#dally is there too showing his best manners

[bubblegumflavor]

If it's no problem, could you please draw Johnny Cade and Johnny Lawrence meeting?

My two favorite Johnnys? On the same page?? Hell yeah! =D<3

[rumble-aint-a-rumble-without-me]

Could you do something where the gangs (including Tim and curly) s/o has older brothers who are also greasers and just really intimidating in general?

A/N: This was such a fun concept? Dude, I had a lot of fun writing these, thanks for requesting them <3 and look at the little cuties, god they're the cutest things-

DARRY CURTIS

Darry’s not used to having older siblings? He is the oldest, that’s just the way the world is-

Your brothers though? I have a feeling he’d be one of the boys who are the least afraid of your brothers

Like yeah, your brothers are well-known for being the tough hoods they are, there’s practically your own little family gang just between them

But Darry’s not going to be cowering beneath them, shaking in his boots afraid of them

He’s going to try and be a gentleman? He’ll shake your brothers’ hands, make conversation with them when he picks you up before dates

It’s just Darry being Darry, his mama taught him his manners and he’s going to use them <3 he’s a good person

SODAPOP CURTIS

I just have this gut feeling that without a doubt, Sodapop’s going to be at the very least, slightly afraid of your brothers

At least in the beginning, y’know? Meeting your brothers was probably one of the scariest moments in his entire life

They’re just sort of intimidating, I’m sure they’re the type to try and strike fear into all of the suitors who come for their kid sibling

After he proves himself though, either by protecting you from something or standing up for you somewhere, your brothers are pretty alright with him

Now he’s just got a few more older siblings who like to nag him for things!

I feel like he’d get along with them too, now they’re asking for you to start bringing him around more     

PONYBOY CURTIS

Unlike his older brothers, Ponyboy is, in fact, used to having scary older brothers! So yours probably won’t bother him at all

He’s very used to the whole tradition of giving your younger sibling’s date the third degree whenever you meet them for the first time

But honestly? There really isn’t a reason for your brothers not to like Ponyboy, he’s doesn’t really do a lot of bad stuff

Unless your brothers have beef with the Curtis gang for some reason, Ponyboy’s a pretty safe choice to bring home to them!

He’s respectful with them too, he does his best to make conversation when the occasions call for it and he’s polite when he stops by your house

They like to say hi to him when he walks you home from school, waving from the house or the front yard when you guys show up

DALLAS WINSTON

Do we really think Dallas is going to be off-put by you having big, scary, older brothers? Cause I don’t-

Your brothers don’t scare him in the slightest, and if they do, he’s never going to admit it Dal likes to brag that he’s seen worse up in New York and that your brothers are nothing in comparison to some of the hoods he’s dealt with

He’s going to be rude, he’s going to push your brothers’ buttons a little and pull you closer and kiss you deeper than is polite 

Honestly? I bet your brothers don’t really like him, they think you can do a lot better than Dallas Winston and will probably tell you that on the regular

However, if Dally takes down some Socs for you or something, plays a protective role that your brothers usually occupy, maybe they’ll start to like him a little more

That it doesn’t mean they’re going to be any more lenient when it comes to the rules about him hanging around though-

JOHNNY CADE

Probably your safest choice of a boyfriend when your brothers are as big and bad as they are, they’re very overprotective of you probably

Johnny has never done anything wrong in his life, is super duper polite and won’t push any of the lines your brothers draw

They don’t want him spending the night at your house? Johnny’s alright with that, he’ll give you a soft kiss on the porch before he heads off for the night

He’s respectful guys, he’s not going to push the rules and he’s going to be considerate of your brothers

If you ask him, he’ll probably tell you that he’s not afraid of them, only slightly scared but I can see Johnny kind of looking up to them like he looks up to Dallas

Don’t tell Dally that though, Johnny doesn’t think he needs to know-

TWO-BIT MATHEWS

Hoohoo, oh boy, Two-Bit is going to run your brothers ragged-

Two-Bit likes to be annoying and your brothers are overprotective and it’s just so easy to get them all riled up

He’ll try and push the line sometimes, argue with them about silly things and just be a menace whenever he’s around them

Two’s not afraid of them like at all, he probably should be at least a little afraid but there isn’t one ounce of fear in his body when it comes to them

It’s another one of those, he’s gotta prove himself to your brothers? They think you can do better than Two-Bit, blah blah blah

But just one time where’s comforting you when you really need it or just being there for you when you need him, your brothers are a little more accepting of the hood

STEVE RANDLE

My version of Steve is an only child, so that’s going to affect this a little cause my Steve isn’t used to having siblings in general-

Is Steve afraid of your brothers? The answer is yes, very much so, thoroughly afraid of them

But he won’t act like he’s afraid, he just tries to toughen up by pushing his shoulders back and his chin up whenever he’s got to talk with them

Their approval is sort of important to him? He wants your brothers to like him, that’s really all he wants, he seeks the validation

Steve’s going to be polite then, making sure to have you home on time so you won’t break curfew

Your brothers probably think he’s a good enough kid, they’ll nag him every now and again, tease him just enough to keep him on his toes, it’s a brotherly kind of love guys 

TIM SHEPARD

Tim’s not afraid of your brothers, like at all-

He’s a gang leader guys, he deals with “big and scary” guys all the time so your brothers aren’t going to be any different

Tim’s got an attitude, that’s for sure, and it’s not going to change when it comes to your brothers, he’s still going to be a jerk and pester them and push all their buttons

He’s not rude? Like he follows the rules they’ve set for you, but he’s a little passive-aggressive, whispering comments that you’ll smack him for and just being a menace

Tim doesn’t take too kindly to teasing, he’s not going to let them push him around and your brothers will probably figure that out really fast  

Again, your brothers probably don’t like him, whether they don’t like Tim himself or they don’t like the Shepard gang? No one will ever know

CURLY SHEPARD

Your Brothers Either Don’t Like Him Or Just Don’t Like The Shepard Gang Pt.2

Curly’s not the greatest kid, he gets into trouble and does things he shouldn’t, but he’s used to having a scary older brother

Tim’s pretty good about keeping him in line, so he’s not too surprised when your brothers make rules about him coming around

Is Curly going to follow all of them? Probably not, he treats them more like guidelines than actual rules, curfew is more of a recommendation in his mind than a hard rule to follow

He takes care of you though, that’s something your brothers have to admit about Curly, he takes good care of you

From making sure he’s between you and whatever danger you might find yourself against to simply sharing his food with you if you’re hungry <3

[lizzy019]

𝒯𝒽𝑒𝓎'𝓇𝑒 𝒞𝒶𝓁𝓁𝑒𝒹 "𝐿𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝐻𝒶𝓃𝒹𝓁𝑒𝓈" 𝐹𝑜𝓇 𝒜 𝑅𝑒𝒶𝓈𝑜𝓃!

Dom!Dallas Winston x Plus-size Fem!Reader x Sub!Johnny Cade

cw -> insecurities, polyamorous relationship, slight somnophilia, squ¡rt¡ng :))

Word Count -> 1.5K

Did you know in the late 50s and early 60s, being more weighty was actually the beauty standard because it showed wealth?

Happily sitting on Dally’s bed with a drink in hand, you hesitantly tap at the material of the beverage with intentless energy. You were simply bored hearing Dally rant to Johnny about Sylvia, and comforting Dally wasn’t an easy feat anyway.

Johnny was skilled at it, offering an ear for him and some occasional words of encouragement and enthusiasm, but it hurt a bit to see Johnny so optimistic for his friends but never himself.

You resonated with that realization.

Your drink was placed down by your own doing, and you offered Dallas a cigarette while lighting your own. Gladly, he took it and lit it, breathing it in a sighing.

“I put in all that time for her, man. I gave her everything, just for her to bang another asshole who probably doesn’t have any more manners than I do,” He complained, looking at Johnny with a smile.

“You don’t gotta worry about that though, man. You’ll pick up a girl, most like ‘em sweet anyways.”

Johnny’s expression grew soft with glee, eyes wide in surprise as he nodded with vigor. He was excited for that, who wouldn’t be?

Seeing him all happy made you smile too, and a gentle hand came to rub his back out of kindness. Johnny’s head plopped itself to your shoulder, using it as a temporary pillow.

“Tired?” You asked softly, gently playing with his hair and resting your cheek against his head. A nod was your only reply.

“Johnny man, you’re hoggin’ her attention, you lil shit.” Dallas murmured, playfully heaving Johnny away to wrap his long arms around your body.

It was a tight, energetic hug, one that had a small pink hue flutter onto your cheeks and nose. Hugs were nice, especially when you received them from the people closest to you.

“Gotten squishy? Sweetheart, you’re so warm.” Dally murmured with a smirk, gently pulling away to squeeze the soft fat of your tummy. It always made you a bit self conscious, but Dally and Johnny were always the most supportive and loving of it.. in their own ways.

Johnny often kissed the fat on your tummy, squeezed your thick thighs and enjoyed having your weight on his lap, or the other way around. Dallas liked slapping your ass, groping your tits and pinching your muffin tops. He just liked that everything was more full on your body.

So while Johnny was cuddled at your hip, breathing in your sweet smell and kissing your neck thoughtfully whenever he got the chance, and Dallas was squeezing your breasts and holding you both near, you decided that it’d be a wonderful time to take a nap.

So while your eyes fluttered shut and everything dulled to a dark serenity of sleep, you found yourself briefly lamenting falling asleep and not being able to see your two lovelies all happy and cozy.

But a small kiss from Dally to your forehead pushed those worrisome thoughts away, and with happy intent, you drifted off to the serene solace of sleep.

Waking up to whimpers and pushes of your body, you opened your eyes to see Dally and Johnny bare in front of you on their knees, chatting hurriedly as Dally fisted his erect cock.

“Johnny man, you’re worryin’ too much. You know she won’t mind, so what’s a’matter?” Dally groaned in complaint, watching Johnny try to cover his obvious erection pushing the inside of his jeans.

“Dal, it just don’t feel right. I love her, I don’t wanna break her trust. What if she ain’t comfortable with this kinda stuff? What if she wakes up? I dunno, Dal, I don’t wanna do it.” Johnny mumbled, his hands carefully rubbing your hip as you acted asleep.

You could feel your heart swell when Johnny spoke so firmly about what he thought would do you best, and you swore that it had your clit twitching so happily, you would’ve moaned out if you weren’t so adamant on having them not wake you.

“Man, you’re such a pussy. Move, I’ll do it myself.” Dally grumbled, moving a finger to your core and gestured for Johnny to spread your legs.

His lovely boney hands grasped at your thick thighs, opening them for Dally’s entry. All while Dallas looked at your pussy suspiciously and sighed.

“Doll, we know you’re awake now. Stop fakin’, just open your eyes.” Dally groaned, slapping your ass lightly and smirking.

At those words, you chuckled lightly and opened your eyes without reticence or hesitance, smiling widely at the two of them. It was weird seeing Johnny beside you with his hands firmly holding your thighs and Dally hovering over you, a smirk on his face and an erect cock in his hand.

“G’mornin’ sweetheart. You’re gonna take my cock in this pretty pussy, yeah?” Dally murmured, smiling.

Your smile faded a little, your hand pulling the shirt on your torso down to hide your apron belly. This wasn’t expected! Johnny was in the right for that, you didn’t want it.

Johnny noticed instantly, and scooped your heavy body onto his with care. This had you smiling wide, and your hands gently held his knees.

“It won’t be that bad, sugar. I’ve got you, don’t I? Come on, we’ll do the hard part together. Lift your arms.” Johnny hummed softly, easing your worry slightly.

So with reluctance, your hands went up and Johnny’s hands gently pulled your shirt off of your body. Mortification swam through your whole soul, and Johnny was instantly satisfied with the sight of your chubby stomach all rolled up so cutely.

“That’s my pretty baby. Look atchu, so gorgeous and soft.” Johnny hummed, hugging you tight from behind as he unclipped your bra for Dally’s greedy sight.

“Cute love handles and stomach rolls, huh Dal?”

You smiled at Johnny’s praise, but Dally wasn’t adamant on doing the same. He spread your pussy lips apart and rammed his length into your core, causing a yelped moan to escape you.

“Oh, Dally! Fuck!” You cried out, your hands seizing Johnny’s knees tightly as your legs shivered in surrender.

Johnny couldn’t deny that the scene in front of him was getting to his innocent mind, but something about it was erotic. Maybe it was how loud you moaned, maybe it was how aggressive Dally was being with you, or the way your puffed out stomach jiggled whenever his hips hit yours.

Whatever it was, it had his cock fully erect in his pants, and he lightly grinded it against your rear to relieve some of the pressure from the confines of his jeans. Unfortunately, it didn’t work all that well.

“Johnny, take it out! I wanna be double penetrated, please!” You whined out, tears in your eyes from the ecstasy Dally was handing to you.

Johnny froze at your sudden request, giving you a skeptical look and thinking thoughtfully on an answer for you. While he didn’t wish to do it out of safety reasons, he wanted to see if you could handle it and how loudly you’d scream for them.

So with some hesitance, Johnny unzipped his jeans and shifted his boxer briefs down a bit to let his cock spring free and present itself to you.

With some hesitation and worry, Johnny adjusted you properly before he gently speared his cock into your walls, Dally giving a whimper at the sudden pressure before it was a combination of movements.

Dallas was mindlessly squeezing your breasts, while Johnny was working your clit. The overstimulation was making an orgasm bubble deep within your stomach, the cord of pure passion was beginning to tighten almost painfully.

Soon enough, the cord in your stomach snapped and shot out arousal fluid to Dally’s lower stomach. This had him pause entirely, causing Johnny to stop as well.

“Sweetheart, you just made a mess on me. You felt that good? Ay Johnny, man, we gotta do this more often if she reacts like this.” Dally smirked, wiping your cum from his torso before continuing his thrusts again.

Johnny nodded, moaning alongside you as he creeped up the staircase to cloud nine. Dally could feel it, the way Johnny slowed down his pace because it started feeling “too good.”

“No, you keep poundin’ her. Break this little pussy, yeah? Make her moan for us.” Dally commanded, thrusting into you a few more times before he toppled over the edge of pure congenial ecstasy.

The thrusts of Dallas rubbing against Johnny had the brown boy spurting out his seed too, moaning and whimpering until they both finally pulled out, only for a puddle of all three of yours’ cum dripping out onto the mattress below.

You were mindlessly twitching and teary-eyeing the two, eventually becoming faint from the overstimulation and pain in your uterus from the double penetration.

Luckily, they were both there, rubbing your thighs and stomach as you fell to a calm sleep.

[urlocalnonbinarybastardwrites]

Can u do the Curtis gang +curly with a f!scene reader plz!!!! :3333

Ofc Darlin!!! I’d freakin loveeeeeeeee to!! We love our scene queen x gang requests!!

The Gang + Curly Shepard x F! Scene Reader

Ponyboy Curtis

-he thinks you’re soooo cool

-super intimidated though

-he’s memorized your entire schedule before he actually talks to you lmao

-he’s down sooo bad

-he started listening to scene music too just for you

-after doing hours of research to find out your style

-and one time you were in the library and he played the music just a little too loud in hopes of you noticing

-“Is that <insert band name>?! I LOVE them!! I didn’t think anyone else here listened to that stuff…”

-he acts chill about it like he didn’t just start a week ago when he saw you

-once he finally gets the guts to ask you out you say yes

-he goes on music + reading dates with you

-he’d try to match bracelets, bandanas, belts, rings, anything subtle

-probably the most expected couple

Johnny Cade

-LOVES your style

-he sees you one day walk by when he’s sitting in the lot and his eyes pop out of his skull

-he loves everything. He loves your hair, your skirt, your bright fishnets, all your jewelry, your makeup

-it’s so big… and obnoxious in the best possible way

-he loves too

-he doesn’t stop thinking about you after that

-it isn’t until dally and ponyboy get tired of him mentioning you that their like go talk to her man

-so he finally does, and he thinks you’re sooo cool

-scene doesn’t really work well on him, but he tries to match you in subtle ways like pony too

-matching bracelets fsfs

-Fr if you make him a few bracelets he will never stop wearing them

-when you finally start dating he really likes a lot of the music

-and if anyone has to say anything about you

-they can welcome Johnnys fist to their face

Sodapop Curtis

-he was shocked when he saw you walk in to say the least

-he’s never seen anyone like you before

-super intrigued

-he gets surprised when after a few days he realizes he has a huge crush on you

-he usually dates girls like cherry, but with you…. He’s definitely willing to make an exception

-you have the rare ability to make him nervous

-and falter in his usual effortlessly charming manner

-and one day he gets enough of a pep talk from Steve to ask you out

-and he does, giving the biggest, stupidest grin

-when you guys date it’s so cute

-he tried to let you do makeup on him one time

-it didn’t end well

-he can’t sit still 💀😭

Darry Curtis

-the least expected couple

-he’s a very traditional dude

-so seeing you is kinda like 🤯🤯🤯

-when he sees you walking down the street

-his jaw drops so low you have to dig a hole in the ground 💀💀

-he’s just stunned by you’re mere existence

-he asks Sodapop and Ponyboy about you at dinner

-and there both like OoOoOoOOoh someone has a crushhhhhh

-he’s in denial fr

-but he finally goes up to talk to you one day when you’re both shopping

-and asks a bit awkwardly “So… uhm… what’s with your outfit?”

-then realizes how rude he sounds “WAIT not like it’s not amazing- I mean you’re amazing- beautiful too- wait-“

-you giggle at him and smile “Oh, I just really like dressing in the same culture as my music taste”

-that gets the ball rolling and you two actually get along pretty nicely

-you both turn heads for real though

-and Sodapop and Ponyboy see you as a really cool aunt/older sister

-matches belts and jewelry with you

Dallas Winston

-now, he has never seen a broad like you before

-was secretly a bit intimidated

-but he’s not gonna show that………..

-he probably went up to you on a dare though

-made some rude jokes

-and you furrowed your brows

-“You know, it’s really not cool to make those jokes. You don’t like it when people assume things about you for being a grease hm?”

-he’s super surprised at your reaction

-and for once in this ever loving man’s life he reflects on his actions

-he sighs “You’re right, doll. What’s your name anyway, princess?” He says with a smirk

-matches belts and jewelry with you

Two Bit Mathews

-he saw you

-and instantly made jokes

-it’s two bit you guys what you expect

-“Do you come out of bed like that or…”

-“Damn, what unicorn threw up on your clothing?”

-“You’re gonna cut off your circulation with that much jewelry doll.”

-of course it’s all good fun, and you roast him back with equal wit

-which is kinda when he realizes he’s in love

-he asks you out

-you say yes

-he absolutely wear matching belts, jewelry and even shirts with you

-you made a Micky Mouse scene outfit and showed it to him

-and he LOVED IT

Steve Randle

-oh girl

-you rocked his whole world whenever you walked towards him

-he looks you up and down for a full minute

-like omfg she’s sick

-he tries to hold back his excitement when he talks to you

-he thinks you’re style is so cool

-asked multiple times to touch your wig

-he grins so hard when you let him

-he asks you out the soonest

-you guys are very cute together

-you give him something interesting to look at while he works on cars fs

-he loves your wigs so much

-kisses your hair all the time

Curly Shepard

-thinks you’re styles kickass, and you’re a total bad bitch

-I mean he’s a bit punk/grunge himself

-probably the most familiar with alt styles in general out of everyone

-he hits on you almost immediately

-checking you out with a smirk and a whistle

-loving the way your fishnets and skirt makes your legs and thighs look

-you guys are a scary ass couple to encounter

-the punk/grunge and the scene

-he matches belts with you and you both take a little bit from each other

-you mix a bit of his punk/grunge in your scene fits

-and he mixes some scene into his punk/grunge fits

-and he sometimes does matching eyeliner with you

-and it looks super kick ass on him

[boysborntodie]

Johnny/Cherry parallels

I had always noticed the parallels between Bob and Dally, both of them being direct foils to each other, but whilst analysing them, I noticed that two other characters were also set up as foils (whether intentionally or not), especially in regard to their relationships with both the aforementioned boys. I wanted to dive deeper into that.

1) Their relationship with Bob

Bob, despite being a major character with his death being the catalyst for the events of the novel, only appears in two scenes. Anything else about him we know is from accounts by Johnny, Cherry and Randy. 

Through his relationship with Johnny, we see him at his worst; A cruel, violent and callous person who had hurt Johnny to such an extent that Ponyboy remarks that Johnny would kill if someone tried to hurt him like that again, long before he actually proved it. As the novel is from Ponyboy’s POV, and this is the side of Bob that he showed Greasers, we mostly trust Johnny’s accounts and the few glimpses of Bob we see.

However, Cherry (and Randy) tells us of a different side of him, one more positive and sympathetic. Cherry recognizes Bob’s faults, but she also knew him to be friendly, nice and someone worth looking up to. 

This isn't much to remark on in itself, until you take Dally into consideration.

