#except at some point his brother fully cut contact with him and his whole family so eak is like

[multishipper-baby]

Lately I've been ruminating about my Eak headcanons some more and I'm trying to like... Manage the level of angst I want to work with.

[captnjacksparrow]

Hey. So when do you think Sasuke realised his true feelings for Naruto? I feel like he knew since part one itself, in some way at least. He was aware of something. When Sasuke tells Naruto his body moved on its own, I feel like there were seeds of realisation or at least a trigger point. In Shippuden, he always seems like he is fully aware of his depth of feelings for Naruto, he gets super emotional because of it. The fact that he is driven to ask Naruto again and again about his feelings, and is disappointed except for chapter 698 proves that he knew this feeling was somehow different, and he wanted understanding from Naruto, maybe to validate his own feelings, since he is equally inexperienced if not oblivious like Naruto.

He knows deep down that Naruto is special to him, he adores Naruto privately, he had since before the genin days. At the end of vote 1, I think he realises it fully, his true feelings for Naruto. What do you think?

Wonderful Ask, Anon!!! 😍😍😍. 

[[Lengthy Post ahead]]

WHEN DID SASUKE REALIZED HIS TRUE FEELINGS FOR NARUTO?

I am damn sure, like 100%, the moment he realized his true feelings is when he thought he was going to die and recollected all the memories he shared with Naruto (including the Accidental Kiss and Roasting Sakura for insulting Naruto) for one Last Time in the Land of the Waves Arc.

You might be thinking now, "What makes you so sure?"

Well, Kishimoto just hammered into our faces in many plotlines.

How is this panel has to do anything with Sasuke?, You may ask.

The answer is here.

"You will realize what you are, as death comes to embrace you".

Itachi, no matter how cold he acted before Sasuke in that battle, he simply couldn't keep up his Evil Brother act at the final moment of his death.

He just smiled. That is who Itachi really was and always will be for Sasuke.

Again, you may ask, 'All this happens much later in the series, Kishi might've had a different mindset back when he was drawing part 1'.

You are right. But Kishi's mindset was the same all the time. He even established this 'True face before Death' theme very strongly in Land of the Waves arc itself.

This is who Zabuza really was. He didn't treat Haku like a Tool. Infact, his final words were, "I wanted to go the same place as you".

Kakashi made sure to convey this message to Haku in the War Arc, when he fought with the Edo Tensei'ed Haku and Zabuza.

And there are many characters who died in this series. Almost all of them projects their true feelings before their death. Just rewind the deaths of Nagato, Yahiko, Konan, Obito, Madara. You might've noticed that there won't be any lies. For Example, Obito. When he died for the first time, he was really thinking about Kakashi and Rin. He even said, ‘I wish I could’ve spent more time with them’. That’s who Obito really was. He was convinced with that Tsukuyomi plan because he wanted to live in a dream world where Rin and Kakashi will be with him happily. 

So, a person, at their final moment thinks only about all their memories shared with that 'precious' person signifies only one thing. That person must have unconditionally loved the one they thought about.

Sasuke realized that he loves Naruto at that moment and he had no regrets because he smiled before falling into Naruto's lap.

And I always wondered, 'Why did Sasuke thought only about Naruto? Didn't he have any other good memories other than the ones he shared with Naruto?'.

Well, this goes way back when he was just 8, right after the Massacre. Yes, the chapter 698 confession. But I am not going to attach all the panels here as I will go in-depth about it later in this post.

However, there are three panels that provides the general gist of what Sasuke felt about Naruto, the whole time.

Happiness:

Whenever Sasuke watches Naruto, he reminded him of his family and it made Sasuke 'felt relieved' or 'feel warm and fuzzy'. Simply put, Naruto's presence made him happy.

And did Sasuke ever felt relieved?

Yes, he did!!

This above scene happens sometime after the massacre and yet, somehow Naruto could make him smile even in that distressful situation.

And this is one recurring feeling which Sasuke experience whenever he comes in contact with Naruto. After the Massacre, somehow Naruto became his source of happiness or relief. This panel right after massacre, that smile before his ‘supposed’ death, on seeing the Great Naruto Bridge with a relaxed smile, VoTE2  smile.....  

Sasuke smiled at all these scenes and you know the reason why!!!

Weakness:

This is exactly opposite from how he felt earlier. And this conflicting thoughts are what Sasuke was battling in his mind throughout Part 1 and Part 2 until Chapter 697. He liked Naruto's presence. But, For him, the very thought of bonding with him made him feel weak. 

According to Sasuke, the stronger he bonds with someone the more he has to worry about losing them and the very thought of losing them will put him in a precarious position which is considered as a weakness. And Sasuke doesn’t want to experience this again. 

Meaning, Sasuke doesn’t want to feel the pain of loss over someone, ever again. He wants to be the person who don’t care about anyone.

Did Sasuke ever expose his weakness?

Yes he did!!! 

This is his absolute display of weakness and this is what he always wanted to avoid. The very thought of something is going to happen to Naruto made him do something that put him under immense pain. 

Yes, In his mind, he doesn’t want to care about anyone’s loss. But his body doesn’t seem to listen to him. And that’s why his body moved on it’s own.

God!!! This made me cry!!!!

Pain:

Now, this feeling Sasuke had towards Naruto was very evident in the War Arc. That one time he sensed Naruto’s Chakra in Konoha and asked Orochimaru to hurry up. Also when Naruto was bawling after seeing countless shinobi’s deaths, Sasuke’s reaction changed from ‘I don’t care 😶’ to ‘How dare you😠’, I consider all these moments where Sasuke was bothered about Naruto . But since, I want to focus only on Pre- Land of the Waves moments, I’m not going to add those moments here.

Did Sasuke felt pain in Part 1?

Of course, he did!!!

Well, I always consider this scene as something ‘very personal’ for Sasuke. 

In this post, I’ve written about how chapter 3 is masked by the ‘Accidental Kiss’ as a comical facade but when you analyze it deeply you will find that Naruto and Sasuke’s rivalry thing goes long back, even before the series started.

After hearing Pinky’s insensitive comment, what Sasuke did here was completely extreme. He was just giving her a ‘Murder Stare’ which was way too extreme for Naruto, if he was just a teammate. When in reality, Naruto was not just his teammate. That’s why I think Sasuke was bothered by this insensitive comment and roasted her because he knew Naruto was suffering from this loneliness ever since he saw him when he was 8. And when someone made fun of his loneliness, Sasuke just couldn’t keep quiet. 

Isn’t this some form of feeling pain of the person you care about and standing up for them?

This is another scene which I don’t have to go in detail about. 

On my first watch, I always wondered, ‘Why Sasuke was making exceptions for Naruto? They just know for a very few days and yet why was he giving his lunch and standing up for him, which he doesn’t have to in the first place? It’s just 2 episodes in and Sasuke has already made 4 exceptions, why was he doing this?’

But after watching Episode 478, I came to the realization that Sasuke did all these because he knew about Naruto before the series even started. 

It’s funny that before this scene, Sasuke was giving his long-ass serious speech to Pinky about how he is an avenger, he was crying at that time, he wants to get stronger than someone and wants to kill him, he can’t waste his time here..... And yet when he saw Naruto suffering from Hunger, he just gave his lunch without minding the consequences. (Ninja Career says Hello!!!!)

Now, Let’s get back to my previous question I posed here, 

Why did Sasuke thought only about Naruto in his final moments? Didn't he have any other good memories other than the ones he shared with Naruto?

The answer is, ‘Sasuke always felt any one of the three extreme emotions such as Happiness, Weakness, Pain in the presence of Naruto. And all these 3 extremities are not something you feel for everyone unless that person shares your blood or the person you love unconditionally. Sasuke, at this point has no one that shares his blood plus the only blood relation left was the one he wants to kill. And since Sasuke thinks he is going to die, he doesn’t mind thinking about his happiest moments with the person he considers as ‘precious’ , because somehow Sasuke considers Naruto as ‘His Person’ or you can say ‘a part of himself’’

And that’s why I think Sasuke realized his true feelings just when he was about to die. 

At the end of vote 1, I think he realizes it fully, his true feelings for Naruto.

I had this same thought before, anon!!! But after multiple re-watches, I realized something else. You cannot realize your true feelings and say a painful ‘Good Bye’ at the same time.

Realizing true feelings works only in two ways,

You either say a ‘Good Bye’ to someone. After leaving that person you may realize you miss that person and eventually you may come to term with your feelings.

Or

You already have a strong feeling established in your heart and say a painful ‘Good Bye’. And VoTE 1 belongs to this category.

Simply put, Break ups and Love realization cannot happen simultaneously.

And that’s why Sasuke casually said, “To me, you’ve become my closest friend” without any hesitation. Because he already knew it otherwise obtaining Mangekyou Sharingan (MS) will not be possible if you don’t have such a strong feelings established already.

That whole battle started off as a way to obtain MS but then it changed into his desperate attempt to cut off his bond with Naruto to become stronger and only killing him can sever it because it’s such a strong one. It’s not a bond that will be severed by saying a simple, ‘Thank you’.

At this moment, Sasuke must be realizing he simply cannot cut off this bond and he is again making an exception by letting this one weakness to exist and embracing it by being closer to him for one final time.

And this is one of the hauntingly brilliant way of conveying A Connection indirectly. And the best part is... this scene is not accidental. We know Sasuke felt stinging pain in his arms and knelt down & coughed up blood. How did he end up straight above Naruto’s face?

It’s because Sasuke simply wanted to convey his unbroken bond with Naruto by deliberately leaning towards his face. Rain falls on Sasuke and all those droplets passes through Sasuke’s face and falls upon Naruto’s face or it is very possible that Sasuke might by crying and his tears might be touching his face, but either way, it creates a Connection which he couldn’t able to cut off. In the fillers, Sasuke’s sweat drop falls on Naruto. It’s almost similar to how at the end of chapter 698, both of their blood connects together to form a connection. Which means only death can separate their connection.

That’s why I feel that this is the moment where he is painfully saying his Good Bye for one last time, it pains him immensely because he already knows that leaving his ‘precious’ person who became a part of himself is not very easy added to that he hurt him so much during the battle. And for this reason, Sasuke felt ‘leaving Naruto is like ripping off half of his body’.

He knows deep down that Naruto is special to him, he adores Naruto privately, he had since before the genin days. What do you think?

Sasuke always fights this inner battle within himself. Mind Vs Heart & Body. 

His mind says, ‘No more Bonds. Just stay alone. That will save you a lot of pain’.

His body says, ‘Create Bonds. Feel Relieved’. 

When Sasuke met Naruto near the lake pier, His body wins the battle and that’s why he smiled back at him despite the trauma he went through few days earlier. This is when Naruto became special to him.

When Sasuke attempted to make friendship with Naruto. His body wins the battle and that’s why he offered food, trained along with him.

When Sasuke died for Naruto by casting away his dreams, his body moved on its own.

At the beginning of VoTE1 battle, his mind said, ‘Leave Naruto. Pursue your dreams by treading in a darker path by filling your heart with hatred’. His body said, ‘Be with Naruto. Achieve your goals by filling your heart with Love’.

By the end of VoTE1, Sasuke came to the conclusion that he really couldn’t sever his bond with Naruto, no matter how hard he tried. That’s why his body moved on its own and ended up straight above Naruto’s face for one last time. Carrying all the heart break of a painful breakup, Sasuke treads towards the darker path. For the very first time, Sasuke’s mind won the inner battle. And he was extremely saddened by it.

Throughout Shippuden, Sasuke mostly listened to his mind and whenever he does, he was seen pushing Naruto away like leaving with Orochimaru, ramming chidori through Naruto’s Shadow Clone when pursuing Itachi, promising to kill Naruto before Attacking Konoha, wanting to fight with Naruto in VoTE2.

But whenever he followed his heart, you can see scenes like Sasuke occupying Naruto’s personal space in Orochimaru hideout, Sasuke smiling at Great Naruto Bridge, asking Obito about Kyuubi (Naruto) when he joined Akatsuki, stopping his rampage on seeing Naruto’s eyes under The Bridge, asking Obito to wait and listened to Naruto under the Bridge, sensing Naruto’s chakra in Konoha and getting concerned about it, prioritize saving Naruto over everyone in the War Arc, switching off Sharingan at the last moment. These are all the moment where Sasuke’s heart was winning over his mind.

And finally at the end of VoTE2, Sasuke happily claimed, ‘I lost’, meaning, his mind which always asked him to cut the bond with Naruto lost to his Heart and Body which always wanted him to be with Naruto. And when Sasuke felt that he was unconditionally loved by Naruto who was willing to share his pain, Sasuke cried happily and finally sealed his Bond with Naruto.

But anyways, I still get this question, why do Sasuke had to battle his feelings for Naruto like a lover? And why Naruto had to act all Tsundere towards Sasuke for most of the Part 1 if only they are friends!!! Like Shikamaru was never shown to be acting tsundere towards Chouji or Naruto. Or Obito was never shown to battle his feelings towards Kakashi!!! Itachi was never shown to be obsessed about Sasuke all the time. Or Hashirama was never obsessed about Tobirama either. Like we were shown many fraternal bonds, friendly bonds throughout the series. And yet why none of those bonds fits for Naruto and Sasuke? 

Well, this post is not the right place to cover these questions and I am simply going to leave it at that. 

Sasuke realized it very early and that’s why he decided to push Naruto away by the end of Part 1. Whereas Naruto truly realized his feelings at the end of Part 1 and decided to put himself close with Sasuke in Part 2 and finally confessed in VoTE2 that, ‘Remember, you once gave me your food during the Bell Test? It’s because you simply can’t tolerate to watch me suffer before your eyes.... I also feel the same way about you.. I simply cannot see you suffer alone when you were willing to give your body to Orochimaru... It just hurt me a lot inside’.

They finally realize the feelings they had for each other is a love in a broader sense which cannot be labelled under a certain term (it may include a father, a mother, a friend, a lover too) and we can call them as Pure Soulmates, where one cannot live without the other, where one cannot bear to see the other one suffer and they always wanted to be standing next to each other sharing their happiness and pain in their hearts. 

[itwoodbeprefect]

Inge! sorry I'm a little late to the party, but do you still take prompts? if yes, I'd like to request a friendship piece for either Rodney&Teyla or Rodney&Ronon (w/ or w/out a dash of McShep is good for me) pretty please? thanks! <3

Not that late at all, and what a lovely warm prompt! Thank you. :D

I went with Rodney & Ronon, but also kind of Rodney & Teyla and maybe Ronon & Teyla, and also John is around, and it’s almost teamfic? Also, Jeannie.

---

The door to John’s quarters slides open exactly like his own would, which he expects, but he stops cold after two hasty steps into the room anyway. He turns back to the door to check, and in the process has to look past the Johnny Cash poster above the bed and the surfboard leaning against the wall and the giant brick of a Tolstoy book on the nightstand, so yeah, he decides in the end, without stepping out to doublecheck - these are John’s quarters. There’s not a single thing out of place, except, well, the obvious.

“McKay,” Ronon grumbles. It sounds like a greeting. Like Ronon, sitting fully clothed on the edge of John’s made bed, is saying hi.

“What are you doing here?” Rodney asks, by way of saying hi back.

“Meeting Sheppard.” Ronon grins, in a way that looks a little dangerous. That’s a good sign with Ronon, who has no problem looking a lot dangerous, if he wants. “Unless you want to spar with me.”

Rodney does not. Rodney thinks that’s a little too predictable for him to say out loud; quite honestly, he thinks John is crazy for endangering his life that way voluntarily every week.

Rodney looks back at the door again, which has slid closed, and in front of which the person he’s been looking for has not suddenly materialized in the last ten seconds. “Where is John?”

“Not here.”

Rodney’s nerves make him skip the snappy comeback. “Any idea where he might be?”

“Why?” Ronon asks.

