#and it isn’t even a proper way for you to report the hate and KNOW that the person who sent it have some form of consequence against them

[dejwrld]

a daily reminder that tumblr isn’t any different than other social media platforms, it’s just rebranded with white fandom quirkiness.

[butterflydm]

wot reread: a memory of light (chapters 17-23)

spoilers for a memory of light, the final book.

Mat wakes up to find Fortuona listening to a report from one of her guards, still naked, and when he calls her ‘Tuon’, she chastises him under threat of execution if he does not show ~proper respect~. Interesting. I wonder if he'll actually stop calling her "Tuon" or not.

Part of my brain wants to compare the earlier Rand & Aviendha wake-up scene to this one, so I’m going to poke at that for a moment:

Rand & Aviendha have a pre-sex mock-threat scene where the Maidens teasingly threaten Rand before he and Aviendha sleep together; Mat has to deal with actual potential death from Tuon’s slaves (Selucia almost shooting him; the guards subduing him)

Rand & Aviendha and Mat & Fortuona are two extreme ‘culture clash’ relationships (Perrin and Faile are also a fairly extreme culture clash, but they’ve pretty much worked that out by now)

They’re also both ‘enemies to lovers, destined to be together due to a prophecy’ pairings, except Aviendha and Rand were 'enemies-to-lovers' in the loosest possible sense of "Aviendha has taken against Rand but doesn't really have any reason to hate him" while Mat got his compassion surgically removed in CoT so that he wouldn't judge Tuon for being a slaver.

Aviendha has done her best to teach Rand Aiel ways but seems to accept now that he will always be a wetlander at heart vs Fortuona expecting Mat to flip a switch and be a devoted Seanchan slave citizen and telling him that if he fails to conform, she may have him executed.

idk it’s ~interesting.

Tuon does make it clear that Mat is never going to have sex with her in private -- at least one of her guard-slaves will always be present.

2. Rand shows up -- Mat notes that he is dressed down, comparatively-speaking -- “no gold or jewelry, no weapon at all”.

Tuon, who is terrified of Rand, immediately freaks out, calling for damane to come and protect her. This scene is... *sigh* yeah, idk. It’s weirdly balanced, I guess I’d say. The narrative has done such a thorough job in trying to shield Mat from the truth about what the Seanchan have been doing recently, and from his own failures and the deaths that are on his head (he is complicit both in the attack on the White Tower -- because he let Tuon go back to her people to continue her invasion -- and the attack on Caemlyn -- because his mistrust of Aes Sedai meant he was unwilling to read a letter; and yet the narrative has hidden both of these failures from him completely). So it just feels like Mat’s perspective on the events here is so clouded by his ignorance of recent events. And that just makes it a weird scene.

When Mat gets trussed up by the Power, he first assumes that it’s Rand but when Rand tells him that it isn’t, he realizes that, well, he must be missing his medallion if he’s being held by the One Power, and he immediately looks towards Tuon who, yep, has the medallion. Guess you should have kept your dad's advice in mind and braced yourself for your trading partner to try to steal your horses, Mat.

This is that ironic moment that I was thinking of back in ToM -- Mat had wanted to freely give Tuon a medallion to protect her, but she betrayed him and stole it instead (and he didn’t even know that she knew it existed, so this is a double-betrayal -- Tuon betrayed him and so did Setalle Anan)

But this balance here, where Mat thinks that Rand is trapping him and then realizes that Tuon is the one who betrayed him... this is the first moment that probably couldn’t have existed without the reality-warping teleportation trip that Mat took down to Ebou Dar. But there’s immediate payoff from it, at least not that I can see -- one of the most frustrating things about Tuon’s horrible actions in CoT & KoD were that they never had any effect on Mat’s opinion of her, because he had a five-second memory in those two books, so I'm concerned that this will go the same way. Ah, I will remember this moment and see if it affects anything in the future.

3. Also, Mat should still have one of the copies of the medallion in his bag? He had both his original and one of the copies, per Elayne’s PoV earlier in the book, so even though Tuon stole his medallion, he does have the inferior backup.

I guess this “oh I ran away here to escape you, Rand, specifically because of The Fear” is supposed to be our explanation for why Mat changed his motivations between books? lol, what? That's a throwback to TSR/TFoH Mat except that TSR/TFoH Mat never actually ran away; he just talked about it a lot and then always ended up helping out anyway. So I guess that's where a lot of my frustrations with this reunion come from -- the parts that aren't weirdly competitive still feel... weird. (plus we still have never gotten the 'how' explanation for how Mat is in Ebou Dar -- fear alone does not catapult a person hundreds of miles in a single night)

Anyway, Rand’s reactions here really do make a lot more sense when I think about everything that Thom could have potentially told him -- the essence being “Mat accidentally ta’veren-trapped the Empress of the Seanchan into a marriage with him; maybe that will be useful”. He doesn’t really show any fear or worry for himself or for Mat, despite the potentially dire situation (though, you know, if he’s only shielded by a single damane, he can absolutely break free and... I don’t think damane can link together in a circle because they’re already in a forced-link using the a’dam? Or did my brain make that up? It does make sense though).

4. otoh, Mat just feels like he’s... taking all of this so unseriously? I can understand why he’s not truly worried here that Rand might hurt ~his slaver bride~ (because despite his bluster about Rand going mad, he’s shown instinctive trust in Rand when the going gets rough) but given that Tuon is having Rand shielded and her desperate panic the moment that she saw him and all the guards... he could show a bit of concern for Rand!

But Mat is just a wet noodle during this entire scene and it’s so bizarre. His marriage was so useless on every possible level and it feels absolutely pointless that it happened. And it didn’t have to be that way! The Mat & Tuon relationship could have been written in a way that made the readers really believe that Mat HAD to marry her in order to fulfill his destiny and make it so that the Seanchan would fight against the Dark One during the Last Battle. But as it is... Rand could have just shown up in the palace and done this entire scene without Mat, because Mat contributes absolutely nothing useful to the discussion at any point.

5. So, here’s the thing about Rand and Mat’s reunion as a whole: in isolation, it doesn’t bother me. It’s a relatively shallow conversation but that makes sense given that it’s occurring in the Seanchan stronghold -- Rand consistently does not want to show enemies the depth of his feelings about specific people, and Mat did his best throughout both CoT & KoD to keep the knowledge of his friendship with Rand away from Tuon (it was Talmanes who spilled the beans) because he didn’t trust her with that knowledge (which was, like, the one smart thing he did in the entirely of CoT & KoD, so I gotta give him credit for it), so it makes sense for them to underplay things in front of Tuon -- they are communicating information (hey, did you know I cleansed saidin? hey, did you know I saved Moiraine?) without communicating too many emotions. It’s something of a weird conversation for them, because the Rand and Mat friendship has never been particularly competitive, but it’s... okay. In isolation.

But I have to take into account that this is the only reunion scene that Mat and Rand ever get to have after they separate in Lord of Chaos, and that makes this scene an absolute narrative failure, because it is not enough to do their friendship justice.

And Sanderson was well aware of the importance of reunions... for other relationships.  And, specifically, among the three ta’veren boys:

Perrin gets a reunion dinner & a personal goodbye with Mat in ToM.

Perrin gets a reunion dinner & a personal goodbye with Rand in AMoL.

No reunion dinner and personal goodbye for Mat and Rand. Only Perrin gets such things.

All Rand and Mat get is this emotionally-limp dick-measuring contest, despite them spending large chunks of books 1-5 together and their relationship being a foundational emotional element in those five books, even when they are separated. Yet because Sanderson decided to yeet Mat down to Ebou Dar (despite it making no logistical or narrative sense for that to happen), this one meeting is all they get. And that just... sucks. Even back during the first time I read the books, when I did not yet ship Cauthor, I was so deeply disappointed by this reunion. It is such a betrayal of the complicated relationship between Rand and Mat.

Mat has spent every book since he and Rand have been separated having ‘return to Rand’ be his goal in some way or another, and that just gets wiped away between ToM & AMoL.

6. idk. Mat does... sorta try to contribute -- he offers to talk to Tuon on Rand’s behalf (”I’ll get us out of this”) -- but there’s also some real wtf thoughts going on in his brain. Like when Tuon threatens to take Rand back over the ocean to enslave him as her personal Dragon, Mat thinks “she made a good Empress”. lol, she’s literally just making the exact same threat that Elaida tries to get her embassy to carry out on her behalf back in LoC. Was Elaida also good Empress material, Mat? I mean, maybe this version of Mat also would have praised Elaida for the Box, who knows. Maybe post-canon, he’ll free Elaida and fall head-over-heels in love with her now that he’s attracted to petty tyrants who like to throw tantrums. Elaida won’t be interested back, but that could be a good learning experience for him.

On a more serious note, I think this is the beginning of some incredibly bizarre Seanchan-native style thoughts spawning spontaneously in Mat’s brain. It gets real weird at points, from what I remember (we'll see if my memory was correct!).

7. It is so bizarre that Rand does this huge display of power but then he... essentially rolls over for the Seanchan and lets them join the alliance against the Dark One without them needing to give up anything. His first offer is pretty much the rock-bottom “if worst comes to worst” terms that the Merrilor council was willing to give. That’s horrible negotiating! Always start high, Rand! Start off with “release all your slaves and go back over the ocean” and bargain down from there, rather than bargaining down from “you can keep the lands that you have now”. She's intimidated by you! Press your advantage!

Though I really do think that a lot of flaws in this scene stem from having Mat desert the Last Battle and run to Ebou Dar. Because Mat is treating this situation like his parents are getting a nasty divorce and he's trying to get them to kiss and make up rather than the situation being his aggressive/fear-based slaver wife wanting to kidnap and enslave millions of people versus the person who literally is going to save the world. You can't 'both sides are valid' a situation like that.

There is no ‘both sides’ when one of the sides does not respect the humanity of the other side. That’s as true when it comes to the Seanchan as it is when it comes to the Dark One wanting to destroy the universe. Slavery is violence.

8. I will note that Mat is throwing ‘Tuon’ around a lot in this conversation, so he has not yet taken on-board her threat about having him executed.

Rand does try to bargain for the freedom of the damane -- Tuon says no deal if she doesn’t get to keep her slaves. Keeping her slaves matters more to her than preventing the ending of the world. I thought Perrin was bad because he was willing to let the world burn if it meant saving Faile, but Tuon would let the world burn before she would let a single slave slip through her fingers.

Ugh, honestly, comparing her to Elaida does Elaida such a disservice. Tuon is a much worse person than Elaida ever was.

And Mat says nothing to try to sway her. He spoke to her when it came to trusting Rand with the Last Battle (and that one quote, “you can trust Rand al’Thor with the world itself” is a nice one), but he has nothing to say about her expressed desire to enslave every woman who can channel. Which includes his sister. Which includes Elayne and Nynaeve and Egwene. Which includes Moiraine, who he literally just saved from a different kind of captivity.

Nothing to say on their behalf, Mat?

Nothing.

I will remember that in the future. That when you had the chance to say something to try to sway Tuon on the subject of slavery, you stayed silent.

9. I am going to note something very important here, and then explain why it’s important under some spoiler space for the ending of the book. Part of the bargain that Tuon agrees to (and then signs her name to) is this: “Taking any [damane] afterward [meaning after the Last Battle] who are not in your own land will be seen as breaking the treaty and attacking the other nations.” *

And non-spoilerly side note: yeah, apparently this deal does mean that crossing the border into Seanchan territory means that they can hunt you down and enslave you without penalty. Yikes. Hope you weren’t planning on ever seeing your sister Bode again, Mat, because she can’t come visit you (lol, not as if she’d want to, I suppose).

10. So, overall... the bargain that Sanderson made, where he violated both logic and the narrative itself to ship Mat off to Ebou Dar... I do not understand why he thought it was worth it. Again, this scene with Rand, Mat, and the slaver empress isn’t complete trash -- there are some good moments in it -- but actually having Mat finishing out his narrative arcs in Merrilor/Caemlyn would have been so much better. And most of this scene still could have played out similarly if Mat had come here on purpose.

I think probably the worst part of this scene is Mat obediently trailing after Tuon when she leaves. Ugh, it’s so frustrating that Mat ended up being the General of the Slavers rather than the General of the Light -- that he comes to the Last Battle as Tuon’s slave-husband rather than someone who is actually invested in the fight in his own right. He ran away from the battle but now is willing to fight that same battle on behalf of the slavers? Yikes, what an ugly message. There’s a lot of Unfortunate in those Implications. When it was just the Westlands facing the Last Battle, Mat ran like a coward but now that the SLAVERS are involved, Mat will without hesitation dedicate himself to saving the world again? Yikes, yikes, yikes.

But the stupidest part of this is that Mat had already accepted, for books!, that he would need to be at Rand’s side during the Last Battle. He has spent books trying to get back to Rand to give him additional resources for the Last Battle. But now he’s apparently only willing to risk his neck if his wife-owner is involved. I mean, I guess this has to be why the story got changed and Mat teleported to Ebou Dar -- so that Mat would be part of the Seanchan Contribution to the Last Battle rather than being there because “it’s what had to be done” aka the right thing to do aka his previously established character motivations that were in play as recently as the final chapter of Towers of Midnight.

So, yeah, the portion of Mat’s characterization re: Tuon specifically is not awful but, holy shit, everything related to his relationships to every non-Seanchan character got shredded to an unrecognizable mess. I am really hoping that gets better in future chapters but... yeah, yikes.

11. Like Perrin and Elayne, Gawyn has also been fighting for a week as of right now. So a week has passed in the Caemlyn area and the staging area near Shayol Ghul but only a handful of hours passed between when Perrin said Mat was in Ebou Dar (before the fighting began) and when Rand went to visit Mat.

12. As a whole, I'm good with a lot of what Sanderson has been writing in AMoL! But there are definitely a few big issues have been sticking out:

everything with Mat is a logistical nightmare, even if you discount the awful impact it had on his characterization

everyone Just Knows about Rand's three girlfriends now, without ever reacting to the information

which I guess also falls under the banner of: important character moments keep getting skipped

Rand and Elayne avoiding each other at the start of this book is a weird mirror to how Rand and Aviendha were avoiding each other in TGS, aka it doesn't really make sense why they would do that

13. Anyway, I suspect that my posts are going to be able to cover more chapters now, because I never really have a lot to say about battle scenes and we just started this chapter off with one, and I suspect there will be many more in the future. But we'll see!

14. Gawyn makes sure that Egwene is getting enough sleep and not overusing the Power and he realizes that he no longer has any anger when he thinks about Rand al'Thor. Good for him! On both counts. It won't help anyone if Egwene exhausts herself. That being said, I went "yikes" at hearing that Gawyn is barely sleeping and Egwene is "washing away" his exhaustion because I feel like Moiraine says in the first book that that doesn't actually fix your exhaustion, it just masks it and lets you work through it. Let me check.

Oh, boy, yeah, I'm sorta right (It's Lan and not Moiraine who tells them, and specifically he is telling Mat, Rand, and Perrin about it while Egwene is off with Moiraine doing something else):

"They will run at their fastest, if we let them, right up to the second they drop dead from exhaustion they never even felt."

15. Leilwin née Egeanin has some nerve trying to argue with Gawyn that Egwene shouldn't hold the crimes of the Seanchan as a whole against her as an individual when she has owned a damane herself!

"I did not" - yes, you did! Egwene cares about more than just her own skin, so it would matter to her that you de-personed other people and not just if it was herself. I'm glad that you came around and decided to start treating channelers like people but this is absolutely a crime that you own. You owned damane, even after you met Elayne & Nynaeve and saw that marath'damane were not the monsters that your government tries to teach you that they are. You went back to your people and accepted becoming a member of the Blood, giving up an artifact that you had agreed to dispose of (where was your honor then, when your own skin was on the line?), and only left the Seanchan when you realized that one of the Seekers was on your trail and it was only a matter of time before you were discovered anyway. Saving her own skin has been Leilwin née Egeanin's priority for the vast majority of the time that we, the readers, have known her as a character. Not her honor.

I do like Leilwin née Egeanin as a character -- she's the most fully-realized and complex Seanchan character that we've met, I would say. But, yeah, she owns this crime and Egwene is fully in her right to hold it against her.

16. Mmm, we get a reminder here that the Bloodknife ter'angreal are personally handed out by the Empress. More interesting to me is that Leilwin née Egeanin is able to cut off her instinctive "may she live forever" after mentioning the Empress half-way through the words. Gawyn learns here that it is blood that activates the rings, but he convinces himself that he won't need to use them -- he can protect Egwene as a Warder. And she's winning her portion of the battle, so things are going well for them.

17. Rand is remembering seeing Trollocs for the first time, back in the Age of Legends, when they only knew them as "Aginor's experiments". Yeah, that had to be so mind-blowing (in a bad way), the first time that they were seen. Have I mentioned recently that I do really like that we're back in Rand's head for this book? Cutting us off from Rand's PoV was the biggest mis-step of ToM, imo.

After fighting on behalf of Elayne's armies wearing the face of Jur Grady, so that the Forsaken do not know that he's there, he reveals himself briefly with his own face and power level to give a morale boost to the troops, then returns to Merrilor, where Min is waiting to immediately clamp onto his arm.

18. Though Min has been a silent presence in some of the Rand chapters of the book, this is the first time she actually speaks in this book. Page 353 in the hardcover version. "You look sad."

lol, yeah, Sanderson 100% had no clue how to balance the Rand x Min relationship with the Rand x Elayne x Aviendha relationship, to the point that Min had to become a background element for the chapters during which Sanderson focused on Rand & Aviendha and Rand & Elayne.

19. Rand thinks here that he would have fallen "for sure" if Min hadn't been there during those "months of darkness". Bro. Bro. You did fall. That was a thing that absolutely happened on the page. We literally watched it. It was a whole plot point. You almost destroyed time and the universe because of how dark and cold your interior world had gotten, and it wasn't Min who stopped you from doing it; it was reaching inside yourself and finding hope. All of that was literally on the page.

But giving Min credit for things she never did or that never happened is pretty much the main pattern when it comes to Min, so I guess... here's another one of those moments, lol.

20. So, I think I'm parsing the grammar of this correctly and Cadsuane is saying that both Aviendha and Min got jewelry, yes?

"A sword for your father, a ter'angreal for the Queen of Andor, a crown for Lan Mandragoran, jewelry for the Aiel girl, and for this one." She nodded at Min.

Also, wow, "jewelry for the Aiel girl" -- Cadsuane did not even bother getting Aviendha's name. I wonder if she was pissed off when she realized that the horse that she was betting on to influence Rand for her (Min) wasn't the only voice in his ear.

Anyway, Rand is annoyed because she calls him out -- in front of Min -- in basically giving away sentimental "in case I die" gifts.

21. So... Aviendha and Min are both here at Rand's main camp, but there's zero implication that they are getting to know each other the way that Aviendha wanted them to (and like they had the chance to do in TGS, but both of them avoided each other instead).

Stop skipping important emotional moments!

Also, I kind of have to laugh that... Min was apparently here the whole time, but Perrin didn't think to mention her when he was having his big goodbye scene with Rand. Aren't you two supposed to be friends?

22. Cadsuane insults Elayne to try to get a rise out of Rand but he refuses to respond to the bait. Yeah, between "the Aiel girl" and now insulting Elayne, I think Cadsuane was ticked off when the memo went out that the Dragon has three girlfriends and the trump card that she'd thought she'd held by cultivating Min was not as strong as she believed it to be.

Anyway, she tells Rand here that it's best if he doesn't go into the fight believing absolutely that he's going to die and... okay, I'm going to pop an addition to this thought at the end**.

lol Cadsuane tries to fish for a gift for herself and Rand shuts her down with "I'm giving them to those I care about." I really do find their interactions so funny now that Cadsuane can't successfully bully or bait Rand anymore.

23. Aviendha is going to lead those fighting against the Forsaken who will be popping up once Rand goes into Shayol Ghul. Elayne & Aviendha have both grown into such leaders. 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰

Rand also makes sure that Alivia is involved in that portion of the battle.

Cadsuane casually drops the news here that the Black Tower has freed itself -- to go back to my earlier Black Tower thoughts, I feel like this would be so much more impactful if Nynaeve were the one delivering this news because she was the one who helped liberate the Black Tower. Because as far as we've seen, the only thing Nynaeve has done in the last eighteen chapters is give Moiraine a hug. She had the time and the motivation to do the Black Tower plotline.

24. I love this scene with Lan, where he realizes that he has hopes for the future now and he wonders if Rand has any idea that he was part of the reason why Lan started looking beyond his own death. Rand and Nynaeve, tearing down his walls without even realizing what they were doing, just by being themselves.

"Rand al'Thor had begun to crack that shell, and then Nynaeve's love had torn it apart completely."

Wouldn't it be neat if this scene had happened right after Nynaeve had returned to Rand and told him that the Black Tower was no longer under Taim's control?

25. Just like the other captain over in Lan's front of the battle did, Bashere also made a bone-headed mistake in his battle planning here. I do feel like we're probably supposed to be picking up at this point that this is no coincidence and not just the captains being over-tired and not thinking clearly. But right now, Elayne is trusting Bashere because of how much trust Rand placed in him, even when Rand was at his most untrusting.

26. In a TAR visit with Amys, Melaine, and Bair, Egwene is told about a blackness that is showing in cracks between rocks, in the places nearest Shayol Ghul, then after a few moments the blackness fades and leaves behind ordinary cracks. The Wise Ones believe it is the Pattern pulling apart and think that it is due to how much balefire is being used during the battle. Egwene says that it is already forbidden to Aes Sedai to use the weave, but she will remind them, and pass word to their other allies. They also tell her goodbye, as soon Rand will go into Shayol Ghul.

27. When Egwene wakes up, it's to meet with Rand -- not as Amyrlin and Dragon, but as childhood friends. His sentimental gift to Egwene is a hair ribbon which she first takes as him implying that she's a child -- which kinda shows how far beyond the Two Rivers that she's gone, because she knows that's not what a hair ribbon means there.

But it's a sweet moment.

So, if Rand had been allowed to give sentimental gifts to Mat... and Perrin too, I guess. What would they have been? This newest version of Mat doesn't really deserve any gifts, lol, so that one is kinda tough. A geode, maybe, or a thunder egg? Mat used to like to collect little treasures.

I saw someone in the tags a while back talking about how refreshing it was that the friendships between women in the books are so vibrant in contrast to the friendships between men and... I also love how great those friendships are, but it really sucks that Jordan (maybe Sanderson too? it's hard to tell) seemed to believe that married men weren't allowed to have close male friends and were only supposed to confide in their spouse. And that's a part of toxic masculinity, the belief that your girlfriend/wife should be your emotional dumping ground while hanging with the bros stays shallow, competitive, and light. And we really saw that a lot with Rand during the darkest books for him -- Min was his emotional dumping ground, there to receive his trauma and not have any of her own (despite going through several traumatic events).

And that part of what's damaged about how the male characters relate to the world never really gets healed. Women can confide in their friends, but male friendships get hollowed out once the men start getting love interests.

(the books kinda lampshade this when they say that Aiel women adopting each other as first-sisters is much more common than men adopting each other as first-brothers -- so there's this implied idea that married men only relate to each other as co-workers or leader-subordinates)

Oh, yeah, and Rand realizes that the seals that Egwene is holding to wait to break for the Last Battle are actually fakes. I feel like nothing really happens with this plotline so I'm not going to get too invested.

28. Mat allows himself be dressed up as a doll for Tuon’s viewing pleasure. This is that other contrast against Elayne that I mentioned back in the post where I talked about Fortuona being a foil to Elayne -- where Tylin and Fortuona order Mat to wear clothes that please them; Mat requested that Elayne pick out someone to help him get better clothes (that were in the style that he would prefer).

Mat is SO MISERABLE in this scene. Why is he forcing himself through all this? Why didn't he leave with Rand?

He hates that the slaves won't look at him; he hates that he's being dressed up like a Seanchan; he hates the idea that everyone is going to be looking at him like this. He hates everything about this. Why is he doing it? If Mat's marriage to Tuon had been what sealed the deal for the treaty, then Mat pushing through even though he's miserable would make sense, but much like the entirety of this whole fucking relationship, Mat is turning his future into a misery for no apparent reason.

29. Of course, now that Mat has been (abruptly, off the page) cut off from all his other emotional connections except for Tuon, he's been locked in. I really do feel like Jordan (and now Sanderson) failed to give Mat enough of a reason to have *waves hands* all of this make sense. The general vibe is "better to stay in the worst marriage in the world than to have no marriage at all" but that is a bizarre storyline to give to someone who never showed any signs of wanting to be married.

But yeah, having servants/slaves undress him so that he can be dressed according to how his owner wants him to look is exactly what Tylin did. Mat thinks here, I won't be owned, but he's not doing a very good job of actually standing his ground. See, the thing is... if this was how Mat's story was going to end up anyway, I feel like Jordan might as well have just had Tylin sell Mat to Tuon back in Winter's Heart? Because that's where we've ended up anyway -- with Mat realizing that Tylin and Tuon are birds of a feather but... for whatever reason... sticking with her anyway, even though it actively makes him unhappy.

I can't think of any reason to have this scene except to remind us of Tylin? (in-world, I imagine that Tuon is having it done to show all the Westlanders that Mat belongs to her now, not to their side, because... she's extremely possessive and jealous -- and also to reassure her own side that she has thoroughly broken her new outlander mate to be loyal to the Empire)

Mat is able to negotiate slightly -- his clothes don't get burned and they're only making a military outfit for him right now -- but he was able to negotiate slightly with Tylin as well. It kinda feels like that's Mat's lot for the foreseeable future -- his life will mostly be a misery, with tiny patches of him being to negotiate a small bit of breathing room. A tiny bit of false freedom in exchange for his loyalty is probably seen as a bargain by Tuon.

30. Yeah, I'm not very happy with Mat's storyline in this book, at least so far. Which sucks because (except for the first chapter of TGS), I've been liking what Sanderson brought to the table for Mat in TGS & ToM. Especially after the trash-fire that was Mat in CoT & KoD (I genuinely dislike Mat as a character in CoT & KoD and it ruins those two books for me).

But it is an interesting illustration of... what parts of a character matter to different individual readers. Some people were never invested in Mat as someone who genuinely cared about doing the right thing even as he called anyone like that foolish, but it was such a vital part of Mat's characterization for me, all the way through Winter's Heart. And it's just gone in CoT & KoD, and losing that part of Mat makes me no longer like Mat as a character. But for some people... that just wasn't an important part of who Mat was to them, and they could shrug off the loss or not even notice it at all.

I've seen something similar with various posts talking about -- "is Rand still Rand if you remove the toxic masculinity portion of his story?" and various other debates about different aspects of his storyline. For some people, Rand being an exploration of toxic masculinity (by embracing Lan's advice) was a huge part of his character and helped them through their own issues with masculinity. For me, it is not that vital part of who Rand is, and if the show doesn't go that way -- if the list isn't gendered, if the focus isn't on "don't let any WOMEN get hurt or killed", I would welcome that change. But for a person who saw Rand's struggle in their own life, that change would feel like a loss.

So it's sad for me that Mat has been locked-into the Prince of Ravens story, particularly in this version of the story where the way they chose to approach the story was to dampen his empathy for the enslaved and shred his emotional connections to his former friends away as if they meant nothing. The parts of Mat that I cared about the most were the parts that were thrown away by the authors as if they were meaningless. And that sucks.

I've caught glimpses in the Sanderson books, of the Mat that I loved in the series from EotW-WH, but so far this version in AMoL feels like half the character that I cared about, with the other half ripped away.

I miss Mat. And it sucks so much more to think that during actual Mat PoV sections than to think it when Mat is missing or gone.

I miss the guy who cared so much about slavery that he risked his own escape plan to free the Windfinders.

I miss the guy who sat quietly with Rand after Rhuidean, exactly the kind of comfort that Rand needed at the time.

His body is still walking around but the part of Mat that I loved... he's not there. He got in the way of the plot, so the authors elided those parts of him out of existence. But those were the parts that I cared about the most.

Yeah. Just makes me sad.

31. Ah, the surprise Sharan army shows up. Why would they hold back until now? The fighting has been going on for a week+ at this point. Hmm... my Doylist (aka author-based, as opposed to in-world) assumption is that the Sharans are showing up now so that it will actually feel like the Seanchan are needed when they show up, so the timing needed to be placed after the treaty with the Seanchan was signed. A whole random huge nation shows up at the fight with tons of channelers -- better throw a different random huge nation with tons of channelers at them! In-world... idk, probably just Demandred being dramatic. They attack on Egwene's part of the battlefield, so now all the fronts are in a bad way.

32. Aviendha is part of the advance group of scouts into the Blasted Lands (before they reach Shayol Ghul). They see Shayol Ghul and the forges where the Fade's blades are made.

I love her scene here with Rand. Aviendha realizes that she and Rand are more alike that she'd ever noticed before, and they stand next to each other, shoulders just barely touching. "He did not own her, and she did not own him. The act of his movement so that they stood facing in the same direction meant far more to her than any other gesture could."

🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰

Aviendha says that taking the Dark One gai'shain would be a greater victory than killing him. I love her. So Aviendha votes here for Rand to imprison TDO rather than try to kill him. Rand says that he'd thought them finally being in a proper-type relationship would mean no more lectures on Aiel culture and Aviendha is just... so baffled. 🥰

So the plan is for Ituralde and the Aiel to hold this area right before Shayol Ghul, to give Rand time to go in and deal with the Dark One.

33. With the scouting done, they go back to Rand's camp to prep the forces for the assault, and Rand tells Aviendha that the dagger has been helping him stay hidden from the Shadow during the fight, just as she thought that it would. This knife really does feel like it symbolizes how connected Rand-Elayne-Aviendha are as a triad. Aviendha finds out what it can do and gives it to Elayne to protect her; Elayne gives it to Rand to protect him. Rand says it's going to make it easier for him to get to TDO before he's noticed. He calls the dagger "Artham".

Also: Rand tells Aviendha about the true seals going missing! Communication! Love to see it. He mentions that apart from the two of them, Egwene is the only one who knows that the true seals are gone.

Ituralde will be in charge of the troops during the Shayol Ghul assault but Aviendha will lead the channelers.

34. ...Min really thought there was a chance that she was going to go with Rand to face the Dark One? All she would be is a liability!

Anyway, okay, Rand actually does specifically send Min to Egwene to "watch the Seanchan Empress" so I'll keep that in mind. I'm not sure exactly what Min is supposed to do if things go poorly but keeping an eye on Tuon is part of the reason she was sent. (technically he sent her there to "keep an eye on both factions" but he knows he can trust Egwene, so the implied reason is Tuon & the Seanchan). How convenient that Rand is sending the Seanchan to the front that just got flattened by the Sharans, even though he thinks Egwene is "doing well". I guess that one we can say is ta'veren stuff.

Also, in this scene before Min gets sent on her way, she does not offer any last insight about Callandor. It's Moiraine and Nynaeve who talk to him about the flaw here.

35. I feel like this whole "Logain has grown darker" plotline could have been cut out. Not needed. Just let him lead the Asha'man into the Last Battle; there's plenty of glory in that.

36. Demandred shows up on the battlefield after the Sharans have flattened the Aes Sedai forces to grab one of them (it's Leane) to try to send her off with a message to Rand: it's personal and you better face me yourself or I will ruin everything you love (essentially). Yeah... your dramatic entrance a week into the Last Battle has kinda ruined your chance at Rand, I'm pretty sure. Because he's heading towards Shayol Ghul very soon. Too slow, ~dragonslayer~. Fancy title and no dragon around for you to slay.

37. Lanfear dunks on Perrin for not being able to kill Graendal (when he discovered her in TAR).

"I found [the inability to kill women] charming in Lews Therin at one point, but that doesn't make it any less a weakness."

Why is Lanfear helping Perrin out? I do not remember her goal here, if we ever find it out. But she basically handed him the dreamspike and now she's telling him that it's dumb for him to let Graendal get away just because she's a woman (Gaul also tells Perrin this: "A warrior who will not strike a Maiden is a warrior who refuses her honor"). She also straight-up tells him that Graendal is here to influence people's dreams. And Perrin saw Graendal messing around in war tents with maps.

... he does not put the pieces together at this point.

38. Okay, we get the low-down on the time dilation (thank you, physics researcher Mierin!) -- Shayol Ghul is what is distorting time. The closer you are to it, the more time distorts. "For every day that passes [to those close to Shayol Ghul], three or four might pass to those more distant."

In other words, this does not fix Mat's logistics problem, where he was able to undertake a weeks-long journey on horseback over the course of a single night in order to reach Ebou Dar around the same time Moiraine and Thom reached Merrilor, but then an entire week passed in Merrilor while only a handful of hours passed for Mat in Ebou Dar. Mat's logistics still do not add up.