2) Their relationship with Dally

Dally is essentially Bob, but lower-class. Like Bob, he’s mean and violent (He had been arrested, he got drunk, he rode in rodeos, lied, cheated, stole, rolled drunks, jumped small kids--- he did everything), but because we see him in Ponyboy’s POV and his relationship with Johnny, we know first-hand of Dally’s capability of goodness and his better qualities, in a way we aren’t privy to Bob’s. 

Cherry states that she’s scared of Dally, and, while a part of her is attracted to him, she sees him as a genuinely bad and terrible person, calling him dirty and considering him one of the worst Greasers she’s seen, with Dallas’s advances and forcefulness towards her, not helping his case. It’s one of the times in the novel, we see Dally acting as mean as we’re constantly told he is. 

On the other hand, Dally is at his best with Johnny who gives him hope that goodness exists in a cruel world, and that a person who has suffered so much could still remain kind and soft. Johnny is the only person who’s able to stand up to Dally, with Dally actually listening to him, without a fight. It’s worth noting that Cherry also stands up to Dally, despite knowing what he’s capable of, something not many people do due to fear of him.

"Leave her alone, Dally." ("Huh?") "You heard me. Leave her alone.” // "Please leave us alone," she (Cherry) said. "Why don't you be nice and leave us alone?"

3) Their individual relationships with Dally and Bob 

Johnny managed an admiring grin. "You sure didn't show (that you were scared). Nobody talks to Dally like that." // She (Cherry) smiled, "From what I saw, you do."

Edit: @veggiesforpresident pointed this out the other day to me.

Dally could never love Cherry. I would be surprised if Dally loved anything//Johnny was the one thing Dally loved

(Not to make it about Jally but SE Hinton is kinda setting herself up at this point)

Bob is to Cherry as Dally is to Johnny. Both of them recognize their faults and shortcomings, without being blinded by their biases towards them. But at the same time Johnny and Cherry describe these men who are so upfront about their cruelty and callousness, as capable of admirable qualities. 

Johnny and Cherry are both great judges of character, have strong morals and are extremely observant, being able to see things others are blind to, so Ponyboy, while incredulous to both of their statements, having a strong dislike for the boys, is contemplative of it.

"Dally's okay," Johnny said defensively. "He's tough, but he's a cool old guy." // “You only knew his (Bob’s) bad side. He could be sweet sometimes, and friendly.”

"Yeah... in the manners bit, and the charm, too, I guess," Johnny said slowly, "but one night I saw Dally gettin' picked up by the fuzz, and he kept real cool and calm the whole time. They was gettin' him for breakin' out the windows in the school building, and it was Two-Bit who did that. And Dally knew it. But he just took the sentence without battin' an eye or even denyin' it. That's gallant." // “I know I'm too young to be in love and all that, but Bob was something special. He wasn't just any boy. He had something that made people follow him, something that marked him different, maybe a little better, than the crowd. Do you know what I mean?”

Another unrelated parallel is that, like Johnny stood up to Dally, Cherry can and will call out Bob if she thinks he crosses a line.

"Leave her alone, Dally." ("Huh?") "You heard me. Leave her alone.” // "Cherry looked mad. "A little (drunk)? You call reeling and passing out in the streets 'a little'? Bob, I told you, I'm never going out with you while you're drinking, and I mean it. Too many things could happen while you're drunk. It's me or the booze."

Cherry’s fear of Dally parallels Johnny’s fear of Bob. While it can be argued that Dally didn’t hurt Cherry like Bob did Johnny, he crosses her boundaries, speaks derogatory of her and verbally torments her (in the movie, he forcefully grabs her, so for once, movie!Dally is actually worse than book!Dally), to the point Johnny, who is known as non-confrontational, intervenes.

4) Their relationships with Ponyboy

Johnny and Cherry are special amongst the entire cast, for their mostly positive relationship with Ponyboy, the protagonist and narrator of the novel. Apart from Soda, they’re the only two people Ponyboy feels comfortable and able to be himself with. 

"I know," I said. "Well," I said, thinking this over, "you ain't like any of the gang. I mean, I couldn't tell Two-Bit or Steve or even Darry about the sunrise and clouds and stuff. I couldn't even remember that poem around them. I mean, they just don't dig. Just you and Sodapop. And maybe Cherry Valance." 

But Johnny and I understood each other without saying anything. Nobody but Soda could really get me talking. Till I met Cherry Valance.

They both appreciate and admire Ponyboy’s intellect, innocence and sensitivity, despite people usually thinking of such qualities as useless and signs of weakness and naivety. While others like Two-Bit and Darry also do, Cherry and Johnny are more upfront about it and think of them as Ponyboy's strengths.

“Stay gold, Ponyboy.”

‘When you're a kid everything's new, dawn. It's just when you get used to everything that it's day. Like the way you dig sunsets, Pony. That's gold. Keep that way, it's a good way to be.’

//

"You read a lot, don't you, Ponyboy?" Cherry asked. "-I'll bet you watch sunsets, too."

“You're a nice kid, Ponyboy. Do you realise how scarce nice kids are nowadays?”

Unrelated and I don’t have much to say on it, but these two scenes are fairly similar, with Ponyboy snapping at Cherry and Johnny respectively, after they say their thoughts which go against his current views whilst he’s emotional and upset, which end up changing further in the novel (Darry hating him/Bob being an irredeemable person).

“An' you can shut your trap, Johnny Cade, 'cause we all know you ain't wanted at home, either. And you can't blame them." // "I wouldn't want you to see him. You're a traitor to your own kind and not loyal to us. Do you think your spying for us makes up for the fact that you're sitting there in a Corvette while my brother drops out of school to get a job? Don't you ever feel sorry for us. Don't you ever try to give us handouts and then feel high and mighty about it."

5) Their roles and understanding of societal roles

Apart from Ponyboy, Johnny and Cherry are the characters who most despise the existence of the Greasers and Socs dynamic, the rampant classism in Tulsa which victimises both sides of the class division, especially children, and the societal roles forced upon them.

“I’ll kill myself or something (when talking about the Socs).” “It seems like there’s gotta be someplace without greasers or Socs” // “We’ve got troubles you (Ponyboy) haven’t even heard of. You want to know something? Things are rough all over.”

"Useless... Fighting's no good" // "I can't stand fights... I can't stand them"

Whilst most other people think of them as unfair, they also accept it as a part of life. Cherry and Johnny represent those who can’t just accept it, but also can’t do anything against the system or to save themselves from it and are destined to live and die as a byproduct of this system, rather than escaping it. After a life of abuse and trauma, Johnny dies before he is ready to, while Cherry still adheres to societal norms, and is forced to hide her true self, as shown as she ignores Ponyboy at school. 

They’re also set as foils to Ponyboy who is an anomaly among Greasers and Socs, and, like them, understands that the class dynamics of Tulsa should not be considered as just a part of life, instead recognising how they hurt everyone, turn kids against each other and cause prejudices that blind them from seeing their humanity. But Ponyboy has the power to not only escape Tulsa and its classism someday but also to actually act against it, by writing the Outsiders.

[lallouette]

I saw The Outsiders musical last week and I’ve listened to the cast album a few times since it came out on Wednesday, and it’s so interesting how I’m still chewing on it. I’ve had the privilege of seeing a bunch of Broadway shows recently. One was just kind of bad and I forgot about it immediately. One was perfect, luminous, no notes, I gushed about it to everyone I know (Merry We Roll Along). This is the one I have the most thoughts about. It emotionally devastated me and a lot of aspects of it were really well done. Other aspects of it. . . I have thoughts about? Here are my not-entirely-sober, rambly thoughts about this show, beneath the cut bc this is gonna get long and no one asked for this (also spoiler warning just in case): 

-I was able to buy into it, but it took me some time to get there. The first little bit had me skeptical. By the time they were at the drive in (fourth song) I was like, okay, I’m definitely down with this. The book also has a lot of exposition up front, but it’s a LOT of exposition in the show.

-I was wondering how they were going to handle profanity, given that the book has a lot of “he swore” and the movie is very tame on that front. They say fuck multiple times, which is. Very much warranted given the situations that they’re in but it did surprise me a little!!! Also somebody makes a reference to eating pussy in like the second song which was WILD

-I think they did really well with the character of Johnny, acting, directing, and writing wise. My greatest fear is that they would Tiny Tim or Beth Littlewomen him, given that he is quite literally Too Good For This Sinful World. But I actually think he felt more like a fully realized person than in the movie. Sky-Lakota Lynch did a great job of looking haunted not just with his face but with his whole body. He was always pacing or fidgeting or something, and that nervous energy worked for me. And then of course he’s very, very still. And the contrast is very upsetting. Also they put him in sunrise colors 🥲

-Speaking of Johnny and Ponyboy, they’re very gay in this. I never really got that vibe in the book or movie (probably because I was 11 and didn’t even know I was gay yet), but here they’re close in a particular way that reminds me of certain friendships I had before I came out. Fantasizing about running away and making a home with your Extra Special Best Friend is the gayest thing I can possibly imagine. There’s a DIFFERENT song that I have dubbed 2 bros chilling in a hot tub because they are gazing into each other’s eyes singing about how they’ll never leave each other, HANDS CLASPED OVER THE KNIFE THAT JOHNNY USED TO KILL SOMEONE TO SAVE PONY, but they are sitting as far apart as physically possible. If the intent was to make it look less like they were going to kiss then they failed. 

-I went in knowing what they did with Dally’s death. And it works bc Dally in this is a completely different character. He feels much older, closer to Darry’s age, and he’s less loose-cannon-dangerous and more paternal toward Johnny and Pony. While book!Dally’s death is a final fuck-you to the world, this Dally is much more calculated about it. Thematically, do I think they should have changed the manner of his death? No. I think they should have engaged with the source material head-on, even if that scene is bound to take on different connotations now. Also Ponyboy has a monologue after Dally’s death that should have been cut down if not cut, make us sit with that 

-Joshua Boone, who plays Dally, is FANTASTIC. His performance of “Little Brother” (breakdown song after Johnny dies) is so much more intense than what’s on the cast album. I want to see him in les mis, which is high praise from me. Beautiful voice, wonderful ability to sustain notes while also sounding like his world has just been ripped out from under him. 

-they did cool stuff with lights and projections every time Ponyboy gets concussed! (Which is alarmingly often). The whole using lights/sound/projections to make the audience feel what the character is feeling reminded me of Curious Incident of the Dog In the Nighttime, as did the framing device at times. 

-the choreography/staging is amazing. The church fire! The rain! The whole thing taking place in the lot!!! I could have watched 10 more minutes of the rumble. 

-some of the lyrics are a little questionable. Love the book scenes! Love the music (I’m always here for a guitar-y folk ballad). But like. There is a scene where they dip into this almost recitative thing to describe how they just killed someone and I’m like ??? There’s so much dialogue in this musical, why is this not just dialogue. The songs are definitely strongest when they’re expressing inner thoughts/emotions instead of trying to advance plot. 

-The Stay Gold song WORKS. Musical theater is truly the best visual medium for letters bc you can have the person who wrote it come out and harmonize with the person reading it and UGH. Now that I’ve seen it staged it makes me so much more emotional 

-the way I’m tempted to go rush it so I can see it again. The brainworms are so real 

[a-kind-of-merry-war]

Kissing Lessons

@artemisthehuntress I did the thing oh no (this takes place before E5, for ah... obvious reasons) As Jaskier extracted himself from the lips of the barmaid whose name he’d already forgotten, he noticed Geralt staring at him.

Again.

This was becoming a rather common occurrence. Jaskier and Geralt had met up in Oxenfurt quite accidentally three months ago, and had been heading North together since. Jaskier, flushed with cash for once after taking on a few lectures for an old academic friend, had been paying their way through inns and taverns. Staying in inns rather than sleeping outdoors meant people - people meant an audience - and an audience meant attention. Jaskier loved it.

He’d been very well behaved, he thought. This was only somewhat on purpose: he’d been rather distracted, lately, and the old routine of bedding down with a gorgeous person for the night felt a little… off. More often than not, he was happy to spend the evening having the life kissed out of him before retiring to his and Geralt’s shared rooms without so much as a dally behind the stables.

The kissing - which itself was very nice, of course - seemed to bring with it this rather unusual side effect. This certainly wasn’t the first time he’d caught Geralt staring at him while he’d been wrapped around someone else. Geralt’s expression was, as usual, deliberate and unreadable - but Jaskier sure there was something else there too, something that made his heart ache. 

Jaskier was heading towards the bar with the vague intention to get another round when a sudden thought struck him. He’d been travelling with Geralt for some time now, and not once had he seen him kiss anyone. Oh, sure, they’d visited brothels together - but Jaskier knew that certain rules applied in such establishments, rules such as no kissing.

Geralt was certainly handsome enough, and while his manners often left something to be desired Jaskier was very aware that manners were often the last thing he looked for in a partner who would amount to nothing more than a quick fumble. The more he thought about it, the more worried he became: he’d seen people, both women and men, virtually throw themselves at Geralt, and yet he’d always turned them away.

This could be why. Perhaps this simple, human pleasure was something that had passed his witcher by. Perhaps Jaskier could… help. Perhaps he could show him. 

He’d thought about kissing Geralt countless times - so often, in fact, that the dizzying daydream no longer made him blush, and certainly no longer made him feel guilty. He’d always imagined that a dalliance with Geralt would be all rough lips and hard gazes and, ideally, heavily featured being pinned against a wide variety of horizontal and vertical surfaces.

But now, as this new thought took root, he imagined something quite different. What if Geralt’s kisses weren’t rough or powerful but soft and gentle? What if they were unsure? 

And - oh - that was an entirely different fantasy indeed. Jaskier leading the way, showing Geralt all the wonderful things he could do with his lips and tongue and teeth, Geralt asking for more while Jaskier told him exactly what he wanted - exactly what felt best for both of them.

Helping him, he quite quickly decided, was the noble thing to do. Practising kissing was what friends did, wasn’t it? Priscilla had shown him the thing with the corner of the lips, and Virginia had taught him how to kiss in the Toussaint style, and Valdo had demonstrated to him that delightful little trick with his tongue. It had been a thorough and insightful education. Perhaps Geralt, raised only with the pack of men he referred to has his brothers, had never had such tutelage.

It simply would not do. For all Jaskier enjoyed a good fuck, there was something equally wonderful about a kiss - be it the languid strokes of long term lovers or a quick snog in an alleyway. A wonderful thing, he thought with a little stab of sadness, that Geralt wasn't able to experience.

No: It wouldn’t do at all. He tossed a couple of coins to the barkeep, grabbed two more tankards of ale and sauntered over to where Geralt was sat, still brooding in the corner.

“Geralt,” he said, pushing a pint towards him, “we must talk.”

Geralt raised an eyebrow. “Must we?”

“We must. Quite urgently, I’m afraid.” Geralt rolled his eyes, so Jaskier prattled on. “Now, Geralt, I say this as your friend and without a trace of malice or any ill will, alright? But I have rather noticed that you’ve been, ah… staring.” That sounded awkward. “At me.” Melitele, that sounded worse.

However - it appeared to be on the mark. There was a flicker of something like panic on Geralt’s face for just the briefest moment.

“Rather,” Jaskier continued, easing his way through the difficult conversation, “staring at my… companions. My companions and I, I suppose. My company.” He sighed, aware he was rambling, and took a long swig of ale. “What I mean to say, Geralt, is that I’ve noticed you watching me while I’m kissing people and yet, in the two years we’ve been travelling together, I’ve not seen you kiss anyone at all.”

Geralt blinked. Jaskier waited for a response. 

“It’s not been two years,” Geralt said, finally.

“Psh,” Jaskier flapped a hand at him, “two years give or take, off and on. My point stands.”

“Your point being what, exactly?”

Jaskier paused. What was his point? Right. “My point being that you’re my very dear friend, Geralt, and I… I want you to be happy.” Geralt didn’t seem to understand. “Fulfilled.”

Geralt laughed. He actually laughed. Jaskier’s heart did back flips. 

“I can assure you I’m perfectly fulfilled, Jaskier,” he said. 

“Well, yes, but…”

“We were literally in a brothel together in Novigrad two months ago.”

“Okay, that’s true…”

“But?”

“But… well, you know what they say about brothels. And, you know, the rules. What they don’t do is often more important than what they do… do.”

Geralt looked truly confused, although he was still smiling. “Jaskier, what the hell are you talking about?”

“Like I said, I’m just concerned…”

“About my sex life?”

“Not your sex life, no!”

“Then what?”

Jaskier leaned closer, conspiratorially, even though no one was paying them any attention.

“I’m talking about kissing, Geralt.”

Geralt frowned at him. “What?”

“It’s just… look, Geralt, I’ve seen the way people look at you…” Geralt opened his mouth to argue, “And don’t say-” Jaskier continued, cutting him off, “-don’t say that you’re a big scary witcher and no normal folk will want you because we both know that’s patently untrue. I’ve seen at least a dozen people who’d be more than willing to take you for a tumble if you wanted it. But you never want to. And, well…”

“You think I don’t want to because of… kissing?”

“Something like that, yes. Look, everyone does their own thing, and if it’s not something you’re interested in then that’s fine! But… well, if you’ve not got that much experience…” he took a deep breath. “I can help.”

“You can… help?”

Jaskier nodded. He could feel his face begin to flush. This had never happened with Priss, damn it. He took another drink to busy himself, to hide his glowing cheeks.

“Jaskier,” said Geralt, his voice far more calm than Jaskier was currently feeling, “are you proposing you teach me how to kiss?”

Jaskier spluttered, choking on the ale. Oh, marvellous, he thought to himself, very alluring. 

“Yes,” he coughed, trying to compose himself. “That’s the ah… the long and short of it.”

He placed the tankard back down on the sticky table. Geralt appeared to be thinking. Jaskier wasn’t so sure that his brilliant idea had truly been all that brilliant.

And then Geralt stood, ale in hand. “Alright,” he said.

“I… what?”

“I said alright. Or have you decided against it?”

Jaskier stood up so fast he nearly knocked his chair over. Geralt didn’t comment - just raised an eyebrow - before heading up the rickety stairs that led towards their room.

~

Jaskier tried not to stumble on the stairs, one hand still clasped around his ale. Was this happening? Was this actually, truly happening? Part of him wanted to check, but the irrational part of his brain was convinced that if he stopped Geralt and asked exactly what was about to happen that Geralt would suddenly change his mind.

He found himself being led into their shared rooms, vaguely aware that this was not how it was supposed to go. He was supposed to be in charge, the one leading the way. Wasn’t he?

Jaskier entered the room, sure it had somehow shrunk in the few hours since they’d arrived, and Geralt shut and bolted the door behind them before placing his tankard on the little table and settling himself on the bed. 

“So,” he said, looking up at Jaskier with an expression bordering on cheeky, “you were saying?”

The tankard suddenly felt very heavy in Jaskier’s hands. He placed it on the table next to Geralt’s before stepping forwards and - feeling foolish - lowering himself down next to him.

“Well,” said Jaskier, “This is… I mean, usually I would…” Oh, Melitele. He was rambling again. Jaskier knew himself to be an accomplished flirt, able to draw people in and charm them till they were putty in his hands, but under Geralt’s gaze it all tumbled away. He stammered like a schoolboy. 

“When I was in training,” said Geralt, his head tilted to one side, “we were told that the best way to teach was through demonstrations.”

Fuck. This really wasn’t going how Jaskier had planned at all - and the brief fantasy of a gentle, bashful Geralt was quickly dissolving. On the other hand, of course, what that meant was that Geralt was very willingly offering himself up to him. He’d told Jaskier to kiss him. Sort of.

And Jaskier wasn’t going to let that opportunity slip away from him.

He pulled his legs up beneath him and turned on the bed so he could fully face Geralt, then took the Witcher's jaw in one hand, guiding Geralt’s face to meet his own. He bit back the urge to talk, to pointlessly explain the motion. Now was not the time for his self-conscious babbling. Instead, he leaned in, his eyes trained on Geralt’s lips.

Jaskier was aware he was still being stared at.

“You know,” he murmured, their lips just an inch apart, “traditionally, one closes one’s eyes.”

“Is that so?” came the reply. “But if I close my eyes, how will I know what you’re doing? How do you expect me to learn?”

Jaskier sighed against Geralt’s lips. Gods, that was surprisingly hot. There was nothing else for it. He quickly wet his lips with his tongue, then in one swift movement pressed his mouth to Geralt’s. He started soft, lightly brushing their lips together, easing them both in. Geralt kissed him back with equal gentleness, and - ah - was that uncertainty? It was hard to tell - and hard to care, now. The vague notion that Jaskier was going to be teaching Geralt anything at all was quickly sliding away from him: all he could think was how supple Geralt’s lips were.

He pulled away, and Geralt was still watching him in silence. 

“Ah,” muttered Jaskier, reeling a little, “so…”

And then Geralt’s hand was on his jaw, cupping the side of his face so gently that Jaskier couldn’t help but lean into the touch with a sigh. 

Fuck it.

He surged forwards once more, this time pressing his lips to Geralt’s with urgency. Geralt responded in kind, and taking that as an assent to continue, Jaskier gently pressed the tip of his tongue to Geralt’s lips. Geralt made a low, rasping noise which went straight to Jaskier’s core, and Jaskier had to stop himself from simply pushing Geralt down and pinning him to the bed. This was supposed to be a kissing lesson; nothing else.