Which is more than enough to make Rodney spill his guts. He was barely holding it in, anyway. “I think Jeannie’s mad at me, and I’m not sure why.” He frowns and starts to pace back and forth and rub his hands together. He’s a multitasker. “I don’t think I did or said anything rude lately, but her emails are shorter than usual, and she didn’t even sign the last one. It’s really not like me to overthink these kinds of things, because I don’t care what people think of me anyway-” That’s a lie, he’s come to realize in recent years, but it’s a comforting one to repeat out loud, sometimes. “But, you know, I think I was the bad guy for not contacting Jeannie all those years and we’ve only just started being brother and sister again, so I’ve been trying to put in the effort, and now I think she’s mad at me.” He stops marching and gives the too long, didn’t read version. “So I need someone to tell me what I did wrong, so I can fix it.”

Ronon levels a look at him. “And you need John for this.”

The look says more than the words, and it has a point, of course. John’s not known for his exceptional social grace and skill. Rodney wags his head a little, considering how to justify his choice. John is his best friend, but he’d feel a little pathetic saying that to Ronon, who he’s pretty sure is also John’s best friend. “He had some surprisingly clever insights about my relationship with Jeannie last time she was here,” is what Rodney lands on, reluctantly. He spots John’s golf stuff in the corner, and wistfully thinks back to being able to just ramble at John without Ronon sitting there, judging him.

Ronon leans back, planting his hands behind him on the mattress. “I could help,” he offers, out of the blue.

Some deep, deep blue. Blue enough to make Rodney stare, hands stilling mid-wring. “You?” Rodney’s not trying to be offensively puzzled, but he thinks he’s allowed a little surprise. If John is dubious in his social grace, Ronon is a tripping hazard. “You could help?”

Ronon stares back like a challenge. “Yeah.”

“Okay,” Rodney says. He waits and looks at Ronon expectantly, but nothing happens. Ronon just looks back at him mutely. “Please?”

“What would Teyla do?”

“Huh?” She’s not here, either - if Ronon’s help is just sending him to chase someone else around the city, that’s not very helpful at all.

“Ask yourself,” Ronon says. “What would Teyla do? And then do that thing.”

Rodney is right back to baffled. He’s not sure he ever left - he’s talking to Ronon Dex about feelings. “Is that how you handle a problem?”

“No.” Ronon leaves a pause there. Rodney finds himself unexpectedly distracted by the question if Ronon talks so little because he really just doesn’t have much to say, or because finding words takes effort. “I glare at it until it goes away.”

Rodney huffs a laugh out of pure surprise, because that almost sounds like a joke. It may not have been, but either way Ronon doesn’t glare at him, which Rodney takes as a sign that he hasn’t just become a problem.

“And if that doesn’t work-” Ronon continues, which Rodney feels is surprisingly talkative of him, until he lets that sentence hang unfinished.

But Rodney can do that, now. Finish Ronon’s sentence. “What would Teyla do?”

Ronon nods. He looks a little smug, like there’s a dead Wraith around here somewhere. “Yeah.”

“Oh,” Rodney says, both because he would have guessed that Ronon’s backup plan would involve a lot more knives (though it could, potentially, still involve knives sometimes - Teyla’s very good with those) and because that’s actually good advice. If there’s one person who would know how to get someone to tell them what’s wrong, it’s Teyla.

And if Teyla thought somebody she loved might be mad at her, but she wasn’t sure why, she would... ask. She wouldn’t go into a tailspin and try to guess at the answer while assuming it had to be her fault, she would ask why and listen and then talk it out.

“Oh my God,” Rodney says, feeling like a whole new world just opened up to him. “Words.”

Ronon pulls a face. It looks a little like a sympathy wince.

Rodney flings a hand out at him. “Thank you!”

“Thank Teyla,” Ronon says, which Rodney thinks is a little weirdly modest for the galaxy’s greatest Runner who just counseled him through a family emergency, but they can work on Ronon’s ability to accept gratitude later, over lunch or something.

For now, Rodney sweeps out of the room, because he needs his computer so he can type so he can get Jeannie to tell him what’s bothering her so he can be a good brother, and apologize only once he knows what he’s apologizing for. God, Teyla’s smart.

As luck would have it, John is just stepping out of the transporter when Rodney storms towards it. “Hey,” he says, slowing to a stop when Rodney doesn’t. “What are you doing here?”

“Asking you for help.” Rodney brushes right past him with a pat to his arm; no time.

“You’re going the wrong way,” John calls after him.

“I’m fine! Ronon helped me by making Teyla help me help myself with Jeannie.”

“What?”

The last thing Rodney sees before he steps into the transporter is John’s bewildered face. It’s clear John is left with some questions, but Rodney doesn’t need to hang around for that. Ronon can take over; that’s what Teyla would do.

Or, Rodney thinks, what a friend would do.

(Turns out, in the end, that Jeannie was never even mad at him to begin with - her next email is much longer, and details all the mundane little circumstances that piled up and left her very stressed last month but that she didn’t think Rodney had wanted to hear about (it involves a flu and lice and a car that wouldn’t start and visiting in-laws and school play preparations and a lost teddy bear and half a dozen other little things Rodney is glad he doesn’t have to deal with in Pegasus), and then she calls him very attentive for picking up on her mood and sweet for thinking to ask if everything is okay.

The next day Rodney bribes one of the botanists to cut a bouquet for him and gives it to Teyla, and he hoards one of the last pieces of pie at dinner until Ronon shows up. “What’s happening?” John asks, suspicious. Maybe Ronon’s explanation wasn’t all that comprehensive after all.

“Emotional intelligence,” Ronon says around a full mouth, spewing little pieces of pie across the table, and Rodney nods solemnly.

That’s not what Teyla would do, because she’s smiling at them both, but close enough.)

[lilacmeadows]

Made For You pt. 2

Omg you guys thank you so much for all the support! Part 1 was my first fic and you guys were so sweet. I had to get started on part 2 right away. If you want to be on my taglist, just let me know! This is just leading up to the next few chapters that’s just gonna be FILTHY. I needed a bit of backstory to be satisfied, but now that the boring part is out of the way, I’m gonna go research other names for genitals. Hope you enjoy! -Savvy

BUCKY X READER

Summary: Hydra had just finished training you to be the Winter Soldier’s perfect mate when the Avengers saved him. But what’s going to happen to you now that Hydra has deleted your old life and left you with nothing but a soldier that needs to learn to love himself before he can love someone else.

Part 1    Part 2     Part 3

WARNINGS: explicit sexual content, explicit language, underage reader (nothing sexual happens underage), stockholm syndrome, mentions of family death, eventual dom/sub dynamics, mentions of captivity and kidnapping. violence- guns, mutual pining, eventual smut, fluff, angst if you squint (must be 18+)

WORD COUNT:  2.9k

“Make the Soldat happy. He is my mission.” 

When she was first taken, of course she was scared. She didn’t know why, where she was going, if she’d be rescued. It was a painful adjustment, and some days it was as if the tears would never stop. It’s not like she was worth anything to anyone who mattered, her family wasn’t rich. Just her mom and brother. They lived a happy and normal life. 

She’d guess it didn’t really matter. At the age of 10, y/n was old enough to understand basic concepts, carry a conversation with adults, and she had strict teachers in school, so she knew how to behave. 

What she didn’t know was how to be a wife. Or a ‘life-partner’. None of the Men would ever call her a future ‘wife’. She was training to be a mate. Someone the Soldat could own and connect with so he didn’t fly off the rails if things got out of control. If he got out of their control. Every morning, a watcher would wake her up at 8AM so she could stretch, eat, and meditate. By 10AM, her first trainer of the day would come in and teach her the schooling she was missing. Just basic math and reading, a little German, and a little Russian. Not enough for her to eavesdrop on their plans, but enough to understand her Soldat if he didn’t feel like speaking English. 

At 1PM, another trainer would come and bring her to the small kitchenette down the hall. They had no intention of domesticating the ‘couple’, but she was learning to be a woman- of course the Men would have her start in the kitchen. She would learn very simple meals that could feed a fully grown man, and usually had something light for lunch herself. The men brought her the other 2 meals a day. At 3PM she would have lessons on ‘Womanhood’. At least that’s what she called it. A trainer would come in and teach her a never-ending list of rules that she had to follow in order to be a ‘lady’. It reminded her of an old Barbie movie she would watch when she was little. There was a song called ‘To Be a Princess’, where a poor girl learned how to act proper. Once she started seeing herself as that princess, the days got a little easier. Some days, they would go over how to sit and lie down like a lady. Others, they would walk laps around the halls open to her, reviewing how to walk on the balls of her feet. She learned to talk in short sentences with excellent manners, and how to brush her hair, so she could look more presentable for her Soldat. 

Over the years of compliance, the trainers softened on her just as the watchers had. Of course, they were still horrible people, but they knew she was a kind girl at heart and wouldn’t cause trouble. Some days, she would be made to sit perfectly still with a stack of books on her head, while her trainer would tell her something silly happening outside the walls of the building that became her home. She learned little bits of information about their lives, music, art. But never anything political or having to do with who the Men even worked for. That was strictly forbidden. They would let her color in her free time. Sometimes a watcher would bring a book from his home for her to read, and when she was old enough, she was given a few colors of yarn and started knitting sweaters and scarves on plastic needles. She didn’t have a clock, but she would learn by the rotating shifts of her watchers what time of day it was.

There were children whose lives sucked more than hers. And for that, she was grateful.

When she got older (let’s say 18), the training started to change. She never knew what day it was, or even what year. She had stopped keeping track so long ago, but the changes were made gradually. She would be made to read books on intimacy, and then watch videos of men brutally ravishing ladies about her size. She had to learn what to do to please her Soldat, without being taught physically. This made her happy. The thought of any of the watchers or trainers doing that to her made her sick. And everyone thought it was in her best interest to be completely innocent to the touch of a man when she has her first encounter with the Soldat.

Which turned out exactly as planned. But on the day Steve and Sam plucked her out of her bedroom, she was not expecting the Soldat to be sitting right in front of her. In all his glory.

The quinjet was eerily silent for all of seven seconds before Clint had the audacity to continue the conversation he started.

“You make the soldier happy?” was the best the shocked man could come up with.

“I haven’t met him yet, but I’m ready. They made me ready for him.” y/n said with bright, hopeful eyes. Her words flowed so easily, they sounded rehearsed.

“Do we tell her?” Tony asked Steve, who was getting greener by the second. He couldn’t believe he just got his best friend back, not two weeks ago, and now he has to worry about a girl who’s obsessed with said best friend.

“I don’t think we really have a choice.” Steve replied, taking a deep breath. The whole quinjet looked like they were holding their breath. y/n still didn’t know the names of the three men on the opposite side of the quinjet. Two of them standing together, pausing their conversation, and the brooding man, who everyone keeps looking at.

“y/n, meet Bucky.” Steve said, pointing at the man across from her. But ‘Bucky’ went completely over her head- the name being unfamiliar to her.

“Hello, sir. Pleased to meet you.” She said, offering a genuine smile, but clearly not picking up what Steve was putting down. Clint chimed in again, wanting to be out of his confused misery.

“Wait a second. Y/n. You mean the soldier, as in the Winter Soldier?” Y/n immediately nodded at hearing that name. She knew her Soldat went by that name. “As in that guy right there?” 

Her eyes went wide at the realization. He was sitting right in front of her. Staring at her since the minute she stepped onto the plane. And he was gorgeous. Long hair, thick thighs, piercing blue eyes, and a jaw that could probably cut glass. But he looked upset. Pissed really, and that scared her. She had one job: Make the Soldat happy. And there she was, barely presentable. She hadn’t even addressed him properly, how she was taught. With all the eyes on her, she felt a blush rush through her whole body at the embarrassing thought. But she had to. He wouldn’t like her if she didn’t follow the rules she grew up with.

Y/n daintily stood up and walked until she was right in front of Bucky. He held her eye contact the entire way, still not having said one word during this whole exchange. She gently knelt down until she was on her knees in front of him. 

“I hope I can make you happy, my Soldat. I am a gift from the Men who take care of us, and I am entirely yours.” Bucky’s jaw twitched. He hadn’t said anything this whole time, but his mind was moving at lightning speed. He watched this gorgeous, barely dressed girl sit across from him, and was already in awe. But then that girl got on her knees and declared her loyalty to him? In front of everyone he knows? He couldn’t lie to himself, he’d never been more turned on. But everything about this was wrong. She was just a Stockholm Syndrome’d girl who wanted to follow orders. But her orders were to make him happy. He finally broke eye contact with her to see Tony’s shocked face looking over at Bruce and Thor, to make sure he’s not hallucinating this. 

“Y/n, you should stand up.” He said to her in a hushed tone. Probably harsher than he meant to. He could see her visibly take a breath at the sound of his voice, his eyes followed the gentle slope of her neck down to her breast. She dreamed for years about what his voice would sound like, and it just rolled over her. But she quickly obeyed and stood in front of his seat. He expected her to say something else, but she was silent then. Her previous outburst was one of the few exceptions to her ‘only talk when spoken to’ rule. “What do you want? Where is your family so we can take you home?” He asked her. She could feel the tears well up in her eyes. He didn’t want her was all she could assume. She was made for him, so why was he turning her away?

“I want to make you happy, sir. It’s all I want. Please let me be good for you. I promise, I’ll be so good for you.” Begging was familiar to her from her studies. She didn’t expect to be begging for her to be able to please him, but she would do whatever it took to get him to keep her.

“No. Y/n. This isn’t right. You were being kept there, whatever Hydra told you to do is over. You’re free now.” The tears flowed freely down her cheeks and it broke his heart. She tried to cover her face with her hands. He didn’t want to see her cry, nor did he want to turn her away, but he also couldn’t just let her be his sex slave. It wasn’t right. 

“Please don’t be sad. This is for the best-” He tried to reason with her, but when he took her hand off her face so she would look at him, the contact only made her sob harder. This was all she wanted. 

“Buck, I think we should just let her sit for a minute. Can you grab her some water? Tony and I will try to figure out where she was from.” Steve said to Bucky- trying to end this painful and awkward situation. Bucky stood and walked to another area of the quinjet. He was grateful to be able to use this time to think.

“Y/n, we’re gonna need your help to get you home okay. What’s your last name? How old are you?” 

“Y/L/N” And then she went quiet. It never occurred to her that she didn’t know how old she was. Of course, she remembered her birthday, but she couldn’t tell the weeks and months apart, so she hadn’t celebrated it since she turned 10 in 2006. “What year is it?”

“When did they take you?” Steve asked gently. Being a man from another time, he could remember well the day he woke up in 2011 when it was supposed to be 1944. He knew how jarring it was to discover all the time that’s been lost, and wanted to spare her that grief.

“2006. I was 10.” She looked at him, and she could tell it’s not just 2008 by the look on his face. She knew her body went through changes over her time with the Men, but between the ‘dietary supplements’ they gave her, and the fact that she wasn’t looking in a mirror- much less shopping for clothes- she didn’t realize she had fully completed puberty. 

“Y/n, it’s 2016. You’re 20 now.” And that made the tears come harder. But she wasn’t so upset about the 10 years of her life. She was mad at 20 years of her life wasted. Since Bucky didn’t want her, all of the training was for nothing. She knew living for him made her the definition of a broken person- she wasn’t dumb. The idea of her Soldat was what grounded her all that time. When she was lonely, she’d think about the man the Men always tell her about. They told her how he was their ‘greatest asset’. And she often fantasized about if he would fall in love with her. So by the time she met him, she had already been in love with him for much longer than she’d care to admit- which makes the heartbreak of rejection hurt that much more.

Unfortunately for Bucky, his heart was heavy too. He tucked away into the tiny bed area on the jet after quickly handing Steve the water to give to y/n. It was too much. Being in that room with her, she looked at him like he hung the moon. But he most certainly had not. He was a murderer. Tony’s father was a scientist during the war, and Bucky knew him pretty well through Steve. And he killed him. He had scattered memories of hurting dozens of people, so why would she be so willing to be with someone like him?

