#but anything more than minor essentially never heals right

[eyenaku]

[drinkinboilingcoffee]

Hello friend I don't think I've asked you yet but could you please give me your scooped Michael head cannons

(Has been waiting for a chance to infodump)

I like the versions of him where he’s not healed or anything- getting scooped absolutely messed this man up. The way remnant works in my AU isn’t some sort of weird monster maker so much as a tether or adhesive between a soul and an object, so Mike is quite literally a ghost pulling his body around like a puppet. He actually can leave his body and roam a short distance as a ghost the same way the animatronics can, but he hates the feeling of it and rarely does it voluntarily (sometimes he’ll wake up in the morning, get up and go about his morning routine and not realize he left his body behind until he ends up accidentally phasing through a wall)

I think Mike spent the first few years as a bit of a recluse before finally coming back into the public eye (definitely uses the ‘it’s a skin condition’ excuse and then every once in a while meets an actual doctor who’s super interested in it and doesn’t know what to do). He has a lot of shame surrounding his appearance, but he’s at least relieved he doesn’t look like William anymore. He eventually maintains a sort of tenuous relationship with Elizabeth and the other Funtimes that ends up falling apart again once Ennard split from Elizabeth. He’s super paranoid about bugs and scavengers eating him. He’s not that well preserved (like a homemade taxidermy on something that had already been lying in the sun for a month) so he gets outs of things eating away at him, and occasionally he’ll even end up with a mouse nesting in his rib cage or something. Mike can only heal a little bit, I think? Just cells that regenerate rapidly (skin, hair and blood mainly) and they tend to either heal extremely slow or regenerate more than necessary, so most minor wounds just end up as fucked up scar tissue. Bigger cuts have to be stitched closed by hand and never fully heal beyond the skin closing up and he can’t heal broken bones (sometimes Henry will use weld or solder them together if it’s broken too badly to be functional).

Like the animatronics, Mike suffers from something called remnant hunger, which is essentially when a ghost like Mike or one of the animatronics is starved of remnant and their soul starts to unbind from their body (I really need to make a post explaining how remnant works in my AU) and causes them to become aggressive and crave material concentrated in remnant (aka human flesh mostly). He usually keeps it together pretty well and scavenges graveyards and morgues for bodies instead of hunting people (maybe at a certain point one of the employees at the local funeral home is fired for leaving random human limbs out on the back porch for him), but there have been a few times where he’s snapped and attacked people. I kind of like to imagine at a certain point he starts locking himself away when it gets bad enough to make sure he can’t do anything (Jeremy or someone probably eventually finds something to sate the hunger for a while. Yeah just give my blorbo some psychological trauma and additional body horror, that’s a normal thing to do, right?

[yuriswitch]

there's this one thing that's been bothering us particularly badly as of late, and it's this recent surge in "normal people" going out of their way to mark all evildoers as "abnormal". It's far from the first time we encountered that kind of behavior, and we more or less get why so many people say things like "he's not a real christian" or "she's not a real mother" or "how sick do you have to be to do something like that" or "you have to be abnormal" and so on and so forth, especially when put in front of a shocking news of a particularly gruesome murder or something equally drastic.

It's uncomfortable, and hard to imagine yourself doing that, but you still see a person looking like any other, with all the outward features of a human just like you. I'm not really surprised, that when faced with someone that looks similar enough to them to count as a human, most people immediately separate themselves out by making up some sort of a "difference" major enough for them to be able to re-categorize this uncomfortably human-looking person as an inhumane monster. Completely outside of the realm of "normal people".

The problem is, that what that essentially does is create this assumption that harm is some sort of a symptom of "not being me enough syndrome" that ought to be treated in some way, or at least dealt with by means of isolation. This often involves throwing insults, accusations or otherwise asserting that the perpetrator must be mentally ill, or disabled, or an Arab or whatever is considered too far away from "normal"

On one hand, this is just another way normal people balance out the desire to be the only thing X in existence (something that we might as well call the "oneness perversion") with the need to recognize and react to any signs of something or someone unusual. Everyone is supposedly the same person, but depending on the degree of "deviation", weirdos like us either have a "sickness" that they believe they can "heal" (thus eliminating that pesky differentness) or don't even count as a human at all.

At the same time, doing this reassures the normals, that they will never have to assume responsibility for anything serious, because they're not "off enough" to do anything other than a minor, forgettable offense. And the way this interacts with both big events like the rise of fascism, with millions of people asserting that the fascists were all abnormal mental monsters from hell, and smaller more personal moments like "mommy loves you so she'd never do something like that" in response to us trying to tell her to stop doing something like that, is a major issue that could potentially result in yet another tragedy.

Unfortunately, the normals would have to acknowledge their capability to commit any harm imaginable and unimaginable, but most of them still seem to prefer comfort at our cost than any conscious effort to change and be a better person. And there's something really shitty about so many people immediately diagnosing all sorts of people from J.K.Rowling all the way to Adolf Hitler (admittedly it's not a particularly long way, but still) with all sorts of mental illnesses - schizophrenia, bpd, psychopathy, narcissism, even low libido and high libido for some reason.

This is really frustrating, because it's the everyday Joes of 20th century Germany that did the Holocaust. It's the standard view havers that radicalized so far right, that tried to do colonialism in Europe, and that were already okay with the concept enough to consider applying it to the "Wild East" as they called Eastern Europe in direct reference to the so called "Wild West" in America.

The serial killers and psychopaths and all the black characters that normals whiten themselves with were busy mentally breaking the fuck down from another day of burning the corpses of all the "abnormals" the nazis were exterminating on a mass scale. It's all wife-loving, dog-having, typical, everyday people that committed all of these atrocities, and we, the undesirables, were their primary targets of removal and eventually extermination. And it's high time the general public admits that and recognizes their own ability to do all evil, including the most disturbing and extreme of acts. If they can't do that, then we will all be doomed one day. Mind my words.

/Yui

[interplanaranathema]

So it has been a while since I heard anything about Lachesis, but I recently tried to finish the wonderful Owlcat games Rouge Trader rpg... which has tickled that part of my brain and sent me down the 40k rabbit hole one again. Which had me revisiting my Fan Primarch Octavius and work on him a little bit. He is now called Octavius One, Octavius after the only scientist to show him even a shred of human compassion when he was a guinea pig on Cerebra and One as a reminder that he was once only know as specimen one and how far he had come. Octavius is now missing his right arm having lost it to warp corruption, that is now where his bio mechanical tendrils extend from. The biggest change is Octavius is no longer trying to create human super soldiers... okay he is not only creating super soldiers. Rather Octavius is conducting experiments to find a cure for warp corruption. For his time spent in the immaterial he now sees the warp as a living entity, a living entity that is terribly sick, and you can not beat a illness into submission you can only cure it. The Black Mercy is no long a barley cobbled together space hunk jumping wildly threw the warp. It now a sleek black ship with stolen drukhari stealth technology. It appears without warning over doomed worlds the last grime hope for it's inhabitance. The Noble Order then descends saving survivors, capturing test subjects and gathering specimens. Before vanishing into the darkness as if it was never there. I also have the idea of completely remaking Octavius into this shadowy rouge trader controlling his dynasty with proxies and subterfuge, with strong ties to criminal organizations. He also has this French baroque music theme, think non chaos noise marines by way of classical opera. Sorry for the info dump, is there anything new with your boy?

Ooooh! interesting. Love the thought of Octavius being this biomechanical rogue trader lord thats pretty raw! I feel like he'd also be interested in the halo devices since that's kinda the same niche. They are parasitic xenos biomechanical devices. It might help him solve warp corruption.

But i love the black mercy being this heroic last hope for these worlds. And him being this rogue trader would help immensely for funding this. As for Lachesis, he plays a role in the lost sect held by The Arboreum, a faction of Sisters of Silence that were lost after the T'au space age. So past the Damocles Gulf in the reaches of the T'au space, Lachesis is appearing as a giant xenos fauna (a spiny felinid). But I updated his story!! The reason as to why him and my primarch of the II, Aries Meridian the Navigator, were lost was because they were the first to interact with the Cabal since they were 2 of the expeditionary forces exploring the outer reaches of the Galaxy. Other than being 2 essential aspect of the Imperial war effort, Back-up and Navigators, the emperor had them designed with the idea that when the Crusade was done, that Xenos rehabilitation would be needed. Thus they were created with the intent of being raised by Xenos. Lachesis was with those who healed more while Aries was grown on a massive planetoid ship of 2 different minor xenos. Due to the lax nature of their connections to their father, they were allowed to dabble in their warp natures (that are Primarchs have). But they were expunged by the Emperor but they were able to escape into the warp and evolved into what they are today. Back to the reason Lachesis is in Arboreum space, they were able to come back in secret right before the Heresy. Lachesis helped Sanguinius and Anathema create a individual(s) to prevent the red thirst via Xenos blood (C'tan energy).

This is non- dnd campaign version of Fynn who's story in the campaign is VASTLY different. Aka this is a more WH40k canon compliant story which has no crossover elements to it

But essentially, Anathema cryogenically stored the successful one on a planet out past the Damocles gulf during the heresy since she (now he) should be kept safe. And then forgotten till the T'au cracked them open and an Aun raised this Fynn.

Lachesis heard of Fynn's actions when exploring the Galaxy and Immediately went to the Region to go find him.

This is some art i made of Lachesis but i need to go back and touch it up. + have current Aries Meridian too since he's in that region as some Rogue trader's alien navigator (he's called the warp eye)

[kiridarling]

"𝐒𝐈𝐌𝐎𝐍 𝐒𝐀𝐘𝐒."

izuku midoriya | friends older brother!izuku + college student!reader + f!reader + squirting + size kink + more! minors dni! does this count? as dark content?

— 2.4k words

"It's simple: I'll stuff you full with two fingers, but they only do what simon says. Understand?"

“[Y/N?]”

“Uh, hey Izuku!” You smile, grip tightening around the strap to your bag. Izuku fills the doorway, broad shoulders kissing both sides of the frame, and you can’t help but feel minuscule in comparison. “Kota around?”

Izuku shakes his head, peering over his shoulder for a second before returning his attention to you with a click of his tongue. "Uh, no I think he's out with Eri. They should be back soon though...it's been a few hours."

"Shit," you curse under your breath. Your friend's older brother smiles in apology, biceps straining under his white tee.

"You need something?"

"Yeah," you nod, forcing your eyes back onto his, instead of the broad chest presented at eye-level. "Just my precalc book."

Izuku waits a second, thinking, before his palm claps against the doorframe and he's walking deeper into the house. "Come on in, then! I'm sure he won't mind."

You step into the house after him, and it's...weird. Weird being with your Kota's older brother without Kota there, because despite the thousands of times you've been in your best friend's house and as well as you know the greenette, you and Izuku have never been alone.

"Find it?"

You've been rummaging through Kota's room for a solid ten minutes and somehow still empty-handed, moving slowly in fear you'll see something you can't unsee. And hey, with Kota and Eri dating, anything's possible.

"No," you sigh, ready to give up rather than find a strap-on. "It's fine. I can just come to get it tomorrow or something."

"How soon do you need it?" The greenette asks, his forearms leaning against his younger brother's dresser. You take a seat on Kota's comforter instead, silently hoping you'll find your book by accidentally breaking your tailbone against the damn thing; you're a little disappointed when all your ass comes in contact with is a plush mattress.

"Like, tonight," you grieve, knowing that tomorrow morning, your math grade will suffer severely. "'S fine though. There's always another test."

Izuku snorts at that, crossing the room to take a seat next to you. The bed whines under his weight but doesn't collapse, and you feel a little bad to say you're surprised. Voice full of reminiscence, he sighs, "Ah, the college days."

You giggle, "You act like they're lightyears behind you."

"They might as well be," the greenette shrugs, before reaching behind your waist to steal a pillow. "Couldn't tell you a thing I learned."

You shrug trying to remember the last time you’ve felt prepared for a test, “Neither can I.”

Izuku chuckles and nods, though you’re convinced it’s because he has nothing to say. An awkward silence takes possession of the room by the neck, and you shift awkwardly, unsure of what to say that could give you an excuse to leave, or at least redirect his strange yet heavy gaze. As Izuku licks his lips, you notice how close you two actually are, as he's big to the point where your shoulders almost brush, but not quite.

"How um, hows your boyfriend?"

You scoff at that, but you suppose it's been a while since you and the greenette have talked one on one—and the last time you had, you weren't single.

"Oh uh, he's fine, I guess," you brush it off with a shrug and a wave, cringing at the thought of how that ended. "I don't know. We broke up a while ago, so."

"Oh sorry!" Izuku flushes and throws a hand over his mouth, and you giggle.

"You're fine. He was an asshole anyway," you chuck a laugh, but it's not really that funny. Frankly, he's left too many emotional scars to count, along with the ones healing from past exes. "I...don't have a good reputation when it comes to picking boyfriends."

“So, I’ve heard—no offense,” he says sheepishly, though you don't blame him. You've definitely had a few surprise visits caused by a nasty break-up or two, knowing this is the place you'll probably find both of your best friends hiding out. When Izuku speaks again, it’s borderline awkward as his eyes dart around the room, cheeks puffed and lips pursed in apprehension. “Found...anyone new?”

You frown, “Anyone new.”

“Yeah!” Izuku exclaims, and it’s almost encouraging. “Like a new boyfriend.”

“Oh,” you laugh, shaking your head. “Um, no. Like I said, I don’t have much luck with that type of stuff.”

Izuku snorts, rolling his eyes before he’s adjusting himself to lay on the pillow, half of his body upright. “I bet you do. You might not realize it, but you do.”

Now it’s your turn to snort and roll your eyes, leaning back on your hands with a huff. "You're just being nice, Izuku."

"No, seriously!" He props himself higher so you can see he really is serious, evergreen eyes locked and deadset, "Like—okay, and this might be a TMI or something, but how do they, y'know, and then be dicks, y'know?"

"They don't."

"They don't...what?"

"They don't...make me cum," you heave with great depression, despite the seemingly surface-level complaint. With wrists tightening around your ankles, you hate uncomfortably in the silence, and watch Izuku's mouth open and close, before it opens and closes again.

"Like...never?"

"No." You give him a weird look.

"But what about your last boyfriend? I thought he—"

"I don't know what you're looking for, Izuku," you chuckle, shaking your head. The greenette seems more pained than he is shocked, eyes wide with a big fat pout in place of a neutral face. "It's not like I haven't had an orgasm before. Just...not with someone else."

"That's not the same!" Izuku defends, slowly becoming more animated than you've ever seen him. "It's like...more passionate with another person, you know? And that makes everything a whole lot hotter."

"Thanks," you huff, mood souring more than it already has. Izuku's mouth stills once he realizes what he's essentially bragging, guilt clouding his face. As you exhale out of your nose, you can't escape feeling bad for snapping. "Look. I'm perfectly fine with being the only person to be able to make myself cum. It's not that deep."

"You sound like you expect no one to be able to," Izuku snorts with a raised eyebrow, shoulders bumping against yours. "You've just...had bad boyfriend luck. That doesn't mean no one's capable of doing it."

"Well," you click your tongue bitterly, because you've heard all of this before, and you're utterly tired of hearing it. "They've been able to make all their exes orgasm. And it's not like it even matters, relationships aren't abou—"

"I could do it."

"I—" you blink, shaking your head at the pure audacity of his request? Suggestion? Comment? Whatever the fuck. "Excuse me?"

"I—wait, listen," Izuku rushes like you're getting ready to book it the fuck out of there, sitting upright so his body is turned to yours. "You're...it's...I've been told I'm good with my fingers, right?"

And what a way to start a story.

"Izuku, in the nicest way, every guy is like this," you scoff, "He thinks he's all that just because a chick or two said you made her feel really good. I don't need to fake another orgasm."

"You won't have to," Izuku purrs cockily, leaning forwards on his hands and making you wonder where all of this is coming from. "Let's play a game of simon says, yeah?"

"Simon—" your chest collapses with a giggle of pure disbelief, "I'm not that much younger than you, you know."

"I wouldn't be offering if you were," the greenette reasons, eyes growing dark slowly, if any. "Yes or no?"

"What's the catch?" You bargain and Izuku huffs a laugh. You can feel it on your face.

"No catch, Pretty," he hums, and you can feel the vibrations in your fingers. "It's simple: I'll stuff you full with two fingers, but they only do what simon says. Understand?"

You gulp as Izuku lifts a hand—and a very large one, at that—and it's jagged and rough with scars and bulky knuckles. His free hand makes you grab his wrist and you're fingertips barely touch, but you’re pulling his hand south by your own volition.

“Gotta take your pants off first,” he chuckles, and you flush red. That would be helpful, yes.

It doesn't take long before they're off though, flung towards a corner somewhere—and this is when you realize that maybe, you shouldn't do this on Kota's bed.

"Izuku maybe we shoul—"

But before you can say anything else, he's pushing your panties to the side and shoving both fingers into you at once, eyebrows folding as he groans under his breath from the sensation.

"So wet already? Clearly, someone likes this more than they let on."

"I—what the fuck happened to simon says!" You yelp, but his fingers don't move. Izuku just beams like the deceptive asshole he is.

"Game starts now," is all he says, and you're huffing, propping yourself up on your elbows. Izuku's fingers might as well have knocked the wind out of you, lungs struggling to find room to breathe as he curls his fingers to tap directly onto your g-spot with worrying precision.

"Simon says um, move please," you grunt out. Izuku's fingers stay still, and you frown, kicking him in the thigh. "Hey, I sai—"

"You gotta be more specific than that, Pretty,” he says with a grin. You snarl. "Tell me what you want me to do to you."

"I..." you start, but it's fucking embarrassing, and you know Izuku feels you twitch around him when you say: "Can you um, fuck me with your fingers."

He doesn't move.

"Simon says fuck me with your fingers, asshole," you grunt with narrowed eyes, though they widen when he starts to pump his fingers in and out, chuckling when you shiver from the dexterity.

Except, his fingers move painfully slow, and you find yourself gritting your teeth at the speed when he doesn't make an effort to go any faster. You click your tongue—he's really going to make you request everything, isn't he?

"Simon says faster," you growl with a challenge burning in your eyes, and Izuku meets them with equal fire, fingers finally forgetting their torturous pace for a much quicker one. Finally.

"Fuck! Simo—simon says right t-there," your legs spread wider and Izuku makes more room for himself in between. He hums with dark eyes as you whimper and whine his name, writhing in his younger brother's sheets like they belong to him—like you belong to him.

"I wanna touch you all the time, you know," Izuku grunts before cursing at the sight of your wetness around his fingers. "Make you feel good, make you mine. I don't think Kota would approve, though."

"We don—" you wheeze and he places a hand next to your head, towering over you. The angle only gets better, your hands digging into the sheets as Izuku's fingers curl just right. "We don't have to tell him."

Izuku chuckles at that, chest rumbling as he leans in closer to the point where your noses nearly touch. "You dirty fucking girl."

You moan at that, hips bucking into his hand. You're so close and yet you need more, something else to push you over the edge for good. With a whimper behind a bitten lip, you say, "S-Simon says rub my clit."

Izuku's thumb falls upon your clit and you squeal from the amount of initial pressure, thighs jolting from the white-hot waves that pump through your bloodstream as his thumb moves in small, ever-quickening circles that have you gripping for Kota's comforter for dear life.

"Iz—Izuku I'm gonna—g-gonna cum," you pant, and he's ripping his hands away before you can even reach a hint of the edge. You glare at him out of pure and utter betrayal, and he beams.

"Simon didn't say, did he?"

Your mouth flies open before your brain has time to process it all, "Simon says make me cum, p-please, I need to—fuck!"

Izuku's stuffing you full with his fingers in an instant and his thumb returns to its rightful place.

"Yeah? You gonna cum for me, Pretty?" His hands somehow find the energy to speed up to the point where the clap of his palm against your pussy fills the room, slowly being replaced by a lewd squelch as you tighten around him. He chuckles when all you can do is whimper, grappling for his big shoulders as he says, "Oh, yes she is. So fucking close I can feel it."

You let out a broken moan and in a blink you're squirting, body buzzing as you make a big wet mess of Kota's sheets. It doesn't even register how screwed you two are because you're too busy wading waist-deep in the sea of Izuku's eyes, chest heaving in time with his as he gives you a look of pure awe. Not at what you've done, per se, but at you, and that's when you understand it—the passion.

"We should uh, probably clean up," Izuku flushes as he chuckles, cheeks pressing into the crescents of his face, and you find yourself smiling along with him. With a final click, he pulls his fingers out, gesturing to a circular wet spot on his now see-through shirt. "You made quite a mess."

Fuck the passion.

You shove your fists into his chest and Izuku laughs, pushing your hands away with his one dry free hand, wiping the wet one on Kota's sheets.

"Izuku!" You gasp, looking at the new and improved addition to your mess. The greenette shrugs.

"What? We're going to have to clean it anyway," he shrugs before assuming the dry spot to your right and nestling his forearms in the pillow to peck you on the forehead. Then he freezes.

"I uh...am I allowed to do that?"

You roll your eyes, grabbing him by his squirt-soaked shirt to pull him into a kiss. Izuku hums at that, suppressing the urge to smile as his big hands find their way to your waist. He's an annoyingly good kisser

"No, you're not," you say with swollen lips once you pull away. Izuku grins, teeth digging into his bottom lip as his eyes flutter to yours for a moment, before they're staring into your soul again.

"I like you," he boldly states, albeit quietly, like he's talking to your eyes and nothing else. "Like, a lot."

"I—" You start, but you're interrupted by a click of a lock and the sound of the front door opening. Shit.

"Oi! We're home, Izuku!"

[haadeswrites]

Elysium

god this fic took forever i’m so sorry!! but hey, first fic on the new blog! <33 also y’all should really thank @iwaasfairy who listened to me complain about this fic for a solid month, she’s the reason it got finished

Cult leader Oikawa Tooru x female reader

tw: indoctrination, extremely dubious consent, blood, yandere themes, religious themes, minor character death, implied abuse & drug use, mild smut, nsfw

The island itself is breathtaking

Pristine beaches with gleaming white sand, vast swathes of lush, green rainforest and waterfalls that cascade into shimmering pools of crystal clear water. Untouched, undisturbed; a paradise. At least, that’s how Ryuji had described it. 

Paradise, but only in the sense that a gingerbread cottage in the middle of the woods is paradise to a lost and hungry child. 

He hadn’t been wrong. Bare feet sink into soft, white sand as you climb from the boat - the warmth just toeing the line between pleasant and burning. Gentle waves ebb and flow behind you, and there’s a light breeze that kisses your skin, the taste of seasalt carrying in the wind. Home, it seems to sing.

A laugh sounds somewhere in the distance, yet the only other figure on the beach is a man walking steadily towards you. He smiles when he sees you’ve noticed him; friendly, non-threatening. It’s a far cry from the swarming welcoming committee you’d been dreading, and you wonder if that’s somehow intentional as well. 

As the boat pushes back out to sea he comes to a stop before you, “I’m Makki,” he says, pushing the fringe of his hair back and giving you a not-so-subtle once over. Whatever he sees must meet approval, because his grin only widens, “Welcome to the Commune.”

Ryuji wasn’t wrong; the island is a beautiful, deadly thing.

—

You’d never heard of the Commune before the phone call. 

And maybe that shouldn’t be so surprising. You’ll be the first to admit you’re hardly an expert, but from what you do know, groups like the Commune – cults – don’t spring up out of thin air and start broadcasting their mistreatment and systematic abuse. 

They’re not the kind of people that have sweet old ladies clutching their pearls and mothers shepherding their children away – at least, not in the beginning. Not entirely. They’re not out to recruit extremists to further their cause, they choose to prey on the vulnerable, the lost and the disillusioned. Those easily manipulated. You suspect that’s why when you google the Commune, all you find is a website for what essentially looks like a long term luxury wellness retreat.

‘The Commune is about healing and harmony, about returning to nature, supporting one another to forge a brighter, more holistic future together… a self-sufficient community living apart from technology and other evils of modern society.’ 

You fight the urge to roll your eyes as you scroll through. There’s a whisper of philosophical teachings woven throughout, a page dedicated to their founder, Oikawa Tooru – smiling handsomely in every single picture, because what would a burgeoning cult be without a charismatic leader – but there’s not enough.

So here you are, on an island hundreds of miles away from home living amongst strangers; because Ryuji wouldn’t have sounded so terrified if this was just some alternate, free-loving bunch of hippies.

And even with all that he’d told you, everything you thought you’d be prepared for, the Commune is like nothing you could’ve imagined. 

Makki introduces you to Asuka, a woman only a few years older than yourself, dark haired and stunningly beautiful, and winks as he tells her to take you under her wing. She smiles brightly, eyes twinkling, and pulls you into a heartfelt hug – as if you’ve known each other your whole lives.

“We’re so glad you’re here!” she beams.

You’d like to hate her. 