Oh, Lanfear also tells Perrin that one of the people Graendal was influencing was his wife's dad, aka Bashere aka one of the generals of the battle.

39. Given what a dire situation Gawyn & Egwene are in, Gawyn takes the opportunity while scouting to slip on one of the Bloodknife rings and activate it. They're pinned down and trapped by the Sharan army so it makes sense that he's desperate enough to do this. They certainly have no clue that they're about to get sent an additional army on their own side.

It means that he can scout directly past the various Sharan sentries who are surrounding them (it is an incredibly dire situation). Not only does it let him travel with the shadows but he also notices that it lets him move faster as well.

Given that he already has the rings and what a terrible situation he and Egwene are currently trapped in, it would be pretty foolish of him not to use the rings at this time, tbh.

But it looks like when Leilwin née Egeanin said that the rings would eventually kill you once you'd activated them, Gawyn interpreted that as 'might'. And I think that makes sense -- Gawyn can understand on an intellectual level how disposable (non-Blood) lives are in the Seanchan Empire without being able to take it in emotionally. It's not intuitive for him, because he doesn't use people up and throw them away the way that the Seanchan do.

40. We get another pretty powerful flashback to Egwene's time with the damane, when she is temporarily captured by one of the Sharans while she is making her escape following Gawyn. It's actually pretty clever -- she deliberately is letting go of her Aes Sedai control so that her panic over the idea of being captured will draw Gawyn back so that he can help her.

But, yeah, having this vivid reminder of of Egwene's time as a captive of the Seanchan... it really does make the choices that Jordan & Sanderson decided to make with Mat's storyline so baffling. Mat genuinely cares about Egwene, about Elayne, about Nynaeve, about Moiraine, presumably he cares about his sister but I guess who knows. And yet Jordan has Mat laugh off the idea of Tuon attacking the White Tower (which she then followed through on and actually did and yet he does not know about it) and act like the sul'dam are more oppressed and in more danger than the actual slaves; and Sanderson has Mat run away from the Last Battle until the slavers are involved and then he's apparently willing to risk his life again. In the name of the slavers. Baffling writing choices all around.

Egwene on thinking what it would be like to be captured by the Seanchan again: "She would be nothing. She would have her very self stripped away. She would rather be dead."

41. But Gawyn is still too far away and it ends up being Leilwin née Egeanin who saves Egwene here. Together the three of them escape the camp, reunite with Bayle, and then Egwene is able to Skim them back to the White Tower.

42. Near Shayol Ghul, Aviendha and the channelers that she's leading clear the valley so that Rand will be able to approach. There's a pretty intense battle scene and then Aviendha takes charge of organizing all the channelers so that they will be able to hold the valley for as long as Rand's task takes him.

43. ...Thom and Moirine apparently also got married off the page? When did they have time? Did Mat perform a quick ceremony before he teleported himself on top of Pips' back and then teleported himself to Ebou Dar?

Hmm, I wonder (should we make it that far) if this will be Siuan being the watcher outside Shayol Ghul instead of Thom? It kinda would make more sense for that person to be a channeler anyway.

44. As they enter, Rand's wound from Ishamael begin bleeding. As per the prophecy. His blood on the rocks of Shayol Ghul. He goes into the cavern holding Callandor and linked with Moiraine and Nynaeve.

spoilers through the epilogue

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

(* Tuon’s people are violating the terms of the treaty in the epilogue. They comb the battlefield afterwards and are enslaving any channelers “who are not Aes Sedai”. That’s not the deal she made. The deal was they could not take “any who are not in your own land” and none of the fighting for the Last Battle took place in Seanchan-held lands. As of the epilogue, Tuon is already in violation of the agreement. And the sul’dam who takes Moghedien makes it clear that they’re snapping up any channelers that they suspect “won’t be missed”. There are many channelers among Rand’s allies who are not Aes Sedai -- Asha’man, Wise Ones, the Kin, the Windfinders. So, yeah... Rand isn’t getting his “hundred years of peace” because the Seanchan couldn’t last even a single day post-Last Battle without breaking their word.)

(** So... Rand is lying to Cadsuane and the readers in his scene with her, because he IS making plans to potentially survive the Last Battle -- we know that he has Alivia set up a 'post-death' escape plan for him. So this part is more interesting on reread, because Rand has to walk the line of not giving away to Cadsuane that he does hope to live, because part of his 'post-death' plan is retiring into obscurity. I don't have any issue with Rand lying to Cadsuane here, I just wanted to note it)

It remains so weird to me that Sanderson & Team Jordan decided to go the ‘deserter’ route rather than the ‘negotiator’ route with Mat. I’m honestly scratching my head to try to figure out the narrative benefits of doing things this way. Nothing about Mat’s approach into Ebou Dar requires him to skip Merrilor and abandon his people, and many things would make a great deal more sense if Mat had gone to Merrilor: Mat doesn’t seem to want to be here and yet he’s forcing himself to do it every step of the way, so it would make sense if something was actually driving him to take the actions that he’s taking (guilt over Caemlyn). He still could have easily had sex with Fortuona here if he’d been sent by the Merrilor council, so that’s not why we broke the story to get him here without letting him reconnect with his friends.

What could the motivation be? I am unlikely to ever get the chance to interview Sanderson or Harriet or anyone else on Team Jordan, and no one else appears to have ever asked him about any of this, so I am going to have to speculate.

What are the story effects of having Mat desert Team Light & the Band (off the page)?

It means that anything complicated about the Seanchan gets avoided for the first ten chapters and the focus is entirely on the Westlands' feelings and worries.

Mat's emotional connections appear to have been cut off or muted.

What does it gain to simplify and cut off Mat’s Westlands emotional connections?

Is it a case of ‘writing to the epilogue’? If I recall correctly, Mat doesn’t seem to care at all about his Westlands friends or family in the epilogue, so were his emotional bonds destroyed in-between books so that it wouldn’t be jarring that he doesn’t go to his friend’s funeral or that his only concern post-Last Battle appears to be his own skin and appeasing his owner-wife? But why not write that as part of the text? Why not show us the process of Mat disconnecting from his friends?

Is it another instance of Fortuona’s delicate toddler feelings being coddled (not by other characters but by the narrative itself)? If Mat comes to her still having other loyalties, then she definitely would be upset and would probably throw a tantrum, as we’ve seen from her before (she gets pretty close as it is). One of the largest annoyances of how Jordan (& now Sanderson) has written the story around Fortuona is feeling like the narrative itself is tiptoeing around her and bowing to her and trying to kiss her feet (if the narrative played fair with Fortuona & the Seanchan, they would be a lot scarier and a lot less annoying -- like they were all the way through Winter’s Heart, in fact, because Crossroads of Twilight is really when the narrative really started pulling its punches with the Seanchan).

For whatever reason, it remains such a baffling choice. Because all of Mat’s complex (and often ugly) feelings about his marriage and the Seanchan are still there, bubbling under the surface and poking out from time to time, but the heart of his character -- his relationship with any character other than Fortuona -- got strangled off-screen. Such a strange choice.

I do think that it’s likely that the show will do much better with this relationship, if they do decide to commit to it, because the bones of what Mat & Fortuona could have been are really fascinating. But wow, the execution just shits all over any of the better possibilities. What a waste of potential.

[moosemonstrous]

Ghost Rider Pacific Rim AU - acceptable losses

Tony hates the countdown display. It doesn’t make him feel any better that it was, technically, his idea to put it up in the first place.

You can see the clock from anywhere in the dome, and the support side has its own copy. It’s inescapable, the orange glow illuminating his every anxious thought, the soundless downtick keeping him awake at nights even in his apartment in the city.

He’s redone the calculations again. His math checks out. It always checks out, because you can use numbers to lie to others but not to yourself. His predictions have been broadly correct five out of six times over the last three years. Every time, he hopes to be wrong, and knows that he isn’t – the water temperature in the immediate one thousand feet around the Breach rose by point-oh-three degrees overnight, T minus seventy two hours. The submarine drones haven’t reported any lesser beasts coming through since Thursday.

The next demon is coming. And they’re two jaegers short.

“Crimson Typhoon won’t be ready in time,” Ivanov drums his fingers on the metal surface of his desk. He’s not prone to nervous ticks. Half the time, Tony can only spot his tells because he spent his twenties at a poker table. “We need to make a decision.”

Of course, he doesn’t want to be the one to explicitly make it. He’s been avoiding the subject altogether for weeks now. On one hand, Tony kind of feels bad for him, because he vaguely remembers the funerals after The Charger’s last run and nobody was having a good time with it. On the other, it’s not Ivanov who’s name will be on the outcome report if they— God damn it.

“We’re going to get that kid killed,” he sighs.

“We are at war. And your protégé seems confident.”

“Uh, yeah, call me when he ever doesn’t, I’ll mark the date.” He’s still so smug about that damn Kwoon sim, too. Explain that, he said, and Tony never wished so much he’d spent any proper time on neurology in his life. Vicky threw in the towel at this point – Reyes is too speculative for her. There’s a reason medical doesn’t come under R&D. “No point delaying the inevitable, huh?”

“We can delay all we like,” Ivanov grunts. At least he doesn’t look like he likes it any more than Tony does, even if he suspects it’s for very different reasons. “But if we don’t use The Charger and the next demon goes through the port like Bladecrest did through Los Angeles, we are all out of a job.”

Trust the soldier to make it about the bottom line. “Great. I’ll pick up the black box reports from the archive on my way down.”

Ivanov raises an eyebrow. “What makes you think I changed my mind on this?”

“Are you kidding me?” Tony rounds on his desk, slamming a palm down. “You have to declassify them. I can’t sign off on a trial drift if we don’t know—”

Ivanov cuts him off, looking at Tony’s hand like he’s fantasising about cutting it off, too. “I will tell you what you need to know,” he says in the same tone of voice he uses to explain the week’s biosamples have been held back in customs again. It’s bullshit, but not in any way Tony can argue against. “Hell Charger malfunctioned from corruption damage. She killed both of her pilots,” God, Tony hates when he uses people pronouns for that thing, “and almost everyone in the hangar that night. I have been trying to get her taken apart for scrap from the second I made rank. I was always told the expense is prohibitive, there must be something else to make her work.” He stands to lean over the desk. Tony takes an involuntary step back. “She killed six potential pilots over the years, but I’m sure you and Cho know what you’re doing.”

There are many things Tony wishes he could take back. Most of the last fifteen years, if he’s feeling dramatic. None quite so fervently as the moment he thought he can get back at the Colonel for blatantly breaking the same rules he uses to red-tape Cho’s research.

“Ivanov, come on,” he pleads. “You can’t expect me to fly blind on this."

The Colonel’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “Maybe a tragedy is what we need to end this vibranium deadlock.”

*

Amadeus isn’t used to having second thoughts. He takes in the available information, draws the potential conclusions and picks the most reasonable course of action – there are no unpredictable outcomes, only missing data.

He really, really thought he’d have The Charger’s run reports before doing this, though.

“He can always say no,” Jen said when she put together the paperwork. “The risks are clearly outlined in section fifteen. All we can do is make sure he reads it.”

Reyes is definitely reading it. Amadeus has been sitting on his hands for an hour while Ivanov, Jen and one of the tech reps go over the thick stack of liability documents. He’s not allowed in the room as to avoid influencing the final decision – like out of everyone, it’s him who can convince Reyes of anything.

Mostly, he can chalk up his anxiety to excitement – finally, things are moving along. Finally, he’ll get to test his long-standing theory about Hell Charger and prove that Banner was right all along. Finally, they can start working on Tony’s abandoned personal armour project instead of drowning billions upon billions of dollars in unsustainable, power-intensive, unwieldy jaegers that are as likely to cause destruction as to prevent it.

Section sixteen outlines provisions for dependants in case of the test subject’s demise. Until this morning, Amadeus didn’t think much of it. Now it’s inextricably linked to the face of a little kid in a wheelchair who laughed at the model demon liver he keeps in his office. He’s maybe starting to see why Tony hasn’t been as thrilled as he’d expected him to be.

“This better goes exactly as you think it will,” Tony said. Amadeus can’t get his expression out of his mind; like this was his worst nightmare coming to a head, rather than the long-awaited breakthrough they’ve been working towards.

The countdown display ticks down from forty four to forty three hours. Even if everything goes exactly right, even if Reyes’s ghost drift with the jaeger is everything Amadeus hopes it to be, it’s still a crapshoot whether they’ll be able to use it in a fight. Simulators are one thing; they don’t have the firepower to keep someone on rookie-watch on his first run. Coyote Tango already agreed to take point, with Eden Assassin and Romeo Blue on support. Other Shatterdomes have been steadily reporting their own preparations – there’s no reason to assume anything will go wrong, but there was no indication the demon would target L.A. rather than Lima, either. Each base isn’t so keen on sending their jaegers to a single location when it’s no longer a given they can reliably predict the target. Best to wait and hope.

“Relax, kid,” Tony hands him a can of soda. “It’s out of your hands now.”

Amadeus inspects the can. It’s orange, because Tony Stark is a deeply deranged individual. He drinks it anyway – he desperately needs the sugar after the night of checking and re-checking everything.

“I could still call it in.”

“Ha.” There is no humour in Tony’s voice. “Director-general signed off on the motion. It’s too late to call anything but go.”

“He could say no.”

The cameras in the meeting room are angled just awkwardly enough to show the way Reyes digs his nails into the skin around his wristband. He’s got a good poker face, but it’s painfully obvious how nervous he is. He seemed genuinely surprised when Amadeus told him they’re ready to trial him on The Charger. He couldn’t not have seen it coming... Right?

Brooks, up until that point silent and still as a statue in the corner of the obs room, makes a ‘meh’ gesture. “He acts all reluctant, but he’s been putting the time in. Besides, if he says no and the base falls, he’s as dead as the rest of us.”

It’s exactly the kind of logic Amadeus has been employing all along. It doesn’t carry the same convincing power, coming from someone else. On the camera feed, the rep reacts with displeasure at something Ivanov has said, but Reyes starts nodding and reaching for a pen.

It’s happening. Amadeus holds his breath as Reyes flips the pages of the liability agreement and signs in the indicates fields.

Tony makes a strangled noise. “I’ll get the techs to start prepping the Conn-Pod. Amadeus?”

He can’t look away from the screen. “Yeah?”

“For your sake, I hope this is worth it.”

[wafflesetc]

The only rationalization I can make of what was done to Jay last episode, for the writers, he's no longer a character, he's just an object a means to an end, a way to get the story from point A to B. It's clear that Sean is obsessed with Hailey and they're going to have him getting under her skin until, I think they get to some showdown where he kidnaps her or something along those lines. The only way they found for that to happen, for Hailey to let herself get tangled in him again, is if she's still trying to avoid her personal life and looking for distractions. The excuse that she wasn't able to contact him was too weak and wouldn't last long, so they needed to make it worst, take away her hope (and ours) of this being a temporary thing and that he'd be back soon. That way, it'll make sense when she falls to Sean's tricks, even though she knows exactly who he is. She'll be spiraling over her crumbling marriage and an 'easy prey'. I don't like it one bit, but I think is what makes more sense with what we've seen so far

There’s a lot of truth in what you’re saying. I also feel it, deeply.  I am really at a loss for what to think or feel about this whole situation for a variety of different reasons. Mostly, I know what the show is capable of and I know the foundation that they have laid for each of the characters and the relationship, and what we are seeing with the season ten storyline doesn’t mirror or respect anything we have seen in previous seasons. 

They could have had him extend his time there with a one-sided phone call, like we saw Hailey have with the Army, where he tells her he needs more time, etc. It still would equate to a painful arc for Hailey, still leave him off our screens, and whatnot. However, hearing it from her husband rather than some Army person would have made a heck of a difference in how people feel about the situation. Would I have hated the scenario? Yes, but it would have felt more like them than what we saw this week. 

I said in a previous answer that I just don’t see this as it completely finished yet. I don’t know if they even fully know where they are taking it, but I do think they have an idea. 

There’s too much happening with Sean, the fact they are choosing to put Hailey through this continually through the season, I just think there is going to be more to all of this. The question becomes will we like the pay off or not. 

I’m not here to hate on the writer’s room... But I am okay with being critical. As I said above, they have enormous potential - both in the writers room and with the cast - we’ve seen it on our screens before. What we are currently seeing has been some very good acting, but I would argue the writing hasn’t been to the level that the writer’s could be writing for us. When we’ve seen the great pay off of things (in previous seasons) and then we get these storylines (in season ten) that don’t feel like the characters they have written in previous seasons, it really makes me scratch my head.

I’d love to have Gwen do an interview with someone who knows how to ask proper, analytical questions, rather than someone who asks things just for clout. And for that - I will add, Tracy was asked a question about “when” she may or may not take off her ring. What I will say to that is that reporter isn’t one of my favorites. For a number of reasons. Also, when that question was asked was back in December, as they were filming episode 12. The cast has said multiple times that they don’t always see scripts in advance and they more or less only focus on the one episode at a time. I genuinely think Tracy doesn’t/didn’t know long term what was happening there. 

Anyways, this is probably longer than you thought it would be so I apologize. I just can’t seem to shut up about all of this.

[greyias]

lemme guess, something about ai?

Yes.

Like I get and respect that people don’t like it for various reasons. It is the technological bogeyman of the day, sometimes for extremely valid reasons, some of them less so, but that’s not really my issue here, or what I’m annoyed about. Hate “AI” all you want, your opinion doesn’t negatively impact my life one way or the other.

And like, just so I’m not vagueposting, the TL;DR situation is someone has written a script to leave troll comments on AO3 fics that they’re fic was “flagged as written by ChatGPT” (let’s put a pin in that, I’ll get back to it). I have seen at least one of my friends receive that comment a few days ago. According to this post, this has evolved into them inserting a link to paste your work to check it against some website that can check the level of AI written words vs human written words. While I haven’t personally seen that evolution, I absolutely believe that report because it follows the typical pattern of mass deployed bots both on AO3, Tumblr, Twitter, etc. They’re suggesting to not click on the link and report the comment as spam. Absolutely, you should not click on that link, and you should absolutely report that comment as the spam that it is.

Basic Internet 101: You should never click on sketchy links. Regardless of the device* you’re using. Period. It is playing with fire, for many reasons, including malware, viruses, ransomware, social engineering, identity theft, compromising your social accounts and/or financial data, and a slew of other things that have actual real world consequences

* If you are that curious to where it leads, you need to understand your devices and internet security, and set up a playground in a proper environment that you understand (ie: a virtual machine that doesn’t have any personal information and can be safely isolated from your actual network, etc). I do not understand mechanisms and potentials for failures, so I’ve never done this, as it’s a waste of resources in my opinion about 99% of the time.

No, what I’m taking issue with is them talking about “we shouldn’t click on malicious link from spam comments” because “they might be tricking you into helping train an new AI system”. Because maybe the person reading that statement hates AI and doesn’t want to train a system (and would somehow click this link otherwise). Or maybe it’s the opposite, and they don’t mind, so they would click the link then? The reasons we don’t click sketchy links on the internet isn’t because we all hate “AI” and want it to die, the reason is we don’t want to get malware installed on our machines or possibly our fucking identity stolen.

Accidentally training an AI dataset is not the same level of threat as the actual reason bad actors want you to click on sketchy links. It’s not the reason they send you social engineering e-mails. It’s not the reason they try and infect you with ransomware sometimes used to try and cripple real world infrastructure or systems (that hey, also sometimes leads to bomb threats in real life totally don’t know of this happening in real life noooope 🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃). Yes, there’s a lot of ethical concerns and some potential for harm with certain arms of this technology — but your fanfic on AO3 is not on the same level as why we don’t click on sketchy links.

It’s just not.

I mean this in the nicest, kindest possible way, but someone doing this? Doesn’t care about your fanfic. I’m sorry, but no matter the scenario, they just don’t. Even if it is the most beautifully written masterpiece to grace AO3, someone who is writing and deploying a script to write spam comments, and spam comments that involve sketchy links to websites? That is someone who is already engaging in unethical behavior. It’s hitting up any story on AO3, regardless if the story itself was first handwritten on paper and then typed up, or (extremely improbable if you’ve ever even used the system) ChatGPT. So you have a few options of what clicking that link will lead to, and I’ll start with most likely, to least likely.

Most likely: you’re being redirected to a malware ridden website, designed to either capture your personal data or install something on your web browser and/or system.

Less likely, but still more than what’s said on that post: It’s some sort of social engineering scam, although without me knowing the link and going to the website, I can’t see what credentials it would be trying to trick you into passing over.

Even less likely: Someone has set up one of these “AI writing checking websites” (another thing I need to circle back to at the bottom), and is trying to drum up usership and/or are using the AO3 links to try and boost their Google SEO rating (ala the same method as Tumblr porn bots). The usership boost is less likely because they start off by insulting the writer, so if anything, if the website link is to an actual “AI writing checker” deploying a script like this would be for artificially inflating its Google ranking, at the most innocent. However, knowing what we do of people who deploy bots of that nature, then it likely originated from the Dark Web, as quite a few (but not all) of these malicious bot scripts come from. Also extremely sketchy. Circle back to the malware likelihood above.

Potential Maybe: Some very sad person who hangs out at whatever website the 4chan/8chan/etc crowd has migrated to. Has an unreasonable hatred of the typical AO3 user and wants to make them fear a comment in their inbox. Maybe set up a website to troll them to tell them every time they submit a piece of text it returns a result that they’re SUCH a bad writer they look like a chat bot. Seems like a waste of resources and time to me, but what do I know?

The absolute most least likely, because COME ON: Someone would like to train a new AI dataset, but for some reason they want this data either user submitted (again, they can easily capture this data without this step), so therefore it’s opt-in and I guess “ethically” sourced? (Although not really because the initial link you clicked to get there is deployed via a bot with a lie that you didn’t write what you wrote). But let’s roll with this, they for some reason want you to submit this text, rather than just get it on their own. Somehow they’ve buried in the TOS that everything you submit via the website is permission to use to train this AI dataset. And if anyone objects later, well, they just didn’t read the TOS. And they’re going to use it to build some new sparkly dataset, or somehow improve their AI checker. Or make some new writer bot. And it needs this user submitted, opt-in data. Except… uh… here’s the thing: with datasets like these, quality does matter some, but quantity is what builds the more sophisticated systems. So for them to capture enough of this user submitted data, they would need to get enough submitted words numbering at the very least in the millions in order to get enough needed to make this effort worth it. ChatGPT and Bing’s system use, I believe, GPT-4, which I may be misremembering this number in a largely astronomical scale, is at least 4 billion? Or possibly an insanely high number. They literally scanned the entire gd English internet to build those, so. You know.

There’s probably other scenarios I haven’t outlined above, but I don’t really believe any of them would lead to anything positive and sparkly. So no. I’m sorry, but that link is not being used to somehow trick you into submitting your fic to give up your words via some weird scheme to train a laughably bad AI dataset. Like, regardless of your feelings on “AI” (and I do use those air quotes loosely, because it’s not actually AI as we understand, but that’s another tangent and this has already gotten stupid long), it’s at best a further attempt to troll a fic writer, or at worst, something that’s going to infect your system.

So I said I would circle back to two things: ChatGPT, and these websites set up to supposedly “detect AI written text”. Right now, ChatGPT as a phrase is a marketing buzzword. The service itself went viral near the end of 2022/beginning of 2023, so everyone is talking about it. Even my technologically less-inclined colleagues at work are either starry eyed about it, or clutching pearls that somehow it’s going to steal their job (it’s not). AI is a buzzword right now, and it’s one that has a lot of emotion built up around it, both positive and negative. Some people love it, some people hate it, but everyone has an opinion, and a large majority of it is polarized. Scammers, fraudsters, and grifters like to tap into people being irrationally emotional (positive or negative) about things, because it has more potential to bypass your internal voice that makes you stop and think a little and engage in critical thinking. The message as written is intended to kick you into a panic mode, so you will go and prove it wrong. This is grifter 101. And also why it’s always a good idea to be very aware of your hot button issues, and the ways they can be potentially used against you. And why when you get extremely emotional about something online (especially something that makes you scared or angry), you should take a step back before engaging without thinking critically about it.

And finally, these websites that supposedly detect if any given set of text is actually generated by AI. In short: they all suck, and none of the ones I’ve seen actually tested work on any degree where they can be deployed to generate an accurate result. Including the one set up by OpenAI, the company who runs ChatGPT. Several people have run several tests with both generated text and genuinely written human text, and way more than half the time the generated text comes up as written by a human. And then human written text will sometimes gets flagged as generated content. Right now, all they amount to is basically a random number generator. Because either these engines have to be programmed by a human person who has to know what patterns to look for, or be written or augmented by these neural networks (aka what every single thing marketed as “AI” really are, because it has nothing to do with what we understand as intelligence, artificial or otherwise, it’s a type of programming not a being or Skynet or anything other than 1s and 0s that look for and recognize patterns). And either way, they have to know what is positive and negative. If you alter text in anyway, (ironically, by using a rephrasing service also built off neural net/this same technology), it can throw of the system. OpenAI even flirted with the possibility of trying to embed some sort of text watermark in their generations to be able to track it. But again, the moment you rephrase it, that gets broken. So, it’s useless at actually catching anyone doing this a large portion of the time, and not sophisticated enough to deployed at a large scale without causing harm.

But yeah. To circle back to my point. I wanted to reblog the original post in question, because I want to let people know about the potential for people getting these comments and knowing to report them as spam, but also being aware to not click on the links. Sure, I could have reblogged the version with them acting like the bad part was training an AI dataset, and put the ACTUAL reasons we don’t do that in the tags. But sometimes I just get annoyed and stubborn about stupid things (in this case, me reblogging something I don’t find accurate). I think most of us already knew at least the basic strokes of a lot of the above, so I’m probably preaching to the choir.

But seriously, if you want to criticize the technology, please, do so. It is currently a black box filled with potential for both good and harm. But at least do your research to understand why a thing is bad, that way it’s an informed discussion that educates people about the actual harms being perpetrated and how they can be mitigated. Instead of just like, making shit up. Because the more myths and misinformation you create about something (even innocently), the more it can be used against you later in ways that are actively malicious. Because I can guarantee you, some bad actor will eventually recognize how unreasonably angry this subject makes people, and they will find a way to turn that anger against you. Education is your best defense.

[thesadthyaheartbreakjournal]

Day 3 - Falling off the wagon

“Fell off the wagon yesterday. In a big way” states the Therapist. He isn’t asking, he’s telling me. But he doesn’t have to. I know.

I don’t say anything yet. I’m not sure what to say.

“Don’t blame it on me. Remember what I said. I give you the ways and you choose one.” says the destroyer.

“I’m not going to blame you. It all just got a bit too much at one go I think” I say. The explanation isn’t good enough for me or for the other two, but they don’t say anything else. “I felt like my flesh sloughed off my body, and everything was dark and it was nothing but grief and I didn’t know what to do and I didn’t know what the hell was going on.”

“Straight out of a Goya black painting” says the destroyer

“Yeah, kind of.  But I’ll keep trying. I don’t want to avoid talking about it but I don’t know what else I can say. Being better isn’t some metric I can track. There is no metric for how “safe” a construction site is. They measure the days between incidents, and even when that number get bigger and bigger they don’t take the sign down, they just make it larger for all the extra digits. So, I’m gonna do my own after action report, figure out what went wrong and why I allowed myself to fall off, and I’m gonna try even harder than before to be better.” I say. Its enough this time. The Therapist hangs his head low for a minute, and the destroyer places a hand on my shoulder briefly.

“Lets move on. You’ve been getting advice recently” says the Therapist.

“Yeah. it sounded like “Live, Life, Love” bullshit at the start. And its been pretty conventional, but I think I’ve come around on it.” I show them the text:

“have fun with friends, have fun alone — you were fine before her existence in your life and will be fine after. usually i tend not to hate on the ex, reflect on however they helped me grow, and be glad for that but know we have outgrown each other. or others just cut the person out of their life completely. i think whatever it is, just ensure you have gotten the proper closure so you can move on.“

“Cheesy” says the destroyer.  “How do you reflect on growth when we’ve got all this hurt?”

“Humanity. I thought about it and that’s how.” I say.

“Don’t you hate people? Talking to people, touching people. You have all this bitter little feuds with people who you feel have wronged you.” says the Therapist.

“I’m coming around. I still think human life has no weird inherent value, but there is value in how people feel, what they do and how they interact with each other. And I’m a person, so how they interact with me has value too, beyond making me feel some kind of way.” I say. “Its pretty trite to say you shouldn’t focus on all the shit, and try to think about the growth, and its tough. But I think I can appreciate the growth, and that she never set out to hurt me.”

“You have to feel it. You can’t force yourself to appreciate and not feel what you feel” says the destroyer.

“Yeah. I can try. Actually try. Its visceral now but it’ll go away. Its rained and the rain stopped, and I’m wet but I’ll dry off.” I say.

“Look at you. Doing my job for me.” the Therapist says.

“Maybe you’re rubbing off on me. And I did fall off the wagon so there’s that.” I say.

“This is different from the others. There was time, and it was as close to mutual as it could’ve gotten every other time. You saw that Sara started dating and didn’t feel anywhere near this fucking horrible. You-know-who burned the house down” the destroyer says.

“She never burned the house down. Its this bad because I don’t think I’ll ever meet someone who gets me the way she did. I honestly don’t think I ever will. I feel hurt, but at the same time, she’s human and I’m human. I don’t have to like it, I just have to accept it, and I have to appreciate that this was something she felt she had to do. And I can treasure how far I’ve come because of it.” I say.

“I’m happy with this landing. Thanks for doing all the work.” the Therapist says.

“So shall I ask her if she wants to hang out sometime?” I say, giving the other two the finger guns. They erupt into jeers. I hear a “we’re not talking about that now” and a “way too soon”.

Angsty quote:

“When you get older, plainer, saner Will you remember all the danger We came from? Burnin' like embers, falling tender Long before the days of no surrender years ago And well you know?”

[ily-no-romo]

So it’s election time and I’ve been researching the people running here (and resisting the urge to throw my computer at a wall cause holy shit I hate it here) and anyways I have a rant about this whole “empowering parents” answer to education.

So basically when conservatives talk about schools, at least where I live, all they say about their stance is that they believe in “empowering parents” which is essentially the political buzzword type of term to say they want parents to be able to challenge books and curriculum and schools (aka they are made about critical race theory, LGBTQ+ acceptance, etc.) and I’m mad about this for so many reasons but one main one

Wherever people stand on that whole bullshit concept, I need them to understand that that’s the least of schools’ problems. Saying that’s your stance on education is a cop out answer so you don’t have to address the lack of funding and resources in schools. If you talk to teachers or students in our pubic schools, you’ll here about teacher shortages, lack of mental health resources, lack of proper training to handle proper conflict resolution and discipline that benefit everyone, and just the general feeling that everything is overwhelming because there isn’t enough help.

Furthermore, so many parents don’t give a fuck about their kids’ educations. They just don’t. I’m not even talking about bad parents who neglect their kids. I’ve seen plenty of parents who care deeply about their kids and are involved in their lives but just don’t get involved in their schooling. Also, parents have always been able to challenge books they object to and report curriculum they don’t trust. It’s not a new concept, and it’s not a right being taken away. You don’t need to “empower parents.”

And for fucks sake why don’t you just trust educators? Yeah we all have stories of bad teachers and ways the school system failed us. But most of us also have good stories about teachers who did care. Teachers go to college and learn about kids, and they have experience with kids. They know what kids can handle learning and what they can’t better than some parents do. And if any of these politicians gave a single fuck about what’s happening in schools, they would actually look at the school system and talk to the people in it, rather than give some bullshit answer about letting parents deprive their children of well-rounded educations.

