey did you want to carry it? I don´t mind” he shrugged. Lori shook her head and pouted. “No, you choose this, now you have to live with that choice,” She said and stomped over to the door holding it open for him.

She may be pouty but she wasn´t an asshole. Bucky chuckled once more and walked through the door she held open. “Thank you, do you want to go freshen up before we start decorating? I think the team is back, so you can catch up with Wanda and Peter if he´s still here” Bucky said. He didn´t want to crowd her or take up all of her time when he was certain that she and Wanda had a lot of things to talk about. They had grown so close in the past month. Lori had also gotten close to the young Parker-boy. Something that made Bucky a little uneasy at first, but he had quickly realized Lori only saw Peter as a younger brother, someone who helped her with technology and such.

Wanda made herself known quickly with a loud squeal as she ran to Lori to hug her. Lori hugged her back tightly and laughed a bit as Wanda showed her images of the mission. She often did that if it was something funny that one of the others didn´t want to be shared. Wanda pulled her to the kitchen so they could get something to eat and drink. Bucky was in turn left to his own demise as he was carrying the tree. He placed it down in the livingroom before he got Thor and Loki to help him get some decorations. They had a few boxes in the attic and Bucky didn´t feel like taking a million trips up and down the elevator.

The two gods had become regulars at the compound. Loki liked Lori a lot, she was just as tricky as he was and she liked to play pranks on Sam and Peter. She had learned a few from Loki. Of course she didn´t have his magic, but he shared what he could on “normal” tricks. Lori was a quick learner. Loki had tried to implement magic into it but Lori wasn´t having any of it. It wasnt fair considering neither Sam nor Peter was magical. Both of the gods had been very keen on letting Lori in on their story. Her favorite storyline so far was what had happened with Hela. She liked the fact that facing Hela had brought out the best in the brothers. Thor had been able to harnes his complete power and Loki had learned he wasn´t entirely bad.  

All the christmas decorations had been moved down from the attic by Bucky and the gods while Lori was catching up with Wanda and Peter. Sam had made his way back to the compound as well during that time. Once Lori was all caught up on the mission the three of them made their way to the livingroom where they saw all the boxes with decorations.  Lori looked around and frowned a bit. “We figured you´d want to take charge of the decorating,” Bucky explained as he looked around at all the boxes. Lori looked at him and raised an eyebrow. “Well, I´definitely going to need some help,” She replied and huffed softly. Bucky laughed and nodded. “We´ll all help you, don´t worry about that” he smiled and got to setting the tree up. The foot needed assembling and well, the girls didn´t seem too interested and the gods had no idea what to do. Sam had already given up any sort of responsibility when it came to decorating.

Lori walked over to a box and opened it to see what was inside. Ornaments of all colours, shapes and sizes met her. She wasn´t a big fan of, over the top, decorating, and instead wanted to go for something more simple. She wanted the tree to look beautiful, and so her colors of choice were red and silver. It was simplistic but it fit them all. Well apart from Loki, but they would have reindeers up and around the compound. The rest of the avengers had grey or red incorportated into their suits and daily clothes. It would all feel more close-knit to Lori if she could see colors she felt comfortable with.

Wanda helped her a bit and used her powers to hang the ornaments in the windows and such. Peter was busy setting his aunts room up, for when she was coming over for Christmas. The gods were mostly standing around watching Lori and Wanda pick ornaments and decorate the livingroom. After a little while they moved to the kitchen and then the hallways. Bucky looked around after a little while noticing Lori and Wanda had left the room. He had been so invested in making sure the tree was standing safetly. “Hey where did Lori go?” He asked the gods who nodded towards the hallway.

He walked slowly wanting to give Lori and Wanda as much time as possible to hang their decorations, but he needed a few minutes alone with Lori. He found the two women after just a short while and smiled at their decorating skills. It was a bit of a mess actually but that was a later problem. “Hey Lori, can I talk to you for a sec?” He asked and frowned as he crossed his arms and waited for her go ahead. Lori tilted her head and thought for a second before she looked at Wanda, who nodded in approval. “I´ll finish up this hallway,” she said and nudged Lori towards Bucky. Lori groaned but walked over to Bucky ready to follow him, wherever he wanted to go.

Bucky smiled and held out his hand for Lori to take before he guided her down the hall to his room. He wanted them to have some privacy. Lori happily took his hand and followed him to his room. She wasn´t sure what he wanted to talk about but she was sure she wouldn´t mind. She liked the alone time she spent with Bucky. She took a quick look around Buckys room before she sat down on his bed, to which he had motioned. Bucky sat down besides her and turned to her taking both of Lori´s hands in his own. He was constantly in awe of how Lori didn´t seem to mind his metal arm and hand. She had no issues with the coldness that came from it. “So what was it you wanted to talk about?” Lori asked as she looked at Bucky. He looked so different from the pictures she had seen in his file. His hair was short, but she liked it. She understood why he had cut his hair. It was a reminder of his time with Hydra, and cutting it off was a way to leave that behind.

His hands were shaking slightly as he took a deep breath. “I… I´ve been meaning to talk to you for a while. Steve talked to me today, avbout it. And I kind of realized I had to… yeah I had to do this today,” he said and sighed. “Lori… I, I´m in love with you,” he said quietly and looked down at their hands. He could feel Lori freeze, her hands went stiff but she soon seemed to relax. She lot go of his metal hand and gently gripped Buckys chin to tilt his head up. He looked at her and felt his face heat up under her gaze. Blushing wasn´t something he was used to, emotions even less so.  

Lori smiled and leaned forward pressing her lips against Buckys. She could feel him still for a second before he melted into the kiss and grabbed her hand a little tighter. “Does… does this mean you feel the same?” Bucky asked as they broke for air. Lori giggled and nodded. “Yeah, I like you too,” she said and gave him a quick kiss. “How about we get back out, and we finish up decorating,. Eat some good food, and then I´ll be all yours tonight if you want, or we could go for a whole lot of cuddles,” she said and  bit her lip before she stood up and wiped her hands on her pants. Bucky stood up as well and hummed. “I´d like to spend the evening with you, but I have to go out and get some last minute presents,” he sighed.

1973

Her new bosses where hard on her. She hadn´t been this beaten up in a long time, maybe that was why she had been moved. It didn´t do her any good to dwell on it however, and hence she didn´t after the first day. She learned to follow orders, she learned not to talk back. She learned to be a compliant soldier.

The schedule she had been put on was brutal. At most she got four hours of undisturbed sleep, and those days she was lucky. Usually the nights were filled with screams making it near impossible to sleep more than a few minutes at the time. The days were filled with drills and training. She was trained in different languages, dancing, and general spy-subjects.  

In the few weeks she had been in her new prison she had learned proper french and russian. From before she had been forced to learn german and spanish. Swedish and english were languages she had known from before Hydra. She had overheard her captors talk about her learning italian and arabic as well.

And she did, it took her months but by mid august Lori was almost a perfect spy. The only thing she was lacking was the field-experience. And she would get that sooner than she thought. The very same month to be precise. It wasn´t a big mission, and it wouldn´t matter a lot if Lori failed, even if she would be punished hard if she did. But there was no risk in it for Hydra.

It was supposedly a simple elimination-mission, and the target wasn´t anyone too famous, but they had become a small threat to Hydra. Lori started by stalking the target for two days, they were simple, and obsessive about their schedule. Lori was able to take them out on her third day. She was then collected by Hydra and taken back to her prison without as much as a thank you or confirmation that she had done a good job.

When they got back to the holding place she was taken to her cell and left there for a few days. It wasn´t until five days later she got her next meal, and only after she had been through a thorough beating which left her forgetting her own name. When she came too she was back in her cell with half-eaten food in front of her and a small glass of water. She didn´t trust it for a second but swallowed it all down in seconds.

Her trust would earn her another beating. She wasn´t supposed to trust anything that was half eaten. She was not to make that mistake again, she was told. That was the first night in months she had cried herself to sleep. At the old place she had had a mattress and a nice blanket, now she had neither. She had her clothes to cushion the floor and to cover her from the cold in the room.

She had never thought it could get worse, but these new people. They were pure evil and Lori knew they would break her, and if they didn´t someone else would get the chance. That was her curse, ever since she became a super soldier. People wanted to break her, to be able to rebuild her.

[georgemackayhey]

Silver Lining: Chapter 3

In which you and George decide to make the most of life after meeting up at the wrong place at just the right time...

w/c: 4k

a/n: Listen I'm a sucker for some classic rom-com drama okay? How do YALL feel? Let me know your thoughts and things! ♡

taglist: @etherealallure​ @maria-josefin​ @shelbygirlsclubx​ @loulouloueh​ @clarkewithameme​ @haileymorelikestupid​ @weyheyavengers​

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The first morning you woke up in Rome, you rose before the sunrise. After slipping into some comfortable shoes and graciously accepting a couple of complimentary breakfast muffins from the lobby of your hotel, you headed into the city with George on your heels.

You'd planned for an early morning tour of the Sistine Chapel, and the Vatican Museums so that you could enjoy the historic sites without being crammed in between too many other greedy, loud tourists.

George was quiet, but not unhappy. He wore a sleepy grin every time you looked over to make sure he was still there. Part of you was prepared to find he'd gone, at some point. But he was there as the sun was just over the horizon, while you queued up outside of the Chapel you'd been anxious to see for yourself forever. There was a chill in the air, but the excitement that buzzed through your system was all you'd had any sort of focus on.

A lovely young tour guide with long dark hair approached and explained in a thick accent that you'd be joined by seven other group members, two who had already been patiently waiting at her side. As the others joined, you and George were the youngest of your tour group by a couple of decades, at least. The others were an elderly couple, two middle-aged brothers, and a middle-aged woman who brought her parents along.

There were a very few other groups mingling ahead and behind yours, and it seemed like you had the whole massive place to yourselves. But every time you turned a corner, you seemed to float a little closer to George. You figured that you were so drawn to him because he was the most familiar thing you had in such a new, overwhelming setting.

Stepping foot into the Chapel exceeded every expectation. The tall, delicate works of art that made up the walls were hard to comprehend but easy to love and adore. For much of the tour, you wandered the halls in astonished silence, gazing to the wonders as our guide quietly explained details you would have never spotted otherwise.

You and George shared quiet gazes, and even a couple dulled bursts of laughter over what might have seemed like nothing to the few people around you. And your shared snickers usually were without reason. The laughter came like conversation, little pauses of shared time to simply confirm you were on the same page.

And when you looked all around George, every few feet your breath would catch in your throat as you turned your gaze to another stunning sight. Some images were soaked in rising sunlight, and others shone on their own. As much as you adored taking in all the sights, you found just as much wonder in your surprise travel companion.

George would take the time to gaze at every sculpture and painting with the same amount of curiosity and appreciation. You stood back, taking in the big picture while the other members of your group got close up and personal with a row of carved statues. You caught George lingering there, and laughed to yourself. He fit right in, with his delicately sculpted features.

The sight demanded to be photographed, with George's profile staring back into the marble eyes upon a pedestal. Luckily your guide had given the green light that the room you occupied was one of few you could use your camera in, so you did.

George was none the wiser while you gazed at him through your lense. As you stole the shot and tucked your phone away as if you'd never had it out, you moved to stand near him. You'd come to enjoy asking George's thoughts as you wandered through the Chapel, admiring his perspective of the beauty that surrounded the both of you.

You moved through the Vatican Museums immersed in the same awe, daring to share more fully formed thoughts with George all the while. And on the rare occasion, you could use your camera, you kept finding excuses to score a few odd candids of George roaming around, fitting in.

When you reached the end of the tour, lingering near a set of benches while everyone wondered how to move on with their day, George stole your phone from your grasp as you snapped a few shots of the place surrounded by dull blue skies. He demanded you say in place so he could take one of you, rambling about you'd want to capture a memory of your being where you were.

As he did, one of the older ladies who'd chatted with you and George throughout your tour swooped in and insisted on taking a photo of you and George together. She reached out for your phone, latching onto it before George had agreed, but if he wasn't keen, it didn't seem to put up much of a fight.

He moved to lean against the bit of railing you'd been relaxed against but you'd tensed up as he settled next to you.

George crossed his arms, turning slightly toward you, as you shrugged a little closer all the while. Then you looked at each other, sharing a "let's just roll with it" sort of expression, and that got you both chuckling again.

"Y'all are just too cute." The older woman cooed, handing your phone back to you as you lunged to take it back.

"Thank you." You noted simply because that's all you could do. There was no time to explain that George was only cute on his own and gracious enough to have accompanied you on this trip so you didn't feel as alone as you actually were.

Not long after, your tour guide appeared to thank you all for being so lovely and gave some directions and suggestions of where to go next. Most of everyone already seemed to have plans, but for once, you didn't. So you made George gaze at a map of the city, and pick your next destination. You didn't ask where he'd chosen when he started leading the way, you were just glad he was there to walk with.

As you left the Sistine Chapel behind, George kept his slow pace in time with yours, as you walked and talked. The pair of you had found yourselves in a deep conversation about art and history and what it meant to you.

George was using his hands to express himself and emphasize his ideas, which was something you hadn't really seen him do till then. His gestures suggested that what he spoke of was coming from a meaningful place. When he paused to ask you of your own ideas, you were simultaneously grateful for the space to speak, but missed hearing what he had to say and the way in which he said it.

Just as you started laughing over the topic of your impromptu photoshoot forced upon the both of you by a lady you'd never met, someone called out George's name. Well, his last name. You shared a bewildered look before turning to see what was up.

There was an older fellow walking toward the pair of you, with dark shiny sunglasses covering his eyes, and bright shiny teeth behind a stretched out smile.

George let out a chuckle that seemed more like a sigh of relief to you, as he greeted the stranger by what must have been his name. George barely took a breath before he used his already extended hand to place his fingers around your arm and introduce you by name, all the same.

As you reached out to shake the stranger's hand, George explained the guy was the director of one of his favorite films he'd ever been a part of.

The guy nodded to you, releasing your grasp. You realized then that George's hand was still delicately attached to your arm. But you forced your focus to the director, who explained he was in the city taking his kids on holiday. You hadn't even noticed the young boys hidden behind their father's legs until they peered up at you after the introduction.

George proceeded to let go of you and kneel before the children to greet them like old friends. One of the boys broke into a bashful grin while the other threw himself into a hug George reciprocated happily.

As your heart began to melt, you wrapped your arms around your waist and wondered how you'd ended up here. When George stood to finish sharing pleasantries with his old director friend, both men happily wished the other a safe and sound holiday. Before you knew it, the little boys were racing further down their street and their father dared off to catch up, vanishing into the horizon you could see waves of heat in.

"Only you would run into good friends on a random holiday. What's it like to be so popular huh?" You quipped after finding a steady pace that matched George's again. He gestured for you to turn a corner as he replied.

"I wouldn't know I don't check the internet." George let out a dry mocking, "ha ha." As you rolled your eyes and tried not to laugh. Before you could think up a reply, George's playful tone remained as he seriously stated,

"I'm much less exciting in real life than you seem to understand."

"Well, they do rave about you on the world wide web. Wouldn't you want to know what they say?" You asked, gazing toward him and watching his face as he listened to you.

"Would you want to hear about yourself from strangers all the time?" George looked to you as you walked, wearing a face that suggested he already knew your answer.

"Hell no." You let out a laugh. "I don't think I'd like what I hear."

"Why?" George seemed to curiously wonder as if he'd never expected that answer at all. You took a beat to wonder about George, then. How he was so easy to read but so hard to figure out.

"Oh, even I know I'm nothing to write home about. My fiance didn't even like me." You chuckled, turning another corner on the pavement in perfect time with George. He let out a laugh, shaking his head before he turned back to you with a reluctant smile.

"That was a good one..." He pointed. "But I'd heed you to stop dwelling on the negative and look on the bright side."

"And what have I got to be so chuffed about, then?" You smiled, asking just so you could hear things from his perspective, something you'd made a bit of a secret habit of.

"You're in Rome with me, the very famous movie star that the internet can't seem to get enough of." George joked with a silly shrug, picking up the pace and leaving you behind a few steps to throw your head back in laughter.

You ended up at another museum, as a lull in your conversation happened in perfect time. The doors to the building were closed, but there were folks of all kinds roaming the ground's gardens, having picnics and playing ball.

When George became entirely immersed in reading the plaques that told what the flowers in the winding garden were, you lingered across the way, slumped against a hundred-year-old tree to call your mother.

When she answered, she seemed flustered, as if you'd run away from home and were just calling to assure you were fine. And that's what you had to do for the first couple minutes of your call. Naturally, your mother had seven hundred versions of the same questions, largely revolving around George.

After firmly assuring her that your travel companion had been nothing short of purely delightful and kind, you forced your mother to listen to stories about the good time you'd had so far.