Part of him wanted it. After almost a century of not owning anything and not having a choice, he was given the opportunity to have something that belonged only to him. A gift from the men who take care of us. If it wasn’t cruel, he would have laughed in her face. Maybe she was taken care of, but he most certainly wasn’t. She was brought in young enough to still be under the impression that Hydra wasn’t evil, just strict. He imagined for a minute how things could have turned out for the two of them if he hadn’t gotten free. If Hydra really was planning on giving him a gift. He didn’t like the last gift they gave him in the shape of an arm, but y/n was perfect. She was the perfect size for him- although his broad frame could dwarf most women. And her smile pulled at his heart.

He wanted to kiss her the minute he saw her. He knew he wanted to make her his.

And that was bad.

He rubbed his hand over his face and decided to rejoin the group in the middle of their conversation. Thor and Bruce decided to stop being passive members of the conversation and introduced themselves. Y/n was very confused at Thor’s proclamation as ‘God of Thunder’, but with all that was happening, she didn’t feel it was her place to question it.

“- a good thing we have spare rooms at the compound. You can stay as long as you like.” Tony finished speaking to y/n just as Bucky was walking into the room. “We’re gonna have a new house guest MC.” He waggled his eyebrows at the man who caught the back half of that conversation.

Bucky’s jaw dropped. This would only make the situation much harder than it needed to be. He looked to Steve for an explanation. The blond stood up and made his way over to Bucky.

“Look, Hydra scrubbed her records off of every database and-” He took a deep sigh, “Her family is dead, Buck. They probably killed them after they took her.” 

Then it was Bucky’s turn to sigh. He knew the right thing to do was to help her, but he also knew how much he wanted to feel her soft skin in his hands. And that made her dangerous to be around. 

What nobody knew was why Hydra took the 10 year old from Georgia. In 2006, the Winter Soldier was sent on a mission to kill a scientist that lived there. Of course the poor guy didn’t have a chance when the Soldier was sitting in his house, waiting for him when he got home, but what the Soldier wasn’t expecting was a little girl to be coming inside with him. The scientist looked sleazy and didn’t have any children, so who knows what would have happened to her if the Soldier didn’t get there in time. She screamed and cried. The comm in his ear commanded him to kill the girl for being a witness. But the part of the Soldier that was still Bucky wanted her to be safe. He shushed the little girl and asked her for her address. When she recited it to him, he rubbed her head and told her she was a good girl, before he dug his metal fingers into the child’s pressure points and she fell limp into his arms. y/n woke up in her bed, crying at the bad dream she must have had- her mother not even home yet. That was the first act of defiance Hydra ever experienced from the Winter Soldier. First sign of humanity and compassion. They knew if the mind control was getting weaker, he would be harder to control next time they unfroze him, but his protective nature of the girl would make her an asset to them.

Her capture was arranged before his heart was fully frozen in the chamber. Neither Bucky nor y/n remembered this- Bucky only remembering parts of his time under their control, and y/n never thinking about that bad dream again, but the connection was still there as strong as it was that day 10 years ago.

Part 3

[believinghurts]

Request For Bill Weasley

Requested: Yes ( @marvelettesassemble ) I hope you like it!

Warnings: Crying?, Slight Violence

Info: Reader comforts Bill after the attack from Greyback. 

If you have a request please send it in. Feedback is always welcomed. 

Should there be a part two? Let me know! 

Scars 

It all happened so quickly. The blink of an eye. One minute you were sitting with Nymphadora and Remus, the next a Patronus was sent in staying that Death Eaters were at Hogwarts. The battle raged on in the upper levels of the school between Order members, some students, and Deatheaters. Hermione and Luna had left to find Flitwick and Snape which left Ginny, Nyphmadora, yourself and Bill to fight Alecto, Rowle, and Greyback. Should have been easier for the four of you, right? Four against three, odds are in your favor till they weren’t. You had been trying to help the three of your friends bouncing between casting spells to aid all of them until Alecto sent two spells quickly towards Ginny who was losing her shields quickly. Bill caught your eye as you were sending a stun spell towards Greyback. 

“Go! Help her!” He yelled out towards you. With one last reluctant look towards him you sprinted towards Ginny while trying to dodge the few rouge spells that were flying around the tower. You sent Petrificus Totalus towards Alecto’s back. He ducks last minute narrowly missing the spell. You see him look over your shoulder with a wicked grin on his face, and the sounds that follow you are sure are going to haunt you for the rest of your days. Greyback, and Alecto leave down the stairs as someone calls for them to go. With a wave they disappear from view as you feel Ginny collapse into your side screaming for her brother. The sight before you send cold running down your spine that you will feel for days. 

Bill lying lifeless on the floor, his face covered in blood and cuts. His shirt ripped from claw marks. And you know. You know that Greyback attacked him. You’re best friends, you’re beautiful best friends that you have loved since Charlie introduced you in third year. You run towards him as Dora makes sure Rowle is completely stunned. Your knees hit the floor with a loud thump as you press two fingers to his pulse point. Breathing out the breath you didn’t know you were holding when you feel the heartbeat. You turn your head to lock eyes with Dora as she holds Ginny on the rumble covered floor. “He’s alive.” 

The next chunk of time is lost on you as you try to hold the blood into Bill’s body. Ginny sat beside you holding Bill’s hand, tears dripping down her cheeks. You know she is blaming herself just as you are blaming yourself. Dora left to get Remus and Madam Pomfrey. It seems as though hours have passed before they return. Pomfrey takes over the wounds you were holding, as Remus gently removes Ginny from her brother and into your arms. You stroke her hair, holding her tight. Ron and Herimoine come up just as Madam Pomfrey explains that he needs to go to Saint Mungos for treatment. Ron silently cries at the sight of his beaten older brother. You all walk towards the apparition point together with Bill floating behind you. Ginny has yet to let go of your arm. You reach the apparition point when Ron and Herimone state that they can’t go with you due to having to help Harry. Remus tells them that he will let them know when we have news. Ginny refuses to leave, stating she will be going with you. 

When you all arrive at St. Mangos, they are ready for him. Taking his straight back as a nurse hands Dora a few forms to fill out. Remus leaves to get Molly, and Arthur. Ginny seems to be coming back to her senses slightly, she shifts so you can wrap your arm around her. You had always been close to her. Not having any siblings of your own, and her only having brothers meant you were a big sister. Molly came into the waiting room with tears running down her face quickly followed by her husband, Fred, and George. Ginny dove straight into her father's arms, crying softly again. Molly wrapped you in a hug as you cried for the first time. She whispered sweet things in your ear before pushing you back enough to cup your face. “What happened?” 

You swallowed the lump in your throat and began explaining the best you could as to what happened. At the end of your story sobs had taken you over as you apologize for leaving his side, stating that it was all your fault. You left him and now there was a chance he was going to become a werewolf. You ruined his life. If only you had taken over the fight, and let him go and Ginny instead of you. Then we wouldn’t be here. His family wouldn’t be worried out of their minds as to what was to come. He didn’t deserve this. Remus had come to explain a few things to Molly and Arthur, so George pulled you down to sit on his other side. As if sensing your thoughts he said, “This isn’t your fault. Just like Mum told you. This is Greyback’s fault. You saved Gin, you couldn’t be in two places at the same time. He told you to go. Don’t blame yourself. He’ll be fine, Dragon.” 

His words didn’t fully help you understand that it wasn’t your fault, but you did understand that you really couldn’t have helped both. The next couple of hours went by slowly. Molly took you, and Ginny, to get cleaned up in one of the restrooms. Fleur arrived with her parents, but stayed away from the whole family. George became a pillow to you as Fred did the same for Ginny. Remus had left with Dora for a meeting at Headquarters. When the doctor came out he took Molly and Arthur into a room away from everyone else. It was completely silent till Fleur's mother broke it. 

“What happened?” She all but sneered at the four of you. “I mean I understand that it was a werewolf who attacked, but how did this happen?” 

You opened your mouth to explain what had transpired, but Fred beat you to it. “It doesn’t matter how it happened. It did. Now we deal with the after effects.” 

You had never heard Fred talk with a tone like that before. Everyone knew that Fleur and her family didn’t really get along well with the Weasley family and vice versa. You personally had no problems with her if you didn’t count the rude looks she would give you when you spent time with Bill or when Molly called you her daughter. You had known the Weasley since you were twelve when Charlie asked to bring you home for christmas since you family wasn’t going to be home. You had watched Ginny and Ron grow up, and had a very close bond with the people who you called your family. You had tried to distance yourself from Bill to give him some more time with Fleur since you knew she didn’t like you. That only resulted in a scolding from Molly, a strongly worded letter from Charlie about how he didn’t care if Fleur was Merlin that you, him and Bill had always been incredibly close, and he wasn’t going to let her ruin that just because he wasn’t there, and a incredibly long apology from Bill who apologize for any and everything he possibly could have done wrong. 

The Delocur’s turned their nose up at Fred’s response, and you were positive that Fleur's Mum would have said something else if Molly had not come to retrieve her children so they could see their brother. You remained seated as they disappeared around the corner until Fred came and grabbed your hand stating that Molly meant all her children which earned you yet another glare from Fleur. That was the one thing that you didn’t understand about FLeur. She was Bill’s girlfriend, yet at the time when he needed her most it seemed like her only concern was that you were getting to go back with the rest of the family. But she didn’t even protest. Molly would have let her come had she asked, that was something that you knew for sure. Molly was too kind hearted towards everyone even if she particularly didn’t like you very well. It was just her motherly nature. 

Your heart shattered when you entered the room. Molly was weeping in her husband's arms at the sight of her eldest being so injured. Ginny was holding her eldest brother's hand while George and Fred looked at Bill with broken eyes, but this wasn’t the thing that hurt the most. It was Bill’s face. Scar was running down the length of his left cheek. They were red and puffed up due to them being so fresh. This was something that your best friend was going to  have to deal with for the rest of his life. Bill was in no way vain, except maybe when it came to his hair, but this was not going to be an easy road. You knew from Dora how Remus felt about his scars and were positive that this is how Bill was going to feel as well. Determination set in your mind as you thought of ways to prove to Bill that he was still beautiful even with the scars. You knew that Charlie was also going to be playing a part in this as well. Charlie had plenty of scars from his dragon obsession, but he seemed to have no problem with them often stating that they made him look more “badarse”. 

You took the seat beside Ginny, leaning your head onto her shoulder. None of you spoke for a while all content with watching Bill’s breathing. After about an hour or so Molly stated that Ginny needed to get back to Hogwarts, and Fred and George needed to return to the Burrow as they were falling asleep while leaning against the wall. 

“I’ll stay with him.” Arthur told his wife. “You take the kids back to the Burrow and Gin back to Hogwarts.” 

“I’ll stay. You can go home, Arthur, if you want. I know you had work today, and tomorrow if you’re going in. He’s stable and we are just waiting for him to wake if you want to go home with Molly.” You said quietly. 

“Let (Y/n) stay dear. She’s right. And I’m sure Bill would rather see her pretty face then yours when he wakes anyway.” Molly’s statement made you blush furiously, but Arthur agreed, telling you to contact them if anything changed. After hugs and goodnight where given, you were left alone. You pulled the chair closer to Bill’s bed, holding his hand in yours. The doctors came and told everyone earlier that they had given him the Draught of Peace potion and that he would probably be asleep for a while. You rested your head on the edge of the bed near Bill’s arm. A small smile made its way onto your face when you saw that he was still wearing the braided friendship bracelet you made with Ginny on your third summer at the Burrow. It was one of your fondest memories. You and Ginny had spent hours under the large tree in the backyard making everyone in her family a friendship bracelet. You still had the one that she had made you and you wore it religiously around your ankle. The last thing you saw before sleep over took you was the intertwined fingers of yours and Bill’s hand. 

**********

The feeling of being watched was what woke you. A groan escaped your mouth as you slowly woke up. Something squeezed your hand. Wait not something, someone. You shot up like a rocket when you realized what was going on around you. Bill was watching you, laughing softly at the look of surprise on your face. 

“Bill! You’re awake! How are you feeling? Are you in pain? Do you need anyth-” You started rushing questions out as fast as lightning. 

“Woah there, Dragon.” He winced a little at the pull of the scar on his face. “I’m fine. A little pain, but not bad.” 

Tears sprung in your eyes again. He was fine. He was okay. He was alive. Bill tugged at your hand getting you to sit on the bed so he could hug you. He was comforting you when he was the one laying in the hospital bed. You wrapped your arms gently around the one that he had wrapped around your stomach. Laying your head on his shoulder you cried some more. You cried from relief that he truly was okay. You cried from the fact that it happened in the first place, and that no matter what anyone told you it was your fault. You weren’t sure how long you laid there, but the sound of feet in the doorway made you look up. 

Fleur was standing at the threshold staring at Bill. Just staring, like she had never seen him before. You sat up and removed yourself from the bed. “I’ll give you two some time. I need to owl your parents anyway.” 

Bill looked at you with furrowed brows. Just by the look you could tell that he didn’t understand why his girlfriend of almost a year was looking at him like he grew a second head. But you knew. You knew it was because of the scars that littered his handsome face, obstructing the freckle constellations. To you it didn’t matter that he had those scars. They made him look tougher, more handsome. They didn’t change who he was as a person. He was still going to be the same incredibly caring, kind, adventurous, loving man that you had known for years which was why you didn’t say nor act any different. You could only hope that Fleur felt the same. You gave Bill a small smile before walking past Fleur. Your eyes met for a brief moment, and your heart sunk at the thought that the look of disgust was directed at Bill this time and not you. 

***********

You managed to keep busy enough for an hour so that Bill and Fleur could get some privacy. There was no way in Hell that you were leaving even if Fleur decided to stay with Bill. You had promised Molly and Arthur that you would stay and you were going to. Walking back down to Bill’s room you noticed that the Delocur’s were no longer in the waiting room. Maybe they left when Fleur went back or maybe they were with her. You smiled at the nurses who looked like they could use a break, noticing that when you got outside of Bill’s room the door was open and it was completely silent in there.

 “Bill?” You knocked before entering just in case Fleur was in there, but she wasn’t, and neither was Bill. The adjoining bathroom door was shut signaling that someone was in there, you hoped and prayed that it wasn’t Fleur and Bill having one of their “moments”. You had heard and seen a few too many of those. When the sound you heard emitting from the room was sniffling followed by a soft sob you immediately jiggle the handle. “Bill? Open up. It’s (Y/N).”

“No. Go away, you won’t want to see me anyway.” Bill’s muffled voice came through the door. 

“Won’t want to see you? Of course, I do. You have till the count of three before I open the door whether you are decent or not.” When you didn’t get a response you began to count. “One…….Two………...Three. Alohomora.” 

The door unlocked with a click. You opened the door to find Bill sitting on the floor with tears running down his face looking into a small handheld mirror. His eyes were red and puffy making you wonder how long he had been crying. He looked up at you with a look that made a lump form in your throat and your own tears spring in your eyes. You sat down beside him and pulled him to yourself. His head buried itself in between your shoulder and neck. His tears soaked into your shirt forming a small wet patch. You stroked his hair pulling him impossibly close. 

 “Oh, Billie.” You whispered. “What happened? Where’s Fleur?” 

Another sob wrecked his body, and it took a couple of minutes before he could answer. “S-she l-l-left me……” White, hot fury took over your body. How dare she? At a time when he needed all the support he could get right now, and she left. “Said-said that sh-she couldn’t b-be with some-someone wh-who was covered in sc-scars.” 

You squeezed him just a little bit tighter. Thoughts of ruining that stupid Veela’s face flashed in your mind. She was so inconsiderate. She just left when her boyfriend needed her. Molly was going to throw a fit. She never liked Fleur and now you understood why. All that girl cared about was looks, not about what was on the inside. The sounds of sniffles pulled from your violent thoughts. Bill had gotten rid of any space left between and his breathing seemed more labored then before. You gently pushed him back to see his face, cupping it in one hand you grabbed his other and placed it above your heart so he could feel the beat. “You gotta breathe, Billie. Feel my heart, yeah? Listen to my breathing. In and out. In and out.” 