[uselessboss]

Obsession(4/4)

He hated Hunter since he first met him. An insolent who arrogantly believed it was in his rights to disrespect and disregard such as illustrious person as “her” just because he read some biased articles and reports. He honestly didn’t understand what Miller saw in this guy. Despite Miller being the one to bring him to the unit Hunter didn’t even try to hide his disapproval and hostility towards her. He spouted nonsense about watching her every move, acting like as if he was someone responsible at keeping tabs over a monitored criminal. This display of sheer stupidity made him roll his eyes. The only reason to why he didn’t openly give the fool a verbal lashing was because he knew that if Miller deigned it of any importance she could very well put the idiot in his place.. The fact that she didn’t even acknowledge his efforts showed how futile they were. So he tried to do the same. ...In hindsight maybe he should have followed up to what he wanted and told that trash off as things came up to a head when Miller started spending more time wtih Hunter until very late in the night because that bastard wanted to “check” the documents under Miller’s care. “You seem tired” Johannes frows as Miller tries to hold back an yawn. “Don’t worry, I’m ok” Miller assures him. “More importantly we still need to oversee this part here” “...Isn’t it because you are spending time with Hunter untill the late hours recently?” He couldn’t hold back anymore. “Miller, there’s no need to indulge that bastard! He doesn’t deserve your consideration” “I guess...” Miller tentatively spoke. “ I guess that seeing him try so hard to prove my “wickedness” got me feeling a bit stubborn myself” She sounded far more tired as her voice dropped to a mutter. Not because of a few sleepless hours, but for something that was going for far much longer. She had to endure this kind of treatment with no rest nor respite, so it was bound to have a breaking point. A very quiet breaking down. “... Should we wrap this session earlier? Maybe this way you can finish things earlier on your side and get more rest then?” He hated having to cut short their time together but he had to do it. For her sake. “No need for that” she shook her head, smiling kindly at his offer. “It wouldn’t be fair to ask you to accomodate to what amounts to a “childish tantrum” from my part” Her eyes sparkle mischiveously for a moment. “Unless... It’s you who would rather be somewhere else, in which case I wouldn’t mind” “Of course not” was his immediate answer. “If anything I would rather spend MORE time with you” It took a few seconds for his brain to process what he just said.

“My apologies” Miller chuckled. “I guess I got that habit after spending so much time with Hunter” Johannes feels himself freeze at that. “You wouldn’t believe how easily flustered he gets” Her voice sounds fond. “You should have seen his reaction to when he found out I knew he was looking over my stuff, he was panicking like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar, it was kind endearing in a way” Usually he enjoyed witnessing any moment Miller dropped her guard and showed this side of hers around him but for some reason, this time, it only made his insides turn. He didn’t know why but that made him hate “that man” even more.

It was testament of Miller’s strenght that she could fight so well despite the lack of proper rest on top of her already numerous duties. She was really built different. “Miller are you... ok?” Hunter approached them. “It’s subtle but... Your movements seem less smooth than usual” Johannes felt his temper flare at that. “Oh I wonder what could be the reason” his voice was dripping with as much sarcasm as he could muster. “Whose fault it is that she gets held so late at work that she misses on getting a proper rest?” He turns to glare at Hunter. “If Miller gets hurt, or worse, killed because of that it will be absolutely your fault” It felt so satisfying to see that self-righteous bastard look so guilty. Hunter was about to to say something, but was interrupted as they both looked at Miller, who let a long sigh. “I was trying to hide it, but if my drop in perfomance is THAT noticeable then I guess Johannes is right” Miller rubs her face, dropping the act and showing how exhausted she actually looked. “It would be bad if it made me unable to protect others in their time of need” Hunter flinches. “Hunter” Miller calls him, the man in question quickly snapping to look at her. “If you still want to keep checking the documents I can drop them at your desk after shift is over” “That... Won’t be necessary” Johannes could barely hide how smug he felt at the sensation of Miller openly taking his side. That day promised to be a good day. ...It was what he thought, but again, as always, Hunter had to find a way to ruin it. “Miller, may I talk with you?” Hunter asked Miller as soon as they opened the door to exit their meeting room. “Did you change your mind?” Hunter is taken aback by how very matter-of-fact Miller is. She wasn’t being sarcastic or accusing. She honestly believed he wanted to follow through his earlier behavior. It made him look more guilty if that was even possible. “No. I came to apologize” Now it was Miller’s turn to look surprised. “I noticed that you were getting tired but I paid no regard to your well being” Hunter’s face dropped. “My behavior was inexcusable. I had no right to treat you like that” “Glad you finally noticed that”. “Johannes!” Miller chides him. “Miller” Hunter calls her name, for the first time without a speck of animosity. “I want you to believe me when I say that it was not my intention to get you hurt or... Worse” “I know that” her face softens. “It would be not in your nature to wish that when you are such a good person” That day marked a shift in the relationship between these two and as for him... For him it was the start of his world crumbling apart.

Nowadays was the only thing talked in the force. In the news. Everywhere.

Miller and Hunter had gotten much closer than before.

These two already worked pretty well together while on the field before but now that Hunter stopped being hostile towards her and Miller opened up more to him they became more in synch than ever.

It was already frustrating enough but what made it worse was everyone's reaction whenever he appeared and caught tail of their whispering. It was their pitying looks.

They treated it as if it was a foregone conclusion that he was going to be ousted from his position as Miller's second-in-command.

As her closest confidant.

He couldn't take this anymore.

"Miller can I ask you something?" He frowned as he saw Hunter next to her. "Alone"

Miller blinked at the emphasis of the last word but didn't argue agaisnt it, nodding in agreement as they went to their usual meeting place, a quiet room where there was only the two of them.

"Is something wrong Johannes?" She asked, concerned.

"If... I wasn't your second-in-command anymore who would you pick to fill my spot?" He shot straight away.

Miller froze.

"Why... Are you asking that?"

“…Would you pick Hunter?” He pressed.

“Hunter? Why would… Oh.” She arched one of her eyebrows before something clicked in her mind. “Is this because of the rumors circulating around? Don't worry, I don't have any plans to replace you and Hunter would be the last person I would consider for such a role. He becomes too awkward whenever put in the spotlight for that to work"

“Oh. I see"

He should feel relieved with the reassurance but for some reason her words did little to quell the inquietude he felt. 

He still felt troubled.

He was so caught on his thoughts that he failed to notice Miller's worried expression as she looked at him.

                                                        -o-o-o- 

This unnamed feeling bothered him.

It wasn't like the greediness he felt whenever Miller was concerned, that motivated and spurned him to reach even greater heights in order to earn her attention.

It was something ugly. Hideous. Unbecoming.

He felt threatened.

Of what, he wasn't sure, and that's why it troubled him so much.

He couldn't understand how he could feel jealous of someone sorely lacking like Hunter when he excelled above him in everything that mattered in order to support her.

(Besides fighting prowess but it was a nonissue when Miller was clearly better than both of them at that and didn't seem to need protection)

The moment when he saw HIS coat hanging over her shoulders as she gripped the corner tighter to cover her body was when he finally understood his irrational emotions.

She acted vulnerable around him. She bared herself, expression adoring, filled with a sweet affection like a… Like a…

Like a woman.

He felt himself go in shock as this realization dawned on him.

It should have been something obvious but he was so caught up in his admiration, thinking of her qualities as his superior that he never stopped to think about how he felt about her in that regard.

Miller was a woman.

And a desirable one at that.

Earnest, genuine, humble and attentive. She listened to what you had to say and treated it as if it was something WORTH to listen to.

He blinked quickly, briefly snapping out of his reverie as his eyes accompanied the movement of Miller’s hand as it brushed the wet locks out of her forehead, uncovering her old burn scars.

Nimble, elegant and sharp. 

Powerful, indomitable and imposing.

They sounded like paradoxical concepts but Miller’s body was crafted to embody them to perfection.

It made her mesmerizing to watch, even when she wasn’t figthing.

Because Miller knew how to make use of every single aspect of herself to appeal to her ends. 

She knew to look confident, she knew how to look majestic and she even knew how to make use of her scars to bring her experience and intimidation upfront.

Miller was really someone stunning in each and every way possible.

Now that he finally figured out the true nature of his feelings the path he had to take was clear:

He was going to make Miller notice him. But not as her second-in-command like before.

He was going to make her notice him as a man.

Fate was a cruel mistress.

“What.” he said flatly.

Now that he finally realized his feelings and was finally prepared to fight tooth and nail to make her notice him “that way” she dropped a bomb like that.

“I did promise that I would help you to rise in the ranks right?”

“I don’t want that” he rejected in a heartbeat. “I changed my mind. I prefer to work with you Miller”

“Johannes you shouldn’t let your admiration for me get in the way of your progress. You are meant for greater things than being my subordinate”

“I didn’t consider even once as if I was lowering myself for getting this position” he furrowed his eyebrows. “Where did you even get such a ludicrous idea in the first place?”

“Then why did you ask me that day about your substitute?” Miller asks, nails digging on her arm.

“What are you talking about?” He arch an eyebrow in befuddlement.

“I... I thought at first that you were worried about being replaced because of the rumors but you still looked troubled even after I tried to reassure you that wasn’t the case” She lowers her gaze. “... After that how else was I suppose to interpret it?”

“... You really think very little of me, don’t you Miller?”

“Huh?” Miller snapped her head back in surprise.

“If it was Hunter you would make excuses to forgive and vouch for his “goodness” “ he spats bitterly, his jealousy and hurt hearing its ugly head. “Yet you treat me, someone that has been nothing but loyal to you, as a untrustworthy backstabber”

“Johannes that’s not what-”

“Oh but it is”. He cuts her off. “You didn’t even try to argue it and you sure was very quick to find a way to kick me out.”

Miller winced.

He couldn’t stand this.

For the first time he ignored her pleas as he simply turned and left.

He was scared.

Scared of his worst fears being true.

‘It’s better if I cool my head’ he thought. Maybe tomorrow we can sort things up properly.

But things didn’t get any better the next day.

“Johannes, if Hunter tries anything, stop him” Miller asked him.

This was so unfair.

That guy was half-assed with his feelings, unwilling to fully commit and yet Miller went out of her way to accomodate his needs.

Why couldn’t she do the same for him?

Why couldn’t she fight to keep him the same way?

There was no just fight here. Things were skewered to the other side since the beginning.

It stung how hopeless his situation was.

That his rejection was a foregone conclusion.

“... Hey Hunter, want to go after her?” he provoked.

It was often told to him that he was good at getting under people’s skin so he might as well as put those skills for good use right?

He sounded pathetic even to his own ears.

But he was desperate at this point.

If Hunter disobeyed THIS order maybe even Miller wouldn’t be able to forgive him for that. 

So, even through it hurt him to speak such terrible things of the person he adored the most in the world he kept pressing on.

Betray her already. Betray her already. Betray her already. Betray her already. Betray her already. Betray her already. Betray her already.

He repeated it like a madness mantra in his head.

Yet, despite hitting Hunter with his best arguments the man didn’t move.

Even if he was half-assed, still on the fence about his opinion over her integrity, he refused to betray her.

‘Ah... This bastard also sees her as a woman’

It was... His total loss.

Miller would pick Hunter in the end.

It was truly unfair.

“…Well, I’m done wasting myself away for her sake so I am going inside.” He adjusts his coat. “I sure as hell won’t let her take all the credit to herself”

He might as well as be the traitor then.

Because it was better to believe that he was kicked out of her life for deserving it rather than accept that he meant nothing to her in the first place.

He was out of breath.

He had been running for a while now, trying to escape from the clutches of whoever was that thing of nightmares following him.

“Miller was right, she was always right” he smiled bitterly as he remembered how she vehemently emphasized to not let anyone enter the forest.

Miller... At this hour she was probably already out of this hellhole and Hunter surely would have told her everything about his betrayal.

What face did she make when she heard the news? Hurt? Disgust?

Hate?

Maybe she would order everyone to ditch him and leave him to die here, alone, in this cursed forest.

He couldn’t even get mad or complain if that was her decision because that’s what he had been asking for when he pulled this stupid stunt of his.

“Johannes!”

His eyes widened in surprise.

Miller... Miller came back for him?

He struggled to get up as he had lost a considerable amount of blood.

But hearing her voice, knowing she was there for him renewed his forces and his hope.

Everything would be alright now.

Miller was here. He was safe now.

“Over here Miller!” he shouted with all the strength he could muster.

“Johannes! Ah I’m glad you are ok!”

She was... Glad?

After everything he did? After he betrayed her trust like that?

He was such a fool.

How could he lose faith on her like that? How could he forget?

This was the same person that mobilized her entire unit to save his life when they were barely acquaitances, that got angry for his sake when he was almost discarded like trash.

“M-Miller, I...” He was going to apologize when he suddenly felt a sharp pain.

Ah...

He was... Dying.

“No! No! Please No!” Miller screamed in anguish as she increased her speed.

She wasn’t going to reach him in time.

He knew that because he could see in the corner of his eyes something sharp fastly closing on him.

She wouldn’t be able to save him this time.

Yet he was grateful all the same. Because like that time, when everything looked hopeless she had came for him.

It brought him comfort in his last moments.

“...”

No. That was a lie. 

Because whenever Miller was involved he couldn’t help but be selfish and greedy.

[tennessoui]

miss kit you’re KILLING me!!!! THEY DONT EVEN KNOW EACHOTHEES NAMES YET??!??!???

(this is in reference to the office au aka there was only one desk au)

(and this is a ficlet for the office au aka there was only one desk au)

(2.7k)

Obi-Wan stares without blinking at the wilted potted plant in front of him. A bright purple sticky-note is attached to the healthiest leaf.

Sorry, I meant to water these plants, it says, only I couldn’t decide if they needed tap water or filter water and the indecision paralyzed me into inaction. Your miniature zen garden didn’t help as I hate sand.

“Do you think I can put a hit out on someone I don’t know the first name of?” He asks, dropping into his seat and tearing the offending sticky-note off the leaf. “If I know approximately where he’ll be every Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday?”

“How approximately is approximately?” Quin asks gamely, spinning around in his desk chair.

“Hardly at all. He’ll be in this chair from nine in the morning to five at night unless he’s the type of employee to skive off early and work from his phone for the last few hours of every day. Which he seems like he is.”

“A conclusion you came to based on a few post-it notes on your shared desk.”

“Look! There are crumbs!” Obi-Wan huffs, scattering the offending crumbs off his desk. “He’s a slob, Quin! Trade desk partners with me.”

“Not on your life, Kenobi,” Quinlan laughs, turning back to his own dual screens. “Aayla is an angel, and I watched Skywalker crumble up an old saltine cracker from the communal kitchen to leave on your desk five minutes before he left for the day.”

“I am going to set this entire building on fire,” Obi-Wan decides placidly, leaning back into his office chair and powering on the desktop.

“Careful, Kenobi,” his colleague warns, sounding as if he’s only half joking, “Only, I’m sure our cameras record us even when they’re not on.”

Obi-Wan hums. They probably do. He wouldn’t put it past the paranoia of their boss, Sheev.

Thirty-two minutes pass in a blur of answering emails he’d not seen on his work phone in the rush from the airport last night—Obi-Wan flies most weekends to different cities to convince recalcitrant, considering clients to part with their stocks—to his apartment uptown.

There are…many emails.

He pauses halfway through drafting a firmly passive-aggressive dressing down of an intern to turn around in his chair to look at Quinlan. “Vos,” he says, “do you know if Skywalker used the last of those saltines? Are there more?”

“Feeling peckish, are you?” Vos jokes.

“Perhaps,” Obi-Wan replies, tapping his fingers on the wood of the desk. “Perhaps.”

—

“I’m going to scream,” Anakin relays to Vos calmly, messenger bag hanging loosely off his elbow. He’d been half through the well-practiced motion of shrugging it off his shoulder when he’d caught sight of the…gift his deskmate has left him.

Crumbs—infinitesimally small crushed pieces of some sort of food litter his desk. Every single inch of it.

“He stayed late to bribe the janitor into not murdering him,” Vos reports, not looking up from his planner. “And texted me to tell you that if you complain, you’ll only get her in trouble. He sent along a photo of her two kids for me to show you if I thought you needed proper motivation.”

“Isn’t that blackmail?” Anakin questions, sitting cautiously down on the chair. He wouldn’t put it past Kenobi to have taken out half the screws just to make him fall to the ground.

“Just texting,” Vos says vaguely. Anakin scowls. He knew O.W. Kenobi was Vos’ favorite, but to have it confirmed in such a way stings.

He comforts himself with the fact that he knows Kenobi has asked Vos to water his desk plants before even trying to get Anakin to, and the other man had denied the request.

He sets about getting to work. They are paying him. A lot, actually, for how fresh from his master’s degree he is. Computer scientists make a killing in whichever market they enter, and Anakin had decided to go into corporate law.

A killing on top of a killing. Practically a double homicide.

It’s only when he’s getting ready to leave for the day and he leans over to Kenobi’s fucking useless miniature zen garden (to draw the letters F U into the sand with the little rake) that he realizes Kenobi has replaced the sand with finely ground saltine cracker crumbs.

He’s huffing an incredulous laugh before he can stop himself.

One of these days—soon—he should really bring in his wrench and screwdriver. Really fuck with the chair. He’d like to see Kenobi put that mess back together.

—

“Dammit, my flight is delayed,” Obi-Wan tells Vos on a Sunday night. “I won’t make it back into the city in time for work tomorrow.”

“You sound heartbroken,” Vos drawls. Obi-Wan gestures for the bartender to pour him another old fashioned.

“I’ll persevere, don’t worry about me. I’m mostly concerned my plants won’t make it til Wednesday. Do you know if Skywalker watered them on Friday?”

“I do actually have a job to do, you know, I can’t just sit around every day and watch you flirt with each other through office supplies passive-aggressive micromanagement. How you two have the time to crush up a sleeve of crackers or take the screws out from the chair—”

“Skywalker did what?” Obi-Wan exclaims sitting upright on his barstool in indignation.

Vos curses. “I wasn’t actually supposed to tell you that,” he admits. “Skywalker promised me a week’s worth of coffee if I didn’t say anything.”

“Can’t this be classified as attempted murder?” Obi-Wan complains. “I could have been seriously injured! I’ve a bad back already!”

“Sounds like you’re just mad you didn’t think about it,” Vos points out.

“I’m absolutely furious,” Obi-Wan agrees with a huff. “Though I doubt I’d have the skill to pull it off. Skywalker is very into…tinkering, given all the scrap metal bits he keeps in the bottom drawer of our filing cabinet.”

“Well, if it makes you feel better, your flight’s delayed so it’s not like you’ll actually fall for the prank,” Vos commiserates.

Obi-Wan hums and takes a sip of his drink. A wicked idea comes to him. He shouldn’t. He’s not actually a boy anymore, and fucking with his deskmate should not bring him such unrestrained joy.

But it does.

“Vos, what if I were to bring you coffee for two weeks?”

“I’m not going to water your damn plants, Obi-Wan, it’s the principle of the thing now,” Vos says.

Obi-Wan resists the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. Really, what had his office plants done to his co-workers to deserve such animosity? Unless they came alive on Tuesdays and Fridays, the days he isn’t in the office, he really doesn’t understand the stubborn hatred.

“No, nothing to do with the damn plants. Just listen.”

—-

Anakin walks into work feeling quite chipper, all things considered. He’d hardly gotten any work done yesterday, too busy imagining Kenobi’s face when he’d sat in his office chair only to have the thing give out underneath him.

He doesn’t even know what Kenobi looks like, but it was so sweet to imagine the man’s shock, surprise, and anger.

“Good morning, Quin!” He chirps as he walks into the section of the floor where his desk is. “How was yesterday?”

“Good,” Vos smirks up at him and Anakin smiles back. This has been a real bonding moment for the both of them, which is good. Feuding with one coworker is fine and even natural. Two or more is just excessive.

He should have really asked Vos to get pictures.

“And here’s your coffee,” he offers the large to-go cup to Vos. “It was mortifying to order.”

“Maybe I’m just more comfortable in my masculinity than you,” Vos replies, taking a huge sip of the sugary monstrosity. “Thanks for the bribe.”

“Thanks for the silence,” Anakin replies with a grin. “How long did it take him to build it back up?”

But Vos has turned away and adjusted the headset over his ears. Huh. Maybe it’s a busy Tuesday. He slings the messenger bag over his head and sets it on the ground before turning to survey the desk with a suspicious eye. Surely Kenobi would not have taken his chair stunt lying down. But nothing seems out of place.

He checks the filing cabinets. Nothing encased in jello, nothing missing or broken in some sort of Hulk-Out rage.

The monitors are fine too, no background changed to something explicit or raunchy. He sits cautiously down at his desk.

Only for his chair to give out from beneath him.

He lands hard on his back with an exclamation of surprise, his head hitting the floor with a faint thud as the chair’s pieces crumble around him. It’s all quite loud, and he can hear people stand to look at the commotion. He’s going to kill Kenobi. And Vos.

From the floor, he looks up at Quinlan with betrayed eyes.

Vos takes another sip of his coffee.

“Oh, yesterday, Kenobi was sick so he didn’t come in,” Quinlan tells him. Anakin sits up with a scowl. “But it turns out I can be bribed into silence two ways.”

“What did he give you?” Anakin demands, standing.

“A show,” Vos replies with a smirk. Anakin scowls harder because now he’s thinking about nameless, faceless Kenobi stripping for a grinning Vos. He hates that idea for a reason he doesn’t want to name or think about.

“I’m not bringing you coffee again,” Anakin tells him.

“That’s fair,” Vos nods magnanimously. “Kenobi is bringing me coffee for the next two weeks, and he’s agreed to attend the next Happy Hour.”

“Not the one tonight?” Anakin checks, aghast. He’s going to the Happy Hour after work and he knows the mere thought of Kenobi’s presence will ruin the event for him.

“He’s sick,” Vos repeats, a twinkle in his eyes. “He can’t make it to this one.”

“Oh thank god,” Anakin mutters. “I already need a drink.”

“First round’s on me,” Vos grins, tossing him something. Anakin catches it on instinct.

It’s the bag of screws.

“But I suggest you take your lunch now to fix that,” the man tells him, before turning back to his own work. Anakin glares at his head. Maybe two feuds isn’t as excessive as he thought.

—

The workday passes slowly, but at least it passes. At five after five, Anakin is the first to stand and stretch. “Vos,” he says, “You owe me a drink.”

“I need to finish this project,” Vos tells him distractedly, bent close to his screen. “If you’re done, go now, and I’ll catch up. Second round’s on me.”

“For me and whoever else cares about being on time,” Anakin stresses, but Vos just waves him away.

“I don’t think there’s such a thing as being late to a Happy Hour after work,” he says. “Just go. Thirty minutes, I promise.”

Anakin shrugs and makes his way towards the elevators. He can see a few other coworkers that he vaguely recognizes start to stand and stretch. Normally, Anakin would wait for them, but after this morning—the Chair Incident—he really needs a drink.

He presses the arrow to go down and pulls out his phone to click around mindlessly while he waits.

It isn’t nearly as long as expected. The elevator doors slide open, and Anakin looks up as he’s stepping in.

The most attractive man he’s ever seen in the history of his life moves to the side obligingly. He’s not a man. He’s a gentleman. His red hair shines prettily in the fluorescence of the elevator lighting, and there’s one strand of place that’s rapidly becoming the most important thing in Anakin’s life. Hot Elevator Guy’s eyes crinkle with the polite smile he gives Anakin.

“Going down?” he asks, and his voice is so nice and soothing. Maybe he does audiotapes. Anakin would love to listen to that voice as he goes to sleep.

As he does other things too.

On you? He absolutely doesn’t think about saying.

“Yes, please,” he says. “Thank you.”

He doesn’t even know what he’s thanking him for, and if Hot Elevator Guy’s slight smile and arched eyebrows are any indication, he doesn’t know either.

Two floors pass in silence as Anakin tries not to stare too obviously at Hot Elevator Guy’s hands. They’re long. And big. He wonders if that’s descriptive of…other things…as well.

“Do you work with the law firm?” he blurts out, breaking all rules of elevator etiquette. He needs to stop thinking inappropriate things about this man. So he needs to talk with him.

“Oh, yes,” Hot Elevator Guy replies. HEG for short. “I’ve just recently come back from a trip to Las Vegas for the firm. Coming down from dropping off my receipts with Sheev right now.”

Mr. Palpatine’s office is on the top floor of the building. The firm doesn’t own every floor, only a handful, which is why Anakin has to share a desk with Kenobi in the first place, but Mr. Palpatine has bought office space several floors away, at the very top of the skyscraper. He says it’s for the view, and Anakin believes him. He’s on the tenth floor, and it’s already a nice look out over the city. He can’t imagine what it would be like to have an office on the thirtieth floor.

“They make you give them your receipts in person?” Anakin asks, horrified. He’d never be able to keep track of all those little bits of paper.

“Only for Vegas,” Hot Elevator Guy smirks conspiringly at him. “Every other city I just upload the information to a portal online. But Vegas…they want to make sure I’m not a gambling man, you see.”

“Are you?”

“No,” the man turns his head up to look at him. He isn’t much shorter than Anakin, but there is a difference there. Anakin absolutely loves the difference. “I like sure things.”

The elevator stops on the lobby floor. No! “What about a drinking one?” Anakin asks, near frantically.

Hot Elevator Guy frowns at him. “Do you often accuse people in lifts of alcoholism?”

Anakin flushes with embarrassment, but he can’t give up now. “No, I mean. There’s a happy hour tonight. Right now. For the firm. That’s where I’m going. Are you planning to come as well?”

Hot Elevator Guy purses his lips as he looks at him consideringly. “I haven’t much thought of it,” he admits. “I never go to those sorts of events.”

“I know—” I would have remembered you, Anakin cuts himself off from saying. “I don’t either,” he lies instead. “But my colleague has promised to buy a drink for me and everyone who gets there before him, so….”

“A free drink and pleasant company?” Hot Elevator Guy says, leading the way out of the elevator. For a brief second, his hand presses against Anakin’s lower back as he moves closer to allow someone else to get on the elevator. Anakin feels as if he’s on fire. “How could I possibly say no?”

“If…if you have other plans,” Anakin says, “I mean. It’s only a happy hour.”

“A drink sounds wonderful,” the man interrupts him with a firm nod. “I was only going to go home and pet my cat and water my plants.”

“I love plants,” Anakin lies again, through his teeth. “My desk is covered with them. They bring me so much…joy.”

The man grins at him, crinkles erupting around his blue eyes. He holds out one of the hands Anakin had been intensely studying a minute ago. “My name is Obi-Wan.”

“Anakin,” he replies, taking it with all the care and delicacy that a perfect creature like Obi-Wan deserves. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Obi-Wan squeezes his hand slightly, and his thumb strokes once over the back of Anakin’s knuckles before he lets go. “You as well, Ah-na-kin.”

Anakin shivers and can only hope Obi-Wan doesn’t notice.

Oh boy, does he need a drink.

[a-libra-writes]

Game of Thrones - Love Letter and Handwriting Headcanons

In this preference, you'll be writing to: Ned Stark, Robb Stark, Sansa Stark, Jon Snow, Benjen Stark, Jory Cassel, Eddison Tollett, Yara Greyjoy, Daenerys Targaryen, Jorah Mormont, Missandei, Grey Worm, Tywin Lannister, Tyrion Lannister, Jaime Lannister, Sandor Clegane, Bronn, Petyr Baelish, Stannis Baratheon, Davos Seaworth, Margaery Tyrell, Brynden Tully, Edmure Tully, Brienne of Tarth, Ramsay Bolton, Roose Bolton, Oberyn Martell, Arianne Martell

my own silly fanfic made me think of this bc there’s letter writing later on in that. whee!

Ned Stark

His handwriting is neat, evenly spaced and fairly plain. It’s easily readable, which is the point - he knows not everyone is well-versed in letters and he tries to make it easier. Ned typical sends ravens, only writing a full letter for when he has to give instructions or relay something important. He has a formal Stark wax seal for this… and yes, he uses that same formal seal when he sends something to you. The more you exchange letters, the more relaxed he clearly becomes in writing. He knows he isn’t romantic or poetic by any means, but he hopes his affection for you comes across.

Robb Stark

Goodness knows he’s had endless lessons on writing properly and expressing the right words, but Robb just has no interest in it. His handwriting is perfectly legible but obviously hastily written, and he doesn’t care if there’s a few smudges or the paper gets dirty. When he’s writing to you, he’ll try to be neater… but sometimes he’s just got so much to say, and he’s so eager to send it, he doesn’t even notice the mess. Robb never thought he’d anticipate letters, especially romantic ones, but he loves receiving things from you. If you live far away, he feels the distance strongly and starts to rely on your letters to feel more connected to you.

Sansa Stark

As expected, her penmanship is pretty and neat. If she's in a good mood she'll add little flourishes here and there, but normally she's a bit embarrassed to do it. It feels childish to do that now. When she finds a nice stationary, she saves it until she writes to you. Her envelopes have the usual Stark direwolf with some wildflowers along the border. Honest and romantic words used to come easy to her, but now she’s more subdued. She’ll include pretty poetry she heard and wanted to share with you.

Jon Snow

His writing would be neater if he just slowed down, but he’s often in haste, especially once he becomes Lord Commander. He never cared about the proper penmanship or address because who would a bastard write to? Really, it’s lucky he was taught letters at all. He’d do his best to write neater for you, but the words keep escaping him - It’s hard enough to express how he feels in person, writing it isn’t any easier, no matter what Sam says. Jon always responds if you write to him, even if he’s blushing and feeling stupid the whole time.

Benjen Stark

He’s perfectly capable of writing neatly, but Benjen rarely bothers to. He jots down what he needs, though he at least has to make it legible - there’s only so many men that know their letters at the Wall, and Benjen has to keep his orders neat. When you pass him a secret letter, he’s grinning like a boy. He thinks it’s adorable that you went through the effort of finding supplies and writing something so sweet. He’ll ask to read it in front of you, but if you make him do it in secret, he’ll want to run and find you as soon as he’s done. He’d fold it up tight and keep it in a safe pouch tied to his belt. 

Jory Cassel

His handwriting is pretty messy. Jory was never bothered by it until he had to write you something. Oh no. Wasn't there a proper way to address you? What if it was too personal, or too standoffish? Poor Jory overthinks his letters unless you two write with frequency. His handwriting won't get better, but he's more comfortable writing sweet things. He likes to keep his envelopes and papers plain so no one suspects anything, which is a good habit if you’re dating in secret, but a silly once if you’re married. 

Eddison Tollett

He jokes it’s a small miracle that he knows his letters, poor as his family was. He likes to pretend he doesn’t, just so the higher ups on the Wall won’t give him extra duties like they did Sam. Reading never interested him, and he had no one to write to, so it’s just not something he thinks about. When you slip him a letter, he just stares at it dumbly for a minute. Once Edd has a chance to open it up, he’s a little taken aback. What… should he do? Should he talk to you? Respond to it? He’s never had such a nice gesture given to him, never had anyone write such nice things to him (has he even received a letter before??). So the next time to meet him, he still has a stupefied look on his face. And here he was thinking nothing on the Wall could surprise him anymore.. 

Yara Greyjoy

She was taught writing and reading by her nuncle - because the Gods know her father hardly bothered - so she actually has fond memories of both, even if she hardly does it. Yara would be very curious by anything you sent. Was something wrong? If it smelled of perfume or had a pretty stationary, she’d snort… but once she read the contents, she’d just grin and laugh. If the letter is more romantic, she finds it silly, but so like you. Very endearing. If it’s more saucy and risque, well … she’s going to read this in private and take her time.

Daenerys Targaryen

Her handwriting wasn’t as neat as it could’ve been, given her upbringing. It’s a point of embarrassment, so Dany practices pretty lettering and uses interesting inks she’s found around the markets. It’s a bit relaxing, though when she’s writing something official as Khaleesi and Queen, she makes sure it’s perfect. She’s pleasantly surprised when you write her something - has she ever actually received something this sweet before? She’ll write you back with a smile on her face, and she likes any chance to use that fancy Targaryen seal. Dany will still love to receive and send letters even if you both are staying in a palace together. It’s just one of many romantic gestures she thought she’d never enjoy.

Jorah Mormont

Jorah's handwriting is nice, but he usually writes in haste, so several letters end up smudged. He doesn't like to waste paper and start over. Jorah really can’t believe that you’d send him something romantic and sweet; he tries to hide his grin and blush, but he’ll wear it the whole time he’s reading. When he's writing something really sweet to you, it gets him flustered and happy, so whole words end up smudged. He doesn't notice the ink on his hand until he's already put the letter in the envelope. He keeps whatever you’ve sent him in a protective leather book so they can’t get damaged.

Missandei

She has lovely handwriting in many languages, as she was taught. The neatness of the lines and letters really is impressive. When she's writing something sweet to you, she pauses and struggles with the words for a while. Missandei always has the sweetest, most thoughtful letters - more sentimental than romantic. Her letters are punctuated with citrus smelling paper and a modestly decorated envelope.

Grey Worm

He’s only recently learned to read, and writing is still a struggle - he’d be very intimidated at the idea of writing something to you. When you give him something to read for practice, it takes Grey Worm a few minutes before he realizes it’s something you wrote. And it’s for him! And about him! He’s very happy but also very flustered. It takes him longer to get through it, but he can’t stop smiling all day once he’s done. He aspires to write something just as nice, once he’s practiced more. He’d keep your letters in a safe place, and wouldn’t want anyone else to see them.

Tywin Lannister

His penmanship is near perfect, which you expected. It’s always written in a stark black ink on fine, almost marbled paper that has an equally officially looking gold Lannister seal on the envelope. People whisper it’s liquid gold that seals it, but you know better. Tywin’s letters are for business only, so he doesn’t expect you to send him anything romantic… He wouldn’t know what to do with it, besides read it with some amusement and tuck it away for later. You might think he never read it, until he’ll tease you by quoting it weeks later. 