But then your mother brought up Collin. And the sound of his name alone made you sick to your stomach. You told your mother you didn't want to talk about any of that just then. That you'd come here for one last good time before you inevitably flew back home to your sad little flat all alone.

Your phone was dying anyway, so you promised your mother to call back in a day or two and assured one last time that you were alright. But as you spoke those words, you wondered for a beat if you were only trying to convince yourself.

After choosing a place to find dinner, George led the way once more. You followed in what you hoped was a comfortable silence. The conversation with your mother left a lot on your mind, most thoughts unavoidable. You'd remained quietly trying to sus them out as you ventured to a bistro with candles in the window and lace cloths on the tables.

When you sat down, George asked what was on your mind. You realized then, when he asked, why he was such a good actor. George had a bevy of tones and micro-expressions to fit every sort of mood and moment. You didn't think he was pretending to use them now, you just understood that he was able to read the room and respond in a deadly accurate way.

So since his tone made you feel at ease and his gaze made you believe he wanted to know your real answer, you told him about the chat you'd had with your mother, back at the garden.

After you placed your orders and settled comfortably into the hardback chairs, George said.

"Okay, so you've told me how the conversation went. But how do you feel about it?"

You laughed at first because the only sort of people who'd ever asked you anything like that were paid professionals. But There George was, with his kind yet stoic expression, urging you to be honest.

Luckily you'd decided to order a bottle of wine, so you poured yourself a generous glass and rambled for a while about how confused you were. How lovely you found it to be here, how utterly grateful you were to have someone to share each passing moment with.

The conversation shifted into sharing your favorite bits of the day, between glasses of wine. You laughed about something one of the old men in your tour group kept saying, and wondered if you'd ever see anything more breathtaking like the Sistine Chapel ever again in your lifetimes.

George rose his brow, wordlessly giving away his hopeful assuredness that more indescribable beauty would drift into his world. He filled his mouth with wine as you shrugged off the thought, doing the same.

When you'd polished off the bottle you ordered another cocktail to celebrate the last evening in Rome. George decided against it but was happy to hold a conversation as you kept drinking. He'd taken the chance to ask you more questions than he'd been giving his own answers for, but you shifted gears, begging him to share funny stories from his past and favorite song lyrics.

As you finished your cocktail, you realized you should have left it when the room started spinning. George tried to pay for dinner, again, but you demanded to split the bill evenly when he refused to sit back and let you take care of it all.

He held out a hand to help you down the steps of the restaurant, much to your delight. You were drunk, but not in the usual fun, "let's party" kind of way. Sure, the alcohol-fueled a few extra giggles back inside, but as you stood to wait for a cab, you felt less than stellar.

When you managed a taxi, George gave the driver directions as you hung your head in your hands. Why did you drink so much in the midst of so many mixed-up feelings? Your stomach was fine. Your head was not.

The ride was silent, but your thoughts were loud. When you felt George rest a hand near the base of your neck, his warm gentle touch grounded you enough for you to let out a tiny sigh of thanks. But as you remained in this position, your thoughts grew more boggled as you wondered why George was next to you, soothing you, giving you the time of day. He could have been anywhere he wanted. He shouldn't have come, you shouldn't have invited him.

Because when George decidedly kept a hold around you on your trek through the crowded lobby, you realized that you were totally depending on him. And that scared the everliving shit out of you.

And as you made it to the staircase, you heard the sweet young front desk woman call out, "Goodnight you two!"

You couldn't thank her. You didn't have time to explain that you and George were existing in different realities. You just let yourself hang on to his arm as you made your way up and over to the room you were sharing.

You took more time to take a few deep breaths in the bathroom than the time it took you to change and wipe off your make up.

After George had his turn, and eased into the small bed next to your side, he'd managed to maintain the sliver of space that belonged between the two of you.

"I'm sorry if I killed the vibe tonight." You quietly croaked, fixing your gaze on the ceiling, too nervous to look right at him this close up.

"You didn't kill anything. I'm sorry you feel so bad, though."

"Thanks for today. And everything." You spoke. If you were any drunker, you might have cried. But with all your years of training to keep your emotions from slipping out so easily, you didn't. But you were drunk enough to forget how nervous-looking right at George this close made you feel. When your eyes met, his seemed to have already studying your face.

You were too lost in awe of his closeness to say anything more, and George seemed to understand that there was nothing more to be said anyway. Instead, he dared to reach into the space between you, to grab ahold of your hand.

George let his fingers rest across yours, as he peered to you, the lower half of his face hidden behind the sight of your fingers weakly pressed back against his.

Before either of you got the good sense to let go, you drifted to sleep.

___

You'd had your share of one night stands, waking up in different places with people you barely remembered meeting let alone spending an evening with. But you'd never felt the way you did before when you woke up in Rome for the second morning in a row.

George's hand was still loosely rested atop your own, neither of you having moved much in the night. You sucked in a deep breath and held it while you slipped your fingers away from his. George didn't budge when you darted to grab a change of clothes and get ready for the day.

But as you spun around toward the bathroom, for as slowly as you could blink, you let your gaze fall to George. His crisp white shirt camouflaged between wrinkled white sheets. His soft tousled hair falling in his eyes that stayed closed to dream. His warm strong hand, rested in the middle of the mattress where yours had disappeared from underneath.

When time no longer stalled and you locked yourself in for a shower, and still couldn't understand your feelings. This was your last morning in Rome and there wasn't enough time to enjoy the city that surrounded you. You'd never planned to take longer than a day discovering the capital because Collin had wanted to spend as much time in Barcelona as possible.

The only plans you'd made in advance for today, were sulking back to the airport. You had been dreading this moment, saying goodbye to the place you'd barely had time to explore. But as you cleaned yourself up, you weren't as sad as you thought you might have been. You were strangely at peace with the memories you'd made. Though a dull ache hammered in your heart, doing its best to get you to mourn your time, you couldn't help but smile over how well you'd managed your precious stay.

But as you changed into your clothes, a different dread crept through your system. You were happy. But was George?  He could have been anywhere in the world he wanted, but he chose to keep up with you. Had he felt obligated to tag along? You realized that before you left the hotel, that you had to assure George that he didn't have to be here, even if you desperately wanted him to be. Even if you'd miss him when he inevitably left, no matter when that time came.

"George, you know you don't have to stick around. I know I asked you to, but-"

"We've made it this far haven't we?" He grinned, cutting you off and moving his elbow to nudge you as he threw things into his travel bag.

You heaved a defeated sigh and raised a finger that meant you were serious when you said, "Fine. But you're picking out things you want to do for the rest of this week."

"Off we go then, come on!"

The lobby was just as busy as ever while you waited to check out in a line behind a few other families. George was quiet by your side. It was a time when others might have checked their emails or scrolled through Tinder. But George stood, letting his gaze fall across the room, soaking up the last bits of your time here.

When you'd successfully checked out and wished the sweet front desk woman well, she parted ways by saying, "enjoy the rest of your honeymoon!" Because you'd obviously booked the package in advance. But the lobby was too busy and there was no time to explain, so you just thanked her and meandered out into the street.

"Yes, how are you enjoying your honeymoon?" George asked playfully, following your lead toward a row of cabs down the way.

"I always thought I'd be married first." You shrugged.

"Me too." George laughed and you laughed too. The pair of you talked about how this would be the perfect story to save for your great great grandchildren- a tale so unbelievable that your children would tell their grandkids that "grandma is lying, stuff like that only happens on tv."

You held your tongue from joking about Georges celebrity, and how that must have been the only reason this wild idea worked in any capacity. Because you didn't want to imagine he'd drop everything to spend a week with any old stranger, even if he was capable.

And when you made it to the airport, George tugged on your sleeve when you started to wander the wrong way. When your hand slipped into the crook of his arm with an excuse about how you'd hate to get lost in the crowd, you realized something terrible. You realized that you just didn't want to stray far from George. You realized you were bummed to let go as you settle into your seats on the plane.

You swallow your feelings deep down, chalking them up to confusion as you mourned the loss of the only romance you'd ever known. You reminded yourself that this trip was supposed to be a fun, carefree fling and that you were lucky beyond belief to have someone willing to sit next to you during every stop. There was no sense in ruining a good thing by addressing your feelings that would surely change as soon as they blossomed.

When the plane took off, you reminded yourself that the last time you'd experienced this, you were fine and there was no need to feel any less fine, now. But as a means to distract yourself from the roar of the engine and the speed at which you ascended into the sky, you asked George a question. His answers had yet to let you down.

You noticed he'd pulled out that old creased paperback book, and he was flipping to find the page he never bookmarked. You asked what the story was about. After giving you one of his famously curious gazes, a smile turned up at the corner of his lips as George read aloud from the paragraph he'd been in the middle of.

"Are you a mad man?" You laughed, wondering why he wouldn't just explain the plot, or at the very least read from the beginning.

"Fine then, here you have a go." George countered, handing you the collection of crumpled pages.

And you weren't too sure exactly what he was offering, but the next thing you knew, you were reading his paperback novel from the start. You spoke slowly and quietly, turned in toward him so you wouldn't disturb your fellow passengers. George settled back against the seat with his fingers clasped in his lap, and his head turned slightly toward yours, to listen.

When you'd reached the end of the first chapter, you held a thumb in between the pages so you wouldn't lose your spot when you looked up to ask George another question.

"Have you thought about what you'd like to do when we get to Barcelona?" You wondered. George turned his head all the way so he could peer over to you as you slumped against the seat, looking right in his eyes. For a moment, you were reminded of your first plane ride together. How his gemstone eyes gazed calmly into yours, in the midst of all your apprehension. His expression was just the same now. It was familiar.

"Casa Batlló?" George rose a brow, like a boy asking to stop somewhere on the ride home from school. "La Boqueria, and of course a cooking class or two."

"All of that is already on my list!" You quipped, batting the book in your clutch against George's arm on the armrest below.

"Good thing too, since that's what I'd like to do."George grinned. You couldn't tell if he was serious or just genuinely didn't mind going through with everything you'd already thought up.

"Now, I believe we have time for another chapter," George flicked his eyes from his book in your possession and then gazed back up to you as he settled deeper against the seat of the plane. With the shake of your head and a submissive smile, you turned another page and spoke up.

___

On the plane, between chapters of "This Side Of Paradise", you and George made rough plans to order room service and crash in the nearest bed so that you could wake up early and explore the whole day tomorrow.

By the time you'd landed in Barcelona, hailed a cab and made it inside of the expansive and baron lobby of the hotel you'd booked months in advance, you were exhausted.

George guarded your bags near a wall-length fish tank, while you went to check-in. You gave the mellow looking man behind the granite desk your information as his expression grew weary behind the screen on his laptop.

"Oh, will you be joining the guests who've checked out room 500?"

"No." You furrowed your brow. "I need to check into room 500."   You explained, relying a bit more personal information about your reservation to ease the misunderstanding.

But the desk attendant shifted his gaze from you to his laptop and back to you again with a pout that bloomed into a frown before he spoke:

"I'm sorry, ma'am but... this reservation has already been accepted."

───※ ·❆· ※───

[trademarknickersoncharm]

Austin’s spoiler free  ND Rankings from best to worst (with reasons why)

PLS NOTE: There is only one game I actually HATE. Every other game there is something I like about it except my last spot. Keep that in mind.

1) Ghost of Thornton Hall. This game is an absolute masterpiece. It is the best game HeR has made since CUR. It is also the best game I think HeR has put out in recent years. These are characters that you actually FEEL for. Not one of them are unlikeable. The closest you get is Clara, who you wind up feeling for in the end. An absolute work of art (it is also the first game I pre-ordered because from the very beginning I was invested.)

2) Labyrinth Of Lies- Hear me out. I absolutely adore this game. It has Greece, Theatre, and Xenia Doukas. Three things I cannot live without. While I absolutely agree that the whole idea of a rotating set system underground is impossible, this game was a dream come true for theatre kids everywhere. I will never not play this game without listening to Mamma Mia. It’s probably my biggest unpopular opinion of this fandom.

3) Last Train To Blue Moon Canyon- This game breaks my literal heart. Camille and Jake Hurly has always been up there in my eyes with Frances and Dirk from SHA. I have always loved the environment of this game. (This is probably due to the fact that Murder On The Orient Express is one of my favorite books) and this is one game that I always go to when I’m feeling nostalgic. It is also the first time you see the Hardy Boys so that’s a sign.

4) Sea Of Darkness- This is the game that I think has the best graphics HeR has offered. We have a lesbian character which was highly requested as well as a cute dog. The aurora borealis is never not STUNNING to look at and it one of the best games that actually feels like Nancy is “there”. The mystery is also one that I think can be misleading. I always assumed it was Ghost Ship TM but boy was I wrong. Elisabet also has my whole heart.

5) The Final Scene- OH MY GOD THIS IS AN ABSOLUTE SASS FILLED GAME AND I HAVE ALWAYS BEEN HERE FOR IT. I constantly say “I propose you back off!” at every opportune moment. It is the best dialogue Nancy has ever had. Again, it is a Stan for theatre kids everywhere. I have also always thought magic was the coolest thing even though I can't perform it. Solid dialogue and very easy puzzles, which is always a relief.

6) Curse Of Blackmoor Manor- This is not in my top 3 as it is going to be for almost everyone else due to the fact that I think it is a very difficult game. I first played it when I was 12, and it was the only game I could not beat up until that shit show SAW which we will discuss later. Now that I've grown older and wiser, I have really grown to appreciate it more and it is a CLASSIC when looking into this game series. I appreciate the nostalgia value it has and the soundtrack and the characters. Ethel Bossiny FTW. This game also has the best soundtrack of the series.

7) Treasure In The Royal Tower- Another one that will be in everyone else’s top 3 but is not for me, but is still solid. I ADORE this game’s setting and character development- but for me, I never really felt pulled in to the mystery. My time was spent fan grilling over Hotchkiss that the person who broke into the library was on my back burner. HOWEVER, it is still very nostalgic and iconic it is in my top 10.

8) The Phantom Of Venice- Simply put, this game is why I want to go to Italy. I was ALMOST THERE but corona. I absolutely adore the way this game transports you. They included everything they could, even real photos of Venice, which I appreciated as someone who wants to go.

9) Alibi in Ashes- You have to understand how important it is that we finally got a game in River Heights. It was always on the TOP of my list in terms of places I wanted Nancy to go. It did not disappoint. The fact that everyone turned on Nancy so quickly always sends chills down my spine.

10) Legend Of The Crystal Skull- ALRIGHT so another unpopular opinion. This was the FIRST game I every played AND BEAT and so it will always be in my top 10. This is the game that truly got me invested in the series. If it wasn't this, it would not be this high, but it is my number 10 for that reason. Other things I like: Henry, Renee, the setting and music.

11) Warnings At Waverly Academy- WAC’s setting is so amazing. I don’t really know how to explain it, but I have always been intrigued about boarding school mysteries (@ house of Anubis )and this is a solid one. It contains probably one of the best plot twists of the series that blew my mind the first time I played it, and Mel Corbalis is god’s gift to humanity.

12) The Silent Spy- A real tearjerker if there ever was one. This games takes a storyline that has been changed many times (Nancy’s mom) and turns it into something so extremely badass you really wish she wasn't actually dead. Zoe Wolfe is the absolute reason I exist. You also play a cookies mini game which is just about as addicting as crack.

13) Secret Of The Old Clock- Okay, so I feel like this game gets a lot of hate because everyone talks about how weird the time travel is, but this has always been a game I liked. I think personally, that it is the easiest game in the series (if you exclude the dress, which I have never had a problem with) and it is based on the absolute most classic ND story of all. I also highly enjoy this period of time, even though the characters in this game aren't great. Emily Crandall is probably the best one, and even she yells at Nancy.

14) Secret Of Shadow Ranch- Okay. So I’m going to get anon h8 for this. But SHA is... not the best in my opinion. I have talked about this before, but SHA is very tedious in terms of chores and I just do not like that. I wouldn't necessarily mind the chores if they weren't repetitive, but it is the same chores over and over again. With that said, I LOVE the music, the Humber storyline, and the setting, so it is #14

15) Message In A Haunted Mansion- This is probably the only game I have ever pissed my pants over. CUR and GTH didn’t even do that. I think it is bc MHM is one of the first games I played. The hauntings in this game are so AMAZING and when you find out their explanation it totally changes things.

16) The Deadly Device- I love when ND does a Murder Mystery right. This is the time it was done right. The culprit came out of absolutely no where and I loved it. It is ranked this low for me b/c I think some of the puzzles are tedious and hard. Ryan Kilpatrick is an amazing human being and so is Ellie thx.

17) Tomb Of The Lost Queen- Another game which I think gets a lot of undeserved hate. Mummies are badass, especially when the mummy sighting is real and unexplained. Dylan Carter is probably the biggest example of stud you will ever see, and Jamila El-Dine is a bad b****. I am ranking it this high for Jamila alone. 