He started following you breathing. He squeezed your thigh gently letting you know that it was working. You rubbed your thumb against his cheek, wiping the tears that were there. “I need you to listen to me, okay? Squeeze my leg if you’re listening.” 

Once you got his squeeze you started, “I know that you are hurt right now. I know, I get it. But I need you to remember that if Fleur doesn’t want you because you have those three little scars on your face she never deserved you at all. You were handsome before and you are handsome now. Do you wanna know why? Because it is not what defines us on the outside, but the inside. And I have known you for years now and I can tell you without a doubt you are the most beautiful person in and out. You’re so caring towards everyone, not just your friends and family. You are incredibly clever, Hell you're a curse breaker for crying out loud. You alway help anyone you see struggling. You take amazing care of your siblings. And most importantly you love without reserve. And I know this because you are my best friend, and my favorite Weasley, just don't tell Charlie that.” 

By the time you got through your little speech a small smile had etched itself onto his face. You smiled back and placed a small kiss on his now scarred cheek. 

“Thank you.” He whispered into your hair. 

“Don’t thank me for telling the truth. She doesn’t deserve you, Billie. These scars don’t change who you are, nothing ever will.”  

[e-m-christina]

Heathens Pt2 (Ivar X Warrior Reader)

The ship journey had lasted over three days. The afternoon sun burned your skin as it beat down upon the sea, causing the water to glimmer like a million little mirrors catching the sunlight. But you did not notice the scenery, you were determined not to give into hopelessness. Nor did your brother. 

   “Lord, unto thee do I lift up my soul. Let me not be ashamed, let not mine enemies triumph over me.” You prayed aloud, staring down at the shackles that bound your bloodied wrists. 

   “So, is this an interruption of your life’s journey...Or is it a part of it?” You looked up at Ivar. He was leaning against a thick rope, his eyes preying on you like a hawk. You stayed silent. You would not entertain these devils with argument. To your dismay, Ivar simply smirked, before looking off into the distance. Over the course of the journey, many viking men taunted you about your God, the true God, but it did not sway you. In fact it made you angry, and when you got angry, you would become even more determined not to give into hopelessness. 

   “Heahmund, are you alright?” You asked, noticing the state of your brother. He dark hair was matted, and dried blood covered his usually pale face. 

   “I do not think either one of us are alright, my dear sister.” Heahmund said, coughing up drops of blood. 

   “We are here!” You looked up to see a heathen pointing toward a mass of land only a few miles away. 

   Two men gripped your shoulders, digging their fingers harshly into your flesh as they dragged you and your brother through a set of iron doors. You were dragged into a great wooden hall. The hall was large, lit only by a two windows that ran across the top of the walls, and hanging in the centre of the ceiling was a humongous whale skeleton. 

   “On their knees.” You heard Ivar command to his men. You were thrown to the ground as the air got knocked out of your already battered lungs. You groaned as you pulled yourself up into a kneeling position. Above you, a Norseman sat upon a throne. On his braided hair sat a crown that sent shadows over his heavily tattooed face. By his side sat a beautiful woman wearing a crimson dress.

   “What is the point of them?” The man on the throne leaned forward, inspecting you and your brother. You growled and spat in his face, making him recoil and wipe his cheek. “Why did you not just kill them?” The man said, glaring at you.

   “Because they are both great warriors, Harald.” Ivar said, gesturing to you and your brother. “I have seen how they with my own eyes. I admire great warriors.” Ivar continued, limping around the side of Heahmund, before stopping behind you, but your gaze was still fixed on the man before you, the man that was now named Harald. You listened closely to their conversation, trying to gain information, afterall, they did not expect you to be able to speak or understand Norse.

   “Even the girl? I did not know Christian women fought in battles.” Harald said with a frown. You could hear Ivar chuckle behind you. 

   “Nor me Harald, nor me. But I hope that they will both fight for us.” Ivar said, patting you on the shoulder. You lurched forward to get away from his touch. 

   “The women do not fight. I am the exception.” You said at last, surprising them with your Norse language. 

   “She speaks our language. Did you know this Ivar?” Harald asked, and for the first time, your eyes left his face, and flicked to Ivar. 

   “No, I did not.” Ivar said, raising his eyebrows. 

   “How did you come by learning our language, Y/N? Does Heahmund speak it as well?” Ivar asked, shoving you with his crutch. You shot a glare at him before looking to your brother. Heahmund was staring at Ivar, after hearing his name mentioned. 

   “King Ecbert taught me, before you Heathens slaughtered him like a beast. And No, my brother does not know your language.” You said, venom dripping from every word.

   “The lord rules me. I shall want nothing.” You turned to look at Heahmund. He had begun to pray, glaring Harald in the eyes. You hissed as Ivar yanked your brothers hair sharply. 

   “No, no, no. Let him speak.” Harald asked, waving at Ivar to stop pulling Heahmunds hair. A smirk begun to form on your lips as a look of dismay flashed across Ivars face.

   “I fear no evil, for you are with me Lord, your rod and your staff have comforted me.” You joined in on the prayer with your brother, looking directly into the eyes of Harald. 

   “What are they saying?” He asked looking to Ivar. 

   “They are praying to their God.” Ivar said. A flash of anger flickered across Haralds face as he stood up. 

   “A fat load of good that will do them!” Harald chuckled, regaining himself as Ivar simply smirked, hitting Heahmund across the head. You glanced at your brother, a small smile dancing on your lips. These Heathens were very easily to aggravate. That would come in handy. 

   “You prepare a table before me, in the presence of my enemies. You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows. Surely your goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.” You say over and over, as the two men that brought you in, dragged you by your arms toward the door.

    In the distance the faint sound of water dripping from an old dingy drain pipe splashed into a puddle on the floor. In the gloom all you could make out was the four stone walls that locked you in. In the water dripping silence you sat, back against the cold stone walls. You and Heahmund at been separated, thrown into separate rooms a few hours ago. You rubbed your painful wrists with your now freed hands, before turning to face Ivar, who was sat on a stool opposite you. 

   “There is going to be a war. A war that will make me king of Kattegat, my father’s kingdom. A war against the usurper, Lagertha, who killed my mother in order to be queen. And of course, a war between brother.” You listened to Ivar, peering at him in the darkness. You rolled your eyes. What did you care of his wars and family troubles? 

   “What of it?” You said, flicking some dirt off your trouser leg. You watched him carefully as he leaned forward, clasping his hands together.    

   “Y/n, you have a choice. Fight alongside me, or I kill you.” He said. You snorted, sitting upright. Though you pretended to be disgusted, your curiosity was peaked by his offer.

   “What are your wars to me?” You asked, looking him in the eye.

   “Your way of staying alive.” Ivar quipped, leaning back in his seat with a smirk on his face.

   “I am not afraid to die for my faith.” You pulled yourself off the muddy ground and stood by the small window, peeking through the bars that secured it. 

   “I am not asking you to do that. I am not asking you to renounce your faith, or to fight against Christians.” You turned away from the window, fully facing him now. “All I am asking is for you to kill more of those who you call ‘Heathens’.” Ivar said, watching you as you took a few steps toward him.  You crouched down on the ground below his stool with a raised eyebrow. 

   “Why do you offer me this choice?” You asked, slightly softer. You had begun to realize that Ivar could have killed you at any point, but he did not. He obviously needed you for something. You had thought God must have planned for this to happen. 

   “Because I am jealous of you.” He said at last. You frowned, turning your head to the side and beckoned for him to continue. “I would like to be like you, strong, whole...” Ivar began to trail off, looking at his lap. You felt a small pang of sympathy in your heart when his voice broke at the end. If you were entirely honest, you had forgotten that his legs did not work. You were going to say something, when he continued to speak. 

    “To be a great warrior like you. That is why I saved you, brought you with me. That is why I want you to fight alongside me.”

   Your feet stumbled as your were dragged forward with a chain around your neck. The iron rubbed your throat, causing the skin to tear and bleed. A crowd of mucky Pagans crowded you, following your every step as Hvitserk clutched  your now re-chained arms as rain pelted you, turning the ground into sludgy mud. 

   “Kill her!” The crowd roared as you were thrown to the ground. You groaned in pain, feeling a trickle of blood drip down your cheek. 

   “I told you to take her her to me, not batter her.” You looked up to see Ivar standing up, out of his chair, glaring at Hvitserk. 

   “Kill her!” The crowd cheered again as Hvitserk bent down, unlocking the chains from your wrists and neck. Ivar raised a hand, shushing the crowd instantly. You staggered up, spitting a mouthful of blood at the crowd, causing a small smirk to flitter across Ivars face. 

   “Possibly. We may kill her, if she does not agree, I will kill her.” Ivar said, as the crowd went mad again. You clenched your jaw, watching as Ivar stepped towards you. You hissed in pain as he ran his thumb across you cut cheek, wiping the blood away before continuing his speech.

   “She will live if she and her brother both agree to fight  alongside me. Which I hope she will do.” Ivar said the last part in a lower voice, making eye contact with you. 

   “Well, will she?” A man in the crowd yelled, causing you turn around and glare at him. You turned back to Ivar, who was staring at you intensely.

   “Well Y/N? Will you fight with me?”

--

Thanks for reading! Part 3 coming soon! 

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Blood For Gold Chapter 13

Wooo! It has been a while dearies. Let's see, my baby sister's husband, so my brother in law got diagnosed with Lupis which at this point is a relief that it's not his cancer coming back so there's that. My parents rushed down to AZ to be with my dying grandparents and are trying to let them pass from the comfort of their home without having to go into a nursing home, hospice called us and said 'you should come down and say goodbye while they still know who you are' so we all rushed down to do just that and I just came back from a week down there doing that which was emotionally draining and devastating. My other sister's dog tore a ligament and needs a 5k surgery to fix it. This particular sister has no kids and her dogs are her kids, which is perfectly reasonable and valid. And my Chron's Disease is flaring and trying to kill me for the...I've lost count of how many times it's tried to kill me for the 25 years I've had it, (I'm 35, just to put that into perspective) and I have an emergency colonoscopy on the 6th that I need to prepare for.

So sorry for the delay on updating this story, I've been meaning to update this for A VERY LONG TIME and mentally I knew exactly how I wanted to write it, I just had no time, energy, drive or opportunity to write UNTIL TODAY. So you are getting this hot off the presses and I want to pick up and GO GO GO before my life completely falls apart.

Again so many thanks to @kriskukko for letting me use her still gorgeous, still amazing, still epic REGENCY ERA ORC ART. Just...still in love with it.

Thanks to @punkhorse96 for all your amazing feedback. Now, we get into THE DANGER ZONE. Much plot, so sex, big TORN. Enjoy. *evilly cackles*

Blood For Gold

Chapter 13

Your family completely monopolated your time the moment they came and wouldn’t let you out of their sight and you couldn’t get a moment’s peace or solace, except when it came time for the masquerade ball at the Midnight Peacock, then everyone seemed to disappear and leave you alone to change and you couldn’t hardly wait for tonight, Axal told you that The Red Velvet Rope was hosting this particular masquerade ball so all of the brothel’s workers would be there along with almost all the other moura individuals in all of London would be there tonight.

It was going to be your first time going and you had brought out your new masquerade dress that you had made in your “widowhood” because while you recovered from your mourkatilli addiction, and healed from the other trauma and abuse, you needed a project to keep you occupied.

It was a special one, it was reversible with a twist. It was really four outfits in one. A skirt with two different layers, and each layer was reversible and a top that was sewn and embroidered in such a way that it was four tops in one, each one to also coincide with one of the layers of the skirt. So if you wore it “normally” and “inside out” and “right side in” on each layer, you would have four unique outfits and you had embroidered all four layers in two of the styles of tops, when not being worn on the outside would roll up and give you something of a push up bra, so that it would appear in such a way that it would look like one scene one way and in the reverse, a completely different one but still in the same shapes in an elevated double embroidered piece. It was some of your best work to date. And you had a fabric mask pinned into each skirt so that the masks you wore changed with it, and you wore your hair in such a way that it could change, from up, to half up and half down to fully down and in a variety of ways and Axal had told you that Ramsey had confided in him that the place had “changing” rooms where you could change your outfit as needed, in case you needed to change yourself throughout the night. So you left the Palace of Windsor in one of your more “flashy” and luxurious facets, complete with a cape that was also reversible with your family.

Once at the place you immediately left your family and “changed” into the most simple and understated of the four, a black embroidered top and simple black skirt with no embroidery, it was simple yet elegant and began looking for Demsey Draft, because you needed to warn him about the other mouras that had come as well break off any connection with him so that you couldn’t be implicated later because the last thing you wanted was for Duke Demsey Voyambi to know that you had ever set foot in a whorehouse. You wanted him to feel and know that if the attraction you had to him was returned by him, that you would be loyal to him and he would have your complete fidelity and you would leave Mr. Demsey Draft where you found him, in your hopefully long forgotton past. A woman was allowed to go a little wild in her mourning right?

Meanwhile Demsey had done the same, only he didn’t have any reversible outfits, instead he went straight to the “coat room” and “rented” a change of clothes, he had to find Audra Draft and break things off with her, and solely pursue Sultana Audravienne.

And like clock work, only moments after going around the place, looking for Mr. Draft, when you found your prize, coming out of the changing room, dressed how you thought he’d be, simple, rather plain but dignified.

“Mr. Demsey Draft?” You asked once you found him.

“Miss Audra Draft,” He smiled in relief that he found her, or rather, that she had found him although why she insisted on calling his last name of Draft, maybe she was trying to give him a pseudonym to protect his real identity as you were thinking the exact same thing, although tonight would be the last time you would ever answer to such a name as your moura marks lit up like fireworks again, practically glowing and pulsing through your clothes and on your skin as Demsey flushed with desire because that was going to be one of the many things he was going to miss about Miss Draft.

“Might we have a word?” You asked, even though your heart was screaming for one last release with him before you cut things off with him completely.

“Yes, by all means.” He agreed as you took his hand and led him away to a private booth in the little restaurant side of the place as most had gathered in the dance hall and were already beginning to dance the night away.

“Before anything else, I must tell you that after tonight I must break all contact with you, you see, I’m going to be pursuing a very wonderful woman, and I can not do so with any prior attachments or engagements, she is the kind of woman who deserves whole hearted and whole souled devotion.” He began as your heart was relieved and happy for him but broke at the news as your moura marks stopped pulsing and flashing, instead, simply faded to a rose gold then stopped which broke Demsey’s heart to see as he recalled how the Sultana's marks flashed rose gold when she was upset or sad. It still must have been a universal moura thing, he supposed.

“Well isn’t that a coincidence, I came to find you to tell you something similar. I also found someone, a wonderful man actually, who I wish to pursue whole heartedly and without reserve.” You replied.

“So...The Red Velvet Rope is no longer…” Demsey began.

“Part of my life? No. Never, you?” You asked.

“Same, I will never set foot into it again.” He professed.

“Probably for the best. So, I know you wish to probably keep certain things private, and I don’t expect you to tell me who it is that has captured your attentions and affections, and whoever she is, I can only hope and pray that she is worthy of them.” You offered, feeling much more than a pang in your heart, much more than you were expecting anyway, the whole day you had prepared yourself for this moment, rehearsing what it was that you wanted to say to him. He was, after all, just a manwhore in a whorehouse, you shouldn’t have any real emotional connection with him and it should be easy to walk away, but now that it was happening, your heart, soul and body screamed for the reverse. It felt like it had been too long since you got to hold him in your arms, kiss his sweet mouth and marvel at the way his body seemed to always meld and mold to yours and bring you the sweetest of releases.

“Thank you, and likewise.” Demsey graciously offered.

“Out of curiosity, you don’t have to answer if you don’t wish to, but the woman you are going to be pursuing, is she an orc like you?” You asked curiously.

“No, she’s actually, um,” Demsey began before he cleared his throat awkwardly.