Tyrion Lannister

His handwriting is elegant and flawless, as it was meant to be. When Tyrion’s tired he’ll smudge here and there, and depending on how important the letter is, he’ll start over entirely. When he receives your first letter, he’s surprised by the pretty stationary and envelope - this is for him? - and the contents are even better. Tyrion might have a small mental shutdown if you write him something romantic and kind. He’ll re-read it over and over and be distracted through much of the day. This is really for him? He has to respond, of course, and he’ll do it while his emotions are high. For once he doesn’t think on carefully crafted words, he writes what he feels and picks a more subtle stationary (no giant Lannister seals) so attention isn’t drawn to you.

Jaime Lannister

Gods, he hates writing. Just sitting down to write a report is bad enough, but when it's something important? When it's a response to something lovely you wrote? He struggles. The letters start moving around like they used to, he remembers those awful lessons with his father and he's just put off by the whole thing. Seeing you in person is far better. Jaime's handwriting is neat, because it had to be, though when he's upset he'll write a few letters backwards.

Sandor Clegane

It's a mess. Really, the fact his words are readable is a miracle. 'Chicken scratch' is a generous term, though his name is passable. If you wrote him a letter, he'd have no idea what to do with it, let alone how to respond. Sandor doesn't do sentiment like that; seeing you in person can be conflicting and confusing enough. He'd probably rip it up and burn it after drinking too much (and immediately regret that in the morning).

Bronn

He's barely literate, and not a man of flowery words anyway, so don't respect a response. If anything he'd hand the letter to Tyrion and ask him to read it - only for it to be handed back once Tyrion realized it was very personal and... revealing. Bronn doesn't worry about a response or consider you getting upset about it. If you are, he has ways to make up for it. 

Petyr Baelish

You expected him to have neat penmanship, but you didn't expect it to be this nice. And of course, his way with words shows in his letters, but it's even better. You might even blush and have to excuse yourself to read it in private. Petyr loves to write on fancy paper with fancier envelopes that have his sigil, but if they're meant to be secret, the only indicator is a little symbol on the envelope's seal. He delights in anything you send him, especially if he can smell your perfume on it.

Stannis Baratheon

Stannis writes very neat letters with equally impossibly neat rows. He has a habit of gripping his quill too tight, but his letters are concise so his hand doesn’t hurt. While he usually writes quickly because he knows what to say, when he writes to you, he pauses far too often. Sometimes ink drips on the paper while he’s thinking, sometimes he misspells a word he’s never gotten wrong before. It takes a long time, especially if he’s responding to something that was very sweet and romantic. His first letters were very awkward and halting, but they’ve steadily improved. Mostly. 

Davos Seaworth

You were the one who helped him with writing, after helping him read as well. Davos isn’t happy with his penmanship, but he didn’t think he’d make it this far, so he keeps trying when he has time. It’s messy but legible enough. Davos is always pleasantly surprised when you write to him; he loves that you took the time to send something so sweet. It’s hard for him to reply efficiently, or to put what he’s thinking into words, so sometimes he’ll wait for you to get back instead. He would use your letters to practice reading… but it gets him terribly flustered to read the same kind things over and over again.

Margaery Tyrell

She doesn't mind taking the extra time to make her letters extra beautiful, to press dried flower petals and put them in the envelope, to look through dozens of stationary to find one that's just right for her mood. For most people, they're lucky to get one of these little rituals - you get all of them. She'd be delighted if you took extra care in your letters, too, and naturally she keeps whatever you send her in a special box (that absolutely no one will find). 

Brynden Tully

It's no surprise that his handwriting is simple and gets the job done. His brother used to complain that he wrote like a soldier, not a lord, and Brynden is proud of that. He won't wax poetic to you, but he will plainly state that he misses you and he always writes back promptly. Brynden feels bad that his letters take so long to arrive, so he'll make them longer with funny anecdotes and things he's heard from travellers. He folds his letter a few times and wraps it in a protective parchment, just in case rain comes or some idiot drops it.

Edmure Tully

He writes well enough, with neat letters that are jotted down in haste. Edmure almost never stays and lingers on words and sentences, he just writes what comes to mind and moves on. He’s shocked in a good way when you write something to him - you missed him that much? Enough to write all this? He re-reads it several times, and keeps whatever you send him after that. He’ll eagerly write back, and even if it’s silly and awkwardly worded, you can feel the love in every letter. His letters are often a bit crumpled and are plain except for the Tully seal.

Brienne of Tarth

It might surprise some that she has a lady's penmanship. It was never something Brienne had trouble learning, though she often accidentally broke the quill by holding too hard. Though she cherishes the kind things you send her (and she blushes terribly as she reads them), she struggles to send something in return. Her words fail her and she feels embarrassed for trying, but she does try. Seeing you in person is so much easier, though. She likes to keep your letters in a safe place and read them when she's feeling down.

Ramsay Bolton

The letters are messy, but legible enough. The real issue is all the stains on the paper, usually a combination of mud, blood or water. He has little care for the proper way to write or address others; Roose may have given him the bare minimum and not expected him to actually use it. Ramsay is very surprised and amused by anything you send him, though. He considers writing something back, but decides to wait or just go and see you directly. That’s far more fun.

Roose Bolton

His handwriting is functional and his words are to the point. There's nothing outstanding about the letter or its contents, save for a blood-red Bolton seal on the envelope. Roose rarely sends full letters, though; it's a quick Raven or nothing. Though he won't mind anything you send… he'll be very pleased with how personal they become, and he still won't send anything back right away, if he does at all. Better to keep you in anticipation.

Oberyn Martell

Oberyn has a stylish flourish to his letters that’s unique to him. If that didn’t give it away, the pretty gold ink or embellished envelope will. Often it has the spear as a seal, sometimes it’s some interesting and strange stamp he picked up from his travels. There’s always a slight scent to his letters, and you can’t always place it. The actual words themselves are often scandalous and teasing, though he’s sent plenty of heartfelt things, especially if you enjoy it. He’s no poet, but he’s honest and romantic. Oberyn much prefers to see you in person, but he likes to receive sweet things and re-read them.

Arianne Martell

Her handwriting is beautifully elegant, and she loves getting ahold of pretty colored inks and papers. Her letters straddle a fine line between romantic and a little scandalous, and she likes to use pet names, as if you both are writing in secret. Her envelopes have a pleasant smell, and the official Martell seal. If she wants her letter to be sent especially fast, she’ll take her father’s seal. She keeps anything you send her in a pretty, hand carved wooden box with a lock and key.

[awakeshedreams]

sugar and spice ( 1 )

pairing : resident bad boy!jjk x model student!reader

setting : highschool!au x stepbrother!au

summary :

a messy highschool!au x stepbrother!au where model student reader who has quite a few dirty little secrets sees her world take an unexpected turn when her mother comes home one day with an engagement announcement, to the father of none other than the school's resident bad boy.... Jeon Jungkook.

genre : smut, for laughs, kinda pornish, slow burn with collosaly overwhelming sexual tension

rating: soft m ( for now ) due to adult content

warnings : unconventional relationship of sexual nature, tropes and clichès, teenagers partaking in porn-esque activities, made up things with made up people happening in a made up world, don't like don't read XD

wordcount : 2.3K

a/n : i've been fighting in a long standing war and I have lost. the man known as jeon jungkook had his foot on my neck for years and today, I have finally submitted to my fate and surrendered to his reign.

yes. after a hundred years, i'm writing again. specifically, writing for bts. particularly, writing for jungkook. its been a long time coming.

life just took over and I transitioned into an adult and kind of grew out of the state of mind I was in before. but. sigh. jeon jungkook has been tormenting me the whole time. it was only a matter of time before i relapsed honestly.

so here I am again. in mind, body and spirit, a different person from who I was before but still the same in the sense that with the way bts have my whole heart, jk will always be the demon in the corner of my room that I invite to bed for a cuddle even though it's (probably really) not good for me.

do not misconstrue. I love him more than I can say. but. sigh. he has me in a chokehold, loves. please try to understand where I'm coming from.

anyways, enough with this ranting. you all came here for the nitty gritty so let me not hold you hostage with my dilemma rambling any longer. here's to the first bts fic i've posted in literal years. introducing- sugar and spice.

1 2

Unless they told someone, no one would have been able to guess it.

At school they were complete strangers.

She was the nice head girl with a clean record, all smiles and straight A’s. He was the mysterious bad boy with a track record, all tatted up with bruised knuckles.

She wore plaid skirts with neat pleads in them and pastel sweaters with bows at the collar. He wore jeans with rips in them and leather jackets with studs.

They couldn't have been any more different.

As far as anyone was concerned, they existed on two extreme ends of a vast spectrum.

What they didn't know was that they shared a dirty little secret.

.

You were a girl with many dirty secrets.

For instance, you used to sell nudes online. It was a side hustle you did.

Not because you needed money.

Your mom was a renowned doctor so there was more than enough of that in your life.

Not because you needed validation from people online either.

Even without the constant compliments and the praises you knew you were visually blessed with a pretty face and a nice body too.

All things considered, you simply thought you had a nice pair of tits and you took pictures of them sometimes.

Posting the shots you snapped online came much later when you heard about this website where people were getting paid crazy money for posting racy things.

‘It’s just so degrading…’ It was one of your friends, June, who sneered, pretty nose scrunched up. She fixed her long ponytail and rolled her brown eyes while looking in the mirror at her locker. ‘Who would do such a thing, am I right?’

She said this, but June was the girl who has slept with more boys than she could count on her two hands. And those were the ones she told you about.

Like every other time, you said nothing. Even when it carried on to lunch with the rest.

‘Pretty desperate if you ask me.’ Mei the stellar track runner shrugged casually as she stretched her limbs like routine.

‘Where are their parents?’ Nina the library nerd shook her head in disapproval as she fixed her glasses so it sat right on the bridge of her nose.

‘Um… I don’t think it’s … appropriate… to talk about ….’ Kiko the one who always carried a cross and bible around mumbled into her sleeve.

All your friends spoke of it in derision and repulsion of course. This was a school for proper children so they were proper girls. At least they were supposed to be.

Regardless the conversation sparked a curiosity in you.

So you made an account and uploaded your first picture. Nothing bizarre. Just your tits in a pretty lace bra.

You made sure to keep your face out of the frame because that was the smart thing to do and you were nothing if not the smartest student in school.

In all honesty, you weren’t expecting anything out of it. In fact, in between work with student council and tutoring your juniors with finals right around the corner, you even forgot about it for an entire month.

It was by a complete whim that you decided to open the app while you’d been unwinding at your desk following a tedious day at school.

To say you were amused by the response you found waiting for you would have be a grave understatement.

You were staring at the four figure digit that now sat in your bank account.

Reading through the comment section was even more interesting.

There were all sorts of people there who had all sorts of things to say. Ranging from honestly sweet to downright dirty.

You had never been brought to tears laughing in her life before until then.

It was just so funny to see people misbehave and lose their minds over a pair of tits.

From then on it just sort of became a thing.

.

But that wasn't the worse of your secrets.

You were making a name for yourself on the crude web months later.

The next step was naturally to move from making taking pictures to making videos. Since you was already in too deep you didn’t see why not.

So you upgraded and opened another account. An amateur one where your touched yourself for an audience.

You were no prude.

You might have never been touched by a boy before but you had touched yourself plenty times. Stress and frustration came hand in hand with being head girl. Since you couldn’t quite vent it out at the annoying troublemakers at school, this was your second best option.

Third was watching porn, but that was mostly when you were extremely bored.

But that wasn’t where that little endeavor ended.

Later on it became a lot more risqué.

.

It all started when your mom hit you with a marriage announcement.

She met a guy on her business trip who she really liked and she was convinced he was the one.

Your mom had a tragic history of being a bad judge of character.

You’ve had this conversation at least five times since you became old enough to understand that boys and girls who were just friends didn’t kiss and sleep with each other.

Most times, it felt like she was doing it because she thought you needed a dad around.

You might have once, when you were younger and your mom was too busy with work to be there. But she worked from home these days and you were soo busy with school to worry about things like that.

This time it was like she was doing it for her. You were glad.

Your mom looked genuinely happy when she spoke about this guy.

Who were you to get in the way?

.

She spent almost the whole weekend in the kitchen. It was the longest you’ve seen her in there in your entire life.

She was excited for the dinner on Sunday.

Mr Jeon was the name of the chosen man.

He was coming over with his kid. A son, his only family. His wife passed away years ago.

You wore the dress your mom picked out for you, something cream in color and off the shoulders that brushed your knees. She looked pretty in her champagne dress. It was different from the office slacks and loose blouses you were used to seeing her in.

You stood by her at the door while the guests came through.

Lifting your head from a polite bow, you found herself staring straight into an achingly familiar pair of glinting dark eyes and went completely still.

‘Sweetie,' Your mother said sounding delighted, a soft hand on your stiff shoulder. 'This is Mr Jeon and his son Jungkook.’

Ah. Fuck.

‘Jeon dear, this is my daughter. Isn’t she lovely?’

.

Dinner was a mild affair, with small talk and the occasional clinking of cutlery on fine china.

From the outside looking in, you probably looked the picture perfect family already.

Only if no-one looked close enough.

Arms crossed, tongue in cheek. Your discomfort could be detected from miles away.

The two adults were oblivious.

The dark eyed boy with the slightest wave to his nape touching, brow grazing, ear covering onyx hair sat across you though; he took note of this with a passing glance and wordlessly returned to his food.

Jeon Jungkook had a countenance that betrayed his reputation.

Even though you’ve never talked, you knew plenty about him and you were sure he knew a lot about you too.

You went to the same school.

Dressed as he was in a crisp white dress shirt buttoned at the wrist and dark tailored pants with a fine belt on, it might have been hard to tell what kind of person he really was.

You lifted her gaze from your plate to look study him wordlessly, idly twisting the noodles with your fork.

People either called him the black sheep or the dark cloud but for you, Jeon Jungkook was the school’s resident lone wolf.

He smoked in the secluded areas on campus, sometimes playing his guitar. Beat up people who got on his nerves, sometimes using his guitar. Slept in class the rare times he was there, many times on his guitar.

Being his senior, you had never seen any of any of that for yourself. But you received plenty reports weekly to come to a sound conclusion.

There was no way people hated him enough to join hands in solidarity and make this all up.

It was quite the contrary actually. He had an alarming number of fans.

On the surface level you couldn’t see why. Most times you saw him, he looked bored out his mind and honestly, intimidating.

Maybe it was the tattoos. Or the ripped skinny jeans. Or the leather jackets with studs.

Maybe it was the domineering height and fit frame and structured face.

Maybe it was the intense dark eyes or the silky ruffled hair.

Even then, you failed to see the irresistible appeal in him. All those things that made him up only added to his unapproachable aura.

Bottom line was, he was bad news.

.

You didn’t want to be a spoil sport.

But how much of a thug your mom’s boyfriend’s son was shouldn’t be something that would make her like him less.

They were both their own people. Right ?

It was just that you just didn’t want her to be shocked and devastated if something happened later. When it happened.

Yet it seemed the serious conversation would have to wait.

After dinner your mom suggested you head to the living room to chat over wine and cheese.

You stayed back to do take out the dishes.

Earlier, your mom had stood to do it instead at first.

‘Don’t bother with that, dear.’ She reached for the plates in your hands. ‘Let me do it.’

‘It’s okay, mom.’ You smiled a little. ‘This is your night. I’ll meet you in the living room.’

'Sweetie...' Your mom looked close to tears. ‘But there’s so much of it…’

‘Jungkook,’ his father's voice had cut through the moment. He was a serious man in a crisp suit with a stoic countenance. His voice was just naturally authoritarian without him trying ‘Give her a hand.’

Jungkook stood, almost robotically.

‘It’s fine.’ You said. Politely. Nicely. Tightly. ‘I can handle this much.’

You left without another word.

That had been moments ago and now you were done with cleaning.

You stood at living room entrance for a while, taking in the scene.

The two adults were exchanging moon eyes and whispering in each other’s ears at the love seat.

Jungkook was sitting on a solo seat, but he was on his phone, completely unbothered by what was happening.

Your mom seemed to think it was the perfect time to pull out the photo album right then and there upon seeing you.

It was embarrassing but at least you knew you didn’t have to worry about the pictures spreading at school.

Jungkook was looking, picking up a picture occasionally to rove over, but he wasn’t the type to do that.

He also wasn’t the type to stare but you felt his glance shifting to you and lingering multiple times.

Once, you caught his eyes and he just stared at you across the coffee table wordlessly with a curious tilt to his head, idly flipping a picture of you dressed as a knight in glitter shining armor for Halloween at eight in his hands.

Honestly, it was starting to get annoying.

But you endured. For your mom’s sake.

.

Your alarm went off at exactly ten.

As subtly as you could, you excused yourself with an apology to the guests, saying you weren't really feeling well.

In hindsight you probably should have used a better excuse.

Your mom was notorious when it came to worrying, especially when it comes to your health.

Also, you probably should’ve locked the door before undressing just for good measure since people were over.

But in the moment, you were too busy setting your camera up where you were kneeling on the floor at the foot of the bed to be concerned about that.

That day you were testing out a new toy.

.

Distractedly, you took note of a couple of people asking you if that was your boyfriend’s shirt you had lifted over your tits.

You ignored them.

Couldn’t a girl own an oversized tee without getting any flack?

Trivial comments like that aside, a good majority of the audience are fawning over how wet you were and how perfect you bouncing tits look being played with.

Your head fell back and your eyes fluttered shut.

You were sitting there, knees raised to your chest and legs splayed, your gushing pussy in full display where the toy was stuffed deep into her tightness, vibrating pleasantly.

‘I’m close…’ you mumbled throatily, squeezing your tits and pinching your stiff nipples in between your moving fingers. You moved your hips move faster, feeling the toy buzz against fluttering walls. You took a hand off one of your tits to rub at your engorged clit. ‘Fuckfuckfuck…’

Deep in your high, you didn’t hear the door open and close with a foreboding click.

You only heard your name being called by a deep, smooth voice through the heady haze.

Instantly you stilled.

When you snapped your head to look over her shoulder Jungkook was there, hands in his pockets, leaning against your doorframe with his sleeves drawn up to his elbows, muscle roped, inked skin on full display.

When he tilted his head to the side a little, appraisively, you dared to say as a quaking chill ran down your spine and your entire body felt like it was about to burst into flames, a bit of his hair fell over his face.

His eyes were like two black in the dark as he took you in, dragging his gaze up and down your exposed body languidly.

In the back of your mind, you wished the ground would part and swallow you whole.

‘Your mom,' he starts, capturing your attention wholly, dark gaze finally flickering to your face, his voice suddenly lower, hoarser. ‘She sent me over to check on you.’

It took you a moment to realize where you were, who you were, who he was.

It was like a bucket of cold water had been dropped over your head.

Jeon Jungkook, the school's resident trouble maker, soon to be your step brother, just walked in on you fingering yourself in in front of a recording camera.

Well. Yeah.

You gulped.

You were royally fucked.

depending on the response I get I might ( most probably will ) delete this. not because I'm ashamed of my work. because I'm embarrassed of myself. I really swore to never write again and here I am. sigh. yes, I have seen my previous works and noticed just how terrible they were and this is a big reason why. so sorry for putting you through that. a million apologies.

also, that's right. I have adopted a new style which might not be to everyone's liking. another reason why.

anyways, if you liked this filth ( i know it seems mild but I can tell you it's very likely gonna get worse ) please idk uh... fuck this isn't ao3. hm.

like and drop by in the ask box if you liked it and want to see more. it makes me happy. its like serotonin fuel to me.

have a nice day. see you next time ( maybe ). stay fresh. yeah. 💜💜.

[widow-maximov]

I'll be your knight

Pairing: Natasha x Fem Reader

Warning: Language, fluff, angst, smut.

Summary: Dealing with sexism is a real struggle but eventually a line is crossed and anger is unleashed.

A/n: This is my first time writing smut so hopefully it's good enough :3

Word count: 3.5k

⸻⸻⋙☸⋘⸻⸻

Being an Avenger isn't easy, especially for any women that join the life style of a hero. You had to put up with sexist comments all the time, most of the time it didn't really bother you but the more you heard random men talking about your best friend like she was some toy, the more it annoyed you.

The comments towards you stopped when you were recruited by Tony Stark, there was some level respect for you and you kind of liked it.

You had some issues with opening up to the team but when Wanda, showed you they are harmless, you slowly opened up more and more as you knew that they were going to be your new family from now on.

Everyone on the team warned you about the one particular redhead but you didn't listen, you wanted to be her friend, she looked scary but is an actual softie, but only around you.

It took time for the Russian to even greet you when she saw you but for you it was worth it, you respected her and always been there for her when she had no one to turn to.

She warmed up to you as she saw the security you were offering her, and you never backed down from your offer, she wasn't keen on your presence but had to learn to accept it.

Even if she didn't trust you fully, that was okay. You trusted her with everything because you knew she was a human just like you and no doubt needed someone to lean on.

⸻⸻⋙☸Flashback☸⋘⸻⸻

You walked around, exploring the place that now it was your new home, you never saw anything more fancy than this place, the room you were staying in was more than enough for 4 people.

Your own tv along with your own big walk in closet and your own bathroom, literally a five star hotel, you didn't complain at all, you were just shocked at how spacious this all was.

Each room was bigger than the other and it was starting to get all confusing, when you left the room, you would get mixed up with the way you walked in.

You loved it but at the same time you hated it, you accidently bumped into the Russian, she looked sweaty in her work out clothes and you stared at her with awkwardness.

She eyed you and cleared her throat, attempting to walk past you and continue where she was going but you stopped her "I'm sorry to disturb you but I just want to know where I can find the gym"

You rubbed your neck awkwardly "I- um- I tried searching everywhere but I'm lost"

Usually when people stutter around Natasha, it meant they were obviously attracted to her but with how you stood and looked away from her just showed her that you were afraid of her.

She didn't smile or anything "Walk straight until you reach the end of the hall and turn left"

You looked at her but she was already on her way so you shouted "Thank you!"

You made your way with her instructions of where to go, she knew how to hide her emotions but it was totally shocking for you how she never had a smile across her lips.

This was your first real conversation, not the hello's or goodbye's. It was a proper conversation, well kind of a proper but it was a start and that's what made you happy.

Second encounter with the redhead was a lot better, the two of you actually had a normal conversation in the morning, you were barely awake so coffee was your way of helping with that.

Walking into the kitchen, not really expecting anyone up early this morning, but the sight of the yawning Russian met your eyes, you smiled at her the best you could as you turned to make yourself a coffee.

"You know there is a coffee maker here?" Her naturally raspy voice spoke which caused you to look at her.

"Yeah I seen it but I have no idea how to use it" You confessed, you weren't embarrassed, you just weren't that fancy to ever own one or even be around one.

She turned around without a word and pulled out a cup, placing it underneath the little nozzle and within seconds the coffee poured out, she took the cup and placed it down as she slid it towards you.

You looked at her and then back at the coffee "Thank you Natasha"

She nodded as she sipped on her own drink "Since you are the only person who is up right now, you mind taking a look at this report, I'm not really sure what it means"

You was taken back, she was asking you for help? Shouldn't she know all of the reports like the back of her hand? She noticed your silence "Or you don't have to, I'll probably figure-"

"No, no I have nothing to do today so I don't mind helping" You smiled and took the coffee with you as you followed her into the room where she had a loads of reports laid out.

You looked at all of them "You know you can work on two reports at a time?"

She nodded "I know but the more I do within a certain time, the less I have later on"

You nodded as you sipped your warm coffee, it was very different to what you were used to, but this was definitely easier to get used to. It was the first time Natasha spent more than 2 minutes with you and you were more than happy to accept that.

So from that time, the two of you worked every morning with each other on reports, you learnt so much from her and in some way she learnt more about you rather than from you, she was impressed by your calmness with her constant questions.

To be fair you wanted to open up to the Russian, she had that safety vibe coming of her and you knew that she would never betray you or your trust that you put in her.

The mornings spent on reports also turned into evenings and soon there was movies every other day, she loved horror movies but you on the other hand loved action movies, there was plenty of action as a hero of the world but it never was enough.

She started to show herself around you more often and you really liked how you could make her laugh with simply couple words. She loved how close she gotten to you and how you trusted her with everything.

She had some doubt but you were always to reassure her, she was thankful for it each time, so in return she would ask you questions about yourself and you never hesitated for a moment to tell her.

⸻⸻⋙☸End☸⋘⸻⸻

But the problem was that not everyone saw it like that, they saw her for her body but not for her heart which is one of many reasons to why she was slow at opening up.

It angered you that people didn't want to treat her like anyone else, just because she was gorgeous didn't automatically make her less of a human.

Today was one of those days where you were busy, like busy busy, overloaded with bunch of reports that needed to be sorted before the next day, so you spent your whole day in you room, you glared at the clock on the wall.

You was doing this for 6 hours straight, no breaks so you decided to just do that. You stood up and stretched out, walking out of your room without anyone around, it did ignite curiosity in you so you walked around cautiously to see what was the deal.

Three of your teammates with two random agents were placed on the couch in the living room, trapping Natasha in between them, from her body language she didn't want to be there.

Bruce and Bucky along with Steve seem to laugh at the agents jokes, you moved closer to the door as you listened to what they were saying.

"Come on Natasha, you should do that power pose and show off that body" One of the agents spoke up as they eyed the Russian.

The other agent tried to move closer to her but hesitated, knowing she could easily tackle him "You can't let that body go to waste"

The anger was raising as words spilled out of their mouths, why didn't Steve stop them? Did he really think that as well?

"I was near to tapping that ass but you know women" Bruce made a comment as he laughed along with the agents.

"If she dyed her hair blonde, the amount of jokes we could make then" Bucky smirked as he spoke loudly.

Natasha was just taking in all of the comments, you could see across her face that she didn't enjoy it at all, so she stood up and what they did next made you finally act.

They all looked at her ass and whistled "Romanoff, you should dance for us, show off those curves"

"I am a little hungry as well, you might as well move that pretty ass of yours and make us something to eat" One of the agents spoke up as he laughed.

You walked in as you raised your brows at the 5 men sitting and eyeing Natasha as a piece of meat, you pulled her into you causing her to jump a little but relax when she realised it was you.

They all looked at you and the other agent smirked "Are yous going to put on a lesbian show for us?"

Now you wasn't just unimpressed but also pissed, you pulled yourself away from the Russian as you stepped forwards in front of Natasha "Listen here you little dick, If I hear that you even looked at Natasha in any way, I will fucking haunt you and make sure you don't live to see tomorrow"

His friend was terrified, he gulped when you looked at him "As for you, I want you to go and make her a fucking five star meal and if it's not good, I swear to god you'll regret being born"

He shook his head so fast as he stood up but you stopped him with your powers "You want a show? I will fucking give you a show"

You gripped his face, squishing his cheeks very firmly, your hand started to glow blue as you made him hallucinate that he was in pain, from the fact that he couldn't move and he felt as if his skin was being peel off he only could scream.

You looked at the 4 men who looked very terrified of you, your eyes had flames and you wasn't going to go easy, on neither of them "If any of you ever comment anything sexist or inappropriate about any woman, including Natasha. I will make your life a living hell"

"Do yous understand?"

They shook their heads and scattered away from you as fast as they could, you let go of the dude in front of you, he looked weak but he gotten up so fast that you could swear he had powers as well.

You turned towards Natasha, worried "Are you okay? Did they touch you?"

You looked her up and down as you made your way towards her, she shook her head with a small smile. You pulled her into a hug as a single tear slid down Natasha's face.

You pulled away as you wiped that tear off with your thumb "Why didn't you act Nat?"

"What's the point? It wont stop them from saying what they want Y/n/n"

The pain in your heart was strong at the words, how could any woman not be scared of what could happen if they do protest against men.

You cupped her face as you looked into her eyes "Natasha Romanoff, I promise you that I will protect you from their filthy mouths"

She smiled, this time it met her eyes which caused you to smile. You crushed on Natasha for a long time and promised yourself that when the time was right you would tell her but each time it was harder to do so.

Her and Bruce at the time were something but when she decided to break it off, you were there for her you told her she didn't need to tell you the reason to why she decided that but reassured her that it was probably a good reason to do so.

Now you are holding her face as her eyes are locked with yours, you could feel those butterflies in your stomach raise up "I will be your knight in casual clothes because armour isn't my style"

She laughed with her whole heart, causing you to laugh as well "Gosh I love you.."

You froze at her words, and so did she, her eyes widen at her words but she knew there was no way out of this so she pulled her sleeve and started to fidget with it.

Your hands were on her face but dropped at those words, you stood still trying to understand what just happened, she continued as she looked down "I hope that's okay but I love you Y/n"

You couldn't believe your ears, the woman who always had trouble opening up, right now was vulnerable with her whole heart to you and you was stuck, frozen as you stared at her.

"I never had anyone stand up for me the way to did today, I started to realise that I had feelings that one day when you were near to death on that mission" She was still fidgeting with her sleeve.

"It's okay if you don't feel the same way but you just needed to know.." She confessed, she was standing in front of you holding her heart out in her hands, offering you to take it.

You smiled whole heartily as you looked into her eyes when you pulled her face by her chin "It's more than okay Tasha"

Your hands dropped to her hips as you pulled her in closer to you "Because I love you too"

That look in her eyes, you could see that she had those butterflies too, her eyes locked with yours, she tilted her head slightly to the side and crashed her lips against yours.

Her hands were placed on the back of your neck pulling you deeper into her kiss, you slowly backed her into the wall and when her back hit the wall, she gasped which you used the opportunity to slide your tongue inside her mouth.

The kiss became heated real quick, forgetting that the two of you were still in the public place, only when someone cleared their throat, make the two of you look where the sound came from.

Natasha hid her face in the crook of your neck as she quietly laughed at how awkward that is, you pulled yourself away from her as you looked in the direction of Tony, who looked at you with pure disgust.

"As if you never done this, but sorry you had to witness..." You rolled your eyes at him at first but looked over at Natasha who was still leaning on the wall "This"

She smiled as she intertwined her hand with yours and tugged it to pull you out of the living room, the two of you made it to her room but it wasn't long before you reclaimed her lips with your own.

This time it was a little bit more gentle, you backed her up to the bed as the back of her leg hit the bed frame, before you pushed her back and claimed on top of her.

The only light was the moonlight that was shining through the blinds, you kissed her passionately and redirected your kisses down to her neck, she moved her face to the side giving you more access to her neck.

You left marks as you slightly stank your teeth in but sucked the spot right after, earning a few small moans from the redhead beneath you, she was slowly turning into a mess but she managed to slightly pull you away.

"Don't you have a lot of work?" She asked a little worried but lust was more visible.

"It can wait" You declared as you looked into her eyes "Are you sure you want this?"

She smiled at you being caring and asking for consent "I want this детка (baby)"

You smirked as you placed a soft kiss on her lips and returned to her neck, giving it a couple more kisses and slowly moving down, the only thing that stopped you was the material of her clothes.

She slightly lifted herself off as you pulled her shirt off, exposing her upper body, you looked at her in admiration, her eyes had slight doubt across them but you were quick to reassure her.

"You are beautiful Tasha" You meant every word that came out of your mouth.

There was a blush across her cheeks as she smiled at you, your hand reached for the back of her bra as you unhooked it and pulled it off her.

You took couple of seconds to admire the view before attaching your mouth to her nipple, she bit her bottom lip to prevent her from moaning.

Your free hand glued itself to the other breast, giving it the same amount of attention as your mouth did, you moved your lips to her ear as your hand kept playing with her now hard nipple.

"I want to hear you Natty" You whispered into her ear and with that Natasha moaned into your ear causing a small smirk to settle on your lips.

You continued to kiss down her body until you reached the bottom of her stomach, you looked up at her to see if she was okay, she nodded to give you the confirmation.

You pulled her shorts off along with her underwear, exposing the bottom half of her body, you could smell her arousal which only fuel you on.

You teased her as you kissed her inner thigh, leaving marks there as well, you would from time to time lock eyes with her. You moved closer to her pussy, teasing her with your tongue causing some frustrated moans to escape her mouth.

Her hips would buck as you would teasingly lick her wet folds, she looked down at you as her eyes were consumed with lust "Please Y/n! Just fuck me already"

That's all you needed to hear before you attached your mouth to her dripping pussy, giving her clit the attention first as the more louder moans escaped her mouth.

You gripped her with your hands as your tongue worked it's magic against her hard clit, she was gripping the bed sheets as moans were spilling out of her lips, not caring if anyone heard.