He let his tongue explore the contours of Geralt’s lips, tracing them, aware that if Geralt was inexperienced in this area the sudden invasion of his tongue in his mouth might be overwhelming. But Geralt opened his mouth beneath him, as if he was inviting him in, and - after all - who was Jaskier to turn such a delicious invitation down? Slowly, so as not to surprise him, Jaskier let himself in, tasting him - the bitter flavour of the ale mixed with something else, something that was purely Geralt. He was shocked when Geralt mirrored the movement, and suddenly their lips and tongues danced together in tandem.

Jaskier hadn’t realised that Geralt’s hand was no longer on his jaw until there was a sudden, powerful grip around his waist, pulling him closer. He gasped against Geralt’s lips, and Geralt kissed him even harder, his fingers digging into his hips. Jaskier wrapped his hands around the back of Geralt’s head, tugging through his hair, holding him close. Geralt made that noise again - that terrible, sinful noise - and all thought of lessons and teaching were completely abandoned as Jaskier took Geralt’s bottom lip in between his teeth with a needy tug. It was Geralt’s turn to gasp, now, and suddenly they’d both topped backwards onto the bed, Jaskier pinning Geralt beneath him, one knee on either side of his waist.

He kissed Geralt like he couldn’t stop - like if he did, he might die, his hands now thoroughly roaming. Jaskier felt Geralt’s grip around his waist grow tighter, and suddenly he found himself being flung over, pressed into the sheets beneath Geralt’s arms. The movement broke the kiss apart, and Jaskier stared up at Geralt, his breaths quick and erratic.

“Geralt,” he managed, “I… fuck, Geralt.”

Geralt grinned down at him. “Not bad,” he said. “I’d say… definitely in the top three.”

Jaskier froze. “What? Top three? I… Geralt, what…”

Geralt raised his eyebrows, but said nothing. 

Oh. Oh. “You…” Jaskier began, heaving himself up on his elbows, “you bastard! You let me think… you said…”

“I didn’t say anything,” drawled Geralt, still looking down at him, “you assumed. I just didn’t correct you.”

Jaskier’s mouth opened and shut uselessly as he tried to find the right words. He wanted to be furious - but this was all his own bloody fault for making such ridiculous assumptions. Of course Geralt had kissed people before. Of course he had! He was fucking…

“I can’t believe you let me make such an arse of myself,” he said, aghast.

Geralt lowered himself so their faces were inches apart. “I wouldn’t call that making an arse of yourself,” he said, “you’re a very adept teacher. Very enthusiastic.” 

“Is that so?”

“Hmm. Although…” he leaned in closer, and Jaskier felt like he might simply perish beneath that intense stare, “There’s a couple things I’m still not sure on.” He pressed a single chaste, feather-light kiss to Jaskier’s lips. “Perhaps you could show me again?”

Jaskier swallowed. “Of course,” he said, breathlessly. “Why don’t you show me where you think you need improvement?”

[sirtwentyofhousegoodmen]

Prompt: Arcturus at the birth of Sirius

November 3, 1959

"Pacing like a madman isn't going to make this go by any faster, boy."

Orion—dutiful as always—only nodded at the pointed remark from his father, eliciting a light sneer from the patriarch.

Honestly—not a hint of anger, nor even frustration at the jibe. Arcturus almost savoured the day when his son would finally tell him what he truly thought of him, but, rather like the boy Walburga was currently bringing into the world—it was slow to come.

As always, all the men of the black family were gathered in the drawing room, smoking cigars and drinking brandy. Cygnus was looking positively sloshed, no doubt because this boy that was being born was meant to remedy his own mistake in siring only daughters. Alphard was as inscrutable as always, damned vagabond. Pollux was red-cheeked and merry, oblivious to his son's misery, puffing on his cuban with the utmost gusto.

This was what was left of the Black Family.

He was starting to see some truth to all his grandfather's curmudgeonly ranting.

Orion's pacing grew all too wearisome after a few more minutes, and Arcturus found himself at his limit.

"By Salazar, boy—sit down!"

Orion turned to him, a shocked look on his face before acqueiscing. Arcturus didn't fail to notice the tense jaw.

Good. Let the boy stew a bit more—only a matter of time before he finally grew a spine.

The occasion was bittersweet for Arcturus. On the one hand, Orion's marriage to his abominable cousin finally producing something of worth was cause for celebration—on the other, it showed just how far the Black family had fallen.

All their hopes hinged on an infant boy—it was difficult not to be bitter about the fact. And with his brother Regulus's death just a few months before, it had put the Black patriarch in a foul mood that hadn't ceased since. Only Melania knew how to navigate his temper now, and even her subdued manner grated every now and then.

As if on cue, the aforementioned woman burst into the drawing room, dress slightly disheveled and bags under her eyes speaking of tiredness.

His poor wife—to have to manage twenty-seven hours of Walburga's screeching. He would get her a gift one of these days—perhaps that rare orchid she was eyeing when they went to Nott Manor. She'd never said much about it, but Melania didn't say much about anything. One had to read between the lines with her, and even then the woman's emotions were as mysterious as the day was long.

"A boy, dear—practically perfect in every way!" She beamed, then walked over to where Orion sat, shell-shocked at the news, and kissed him on the cheek.

"Well," Arcturus groaned as he stood—one of these days he might very well need a cane, his leg had been killing him these last few months. "Best not dawdle—let's go see my grandson, Orion. Unless, you wish for me to wait until after you've seen him first?"

Orion turned to him, then after a moment's hesitation, shook his head deferentially. "Of course not, father—you're more than welcome to see him with me."

For God's sake boy, anything! Call me miserable, tell me I'm a bastard, one sign of dissent to show you've a man's spine!

Rather than voice this, Arcturus merely harrumphed in dissapointment and followed Orion out of the drawing room, all the way up the stairs. The walk was—like much of their meetings—silent and uncomfortable, punctuated by the mutterings of the portraits as they went by.

Reaching the door of the room Walburga was in, Orion dallied for just a second before finally collecting himself and opening the door.

When they entered, Walburga was quite obviously miffed with her husband for allowing his decrepit old father to push him into coming along with him. Honestly, you'd think he was still in the nursery sometimes, yanking on his father's pant-leg for the slightest bit of attention!

"Orion," she greeted, smiling in a manner best described as murderous. She turned her flinty gaze to the elder. "Arcturus."

"Walburga," Arcturus nodded back. "I'm here to see my grandson. Or do you intend to hide the boy away forever?"

Her eyes narrowed, giving her smile an even more brittle quality to it. "Certainly not. Please, Arcturus," she emphasized the name, shooting her husband a glare for good measure, "Come meet our son."

Orion approached her warily, as if she were Mephistopheles himself, whilst Arcturus had no such compunctions and walked forward confidently to the bed.

When he caught sight of the boy, he smiled.

Black hair, aquiline nose, grey eyes—A perfect Black specimen. Perhaps Walburga wasn't the worst choice for Orion—Nightmare she may have been, she had little of the Crabbe looks aside from her eyes appearing blue in a certain light. Orion, on the other hand, looked more a Macmillan than some of his cousins who actually bore the name. Their son was a testament to Black genetics—bearing the name on both sides, as well as the looks.

Arcturus nodded, an approving gleam in his eyes as he took in his first grandson. "The boy's every inch a Black. Fine job, the both of you. You especially, Orion."

Walburga looked mightily offended at Orion being given extra commendations, seeing as how she'd just spent twenty-seven hours bringing the newest black heir into the world—but her husband either didn't notice or didn't care as he stuttered over his thanks for his father's first compliment in what must've been five years.

"Thank you, father." Orion turned back to the boy, all his focus on his son, and a smile that could be called tender growing on his face. "He's perfect, Walburga."

Her face softened at that, and she even allowed herself a small smile at her husband. "Would you like to hold him?"

Orion nodded, gleefully, before taking hold of his son as if he were made of the most delicate china in the world. He gazed down at the boy lovingly, smiling like a madman at every coo and fuss that came from the boy as if he couldn't believe he were real.

"What will you name him?" Arcturus asked, breaking his son out of his downright womanish fussing after allowing him a generous amount of it.

Orion's smile grew larger, if anything, and he stared up at Arcturus hopefully.

"Sirius," Orion said, and Arcturus felt as if someone had poured a bucket of cold water over his head. "For my grandfather."

"You didn't even know your grandfather," Arcturus said, half an accusation. Orion heard the harsh tone and flinched, caught completely blindsided.

"I meant to honour him," Orion replied, nervously.

"If you'd known him, you'd know he wasn't a man to honour or emulate in the least." Arcturus fired back, an anger and resentment he'd stewed over since he was nine years old bubbling to the surface.

"Orion meant it for your father," Walburga said, each word coming out through gritted teeth. "But I was the one who chose it—and I had your great-uncle in mind."

Arcturus blinked. "Ah, well then I suppose it's not too," he shifted his feet, uncomfortably, "bad a choice. Let me see Sirius then, Orion—or do you mean to hog him forever?"

Orion, snapping out of his hurt, nodded fervently and placed the boy into his father's arms, hovering over his back as if anticipating his fall.

Arcturus evaluated the boy closer, and he saw it—those eyes. Black they were, but he could see the impudence in them from a mile away. The baby, oblivious to his grandfather's test, reached up and yanked a hair off his mustache.

"Ow!"

Orion rushed forward and took the baby out of his incensed grandfather's arms, hushing its giggles as if worried his father would take even more offense to them.

"Impertinent little—," He sighed, running a hand over his face.

"Father, I—"

"It's not a problem, Orion," Arcturus replied, spitting out every word with the utmost venom. "I'd only suggest watching the boy in future—there's an impudence there that I like not."

Orion looked at Arcturus as if he'd grown two heads, but nodded. Walburga, in the corner, looked to be trying to muffle a fit of cackles with her pillow.

Impertinent whelp.

[silkentragedies]

Average at Best 

Angel! Jisung X fem! Demon Reader

1.1k words, Implied Smut, Fluff

Warnings: Swearing, inaccurate descriptions of angels and demons(?)

This piece of fiction does not reflect the actions or the real life Han Jisung. Not meant for minors. 

The first thing you sensed even before your eyes opened was the weight of an arm nestling you closer into a warmer-than-normal body. By instinct, you nestled closer into the body, nuzzling your nose into the crook of the person’s neck. They groaned in response, a soft, deep groan that pulled you out of your sleep almost instantly, your brain placing the voice even in the sleepiest of states. Oh, stars, of all the fucking people-

A surprised screech escaped your lips as you scrambled away from the warm body, your own protesting as the blankets fell away from your frame, exposing your bare shoulders and back to the chilly morning air. Now that you’d put some distance between yourself and the offending body, you watched in growing horror as their eyes fluttered open, bleary but quickly coming to consciousness. 

“Holy fuck.” You muttered, and Han Jisung’s eyes lit up with an almost predatory gleam despite his sleepiness, his long, tousled blonde hair only adding to his rakish appearance. “I’m sure I am.” A smirk curled up the sides of his lips as he pulled himself up to rest his back against the headboard, his skin gleaming in an unfairly lovely manner against the morning sun. You would say angelic, but the expression on his face and the purple-red marks that were scattered over the expanse of his skin implied otherwise. You followed the marks from the side of his neck to his collarbone, chest and stomach, stopping at the edge of the blanket that had fallen to his waist. No, not angelic at all. Besides, the tilted halo that was resting against his hair already gave away his ancestry. “Don’t flatter yourself, you were average at best.” You scoffed in amusement, pulling the blanket away from Jisung to shield yourself from the cold as you curled up in the corner of the bed, facing away from him- your bed, thankfully. Jisung would have to be the one to do the walk of shame past your roommates. Your...your very demon roommates oh, unholy stars- Despite yourself, your mind flashed back to the rather...inappropriate events of the night past. Jisung had always found it amusing to flirt rather dangerously with you and then disappear before the nights ran out- but yesterday, he stayed. You remembered how he had sidled up to you in the middle of Minho’s raucous party, hands surreptitiously smoothing over your curves before stopping at your waist in his usual greeting hug. How you’d goaded him into coming home with you- leading to your fingers curled into his belt loops as you pulled his body flush against yours, lips catching each other against your closed bedroom door. His halo had been upright until then, the faint loop floating over the top of his head. “I’m sure the sounds your roommates heard last night proves you wrong.” Jisung scoffed, but you stoutly refused to turn around and face him despite the shuffling and rustling that ensued behind you. That is until one firm yank of the sheets had you exclaiming at the cold that wreaked through your body- Jisung had pulled the blankets back towards himself, leaving you bare to the elements. “Aren’t you angels supposed to be caring and kind? Haven’t you heard of sharing, dipshit?” you hissed, finally twisting to glare half-heartedly at Jisung before pulling the sheets back over your body- But you only found Jisung much closer to you than you expected, his bronze eyes still shining in the sunlight. “We’re not entitled to share anything with liars. Much less demons,” he murmured, still staring intently at you. “Well, it’s not yours to share, Mr Holier-than-thou. You’re in my bed.” You gritted out, resolutely slipping into the blankets. Now, if you could properly ignore the fact that you were nose-to-nose with the angel you’d slept with the night before, his bare skin now brushing against yours at every joint and curve. The ever-present smirk on his face only widened when his other hand slid up your arm, getting a shiver to run down your spine. His ghosting touch was weirdly reminiscent of the night past, only bringing back the memories, each more vivid than before. One would think angels had the highest modicum of self control a being could possibly have. Han Jisung only served to prove that assumption wrong with the way he pushed you up against the door the previous night after nary but a few minutes of your good natured teasing. “If you’re gonna touch me, sweetheart,” he’d murmured against your skin, nipping and sucking the first of many marks onto your neck, “touch me like you mean it, yeah? Or must I show you how?” And the promise behind those words were enough for you to pull him towards your bed, tangled in a mess of teeth and limbs. Demons weren’t the model of self-control to start with- and this celestial being seemed ready to be the reason you lost yours altogether. It was like he had an innate sense of what could make you see stars, using said senses to edge you within an inch of the pleasure you craved, smooth and oh so frustrating. It hadn’t taken you long to break and beg for more, breath leaving your dry throat in gasps and moans. Your breath hitched and stuttered when Jisung’s thumb brushed over the outline of your lips, where remnants of lipstick still clung. “I feel like I should remind you,” you whisper against his finger, “ that you’re in the wrong bed.” “And here I was, thinking you enjoyed having me in your bed.” he eventually giggled, pulling you closer into his chest. A wry smile creeped up your lips, betraying your amusement- begrudging as it was. Even you weren’t immune to the angel’s subtle charms. “As I said, you were average at best.” you laughed, finally letting your body settle into Jisung’s arms, not too differently from how you were intertwined when you woke up. Your fingertips traced over Jisung’s collarbone before resting on his chest, your nose nuzzling closer into his familiar scent. “You keep saying that to yourself, darling.” he grinned mockingly, dropping a kiss against your hairline. “It’s as the law says, opposites always attract.” You smacked his chest lightly, leaning up to stare reproachfully at him. “That still isn’t a good enough excuse for me to be sleeping with a bloody angel!” You giggled, prompting Jisung to let out a quiet laugh as well. “Atleast you won’t have to walk around with physical evidence of dallying with demons.” He sighed as your giggles settled down, waving vaguely at the lopsided halo that flattened his hair. “It’s gonna take a few hours to straighten up again, so I’m stuck here.” “Can’t you get stuck somewhere that isn’t my bed, angel?” you poked his nose, making him blink and scrunch his nose for a second. You couldn’t help but watch in unconscious fascination as his hair slipped over his eyes and brushed against his cheekbones in messy strands, time flowing oddly slow- “You’re looking  at me like I’m fucking Mona Lisa, I think I’ll stay here just so you can admire my glowing beauty and sparkling personality some more.” Your eyes narrowed, before you braced your hands on his chest and pushed him over the edge of your bed and onto the floor, barely stopping the blankets from being dragged down with him. Letting out a loud crow of laughter, you watched as he dragged himself his feet, looking even more disheveled from the tumble, eyes narrowed in mock annoyance. “Like I said, you’re average at best.” 

This was My Pace Jisung brainrot which happened after @decembermoonskz sent me the coolest prompt xD. Here it is:

“What can I say? Opposites attract.” “That is really not a good excuse for sleeping with a bloody angel!”

I enjoyed the banter on this too much pfff- Do let me know what you think! xoxo, A. 

Possibly interested parties: @aliceu @popisdead @illicit-roses @lavenderbexlatte @cuokka @jl-micasea @delicatewerewolfsoul @kisskissbanggang​ (drop me an ask to be added or removed! )

[the-odd-job]

Up in Flames chapter 24 - Take Me, Although You Hate Me (Ashes Part 2)

Rating: Explicit Warnings: Major Character Death, Chose Not to Use Category: Other Fandom: Transformers Relationships: Megatron/Sunstreaker, Megatron/Sideswipe, Sideswipe & Sunstreaker Characters: Sunstreaker, Megatron, Sideswipe, Original Character Additional Tags: Dubcon, Mechpreg, Sticky Words: 5540

Take me Although you hate me For in heaven There is no heartless madness Blind me Before the truth hurts Show me heaven I need your heartless madness

— Dynazty – Heartless Madness

( Previous )

The youngling was already waiting for them in their quarters that night, when they’d first gotten rid of damned Megatron, then cleaned themselves to be presentable, and lastly, on Sideswipe’s behest, said their hellos to everyone in the rec room. Or rather, Sideswipe did that, while Sunstreaker sat in sullen silence and tried to put on his best aura of “don’t talk to me”. It seemed to have worked, because only Onslaught had dared come speak with him, and the tactically minded tank was always unusually pleasant for conversation. He’d queried about their time at Shockwave’s compound, and further asked what brought them back now that the sparkling was very much out and their end of the deal was fulfilled. 

Sunstreaker had provided no direct answer, but he was pretty sure Onslaught had guessed anyway, being a smart mech and whatnot. Time would show it to all, anyway. No doubt Megatron would be rather victorious when announcing their… Decision. There was no way he wouldn’t gloat.

“How’d the tour go?” Sideswipe asked as they sat down on the berth on either side of the youngling, who was idly swinging his legs over the edge.

“Good,” it responded. “The symbiotes are nice. Soundwave is a little creepy, but no more so than Shockwave. And everything’s so… Bright.”

“Not near as bright as things are outside,” Sunstreaker rumbled, glancing at the lone, dim light in the ceiling of their room that didn’t do much to chase away the gloom permeating every inch of the ship. After the black of Shockwave’s compound, though, this had to be quite an improvement already. Pits, there was color and everything. 

“It’s very bright outside,” the youngling agreed, not sounding necessarily happy about that, but it would be just a matter of getting used to the way things were supposed to be—even on Cybertron, as much as their planet had been clad in eternal night far longer than the twins had been alive.

“What now?” the youngling continued, looking between them. “Did you and sire talk about something important? Ravage said you did.”

Sideswipe huffed a laugh even as Sunstreaker growled to himself. Was it just Ravage making a good guess, or Soundwave knowing too much for anyone’s good, again?  

Well, didn’t really matter. “We did,” Sunstreaker confirmed all the same. ‘Talk’ might’ve been a bit of a strong term for how things had gone down, but the youngling certainly didn’t need to know the intricacies of its creators’ relationship. 

“The symbiotes said you don’t belong to sire’s faction yet,” it said, frowning. Disapproving? Likely, after everything it had heard over the course of its ridiculously short life. Indeed, if the Autobots were such wicked wannabe murderers and general banes of Cybertron, why were the twins not sworn to oppose them? “You used to fight against him.”

“Just how much did the symbiotes talk?” Sideswipe laughed, flopping onto his back on the berth.

“A lot,” was all it said, unhelpfully not elaborating on how much it already knew and how much it was still in the dark on.

Sunstreaker sighed in an entirely exaggerated manner, drawing its attention back to himself. “We’ve made some mistakes in life, such as signing up with the Autobots when the war got underway—though, mind you, not by choice.”

“But you don’t fight for them anymore,” it pointed out, and this time it sounded more approving. “You had me with sire—Megatron.”

“And you are the reason we’re not stuck with the Autobots anymore,” Sideswipe piped in. The youngling squawked when Sideswipe stuck his claws somewhere between armor gaps, only to have his servo slapped away with a glare. Sideswipe, naturally, had no more to give than an unrepentant grin.

“Yeah, did we go and betray our old side a little bit by dallying with your sire? I think we did,” Sunstreaker said to some more chortling from Sideswipe. 

“But I was unplanned,” the youngling said, and clearly it knew quite a bit already. It would’ve been so nice if it had just said how much it knew, but it still didn’t seem very eager to do so—although at this point Sunstreaker almost got the feeling it was cross-referencing what it had heard with what their side of the story was. Smart thing, if that was the case. 

“You were entirely unplanned,” Sunstreaker confirmed. “If it wasn’t for you, the Autobots likely wouldn’t have found out about my… Liaisons with your sire quite so soon.”