18) Danger On Deception Island- I absolutely adore this game’s music. But I hate Holt Scotto with all the fire within me. He is why this game is not in my top 10. I love everything about this game except Holt F****** Scotto. I want to put it in my top 10. I do. But Holt Scotto sucks.

19) The Haunted Carousel- This was a game which I vividly remember being bullied in daycare over. I took it to daycare one day and we kept getting our eyeballs poked out by the lathe. Daycare memories suck. Also it is the first game by which we get a literal sexual strut by the culprit at the end, which I have never liked. Pluses of the game? An amusement park. Miles.

20) Ransom Of The Seven Ships- SAY IT OUT LOUD. RAN. IS. NOT. THE. WORST. GAME. The puzzles, although always thrown at your face, are actually sort of fun. I would rank it higher but there is way too few characters in a way that makes the culprit very obvious, but it also isn't at the same time. 

21) The Captive Curse- This is a game by which I thought had so much potential but I think the monster looks very dumb? It’s like? The inbred cousin of Frankenstien’s monster? However, I LOVE THE SONG “girls”from this game and have a huge love for Lukas, so it isn't bottom 10

22) Stay Tuned For Danger- This game is one that would be so much higher up for me, If you didn’t have to look at EVERYTHING to complete it. If you miss ONE LETTER in a magazine, you cannot beat this game. I get stuck on it every time  I play it, but the mystery is amazing and who doesn’t love a good old NYC game.

23) The White Wolf Of Icicle Creek- To begin my bottom 10, ICE. I LOVE ICE as a concept. But, Fox and Geese holds me back from a replay. I absolutely love the idea of a lodge that people are in danger at. The snow atmosphere is amazing and so is Isis. But, Fox and Geese is an abomination.

24) Ghost Dogs Of Moon Lake- I really, really want to like this game because I am a dog lover. However, the insect challenge is such a CHORE to do. I cannot stand to do it. It is so difficult to do in my humble opinion, it requires such a retrace of step that makes it insufferable. Pros? cute doges.

25) The Haunting Of Castle Malloy- YOU ARE LITERALLY THIS LOW BC OF THE END PUZZLE AND YOU KNOW IT. However, not the worst for me because I love Ireland and this game has some of the best music in the series. It is on my top 5 for soundtracks. I love everything about this game except THE END. Fiona is so misunderstood.

26) Secret of The Scarlet Hand- I really like this game, I do, but I am very not interested in the constant phone calls you do in this game. You are on the phone for about 75% of this game and I really didn’t like that about it. LOVE the history behind it though.

27) SCK/SCK2- I really do not like SCK as a concept. School murders are a topic which really turns me off. Not to mention, there is barely a difference between these games but a single character and a puzzle. 

28) Danger By Design- Paris? Yes. Fashion? Heck yeah. But I never have really enjoyed DAN because the mystery can literally be solved by pulling a Phantom of The Opera and dropkicking the mask off. I also HATE the cookie puzzle. The edges never curl upwards for me.

29) Creature Of Kapu Cave- Ugh. Shells and fishing make this game untouchable for me. I LOVE HAWAII CONCEPT and supernatural volcanoes and phenomena. But I cannot stand the big island buck system or the man himself. Sorry, big island homies. Also be proud of me because it took me this long to bring up STUPID FRASS

30) Midnight In Salem- I was so excited for this game. We all were. I really enjoy MID’s mystery and as a concept. But, the new format is not good and neither is the constant talking and only being able to complete the game in one order. I was so excited for nothing (which is my own fault)

31) Shadow At The Waters Edge- GOD. The massive nonogram and sudoko have NO place in this game. I refuse to play it because of these 2 puzzles. However, I do love the scares in it. They are top notch scares. I have beat this game in it’s entirety maybe once?

32) Trail Of The Twister- Internship simulator forever. Chores galore, what a bore. Uncompelling mystery and hateful characters. The only thing I liked was the country music, a sentence you don’t hear often.

33) The Shattered Medallion- I literally played the beta of this game and it was ions better than the actual released product. That’s reason enough.

[bangtansflower]

Smitten Chapter 1

A/N: Gif not mine! So the first chapter is out! I do hope people enjoy it! Feedback is appreciated! Please do like and reblog it keeps me motivated knowing that people enjoy these writings that I do!

Warnings: None. It is just a chapter setting the story! Next Chapter is where it starts getting more active.

Word Count: 1,724

Masterlist / Teaser / Next

Summary: Bumping into Jungkook made your insides flutter, makes you more curious about him and his family. And the one thing that you will not forget is his eyes. The deep brown eyes which you swore turned golden when you touched him. Eventual smut.

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Sitting up in your bed you sit up hands coming to your eyes as you try to rub the sleep away. Sighing you look at your blaring alarm clock, the 7:00 flashing awaiting to be turned off. Leaning forward you slam it off and lie back down throwing the duvet over the bed. Why did summer have to be so short you think to yourself. There was a brief silence, only the faint noises of the outside world creeping into the room until a loud voice reached your ears “Y/N! Stop lying about and get up or else you’ll be late to school! I can’t afford to drop you off!” Your mum yelled from downstairs. Groaning you shout back “Okay mum! I’ll get out of bed now! Besides Chungha is picking me up!” Throwing the covers off yourself you roll out of bed and move towards the bathroom across the landing of your small house. Looking in the mirror you scrunch your nose, bed hair creating a lions mane framing your face. Grabbing a bobble you tie your hair back and wash your face, not forgetting to brush your teeth and moisturise. Hygiene is important after all. Once you’ve finished your business in the bathroom you move back to your bedroom. Opening the curtains to your room you stare out at the forest which started as your garden ended, oh how you loved roaming those forests there was always a sense of calmness, you are reminded of the howls of the wolves you heard last night, it was a full moon and they were always most active that time of the month. Pulling away from the window you rummage through your wardrobe deciding to yourself to keep it simple for your first day back, putting some black leggings on with an oversized hoodie, it was enough to keep you warm for it wasn’t cold out yet. Brushing your hair you tame the lion mane making it look presentable, only putting down your brush when you hear your phone ringing. Answering a females voice comes through the phone bringing a smile on your face “Hurry up slowpoke! I’m outside” Looking that the clock you notice it to be 8:00, to which you gasp, how did time go so quick? “I’ll be right down! See you in 2 minutes!” Abruptly you hang up and rush to get your shoes on, grabbing your backpack you make to leave your room, but not before backtracking and grabbing your favourite black beanie. Rushing down the stairs you bump into your mum, quickly kissing her cheek you say your goodbyes and rush through the front door, at this your mum just laughs making her own way out to work.

Reaching the end of your drive you see Chunga in her silver convertible, walking towards her Chunga notices you in her rearview mirror turning around she drops you a stunning smile. Returning the smile all teeth on show you drop your bag in the back of the car before taking a seat next to her. “Good morning my dearest most precious friend” she says leaning to give you a hug, “Good morning to you too!” you reply giving her a hug back. Starting to drive towards school a comfortable silence settled between the two of you. Chunga, whose real name is Chanmi, was a beautiful girl with long brown hair that fell down her back, even when it was up. She was of average height and was your best friend since you could remember, the two of you have been through thick and thin together and you would never change it for the world. If you both could have it your way you both would be living together already instead of waiting for university. It surprised you at first, how an extremely beautiful friendly girl who was popular with everyone was best friends with you, of course Chungha had a wider friendship circle than you did, many others who she could hang around with yet she always chose you. A friend like her was rare to find, especially in a small community like your own where it was hard to spill secrets. If you told someone who betrayed your trust then the whole community would know. Your community of Seoul was a small one. One where everyone knew everyone and everything. The closest city was just under an hours drive away, meaning the hustle and bustle of city life never affected this small town community, and many people who lived here loved it that way. There were of course downsides and upsides of living so far away from major cities, but the town had everything you needed, schools, a mini university which was linked to the main branch in the city, enough shops and more. Overall life was good in this small community. “I heard the wolves last night, they were pretty active. Pretty sure they were right by my garden at one point” you break the silence glancing at Chunga briefly before looking ahead. At this Chungha raises her eyebrows, brown eyes still focused on the road ahead “Oh really? That close? Let’s hope they don’t try to get inside your house” She jokes laughing a smile gracing her face, you laugh along too. “Hey, perhaps my mum would invite them in and most probably cook them steak treating them as if they were her house pets” You joke still laughing, Chungha laughs more along with you “That is surely a thing Jiyoung would do” you miss at how her eyes flashed concern. Arriving at the school Chungha snagged a car space near the front of the school “Bingo! What a catch! Now lets hope I get it for the rest of the school year” she laughed grabbing her bag from the back and exiting the car. Shaking your head with a smile on your friends face at your friends silliness you followed suit. “Good luck with that, later on in the year your going to be rushing to pick me up and we both will be late” You grinned at her as she mocked being upset, hand over her heart “Ouch y/n, you wound me”; she reached your side and grabbed your hand dragging you along to the entrance of the school. “Come on, lets get some breakfast before class starts” just as she said this both of your stomach rumbled causing you both to create eye contact and laugh out loud drawing attention to the both of you, but neither of you cared.

Upon entering the canteen Jungkook’s eyes immediately went to you, not that you noticed as it always has been, your soft scent mixed with Chungha’s sweet scent reached his nose and it took all of his will power not to storm over their and replace Chungha’s scent with his own, making it known that you were his. Sensing eyes on them Chungha looked up and made eye contact with Jungkook, a small smirk gracing her face as she grabbed you into a big hug nuzzling your neck as you ate your bacon sandwich, you none the wiser carried on munching away used to Chunga’s random acts of hugging you. Chunga’s eye contact never breaking away from Jungkook. He let out a small growl at which Chunga stuck her tongue out releasing you. He was going to have to talk to her next pack meeting, perhaps he would get Namjoon to discuss it with her too, lay down some ground rules. Pondering this he walked over to a table on the other side of the canteen he took a seat, back to the large window, facing at your direction at a slight angle where he could still glance over at you. A boyish grin spread across his face when he caught the scent of two of his closest pack mates. Jimin and Taehyung were only a year older than him, but they sometimes sure acted as if they were much younger than that. “Man you reek of jealousy” Jimin said aloud waving his hand in front of his nose for extra effect “If you keep that up everyone in the entire building will know” he added a wolfish grin on his face. Taehyung slumped into the chair opposite Jungkook and howled with laughter. Frowning slightly with a small pout Jungkook mumbled “Well if Chunga stops rubbing it in my face then I most probably wouldn’t be jealous” he looked down. At this Taehyung felt sorry for the younger one but rolled his eyes all the same “Well if you actually grew some balls and went to speak to her you wouldn’t be sitting over here moping”. Nodding Jimin made a noise of agreement “He is right you know, you can’t expect to hide it forever. She will find out one day” He looked sympathetically at Jungkook, heart going out to the latter. Shaking his head Jungkook smiled, his mood improving slightly “One day I shall. But today is not the day. Nor any time soon. It may hurt but we do have more pressing matters to hand” He said seriously which made the two older boys eyes widen slightly, it was true they both agreed mentally. To drag her into this world at this moment in time was a bad idea. She was safe with Chunga and without the knowledge of their world. Standing up Jungkook slung his bag over his shoulder and made his way to the exit, Jimin and Taehyung following behind but not before grabbing some bacon. Before he left the canteen Jungkook glanced one last time over towards where you were sat seeing you make big gestures reenacting something you had seen on television, Chunga laughing looking at you with adoration of a best friend. “Look after her Chunga” he said mentally only to her, “I always do Jungkook” was the swift reply. Smiling at this he turned and left, keeping the image of your smile in his head until it was nearly all he could think about. A single thought still lingered behind the thought of you. One of how could he ever tell you that he was smitten with you from the first day he laid eyes on you all those years ago. And how could he ever tell you his deepest secret, one that will change your life forever.

[jenomark]

idk if this is too harsh, but could you rank NCT members' emotional intelligences and your reasonings?

+ Keep in mind that this is only my opinion, and I’m only taking snippets of my own opinion. Try not to take anything as the actual truth.  The closer I got to the bottom, the harder it was for me to decide. I think everyone has emotional intelligence to some degree.

1. Jisung: He questions a lot of things. I think the older he gets, the more he’s becoming aware of other people, how the world works, and his own emotions. To me, I’ve always seen him as very thoughtful. Even though his way of thinking is quite youthful, I think Jisung challenges himself in a very adult way every day. There is a lot that he understands that I think even people older than him don’t understand. 2.Mark: He’s emotionally intelligent, but he’s terrible under pressure. I get the feeling that he’s scared of not only admitting how he feels, but he’s also scared of his own opinions. It’s almost like he understands things, but he’s scared of digging too deep because of what he’ll find. I think he’s more comfortable when he’s working, but it starts to get hard for him when he’s just being himself.

3. Chenle: Through his kindness, it’s easy to see his emotional intelligence. I think he cares about people a lot, and I think it mostly comes from being privileged and having an appreciation for life. This boy knows how the world works. He’s observant, he sees the struggle, and he tries to make everything much better in the ways he knows how. His way of seeing things is very soft, and in a way, very innocent. He what I like to call shiny optimism. 

4. Renjun: I sense a lot of hardness in him, sometimes bitterness. His emotions build up and then explode.  I think this happens because he’s so aware that he creates a lot of issues for himself that don’t exist. When he realizes that everything is okay and that people support and love him, I think he can reset himself and start to see how to solve things. Despite this, his heart is very big, and he’s more in tune with that than most people.

5. Doyoung: Part of me thinks he deserves to be a little higher. There is something beautiful about someone who can take care of others without missing a beat. The way Doyoung can sense how his members feel, can comfort them in the simplest ways, makes him really special. The only reason I put him a little lower is because I think he’s bad at taking care of himself. I also think he needs a break from being the one people depend on.

6. Jungwoo: His curiosity about other people is what made me put him high on the list.  He likes learning, likes to mimic reactions that are different from his own. I think he does it in a way to help himself understand, but also to show people that he comes in peace. He’s very aware of how he feels, and how he will ride out those feelings in the moment. Also, he’s extremely observant. Next to Mark, he has to be one of the most observant members. Those two see everything you’re not saying, and they’ll give you enough respect to keep it to themselves. 

7. Ten: He believes in himself, and there is so much intelligence in working on your faults to make yourself the best person you can be. He has to be the hardest working person in the group, the one that had so much more to overcome that even we probably don’t understand. He knows himself really well, is comfortable with himself, and I also think that is the reason why he likes to mess with people so much. He knows his strengths and knows that people will always be on his side rooting for him. 

8. Taeyong: I think he’s always been self-aware. I think his passion is a main reason for that. He sees his mistakes and he beats himself up about them for a long time. I kind of think he’s always wondering how he can change the outcome of things that he’s done or said, just because he wants everything to be okay. It’s his instinct to make the lives of other people better. You can see it in how he talks about his fans, hear it in the music he puts out. 

9. Taeil: He has a quiet emotional intelligence. I genuinely think he hates being in other people’s business unless he has to. He’s very easygoing, the kind of person who has almost too much chill. It would be wrong to assume that Taeil isn’t aware of how he feels, or that he doesn’t have many emotions. I think he just has different ways of assessing things and dealing with those things.

10. Lucas: Whether or not it’s faked, he has solid self-esteem. I think he feels really secure in himself, in his wants and needs. I do think a lot of Xuxi’s strength is in his kindness, like Chenle. He’s a little aloof sometimes, which is why he isn’t higher, but I do think that works to his advantage. To me, he’s someone who is the most aware of other people, of those he cares about. There is a gentleness to him that is very forgiving.

11. Jaemin: He feels empathy for others so easily. I think he plays off his feelings because he’s young, but I genuinely don’t think there is a time where Jaemin doesn’t have compassion for other people. I always get the feeling that Jaemin is one of those people who choose to be happy. I say that because I think he’s really empathetic and it can weigh too heavily on his heart.

12. Yuta: His display of his own emotions makes me think he’s emotionally intelligent. Like Jungwoo, I think he’s always aware of how he’s feeling. I do think he’s a lot better at dealing with it than others, though. He’s a little lower on the list because I think he’s a little oblivious to other things. I think his own emotions are so loud that he misunderstands things sometimes.13. Xiaojun: Similar to Taeyong, I think he has a lot of passion. I don’t find him greedy in the slightest, even though he’s kind of a born hustler. Xiaojun will always get what he wants because I think he’s super resilient, but he’s not just  doing it only for himself. His drive for success is admirable, but it’s even more admirable because he’s always going to be the person who thinks about the team as a whole. 