You moved one of your hands as you slipped one of your fingers inside her and without letting her adjust you started to thrust into her, the feeling of pleasure was building up quickly in the bottom of her stomach with each thrust.

"Oh god" Those were the only words she managed to choke out, she was soaked which stoked up your own arousal along with her moans.

Her hips were quick to match your pace as you thrusted, bringing her closer and closer, you pushed the second finger inside and this time you curled the two fingers, hitting her spot all over again.

One of her hands gripped your arm as her nails dug into your skin, the other hand was still tightly gripping the bedsheet, her head was thrown back as you came up to her face.

Your pace of your fingers never slowing down but thrusting harder and fast "Let me show you how you should be treated instead darling.."

You kissed her lips as she moaned, you moved back down as you felt her walls tighten, knowing she was about to cum. You pushed your fingers even deeper into her, her breathing was heavy letting out low and loud moans.

You watched as the orgasm consumed Natasha with your name falling freely from her lips, you slowed down your thrusts to let her ride out her orgasm, holding her steady pulling your fingers out of her as you licked her clean, and moved back up to her lips.

Kissing her as she slightly moaned at the taste of herself into the kiss, you pulled away from her as she was still breathing heavily, staring into your eyes with a smile.

"Now it's your turn" She spoke in between breathes.

You shook your head "Not today darling, today's focus is you.."

You stripped yourself naked as you pressed your warm body against Natasha, glaring at the marks you left and holding her tight in your arms as she slowly calmed down from her high.

You were sure in this moment that you wanted to hear her moan your name till the rest of your life, it was the music to your ears and you didn't want it any other way.

⸻⸻⋙☸⋘⸻⸻

If you want to join my tag list, click here and enjoy my future posts.

Tag-list: @diaryoflife,@wandanatblogs,@madamevirgo, @eilarch

[my-darling-boy]

Genuinely asking, isn't self-diagnose with a condition kind of dangerous? Because legitimizing self-diagnosing opens a door to many malicious people who would want to exploit the fact they can self-diagnose? And in turn, make the space of autistic people worse?

Was going to skip this, but I’m writing a LONG response because I’m VERY exhausted with the amount of misinformation I see on this “self dx is dangerous” take, so buckle up and allow me to info dump.

Recently, authentic_autism_advocacy, an Instagram account run by a supposed medically diagnosed autistic woman was discovered to be a non-autistic woman, Connie Manning, posing as a medically diagnosed autistic person to spread hate and anti-self diagnosing speech. In reality, she is a neurotypical mother who regularly uses her autistic son for clout; she also turned out to have a hand behind CalmWear, a brand of sensory compression products designed for disabled people. Not only had she been spewing hatred towards other autistic people, she had been accusing well known AFAB autistic tiktokers like beckspectrum of faking being autistic and threatening self diagnosed autistics and saying they are a danger to the community, and engaging in other incredibly discriminating behaviour. Yes, she herself was a neurotypical person posing as a medically diagnosed autistic to perpetuate hateful rhetoric about self diagnosed people and used her voice to speak OVER autistic folk for financial gain and exploitation of autistic people, including her own son. If you want to read this roller coaster of a story, an autistic person wrote an entire article on it with tons of screenshots and sources.

So let me make one thing clear to you.

The purpose of actually, genuinely self diagnosing is not done to attract attention or to parade around and exploit other autistic people. Self diagnosed autistic individuals have recognised due to difficult life circumstances, financial hardship, bigotry and stigma within the medical/legal world, being a minor, lack of insurance, lack of proper access to safe care facilities, being denied assessment due to incompetent or biased practitioners, and/or any other obstacle that they may temporarily or permanently be barred from diagnosis. Self diagnosis does NOT instantly mean a person is posing for clout, nor does it indicate a person is trying to wring money from assistance services or exploit other autistics. And nts who use self diagnose with intentions of harming the community? That’s NOT self diagnosis, that’s abuse of something meant to aid people blocked from medical care or financial means to that care. All we can do for autistic people, no matter who we perceive them to be, is treat them the same way we would any other autistic person. Because the moment you start deciding by your own book who deserves respect and who doesn’t, you’ll be on a slippery slope to locking out thousands of autistic people from the community. If it’s discovered a person like Connie is literally abusing the system of self dx to intentionally mislead the community, by all means, we must hold them accountable. But you cannot simply go about granting and revoking access from people just because someone lacks a diagnosis or doesn’t fit your idea of what being autistic looks like, especially if it’s based on stereotypes.

Moral of the story? Isn’t it ironic how anti-self dx people will 100% believe a user who claims to be medically diagnosed but shows no “written proof” of it, yet always demand written proof from a self dx person? It’s almost like even anti-self dx people can’t tell the difference between someone who is medically diagnosed autistic and someone who isn’t. Well, that’s because they can’t. While there might be common traits, autism has no set model, it is a spectrum, no autistic person is alike; Policing self diagnosed people about their self diagnosis isn’t a form of protecting the community. It’s a form of gatekeeping. If you find yourself granting instant acceptance, without asking for proof, to a person insisting they are medically diagnosed like this neurotyical mother, but then prohibit self dx people from entry entirely on the grounds of not showing proof of medical assessment, you are upholding a double standard. This is why policing autistic people’s diagnosis, self or not, is inherently useless.

So here’s the thing... instead of asking people to stop self diagnosing, what you should instead be asking yourself is, “Why do people self diagnose? What kind of medical system could possibly be in place where people feel they need to resort to self diagnosis rather than get an actual diagnosis?”

Well, it’s mainly common knowledge among most of the autistic community that diagnosis is NOT easy to come by.

One of the main reasons why people cannot get a diagnosis is due to financial/insurance reasons. It’s reasonable to estimate that by the end of 2020 almost 30 million Americans alone were without health insurance. I’ve heard costs out of pocket for an autism diagnosis are between $500-$6000. If a person or a family cannot afford health insurance—which by the way on average is around $5,400 a year for a single person and $13,800 for a family here—where are they supposed to pull out $6,000 to get screened?

You might be asking, “Well aren’t insurances supposed to cover disability?” Sure, there are options for disability care through health insurance—not even going to get into that—but like a lot of things in the US, this is a severely flawed system. A lot of private health insurance will stop or limit coverage for an autism diagnosis or assistance services once a person reaches 18 to 21 years old. In most states, coverage has a higher chance of being denied to autistic adults coming with the added age cap or ONLY covering ABA, an abusive, manipulative “therapy” used to force social compliance and trait suppression on autistic people. The fact that ABA, a conversion therapy, is covered, but little else, shows exactly what insurance companies think of autistic people: they’ll only cover us if we want to learn to be “normal”. This can leave many undiagnosed autistic adults who cannot afford analysis, insurance, or safe assistance services with nowhere to turn. If I was not on my parents’ insurance, there is NO WAY I would EVER be able to afford a diagnosis. I don’t have $2,000 lying around. The MONEY ALONE would prohibit me from getting a diagnosis, no matter how many autistic traits I presented.

When I was going through this system years ago to start a diagnosis, I was shocked to find no therapist within three hours of me was accepting adult patients. “Up to 18 only” their websites would say. And in the event I had found one (1) that accepted me as a then 20 year old with X insurance, and that person refused me diagnosis, I would be out of options unless I planned a 5 hour drive which may have also led me to another biased screener. A person seeking self financed assessment can waste thousands of dollars therapist hopping.

People will say, “Well I live in X place, and where I come from, it’s covered!” Well the reality is that everyone in the world does not live where you live. It’s not realistic to assume everyone is in the same position as you or your family to afford care or access the same resources as you. When you say, “Just go out and get a diagnosis! It’s not that hard!”, understand you are speaking from your personal vantage point where screening may be easily accessed or easily covered/is free OR you have no personal knowledge of what that process is like yourself.

The second thing that bars a ton of people from being diagnosed is the fact that when autism was first discovered, its research was HEAVILY centered on white, cis, heterosexual men. The idea that autistic people are ONLY cis, white, heterosexual men carries on to this day. If you are an outlier to this stereotype, your chances of being misdiagnosed with something else or refused diagnosis skyrocket because so-called “professionals” don’t know how to observe traits in any other person besides a cis, white, heterosexual man, and refuse/fail to recognise the endless ways in which a person can be autistic. ALL the time I hear how AFAB people will go in to get screened only to find out their screener does not believe AFAB people can be autistic, because yes, sexism and anti-lgbtq+ ideas play a huge role in the incredibly outdated diagnostic process, because autism is still believed to be an “AMAB only” thing. People report going into a therapists office and being asked questions like, “Do you like going outside? Do you like having friends?” and being told that if you agree with either of these, you cannot be autistic because criteria at some places is so backwards, you can’t even say you enjoy conversation without failing the test. Other things commonly heard during the analysis are screeners telling someone they are too smart/articulate to be autistic, gas lighting them by saying they are mistaking their symptoms for something else/making them up, telling a person they seem normal, dismissing clear autistic traits by saying they’re unique “superpowers”, or intentionally misdiagnosing a person as ADHD INSTEAD of autistic. People on social media have also pointed out what influences racism has on the diagnostic process as well and how lack of research and understanding of autistic POC contributes to under-diagnosis and stigma has only contributed to refusal of care and under-representation of POC in the disabled community, as one autistic Black woman points out on Instagram, “I found excellent articles that support and validate my feelings and experiences, but I could find no research on autistic Black people.” Additionally, because research has primarily been done on young men, this means anyone who is not a cis man and is over the age of 18 and is seeking a diagnosis has a much higher chance of not receiving one because screeners don’t understand how autistic traits may present differently in adults, especially since adults are very likely to mask. Some autism screeners are so against autism they have told clients they would only diagnosis a person autistic if it was their last resort to avoid “placing a burden on their shoulders”. These reasons are largely responsible for why autism is incredibly mis/under-diagnosed. This ask would be the length of a novel if I included every single type of discrimination and mistreatment during the evaluation process alone, but understand it can be incredibly biased, sexist, transphobic, racist, or just flat out ableist. And guess what? Though this process can take as little as a month to get sorted, that is rare. The assessment SHOULD be very short. But a lot of autistic people have reported their diagnosis took more than 2-4 years because of having to waste time, energy, and money hopping from therapist to therapist looking for someone to take them seriously, as many autistic people compiled on the actuallyautistictiktoks page on Instagram point out.

The last thing I want to touch on is this idea that people have that self diagnosing is dangerous. “What if someone self diagnoses and they take advantage of services that are meant for autistic people?” ...The Big Things you think I am going to take advantage of as a self diagnosed autistic person, like scholarship money for instance or SSDI, I do not have legal access to without a formal diagnosis. I cannot waltz into a law firm and ask for a $5,000 scholarship for autistic people without a diagnosis, because they WILL NOT give it to me!

Let me tell you some of things I’ve “cruelly taken advantage of” as a self diagnosed autistic person. I bought glasses with blue light protection, because screen and fluorescent lighting at work and even natural blue toned light from the sky lowers my threshold for some sensory input like noise and social interaction; wearing them to work everyday has improved my sensory thresholds incredibly. I’ve talked to my manager and told him I’m autistic and that I have a hard time understanding vague direction and may need to step away briefly on occasion to tend to a shutdown before a meltdown comes on at work; he had no problem with this. I use subtitles; sometimes I have trouble processing audio or reading facial expressions and tone, and being able to see the words displayed on the screen gives me a significantly better understanding of what I watch. All my life, I have been having meltdowns which I had mistaken for mental breakdowns or panic attacks and having access to resources that walked me through preventative methods and tips on what to do if I have one has been ENORMOUSLY helpful to me. All my life, I was trying to deal with them thinking they were something else; becoming aware of this and accepting that they are in fact autistic meltdowns has helped me not only go through them, but has helped me redirect stims which at their worst previously had me hitting and clawing my arms, slapping my face, and even hitting my head. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to wait 4 years for a diagnosis to use resources I could be using to make my life more accessible right now!

People will say, “Oh well yeah, I don’t mean You are one of Those Types of self diagnosed autistic people, you clearly sound/look autistic, I’m talking about other people.” The thing is, there is no broad “sounding/looking autistic”, that’s stereotyping, and you can’t demand everyone who interacts with you show you their Autistic Card, because again, not everyone is able to be diagnosed, especially given the mistreatment and stigma present towards autistic people in the medical field! And what made you ask for their diagnosis? Because they “don’t seem autistic” to you? Why didn’t you ask for their diagnosis? Because they “seemed autistic” to you? By denying anyone who doesn’t have a diagnosis resources they may very well need, you are denying assistance to thousands of people who are without means to be diagnosed. And I am SO tired of seeing comments online on self diagnosis posts that “people don’t know what they’re taking about” as if they know us personally, like are you me? Are you my doctor I’ve consulted? Did you watch me academically research and consult with other autistic people about being autistic for over 3 years? I’m tired of “well, one time a self diagnosed person laughed at my actually autistic diagnosed friend...so all self dx people are evil” because there is ZERO correlation between a person being self assessed and their behavior towards a non self assessed person. The fact both those arguments are in use whenever self dx comes up is yet another form of gatekeeping.

Self diagnosing autism is not begging for attention or Evil Criminal Money Funneling Schemes. It is a result of a deeply flawed medical and insurance system that has failed to give proper attention and care to those who need it, it is a result of resources not made available, of safe support systems not there for kids and adults alike. You want to talk about what’s truly dangerous? How the hate group Autism Speaks has been parading itself around since 2005 as an advocacy group for autistic people and has been misusing millions of dollars worth of donation money and promoting stigma and hatred around autistic people; no autistic members are present on their board. How Sia and her new film Music was nominated for 2 Golden Globes despite it replacing the original autistic actor with a neurotypical actor, using offensive stereotypes, and using the main autistic character as a prop, and featured an extremely dangerous bodily restraint scene on an autistic person having a meltdown in public and featured very insensitive content due to Sia’s lack of consulting with autistic people to make the film (spoilers in that article).

Instead of policing autistic people, whether they fit your idea of what an autistic person is or not, redirect your efforts and your energy to dismantling systems and holding others accountable for perpetuating harmful stereotypes about autistic people that are legitimately dangerous on such a scale that they have created insurmountable damage to the autistic community. But I guarantee you, worrying over whether your classmate is “faking it” will not do any justice to the decades worth of discrimination autistic people face still today.

I understand. You care about the community, you don’t want autistic people to be exploited or taken advantage of. I don’t want to be exploited and taken advantage of as an autistic person, and I don’t want that for others! But I also understand that when we self proclaim ourselves as judges of random autistic strangers on the internet or start accusing people of faking or demanding to see medical paperwork from people when the basis of our suspicions is “this person doesn’t look like my stereotyped view on how I think an autistic person should act”, THAT is when you really run into trouble. Because if you are allowed to deny self dx people entrance into the autistic community, what’s stopping you from thinking you have the power to deny ANYONE entrance into that community?

And there is power in self diagnosis for many autistic people. When the evaluation system is literally rigged to set you up for failure and put you through unnecessary hardship, self dx is a self affirming, empowering tool to take back control from a process designed to gaslight and crush you. The evaluation process was NOT formulated by an autistic person, nor was it made to be inclusive of all autistic people. Until the evaluation system in place for autistic people is safe, accessible, and free to ALL, you have EVERY right to self diagnose.

[palbabor-writes]

Impetuous

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Adult language, SMUT/18+only, cunnilingus, switching, bratting, face-riding, Satoru being Satoru, so he’s chatty & in general the worst  

Words: 12,815

“Knock it off,” you huff, doing your best to ignore how your breasts press against the flat planes of his chest. Then his fingers are under your chin, gently tipping your head up and leaning so close that his lips are inches from your own. 

“But what if I don’t want to?” he teases, his voice falling into a lower, hushed pitch before he relaxes his hold, letting you slip from his hands.

Notes: this thing has been languishing in my drafts since like, January. because it was my first step away from BNHA i’ve sorta over analyzed it & edited it, likely to death. but anyway, without further ado, here is my first venture into the JJK fandom! thank you for edits & suggestions: @albinoburrito, @kugutsuu​, @kogo​ & everyone else that i’ve forced to look at this thing. love you all sm & ty for putting up with me!

& it’s gojo because of course it fucking is. 

Impetuous im·pet·u·ous /imˈpeCH(o͞o)əs/ adjective done quickly

“I hate to be a harbinger of bad news, and I can understand your frustration, but that’s what they asked me to do. Doesn’t matter what continent we’re on, elders are elders. Honestly, I’m a little shocked that this teaching pathway is even an option for him.” Although you speak softly, your voice seems to carry more in these close meeting rooms, clattering off the tatami mats and gleaming leather couches.   

Yaga massages the bridge of his nose and adjusts his dark sunglasses before lifting his eyes to yours. “I understand, but I still feel that he would be an asset to our school. As long as his motivations remain pure, that’s all I can ask for, at present.”

“Pure or not,” you continue, lacing your fingers as you cross one leg over the other. “It’s vital to see how he handles himself on these missions. What if he has a student with him? I’ve never seen his fighting style, but I’ve heard he can be reckless. How can he foster confidence and proper growth if he’s not measured on the basics? There’s the additional worry of taking him off of the higher ranked missions. Or, if you elect to keep sending him on them, can he handle both? Can he teach and still be a successful sorcerer and asset?”

“He’ll be expected to do both. He knows this,” Yaga sighs, reaching for his lukewarm cup of tea. “While he’s not known for his conventionality, I don’t think that will interfere with his teaching. As I said, some recent events at the school have helped to illuminate the importance of managing the coming generation. Satoru is confident, and I believe that will translate well to any future students. He’s already taken on some responsibility with young Fushiguro and the boy is doing well under his instruction.”

“Fushiguro?” you ponder. Your school administration and the head elders had given you a list of names, people who represented the top families among Japan’s sorcerers, but you don’t remember seeing a name like Fushiguro among the others.

“He’s related to the Zen’in family,” Yaga explains, spreading his vast hands open as he replaces his tea cup against the low table that rests between the two of you. “So, if I’m understanding correctly, your superiors in America have sent you to Japan to collect a series of reports. One is on the influence of curses and how our alumni comport themselves in the field. The other is the analysis of our teaching styles and to, how did you put it, ‘further diversify your own teaching abilities as a jujutsu educator.’ And, as if that wasn’t possibly enough, to observe our newest teaching candidate, Satoru Gojo.” 

“In a nutshell,” you confirm, a smile quirking the edge of your lips. “We’ve got some missions lined up, right?”

“Yes. You will enter the field with Satoru and one other returning alumna, Shoko Ieiri. She’s finished her medical degree and will join our research facilities in the coming weeks.”

“Oh! She’s the one who can use the reverse healing technique! I’ve heard of her.”

“Yes. She was in Satoru’s class. I realize your report is the main aim that you have here, but I would ask that you keep an open mind. While your report is of value to our school, it will not affect my decision on the matter.”

You lean against the stiff cushions of the couch and cock your head at Yaga’s impassive expression. “Of course,” you assure him, noting that nothing in his outward appearance shifts as you give him the response he was waiting for. “Should be an interesting week, at the very least.”

“Oh,” Yaga replies, finally cracking a less than reassuring grin. “Satoru will make sure of that.”

“Hey! (L/N)-san! The next report is up and they’re sending a manager for us, hurry up! Stop scribbling things in that little notebook. What are you writing anyway? Is it some kinda biography? Oooh! Is it on me? Is that why you keep looking at me? It is, isn’t it? Ahh, now I’m gonna feel self-conscious.”

You snap your notepad closed and slip it into your hip pouch, stepping toward the two fellow members of your team. “It’s just routine notes and you don’t need to call me (L/N)-san. I realize it’s likely force of habit, but please, just call me (Y/N).”

“Ahhh! We’re already on a first name basis! I’m blushing. I’ve never had a girl be this forward with me!” Satoru sighs, clapping his hands against his cheeks and leaning over you. “You’re so bold!”

“Ugh,” you scoff, rolling your eyes at him. “Liar, and stop that. I’m still the senior sorcerer in this party. I–”

“But you’re just a grade 1,” he interrupts, bracing his hands on his hips and exaggerating his stance, moving his face close to yours. As he looms ever nearer, you raise your chin and hold your ground. This invasion of personal space is a tactic he loves to use. 

At first, you’d figured he was just another one of those guys who weren’t aware how intimidating their sheer height and presence came off to others. However, as the days wore on, you noticed his intentional maneuvering. He would press at Shoko too, but she was better at ignoring him, so he soon turned his full attention to you.

“Yeah, I might only be a grade 1, but they have given me the command on all of our missions. It’s my job to file the reports, a task that you, as the technical ‘junior party’, aren’t trusted to do.”

“You’re so right! That’s a tremendous responsibility. How do you stand under all that pressure (Y/N)! The role of the pencil pusher is such a big job. I should act right! Or I’ll never be a real jujutsu sorcerer! God, look at this Shoko, we need to get our shit together! At this rate, we’ll never be able to file our own reports!”

“Now, now,” you tut, raising a finger in front of your face, forcing him to take a subconscious step backwards. “Watch what you say, after all, you’re wanting to become a teacher. So some part of the masochism of endless paperwork must appeal to you.” 

Satoru’s smooth lips raise into a broad smirk and pulls away, arching his arms behind his pale head. “Hmm, I’ll give you that one (Y/N). Mainly because of your choice of wording. Masochism. What a word for it. And why’d you have to say it so straight faced? Oh, that reminds me, what time is our next mission at?”

“Uh, why did masochism remind you of that?” you pause, lifting your wrist so you can check the time on your watch. “I think it’s in two hours, give or take traffic.”

“Hmm, and it’s in the Chiba district?”

“Yeah, that’s in Tokyo, right?”

“It is,” Shoko chimes in, twirling a lock of her long brown hair between two of her fingers. Her low voice reminds you, and you turn to face her. “Speaking of names, I never asked, would you prefer Shoko or Ieiri?”

“Doesn’t matter,” she replies, lifting her tawny eyes to yours, catching some of the bright sunlight as it fades into the deep circles under her eyelids. The contrast makes her skin look even more pallid. “First name, last name, whatever is easier.”

“Shoko okay with you then?”

“Sure,” she nods, the ghost of a smile lifting her lips. 

“Oi!” Satoru interrupts, slinging an arm over Shoko’s shoulder and fixing you with a pointed look. Or you assume he is, it’s hard to tell where he’s looking because of those white strips of cloth that obscure his eyes. “You know what’s in Chiba, don’t you?”

You blink at him, unsure if this is another one of his aimless questions or something genuine. “No. Should I?”

“You’re a tourist and you really don’t know what’s in–”

“We’ve already been over this Satoru; I am not a tourist,” you protest. “I’m here on official business from my administration to–”

“Yeah, yeah. Look, special, ‘top secret’ assignment or not, you’re still basically a tourist because it’s your first time to Japan. You’re honestly telling me you didn’t look up anything before you arrived?”

“Um,” you waver, eyes narrowing at the cheerful leer that’s drifting over Satoru’s angular features. “I looked up some basic things. I know about the Shinjuku and Roppongi districts. Oh, and Harajuku, that’s a big one too.”

“Mmhm, very good, my little tourist, but do you know what’s in the Chiba district?”

“Don’t call me that and stop screwing around Satoru. If this has nothing to do with the mission, then I’m not interested. I could care less what’s in the district–”

“Might just be rumors, but I’ve been hearing about an increase in cursed activity. Especially around that theme park. I’m sure you’ve heard of it,” he looks upward, pearlescent hair tumbling behind his wrappings. “I guess it’s not surprising that it’s a hot spot, what with all the people who are always checking it out. It’s pretty famous.” 

Tch. He’s not gonna tell you. 

You suck your teeth and twist your hand back to your hip pouch, digging for your phone. As you peer over the search results you can hear him rambling on about the notoriety of the unnamed place but as soon as you hit the second result, your head whips back up. 

There’s no way. 

Of course you’d heard of it, you’d even thought about it when the higher ups asked you to take on the assignment to Japan, but never, not in a million years, would you have figured that you’d have a chance to go. Not on this trip.

“Are you serious?” you breathe, blinking up at his smug face. Satoru doesn’t answer, just pops one hand under his chin and gives you a shit-eating grin. You look back at your phone and bite your lip, doing your best to contain your budding excitement, double checking the map for the district.

If he’s not pulling some kind of elaborate joke, it looks like Tokyo Disneyland is the location of your next mission.

“What… what the fuck is this, some kinda elaborate joke??” 

The gates to the amusement park are warped, and the paint is peeling; one side looks like it’s about to melt off of the frame, all twisted metal and faded rust. Just past the gates you can see what looks like an old merry-go-round, complete with lions, tigers, bears and several sets of horses. At the tip-top of the ride rest a star, and atop that star is a wraith like curse. It spindles around the flecks of gold and cool bronze, baring its teeth at the three of you and sputtering a long line of broken speech as it twists and turns. 

“Huh, still looks about the same. This place was enormous when I was a kid. Now it’s a trendy spot for ghost hunters and thrill seekers! I think five or six people died here last year.” Satoru grins, tucking his hands into his pockets as he strides forward. In seconds, he’s beside the curse on the merry-go-round, silencing chittering of its inane dialogue, letting an eerie quiet seep over the rest of the abandoned grounds.

“So stupid. I cannot believe I let him make me think we were going to Disneyland. You know what he’s like, Shoko! Why didn’t you tell me? He–”

“I honestly don’t listen to him. No idea he was making you think this was Tokyo Disney,” Shoko interrupts, already following the path Satoru took, tucking her brown hair behind her neck with a loose hair tie. “But since we’re here, could you lower the curtain and take care of those level 2 curses on the ticket booth?”

You let out a long sigh and toss her a quick affirmative, reciting the familiar incantation, watching as the darkening shield slopes its way down from the skies, sheltering the three of you within its haze.

The first set of curses are easy enough and you swiftly take care of them, unleashing your cursed technique and splicing them into faded dust. How ridiculous, you think, opening the door to the booth and dodging an ill timed lunge from a sneakier curse who was hiding inside. Satoru honestly had you thinking that you’d be going to the Disneyland theme park. On the way over, he’d even told you about the layout of the park and what potential curses might be lurking about. 

What a jerk. 

Still, you muse, turning toward another shrieking hulk of a curse that’s lumbering toward you, it’s impressive he’d led you on so easily. You make a mental note to get back at him later, for now you need to clear this area and focus on the task at hand. 

“I cannot believe that you led me on like that!” you pout, knocking back a small swig of beer.

“Pfft,” Satoru chuckles, wagging one long finger at you. “Didn’t ever say it was gonna be Disneyland, did I? You came to that conclusion all on your own.”

“Oh please! Making me look up what ‘famous tourist spots are in Chiba’ and then nodding each time I said I was excited to see some of the rides on the way over.”

“You could have really been into haunted carnivals. How was I supposed to know?”

“Ass,” you snap playfully, sticking your tongue out at his pleased smile. 

After the mission and spotting your peeved expression, Satoru had insisted that you let him take the two of you out for a drink. According to Shoko, the bar in this neighborhood was highly rated and had some of the best specials in the entire district. 

The place was packed; but somehow Shoko had secured three seats up at the bar top, ushering you to sit between her and Satoru, informing you there must always be a three foot buffer between her and ‘that loser’. The bartender seemed to know her and, before you could pull yourself into the worn leather seat, three foaming lagers were passed across the rough surface of the bar top, one for each of you. 

“Thanks,” you’d murmured, cupping your hands around the glass. On your right, Satoru pushed his lager toward you, raising two fingers at the distracted barkeep as he chatted with Shoko. “What’s wrong? Don’t like beer?” you’d asked, bemused by his disgruntled expression. 

“Nah,” he’d confirmed, wagging his digits a little faster, chin lifting as he let out a huffed exhale. “Messes with my eyes. I want something to eat, though. Hey! Shoko! Stop flirting with him and ask if they have anything sweet! Shokooo! Don’t ignore me!”

Shoko made a show of rolling her eyes but, a few minutes later, a plate of piping hot fried sweet buns appeared and he’d swiftly grabbed up one, popping it in his mouth and smacking it hungrily. You’d turned to ask Shoko what they were, but by the time you’d twisted back to Satoru over half of the cakes were gone. 

“Damn, you inhaled them,” you’d exhaled, a little shocked he could scarf them down that quickly.

“Well, they’re not bad and hit the spot, for now,” he’d grinned. “Want one?”

“I’m good. You might bite my finger if I get too close… mistake it for one of the buns…”

“Awe, what’s wrong? Think you wouldn’t taste good?”

“Yikes,” you laugh and Satoru hums, clearly pleased with your genuine mirth.

Shoko, who was soon engrossed in conversation with a few of the other patrons to the left of her, kept ordering rounds for the both of you. To keep up, you diligently sipped at each fresh beer, careful to keep abreast of the thrum of the alcohol with several responsible swigs of water. Satoru seemed content with his small order of sweets and peppered you with questions about life in America. He asked about what grade year you taught, the ins and outs of curses within the states and how you liked Japan. He kept things lively and made a point to throw in a few lighthearted jokes at you, beaming each time you laughed at his barbs. 

“So, what you’re saying is there’s no one in America quite like me?” he teases, stretching his long arms dramatically before leaning closer to you.

“Stop that! You’re gonna hit someone,” you grin, trying to shove at his side, watching as your hand freezes in midair, held off by his limitless technique. “Seriously? You’ve still got that on?”

“Mmhm,” Satoru intones. “24/7, 365!”

“You would,” you try to jostle him again, bemused by the fraying and shimmering sliver of infinity that rests between the two of you.

“It’s a tremendous strain on my brain, you know,” he bemoans, dropping his head and fixing a long frown over his lips.

“You deserve it.”

“Ack!” Satoru cries out, clutching at his heart. “Wow! No sympathy! You really gonna treat me like this? My senpai?”

“May I remind you - Tokyo Disneyland,” you intone, glaring at his haggard expression. 

“WOW. You’re never gonna let that go, huh?” Satoru cracks a face, arching his mouth and hollowing his cheeks, letting a high pitched, cracked voice leech from his lips. “Ahhh, that damned man! He deprived me of my dreams! The chance to see Tokyo Disneyland, one last time!”

“What is that? Me? But… old?”

“Pretty good, right?”

“No.”

“Well, I think it was uncanny!” he crows, nodding.

“What in your warped mind makes you think I’ll sound anything like that when I’m old?” you ask, pushing your empty beer pint forward as you purse your lips. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone so excited over the idea of a theme park,” he ponders, tapping a bent index finger against his smooth chin. “Don’t you guys have them in the states? The Disney parks, I mean.”

“We do, we have two. But, since you made me think we were coming to Tokyo Disneyland, I looked up some rides,” you snatch your phone from the counter, scrolling through a few photos before you land on the right one. “Ah! Here it is! Look at this! See?” you chirp, pushing the gleaming screen of your phone toward him.

“Uh. What am I looking at?”

“It’s the Tower of Terror!”

“Which is… ummm… a ride?”

“Yeah? And look at it! It’s upside down! I don’t think the one in America does that,” your finger reaches toward your phone and you blow up the closest image, tapping at the bright colors. Satoru laughs and waves a hand up, attracting the bartender once more and gesturing for another beer for you. “Imma get you another drink, you’re fun like this, plus, you’re just too cute with that little smile.”

You miss his last comment, wholly focused on finding another set of images. “Oh my God! Look! During Halloween they have a night parade in front of it! And… ahhh! Satoru! There’s a green ghost at the top! It’s almost like that curse we saw tonight at the carnival!” 

His long fingers snatch up your bright device, and he yanks it away from your wide eyes. “Ok, that’s enough of that. I’m worried you might end up cursing me for not taking you.”

You give him a sour look and vainly try to grab your phone back, fingers unable to pass through his unseen barrier. “What? No fair! I still don’t understand how you can always have this up!”

“Practice,” he taunts, shaking his head at your determination and wandering touch, chuckling each time you bounce off of his cursed technique. “On another note,” he begins as your new lager is placed in front of you. “What’s in that report that you’re working on?”

You decide to ignore the fact that he’s still holding your phone and cautiously sip past the foam of your fresh beer, peering up at him, studying the lines of his white cloth. It doesn’t tell you much, so you look at his lips instead. They’re pale, but they’re held in a serious line, so you carefully construct your response. “What makes you think I have a report?”

“Why else would you be here?” Satoru counters, rapping his nails against the warped wood of the bar top. “I know you met with Yaga and you’re too cautious and overpowered to be sent on missions with Shoko and me. So you must be here for something else.”

“Officially,” you concede, “I’m here to observe the teaching techniques and skills of the alumni of your school. I’m sure this will come as no shock, but curses are getting more powerful, both here and overseas, and we’re doing our best to keep ahead of those changes. I’m supposed to pick up what tricks I can and bring them back home, to see how we can implement it.”

“Reasonable,” he allows, spreading his fingers before coiling them under his palms again. “But that’s not everything, is it?”