“You never told them.” It wasn’t a question, just a statement the youngling made. “Sire did that for you when you refused to do it.”

“Oh yes.” Was that a bit of disgruntlement slipping into his voice? But he was still a little angry about that whole incident, so excuse him. Disgruntled or not, Sunstreaker continued, “He very effectively smoked me right out of the Autobots and proceeded to tell me exactly what I was to do about you.” Definitely disgruntled and growling by now. The youngling’s lips twitched into a straight up smile. Sunstreaker glared at it.

“So I was a good thing,” it concluded. “Because of me, sire forced you out of the Autobots, and now you don’t have to fight for them anymore.”

“Astute,” Sunstreaker commented with a roll of his optics. It sounded a lot like a small laugh the youngling made this time around, but it had more to say.

“Will you fight for sire now?" it asked. "Rumble and Frenzy said you could've left once I separated, but you didn't. Why?"

Ah, the million dollar question. Why?

Why indeed.

"That was what we talked about," Sunstreaker said, earning himself a curious look from the youngling. "As you know, your sire sent us to Cybertron to keep you safe, but now that you're no longer in harm's way quite the same, he wanted to know if we'd finally fight for him."

"What was your answer?"

"Yes."

It was definitely approval mixed with pleasure that burst in the youngling's field. Pits but it had opinions already, clearly, such as Autobot bad, Decepticon good. "Why now?" it wanted to know, though.

Sunstreaker ticked off their primary reasons with his digits, three as there were. "They tried to kill you, Optimus Prime is a soft-sparked idiot and a very bad bet for the future of Cybertron, and to secure your future—something you will not even have if the Autobots win the war."

"So you're mostly doing it for me," it frowned. "And because you think sire is right?"

Did they think Megatron was right? There were presently exactly two options for Cybertron's future leadership, and they didn't want to support Optimus. Did that make Megatron right, though, or only the lesser evil? "Well, for you, if nothing else," Sunstreaker said with a frown of his own. He wasn’t certain they were yet ready to decide on the other point. Their opinion on it wouldn’t markedly change their actions anyway, for now. Their other reasons were plenty enough.

“Do you think your sire’s right?” Sideswipe asked curiously. Sunstreaker looked at the youngling too, only to see it nod firmly.

"Based on what I know so far? Yes."

Well. That didn't take long. "Why?" Sunstreaker asked. He wasn't judging—after all it only seemed like natural progression for a mech Megatron was hoping to make the heir to his empire—but they were curious over where the certainty had come from. Pits, the youngling had barely even talked to Megatron. All it had to go off on were the stories of the Decepticons, though it had to be granted that it had heard things from quite a few vocalizers. It wasn't going off based on just one telling. 

“Everyone says he’s strong,” it said, intent on all strength—physical, emotional, mental, that of personality… Oh, Megatron had it all. Didn’t Sunstreaker know that much. “He’s never lost motivation or sight of his goals, despite how long the war has gone on for. He does what it takes, no matter what it takes. He doesn’t give up.”

“And what of what he’s like as an individual? You don’t actually know him yourself,” Sunstreaker pointed out.

“What does it matter?” the youngling shot back without hesitation. “That he’s a strong leader is what matters.

“Besides, you love him, so there has to be something to like.”

…Say what now? Sideswipe burst out into laughter until he was wheezing and Sunstreaker stared at the youngling, who stared right back without waver. It didn’t look like it was really registering having said anything off. If anything, it only seemed confused over Sideswipe’s reaction, and then raised its optical ridges at Sunstreaker for what he said next.

“I don’t love him,” Sunstreaker sneered the moment he managed to shove his surprise aside. The youngling was dissatisfyingly blase about that, just waving its servo in dismissal.

“Like him, whatever. You see something in him.”

“I hate him, that’s what I see in him,” Sunstreaker growled, reaching in one quick motion and wrapping his servo around the youngling’s throat—squeezing, warning. Sideswipe only laughed harder even as Sunstreaker knew his own field dripped with bale as he leaned towards the youngling, staring into its vaguely concerned, deep red optics. “And you would do well to remember that.”

After a second's hesitation, it nodded, as much as it could with his hold on its neck. “I’ll remember that.”

Sunstreaker studied it a moment longer for any trace of a lie, before he was satisfied the point had been driven home and released it. The youngling rubbed at its throat, but seemed very careful to not react otherwise despite the vague displeasure in its field. “Where did you get that idea from, anyway?” Sunstreaker asked.

“The symbiotes said as much,” it shrugged. “I thi– Thought it made sense.”

“After what you’ve seen of us, you thought it made sense?” he asked in disbelief. Those damn symbiotes. If Soundwave wouldn’t have slagged him if he rearranged their limbs for gossiping, he would’ve done that. Fraggers needed to learn to mind their own business and not corrupt his slagging creation.

“With what I know of you, yeah.” It looked a lot like it wanted to glare at him, but didn’t quite dare to do so when it glanced his way. Sunstreaker ground his denta together before he ran one rough servo down his faceplates, not even resisting the urge to let his engine rev, hard. Sideswipe, at least, said nothing to sway the situation in any direction, despite his chuckles having not yet died down entirely. Sunstreaker would’ve said something about not believing everything you hear, but it wasn’t as if the youngling had blindly listened to the symbiotes. Rather, it had compared things to what it knew, and then came to the entirely wrong conclusion that the symbiotes weren’t terribly mistaken. It had thought for itself, even if it hadn’t thought right.

“Anyway, you’ll fight for sire from now on. You’ll become real Decepticons,” the youngling said, returning back to their previous topic. “I think that’s good.”

“It kinda is, isn’t it?” Sideswipe agreed right before snatching the youngling and pulling it down with him. It growled at him, but when Sunstreaker reclined as well, it didn’t try to get back up and got comfortable in the space between them instead.

“You’re doing the right thing,” came its murmured opinion—and maybe they were.

For it, at least, they were.

-----------------------------------------------------

Megatron didn’t waste much time announcing to all of the Decepticons what the twins had decided to do. Change their allegiance, wholly and officially. The following day had barely started when everyone not absolutely needed on duty was called to the throne room—because of course Megatron would have one, even on a spaceship. The twins knew what that was about. They got enough knowing looks that they could guess quite a few others had an idea of what it was likely to be about, too, even if there was also some confusion mixed in from those that didn’t catch on quite so quickly. 

But the truth remained that the twins were still here, despite the youngling’s rather damning presence clearly signaling their ties to Megatron had gotten severed. Was there really any other way than this that things could go down? Why would Megatron even agree to keep them around if they continued to be absolutely useless? 

Why would they have stuck around if they had no plans to change anything?

Things were changing. “My friends,” Megatron said in full grandeur once everyone had assembled. He was standing in front of his throne, Starscream on his right, Soundwave on his left, and where Soundwave was as impassive as ever, Starscream was sending some mean glares in the twins’ direction.

Sunstreaker glared right back even as he kept one audial on Megatron’s little speech. Sideswipe was listening with half a spark too, the youngling next to him, but much of his brother’s attention was also on the other Decepticons. So curious about their reactions. “Long have the Autobots locked us in a stalemate. We struck a blow to them when we relieved them of two of their frontliners,” oh, weren’t they getting lots of looks now, “and now I am pleased to announce we are about to have two frames join our ranks.”

Half of the occupants in the room flared in surprise, others with a sense of ‘I knew it’, and then a cacophony of noise. Cheers, whistles, and quite a few exclamations to the effect of, “Finally!” Someone clapped Sideswipe on the back, and when he turned to look, he could see Dirge grinning at him. He wasn’t the only one with the expression, either.

The overarching sentiment was definitely positive from the looks of things.

And then there was Starscream. “My liege, you can’t be serious!” the Seeker could be heard saying. “Their loyalties are questionable at best. They’re nothing more than Autobot liabilities!”

“And your loyalties are any better?” Megatron asked from his Second very pointedly. Sunstreaker smirked.

Starscream wasn’t wholly discouraged, though. “They’ve served their use, my Lord. You have the youngling. Exile them.” How come they hadn’t had this discussion in private, anyway? Or maybe they had and Starscream was just trying to turn the rank and file against them.

“Their prowess is unquestionable. I will have it at my disposal,” Megatron said, and without giving Starscream a chance to continue further, lifted his arms. The room fell silent again. “Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, step forward.”

They did and Megatron sat down on his goddamn throne. He gestured them forward until they were at the bottom of the steps leading to it. There, they were given another order. “Kneel.”

Sunstreaker hesitated just for the length of one spark rotation and Sideswipe made no move before he did, but then, as one, they lowered themselves onto one knee and bowed their heads. Their spark fluttered with just a hint of nervousness. This was hardly a point of no return and they could always change their minds… Except, if they did after this, they were likely to have their helms cut off for personally slighting Megatron. 

So maybe it was a point of no return, anyway. 

“Will you fight your former comrades in my name?” Megatron asked, and Primus, the anticipation in the room. It was like everyone was hungry for their words, hungry to hear them submit themselves, to hear them become their comrades. No one said a thing, no one interrupted them—not even Starscream, despite the displeasure he broadcasted in his wide cast field. 

The stage was theirs, and they took it. “I will,” they said, ever together.

“Will you kill your former comrades in my name?”

“I will.”

“Do you swear fealty to me and your spark to the Decepticon cause?” 

Would they?  

Point of no return.

But they’d made their decision already.

“I do.”

The room broke into noise all over again—stomping, cheering, hooting, celebration. This was another victory over the Autobots, to turn one-two of them into Decepticons instead. The promise of a chance for things to change—that maybe, just maybe, something could be done about the deadlock the two sides were stuck in.

That maybe the twins could make enough of a difference.  

“Rise, Decepticons Sunstreaker and Sideswipe,” Megatron said over the roar of the room.

It felt quite a bit like a new beginning, and no doubt it was meant to feel as such with the fragging ritualistic elements involved in the whole thing. It was time to close one damned chapter of their life. In the past was their life as Autobots—and when they were back on their pedes and Soundwave approached them with their new insignias… Here was their new life, that they had flirted with for quite some time already, but never quite stepped into entirely.

Until now. 

Their scratched out Autobot insignias remained, and Sunstreaker got the feeling they would continue to do so as permanent marks of their past, changed allegiance, but Soundwave’s touch didn’t falter when he attached their new insignias below their Autobot ones. “Change your energy signatures,” the telepath advised them as their last step, and they did—switching their faction signature to that of a Decepticon.  

And then the deed was done. Soundwave nodded at them before stepping away, and after a nod from Megatron as well, the brothers turned around to face their new faction. Sideswipe, immediately, spread his arms to show himself off, following the move by a bow in flourish that earned him some laughter and cheers. Sunstreaker kept his expression as a firm frown, but his field… He could admit there was some pleasure in it. He had sat on the sidelines of the war for too long by now.

End to that. 

“I know words mean little. I expect you to prove their truth with your actions,” Megatron’s voice spoke up right behind them, and when they both glanced behind themselves, they could see him looming a step away. He wasn’t looking at them, though, but instead glaring off to the side at Starscream, who was tapping his pede impatiently, giving the impression that the two had some unfinished business to discuss. There was no question he was talking to them, though.

“So you do have some sense in that helm,” Sunstreaker huffed and Megatron’s glare transferred to him. Sunstreaker merely raised an optical ridge in return.

“Why, yes, I do have some sense,” Megatron snarled at him, grabbing him by the jaw and decidedly not letting go when Sunstreaker tried to jerk his helm away. Thus Sunstreaker returned the glare given to him. Megatron held his gaze with wicked optics for a good moment–

But that was all there was before he let go of him with a simple, “Go celebrate.”

“Aye aye, boss,” Sideswipe grinned with a salute before Sunstreaker could get a word in to make the situation a little worse. The look Megatron gave his brother was a smidge exasperated, but he turned away in time with Sideswipe grabbing Sunstreaker by the servo and dragging him into the midst of the gathered Decepticons eager to welcome them. 

--------------------------------------------------

There was indeed celebration. High grade didn’t flow, because frankly, the Decepticons couldn’t afford luxuries like that, but there was music and dancing, loud conversation and rambunctious laughter. Sunstreaker had sequestered himself against one wall of the rec room with Thundercracker, but Sideswipe, naturally, was right in the middle of the hubbub. Skywarp had accosted the youngling to teach it some dance moves from the looks of things, and while it didn’t necessarily look happy about it, it was putting in the effort to try. Its control over its frame had certainly improved, and a bit of dancing could only help.

“Was that amount of show really necessary?” Sunstreaker growled as he watched Skywarp’s impromptu dance lesson. From the corner of his optic, he could see Thundercracker raise his optical ridges at him.

“You seemed to take to it well,” the Seeker commented. “It’s good for morale.”

“It’s over the top,” he scoffed. “There can’t possibly be that amount of ceremony involved in it for everyone, either.”

“No, but notable defections are worth a little extra attention, don’t you think?”

“Well, I’m worth the extra attention, if nothing else.”

Thundercracker huffed a small laugh. “Of course you are.”

And if he was to be a morale booster while at it, well, was that really a bad thing even if it was completely ridiculous? He couldn’t really deny that the effect was rather… Obvious, on the other Decepticons. The mood had been lifted with their official introduction into the faction, as if the fact they had left Autobots in the first place hadn’t already done that to an extent.

The youngling had done its part, too, as a little hope for the future, despite most not really knowing how to react to it yet—which could probably be attributed to who its sire was. How were you supposed to treat the offspring of your sovereign leader? Few seemed to know the answer to that. Really only Skywarp, the symbiotes and Soundwave, as well as the Combiner team leaders seemed to be relaxed around it and treated it no differently than they treated anyone else. Granted, that could bite them in the aft yet, if either the youngling or Megatron decided “like everyone else” wasn’t an appropriate way to treat it. 

But if nothing else, the youngling didn’t seem to be about to start demanding undue amounts of respect. If you asked Sunstreaker, it hadn’t earned it yet, anyway. Lineage wasn’t enough for that; your own actions needed to speak for you. It wasn’t the youngling’s fault it hadn’t had the chances for actions like that yet, but until it did… It had a promise of a future few could dream of, but that was all. 

What kind of a creator would he be if he didn’t try to coach it in the right direction, though? The glory of bloodshed and battles awaited it, but for it to succeed in that violent field, it needed practice. That was what Sunstreaker proceeded to give it in the days to come—training, with himself, with Sideswipe, with those Decepticons that stood in the same size class as them. It hadn’t changed that its focus and determination were things to be admired as it practiced against different opponents. It didn’t stand a chance if those more experienced than it—that was to say, everyone—didn’t hold back, but it did its best and improved at a perfectly acceptable pace. For quite a while still, though, training was all it would get. It wasn’t anywhere near the point where it could actually take part in the war. 

The twins didn’t need to worry about details like that, but despite that, Megatron refused to deploy them. One battle went by, then another, and then a third one, and still the twins were forced to sit on the ship all pretty like, even as the amount of injuries the others came back with spoke of clear opposition provided by the Autobots.

After that third battle, Sunstreaker asked Soundwave for Megatron’s location, and once he got confirmation the warlord was in his quarters, that was where he headed. The only reason he didn’t barge in was the fact that the door was locked, so Sunstreaker pinged for entrance instead, as if he was the polite sort or something. 

Somewhat surprisingly, Megatron actually opened the door for him without any excessive delay, allowing Sunstreaker to stomp in. The warlord had just one look at him before sighing. “What is it now?”

“You,” Sunstreaker growled with the jab of a digit at Megatron. He was sitting at his desk, already looking aggravated.

Sunstreaker couldn’t find it in himself to give a damn about Megatron’s precious little feelings. “You’re not letting us fight,” he accused, coming to stand next to the tyrant and placing his hands on his hips.

And glaring. So much glaring. “I thought the whole fragging point of us defecting was to fight for you. What the slag gives?”

Megatron glared right back at him before his optics dropped to his chest. Before Sunstreaker could do anything about it, Megatron had reached and caught the side of his chassis, his thumb tracing his fresh insignia. Sunstreaker shivered despite himself, but swatted the servo away.

Or tried to. Megatron wouldn’t let himself be chased away quite so easily, and his hold merely tightened instead of going anywhere. Sunstreaker snarled some more, and tried to move his entire frame away next.

That didn’t work either, because Megatron’s servo only slipped lower, until he had a firm hold of his waist. “Should I remind you you are my subordinate and I choose when and how to use you?” the tyrant asked from him, meeting his gaze again.

Sunstreaker frowned at him. “So you want to defeat your own goddamn point?”

Megatron got to his pedes, effortlessly towering over him with just that single motion. True to form, Sunstreaker didn’t let himself be cowed in the slightest despite his need to crane his helm way back to even look at the warlord in the face anymore. “I hold no illusions as to your effectiveness,” Megatron said. “You will get results when I choose to use you.”

“Flattery?” Sunstreaker scoffed, again trying to move away and again not being allowed to do so. “The pit do you think that will get you?”

“Are you not the type to enjoy having your massive ego stroked?”

Sunstreaker snarled, and when he didn’t manage to put any space between them this time either, threw his arms up in utter frustration. “I just want answers! Fragging– Okay, let’s do it your way. Why are you choosing not to use us?”

The servo Megatron wasn’t holding him in place with came up to grasp him by the jaw. Of course trying to jerk his helm away did nothing, but Sunstreaker held onto his glare even as Megatron’s thumb brushed across his lower lip. “What, fantasizing about having me again?” he growled, because certainly provoking Megatron was forever the best course of action.

“Would you be opposed to that, Decepticon Sunstreaker?”

“Oh, so you’re getting your kicks off of having us on your side for real, now?”

“This is where you should be.”

Sunstreaker faltered just enough for Megatron to smirk. Mech was fragging maddening. Did he even slagging mean that, or was he just playing around? Sunstreaker kicked him in the shin for good measure, not that it got him any sort of reaction. “You think that’s what I want to hear?”

“What do I care what you want to hear?”

“So, what, you’re just stating the truth, no regard for what I think about it?”

“Quite. Or do you disagree? Would you rather still be with the Autobots?”

“I’d rather fight,” Sunstreaker growled. “Is that so hard to understand?” Megatron’s grip in his jaw tightened until it hurt and his growl morphed into a hiss, but Sunstreaker didn’t break his glare.

“You are a trump card,” Megatron said. Sunstreaker wanted to, again, accuse him of flattery, but Megatron continued before he could get a word in, “Can you blame me for wanting to make an impression with you?”

Sunstreaker frowned in confusion, hardly even remembering to snarl when Megatron’s thumb brushed against his lip again. Impression? “The pit’s that supposed to mean?” he grouched, tugging against the tyrant’s hold as ineffectually as every past time. That was getting rather tiresome, in all honesty. “And let the frag go of me while you’re at it,” Sunstreaker tacked on with another kick, wrapping his servo around Megatron’s wrist and digging his claws in.

Megatron? Didn’t react in any satisfying manner. Or at all, really. “Drama, my dear,” he just said, and Sunstreaker very much remembered to snarl out of his growing confusion. “You’re a lover of that, aren’t you?”

“Sure, but what does that have to do with anything?”

“Presentation matters. It can demoralize. Certainly your switch in allegiance alone will do that, but…” 

Sunstreaker’s frown turned a little less confused. “Are you saying you want to do some sort of dramatic unveiling of us?”

“That is exactly what I’m saying.”

Well, hadn’t he thought Megatron would want to gloat about the whole thing? Maybe it wasn’t so far out there that the mech would be waiting for the perfect opportunity to show them off and make the biggest impression in letting the Prime and all the other Autobots see what they’d chosen—what Megatron had accomplished. Maybe he hadn’t set out to do it–

Or had he? “Was our defection your plan all along?” Sunstreaker had to ask, glaring anew when Megatron’s thumb applied enough force to part his lips. He snapped his denta, drawing an amused rumble from the warlord.

“No. I was hoping for it and I’m certainly not opposed to it, but I was ready to dispose of you once–”

“Once you got tired of fragging me, huh?”

“Hm.”

Wasn’t that comforting. Then again, who would ever doubt Megatron was capable of something like that? Picking a plaything for himself, then tossing that plaything to the smelters when he grew bored of it, or it became an inconvenience, or whatever would’ve been the tipping point for it. “The sparkling sort of messed up those plans, did it?”

“Your loyalty to the Autobots was frail to begin with.”

“So you think I might’ve opted to defect even without it?”

“You disagree?”

“…Not really.”

“There, you see,” Megatron rumbled, on this side of amused.

But he also spoke with the fire of conviction. “The Autobots were squandering you, keeping you chained and muzzled—weren’t you bound to recognize you deserve better?”

With the intensity and belief Megatron put behind his own words as he always did when this particular topic came up, it was hard not to agree. Sunstreaker’s frown didn’t leave, but he shifted his optics to the side, almost… Uncomfortable?

What for? Because Megatron insisted he had been misused for the entirety of the war?

Because he didn’t quite disagree with that assessment? Wasn’t that, chained and muzzled as Megatron put it, how he’d felt among the Autobots? Out of place in the midst of mecha that didn’t even speak the same language he did? Not verbally—verbally the words they used were the same across the board, with only the difference of dialects.