It feels like you're supposed to, sometimes; when she gets that dreamy look in her eyes and starts talking about Oikawa and the Commune and how lucky everyone here on the island is. Yet there’s something about her – the genuine warmth she emanates maybe, or the kindness in her eyes – that makes it difficult for you not to like her.

“You should come to the gathering tomorrow,” she hums idly one afternoon, maybe a week or so after your arrival. The two of you are sitting on the edge of the pier, legs dangling down into the water, tangled fishing nets to be repaired strewn between you.

“I always go,” you reply.

She laughs, fixing you with a knowing look, “And sit right at the very back, all but running off the moment we finish?” 

And your traitorous heart skips a beat. 

“It’s okay to take things slowly,” she says. “We understand that being a part of the Commune is a big change from the life you knew, and that not everybody is able to see what we see and embrace those changes.” 

Asuka sets down the knot she’s working through and reaches for your hand, a gentle smile on her face, “But you shouldn’t be afraid. You’re meant to be here, I can feel it. You just need to stop fighting against it; surrender yourself to us, to the island, and everything’ll make sense, I promise.”

It’s dangerous territory. One wrong word could set off alarm bells, yet you can’t help pressing just a little.

“Do you ever miss it, then? Life outside the Commune?” 

Your family. Friends. The life you left behind before you came here to be brainwashed like all of the others.

“Why would I?” she answers without missing a beat, and it’s hard to ignore the bitter flicker of disappointment you feel at her answer. “The island provides for us, we don’t have to spend our days selling off tiny pieces of ourselves just to make ends meet. It’s paradise here, and we have Oikawa to thank for that. Why would I ever want to go back?”

Silence falls between you as you struggle to think of something to say to salvage the situation. Yet Asuka isn’t even looking at you, instead staring out at the water with a strangely pensive expression. 

“Did you know I was married once?” The words seemingly out of the blue, you can only shake your head. For a moment, she doesn’t reply, watching as the waves rise and crash offshore. And then;

“I was young, eighteen or so, fresh out of high school and he was a small town cop.” Her eyes flicker to yours, and your heart clenches at the sadness and pain echoing there. “I thought he was a good man, once upon a time.”

A chord strikes deep, your chest tightening involuntarily at her words. It’s not the same, of course it’s not the same, and yet… 

No. You stop the errant thought in its tracks. Groups like the Commune prey on the vulnerable, you know this. People like Ryuji, like Asuka, like–

Her fingers squeeze around yours, pulling you back to the present. “Come to the gathering tomorrow. Listen to Oikawa, it’ll help.”

—

She doesn’t give you a choice in the matter – dragging you by the hand to sit right at the front of the gathered crowd that very night.

Oikawa’s handsomer up close; tall and dark haired with pretty eyes and long, sweeping lashes that frame delicate cheekbones, it’s not hard for you to see how a man like him has amassed such an impassioned following. 

Once he starts actually speaking, however, you realise that his good looks and charming smile are just the tip of the iceberg. Oikawa’s utterly captivating as he preaches about the cycle of life and death and the paradise that awaits his faithful. Passionate and engaging, he speaks like he truly believes every word of the lies he’s spreading. 

And Asuka, her friends, the others gathered, they eat up every word like it’s gospel truth, resounding cheers and thunderous applause deafening around you. In the midst of the rapturous din, Oikawa’s eyes flit to yours.

Slowly, he smiles – a dazzling grin that makes your stomach flip – and everything; Asuka, the noise, the others swarming around you, it all fades away.

For one electrifying heartbeat, you’re frozen in place. Just you and Oikawa, trapped in the pull of each other’s gaze.

—

You can’t forget the reason you came.

But it’s… difficult, in a way you struggle to understand. You only have one purpose for being here, one goal; find Ryuji and bring him home. 

And yet, some days it’s like there’s a fog in your mind, and you have to focus to remember why you’re here at all. You catch yourself laughing with Asuka and her friends, the days passing by in a blur of endless, easy distractions. 

It barely feels like work when you’re sitting under the shade of the trees, eating the fruits you’ve picked by hand – ripe and sweet, unlike anything you’ve ever tasted – diving off waterfalls into the crystalline water and meandering down the shore collecting seashells. Even when you are working, mending clothes or cooking with the others, it fills you with a sense of contentment you can’t quite explain. 

Like you’re a part of something bigger. Like you’re doing something that matters.

Ryuji becomes a distant thought. A whisper in the back of your head, a niggling in your gut, easily brushed aside and ignored until there’s a moment of quiet. In the dead of night, the balmy summer night’s breeze kissing your bare skin, you lie awake, lost in memories of the last time you’d seen him. 

Fists angrily pounding at your door, the yelling that gave way to sobs and the hoarse, desperate pleas that followed. Ryuji’s face; pupils blown wide and eyes rimmed in red, darting restlessly around as he held you too tight and begged–

Rolling over in bed, you gaze out your window at the star flecked sky, the shadows of the forest that lie at your doorstep, and wonder what it is that scares you more; that you’ve lost track of the days you’ve been here, and saving Ryuji is starting to feel like an afterthought, or that you could so easily forget all of it, find a place here in the Commune and be happy.

‘The island, it–it fucks with your head.’

Ryuji’d told you that, and you’d brushed it off as paranoia. You need to find him. Find him and get the hell outta dodge.

You can deal with the fallout later.

—

Kiyoshi. 

He’d mentioned the name a few times amidst his rambling – a friend of his on the island. You’re annoyed with yourself for not thinking of it sooner, however much like Ryuji himself, trying to focus and remember the name is like wading through thick mud.

Once you do, though, finding him amongst the hundred and fifty or so inhabitants is the easy part. 

There’s no strict division between genders within the Commune, however Kyoshi, despite his somewhat lean stature, is among the builders of the island and his path doesn’t often cross with yours. 

From Asuka you find out that he’s been a part of the Commune for years now, before even she joined, and that he mostly sticks to himself, though you’ve seen him chatting quietly to a few of the other men, a perpetually angry looking blonde in particular.

It’s the last part that piques her interest, “Why’re you so curious, anyway?” she asks, her face lighting up as a sudden thought occurs. “Do you want me to introduce you two? To be honest, I didn’t think he’d be your type, if you’re interested, though…”

Cheeks aflame, you’re quick to shut her down. “No, no, nothing like that. I’ve just… seen him around and we’ve never really spoken, I guess.”

A lame excuse, though mercifully she lets the subject drop without too much prodding.

Therein, of course, lies the problem. Walking up to Kyoshi and casually trying to drop Ryuji into the conversation without raising red flags is risky, but what other options do you have? You’ve already spent too much time on this island.

Although, maybe Asuka has the right idea. 

While you hadn’t been lying when you said you weren’t interested in Kyoshi in that way, nobody else knew that. Who would really look twice at the shy newbie striking up a conversation with the quiet, easygoing man? He wasn’t unattractive per se, and from the brief interactions you’d seen of him, he seemed kind enough.

You have enough patience (barely) to wait for dusk the following night. There’s a celebration, something about the full moon and a blessing on the island and the Commune– you hadn’t really been paying attention when Oikawa had spoken about it. Still, it’s too good an opportunity to pass up. With the fire pits crackling, and the dancing and music and the sweet honey wine flowing freely, nobody will be paying too much attention to what you’ll be doing. Hopefully, the alcohol will also serve to lower Kiyoshi’s guard, and perhaps if you’re really, really lucky, loosen his tongue as well. 

Of course, you’re not banking on him telling you exactly where Ryu is or what happened to him– and that’s assuming he actually knows – but at this point you’ll take anything over the nothing you currently have. A tiny slip up, that’s all you’re asking for. 

As the sun descends beyond the horizon, you play your role well, laughing and chatting amongst friends, sipping carefully at the cup of wine in your hand as you wait for an opening. And perhaps it’s your nerves working against you, but you find that it’s not just Kiyoshi your attention is drawn to. 

Up on the shore, away from the rabble, Oikawa lounges back with a cup of the same honeyed wine you’re pretending to drink. For the most part he seems deep in conversation with Iwaizumi, his right hand, but every once in a while he glances up, letting his gaze roam over the crowd of his followers.

Every inch a king and his general.

And it would seem benevolent, if not for the strange smile he wears – the one that widens when his eyes catch yours.

Swallowing tightly, you force yourself not to dwell on it, to ignore the odd sensation curling in your gut and the way your skin prickles under his attention. Now is not the time to lose focus.

Pushing all thoughts of Oikawa aside, you subtly scan the beach once more, only to find that Kiyoshi’s moved, sitting now on a piece of old driftwood near the bonfire. Alone for the first time tonight. 

Your legs are moving before the thought even fully registers. 

“Do you mind if I sit?” you ask, gesturing to the empty space on the log beside him. 

Kiyoshi smiles, the laugh lines at corners of his eyes crinkling pleasantly, and shakes his head, “Not at all.”

“Thanks.”

Taking another sip of your wine, you will your shoulders to relax, your racing pulse to slow. This has to seem natural, and so you force yourself to hold your tongue, let your head loll back and breathe deep, soaking it all in. You can hear the others in the distance, the music and the dancing, the happy laughter and shouts that beckon – you want to go join them. Even your blood seems to hum, a call of something other pulsing through your veins.

But you pay it no mind. There are more important things to worry about tonight. 

Indeed, steel blue eyes have been appraising you curiously for a while now. “This is your first Lunar blessing, isn’t it?” Kiyoshi asks after a moment.

You nod, humming in agreement. Less than a month; you’ve been here less than a month. Is that a good thing?

“Are you enjoying yourself?”

A harmless enough question, and again you nod your head. “Yeah, it’s…” you pause, searching for words that won’t sound hollow. “It’s paradise. I feel like I need to pinch myself just to make sure it’s real.”

He smiles gently. “But?” he probes.

Grimly, you wonder whether Kiyoshi’s usually this perceptive, or if you’re just a really terrible actor. In a way, you suppose it really doesn’t make a difference; you’ve come too far to turn back now – at least not without raising suspicion. 

So you lie with a truth, and pray that it works.

“I had a friend I was supposed to meet here,” you confess quietly, gazing not at him but the crackling flames of the bonfire, the burning embers carried off into the night. “He was the one who said I should come, but now I’m here and he’s not and every time I catch myself enjoying this–”

“You feel guilty,” he surmises, cutting you off. “Because he’s not here to enjoy it with you.”

Wordlessly, you nod – and maybe it isn’t so much of an act when your eyes begin to glisten, your smile wavering. 

Kiyoshi’s silent for a moment, and you take another sip of the honey wine to hide your nerves. “You shouldn’t, you know,” he says eventually. “Feel guilty, I mean. You belong here, with the Commune. You’re happy here. Paradise… isn’t for everybody.”

He doesn’t say it to be cruel, more like he’s simply stating a fact, and somehow that makes it all the more unnerving. And it’s nothing you haven’t listened to Oikawa preach about time and time again. The Commune is for the devoted, the faithful – the lucky few – and you’ve never thought too hard about what he’d meant by that.

The Commune’s small, maybe a hundred and fifty or so people on the island. There’d been no initiation, no test of faith or trial period you’d had to pass when you arrived – at least, none that you’d been aware of. You simply stepped off the boat and they’d welcomed you with open arms. 

An uneasy sensation settles into your gut, goosebumps prickling at your skin despite the heat of the midsummer night. 

That… doesn’t make sense. It can’t. Absolute control’s too important in groups like this, they couldn’t just let anyone–

Kiyoshi speaks again, his calm voice pulling you from your thoughts. “What was his name?” 

You blink at him slowly – stupidly. “Sorry?”

“Your friend,” he clarifies. “What was his name?”

“Oh, um- Ryuji.”

Kiyoshi’s brow furrows in thought for a moment, but he merely shakes his head, “Doesn’t ring a bell, but like I said, not everyone who arrives stays with us for long.”

He looks you right in the eye as he says it.

You don’t understand the cold, foreboding that seeps through your veins, because he’s lying. He has to be. 

Ryuji was here. They were friends, Ryu’d told you that–

Why did you think this stupid plan would work anyway? That he’d tell you anything, much less the truth when this whole fucked up island is full of liars and those too indoctrinated to know the difference?

“You alright?” he asks when abruptly, you shoot to your feet beside him.

And it takes every ounce of willpower you have left to force an easy smile to your lips, raising your cup just a fraction, “Yeah, just gonna go get a refill. Thanks for the talk, Kiyoshi.”

Whether he notices that your wine’s barely touched or not, you don’t care – not as you turn on your heel without another word and head back up the beach. 

Your head is pounding, your body trembling – you don’t hear the call of your name until a hand reaches out and grasps at your wrist, spinning you around.

Asuka greets you with a wide grin, Makki and a tall, broad shouldered man you think is called Mattsun standing either side of her – the former’s arm slung casually over her shoulder. “There you are! I’ve been looking for you,” she says. “Come on, we’re gonna go swimming, it’s so pretty out there!”

You glance out towards the ocean. Moonlight bathes the inky blue water, light shimmering off the rippling tide; some of the others are already out there, splashing amongst the waves. 

“Clothing optional, of course,” Makki laughs, and Asuka tugs on your wrist once more. 

“C’mon, it’ll be fun!”

But you shake your head, slowly pulling your hand from her grip, “I’m not feeling great, I think I’m gonna head back.”

Asuka frowns, concern marring her pretty features. “Are you okay? Do you need us to call Mizo–”

“No,” you say, cutting her off. Healer Mizoguchi is the last person you need to see right now. “I just– I just need to go lie down for a bit. You guys go have fun – enjoy the blessing, I’ll be fine.”

Makki and Asuka share a fleeting look, but it’s Mattsun who interjects before either one of them can speak, “I’ll walk you back, then.”

Your stomach churns. It doesn’t sound like a suggestion.

And the smart thing to do would be to accept his help; the walk from the beach to your villa isn’t far, and while you’re not as familiar with Mattsun as you are with Makki or Asuka, it’s not like he’s going to hurt you or anything, but–

“Really– you don’t need to, it’s fine,” you smile weakly, shuffling back as he reaches to offer you his arm. “Go swim, I’ll see you guys in the morning.”

Mattsun shrugs easily enough, falling back into line with the other two – yet there’s something in the way he grins and holds your gaze for a beat longer. A glimmer of amusement, as if there’s some joke you're not a part of. “I’ll hold you to it, sweetheart.”

The heat that floods your cheeks clashes uncomfortably with the cloying heaviness in your stomach, but somehow you manage to stutter out one last goodbye before turning back to scamper off in the direction of your room.

–But not to lie down.

There’s not a cloud in the sky, and the full moon’s bright. No need for a torch, not unless you decide to venture into the heart of the forest.

You’ve been a fool. Kiyoshi, Asuka, Makki, Mattsun; you can’t trust any of them to help you, even unwittingly. Ryuji’s here on the island – somewhere – and every second that slips away, every second that you allow yourself to forget puts him in further danger.

And so you cling to your discomfort, ground yourself in it. The prickling sensation at the back of your neck, the tightness in your chest as you slip past your villa, keeping low and quiet – they’re a reminder that there is something insidious here on the island, that you have to get out.

You and Ryuji.

He’s here. Away from the others, kept under lock and key as punishment, or maybe being forced to undergo whatever kind of glorified brainwashing they’ve got going on, but here. You need to be smart about this, because while you don’t intend to stop until you find him, tonight will be your best shot – while everyone’s distracted down on the beach. 

For the first time in a long time, it feels like you have a clear head. 

Creeping through the underbrush, you steer clear of the well trod pathways that lead towards habitation. You’ve been there, and to the docks, and the river. 

If they’re still keeping him here (and they are, you refuse to entertain the possibility that it could be otherwise) then it’s not somewhere out in the open. A bird cries out in the distance shattering the calm of the night, and you flinch – but it only serves as another reminder that your time tonight is limited; you cannot afford to delay. You wrack your brain, trying to dredge up memories of the last few weeks, surely you must have seen something–

“Lost?”

The single word, spoken in a deep, gruff voice has your blood running cold.

Slowly, you turn. 

Iwa stands behind you in the thicket, his face utterly impassive. Briefly, you contemplate whether it’s worth trying to bluff your way out of this, but Iwa’s eyes narrow, flashing in the dim light and you think better of it.

A sigh escapes you, your shoulders deflating. “Where is he– Ryuji?” you ask; a whisper rather than a demand.

Iwa’s expression gives nothing away. Did he know, or have you handed him the smoking gun of a crime that’d fallen through the cracks? Does it even matter anymore? You’re just–

You’re tired. 

Exhausted. In the space of a few moments all of that shining determination and resolve; it fled, leaving a gaping hole in its wake. This has to end, you can’t keep fighting against them forever. You can’t keep drowning in this guilt, feeling torn every second that you spend here on this stupid island. You just want to find Ryuji and go home.

… Right?

A tense beat passes as Iwa appraises you, and then; “Come with me.”

The hand he places on your shoulder doesn’t give you much choice. His grip isn’t what you’d describe as gentle, yet he’s careful enough to make sure you don’t trip or stumble as he marches you north. 

In the thick of the forest away from the beach, it’s eerily quiet. Every twig that snaps underfoot, every ragged breath you draw; it feels too loud. Out of place amongst the stillness of the midsummer night. 

And isn’t it ironic, that for the first time since you set foot in this paradise, you feel like you’re trespassing?

A bead of sweat trickles down from your temple and your mind unwittingly drifts back to Mattsun and Makki. Are they still swimming with Asuka? Probably, you reason. It’s hard to pinpoint exactly how long it’s been since you left them on the beach, but surely no more than an hour.

And strangely, like water drawn from the depths of a well, an image comes to mind; the four of you standing in the waves, you perched atop Mattsun’s shoulders, screaming and giggling in delight as Asuka tries to knock you down again, two sets of eyes watching from the shore… 

You should have stayed on the beach.

“Can I ask you something?” 

“You can ask,” he replies drily – humouring you, you suppose.

Your lips quirk upwards for the briefest of moments. “What happens on the Lunar blessing? Asuka, the others– no one told me what it was.” 

Iwaizumi doesn’t answer you immediately, but you feel his fingers reflexively tighten on your shoulder. Likely it wasn’t the question he was expecting; surely there were others that you could have asked – but you don’t really want the answers to those.

If you’re being led like a lamb to proverbial slaughter, what good would it do you to know it? 

And yet as the seconds pass and no answer seems forthcoming from your captor, you resign yourself to the fact that your curiosity will remain unsated. You don’t even know what prompted you to ask in the first place; knowing Oikawa it’s probably some grand, meaningless spectacle. Pretty, hollow words spoken only to–

A heavy sigh draws you from your thoughts, and you falter in your step, almost tripping over your own feet in the process. Iwa’s quick to right you, urging you forward with a less than gentle nudge. “Walk straight,” he grunts, yet it lacks any true heat. Anticipation flutters through your veins, and he mutters a soft curse behind you. “Fine. It… it’s an exchange.” 

An exchange? What the hell was that supposed to mean? Your eyebrows draw together, mouth opening to press the matter, but Iwa beats you to the punch.

“You’ll find out for yourself soon enough, now shut up.”

You have no response to that, so you do.

—

The two of you walk in silence for what feels like hours. Eventually, the terrain becomes steeper, the worn path you’re treading twisting and winding, and you realise you must be close to the mountains at the heart of the island. 

As your breath comes in heavy pants, your legs beginning to ache, you can’t help but be lost in the beauty of it all.

The flora’s different here, unlike any you’ve seen before. Flowers bursting from the bark of towering trees, blooms of vibrant hues; reds and purples and soft, baby pinks. Even the vines at your feet curl amongst pretty white buds that gleam invitingly under the moonlight. Your jaw falls open as you gaze around in wonderment. 

You forget why you’re walking, where it is that you’re heading. Iwa’s grip relaxes as a quiet gasp escapes you, and he doesn’t stop you when you stray from the path to take a closer look. You can’t resist reaching out to touch the silken petals, leaning in to smell their perfume. Soft and light and sweet, your eyes flutter shut, a smile creeping across your visage. 

It reminds you of home. Not your actual home – the rundown, tiny shoebox apartment you gave up before you came here – but something deeper.

Home, like the long summer days spent playing in your parents’ backyard. Home, like afternoons curled up by the window, watching the rain come down in sheets outside. 

Home, like the comfort of arms wrapped around you; two hearts beating in sync.

“C’mon,” Iwa interrupts after a minute or so, his voice a touch less gruff. “We’re almost there.”

Dazed, you find yourself nodding, allowing him to guide you back to the path. This time, he doesn’t grab you by the shoulder, seemingly content enough to walk by your side. 

True to his word, it’s only another few minutes before you see it; a wooden villa, four times the size of your own and far, far grander, set amongst a clearing of trees on the mountainside. Confused, your eyes flicker from the villa to Iwa and back again. Gossamer curtains billow lightly in the breeze, a warm, inviting glow spilling from the open windows. Surely this cannot be where he meant to lead you… and yet he merely stands at your side, arms folded across his broad chest, watching you expectantly. 

“You gonna make me carry you up there?” he asks, not unkindly.

Swallowing tightly, you shake your head. 

Another glance, and you catch a shadow lingering by the window. Your heart skips a beat, apprehension curling in your gut as you begin to walk, every step feels less steady than the last. You’re almost glad when Iwa takes you by the arm; if only so that you have something to focus on other than the growing tightness in your chest. The villa, with its pretty flowers and airy, elegant grandeur is far from the isolated cell you’d been afraid of, yet the uncertainty of what you’re walking into eats at you all the same.

Is this where they’ve been keeping Ryu, or has he brought you here for another reason?

Nothing, however, can prepare you for what you find inside. Warm light emanates from lanterns that bathe the room, and your eyes widen as you stare around you.

Strange, gold carvings inlaid with mother of pearl decorate the thick, woodens support beams, a pot of incense burns on a table overflowing with fresh fruit. There’s a jug of the same honeyed wine you’d drank earlier in the night and two cups set on an ornate stand nearby – just within arms reach of one of the chaise lounges.

Iwa affords you little time to gape, drawing you further in. Silken tapestries hang from the walls – you’re pulled along too quickly to truly take note, but the brief glimpses you get hint at a story; a divine being cast from his home, lost and wandering.

It tugs at something buried within you, and uncomfortable, you tear your eyes away.

The two of you reach a closed door at the end of the hall, and Iwa pulls you to a stop, knocking once.

“Come,” a familiar voice calls.

You stiffen, though perhaps you should have foreseen this outcome. Who else would Iwa bring you to but to him? Distantly, you register his grip relaxing, the sound of the door sweeping open and his voice at your ear.

“Go on.”

And it’s funny, you think, how two halves of yourself can be so at odds with each other. Because while your stomach twists itself into knots, goosebumps prickling at your skin, your legs stumble forward of their own accord.

Two steps forward, and your breath catches in your throat.

It’s a bedroom, that much you can deduce from the decor, but that’s not what captures your attention. Nor is it Oikawa, leaning against the bureau with a genial smile – at least not at first. 

No. In place of a back wall, there’s open space, not so much as a panel of glass obstructing the view before you. And what a view it is; from this height you can see the sprawling forest below, the coastline dotted with bonfires and the moonlit ocean shimmering beyond. Where the floorboards end, there are steps, you realise as you unwittingly inch closer, leading to a cascading spring – likely fed from the waterfall you can hear rushing nearby.

How easy it would be to brush aside your worries, you think, to shed your clothes, slip into the cool, calm water and lose yourself entirely. Even amongst all you’ve seen and experienced on the island so far, this is incomparable. 

“Stunning, isn’t it?” Oikawa murmurs, coming up behind you.

His voice startles you, yet when you turn, you find him not gazing out at the scenery but rather at you, that same strange, knowing smile curling at his lips.

“Some days, I admit, it’s hard to tear myself away,” he continues, unbothered by your stunned silence. “But even I can’t neglect my duties for too long.”

You swallow, tongue darting out to wet your lips. Confusion twists through you at the conversational tone, surely he hasn’t brought you here just to chat about the impressive views, yet there’s no hint of disapproval on his face, no indication that he’s anything less than pleased with you.

It’s unnerving to say the least, but you’ll play along with his game if that’s what Oikawa wants.

“Beautiful,” you say, though the words feel woefully inadequate even as you speak them.

He hums in agreement, something akin to pride flickers in his eyes at your assessment, “A labour of love, I suppose. But… everything you see here, everything I’ve built, it comes with a price. You understand that, don’t you?”

“I-I’m sorry?” you stutter.

“Paradise,” he elaborates, his smile widening. “There’s no give without take. Those people down there,” he nods down at the beach, the tiny, ant-like figures still milling about, “the lost, the beaten, the abused – I gave them what they so desperately sought; a sanctuary. A life without struggle, without suffering.” He pauses for a moment, reaching forward to take your hand. You almost flinch, almost skitter across the room to put as much distance between you as you can, but you don’t–

His palm is warm as it envelops yours, a pleasant heat that seems to spread through your veins, easing your tense muscles. There’s nothing to fear from him, you’re safe with Oikawa.