No, you think it’s not. 

You lower your beer and look over at him. He’s braced himself against the bar and his head is dipped so his chin is almost against his breastbone. He doesn’t exactly look dejected, but you can see that he’s thinking deeply and something about that openness makes your heart squeeze. He looks a bit like a kicked puppy. 

Ugh, he’s not a bad guy. He’s funny, and he knows what he’s doing, plus he has the confidence to get where he needs to go. In all honesty, he wouldn’t make a terrible teacher. Maybe not the best, but he certainly wouldn’t be the worst. 

“I–there… there’s some concern you’d be too divided - that it’s not practical to have you teach and go on missions. I also don’t think your own elders trust you much.”

“Ah-ha!” Satoru beams, springing upward and pointing two finger guns at you. “You are here to look in on me! Knew it!”

You can’t help but laugh at him. “Fine, fine, you got me. Let’s get this over with, huh? So we can get back to talking about things other than work, I liked that. What’s the most direct thing I can ask? Hmm, oh! I’ll start with something easy–Why do you want to teach?”

“That’s easy?” he whines, head falling again. 

“It’s straightforward,” you bargain, propping your chin on your fist, looking him over. 

“Sure, let’s pretend that’s not a deceptively loaded question! Alright, well, it’s the best way to change things.”

“Change things?”

“Yup. Like you mentioned, lately curses have become more powerful and lately it feels like I’m the only one who’s being sent on these high-level missions. Frankly, it’s stupid to rely on just me that much, you know? That’s not practical, or even realistic. So, to my mind, it’s vital I throw my support behind some of these up-and-coming kids. You know, foster the next generation and all that. I want reliable allies in the field and to have that, I’ve gotta make sure they’re taught right. Give them everything I know, make them better than me, stronger than me.” 

You’re quiet for a long breath, eyes wide, fingers frozen around your glass, which was midway to your lips. “Damn,” you smile, letting the word hang. “You know, that was actually a pretty good answer.”

Satoru clicks his tongue and curls his lips in a grimace. “Don’t sound so surprised.” 

“I mean,” you chuckle and look up at him, eyes bright. “Well, your attitude doesn’t always inspire confidence.” 

“Ahhhhhh,” he groans, thumping his covered forehead against the bar. “Such a low blow! Bartender! Another round for me!”

“Please,” you sigh, finally taking a sip of your beer. “Do not call your sweet buns ‘another round.’” He grins at you and leans across the bar top, shifting his weight toward your bent arm. The pressure of his shoulder is warm and you nudge at him a little, playfully. He tuts at you but continues to stare ahead, a faint smile teasing the edge of his lips. 

As the bartender slides the requested plate of sweets down, you suddenly realize that you’re touching him. Your eyes widen and you slowly turn your head toward his. He’s not looking at you, content with chewing on his sweet bread, but he’s still braced against you. It’s like all of your senses are finely tuned to that one spot of faint friction between the two of you. You can feel the lines of his muscled arm as he shifts and you involuntarily gulp, doing your best to ignore the abrupt thudding of your heart. 

He said he always kept it up, didn’t he? Something about 24/7 and all the days of the year, so why is he…

“Hey,” Shoko’s voice startles you and you instinctively slide closer to Satoru, arm dragging against his shoulder as you try to right yourself again. “I’m gonna go win this drinking contest these guys have started. You two sticking around for a bit?”

“Uh,” you begin, but Satoru cuts you off, draping an arm over the back of your chair. “Yeah, we’ll be here. What are the stakes?”

“Not sure. But the pot is likely against me, if you’re in a betting mood.”

“Sure, I’ll put 20,000 yen on you.”

“Is…” you start, but Shoko is already walking off, one arm pumped into the air as she shoulders her way to the long table that’s filled with five or six others, all of them holding a full pint glass of beer between their hands. You turn back to Satoru and let out a long breath. “Is that safe?”

“Huh?” he asks, face close to yours. You can smell his cologne from here and the heady scent of him and crisp patchouli fills your senses. “I mean Shoko, will she be ok?” you elaborate, eyes studying the space where his own would be, silently hoping that he’ll pull down the barrier that covers half of him from your curious gaze. 

“Ah,” he nods sagely, leaning back a little to look out at where Shoko is sitting, quietly waiting for the start of the game with her full beer. “She’s got a ridiculously high tolerance. Wouldn’t be surprised if it’s part of her cursed technique. She’ll be fine.”

“True, she likely knows the limits of the human body better than anyone else. But… I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so… excited?” you muse, sitting against your chair and running into the flat palm of Satoru’s hand. For a moment, you debate shifting away, but he’s not really doing anything, just letting the tips of his fingers rest against the curve of your spine, tapping a disjointed rhythm as he watches the start of the contest, that all too familiar smile still tugging at the corners of his lips. 

“She used to be a little more laid back, you know?” he replies, leaning a little harder into your side as he lowers his voice, keeping close to your ear so you can hear him. “She always looks so tired now and her whole outlook has changed, but I suppose four years of med school will do that to you. Although, I did hear that she cheated her way out.”

“No!” you gasp, eyebrows lifted in shock. Satoru laughs, and for once, you’re not thinking it might be at your expense. “Yeah! Just the word on the street. But I wouldn’t put it past her. Shoko’s always done her best to avoid things, namely confrontation or extra work, so it makes sense she’d jet outta med school as fast as she could too.”

“That’s crazy and frankly, terrifying.”

“Riiight?” he shivers, lips raising in an exaggerated wince. “But that’s our Shoko. I’ve got a feeling she’ll do well at the school and I’m grateful I’ll have time to work with her again. It’s been way too long…” Satoru trails off and you can feel his hand slip up your back, fingers ghosting over your shoulder blades.

“Stop that,” you scold, shaking him off with a quick jolt and twisting around to look at his roguish smirk. “What happened to always maintaining your barrier?”

“Awe” he groans, dunking his head against your shoulder with a thump. “Come on, I’ve gotta win you over somehow!”

“Are you serious?”

“Well, I mean, I want the job.”

“I’m gonna hit you,” you threaten, doing your best to keep your bubbling amusement contained. 

“Try it,” he taunts, lifting his head and keeping his face close. His nose is inches from yours and you can barely make out his sharp grin, but you can feel the drag and pull of his breath as it passes over you, leaving a lingering sweetness against your skin. Instantly, your hand lifts to him, fully intent on shoving him back, but you can’t move any closer, trapped by the sudden emergence of his infinity. 

“Ass,” you prickle, shaking your head at his antics. Another peal of laughter falls from his soft lips and you can’t help but smile back, caught up in his infectious joviality. “Tch. Don’t make me find more Tokyo Disney pictures.”

“You can’t,” he informs you, cocking his head at your confusion. “I still have your phone.”

“Hey! Give that back!” you gasp, snatching blindly at him. He shifts back into his seat and yanks your device out of his pocket, waggling it tauntingly in front of you. “Uh-uh! Gotta get past the barrier first!”

“That’s not fair!”

“Never said that I’d make this… oh! Shoko! How did it go? Win me something?”

You twist and spot Shoko’s dark head approaching the two of you. She pauses beside Satoru and flips a large stack of bills down on the bar top, a wide grin on her usually impassive face. “As expected, I won. Here’s your cut, Satoru. Don’t spend it all in one place or on another order of sweet buns, would you? Think you can do that for me?” 

She and Satoru bicker back and forth playfully as you unfold several of the notes, aimlessly organizing them on the countertop as their brisk conversation winds back down.

“So,” Shoko murmurs, pulling a pack of cigarettes from her back pocket and knocking one free from the carton. “You two gonna head out soon? I don’t really see a need to call one of the managers, the school’s close by and so is (Y/N)’s hotel.” 

“Yeah,” Satoru replies, finally passing your phone back as he collects the neatly stacked set of yen from you. “Figured, I’d see her back.”

“I can find it!” you protest, jamming your phone safely into your pouch once more.

“Sure,” he mocks, arching toward you as he braces an elbow against the bar. “You can barely speak Japanese and I know you can’t read much kanji, but sure thing, let’s let you loose in the city. See how far you make it before you’re calling one of us, hmm?”

“That’s not… I–”

“Yeah, yeah,” Satoru waves his hand back and forth and turns back to Shoko. “I’ll let her finish her drink and then we’ll head out. See you tomorrow?”

Shoko nods at his question and, for a moment, you think you spy a knowing look pass between the two of them, but before you can call out to her, Shoko is already making her way toward the door.

“What was that?” you ask, eyes narrowed as Satoru looks down at you, white hair gleaming under the low lights. “What?” he asks innocently, propping his chin onto his open palm. “That look that the two of you just gave each other.”

“No idea what you’re talking about. You sure that beer didn’t hit you a little too hard?”

“Ugh, shut up.”

Despite it being late August, a cool breeze greets the two of you when you step out of the bar. “It’s so nice out,” you comment, readjusting your boots as you hop onto the sidewalk. 

“Mmhm,” he agrees, bracing his arms behind his head as you make your way down the street. “So did you decide what you’re gonna write in your report?”

You glance up at him and make sure he can see you rolling your eyes. “Back to trying to butter me up?”

“Never! Just asking. If you wanna say I’m crazy and can’t be trusted, that’s fine. I can think of a few others who’d agree with you.” 

“Oh? Who?”

“Most people,” he laughs, stepping a little nearer and bumping against you, shocking you with the actual weight and warmth of his body again. As you continue on, you lift your hand to his arm and press the pad of your finger against his sleeve. This time, nothing bars your way so you run the digit slowly along his arm, smiling when he shivers and bats you away. 

“Stop that! Someone’s gonna see and think you’re taking advantage of me!”

The laugh that explodes from your chest at that mental image makes you stop dead in your tracks, arms lacing around your shaking stomach. Satoru scoffs at your bent figure and leans down, shaking his head at your guffawing.

 “The… the… fact that you… think that anyone… would think that… I–” 

“You’re lucky your laugh is so cute,” he muses, bracing his arms over your bent back, playfully pinning you down as he crosses his forearms.

“Hey!” you protest, squirming under his hold. “Let me up!”

“Tell me what you’ve written about me!” he threatens, chuckling as you squirm under him.

“I only said that Satoru Gojo is an absolute monster and shouldn’t be trusted with anyone’s future,” you cry out, overly pantomiming your overwrought expressions, peeking up at him from under his laced arms.

“Oh? Just that? Well, you’re right. So, fair is fair!” Satoru replies, slipping off of you so fast that you nearly tumble to the hard concrete. Half a beat later, he’s back in front of you and lifting you back to your full height, fingers soothing over your arms as he tugs you toward him. “Would it kill you to toss in a bit of praise? Talk about my undeniable prowess and skill? Wax poetic about my stunning efficiency? You know, make them think that I’ve won you over with my charms. After all, you can’t resist me, can you?”

“Knock it off,” you huff, doing your best to ignore how your breasts press against the flat planes of his chest. Then his fingers are under your chin, gently tipping your head up and leaning so close that his lips are inches from your own. 

“But what if I don’t want to?” he teases, his voice falling into a lower, hushed pitch before he relaxes his hold, letting you slip from his hands.

A distant quake dashes up your spine, but it’s not from the chill in the air. “Uh, you sure you didn’t sneak some shots under the table? The way you’re pawing at me, you’d think you were the one in the drinking contest.”  

“Nah, I told you, I don’t drink. Messes with my eyes.” Satoru pats his index finger against his white wrappings for emphasis.

“Mmm, the six eyes, right? Powerful ability, from what little I’ve heard of it.”

“Yeah,” he hums. “It’s a rare technique. Wanna see?”

You’d walked on, but once the question leaves his lips your feet swivel back, as if they have a mind of their own. He’s standing where he was, hands dug into the pockets of his pants, a lazy smile resting on his lips. The moonlight makes his hair shine, and the gleam is bright against the darkness of the street. The glow makes him look taller, imposing. He’s quiet as he waits for your answer and you take advantage of the extra time to mull over the strange man in front of you. 

He’s enigmatic; a force to be reckoned with, for curses and fellow sorcerers alike and, like most jujutsu users, a little crazy. Even knowing all of this, there’s something about him that’s drawing you in. It’s like the pull of a magnet. It tugs at the forefront of your mind and makes you step closer, wanting to see if you can unravel the puzzle that’s Satoru Gojo. 

“Fine,” you hear yourself reply, crossing your arms, steadfastly watching for his next move. “Go on. Let me see what all the hype is about.”

He grins and that mischievous look makes your heart beat race against your breastbone as yet another quake slips up your back. “Ready?” he asks, right thumb hooking under the fabric that covers his eyes. You nod once and the pad of his finger starts that short, upward, pull. 

He’s slow, painfully slow, in his unveiling. 

The smooth angle of his upper cheek peeks out, and he’s careful to roll up the white cloth as he goes. Then, right as he hits the groove of his lower eye, he stops, a frown pulling over his lips. “Mmm, I don’t know…” he contemplates, holding his thumb under his wrappings. “What if I don’t live up to your expectations? Can’t let you down. Not when you’ve been so patient. I know you’ve been wanting to ask, I can see it in your face. Every time we’d start an exorcism you’d look at me, like you were waiting, watching to see if I’d finally take off the coverings.”

Did you? 

Does it matter?

Do you want it to matter?

Flabbergasted by his all too true accusations and entirely eaten up with curiosity, you march up to him and wrap your fingers around his raised wrist, not noticing that you’re actually touching him and completely unaware of the alluring smile he flashes when your hand coils around his. “Ugh, come on! For once in your life, stop being such a tease! You’re never fair, always so… so pompous and… and–”

You’d shoved his hand upward as you began your preamble but as soon as the tightly wrapped cloth passed over his right eye you feel your breath leave your tensed body. 

His eyelashes are pale, the same ashen color as his hair, but they contrast beautifully with the lone eye that peers down. Beautiful? No, it’s more than that. It’s… it’s…

Truthfully, it’s indescribable and unlike anything you’ve ever seen.

It’s blue; but it’s not an ordinary shade. No, the color seems to meld and shift before your shocked gaze, drifting from hue to hue as the color deepens and lightens. Clouds. It’s like clouds passing over a summer sky. The brightness of the cerulean ensnares you, and you can feel your mouth go dry as you stare up at him. 

His eyes are stunning, perfect, and irresistible, hauntingly so.

“So, what do you think?” Satoru asks, pulling his wrist from your grasp and snatching your limp hand in his, twining his long fingers between your own. His skin is warm and you need to say something, anything, but your mind is stuttering, lagging miles behind as you fall headfirst into the overwhelming pull of his presence. 

Finally, you unstick part of your tongue. 

“They’re… uh… I don’t… ha… God…” You shake your head roughly and the familiarity of that motion slips out of the trance he’s placed you under. As soon as you can think again, you jerk your hand from his and blindly walk down the darkened street. Your heart feels like it’s about to fall out of your chest and you can’t stop nibbling on your lower lip. 

It’s not… this isn’t how this is supposed to go, you think, trying vainly to get the shine of Satoru’s eyes out of your mind.

“Never answered my question,” Satoru coos beside you, his long legs quickly catching up with you. “What’s wrong? You like em’ a little too much?… Or…” 

“They… they’re kinda creepy,” you blurt out, fingers curling into your palms. 

“Creepy!” he gasps, hopping in front of you and lifting up both sides of his wrappings, granting you a peek of both eyes. You do your best to avoid looking at him head on, turning and weaving from him, but he dances closer each time you shift. Damn it. His animated performance makes you exhale a quiet chuckle, and he takes your amusement as a sign to continue, constantly placing himself in your way with a broad grin. 

“Stop!” you plead, openly laughing at his sudden burst of silliness. “Now you’re acting like a creep! Satoru! Don’t! Stop showing them to me! You’re losing all of your appeal! Isn’t part of your charm the mystery? Actually, that’s likely all of your charm. Come on, stop it, there’s a cop on that street corner, he’s gonna think you’re drunk and harassing me!”

“Whaaat!” Satoru gulps, whipping his head around to look at the tired policemen that’s leaning against a dim street lamp. “Oh no! The police! Quick (Y/N), before he spots us!” His long fingers snatch up your pliant wrist and he tugs you into a dark alleyway. 

“Hey! Where are you taking me? Officer!” you call out playfully as you balefully follow him, dragging your feet along the dusty ground. “He’s over here! Help!”

“Oi! Knock it off! You wanna get me arrested?”

“Oh please, there’s no way that guy is about to follow–”

“Shit! Shhh, he’s coming this way! Come on!” The sheer force of his grip yanks you forward and you stumble after him. He takes the corner of the next alleyway and the pair of you dash along the wet patches that litter the broken concrete. He’s moving at a tremendous speed, but his feet barely make a noise as he glides over the grimy ground and it takes everything you’ve got to just hold on and keep up.  

A few twists and turns later, you can finally see the bright lights of the busy street that your hotel is on and you feel a heavy exhale of relief leave your burning lungs. Satoru skids to a halt right before he tumbles onto the safety of the sidewalk that rests a few paces ahead and pulls you beside him, grinning down at you as you try to catch your breath. 

“I think we lost him!” he beams and you suck your teeth as you bend over, hands bracing themselves against your knees. “There…there’s no… he wasn’t actually chasing us. Even if he was, I doubt he can catch up now….” your voice trails off as you hear a distant shout from the alleyway and the thud of heavy boots. 

No. There’s no way you think dumbly as you stare into the darkness, eyes searching for movement. 

“See? I told you he was on to us. He’ll see us if he comes this way. What if… Oooh, lemme try something,” Satoru’s broad hands grab at you and he swiftly maneuvers you against the damp brick of the nearest building, careful not to scrape your back as he pushes you against the rust colored siding. “Just play along, I doubt he’ll notice. Don’t give me that look, it’s your fault he’s following us!”

“My fault? I didn’t… oh–”

His lips are sleeker than you’d imagined. 

That first, teasing kiss he gives you already has you lifting your head, following the beguiling smoothness of his mouth, silently asking him for another caress. When he leans down your hands bunch into the dark fabric of his uniform and you can feel his smile against your slackened lips. He doesn’t touch you; his fingers don’t wander to the back of your jaw or the dip of your skull, instead he opts to flatten his angles against your curves, pressing until you can’t feel anything but him. 

The next kiss he gives you has a little more bite behind it, literally. 

His sharp nose bumps your cheek and his teeth worry against the plush swell of your lower lip, sucking and nipping until you’re snatching for his shoulders, searching for some kind of leverage. His mouth parts and right when you think he’s about to deepen his strokes and teasing pecks, he leans back and cocks his head at your flustered expression. “I’ve always wanted to try that,” he tells you, bracing one of his arms above your head. “It looks so fun in the movies.”

That cop could be right behind him, could be waiting for you both to stop your ridiculous routine and face the harsh gleam of reality, but you don’t care, not right now. 

Your hands had fallen from him when he pulled back, and the absence of his warmth makes you desperate to touch him again. But, when you snatch at the corners of his dark jacket, you’re met with that damned barrier. 

“Really?” you bemoan, licking at your kiss slick lips, trying again. “You’re the worst, you know that? You let me get used to the idea of having access to you and then just cut it–mmmph…” 

With a faint shudder of space, his barrier is lowered once more and his lips are back against yours. This time, his hands join in and he cups his fingers behind your ears, tilting you up as he glides his soft touch over you until you’re groaning. 

“Could have just told me you wanted more…” he rumbles in between his caresses, fingers tracing over the line of your jaw, your neck, and the slope of your shoulders. It’s like he can’t decide where he wants to go and you love the momentary burst of indecisiveness that’s broken over him. 

More, apparently, entails you asking him to come up to your room. 

He’d laughed when you’d mentioned it, your lips swollen and glassy from his attentions, and you’d almost taken it back, peeved by his genuine amusement at the idea, but then he’d plucked you into his arms and smoothed any lingering doubts with another flurry of nips and kisses. 

“This gonna make it into your report?” he grins, yanking his high collared jacket off and tossing it carelessly onto the floor. “I should,” you barb, pulling the long band of your hip pouch off, letting it clatter to the ground as your fingers work up the buttons of your own uniform. “Let them think that you’re abusing your status.” 

“Tch, me? Abuse my power? Never. Hey, I think you’re supposed to go slower with that. Don’t just yank all of your clothes off. You know, take your time, tease me a little,” Satoru chuckles, jerking his chin toward your busy hands.

“Oh? Wanting a show?” you ask, threading the last button and spreading the heavy material apart, revealing the thin shirt that’s obscuring his view of your breasts and stomach. “Well, that’s too bad, because taking all this gear off is never fun, or sexy for that matter…”

“Not with that attitude,” he hums, stepping closer, peeling his skin tight undershirt off and revealing the sleek planes of his rippled muscles. Most sorcerers are fit; and many boast beefier sets of pectorals and curving arches of biceps and triceps, but there’s something about the streamlined leanness of Satoru that’s making your hands itch. He’s not far, you could reach out for him, slip your fingers over the dips and beveled lines of his abdomen and follow that tempting strip of white that winds down the front of his pants, but that makes this too easy and there’s nothing about Satoru that’s easy.

“Mmm, that’s a new look.” His voice is distant to your ears, but the satisfied note that’s vibrating through his words makes you snap your head up, fingernails scraping against your palms. “You look like you wanna eat me (Y/N)… or maybe, taste is a better adjective. Awe, what’s the matter? Worried I won’t let you?”

You run your tongue over your lips and lift one hand, holding it steady and crooking your index finger at his brazen expression, pleased to see that cheeky smile of his falters a little. “Do me a favor, come here and take off that blindfold.”

“Ah-ha, so bossy,” he growls, voice sinking into that sinfully lower octave as he raises his broad hands to the back of his wrappings, unwinding the fabric and slowly advancing toward you. He stops when the tips of his toes are inches from your own, bracing his palms toward his face, holding the last strip across his eyes. “Wanna do the honors? Or are you expecting me to do all the work tonight?”

“As if. Besides…” you snicker, pulling two fingers to the remains of his blindfold and peeling it down, watching as his hair falls forward, slowly divulging the top of his forehead, pale eyebrows and that shock of avid blue that’s already gazing down at you. “I think you like when I tell you what to do, don’t you?”

“Ahh, looks like she figured me out,” Satoru groans, letting the ivory bindings fall to the floor, his hands already reaching for your waist. He doesn’t give you an opportunity to study him, but they’ll be time for that later, you reason, arms lacing around his chorded neck. 

This kiss is hungrier and his tongue immediately dances along the seam of your lips, pressing until you give in. It’s an awkward angle, but he expertly adjusts himself to you, slotting a warm palm against the small of your back and raising the other to curl into your hair, lifting you until it’s perfect. 

He’s greedy, devouring every inch you give him with a ravenous edge, but when you suck on his lower lip, he slips into something that’s clearly a little more unhinged. 

Suddenly, he’s the one who’s bending forward, trying to get as close to you as he physically can, hunching until you can trace your fingertips over the sharpness of his jaw. His teeth clink against yours as he snatches you up, and you can feel the sharp bulge of his length, the hardness grinding down your hips and stomach as he yanks you nearer. It’s hard to breathe, but he’s refusing to let you budge, lips avariciously seeking and pulling, leaving you with nothing else but the sheer enormity of his touch.  

“Fuck,” he gasps, finally letting you fall from his grasp, heaving out a few unsteady breaths. “You’ve got way too much on. Why do you still have so much on?” He plucks at your shirt but stops when he frees the edge from your pants, cerulean eyes bright in the moonlight. “Take it off,” he heaves, forehead pressing against yours, lifting his fingers from you. “Take it off for me, please?” 

You nod, a little taken aback by his sudden desperation, and he watches closely as you yank the thin material up, blue eyes shining as you unveil yourself. When the shirt passes over your breasts, he gives you a distracted kiss to the temple before he pulls away, freeing you to pull it over your head and sighing happily when it finally hits the floor, leaving you partially bare. As soon as your arms lower, he’s back against you, hands cupping at your hips, jerking you forward. “Whoa,” you gasp, bracing your palms against his chest. “Slow down. Let me get the rest of this–”

“No, no, no, no,” he chants, fingers smoothing up your spine. “Stop, for a second… just… just gimme a minute. You feel so nice. Your skin, it’s… it’s so warm and so fucking smooth, ahhh. Ohh, yes. A few more seconds (Y/N), just let me… It’s been so long since I’ve touched someone like this. I kinda forgot what it felt like and I don’t wanna let go, not yet.”

His head is bowed and that hauntingly blue gaze is covered by his winced eyelids, but he can’t seem to stop moving. Even as he asks you to hold still, to let him touch you, feel you, he keeps shifting his weight and burrowing his brow into the dip of your shoulder. 

“Can I take this off?” he asks, nails scritching at the clasp of your bra. “Please? Lemme take it off. Come on. I know you wanna touch me too, I saw how you were looking at me a minute ago. You’re so fucking cute, I can’t… ahaha, fuck, I sound insane. Look, I’ll slow down, I promise, just gimme a little more of you.”

When he mischievously snaps the strap of your bra against your shoulder blade, you can’t help but laugh at his infectious exuberance. His head lifts from you and he turns his attention to your neck, soft lips sucking and nipping at you until you’re wriggling in his hold. “Alright, alright! Just step back, Satoru! I’ll take it off,” you placate, knocking him away and huffing at the long face he gives you in return. “Here,” your fingers unhook the two pronged clasp and the delicate lace slips from your shoulders, falling to the carpeted floor with a hush. “Okay, that’s everything on the top half. Now what are–Ah! Satoru!” 

He takes full advantage of his superior speed and before you can blurt out a proper retort, he’s against you. 

His teeth worry at your earlobe and he immediately hoists you upward, seizing the lush curve of your ass and pulling you into his powerful arms, urging your legs to wrap around his trim waist. When you shakily oblige, he cups one lean arm under you, but the other drags you forward, scraping your newly bared breasts and stiffened nipples against the planes of his powerful pectorals. When he walks, you jostle in his grasp and coil your fingers around his neck, smiling when he moans contentedly at your reliance on his firm hold. “Damn,” he grunts, cocking his head so he can lick a wet circle into your pulse. “You feel fucking good (Y/N). So damn smooth, how are you so soft? God, I want more, I wanna feel everything.”

The front of his shins hit the edge of your bed and he tumbles you down, a dark grin spreading over his face as he watches you stretch out teasingly. He plants a knee into the soft bedding and braces both arms beside your head, leering over you. 

For a long breath, both of you study each other, eyes whisking over gleaming skin and the curves of your faces. Without the added heft of that blindfold Satoru’s snowy hair hangs loosely over his face, straight tendrils clinging to his brow, making him look younger, mellower, and so very handsome. Opting to take advantage of this lull, you reach up and thread your fingers into the silken strands.

When you reach the edge of his temple, you scrape your nails against his scalp, grinning as he lets a heavy exhale fall between his lips, cerulean eyes falling to a pleased half mast. “You’re trying to distract me,” he accuses, gliding a wide palm up your side. You shake your head and keep twirling his hair across your fingertips, marveling at his own softness. “No. I just like your hair.”

“That’s a first,” he snorts, cupping a palm underneath one of your breasts and pulling his thumb over the swelling bud of your nipple. “Here I am, trying to feel you up, and you’re too distracted by my hair to appreciate it. How rude.”

“Shut up,” you gasp out, arching into his hand as he tweaks and plucks at your pebbled tip. “You’re lucky I’m even… mmm… letting you do this.”

“Please. It was your idea, remember?”

Satoru lowers one of his braced arms, letting his weight fall heavily to one side as he keeps his deepening ministrations up. Your fingers are still buried in his hair when he drops his lips to your breast. You feel the flick of his tongue first, and the light tap has you bowing your back, gasping out a faint cry as his rough appendage continues to swipe and twirl over your sensitive flesh. Instinctively, your hands tug at his pearlescent strands and he tilts his head up, fixing you with a lazy stare. “That’s better, looks like I just need to refocus you, huh?” he muses, his words half garbled as he sucks your plump breast into his mouth. He keeps flicking his tongue over you as he suckles, lapping and nipping until you’re writhing under him. 

Once he’s satisfied, his free hand lowers to your grinding hips, forcing you to lay flat against the bed, switching his attention to the neglected twin, sucking and pressing open mouthed bites to your damp, shaking skin. 

A tight heat is coiling in your core and your thighs rub against each other, trying to cool the sharp pricks of arousal that are coursing through you. As soon as your hands fall from his head, Satoru picks up his pace, licking his sloppy tongue under your breasts and nibbling his way down your quivering stomach. “You’re still wearing way too much,” he scolds, fingers toying with the gold clasp of your pants. 

“It’s… oh… difficult to take things off when you… ah–won’t let me move more than two feet from you.” You’d meant it to sound a little firmer, but his constant touch is wearing down your focus, distracting you with brilliant flashes of his luminescent blues and whites. 

“Awe, (Y/N),” he whines, popping his hand against your hip, long fingers digging into your swelled curves. “That’s not fair. I told you, I always have my barrier up. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve touched someone, anyone? I mean really touched them?”

“Daw,” you sigh, propping yourself up on your elbows and peering down at him. “You poor thing. The all powerful Satoru Gojo, too honed and practiced with his neutral technique that he can’t even hold anyone’s hand.” 

“Ha, such a jerk,” he laughs, exaggerating a wounded frown. “I bare my soul to you and this is how I’m treated?” 

“Stop being so dramatic,” you scoff, yanking your legs from under him and popping up on your knees, hands reaching for him, curling under his jaw and urging him upwards. His eyes lock onto yours and the grin that tweaks the corner of his lips gives you an idea. “You said you wanted to touch more of me, right?”

As you wait for your answer, you scoot backwards, making him follow you across the bed, finally luring all of his sprawling form onto the cool sheets. “Mmhm,” he grunts, doing his best to keep close, teasing fingers inches from your skin at all times, always ready to stroke and cup each time you pause. When you hit the headboard you stop, studying his features, admiring the growing hunger that’s screaming its way out of his wide eyes.  

“You ever eaten a girl out?”

The question hangs for half a second and you can see his pupils dilate, the black threatening to swallow up the sky streaked blue of his eyes. Then, right when you’re about to tease him for his gaping mouth and flushed cheeks, he’s bowling past you, splaying out against the mattress and pulling you on top of him. 

“Fuck, that’s by far the best thing I’ve heard all day. Hell, all month. I’ll likely go to my grave thinking about that question. Ouch! Stop squirming, you’re kneeing me in the ribs.” 

“I wouldn’t… Satoru! I can’t breathe if you hold me like that!” His arms are like cables, all tensed muscle and raw strength as he pins you against his heaving chest, lips kissing and nipping at any part of you he can reach.

“Whatever,” he grumbles, sucking a bruise into your arched collarbone. “Hurry up and take your pants off. And don’t say you can’t do it like this, you’re a grade 1 sorcerer, you can do anything you put your mind to.”

“Is that going to be part of your teaching regime?” you smart, bucking your hips up so you can unclasp and wiggle your pants down your legs.

“Oooh, you’re right, that sounds good. Damn, I gotta start writing this shit down. That way I can have a whole list of euphemisms. Can you imagine? Molding young minds and helping them to stand up to all the bullshit that those so-called elders make everyone suffer under. All those rules and regulations, the stupid ins and outs they make us all jump through–”

“Hmm,” your voice falls to a gentle hum as you snatch at his chin, stilling his chatter with a single finger against his lips. “That sounds ambitious, but why don’t we take things a little slower, give that mind of yours something else to focus on?”

“Oh?” Satoru smirks, arching an ashen eyebrow at you. “Then you better get up here, before I get distracted again.”

“Don’t you mean down?”

“Huh, down? Ah, I see where the confusion is. Nah, I want you to ride my tongue, baby, so hurry up.” His long arms help him jerk you upward, easily lifting and enticing you forward. That early impatience is peeking out once more, and he pops his head up, nostrils flaring as your uncovered cunt drifts nearer. “Ah, God, I bet you’re so fucking wet. I can smell you from here. Come on, grab onto the headboard and let me get to it.”

Your legs shake as you plant them beside his head and you do your best to steady your pounding heart, pulling a thin stream of air through your parted lips. As soon as you touch the wood of the headboard, he’s gripping your thighs so tightly you’re sure he’s going to leave bruises behind. The tip of his nose is the first thing you feel, and it’s so close to your pulsing clit that you inadvertently cant your hips forward. “Ooh, sensitive, are we?” he crows, nestling himself under you, his breath hot against your dampened folds and wet curls. 

The following slick slurp of his tongue and the slow pass of his lips make your head tip back. He’s surprisingly gentle, slowly licking his way along your labia, pulling and sucking as he goes, teasing closer to that tight bud that’s waiting, just a little bit higher. 