“She’s moura.” Demsey confessed.

“Oh, well in that case...I know...or rather, I have heard.” You rephrased, not wanting to tell on yourself too much as Demsey smiled sadly at you as you cast your gaze away from him guiltily as you felt tears prick your eyes as a strange panic seemed to grip your chest.

“I have heard that there are many mouras here, and new ones have come into England fairly recently. Please beware, there are some mouras who are not “typical” and perfectly lovely and good people and others who are actually true to the typical type cast. Surely you have heard the saying that “a moura’s beauty is always outmatched by their greed for wealth and power.” There are some who prove that saying false, and some who prove it true. Please beware of the latter and make sure that the woman who has caught your eye is the former, for only ruination follows the latter’s footsteps.” You tried to gently warn him, fearful he had seen Benny and fallen in love with her like any other orc male had.

“I will, and if you will do me the same honor. Would you tell me what kind of man has caught your attentions and affections?” Demsey asked, even though part of him didn’t want to know and part of him was wishing it was a proper moura, so she would be with her own kind who would understand and sympathize with her and treat her the way she deserved, which was an invaluable treasure, whether she was "tainted" or not.

“He’s an orc. Although I do not know if he leans more towards the old orcish ways and culture or if he will hold true to the English ones although I guess there are some things that are similar in both cultures. I am at a loss as to how to pursue him and what will reach him and prove that myself and my own intentions are true, and how to prove to him that I’m one of the atypical moura’s unless he has already judged me to be typical then I am at a loss for I know at least one member of his family already has but I’m hoping he does not share their views. Because first impressions are usually the most firmly set and hardest to prove otherwise, no matter the word or deed.” You confessed and Demsey felt his rage begin to flare, the moura before him was clearly not the power hungry type. Anyone with half a wit could discern that about her, much less see it with their own eyes.

“Is he….is he a commoner or is he gentry?” Demsey asked, feeling actual panic whirling in his chest, he knew his brother had gone to The Red Velvet Rope and if Sierge had found her, he could be charming and could talk his way into any woman’s knickers if he really tried but Sierge would no sooner bed her before he shamed her for doing so. Sierge was his brother but Sierge was also a rake and downright dangerous to any woman’s honor.

“He is in the gentry. That’s why it gives me pause, so far he has been a dream, a perfect gentleman and he comes from a good family and noble business. There is nothing about him that gives me hesitation except that I do not know if he shares the attraction. He may just be very polite and friendly and I’m reading too far into his gestures or he may already share his opposing family’s views of what a moura can typically be. But...he’s worth pursuing if he does share the attraction, I was hoping I would find him tonight and I could feel him out for it, if not, there are others that are pursuing me. And...I don’t know how much longer I can hold out, or if...if I should just forget all of it and be better off alone.” You confessed as your own panic settled in that you would never see the man across from you in this tiny little booth, barely big enough for two, ever again. It was like you were magnetically drawn to him and you were helpless to fight against it in his company.

“But in any case, I will miss you, and I will remember our brief moments together with fondness.” You offered as you fought the tears in your eyes as your gold moura marks faded to a dull brass color, Demsey had never seen anything like it before, it gave him the most worry, since he had almost become accustomed to reading the Sultana’s marks like her facial expressions.

“You are too good.” Was all Demsey could say, his own heart breaking that he was going to lose, forever, the one other woman he felt any real connection to.

“So are you. Whoever she is, if she ever gets to bed you, she’s in for a treat.” You tried to tease with a grin but the bittersweetness in your eyes cut him to the core.

“Goodbye Mr. Draft, may life treat you well and may the woman who captured your attention be worthy and return it and show you the same loyalty and respect you will surely show her.” You offered as you did your best to get out of the small booth to get away before you cried your eyes out right there at the table as you damned yourself for being unduly attached to a manwhore in a whorehouse rather than Duke Demsey Voyambi who you were sure was probably a much better man but still, your heart already ached at Demsey Draft’s absence.

He seemed to take your cue and got out of the booth as well as you curtsied in place as he bowed respectfully before you turned on your heel and tried to get away.

But you had barely taken two steps before Demsey quickly took three steps to catch your arm in his hand which caused you to stop and turn and turn right into his other hand that framed your face and brought it to his own as he gave the hottest, most soul scorching kiss of your life and you’d be lying through your teeth if you tried to say that you protested. Your body betrayed you as you kissed him back and glued yourself to him as your marks revived and started to pulse and flash again.

“One last time?” Desmey pleaded when you broke for air.

“One last time.” You readily agreed before you grabbed his hand again, saw along a far wall a room with the words “pairs dressing room” above the doorway and quickly ran with Demsey following you, his hand tightly grasping yours, weaving through the crowd and pushed a five pound note into the abbess’s hand and took the last available “pair’s changing booth” which was really just sex booth with a bench in it as you pushed Demsey to sit down as you readily straddled his lap as he undid his pants as you hiked up your skirts and stripped out of your Dorierran panties and seated yourself onto him and began to ride him in earnest as he partially undressed you, undoing your top and tossing it aside, still marveling at your moura moura marks as they pulsed and glittered even in the low light as your eyes practically glowed gold as well in the lower light of the darkened closet since there was only a lone candle burning in the corner as his hands went under your skirts and grabbed good handfuls of your arse and helped move your pelvis over himself so that your ground down deliciously before reattaching his mouth to yours and kissed you for all he was worth, pouring every ounce of his heart and soul into it before leaving hot, lisentious kisses on your neck and chest, capturing those oh so precious pulse points as you undid his collar so you could feast on his own neck and chest and once it was revealed you bit down his neck as he growled dangerously and hissed in pleasure and moaned when you soothed your mark with your tongue before inflicting a second, a third, and fourth and losing count after that as your mouth then moved to his collar bone and his very sensitive nipples, which he did appreciate your attention to as he did the same to you, because for this brief moment, you were his, for the last time, he was going to leave evidence that you were his, for this all too brief, but glorious moment, that nothing else mattered but your pleasure and once you shuddered and keened as your legs shook from the first orgasm as your moura marks lit up the room and glowed like soft sunshine as the orgasm seemed to flood your senses, he was picking you up and pinning you against the wall and driving up into you almost mercilessly but you loved every bit of it as you clung to him.

“Please Demsey, my dearest, darling Demsey, please, cum in me, fill me.” You pleaded desperately into his ear as you were near tears from how amazing and spectacular this was.

“Not yet.” Demsey cooed in your ear.

“Demsey please.” You begged as you felt another orgasm approaching and he still would not stop and that one nearly made you black out from pure ecstacy as the room lit up even brighter because that orgasm was bigger and more intense than the last and then he set your practically limp body down on the bench and went to his knees and replaced his cock with his mouth onto your already overly sensitive sex and ate you out like it was his first real meal after months of fasting as he settled your legs over his shoulders as the light that continued to pulse and glitter on your moura marks on your thighs and legs and lower belly provided all the light he needed as you laid back onto the bench as your pelvis rested in his hands as he moved you how he wanted you and you were powerless to stop him as a third orgasm bloomed in your body and lit up the room like a fire had started inside it as you did your best to hold onto your very soul so that it would not leave your body completely as you cried out in almost painfully blissful ecstasy as your hands gripped the edge of the bench pitifully, your knuckles going white, not caring in the least who could hear you and that’s when he finally relented and had you sit in his lap on the floor, with your bare chests touching and caressing the other and there was so much love and tenderness in his desperation to fuck you senseless as he held you fast to him and drove up into you and upon the fourth orgasm, the biggest and brightest of them all, did he finally relent and fill you so full it overflowed and you spent the longest moment just clinging to each other, neither of you wanting to let go of the other as you both basked in the ever so intense afterglow as the light from your moura marks slowly faded to nothing as once was desperation, was replaced with tenderness, softness and sweetness was you ran your fingers through his hair, feeling the waves and subtle curls in his thick, luscious locks as your fingertips scratched ever so deliciously on his scalp as he scratched your back in turn, savoring every precious second of having you in his arms, trying to commit every detail to memory, not wanting anything to go missing when he would want to recall this later. Whether it would torture him or bring him fondness or joy, only time would tell.

Soon though, there was a gentle knock on the door.

“You two alive in there?” Came the abbess’ call.

“Yes, we’re almost done. Just a moment please.” You answered back as you reached around him and adjusted your mask back into place since it had become slightly askew so that he would not discover your true identity as he seemed to do the same before you reluctantly untangled from each other and helped get each other get redressed and recomposed.

“Goodbye Mr. Draft, it was always a pleasure.” You offered as you took his hands and kissed his knuckles tenderly before you left the small room and quickly weaved your way through the crowd to the other end of the Midnight Peacock to get changed into another side of your outfit, this time, one of the lighter, more luxurious ones as you took a vial of perfume that was in your necklace and put some around your neck and chest to cover up any “evidence” of Mr. Draft’s presence on your body even though you had taken a moment to savor the scent of it one last time as Demsey seemed to do the same, changing out of his “rented” second outfit and back into his original one that he came in wearing and didn’t care to notice how the outfit seemed to be given to another orc who had come in, this one, more bluish in color who quickly changed into it to enjoy the party himself once Demsey had traded it in for his old clothes at the counter.

“Is there a bar here?” He asked the person overseeing the single dressing rooms once he came out redressed in his original outfit.

“Yes, it’s right through there, you can’t miss it.” She answered as he followed her direction to find a young lady, dressed is discrete luxury already sitting at the bar, drinking absinthe.

“Sultana Audravienne?” Demsey took a chance and asked which perked you up as you turned to see him.

“Duke Voyambi, I thought you would be dancing.” You offered, even though, your legs were still jelly from Mr. Draft’s endeavors.

“Usually, yes, but um, tonight, I’m not...I’m not really inclined to dance.” Demsey confessed because he was worn out but also he just let the greatest lover of his life so far slip through his fingers and he was in no mood to dance.

“I’ll be honest, neither am I, would you like to join me?” You offered.

“Yes, I’d love to.” He readily agreed.

“Well it seems since we both seemed to guess who the other is, there is little point of these then is there?” You asked as you pointed to the second mask you had pinned into the top you were currently sporting.

“No there isn’t.” Demsey readily agreed as both of you took off the masks and set them neatly on the bar as he got up onto the barstool next to you as you had already taken your hair down, letting your thick braid lay down your back.

“Absinthe?” He guessed, looking at the glass you were drinking from and recognizing the green liquid that filled it.

“Yes,” You readily confirmed.

“May I have one?” He asked the bartender who nodded and poured him a small glass of it, letting it pour over a cube of sugar and offered it up to him.

“Is this your first time drinking it?” You asked him.

“Is that obvious?” He asked as he took a few tentative sips.

“Absithe is the only “dangerous” drink they have here.” You answered.

“What would you prefer to be drinking right now then?” Demsey asked.

“Cyanide.” You answered without hesitation before he practically choked on his drink.

“Cyanide?” He repeated as he wiped his mouth with a handkerchief.

“Mouras are immune to poison, remember? Cyanide is to me what wine or whiskey is to you.” You explained.

“But absinthe is still just a little poisonous right?” He asked.

“So is tobacco, but yet that doesn’t stop anyone from smoking it.” You shrugged as you looked out over the already cloudy room, filled with smoke from other patrons practically smoking up like chimney’s.

“Touche.” He had to chuckle.

“Do you like tobacco?” He asked.

“No, although hashish is popular back in the stables, if the sultanate states were still open, alcohol is illegal but hashish which is like tobacco but not quite since it comes from a different plant- is perfectly fine. But both can be hard on your lungs and mouras can be very sensitive to both, but here in England, it just depends on what’s fashionable at the time.” You reasoned as Demsey seemed to nod along with that sentiment as he took a longer sip of his drink.

“True.” Demsey agreed.

“So how are you liking it now?” You asked as you nodded to the drink.

“It’s growing on me.” He admitted.

“Yeah it does. Anything sweet usually does.” You grinned before you heard a cheering boom behind which inclined you to turn around to see what was going on to see Ramsey and Axal flamenco dancing with each other, their feet stomping very fast and rhythmically on the wood floors as Axal was wearing his matador masquerade outfit, it’s bright pink color and bejeweled state catching everyone’s eye but not to be outdone by Ramsey’s equally impressive baby blue one as well as Yalin and especially was cheering her son on while your mother and other members of your family were around cheering Axal on as well as you just shook your head, two peacocks flaunting their feathers at each other as Demsey looked on and just shook his head as well, having already exerted his own herculean amount of energy and spent it on Ms. Draft, wherever she would find herself now, although a quick scan of the crowd, he couldn't see anyone that looked even remotely like her. But he was with who he really should be spending his time with and now that he was with her, it was a different kind of comfort and happiness, but it was sadly tainted by guilt and strangely disappointment that didn’t make a bit of sense. Wasn’t this exactly what he was hoping for? To be with Audra, the real, authentic Audra, somewhat privately and all to himself? Then why, when he looked at her, he kept seeing glimpses of Miss Draft and why was he wishing that he was actually sharing this drink with her? What had happened in that room to change his mind? This morning he had been so sure that Sultana Audravienne was the one for him but something in Miss Draft had him hesitating and it didn’t make any sense at all.

But the way you were looking at Axal and Ramsey, caught his attention, you were...disappointed, or disinterested and clearly unimpressed as you just shook your head and turned back around and finished off your absinthe and got a menu as Demsey asked for one as well before you went ahead and shared yours with him.

“So what sounds good?” You asked him as you looked it over, already picking a few things out in your mind.

“Uh the lamb kebabs sound most appetizing.” Demsey answered before you grinned. It was a Medetteranian dish and right up your alley.

“The lamb kebabs it is then, the portions should be good size too, let’s share.” You suggested.

“Absolutely, I’ll defer to you, order whatever sounds best to you.” Demsey offered which got you to beam happily before the bartender came back and got your order as you went ahead and ordered everything that sounded good to share with Demsey and before you knew it you had taken up a good portion of the bar and had begun sharing a surprisingly good and wonderful meal together.

But what surprised you was how Demsey was correctly eating each dish.

“What?” Demsey asked as you paused in eating to watch him eat.

“It’s just, you’re the first Englishman who has known the right way to eat this. Most have no idea you’re supposed to use the bread instead of a knife and fork.” You explained as you copied his movements, using the bread to dip into the different sauces, scoop up the rice and the bits of grilled meats before bringing it to your mouth.

“Uh, well…” Demsey stuttered as he flushed with some embarrassment, because it had been Miss Audra Draft who introduced him to these dishes and had shown him the proper way to eat them. But he couldn’t tell you that, for fear you would think less of him for visiting a whorehouse, because the thought of you thinking less of him was worth than anything else he could imagine at the moment.

“Uh, there’s some orc dishes that are similar in how they’re eaten, it just...seemed natural and the right way to eat it?” He supplied, hoping you couldn’t see right through him.

“Some things just make sense I suppose.” You shrugged, having thought you’d have to explain everything but instead both of you had just dived right in.

“They do.” Demsey nodded as he quickly tried to stuff his mouth so he wouldn’t say anything else.

“So um, you obviously know much more about this cuisine, what can you tell me about it?” He asked after he swallowed.

“Well since you asked…” You grinned happily before you went through it again as Demsey was struck by how similar Miss Draft and you were, so similar in voice and mannerisms and gestures. It was almost like he was sitting next to her again as his heart almost strangely ached for her. But that was not fair to you. You were not her and she was not you. But the dishes themselves must be common knowledge among all mouras, he supposed.

But you couldn’t help but notice that while Demsey was still watching you and listening the best he could, the look in his eye and in his expression, it was like he was missing someone and you began to fear that there was perhaps another in his life, someone he had known before you ever met him. Someone his sisters did not know and maybe before Kate Whitesale. But one who clearly knew the Sultanate Quarter or Hanging Garden Quarter rather, of the stables because that’s where these dishes came from. What if the only reason he liked you, was that you were the legitimate copy of what he really desired? There were so many more mouras here in England than you realized and more than a few were a striking resemblence to you and most of whom, were actually commoners. What if you were the gentrified version of what he really wanted?