14. Johnny: There is a reason why some members go to Johnny for wise advice. He offers a different perspective that is more like tough love than anything, and I think he bases it a lot on his own experiences. It takes a lot of intelligence to learn from your mistakes in a healthy way, and to pass on that advice to others.

15. Kun: I think he has amazing self-preservation. It might not seem like it, but I think Kun knows exactly what he’s doing when it comes to his career, his friends, his life. The members like to tease him, but I think he’s good at setting limits and boundaries. He’s a respectable person, and he’s also an adaptable person. I don’t need to tell you that he’s a great leader, because it goes without saying.

16. YangYang: I think he’s really thoughtful. He comes off as immature when he’s around others, but I actually think he reverts back to his true self when he’s alone. He’s always seemed wiser than his years, to me. I think he’s very driven, very passionate, and he’s the type to do what it takes to get somewhere in life. I think he very much knows himself and his truth.

17. Haechan: He’s so intelligent, but I think he lacks a little emotional intelligence. I know he’s passionate and creative, and there is major intelligence in that, but I think he’s also very impatient. I think he misses things a lot because his brain is always trying to come up with new ways to overwrite things. He’s definitely a survivor, though. In my opinion, he has a lot of learning and growing to do, but it’s going to end up happening in a way that breaks him.

18. Jaehyun: I put him so low because I don’t think he realizes how people really perceive him. I kind of think he sees himself as having this image, and that we’ve all just fallen for what he wants us to see. I think he’s blissfully unaware of a lot of things that include himself, honestly. I don’t think that’s a bad thing, either. I just think, in terms of emotional intelligence, he doesn’t have as much as the others.

19. WinWin: I think he’s self-aware, if a little self-absorbed. Perhaps I’m wrong, but he seems like someone quite stubborn. I do think he knows his strengths and weaknesses, and is emotionally intelligent enough to figure out where to go from there. I put him towards the bottom because I think he strives too hard for perfection without understanding that he’s already perfect.

20. Hendery: I’ll be honest in saying that, when I think about him, all I see is this wall of humor that is hard to get past. I think he hides a lot behind that, which doesn’t necessarily make someone not emotionally intelligent. I don’t think he deserves to be at the bottom, but I can’t get that good of a read of him for this.  If anything, he has a lot of self-control, which can translate into that kind of intelligence. There is a lot more to that goofball than he lets on.

21. Jeno: I think he hates change. I think that’s the only reason why I put him at the bottom. He seems really resistant to a lot of things, maybe stuck in his own routines. If he’s not comfortable, he might have a harder time agreeing to do something. I do think he has emotional intelligence somewhere, but he keeps a lot to himself.

[thisselflovecamebacktome]

Lover 1 month later thoughts

So for those who have missed my other posts, going back and listening to an album from start to finish at the 1, 2, 3 and 6 month points to see how my opinions on songs + the album itself change is a thing I do with Taylor albums now. If you’re that interested, here is my Lover release date thoughts along with my Reputation release date thoughts, my Reputation one month later thoughts, my Reputation two month later thoughts, my Reputation three month later thoughts and my Reputation seven months later thoughts.

All up: I tend to agree with people that it’s wild that this album has only been in our lives for a month. While it’s definitely still got that new shine to it that makes me listen to it more than most my other music at the moment, it feels as if it has integrated itself into my other music very well and feels like it’s been there forever. The general feel of the structure this album is reminiscent to Speak Now for me which probably sounds weird to say, but I feel while Taylor’s other albums felt like reading a chapter of a book into her life or watching a movie, these two albums feel like looking through a photo album. They are moments with great depth but are more loosely connected all together in a linear sense. I will also say that certain songs on this album were definitely growers for me to the point I probably could have made a Lover 1 week later post that was different from my first listen thoughts. It also means that while I have a clear top 3 and bottom 1 song, my ranking for the rest of the album moves around dramatically dependent on my mood. I’d also probably say that due to the growth of certain songs plus the different sounds throughout and quality of Lover, it has probably moved comfortably and purely into being my third favourite Taylor album behind RED and Reputation instead of sharing third place with Fearless. Finally, the more I listen to this album, the more I pick up little things that remind me of Australian artists I listened to in my childhood which is a nice throwback and makes me cherish those moments more.

I Forgot That You Existed: Hot take? The laughs in this song are the happiest parts of this album. Like that moment she realises she’s free from their grasp? Amazing and I can say from experience, is the most freeing feeling in the world. I definitely think it still gives off major Kate Miller-Heidke vibes, especially with the inflictions and voice/music changes on the indifference and blur lines. I also think it’s still Bad Blood’s older, wiser and just generally better sibling. In saying all of this, I can also understand why this would be a mood based song for some people because there are definitely days where I could listen to it on repeat while others it just plays in the background while I do my uni work or cleaning or whatever.

Cruel Summer: This song has definitely grown on me. I’ve also realised that a large part of the reason I wasn’t feeling it at first may or may not have been because it reminded me of a time and person I didn’t really want to think about so I legitimately think my brain subconsciously blocked out this song to the point it took weeks to learn the words when I had the rest of the songs down in days. I don’t know, that probably sounds stupid and weird but yeah, it was a thing. I also have to say that I couldn’t help myself laughing at people who thought she was calling his body blue because like all I could think of was Avatar to be completely honest. But then again, who am I to talk because I still have issues not hearing “he looks so pretty like a devil”? I also find it interesting that Taylor wants to make this a single given the perfect time for that would have been before the album came out given her focus on American charts. On that note though, I will say that a November/December release could be amazing for her if she is trying to broaden her horizons for tour because that’s Summer for the Southern Hemisphere and given how well Getaway Car did in Australia without being an official single and how related the two songs sound, I could see Cruel Summer smashing the charts here.

Lover: My thoughts on this song have basically stayed the same. The whole song has grown on me so I like it all now, but there’s just something so special about the bridge that it’ll probably always be my favourite part. It also still makes me want to ballroom dance/waltz and have a romantic partner, but alas, I do not have the time nor resources for either of those. I also can’t wait until Summer because I’m still feeling those Summer night time vibes and it’d be great to experience that. Either way, like I said the first time, it comes off Cruel Summer very well and feels more and more right being placed where it was in the album.

The Man: I think that this song is one of the most relatable songs Taylor will ever write to be honest. Like it is still a mood and one of the songs I listen to most from this album. There have also been two things that have made me appreciate the song even more. Firstly, my ex told me that despite being a man, The Man is in his top three songs for this album because he relates it to how people perceive his bisexuality and the racism he has faced. Secondly, I ran into my other ex (yes I’m that girl who stays friends with most her exes, mind your own business), and he told me that he was shocked that it wasn’t in my top three songs for the album because it’s ‘so [me]’, and I mean he’s not wrong. I guess that just speaks volumes of how strong my top three for this album are though because like if they can beat out a song I listen to constantly that people see as my song and thought was in that top three, then the others must be amazing haha. The only thing less than positive I will say about this song is I still think it feels a little weird coming off Lover.

The Archer: This song has been hitting more than usual lately (especially the bridge), but I still maintain that this song hits the hardest when you are in a specific mood. I also still maintain that The Man leading into The Archer is the best contrast transition on this album and I’m shocked more people have not spoken about it.

I Think He Knows: Talk about a grower. This somehow went from “yeah that’s cute” to one of my most played songs for this album. I still hear a mix of “That’s my toe” and “That’s my soul” instead of “Bless my soul” though if I’m honest. Also, I am very shocked at people being like “No Taylor, he doesn’t know holding a glass is attractive because there’s literally nothing sexual about that” because my god is that line relatable. Like there were so many times with my ex that I’d look at him doing something mundane and just go “Shit, I fucking love/want you right now”. I mean it wasn’t always sexual, like sometimes the way he held a kid would make me feel the romantic love I had for him more, but there were definitely sexual moments where he was doing mundane shit too. So yeah, I like get what Taylor meant a lot. As a final note, I made a post that I wanted booty shorts that said “Boy I Understand” across the ass and Imma be real, if Taylor doesn’t release them, a sequined version of that may or may not be my current tour outfit plan.

Miss Americana And The Heartbreak Prince: Imma be real, I completely missed the political undertones to this song on my first listen. And it makes me feel stupid not only for missing it but for then in the same breath saying I wanted a whole song on “If boys will be boys then where are the wise men?” because this song is literally that. Having the political view of this song definitely made it a lot better for me, especially seeing as even though it is a very American song, it heavily relates to how I feel about Australian politics at the moment. I also read a reading of it surrounding sexual assault, and as a victim, it both broke my heart and made me love the song even more. I still think it has very movie like and Lana Del Rey like vibes to it. This is the other of the songs my ex wrongfully guessed was in my top 3 because he got the political message straight off and as such also thought it was ‘so [me]’. All up, I think this is one of the most important songs Taylor has written and I can definitely see myself listening to it for years to come.

Paper Rings: This is still a feel good bop that I can mostly put on at any point and enjoy, but to be honest, it’s still not one I’ve gravitated towards. Like it’s got some killer lyrics in “Without all the exes, fights and flaws we wouldn’t be standing here so tall” and the bridge in general. But yeah, something about it just hasn’t stuck with me past “it’s a cute song” which is interesting given how many people I’ve spoken to that say this is a favourite of theirs.

Cornelia Street: I saw a post a few days ago about how someone can’t listen to Lover because they keep stopping at Death By A Thousand Cuts and repeating it because they love it that much and to be honest, that’s how I feel about Cornelia Street. Like even now, I’m fighting the urge not to just listen to this for the next few hours on repeat. I’m not exactly what it is about this song but something just grabs my soul every time I listen to it in a way that most songs don’t. Upon my first listen, I felt that this and Soon You’ll Get Better shared the spot for my favourite song on this album, but now I have to say that Cornelia Street has surpassed it and is a clear favourite. That’s really all I’ve got to say about this song; like it’s just that good.

Death By A Thousand Cuts: Lyrically this song has grown on me a lot in the last month, especially the line “I ask the traffic lights if it will be alright; they say I don’t know” and I think had this come out on Reputation or a year before, it would have been a favourite lyrically because it would have been relatable as fuck; but I’m not in that headspace anymore. The production also still isn’t my favourite so I’m glad she’s done that acoustic version at the France show, but I still also really want a piano version at some point.

London Boy: I’m gonna be real, I can probably count the amount of times I’ve listened to this on my hands. Like it’s cute and I’d have no issue with it playing, but it’s just not at relatable to me and there’s just songs on the album and otherwise I’d rather listen to.

Soon You’ll Get Better: As I alluded to in my first post, the most heartbreaking thing about this song for me is knowing the person I relate it to most isn’t going to get better because she doesn’t want to. Much like Death By A Thousand Cuts, had this come out at a time where I still had that hope, it probably would have rivaled Ronan as my favourite Taylor song ever. Don’t get me wrong, it’s still a top two track on this album for me, but I know when I eventually get around to reranking all of Taylor’s songs, it’s going to be a lot lower than it otherwise may have been. It also somewhat concerns me hearing “Who am I supposed to talk to, what am I supposed to do if there’s no you” after hearing Taylor saying that she’s not getting professional psychological help and Andrea is the main source of venting. Like I know she’s got other support, but losing someone that vital (as much as we don’t want to talk about it, Andrea is probably going to die before Taylor, cancer or not) is rough when you do have professional help, let alone when you don’t. I mean I know it’s not my place to push anything, but it definitely does make my “protective mum friend” mode come to life and want to protect Taylor and I just hope that should the worst happen, she’s got everything she needs to move past it.

False God: Again, another song that has grown a lot on me. I think the production and New York City line being part of this song just felt so leftfield for me upon the first listen that I somewhat threw it away, but like after getting used to it, I adored it.

You Need To Calm Down: I don’t really have much to say about this song itself. It’s still an absolute bop that I listen to at least daily. I do find it interesting that most people said that this would be the song they would take off the album because it doesn’t ‘fit’ because in some ways I see that. But by the same note, I feel like it connects really well with The Man and I Forgot That You Existed that it does fit. Personally I feel like if it was in the first half of the album, less people would have said it should have been the one to chuck, but I guess we’ll never know.

Afterglow: I honestly haven’t listened to this song as much as I thought I would. Like this would have been a 2018 me anthem, but 2019 me has not burnt any bridges or caused bad fights so there’s just not the need to listen to it. I did listen to it enough to realise that the Weeknd vibes I heard production wise was a similar beat to Wicked Games. Also, the way Taylor says “I don’t want to do this, I don’t want to do this to you” gives off major The Veronicas vibes which I have to wonder if that was intentional given Taylor’s friendship with Ruby Rose during the time Ruby and one of the girls dated. All up, it’s a good song that I’m sure I’ll cry to and heal with one day, but today is not that day.

ME!: This is still by far my least favourite song on the album, but I’ve gotten to the point where it can play in the background and given I’m in the right mood, I won’t actively skip it. Really its only saving grace in my opinion is how well it comes off Afterglow. I do also wish she would have put something else in the “spelling is fun” part because as much as that part was not my favourite, it sounds empty as fuck now to the point it’s kinda awkward.

It’s Nice To Have A Friend: Okay look, I get that this is potentially the most different sounding song Taylor will ever write and a bit to get used to, but it grows so much on you if you let it. Like the Sunday after release date, me and the ex that relates to The Man were just laying on my bed, drinking Camomile tea and listening to Lover (for the first time for him and first time in company for me) in silence and in the moment this song was playing, it clicked for me. Like it truly is nice to have a friend. And in that moment, it was just so relaxing and I was so at peace with myself. So I’m not going to stand here and say that this song is the one I’ve listened to most, but given the right mood, this song really hits and I hope that you all get to experience that one day because it truly was incredible.

Daylight: My new ‘song written for a romantic relationship that I relate to on a self love basis’ song. I’m not quite sure if it meets This Love’s standard on that front purely because again, timing is a funny thing and This Love came out right when I needed it whereas I don’t “need” Daylight as much. But I still love it to the point that it rounds off my top 3 for this album and is the one song my ex correctly guessed was in that top 3. I will say that I find it interesting that most the interpretations of the line “Clearing the air, I breathed in the smoke” where positive, because to be honest, I did and still take it as “being too nice gets you in trouble” teas. Like I assumed that she meant that she was so desperate to make things good with certain people that she injured herself in the process. Either way, as I said, I love this song and as I said the first time, it’s definitely a good closer to the album

[actuallylorelaigilmore]

title: "i wouldn't say it sober, but the truth is coming out. i didn't miss you until now, until now."

Thanks for this! And for your help fact-checking. this story just wanted to keep going on and on. I have too much fun with them.

FP x Alice, Riverdale. Also on AO3.

She could hear his motorcycle long before FP pulled up to the trailer: a low rumble that grew into a roar, vibrating under her feet as he killed the engine. Alice was grateful for the warning–it gave her time to collect herself.

“What are you doing here?”

“Waiting for you.”

She couldn’t decide if he looked or sounded worse. Clearly he was sober enough to ride home, but FP still had the hard-edged look he usually carried during a bender. His tone, though, was more exhausted than anything.

He’d never been able to hide much when it came to her.

Alice stood as he approached, squaring her shoulders. “Are you going to invite me in?”

FP shoved his door open with unnecessary force, leaving it gaping open behind him. Apparently that was all the welcome she was going to get.

She followed him in and closed it.

“FP Jones, do you have the gall to be upset at me right now? Because I came here to give you a piece of my mind, and of the two of us, I’m certain that I have the right.”

“You always think you have the right, Alice. What else is new?” FP ran a hand over his face as he dropped onto the couch.

Frowning, she stepped closer. “You look like hell.”

“Quite an investigative mind you’ve got there.”

“No, I mean it.” Concern cooling her anger, Alice perched carefully on the other end of the couch. “You weren’t in great shape at the bar, but this is something else. What’s going on?”

“It’s not your problem. Why don’t you say what you came here to say, so I can get some sleep?”

FP stood as he spoke, moving into his kitchen. She could hear him rummaging through cupboards, eventually emerging with a bottle in hand.

“What happened to AA?”

“I’m over that.” He let the bottle hit the table with a thud, then returned to his kitchen long enough to bring two glasses out.

FP poured whiskey into both tumblrs, nudging one her way. “You look like you could use it.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“I saw the look on your face when Betty was onstage, Alice. I’m assuming that’s what brought you here.” Tossing back the whiskey, FP drew his eyes down her body. “Surprised you didn’t change first, though.”

Shrugging, Alice reached for the glass. “I came straight here. I didn’t think you’d be at the Whyte Wyrm for so long.”

“Didn’t you hear? It was a party in my honor. No reason for me to rush out.”

“Besides your parole.”

He pointed a finger in her direction. “Don’t you start with me. You’re not my mother, or my wife.”

Alice slid her glass back towards him, raising an eyebrow when he refilled it and his own. “What about Jughead? I thought you were ready to be a better example for him.”