At first, you worry about crushing him, too caught up in the placement of your weight to fall into the haze his mouth is begging you to slip into. But then his lips latch onto you, careful to mouth in time with the thud of your clit, suckling and squeezing until you can’t help but grind down, earning yourself a sharp groan that reverberates against your trembling skin. Using the weight of the headboard as leverage, you roll your hips over him, shifting in time with his well-placed rhythm. 

He’s good, but even the great Satoru Gojo isn’t perfect, not all the time.

When he nips at you a little too hard you shift back, depriving him of your wet heat, loving the petulant sighs and moans he gives you when you do. “Ah, sorry. Gimme a little more time,” he bargains, fingers sinking into the voluptuous curve of your ass, tying to urge you back over his glistening lips. “I’ll do better, (Y/N). Besides, I want you to cum for me. You taste so fucking good and I want it, I want all of it. Hey! Don’t be like that! I said I’d do better. Come back here.”

God, he’s such a brat. 

Every time you shift away he’s got another string of exasperated pleas ready, twitching his fingers and shaking his pale head at your impudence. “Less talking,” you moan, shivering as he delves his tongue into you, feeling his grin as your cunt squeezes around his intrusion. “Ok, ok,” he growls, using his brute strength to overpower your tensed legs. “Mmm, yes baby, ah–just relax, I’ll take care of you.”

Fuck, you think as you sink your fingers into his hair, spurring him on, this feels way too good.

When he captures your clit between his teeth and tweaks the tip of his tongue against you, you can’t help but fall to pieces. Your orgasm hits you like a battering ram, seizing hold of your muscles as it rolls through you and scattering a faint spark of spots across your vision. Satoru’s arms wrap around your blindly pistoning hips, helping you to sink closer, ravenously slurping and swallowing down each wave of arousal that hits his gluttonous lips. 

You’re still shaking when he pulls out from under you, flipping you bonelessly under him as his hands finally rid himself of his clearly tented and damp pants. Your eyes are just clearing when you catch sight of him, studiously following that trail of white curls to his impressive length. His cock is long, curving proudly toward his chiseled stomach and bubbling a clear string of pre-cum from the flushed tip. You do your best to sit up, but as soon as he catches sight of your movement, his broad palm is pressing you back. “Ah-ah,” he taunts, stroking a hand over his swollen cock and wiping the last of your slick from his face against his shoulder. “Keep still for me, ‘kay?’” 

His wide palms spread your legs apart, and he soothes his fingertips along your skin as he tugs a few heady groans from himself. “Fuck, you look so good. You’re so goddamn pretty. When you were sitting there at the bar and you looked so fucking happy I couldn’t take my eyes off you, you just looked so nice. Haven’t even known you a week, and I’m already obsessed with hearing that laugh of yours. You put some kinda spell on me, huh? That what this is?”

“Ugh, stop talking, Satoru,” you threaten, watching the steady ebb and flow of his clenched fist. His cock looks so smooth and you’re desperate to reach for it, to take hold of velvety flesh and see how long it would take for the world’s strongest sorcerer to be putty in your hands. 

He arches a pale brow at your blatant stare. “You want it?”

“I want you,” you correct, and the smile that breaks across his handsome face makes your heart squeeze. 

“Awe, how can I possibly say no to that?” he asks, gleefully lining himself up with your slit. Despite his early eagerness, he’s taking his time with this part, running the bulbous head of his cock over you, gathering up some of your gossamer strands, slicking himself with your dripping arousal. “Sorry,” he amends when he makes another pass along your folds. “It’s been awhile and I want to take it all in. I don’t wanna rush this.”

“It’s fine,” you smile, lifting your hands to pass them over his stomach, watching as his muscles ripple under your delicate touch. “Just don’t take too long or you’re not going to be on top for much longer.”

“That a threat or a promise, baby?” Satoru leers, finally slipping his tip past that first, tight ring of your entrance. Despite his bravado, his lips curl over his teeth and he lets out a low hiss as he sinks into you, inch by shallow inch. The pressure of his cock makes you arch, legs automatically wrapping around his waist, heels digging into the small of his back. He bows his head and his ethereal gaze falls behind his shaking eyelids as he thrusts forward, edging himself along until he bottoms out within you. Fuck, you feel so full.

The stretch of him makes you shake and you’re grateful he’s taking his time when he stills, lips smacking distracted kisses over your heated cheeks and parted lips, giving you time to adjust to him, and he to you. After a few steadying breaths, his teeth bite at the hollow of your throat and he pulls his hips back, grinning as your hands grasp into the sheets, a sharp whine escaping you. He echoes your sentiment, letting a gasping string of curses tumble from his shaking lips as he ruts forward again, one hand gripping at your right leg, prying you from his waist and slinging the trembling limb over his shoulder.

This angle has him pressing against something wonderful and sharp, and you can’t help but gasp out his name as he starts to methodically ram into it, over and over. You can feel him swell at the sound of your pleading moans and you savor the feel of his cock throbbing against your tender walls. “More,” you shudder, fingers trying to hurry his steady hips as he diligently cants into you. 

“In a minute,” he grunts, biting at your pliant skin, arms coiling under your back. “This feels too fucking good. Let me just… ah… fuck…” 

He slows, moving at a pace that sets your teeth on edge, and you thrash under him. Although his cock is digging against that aching place that’s sending dots and stars across your eyes, it’s not enough pressure. Licking your lips, you worm one of your hands between the two of you and pinch and roll your fingers over your clit, easing some of the tingling bittersweetness that’s pulsing over you. 

“Alright, alright, point taken,” Satoru chuckles, releasing your leg from his tight grip and re-lacing it around his hips. “How do you want it, baby? You want it fast? Or do you want it hard? Tell me.”

“I don’t know,” you murmur, peeking up at his enthralling cerulean, willingly ensnaring yourself in the intensity of his gaze. “I just want more of you.”

“Tch,” he hums, cupping a hand against your warm cheek. “Don’t say shit like that, I might end up falling for you.”

The laugh that echoes from your lips is swiftly cut off by a gasp as he abruptly ups the pace of his thrusts. He’s quick, but he’s still listening and watching for what you like. When you moan he’s right there with you, steadying his rhythm, and when you call out his name, he digs a little harder. 

It’s too much. It feels raw, like you’re scratching at a cut. Like there’s some itch that you just can’t reach. 

All of it, the feel of his meaty balls slapping against the sticky plushness of your ass, and those breathy moans makes your head spin. The intensity of the moment slips your fingers from your clit, but he makes up for their loss by grinding down each time he sinks into your cunt, scraping the hard edge of his pelvic bone against your throbbing bud. 

He’s good. Fuck.

You can feel the hazy slope of your orgasm approaching and you blindly arch up each time he careens downward, ensuring that he’s hitting right where you need him to. His movements start to hit a lull as he slips into his own fog of lingering pleasure, dipping his head to your neck and sighing contentedly when you kiss at his temple. But the tenderness of your touch must knock him out of his own whirring thoughts and he rewards you with another set of rapid fire thrusts, his lips pulling from your neck to seek out yours, kissing and nipping until you’re gasping for air. 

“Mmmm,” he moans, breath hot against your skin. “You feel so good and you’re getting so fucking tight. You gonna’ cum for me? One more time?”

You do your best to gulp out a reply, but the abrupt press of his calloused thumb against your clit makes you shake instead, a tingling rush of heady arousal racing its way up your spine. Smiling down at your awed expression, he lifts his fingers away and uncoils your legs from his waist, flinging them both over his broad shoulders, his knees settling forward as he continues to roughly thrusts his hips forward, driving you quivering body into the soft sheets. 

“You like that? Does it feel good? Does it? Fuck baby, I’m begging you, give it to me one more time. Can you do that for me? Can you cum for me? I want you to cum on my dick, ah, come on (Y/N), just once more, that’s all I’m asking. You can do it, can’t you?”

He’s rasping his questions against the shell of your ear, hands cupping at the side of your face, keeping you close as he races toward his own end, voice lifting into a frantic plea as he hurtles closer, desperate to feel your satisfaction rippling around him before he completely looses himself to the aching pleasure of your body. 

“I–” you choke out, arms lacing around his back, nails pressing half moons into his skin. He moans at the bite of your touch and tilts your hips upward, seeking more of you. 

That change is all it takes. 

The tip of his cock presses down, lifts, and then suddenly you’re seeing stars. 

“I’m… yes! Oh, fuck. Satoru, just like that. Don’t… don’t stop!” For once, he doesn’t tease. He just smiles, his face flushed, pale cheeks dusted a pleased pink and repeats the motion, careful to keep everything absolutely steady. The repeated push and pull, the warmth of your cunt, the feel of your skin, it’s making his cock throb and his heart race, but he’s determined to see you break. 

There. There it is. Fuck, you’re so��pretty.

On an outward pull of his hips, your back arches and your thighs tense and he lets out a long growl, quickly breaking his fastidious rhythm and sinking back into you, gasping as you flutter around him. A new flush of wetness leaks out of your cunt and squelches between your pinned legs, dripping over the cleft of your ass.

He only lasts a few extra ruts, but the feel of him swelling and pulsing inside your tender pussy almost topples you over the edge again and you cling to him in the aftermath of his release, your heaving breasts catching against his flat pectorals. 

With a quick peck, he slowly lowers your legs and eases himself out of you, blue eyes widening at the sight of his softening hardness leaving your leaking pussy. “I don’t know which I like better,” he contemplates, leaning back on his haunches and slicking his index finger up the pooling dribble you’ve both left behind, spreading the spidery traces across his hand. “You wet and dripping for me or filled to the brim with my cum.” His lewd comment makes you huff out a low groan of exasperation and you roll off of the bed, shaking your head as you steady yourself and walk toward the bathroom. 

After a brisk rinse in the shower, you pad back into the darkened room, fully expecting to see an empty bed. You’re not sure why that’s your first thought, but something about Satoru doesn’t scream: I’m the kind of guy who likes post coitus cuddles. So the sight of him, bundled under your sheets, white hair poking just above the edge of the blankets, is a surprise.

“Oh,” you pause, dropping your towel on the floor as you openly gape at him. “You’re still here… I, well, I figured you’d take off.”

“Huh?” Satoru croaks, popping his head up, his face comically askew. “What kinda guy do you think I am?”

“Apparently the kind that stays over,” you snicker, digging around for your discarded bra and panties. 

He lets out a mock gasp, popping a hand against his cheek. “How could you say that! And after I gallantly brought you back here?”

“And fucked me,” you remind him, slipping your lacy underwear back on and re-adjusting the clasp of your bra.

“That too!” he qualifies, arching a pale eyebrow at your impassive face. “I’d say I was pretty generous. You did cum twice after all.”

“Oh my God,” you sigh, crossing your arms across your chest and perching beside the edge of the bed, shaking your head at the sprawling man under your covers.

“Come on, you wouldn’t seriously make me walk all the way back to the school at this hour. What if something happens to me? How could you live with yourself, knowing you kicked me out into the cold?”

“It’s summer,” you point out, rolling your eyes. “And you’re… what six foot three… and you have the legendary six eyes… I mean, I think you’ll be ok.”

“(Y/N),” Satoru begins, narrowing those bright blue eyes at you.

“Yeah?”

“Is it your habit to sleep with helpless guys and then kick them out? You’re so cruel.”

“Stop it,” you warn, snatching at the sheets and yanking them off of his naked form.

“No!” he protests, fingers clutching vainly at the thin cover. “Your bed is so nice! Come on, I’ll be good and I don’t snore. Well, not that I know of anyway…”

“Ugh, fine. I don’t have the energy for this and we have to be up in four hours. Just shush and scoot over.”

“Oh? Do you not have the energy because I fucked it out of you?”

“I’m sorry, were you wanting to stay the night?” 

“Alright, alright,” he splays his hands up in supplication and makes room for you, watching closely as you curl up beside him, a smile playing over his lips. “Hey,” he asks once you’ve closed your eyes, leaning close to your reposed form. 

“What?” you groan, cracking an eye open.

“Can I be the little spoon?”

“Satoru…”

“Mmhm?”

“Shut up.”

notes: hehe. i feel like he’d be so freaking chatty in bed. plus, how could i not make him a little touched starved? stop making me like characters that just wanna be held universe, gosh :3c

[wicked-mind]

Fire and Gasoline - Alternate Ending

Summary: Break-ups are hard. Especially when the cause of the break up is the man of your dreams cheating on you but what’s even worse… You both still love each other.

Word Count: 6.1k

Warnings: Cheating, unreciprocated kiss, swearing, drinking, tiny bit of implied smut

All Writings Masterlist

Fire and Gasoline - Original Version

As always, any likes, comments, and/or reblogs are appreciated (: I love that shit.

*gifs not mine

ALTERNATE VERSION

Since the day Bucky met Y/N, he knew she was the one. She was a new tech analyst at the facility and made sure the heroes had all the new tech possible. Bucky got to know her for about two months before asking her out and they had been like fire and gasoline ever since. He loved her more than anything in the world, more than himself. But he always thought she was out of his league. She was too sweet, too innocent for him. He worried everyday that he wasn’t enough for her, that she would figure out just how screwed up he was and leave him for someone better.

Y/N stood in the technology lab with her assistant, Nick, going over some new technology. Nick flirted with her all the time which she ignored every time and kept reminding him she was dating Bucky and that he would break Nick’s arms without trying if he didn’t stop, but he didn’t. Y/N was working on a present for Bucky, a new type of knife to add to his collection. She got inspired after watching Star Wars with Bucky one night and decided to surprise him with some sort of laser blade. Once she got it to finally work and test it out, she squealed and clapped her hands, turning to Nick and saying, “We did it!” What she didn’t expect to happen was Nick pressing his lips to her’s.

Bucky had rounded the corner to greet Y/N with some coffee when he paused, seeing Nick kissing her through the window. He frowned, jealousy immediately flooding him. He hated that they spent so much time together with Nick’s incessant flirting, worried that one day Y/N would choose Nick over him. Nick was a handsome man, had the same hobbies as her, and was just as smart. He stomped away, going up to his room in a jealous rage. He couldn’t think rationally, feeling cheated in his relationship. Betrayed. Hurt. All he could think about was getting even. What he didn’t see after he stomped away was the abrupt slap Y/N had landed to Nick’s face.

Y/N finished up in the lab, sending Nick home after firing him for sexual misconduct. She filled out her report with Steve of why he had to fire him and said she was alright. It took a few hours before she was able to go find Bucky, the knew laser knife in her hands. She knocked on his bedroom door softly and opened it with a smile but froze when she saw him perched over Katerina from communication who had always had the biggest crush on Bucky. Even though he was under the blankets and she could only see his bare shoulders, she could see the movement of the bed as he thrust into her. Katerina’s eyes met her’s and she smirked. Y/N quickly shut the door, tears welling up in her eyes as she walked back to her own room. How could he do this to her? He knew her history of how all her boyfriends cheated on her before.

After a good hard cry, Y/N went to Natasha. Her eyes were glossy and her nose was red from crying, but that didn’t stop her from sitting down in Natasha’s office, “I would like to be transferred with you to the Seattle facility. I think it would be good for me to help set up the tech lab.” She told Natasha, picking at her fingernails as she spoke.

Natasha raised her eyebrows at Y/N. When she had asked her before to come to Seattle for a temporary position until the new facility was up and running, Y/N had told her she didn’t want to be away from Bucky, “I would love to have you. But I’m curious, what changed?”

Y/N looked up to meet Natasha’s gaze, “Everything. I just need this right now, Nat. I’ll go start packing and leave tonight. I’d like to be there to make sure everything is all set up correctly in the lab.” She said before standing and going back to her room. She didn’t have much stuff, most of her things got packed into the two suitcases she had. She quietly snuck passed Bucky’s room, hearing light snoring coming from inside knowing he was asleep. She couldn’t confront him… How could she go through that again? Every time she seemed to find the perfect man she could picture the rest of her life with, they cheated on her or left. Bucky was no different in her mind. She was gone that night on a private jet to Seattle to the new facility.

Steve was walking passed Bucky’s room when he escorted Katerina out, his brow furrowing at the view as he watched the brunette leave in one of Bucky’s shirts. He looked at Bucky with an eyebrow raised, anger in his eyes at what his best friend had done to Y/N, “What the hell, Buck? Did you and Y/N break up?” He asked once Katerina was out of earshot.

Bucky shrugs, folding his arms, “You could say that.” He muttered out with a frown as he leaned against his doorframe, “Saw her kissin’ that punk, Nick, yesterday.”

Steve’s jaw dropped a little, realizing the full situation since Y/N had reported and fired Nick, “You’ve gotta be kidding me, Bucky!” He said loudly, “So you go and screw the first thing that bats her eyes at you?! You don’t even know what happened, did you even talk to Y/N?”

Bucky’s frown deepened, “Didn’t need to,” He snapped back, “Saw the whole thing.”

Steve ran his hand through his hair as the other rested on his hip, “You really screwed up, Buck. Did you stick around long enough to see her slap him? Or fire him? Or maybe ask her what happened? She filed a sexual misconduct complaint with me yesterday, saying that Nick just randomly kissed her!”

Bucky’s jaw dropped at his words before a loud groan passed his lips, “Fuck.” He growled out. He had fucked up. He let his jealously get the best of him and screwed everything up. He betrayed her in the worst way possible, “I… I didn’t know, Steve. She’s going to hate me.”

Steve kept the deep frown on his face, shaking his head, “I wouldn’t be surprised. The best thing you can do is go explain it to her right now before Katerina goes around and tells everybody that she was in your bed last night.” He said, pointing a finger at Bucky before disappearing down the hallway shaking his head in disbelief still.

Bucky sighs and immediately made his way to Y/N’s room, shifting on his feet awkwardly. How was he supposed to tell the love of his life that he cheated on her? That he did the thing that every man before him had done to her? He took a deep breath and knocked on her door, “Y/N? I need to talk to you..” He said through the door, hearing silence he knocked again with still no answer. After a few minutes of standing there with no response from her, he tried the doorknob to find it was unlocked. As he started to push it open, he immediately started apologizing, “Y/N, sweetheart… We need to talk and I-“ He paused when he looked around the room. All her belongings were gone from the room and her closet was empty. Fuck. Y/N knew. She must know if she was gone.

Natasha was walking by the door when she noticed Bucky sitting on what used to be Y/N’s bed, “What’re you doing, Barnes?” She asks, folding her arms and leaning against the doorframe.

Bucky looked over at Natasha before back to the floor, “Do you know where she went?” He asks softly, his heart breaking inside as each second passed. He had ruined his chance at real love because of his unbridled jealousy and temper.

“She came in last night and asked to be transferred to the new Seattle facility, left immediately after.” Natasha told him, “What happened? She looked like she had been crying when she came and talked to me.”

“I fucked up.” Bucky said, staring at the floor, “I thought I saw her kissing Nick in the lab yesterday. Turns out he kissed her and she slapped him then fired him. I didn’t see that though… All I saw was his lips on her’s… I slept with Katerina. She must have known.”

Natasha frowned at him, wanting to yell at him for his mistake but instead decided to go an alternate route, “Y/N loves you. She’s never shut up about you.” She told him, “I would give her a little bit to cool down before going and seeing her. You’re lucky she isn’t a field agent otherwise she would’ve killed you. I would have.” Natasha turned and left him in the room.

Bucky took Natasha’s advice, giving it a few weeks. He could barely look himself in the mirror anymore. All he saw was guilt plastered on his face and rage at himself. How could he do that to her? To the one he loved, the girl that he knew was the one… He had packed his bag to take to Seattle with him. He needed to see her, to explain what an idiot he was and that his jealousy and rage got the best of him. Bucky grabbed his bag and walked to the runway, getting on the jet to go see Y/N in Seattle.

Y/N was busy trying to sort through resumes for potential tech analysts to hire in her office. She let out a deep sigh and put the papers on her desk, leaning back in her chair. Her heart still ached and when she slept the only thing she saw was Katerina grinning from underneath Bucky as the bed shook. She hadn’t had a proper nights sleep since she left New York, spending her night crying herself to sleep to only wake up crying from the nightmares. A light knock on the door interrupted her train of thought, letting out a soft, “Come in.” Her eyes looked at the door and she froze when she saw Bucky standing there. He looked as good as the day she met him except for the dark circles under his eyes letting her know he hadn’t been sleeping well either. She could read his face like a book. It was like a written apology was stapled to his features. Y/N adverted her eyes from his gaze and looks down, “What are you doing here?”

Bucky shut the door behind him gently, looking Y/N over. It saddened him to see the heartbreak clear on her features. He didn’t know how to start, just staring at her sadly, “Sweetheart…” He began but was cut off.

“Don’t.” Y/N said, looking up to try her best to glare daggers at him. The brim of her eyes started to fill up with tears at the familiar pet-name, “Don’t call me that.”

Bucky flinched at the words, feeling his heart break a little more than it already was, “Y/N we need to talk about what happened.” He said, staying standing by the closed door.

Y/N shook her head, looking up at the ceiling in hopes to keep the tears from falling, “Talk about what happened? You mean talk about how I walked in on you fucking Katerina?” She said, her voice cracking slightly as she said it. She kept her gaze anywhere but on him.

“I’m sorry…” Bucky said softly to her. Now he knew the truth about how she found out- Nobody had told her, she had walked in on him during the deed and that must’ve hurt her so much more. The guilt inside of him bubbled up more, “I was coming down to your lab to give you some coffee… I saw Nick kiss you and-“

“So the first thing you do is go find that bitch and pull her into bed with you?!” Y/N yelled, standing from her desk and throwing her hands into the air in anger. She didn’t try to stop the tears that now streamed down her cheeks, “He kissed me. I didn’t kiss him. I fired him instantly and filed a report while you were busy finding the first woman to breathe in your direction to go fuck.”

Bucky watched her, his own tears brimming in his eyes at the sight of her so mad at him, “Y/N I’m so sorry… I wasn’t thinking… I was just so consumed with jealousy and anger. I never meant for this to happen.”

Y/N tilted her head at him, her eyes narrowing as a deep frown sat on her lips, “You didn’t mean for it to happen? Really? You just happened to trip into bed with her naked?” She said before taking a deep breath, “You knew how much that would destroy me. You knew everything about me. How every man I’ve been with did the same thing that you did to me. And you didn’t care.”

Bucky couldn’t stand it anymore. He walked over to her, walking around her desk until he was looking straight down at her face with his pained eyes, “I know. I’m so sorry, Y/N.” He told her, “I was stupid. I was an idiot. But I love you, doll. Yours is the only face I saw while I was with Katerina. I wanted it to be you and I feel so guilty that I did that to you. I regretted it the whole time and especially now. I love you. Please just give me another chance.”

Y/N sniffled slightly as she listened to him, staring straight up into his apologetic, painfully broken eyes, “And I love you and I probably always will. But I can’t trust you anymore.” She told him, tears streaming down her face, “I can’t be with you if I don’t trust you.”

Bucky reached a hand out to touch her cheek, wiping away those tears that were breaking his already broken heart with his thumb gently, “Give me a chance. Please. I’ll do anything. I’ll regain your trust in whatever way possible.” He begged, “I love you… I know I fucked up really bad. And I’m so unbelievably sorry for breaking your heart. Please let me try to put it back together.”

Y/N stared into those eyes she loved so much. They were like her own personal ocean but right now the waves were crashing, unresting, “I don’t know…” She whispered to him, breaking her eye contact with him and looking to the floor.

Bucky moved quickly, pulling her into his arms in a tight hug and couldn’t help but feel the smallest bit of relief when she hugged him back, sobbing into his chest, “I’m so sorry, baby.” He whispered down to her, keeping a tight grasp around her body, “I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you, I promise.”

After Bucky left Y/N’s office, she slumped in her chair and thought about everything that was said. How could she trust him? Believe that he was actually sorry? She couldn’t… The image of Bucky fucking Katerina would stick in her brain forever no matter what he did to make it up to her. Y/N leaned her forehead on her desk and groaned at the situation. She had been here many times but this time was different. She thought Bucky was the one but maybe he was just the same as all of her exes. Once she gathered herself and sat herself back up straight about to go through the applicant list again, another knock came at her door, “Come in.” She said softly, looking up the door expecting to see Bucky with his endless apologies again but instead there stood the tall and blonde Captain America giving her those sad blue eyes.

“Hey, Y/N.” Steve said, shutting the door softly behind him and taking a seat in front of her, watching her intently. He could see her glossy eyes, knowing she had been crying and the dark under her eyes meant she hadn’t been sleeping well. Steve had never seen her like this for as long as he had known her. She looked defeated- broken.

Y/N looked at him before back down at the papers on her desk, leaning back in her chair, “Are you here to tell me how sorry he is? That I should give him another chance?” She asks softly.

Steve shook his head at her, “No, I’m not.” He said softly, returning his gaze to her, “I wanted to make sure you were okay. You left without saying goodbye.”

Y/N felt tears stinging her eyes again, shaking her head slightly as she closed her eyes tightly to try and not let the tears fall down her face, “I’m not okay, Steve.” She said, finally looking up to meet his gaze, “He knew exactly how to ruin me and he didn’t care. He knew every other relationship I had ended that same way- being cheated on. Me walking in on him… That’s not the first time it’s happened to me. I’ve caught two other of my exes screwing women… He’s no better. He’s ruined me.”

Steve listened, his eyes shifting into a sadder stare than they were already. He didn’t know that about Y/N and it just made his sadness grow for her and anger grow at Bucky, “I’m so sorry, Y/N.” He said to her. What else could he say? The tears falling from Y/N’s eyes stung him deeply. Steve was Bucky’s best friend which meant when Y/N and him started dating, Steve got to know her really well. He thought someone like her would be good for Bucky, someone full of so much light to help him out of his darkness. But Steve was wrong- Bucky had just pulled the light out of Y/N and destroyed it, “He’s an idiot.”

Y/N scoffed, “I can think of far better words to describe him other than ‘idiot'…” She said looking towards Steve, “But I’ll contain my language for you.”

Steve’s lips twitched slightly to a smile, “Appreciate that, Y/N.”

“You know, I was headed up to his room to give him a gift when I caught him in the act.” Y/N said softly, opening her drawer and pulling out the laser knife she had made for Bucky and passing it to him, “You just click that button and laser knife.” She watched him click the button and the red laser blade appear, “I made it for him after we watched Star Wars.”

Steve looked at the blade in amazement, “This is amazing.” He said, turning it in his hand to observe every bit of it, clicking it to make the laser disappear, “Star Wars? I don’t think I’ve seen that one.”

Y/N nodded, “Yeah, Star Wars. It’s not just one, there’s like nine movies now I think.” She said, “I haven’t seen any of the new ones yet though. Was going to wait and watch them with Bucky but I guess that isn’t going to happen.”

Steve heard her voice trail into sadness again t the end of her sentence, frowning slightly again. He hated the sound in her voice, she didn’t deserve to feel like this. If anything, Bucky deserved to feel like this, “I’ll watch them with you.” He blurted out before continuing, “I’ve never seen them before and I’d like to see where the inspiration for this comes from.”

Y/N smiles slightly at him, “You don’t have to do that, Steve.” She said softly, “I know you’re probably busy.”

Steve flashed her a small smile, “Don’t worry, I want to do it.”

Luckily for Y/N, the apartment suites for staff were in the total opposite side of the facility than where the guest rooms were which meant she didn’t have to see Bucky in the hallways when she walked to her apartment suites from her tech lab. It also meant that Bucky never saw Steve come over to watch movies with Y/N. She started the Star Wars series over so Steve could get the full Star Wars experience. He was great to be around. He was always a gentleman, he made her laugh, and he always brought the best snacks to enjoy while watching the movies. They started by sitting on opposite ends of the couch with the snacks in between them but they slowly started getting closer until they sat right next to each other. One night, Y/N looked up at Steve who noticed and paused the movie, “Whats up?” He asks, giving her a small smile.

Y/N smiled a little. Steve made her feel better, feel worthy of love again like there was a light at the end of the dark tunnel she had been trapped in. She had known him from the first day she started work back in New York and he had always been kind and welcoming, “I have a question for you but I don’t want to pry.” She said to him, biting her lip.

Steve raised an eyebrow at her as he watched her face curiously, “I have an answer. What’s your question?” He asks. Steve enjoyed hanging out with Y/N as well. He could see the light in her start to glow again and he couldn’t help but feel like he had something to do with it. Whenever Steve came to visit, usually the weekends, he would sneak up into her apartment so Bucky wouldn’t get suspicious. He didn’t know how Bucky would feel if he figured out he was spending so much time with Y/N.

“I was wondering what Peggy was like.” Y/N said softly, picking at her fingers as she asked the question, “You know all about my relationship with Bucky and all I know is that you loved Peggy.”

Steve smiled gently, “Peggy was great. She was beautifully confident in everything she did. She was sweet and kind, but also fierce and smart. I have no doubt she could move mountains if she put her mind to it.” He told Y/N, watching her face as she listened, “Reminds me a lot of you.” That was the truth. Y/N reminded him a lot of Peggy. The way she was smart, determined, fierce but also kind and sweet. A good soul.

Y/N smiled softly, “She sounds great. I’m sure we would’ve been friends.” She said, nudging Steve’s shoulder with her own slightly, “Do you think you’ll ever find love like that again, Steve? I really thought Bucky was the one. Sometimes I feel like I’ll never find a love like that again.”

Steve kept his eyes on her, keeping that small gentle smile on his lips as he listened to her, “I know I’ll find a love like that again.” He said, wrapping one arm around her shoulders and pulling her a little closer, “And I know you will too, Y/N.”

Y/N and Steve continued having little moments right under Bucky’s nose. Bucky was helping in the training department which was on the opposite side of Y/N’s lab so he didn’t really have a reason to see Y/N. That didn’t mean that Bucky didn’t linger around outside her apartment door or the door to her lab, wondering how she was doing. He kept his distance and everyday it seemed like she was doing a little better, even happy. The dark rings under Y/N’s eyes had faded and she didn’t look like she had cried in a while. Bucky continued to try and make amends with Y/N from a distance- sending flowers to her apartment every week as well as having her favorite coffee waiting on her desk in the morning. Little did he know that Y/N and his best friend were getting closer and closer every week.

Steve sat with his arm around Y/N’s shoulder, smiling to himself as he watched the sixth Star Wars movie. He enjoyed them and it made Y/N’s little laser knife even cooler as he saw where her inspiration came from. Eventually, she switched the blade color to a blue and gave it to Steve as a gift for helping her feel better and he was ecstatic, never going anywhere without it. He would make jokes about being a Jedi to Y/N which made her laugh. God, he loved to see her laugh and smile. A Peggy sized hole in his heart had been replaced with Y/N and he wondered if she felt the same for him. As the movie ended, he looked over at Y/N to see her asleep leaning on his shoulder. He felt his heart flutter at how comfortable she was around him. Sure, it took a long time for both of them to get to this point, but it felt right, like they were slowly mending each other’s broken hearts while slowly falling in love, “Hey, Y/N, movies over are you tired?”

Y/N smiles at his voice, wrapping her arms around his large one and snuggling her face into his shoulder, “Nope. Not tired.”

Steve chuckles at her, “Honey, I think you might be tired.” He told her gently, “Why don’t I help you get to bed?”

Y/N shook her head against his shoulder, “I’m comfy here. You’re an excellent pillow.” She protested and opened her eyes to look up into those blue ones. Bucky’s eyes used to hypnotize her but now… The way Steve looked at her felt like magic was running through her body. He gave her butterflies that would bounce off the insides of her stomach frantically trying to get her to make a move with him.

Steve shrugs, “Alright, alright.” He chuckles out and picked up the remote to start the next movie, “We are onto the ones you haven’t seen though.”

Y/N sat up straighter next to him, focusing her eyes on the screen in front of her as it started with the opening, “Okay, pass me some popcorn.” She asks and watches Steve grab the bowl of popcorn and pass it to her. She kept brining some of the popcorn to her mouth before she realized Steve wasn’t paying attention to the movie and was still looking at her. Y/N looked back up at him, “Hey, you were just giving me crap for not watching the movie and now you’re not pa-“ Steve cut her off by cupping one of her cheeks in his palm and leaning down and giving her a soft kiss. He waited until she kissed him back before twisting his body a little bit to face her, blindly grabbing the bowl of popcorn from her lap and trying to place it on the table but it fell to the floor. He pulled away and looked at the mess he made, “Oh crap.”

Y/N took a deep breath, blinking at him when he pulled away before grabbing his arm and pulling him back to her, “Don’t worry about it…” She whispers before pressing her lips back to his. He slowly but easily moved do lay her down on the couch, crawling on top of her and continuing to kiss her, each kiss more deep and passionate than the next.

Steve pulled away finally to look at her face, one hand stroking through her hair while the other rested on her hip. He looked into her eyes and smiled softly to her, “I think I’m falling in love with you, Y/N.”