But verbal languages weren’t the only ones out there. It was the rest the Autobots had never understood, a cultural chasm no one had ever managed to bridge. Hadn’t they only gotten told that their view of life was wrong, simple as that? He couldn’t say no one had ever tried to understand their side of things, because certainly those individuals had existed too.

But they were just individuals, one or two mecha here and there. The faction as a whole wasn’t… Theirs. They had been a part of it, but they’d always felt out of place, like they didn’t really belong. They weren’t Northerners.

They were Kaonite, and the Autobots had never wanted to accept everything that meant, because what that meant was Decepticon.

“Your place in the Autobots was a mistake,” Megatron continued, drawing Sunstreaker’s optics back to him, “but that error has been rectified. I will let you fight, Sunstreaker, and I will not hold you back because I would fear what you can do.”

He resisted the urge to squirm, but only barely. Megatron studied him, and pits, Sunstreaker wasn’t the type to evade others, but now he had to fight with himself to not avert his optics—to instead meet Megatron’s gaze, even knowing his own had far more uncertainty in it than he ever would have liked. “Do you believe me?” Megatron asked.

Sunstreaker spoke with the truth before he could think better of it. “I do.” It was nigh impossible not to in the face of Megatron’s certainty, that only combined with his own past doubts and reservations to form what he wanted to believe—and did. He did.

He did believe Megatron was sincere in his disapproval over the Autobots’ treatment, use of him, and he did believe the tyrant fully intended to have him fight for him, and that he would be allowed to do so with the kind of brutality the Autobots shied away from but that came so naturally to him—that he had been trained into.

If anyone understood, Megatron did.

If anyone understood, the Decepticons did.

“You’re where you were always meant to be, Sunstreaker,” Megatron said, only driving that point home further, like he wanted to make sure there was no doubt in Sunstreaker’s mind over the truth of it. Sunstreaker tried to nod, found he couldn’t against Megatron’s grip, and huffed even as his field flared with his… Acceptance of that. 

They should have joined the Decepticons from the beginning. Were they given the choice in that at the time… 

There was no changing the past, but he could change his future, decide on his future—and he had.

“And make no mistake,” the tyrant started, prompting Sunstreaker to focus on him instead of his thoughts, “I quite prefer you here.”

Oh, now he was admitting to it. Sunstreaker smirked. “Kiss me.”

Megatron growled, but leaned down and complied.

[saiilorstars]

Planning is Everything

***One-Shot*** // Masterlist to other stories

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Spencer x OFC

Summary: With the holidays around the corner, everyone starts making their plans to celebrate with their loved ones. Spencer has trouble making those plans when the one person he wants to plan with doesn't really know about his feelings. Maybe things can change when Penelope unexpectedly brings him to Aitana's house for a full day of Christmas decorations.

Taglist: @ocfairygodmother @maaaaarveeeeel @anotherunreadblog @stareyedplanet​​

[If you would like to be added to this OC’s taglist please let me know!]

Pronunciation of the OC’s name sounds like “eye-ta-na”

~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~  0 ~  0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~  0 ~ 0 ~

The holidays were thought to be the best time of the year. Spencer supposed it was true if you had everybody around for the period. He heard countless plans that everyone at work were making. JJ of course was planning everything around her boys—she and Will were taking them out God knew where but it would be amazing. Emily and Luke had a few of those holiday-themed dates around the city. Matt was the same as JJ: it was all about the kids. Rossi differed in that he only had his wife to worry about. Tara and Penelope seemed to love the Christmas events in the city, they were out together whenever they could.

He...he couldn't find the energy to partake in any of those plans. He would like to but he had other places he would rather be, places he would really rather be.

No one was surprised when it one day slipped from him. They knew exactly who he wanted to spend all these Christmas days with. She was the only one who hadn't figured it out.

Aitana Serrano could be one of their best profilers but when it came to their own Dr. Spencer Reid, she was quite clueless. She really couldn't see it. And it wasn't like Spencer was a master at hiding it either. His skills at hiding his expressions and watching his body language took a dive when she was around. The good thing is that she was always around him anyways. She liked being around him and the reason for that wasn't that hard to figure out. Thankfully, the two had a very good set of friends watching out for them. They were always looking for ways to nudge them a little closer to each other.

And what better time than the holidays?

"Hey," Penelope tapped the back of Spencer's head, startling him out of his thoughts. He had paperwork set in front of him and he thought he would be able to finish them before going home. "I'm stopping by Aitana's tomorrow morning. She's getting her Christmas tree tomorrow and we're going to decorate it."

"Sounds like fun," Spencer smiled at her.

Penelope almost snorted at the little sad puppy smile that it was. "Don't be dumb, Wonder Boy, and come with me."

"What? No, no, Aitana invited you and..." He didn't want to just invite himself over if Aitana didn't even want him there. "It's your plans."

"Please, I doubt she would mind my plus one if it's little ole you," Penelope winked. "We leave by 10!" She wiggled her fingers goodbye as she headed out. Knowing him, he would need the whole night to get into the idea.

Maybe he did.

Spencer knew that Aitana wouldn't be angry, per say, if he dropped by with Penelope but comiing unannounced wasn't his favorite way to do things. In a perfect world, he would've had enough courage, enough creativity, to plan something out for just the two of them. She was a huge Christmas lover and would give anything to be the one who surprised her with the best Christmas-themed date. But those were just wishes. Reality was a whole other thing and he would have to stick with what he had.

And what he had with Aitana was only friendship.

~0~

Aitana was pulling out the branches of her Christmas tree when she heard the expected knocks on her door. "Come in!" she yelled, rather strained as she pulled apart two branches. She was working on the last part of the tree, the very top, and for some reason it was the hardest.

"We're here, we're here!" Penelope bustled into the living room with Spencer, both carrying bags in their hands. "Sorry, bit the snow makes everything and everyone go slower! And I brought a plus one, hope that's okay!" She cast a smirk at Spencer. Even with that confidence she boasted that it would really be alright with Aitana, Spencer still held his breath until Aitana gave the confirmation.

Aitana was standing on a step stool when they met her in the living room. Spencer couldn't think of a better way to start his day when he spotted her. She was entirely focused on a pesky branch. The snowy day outside hadn't interrupted her one bit. Her short curly hair was braided with a green ribbon to adorn it. Her blouse was a bit disheveled from her work but Spencer could still see the adorable little reindeer print it had. He was sure that her pants were only black because she couldn't find a matching set. She always pulled the best things out of her closet. She had good taste for everything.

Aitana beamed when she saw the pair but Penelope thought she was a very smart cookie who knew that said beam was mostly because of her plus one.

"Spencer!" she exclaimed. "Of course it's alright!"

Penelope's smirk on Spencer turned smug in record time. "Thought so."

He flushed. "R-really?"

Aitana was grinning ear to ear. "Yeah! I would have called you but I wasn't sure if you want to come over and decorate a tree...I didn't know if you thought it would be kind of boring."

"No," he said quickly. "Definitely not."

"Perfect! Oh, and I brought the stuff," Penelope gestured to the bags in their hands.

"Oh thanks," Aitana hopped off the steps and came to take them. "I would have gotten them myself but I had to wait for the Christmas tree to be delivered."

"No problem," Penelope said as she handed the bags over. Spencer did the same but it ultimately was too much and they had to bring the bags to the couch instead. Afterwards, both Penelope and Spencer were able to get rid of their heavy jackets. Aitana had her living room as warm and comfy as possible.

"So I set up the branches already," Aitana pulled back a few steps to motion towards the tree. "What do you guys think? I went with an artificial one. It's just easier and saves me a lot of money for years to come." She'd gotten a decent sized frosted tree with pine-cones and berries. "I mean, I know it's still fake but it looks real, doesn't it? The branches and all...?" She stuck the tip of her index nail between her teeth while she waited for the verdict.

"You know back when artificial trees were developed, they were made out of goose feathers dyed green?" Spencer said, figuring it would help her see that her tree looked much better.

On his other side, Penelope was looking at him like he'd lost it. Why would he say that?

Fortunately, Aitana just laughed. "Really?"

He nodded. "And then when they were made in America, the company actually used the same machinery they used to make toilet brushes but they were dyed green too."

Penelope wanted to smack her forehead. He just kept going and going...

Aitana's fingernail came back to her teeth in her nervous antic. "So...is my tree better then?"

Spencer smiled at her. "It's beautiful."

She beamed and clapped her hands together. "Great! So we can start!" She grabbed one of the bags and headed for the tree. She set the bag down on the floor and took a seat in front of it. "I went with the nude colors this year. I thought it would look nice with the whole frost thing I got going on here."

"It'll look wonderful, darling!" Penelope exclaimed then shoved another bag to Spencer, motioning with her head (in a manner that Spencer wondered if it pained her bones) to go to Aitana. She was already busy pulling out all the ornament boxes and mesh ribbons on the floor. When he finally took the bag and went to where Aitana was, Penelope dilly-dallied by the remaining bag. "Oh shoot!"

Aitana looked up from a box she'd been about to open. "What's wrong?"

Penelope was looking at her phone. "Plumbing problem in the apartment. I have to...I have to go, I'm so sorry."

Spencer raised an eyebrow at her. "It was fine when I picked you up..."

Penelope's smile was tight, almost snapping at him not to go poking holes into her fabulous explanation. "I can't plan these sort of things, can I?" Spencer's expression said she definitely could and would. "Aitana, I'm sorry—"

"No, no, it's alright," Aitana stood up from the floor. "Do you want us to take you back—"

"No! I'm good. I would rather see your marvelous tree picture when it's all done! I'm sure Spencer wouldn't mind helping you, right?"

Spencer wouldn't even bother getting upset for this trick. It was on him for not seeing it coming sooner. "Of course not..." But he would definitely have a talk with her for this later.

Penelope was pretty happy when she left, barely making it seem like she had that plumbing problem.

"Just you and me," Aitana said to Spencer when they heard the door close. "You sure you want to spend your day with me?"

"Yeah," Spencer said wholeheartedly. "Unless...unless you don't want to...?"

Aitana cocked her head to the side, her expression incredulous. "Of course I do! Let's do the ribbons, yeah?" She picked up a shiny dark brown mesh ribbon. "I was thinking I'd put it on the tree and sort of twist them around the branches. Makes it really nice afterwards."

"Yeah, of course," Spencer motioned her to start so he could see exactly how she wanted it.

She had to come up the step stool to show him how to start from the top. They carefully wrapped the ribbon around the tree until Aitana felt like it was secured properly. She then surprised Spencer with another mesh ribbon. It was cream colored with white sparkles. She giggled with his reaction. "It's just two of them, I promise."

Shortly afterwards, they opened up the boxes of ornaments. There were glittery dark browns, cream colors, and dazzling whites inside. Some baubles were larger than others, some seemed a little excessive. Spencer shyly pointed that out but Aitana assured him that it would all come together on the tree.

"I like things to show," she said as started putting some of the baubles on the bottom. "I don't mean excessive but, you know, I want it to be seen. What do you usually do for your tree?"

Spencer had started on the other side of the tree but still stood where he was able to see her. He was being as gentle as he could with her glass baubles. They had little things inside like autumn leaves and stems. It was something truly Aitana. "I don't really put one up."

"What!?" Aitana sounded as if she'd heard blasphemy. "What do you mean!?"

Spencer shrugged. "I live alone and...I don't really have a lot of room for one. Especially one this big," he made a gesture at hers.

Aitana chuckled for a moment. "Yeah, okay, your bookshelves do take up a lot of space...but not even one mini tree? You know they make small ones but not like the 3ft ones."

"I don't know..." Spencer didn't know how to put 'I don't know what to be festive about' in a sentence that didn't make him sound gloomy.

"Don't go Grinch on me, Spencer Reid," Aitana came up to his side. "Maybe after this, we can look for a small tree for you."

The idea of them spending yet another moment together left him with a warm face, especially when he realized it would a moment together where it was about him. Aitana smiled at his pensive face—at least that's what she thought it was—and wondered what type of tree he would like. She would do her best to find one that matched his apartment's style. They spent the rest of the time putting the ornaments around the tree and discussing what type of tree he would like.

"And you can pick out the color scheme for your baubles!" Aitana exclaimed. "It's my favorite part of the whole process: choosing what colors you want for the baubles. There's just so many, you know?"

"Mhm," Spencer nodded. "Did you know that the first baubles are thought to have originated from the idea of blown egg shells?"

Aitana's eyes widened. "Don't kid with me..."

"I'm not," Spencer raised his hands in front of him.

She shook her head with a laugh. "Do not stand there and tell me that my baubles came from egg shells!"

"Well, it's thought to be!"

Aitana set her hands on her hips, raising her head to meet his gaze. "Egg shells?"

"Yes."

"Blown egg shells?"

"Aha."

Aitana wanted to stay serious but her lips were quirking into a smile and before she knew it, she lost against another laugh. "Spencer, I just can't believe half the things you say sometimes!"

"I wouldn't lie to you," Spencer said, meaning it entirely.

Aitana went for one of the last baubles, a large one, and came up beside him. "Yeah?" She looked at him while her fingers tried leaving the hook of her bauble hanging on a branch. "So you would tell me if my decorations were bad?" She meant it as a joke but Spencer still nodded with his most serious face.

"But I wouldn't have to because you always have a good eye for decorating. You'd never decorate something badly."

She smiled at his kind words. Doing so and getting lost with his own smile, her fingers slipped over the bauble's hook. "Oh no!" She dove to catch it at the same time that Spencer did. They ended up grabbing it with their hands over each other's. "Nice catch!" Aitana exclaimed when they straightened up on their feet.

"Yeah, uh, I never had those..." Spencer flushed with the realization their hands hadn't moved apart. He was never a handsy person but right now he couldn't find anything better than this. Her hands were like soft feathers cushioning his skin. Aitana was smiling at him, albeit shyly if he'd paid a little more attention. In his defense, he was trying to make sure his hands weren't as clammy as he thought they were.

"Should we, uh, put the bauble on the tree?" Aitana timidly asked him. She knew he wasn't that thrilled with closeness so, as reluctant as she was, she pulled her hands from the bauble.

"Where did you, uh...?" Spencer looked back at the three.

"Right there," she pointed to the branch she'd been working on. She watched him fondly as he set the bauble right where she wanted it and on the first try. "You're pretty good at this," she said afterwards. "Might ask you to do this with me every year." Wouldn't that be nice? It would be very nice. She had luck this year that Penelope had taken him with her this year because she would've never had the courage to ask Spencer herself. She was afraid she'd bore him to death with this nonsense of hers.

"I'd like that," Spencer surprised her with his words. He was very aware of what he'd said for that he found it hard to look at her for a few seconds.

"You wouldn't get bored?" she asked, pretending to work with a bauble that most certainly did not need work on. "Because I know my decorations take a long time. I take it very serious, as you can see. My brothers always did the tree really quickly when we were younger. Thought they were the fastest decorators too."

"The world record for the fastest tree decorating was 36.89 seconds," Spencer said, "Sharon Juantuah in Essex, UK had a 100 lights, 2 lengths of tinsel and 15 baubles when she was done."

"Really?" Aitana raised an eyebrow. "Only 15 baubles?"

Spencer nodded. "Yup."

"Mm, I like having more..."

"And it looks wonderful."

Aitana brought her fingernail to her teeth, cheeks once again threatening to turn pink. "You're too sweet, you know that?"

It was Spencer's turn to blush. She thought he was sweet. He was actually saying the right things to her. It gave him a sense of hope that maybe one day he might actually say the right thing to get a date with her.

When all the baubles were set accordingly and after Aitana did a quick check to make sure that no two colors were right next to each other, she went back to the bags. She soon realized that Penelope had left her own additions in the bag. She should've known with that woman. "Penelope left me a couple things," she pulled out a box of pine sticks. "It may be an artificial tree but it's going to smell like a real one. You want to put those in?"

"Yeah," Spencer came to take the box and returned to the tree.

"Oh my God, Pen," he heard her say afterwards with a soft laugh to follow. He looked back to see Aitana taking out a mistletoe from the bag. She was shaking her head. "What does she think I'm going to be doing these days?"

Spencer preferred not to voice those thoughts. He cleared his throat and offered her an awkward shrug before he put all of his focus on the pine cone sticks.

"If I don't put this up, I won't hear the end of it," Aitana decided it was best to just go with it. She found the first spot to hang it from which turned out to be the living room's threshold. "I'm going to laugh when she has to give Luke a kiss."

At that, Spencer freely laughed. Aitana looked back to see him having to pause with the pine sticks in order to laugh. It was rare to see him like that. Aitana wished it wasn't like that but given their line of work, it was typical.

Before she returned to the bags, she decided to start up a some music for the background. "Do you mind?" she asked when Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy started from her phone.

"Course not." Spencer watched her sway back to the bags on the couch. He was smiling at her but when Aitana happened to look his way and caught him, he was immediately flustered.

She laughed when he dove his gaze to the branches in front of him. "I'm a whole show, huh?" She may have been embarrassed, her cheeks were a pink tinge. Anyone else would've said she was crazy but that would never leave Spencer Reid's mouth. He wasn't like that.

"It's okay," Spencer said quietly while he waited for his face to calm down with the heat.

Eventually, she returned to dig through the bags. There weren't many things left anymore besides the little ornaments that would go around the house and the tree topper. She started pulling out the tree topper when she noticed something different amongst the remaining ornaments. It was a small box with an adorable little red ribbon over it. She left the tree topper to take the box up instead.

"What's this?" she pulled the lid off and found one more ornament tucked inside. It was wooden crafted with 'A. D. T.' carved in the middle. There was a smaller carving of what seemed like a wrapped candy on the bottom right. A red and white plaid ribbon was attached to its top. "Oh, now this is nice!" She turned around to Spencer and showed him the ornament. "Did Penelope get this?"

Spencer was shifting on his feet for some reason. "Um, no, not...not really. I did." Aitana froze for a second. He now had undivided attention. "I was going to...to give it to you at work but then Penelope invited me here so I thought...I thought it would be—be better here."

Aitana looked at the ornament again with a new sentiment. "This is beautiful, Spencer. Is it hand-carved?" That was a stupid question to ask when she could see it plain as day but right now, her vocabulary wasn't at its strongest. Her heart speedy heartbeats were certainly a sign of that.

"Y-yeah," Spencer nodded. "Your initials. Aitana Dulce Serrano."

"And the piece of candy on the bottom..." Aitana chuckled at the carving. "Dulce means..."

"Candy," Spencer finished, though a better translation for him was 'sweet' because that's exactly what she was. "It's like a signature for your tree, cos...cos it's all made by you."

Aitana felt her entire face warm up. She had no idea what to do with herself at that moment. Well, that wasn't entirely true. She did have an idea of what she wanted to do but she didn't want to invade Spencer's personal space. "You are..." She couldn't even that sentence.

Spencer smiled in what he was sure was awkwardly. He didn't have anything better than that. "Do you like it?" His entire happiness may be depending on it.

Aitana almost laughed incredulously. "Spencer, I love it! The only reason I'm not over there hugging you to death is because I'm not sure if you'd want me up in your personal space!"

Spencer straightened up with a clearing of his throat. "I wouldn't...mind..." He was actually proud of himself for being able to say that in one go, even more when Aitana ran up to him to give him that hug. She was so warm and, ironically, smelled sweet. He had no idea how long the hug would last so he would soak up every second he had.

"I have to find something amazing to give you now," Aitana said, her arms still tightly wrapped around his neck. "I don't know what it is but rest assured that it will be amazing!"

Spencer laughed. "You don't have to. I just know that you love your decorations so I figured having a personalized one would fit perfectly with your themes."

Aitana felt a rush of butterflies thinking about the fact he thought of her and her decorating nonsense. She was really lucky to have him in her life. She may have snugged to him without even noticing.

Spencer noticed. He noticed straightaway. He swallowed hard and had to put every last bit of his focus on making sure he didn't make this awkward. He didn't really know what to do but he was sure the main thing was not to make it uncomfortable. This was the closest he'd ever been to Aitana and he wanted to do it right. "

"I'm going to put this right up front," Aitana eventually pulled away but her eager smile was enough to ward off any of Spencer's doubts. She was enthralled with his gift. "Can you get the tree topper for me?"

"Yeah," he nodded and went for the bag on the couch. By the time he had the tree topper, Aitana had already placed the ornament right at the center. It was one of the first things anyone would notice. He couldn't help his swell of pride seeing it there. Maybe some part of him hoped that Aitana would think of him every time she saw the ornament.

"Looks perfect!" She stepped back beside him.

"Tree topper?" He held it for her. She gingerly took it into her hands and pulled out part of the ribbon. It was a huge ribbon bow in a dark brown and cream color, just like the rest of her tree.

"I want to put it," she said with a giggle. "At home, I always got to put the star. It was easy to do that when you're the only girl in your family."

"You were sneaky, then," Spencer smirked.

"Yup!" She headed for the step stool with Spencer right behind her. "You tell me if it's crooked, alright?"