“That can’t be why you’re here,” FP replied. “You don’t care about Jug…or me. And I’m not in the mood for a lecture.”

“I came here to thank you.” She sighed. “Give me that.”

FP’s fingers brushed hers as he passed her the second round of Jack. “Well then, I guess hell is ready to freeze over,” he drawled while she drank.

“I walked back into the Whyte Wyrm tonight,” she pointed out. “I think it’s safe to say there’s an ice rink down there now.”

FP chuckled. “Yeah.”

“Anyway,” Alice said, “I wanted to thank you for stepping in, earlier. I was too shocked to think clearly, and I appreciate you breaking the silence. Covering Elizabeth up.”

“Of course. Hey, she earned that jacket.”

“God, don’t remind me.” Alice shuddered. “I fought so hard, FP, to keep her as far from my past as possible. It’s like she’s determined to ruin her life.”

He spoke the words she didn’t have the heart to add. “Like you ruined yours? Come on, Alice, that’s not what happened. You seem happy enough, where you ended up.”

“You live here,” she said quietly. “How would you know?”

“We’re divided by train tracks, not an electric fence. I have business on the Northside often enough. I see you.”

Alice stared at him, not sure what to say. She couldn’t remember the last time she was actually happy. Maybe before Polly…maybe before everything she built started to crack. But FP didn’t need to know that.

“One more?”

His surprise was brief, replaced with that grin she’d never needed to see again. It was the same smile a younger, bolder FP aimed her way while his hands traced her curves, the one she used to kiss off his face before climbing on the back of his bike.

Alice swallowed the need and the regret along with the whiskey. “That’s the stuff.”

“You probably have Johnny Walker at home,” he said. “The kind that’s a hundred bucks a bottle.”

“Three hundred,” Alice agreed, smiling in spite of herself when FP whistled in appreciation. “But nothing beats a bottle of Jack in a lonely trailer after a long ride. I haven’t forgotten everything.”

“Good to know.” He toasted her with his third glass, then capped the bottle and leaned back.

She pretended not to feel his eyes on her, relaxing into the couch and closing her own. “Do you think maybe you could help me, FP?”

The crude reply that occurred to him first was too easy. Alice had no right to crash his home, a place she’d sneered at for years, and sit there sounding so fragile. Especially covered in leather and mesh, looking like under different circumstances she could eat him alive.

He hadn’t been able to save her when they were kids. Or himself. He’d lost his wife and little girl. Jughead was the last–and least expected–straw.

Older, if not exactly wiser, FP Jones was the worst possible choice to be anyone’s savior. And still, it tugged at him. He had never been able to ignore that quiet, broken tone.

“Help you how?”

“She won’t listen to me. And given our history, I can’t really blame her. I have zero credibility, trying to keep Betty away from the Serpents, but I need her to be safer than that. I need her…”

Alice sniffled, eyes shut against tears he could hear but not see. “FP, I need my daughter to be more than I was. She’s so smart, so capable. She could do amazing things, but not if she gets stuck here.”

He hummed in agreement. “Preaching to the choir, Alice. If I knew how to keep our kids from following our example, believe me, my son would be working on a novel right now, instead of god knows where with a snake on his arm.”

“You–” She cut herself off, eyes flying open to meet his. “Huh. I assumed you sanctioned Jughead’s initiation. Like father, like son.”

“I approve of Jug’s choices about as much as you enjoyed Betty’s snake dance. Kid takes after me a little too well–can’t make him do anything.”

FP shook his head. “Honestly, you should’ve known better than that. I may have been full of stupid pride at his age, just like Jughead, but I cleaned up my act in Shankshaw for a reason. This life isn’t good for anybody.”

“The Serpent King,” Alice mused, still watching him closely. “You don’t sound like you used to.”

“Time comes for us all. Neither do you.”

“Seeing Betty tonight was a particularly unflattering glimpse in the mirror,” she admitted. With a smile, Alice added, “For someone who supposedly cleaned up his act, you’re down half a bottle already.”

“Best laid plans.”

She leaned over, plucking the Jack Daniels off the table by its neck. “I hear ya.”

FP watched the head of the Northside Neighborhood Watch swallow whiskey straight from the bottle, a smile tugging at his lips. “I’ve missed the hell out of you, Alice Cooper.”

He didn’t expect a response. He didn’t even mean to say it. FP could hold his tongue pretty well, even when he couldn’t hold his liquor, but something about the picture she made sitting in his living room…a little too bright on the faded couch, a little too loud in the quiet.

Funny how easy it had been to forget that about her. Seeing her around hadn’t hit him like this; Northside Alice was a different animal, stiff and cold and defensive.

This was the girl he’d loved, with the years layered over her like the dark makeup she’d put on for his party. She shined through it all regardless, fierce and hurting and alive.

No one FP had ever known was as goddamn alive as Alice. 

“Sorry,” he offered into the silence that had fallen between them. It didn’t feel awkward, exactly, but it didn’t feel calm, either. He chose not to think about the unavoidable tension in the room, two married ex-lovers with broken hearts drinking alone. It was safer ignored.

Alice took one last drink from the bottle, pushing herself up off the couch onto shaky legs and resettling at his side. “Don’t you dare,” she told him, her voice low and insistent. “Don’t you dare apologize to me.”

“What–”

Her free hand brushed his mouth, lingering on his bottom lip before she set the bottle aside and gripped her hands in her lap. “Just hush, would you?”

He nodded, squinting at her like her behavior would make more sense if he was wearing his reading glasses. Alice wondered idly beneath her buzz if he still had the wire frames she used to like.

“I can’t tell you the last time someone said something like that to me, and I believed them.“

Her voice was barely more than a whisper, and with only inches between them, FP could feel her words as much as hear them.

“That’s how long it’s been, I can’t even remember. In a way…it feels like the last time was with you, too. I always knew you loved me, FP. I could always feel it.”

“That was never our problem,” he agreed.

Lifting his hand to her face was a mistake. It wasn’t his first terrible decision of the night, and probably wouldn’t be his last, he thought as Alice turned her cheek into his palm.

“Sometimes, I miss you too.” She looked away when his eyes widened in response.

It hit him like a gut punch, and FP accepted the pain as penance. For the things he’d done.

Or things he wanted to do but didn’t.

He cleared his throat and stood, ignoring the way she blinked up at him. Those hazy blue eyes would be the death of him if he wasn’t careful.

And he was drunk, but not so reckless that he could make tonight that night.

“You should go home, Al.”

Nobody called her that anymore. It used to annoy her how often he shortened her name, when she liked how old-fashioned and feminine it was. Hell, it used to be one of the things she loved about Hal, the delicate way he’d say her name and make it sound like a caress.

Hal still never called her anything but Alice, but it was impatient now. Annoyed. There was no affection there. 

FP could fit more affection into two letters than she’d heard from her husband in a year.

He was right, she realized. She had to go home. Now.

Before she didn’t.

“Thank you,” Alice said, straightening her jacket as she stood. Pulling her Northsider voice on like she pulled the leather down. “For the drinks, and the company.”

“Anytime,” he replied easily, like she wasn’t taking a part of him with her when she left.

She always did. He’d learned to live with it.

Pretty Alice Cooper would go home to the suburbs, and hellraiser FP Jones would drink himself to sleep, and the world would go back to the way it always had been. Or at least they would both pretend it had.

After all, that was one more thing they had in common these days.

They’d both gotten really good at pretending.

[pixelgrotto]

D&D With My Bro: The Case of the Almost Assassination

For the last four months, my brother and I have been playing a Dungeons & Dragons campaign that I whipped up called The Case of the Almost Assassination, and we came to a triumphant finale the other night. My bro’s called it a “steampunk mystery set in a fantasy world,” which is a good description, but on a more detailed level, the campaign was also heavily influenced by the Ace Attorney and Professor Layton games and exists in the universe of The Thirteenth Hour, a series of fantasy stories self-published by my brother that are inspired by 80s movies and cartoons. So the whole thing is one huge ball of fun nerdiness, and figuring that it might be cool to chronicle the campaign as we played, I captured each of our sessions on video. You can watch the whole thing on YouTube here in convenient playlist format (listening to it in the background like a podcast is also pretty nice, I gotta say), and there’s over 20 hours there, which is longer than some of the video games I’ve blogged about! 

This wasn’t the first time that my brother and I had played D&D, since I’d previously introduced the game to him via a small four hour mini-campaign last time I visited his house. (He’s written some great thoughts on that adventure, as well as the experience of missing out on D&D in his childhood but getting the chance to discover it as an adult here.) But this was certainly the first time we’d played something long that continued from week to week, and it was also the first time we’d used virtual tabletop software - in this case the very useful Roll 20 - to play online. Minus a few minor internet hiccups, it ran smoothly, and I think both of us had a great time. The experience also made me ruminate on three interesting facts about D&D that I think not enough people write about, and I’m going to jot off a few thoughts on them here. Without further ado...

1) It is perfectly possible, and sometimes even more fun, to play D&D with just one other person. 

Normally, Dungeons & Dragons conjures up images of a bunch of people - usually three or four at minimum - sitting at a table listening to instructions given to them by the Dungeon/Game Master, or DM. But the hardest part of D&D isn’t juggling rules or even fighting Challenge Rating 30 monsters - it’s getting a group of three or four people to meet up together on a consistent basis! This is why you can tell that anyone who still thinks of D&D as an activity for anti-social basement dwellers hasn’t actually played it, because in truth, the game is a demanding social commitment, especially for adults.

Thankfully, while it might be a less common way to play, you can totally enjoy D&D with just two people. Usually this means that someone more familiar with the rules has to be the DM while the other person acts as the player, which is what my brother and I did. Sometimes, the DM will also have to create a player character for themselves, and I did that in order to assist my bro with various battles and tricky scenes. This is more work for the DM, since they’ll have to juggle both their own character as well as the various non-playable characters (NPCs) encountered in the story, but if you’re up for it, it’s a rewarding exercise.

The best thing about playing D&D with just one DM and one player is how efficient it is. Three or four player D&D (to say nothing of five, six, or even more players) can get slowed down by arguments about how to progress or share loot, not to mention downtime in battles when a player who has a bazillion spells at his disposal deliberates on the one he wants to use that will both do the most damage and look the coolest. Don’t get me wrong, I actually love these sorts of interactions, but it’s also nice to strip all that fat away. 

When it’s just one player and the DM, the DM also has the chance to make that player feel pivotally important by basing the story around them. Usually, the “unit” of D&D is the adventuring party, but in a one person + one DM game, the player gets to shine as the main character. Thus, it’s a good idea to choose the sort of story that can emphasize the important actions of an individual, and in my opinion the best ones for this are heavy on role-playing and character interaction rather than dungeon crawling and monster slaying. For example, a rogue adventure in an urban environment might fit the bill...or maybe even a mystery. Which leads me to my second point...

2) If you’re a DM making a homebrew campaign, try utilizing a setting that your players are already familiar with.

When my brother initially agreed to play a long campaign with me, I first thought that we might attempt one of the many published Forgotten Realms adventures that have been released for 5th Edition D&D. But then I realized that while my brother is mildly familiar with the Forgotten Realms, thanks to old comics and fantasy art from the 80s and 90s, he’s much more familiar with the setting that he created for his own fantasy novel, The Thirteenth Hour. My bro originally wrote this book when he was a high school kid and finally published it a few years ago, and in the time since, he’s written some short spin-offs and outlined ideas for a sequel. In the mini-campaign we’d played in October, his character was actually a half-elf ranger named the Wayfarer who’ll play a pivotal role in book two, and I initially pitched the whole idea of D&D to him as “Hey, this can help you brainstorm your sequel concepts before you put them down to paper.” 

Once I began toying with the idea of making a homebrew campaign set in The Thirteenth Hour world, I started worrying that my brother’s universe was limited when compared to the “fantasy kitchen sink” setting of the Forgotten Realms. I mean, my bro’s book didn’t even have orcs! Or dwarves! What was I gonna do! But then I stopped being reliant on fantasy tropes and actually re-read The Thirteenth Hour, quickly finding that there was plenty I could work with.The universe that my brother created doesn’t have all of the races that Tolkien coined, but it’s still full of magic and wonder - a place where crafty old wizards inspired by The Last Starfighter’s Centauri run amok, strange technological anomalies like hover boards occasionally pop up and an otherworldly gatekeeper known as the Dreamweaver lets the spirits of the deceased visit their loved ones in dreams. And there’s also a large kingdom called Tartec ruled over by a vaguely Trump-esque king named Darian, who thinks he’s found the elixir of immortality when actually all he’s discovered is coffee. (If you think this sounds amusing, you can pick up a digital copy of my bro’s book on Amazon for less than a cup of Starbucks!)

Darian’s a funny character, and in one of the spin-off short stories that my brother wrote, an older and slightly wiser version of him reflects on how an assassin nearly took his head off with a dagger. This one sentence got me thinking who that assassin might be, and before I knew it I’d come up with the basic hook of a campaign. At the time, I was also reading Xanathar’s Guide to Everything, a D&D book that introduces 5th Edition’s Inquisitive subclass, which is basically a fantasy Sherlock Holmes. Suddenly, the ideas began bubbling in my head - the campaign would be a detective story set in Tartec with two leads trying to determine the identity of King Darian’s would-be assassins. Once I had this hook, I decided to draw further inspiration from the two video game series I think of when I hear the word “detective” - the Professor Layton games (which I like the style of but am rubbish at, since puzzles confound me) and the Ace Attorney series, which I’ve written about before. My brother would be the main character Lester LeFoe (patterned slightly after Phoenix Wright, the star of Ace Attorney), and I’d be the spunky female assistant Claudia Copperhoof (a little similar to Phoenix’s assistant Maya Fey). 

I hoped that situating these characters in my brother’s world would breed a quicker sense of familiarity than he’d get from playing a generic warrior in the Forgotten Realms, and I think it’s safe to say that the experiment succeeded. Thus, even though 5th Edition D&D products all use the Realms as their default setting, it’s worth remembering that you don’t have to follow this lead, and can always tailor your campaign to a world that your players are already familiar with. In my brother’s case, he’s a writer who made his own world, but for someone else this can easily be Middle-Earth or the Hyborian Age of Robert E. Howard’s Conan books. The D&D Player’s Handbook and Dungeon Master’s Guide actively encourage modifying published adventures to appeal to your players’ favorite settings, in fact, and not only will this potentially help to decrease the amount of lore you need to explain as a Dungeon Master, but it’ll also help keep the attention of everybody listening to you. Because who wouldn’t want to insert themselves into their favorite bit of genre fiction as a legendary figure? In many ways, the whole point of D&D is to give people a framework to do that!

3) If you’re DMing for someone who doesn’t have much time to play, remember that a linear campaign is not necessarily a bad thing, and simplify the more complicated rules - making stuff up whenever necessary!

On page six of the 5th Edition Dungeon Master’s Guide, there’s a whole section entitled “Know Your Players,” which is all about altering your game to appeal to the personalities at your table. If you’re DMing for people who like acting and appreciate in-depth stories, give them plenty of role-playing opportunities and narrative twists, for instance, and if you’re dealing with folks who’d rather just make their characters look cool, try having them fight lots of monsters who reward snazzy armor and weapons. 

There should really be a sub-section there entitled “How to run a game for players who are low on time.” Because that’s my brother in a nutshell. He’s a late 30s dude who works a demanding job and has two small children to take care of, one of whom is barely half a year old. (You can hear my nephew gurgling in the background in a few of our videos, and sometimes we’d even have to stop playing when the baby woke up from a snooze, which is a situation that I’m sure all new parents can relate to.) I know for a fact that my brother is also the type of guy whose eyes will glaze over when presented with a lot of complicated rules - as is probably the case for anyone who only has at most an hour or two, often in the late evening, to sit down to play a game when the rest of the family is in bed. 

In my opinion, the way to tailor your game to such a player is to make a brisk, well-paced story that they can actually see to a satisfying conclusion. This means that the campaign might be fairly linear - a word which seems to have bizarre negative connotations to some D&D players out there, who are always ranting about “railroading,” which is when a DM puts players down a predetermined path without any wiggle room. I think it’s important to note that “linear” does NOT necessarily equate to “railroading,” however, and that a sprawling campaign with a trillion different outcomes and choices to make at every interval isn’t necessarily the best approach for someone who can only play a little bit each week and might get bored if they feel like they aren’t making tangible progress. 