“Aren’t you happy here?”

Yes.

“What about the price?” you ask instead, though it takes more concentration than it should to force the words out. 

Oikawa’s thumb sweeps along the back of your hand. “I never said it was your price to pay,” he soothes. 

There’s something wrong with that sentence, but another sharp knock at the door draws your attention before you can think too hard about it. You turn out of instinct, barely aware of the way his hand tightens fractionally around your own.  

A single finger at your jaw coaxes your attention back to him. “If you built a paradise, wouldn’t you give whatever necessary to ensure it flourished?”

Oikawa stares at you expectantly, deep brown eyes searching your face as he waits for an answer. Agreement would be the logical choice – the one he seems to want from you – but even as your lips part, the only sound that escapes is a breathless, confused noise. 

When you were a kid, maybe six or seven, your parents took you to the beach one day and you waded too far out into the water. The waves were bigger than you expected; all it took was one mistimed jump and you were dragged under.

It wasn’t for long, probably only seconds, and ultimately you were fine – but you remember those few seconds so vividly. The feeling of helplessly tumbling through the water, fighting to break the surface but not knowing which way was up. Your lungs crying out for oxygen, the disorientation and dizziness, the panic.

It feels like that now – like the floor’s dropped out from beneath you and you’re just hurtling through empty air, desperately trying to slow yourself down with nothing to grab onto.

None of this makes any sense. Your emotions are shot to pieces, too many parts of yourself being pulled in different directions and you’re not sure which ones you can trust anymore. How can you be? Oikawa’s still holding your hand, smiling at you, and you just want everything to stop for a second so you can right yourself and breathe–

The door opens.

Iwaizumi appears in your field of vision, dragging a bound, hooded figure behind him. And because this is all some big, cosmic joke, you get your wish. Both of them, actually. 

Time slows. 

Even with a burlap sack pulled over his head, you recognise the man Iwa shoves to the floor and sneers at. 

Hundreds of miles, weeks of uselessly traipsing around this fucking island, and finally– 

Finally, you’ve found Ryu.

There should be relief. Fear, considering his current state, yes, but Ryuji’s here and he’s alive and as the hood is ripped off his head Oikawa squeezes your hand and the only thing you feel is… anger.

Not a heated flash that surges through your blood. It’s slow and seething, insipid. You look at him, locked in place as empty, pleading eyes meet yours and all you can think is that all of this – everything – is his fault.

“Asuka told you why she came to me, didn’t she?” Oikawa asks.

Your brow furrows, why–why is he asking you that now, how did he even–

He slips closer behind you, letting your hand go in favour of your shoulder, his spare dragging lightly along the bare skin of your arm. “She was lost, in so much pain. The physical wounds, they heal after a while,” his voice is right in your ear, a low murmur that sends a shiver rippling down your spine.

It isn’t an unpleasant feeling.

“But the scars inside, well… sometimes those fester.”

Gagged and bound, kneeling at your feet, Ryu doesn’t even try to make a sound. 

He’s thinner than you remember. Face gaunt and bruised; there’s a half healed, mottled yellow one painted across the left side of his jaw, one eye purple and swollen. You glance at Iwa, standing stoically behind him, muscular arms folded across his chest. His work, you wonder, or others as well? You notice the tear tracks running down his face, catching the light of the lanterns, but it’s as if you’re seeing it all through a thick pane of glass. None of it reaches you, there’s nothing but that simmering, ugly feeling in your gut.

Oikawa hums, “I told you that Paradise wasn’t for everyone. It’s a haven, yes, but there are those who simply… don’t belong.”

His body’s so warm, pressed up against yours. Fingertips graze along your side, and this time you don’t bother biting back that tiny, breathless moan. Iwa briefly smirks at it, but there’s no embarrassment. Why should there be? Your eyes flit back to Ryu, bowed on the wooden floor.

Another memory resurfaces; A sharp crack and a ringing in your ears, Ryuji, eyes bloodshot and glazed, falling to his knees, clutching frantically at the leg of your pants as endless apologies spill from his lips. 

It wasn’t him. It was never him. 

“He hurt you,” Oikawa purrs. “He kept hurting you, I saw it.”

The words wash over you like waves breaking on the shore, but you find yourself nodding anyway. It was the truth, wasn’t it? A thousand tiny hurts, piled up on one another until you finally broke.

And you’d still come when he’d called.

Listened to him when he’d begged you not to hang up the phone.

“Iwa.” 

The brunet moves towards a grand chest of drawers pushed up against the western wall. An ornate dagger sits atop, strange and beautiful; the blade isn’t steel or any metal you’ve seen before, but some kind of black stone, the handle intricately carved ivory. You hadn’t even noticed it before, Oikawa’s room filled to the brim with odd trinkets and treasures, but now that you have, it’s hard to tear your eyes away.

Iwa takes it and carries it over towards the two of you, holding it with the utmost care. 

“Obsidian,” Oikawa informs you as he accepts the blade from his friend, bringing it in front of you both to show it off. “Pretty, isn’t it?” And while you can’t see his face, you can hear the smile in his tone.

He isn’t wrong though. 

Ever so carefully you reach out, the soft pads of your fingertips running along the obsidian surface, surprisingly cool to the touch. The razor sharp edges – wavy and asymmetrical, leading to a tapered point – you’re careful to avoid, almost positive you’d draw blood with the slightest touch. 

“Take it,” he urges, his breath ghosting over the shell of your ear. 

Obediently, you turn your hand over, your fingers wrapping around the hilt when he presses it against your palm. And as long fingers curl around yours, you idly wonder how old the dagger is – there’s not so much as a scratch on it, yet there’s something about the weapon in your hand that feels ancient. It thrums under your combined touch.

Oikawa jerks his chin at Iwa, and with a short nod and one last, lingering glance cast your way, the latter exits once again. 

Leaving you and Oikawa alone with Ryuji.

“It’s almost time,” he remarks – though time for what, you’re not entirely sure. His lips press against your hair, his arm dropping from your shoulder to your waist, drawing you flush against him. “I know why you came to me, the lies that led you here.”

Both of you turn your attention back to Ryuji at that, the bound man now shaking with the force of his muffled sobs, snot dripping from his nose. That bitter resentment rears its ugly head again, soothed only by Oikawa’s pacifying hum, his thumb now rubbing slow circles at your side. “Shh, I’m not angry – none of that matters now. You’ve found a home here, no? You want to stay on the island with me.”

You swallow, nodding your head rapidly. The thought of having to leave now, of being forced out after everything you’ve seen and felt and experienced here, you– you can’t fathom it. You don’t want to. 

Ryuji’d wrought so much damage, but even before he’d swept through your life… had you ever been happy? Were you ever truly accepted – or loved, for that matter?

You can’t go back to that life. You won’t; he’ll have to drag you kicking and screaming from the shore. The Commune is your home, this is where you belong. Here, with Oikawa.

“Good girl,” he croons, another kiss pressed to the crown of your head. You beam at the praise and Ryuji crumples a little further. “Death begets life, you understand now, don’t you?”

You glance at the obsidian dagger in your hand and then at Ryu, beaten and bruised, bowed in forced supplication before you, and nod.

His fingers tighten around yours, “Then do it.”

Leaning forward, you reach for Ryu, fingers lightly trailing down his ruined cheek, curling at his chin to coax his head upwards. He squeezes his eyes shut, pain and regret etched over every inch of his face, but he doesn’t fight you. 

Baring his throat to your dagger, Ryuji’s pleas take the shape of your name.

Muffled, thanks to the gag, but unmistakable. And for one single moment, you falter. 

This… this is wrong; for all his faults, and god knows there were plenty, Ryu didn’t des–

A wave of calm washes over you, allaying your fears, your doubts. Your breath leaves you in a heavy gust, taking with it the tension in your shoulders, and Oikawa’s voice, smooth and honeyed, reaches your ears once more, “Nothing comes without a price, doesn’t he deserve to be the one to pay it?”

With your hand still tucked inside of his, your arm moves with a will of its own; slashing with inhuman grace.

The dagger cuts deep, Ryuji’s eyes snapping open in shock as a spray of warm blood hits you both. He chokes – a horrid, wet, gurgling sound – wide, pleading eyes frantically shifting between you and Oikawa. Every beat of his failing heart sends fresh blood spurting from the gaping wound. It drenches his front, splatters across your dress, your face, crimson pooling at the wooden floorboards at his knees. His mouth falls open and shut, trying and failing to form coherent sounds and you just stand there and watch, the dagger hanging limply at your side.

It doesn’t take long; seconds at the most. 

Ryuji’s slumps to the floor, his body finally growing still as the light fades from his eyes. There’s a beat of absolute silence, and then–

Oikawa shudders behind you, a strangled, drawn out moan leaving his lips. You try to turn, but his arms lock around you, every muscle tensing, his back arching. The dagger in your hand grows hot, burning the soft skin of your palm, but with his fingers still tightly entwined with yours you can only whimper and endure it.

With a hoarse, guttural roar, a pulse of pure energy surges through the room like a shockwave. Every cell in your body lights up, electrified, buzzing; a dizzying euphoria unlike any you’ve felt before coursing through your blood. 

Across the island, voices cry out in delight, a symphony of life. The trees tremble and shake, invigorated and renewed, fresh buds bursting from the forest floor, blooming under the light of the full moon.

The harvests flourish, even the river swells in response to the call.

Death begets life, just as he promised.

And with every inch of your body alight and singing with pleasure, you can barely think much less protest (and why would you want to?) as Oikawa roughly yanks you around, hungry lips crashing against your own as his fingers pull and tear at your bloodstained dress. He wastes no time with foreplay, and you suspect only begrudgingly takes a moment to hoist you up against him and carry you to his bed.

There’s nothing gentle about the way he hauls your hips to his, sheathing his cock inside of your warm, tight cunt with one savage thrust, but you don’t care.

Not as you cling to him, fingernails raking along his shoulders as he presses your thighs further apart so he can fuck you deeper. It’s hard and rough and brutal, yet you moan for him all the same, his name a prayer swallowed up by feverish, claiming kisses.

Tonight, bathed in blood and the soft glow of moonlight, you offer your god everything.

—

“Look, look!” 

A small hand tugs at your skirt, and you glance down to find a little girl with pretty, dark curls holding up a crown of woven flowers.

“Do you like it?” she asks. 

Carefully, you take it from her, bringing it closer to examine. She watches you intently as you study it, lifting it this way and that to appraise her work, humming thoughtfully for good measure. “I think it’s beautiful work,” you tell her after a long enough pause, and you can’t help but smile at the way she lights up, preening under your praise. “Why don’t you go show your mama? I’m sure she’ll be very impressed.”

The girl nods rapidly, thanking you before skipping off in the direction of her parents. The sun’s hanging low in the sky, the fires already being readied for the night ahead. You’re not unaware of the watchful gaze that carefully monitors your every move, and the moves of anyone who ventures too close by. Soon enough, you’ll return home to the heart of the island – anticipation fluttering in your belly at the thought of what awaits you – but for now, you let your feet sink further into the sand, closing your eyes as you bask in the lingering warmth of the setting sun.

At least until the sound of your name being called draws you back to the present. Yet it’s not Iwaizumi approaching, but rather Makki, two strangers trailing along behind him. 

“Thought I’d find you here,” he grins, throwing a casual arm over your shoulders. “This is Kaneo,” he gestures to the man, “and his wife Manaka. They arrived this morning, I’ve been showing ‘em round.”

You turn to the couple, smiling sweetly as you extend a hand, “Welcome to the Commune.”

[harimenui-forever]

The problem with many c!Wilbur "healing" fics

I will not mention the fics by name. Even if you know the ones I'm going to use as an example, please do not harass the authors, they probably do not realize how harmful their writing is.

This is a critique of a certain trope many people in the L'manblr discord server have noticed popping up in the Wilbur Soot ao3 tag. It is a serious topic that has probably been discussed before, but to my knowledge nobody has made a long post about.

CW: discussions of mental health, ableism, abuse and savior complex

This is not a recent issue, there were many fics like this after November 16th, but it is a relevant one. I'm talking about the basement fics, the "Wilbur is stuck in the house with SBI and cannot do anything and it's for his own good" fics.

The issue with these fics is surprisingly not Wilbur's characterization, that one is sometimes really good (although sometimes it degrades over time as he "heals"), it's rather an issue of narrative and what it deems as acceptable and okay. Wilbur in these fics seems to be fighting not only SBI, but also the narrative and the writer. He is stuck in a house/basement/a bad situation and it's "for his own good", it's so "he can heal", but is it really?

Let's work with some examples:

1) In this fic Wilbur is revived and feels like he needs to rebuild the camarvan. It is something that means a lot to him as a person and he wants to go back to the good old times. The catch? When he sleeps Ghostbur basically possesses him and drags him to the cabin in the Arctic, ruining all his plans. The SBI in this have a different dynamic than in canon, so I will ignore the mischaracterization (poor c!Tommy tho). Wilbur is obviously frustrated, he's essentially trapped, he can't do anything to stop it. SBI insist that he should drop it and be with his family, that he's too focused on the past, but instead of actually hearing him out, his frustrations, his feelings get ignored. Then someone blows up all his hard work and he suffers another psychotic break as a result. However it's painted as being the result of people just not monitoring him enough and not the result of people never hearing him out. All his feelings are invalid in the end, he was wrong, he should stay with his family and never do anything on his own, never have dreams, never be independent again, because look how much it fucked him up, look at how bad he's at living, they're helping him don't you see...

2) The aforementioned "basement fics". (I've avoided these personally, so I do not know the details) By this I mean the fics in which c!Phil doesn't kill Wilbur and instead locks him up in a basement until he "feels better". He might be nice and loving, but that doesn't change the fact that Wilbur is trapped. I'd even say that it makes it more insidious. And of course this treatment magically works, even though it's essentially abuse.

3) In this last example we will talk about a fic where SBI find a way to bring back Ghostbur by "merging" him with Wilbur, resulting in an alter-like situation. It is without consent, Wilbur is clearly horrified, it is treated as a good thing, because the "horrible evil Wilbur is suffering and we can bring Ghostbur back by saying a code-word when he's being annoying, don't mind that it causes him severe emotional distress". (I have a feeling this was written by a minor tho, but still)

What does this tell us?

Wilbur is a character who is mentally ill. Mental illness is something that needs to be discussed when talking about a healing arc. The way these fics "heal" or "help" Wilbur is just ableist, it is cruel. Some come from a place of anger (the third example), but most of them come from the desire to help and that is horrifying. The "right way" of helping people who suffer from severe mental health issues (he's not only suicidal, although in most of these not actively, but also heavily psychotic-coded) is, according to these fics: family love, locking the person up until they are better, taking away their autonomy and making them rely on you.

This makes me very uncomfortable. Wilbur is not seen as a person here, his concerns and feelings are invalid, how dare a mentally ill person have a say in their own mental wellbeing. He is just someone to be cured, a project. How dare he struggle after he's been "cured". How dare he relapse. How dare he feel uncomfortable when he's being treated that way. How dare he have any agency, let's take that away at the end and call it a good thing.

In conclusion: These fics are ableist. They say that mentally ill people should not have any say in their own lives. They imply that completely taking away person's autonomy is a good thing.

This attitude is genuinely concerning and I hope this post helps to bring that into everyone's attention.

[jin0]

Chapter 4 : King Steven’s first royal negotiation

Summary : You were here, in his kingdom and one thing Steve was good at was learn from his mistakes. He wasn't going to miss his chance now, and you wouldn't miss yours either.

Pairing : Prince to King!Steve x Knight!Reader, Platonic Prince!Bucky x Knight!Reader

Warnings : 18+, Minors DNI, angst, smut, power dynamic, modern royal au, stevie being even sadder, groveling again

Knight In Shining Armor Masterlist

_________________________________________

Steve was in deep trouble.

You had been on his mind for so long, plaguing every single one of them, day and night. Dramatically invading his life with your absence, as if you had died or as if he had been this interested in you before. Spending so much time feeling guilty or simply missing you that it was starting to be ridiculous considering the fact that he was never this invested when you had been around.

You were everywhere, so violently present that he had completely forgotten about something way more important (not really for him) : his father was retiring in less than nine months. Which means he was to be coroneted king in less than nine months.

Yeah. He was fucked.

He had neglected his duties to heal his broken heart and find a way to get you back at your rightful place, by his side, but forgot that he would have a country to rule pretty soon. This meant a lot of things that he managed to avoid for a while. Like for example, arranged marriage proposals from neighborhood kingdoms. Again, Steve was beautiful so he had quite a lot of proposals but none interested him. You often made fun of him for that because these princess’s were the absolute most beautiful and talented women he could meet but still found a way to be picky. Even when he claimed not being a romantic. Now that he thought about it, maybe he simply did not want to ruin his chances at having the right one from the start.

Now that things had advanced and time was wearing thin, he did not have much of a choice anymore. The proposals were piling and while he engaged in the search like his parents had advised, he was absolutely not pleased about the whole thing. And this could be felt through the lack of interest he showed while meeting them.

But for once, for today, let’s not focus on that. Let’s focus on you. Because you might’ve left the castle but it doesn’t mean you don’t exist anymore !

When Bucky said you had settled well in the castle, he wasn’t lying. Maybe it was you superpower, being able to adapt jo matter where your were and all that in record time. The job was essentially the same anyways so you knew the ropes. The difference was in the way Bucky behaved, because one thing was for sure, he was not Steve.

Maybe that’s how they managed to get along so well, the fact that they both were always so different but similar in some ways. For example, the love they had for their families. Steve was an only child while Bucky had two older sisters and a younger one. Despite being alone most of his childhood, Steve found himself siblings around the world, Bucky being the first. The way both shared a very deep bound, they would do anything for each other.

Sometimes you felt guilty for accepting the job. You felt like you were betraying Steve and forcing him and his best friend in a useless battle. Maybe you were being a little dramatic. Most of the times you reminded yourself that truly, you were doing nothing wrong. Because Steve and you had nothing. You both had a boss/employee relationship, and yeah you did find yourself having feelings for him in you first year as his personal knight but that had all stopped when you saw the kinds of relationship he had with women. Not to slut shame him but… his tendencies spoke for themselves.

Maybe the little slip up that occurred twice would mean something and maybe you found yourself hoping for it to happen, but you also valued yourself and your time too much to waste in on a man that you know, was not necessarily the best with commitment. You were not going to ignore the red flags swinging in your face. Even when they took the form of a walking Adonis and made you want to get on your knees and let him do to you anything his mind could come up with. God, if Okoye could hear the things you were saying, she would probably not let you leave it down ever. But could you really be blamed ? His gaze had been enough to have you weak to your knees, all hot and bothered. Sometimes, if your mind felt like tormenting you enough, it would wander off to the salacious things he did to you on those two occasions you let him. And with shame, you had to admit that the throbbing in your center was instantaneous.

But to go back on topic, you felt good here. Maybe it was because Bucky actually behaved like a Prince that was also a grown man and not a horny teenager, or the very pleasing fact that you were already friends so he insisted on you two keeping this friendship instead of diving into a very awkward boss/employee relationship. You both mutually trusted and respected each other, he respected you work and you respected his.

This was another point that could be taken as you being petty but you got to be petty because after four years of being a glorified babysitter for a grown man of such high status, the least you could be allowed was a little pettiness.

One thing with Bucky was that he refused to be defenseless. He needed to be sure that if one day he was alone, he would be protected, he could defend himself. And that was the case for all the Barnes children. So you had taken on the task of training them too. This was probably his way of keeping you busy when he was occupied with meetings and paperwork. Being a prince was actually way more complicated than you expected.

When you took the job, you had been lucky that the Tour was beginning. You took this as an opportunity to get away, you needed it and your knew boss could see that too. He had taken you out with him as much as he could to not leave you alone and you were grateful. You got to see some of your friends again and that had been difficult while working under Steve.

Seeing him when you both came back had made you really happy, but you didn’t trust yourself enough to not let him fuck you again so you kept it professional. But now, the universe clearly had other plans for you.

“What…?”

You had been laying on the couch is Bucky’s office. Usually you would be training his sisters but they were all out, busy with their own lives. He was looking at you, refraining from laughing at your expression of absolutely shock.

“This is not funny Barnes ! What do you mean we have to go to Brooklyn for a few days ? Why ?” You exclaimed in a panic

“His dad-

“King Joseph ?! Is he okay ?!” You were making yourself panic even more at the possibility of King Joseph being unwell

“Well if you let me finish doll, I’ll be able to tell you.” Chuckled the brunette prince

You pinched your lips, giving him a smile and gesturing for him to continue.

“His dad is retiring soon. They’re announcing that Steve’s taking the throne and they want us there. My parents were supposed to tell you but they had to leave early. We’llbe going in three days so you should probably go pack your stuff. And take fancy stuff, we’ll mostly be attending balls and stuff like that.” Explained the young lan with a soft reassuring smile

You stood there looking at him while he went back to his papers. He could still feel your eyes on him and wad trying hard not to laugh at your behavior. When he lifted his head again and saw you basically pleading with your eyes he couldn’t help him, he wanted to laugh so he did. And that did not please you.

“Stop laughing at me ! I’ll push you down the stairs one day !” You threatened, poking his chest violently

“Oh you jumped to the threats fast this time, must have you really worked up to be seeing your Romeo, right Juliette ?” He teased, making kissing noises

“First of all, uncultured bimbo, if we had to compare this to anything it would be Tristan and Yseult, not Romeo and Juliette. Romeo and Juliette were children, and psychopath. Don’t associate me with this mess. Second, I don’t know if you remember but there was nothing between Steve and I, so don’t compare us to a romance.” You sassed, glaring at him

“Well maybe if you pulled your head out of your ass, you would be dating by now.”

The shoe you threw him was well deserved. And clearly he expected it because he smiled when it landed on his forehead.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about James, but I think you’ve got my relationship with Steve completely wrong. I don’t know what makes you think that we had a relationship. He was too busy fucking anything that moved and unfortunately I do move.” You said, going to take you shoe back

“You don’t need to act like you didn’t like the guy, I saw it from miles away the moment I stepped foot in the castle and saw you for the first time. You were basically drooling on the guy.”

If looks could kill, your gaze would’ve had you in prison for murdering the Prince.

“Do not play with me. I am not the one. And I will hit you James Buchanan Barnes, did it before and I will do it again.” You threatened once again. You did that a lot with him arouy

“Don’t like the truth, do you, pretty ?”

“I like the truth. Which is not what you’re giving me. He’s your best friend so you’re probably entertaining his bullshit. Well, not happening. Both of you can suck a butt. Steve and I simply slept with each other. His only problem here, the reason why he’s been throwing a hissy fit, is because he sees people as toys. But what happens when Andy’s toys start leaving him behind ? Finding better for themselves ? What if Buzz Lightyear could actually go to space ? Do you think he would give a flying fuck about Andy’s fucking comfort ? No ! Buzz would go to space ! Because he worked too fucking hard to let Andy be the reason why he should jeopardize his projects !” You declared, voice loud and resonating

Silence filled the room as you caught your breath after your very passionate speech about Toy Story and finding your dreams. You let out a sight and closed your eyes already feeling the mockeries from miles away. And you weren’t wrong when you heard his booming laugh resonate around the room. He was practically wheezing and had tears in the corner of his eyes. Why was everyone laughing at your issues lately ?

When he finally caught his breath and whipped the tears off his face, he slung his arm around you to pull you to his chest and pinch your cheeks.

“I can’t believe you just had a whole speech about Buzz Lightyear finding his own voice and letting Andy behind to symbolize yours and Steve’s relationship ! Are you supposed to be Buzz ? Cause I could see you in a Buzz Lightyear costume for our annual Halloween Party ! Oh that would epic !”

You shrugged him off, huffing and going back to sit on the couch with your arms crossed and a very displeased expression. He smiled, seating besides you.

“You know… If you give him a chance… Maybe he could prove to you that he’s not so bad. He’s my best friend so I’m biased-“

“Yeah you fucking are.” You cut off, pouting with crossed arms

“Woman, will you let me talk ?!”

You pinched you lips and sunk further into the couch.

“As I was saying, I might be biased but Steve was really different when he was with you. You were this… This constant in his life. And I can’t blame you honestly, he was being a jerk and I drilled his head about it, reminding him that he was a moron. But he also sucks at noticing his feelings and another woman’s feelings is definitely even worst. Maybe what you both need is to sit down and talk, really talk.” He advised calmly. You could see he was trying to help and not just Steve, but you too.

You sat there, contemplating his words. Bucky was nice. And smart too, that’s what you noticed first when you traveled with him. He had this way of finding the perfect remedy to a problem you didn’t even know you had. He made you think and thinking is what you avoided for a while. You didn’t want to think because you knew if you did you would run back to Brooklyn and at least try to get rid of all these things you had on your chest. Not to get a result or anything, just to be able to say it once and for all because keeping it all in was exhausting and you hated it. You huffed in annoyance, being an over thinker sucked.