Spencer stepped back to instruct her what side she needed to tilt the topper should it need to be. It was bemusing to watch her strain to pull it after he asked her if she wanted him to do it. She wasn't as tall but she was going to get the job done one way or another. To her credit, ten minutes later she did it.

"It looks good?" Aitana called. She was giggling as Spencer held his hands out in a frame motion. "What's the doctor's verdict?"

"Perfect!" He dropped his arms to his sides.

Aitana clapped happily. "Then I think we are done!" Spencer agreed and walked over to her. "With the tree because my house still needs a little Christmas upgrade!"

"I know for a fact that Penelope brought a whole lot of stuff for that," Spencer said.

"Yeah, but we can take a break," Aitana shrugged. She went down the step stool only to trip on the last one.

"Woah!" Spencer's reflexes were shockingly good because he caught her on time. "Did you get a little too excited there?"

"M-maybe..." Aitana was flat-out embarrassed and it showed in her cut-up laugh. Her hands rested on his shoulders, gripping them from the fall. "I just really love Christmas, if you haven't noticed." She raised her head and found they were incredibly close this time.

"I noticed," Spencer smiled softly at her. "And I think it's nice that our work hasn't tainted your holidays."

Aitana's eyebrows knitted together. "Is that why you don't put up a Christmas tree? Because of everything that we see?"

Spencer didn't immediately answer but his expression was doing it for him. There were images that just didn't fade so quickly. "It's not the entire reason but...kind of..."

"Oh, and me trying to force you into buying a tree and decorations doesn't help."

"No!" Spencer was quick to say and at the same time pulled his hands off her body. "You being in the holiday spirit is so nice to see! It makes me so happy knowing that your happiness hasn't been spoiled by work. And I would definitely like to put up a tree in my house, if it's with you. I like spending time with you. You make everything better, you make everything...sweet."

Aitana fiddled with her fingers in front of her. "You really think that?"

Spencer panicked for a moment when he realized that he had said all that. His first reaction—his instinctive reaction—was to make up something to downplay his words but Aitana seemed hopeful. She was hopeful for something and that something had to be about his words. He didn't want to be the reason her hope dwindled.

"Well yeah," he shrugged. "You're fun to be around with. Everyone always has plans for this time of the year and...it makes me wish I could plan things with you."

Aitana felt the air leave her for a second there. Her fingers pulled apart from each other and her right hand seemed to want to point at herself but her nerves were too much to do it. She glanced over her shoulder to her Christmas tree then back to Spencer. "So...you'd want to...keep doing this?"

By this point, Spencer saw no more reason to hide. He already said what he wanted to. "Yeah, and-and maybe go out to see, uh, the Christmas festivals. Get some hot chocolate maybe? I-I know there's a mini-concert happening this weekend. All the classics will be sang..."

Aitana chuckled while Spencer slowly trailed off. "Last Christmas?"

"Yeah, I-I'm sure that'd be one of them..."

Aitana folded her arms over her chest and stayed quiet for a few seconds (which seemed agonizingly long for Spencer). Panicking came easy to him thinking she was deciding how to reject him. "Could you...could you take like 10 steps back?"

"What?" Spencer looked down at the floor as if he'd find something there.

"Scratch that, 12 steps." Aitana motioned him to do it.

Though he was completely lost, he went ahead and took the 12 steps back. "...nine...ten...eleven...twelve." He looked around to figure out what was so special about the spot. When he met Aitana's gaze, she was biting her index fingernail again. What was she nervous about? "I'm not sure what to do now..."

"That's a first." She dropped her hand to her side then rushed up to him.

He caught her in his arms just as she threw hers around his neck and kissed him. Once more, the instinct came back and this time it was telling Spencer to hold Aitana tightly and kiss her back. He pressed her body against him and followed her sweet lips in whatever way they went. He knew it was impossible but he was sure that she tasted like actual sugar. He would've laughed if it didn't threaten to end their moment. He didn't want anything to ruin it. Aitana's hands were at the nape of his neck toying with his hair. Her touch was soft like he knew it would be. They'd touched before but nothing like this which meant everything he felt was new and better.

When they pulled apart, only slightly though, Aitana smiled up at him. "That was better than I thought it'd be," she admitted. She giggled with the clear blush on Spencer's face. She pointed a finger up and when Spencer followed it he found the mistletoe that she'd hung earlier.

"Ooh..." That's why he'd taken the steps backwards. "Clever girl."

Aitana shrugged proudly. "First kiss under a mistletoe...how could I let the opportunity pass us by?"

"About what I said..." Spencer stopped when she placed a finger over his lips.

"I'd love to go wherever you want. Anywhere. A walk, a festival, putting up a tree at your place..." She pulled her finger from his lips and fixed his cardigan. "Just tell me when."

"Tomorrow?" Spencer tried his luck. "Uh, there's a live reading for Christmas books. You said you like—"

"How the Grinch Stole Christmas!" Aitana practically bounced on her feet. She was an utter child for these things and yet he still wanted to give her more events like those? She was really lucky. "Oh Spencer, you have no idea what you started."

"I think I have a pretty good idea," he said, smiling softly at her. "I promise I won't be a Grinch."

Aitana laughed. "You could never be," she cupped his face. "I'm just over-the-top for the holidays."

"I love it. I really do. I want to make those plans that everyone always makes. But, just with you."

"Well, we can take a break here and make some hot chocolate in the kitchen...I have marshmallows. And the sugar."

"Dulce," he enunciated her middle name in a way that left her puddy in his arms.

She leaned on him with the biggest grin on her face. "Hot chocolate?"

"Absolutely," he nodded.

"And then we can start making those plans," she promised him.

Spencer already had at least a dozen plans lined up in his head. His arms wrapped around her again. He could finally do that and more. "I love the sound of that." They met for another kiss that delayed their hot chocolate for at least another five minutes.

[imagine-loki]

Hiding in Plain Sight

TITLE: Hiding in Plain Sight CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter Four AUTHOR: wolfpawn ORIGINAL IMAGINE:

Imagine coming from a line of nobility or royalty and being in an arranged marriage with Loki in an attempt to strengthen your kingdom / alliance with Asgard. You’re not entirely on board with the idea but figured that the best you could do was to get to know your fiancé.

You form an agreement with Frigga for you to pose as Loki’s personal servant for a few months so you can get to know who Loki really is – beyond the veil of his responsibility to the Asgardian throne, behind all the masks he wears when facing the public, to really know who Loki is behind closed doors as you slowly fall for each other.

How long will you keep up the ruse with the God of Lies?

RATING: General Audience

When they returned to Loki’s rooms, Raven stood stoically still, her hands behind her back, fidgeting slightly and her head high. In many ways, she knew she was not great at playing a maid, she had been raised for a thousand years to be proud of her house and could not talk as one from a submissive position such as a maid. She may have been deemed lower in standing than her brothers but she was still a princess and the daughter of the king. She watched as he stood facing her silently for a few moments. 

“What is it you require of me, Your Highness? Was something not to your liking?”

Loki had to give it to the elf, she had more courage than most would have. “Actually, everything was quite satisfactory. That bath was the best I have had in the longest time.”

“Then what is required of me at this time? Forgive my bluntness however I was under the impression that this time of day is in fact, mine as per my work agreement whilst you do your own studying, so what is it that calls for my being here fourteen minutes prior to my return to work?”

If he was honest, Loki felt he should reprimand the Light Elf for her manner of speaking to him but her clipped tone and demeanour intrigued him more than he would care to admit. “I apologise, I had not realised….I wish to explain what happened earlier.”

“There is nothing to explain. You plan to have a mistress which I truly hope you tell your soon-to-be wife about as surely she will want to know as to not make a fool of herself in court, not to mention, she would then be free to seek her own happiness with a more fitting man and you loathe us Ljósáfar and think us ugly and dim.”

“I don’t think that.” 

“So that woman spewed lies in your name?” Loki did not answer. “So you said it but do not think it?” Loki nodded ever so slightly. “Then why say such things?”

“I was angry,” Loki explained. “I was venting at being pawned off to some creature I have never even met and who, from my limited information on, I am not likely to like.”

“Considering you get to remain on your realm while she is forced away from everything she ever knew and loved to play wife to a creature that has decided before ever meeting her that he cannot even bother to get to know her before making such assumptions, I feel you are somewhat not seeing how lucky you are in your position. What makes it all the more angering is your painting my entire realm’s people with this preconceived and entirely unfounded notion. Why say something you do not mean to your lover?”

“She’s not my...she was just someone that...I am sure Princess Raven is doing as she pleases while hoping her day to come here never comes considering...wait, you speak as though you know her?” Loki eyed Raven carefully. “Are you one of her maids?”

“No, I am not.” Raven looked him directly in the eye as she spoke, showing her honesty at that statement. “I have never served her, nor have I served as a maid in the Ljósáfar palace before you ask. I am not one of her ladies or anything similar to that either. I swear by a solemn oath on my life.”

With her conviction and her statement, Loki believed her. “But you know her, somewhat?” “I do, somewhat.” Raven did not think it wise to lie on that matter, it was entirely true and she knew he would smell her lie. 

“What is she like?”

“She does not suffer fools or people who think her one. She would be sickened at your comments on her, about how you speak of her and her people to some bed partner…” She shook her head. “What makes it worse is your following after me for fear I would reveal you to your mother. You know what you said was wrong.” She inhaled deeply. “I cannot do this. She removed the green sash she bore on the waist of her dress that permitted her to walk through the magic shields that protected different private halls only for those who served the Aesir royal family. “I quit.” She handed it to Loki and walked out of the room. 

She knew she would have to return to Asgard and marry him. She knew that it would be horrible and awkward but she could not face him any longer. She was too hurt for her people and for herself. She would endure the marriage as she knew she had to but she was relieved that if nothing else was achieved from her day in Asgard, she knew what to expect. That was something she was grateful for. She was not going to be blindsided. In the back of her mind, she hoped that Loki would rethink his opinions on the Ljósáfar and be a better being by then. She didn’t know if he would, she could only wait and see. 

She went to the room that she was supposed to stay in and prepared her belongings to return to Alfheim. It did not take long, she had sadly not even had the chance to unpack most of them and waited to be allowed permission to return home. 

When she heard a knock on her bedroom door, she was entirely certain that it would the guard with the consent to leave. On opening the door, she was startled to see Loki on the other side. She went to close the door in his face but his boot stopped her from doing so. “I am busy. I have nothing more to say to you.” 

“I need to apologise.” “I need to get ready to leave.”

“Please don’t. Not on my account.”

“Pray tell, your Highness, why would anyone remain to work for an individual who loathes their entire race?”

“I never meant that.”

“Whether you did or you did not, you said it, now excuse me.” Again, Raven went to close the door and again Loki prevented her from doing so. Annoyed, she looked at him expectantly. “I do not wish to dally too greatly, I will not be returning for any belongings that I leave behind any time soon.”

“I’m sorry. I am sorry for what I said, for how offensive it was and for how unfounded it was.” Loki blurted the words out as swiftly as he could.

“You’re a prince, why do you care if you insult a maid?” Raven asked curiously. 

“Because it was wrong.”

She opened the door more, eyeing him suspiciously and shaking her head slightly. “No, it’s more than that. You are Prince Loki of Asgard, you do not always care for right and wrong. I have heard much of your antics. Why?” 

Loki was both insulted and impressed that she did not fall for such words so easily. “Considering I am to marry a Light Elf in the near future, it does not bode well that I have one of her realm’s people rushing from the realm at the earliest opportunity.”

“So, this is because you do not want others talking about you? For your intended to hear what has been the experience of another here before her?” Loki did not nod but it was clear in his face he wanted to. “What if I were to ensure that she was informed of your thoughts on her and her people?”

“I can only hope that by the time that comes to pass, that you will see that I am not that sort of being.” He toyed with his fingers. “I was also hoping you could tell me more of Princess Raven, if you know much about her?”

Raven found herself pursing her lips. “Why, you clearly don’t care?” 

“Well, hopefully, we can see if there are manners in which she and I are suited before her coming here,” Loki explained. “I am aware my words were unkind but I truly do not feel that way and I am all too aware that I do not know of her dislikes and likes before I even meet her. I wish to rectify that.”

Raven did not know what to say. She knew to be careful listening to his words, he was, of course, the Liesmith, the Silver Tongue. He told you what you wanted to hear. “When is she due to arrive?”

“I have no idea. No one said anything and I did not ask.”

“Not the best start if you are not even interested in knowing when she will arrive.”

“I assume I will be told close to the date.” “Had you any intention on learning about her in advance?”

“Not particularly. I considered her nothing more than a duty. Alfheim needed our help and since they were somewhat flippant with their allegiances in the past, my father wished to secure it more for the future. Apparently, that was decided to include me. How I was chosen over Thor, I cannot tell. She is, after all, a princess, daughter of the reigning king, she would have made sense for him.”

“Perhaps it is considered that she is not of high enough standing for him. There is a considerable difference between the wife of the second-in-command and the Allmother, I would have thought.” 

Loki eyed her warily. “Is that an underhanded comment at me?”

“I did not even mention you, Your Highness.” Raven gave a smile that was more scathing than a glare. “I think it best if I continue to use my limited free this afternoon to prepare for the evening shift. Excuse me.” She used the fact that Loki had let his guard down in their talking to one another to seize the opportunity to take back the green sash in his hand and close the door again. 

For his part, Loki stood startled at being bested by his maid for a moment. Knowing that he would not get her to open her door again by knocking, he used his seidr to go back to his rooms, thinking of what to ask his maid on her return to them. 

* It took Raven more effort than she would have wished to return to Loki’s rooms. Part of her thought to rush off realm but she had been informed by a guard that there would be no further realm to realm movement for the rest of the evening. She decided to give Loki until the morning to show he was not merely some egotistical twit. 

Going to his rooms, she paused when she heard arguing from within. 

“And?” “What do you mean ‘and’? You are the heir to the throne.”

“This is not news, Loki. Father made it clear that I will have to marry soon also but for now, Princess Raven of Alfheim is to be brought here to marry you. You get to have all the attention you crave for a time. Then you and she can have little animal named children and I will get my turn to be strapped down by some boring droll creature.” 

Raven felt her body temperature increase at the mocking of her name. She was about to enter the room when there was a loud thud against the wall causing her to jump. 

“I may not be overly pleased with being forced to marry some elf but if you ever mock her or any of the children I am to be the father of again, I will end you, brother, or not.” Loki hissed. “And with regards to names, there would be no animal ones. They would, by virtue of being of Asgard, have normal Aesir names. Whatever of Princess Raven, her brothers and family all have normal Elvish names, whatever turn of fancy the King took to name his daughter after a bird, it is not commonplace to do so.”

Raven felt herself become conflicted. Loki defending her and the children she knew she would be obliged to have as his wife made her feel he was somewhat honourable. The fact he scoffed in his own way at her made her want to pack her belongings again. 

“If that is everything, I would ask you to go away and not bother me again, this evening or any other time, Brother.” The door opened and Loki pushed his brother out of it, causing Thor to crash into a startled Raven. “Oh, dear.” Loki’s bored voice told Raven and indeed Thor that he did not care about accidentally causing the pair to collide. “I suppose you better not injure my maid too much, I need her to fetch my dinner.” 

Thor looked down at the maid in front of him for a moment, apologising to her before pausing for a second, looking at her studiously. There was no denying the recognition in Thor’s face. “Your maid?” He asked curiously. 

Raven knew that the older Aesir prince knew who she was, it was plain to see. At that moment, she was fully convinced that he would reveal everything to his younger brother. 

[cyndecreativity]

Zodiac Chronicles - Trouble in Tauri - Ch. 1

Trampled paths carved through a thin layer of snow in two opposite directions, converging on a small schoolhouse that rested by a stream. The wider path led between a pair of farms and into the village proper a few miles off. The smaller path consisted of only one set of very large tracks, boot prints of an unusual size, that led to the small stream and back to the door. Tristan eyed his large tracks as he closed the schoolhouse door and hoped the midday sun might melt the snow enough to obscure them.

Tristan backed away from the door and turned slowly, careful not to bump his horns on the doorframe or any of the other students. The villager children paid him no mind, hanging their heavy woolen coats, hats, and other cold weather gear on the hooks in the mudroom. Several of the girls even seemed happy to see each other, giggling and shrieking with glee, leaning to whisper conspiratorially as they headed to their seats.

The young ones, the calves, moved awkwardly, as calves do, and climbed onto the benches to hang their scarves and hats up. Some preferred to stuff their things into the bins below the benches. After the removal of their hats, one of the calves became surrounded. Tristan just barely made out their young pronunciations of shock and amazement at the nubs protruding from the center one’s scalp. It would be several years for the nubs to turn into anything even resembling horns, but with the arrival of the nubs, that calf become the coolest and most mature among the herd. He reflected on his brief moment of approval when his nubs arrived. And struggled to forget the subsequent frustration and terror from his peers as the nubs grew larger and longer than normal.

Struggling against the memory, Tristan frowned and dropped off his gear on his half of the mudroom. The boys of the class lingered to remove their gear. Ladies first, as the manners say, and the calves have little sense of propriety. Tristan gathered his materials for class, plus an ancient Herbology almanac.

“We didn’t think you’d make it today, Jorgus. Are you okay? What happened to your father?” Tristan’s ear perked up at the voice of one of the other boys.

“Doesn’t really concern you, does it, Seamus.” A thud as the Jorgus, a gangly bull with fresh horns in his brown hair, threw his bag down on the bench under his hook.

Tristan turned and watched Seamus, a sturdy young bull with black hair and a square jaw, furrow his brow. “I’d think it concerns all of us! The attacks have been happening more often, yeah? And with all our Dads-”

Jorgus growled and tilted his head, jerking his horns with agitation. “Seamus, just drop it, okay?”

Seamus shared a look with the other boys, Jorgus’s usual group, and nodded. “We’ll… catch up on the way home, then?” He did his best to sound optimistic.

Tristan watched the boys turn away one by one to leave Jorgus to finish. Mortimer, the youngest among them, his hair still almost white, received a light whack from one of the other boys. Jorgus turned to check on their departure and caught Tristan’s prying eye. He sneered and tilted his horns at him. Tristan started and jerked back to his own preparations.

Part of him wished he could walk home with those boys, to make a group of friends and… do whatever friends do together. He wished he could talk about the orchard with them, about the plants along the path, about their crops, and the state of their land. He wanted to make friends his own age. But he knew how he looked, how they all looked more like his younger siblings. Not just because of his incredible size, but the older Lunars, those that heard the voices, told him he had aged far too quickly, gaining a few years in a few months as a babe. Blessed by the Spirits, they called it. He called it a curse.

He took the last bench at the table in the back left of the large open schoolhouse. This area in the back typically held the eldest students, the ones closer to the front reserved for the younger calves, or most in danger academically. He held the bench in the back for years simply due to his size, too large to sit anywhere else in the room. He might block the view of the other students was the official reason, but mostly he took up a desk and a half on a good day.

Unbidden, he remembered vividly the pain in his chest the day the girl he typically sat next to, perhaps eleven at the time, had complained before class that he had crushed her hand when attempting to use his ink and bone splinter. He barely remembered swinging his arm out far enough to touch her. The teacher had simply calmed the girl down and offered him the bench in the back. As he moved, he watched the girl’s best friend eagerly move up to take his seat with no objections from the teacher. He sat in the middle of the bench and spread out comfortably over the two-desk wide table. He felt his size for the first time and tears stung at his eyes. He looked up as Miss Shaunessy moved to the blackboard and continued with class, though not without offering an apologetic smile. That remained his table for the following four years.

The aging Taurus woman, not old, but not as young as she used to be, walked down the center aisle of the classroom. Wrinkles threatened at the corners of her eyes, a few locks of silvery hair threaded into her hair buns under each horn. She assessed the youngest calves first and shot harsh glances to the gossiping girls as he walked by. At the head of the room once again, she smiled to the class and listed off her plans for lessons that day. Calves first, as their attention span dwindled as it grew toward lunch, then the higher education lessons for the older children.

As the drone of the teacher buzzed in the back of Tristan’s ears, his mind drifted to the work left in the orchard. Wasps had moved into a section of the trees that he would need to discourage from the area. An increasingly common occurrence, but nothing difficult. Fruits and flowers had been scattered under a few trees, easy enough to clean up and add to the compost bin. With the shorter days of the season, he pondered how much light he would have to work with. He opened his almanac and started to thumb absently through the pages, scanning the detailed diagrams as they passed. He paused on a page and studied the flora depicted. It had to be the flower that appeared at the edge of the grove a few days ago. He tugged a sheet of parchment out of his bundle and dipped his bone into the ink well on his desk to scribble the page number down.

At midday, the teacher encouraged them to take lunch outside, the sun shining brightly for long enough to raise the temperature a few degrees. Tristan hesitated in the mudroom as the others filed out with their bundles. When no chuckles or insults found their way to him, he peeked outside and found the ground moist with melted snow. He heaved a small sigh of relief, forced into a sharp exhale as Jorgus elbowed him out of the way. Tristan straightened up to allow the boy and his friends passage.