Let me put it this way - the campaign that I made for my brother was tightly designed. Instead of giving Lester and Claudia a vast landscape to explore, everything was confined to the city of Tartec, and I made an effort to nudge the characters towards certain objectives that they had to complete in order to solve the mystery, such infiltrating a manor house in the upper class section of town. But I also made sure to flesh out these few areas (quality over quantity) and allowed a certain degree of freedom in how the objectives could be cleared. For instance, I initially thought that Lester and Claudia might sneak into the manor house through the sewers. But as I was brainstorming strategies with my bro, the topic of disguises came up, because Claudia owned a disguise kit. And eventually we decided to infiltrate the party with Lester masquerading as a nutty old lady and Claudia as his keeper, which was a fun improvisation that I never would’ve anticipated - but still a viable way to complete the main objective that didn’t negatively impact the story’s pacing. 

On the topic of keeping the pace of the story brisk for a player low on time, I feel like it’s also important to minimize the number crunching and reduce D&D’s more complicated rules whenever possible. In practice, this meant that I took care of as much behind-the-scenes stats management as possible so my bro wouldn’t have to, though I did always try to explain to him what was going on (and what all of those funky dice rolls meant) so he’d have some understanding of the game’s mechanics. Also, whenever we were in a situation where I wasn’t sure of a rule, instead of wasting time looking at the Player’s Handbook, nine times out of ten I’d just make something up on the fly. For example, our adventure had a friendly NPC orangutan in it (specifically chosen because I know my brother likes backflipping primates) and she was supposed to be a super strong, unpredictable force of nature in the final battle. I’d lost the stats that I’d used for her when she first appeared, and instead of looking for them, I decided to just roll a d20 for her damage, figuring that the end result would be close enough. In that same vein, there were a few instances where I made mistakes, since I’m still a relatively new DM. Once I totally miscalculated a character’s special attack, leading to a funny NPC death (which I’d expected but not exactly in that way) and on multiple occasions I flat out forgot to apply modifiers to attack rolls. But instead of going back to redo everything I’d either just laugh it off or forge ahead, hoping that my bro didn’t notice, which he never did. 

Ultimately, my philosophy for DMing is to not sweat the small stuff TOO much if it probably doesn’t matter in the long run, especially if you’re running a game for just one person whose free hours are precious. I believe this sort of approach might be sacrilegious to some of the more rules-oriented DMs out there, like the ones who spend hundreds of words arguing over damage variables on the D&D Subreddit. But I’m not one of those folks, and I’d prefer to follow the advice of Sly Flourish, a DM who has a great website where he advocates a “lazy” style of Dungeon Mastering which de-emphasizes nitpicking over rules in favor of just having fun. 

At the end of the day, having fun is what D&D is all about. It’s a game of make believe that can really bring out your inner storytelling-loving child, and in an era where very few adults are encouraged to even consider the concept of “make believe,” it can be a truly wonderful breath of fresh air. And if you don’t believe me...I encourage you to watch The Case of the Almost Assassination and try not to crack up at some of the situations that Lester LeFoe and Claudia Copperhoof found themselves in. :)

The pics above are either art that I assembled for our adventure or screenshots that I took while we were playing! The little figurines I designed via HeroForge.

[together-forevermore-blog]

For the Love of Outlander - Tearin’ my guts out and Forgiven

Ah. . .the glow and euphoria of new, young love. We’ve all seen it. That couple that’s so newly in love that they can’t keep their eyes off of each other (and usually body parts), sharing smiles that threaten to blind a room, and make older and wiser spectators shake their heads and knowingly smile at past memories.

I remember being on my honeymoon and a waiter came up to our table asking “How long have you guys been married?” My hubby and I were somewhat shocked that he was asking, but I still answered him. “Two days.” He chuckled and nodded as he placed our drinks on the table and then motioned with his head to the bar behind him.

“Ah. We were wondering since you can’t keep your eyes off of each other and your rings are still shinny.” His “we” referring to the other servers and bartenders in the lounge and as he walked away with our order, my hubby and I blushed at the fact that we’d attracted so much attention.

Googly eyes and loving touches are expected when you encounter newlyweds. But there’s something else that’s common among young and new love, something that isn’t usually the image that pops into one’s head when thinking about these love struck couples, and oftentimes comes as a surprise to those in freshly sprung relationships: arguments.

Are you scratching your head? Asking “Ali, is your favorite Jamie and Claire moment really one where they argue?” Yup. It sure is. I mean, I love watching them kiss, laugh and love each other, but if I’m being one hundred percent honest, my favorite moment involves them ripping each other apart and here’s why: It leads to them having a better understanding of how much they really care for each other, and, in the case of the show, reveals how much Jamie loves Claire.

I’m talking about the moments after Jamie and squad rescues Claire from Black Jack at Fort William. The famous fight between them where Jamie yells at Claire for getting herself in trouble and Claire at him for blaming her and treating her like property. Or at least that’s what they tell themselves and each other their fight is about.

But then the argument changes, much like it does when “real life” couples disagree, after one, or both, say something that exposes the real reason why they’re upset. For Jamie, it happens when he agrees with her that he thinks Claire ran away because of what happened at the glade, to get back at him for not being able to protect her, revealing that he also blames himself.

What about Claire? She initially argues that he treats her like property because that’s what men see woman as during that time. That she isn’t allowed to do what she wants because she’s only a woman. But as she continues, she lets slip that her real frustration is in feeling like she’s stuck in a time and place, and now, she’s married someone she was basically forced to marry.

To us, the readers and watchers of this story, we can see past the heated words and finger pointing. But it takes a little longer for Jamie and Claire to understand what the argument is really about, and they continue on with even more rage:

- Outlander, Diana Gabaldon -

Chapter 21: Un Mauvais Quart d’Heure after Another

“I don’t like it! I don’t like it a bit! but that doesn’t matter either, does it? As long as I’m there to warm your bed, you don’t care what I think or how I feel! That’s all a wife is to you - something to stick your cock into when you feel the urge!”

At this, his face went dead white and he began to shake me in earnest. My head jerked violently and my teeth clacked together, making me bite my tongue painfully.

“Let go of me!” I shouted. “Let go, you” - I deliberately used the words of Harry the deserter, trying to hurt him - “you rutting bastard!” He did let go, and fell back a pace, eyes blazing.

“Ye foul-tongued bitch! Ye’ll no speak to me that way!”

“I’ll speak any way I want to! You can’t tell me what to do!”

“Seems I can’t! Ye’ll do as ye wish, no matter who ye hurt by it, won’t ye? Ye selfish, willfull - “

“It’s your bloody pride that’s hurt!” I shouted. “I saved us both from the deserters in the glade, and you can’t stand it, can you? You just stood there! If I hadn’t had a knife, we’d both be dead now!”

Until I spoke the words, I had had no idea that I had been angry with him for failing to protect me from the English deserters. In a more rational mood, the thought would never have entered my mind. It wasn’t his fault, I would have said. It was just luck that I had the knife, I would have said. But now I realized that fair or not, rational or not, I did somehow feel that it was his responsibility to protect me, and that he had failed me.Perhaps because he so clearly felt that way.

“You saw that post in the yard in the fort?” I nodded shortly.

“Well I was tied to that post, tied like an animal, and whipped ‘til my blood ran! I’ll carry the scars from it ‘til I die. If I’d not been lucky as the devil this afternoon, that’s the least as would have happened to me. Likely they’d have flogged me, then hanged me.” He swallowed hard, and went on.

“I knew that, and I didna hesitate for one second to go into that place after you, even thinking that Dougal might  be right! Do ye know where I got the gun I used?” I shook my head numbly, my own anger beginning to fade. “I killed a guard near the wall. He fired at me; that’s why it was empty. He missed and I killed him wi’ my dirk; left it sticking in his wishbone when I heard you cry out. I would hav killed a dozen men to get to you, Claire” His voiced cracked.

“And when you screamed, I went to you, armed wi’ nothing but an empty gun and my two hands.” Jamie was speaking a little more calmly now, but his eyes were still wild with pain and rage. I was silent. Unsettled by the horror of my encounter with Randall, I had not at all appreciated the  desperate courage taken for him to come into the fort after me.

And like with so many arguments, there’s a turn. When both parties are spent and the yelling and spewed, hurtful words lead to an enlightenment for one or both. Finally revealing the hidden issues that led to the disagreement, in this case, disappointment and feeling scared.

He turned away suddenly, shoulders slumping.

“You’re right,” he said quietly. “Aye, you’re quite right.” Suddenly the rage was gone from his voice, replaced by a tone I had never heard in him before, even in the extremities of physical pain.

“My pride is hurt. And my pride is about all I’ve got left to me.” He leaned his forearms against a rough barked pine and let his head drop onto them, exhausted. His voice was so low I could barely hear him.

“You’re tearin’ my guts out, Claire.”

So heartbreaking when he admits this, but it leads to two important things: a strengthening of their relationship and an incredible acceptance of apologies.

Something very similar was happening to my own. Tentatively, I came up behind him. He didn’t move, even when I slipped my arms around his waist. I rested my cheek on his bowed back. His shirt was damp, seated through with the intensity of his passion, and he was trembling.

“I’m sorry,” I said, simply. “Please forgive me.” He turned then, to hold me tightly. I felt his trembling ease bit by bit.

“Forgiven, lass,” he murmured at last into my hair. Releasing me, he looked down at me, sober and formal.

“I’m sorry too,” he said. “I’ll ask your pardon for what I said; I was sore, and I said more than I meant. Will ye forgive me too?” After his last speech, I hardly felt that there was anything for me to forgive, but I nodded and pressed his hands.

“Forgiven.”

It’s amazingly written and when I read it, I couldn’t imagine anything being added to make it better. Then the episode that contains this moment aired and I was floored. The complete switch in view point to Jamie, in my humble opinion, was brilliant. Providing addition insight into why he forgave her and further revealing his growing love for her, making me love the moment even more:

She asked forgiveness, and I gave it. But the truth is, I’d forgiven everything she’d done and everything she could do long before that day. For me that was no choice. That was falling in love.

[victorineb]

A Different Fork

For the True Mates day of @hannigram-a-b-o-library​‘s SummertimeSlick event, an Omegaverse re-imagining of Hannibal’s very first episode, Aperitif (part of a series of standalone fics that can be found on AO3).

Thanks for the gorgeous banner go to @desperatelyseekingcannibals​ (look, I’m finally using it hon!).

Also on AO3.

Please let this be a hallucination.

Will closed his eyes and hoped. This had never worked for him before but short of impaling himself on Jack’s coat rack, he had few other options.

In theory, Will knew all about the Omega imprinting impulse and had always thought it was a damn silly trait. The idea that from one scrap of physical contact, an Omega could identify their ideal mate seemed more like something out of a fairytale than a biology class, despite having heard the tales from Omegas who had experienced it.

One scrap of physical contact like, say, a handshake.

Like the one Will had just exchanged, at Jack’s behest, with Doctor Hannibal Lecter. The one which had caused his body to light up like a Christmas tree, or one of his dogs catching the scent of a rabbit. The one that had told him, in no uncertain terms, that the tall, poised, exquisitely turned-out man in front of him was, biologically speaking, a bullseye. A touchdown. Will Graham's golden ticket.

Maybe Jack had a particularly sharp letter opener on his desk.

The advantage, of course, of the imprinting process, was that no one else was aware of it. The Omega could keep quiet and go about their business, leaving the Alpha in question none the wiser, at least until they could ascertain compatibility in other areas.

Unfortunately, during their brief conversation, Doctor Lecter had quickly proved himself interesting in more ways than just his pheromones. He had matched Will’s mind thought for thought, easily falling into good-humoured (on Lecter’s side, anyway) conversational sparring. In other circumstances, Will would have been pleasantly surprised to be engaged in such a way. In Jack’s office, with Jack’s scrutinising gaze upon them, Will could only be suspicious.

“Whose profile are you working on?” Without allowing the doctor space to answer, Will turned to Jack and iterated, “Whose profile is he working on?” They were going to get precisely thirty seconds to give what would undoubtedly be an unsatisfactory explanation, then Will was getting the hell out of there.

Hannibal slid smoothly into the proffered space, to answer, “I'm sorry, Will. Observing is what we do. I can't shut mine off any more than you can shut yours off.”

Will reflected that there was little more annoying than someone who really understood you, except possibly someone who could intrigue you when intrigue was the last thing you wanted.

“Still,” Lecter continued, with a minute expression that Will easily read as apologetic, “it was completely inappropriate for me to indulge in this situation, despite the compelling nature of our exchange. In fact, I am not here to profile anybody. I take it you have not informed Mr Graham of the reason for our meeting?” This last was directed to Jack, with the barest hint of reproach.

“Informed me of what?” Will asked, trying not to notice how easily he and Lecter formed a unit against the bigger man.

Jack sighed and tried to look apologetic but something in the way he looked from Will to Hannibal and back again spoke of satisfaction and Will suddenly knew what he was going to say.

“No,” he gritted out firmly.

“Will, just hear me out. Studies have shown,”

“Studies have shown what, Jack? Getting fucked on the regular by a nice, strong Alpha is the best way to keep unstable Omegas under control? Is the FBI in the business of arranged marriages as well as capturing psychos, now? Maybe you could combine the two, identify potential threats to society and neutralise them via match.com!”

“Will, that is not,” Jack attempted to explain.

Will, all too aware that Dr Lecter was watching him with rapt fascination, cut him off. “Can it, Jack. I have better things to do than listen to this farce and so should both of you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I've got a class to teach.” Will headed for the door but found himself blocked by the doctor, who had moved with a surprising turn of speed. Will tried very hard not to add that to the list of Hannibal Lecter’s attractive qualities.

Lecter held up a hand in apology and asked, “Please, permit me a moment more, Mr Graham, if only to say that I had no intention of coming here today to claim a mate. Such an idea would be both outdated and preposterous.”

Will wanted very much to barge past him and away from this entire debacle. Except, this close, the doctor’s scent was – dammit – comforting and the calm it lent him gave Will just enough perspective to see that the older man had also been manipulated by Jack. He could see the affront buried beneath the calm exterior and decided he would at least let the man explain his side. It might even be worth it to see Crawford told off by the man who conjured images of bone arenas in casual conversation and who read Will as easily as Will read killers.

“Fine,��� he said, levelly, his eyes meeting the perfect knot of the doctor’s tie straight on, “under what pretence did Jack bring you here?” He heard a huff of displeasure from behind him but kept his back to Jack, happy to close him out of the exchange.

“Jack came to me on a recommendation from a former student of mine, Alana Bloom. I believe you know her?”

Will failed to hide a grimace. If he had anything approaching a social skill, he'd have liked to know Alana far better than as the friendly, concerned acquaintance she was.

“Jack was, I believe, acting out of genuine concern for your well-being and came to me with the suggestion that we might begin having sessions.”

“Psychoanalysis?” Will spat. “Bad idea, doctor, you won't like me when I'm psychoanalysed.”

At this, Lecter made a small sound of amusement and he rested an arm on Will's shoulder. “In fact, I doubt that very much, Will. May I call you Will?”

Distracted by how much he wanted to lean into the doctor's touch and by how rare – as in, completely non-existent – that urge was, Will found himself nodding.

“Thank you. Please call me Hannibal, if you would prefer. However, again, you misunderstand my intentions. What Jack and I agreed might work to your advantage is if we had… conversations, regularly, off the books and with no connection to the FBI. In effect, I would have been an Alpha in your life without, of course, being the Alpha in your life.”

Will still felt this was an unacceptable intrusion. Except, the conversation he'd just had with Dr Lecter was by far the easiest, most stimulating one of his life, despite the tension flowing in the room. It was all too easy to imagine more conversations like that, like friends might have. And, though Will had worked hard to convince himself otherwise, a friend might be something he would like to have. He could ignore his biology and simply appreciate the company of someone who actually seemed to see him for who he was.

It was horribly enticing.

And then Lecter upped the stakes.

“Having said all that, Will, I find myself minded to alter my proposal, somewhat, if you are amenable.”

Will raised his eyes, this time all the way to the doctor’s jawline and asked, warily, “Oh?”

From behind him, Jack, who Will had completely forgotten about, echoed, “Oh?” with rather more aggression.

Hannibal turned his gaze from Will and towards his boss. “I apologise for going off-script, Jack, but circumstance, and perhaps fate, have brought us to rather a different place. It has become increasingly clear to me, as this meeting has progressed, that Will and I are in fact highly compatible as mates, both biologically and psychologically.”

What?

“What?” Jack roared, incensed.

Now Will forced himself to look Hannibal in the face, noting his utter calm despite Jack’s outburst. He found himself pleased anew by warm brown eyes and impossibly high cheekbones.

“Indeed,” Hannibal continued and took his opportunity to gain eye contact with Will, who squirmed but didn't look away, “and judging by his reaction to me, I believe Will is aware of it, too.”

It should have been uncomfortable, being seen so clearly. Instead, Will had to try hard not to bask in it and merely nodded.

“In that case, I propose that we agree to having such conversations alongside a more traditional process of courtship.”

Will raised an eyebrow. “I'm pretty far from traditional,” he said and then realised that his words indicated acquiescence.