“Fine. I’ll talk to him. I’ll give him a chance BUT ! I want you to know that nothing in this makes fucking sense.” You caved

“Yeah well, that’s life. Now go, you’ve got a bag to pack !”

~

Now, to go back on Steve, our poor prince was still fucked. Not necessarily for the marriage proposals, that was another set of problems that could possibly be fixed if things went the way he wanted. Now this was a thing Steve struggled with, understanding that things didn’t have to go the way he wanted them to. Life wasn’t supposed to make it easy for him, definitely not when he had been the main source of his problems.

But for now, his problem was that his best friend was coming to town. Soon. And you would be there too. His parents had told him the news as if it had been a simple weather update.

They watched him sink in his seat, sighing and mumbling to himself. He probably looked like he had the weight of the world on his shoulder and could we really blame him ? He had to deal with both romance drama and a political transition, centered around him ! This was definitely not a good time to be alive.

“Steven, I thought your problems with Y/N had been sorted out ? Didn’t you talk to her when they came back from the tour ?” The king was a busy man and a little clueless sometimes, but one thing about him is that he would find a way to not be useless because of it. He heard Steve sight loudly and bury his face in his hands. He did that a lot recently, life was tough.

“We… We didn’t talk. I didn’t think it would’ve been a good idea. Not when I feel like I have things to figure out first." He started, sighing in slight exhaustion. "And I honestly don’t know what I would tell her. She deserves something that makes, at least, a little bit of sense. Not me rambling for hours cause I don’t fucking know what to say…”

He had been so caught up in his own words that he cursed in front of his parents. He apologized silently before looking off in the distance. He thought about his speech for so long, writing a list of things that he imperatively needed to say, but each time he looked at the list he felt like none of it lade sense. He needed to be certain of what he wanted to say, to be honest but organized too. He needed you to see that he wasn’t just throwing a fit, he really wanted you. In a committed relationship with him.

Both parents were looking at him, slight smiles on their faces. He looked so lost, confused about what to do, and that was a good thing. They had been so used to their son’s nonchalant behavior, always confident and assured in his actions, even when he didn’t really think it through. This was rare to see him truly prepare things in advance or think this deeply about a relationship. Because while he was impulsive, he was carved to be a perfect King. His skills way left people amazed because it was like being confronted to a completely different person. He was trusted to be good, even better than his father. The problem was whether or not he would find a queen as good as Queen Sarah. This was going to be difficult.

“Steve, do you love this woman ?”

The look he threw his father was not one of surprise or even confusion. He looked like a man who knew the answer, with absolute certainty. He just never really admitted it out loud and that left him a little scared.

Did he really love her ? Was he really ready to give her everything he could and everything she asked for ? Was he ready to hold onto her for as long as the universe allowed ? Was he really ready for this type of commitment ? Yes. Yes you are, you’ve always been.

The answers were always there, they just terrified him. Accepting the shift in your relationship and the way you could possibly react after dealing with the , seemingly, worst version of him for four long years. That was scary, terrifying even. Because so many events would tell him that you weren’t interested. You couldn’t possibly be, not after you had to spend the last four years having to get rid of the physical proof of his incapacity to maintain a relationship or truly be committed.

That was enough of an answer and he knew that because the thought of things being reversed haunted him. The thought of you being the one sleeping with different men that were never him until the very last moment, that tortured him. The thought of someone else touching your skin, kissing it, your cheeks or lips, entering you and invading your insides, making you squirm and moan in pleasure. That was too painful for him to imagine, but even worst when he thought of the possibility of someone else making you laugh, cuddling you, holding you body and your heart in their hands. That was the final blow.

He was selfish. He didn’t even have your answer to his feelings. He didn’t confess them to your or himself ! He wasn’t in any capacity to think that you being happy with someone else hurt him, or simply to think that you were his. But he did anyways, because no matter what, no matter how painful that was for him, he would let you go if you told him no. Because he would do whatever you told him. Just like he wished you were his, he was already yours and he begged to any power above that he would be able to tell you, with pride and a heart that kept on swelling because of how much he truly loved you.

“Yeah. Yeah I’m in love for her. With everything I have”

God, that felt good. Saying it out loud for once, admitting it to the world.

His parent’s smile grew wider, finally, the development they waited for and have waited for.

“Do you love her enough to be with her ?”

This time Steve looked confused, but not the kind that said that he didn’t know the answer. This was the kinds that meant that the answer was evident.

“Mom…. I love her to the point of having her be queen besides me.”

That was new. That was definitely new, and it made things a little less confused for the parents who still, deep down, expected their son to be interested in a relationship but not as long term as this. He was dead serious too, which made it even more exiting for them.

“Are you sure you fully understand the things you’re implying son ? Because there is nothing more serious than choosing a Queen. Even more when the choice as refused you for so long. Do you really think this is a good idea Steven ?”

The young prince straightened himself under his parents gaze, taking a breath before smiling sadly.

“I’m choosing her. She’s the one I love and want seating by my side on the throne. But if she rejects me, which would be understandable, I’ll back off and find another queen. As painful as it’ll be, I’ll find someone else. But please, don’t expect me to love this other person. Because anyone after her won’t be good enough for me. Sorry.”

Hearing him speak this clearly and practically without thinking made it a hundred time clearer for the parents. Steve needed time to truly take in everything he was feeling and wanting. He needed time to understand that it was okay and that he was going to be fine.

“Well dear, you’re in luck because she’s going to be around for a little while so take the opportunity and talk to her, tell her everything you want her to know and do not keep anything to yourself. Because one thing about this girl, that I cannot believe you ignored, is that she values honesty and clarity. So do that, be honest and clear.” Smiled the Queen softly. She was proud of her son and she couldn't hide it.

Steve stood up from his chair, smiling happily and honestly for the first time in a while. He couldn’t believe it either but he felt do light and refreshed, he could finally breath. For someone with asthma it was very important.

He would have to stop the search for a queen, which was not a problem, he had just agreed to one last, the supposedly best choice in the list. Said choice he avoided for as long as possible because the court though the world of her so they would press his choice to be turned to her which he did not want at all. Hopefully, you would be his before he had to meet her.

~

When the day came and you arrived at the Royal Palace of Brooklyn, both Steve and you seemed to be buried by anxiety. It was funny to see for the outside viewer because you both were so different from usually and you didn’t seem to notice it. When Bucky came to get you (because he did that, you didn’t need to wake him up), you were already awake, ready to go simply pacing in your room. You were mumbling and practically threw a shoe at him when you noticed because you had been surprised.

You tried to bargain your way put of the whole deal, arguing that it wasn’t necessary to talk when he possibly could’ve forgotten you existed. You had been shut down and decided to rehears your comebacks if he pushed your buttons, which he did a lot.

When you arrived, your luggage were taken care of earlier in the day while you prepared for the evening. You had worn a dress that emphasized your curves while also keeping you comfortable and appropriately dressed for the event. The dress had you smiling slightly, it reminded you of the one you wore the night you slept with Steve for the first time. Maybe you should’ve reacted differently but it made you feel nostalgic, in a good way.

When you got down, you rapidly went to greet Bucky’s parents which both complimented your appearance and thanked you once more for putting up with their son. You deserved it clearly since he was forcing you to communicate with people too, you weren’t paid for that but you like him enough to listen. Also he had told Okoye, and she was at the party, eyeing you like a hawk with her smile. It’s like she was waiting for the future king’s grand arrival, and she didn’t have to wait long. When you heard the trumpets and the doors open, the royal family stepping in, both the parents entering first and standing over the balcony before turning to their son.

The moment you saw him, you stopped breathing, you couldn’t do it, if you did you would miss too much. He was so always beautiful but right now, he was absolutely incredible. You spent four years with him but never really could tell if he was growing up or not, he always looked the same to you. But here, this ? This was a man, a man that was going to be perfect for this country and adored for. As lo’g as he was remembered. You knew it, you always did but seeing him just proved it even more.

Your heart was literally hammering against your chest, so hard you felt like you might’ve been going through a heart attack or some kind of violent reaction to too many emotions at once. You genuinely couldn’t tell if it was normal or not but the voice in your head that you had been pushing down for all those years, she was louder today, not just screaming, wailing. She needed you to listen, and you did : you were in love for Steve. So in love it made you dizzy and you needed to hold onto Bucky for a second. You could feel his eyes on you, asking you if you were fine in silence. You felt like your entire world was spinning, you were panicking. The fear of rejection, the possibility of a break-up because of his status, the possibilities of simply not being good for him or the country, all this was violently hitting you and you didn’t even notice your heavy breathing or Okoye creeping up behind you to try and settle you. Look at me, breath, calm down you’re safe, all these words you knew by heart, she always used those to calm you down when you were going through panic attacks and it was so hard to do. You didn’t want to attract attention and you were lucky because the King was doing a speech which kept everyone focused.

You tried to raise your head but you were practically sure that you would fall backwards if you did. You still tried it and that’s when you caught it, his eyes, looking straight at you with so much concern and gentleness. He was looking at you without a care in the world for what was going on around, making you feel like you were the world. Because you were, to him you were the world.

You hadn’t noticed how you weren’t hyperventilating anymore or clutching on Bucky’s jacket. Both him and Okoye looked up to see Steve staring and you and smiled. Both of you were so in love it was blinding and surprising how you didn’t notice.

Steve had hoped you would be there and the joy he felt when he saw you had him all soft and warm. He had been more anxious at the thought of seeing you tonight than he had been about being announced as a kind, he definitely was a man with his priorities straight.

When he saw you, he had been so happy that he completely ignored his best friend right besides you. He could only see you and how beautiful you were, this dress was the cherry on top. All the things he was refraining from thinking about you, they were crashing against the corners of his cranium.

The possibilities he wished he had to kiss you again, all over your body, tasting your skin as if it was the sweetest thing he had ever tasted. You were absolutely intoxicating to him, your sent still lingering around him and centering all his thoughts around you. He never really felt guilty for the way his body reacted but feeling his cock twitch in his pants made him despise his incapacity to keep his composure when he would look at you. He had been dreaming of you, the way he wished to have your hands on him again carving his back and as much skin as you could reach as a sign of your pleasure while he drove himself deeper in you.

His thoughts were getting too far when he noticed the way you were slightly shaking, not because you were cold but because you were struggling, struggling to breath properly. You were panicking and at this moment he wanted to jump in the crowd and run to you to encase you in his arms as you would slowly calm down. You had panicked once before and he remembered how hard it was for you to catch your breath because you were in public so you tried to refrain from attracting too much attention. He had covered your head with his jacket and dragged you out of the room, keeping you in place with his hands on your waist as he breathed in and out with you.

He was begging for you to look at him, pleading silently for your eyes to look up. When you did he tried to silently ask you to breath silently but he probably looked like a clown because you were looking at him without moving. He didn’t really care, by the time you were fine, he would accept anything, even having to watch you whisper something to Bucky and basically run out the room. His eyes turned to his best friend and he felt comfort in the discreet thumbs up he received, everything was okay. Now would it stop him from running out to you the moment he could ? Absolutely not.

~

You needed more air, and time. You couldn’t do it, not now, not when you had a panic attack because you saw him. You were too unprepared to let this happened. You needed to run and hide for as long as you could before going back to your task.

When you stood up from the floor in the room you had entered without paying much attention, you noticed the look of terror you were carrying on your face. You exhaled and practiced smiles in the mirror, spinning in surprise when you heard the door open. When you saw Steve enter the room you cursed under your breath, you really didn’t need to see him right now.

“Are you okay ? I saw you looked a little sick from up there. If you need a room to sleep, I can ask for one.” Asked the blond prince, worry thick in his words

You turned to him, a tight smile on your lips.

“Nope, I’m fine, I can’t slack off anyways. I’m still on duty.”

You tried to walk past him but he caught your arm and brought you back in front of him.

“Princess I nee-"

“Please don’t call me that.” Your voice was cold, cutting through him like a knife. He would need to brace himself.

“Fine... I need to talk to you. About… About that night…”

“What for ? It’s nothing. We slept together, point blank period. It’s not something that needs much discussion is it ? You do it all the time anyways.”

“It is different though. With you it is. It’s important and I need to discuss it with you. I need to tell you something important.”

You shook his arm off and exhaled, you knew you promised to talk to him but god you couldn’t. You didn’t feel ready, all you felt was anger.

“Listen your highness. I’m really trying my best to move on and let the both of us learn from this experience. It was a mistake and is not to be done again. You’re probably sad you lost a good hookup to keep around and I’m sorry for you but I’m not going to let myself be treated like a sex doll because you’re lazy and you don’t want to go back out there to look for another one.” You spat, intending to be mean but unable to truly be. Not with him at least.

This was painful to say and seeing the look of disappointment on his face made it painful to see.

“Is this what you think ? That I’m keeping you around to sleep with you ?” He questioned, pained by the realization that possibility he wanted to avoid was exactly what had happened.

“Whet else is there ? You never showed any other interest why would it change now ? What is so different now ?” You replied. You were trying to be as nonchalant as possible but he wasn't making it easy.

“The fact that now I know that I’m in love with you. I hope that this would change things between us, or at least open a conversation.”

Your breath caught in your throat. You were absolutely speechless and that could be either extremely good or extremely bad.

You kept your eyes fixated on him and his face. This couldn’t be real, you had wanted this for years, wishing to have him look at you and confess his love to you. You might’ve kept it hidden but it never stopped you from fantasizing and hoping in silence. But now ? Now it didn’t look as dreamy as you wished. Maybe it could was because you spent years dealing with his games and the fact that he never cared about commitment but it wasn’t right. You couldn’t accept it.

“No.”

The simple word caught him off guard, it was simple but he stared at you for so long, he had lost his train of thoughts.

“No ?” Repeated the young man

“No. I’m not going to let you play me like that. Not anymore, not because you’re fucking bored. Absolutely fucking not.” You snarled through gritted teeth

He tried to cut you off as you started pacing around the room in anger.

“You think you can just waltz in and tell me you love me and I’ll fall for you ? Who do you take me for ? You spend four years subjecting me to your fucking games and suddenly, out off the blue you love me Steven ?! That’s not fucking fair ! I spent the last four years lying to myself about my feelings for you because you’re a fucking idiot and I deserve better than this but you pulling this is so fucked up ?" You were fuming, anger so visible on your face that anyone would've been unable to see the pain that was also present in your eyes. "How far exactly do you intend on going for the sake of having fun ?! Is that it ?! Did you run out of fucking occupation so now you go around confessing supposed feelings to the first person you cross ?! Are you out of your mind ?!”

“If you let me speak I would be able to explain myself Princess…” He begged, reaching out towards you to call you down

“I don’t need your fucking explanations and stop calling me that ! You lost the fucking privilege to do that when I quit this fucking job ! You had so fucking long to confess you’re fucking feelings ! And why now anyways ? Nothing changed about me but now you love me ? Now you care about me ?! No, I’m not going to let you break me again !” You cried out anger still high and overflowing in you.

You were ready to push him out of the way to get out, you couldn’t stay here anymore, you wanted to run out of here. Bucky was wrong, this idea was complete trash and you would hate him later for that.

You were about to leave when he held your wrist again and pulled you to his chest, sneaking his arms around your waist and holding you as tight as he could. He couldn’t let you leave before he said everything he could.

“I know you hate me and probably think I’m the worst but please don’t let this make you think that I’m not serious about the way I feel. I know I took a long time to understand that maybe I didn’t just crave attention from you and I’m sorry for all of that. But fuck, I love you so fucking much it makes me feel sick because there is no way someone can feel this much love for someone else in their life. I genuinely can’t stand it because now I feel speechless every time I look at you and I don’t get speechless, ever. And so many dumb ideas could’ve been avoided if I wasn’t so scared of you leaving me but now all I want is to be honest with you and hope that at least you’ll look at me as a friend. So please, don’t leave just yet.” He revealed, loosing control over his emotions.

He was pleading, voice soft as honey and sweet enough to have your teeth rotting in a minute. You could feel his arms sag a little around you, giving you the opportunity to slip away from him if you wanted to. You didn’t move, keeping yourself close to his chest, feeling his heart hammer against his ribcage and against your back. You could feel tears well up in your eyes, completely out of breath even though you hadn’t really said anything in a while. You could feel it, his sent covering you from head to toe and his breathing loud enough for you to feel over the middle of your head.

When you dropped your shoulders in defeat, his head dropped on yours, nose buried in your cocoa butter scented hair, god you smelled so good. His hands which were dangling on his sides heated up fast when he felt you grab him by the wrists and wrap yourself in his arms. He smiled softly, you were accepting him in your space.

“Do you really mean it...? What you said about loving me ?” You asked, whispering as if talking any louder could ruin everything.

He smiled even wider, turning you in his grasp. He slowly and delicately held your face, so gently you were practically floating.

“I mean every fucking word I said, and I’ll tell you for as long as you want and as I can. I love you princess, so much that I don’t know what to do with myself. Can you help me figure it out ?”

You chuckled, always time for jokes with him. You missed it, his way of always being relaxed even in the most serious and stress inducing situations.

“I hope I’ll be enough for you Stevie…”

You squealed when you felt him lift you up, feet floating above the floor, and kiss you. Your arms snaked around his neck and held him close, your hand running through his hair. God you had missed him, his warmth, his sent, the feeling of his lips on yours. All of this was yours now, and all of you were his.

He couldn’t believe it, all of this had to be a dream. You were here, with him. Kissing him, holding him. He could feel you against him, so close you might as well have been merged together. He could taste you, your lips warm and soft against his, fuck, he could kiss you for years.

The feeling of your tender lips against his, growing numb but more hungrier for each other as the seconds passed. You could feel his tongue explore your mouth and you couldn’t help the way you felt yourself throb and drench your panties. You were growing so desperate for him, your hands griping on his jacket with need. You needed air but clearly he didn’t because when you tired to pull away his lips kept following your, pecking you with as much need as you.

“P-Please… S-Stevie please... Wai- Hold on, Steve please, just a sec-“

“Baby, please I promise... I’ll talk to you as much as you want but please let me kiss you a little more…” He whined, lips still attached to yours.

You exhaled, pretty much moaning against his lips, you would need to use strength on him. You wrapped a leg around his back, pulling his hips closer to you again held the base of his neck with one hand while the other held his hair a little tight. He couldn’t help but moan against you, feeling your heat again the tip of his hard cock, straining his slacks.

“Be good and I promise to be just as good to you later, okay ?” You offered, voice sultry and so enticing.

The tone of your voice was enough to have him on his knees and he didn’t even consider your words. You were always good to him so the thought of you possibly being even more good made him even harder, and you could feel it.

“Fine… Anything for you little knight. But how exactly am I going back out there like this ? You can fly by, I can’t, do you feel what you did to me ?”

He tried to change your mind by grinding against you and that was going to work but one of you had to be rational here, the party was for him, for his announcement. He needed to be out there before they noticed that the future king had escaped again.

“I don’t know baby, you should think of something that could cool you down like, I don’t kno-"

“Your highness, are you in there ? Your presence is needed outside.”

You tried to keep in a laugh as your prince dropped his head in defeat.

“Something like that for example !” You laughed, pointing towards the door.

He glared at you, trying to be as menacing as he could but you looked so adorable laughing against him, he couldn’t blame you. And you weren’t wrong, John Walker’s voice was the cold shower he need. He shivered in disgust, he really hated that guy.

You looked up at him with loving eyes and he felt himself melt. He could get use to that, very very well. Your loving eyes on him, as you readjusted his suit with diligence.

“Now, should I be vexed that you replaced me with John Walker ?” You asked teasingly.

“Don’t be.” He dropped his head on yours in defeat, for a guy this happy, he was defeated a lot tonight. You lifted his chin softly, dropping a kiss on the side of his jaw to settle him. “My parents hired him because I was being a little shit. It’s punishment for not being willing to replace you with anyone. Since I wasn’t cooperative, they took the folder you made and chose the guy you specifically said I would hate the most.”

You smiled, mocking him silently. This man had a gift to put himself in unfortunate situations.

“This is what you get for being stupid Steven, play stupid games win stupid prizes.”

“Yeah I think I’ve had my fill of stupid prizes for a lifetime.”

When you were done you help the sides of his face to bring him down to you and kiss his lips, cheek and forehead. When he tried to kiss you, you blocked his lips with your fingers.

“I know you enough to know that if I let you kiss me now you won’t leave, your highness. You have to go, you can’t have John Walker wait too long.”

He let out a heavy, exaggerated sigh. Way to ruin the mood, he thought. He walked to the door and before exiting, kissed your forehead. He would give you much more kisses later, and have you close to him, all night catching up on the missed moments together.

You let him slip out of the room hiding from John as he scanned over the room with his eyes before leaving. Not too long after, it was your turn to slip out and you were surprised by both Bucky and Okoye. They looked at you with knowing smiles, watching you smile too and attempt, failing pathetically, to hide it a little. But how could you ? You were in love.

~

The rest of the night was a little more interesting than you expected. While Steve maintained his composure as best as he could, he couldn’t help but sneak glances at you, smiling wickedly in an attempt to seduce you. It was working, but he was being followed by John at all times and honestly, the desire to trip the man and watch him break his face was growing higher and higher every second.

Over time, both King Joseph and Queen Sarah noticed their son’s behavior, the young man bubblier than ever and being as bright as the sun. They were busy people, not blind or stupid, they could see the way he would look at you and the way you would smile a little wider, straightening your back and hiding your face a little, they knew. They knew and they couldn’t be happier, because they could see their little boy come back, become himself again, and that was the biggest joy a parent could ever feel.

The rest of the night went incredibly well, Steve was not only charming everyone in sight, he was already building connections that even his dad had struggled with in the past. He had been amazing and you silently congratulated him with slight smiles from afar and whispers of ‘I love you’. When it was time to leave, he greeted everyone and once reaching the last guest he smiled.

“Look at out future king of America, already stealing hearts left to right and having his heart stolen at the same time, what an epic timing you’ve got there Stevie.”

He smiled at his best friend, hugging him with a bright smile. It felt good to have him back, good ol’ Steve and his diamond like smile. Both shared a few words and before leaving, Bucky shared a few last words.

“I’ll let two together for a few days, you both need it. And I wouldn’t want to be the one to break the honeymoon phase and have to deal with two lovesick puppies.”

The blond man laughed, kicking his best friend slightly. He would thank him later for that, for now he just needed you.

He finished greeting his last guests and said goodbye to his parents who were offering themselves a little vacation to prepare for retirement. More than thirty years on the throne, they needed to learn how to rest all over again. In the mean time, Steve would have the whole castle all for himself, and for you. He had sent all the employees home, even managing to get rid of John Walker and if he could do that, he could basically do anything.

He ran up the stairs to his room, he didn’t remember himself ever being this fast or eager to get in his space but he was clearly, practically breaking the door when he opened it. He couldn’t wait and he didn’t have to, here you were, watching the night sky from his balcony. He sneaked up behind you, letting his arms wrap around you and pull you closer. He felt you shiver while leaning your head against his shoulder and smiled.

“You did good out there, your highness. So, so, so good… Is it okay to say that I’m proud ?”

“Is that even a question ? You being proud of me is all I need doll.”

He felt you turn in his arms and closed his eyes, groaning when he felt your ass run against his bulge. Your nose was rubbing against the muscles of his neck, extended and ready to let you use him however you wanted. Your lips ghosting over his jaw and biting small pieces of skin and licking the redness away. He had grabbed the hand that wasn’t holding onto the neckline of his shirt and unbuttoning it slowly. Once you were done you let your hand graze over his chest, you had completely forgotten how well built Steve was. You let your hand wander lower and now, while feeling his bulge growing against your palm, you were reminded of how small you were under him. The absolutely destructive things he could do to you, nothing could prepare you for him.

“You done having fun little knight ? You don’t even know what to do anymore do you ? You don’t wanna think no more, do you baby ?” The way his hands cradled your face had you soft and pliant. You wanted him to take care of you. When you nodded against his palm, holding his wrist with both your hands and begging with your eyes, he could only smile. “It’s okay princess, I’ve got you. I’ll do so many things to you, keep you all nice and full of my cock to catch up on lost time, you want that ? You like my idea baby ? Tell me.”

God, this man was going to kill you. The deepness in his voice had you sinking like the Titanic and you were clearly the ocean too in this movie, your panties serving no use as your slick was already running in between your thighs. It was like he was able to smell it, one hand keeping your neck in place so that you wouldn’t hide your face while his fingers reached down to gather some of your juice to lick it off his fingers. He could see the way you shivered under his eyes, your body far from cold.

In a swift move, his hand came to hoist you up and throw you over his shoulder. You let out a noise that would usually embarrass you but you were too busy to be embarrassed right now. You help onto the back of his shirt, whimpering slightly and throbbing violently as his hands came to massage your ass, fingers grazing your folds and making you dizzy with need. You entire body was burning, begging for him to fill you up and use you to store gallons of his cum.