Tristan turned back to his things and caught sight of the Mayor’s daughter, Isolde, watching him. He furrowed his brow to her, a simple unspoken question. She stiffened, blushed, and turned back to her things to hastily throw her scarf over her head. It caught in her little female horns, the movement too fast or still not used to her horns’ length. The flush moved to her ears as she disentangled the knitted muffler to drape around her neck. He chuckled quietly, despite himself, as she hurried outside with her wrapped bundle of food. Tristan returned to his desk to eat his salad in peaceful loneliness.

Dismissal usually marked a feeling of relief among the students as they darted from their desks and gathered their things. Today, however, the girls from that morning gathered together to whisper again, pointing to Jorgus occasionally. Tristan slowly gathered his books and papers and lifted his inkwell to stopper it.

“I told you to drop it!” Jorgus’s voice filled the small building, startling and quieting the girls for a moment.

His friends, the group of boys around his age, shrunk away again. Tristan looked down to his desk, dotted with splatter from his inkwell, and pressed the stopper in. A bin under the bench in the mudroom held the spare cloths to clean spills with. He lifted his eyes back to the scene as the girls’ whispers grew again. Jorgus unceremoniously scooped up his things before Miss Shaunessy could approach him.

Seamus, Mortimer, Geremiah, and Brandon followed him to the mudroom. Tristan rounded the wall that separated his desk from the mudroom and crouched down to seek the box of throwaway cloth under the bench.

“Oh, and students! Please do not forget to travel in a herd as you head directly home.” A few of the students groaned. “I’m just telling you what I’ve been told, sweetings. They also emphasized not being out after dark. Winter has shorter periods of sun, which means you will have less time to dally. And there is always safety in numbers.” Miss Shaunessy sauntered the length of the classroom as she spoke to fix Jorgus with a particularly intense gaze. He sneered. She turned around and caught sight of Tristan. “Oh, Tristan, I noticed you weren’t paying very close attention during lectures today. Did you need help with anything I covered today?”

He shook his head. Miss Shaunessy noticed far more things than the previous teacher. He grabbed a cloth stained with spots of paint and ink and stood to shake the fabric to her with a hopefully gentle smile.

As he stretched to his full height, she leaned back slightly to keep her eyes on his, but she did not show any fear. She merely smiled back and patted his arm. She shifted out of his way and walked with him the few steps back to his desk. “You don’t have anyone to head home with, do you, dear?”

He shook his head. A silly question.

She nodded. “You do live alone on the other side of those woods… Would you like me to go ask for an escort for you?”

His brow furrowed.

An uneasy smile crossed her face, a mix between nervous amusement and worry. “No, I suppose you’re big enough to handle most things on your own. But you’re still just a boy, despite outward appearances. I just want to make sure you’re taken care of, is all.”

His breath hitched. He vowed to pay more attention to her lectures.

“You mean someone was attacked last night!?” A brown-haired girl with the smallest horns in the group lifted her fist to her chin, brow knit.

Evelynn, the blonde ringleader of the girls and owner of the largest horns, nodded as she made her way to the mudroom. “Isn’t it just awful? And the attacks are getting more frequent. That’s why they want us to walk in herds now.” She gestured to a pair of girls, both younger, as they scrambled for their things. “You heard that right, calves?”

The two girls, Flora and Aishling, chorused a “Yes, sissy!” and proceeded to haphazardly don their layers of clothing. The youngest children moved quickly, faster than their teenage counterparts, thanks to the small growths on their heads not yet formed into horns. Evelynn rolled her eyes and continued on to her hook to don her own set of weather gear. Miss Shaunessy smiled absently at the children and patted Tristan on the arm before wandering back toward her desk.

“But my father told me it was-“ Evelynn glanced at the group of boys across the mudroom and whispered loud enough for them to hear. “-Jorgus’s father that was attacked last night.”

The girls shared a gasp with varying reactions of surprise.

“You keep my name out of your dirty mouth, Evelynn!” Jorgus burst through his group of friends, finger pointed sharply at the ringleader of the gossipers.

Miss Shaunessy stopped in the middle of the building by the firepit. She shared a look with the mayor’s daughter Isolde still at her desk as she turned around. Tristan dropped the rag on his desk and moved into the mudroom. He had no intention of intervening, but his size intimidated most folk, forcing cool heads to arguments.

Evelynn swatted his hand away as she crossed her arms, big brown eyes glaring daggers into him. Her friends fanned out around her to cross their arms at Jorgus, though not all of them had their heart in it. One girl stayed behind, the brown-haired one, and glanced at Tristan.

Jorgus narrowed his dark eyes at Evelynn, his head tilted to brandish his longer and sharper horns at the girls. His friends, too surprised at his actions, took a few moments to step in beside their friend to brandish their horns, smaller than Jorgus’s but still as harmful if used properly.

Evelynn did not appear fazed, thought the tremble of her voice betrayed her. “My father told me that yours was injured last night while they were hunting. He said they had to take him to the doctor because his injuries were so severe.”

All the posturing broke. Whispers of “The Doctor?” moved through both groups, each losing their members to gossip, conjecture, and fear.

“He’s fine. He’ll be home by dinner tonight and tomorrow we’ll work on tilling the land.” Jorgus cracked his neck.

Evelynn’s lip curled. “Everyone knows that the no one comes back from seeing the Doctor.” She grinned, confident in her victory.

Jorgus tilted his head the other way. “Well my dad isn’t everyone else. The doctor told me himself that Pa would be back by tonight.”

Miss Shaunessy stepped slowly down the center aisle toward the two little herds of teens. She caught Tristan’s eye and nodded at him to step down. He lowered his shoulders and stepped back a bit, but remained ready in case Jorgus made the wrong decision.

Just as Miss Shaunessy entered the mudroom, the energy between the herds changed. Evelynn rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Young bulls and their posturing.” She grabbed her things and stormed out the door into the chilly winter air. “Come on, girls!”

Most of the girls shot hateful looks as they grabbed their things quickly to follow Evelynn. Maeve, the brown-haired one, moved slowly to grab her things and hesitated at the door. Jorgus relaxed slightly and straightened his head to glare at her. Maeve squeaked and disappeared through the door.

Jorgus growled and stalked back to his desk. His small herd of friends stayed in the entrance and moved to begin dressing in their jackets and scarves. Isolde hesitated, but returned to packing up her things. Miss Shaunessy heaved a small sigh and trotted down the center aisle back to her desk.

Tristan furrowed his brow. Only Miss Shaunessy, Jorgus, and Isolde remained in the schoolhouse building. He hoped, despite his own solitude, that Jorgus or Isolde had a group to walk home with. Especially if the monster sightings proved to be true. He hoped that Jorgus’s father recovered and that Evelynn’s gossip proved to be only that. But in the case that Tristan’s hope had no basis in reality, he knew the only tangible thing to do. He knew the only thing he wanted his whole life.

“Uh, hey, Jorgus.” Tristan lifted a large hand to wave awkwardly to the young man.

Jorgus jumped at Tristan’s low timbre and backed away, eyeing him up and down as he jammed a few scraps of paper in his bag. “What do you want, cullbait?”

Tristan’s brow furrowed despite being used to the insult. “I just… uh, wanted to tell you that… um, I’m sorry about your father. I know how… how difficult it is to-to worry about your father and, uh… I guess you’re the man of the house while he’s injured. A-and at least you still have your-your mother and your little siblings-“

Jorgus’s mouth lifted in disgust as Tristan rambled, his cheeks lifted to squeeze his eyes into a narrow, his brow furrowed. “What are you rambling about?” He thrust the last of his items into his satchel.

Tristan lifted a hand to the shaft of his horn to grip it and rub absently, a habit from when they had hurt growing in. “If… If you need any help-“

Jorgus spun on the larger boy. “Help!? From you?” He dropped his satchel on the desk. “I can’t believe you haven’t gotten it through that thick skull of yours that nobody even wants you here.” He scoffed. “We’d want your ‘help’ even less.”

Isolde tightened the leather strap on her stack of books and papers. “Jorgus-“

Jorgus shook his head and turned to her, poking a finger at her face. “No, not even from you. Mayor’s daughter, as if that excludes you from suffering like the rest of us. I heard your father is sick. From that plague. The one from before. That it’s coming back.” He looked back to Tristan. “I also heard it’s your fault. You and that foreigner father of yours. Your mother knew about it and cast a spell to protect your land, but nobody else’s. That’s why you’re safe. And we’re not.”

Tristan’s arms quivered. He shouldn’t have said anything. He should’ve just gone home, alone, like every night. He closed his eyes and gripped his horn tighter, his other arm lifted to cover his torso.

“And then you have the nerve! You continue living here, coming to this school, as if you have any right!” Jorgus tilted his head down to brandish his horns again. “You and your father should be driven out of town!”

A sharp pain on his arm startled Tristan. Blood blossomed on the arm over his torso.

“Tristan!” Miss Shuanessy bolted for the scrap fabric Tristan dropped onto his desk.

Jorgus, stunned, raised a hand to touch his horn. It came back red. He shook his head, he muttered something, and grabbed his satchel. Isolde hurried around the desks and stumbled as Jorgus pushed past her to run from the building.

“Come here, poor boy.” Miss Shaunessy pressed the fabric to Tristan’s arm. “That boy… He may be a handful but ever since his horns grew out the way they did…” She looked to Tristan’s face. “Don’t take it too personally. Like you said, he’s having a rough go of it. It was nice of you to try to connect with him and offer to help out.”

Isolde hovered by the edge of the row. Tristan looked to her, chest empty. He never should’ve tried. He knew what the town thought of him and his father. He knew better. Tears welled in his eyes and he pressed his hand to the cloth. Miss Shaunessy released him with the promise of salves or something, but Tristan had to get out. He had to go home.

He moved back to his desk and found Isolde holding his satchel, all packed and tied and ready. He barely registered the act, how she had moved so fast, and accepted his bag. He dropped the fabric and satchel to slip into his weather gear. A stray thought reminded him to be careful of the wound bleeding through his jacket as he only had the one. He growled. All because the town hated him. All because of a stupid rumor.

He grabbed his bag and ripped the door open. The sun had indeed melted all the snow outside, revealing moist and brittle grass. A few groups of kids lingered and chatted as they headed back toward the village. Jorgus’s little herd had waited for him, despite his protestations, and crowded him to point at his bloodied horn.

Tristan’s blood. He stomped down the short stairs. “All I wanted was to help, Jorgus Jones!”

Jorgus spun around at the voice. Terror pulled at his features at the massive bulk of Tristan charging toward him. He whipped back around and moved swiftly for the path that lead back to town.

Tristan growled. He wanted to stop him, to make him understand, to hold him responsible for injuring him. So many emotions threatened to split him open. “Everyone should be allowed to help each other! We’re a community! That’s what it means to be a community!” In his frustration, he looked to the rest of the students that have lingered to gawk.

A loud thud drew everyone’s attention. All eyes turned to Jorgus, groaning on the ground, a large root split through the soil at his feet. He writhed a bit and got to his hands and knees. A shrill chuckle can be heard from further up the path. Tristan caught Evelynn through the blur of his tears, hand in front of her mouth, as she laughed at the unfortunate bull. The rest of her group chuckled, one by one, with varying degrees of mirth. The laughter spread through the rest of the students, including Jorgus’s little herd. He grunted as he stood and bolted down the path, past Evelynn and her friends.

Tristan sniffed and continued to wipe his face, the cold winter air unpleasant on the slight moisture around his eyes. He slipped his satchel over his shoulder and checked the sleeve of his coat. A chill wind whipped past him and his hands hurt. He left his other accessories in the building. He turned around to head back inside and almost bowled over Isolde.

“Oh! Excuse me, Tristan.” She smiled brightly to him, in an uncomfortable way he could not place.

He barely nodded and attempted to move past her.

She gently placed a hand on his arm. He froze, eyes on the contact. He recognized her mitten, knitted by his father some winters ago and sold by the village seamstress Ciara. His brow furrowed. Her other mitten lifted to offer him his forgotten accessories; mittens similar to hers, a long scarf knitted by his father with a less intricate design, and a warm knitted cap that he tied around his horns. He muttered a thank you and dropped his sack on the ground to don the accessories.

She held his items as he donned them individually. “I agree with you, by the way.” He lifted his eyes to her. “We should be allowed to help each other, as a community. I think it’s just awful that we are so discriminatory to those that are sick and injured. Or who have been in the past.”

He nodded absently. Paranoia and fear shook his fingers. He looked up to the rest of the students, those that lingered, and found hateful glares. Isolde, the mayor’s daughter, held high regard among the town, high enough that even her father’s illness did not dull her priority among them. To find her speaking to him? He snatched his scarf and easily tossed it over his horns to drape from his shoulders.

Before she could continue, he hurriedly wandered away from her, down the path to the thick row of trees that separated his orchard from the school. He barely heard Isolde sputter after him, the crunch of dead plantlife under her boots with a few steps. He heard the whispers of the other students, however, and quickened his step. He should know better. And so should Isolde.

[words-writ-in-starlight]

okay, i'm taking that as an invitation: PLEASE post your annotations for the kencyrath playlist?

OKAY SURE TWIST MY ARM I GUESS

Actually this playlist is...long as hell, BUT there’s only like twelve people in this fandom and I’m in a group chat with half of them, so everything is here but it’s got a cut for length because my annotations are Specific.

THE BASICS (in no particular order)

Can’t Cheat Death by the Ballroom Thieves, for Jame, no further comment, I am Correct

I spilled blood in the water Then let the storm roll in I put my hands in the fire Watched my welcome wear thin Salt in my wounds and spit in my eye I burned the path you walk on And I let none survive

Thistles and Weeds by Mumford & Sons, for Torisen, who is a good leader and also falling apart

Spare me your judgements and spare me your dreams Cause recently mine have been tearing my seams I sit alone in this winter clarity which clouds my mind

Hey Brother by Avicii, for Jame and Tori, in all ways

Hey brother, do you still believe in one another? Hey sister, do you still believe in love, I wonder? Oh, if the sky comes falling down For you, there's nothing in this world I wouldn't do

Human by Rag’n’Bone Man, for Kindrie Soul-walker, out of his depth and doing his best

Maybe I'm foolish, maybe I'm blind Thinking I can see through this and see what's behind Got no way to prove it, so maybe I'm lying

Soldier, Poet, King by the Oh Hellos, for the Tyr-ridan (I have considered learning to draw SPECIFICALLY to do a comic of this song featuring Jame as the soldier, Kindrie as the poet, and Tori as the king, but I couldn’t pick a verse because it’s not a very long song)

Home to Me by Devil and the Deep Blue Sea, for Jame and Tori, which I would ALSO do a line-by-line breakdown of as a duet, because I love it for them

(Tori) How dare you love me like you've never known fear When you've got more troubles than minutes in the year (Jame) And a voice like your father's tells you nothing good's for free Well that may be, but you're walking home to me

Dear Wormwood by the Oh Hellos, the ORIGINAL Bane/Jame song, for which I could easily do a line-by-line breakdown cast as a duet between them, the song that I, personally, would set over their last conversation before Bane’s death and over Jame’s flight from the palace, if I was making a TV series, just, you know, if anyone wants to kick me a couple million bucks

I know who I am now And all that you've made of me I know who you are now And I name you my enemy

Glitter & Gold by Barns Courtney, for the Kendar, survivors to the last

Do you walk in the valley of kings? Do you walk in the shadow of men Who sold their lives to a dream? Do you ponder the manner of things In the dark?

Delilah by Florence + the Machine, for Jamethiel Dreamweaver, the first unfallen darkling, the finest weapon and cruelest victim of the Master’s schemes, and for her daughter, who saw more and ran faster

Too fast for freedom Sometimes it all falls down These chains never leave me I keep dragging them around

We Have It All by Pim Stones, for Tyrandis, just...listen to it, I’m right

There's glory ahead, but our love will be forgotten If my heart was still mine, I would go to the bottom And apologise to you until the day it went rotten

Mercy Down by Shayfer James, which is THE definitive song for the entire Kencyrath--half-desperate for their missing destiny, half-terrified of that destiny when it shows up at their door.

It’s getting mythical now You better pick your weapons up And throw your mercy, throw your mercy down

THE EXTENDED STUFF (loosely sorted by topic)

Control by Halsey, for Jame, heir to the Dreamweaver, Snare-of-Souls, and learning to dance and running away

They sent me away to find them a fortune A chest filled with diamonds and gold The house was awake, with shadows and monsters The hallways, they echoed and groaned

Little Boy by Barns Courtney, for Torisen holding the bones of a little girl who died at the same age as his long lost twin sister

Little boy inside my chest Breathe some life into my bones I've been lost and wandering Down and out and missing home

The Draw by Bastille, for Torisen and the shade of Ganth and the promise of madness on a sleepless night

Don't listen to your friends See the despair behind their eyes Don't listen to your friends They only care and want to know why

Carry Your Throne by Jon Bellion, for Jame and Tori at their best, kissing in the ashfall and dancing in Tentir

Two crowns and a gold cup And they're coming for the throne, love But if your heart is a dog fight Then I'm ready to go to war like

Coming Down by Halsey, for Jame and the twin she loves, who is always, always running away from her

Every single night pray the sun will rise Every single time make a compromise Every single night pray the sun will rise, but It's coming down, down, coming down

Graveyard by Halsey, for Jame and Tori and dreams and the soulscape and running and chasing and trying

I keep running when both my feet hurt I won't stop 'til I get where you are Oh, when you go down all your darkest roads I woulda followed all the way to the graveyard

Thick as Thieves by Shinedown, for Jame and Tori, who can barely have a civil conversation but still manage to be each other’s answer to the concept of ‘home’

Evidently, we can't work it out I guess that courage ain't allowed Evidently, you're not in the mood And everything I say just bothers you

The Horror of Our Love by Ludo, for Bane and Jame, and blood and binding, and shadows crossing continents

I'm a killer, cold and wrathful Silent sleeper, I've been inside your bedroom I've murdered half the town Left you love notes on their headstones I'll fill the graveyards until I have you

Irresistible by Fall Out Boy, for Bane in Tai-tastigon, a prince of the city and a monster in his beloved’s kitchen

Too many war wounds and not enough wars Too few rounds in the ring and not enough settled scores Too many sharks, not enough blood in the waves You know I give my love a four letter name

Hellfire by Barns Courtney, for Bane, giving your soul to the wrong person, and the Lower Town

Run in an alleyway Through a dead end street Murdering promises That I just can't keep

Punch Drunk Grinning Soul by Flogging Molly, for all the Kendar who keep surviving disasters while their people fall all around them, and especially for Marc and Brier

But these tired eyes are crashing down on me While the paint never dries on these four walls that now suffocate me But tonight, maybe tonight all will be free

Sleepsong by Bastille, for soulscapes and locked doors and armor and hidden gardens and a whole race with a collective unconscious who still manage to be awfully lonely

Oh, in the strangest dreams, walking by your side It is the hole you impose upon your life When you're out, loneliness, it crawls up in the ground It's what you feel, but can't articulate out loud

Bad Decisions by Bastille, for Tentir and all the children there who thought they were immortal

Do you remember what you said to me? 'Cause we lost track of time Yeah, we lost track of time You always let me down so tenderly So live fast and die young and stay forever numb 

For The Departed by Shayfer James, for every Kendar who’s ever sold a soul, broken under Honor’s Paradox, died in service, and gone unremembered

So dry your eyes and count to ten They'll have me on the pyre by then Forget the man I used to be You'll move along more easily

Bones by MS MR, for death banners, and for the dead of Kithorn, and for Dalis-sar, depending on my mood

Dig up her bones but leave the soul alone Let her find a way to a better place Broken dreams and silent screams Empty churches with soulless curses We found a way to escape the day

I Am Stretched On Your Grave by Dead Can Dance, for sisterkin, for the massacre of the Knorth women, but especially for Brenwyr and her ghost and her maledight madness

Calling out to the air With tears both hot and wild Oh I grieve for the girl That I loved as a child

NFWMB by Hozier, for Brenwyr and Aerulan (and could be for Jame and Tori but he’s, you know, an ostrich with his head buried in his own trauma)

Ain't it a gentle sound, the rolling in the graves? Ain't it like thunder under earth, the sound it makes? Ain't it exciting you, the rumble where you lay? Ain't you my baby, ain't you my baby?

Church by Fall Out Boy, for everyone who’s ever fallen in love with Jame, from Dally to Torisen

Oh, the things that you do in the Name of what you love You are doomed but just enough

Renegades by X Ambassadors, for the good times in Tai-tastigon with Dally and Canden

It's our time to make a move It's our time to make amends It's our time to break the rules Let's begin

Breath of Life by Florence + the Machine, for everyone who’s ever fallen to the Knorth glamour and paid dearly for it

But I needed one more touch Another taste of heavenly rush And I believe, I believe it's so

[wolfpawn]

Hiding in Plain Sight, Chapter 4

Story Summary - Imagine coming from a line of nobility or royalty and being in an arranged marriage with Loki in an attempt to strengthen your kingdom / alliance with Asgard. You’re not entirely on board with the idea but figured that the best you could do was to get to know your fiancé. You form an agreement with Frigga for you to pose as Loki’s personal servant for a few months so you can get to know who Loki really is – beyond the veil of his responsibility to the Asgardian throne, behind all the masks he wears when facing the public, to really know who Loki is behind closed doors as you slowly fall for each other. How long will you keep up the ruse with the God of Lies?