“As am I.” The doctor's eyes practically twinkled. “Which is why a conventional process might be a good thing for both of us. Boundaries are often a good thing.”

“Ok, stop!” Jack bellowed. “Doctor Lecter, this is completely outrageous! Will, I'm sorry to have put you through this farce, I will have this man ejected from the building and you will never see him again.”

Hannibal stepped past Will at this, stalking towards Jack in an unexpectedly predatory manner. “You are not Will’s father, Agent Crawford. Your involvement in this manner ended the moment we changed the terms of the proposal.”

The two men began arguing Will's future as though he wasn't in the room. Happy to be invisible for a moment, Will dealt with the problem in his own way, letting the pendulum swing on two possible outcomes.

In one, a life spent doing good under Jack Crawford's thumb. Endlessly marched through inventive crime scenes and the too-compelling riptide of killers’ dreams. The safe embrace of his home and his dogs and the easy pain of loneliness.

In the other, a man who could match, challenge and understand him. He could still do his job, but with support to wrap around himself and something more than Jack as an anchor. Perhaps it wouldn't work. Hannibal might turn out to be cruel, or distant; Will might prove too easily pulled in by darkness, or unable to share himself or his life. Hannibal might hate dogs.

Still, a warm uncertainty seemed more promising than a cold inevitability.

Will came back to Jack pounding his desk, looking like he'd rather be punching Hannibal and yelling, “What, were you just going to put your mark on him right here and now? You cannot just walk into my office and claim Will without his say-so!”

Will placed himself in front of Hannibal, told Jack “You're right, he can't,” and promptly turned to bend his mouth to the doctor's neck and bite down. It would only be a claiming mark, an indication of intent, rather than a biological bonding. If nothing was done, it would fade quickly with no lasting effects. Still, it was risky and the fact that Hannibal didn't make a sound in response was worrying.

Jack's tone was utterly scandalised as he said, “Will! That was completely…”

“Unorthodox,” Hannibal finished, in a voice that, to Will’s relief, was full of breathless admiration. “A trait I value highly in all things.”

Will, surprised at his own boldness and the affection in Hannibal's gaze, ducked his head and stuttered, “I… I'm sorry, that was impulsive. I…”

That was as far as he got, though, before Hannibal tipped Will’s head to the side and laid a claiming mark of his own.

Will suspected the crash he heard was the sound of Jack hitting his own wall, rather than the sound of his heart bursting but he'd never been one for over-romanticising. Though, as Hannibal raised his head and Will found himself unexpectedly aroused by the sight of his own blood in another man's mouth, he wondered how well he really knew his own romantic inclinations. Then Hannibal smiled, the first full, genuine expression he had made, and Will realised he would soon have the opportunity to find out.

“Ok,” Jack announced, clearly working hard to keep his voice level, “you two take this… whatever this is, out of my office. I'm done looking at it.”

“Gladly,” Will retorted and allowed Hannibal to steer him from the room, a hand on the small of his back.

Outside and a little way away from Jack's office, the two men found an empty room, cleaned themselves up, and regarded each other.

“That was… unexpected,” Will offered.

“Quite,” Hannibal responded. “I genuinely had no intention of gaining a mate today, Will. I will gladly release you if…”

“If that was posturing for Jack Crawford's sake.” Will walked towards Hannibal and then crowded him against a wall, murmuring, “Hang on to that thought, I just want to check something.” And then he pressed up against the doctor, placed a hand against his cheek and moved into a kiss. Soft and questioning, the kiss gave Will his answer within moments as Hannibal pulled him tighter and they moved in harmony, moaning softly with satisfaction. They parted only when breathing became an issue and Will knew that passing up the opportunity to do that over and over again would have been the biggest mistake he could have made.

“I certainly hope that was not for Jack’s sake,” Hannibal quipped and Will laughed with him at the thought.

“I'm reasonably certain that if I lived the rest of my life without ever doing anything else for Jack Crawford, I'd be a happier man,” Will postulated.

“Hmm, then we may have to see what can be done about that.”

“Please tell me you're not the kind of Alpha who tries to run their Omega’s life for them.”

“I suspect such an Alpha would not have responded so favourably to your move to claim them. This morning I was happy to spend the rest of my life unmated. When I saw you, I saw a man who is my equal, who could be a partner, not a chattel or a slave. That is what I want.”

“Good. I’d hate to think I imprinted on an idiot.”

Hannibal's eyes lit up. “Then...”

“Yes, Alpha, from the minute I saw you. Though the fact that you provided the only conversation I've enjoyed with a stranger in thirty-odd years was more of a deciding factor, if I'm honest.”

“That was you enjoying a conversation?”

Will shrugged. “I don't play the way most people do.”

Hannibal grinned. “I believe we have chosen very well, Will. Now, if you would permit me, I would like to take you to lunch.”

Will glanced from his scruff to Hannibal's flawless outfit. “I don't think I'll fit the dress code at your usual haunts, doctor.”

“I do believe I could change most restaurants’ minds about that. However, I in fact intended to show you back to my home. Cooking is one of my greatest pleasures and I would very much like to share it with you.”

“Wait, I've snagged myself a successful doctor who’s a chef in his spare time and you've got a scruffy, unstable guy who spends his days thinking about killing for a living. Hannibal, are you sure you don't want to back out?”

As if to emphasise his disapproval of this idea, Hannibal leaned in to suck gently at the claiming mark he'd left on Will. Then he pressed a slightly bloody kiss to Will's mouth and smiled. “Oh, my Will. I am so very much looking forward to knowing you.”

[ripplesofaqua]

Written

“It… is only a story.”  ~ Cassandra/Varric ~ AO3/FFN

1,896 words ~ rated T

Varric finds her on the battlements, a wine bottle in her hand and an unopened book in her lap. She stares off into space, her back ramrod straight against the stone wall. Frowning, Varric plucks the novel out of her loose grip, and a quick glance at the cover tells him it’s one of his own. He raises an expectant eyebrow, but she gives no response. Unease blooms in Varric’s stomach, though the bottle remains nearly full. If Cassandra did not drink more than the bottle claims, she’s ignoring him.

Varric has always hated silence.

“Oh, did my writing finally drive you to drink, Seeker? Surprised you’ve tolerated it this long.”

Sure enough, she cannot resist his teasing, though her answer does little to ease his discomfort.

“It… is only a story.” Cassandra’s voice is unusually flat, and still she will not look at him.

“That’s hurtful,” Varric answers plaintively, his hand clutching at his heart in obvious exaggeration. “True, but still hurtful.” All the bravado in the world cannot hide the truth of that statement. He does hurt–not for his book, but for Cassandra.

“No”–she sighs in heavy exasperation–"I mean this is just a story.” She gestures vaguely to their surroundings, but does not offer further elaboration.

For once, the Seeker is reluctant to say what’s on her mind, and Varric finds himself at a loss for words.

So instead of talking, he plops down onto the cold stone next to her, his shoulder a hairsbreadth from hers. Deciding that he is decidedly too sober for this, he steals a swig from her bottle before trying again.

“A story, Seeker? Care to explain?”

“Everything that has happened here–the Conclave, the Breach, the Inquisition… it is absurd. So completely beyond the scope of anything this world has seen that…” Cassandra meets his eyes with a bitter laugh. “Well, if I were not living it myself, I would call it the plot of a poorly-written adventure novel.”

“Ah like one of mine, then,” Varric agrees distractedly while he attempts to sort through his racing thoughts.

With a dazed sort of intuition, he appreciates just how much he has come to rely on her composure–how much they all have. But now, with the cracks in her strength and faith visible, he feels doubt prick at the back of his own mind.

Helplessness–that is what Cassandra fears.

Are we helpless?

Against the enormity of the enemy they face, Varric cannot bring himself to utter empty platitudes, cannot reassure her that they will triumph, let alone survive the war intact. All he can do is comfort her that she is not alone in her anxieties.

He forces a smile onto his face and shifts until their knees and shoulders touch, a warm weight against the cold sky stretching above.

“Oh, this shit is extremely weird. My editor will never believe me.” He snorts. “As if I’d ever get involved with something reasonable.”

“So you are going to write about us?” Cassandra asks in that high, breathy tone she uses whenever he mentions the possibility of a new book. Still, her words are forced and her eyes lack their usual sparkle.

Varric recognizes the attempt, but he will not fall for it.

“Don’t change the subject, Seeker. I know this is bothering you.”

Cassandra scoffs but still leans into him, her head hovering just above his shoulder, reluctant to rest her weight on him completely. She hesitates for a long moment before speaking.

“I… I feel like a character in a book, but I do not know what the author plans for me. For us. I do not like to be helpless.”

Ahh, there it is.

Varric lets out a heavy breath, observing Cassandra’s tired expression through the corner of his eye. This is not a topic he speaks about often but… someone’s got to do it.

She looks utterly miserable.

“Look, the tale of Andraste, the Maker–it is a great story. Ridiculous, sure. Definitely cruel at times. But if it’s the Maker writing, surely it can’t end up all that bad in the end.”

She straightens and tilts her head away from him once more, swallowing audibly. “I trust in the Maker’s will, yes. But I am no longer sure He is the author of all this.” She fidgets and Varric sees undeserved guilt written in her eyes. “So much of this was considered blasphemy, just one year ago. It has shattered the teachings of the Chantry.”

Maferath’s balls, this is even worse than he’d thought.

Varric grasps for something to say, only to be left empty handed. The silence stretches into awkwardness, and so he must say something.

“Well, maybe the Maker’s writing drunk,” he manages to blurt out. “Trust me, things get odd when alcohol’s involved.”

The words replay in his mind and he winces. She is going to kill him for that.

“Ughh.”

Cassandra gives no further protest against his profanity, and while Varric is relieved for his own safety, the lack is telling. At least enough faith remains within her for his comment to earn a disgusted noise.

Varric wonders if it might be wiser to steer the conversation towards a safer topic. After all, he would prefer not to be the one responsible for destroying all of the Seeker’s devotion.

Maybe he can make her laugh, instead.

“Fine, not the Maker then. Someone else. Writing a book to impress their friends.” He pauses to study her with an exaggerated thoughtfulness, his hand scratching at the stubble on his chin. “She’s very drunk. Trying to compete with her favorite, roguishly handsome author. She’ll regret everything come morning.”

“She?”

The glare she aims at him pierces to his core, and he silently rejoices at the rekindled passion there. Right now, anger is even better than laughter.

Cassandra’s fury leaves no room for helplessness.

Varric figures he might as well fan the flames a bit–make sure they don’t burn out prematurely.

“Oh, and why not, Seeker?” he asks, “aren’t all of you are into that romantic stuff? Written in the stars, and everything?”

Cassandra sniffs disdainfully, and Varric is sure he has never seen someone raise their chin at him in contempt so beautifully.

“Like you are not a romantic, yourself, dwarf?” She smirks and his heart soars. “I’ve read your books, Varric. Fated lovers and doomed heroes are your specialty.”

“Fated lovers? I write crime serials, Seeker.”

“Yes, yes, crime serials about tragic characters.” She turns and jabs her finger into his chest. “The older dwarf brother, the Comte and Comtess. H–”

Hawke and Anders.

“I get it, Seeker,” Varric says, pushing her hand away, his voice rough as he forces down his own painful memories. It will help no one if he gets emotional now.

Cassandra braces her hands against her hips, clearly incensed. “No! I still have not forgiven you for the third chapter of Hard in Hightown. I think fate is a dwarf–too cruel to his most beloved characters.”

Varric rolls his eyes–everyone’s a critic these days, though he’s glad she wasn’t referring to… a different couple.

It wouldn’t have been a lie if she had.

Varric has always been attracted to tragedy. At least in his books he puts it to good use.

“Look Seeker, if you love a character, you give them pain, ruin their lives, make them suffer. Then they become more likable–forged into a better version of themselves.”

He won’t mention how fate can also leave its victims battered and broken.

Cassandra is clearly not convinced. “So that is what you do to them? What fate does to us? Makes us more likable?”

Is that why they gave each other shit for so many months?

Varric can’t help but wonder…

“Am I likeable, Seeker?”

Her gaze sweeps up and down his body as she takes his measure. “You are highly annoying, but yes, you are quite likeable.” She leans into him, so close he can feel her breath against his cheek, and her eyes crinkle in amusement. “Am I?”

“Very likeable, Cassandra,” he answers, his voice low and raspy. They’re so close now, their noses are almost touching, and Varric thinks if he just leans in a little bit more…

Then something crashes in the courtyard below, and shouted curses shatter the still air.

Cassandra pulls back abruptly and turns her head away, though she cannot hide the color staining her cheeks. With a quick shake of her head she stands and walks over to the parapet, searching for the source of the commotion.

She’s avoiding him again.

Varric pulls himself up off the floor with a groan and follows after her. He carefully places his hand on her shoulder, hoping that something of the previous moment could be salvaged.

“Cassandra, I–”

She pulls out of his grip and turns to face him, her arms crossed sternly over her chest. “Why are we still having this frivolous conversation?”

Varric won’t let her get out of this that easily. He flashes a smile and spreads his hands open in front of him. “Oh, it’s a common occurrence, Seeker. The writer can’t think of a good way to end things.” His grin grows infuriatingly large. “You know, the strongest characters are never helpless against the author’s plans. They have a life of their own–can take over a scene, even an entire story. It’s annoying as hell when you’re trying to write, but a good storyteller always listens to the voices in their head.”

Cassandra raises a dubious eyebrow. “So fate hears voices in her head and does not know what to do with us. Now what?”

“Well, right now we’ll just have to wait until she comes up with something”–he waggles his eyebrows–“or take charge and end the scene on our own.”

“Ughh.”

She turns to leave, but he catches her wrist.

“Don’t just leave like that. Where’s the drama? The final climax?”

She only glares at him in response.

“Nothing? Alright, how about we list everything we actually like about each other–since we apparently find each other so likeable. Here I’ll go f–”

“No.”

“Everything we don’t like? I thought we w–”

“No.”

“We have to talk about something, Seeker, or this scene won’t be finished for weeks. Here, I spy, with my–”

“This is ridiculous.”

“That sick of me already? Well there is something… Best way to end a scene, really, but you’d never agree…”

“Out with it already, Varric.”

Varric wonders if all this is truly of their own making, or if they’re both being played as fortune’s fool.

There’s only one way to find out, though, so with a deep breath Varric crosses the point of no return.

“We… we could always kiss.”

Cassandra regards him carefully, silently, and he fears the worst.

“Very well.”

“Wh-what was that? I could have sworn you–”

“Kiss me, dwarf.”

Varric has no time to respond. She grabs his collar and their lips collide.

Very likeable, indeed…

Maybe the story won’t end so badly, after all.

[oodlyenough]

fic: return on investment (1/2)

If Atlas were a baby, Fiona realizes, she would be its luxurious, jet-setting mother, travelling the world on a whim, and Rhys would be the live-in nanny doing all the actual childrearing.

--

Atlas needs money. Thanks to Felix, Fiona has four million dollars.

Rhys will probably regret this.

3.5k in this chapter. Mostly comedy, with a bit of drama to come. Post-game. Pretty exclusively about Rhys & Fiona’s relationship, with bit parts and cameos from Sasha, Vaughn and Yvette. Kudos to @shinyopals, @firstofoctober and @valoscope on Tumblr for humouring this idea long enough for it to grow as it has. Also on AO3.

Update: Part 2 on Tumblr | Part 2 on AO3

The first million of Felix’s nine is spent getting Fiona and Rhys back to Pandora after the Vault transports them half-way across the galaxy.

It’s not how Fiona imagined spending her first million dollars. It’s also not how she imagined her first visit to another planet. Or who she imagined visiting it with.

It does put an end to Rhys’ whining when he learns she has millions of dollars cash in her back pocket, though, so at least there's that.

“I didn't think Vaults were supposed to cost you money,” Rhys points out, ever so helpfully, as Fiona parts with a larger chunk of change than she's ever previously held.

“This was a dud,” Fiona reasons. “Obviously. The next one I find’ll be better.”

“Seriously? You still wanna be a Vault Hunter? After all this? You’re not all… Vault-ed out?”

Rhys looks at her like he's pretty sure that's stupid. Truthfully Fiona is pretty sure he's got a point, but it's not like he's one to talk.

“Hey, people with glass career ambitions shouldn’t throw stones.”

Rhys smirks. “Yeah, not sure that figure of speech really held up for you.”

“Whatever, just… shut up. You're lucky I'm nice enough to pay for your ticket, too.”

“Technically that’s money you stole from me and Vaughn, so…”

Fiona flips him off, upgrades her ticket to first class for the leg home and leaves him in coach.

That leaves eight million to split with Sasha.

Sudden wealth agrees with Sasha—or at least, Sasha agrees with sudden wealth.