This time, instead of throwing you in the bed, he brought you down slowly and you took the opportunity to get on your knees on the mattress. You face was right in front of his stomach and when you looked a little lower, you felt his pulsating cock send heat waves all over you. You looked up at him and nuzzled against his hand, he liked to see you do that. Your eyes were staring straight at him, feeling so small under him it made your insides twist, you wanted him to break you like you knew he could.

Steve stared down at you, eyes dark and hooded with lust as your parted lips took his clothed tip in. He sucked in a breath, eye twitching at the sensation. He hadn’t had sex in months and the simple dream of you had him jerking off like a teenager, so having your lips against his length was going to push him over the edge for sure. Your hot tongue, licking and sucking onto the fabric and onto the head of his cock, he could feel it all. Your fingers were holding the waistband of his pants, tugging on his belt with impatience. He pulled you back by the base of your neck, playing with your bottom lip with his thumb. He leaned down and captured your lips, shoving his tongue in your mouth. God, you felt so hot against him, sucking on his tongue desperately taking everything he gave you even though he didn’t really give you much yet.

The way you were moaning against his lips, grinding against the bedsheets, your pussy soaking the fabric but giving you the friction you desperately needed. His mouth was still on yours and so were his eyes, watching you carefully as you breathed louder and louder, moaning as you pleasured yourself as if he wasn’t even there, watching you. You were absolutely, breathtaking, grinding against the bed, still fully clothed. He was ready to tear your clothes off and let you keep doing what you desire. You’re so adorable, taking what you need, where you could and ignoring all disturbance around. You were comfortable like that in front of him and he was ready to watch you for hours, ignoring his own throbbing cock, probably leaking cum already.

He tried to detach himself of you but when he heard you whine and beg for him to stay close, reaching your hands at him and clawing at his skin, he couldn’t simply let you go like that.

“Fuck, look at you begging like a desperate little cumslut. I haven’t touched you yet but you’re already drenching the sheets. You want my cock don’t you, princess ? You wanna feel me all tight in your little throat ? Making you all full, tummy full of cum ? You need it don’t baby ?”

And fuck yeah, you do.

“Please, please, please Stevie, give it to me.”

He smiles watching you plead as he seating down and unbuckling his belt before throwing it to the side. He watched you crawl out of the bed and place yourself between his thick, veiny thighs. They looked massive, you couldn’t wait to feel them pound against you again. You pulled down on his pants, making him comfortable as you started at his bulge. He was pulsating against your nose, begging to be relieved.

When you took him out, a breath he didn’t know he was holding escaped his mouth. He leaned on his hands, watching you work him out however you wanted. You could use him, that’s what he wanted.

When you saw the red and angry length, vibrating against you, your mouth went dry. You already had only a few thoughts right now and they were all gone the moment you saw the way his cock simply needed you. You ignored the fact that you were drenching the carpeted floor around the bed, just wanting him in your throat.

You small hand goes to grab him, wrapped around his girth and stroking him slowly. You lick a strip from the base to the tip, kissing it while keeping your eyes on him. He was so veiny and swollen, he looked about ready to explode and you wanted him to do that inside you.

When you took him in your mouth, swallowing him whole, you felt tears well up in your eyes. You could feel the air run out already, mouth so full you could feel him take space in the back of your throat and gag on him already.

“It’s okay baby, ease up, take your time…”

You nodded slowly, pulling him out before starting to bob your head. Your nose was grazing his lower belly every time you would swallow his shaft. You were already gagging so when his heavy hand found its way against your head and helped you take him even deeper than you already were, you’re eyes started to roll back. Your drool was already covering the base of his glistening cock, drenched in pre-cum and saliva. You’re hand was fondling with his testicles, pulling loud groans out of him. You were being absolutely perfect, lips squeezing him tight and letting your tongue travel around him.

“You’re doing so good baby, taking me so well. You wanna have me fill your throat too ?”

You nodded vividly, moaning around him. That was it, he knew he wouldn’t last too long, and you knew him. You could feel the way his thickness was throbbing inside your mouth as you kept bobbing your head like a good girl. Your nails were marking his thighs from how tight you were holding. You let him slip out of your mouth and his protests were rapidly replaced by loud moans and his two hands holding your head and you sucked on his balls.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck doll, fuck, keep going, you’re doing so good… So, so, so fucking good…”

You took him fully one last time, sucking in your cheeks around him and moaning as you bobbed your head around him. He was holding your jaw tightly, fucking your face roughly and basking in the sound of you gagging on his cock. He could feel the swell of his tip when he touched your throat and he couldn’t help but smile, biting his lower lip and throwing his head back, as you fucked your face against him. That was probably not the most romantic situation but fuck, he was so in love for you.

He felt a familiar knot grow in his stomach, watching you bob your head a few more time before he spilled his hot, white cum in your throat, filling it up. He smiled in contempt, taking a moment to enjoy the mind-blowing blow job he just received.

He watched you pull his dick out of your mouth and swallow every drop of cum he had given you. His firm hand, still holding your jaw, looked at her with amusement as you kept licking his shaft, clearly still not having enough.

“Fuck… My perfect princess, this mouth is gonna be the death of me.”

In a swift movement you were lifted up from the floor and placed on his lap, your hands griping on his shoulder as his tongue explored your mouth once again, tasting his own spend. His hands took the opportunity to roam you body and uncover it. You felt his fingers against your thighs, getting higher and higher, and playing with the elastic band of your panties. They didn’t serve much purpose anymore, as they were completely soaked in your slick.

You were so aroused that you couldn’t breath already, after a kiss. Feeling his hands over your lower body kept you throbbing and gushing over him. Your body needed him, needed to be full again, you were desperate, your cunt clenching around nothing. You needed more, grinding shamelessly on his muscular thighs. He pulled away, breathing heavily and smiling in amusement, you were insatiable.

“Look at you, greedy little cunt all wet when I didn’t even play with you yet.”

“Stevie please, I need to cum please I can’t wait anymore…”

Your please always did something to him, having him weak to his knees and ready to do anything to please you. He could feel the way you were leaking all over him and his mouth watered at the thought of your juices dripping in his mouth. He needed to taste you before properly fucking you.

He flipped you over, laying you on the mattress, and started undressing you with haste. Pulling down the top of your dress, he sucked in a breath when he was met with your uncovered breasts. His thumbs rolled around your nipples, hard and waiting to be played with, oh that he intended on doing.

“Look at you, walking around all night without a bra. You really wanted me to fuck you didn’t you princess ? You wanted me to see your tits and play with them in front of everyone ? I bet you would’ve love that, my insatiable little cumslut.”

You were whining and shaking under him at the degradation. You wanted him to use you like a toy, play with your body however he desired and for as long as he wanted.

He pulled your dress down and threw it to the side of the room before focusing on your panties. He started playing with the elastic band again, smiling at how utterly drenched they were. Without anymore drama, he pulled them off of you, balling them up and bringing them to his nose to inhale the sent of your wetness. You watched in awe as he started to fist his cock over you, moaning obscenely in the piece of fabric.

“You smell so good, Doll… All sweet for me, ready to be devoured.”

He stopped stroking himself and tucked the underwear away, in his pocket, before pulling down his pants fully and letting them fall at his ankles. He stepped outside of them stood in front of the bed admiring you just like you admired him.

Here you were, breathless, nipples hard and legs parted, ready for him to invade your tight pussy. You looked at him with lustful eyes as he slowly placed himself between your thighs. Your hands came up to his face, caressing it gently and letting your thumb run over his bottom lip before traveling lower. You let yourself explore his chest, firm and warm, watching the way he waited for you to let your fingers wander even lower. When they reached his throbbing member, you smiled watching him throw his head back from the feeling of your fingers on him. He had your mouth full not too long ago and still wanted more, needed more.

“Be careful love, if you keep playing, you might not be prepared for the consequences.”

You used the little strength you gathered and rose up, leaning on your hands and getting closer to his face.

“I’ll take everything you give me your highness.”

Now he knew you truly intended on killing him. There was no way of denying that.

He softly pushed you back down and pulled your legs to him, parting them roughly before diving in and licking your folds. He inhales your scent, shuddering breath leaving your throat and keeping you aroused. You think you’ve felt his tongue on you before ? You’re going to rediscover it tonight.

You feel his fingers part you folds and lick your insides, his long fingers already driving her insane, his tongue deepening the pleasure by smoothly gliding inside you and lapping at your clit. You could feel his burning stare looking straight at you as you squirmed in pleasure, begging for more in a string of incoherent words.

“F-Fuck ! Stevie please, more ! Please, please oh my god, please !”

He chuckled and you squealed in surprise at the sensation. You could feel his tongue write his name inside you, marking you as his from the inside. Your hands found their way to his hair, griping them tightly and pushing his face further into you cunt. This simple motion had him throbbing violently, seeking relief against the bed sheets as he started grinding against them. His body responded instinctively, feeling the wet spot you had left there earlier.

The way he worked his tongue against you, reveling in the way you were fucking yourself on his tongue kept you both in a daze, needing to feel the other to extents you didn’t even know were possible. The flick of his tongue against your clit was incredible, he wasn’t letting a drop of you out of his mouth, quenching his thirst with you. You whine in discontent when one of his hand leaves you to reach up to your face, finding the opportunity to calm you down a little with his reassuring palm. You’re okay baby, you can let go, you don’t need to hold it. He’s making sure you don’t hold in your orgasms, he wants to taste you fully.

“B-Baby, Stevie please ! Please, I’m so close please !”

“It’s okay princess, cum on my face. Let me taste how sweet you are.”

And like the good, pliant girl he knows you are, you obey and cum all over his face, drenching it in your juices. He keeps his eyes fixated on you, watching you unfold under him. He would never get sick of saying it but you were the most beautiful being in the entire universe. You were everything, his sun, you were everything and he would never give up on the dizzy feeling he got just from looking at you. All his thoughts turned around you, at all time and he never wanted it to be any other way.

He raised himself to his full height, watching you shaking from the passing orgasm. You were so out of it, looking as wrecked as ever and he hadn’t fucked you like he wished to yet. Even as you came down from your high, you kept you thighs parted, pussy throbbing and clenching around nothing, begging for him to fill you up nice and good. You hands reached up, looking for him, and held onto his extended forearms as he presented them to you.

He was looking at you, taking in your appearance and the way you found comfort in his presence. In this exact moment, something in his head started resonating, screaming louder than ever that he needed to fuck you, keep you wrapped around him. The thing is, it didn’t simply want to fuck, you, it wanted to breed you full of his cum, growing his children. The thought of having you be the mother of his children erased the little rational though that could’ve been crossing his mind and erasing all these ideas. He felt like a fucking caveman but fuck, all these images of you walking around the castle all nice and round, waddling your way around the place, that was the perfect picture.

“Baby ? Steve ?”

He snapped out of his thoughts and focused his eyes back on your face, covered in concern as he seemed to not be paying attention to you anymore. Aww, babydoll wants all my intention.

“Scared that I forgot you princess ? You don’t like it when I zone out, do you ?”

You turned your face, avoiding his eyes for the first time tonight, feeling your face warm up. You were already flushed all over from the things he did to you but words like those made you feel embarrassed. He laughed at your behavior, you found ways to be embarrassed at the weirdest times, and buried his face in the crook or your neck, kissing the side of your jaw. It had already been established that you were the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted but the way your warm skin felt against his lips. Your taste, sweet like honey and smelling like both vanilla and citrus, was burning in his senses.

He couldn’t wait anymore and as he saw the way you were looking at him, he knew you needed it too. With no further delay, he positioned himself at your entrance and held your waist to keep you in place. You arched your back, finally feeling his full girth as he sheathed himself deep inside you. You couldn’t breath, too caught up in how thick he was truly. You remembered the previous times you felt him, the first you were drunk, the second, you were angry. Now you weren’t too different but something was different. You couldn’t point it out but you felt so full, full to the point of feeling him burn himself all in you. You let out your most obscene and embarrassing moans, feeling your voice break and your legs quiver violently.

He pulled out of you and you finally felt you lungs function again. Taking as much air as you could, most of it left you in a matter of second as he filled your tight cunt again, but going deeper this time. How big is this man ?! You thought, and he could see the panic in your features, pecking your lips softly and distracting you from the violent invasion you were going through.

“Relax baby, I’m practically all in, I promise I’ll make it all go away soon. You can relax for me ?”

You nodded eagerly, too out of it to notice the way he was attempting to keep his voice steady. You were so tight around him, he couldn’t believe how you were squeezing him this much, even while soaking his cock in your glistening slick. You were so wet around him, he could swim in it, but your warm velvety walls were so nicely wrapped around him, he was scared of splitting you in two. He gave you all the time you needed to get used to him, starting with slow stokes. When he heard your moans fill up the room, that’s when he went all out. Raising himself slightly over you to let you breath, he kept his forehead pressed against yours, watching you face contort in pleasure. He didn’t waste anymore time abusing you willing body, his cock burying it’s in you, balls slamming against the back of your thighs as he bent and pressed them against your chest. Watching the way your pussy was swallowing his girth whole was absolutely mesmerizing.

Your moans turned into screams, wails of pleasure echoing around the room and in his head. The only thing, other than his groans and your cries were the sounds of skin slapping and wet sounds resonating with the movements of his cock plowing into you.

“F-Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck Stevie oh my god, Stevie ! F- Ah ! Please !”

“You like that don’t you princess ? My cock making you go all stupid ? You want me to give you more don’t you ?”

You couldn’t do anything else but nod mindlessly, how could you speak when he was hammering into that soft spongy spot in you that would have you do anything he told you. He was ravaging you from the inside, ruining you and molding your pussy around his cock.

His lips, still on your forehead, travel to your ear and let’s our deep growl that resonate through your ear drums and your body. Your arms, wrapped tightly around his shoulder and marking his back with laceration, signs of the destructive pleasure you feel. His controlled and rough pace, making your body feel so small and light as it rocks back and forth with the bed, squeaking violently and hitting the wall behind it. Your legs shift position and wrap around his waist, crossing and digging into his ass.

All the pent up desire and need to have you as truly his, all he’s felt for the past months, he’s fucking it into you and lord, you feel so good. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and crossed, lips parted and letting out the loudest sounds you could, looking as fucked as ever. There is absolutely no thought behind your eyes, only taking him and what he wants you to take, throbbing cock pulsating inside of you, ready to explode.

You both feel the control slip away fast, his weight falling over you and keeping you pinned to the mattress. His thrust turn needy, desperate even, for release. You’re squeezing him so tight, signaling that you’re close.

“F-Fuck… Princess, you gotta cum for me doll.”

He’s begging for you to cum, if you don’t he wont, not before you. He grips your wrists and slams them against the bedsheets, pounding into you even harder, ready to fill you up, full of his cum.

“F-Fuck… You feel that doll ? My cock, all the way in your tummy… I’ll fill you up all nice, you wanna be full of cum don’t you baby ?”

“Yes, yes, yes yes please yes Stevie, please, please Stevie, please.”

“Look at you, all wet and squeezing me. I’ll have you all nice and round full of my babies, don’t you want that baby ? You want me to put a baby in your tummy ? Have you carrying my heirs ?”

You were too fucked out to know what you were agreeing to, all your brain registered was the idea of him putting a baby in you, fuck yes you wanted that. Be full of his babies forever, carrying the mark that you were his and he was yours.

Seeing you nod eagerly, agreeing to be the mother of his kids broke him and his sanity. He didn’t feel like he could be anymore in love for you but he was and he didn’t think he would ever stop falling.

You instantly went dry, your hand guiding his to your core and rubbing you clit as your face took an expression of pure bliss. The bubble of build up pleasure explodes inside you as you cum violently over his cock.

“Oh my God, fuck, fuck, fuck, yes oh my god yes”

Your body gets showered with a wave of pleasure, sending shock waves all thoughts your shaking legs and quivering cunt. You pull your man close to you, lips covering his and letting him swallow your moans as he lets himself chant your name like a sinner confessing his deepest darkest secrets in hope for forgiveness. His face, covered in a deep blush, you part away from his lips, nuzzling your face against his and encouraging his orgasm as if yours was even passed yet.

“G-Give me everything, baby… Keep me all full and leaking your cum for days.”

He groans and lets him cum cover your insides. His strokes maintain the same strength but his rhythm is desperate and unstable. You grind against his skin, helping him ride his own high. As he feels himself calm down a little, he keeps on grinding his spent inside you, keeping it in. He knew you were on birth control, but he still wanted to hope, and he could see in your eyes, dazed but loving, that you hoped a little too.

He dropped on his side, keeping himself buried to the hilt and brought you up high enough to have your face above his. His nose rubbed your neck, inhaling your scent and basking in your post orgasm glow. He let his lips wander around your collarbones and bit into your flesh lightly, sucking and kissing it. As he was kissing your skin, he felt your legs wrap against his waist and your arms wrap around his shoulder, hands coming to softly play with his blond locks. His hips still softly grinding on you, the tip of his cock leaking in your warm folds. The way his arms squeezed you in his embrace, keeping you tight beneath him and enjoying the way you were moaning and giggling.

You both felt so soft and peaceful, basking in each other’s presence. You were in love and nothing could take you away from each other now. You would learn how to work out a relationship with each other, a romantic one, and you couldn’t wait. Because no matter what, there was no one who you’d rather be doing this with.

_________________________________________

TAGLIST ! :

@becca-e-barnes , @ilymarkchan ,@everythingbutnormal

[garkgatiss]

Is Connie Prince important? Like as in metaphors, mirrors or anything like that? Because I’ve never seen a meta about her, but it seems strange that such a minor character like that has a blog for herself and titled “beauty queen of hearts”

Connie Prince sure does have a tie-in blog! And honestly I'd completely forgotten about until I was rewatching TGG a few days ago and had an epiphany, so you really could not have chosen a more perfect moment to send this ask.

They use Connie's blog to establish its unreliability. Specifically, to establish unreliability using Connie's age.

When Connie Prince's death is first reported on TV, the marquee gives her age as 48. But a moment later, Lestrade walks into the morgue and reads from the police report that Connie Prince was 54. On Connie's blog, her bio gives her own age as 36, and on the message board, we can see that Molly seems to have been under the impression that Connie was 32(!! Molly, honey). Thus from the outset, we have reason to question the information on Connie's blog and the reliability of the message board (and also the info on TV!).

Connie Prince's murder is the third of the five pips in TGG, and is the only one for which Sherlock is unable to save the hostage. The hostage, the blind woman, begins to describe Moriarty's voice just before the sniper triggers her explosive vest. Sherlock insists that this is why she was killed, and that he was still essentially right about his solution to the case.

However. Sherlock gets all the information he uses to solve this case from Connie's blog and other various gossip sources, combined with a call to the Home Secretary, who provides him with Raoul's Botox order history. He doesn't interview either her brother, Kenny Prince, or the staff person who reported her death, Raoul de Santos, and instead sends John to interview them and then disregards everything he has to say about them.

The thing about Connie being a beauty guru is that she specializes in creating façades, and Sherlock is taken in by it — taken in by the public-facing blog, the message board gossip, the shortcut that allows him to "get one up" on his adversary, so he thinks.

Sherlock also begins this case with the conversation with Lestrade where he suggests the mystery bomber is either a "good Samaritan" or a "bad Samaritan", unable to offer a unifying explanation that encompasses both the motivation to expose suspicious deaths as murders and press-gang suicide bombers.

John leaves the Prince home certain that the murder was carried out by Kenny using Sekhmet the cat, Sekhmet of course being the Egyptian goddess of both war and healing (sound familiar?) but Sherlock is insistent that this theory is too clever for Kenny to have come up with, basing his poor estimation of Kenny's cleverness on outward impressions and third-hand information (sound familiar???).

When John and Sherlock are back in 221B, watching the police arrest Raoul de Santos on TV, the final shot is of Kenny Prince standing in the window. The camera zooms in on him, and though it only lasts a moment, the very last thing we see is Kenny holding Sekhmet the cat and very nearly smiling.

The clue is, yet again, in the name. De Santos, saints, innocent. Connie Prince was murdered by her own brother Kenny, and Raoul de Santos was framed. The whole motive described by Sherlock — Connie bullying Kenny on TV, their falling out, Connie threatening to disinherit him — gives more motive to Kenny than to Raoul. What really happened? Kenny could easily have asked Raoul to order extra Botox, could have been ordering it himself using Raoul's account, etc. Raoul's perspective of what happened is also fascinating to contemplate — Raoul was the one to offer the original cause of death explanation as the cut on the hand, which we know was done after the fact, suggesting that Raoul still felt implicated somehow and needed to create a cover story. Did Kenny create a Barry Berwick situation for Raoul, like what we see at the beginning of this episode, where due to some lapse in memory Raoul believed that he mistakenly injected Connie with a fatal dose of Botox? Did Kenny arrange it so it seemed like he was selflessly offering to help Raoul cover for his crime? Classic noir trope, by the way.

(Also, "too clever for the brother?" Isn't Moriarty meant to be coming up with these murder schemes anyway? This isn't necessarily meta, it's just that they realize as they're watching Raoul be arrested that their bomber is acting as a "consulting criminal" but they never go back to three seconds ago and revisit how "clever" Kenny would have had to have been with the cat. But that's neither here nor there, as far as I can tell.)

ANYWAY. Sherlock underestimated the murderer's cleverness, relied on black-and-white thinking and third-hand gossip, failed to look past a façade to synthesize and fully understand his adversary, got it wrong, and people died. That's why Connie Prince has a tie-in blog.

[gamerwoo]

[Tales from the Pack] Joshua: Second Chance (Part Three)

Characters: Joshua x female reader

Genre/warnings: werewolf au, fantasy, fluff, some fluffy angst too so it’s not really angst is it lmao

Word count: 1,988

Summary: After his mate died, Joshua always blamed himself and never wanted to imprint again. However, fate has other ideas when he meets you: a young, energetic werecoyote that’s quite the opposite of him. He insists he doesn’t want a new mate – nobody’s even sure if he’s ready for a new one – but he can’t ignore his instincts.

Previous | Next | Second Chance Masterlist

“Oh,” the girl beside you seemed surprised that your eyes opened, squinting against the light, “you’re awake. How do you feel?”

You only groaned in reply. You definitely didn’t feel as awful as you recalled, but you still didn’t feel good.

“We’ve cleaned the remaining wolfsbane from your system, so you should make a full recovery,” the girl told you, her voice soft and soothing.

She definitely didn’t look like she was from here. She had brown skin, round eyes, and long black hair that she kept clipped back away from her face. Had you seen her before when you were dying? No, you couldn’t tell. Your memories from then were too foggy.

Wait, you were dying. How were you alive?

You opened your mouth to speak, but your eyes finally adjusted enough where you could see the person laying on a cot behind the girl. His eyes were closed, and you couldn’t tell if he was passed out or sleeping, but you just felt very strongly toward him. Much stronger than you’d felt about anybody ever. He was absolutely beautiful, and all you wanted to do was walk the couple feet of space between your cot and his to stroke his hair and cheek.

You didn’t know why you felt so strongly about a stranger, but you also weren’t questioning it. You were a curious person, yes, but you tended to just roll with the punches.

The girl noticed your gaze had drifted behind her, and she chuckled, “Would you like to be closer? It’s better for mates to heal if they’re as close as possible, and he needs all the healing he can get.”

Mates? That wasn’t something you’d heard about before, but you could probably guess what it implied. Either way, your head was nodding before your brain could really think much about it.

The girl stood and moved her stool out of the way before wheeling your cot closer to his until they were pressed together. Your face was almost right next to his now, and you observed every single detail of him. You didn’t even know his name or anything about him, but your heart and your instincts already told you you’d do anything for him.

“They’re cute,” Minjee commented once she entered the room as her partner continued to stand by the doorway and watch the two of you.

Prajya hummed in reply, her hand finding Minjee’s, “I don’t think the girl knows anything about herself. I told her he’s her mate and she seemed a little clueless.”

“Well, she is young,” Minjee noted. “Maybe nobody’s told her about creatures like her.”

Prajya nodded slowly before turning her head to look at her partner, “Did things with the other wolf go well?”

Minjee nodded, “Perfect, actually. Sura’s just finishing a few minor things and getting him settled into a bed to recover. His brother and the girls are still waiting in the living room.”

“I should go see if they need anything,” Prajya decided, pressing a quick kiss to Minjee’s cheek before she left.

Minjee turned back to the two of you after her girlfriend had left, but saw that you weren’t awake anymore. Your eyes were closed, one of your hands resting on Joshua’s as he slept. Minjee smiled to herself, thinking both of you looked like you were doing better already.

-

Josh still wasn’t awake. Even Hansol had woken up before his older brother did. Wonwoo had already brought Soomin and Suvi back to the house, and Joshua still wasn’t awake. It worried Hansol that he was asleep for so long, but Minjee assured him it was just because he had exerted his power too much.