That would make sense. What if he came here, looking for her and couldn’t find her and instead settled for your company?

“Are you alright?” You asked.

“Yes, I’m perfectly fine, just...I think the smoke is getting to me in this room too.” He tried to excuse, damning himself for not being completely present with you.

“Can I get a bottle of spiced rum please?” You ordered from the barkeep as you started dumping and piling everything on the largest platter as Demsey took your cue and followed your actions until everything was on the large platter before he paid the tab at the bar before he put the lid over the large platter as you grabbed the bottle of rum and followed you through the place where you found a staircase and climbed up it as Demsey followed you before you found what you were looking for, a balcony on the roof of part of the first floor. And on the balcony is where you found Calla and Tzane already sitting at one of the tables and eating something similar.

“Audra!” Calla called you over as you happily went over and pulled out two chairs before Demsey sat the platter down onto the table.

“I thought you two would be dancing.” Tzane noted as he sat next to Calla, the two of them practically sitting thigh to thigh and as close as could be without actually sitting in the other's lap.

“Not in the mood to dance tonight.” You confessed as you sat down as you noticed that Calla and Tzane had also foregone their masks that were on the table as well as you sat yours down as well as Demsey's since his hands had been full carrying the platter.

“But always in the mood to eat.” Demsey grinned happily as he took the lid off the large platter.

“Oooh, that smells really good.” Tzane praised.

“The Hanging Garden Quarter has some of the best food in all of Dorierra,” Calla grinned.

“Well I think this is too much for the two of us, if you want some, have some,” you readily invited as Tzane and Calla didn’t need to be told twice before they got their plates and loaded them up before they dug in themselves before Calla walked Tzane on how to “properly” eat it as the four of you fell into very easy and wonderful conversation before Calla noticed movement in the balcony of the second floor and her eyes went wide as she grabbed Tzane’s hand under the table and squeezed it hard which got him to look over to her before he followed her line of sight to see Ramsey and Axal making out on the edge of the balcony on the second story as he started to choke on his food.

“You ok?” You asked as Tzane punched Demsey in the leg under the table and subtly pointed in the direction he wanted Demsey to look before Demsey gave the direction a curious look just in time to see Ramsey finish kissing Axal before he went down to his knees and undid Axal’s pants and started to suck him off right there on the balcony and choked on his own food as well before you reached over and pat his back.

“You ok there Demsey?” You asked, concern clearly written on your face and in your voice before you head Axal groan a moan which caused you to turn your head just as Axal seemed to notice who was around and moved so that Ramsey was between himself and the balcony that looked down over the first balcony so that Ramsey was hidden from the view from below.

“Hey Axal,” You waived happily, pretending to be oblivious as Demsey, Tzane and Calla looked in horror at each other.

“Hey Audra.” Axal waived.

“Getting your cock sucked by the son of Pharoh?” You asked in Arabic since you knew Axal well enough to know that pleasured look on his face and didn’t want the rest of the table to know that you knew what was really going on.

“Yes.” He confirmed.

“Well enjoy the night air, it’s a nice night tonight, keep everyone out of my hair, I’m with who I want to spend the evening with.” You called back in Marinai as Calla tried to recapture her composure.

“Will do!” Axal called back with two thumbs up.

“Uh...what...what did you say to him?” Demsey asked you as he tried to keep composed himself as Tzane was trying to gulp down the rest of the wine he had gotten for himself and Calla, down from the bottle.

“I asked if he was enjoying the night air, and when he said yes, I told him to keep enjoying it since it’s beautiful weather we’re having tonight.” You answered sweetly, continuing to act oblivious.

“Yeah, he’s enjoying it alright.” Tzane coughed into his fist as Demsey glared at his little brother as Calla just flushed as she drank down her glass of wine as well.

“Aren’t we all?” You asked with a scheming grin.

“Well, yeah, maybe not as much as he is though.” Tzane answered as he kept his gaze down at his plate before he tried to fill his mouth with food to keep himself from saying anything else as Demsey glared dangerously at Tzane before Benny and Sierge came out to the balcony as Benny was taking her hair down from its original style as the two still had that giddy, love drunk look with each other as it was clear that a tryst had just transpired between the two.

“Oh hey guys.” Sierge greeted cheerfully, as he came over before you scooted closer to Demsey who also scooted closer to Tzane so that Benny and Sierge would have room at the table.

“Oh good, you guys already ordered food, we worked up quite the appetite on the dancefloor.” Sierge said as he grabbed unused plates from the next table over and gave one to Benny before he helped himself the spread on the table.

“Among other places.” Benny cooed with a playful wink to Sierge who ducked his head and grinned bashfully as you simply smiled knowingly as you gave Benny a meaningful look and she gave a subtle nod that had you nodding along with her.

“Good.” You simply noted as you happily dug into your own food.

It wasn’t until the bluish orc came out, still wearing the rented suit that Demsey had been wearing earlier with Audra’s essences on it- came onto the balcony too with another lady with him before Sierge sniffed the air, turning his head and sniffing the air deeply in his direction.

“What does your bloodhound nose smell now? Does he have better food or what?” Benny teased Sierge.

“Uh, no, uh, I’ll tell you later.” He told her with a meaningful look as she looked intrigued as he sniffed that scent again before he turned back to the table and began sniffing again before his nose seemed to land on you before he quickly turned his head to stare at the platter of food as his eyes went wide for a moment before he seemed to try to be recomposed.

“Yeah, this food smells the best.” He tried to play off casually but he still gave you a weary look as he looked at Demsey who was staring at him in confusion as Sierge pointedly looked at Demsey, then at you then at the bluish orc then back to Demsey pointedly as Demsey just looked at him in complete confusion but sadly, your parents found you and pulled you back inside because they had requested the Hanging Garden Official Dance Anthem and felt you should dance too just as Ocearian found Axal only moments after Axal had cum down Ramsey’s throat and had gotten redressed and adjusted as you let your mother take your hand and lead you away as Calla and Bennie followed as Sierge grabbed Demsey’s arm to keep him from following along too.

“What?” Demsey asked.

“Audra, the Sultana, she has a lover, he’s that blue orc over there.” Sierge accused.

“What?!” Demsey balked.

“My nose doesn’t lie, I can smell her all over him.” Sierge insisted as Demsey looked from his brother to the orc in question.

“Find out for sure.” Demsey said before he left and quickly tried to catch up to you to see you already on the dance floor, surrounded by family as you all danced the danced in synchronized steps.

“Good evening sir, can I talk with you for a moment?” Sierge asked the gentleman.

“Uh, in case you couldn’t tell I’m kind of busy right now?” The guy answered.

“I’ll give you five pounds for five minutes of your time.” Sierge offered.

“Excuse me, I’ll be right back.” The guy immediately told his companion before he got up and followed Sierge a short distance away.

“What?” He demanded.

“First, what’s your name?” Sierge asked.

“Robert Wainsright.” He answered.

“And your orc name?” Sierge prodded.

“What does it matter?” He protested.

“Ok fine, who have you been with tonight?” Sierge asked.

“Her! That’s the only one I’ve been around all night! Why does that matter?” Robert demanded.

“Because the scent on your clothes says otherwise, now tell me again, have you been intimate with anyone tonight?” Sierge demanded.

“What are you the fucking coppers? What business of yours is it who I’ve been with?” Robert protested.

“Because the smell on your clothes implicates you.” Sierge growled dangerously.

“Implicates me in what? A fucking murder?” Robert demanded angrily.

“You know what, fine, if you say you haven’t been with anyone other than the lady at the table, then I have no choice but to take your word for it, who is she by the way?” Sierge asked as he took out his wallet and began going through his bank notes to find the right one.

“She’s one of the workers for The Red Velvet Rope, she works in the kitchens.” Robert answered as he took the bill from Sierge’s hand.

“Thank you, that’s all I needed to know.” Sierge grinned triumphantly before he left and went back inside to see Demsey watching appreciatively as you danced with your family, with a bright happy smile on your face which brought a fond one to his own hands.

“And?” Demsey pressed Sierge.

“The guy’s name was Robert Wainswright and he claims the only one he was with was the lady he was eating with.” Sierge reported.

“Ok, well maybe your nose is wrong for once.” Demsey nodded and went back to watching you dance and enjoying yourself as Sierge fought with himself whether he should tell his brother or not but now was not the time or place and when the dance ended you ended up pulling Demsey to the floor to dance with you as Demsey, despite previously having no stomach for it, was suddenly all too happy to try to dance along to these strange dances with practically hypnotizing music but the best and yet the worst part was, to see your moura marks on your skin flow, pulse and flash like fireworks was both amazing yet, plagued him with guilt that he, once again, was forced to recall Audra Draft’s marks and how they would do the same thing. He needed to get over her. Maybe it would have been better if he had not seen her tonight and not been drawn in by that vixin's siren's call. Because then he would have focused completely on you. You deserved his undivided attention and affection and having you compete with any other would be a crime against the gods.

But he did feel kind of smug that if Ramsey got any closer to you, he had his own ace up his sleeve, to know that Ramsey was actually having intimate relations with your brother no less, you had told Demsey yourself that you were the jealous type and would not share your partner with anyone, much less a family member and when and if you ever found that out, you would immediately rid yourself of Ramsey for good, all he needed to protect himself from now on was his own implications with Miss Draft and he was as good as gold and as long as you never found that out, he was sure to win your affections honestly and wholeheartedly. Miss Draft had just been a bad mistake, made...thrice, but only thrice and no more.

Demsey didn’t care if he looked ridiculous, he was dancing with you, almost holding you on the dance floor and being so close to you, to have you smiling up at him like he was the only man in the world you had eyes for had his heart soaring and his pride beaming and his possessiveness over you almost insatiable. In this moment, yet again, he was overcome by his gut telling him that you, were the only woman in the world for him and that Miss Draft would from now on, only live in his past, never again in his future.

[kiss-my-freckle]

8x16 Rewatch: Nicholas Obenrader

IRS storyline. Red’s friendly thief talks about someone going to Boston University. Another one going to college. Agnes will tie into their college storylines somehow. I love Red’s comment about Ressler. “Black shoes, cheap suit, flat stomach, regulation cut - don’t get me wrong, he’s bent, just not as bent as we’d like him to be.”

“Why must you always be early?” This ties in Ressler’s comment to Liz in Brothers. “Not on my watch.” Whatever happens, he’ll be early. Ressler informs the team. He knows a great deal about the Yakuza because of Mako Tanida. 

Espinosa was building his golden parachute like The Director did. He takes a 10% cut from the 40% cut the crew is supposed to get. Red’s friend informs Neville. He’s boxing Espinosa just like he did Rudigger. Neville’s people have no reason to doubt Liz. He already knew she was an agent.

“She’s really good. But I think we’ll all be a lot better when this is done.” A nice hit to the note the woman from Paris left for Red. “You’re good. I’m better.” The worst has yet to come.  “Liz’s mom abandoned her. She would never do the same to Agnes.” Aram has no clue why Katarina gave Liz up for adoption. She had no choice. Liz will realize this soon enough when her own child ends up in danger because Neville wants to kill her. Katarina didn’t make a mistake, Liz did. 

The whole brother of Charles at the lake house reminds me of Liz’s comment about Ressler’s lake house when she spoke to Laurel Hitchin in 4x19. 

Liz is so disrespectful. Anyway... Cooper sent Aram to Paris because he’s still unofficially working with Liz. Ressler last week, Aram this week. Cooper basically knew Aram would be meeting with Liz. I will blame the entire task force along with Liz for whatever happens to her and/or Agnes and/or Jennifer because they failed to arrest her and chose to work against Red instead. He’s their CI. Liz is not. Red put her on the blacklist for a reason. Panabaker put her on the wanted list for a reason. 

“If I were you, I’d like the finish line.” Red’s comment is a nice kick back to his comment to Liz in Devlin’s episode, S5. “Our sprint to the finish. The bag is just out of reach now.”

I love Aram’s care for Agnes in this episode, but I laugh at Liz’s comment.  “Where we live is quiet and peaceful.” A nice kickback to the scene cut in 7x13 for their War and Peace theme. Ressler's "But maybe this will help us." US being Keenler. A hearing aid that blocks out sound. Cut to Agnes' name on her passport meaning Peace. “Your daddy just always taught me to be ready for a rainy day.” This runs through The Freelancer in 8x5. “There's a number pre-programmed. You ask for Charlotte. You tell them you got caught in the rain and need to dry off.” It won’t be quiet and peaceful for long. Charlotte’s web is about to get tangled. 

“I’ve done some awful things.” Liz kicking back to S3... again. “I have done... so many terrible things. I have hurt so many people."

“Whoever said crime doesn’t pay wasn’t very good at it.” When crime nearly costs Liz her daughter... she’ll understand what that truly means. It’s a dialogue that kicks back to The Ethicist in S6. “He did a cost-benefit analysis on these people, figured that the cost outweighed the benefits, and killed them because of it." Liz believes the benefit outweighs the cost. It doesn’t. 

Finally, some Ressler action in a lake house. 

Sikorsky’s official name is Ivan Stepanov. Red’s friend in the East. Officially, he’s SVR. Unofficially, he’s a high-ranking member of Zaslon. running black-ops around the globe. “Mobilize assets.”

Red doesn't expect Obenrader to reveal anything meaningful about Neville's organization. Obenrader knows the blowback it’ll have on his loved ones if he does. This is what Liz will have to worry about later. The blowback on her loved ones. More specifically, Jennifer and Agnes. 

Whoever their inside man is, it’ll be a low-level agent like The Director’s friend in Zal Bin Hasaan’s episode. I’m expecting someone outside the task force, but close enough to tap the phone. They know Liz is using burners, so they had to tap Ressler’s. Yeah, another kickback to S3. 

The task force can’t arrest Stepanov, so they’re letting Liz extract him. Because they chose to work with Liz and Ressler contacted her about Stepanov while having a tap on his phone, Neville’s own people got their hands on him first. Precisely the point. They just put Liz in the direct line of fire because Katarina was N-13 and she’s very much alive. I thought it’d be Paula who got into his line, but it was Neville’s people. Guarantee Stepanov can prove Katarina was N-13, and knows the identity of imposter Katarina. This knowing will be Liz’s downfall. He’s going to protect Red at all costs (tortured or not) because he and Red have been working on this project together for the past 30 years.

“Oh, my stars” is a common quote from Red. He used it in Lord Baltimore with Yaabari. "Let me guess, I stole something from you. A painting, jewelry.... your heart."  Red’s new asset is gorgeous as hell. Priya Laghari. 

“I want to be your angel.” - Red

Red pulls a fake shooting on Ressler and Park so as not to look like a CI in bed with the FBI. “Of course, a mystery is only as good as the story around it.” Red saying exactly what I’ve been saying about his real identity. It has to fit the story around it. 

Alina Park is pretending to read Just Fly Away by Andrew McCarthy. “A powerful story about family secrets, first love, the limits of forgiveness, and finding your way in the world.”

“Like taking candy from a kid.” A hit to Rizal’s episode. This is where Agnes falls in, along with the dialogues about spoiling her rotten. 

“You think you’re giving her a rope to hang herself. I fear you may be giving her a rope to hang all of us.” A nice hit back to 8x14. “I’m responsible for Mary Bremmer’s murder, Dembe’s torture, and I got nothing to show for it, except for another reminder that no matter how tight the noose, Reddington will always cheat the hangman." To be clear, Liz fully accepting responsibility for the murder of Mary Bremmer, so what comes to Jennifer will be on her. That whole washer necklace choking Mary through Liz’s Cyranoid. She didn’t specify that it brought her good luck, only that it brought her luck... because Tom Keen is bad luck. 

A noose for Jennifer Reddington. Then Liz will have something to show for it. 

Red is worried about Priya. He hired her to assassinate Neville. 

He should be worried. This focal shot is a kickback to Roy Cain's episode in S7. His "knock on wood" will push back to Liz and her fate.