Y/N smiled up at him, her hands stroking gently through his hair as he spoke, “I think I’m falling in love with you too.” She whispers back to him before pressing her lips back to his. Steve made her feel safe, made her feel like he would never hurt her in anyway, especially in the way Bucky did. Unlike when she was with Bucky, being with Steve felt secure. There was no doubt that if they had a relationship that he would be a loyal, loving man. There had always been deep doubt inside of Y/N when she was with Bucky that she had ignored for a long time. But with Steve… Everything was effortless. She could be herself and not worry about if he was taking care of himself or worry if his emotions were going to flip on a dime. He was consistently Steve.

Bucky caught Steve a few times at the facility, questioning what he was doing in Seattle instead of New York. Steve always told him he was just making sure everything was getting set up correctly and see if anybody needed any help. He was keeping his relationship with Y/N on the down-low, worried of how Bucky would react. It wasn’t until a week before the grand opening of the facility that Bucky was lingering outside Y/N’s office when he heard the phone call or at least her side of the phone call that made him panic.

“Hey! How are you?…. I’m good…. I miss you too. I’ve been considering what you said and I think I have an answer for you… I know we are going to need to find some new movies to watch… Are you coming for the grand opening?…. I’m excited… I’ll save you a dance.”

Bucky could hear Y/N starting to head out of her office and made himself scarce. Who was she talking to? How long has she been talking to them? She missed them? He felt that same jealousy bubble up in him. He would have to wait another week to figure out who this mystery person talking to his girl was. Bucky wanted to be the only person she missed. The only person she danced with. The only person she watched movies with and even though he knew he ruined that for himself, he was still determined to get her back.

On the night of the grand opening of the new facility, Y/N looked so beautiful Bucky couldn’t keep his eyes off of her. Her hair was curled and swept to one side of her neck and she wore a long dark blue dress that sparkled slightly when she walked. Bucky watched her walk around making conversation, bringing a champagne glass to her lips as she smiled and talked. He kept himself at the bar, ordering whiskey after whiskey as he watched her. He sat up as he noticed her making her way to the bar, running his hands over his clothes and through his hair to make himself look more presentable and put together.

Y/N smiled at the bartender, passing him her empty champagne glass. He asked if she wanted a refill and she nodded her head at him with a smile, “Yes please.” She said with a smile. Y/N looked over at Bucky as the waiter refilled her glass, her smile fading a little but still on her lips. She had to admit that Bucky always looked good in a suit. Her stomach was twisting slightly with the way he was looking at her with a small grin on his lips. She bit her lip at him before turning to the bartender, “Thank you.” She said and watched the bartender smile at her before going to help other guests.

Bucky stood from his seat and moved to sit by her. This was his chance to talk to her, see how she was. See if she wanted to try again with him, “I thought you didn’t like champagne.” He said with a smile.

Y/N looked over to him and allowed a small smile to appear on her lips, “I’ve acquired the taste I guess.” She said with a small shrug.

Bucky nods slowly, bringing his whiskey glass up to his lips and taking a large gulp before smiling back over to her, “You look beautiful, doll.”

Y/N looked at him and smiles, “Thank you.” She said, running her free hand down the dress to flatten it out a little bit before taking a sip of her champagne glass, “You clean up nice yourself.”

Bucky nodded and grinned at her compliment, taking a drink of his whiskey and keeping his eyes on her, “How do you like Seattle?” He asks, trying to keep the conversation going. This is the longest he had been able to get her to talk to him since he’s been staying here.

Y/N shrugs her shoulders slightly, “It’s alright. It never stops raining though and it’s always cold.” She admitted, looking down at her glass of tequila, “I miss New York. It would rain and be cold sometimes, but at least it had sunshine too.” She bit her lip looking at him before sharing her information, “I’m actually going back to New York soon.”

Bucky smiled as he listened to her. Y/N’s voice was like music to his ears, “Yeah, you never did well with the cold.” He said before downing the rest of his whiskey in his glass, “That’s great news.” He loved the idea of Y/N being back in New York with him- it was just another step closer to her forgiving him and getting her back.

“Yeah…” She murmurs out, bringing the glass to her lips and taking a large swallow before she felt a large hand on her hip. She turned to look up and to see Steve which immediately brought a smile to her lips, “Hey! You made it!”

Steve looked at Bucky before looking down at Y/N with a smile, “I did, sorry I’m late.” He said before looking back to Bucky, “How you doin, Buck? Getting the training division all figured out?” Bucky shrugs, not noticing Steve’s hand on Y/N’s hip, “They’re getting there. Few more weeks and they’ll be able to figure out their head from their ass.” He joked. Bucky had been helping train field agents in hand to hand combat during his stay in Seattle.

Steve nods with a small chuckle and smile, “Yeah, here’s hoping.” He responded before looking down at Y/N, “Did you save me a dance?”

Y/N smiled and nodded to him, “I did.” She said up to the blonde, setting her champagne glass on the bar and pulling him towards where the other couples were dancing to slow songs.

Bucky watched them go, his eyes falling to Steve’s hand on Y/N’s hip. It made his lips part slightly as he started to put pieces together in his mind. Steve hadn’t just been here figuring out how the facility was coming along, he was here to spend time with Y/N. Steal her right out of Bucky’s grasp. Bucky frowned as he watched Y/N wrap her arms up around his neck and Steve wrap his arms around her waist, pulling her close. Bucky shook his head when Steve laid a gentle kiss on top of Y/N’s head, slamming his empty glass down onto the bar before making his way to the elevator to go to his room. He had pushed her away from him and right into Steve’s arms. Into the arms of someone who would never hurt her or betray her loyalty.

Later that night, Bucky was planning on going to talk to Y/N and let her know she didn’t need to be sneaking around with Steve. That he understood and wanted her to be happy. But instead, as he was about to knock on the door, he froze. He heard noises with his enhanced hearing. The noises. The noises she used to make for him when he had her tangled in his arms naked.

“Oh… Oh god, yes… Mmmm… Right there… Yes, Steve!”

Bucky blinked at the sounds, feeling his heart break all over again and knowing he was the cause of all of this. He used to be the only one that could make Y/N say those things, moan like that. The only one that could make those sweet noises pass her lips. Here he was- getting taste of his own medicine. At this moment, Bucky felt like he knew how Y/N did when she saw him with Katerina. He did something unforgivable, pushed her away and right into the arms of a better man. Bucky had received a taste of his own medicine.

___________________________________________________________

Taglist: @buckypops @bibliophilewednesday @stcrryslibrary

@perseone Here is the alternate version (;

[bokettochild]

Sisters, Scoldings and Seaside Memories

My excuse? I wanted to write the Oracles meeting the heroes and it spiraled into some Legend angst, because, well- this is me.

I do have a prompt I blame for this though, so go yell at the folks at @linkeduniverse-prompts for inspiring me with this idea.

The heroes had landed in Legend’s world again, jolted across time and space by yet another sudden switch, one that had left them more shaken and out of sorts than normal, and which, quite to everyone’s panic, had nearly made Four pass out. As was, the smithy had clutched ahold of the nearest hero at the moment, Legend, and refused to let go, resulting in his getting picked up and carried by the vet after they had figured out where they were.

The fact that they had been dumped so close to Legend’s house (they were only just a half an hour’s walk away) had unnerved the vet, and a few others, but there was no sign of monsters as far as their scouting crew could tell, even with the heavy rainfall, and if Hyrule, Wild and Twilight all agreed that the path was safe, then no one else was going to be the one to question them. After all, if you can’t trust the two best survivors and the best tracker on their team, who could they trust?

Ravio had greeted the group with open arms and cheerful welcomes, pulling the sopping smithy out of Legend’s hold and cooing when the multi-colored hero hadn’t even protested. Legend didn’t appear too very put out about it either, just shaking his head with a smile that he hid behind dripping bangs as he’d removed his shoes and barked orders at the rest of them to do the same.

While Legend stoked the fire and grabbed a blanket for Four, who Ravio was settling in his own favorite overstuffed arm-chair (if Ravio hated Legend's rocker, then Legend had already condemned that chair to the furthest corners of the dark world), the rest of the heroes stood about toweling themselves off and looking around. Ravio had reorganized again, although he’d left a few things, like the strange mask on the wall and a few other decorations, alone. It looked nice, cozier, although a bit less like a shop. When asked why, the merchant had waved off the curious looks from both the heroes and his housemate.

“I figured with all y’all visiting so much I’d probably better work out of the shed. It took a bit of tidying up- now Mr. Hero, don’t look at me like that, it was a mess! Anyways, I tidied it up, moved most of the things into the basement where you can get at them easier, Mr. Hero, and set up shop! Now y’all won’t have to worry about my things getting in the way.” Ravio smiled brightly as he finished, patting Four’s head and ignoring the smithy’s irritated look and looking pointedly at Warriors instead.

It was clear that Ravio’s adoption of Legend and Twilight’s use of the word ‘y’all’ was bothering the poor captain immensely.

The evening progressed as usual, with Ravio humming off key as he bustled about the house making ready the bedrooms for the heroes’ use. Wild, perhaps in wake of the pie incident, had finally been granted access to the kitchen, which allowed him to make dinner while the others offered Ravio their aid.

As “host” Legend had been assigned the task of sitting with Four until the smithy felt a bit better. The vet had at first protested leaving all the work to the others, but Ravio had finally persuaded him by pointing out that Mr. Smithy shouldn’t be left alone to stew too much in his thoughts, and wouldn’t Mr. Hero like to make sure the Hero of the Four Sword was quite alright in this particular Hyrule? Why that worked, or why Ravio had used that specific wording was unknown to the others, but Legend caved quickly after that, changing into a horridly oversized tunic and joining Four on the couch, the smithy leaning against him while the two talked over mundane things like metal imbalances in weapons and other such matters.

Time hadn’t been able to hide a snort of laughter as he caught wind of Four very casually explaining proper cooling methods to use on newly forged swords to a flushed veteran, and Legend had looked one instant away from snapping back about a recent mishap involving such a task, only stopped the smith’s continued softness of voice and weary eyes.

The knock on the door only sounded however, once most of the others had already bustled into the kitchen, leaving Legend and Four to eat their dinner together where the smith would be most comfortable and Legend couldn’t scold Twilight for his ‘wolfish’ manners at the dinner table.

Considering the vet had trouble keeping himself clean, Warriors had quietly commented that maybe the other boy didn’t exactly have room to be complaining about table manners.

The sound at the door was lost to those in the kitchen as they chattered and laughed, but to the two heroes in the living room it was clear as day, and startled them both so much that they both fumbled with their bowls, violet clashing with brown as sheepish smiles marred both their faces, light laughter on their lips at their shared startle.

The knock sounded again, this time urgent, repetitive and with a desperate air.

Amusement flickered to worry as Legend had risen from the couch, the line of his shoulders tight with worry as he’d reached for the sword he’d left at the door before even daring to lay his fingers on the door handle. Four’s own hand had scrabbled for his blade, but he’d remained sitting, tense and alert with his ears pricked forwards and eyes sharp against whatever might be outside.

There were a few things Legend was expecting to see when he’d opened the door; royal guards coming for the bounty that the king had still failed to lift from him, despite most all of Hyrule knowing by now of his innocence of the crimes attributed to him, or maybe it would be a villager desperately reporting a monster attack down in Kakariko, he had thought it strange they had been dumped so conveniently close to home with no danger immediately evident.

What was on the other side however was not any of the things on his mental list.

Three cloaked figures stood outside the door, two of them nearly looming over him as a pair of sharp blue eyes stared at him from beneath the shade of a hood, stern and wary, but not entirely devoid of concern. “Link! Oh, thank heavens you’re here!”

“Nayru?” The vet blinked in surprise, gaze falling first on the Oracle in front of him and then to her sisters, standing behind her and wrapped tightly against the rain. And for lack of anything better to say, or even think, he opened the door a bit wider, motioning vaguely with the sword still in his other hand. “Come in.”

Four’s eyes followed the three girls as green, red and blue had brightened the dimming room, the bright hair and clothes of the three Oracles strangely out of place in the muted tones of Legend and Ravio’s house. Legend stashed his sword back against the wall, taking the cloaks from the three ladies and hanging them on hooks with everyone else’s as Nayru turned to him with her face drawn and eyes flickering sternly.

“Link.” Nayru began, frowning down at the vet, who stared up at her with similar seriousness. “It has come to my attention that there has been a temporal and chronological anomaly that seems to have been following you, I’ve come to ask-”

“Four!” Farore’s trill broke through the tense atmosphere as the Oracle of Secrets rushed over to bundle the Hero of Four Swords into a hug. “How? Oh, my stars! It’s been so long! You look so much older!” The girl exclaimed, holding the sheepish smithy at arm's length and inspecting him. “I haven’t seen you in forever! Although, I suppose it seems like less time for you. Linky! How on earth did you rescue him?” That stopped the smithy silent, and he stared up at the greenette before him curiously as she chattered on, worry in her eyes. “Is that why he looks ill? Did you-”

“Farore.” For maybe the first time in his life, Legend actually managed a half decent growl. Sure, he still squeaked a bit, but it was low and harsh enough to nearly count.

“How-” Nayru frowned, blinking slowly at the smithy seated on the couch while Din waved to him quietly.

“Boys, is everything-” Time’s voice was cut off as the three Oracles spun to stare at him, color draining from their faces as Din buried her face in her hands, Farore tensed and Nayru stiffened, sharp blue eyes turning to Legend with a glare.

“I told you to never play with the Harp of Ages!”

“I didn’t!” Legend snapped back, glaring up at the older girl with something similar to a pout. For the other two heroes, had it not been for the painful tension of the situation, they may have smiled at how much the interaction looked like a pair of siblings arguing over a valued toy.

“Then how is he-” Nayru flung a hand out to point at Time, who stood awkwardly in the doorway. “-here?” The Oracle faltered, gaze turning back to Time in confusion before settling on Legend again. “Wait, which hero is that again?”

“Ouch.” Time deadpanned, completely on instinct.

“Hero of Time.” Legend returned with a scowl.

“Wait.” Farore stared from one hero to another in confusion. “Isn’t he dead? Linky, are you- have you been rescuing-”

“This one didn’t die.” Legend returned, looking increasingly done with the situation while Time and Four both winced.

“Split timelines, remember, Fare?” Din offered with a pained smile.

Nayru scowled, pinching the bridge of her nose as her other hand settled on her hip. “Link, I swear, the Harp of Ages isn’t even supposed to be able to cross realities! Do you know what you’ve done? Link, I know you miss her, but searching across time and space for her just doesn’t work! You’re going to-”

“I didn’t use the freaking harp!” Legend shouted, and to the surprise of both of the others, tears were gathering in his eyes. “So could you just not-” The vet’s voice broke as teary indigo glared up into startled ocean blue. “Could you just not bring that up? I know better, Nayru! Besides, which one of us is it that broke the timeline last time, huh?”

“That wasn’t me.” The blue-haired maiden sighed. “We both know I had no control over any of what happened. But your point stands, I’m- I’m sorry for accusing you.”

“Good.” Legend wrapped his arms around himself, a single tear trickling down his scowling face as Din flew over and wrapped him in a hug. “Oh, Sunshine, she didn’t mean it! We’re just worried is all, you know that, right?” The vet didn’t answer, but he did melt into the hold of the young woman as she patted his back gently.

The others chose that moment to make their respective appearances, peeking around Time to see Nayru standing awkwardly beside the embracing Oracle and Hero while Farore and Four exchanged a Look.

“Legend, who is this?” Hyrule frowned, instant regret flooding over his face as he saw Legend swipe the end of his over-long sleeve over his face with a violent sniffle and a huff, releasing Din as the red-head sighed sadly.

“The Golden Goddesses.” Time answered instead, nodding politely to the three ladies, who all offered him awkward smiles in return.

“The Oracles actually.” Nayru corrected with a strained smile. “Apologies, Forest Hero.” She inclined her head respectfully. “I meant no disrespect, it’s only that you are quite similar in appearance to another hero from this world, one that is near and dear-” The woman’s voice stuttered to a halt as she stared at the others peeking out from behind the eldest hero.

The room fell to silence for a brief moment as Nayru’s face fell, eyes widening dramatically as her shoulders slumped. “Is that- Link, how many Heroes of Courage are in your home?”

“Nine.” Legend huffed, crossing his arms and looking anywhere else but at the girl. “Counting me anyway.”

“Nine Heroes of Courage.” The Oracle repeated, dumbstruck, before rubbing her hands over her face. “That’s like half of all of Hylia’s Heroes in all! Why? Why would so many be gathered in one place? How did you even meet them?”

The vet shrugged, still not meeting the baby-blue eyes that turned his way in desperation. “A lizard. Also, portals.”

From where she was now sitting next to Four, Farore nodded. “That sounds just bizarre enough to be true.”

At Nayru’s nod of agreement, Din reached out to ruffle Legend’s pink hair. “Just like you to get pulled along in something like that, isn’t it, Link?”

The soft chuckle earned a hesitant smile from the vet as the others pushed further into the room, only to freeze again as Nayru’s startled again, staring across the room at Warriors, eyes full of horror. “Oh no. Not you!”

The captain blinked in surprise, offense taking over as he stared at the young woman. “Excuse me?”

Nayru shook her head, no long paying attention as she cupped her cheeks. “No, not the blasted Hero of Warriors! Oh, why me!”

“Okay, now that’s just offensive.” The captain huffed, crossing his arms indignantly as Legend chuckled softly.

Sharp blue eyes made the captain still again as the Oracle of Ages whimpered softly. “Of all the people in your home, Link, you had to have the one Hylian that my daughters obsess over? Why?”

All eyes turned to the vet, who now looked similarly dumbfounded and horrified, blinking slowly at nothing as one hand buried itself in his long bangs. “My niece has a crush on-” the vet viably gagged, face screwing up as he looked up to meet the confused stare of the captain, “-Oh my gross!”

“Seriously?” Warriors huffed with a glare before throwing his hands up, voice raising slightly as he spoke. “Could someone kindly explain why all of you suddenly find me disgusting?”

“Not you.” Din laughed. “My nieces just have something of an obsession with you, and Nayru’s sick of it. Add to that that-”

“Of all the people,” Legend interrupted with a horror filled mumble. “For my nieces to have a crush on, it had to be my brother? Just- oh that is just so incredibly gross!” Violet met twinkling red as the vet leaned back to stare at Din. “Why do the ladies in my family always have such weird taste in men?”

“Says the guy who had a crush on his now sister.” Farore sniggered, now fully wrapped up in the blankets with Four, despite no one having noticed either of them move. The smithy didn’t appear to mind either, his smile matching that of the Oracle of Secrets’, even if he didn’t appear to know exactly what was going on any more than the rest of them.

“It wasn’t a crush!” Legend near shrieked, stiffening as his face turned nearly as red as the long hair that shimmered in the firelight behind him. “You get asked to dance by a girl you don’t know and see how you act!”

Nayru, now somewhat recovered, grinned impishly at the blushing hero. “That’s right, besides, I’m pretty sure our little brother had a crush on a certain farm girl.”

“I didn’t like Ropely like that!” The vet huffed, brightening further. “Or Malon, if that’s what you’re implying. She’s my freaking cousin and that would just be gross.”

“Malon is your what now?” Time blinked, confused.

“I have a Malon in my time too.” Four offered, very unhelpfully, as the eldest hero looked like he was descending into mental acrobatics. “She works near castle town and even lives on a ranch. I think Malons are a constant in our worlds, just like Zeldas.”

“I don’t have a Malon...” Wind mused quietly while Time began to look increadibly distressed.

“It’s a family name.” Legend huffed, rolling his eyes as his blush began to fade. “Mine was named after our great-something-gramma. The same is probably true of Mamalon, Time. She’s probably named after an ancestor from Four’s time or something.”

“Great!” The smallest Oracle exclaimed with a clap of her hands. “Now that we’ve got that out of the way, can I please make you recognize that my babies are in one place for once?”

Her sisters stared at her, blinking slowly. “Um, Fare, that’s sort of why Nayru just had a freak out?” Legend snorted but his...sister? Ignored it.

“Yes but,” Farore nodded at Four, who she’d once more wrapped in her arms. “Look!”

And they did. Four was cuddled up with a resigned smile, looking positively tiny in the Oracle’s hold and, admittedly, rather cute. There was not one person in the room left unaffected, and several actually cooed when Farore hugged him tightly, burying her face in the smithy’s hair. “All of my babies, I love you all so very much!”

Warriors laughed at that, shaking his head. “What, do the Golden Goddesses have favorite heroes too? I thought that was just Hylia!”

“Unfortunately, that is the case.” Nayru shrugged. “We can’t help getting attached, just like any other Hylian.”

“Who are who’s favorites?” Wind chirped; eyes eager as he stared from one Oracle to another.

It was Din who answered, wrapping her arms around Legend’s shoulders as she stood behind him, smile warm even in the chill of the evening as she stared at the sailor hero. “Sunshine here’s mine, he’s my baby brother after all!”

“Adopted, as all of our other siblings are.” The Oracle of Ages interjected, earning her a pout from her sister and a laugh from the heroes.

“Nayru’s favorite is the Hero of Time, it’s why she calls him by a nickname, and Farore, well...” The red-head grinned to where the youngest of the three Oracles was cooing and fussing over Four. “I think you can guess.”

“Do any of you have second favorites?” Wind pressed, curiosity flickering in ocean blue and silver.

“I haven’t had enough experience with most of the other heroes to really say, although the Hero of Wild’s never fails to make me laugh when I watch him through Nayru’s mirrors.” The Saesonal Oracle laughed, making the hero in question flush lightly. “Both for his pranks and clever antics, and, of course, having a horse named after you means you simply have to adore the owner!”

“Farore has several favorites, she’s just only ever interacted with Link and Four.” Nayru chuckled. “She’s quite fond of those who had to strive for Courage though, so I suppose the Hero of Hyrule and the Hero of Winds likely tie for her second favorite.” The two boys in question grinned brightly at each other. “As for myself, I find that as the Keeper of Time, I have quite the fondness for its hero. Although, my baby brother and brother-in-law are also dear to me.” Twinkling blue settled on Sky’s flushed face as the Oracle winked. “Hylia could have chosen no one better to be her lover, and I approve the match wholeheartedly.”

Sky proceeded to flush a color o one had known existed and quickly lower himself to the floor, smiling madly and covering hisface with his hands, earning tender laughter from the blue-haired maiden as she turned her attention back towards the other heroes.

“And for some reason, I’m the only hero left unfavorited.” The captain sulked.

“If it’s any consolation.” Farore called out. “Our other baby sister thinks you’re cute! She says she’s glad you married her daughter!” The Captain Hero choked, and it was only due to Twilight thumping the others back that the poor man didn’t choke right then and there. “The same goes for the Twilight Hero, Lolia absolutely adores him!”

“How did the same goddess choose us both? We are nothing alike?”

Warriors coughed in what might have been agreement.

Farore only shrugged. “I suppose it’s the same reason she adores Ravio so much, it’s the hero who makes an impression on her world that earns her favor.”

The heroes in question took their time processing that, and in the meantime, Legend darted off toe retrieve dry things for his elder sisters, only to come back to Ravio chattering to the three, who’d now gathered on the same couch as Legend and Four had been on earlier, all answering his questions fondly and politely while Farore continued to suffocate Four with hugs. The smithy didn’t seem to mind though, resting easily, eyes glimmering reddish-brown in the fire-light as the Oracle of Secrets toyed with his ong hair.

“I brought warm clothes.” Legend called, offering the things with a brief shuffle of his feet. “They’re Fable’s, but I don’t think shell mind.”

Ravio frowned, looking up at the offered garments with furrowed brows. “Are you sure that will warm them enough, Mr. Hero? It would be horrible if your poor sisters caught cold!” Grenn flickered knowingly, and Legend huffed as he met the expectant gaze.

“Fine, I’ll brew some cider, since I expect that’s what you suggest?”

“Oh! Mr. Hero, how kind of you! I didn’t mean to ask, but since you’ve offered I’m sure your lovely sisters will love to have some!”

Din straightened in her seat, eyes sparkling brightly. “Cider? Oh, Link! I haven’t had your cider in ages! Please make some! I’d actually kill for a cup about now!”

And really, who was the veteran hero to argue with the will of the Oracle of Seasons?

“He’s made you cider before?” The Oracle of Ages frowned.

“Oh, all the time! The whole circus troupe loved it! Auntie Impa always used to beg him for the recipe, but it was that one thing she could never convince him about. It’s absolute heaven, Nay! You’re going to love it!”

The bluette huffed, crossing her arms and faking a put. “He never made me any cider.”

“Because you tried to kill me!” Legend’s voice called back from the kitchen, making the three girls startle slightly. “If you hadn’t, maybe you could have tried some along with Ralph and Raven.”

“I wasn’t- I was- Link!” Nayru spluttered as a cackle arose from the kitchen. “I was under mind control!”

“Still tried to kill me!” The vet chirped back with far too much cheer considering what he was saying. And really, none of the others could argue his point, either because they didn’t understand what was being discussed or because it was true.

Cider was passed around after a brief wait, during which the others had made idle small talk and Farore had finally agreed to release Four from her grasp. The short hero still sat at her side, trading smiles with the three Oracles as he chatted amiably with them, clearly familiar with all three and quite happy to see them again, even with the drama from before.

No one brought up what Farore had meant about ‘rescuing’ him.

When Legend finally emerged from the kitchen, Ravio’s tray stacked high with mugs of steaming cider, silence had quickly fallen save for the quiet sips and louder slurps of the three as Legend handed out the mugs, finishing with the three Oracles and promptly plopping himself down in their midst, entirely uncaring of the looks they exchanged over his head while Four shifted a bit closer to his brother.

“Link,” Nayru settled her mug in her lap and stared over at the pink-haired hero, unfortunately gaining the attention of the rest of the chain in the process. “About earlier, I really am sorry for accusing you. It was wrong of me to assume-”

“You already apologized, it’s fine.” Legend cut her off, yawning softly as he sipped his cider.

“No, it’s not. But I’d like to make it up to you.” The mug was set aside as long fingers had begun to glow with a soft blue, catching the vet’s eyes and making him stare as the Orale of Ages waved her fingers gently, a blue orb appearing in her grasp as a soft smile graced her delicate features. “Anything you’d like to see, baby brother?”

Violet eyes stared fixed on the orb, glistening slightly with wonder as the vet floundered, nearly spilling his cider only to be rescued by Four’s quick thinking as the smithy removed the mug from his grasp. “A-anything?”

“Anything.” The Oracle reaffirmed.

Legend stammered softly for a moment. “C-Could I see Raven? Where he is now?”

There was some murmuring from the others, curiosity and confusion in their tones as Nayru frowned. “Raven lived four-hundred years ago, Songbird, he’s dead now.”

“Oh- uh- I knew that.”

“I can show you what he was doing today four-hundred year ago though.” She laughed softly, spinning the orb in her hands slowly before turning it to face Legend. The veteran hero stared intently, brows furrowing slightly before his eyes widened and he was pushing back into the couch and away from the viewing orb.

“Oh yuck! Nayru! That- ew!” At the girls’ laugher he shot them all a glare. “I did not need to see a woman eating my mentor’s face!”

“That would be kissing.” Time smirked. “You’ll understand when you’re older.”

“That’s my ancestor though!”

“And I knew that would happen.” Nayru giggled. “That was a prank, here’s the actual thing.” A small child and a man looking suspiciously like Time appeared on the surface of the orb, both lying on the floor of what might have been a farm-house as the little one played with a few small toys, the man watching with a fond gaze as he relaxed, looking as if he wouldn’t rather be anywhere else.

“They look happy.” Legend hummed, gaze softening as he watched the duo a moment more before smiling up at his sister. “Thanks.”

The bluette smiled in return. “I accused yo twice though, so you may have a second. What else would you like?”

Anyone who was watching could see the conflicted emotions flying through Legend’s eyes as he stared at the now blank orb, the vet fidgeting with his rings and long sleeves as he gnawed his lower lip, torn about something that remained unknown to the others but clearly was tearing him up inside. At long last however, the vet’s voice, small and vulnerable, more so than they’d heard even when he was half asleep, spoke his request. “I’d like to see her.”

Ocean blue eyes softened as the Oracle nodded, spinning her orb slowly before handing it over to the vet as the scene of a beach crossed the surface of the ball.

A girl with curly red hair and sparkling eyes sat on the beach, voice rich and lovely as she sang ou a tune that had the vet’s eyes watering as he smiled as the vision, his brothers crowding close curiously as several of them muffled soft gasps.

“Marin?” The voice of a boy rang from the orb, gentle, uncertain and young, but resemblant of Legend’s own in an odd, gentle way.

“Link! Don’t startle me like that!” The girl laughed, shaking her head and making her curls bounce as she smiled over at a boy maybe a bit older than Wind.  The lad was dark haired, but pink showed through at his roots and while he carried a sword on his back, he looked relaxed and at peace with the world around him, face gentle and unmarred by worries or fears as he walked across the sand to where the girl sat. A dopey smile and light blush touched the kid’s face as the girl, Marin, gently patted the sand at her side. “Join me, you’re done running errands for everyone now, right?”

“For today.”

“Good.” The girl reached up, tugging ‘Link’ down next to her firmly. “Lay down.”

“What?”

“Lay down.” Marin ordered. “You need a break. You’re always running everywhere and helping eveyone else, you need a bit of time to yourself.”

A smile pulled at the boy’s features. “Yes ma’am.”

The girl snorted, but patted her lap and tugged at the green tunic of the other, resulting in him at last laying on the sand, head in her lap as she smiled down at him. “You’re going to rest now, because tomorrow is a busy day for us.”

“Oh?” Already there was a dreamy quality to the boy’s voice as he relaxed into the hold of the girl, her fingers tugging gently through tangled black hair as she nodded.

“Yes. We have to sleep in until nine, and then eat a big breakfast before taking a long walk on the shore. Then, you’re going to help me conquer a huge basket lunch before you can then defeat being awake for an hour. After that, we have to chase the tide until it tires, and then dance in victory over the ground that it’s lost.” The boy laughed softly, lashes already fluttering softly across rosy cheeks as the girl continued. “Then, you and I are going to sit here and watch the sun go down, and we will sing it to sleep along with the island until the sun comes up.”

“And what then?”

“And then we do as we please!”

“We build a fire.” The boy hummed. “And I’m going to make you cider so good you’ll be ruined for any of your silly teas.”

“Hey!” The girl huffed, purposefully jostling the lad’s head as she huffed down at him. “My teas are good!”

“Not as good as my cider.” The boy replied, opening one eyes to grin up at her, a cheeky smile on his face. “Just you wait, you’ll see.”

Marin shook her head, eyes glistening gently as she ran her fingers through Link’s hair again. “I suppose I will.”

The orb shattered as it hit the floor, dissipating instantly as the heroes collectively startled.

“Legend?” Four rested a hand on the vet’s shoulder, staring in concern at the other boy, who hid behind his bangs with a faint sniffle.

“Thanks , Nayru.”

“Do you want me to fix it? I can give you another-”

“No, I know what happens.” Legend waved her off, sighing heavily and offering a teary smile. “I just wanted to see her again.”

“Well then you should have said something!” Warriors exclaimed, catching the attention of all gathered as he stared at the vet, caught between a grin and a scowl “Had I known you were Marin’s prince charming I would have said something by now! For pities sakes, the girls have been trying to hunt down her world since the war ended!”

Legend blinked.

“She’s still not home?” Wind frowned. “But, it’s been months!”

“No one knew where she belonged, she didn’t even know, said she knew nothing of Hyrule’s history, only that there was a hero.” The captain shook his head. “Hard to believe the sweet hero she described is this here ass, but who am I to judge?”

“She’s alive?” Legend stared.

“Yes,” The captain smiled slightly, gaze warming as he met the vet’s. “But between Cia, Lana and Midna, we never-”

“Midna too!” Twilight exclaimed, pushing into Warriors’ line of vision with a shocked face and watching the captain immediately fly through every shade of shock imaginable.

“Love of the goddess...” Warriors breathed. “Both of you? The two famed sweethearts of my team are the biggest asses I know? You have got to be kidding me!”

The Oracles laughed, or in Farore’s case, cackled, at the plight of the captain, and the other heroes joined in.

“Wars, I’m not even mad.” legend chuckled, shaking his head, and Twilight nodded in agreement.  “But I will say this, we can’t get to your Hyrule soon enough, and when we get there, Time, know for a fact that I don’t need to wait till I’m older to understand that thing earlier.”

“Okay, that's just gross!” Wind exclaimed. “I do not want to see Legend kissing someone! That’s just- oh yuck!”

The vet threw his head back and laughed, and no one could really help but join in. Except Wind, who scrunched up his nose in disgust while Wild and Hyrule shared a confused look.