“Is he going to get it back...?” Hansol wondered, his yellow eyes warily watching Joshua sleep beside you.

“Yes, with time,” Minjee replied with a warm smile. “You really have nothing to worry about, Hansol. Besides, he has his mate with him, so the healing will be faster.”

“Yeah, if he isn’t stubborn about it,” he muttered to himself, the human girl unable to make out what he said.

That was something else that was worrying Hansol. Joshua already had a mate and lost her. Would he really be so open about a new mate? Even if he did use the remaining energy he had in him just to save you, he did that on pure instinct. It didn’t necessarily mean things would go smoothly when he’d wake up.

“Who is she, anyway?” Kyung wondered, nodding her head in your direction. 

You were still sleeping beside him, your hand still in his. Neither of you had even moved, either, but Minjee also promised that was nothing to worry about.

“I’m not sure of her name,” Minjee sighed, “but my partners and I found her when we were out checking traps one night. My mate, Sura, knows where some of the werewolf hunters place traps regularly. He likes to patrol them and see if anyone was caught so we can help. We found her in one of them. Sura said she might be a werecoyote.”

“Werecoyote?” Hansol repeated.

The doctor nodded, “Yes. He noticed she doesn’t smell quite like werewolf, but she’s definitely something.”

The two mated wolves could admit they noticed the same thing but kept to themselves about it. They thought maybe it was just because of the wolfsbane.

The pair looked between the two of you. While Joshua seemed peaceful now, both Hansol and Kyung weren’t sure how he’d react when he woke up. They could practically already see the sour look on his face before grumbling something about not wanting a new mate. They hoped maybe they’d be wrong, but…

“What do you think she’ll do if he denies her?” Kyung wondered to her mate, unsure if you’d be as patient and understanding as Hansol. They didn’t know anything about you.

Hansol let out a quiet sigh, “I don’t know, but they’ll both just...eventually...” he didn’t even want to say it, but after a beat of silence, he quietly said, “die.”

-

“Werecoyotes are creatures I’ve never encountered,” Soomin hummed thoughtfully as she flipped through Beom’s book of creatures.

Once Wonwoo had returned home with her and Suvi, the youngest excitedly began talking about how Joshua had imprinted and saved his new mate. Meanwhile, the rest of the pack seemed shocked and almost horrified. They knew how Joshua was, and they knew he wouldn’t want another mate. What happened with Lilly messed him up pretty badly, but it also made him afraid of himself for a long time. He’d be too scared to be with someone else.

While Suvi was explaining what happened and the pack began spewing questions, Soomin was already looking through Beom’s stuff to find some answers.

“I think Beom had told me a story or two of werecoyotes, though,” Soomin continued.

“I met a few,” Yeji chimed in. “They didn’t really seem too different from you guys.”

“They’re not -- not really, other than some minor stuff,” Soomin said after finally reaching the page she was looking for. She scanned it over, using her finger to guide her eyes. “Overall, they’re essentially the same, just a little weaker -- smaller, not as strong, but they are a little quicker because of their smaller size. It makes them more agile.”

“Anyone can outrun that old man,” Jeonghan scoffed.

“Who’s the oldest, anyway?” Suvi asked.

“Nobody really knows anymore, but we just assume it’s Josh,” Jun shrugged. “Years start to blend together after a while.”

“Speaking of not knowing things,” Danbi spoke up as she looked around the packed living room, “where’s Soonyoung?”

“It’s nighttime, so he’s in town,” Jihoon sighed.

“I thought we were still being careful?”

“Since when does Soonyoung follow rules?” Seungcheol asked with a quirked brow.

Soomin cleared her throat to grab the pack’s attention and bring them back to the bigger matter at hand: you. Once they were paying attention again, she continued, “Werecoyotes have the same heightened senses, the same weaknesses, and the same instincts as werewolves. However, because they’re smaller and weaker, they recover slower and are more likely to die from things like silver bullets.”

“So Joshua’s new mate is essentially a hyperactive accident-prone child?” Wonwoo snorted.

Soomin frowned, finally looking up from the book to look at her mate, “That’s mean. And she may very well act mature. Just because they’re faster than werewolves doesn’t make them hyper.”

“You said werecoyotes are just werewolves, basically,” Jeonghan shrugged. “You’ve seen our pack.”

Seungcheol nodded, “Seokmin specifically.”

“Hey,” the young wolf whined.

“Let’s not judge her just yet,” Soomin sighed.

Jihoon raised his eyebrows, “You didn’t even meet her?”

“She was passed out,” Suvi was the one to explain. “Her and Joshua were sleeping beside each other when we left.”

“I wish I could be there when they wake up,” Seungkwan chuckled. “I’m sure that’ll be a mess.”

-

It wasn’t until the sun was about to peak over the horizon that Josh finally groaned and rubbed his eyes with one hand. The other felt warm with a light weight in it that kept him from moving it.

Wait…

The older wolf’s eyes opened before slowly looking to his left hand. He saw another hand in his and his eyes followed the arm up to the owner. He recognized your face. Not only did he remember what had happened as soon as he saw you, but he was bombarded with your face in his dreams -- well, more like nightmares. All he dreamt about was you and Lilly.

He wanted to snatch his hand away. He wanted to growl at you and wake you up and tell you to keep your hands to yourself. He wanted to yell at you to not touch him.

But he was too exhausted to do anything but lay there and glare at you with golden eyes.

“Oh, good,” a voice made him turn his head, “you’re finally awake.”

Joshua was briefly introduced to Prajya during his first check-up. She was a nice girl, but she had a little...bite to her. Josh liked her from the get go.

“See you’ve noticed your little friend,” Prajya chuckled. “You don’t seem too fond of her, though.”

His face scrunched up in almost disgust, “What is that?”

Prajya let out a snort at his reaction to his mate.

In your sleep, your nose wiggled a few times before you reached up to scratch it. Joshua rolled his eyes feeling his heart swell at how cute you seemed. He wanted his instincts to fuck off.

“I think you already know,” she replied in amusement.

“Who is she?” he asked.

The foreign girl just shrugged, “Beats me. We didn’t get a name from her or where she came from or anything.”

Unable to resist the curiosity, he slowly wondered, “...What happened to her?”

“Caught in a net that had barbs laced with wolfsbane,” she sighed as she leaned back against a wall and studied your face. “We were sure she was going to die until you showed up and--”

“Don’t,” he said sharply before dropping his tone to be only grumpy rather than angry, “mention it.”

Prajya just shrugged, “If you didn’t want it mentioned, you shouldn’t have done it. Kyung was right, you are a grumpy old man.”

He let out an exasperated sigh. Of course Kyung was gossiping with her old friends about him. The new alpha was a piece of work.

But she wasn’t really wrong, and even he knew that.

Prajya was silent as she watched Joshua watch you. It was clear that even though he openly showed his distaste for his new mate, his instincts were strong and hard to ignore. Even through the disgust and annoyance on his face, Prajya could see the love and adoration clear in his eyes.

The grumpy, old werewolf, and the young, carefree werecoyote. This would be interesting to see.

[doyouevenshipbr0]

gruvia drabble

author’s note: ok. hi. here we are again. i go on a 1948392 year hiatus and then become inspired to write something from the most RANDOM thing. but this was too good to pass up. so essentially i saw a headcannon by @incorrect-ft-ez-quotes and then @bbygirljuvi added onto it:) look at my most recent reblog for reference if u want hehehe. yeah ok maybe i did add some bs healing abilities to juvia’s powers... sue me! ok here we gooooo i hope u cuties enjoy!!!

*

“Popsicle,” Natsu sighed. “What the hell are you doin’ back here?” He held his door in one hand as he stared at a recently familiar face.

“What, a guy can’t stop by and visit his best friend?” Gray nervously chuckled.

Happy and Natsu weren’t buying it, exchanging suspicious looks as Gray impatiently stood at the door frame.

“Best friend?” Natsu rose an eyebrow.

“And for the 4th day in a row?” Happy jabbed, hovering beside Natsu’s head

“Would ya’ just let me in?” Gray spat out, clearly looking jittery.

“Fine.” Natsu groaned, stepping aside so Gray could step in.

“But we’re gonna’ start charging rent!” Happy exclaimed.

“Whatever, I don’t care, just as long as I can hang out here for a little while.” Gray hustled in, plopping himself onto Natsu’s worn down couch.

“Ok, you can stay here on one condition, tell me what it is you’re freaking out about. And gimme’ the real reason you’ve been comin’ here.” Natsu folded his arms.

“Aye!” Happy mimicked Natsu, crossing his little paws.

Gray let out a groan, bowing his head between his legs before whipping his head back up. “It’s Juvia, ok!?”

“Juvia?” Happy asked.

“But, you haven’t tried avoiding her in forever. You guys have been all buddy-buddy lately.” Natsu was trying to piece this all together in his head.

Gray blushed, averting his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I guess you could say that.”

“So what’s the deal?” Natsu was doing his best to get straight to the point, as nuance was not his strong suit.

“W-well... we... kind of... sort of...” Gray scratched at the back of his head, searching for the gall to say it. “We got drunk the other night at the guild, and then I went to walk her home since she was pretty wasted, and...one thing lead to another and... we almost kissed.”

Natsu was as confused as ever. “So?”

“So?!”

“Well, don’t ya’ like her?”

“W-well-!” Gray stammered, and gave out a defeated sigh, bowing his head again. “Yeah.” He mumbled to the point that Natsu or Happy could barely hear him.

“So then why don’t you wanna’ smooch her?” Happy was almost as dense as Natsu.

“Gah! You guys don’t get it!” Gray sprung up. “Forget it. I’m gonna’ find a new hiding spot. Preferably, one that asks less questions.”

Just as Gray made his way to Natsu’s front door, there was a sudden knock. Gray froze in his tracks as a chill went up his spine. He had a knack for this sort of thing, knowing when Juvia’s around, and that chill only ever meant one thing.

“Shit.”

Gray needed an escape route, but his head wasn’t on straight. He frantically scoured the little house, looking from wall to wall, but there was only one door, and Gray was just feet away from it.

“Natsu, whatever you do, don’t-“

“Be there in a sec’!” Natsu shouted at the door.

“You idiot!” Gray whisper yelled.

Natsu opened the door to none other than Juvia. She was known for her expressive nature. The look on her face could tell you anything you want to know, without her having to say a word.

“Hi, Natsu-san.” Juvia said both frantically and nervously. “Juvia was just wondering if Gray-sama was here.” She held her hands together promptly, hoping that he would be there.

“Actually Gray-“ Natsu was cut off at the sound of shattering glass. He instinctively spun around to a disastrous scene, displaying a broken window, shards of glass everywhere, and no Gray to be found. “Just left.” Natsu finished the thought differently than he originally intended.

Juvia heard the shattering too, and she had her answer. Her Gray-dar never failed her. Using her Gray-dar she quickly scurried to the back of the house, crossing her fingers that Gray hadn’t gotten away yet. The first thing she heard was a hiss of pain, and as she turned the corner, there sat her Gray in the ground, holding his bloody knee.

“Son of a bitch!” Gray yelled in pain, applying more pressure to his cut knee. Sure, he was used to getting beaten to a pulp in a fight, but he wasn’t exactly expecting a busted up knee right about now.

“Gray-sama!” Juvia’s eyes widened at the blood, and she hurried to his side.

Gray finally realized her presence. He stopped writhing in pain for a moment, and tried to appear as casual as usual. “Oh...” He forced a laugh. “Hey Juvia. what are you doin’ here?”

“Juvia should be asking you the same thing.” She knelt by Gray’s side. “But first, let Juvia help.”

“I’m fine.”

“Let Juvia see it, Gray-sama.”

He sighed, giving in and releasing his hold. Juvia quickly took her hands and placed them on Gray’s knee. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and suddenly her hands became water, but it wasn’t normal water. It was soothing, and it was making the stinging in Gray’s knee go away.

“Juvia has been working on some healing techniques. It’s nothing like Wendy, but I can heal some minor, surface-level things.” She explained, using her water hands to massage the area.

“Now that Juvia has finally caught you, why have you been avoiding me?” She finally looked at Gray who blushed at the sudden eye contact.

“I haven’t.” Gray tried to sound as natural as possible.

All Juvia had to do was give him a look that practically screamed “oh, please.” before he cracked. “Ok, fine. I’ve been avoiding you.”

“Juvia knows!” She exclaimed.

“I just don’t want things to be awkward between us!” He explained.

“But you don’t think avoiding me for days would make it awkward?” Juvia finally finished his knee and reverted her hands back to normal.

Gray groaned. “You’re right.” He ran his hand through his hair, trying to hide his face.

“Is this about... the other night?” Juvia finally asked.

“Do ya’ really have to even ask?” Gray avoided eye contact.

“But Juvia thought the night went well! I had a lot of fun!”

“So did I! Until...” He cut himself off.

“Until we almost kissed?” Juvia finished it for him.

“Yeah.”

“I see.” Juvia paused. “Are Juvia’s lips chapped?”

“Huh?” He finally peaked up at her.

“Or did Juvia have something in her teeth maybe?” She was going into panic mode.

“No that’s not-“

Juvia cut him off with as gasp, and her hands slapped against her mouth. “Or does Juvia’s breath stink?! Is that it?!”

“Would you knock it off!” Gray finally stopped her. “It doesn’t have to do with any of that stuff.

“Oh.” Juvia sunk. “So Gray-sama just does not want to kiss Juvia then.”

“No!” He instantly cut off that thought, even though he was embarrassed by how eager he sounded. “Not that either.” He grumbled.

“Then..?”

“We were drunk. Yes, we were having fun and all, but, I dunno’.” Gray grumbled, looking for the right words. “We haven’t had our first kiss yet. So when we do, I want it to be... kinda’... special. I guess. In a way.” Gray finished with some filler words to try and take the heat away from his face, but it was no use.

“S-s-special?! Gray-sama wants our kiss to be special?!” Juvia lit up, almost freezing in time waiting for someone to pinch her, because she figured this had to be a dream. However, she still was a bit lost, so she put a pause on her momentary fantasy. “Wait, so then why have you been avoiding me?”

“Because I didn’t know how to tell you all that. I was trying to buy some time until I could figure out what to say.” Gray released a deep exhale. “But I guess I’ve said it all now.”

“You sure have.” Juvia said giddily right before she launched herself at Gray, tightly clutching Gray’s shoulders in her arms as her cheek was pressed up firmly against his.

“Gah!” Gray shouted in surprise, trying to keep his balance as Juvia leeched onto him. They were still sitting, but she almost knocked him flat on his back.

“But you know what, Gray-sama?” Juvia broke her clutch, making sure she was looking right at Gray.

“What?” He looked down at her curiously.

“Juvia thinks every moment with Gray-sama is special. So to Juvia, any time is perfect for a first kiss.” She smiled so sweetly is made Gray’s heart just about burst.

“Yeah?” Gray felt the corner of his mouth tug up.

“Yep.” She nodded in assurance.

“If you say so.”

And without a second thought, Gray closed the gap between them, planting a sweet and soft kiss on Juvia’s lips. As they parted, they leaned in and pressed their foreheads against each other, both wearing matching grins.

“That looked pretty special from in here!” Happy interjected from inside the house, followed by Natsu’s laughter.

Gray and Juvia jumped, startled by the sudden noise. “Happy, shut it!” Gray turned his head, looking through what used to be a window, and seeing Natsu and Happy standing in their living room.

“Maybe we wouldn’t be able to hear you two slobbering on each other if there was a window here!” Natsu yelled, referring to the gaping hole in the middle of his wall.

“We were not slobbering, you moron!” Gray blushed furiously, finally standing up and facing Natsu.

“That’s what it looked like to me!” Natsu teased back, wearing a devious smile.

“Aye!” Happy seconded.

“Mind your business, flame-for-brains!”

“Next time you need to hide out for a week, you ain’t comin’ here!” Natsu shouted.

“Fine by me.” Gray scoffed.

He then looked back at Juvia as she appeared a little on edge, wondering if she was going to have to break up a fight between Gray and Natsu.

He grinned once again, at the girl he couldn’t wait to spend more special time with, making more memories, and growing even closer

He reached for Juvia’s hand and squeezed it. “I was gettin’ tired of running away anyway.”

[imaginesupply]

Homecoming - Chapter One

Chapter Two can be found here

(Gif’s not my own.)

Summary: The day has arrived, Captain Syverson is going home. For good, this time. He is going home to a civilian life he can hardly remember and a wife he barely knows, with memories of the war still fresh on his mind. Love might not be able to heal everything on its own, but it’s a good start.

Genres: Romance, drama.

Story warnings: Smut (always fully consensual), mentions of PTSD and nightmares and mental health, angst, hurt and comfort, fluff, mentions of war (minor), mentions of cheating (minor), mentions of pregnancy (very minor), police appearance (very minor), violence (very minor).

Notes:

It’s my first time writing for one of Henry’s characters and I’m unsure I did Sy’s character any justice.

This is a Capt. Syverson x OFC (Ada) story, written in 3rd person POV but OFC’s physical description is very limited so it could also be read as Capt. Syverson x Reader, I think.

English is not my first language, so there might be some mistakes. Proofread, but not beta’ed. We die like men and all that.

Timeline is a little wacky: The movie takes place in 2003 and the U.S. forces were withdrawn from Iraq in 2011, but I never set a precise date because I don’t think it’s essential for this story. However, some elements might not be realistic because if we set this story in 2003: Phone cameras  quality was not as good as it’s now, but for the purpose of the chapters, I will need you to imagine you could film great videos with your flip phone haha. Plus, it says Sy is coming back after being deployed for more than three years which makes no sense unless we set this in 2006 or later. I am asking you disregard any time inconsistencies 

Also: I am not American. I only lived in the US for six months and it was in the Midwest, not Texas so please bear with me if I write something stupid.

Finally: This is pretty much a Christmas fic and I intend to post the last chapter (there will be seven in total) on or before Christmas. However, religion is never mentioned in this story and the Christmas-sy elements of this story are limited to family gathering, gift giving and tree decorating.

Chapter One starts after the cut. Let me know if you wish to be tagged in the new chapters.

Chapter One

Chapter warnings: Badly written smut (consensual), marriage awkwardness, alcohol consumption. Maybe OOC Sy, I don’t know. We never saw him being casual.

Sy checked his phone again as he waited for his bag by the baggage carousel. The airport was even busier than usual, it was taking ages and he was impatient to get out of there... and maybe even never set foot in an airport again for the rest of his life.

He read her text again, short and sweet. He sometimes called her that, short and sweet, just to tease her. Ada was considerably shorter than him and full of sugar, when she wanted to be, that was.

'I'm waiting by the gate for you, with a warm cinnabon :) So excited to see you again <3.'

Just then a notification popped up from Harper. It was a photo of the soldier at the airport, finally reunited with his wife and his two rugrats. It made Sy all the more excited to see Ada again, and then as if on cue, his camo bag appeared in the carousel and he groaned with relief.

He stood restless amidst the line, it seemed people in front of him were dragging their feet, but when they noticed his green beret uniform, most parted and let him through. Sy tipped his head gratefully.  

His wife was there, just outside the gate. Sy spotted her instantly in the crowd of people. She was wearing a red dress under her open coat and her hair looked fresh out of the hairdresser. He caught himself grinning at the sight of her. Then, once she spotted him making his way over to her, she started waving her hand excitedly as if there was any way his eyes hadn't already landed on her. He wished he still had his phone in hand to capture this moment for all of eternity, but his memory would have to do, he decided before casting his arms open for his wife. Fuck, did he love her!

°°°

Ada had been biting her nails nervously for the past two hours. She had arrived at the airport way too early. The parking fee would hurt but she couldn't find it in herself to care at this point.

Three weeks ago, she had received a call informing her that her husband and part of his unit had been ambushed. There had been an explosion in some building they were scouting only God knows where.

Only a full week after that did she receive a call from Sy himself. He was coming home. For good, this time. They were sending him home early, a full eight months earlier than what he had originally negotiated with his superiors. She hadn't been prepared for the news. She had spent the days following the call asking herself whether she had heard him right, making sure her mind wasn't playing tricks on her.

Now he was here, stopping right in front of her, his thick arms inviting her right in for a hug. Ada wouldn't have been able to resist the invitation even if she had wanted to. Within a second, she was enveloped in his embrace, her cheek pressed against his chest. She was overjoyed to feel his heartbeat again. Sy kisses the crown of her head before putting her down, his hands never leaving her lower back, his fingers big enough to reach the swell of her bum from there.

They pulled away a few inches to take each other in. His beard has grown a little long, but it was not enough to hide his apparent dimples as he smiled. He looked a little older too, she hadn't seen in seven months, except through a shitty quality facetime call once or twice. Her careful gaze spotted the new scar by his temple, it was the only visible physical evidence of the explosion he had been caught in. She dreaded what she might under his uniform.

Sy caught her eyes and she found herself blushing under his stare. It was always like that the first few hours when he was back, until she got used to his overwhelming presence again and to the fact that this handsome bear of a man was indeed her husband.

"You're looking good, darlin'," Sy grinned, making her spin for him. "I missed you."

Ada couldn’t resist his smile. "I missed you too, Sy." She confessed, handing him the still warm cinnamon roll in its paper bag.

He accepted the pastry with a smile and started eating it immediately but not before throwing his arm around her shoulders as they began making their way to the parking lot. Sy was eager to get her out of the crowd and have her just to him himself.

"So, what's the plan, darlin'?" Sy inquired with mischief to his voice, balling up the paper bag with his free hand and throwing it inside the trash can. "Did you book that hotel with the jacuzzi in the bedroom again?"

It had become a tradition of some sort between them. They would always spend his first night back at that hotel: they'd order some room service and eat in the jacuzzi. Though, usually, they would first end up on together on the bed.

Ada stopped suddenly in her tracks, making him still behind her. She smiled sheepishly. "Don't be mad," she started, his smile falling at once, "but your family is waiting for us in the parking lot. Your mom insisted that we celebrate your homecoming at the restaurant. Something about you missing Thanksgiving just by a couple days."

Sy groaned, thinking about the evening that now expected him. He'd been flying for God knows how many hours, all he wanted was a warm bath and Ada whichever way she'd let him have her, not a damn dinner party.

"I'm sorry, Sy."

He shook his head and leaned down to kiss her forehead again. "Don't worry, darlin'. I know it ain’t your fault."

As soon as they reached the open-air parking lot, Sy's nephew and niece start running up to him, having escaped their parents' grasp. His family was waiting for him with cheers and a 'welcome home, soldier' banner. Sy hated that kind of attention and she found it cringy as well, but she had been unable to stop his mother. Ada watched him hug the kids and lift them up into the air, making them laugh as she walked up to the machine to pay the fee.

Her hand trembled as she inserted the ticket into the slot, missing the opening a few times. She was happy - no, scratch that - she was ecstatic to have her husband back. It's just that, could you really say 'back' when there was never truly a 'before', a 'there'?

They had met when he was already deployed, but on a short leave back in Austin. They spent three weeks together, got married and he returned to Iraq. Since then, the longest stretch of time they had been together had been twenty days. Neither of them had ever gotten settled into married life and now he was 'back'. For good. Which was wonderful and foreign and overwhelming all at once.

Ada paid the fee and returned to join them, finding Sy hugging his mother. She smiled at the sight. She walked over to greet her sister-in-law and her husband, confirming that they'd meet up at the restaurant. With that, she went to the car, deciding to give Sy some more time with his family, and herself an occasion to take a few breaths and calm her buzzing heart.

"You didn't tell me my mom had gotten herself a boyfriend." Sy grumbled immediately as he sat down next to her in the car, putting on his seatbelt.

Ada turned on the engine and backed out of the spot. "I knew you wouldn't like it," she defended before casting a side glance at him. "Besides, I figured it wasn't my place to tell you."

Sy hummed noncommittally, removing his cap to rake his hand through his cropped hair.

"Though, as much as I don't exactly like your mother," Ada added quietly, "she's been on her own ever since your dad passed a couple years ago. With your father gone and you away, she must have felt lonely.”

°°°

Sy spent the rest of the drive mulling over her words in his head. The fuck was that supposed to mean? As soon as a woman feels lonely, she takes up a boyfriend?! Was Ada lonely too while he was away and… He wanted to ask if she was implying anything but then one look at her and he decided against it. Breathing out deeply, he forces himself to relax. He was just stressed out and on edge.

It was inevitable that things would have changed while he had been away. That was something he thought about frequently late at night when he got to be alone. Still, he hoped things hadn’t changed all too much. Ada still looked just as she had on their road trip to Vegas, focused on the road but leaning back on her seat, just one hand on the wheel with a grin on her lips. His wife loved driving.

"You got your nails done." Sy commented, already hoping the whole dinner thing would be over quickly so that he could go home with her.

Ada turned to him with a chuckle for a second, wriggling her graceful fingers and red painted nails, her wedding band reflecting the light. "I wanted to look pretty for you."