Purposeful stuff. 

A kiss of death... like the woman from Paris kissing Red before injecting him. It also makes me think of The Apothecary, the Scotch. Just throw it in the bottle while he's gone and be done with it. While she may not kill Neville, I do think she’ll be the reason Red’s friend Ivan will survive. She’s a thief. "Items” include people. That's what Neville wants Priya to steal. She's gonna steal Ivan Stepanov. "Item" is how Red referred to Raymond’s bones in S5 and how they referred to Karakurt when he came in country in S2... items. Rakitin wasn’t worth the save. 

The Stranger by Albert Gamus. The book Dembe was reading that Red starts to read. The novel is famous for its first lines: “Mother died today. Or maybe it was yesterday, I don’t know.”

"Katarina Rostova was N-13. And Katarina Rostova is dead." Ivan Stepanov speaks truth. Red is N-13 because he's Katarina. SHE has been dead for 30 years. Of all people, the person who created the archive can prove who stole it in 1990. Expect Neville to be pissed because he's been chasing the wrong woman for 30 years. Ivan can reveal it all without revealing Red's real identity.

Neville’s comment about her innocence. “But Katarina Rostova was framed. Which means I dedicated my life to the hatred of an innocent woman.” This pushes back to Red’s comment in 8x2. “Is that the story she told you? She's a victim? An innocent wrongly accused?" What Ivan will be revealing to Neville. The real Katarina Rostova was no innocent. He knows Red is Katarina and he knows he’s dead either way because he created the archive that took Neville’s family. "Do you know who I am? Because I know who you are. You're the one who created the archive that destroyed my family." He’s gonna put Liz on the chopping block. "And I asked you to fly here so I could look you in the eye and tell you: I agree... for now." Because he has no idea she’s Katarina’s daughter, which means he has no idea she’s Red’s daughter.  

Full drive through the rest of the season. The first person Neville would kill... is Liz. 

[sage-nebula]

Do NOT reblog, or I will delete the post and block you.

There are so many posts on here about “eldest daughter this” and “oldest sibling that” but there are no posts that talk about what it’s like to be the middle sibling when your oldest sibling is a complete and utter fuckup in basically every way.

I’m technically the middle child. I have a sister who’s 8.5 years older than I am, and a (technically step-)brother who’s nine months younger than I am. My brother became my brother when I was six and he was five, so the “step-” determination is really meaningless, but I added it to explain how he could be my brother when he’s only nine months younger than I am. Anyway. I have two siblings, one older and one younger, and so that makes me the middle child, right?

Well, yes . . . but also no. 

As you could surmise by the opening paragraph, my older sister fucked up in basically every conceivable way. I won’t get into her whole life story here because that’s not my story to tell (though believe me, there are doozies in there), but suffice it to say that every single choice she made is one that most parents would disapprove of. All three of my parents certainly did. And so what do you think happened when it came to me? 

I’ll tell you what happened. 

Because my older sister fucked up in every way one could possibly fuck up, there was a fear, I suppose, or a concern that I would, for whatever godforsaken reason, follow in her footsteps even though the two of us could not be more different in terms of attitude, outlook, goals, et cetera. As a result, if I did even the slightest thing wrong, the punishment hammer came down on me with all the might of Thor celebrating a delicious beverage. I failed geometry in junior year of high school due to an undiagnosed learning disability (along with undiagnosed severe depression and an undiagnosed anxiety disorder, all following years of abuse at my biological mother’s hands), and I was put under lockdown for the entire summer. I was not allowed to leave the house except to go to summer school, I was not allowed to talk to or see any of my friends, or play video games, or watch television, or be on the internet, or read, or write fiction, or do basically anything besides the aforementioned summer school and listening to music. To this day, my parents think this was a good decision on their part even though they now know about the learning disability and myriad of mental illnesses. They think it was a good call for them to punish me like they did.

And so you would say, okay, but if they punished you that severely because they didn’t want you to end up a drug-addicted high school dropout like your sister, surely they would level the same punishments against your brother, especially since you two were so close in age! Well, you would think that, but nope!

Instead, when my brother was around seventeen, he got pulled over and arrested for marijuana possession. (I think he was pulled over in the first place for speeding, but I can’t remember.) His punishment was to have his car taken away for six months. That’s it. He still had all of his other privileges, was not punished in any other way, he just could not drive for six months. He got in actual legal trouble, but he was still allowed to have hobbies.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying that my brother should have been punished more harshly, per se. I’m only saying there was a stark difference in the way that we were treated that my family refuses to acknowledge or own up to even to this day, and it all comes down to the fact that I was never cut slack in either direction. If I was compared to my older sibling, then the fact that she had screwed up so royally in basically every single way meant that I would be made to stand at attention so I could be yelled at for an hour for failing a math class, and then continue to be berated and insulted for how I was clearly never going to college (I have a master’s now, by the by) because of it over the next few days, and yelled at further for having “nothing to say to myself” in the face of all the lecturing. But if I was compared to my younger sibling, why, then it should be expected that he always gets off easier, because he’s younger than I am and the baby of the extended family and, well, I’m older and more mature, so I can handle it better, anyway. And I mean, I guess, for the record, true; I took my punishment in silence because as a victim of child abuse for basically my entire life I never stood up for myself against my parents back then and always just stayed quiet to try to make punishments worse, whereas he threw fits about having his keys taken away every single day for those six months, but also we have to consider how “mature” one really is if that “maturity” stems from a decade and plus some of child abuse.

Because see, that’s the thing, and what has made me really start thinking about this the past few days. I mentioned it on twitter, but a week ago I got into a fight with my mom (stepmom, the better of the two) over politics that has effectively led to her disowning me, I think, which in turn means that my dad has disowned me as well, I think, because I’m pretty sure he’s going to take her side on this one. I won’t get into the actual subject matter here, but the long and short of it is that she accused me of “attacking” her when I wasn’t, and has since then refused to speak to me, even when I tried to offer an olive branch by texting her that fine, I wouldn’t talk to her about politics, but I still loved her. She left me on Read. So the way I see it, she’s not talking to me until I apologize, and I won’t apologize, so she’ll never talk to me and I’m just effectively disowned, I guess. It’s not exactly the first time I’ve lost a parent, and actually, it’s kind of in the same way as the last time.

Fifteen years ago, I left my abusive biological mother to live with my dad and stepmom. (I’m going to keep using stepmom to keep it clear from here on out, just as I use biological mother, even though I do call my stepmom “mom” and consider her as such.) At first my biological mother kept trying to reach out with her pity party guilt tripping about how lonely she was and how much she needed me and yadda yadda, but in the last phone conversation we had, she called me a traitor for leaving her. Keep in mind, I was 15, and she was abusive to the point where the neighbors could hear every profanity and threat she screamed at me from down the street. They told me this. They also told me they always thought about calling CPS, but they never did, but whatever. The point is, on that last phone conversation, she called me a traitor for leaving her. I told her that I wasn’t. She said that I was. I told her I didn’t have to listen to that. She said I did. I said I didn’t, and hung up the phone. I expected her to call right back to curse me out . . . but she never did.

That was fifteen years ago, and we’ve never spoken since.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want to speak to her. Actually, the one time it looked like it might happen (at my sister’s wedding), my Fight or Flight response kicked in when I saw her walking toward me and I bolted. I had a panic attack so bad I felt like I was going to vomit. It’s really embarrassing to admit that, but it’s true. The only time I’ve seen her since was at my nephew’s high school graduation (which is the only graduation she got to attend for anyone directly related to her, since my sister dropped out and she didn’t attend mine), but although we made eye contact I looked away pretty quickly and, again, didn’t speak to her. Again, I don’t want to speak to her, this isn’t me complaining, I’ve not lost a single wink of sleep for the fact that she never reached out again despite how my dad likes to go on and on about how she should have “never stopped trying.” (But also, he never picks up the phone to call me for a chat either, despite always telling me how I should call him, so.)

But I just can’t help but notice the similarity. Once again, I have a mother who is refusing to speak to me because she feels I’ve wronged her in some way, and if I want a relationship, then I have to be the one to reach out (even though I already did, but was left on Read, so she wants me to reach out in a very specific way that she won’t even articulate). This isn’t the first time that she (and my dad) have done this, either. When I studied abroad in London, we got into a fight over something stupid over Skype, and I hung up the call. I was 19/20, so you know, not fully mature, but expected to be. Two weeks of silence passed before I had to call them to apologize, because even though their daughter was in a completely foreign country and, hell, could’ve been dead for all they knew, they wanted to Teach Me A Lesson, with that lesson being that unless I behaved the Right Way, they wouldn’t be there for me. And I guess here we are now, about eleven years later, having come full circle with that.

And you know what? I’m tired of it. 

Because here’s the thing about being the second child when the first child is a fuckup in every way: you are expected to not only not fall into those same pitfalls, but also to excel in every single possible way. Not only in terms of grades or whatever else, but also in terms of emotional maturity and support for the parents. This veers into the abuse I experienced, I know (at least some of it), but you know how I mentioned that my biological mother kept going on and on about how much she needed me and whatnot? This is because instead of treating me like her daughter, I was instead treated like her combo maid-servant-therapist. It was my job to wait on her hand and foot when she was home, whether that was through fetching her coffee or being in charge of the refrigerator remaining operational (this sounds specific because it is; when I was about 13 the refrigerator broke and she yelled at me for a.) not knowing it was going to break and b.) not doing anything to prevent it breaking), but also she laid out all of her problems to me day after day, month after month, year after year. Do you know how many times I had to sit and listen to the “your father ran out on me after 22 years of marriage” speech? And when I finally asked her if she could stop she yelled at me because I clearly let him badmouth her but I wouldn’t let her do the same. (He actually didn’t, and neither did my stepmom. She was the only one remaining bitter.) She “needed” me because I was the emotional pillar on top of which sat her own degrading stability. The second time I told her that I wanted to live with my dad (because I told her to her face that I wanted to switch the custody agreement twice, and got browbeaten down twice, before I finally left in secret and didn’t tell her until I was already at his place), she picked up smoking cigarettes again after having quit smoking while she was hospitalized for undiagnosed diabetes and told me that it was my fault that she was smoking again, because I had stressed her out so badly by telling her that I wanted to leave. And like, one, obviously I wanted to leave, is there any question of why I wanted to leave or why that wouldn’t make me just want to leave more? But also two, the point I’m getting at here is that it was always about her, always about her emotional needs, never about mine. My emotional wellbeing was never a priority in that house. I was always expected to be there for her, that was my entire purpose as her daughter. 

With my dad and stepmom it was obviously different, and in a lot of ways it was better because, god, I hated having to be the recipient of the constant stream of stress and misery from my biological mother. My dad and stepmom had each other, so I never had to hear about their woes for the most part. But at the same time, look at what happened when I failed geometry; instead of looking into seeing if they could get me diagnosed with a learning disability, or maybe actually listening to me when I said I felt “burnt out” and pushing a little harder for me to go to therapy, my dad instead yelled at me for an hour and several days after, insulted me, told me I was never going to succeed, and put me under lockdown for the entire summer, cutting me off from my support network of friends. I came from a background of 15 years of abuse, and one fuckup a year or so later lead not to a reexamination of how I was doing, but instead a severe punishment so that I “wouldn’t do it again.” I couldn’t pass a math class in university and in my final year I finally broke and went to my parents about how I really wasn’t going to graduate college because of it, and they agreed to pay to get me examined for a learning disability which, whoops, looks like I had! And my dad still blames me for waiting for so long to get diagnosed and not telling him sooner, when the last time he found I failed a math class that summer lockdown happened. He still hasn’t put the pieces together between that lockdown and why I didn’t tell him about the math classes I failed in university. Amazing.

My point is, with my dad and my stepmom, it wasn’t so much that they used me as an emotional sponge or pillar, but rather that they were pretty much uninvolved so long as I performed adequately, and was the model daughter they could be Oh So Proud Of, but the moment I slipped, bam! Go to jail, go directly to jail, do not pass Go, do not contact your friends. My emotional needs were still not a priority because it wasn’t about whether or not I was okay, but whether or not it looked like I was doing okay in ways that were quantifiable, such as my grades. And I mean, to be fair, I wasn’t exactly keen on opening up about my feelings at that age and I was a pro at masking how I felt and acting like everything was fine because my biological mother would berate me on the car rides to school each morning to the point of tears, and then would yell at me more about how I better clean myself up because god help me if any teachers saw me crying, which would make them think she was a bad parent and that, too, would be my fault. (Protip: Washing your face with very cold water helps clear away the puffiness around the eyes that can be a tell you’ve been crying.) But even so, again, that puts the responsibility on me to do the Right Thing so that they could be there for me emotionally as my parents, and that is just—

I’m so tired of it, man!

I have had three parents and yet have never had the unconditional love of one. Never. My stepmom once tried telling me that she and my dad would love me unconditionally when I was a teen and she was trying to get me to admit I was a lesbian (funny thing is, even I didn’t know I was gay at the time), and my dad walked through the living room and, not even knowing what we were talking about, was like, “No we won’t.” So that was great. But the thing is this whole thing proves that she was full of it, too. Because they tolerate me being gay (while still trying to set me up with men), but because I won’t apologize to my mom when I haven’t done anything wrong but she feels like I have, she’s giving me the complete and total silent treatment until I do. Because I didn’t perform in the way I’m supposed to, because I wasn’t The Mature One, I’m being cut off. Because it’s my job to be The Mature One, because I was always The Mature One, because I never had any goddamn choice in the matter and the dysfunctional environment I was in when I lived with my biological mother (+ my sister, her baby daddy-now-husband, and their two very young children whom I was often put in charge of despite being in middle school at the time because their parents were often too busy doing drugs and/or sleeping to care for them) required it. Because I had to be Kept In Line so that I wouldn’t end up like my sister, but also it was just me that had to be kept in line despite how close in age my brother and I were. And again, I’m not saying that I wish my brother had also been punished harshly, but more that I wish that, you know, maybe some mercy could have been doled out to me, except it wasn’t, because I had two siblings on either side to be compared to and as a result one toe out of the line resulted in a smiting.

But in the end, it isn’t even really about that. This post isn’t really about how I’m simultaneously the eldest daughter but also the second child. It’s more about the fact that I’ve had three parents and yet have never had the unconditional love of even one, even from the one who said I had it. It’s about how my emotional needs were never a priority for any of the parents in my life. It’s about how I basically had to raise myself and it’s a real goddamn wonder I’m not even more screwed up than I actually am because of it. And it’s also about how I really miss therapy and haven’t been able to go for a long time, and I think this rambling stream of consciousness post proves that I really, really need to find a new therapist so I can go back again, because goddamn.

Anyway, once again, do NOT reblog this or I will delete it and block you, I just needed to get this off my chest, but I need it to stay here. Thank you.

[bluesey-182]

We Have To Stop Meeting Like This - Chapter 11

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / ao3 

in case you missed it, i did post an update yesterday so click to link to 10 or to the fic on ao3 to read it :)

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Morning came at a harsh awakening when, besides Jude, Cardan woke with a shout. Jude was instantly alert, looking around the room for any threats while unconsciously grabbing onto Cardan’s hand. When she turned her attention back to him, there was a glazed sort of look in his eyes. Like he wasn’t fully awake, or fully aware.

“Cardan?” Jude croaked, her voice still finding its way back to her after sleep.

“Nightmare,” was Cardan’s only reply. He flopped back down onto the bed and curled onto his side, wrapping his arm around Jude’s waist and gently guiding her back down beside him. She threaded her fingers through his mussed up hair in an attempt to calm the shaking of his body.

“He died yesterday,” Cardan choked, so quiet she almost didn’t hear him. But her hands stilled. Cold ice washed its way through her veins.

“Who died?”

“My brother. Balekin. There was a car accident.”

“Isn’t he the one--?” Jude began to ask but cut off. Isn’t he the one that abused you? didn’t really seem like a question you could ask someone.