Chapter Summary - Loki tries to set things straight with Raven but then Thor is thrown into the mix.

Previous Chapter

Tags - @peppermint-j  @alexakeyloveloki @cateyes315 @laserpente @bravotheroyalfool @teylacarter91 @heavenly1927

@myblissfulparadise - it won’t let me tag you.

Request if you wish to be tagged

When they returned to Loki’s rooms, Raven stood stoically still, her hands behind her back, fidgeting slightly and her head high. In many ways, she knew she was not great at playing a maid, she had been raised for a thousand years to be proud of her house and could not talk as one from a submissive position such as a maid. She may have been deemed lower in standing than her brothers but she was still a princess and the daughter of the king. She watched as he stood facing her silently for a few moments. 

“What is it you require of me, Your Highness? Was something not to your liking?”

Loki had to give it to the elf, she had more courage than most would have. “Actually, everything was quite satisfactory. That bath was the best I have had in the longest time.”

“Then what is required of me at this time? Forgive my bluntness however I was under the impression that this time of day is in fact, mine as per my work agreement whilst you do your own studying, so what is it that calls for my being here fourteen minutes prior to my return to work?”

If he was honest, Loki felt he should reprimand the Light Elf for her manner of speaking to him but her clipped tone and demeanour intrigued him more than he would care to admit. “I apologise, I had not realised….I wish to explain what happened earlier.”

“There is nothing to explain. You plan to have a mistress which I truly hope you tell your soon-to-be wife about as surely she will want to know as to not make a fool of herself in court, not to mention, she would then be free to seek her own happiness with a more fitting man and you loathe us Ljósáfar and think us ugly and dim.”

“I don’t think that.” 

“So that woman spewed lies in your name?” Loki did not answer. “So you said it but do not think it?” Loki nodded ever so slightly. “Then why say such things?”

“I was angry,” Loki explained. “I was venting at being pawned off to some creature I have never even met and who, from my limited information on, I am not likely to like.”

“Considering you get to remain on your realm while she is forced away from everything she ever knew and loved to play wife to a creature that has decided before ever meeting her that he cannot even bother to get to know her before making such assumptions, I feel you are somewhat not seeing how lucky you are in your position. What makes it all the more angering is your painting my entire realm’s people with this preconceived and entirely unfounded notion. Why say something you do not mean to your lover?”

“She’s not my...she was just someone that...I am sure Princess Raven is doing as she pleases while hoping her day to come here never comes considering...wait, you speak as though you know her?” Loki eyed Raven carefully. “Are you one of her maids?”

“No, I am not.” Raven looked him directly in the eye as she spoke, showing her honesty at that statement. “I have never served her, nor have I served as a maid in the Ljósáfar palace before you ask. I am not one of her ladies or anything similar to that either. I swear by a solemn oath on my life.”

With her conviction and her statement, Loki believed her. “But you know her, somewhat?” “I do, somewhat.” Raven did not think it wise to lie on that matter, it was entirely true and she knew he would smell her lie. 

“What is she like?”

“She does not suffer fools or people who think her one. She would be sickened at your comments on her, about how you speak of her and her people to some bed partner…” She shook her head. “What makes it worse is your following after me for fear I would reveal you to your mother. You know what you said was wrong.” She inhaled deeply. “I cannot do this. She removed the green sash she bore on the waist of her dress that permitted her to walk through the magic shields that protected different private halls only for those who served the Aesir royal family. “I quit.” She handed it to Loki and walked out of the room. 

She knew she would have to return to Asgard and marry him. She knew that it would be horrible and awkward but she could not face him any longer. She was too hurt for her people and for herself. She would endure the marriage as she knew she had to but she was relieved that if nothing else was achieved from her day in Asgard, she knew what to expect. That was something she was grateful for. She was not going to be blindsided. In the back of her mind, she hoped that Loki would rethink his opinions on the Ljósáfar and be a better being by then. She didn’t know if he would, she could only wait and see. 

She went to the room that she was supposed to stay in and prepared her belongings to return to Alfheim. It did not take long, she had sadly not even had the chance to unpack most of them and waited to be allowed permission to return home. 

When she heard a knock on her bedroom door, she was entirely certain that it would the guard with the consent to leave. On opening the door, she was startled to see Loki on the other side. She went to close the door in his face but his boot stopped her from doing so. “I am busy. I have nothing more to say to you.” 

“I need to apologise.” “I need to get ready to leave.”

“Please don’t. Not on my account.”

“Pray tell, your Highness, why would anyone remain to work for an individual who loathes their entire race?”

“I never meant that.”

“Whether you did or you did not, you said it, now excuse me.” Again, Raven went to close the door and again Loki prevented her from doing so. Annoyed, she looked at him expectantly. “I do not wish to dally too greatly, I will not be returning for any belongings that I leave behind any time soon.”

“I’m sorry. I am sorry for what I said, for how offensive it was and for how unfounded it was.” Loki blurted the words out as swiftly as he could.

“You’re a prince, why do you care if you insult a maid?” Raven asked curiously. 

“Because it was wrong.”

She opened the door more, eyeing him suspiciously and shaking her head slightly. “No, it’s more than that. You are Prince Loki of Asgard, you do not always care for right and wrong. I have heard much of your antics. Why?” 

Loki was both insulted and impressed that she did not fall for such words so easily. “Considering I am to marry a Light Elf in the near future, it does not bode well that I have one of her realm’s people rushing from the realm at the earliest opportunity.”

“So, this is because you do not want others talking about you? For your intended to hear what has been the experience of another here before her?” Loki did not nod but it was clear in his face he wanted to. “What if I were to ensure that she was informed of your thoughts on her and her people?”

“I can only hope that by the time that comes to pass, that you will see that I am not that sort of being.” He toyed with his fingers. “I was also hoping you could tell me more of Princess Raven, if you know much about her?”

Raven found herself pursing her lips. “Why, you clearly don’t care?” 

“Well, hopefully, we can see if there are manners in which she and I are suited before her coming here,” Loki explained. “I am aware my words were unkind but I truly do not feel that way and I am all too aware that I do not know of her dislikes and likes before I even meet her. I wish to rectify that.”

Raven did not know what to say. She knew to be careful listening to his words, he was, of course, the Liesmith, the Silver Tongue. He told you what you wanted to hear. “When is she due to arrive?”

“I have no idea. No one said anything and I did not ask.”

“Not the best start if you are not even interested in knowing when she will arrive.”

“I assume I will be told close to the date.” “Had you any intention on learning about her in advance?”

“Not particularly. I considered her nothing more than a duty. Alfheim needed our help and since they were somewhat flippant with their allegiances in the past, my father wished to secure it more for the future. Apparently, that was decided to include me. How I was chosen over Thor, I cannot tell. She is, after all, a princess, daughter of the reigning king, she would have made sense for him.”

“Perhaps it is considered that she is not of high enough standing for him. There is a considerable difference between the wife of the second-in-command and the Allmother, I would have thought.” 

Loki eyed her warily. “Is that an underhanded comment at me?”

“I did not even mention you, Your Highness.” Raven gave a smile that was more scathing than a glare. “I think it best if I continue to use my limited free this afternoon to prepare for the evening shift. Excuse me.” She used the fact that Loki had let his guard down in their talking to one another to seize the opportunity to take back the green sash in his hand and close the door again. 

For his part, Loki stood startled at being bested by his maid for a moment. Knowing that he would not get her to open her door again by knocking, he used his seidr to go back to his rooms, thinking of what to ask his maid on her return to them. 

* It took Raven more effort than she would have wished to return to Loki’s rooms. Part of her thought to rush off realm but she had been informed by a guard that there would be no further realm to realm movement for the rest of the evening. She decided to give Loki until the morning to show he was not merely some egotistical twit. 

Going to his rooms, she paused when she heard arguing from within. 

“And?” “What do you mean ‘and’? You are the heir to the throne.”

“This is not news, Loki. Father made it clear that I will have to marry soon also but for now, Princess Raven of Alfheim is to be brought here to marry you. You get to have all the attention you crave for a time. Then you and she can have little animal named children and I will get my turn to be strapped down by some boring droll creature.” 

Raven felt her body temperature increase at the mocking of her name. She was about to enter the room when there was a loud thud against the wall causing her to jump. 

“I may not be overly pleased with being forced to marry some elf but if you ever mock her or any of the children I am to be the father of again, I will end you, brother, or not.” Loki hissed. “And with regards to names, there would be no animal ones. They would, by virtue of being of Asgard, have normal Aesir names. Whatever of Princess Raven, her brothers and family all have normal Elvish names, whatever turn of fancy the King took to name his daughter after a bird, it is not commonplace to do so.”

Raven felt herself become conflicted. Loki defending her and the children she knew she would be obliged to have as his wife made her feel he was somewhat honourable. The fact he scoffed in his own way at her made her want to pack her belongings again. 

“If that is everything, I would ask you to go away and not bother me again, this evening or any other time, Brother.” The door opened and Loki pushed his brother out of it, causing Thor to crash into a startled Raven. “Oh, dear.” Loki’s bored voice told Raven and indeed Thor that he did not care about accidentally causing the pair to collide. “I suppose you better not injure my maid too much, I need her to fetch my dinner.” 

Thor looked down at the maid in front of him for a moment, apologising to her before pausing for a second, looking at her studiously. There was no denying the recognition in Thor’s face. “Your maid?” He asked curiously. 

Raven knew that the older Aesir prince knew who she was, it was plain to see. At that moment, she was fully convinced that he would reveal everything to his younger brother. 

[thatfanficstuff]

Impossible - 1

Pairing: Eric Northman x Reader

Warnings: Will be listed on a per chapter basis. This one’s good.

A/N: Reader’s presence in the world causes some significant changes. Will not be a straight retelling. And canon is dead to me both for plot and some of the rules of the world. Be prepared. I couldn’t wait so you get this one early. Chap 2 will post monday and then weekly thereafter. 

Enjoy!

***

“Are you sure you don’t mind comin’ with me tonight, Y/N?” Sookie Stackhouse asked as she ran her hands down her dress, making sure it was laying right.

You glanced over and gave her a soft smile. “I wouldn’t have offered if I minded, Sook.” You’d overheard her having an argument with Sam about heading to the vampire bar in Shreveport and you immediately offered to go with her. You had a rather extensive history with vampires and knew all the ins and outs. Not that Sookie would listen to you or she would have worn something else. Still, you were reluctant to send your friend to Fangtasia with only a vampire for backup. “When’s Bill supposed to get here?”

You’d no sooner asked the question than there was a knock at the door. Sookie opened it with a smile. Bill returned the gesture until you stepped up behind her and his gaze fell on you. “Y/N. I wasn’t aware you would be accompanying us.”

“Surprise,” you said with a smile you didn’t mean at all. You and Bill tolerated each other but it was clear you didn’t care for one another. You didn’t trust him and he knew it. 

He moved his gaze back to Sookie. “You look lovely.”

“Thank you.” She gave a little curtsey and beamed at the compliment. He offered her his arm to lead her to the car and you trailed behind. You pursed your lips as you ran your eyes over the both of them. Bill seemed to thrive on your friend’s innocence. With him it wasn’t about Sookie being dressed in a manner that would help her blend in at the bar. No, it was about him being able to walk in and show off the pure, sweet girl on his arm. As if he would win some sort of prize by being deserving of her. Or at least having others think he was.

You slid into the back seat and kept your opinions to yourself. Nothing was going to happen to Sookie. Not as long as you were around. You were nearly to Shreveport before Bill spoke up. “Now, Sookie, you will be fine this evening as I am accompanying you. Just follow my lead.” His gaze darted to the review mirror to make contact with you. “Y/N, it is imperative that you do nothing to draw attention to yourself. Do not make eye contact. Do not appear too interested in anything that may be happening around you. Vampires value their privacy. I will not be able to claim both you and Sookie.”

“I believe I’ve mentioned before that I know vampires, Compton. It’s why I offered to come with Sookie tonight. I don’t need a lecture on vamp etiquette.”

Your friend glanced over her shoulder with a frown. “He’s just trying to help, Y/N. He wants to make sure you’re all right is all.”

You answered with an arched brow and a hum, biting back the other things you wanted to say. You’d try to tolerate him for Sookie’s sake.

***

As you approached the front of the bar, Bill wrapped an arm around Sookie’s waist to steer her inside. You trailed behind once more, hands in your pockets as you took in the chaos around you. Wow. This place was goth central. The vampires were really playing up the whole creature of the night persona. Of course, that’s how places like this made money. They sold the fiction of vampire life. Showed people the parts they expected to see.

“Bill,” a voice greeted. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“I’m mainstreaming.”

“Good for you. Who’s the doll?” By this point you were grinning. You knew that voice. And you also knew she was just giving Bill a hard time by feigning interest in Sookie. Or perhaps she actually was interested in your friend, but she was wasting her time there.

“Pam this is Sookie. Sookie this is Pam.”

“Pleased to meet you,” came your friend’s bubbly response and you bit back a laugh.

“Can I see your ID?” Pam asked.

Sookie was stunned for a moment before she began babbling. You cut her off with a hand on her shoulder. “She’s good,” you announced.

Pam arched a brow and shifted her gaze to you while Bill growled your name. The irritation slid from her face to be replaced by a smirk. “Y/N Y/L/N. What brings you to these parts?”

You shrugged and glanced at your two companions. You didn’t really care to discuss your past in front of either of them. Fortunately, Pam was smart and simply gave you a nod. She turned a smile on Sookie. “You should have said you were with Y/N. Come on in.”

The three of you stepped past her and her hand slid along your arm as she leaned into you. “You and I should talk.” You looked at her. The tone of her voice said more needed to be discussed than your change in locale.

“Sure.”

You followed her through a door, the music becoming infinitely more tolerable when it shut behind you. “How do you listen to that shit all the time?”

“I simply think of the money the sheep bring in.” She smiled as she leaned against a desk. “What are you doing here?”

You could understand her wariness. The two of you hadn’t met under the best of circumstances. “I retired. Sophie was always one of the better options so I came here.” Sophie-Anne ruled Louisiana. Well, the vampires in it at any rate. “I wasn’t aware you were living so close to me or I would have been in sooner.”

Pam tilted her head in agreement then crossed her arms over her chest. “And the girl? Why is she here? Bill’s not the type to flaunt what he is simply to impress.”

You pursed your lips. “She’s a friend. Sweet but a little naïve. Thinks someone here will tell her something about a couple of women that have been killed. They both had bite marks. I would have asked around myself, but they were strangled not drained. Besides, every vamp I know is better about cleaning up after themselves. But that’s not what you wanted to talk to me about.”

There was that smirk again. “Eric is here.”

“Your sire? That Eric?”

She rolled her eyes. “What other Eric would I possibly be referring to?”

You slumped against the wall behind you. “Well, shit.” The first time you met Eric Northman, the two of you had been instantly insanely attracted to one another. You had been on a job for the Authority at the time. Once Eric discovered that, no amount of arguing or pleading from you would convince him that your relationship with him had nothing to do with it. It was one of the many reasons you had finally quit. It was hard to maintain friendships if they were always afraid you were spying on them.

A member of the Authority had taken you in off the streets as a child when it was discovered you couldn’t be glamoured. When you proved to be faster and stronger than your human counterparts all the better. Add enhanced hearing and vision to that and you were just about the perfect spy. No vampire would suspect a human was gathering information for the Authority. And on the off chance you were caught, you were more apt to be able to get yourself out of trouble.

You had always been paid well for your efforts. The man you called father insisted on it. But you yearned for relationships outside of the scope of the Authority. Losing Eric had nearly broken you. So, you quit. Your father had been less than pleased with the decision. Hence, the relocation. The two of you were in the process of making up but you had no intention of running home to daddy as the case may be.

You cleared your throat and focused on Pam again. “Maybe it would be better if I left.”

“Don’t you dare,” she snapped. “You two have been behaving like children long enough. It’s past time for you to put this behind you.”

“Me? He’s the one that flipped his shit, remember? He refused to listen to anything I had to say.”

Pam shrugged. “Yes. And you left. You could have tried harder.”

You sighed and ran a hand down your face. Damn vampire logic. “Does he even want to talk to me?”

“Who cares? Make him listen. I’m tired of him moping.” She reached past you to open the door and you placed a hand on her arm to stop her.

“I haven’t seen him in three years, Pam, but I do remember that Eric Northman is not the moping type. You can’t expect me to believe that he even cares enough to think of me, let alone be affected by my absence.” You’d love to believe that. You really would. Eric was it for you. He was your first everything. Your only, if you were honest and you’d had every notion of him being the last. You’d kind of hoped that would be from the two of you being together forever as opposed to your heart not being willing to move past him.

“Believe what you want, Y/N, but I know my sire. He may appear to be his usual uncaring self, but I know better. If you leave without speaking to him, I will see to it that he sets his sights on your little blonde friend.” She disappeared through the door without giving you a chance to respond.

***

You found a seat that hid you from the view of Eric’s throne on the stage (which was a bit much if you were honest) but allowed you to keep tabs on both him and Sookie. She’d frowned when you didn’t join her and Bill, but you waved her off. Later, you mouthed and she’d simply nodded. You sipped at your drink and ran your eyes over the Viking where he slouched in his seat. He’d let his hair grow out and you couldn’t decide if you liked it or not.

A man groveled at his feet and you rolled your eyes when Eric kicked the man sending him flying through the air. Eric hated shit like this so you found it odd he was playing the role. He could just as easily order his minions to hold court.

Movement from Sookie’s direction caught your eye. Bill took her hand in his and led her toward the stage and Eric. Shit. You turned back to your Viking and saw Pam standing beside him, a smirk playing on her lips. Apparently, she didn’t like your dallying and had decided to force your hand. Fuck.

You moved along the edge of the room, getting close enough to hear, but not close enough to draw attention to yourself. Not yet.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Sookie told Eric and you bit back a chuckle. She was nothing if not overly polite.

“Well, aren’t you sweet?” Disdain dripped from Eric’s words.

“Not really,” Sookie snapped back and Bill gave her a warning tug.

But you, well you laughed outright at that. There was a reason you and Sookie were friends that went beyond her not being able to hear your thoughts. You liked the sharp tongue she didn’t let everyone see.

“Do you find something amusing, human?” Eric’s voice rode the line between irritated and bored. Though he still hadn’t seen you, he had evidently heard your laughter.

“I usually do when Sookie’s around.” Bill turned to scowl at you. Pam covered her mouth with a hand to hide her smile and Eric moved Bill to the side so he could see you.

His eyes went wide as he sat up in the chair and his mouth gaped slightly. “Impossible,” he breathed.

“Apparently not.” You tilted your head and took the opportunity to look him over again. “Hello, Eric.”

“Bill, why don’t you and your friend take a seat. We need to catch up, you and I.” His eyes never left yours.

“Indeed,” Bill answered.

“Why are you here?” he finally asked you.

“Sookie’s my friend.”

Eric’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t have friends.”

You ignored the spike of hurt that accompanied the words. Pam barked something at him in a language you didn’t understand and he turned to speak with her. After a moment, he turned back to you, looking even more surprised than before.

“Is it true?”

You lifted your brows in question. You had no idea what they’d said to one another.

“Are you no longer under the thumb of the Authority?” He’d dropped his voice so no one beyond you would hear him. Bill’s head jerked to you in surprise and his jaw went tight.

“I don’t work for anyone at the moment. They paid well, but the cost was too high.” You left the fact you were referring to him unspoken. That was a conversation for another time with different company.

He sat silent as he studied you. He seemed uncertain of what to say and you didn’t push him. You were taking the fact he hadn’t already tossed you out of his bar as a win.

“We need to get out of here,” Sookie said suddenly and you all turned to look at her.

“Sookie,” Bill snapped.

“Stuff it, Compton. What is it, Sook?”

“A raid.”

“Tell me you’re not an undercover cop,” Eric ordered your friend.

“I’m not, but the man in the hat is.”

“Regardless, we do nothing illegal here.”

“One thing I have learned in the short time I have known her is Sookie always knows what she’s talking about,” you told him. “We should go.”

Before anything else could be said, police swarmed into the club.

“This way.” Eric wrapped his hand around your wrist and pulled you along with him. He led you to a back door. Bill swept Sookie up in his arms while Eric pulled you more tightly against his side. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Miss Stackhouse. You will return.”

“Y/N!” Sookie called after you.

You shook your head. “I’ll be fine. I’ll call you later.”

She started to protest to Bill but he quickly quieted her. Eric put you in his car and told Pam he would see her later. Moments after Sookie warned of the danger you were all a safe distance from the bar and the raid being conducted. As you glanced over at Eric and took in the set of his jaw, you had a feeling your evening was just getting started.