Sy huffed. "You always look pretty to me, Ada," he said and then watched her scoff.

"Or maybe, I just wanted to make sure I'd be able to scratch you up nicely," she wife winked.

Yeah, this dinner thing couldn't be over fast enough.

°°°

Ada saw him eat so much over dinner, she couldn’t help but wonder if he was going to be sick later. And, of course, the double serving of smoked ribs had to be accompanied with generous amounts of beer and whisky. She didn0t blame him, though. Out of curiosity, she once researched what they ate while on deployment and it looked anything but tasty. If she had been in his shoes, she'd have been eating her own weight in pizza and brownies right now.  

It also didn’t help that his brother-in-law and his mom's new boyfriend, Phil from the hardware store, kept asking him about Baqubah and even touching on the subject of the explosion. It was obvious how uncomfortable the subject made him, his grip tightening around his knife and his jaw tensing up so tightly, she could imagine his teeth grinding.

So, Sy kept asking for refills, raising his glass, and giving them vague answers, but it seemed they didn't get the hint. At least, the subject changed when his sister interrupted the conversation to announce she was expecting again. A little girl.

Ada used the moments of cheer that followed to excuse herself from the table and go to the restroom. She was still somewhat nervous and her face was damp. She would have given anything for a glass of scotch at that moment but she was driving tonight.

Helen, Sy's mom appeared right behind her just as she was washing her hands. She hoped the woman would just disappear inside a stall but she wasn’t that lucky.

"Jack is back." Helen stated, arms crossed. A shiver ran through Ada's spine, damn she hated that woman. "For good."

Ada dried her hands with a paper towel, looking back at her mother-in-law through the mirror. "He is."

"Now's the time to prove yourself to this family and show us that Sy was right in marrying you.”

Before Ada could ask what the hell that was supposed to mean, Helen finally disappeared inside a stall. Rolling her eyes, Ada went to leave the restrooms when Helen decides to add some more venom. "Maybe a good start would be calling him by his first name, as a wife would."

°°°

"When do you start at Camp Mabry?" Ada asked, looking away from the steering wheel to glance at him for a second. Sy looked exhausted, not that she could she blame him after three different flights and a seemingly endless dinner. They had finally called it a night once the kids had started getting fussy.

"January 15th." He replied. "But they want me to stop by before then to have a look around the base and sign the contract."

"You're going to boss the hell out of the new recruits," Ada laughed, getting him to lighten up and even chuckle.

"You'd be surprised to know I'm actually a fair and considerate captain," Sy defended himself.

Next to him, Ada huffed as she tried stiffing the bubble of laughter, trying not miss the right exit off the main road.

"I just value discipline and compliance a lot," he added, his tone growing teasing.

This time, she was unable to stop her laugh. "Believe me, I know you do."

The drive was a short one to their house in the suburbs and she was soon parking her in their driveaway.

Ada fumbled with the key as she tried opening the front door, nervousness setting back in as she felt Sy standing behind her, holding his duffel bag. He followed in quickly after her, once she had finally managed to open the door.

"Welcome home, captain!" Ada cheered in her silliest tone as he discarded his bag on the floor.

Then, before she could even react, Sy was on her. His arms lifted her up, his body caging hers against the wall before capturing her lips in the most ferocious kiss she could imagine.

Out of instinct, her legs locked around his waist and her hands dug into his shoulders, unwilling to let go of him now that he was finally there. Sy grinned against her lips, amused by her fervour, not that he felt any different.

He broke off the kiss as he pulled them away from the wall, freeing a hand to shrug her coat off her shoulders. "You ain't gonna need that, darlin'," he promised, throwing the coat in the direction of the kitchen, not caring where it landed.

Then his mouth latched on to her throat, forcing a delicious moan out of his wife as he carefully manoeuvred them upstairs, still steady on his feet despite the alcohol. Sy was almost surprised when he pushed open the door to their bedroom with his foot and it didn't squeak, but that thought was fleeting as Ada started rolling her hips against his. Suddenly, nothing else mattered. Not the war, not the explosion or his guilt, only the woman in his arms.

Unceremoniously, he let her fall on the bed, the urgency now flowing through his blood keeping him from doing things the gentleman way. Ada didn't mind, giggling as she unzipped her dress and slid the red thing over her head, along with her bra. Apparently, she had decided to forego panties. Sy stood there, almost mesmerised as he watched her, suddenly not certain if he dared tainting her with his touch but Ada quickly made that decision for him as she got up on her knees.

"A little less staring and a little more undressing, captain," she purred with a smirk, her fingers determined as they made quick work of the buttons on his shirt.

"That's it, darlin'. You're in for it now," Sy roared, pulling her in for another furious kiss before pushing her back against the mattress, making her land on her back as he got undressed in record time. Fuck, was he hard.

"Open up for your captain." Sy ordered and Ada complied instantly, her legs falling open for him as she peered up at him, holding herself up on her elbows and worrying her lower lip between her teeth. "That's a good girl," he praised.

Without losing another second, Sy settled in between her legs, wrapping his strong arms around her thighs and parting them to their limits. He wanted to worship her body the way she deserved, show her exactly just how appreciative he was of her, how much he craved her, but it had been months and Sy was a starving man who had just been presented with the perfect meal.

"Fuck Sy!" Ada screamed out, her back arching off the bed the instant he licked her just where she craved him most. He chuckled against her, marvelling at how wet she already was for him.

She tried closing her legs around his head, rejoicing at the feeling of his beard rubbing against her sensitive skin and never wanting him to leave again, but his arms were too strong for her clenching thighs. She was left defenceless against his assault, with no choice but to obscenely moan her pleasure and let herself cum against his tongue as his thumb expertly massaged her clit.

The coil inside her snapped and her body tensed up before letting go just as suddenly, her now damp back falling back on the mattress. "Fuck, Sy." Ada breathed out, her chest heaving as she tried to reopen her eyes only to find her husband playfully gazing up at her, smirking with her arousal glistening on his beard. The sight alone almost made her cum again. "I'll never let you leave again!"

He smiled in response, placing a kiss on her lower stomach before crawling up her body. "I've no intention to, baby," he promised.

Ada caught a glimpse of his hard, flushed erection as his body slid over hers, realizing in her post-orgasmic haze that she was in for an even bigger treat now. She could taste herself in his mouth as they kissed, his hand slithering behind her back to seize her shoulder and hold her closer. Teasingly, he started rolling his hips, his hard clock rubbing against her slick cunt, coating himself with arousal before finally, he found his way inside her, burying his head next to hers in the pillow.

Ada whimpered as he did so, her eyes tearing up as his clock slid inside her. She had evidently grown unaccustomed to his girth and length in his absence. Sy paused immediately, his muscles tense as he looked at her with concern. “You okay?” She nodded in silence, wanting him to start moving but Sy looked unconvinced, using all his strength to keep still despite his desire to fuck her right into the mattress. Without a warning, Ada tightly wrapped her legs around his hips, making him go deeper. Sy let out a reverberating groan. “God, darlin’. I missed you.”

He started thrusting into her with such vigour, such determination it felt as if he was trying to bury himself so deep inside her, no one would ever be able to pry him away from her again. It did hurt, her cervix was getting battered with each of his hard movements but she found herself enjoying the pain because it was him; it was Sy and he was right there with her, back in her arms, and she could feel his heart beat beneath her fingertips as her hand gripped at his chest.

"Fuck, I'm... I’m," Ada gasped incoherently, her nails now scratching the skin of his back. Sy was sure there would be marks there in the morning which made him enjoy the sensation even more.

"I got you," he rasped. If possible, he pulled her even tighter to him, his pubic bone now rubbing against hers in that delicious way only he was able to do. Her slick walls were now contracting around him, her second orgasm impending. "Fuck," he groaned, his breath coming out in a stutter. "Are you...Can I...?"

Sy didn't have to word it, she knew what he meant. "Cum in me, Sy. Please," she almost begged.

Her words did it. His hips stuttered as he pushed in deep just when his orgasm washed over him, exploding inside her. His face contorted with pleasure and that sight alone had her fast tracking her fall over the figurative edge. He had his face buried on the crook of her neck, muffling his groans and moans against her skin as the dam gave way within her.

°°°

Sy grunted against his pillow, slowly waking up the following morning. He was convinced he was just rousing after a very nice dream and he was ready to toss his alarm clock across the room, furious at the object for interrupting his dream, that for once, had been a good one. With a startle, Sy realized that no blasting alarm had woken him up but the sunlight on his face. Opening his eyes, he felt almost as if on foreign ground. He was home.

As quietly as he could manage, Sy turned around in bed, seeking his wife only to find her side empty. Just at that moment, he heard cursing coming up from the kitchen and scoffed. He’d bet his life Ada was cracking eggs, something she hated.

Feeling rested and in a much more relaxed mood than the previous day, Sy got out of bed and started searching for a pair of boxer briefs so he could go join her downstairs when he caught a sniff of himself. Fuck, did he stink. How Ada hadn’t thrown him out of bed, he didn’t know.

Out of habit, Sy hurried to the en-suite bathroom, wanting to shower as fast as possible before realizing that this time around, it was different. He wasn’t going back, he didn’t have to rush, their time together wasn’t counted. With that in mind, Sy forced himself to take his time, enjoying the act of brushing his teeth in a bathroom that smelled nice and showering with warm water. Ada had purchased his usual brands of shower gel and toothpaste, he noticed, even putting a red bow around his brand-new toothbrush by the sink. Even though he initially wanted to take his time to enjoy it, Sy still ended up rushing as he dried himself with a blue fluffy towel he didn’t recognize from his previous stay. He didn’t bother putting on anything more than his boxer briefs before heading downstairs. If he was lucky, he wouldn’t keep them on for long either.

Sy walked into one of the best sights he had even seen, when he entered the kitchen. Ada was standing in front of the stove, rhythmically tapping the black spatula against her naked thigh as she focused on the eggs and bacon she was preparing. The thin negligee - or whatever she called it, he always forgot - barely covered her ass and that outfit alone was one of the reasons he never minded that she always cracked up the heat so high, he felt like he was back under the hot desert sun.

Silent and stealthy like a predator despite his stature, Sy sneaked up on her from behind and wrapped his arms around her waist, feeling her startle before relaxing once she noticed it was him. She smelled heavenly, Sy thought, resting his chin on the top of her head. "Watcha got cooking, darlin'?"

"Obviously breakfast," she sassed, making him softly pinch her ass in response. Ada squealed and jumped up. "Good morning to you too, Sy," she said but not before slapping the handle of the spatula against his thigh. He decided to let it slide... for now.

"Morning darlin'," he answered, kissing the crown of her head before darting his fingers into the pan and picking up a piece of bacon. It was sizzling hot, but the taste was worth it. He had missed being home! Speaking of being home... "What do you say we take the food and coffee upstairs and have ourselves breakfast in bed?" His tone failed to hide his true intentions.

Ada scoffed, the back of her head rubbing on his hairy chest and she shook her head. "Nice try but I actually intend to feed you. Your mother will have my head if I let you go hungry."

It was Sy's turn to laugh, his hands now roaming her body as she leaned forward to turn off the stove, pressing her ass against his crotch and eliciting a husky groan from him. "I'm hungry enough to eat both breakfast and you, don't worry."

Ada turned around, a huge grin on her angelic face. "Alright, you win. What do you say, we have breakfast, we do the kinky and then go grocery shopping?"

Sy tried hiding his smile but it was a lost cause. He loved it when she talked like that. He loved her, point. "Yes, ma'am."

[awed-frog]

What I find scary as fuck is how unwaveringly anti two state solution the loudest pro Palestine voices on the internet are. What do they think is going to happen to Israeli Jews under Palestinian rule? Do they think it's going to be any different than the rampant antisemitism faced by Jews in any other Middle Eastern country (which led to such a great influx of Middle Eastern Jewish refugees to Israel in the 1950s in the first place)? Or do they (rightfully) consider Israel an apartheid state but not Islamic states’ treatment of dhimmi under Sharia law?

I have much empathy for the Palestinian plight and I used to think antisemitism was only ever brought up as an excuse to deflect any criticism of Israel. But the more things escalate in Palestine, the more comfortable people become in being openly antisemitic and the more it dawns on me what Israelis mean when they say it's essential for a Jewish state to exist. Yes, Israel should absolutely be held accountable for its war crimes against Palestinians. But seeing liberals talk about Holocaust victims fleeing Europe, people who were open to negotiations with Arabs and a two state solution so they could make a home in the land of their ancestors as “colonizers” is just heartless

I have a lot of issues with current (American) left-wing activism, but its enthusiastic adoption of Noble Savage tropes and unquestioning parroting of radical Islamist points are probably at the top of my list. And while many people are just young, a lot of others should really know better.

As for the current situation, look - personally I don’t see the whole ‘colonizer’ mindset as useful at all. I think that, realistically, every nation state in the world got where it is by appropriating someone else’s land and massacring or assimilating minority communities. That’s how things work. And before nation states there were kingdoms, and before that villages and tribes and groups of wandering half-apes, and this is a thing that always happens: sooner or later, you’re going to want or need more land. Maybe yours got barren, or submerged by a flood, or invaded by someone else. Maybe your community grew too big. Or maybe you have a visionary or an asshole chief who’s all like, ‘If we had more pastures then we’d have a godzillion horses and no one would ever go hungry again’ - in a way, the why doesn’t even matter. The realpolitik here is that these things happen and have happened a lot over the last three centuries or so, which means the number one item on our list as democratic governments (term used loosely and optimistically) is always the same: making sure people are fed and making sure they know their voice counts so they don’t start to question why the country exists at all. 

(It may sound cynical, but we often lose sight of the fact there’s a difference between ‘moral discussion about moral implications of moral choices’ and ‘practical decision we can bring to a negotiation table with enemies and opponents’. Sometimes you’re right but you need to compromise anyway, and that’s something else that’s never going to change.) 

In the end, this is what 99.9% of people care about: if your kids are happy, if you have a house and a job, and if you feel yourself represented and part of the country you live in (and know you can peacefully demand meaningful change if you need to), you don’t give that many fucks about everything else. That’s why, on the whole, most separatist movements go nowhere: because while many people agree on a very basic human principle (“Things would be much better if everyone was like me and thought like me”), they’re not that keen to trade their stability and security for economic chaos or even civil war...for what? All nation states, in the end, are fictional creations, and deep down everyone understands it: when you’re leading a decently happy life, the colour of your passport doesn’t really matter all that much.

So the issue here is not even who’s right and who’s wrong. Of course it’s important to recognize even old crimes and tragedies: it’s definitely one of the steps towards healing and peace and (let’s be optimistic again) the reason why international courts exist, but the immediate priority is always keeping people safe. I mean if you had to make right all the border insanity that went down even in the 20th century, you wouldn’t have the time or resources to do anything else, and, more importantly, you would only create more hostility and conflict in the process. The issue is, a) let’s try not to make more mess in the future and mostly b) let’s make sure everyone is happy and feels heard where he is. If Israel had a system like, idk, Switzerland, with tons of shared wealth and a Parliament full of different voices and minority people getting federal subsidies to preserve their unique cultures and traditions, there would be zero violence. Like of course some people would still resent Israel is there in the first place, and others would resent Israel existing not as a Jewish state but as a nation with sizable Muslim and Christian minorities or whatever else, but it wouldn’t come to civil war because everyone would have too much to lose. 

Unfortunately, in many cases it’s just too late to undo the initial damage. The best we can work towards is ensuring people are safe, can build good lives and are politically represented. The main problem we have now in many regions around the world - like the Middle East - is that lots of powerful people have zero interest not only in righting historical wrongs but also in ensuring literal human beings are not killed in the streets. And as long as their power is made stronger by chaos, hatred and violence, we’re not going to get anywhere.

[deans-haunted-baby]

Dadstiel Shoulder Touch Analysis

I want to take some time to discuss something about this incredible father/son dynamic that I don’t think gets enough recognition. And that is their connection. A connection layered in so many different attributes yet primarily based on physical touch. Apologies this is going to be long. Despite my saltiness towards Supernatural as I feel the show squandered them during its run, I really love the amount of attention to detail that was put into Castiel and Jack’s relationship. It kind of has a Terminator inspired vibe going on which I can’t deny enjoying. The bodyguard and the future savior of mankind. And this bond was in development all the way back in season 12; long before Jack was born. 

During 12x19 it’s through his mother Kelly, that the son of Lucifer forges an emotional attachment with the trench-coated angel whom he imprints on to be his surrogate dad. From the moment Castiel puts his hand on her belly, and feels Jack, they instantly fall in love with each other. At first touch. Trusting each other completely without the slightest bit of doubt as they sense the other’s good aura. It’s a devotion unlike anything Cas has ever experienced in his millions of years. Even more than what he’s felt for Sam and Dean. And it happens before he and Jack even get to see each other. Their bond becomes intensely essential that it boosts Castiel’s grace, allowing him to protect Kelly and her son from Dagon as well as cause a rip in time and space.

After Jack is born and in the care of the Winchesters, scared, lost and confused yet curious as an infant in an adolescent body; the child wanders aimlessly searching for Castiel. All he wants in that moment is to be with Castiel because that is who he recognizes as his father. Missing him and needing to feel that same warmth, protection and compassion he felt from inside his mother’s womb. However, following the tragic circumstances that led to the angel’s unexpected death at the hands of Jack’s biological dad in 12x23, these two are forcibly separated in the beginning of season 13. Until Jack instinctively resurrects Castiel out of the Empty through his own will and desire alone at the very end of 13x03. Proving that no matter how far away they are, the tether between them can’t be broken.

These two don’t even need an introduction from Sam and Dean when 13x06 finally reunites them for the first time. Jack immediately knows who Castiel is going off on his mother’s memories. And their reunion comes so naturally. There’s no awkwardness, no hesitation or apprehensiveness emanating from the angel’s presence. Jack just walks right up to Cas, puts his arms around him and tells him how much he missed him. Its as if they’d never been apart. And afterwards they spend nearly the entire episode practically inseparable. Getting to know each other as father and son. And that goes without saying, while Jack did bond with the Winchesters in person first, there is no comparison to the Nephilim boy’s emotional attachment towards the angel.

This special relationship is very significant to both of them. Around each other they’re at their most happiest. Castiel is constantly at Jack’s side; and ALMOST ALWAYS tenderly touching him, namely his shoulders or protectively holding him by the arm and the child wholly reciprocates this. In Castiel’s gentle physical touch Jack is given a sense of security, solace, reassurance and comfort. Same as he’d had as an unborn baby. Not only is this the angel’s way of demonstrating his affection, empathy and devotion towards his son but this is actually how he non-verbally tells Jack that he loves him. Its purely unconditional. And this gesture isn’t one-sided as I will acknowledge later. Jack desires Cas’s tangible nearness as much as his dad does which is why they’re so magnetically pulled together in all of their scenes on the show. 

Even when they’re at conflict with each other or arguing, Castiel never fails to let Jack know that he’s always safe and loved. That he isn’t afraid of him. His son could be in pain, angry, or vengeful in the moment and Castiel’s affection for that child will never waver. He’ll endlessly put his own life at risk in order to reach Jack; who is far more powerful than he is via his archangel half. Like the convivence store scene in 13x23 when Jack attacks a civilian believing he’d killed his friend and Cas does his best to subdue him. Whether Jack wants it or not at the time, he needs his dad’s emotional support; and the angel can’t stand the thought of his son harmed or hurting. He’s easily saddened whenever Jack refuses his touch as shown in 13x21 when he was very upset over Sam’s temporary death and rips away Cas’s hand as he’s trying to console him.

Supernatural really emphasizes the powerful connection Castiel and Jack share using physical communication in nearly every one of their episodes. Its these wonderful details they do onscreen that illustrates the depth of love these characters have for each other. Unfortunately though, they didn’t get to interact much during season 13. Yet the small portions in their four episodes together is exceptionally substantial. While we’re on the subject, the shoulder touches are definitely a Dadstiel thing. It’s their signature sign of affection and theirs’s only. Don’t believe me, let me give you an example of a specific scene in 14x19 between Jack and Sam; which takes place in the aftermath of Jack’s accidental killing of the Winchesters’ mother Mary.

Dean and Sam conspire to trick and lock away the soulless infant Nephilim in a mystical coffin as punishment with the intention of finding a solution that will end his life. Sam is the reluctant main player in this scheme of using his influence over the child in order to gain his trust and sway him into his fate. Just before Jack’s about to be led to the room and put into the box, scared and uncertain, Sam then puts his hand on his shoulder telling him they need to keep him safe while giving him an awkward grin. And look at Jack’s expression as this happens. It reads shattered. He immediately knows something’s wrong. Sam is touching him just like Castiel…except this is nothing like Castiel. His dad’s shoulder touches are always so tender and loving. 

Jack can literally feel Cas’s devotion for him in every tangibility. But here he doesn’t feel that from Sam at all. Its cold, fearful and empty just like he is on the inside. Rendering him even more nervous. Speaking of season 14 the father/son content we get between Castiel and Jack is even better that year as its all about their relationship growing and strengthening into something far deeper than it was in the previous seasons 12 and 13. It’s the year their bond is put through the ultimate test. Where Jack is made human after Lucifer steals his grace and Cas dominantly steps into his role as a father.  

Providing Jack with a certain guidance, boundaries, and stability in episodes 14x01, 14x02, 14x03, 14x09 and 14x10 unlike what he’d received from Sam and Dean. Castiel takes on all the difficult tasks of parenting ranging from scolding to teaching his son about death, responsibility, self-restraint, patience and the tribulations of growing up. He doesn’t raise his voice ever when he speaks to Jack. And is completely there 100% for his son from the beginning…and the end of his life. Although Castiel is an angel he is very much a pivotal link to Jack’s humanity and vice versa as well as a link to his celestial side. While he greatly admires and looks up to the Winchesters, its through Cas’s influence that the infant Nephilim aspires to be a good person. 

Jack never wants to become the monster his biological father was; desperate to break out of that mold once in for all. And he isn’t alone. Castiel is right there with Jack every step of the way. Ready to challenge and encourage his son whenever he does something decent or makes a mistake. He doesn’t hesitate to tell his son when he’s proud of him. And sometimes he’s there to coddle Jack during times of crisis as displayed in the 14x09 showdown with AU!Michael where the angel takes a second to heal Jack’s minor facial wounds. I just love that tiny focal point of Cas in the background, as the Winchesters are talking, putting his hand on Jack’s shoulder before using his powers on him. As if to keep him calm; like a parent reassuring their nervous kid that it won’t hurt.

Throughout the first part of season 14 we’re blessed with so much affectionate Dadstiel moments like the after-the-battle angst talk in 14x01 where Castiel reminds a very frustrated Jack “you’ve got me” as he declares he has nothing. Or 14x08 after Jack’s death and they’re bittersweetly reunited in Heaven with Kelly; all smiles, touching shoulders and hugging each other as if they can’t bear to be separated. Followed with that heartfelt moment of Castiel tenderly touching his son’s cheeks, sadly looking at him with so much adoration, as he sends his soul back to his body. Then there was their unforgettable father/son pep talk in regards to the vulnerability of Jack’s soul; Castiel just gives his son’s shoulder a gentle squeeze as he leaves the room. Again, this is how these two say “I love you”.

And I couldn’t very go in depth of this analysis without mentioning 14x20′s Jack death scene 2.0; Castiel helplessly touches his son, who’s screaming on the ground in agony, trying desperately to ease his suffering. Yah this was particularly very hard for me to watch witnessing Castiel going out of his mind, completely unable to save Jack from enduring such a painful end to his life. Once was already cruel enough on me. And of course 15x01 continued that vicious trend of Castiel harrowingly protecting his son’s corpse, carrying him over the shoulder in a fireman’s hold as he runs through the cemetery, then gently lays him down on the floor in a mausoleum. I get emotional watching Cas cradling Jack’s head as he positions him comfortably; letting his touch linger unable to let go. He doesn’t even care what happens to him in this moment as long as his son’s body is safe. Very strong symbolism of a parent who will never abandon their child long after they’re gone. 

On a side note I want to quickly call attention to how much I revere the Dadstiel healing parallels in 14x09 and 14x14 plus BONUS: Jack almost-killing Castiel in 15x13 so he can talk to Ruby in the Empty. These just add some nice little textures in their dynamic which compliments their ongoing tradition of showing devotion through physical communication. And both the healing scenes and the temporary death scene are composited very similarly. Focused on Castiel and Jack’s hands in the process of relieving the other’s pain/life. 

Touch is exhibited as being a very crucial element for both of these characters when it comes to their iron-clad relationship. That palpable part of Castiel and Jack’s connection keeps them closely-knit. Its their familial instinct and how they express their feelings for each other. If they aren’t kneading shoulders, the angel duo is often standing beside each other or firmly linked at the arms. And this usually happens during moments of extreme stress, joy, sorrow, pain or fear. Jack relies so much on Castiel’s parental presence. He respects his authority, disobeying only when his actions feel necessary, and will go to the angel whenever he wants to talk or vent. Jack is also comfortable with Castiel enough to confide his darkest secrets no matter how awful they are. That’s the foundation of the everlasting trust built between them. They’re just tethered to one another in such a way that nothing will divide them. 