She spends a chunk right away, on a tricked-out caravan that makes the old one look like a clown car, a sound system powerful enough to wake the dead, and at least a dozen guns that individually cost more money than any gun has any business costing.

Fiona understands the kid-in-a-candy-store impulse (Sasha nearly buys out one of those, too), but she’s older, arguably a little wiser, and definitely more patient. Besides, she might end up teleported across the universe again.

So instead she takes her four million, buys a new hat, and waits for an opportunity to present itself.

Rhys gets them all together with such forced nonchalance that it can only mean one thing: he wants something, and he is nervous to ask for it.

Fiona knows this, but she decides to let it play out anyway. Watching him squirm is funny.

Hours later, when Sasha and Vaughn are preoccupied with Sasha’s new motorbike, Rhys finally spits it out, and even though Fiona knew there was a request coming, she nearly chokes on her beer.

“You want me to what?”

“Invest,” he repeats, like it sounds any less insane the second time around. When her eyes remain as wide as dinner plates, he raises both index fingers. “I know, I know, I know, just—hear me out—”

He launches into a well-prepared sales pitch/slideshow/shameless plea, of which Fiona absorbs about twenty per cent through her haze of surprise, confusion and bewilderment.

When he’s finished, Fiona watches him closely through narrowed eyes. Her first question is, “Did you ask Sasha the same thing?”

“No.” He shifts in his seat under her scrutiny. “It seemed like a bad idea to… mix business and pleasure.”  

“God.” Fiona just about gags. “I’ll give you the money if you promise never to call my sister ‘pleasure’ ever again.”

Rhys is disturbingly unperturbed, tilting his head with a grin. “Is that a deal?”

“I dunno…” Fiona tilts her chair onto its back legs and pushes back her hat so she can stare up in proper contemplation. “Would that mean I’d own Atlas?”

“Nah, there’s lots of different ways you can do it, you don’t have to be involved at all. Could just be a loan with interest, or—”

“I wanna own it,” Fiona decides.

“You… what?” he sputters. She can just about see the gears in his head grind to a halt—or the circuit boards, or whatever cybernetic garbage he’s got implanted in there. “No, you don’t.”

“Uh, yeah I do.”

“...Why?”

Fiona shrugs. She lets the front legs of her chair hit back against the ground with a thunk.

“Sounds cool, doesn’t it? Fiona: Vault Hunter, business owner.” She spreads both hands in the air as if she’s unfurling an imaginary banner.

Rhys stares at her, dumbfounded. After a second, he narrows his eyes. “You were that kid on the playground who had no interest in the toy truck until somebody else was playing with it, weren’t you?”

“Dunno. Didn’t grow up with a lot of toys. Or a playground.” She pouts, aiming for a guilt trip, but she must fumble the landing, because Rhys just rolls his eyes.

“You don’t want to own Atlas,” he insists.

“Sure I do.”

“Look, the interest rate I’ll give you—”

“Nope.” She leans across the table, her chin cradled in her bridged fingers, smirking. “Wanna own it.”

Rhys leans forward too, with an equally snide smirk, like he’s hoping to catch her in a bluff. Fiona realizes two things in quick succession: that this has become a game of chicken, and that she isn’t about to lose.  

“Really? That’s really what you want. You really want equity, not interest, or a portion of the profits, or—”

“Really.” She slides one hand free and extends it across the table. “So, deal?”

Rhys’ narrowed, mismatched eyes study her face and then her outstretched hand, his jaw working in wordless contemplation.

Finally, with an aggravated huff, he grabs her hand in his. “Deal.”

Fiona grins, and tries to make sure her grip is as tight as his, even if her efforts are wasted on his prosthetic.

“Don’t worry,” she tells him, “I’ll still let you do all the work.”

Rhys shakes his head as he lets go, scowling. “You’re such an asshole.”

“Hey, hey, hey!” She points a finger in mock offense. “I’m a rich asshole.”

Once she signs on the dotted line, Fiona owns, technically, 51% of Atlas’ outstanding shares.

Majority shareholder. It sounds like it pains Rhys to say it.

Sasha asks what that means, exactly, and Fiona sort of shrugs, and Rhys groans very loudly and hits his forehead on the table.

If Atlas were a baby, Fiona realizes, she would be its luxurious, jet-setting mother, travelling the world on a whim, and Rhys would be the live-in nanny doing all the actual childrearing.

Rhys does not appreciate this metaphor as much as Fiona does.

He also doesn’t appreciate when Fiona refers to Atlas as her “hobby”, her “side hustle”, her “pet project”, or basically anything that describes it as “hers” at all.

This, of course, only encourages her to do it more often.

For the most part, though, she doesn’t spend a lot of time thinking about Atlas. Vault Hunting is a pretty preoccupying gig. Rhys sends her updates, sometimes—because he thinks she might care or because he wants to make her feel guilty for her uninvolvement, she’s not really sure—and she sort of half-skims them. She hasn’t got the head for business, anyway. She’d rather get shot at than read a quarterly report. Literally.

“That’s why I’ve got loyal servants like you,” she tells him.

If looks could kill, and if those killing powers worked even through a vidlink, she’d definitely be dead by now.

Fiona leans back against the wall, one foot braced against it, and buffs her nail polish while a nervous-looking woman in a lab coat turns her back to Fiona, hand at her ear.

“Hi, yes, sorry to bother you,” the woman says, “it’s Sophie, from R&D?”

There must be a pause on the line, because Sophie shoots a skittish glance over her shoulder at Fiona.

Fiona waves.

Sophie turns away again immediately, and Fiona shakes her head. She isn’t even trying to be intimidating.

“Yes, hi,” Sophie says again, apparently transferred to another line. “I—no, no, there’s nothing on fire this time. There’s just, um, there’s a woman here? Who wants a tour of the lab?”

Fiona wonders if Sophie is one of the so-called Children of Helios, and if so, exactly how long it’s going to take for those children to stop hiding in their parents’ basement.

“I know we don’t do tours,” Sophie says, sounding a little irritated at the insinuation. It’s the most Fiona has liked her so far. “But she says she’s—well, she…” Sophie casts another helpless glance at Fiona, like she resents what Fiona’s presence is making her say. “She says she owns the place.” Sophie is still watching Fiona from the corner of her eye as she nods slowly to the voice on the other end of the line. “Right. Okay. Will do.”

Finally, Sophie turns to face Fiona properly.

“He says he’ll be down in a minute,” says Sophie.

Fiona grins, pushing herself up from the wall. “Great.”

“You didn’t tell me you were coming,” is the first thing Rhys says to her, and Fiona snorts.

“Hi, Rhys, I’m fine, good to see you, too, it’s been so long,” she says pointedly, but he ignores her, moving straight to the door, his palm held out to interface with the control panel.

She watches him work, head tilted. They haven’t seen much of each other in recent months, each caught up in their personal whirlwinds. Fiona is finally starting to earn some respect, and Atlas is taking its first fledgling steps as an actual, functional business. Again. Vault Hunter, CEO. It’s been… busy.

The Rhys in front of her now is even starting to look the part, all expensive clothing and serious facial expressions and the perpetual vibration of someone who’s consumed way beyond the recommended daily intake of caffeine.

Fiona knows him, though, and she’s not so easily fooled.

“It’s really… not a great time for you to be here,” he admits to her as the door slides open. “I’ve got advertising proofs to approve, financials to look at, a couple big meetings that really need to go well, and shepherding you around is not exactly the prep I had planned.”

“Shepherding?” Fiona counters, following him through the doors. “Thought you’d be excited to show off.”

Rhys smiles thinly. “Yeah, well, you know, I would be! Just… kinda busy… trying not to lose all your money and torpedo my own career. Again.”

That sounds more like the Rhys she knows, always a little more awkward and uncertain than he tries to pretend. Fiona grins and claps him on the shoulder as they head into the lab.

“Tough. I want to see what my money’s paying for.”

Her money, it turns out, is paying for a number of things. The Atlas of yesteryear had a lot of irons in the fire, and in that regard, at least, Rhys’ is no different.

There’s a limited line of guns, the expensive sort that collectors pay exorbitant amounts of money to never use. Fiona asks if these were made explicitly to please Sasha, and Rhys gets a dumb look on his face and shrugs, which she takes as a yes.

They don’t keep the plantlife in the lab, he explains, which makes sense, but he assures her there’s a lot of it. Fiona remembers ten-foot carnivorous flowers and decides she’s not really missing out.

“Is it all still so… aggressive?” she asks, and Rhys sort of grins.

“Aggressive plantlife really agrees with Pandora,” he says, which she has to admit sounds true enough. “We’re working on fruit and stuff though, you can try some later.” Then something catches his eye, and he waves her forward eagerly. “Fi, come here.”

He introduces her to a frazzled woman named Hannah, standing on the outside of a tiny observation room. Through the window, a small, nondescript robot is holding what looks like a glorified button. Painted on the floor are two separate, coloured circles.

“We’ve been trying to learn more about the teleportation technology from the Vault of the Traveler,” Hannah tells her, and over Hannah’s shoulder, Rhys wiggles his eyebrows excitedly.

“Quick, easy interplanetary travel, right?” he prompts.

“Easy is one word for it.” Fiona tilts her head and raises an eyebrow. “Another is nauseating. Disorienting. Terrifying.”

Rhys dismisses it with a shrug. “I mean, it’s... probably less terrifying if you know it’s going to happen.” He sidles up next to her, full-on salesman. “Just think, though! Pandora to Dionysus in ten seconds.”

“Yeah, Dionysus will love that,” Fiona jokes, but it does sound pretty cool, now that he’s said it.

He scratches the back of his neck. “Well… we can worry about that later. It’s a work in progress.”

“I made some adjustments,” Hannah says, and then launches into a technical explanation that sounds like gibberish to Fiona. Rhys makes a good show of looking very attentive, but Fiona’s pretty sure he has no idea what any of it means, either.

By the end of it, Hannah’s holding up a remote control, and all three of them are watching the robot in the observation room curiously as Hannah holds up a remote control switch.

“It’s supposed to reappear in that blue circle, there,” Hannah explains.

The little robot dematerializes from its red circle and rematerializes almost instantly, in a bright flash of light, three feet into the air and nowhere near the blue circle. Before it can even hit the ground, it disappears again, reappears elsewhere, faster and faster, with non-stop bursts of blinding light, clattering around the room as it collides with the walls, floor and ceiling.

Finally, there’s a memorable slam against the window that sends them all flinching backwards. Hannah flips the switch the other way, and the robot falls from mid-air and lands on the floor.

Fiona cringes.

“It doesn’t, um, there’s no AI in that, or anything,” Rhys says hastily, though he looks a little horrified too. “It’s fine.”

With matching, pained thumbs up, they leave Hannah to her work.

Along with the guns and the experimental teleportation, there’s a variety of miscellaneous tech, small-ticket items that Rhys shows  to Fiona with all the enthusiasm of a teenager working part-time at an amusement park.

Every employee they run into knows Rhys, and Rhys knows all of them, well enough that she thinks he might be cheating, but she never catches his ECHO eye lighting up.

None of them know Fiona, which leaves her the great pleasure of introducing herself as Rhys’ boss, reveling in their look of confusion and Rhys’ scowl.

“I mean they really should have heard of me,” Fiona tells him.

“They don’t have reason to,” Rhys says. “It’s not like you actually do any work here.”

“You could have posters. ‘The Woman Who Made This All Possible’.” When that fails to get a response, she nudges him with her elbow. “Or a statue.”

“I’m not building you a statue,” says Rhys flatly, a disappointing underreaction.

It’s unusual for Rhys not to take Fiona’s bait, and she frowns. “I feel like your heart’s not in this.”

Rhys ignores that, too. “Last lab’s up here, let’s just finish up.”

There’s not much to look at in the last section of the lab, except for various computer displays she doesn’t understand, some whiteboards covered in indecipherable writing, and various hunks of metal in various states of completion, largely unrecognizable to Fiona. She peers at a printed list of specifications, trying to make sense of it, her eyebrows knitted together.

“Is this an… arm?” she asks finally. When there’s no answer, she prompts, “Rhys?”

Nothing. When she looks up, it’s obvious she’s lost Rhys’ attention. He’s standing in the hall, staring in deep concentration at some display projected from his palm, his golden eye flickering wildly.

“Hey. Rhys.”

No luck. Fiona rolls her eyes.

“Mr. Robot,” she tries again, and this time she reaches up to flick the port at the side of his head.

The display from his palm flickers for a second, and Rhys reacts like he’s been shot, jumping away from her with a yelp and flailing both arms uselessly.

“God, don’t do that,” he scolds, glaring, and Fiona would maybe feel a little bit bad about it if his reaction were not so funny. “What? What do you want?”

“Food,” she says, aware of the sudden rumble in her stomach. “Where’s this fruit you promised me? Lunchtime!”

“Oh. Right.” He points to the exit doors behind him. “There’s a cafeteria that way. Keep going, hang a left, can’t miss it. You’ll find something.”

He turns to go the other way, already focusing on his palm display again, and Fiona catches him by the shoulder.

“What, you’re not shepherding me?” she asks.

“Can’t. Sorry. Busy.” He doesn’t even look up as pulls out of her grip and waves her off. “I think you can manage lunch on your own, Vault Hunter.”

Fiona watches him go and shakes her head.

“Jackass,” she mutters.

“This is Atlas food, and I own Atlas, mostly, so if you think about it, this is really already my food, and I shouldn’t have to pay.”

Fiona says it all clearly and slowly, with such a winning smile that surely no one could deny her.

The man serving food at the canteen does not look convinced. “Lady, I don’t even know who you are.”

Fiona’s about to explain why that’s really not her fault, and she’ll be speaking to the CEO about that, because it seems wrong, really, that she not get her due, and—

“It’s fine, Steve,” comes a voice from behind her. “She’s with me, just put it on my tab.”

Turning to face her unlikely saviour, Fiona finds Yvette, eyebrow arched, hands on her hips, and lips pulled into a smile. Steve mumbles something about executives looking out for each other, but he hands Fiona her tray of food without further complaint.

“Thanks,” says Fiona brightly, after Yvette’s grabbed her own food and lead them to a table. “Rhys basically abandoned me,” she adds.

Not that she’s feeling resentful, or anything.

“Yeah, he’s been a ghost recently,” Yvette says, sliding into a booth. “He always gets like this when he’s busy. He’d probably sleep in his office if your sister would let him get away with it. Vaughn and I used to stage interventions at Hyperion.”

The second she’s said it, she looks like she regrets it, a shadow passing over her face at the mention of Helios. Fiona pretends not to notice, studying her plate of food intensely.  

“But anyway,” says Yvette, abruptly trying to regain control of the conversation, “I didn’t know you were visiting today!”

“It was a surprise.” Fiona takes a swig of her drink through her straw and raises her eyebrows. “You know, like a secret shopper. Gotta say, though, my tour guide gets a failing grade.”

Yvette laughs at that, and then she starts to catch Fiona up, filling her in on all the details Rhys had been too distracted to bother with. Atlas is doing a lot of work with cybernetics, Yvette explains, and at various price points. There are lots of people on Pandora who could use prosthetics like Rhys’ own, but not many who could pay for them. Trying to find the right balance of dexterity, function and affordability is the primary focus and current struggle of the R&D team.

“One of our suppliers is a real dick, too,” Yvette adds, matter-of-factly. “I know he’s trying to overcharge us. I’ve worked with him before.” She rips her piece of toast in half and points at Fiona with it. “That’s one of the meetings Rhys has been hyperventilating about.”

“He didn’t tell me any of this,” Fiona says, pulling the lid off of her soda cup to chase down the last drops of her drink with her straw.

Yvette only shrugs. “Like I said, he gets like that.” She pops the second half of her toast into her mouth. “Besides—it must be pretty boring compared to what you’re up to these days. You must have amazing stories.”

Fiona pushes the ice around in her empty cup. Vault Hunting, not unlike conning, is about ten percent the sweet thrill of victory, ninety percent guesswork and fumbling to cheat death in ways that are embarrassing to think about later.

Still, she doesn’t like to spoil the illusion.

“Oh yeah,” she says, looking up. “Totally. Great stories. The best stories.” Already she’s mentally fishing for anecdotes that lend themselves to her… more creative impulses. “This one time—”

Yvette shifts closer in anticipation, but when she glances at her watch she blanches. “Shit. Hold that thought. I should probably get back to work.” She rises easily from the booth and takes her tray with her. “Come see me before you leave, all right? I wanna hear about the Vault Hunting.”

“Will do.” Fiona leans back in her chair, one arm draped over the side of it. “Thanks for lunch.”

“Oh, don’t mention it,” Yvette winks as she drops her tray on the pile and walks backwards to the door. “Rhys pays that tab anyway.”

Part 2 on Tumblr | Part 2 on AO3