I’ll begin with the hospital scene from 14x07 where Castiel is being the rock to his ailing son who can barely stand on his feet. There’s so much anxiety radiating off him in this moment as he struggles with watching Jack suffer; holding him so close. Staring at his face you can tell this horrible situation is ripping him apart. Actually, the entire episode is basically just Castiel silently enduring the pain of Jack dying.

The second set of screencaps underneath are of 14x10; Jack is agitated by AU!Michael’s antagonistic claims that his family’s love for him isn’t unconditional. Reading into one of his greatest fears. But then Castiel instantly calls out to his son, grabs the crook of his arm; gently reassuring him none of this is true. And Jack doesn’t resist this as he knows his dad is sincere. He never has to question Cas’s feelings towards him as his physical touch alone is self-explanatory. But when it comes to the Winchesters, that’s a whole other conversation.    

Next, we have one of my favorite emotionally-charged Dadstiel moments in 14x14; where in a fit of panic because the anti venom wasn’t working Jack, going against Castiel’s warnings not to risk burning off his soul, is compelled to use his powers to save his dad. And I love this because this time its Jack who’s the one initiating all the physical contact. Just as the recovered angel demands what he’s done, his son responds with a soft “you’re okay” and the “I love you dad” shoulder touch as well as firmly gripping his arm.  

Finally stepping away from season 14 I’m going to briefly go over the caps from season 15. Let’s begin with 15x11 the Dadstiel reunion scene at the church which is so beautifully poignant. Castiel is so overjoyed to see Jack alive that he takes a second to look over his equally stunned son, touching his shoulders before they embrace. This is by far one of Cas and Jack’s top father/son moments on the show and it’s done so effectively. If you want a more in-depth description for what I love about this scene, you can read my post about it here.

After that is the 15x13 Dadstiel moment where Castiel, suspicious of Jo’s story about the Occultum, had asked Jack to temporarily kill him in order to go see Ruby in the Empty. Two things I really like about this; 1. even though Jack still doesn’t have a soul, is very concerned about and protective over Castiel because of that deal. And 2. again Jack is initiating all the touching in this scene; look at the way he grasps his dad’s arm as he returns him to life. It’s almost as if he’s hoping the touch of his hand will not only speed up the process but also reach his dad so his essence isn’t lost forever.   

And then we have 15x17. We didn’t get much Dadstiel interaction in this episode but the amount of times Castiel protectively holds onto his agonized child, who’d been turned into a cosmic bomb about to go off any minute, having no regard for the danger he’s in is so visually gut-wrenching. There’s a specific moment in the scene where, as Sam and Dean are arguing, Castiel is sitting on the floor just clutching Jack tight. Trying to non-verbally soothe him.

And this is followed up in the first half of 15x18, aka THEIR VERY LAST EPISODE TOGETHER ever on Supernatural. Here is where everything about their connection comes full circle with Castiel refusing to abandon Jack no matter the situation. Demonstrating the extent of his devotion by willing to die for his child just as he’d sacrificed his happiness to save Jack from the Empty. Because that is his son and nothing not even death itself can ever destroy what they have. Much as the young Nephilim boy begs for his dad to stay away, yells that he doesn’t want to hurt him; Castiel kneeling to Jack’s eye-level doesn’t leave his side. Then when Jack disappears to the Empty and reappears back at the bunker reformed, Castiel’s hand remains firmly glued to his son’s shoulder. He doesn’t want Jack to feel afraid or traumatized any further.

This was such an intense part of the episode I mean just look at how stressed out these two were. The anguish in their expressions. Simply put, Cas and Jack cannot bare to live without the other. They’re each other’s home; two sides of the same soul. Castiel loves all of Jack; the good, the bad and the ugly. This is an EPIC father and son’s love that knows no bounds. So powerful and pure that it transcended the loss of Jack’s soul, Lucifer’s DNA, the Empty, Mary Winchester’s death and everything else in between. Oh, and guess what, their “I love you” Dadstiel shoulder touches aren’t limited to just their hands. Its in every single one of their hugs too.  

Notice how their chins or faces just comfortably rest on top of each other’s shoulders. And except for 14x20 their eyes are shut, as if to savor every single second of that closeness. Jack just buries himself against Castiel like he’s never felt safer with anyone else in the whole universe. And both of them hold each other; giving and receiving the other’s love with their whole self. Like I can’t even begin to describe how much Castiel and Jack’s softness towards each other just melts my heart. Their relationship, despite the horror tongue-in-cheek atmosphere of SPN, is surprisingly sweet, healthy and endearing. They are the epitome of true unconditional love and a great contrast to the Winchester brothers. In my humble opinion Castiel and Jack’s father/son dynamic is the best thing to happen to this show in a long while.

For the closing segment of this analysis I want to do something special before I discuss the paralleled-angst driven Dadstiel shoulder touches in 15x15 and 15x18. First off, I can’t shout enough praise from the rooftops about the insanely remarkable chemistry between Alexander Calvert and Misha Collins. Just brilliant casting. They embody these characters heart and soul and make this relationship feel so real, genuine and grounded. The fact that they look so similar in appearance really sells the idea that these two could actually be father and son. Forget the scripts, the quiet subtly these two bring to Castiel and Jack is the true magic of their relationship.

Let me start with the Dadstiel centric 15x15 aka THE BEST EPISODE of Supernatural season 15. This amazing masterpiece of art is everything I could’ve asked for and more; giving me so much precious father/son content that I will cherish forever. I really enjoyed seeing Castiel and Jack in those matching ties, bonding with each other over a case while they save the day. It’s a shame this show never let these two have more solo adventures together because they’re truly a joy to watch onscreen. Fingers crossed for that spinoff.

But I digress, the car scene in question happens at the very end of the episode in which Jack reveals the alarming truth that he has to die in order to stop Chuck and Amara. And Castiel, visibly and outspokenly distraught by this news, has to be assuaged with that infamous shoulder touch by his son; who’s in just as much pain. This is without a doubt one of most emotional scenes between these two characters out of the last three seasons of the show and quite possibly one of Misha and Alex’s strongest acting moments after the Dadstiel church reunion in 15x11. They killed it with the feels here. I like the attention to detail, the shadows and the colors in the shot, the melancholic score as well as how it seamlessly switches from Jack’s perspective to Castiel’s. Seriously watching this scene always makes me cry its so devastating.

 Lastly, we have the Dadstiel car scene in 15x18; and Castiel and Jack’s LAST ONE-ON-ONE together. I’m kind of disappointed by this if I’m being honest. Its not that its bad its just not that definitively great for a final scene between these characters. Especially after four seasons of development. Where are the stakes? Why don’t Jack and Castiel seem as concerned about their situation? Cute as that smile was it doesn’t fit the tone. And where’s that punch in the gut knowing something is going to separate these two any second? It’s too light and doesn’t come off like a goodbye or a cathartic bookend which is what I wanted to take away from the episode considering its title “Despair”.

I mean if they were going to follow up on that heartbreaking car scene at the end of “Gimme Shelter”, the 15x18 scene wasn’t the way to do it. So, the weight of this final interaction feels almost non-existent. Maybe if it had taken place at night and the dialogue solely focused on them not the Winchesters it would’ve faired better. But since this isn’t a rant post I’ll cut to the chase by saying that the only saving grace this moment has happens in the last part. Jack’s in tears telling his dad how scared he is that he can’t use his powers to protect anyone. Coming off very childlike and vulnerable; needing that parental protection that Castiel was always known for. And sure enough, he gives Jack that final “I love you” shoulder touch which I swear had me choked a little. 

Rethinking about it now that the show is over actually makes their final moment together really sad as incomplete as it is. I not only look back on how much these characters were drastically underutilized but how much the Dadstiel storyline could’ve been executed better with all the development that it was given. Well there you have it my full Dadstiel shoulder-touch analysis. Hope you’ve enjoyed!

[sepublic]

Construction Relic Theory

           In the Relic Room, we see magical relics representing each of the nine covens, such as the Green Thumb Gauntlet for the Plant Coven, Oracle Sphere for Oracles, Healing Hat for the Healing Coven, etc. The only exception is, curiously, the Construction Relic; There is no artifact for the Construction Coven! Now, speaking from a meta animators’ perspective… Perhaps there is no Construction Relic, because this could imbalance the otherwise symmetrical layout of the relics, four on each side from one another… Or, maybe the crew forgot to include the Construction Relic, and decided it wasn’t necessary alongside most of the Relics anyway, as it’d just be another static background detail.

           But what if the Construction Relic is intentionally missing- What if it was Belos’ castle?

           I mean, think about it- What we know of Construction magic, and how we’re specifically introduced to it, is the creation of buildings. And Belos’ castle is obviously an incredibly important location for him, pragmatically and thematically, and I’ve speculated in the past that it might serve an additional function as well; Perhaps something to do with the Titan’s heart? It’s also chock-full of pipes and technology, the likes of which we’ve never seen before…

           So what if the Construction Relic was used to create Belos’ castle… Or even, it took the form of it? And that’s why it’s not present with the other artifacts; Either it’s in another location, serving as the core and foundation for the castle itself… Or it just straight-up turned into it, as the culmination of Construction magic, devising and transforming into a massive fortress!

           Alternatively- What if it was Belos’ staff, instead? We’ve all talked about how technological it looks… Perhaps Belos built and upgraded the Construction Relic into the staff we see today, in order to better enhance his magical abilities? Again, he’s associated with the creation of technology, machines, and automatons- Construction magic fits well with engineering, so it makes sense that this would be the artifact most important to Belos, and the only one he keeps on his person… And it’s potentially how he managed to create so many things such as the portal, and even the castle itself!

           Furthermore, we see how Belos can essentially ‘create’ fleshy monsters, like the Intro Worm, and those stone and meat constructs when fighting Luz. This could also fit into the speculation of Belos shaping people, such as members of the Emperor’s Coven and Guard, into uniform bodies… His power could be related to that of reconstruction, of transmutation; But he does so with living bodies, and not just buildings or technology! Maybe it could play into how Belos is able to reconstruct his body, how he’s able to create his own version of the portal…

           In fact, maybe that’s how Belos would’ve been able to heal Eda; Not with the Healing Hat, but by using his Construction Relic to literally reconstruct her body, back into its original, normal self! Maybe that’s even how the Curse works in the first place; Maybe it’s actually Construction Magic, and it reconstructs the victim’s body into an Owl Beast! Construction magic, but the building materials are the parts of a person’s body… And so all this time, Luz and Lilith were looking for the wrong artifact; The Healing Hat was not the solution, it was the Construction Relic- Because the Curse is Construction-based, and unlike Belos, they never realized this!

           In fact, whether or not it’s Belos’ staff, maybe that’s why the Construction Relic is unseen- It’s deliberately hidden so Lilith can’t just steal and use it for herself on Eda, and then be done! Maybe Belos even intentionally put away the Construction Relic, to manipulate Lilith for this reason! Getting into a meta perspective, Dana Terrace says that her choice of Magic track would be Construction, given how artsy it is… And Belos is possibly that favorited masked character of hers she alluded to, in the Reddit AMA; Although it could just as easily be Owl Mask. Additionally, Belos has a bit of brown in his color scheme himself, in the form of his cowl-mask… Maybe THAT’s the Construction Relic, even! And Construction magic fits Belos as someone with a machine motif, who wants to build an entire empire and Coven System.

           Construction Relic is unusually underrepresented, despite it being Dana’s choice- Aside from Mattholomule, we barely see any practitioners. Perhaps Belos could help to fill that role in the story, even if he’s also capable of other forms of magic; Coven Leaders notwithstanding, it’d be neat to see each form of magic get fleshed out with a witch tied to it, with Construction being Belos’ favored manner of magic. If the Curse is Construction Magic, maybe it was made by Belos, given the red coloration it gives off; Though whether Belos intended for Lilith to use it on Eda, or if he just lost it and it passed through hands on the black market, until Lily bought it… And then Belos was able to recognize his own work and thus reverse it- I can’t say.

          And once again, I’m going to bring up Fullmetal Alchemist; Because if I AM right and Belos and Father have parallels, and transmutation and alchemy from that series helped to inspire the Glyphs… Then given how Fullmetal Alchemist places emphasis on the terms construction, deconstruction, and reconstruction as a central part of alchemy; Perhaps this could factor into Belos, who’s essentially doing this show’s equivalent to Chimeras and Human Transmutation… Possibly on himself, even! 

          If we got by his ability to create living constructs AND buildings with this theory, then suddenly this could recontextualize all of those buildings in the Boiling Isles that have body parts in them… With Belos either having a hand in their creation, or Construction Magic being foreshadowed as including some meaty bits as well! This could even tie into Hooty, who himself is a meaty part of a building, and is even brown himself! Maybe House Demons are a variety of demon created by Construction Witches, who incorporate body parts into buildings (possibly supplied by Beastkeepers) and bring them to life- And Belos is using the same principle with the Construction Relic, just with more emphasis on flesh!

          Buildings probably require a lot of stone and other earthen materials, and Belos can create rock formations and even move statues, or make them out of people... Suddenly I’m wondering if the Petrification Machine is connected to this relic? And if we go by the idea of construction magic assembling and fusing parts together, perhaps House Demons are regular demons who have been disassembled, and put back together with building materials to create a living house! Beastkeepers could supply body parts and demons, and maybe even help tame/subdue the resulting House Demons for usage afterwards- Working with the Construction Coven to create things like living alarm bells, watches, etc.!

           And if you even want to get REALLY meta, Construction Magic being underrepresented could be as part of a twist to get the audience to not think about and notice it… Before it REALLY comes into play! I guess amidst the comparisons to Hooty and Construction magic, that’s another similarity, based on @fermented-writers-block and their speculation on Hooty being intentionally played off as a joke for distraction…

           Granted, part of the problem with this theory is that the Relics are revealed to actually be pretty weak; Or at the very least, not particularly legendary- Anything they can do, a decent Witch trained in that magic could also do as well, I imagine. It’s why Lilith has no qualms with destroying the Healing Hat… But then again, if the Healing Hat didn’t work because it had no effect on a Construction-based Curse, then maybe it WAS powerful, but Lilith dismissed it as weak, because it couldn’t fix the curse like she needed it to?

          Perhaps the Relics are indeed what they’re hyped up to be, but because Lilith misunderstood the Curse’s nature, she thought the Healing Hat was much weaker than it actually was for not being able to fix it… If so, RIP- Lilith DID destroy a powerful artifact, then! Maybe Belos drained the Relics of most of their power, but saved the Construction Relic because of how important it was. Or, the Relics aren’t normally powerful, as Lilith claimed- But Belos was able to perform modifications to the Construction Relic, turning it into the mechanical staff we see today! Maybe the Construction Relic even created machinery that could enhance the original relic’s own magic; Potentially making it the most dangerous Relic, for its powers of Creation that enable it to bypass its own limits, unlike the other Relics!

          So of course Belos would want to keep it… And we’ve seen him capable of adding technology to supplement magical artifacts, like with the portal in the Season Finale. And with how Construction Witches from the Emperor’s Coven are clearly vital to Belos’ creation… Then it’s possible that Construction magic will be the hidden, overlooked, but ultimately invaluable ace up Belos’ sleeve, that everyone has been dismissing and underestimating this entire time! Construction magic being overlooked yet so important would be an interesting theme- Especially since out of the Coven Leaders, the Construction Head is the first and only one we’ve seen, and yet HIS appearance was played off so normally, that the viewers wouldn’t have recognized his relevance until The First Day!

          Just a normal part of the background, just another witch… But like the magic of his that is underestimated, the Construction Head turns out to be far more important than we could’ve imagined; And initially, we dismissed him as just an extra, as part of some minor world-building and even a brief joke! Suddenly, the Construction Head empowering Tiny Nose, Dana’s self-insert, with a Power Glyph derived from her magic of choice, takes on a WHOLE new meaning…!

[rosezure]

Todoroki Family - My Opinion

MANGA SPOILERS FOR BNHA/MHA ahead!

CW: parental neglect and abuse, anxiety, therapy, Touya Todoroki/Dabi, Enji Todoroki/Endeavor, spoilers, swearing (please remind me if I forgot anything).

Disclaimer: All of the information on the Todoroki family dynamics is based on my interpretation of what’s been (so far) revealed through the anime and manga. These are all just opinions, you are free to agree or disagree respectfully. I do not wish to invalidate anyone’s opinion. Family dynamics have always been a very sensitive and triggering subject to me, so I hope that you respect that if you wish to discuss this with me.I would like to give my own two cents on the Todoroki family situation. As someone that has dealt with abuse and neglect in a (slightly) similar way my whole life, this story hits very close to home. I will try to be as thorough and objective as possible. But, feel free to call me out (respectfully) if there is anything ambiguous or if problematic. Thank you.

I am going to focus on Touya/Dabi and Enji’s story. I do not know enough to talk about Rei’s role in all of this, so I will not mention her. But, I might update this as new chapters come out.

I will talk about Dabi’s early years by referring to him as Touya since that was his identity at the time. Any comments about him as an adult will be referring to him as Dabi.

I was a psychology student for about two years, and when we learned about child development, here is what I gathered:

When you are a child, all you want is to be loved, to be safe. This is essential to a child, as it is what develops them into a healthy and independent adult. And, this is especially important concerning parents or guardians. Effective parenting practices ensure that the child will have a better chance at developing according to their age and needs. This will grant the kids skills that they will use and perfect as they grow up. In other words, children that are well-taken care of have a higher chance of being strong, healthy, and emotionally developed adults.

When a parent or guardian is ignorant of how they can impact their child’s growth, it has many negative effects. In Touya’s case, Enji Todoroki was clueless. This does not mean Enji should not be held responsible just because he was ignorant. Enji knew he was not being the best parent, but he did not know how exactly. And, at the time he was blinded by his greed and ambition, so he would not have been paying attention to that. Even so, (personally) I do not think parents are afforded the luxury of ignoring their bad parenting if they are made aware of it. They are responsible for another human’s life and growth. They should be held accountable if the child develops issues and hurts themselves or even others.

With that being said, Enji Todoroki was a horrible but clueless parent. From what I have understood from the manga and the anime, at first, he had no idea why Shoto was so "rebellious" (in his opinion). He also seemed to not understand Natsuo and Fuyumi. So I am led to believe that he was, at the time, oblivious to how much he negatively impacted Touya. 

Touya just wanted his father’s affection. If that meant grueling training and preparing to become a hero to defeat All Might, then so be it. It was the attention and affection he knew. He was not led to believe otherwise. Touya's sole positive interactions came from him showing he could fulfill his father’s sick dream. In a child’s mind, that was the only way to secure parental love and approval: To train as hard as possible and become what his father so desperately wished for.

Then his hair started turning white. He started getting injured because of his quirk. His only source of positive attention, his only hope for affection, was killing him. And it had to be stopped. I am sure in Touya’s mind, this meant he would not be loved anymore. 

And then Enji stopped training him. Natsuo was born. Shoto was born. And Touya felt that his source of love was directed to that baby. The baby that Enji saw as a success. Enji made Touya feel like a failure, a broken toy. And he was being replaced by a newer, shinier one: His brother.

When he tries to attack Shoto, he is trying to take back his place. Touya was trying to gain back his father’s love and attention.

Enji wanted to prevent Touya from hurting himself more. But he failed to communicate that. Instead, his words made it seem like his plan was foiled. Touya wasn’t enough, so Enji’s chance of using him to end All Might vanished. Touya wasn’t what Enji needed anymore.

Touya’s world didn’t collapse all at once. It didn’t even crack all at once. From what I understood, it was a collection of hairline fractures that never healed. It was a dislocated shoulder that was never put back in its place and was left to hang. It was a pounding headache that only grew more and more painful over time. 

When Dabi was born, Touya had been buried in bruises, paper cuts, minor broken bones, chronic illnesses. Touya was killed by exhaustion and pain. He didn’t die at one point, he was dying all along. 

As someone who suffers from chronic issues, I know that the somatization of symptoms and other sources of pain can turn a simple illness into something much more serious. Think of it as a butterfly effect, but all inside one person: Every single negative experience, from both outer and inner sources, all summed and turned into one massive festering wound. 

Touya’s mind was a living open wound, it seems.

So Dabi was born. To seal the wound shut. Clean it? No. Protect it? Maybe.

But this particular type of wound (the psychological, emotional one) if left untreated can become infected. And infected wounds are harder and more painful to clean and treat. 

Dabi’s mind is a bandaid over an infected wound. It seems objectively okay, maybe even sane. But he’s clearly in pain. He’s not in his right mind. His decisions all stem from the pure rage and anger of a child that was abandoned. 

What chapter 300 brought was the perspective of a child that just wanted to be loved. That's all he wanted. And the only love he knew was when Enji Todoroki trained with him, no matter how gruesome and painful it must've been.

I'm gonna briefly and superficially compare his situation to mine. Of course, I didn’t suffer half of the pain he did, and I won't go into any detail as to not trigger myself. But, I only got attention when I was either extremely sick or I was needed as a trophy child of some sort. Even then, if I was ill, the attention I got was so I could get well soon and go back to being "useful". I was an extension of them, at best. But I still craved their attention. I still do in a way to this very day. It's not something that just goes away once you realize how toxic and abusive it is.

No matter how much pain I’m in, no matter how love-starved I am, I still want their approval. Inside me, there’s still a scared child, crying out for her parents to love her. That child is now my responsibility. I have to give her love, nurture her so she can grow with me.

Does that make sense?

I have no idea how Dabi is feeling. And I don’t think we’ll ever truly know. He is fictional, after all, and there’s no telling if Horikoshi will be delving into that.

But maybe Touya is still inside Dabi, crying, screaming to be loved. And Dabi is trying his best to tend to that child, but he never truly grew up to know how to take care of another being. Dabi doesn’t know how to take care of himself emotionally. 

I’m learning because I, thankfully, have access to therapy. But it hurts. It hurts to realize the ones that were meant to take care of you, didn’t. It hurts to look into yourself and see a shaking, teary-eyed child begging for crumbs of love.

Now, with the whole "redemption" thing being debated, here's my own personal opinion. You don't have to agree, and I'm not asking you to. Again, this is just how I view it. As a survivor, I'd be relieved to see my parents try. The damage is done, true. I'll never regain my childhood. I'll never have what people with different, better, parents have. The past can't be reversed. And I'm seeing it repeat itself with my little brother. But, if there's a minimal chance that my parents can own up to what they did, that they open themselves up to changing their behavior and learning, then maybe we can build something new.

Build. Not rebuild. The foundation of our past relationship was rotten from the beginning. A new one must be built. A new foundation must be developed if we ever hope to make something of our relationship.

If the Todorokis, really want to reconcile, reconnect, rebuild, then they must start from scratch. If Enji Todoroki wants that, he’s gonna have to start from zero, from nothing. And I'm not entirely sure if Endeavor is doing that, but he is trying, somehow. We don't know for sure if he even has the emotional skills to do so. We can't say for sure that he's got what it takes to man up, own up and learn. But, he seems to be trying.

And that's something I've accepted I'll never have.

So if there's at least a 1% chance that he is truly trying, that Enji wants to redeem himself, then let him. Let their family try and heal together if that's what they want.

I'm not sure about the Japanese culture when it comes to family. But where I come from, a family is an important base of our personal and social development, to the point that reconciliation more often than not is the best route.

Still, I know it's not for everyone. So I respect you if you believe he doesn't deserve a chance. I understand if you say Enji Todoroki should be kept far away from his family. You're right, and you're valid.

But, please, please, if the author decides that he redeems himself and does try his best to start a new relationship with his family, let him. Let them heal. Together. Let them try and make up for the lost time in the best way in the present. Let them rebuild.

I know I'd give anything to rebuild my family.

Let Touya be healed and put Dabi to rest. Touya needs to be loved, he needs to be taken care of like he never was as a child. Dabi needs to be told he tried. He needs to be told he did what he could. 

But Dabi is also an adult now. He’s got legal responsibilities. The pain and devastation he’s caused and helped cause can’t be overlooked. He needs help, but he also had to be held accountable. 

Touya/Dabi needs to face himself and start over. He needs to face the man he’s become and at the same time take care of the child he wasn’t able to be. 

If the Todoroki family is reconciled, I dearly hope he gets to be a part of this new book. Not a new chapter, they need to throw that whole book away and start a new one. And, if possible, I’d love to see someone like me get the ending I won’t be getting. 

I hope this made some sense at least. Again, if anything is unclear, ambiguous, or problematic, let me know and I’ll do my best to correct or remove the bad parts. If you’ve read this far, thank you. If you share a similar experience, I’m sorry, and I’m here for you.