Nevertheless, Cardan knew where she was going with the question. “Yeah,” he replied. His voice sounded hollow, like everything inside him had been carved out. Jude didn’t really know what to say. I’m sorry? Is that what you said when someone’s abusive brother died? Jude knew better than anyone how complicated family relationships could be yet she still found herself at a loss for words.

“My sisters are arranging the funeral. My dad won’t talk to anyone. It’s all so fucked,” Cardan said. “And I don’t even know why I’m so fucking upset. Balekin was a dick, he made my life hell, but he was my fucking brother, you know?”

“You can miss someone who hurt you,” Jude replied softly.

“Yeah. I guess.”

“What… what can I do?”

“Can you just…,” Cardan trailed off, as if not sure if he should continue.

“Just what?”

He sounded defeated when he whispered, “Stay with me.”

Jude gently squeezed him and he seemed to further melt into her embrace. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

They missed classes. Cardan mostly slept. Jude took to wearing Cardan’s t-shirts and workout shorts when her own set of clothes became too dirty to wear. For a week they isolated themselves in his apartment, ordering in food, watching movies in his room that he barely paid attention to. After the first few days, Jude would coax him out of bed for a few hours to watch television in the living room or play video games that he beat her at every time, even though he was barely there to play them. Cardan had become a shell of himself. He only drank water when Jude asked him to, only ate small amounts of food when she offered him a plate. But despite how he’d seemed to crawl away into himself, Jude knew he was grateful for her being there. She could tell it in the way he would grab for her hand and hold onto it like a lifeline. She could tell it in the way he would just look at her for several seconds while he ignored the TV. She could tell it in the way he kissed her without a word.

When the day of the funeral came, Jude woke up to find Cardan sitting at the foot of the bed in the middle of the night. She crawled over to him, the shirt she had borrowed from him riding up passed her thighs, which caught Cardan’s attention enough for him to place his hand on her exposed thigh as she settled in beside him. But then he leaned his head against hers and began to cry like he had that first night. Jude tucked his head against her chest and tried to make soothing sounds as she held him. When he finally spoke, just to say her name, Jude knew what he was asking before he said it.

So in the morning, when they woke up for good, Cardan got ready for the funeral before driving Jude back home for her to put on a black dress and a pair of flats. He was once again a shell of himself as he drove them to the cemetery, but the whole way there he was gripping her hand like he’d drift off to sea if he let go.

It was a cold morning, promising snow, as they made their way across the expanses of lawn to where a group of mourners stood. A few of Cardan’s sisters came to say hello and give him a hug. They asked Jude for her name but nothing else. The rest of his family ignored him, like he was a ghost at his brother’s funeral. 

An old man sat in a chair in the front row and at first Jude thought he might be a grandfather. But when he acknowledged Cardan--barked his name, really--Cardan seemed to deflate even more, shrinking to be as small as he could be despite his height. Reluctantly, he slinked over to the man. 

“Father,” he grumbled without making eye contact. Jude felt a small bit of shock at finding out this old man was Cardan’s father, not grandfather. But then she looked around her at the age of his older siblings and knew she should have realized sooner. Cardan shot her a look out of the corner of his eye, a sort of pleading, before motioning ever so slightly with his head that she should go somewhere else. There was shame in his eyes and she knew whatever his father was going to say, he didn’t want Jude to bear witness.

That’s how Jude found herself wandering the cemetery. Lost in thought, she didn’t realize where her feet were taking her until she was almost out of sight of Cardan’s family and standing before two gravestones under an oak tree. Without thinking, Jude found herself leaning against the gravestone behind her as she stared at the ones before her.

She jumped at the feel of a hand on the small of her back but relaxed when Cardan’s mane of black hair came into view. They wordlessly leaned against each other for support as Cardan took in the names on the stones before them. 

On the left: Justin Duarte.

On the right: Eva Duarte.

“Your parents?” Cardan asked softly. All Jude could do was nod. “What happened to them?”

Jude gave a small, humorless laugh. “I don’t want to add to your sadness, Cardan.”

“You can tell me.” The hand he had rested on her back slid up to gently cup the back of her head. She felt so small with his hands on her, but she also felt a sense of safety in them. “If you want,” he whispered against her hairline as he gently placed a kiss to her skin. She shivered, and not just from the cold.

“Madoc used to work for the FBI. Well he still does, but this was when he was still just a regular agent and not a director,” she began. Cardan looked confused at the change in subject but let her talk without interrupting. “He and my mom met in college and she got pregnant after graduation. Madoc freaked out and ran off, leaving my mom alone with a baby Vivienne and no money to take care of her. But her best friend, Justin, came to the rescue, as he liked to say, and a year later they were married. A few years later, they had twins. They were happy. We were happy. Vivi looked different from Taryn and I but we never questioned it. After our parents died, we found out that she had known the whole time that she had a different dad, and I don’t know why that, of all things, stuck with me. But it did.

It was family game night and we were all stuffed full of junk food. I don’t even remember what game we were playing. I just remember us laughing while the radio played. And then a song came on that my father loved and he grabbed my mom’s hand and began dancing her around the kitchen while us kids pretended to be disgusted by their love but secretly we were wishing to have that same thing one day.” At this point, tears had begun to fall down Jude’s face, though her voice remained steady. Cardan began stroking circles on her back in comfort.

“You don’t have to finish the story,” he said. 

“I want to,” Jude whispered. “I’ve never told anyone this before.” 

She cleared her throat and continued, “There was this loud bang at the door. I remember all of us froze. The noise continued, and then suddenly we heard the door come crashing in. My mom’s face was completely drained of color and she told Vivi to take us and hide. There was this little hidden door in the wall that led to a tiny pantry we never used except for in games of hide and seek, and the three of us girls crammed into the space. The last time I saw my dad’s face, he was closing the door on us and saying he loved us.

There was shouting. Some terrible noises. It went on for what felt like a lifetime. And then all the noise stopped and there was some sobbing from the other room that didn’t sound like either of our parents. We were all crying too but Vivi had her hands over Taryn’s and my mouths so we wouldn’t be heard. And then there was more shouting as the police came rushing in. We heard a struggle, a gunshot, and then there was nothing but the police talking to each other and into radios and more cars pulling up outside our house.”

Jude fell silent for a moment, trying to catch her breath as the images came back to her. “See, there was a serial killer going across America at the time. He was delusional, thought he was a werewolf, so on a full moon he’d get high off all kinds of drugs and then break into a house and kill the family inside.”

Cardan sucked in a breath of recognition at the story.

“That night,” Jude said, “he chose my family. The FBI had been tracking him for months. It wasn’t until Madoc showed up to the house that he realized who the victims were. And whose child he found hiding in a cupboard in the kitchen. At that point he had remarried, was trying to have kids with his new wife, and when he saw us he thought it was his second chance to be the father he hadn’t been for Vivi. But Vivi never really forgave him for abandoning our mom in the first place. Madoc led us out of the crime scene, told us to cover our eyes. Vivi made me swear I wouldn’t look.”

“You looked. Didn’t you?” Cardan breathed.

“My parents were… torn apart. And the killer was lying face up on the carpet with a bullet through his skull. I could barely recognize my own home underneath all of the blood.”

“Jude…”

“We went to live with Madoc. He tried to be the perfect father to Vivi despite her hatred for him, but he never seemed to know what to do with Taryn and me. The rest, as they say, is history.” Jude felt like there were no words left in her.

“I’m sorry,” Cardan said softly. 

All Jude could do was shrug as Cardan wiped away her tears. “I survived,” she managed in a whisper.

After the funeral was over, they went back to Cardan’s house and collapsed in his bed still wearing their funeral clothes. They wrapped around each other quotation marks and fell asleep with their grief as, outside, snow began to fall.

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hope you enjoyed! 

@goblinwhoships @hizqueen4life @judexcardanxgreenbriar @pilesofriles @velarian-trash @standbislytherin @darlingod @heyheyheylemonade @cloudy-peonies @ireallyshouldsleeprn

[bisexualbuck]

To Be Loved, To Belong

Day One of the Evan Buckley Week 2020! The prompt was “That’s my family” + fluff

Summary: 5 times Buck almost tells his family what they mean to him.

+1 time he does.

[Read on AO3]

(Full text under read more)

1. Maddie

Buck will never blame Maddie for cutting contact with him while she was under Doug’s hold. Anytime she tries to bring it up and apologize, he tells her he knows it’s not her fault.

Because it isn’t. It has never been and it never will be.

He is only glad that she is free of that abusive relationship and that she is making a new life for herself. Every time they see each other, he feels the same endless pride for his sister who survived, who made it out, by herself.

Having her in his life again after so long is something he will never tire of. Growing up with such an age difference could have prevented them from being as close as they are, but the way they were raised made sure that they did.

Something that Buck can say, is that Maddie raised him more than their parents ever did. He is so thankful for her, although he would never tell it to her face, unless in very exceptional circumstances. She is still his sister and it’s his obligation to annoy her as much as humanly possible.

He smiles at the sight of Maddie laughing with Hen and Athena. He loves these moments, with all of the people he cares about, together in the same place.

Maddie has made herself a place in this group of people effortlessly, and sometimes it feels like she has always been a part of their little family.

Family.

Yes, this is a family. His family.

The thought is so sudden that it makes him want to weep.

All his life, that’s what he has longed for. A family. To be loved. To belong.

Growing up, it was only him and Maddie, with their parents around, not invested. A family by blood but not by love. It had been enough for the two siblings, because they had no other choice.

But now, Buck isn’t as alone anymore.

He has a family and he can share it with his sister.

They have made it. They have built themselves a true family, a family that they have chosen and that stays and that loves, not because they feel an obligation to, but because the choose to.

Every day these people make the conscious decision to love one another and to be there for each other.

Buck has never thought that he could have that, and now he has.

He is so happy he could cry.

“Earth to Evan.” It’s Maddie. He didn’t even notice her until she spoke, too deep in thoughts. “What’s got you looking so thoughtful? That’s never a good thing.”

It’s you, he wants to say. It’s this family that we’ve made.

We’ve made it, Mads, he wants to say. We’re not alone anymore.

This is our family.

Instead, he smiles and says, “Nothing. I’m just happy.”

“Oh, Evan,” she hugs him, and he thinks maybe she has heard the words he could not find. “I’m happy too.”

He knows she is. It’s like he can finally be at peace, knowing that his sister is safe and loved like she deserves to be.

.

2. Hen

Hen opens the door seconds before the bell has even finished ringing.

“Thanks for coming on your day off like that. I owe you one big time.”

Buck shakes his head, offering a smile. “You don’t owe me anything.”

Her face is soft as she looks at him, and he almost squirms under her gaze. He is getting better at accepting open testimony of affection but he is still not quite there yet. Some part of him might always be waiting for the other shoe to drop, for people to leave him.

“Still,” she says. “Thank you. Our sitter called sick last minute and Karen and I both need to be present for the meeting.”

“Hen,” Buck cuts, gently. “It’s fine. You know I love the little dude. I’m just gonna help Denny with his homework, as you asked, and maybe we’ll watch a movie if we have time. It’s all fine.”

Karen chooses that moment to arrive, holding Nia in her arms. She rushes to Buck’s side and gives him a quick kiss on the cheek.

He takes the chance to pull a face at Nia, and is proud to make her giggle. He laughs too, and continues playing with her for a few seconds, only stopping because he knows that Karen and Hen have to get going.

“She’s so cute, guys. I’m so glad for you.”

“You’re too sweet, Buck,” she says and he blushes. Karen has always intimidated him but she is also kind and loving, and like every vaguely parental figure in his life, he craves her approval. “We’ve left some cash for dinner in case we run too late.”

She bids him goodbye after one last reminder that Denny needs to study for a coming history test.

Hen stills at the door, Nia’s diaper bag in her hands. She gives Buck one more thankful look and he wants nothing more but for it to stop because he has never known what to do when he’s being thanked.

Especially since he has no problem helping out. Denny is a good kid, as smart and kind as his mothers. It really is no trouble spending one afternoon with him.

“How can I thank you, Buck?” Hen asks.

You’re family, he wants to say. You never have to thank me.

“Go to your meeting,” he says instead. “We’ll be fine.”

She is gone with one last smile, and Buck spends a great afternoon with a great kid, his heart full of love for this family that he belongs to.

And when Hen and Karen come back with Nia, Buck stays for dinner, grateful to share the moment with them, grateful for them.

That night, he falls asleep with a smile on his face.

.

3. Chimney

“Could you at least try not to end up in the hospital so often?”

“Like you can talk, Mister I-Spit-In-Death’s-Face-On-The-Regular,” Buck shots back easily, glad that the effects of the anesthesia have worn off. “The hospital’s given you a loyalty card yet?”

Chimney laughs the comment off and he comes to sit next to Buck’s hospital bed, choosing instead to punch him lightly in the shoulders. He is carrying a bag that smells like delicious Indian food.

“Here,” Chim says. “Hospital food sucks.”

“Thank you, man,” he breathes out as he takes the plate Chim is holding out to him. “I owe you my entire life.”

“No, thanks, I’m not interested.”

If Buck wasn’t too busy wolfing down his meal, he would have found something to retort. He has not eaten in hours, ever since he woke up this morning, feeling like hell. He had driven himself to the ER – which Bobby gave him a earful for on the phone when he found out – where the doctors told him what he had already guessed.

His appendix was inflamed, and he needed to be operated.

It’s a small operation and he would not even spend the night at the hospital. In fact, Chimney is here to pick him up as Buck will be discharged soon enough.

“How are you feeling?” Chim asks when Buck is done with his food.

“Honestly, I’m fine,” Buck replies and he puts his hand on his belly. “It’s nothing. I’ll be back to work in no time. You won’t even have time to miss me too much, baby.”

He gives Chimney an exaggerated wink and – okay, maybe he is still feeling a little bit the anesthesia.

“Baby?” Chim laughs. “You’re the worst. Why the hell do I even keep you around.”

“Well, we work together and you’re basically my brother-in-law at this point, so it’s not like you have choice.”

Chim gives him a long look, amused but Buck can also read tenderness in it.

“Sure,” he says at last. “The fact that I’m dating your sister is definitely the only reason I’d come to see you in the hospital on my day off. It’s not like you’re my friend or anything.”

Buck blames the meds again for the way his eyes feel not as dry as they ought to be.

He almost says it, then.

You’re my family, whether you’re dating my sister or not.

Thank you for coming two hours before they release me to keep me company.

He doesn’t say it.

“You have great taste in friends then,” he jokes instead and neither mention how is voice sounds a little too wet.

“That’s debatable, Buck.”

Chimney stays until Buck is released, and he stays some more when he drops Buck off at his place. He stays until Buck’s showered and tucked in bed, though he makes sure to tease him the whole time.

Buck feels like he will never get used to people so openly caring about him.

He hopes it never stops.

.

4. Bobby & Athena

Bobby’s face lights up as he notices Athena coming up the stairs, and he hurries to drop the towel he has been using to dry the dishes. Buck snorts and picks it up to finish cleaning up, Bobby cooked for the team anyway, he should not have been helping out Buck in the first place.

“Hello, Buckaroo,” Athena calls when she sees him, and he beams at her in return.

“Hey.” He puts down the last plate and turns fully towards the couple. “ You’re having a good day? Cap’ made cookies so my day is going great.”

“Why do you think I’m here?” she jokes.

Bobby pretends to look hurt but the glint in his eyes betrays him, “I’m going to pretend I didn’t just hear that.”

Buck is suddenly hit by the image of Bobby, more than two years ago, breaking down as he asked for help.

To see him smiling, joking with his wife, warms Buck’s heart with more emotion than he could voice. Both Bobby and Athena have been through so much and they found one another and built themselves up, they have become each other’s pillar of strength.

He admires them so much – loves them dearly, and he is bursting with the need to say it.

I love you two like you’re my actual parents.

You’re the family I’ve searched for my whole life.

Buck swallows it all down. Maybe one day, he will find the courage to say it out loud.

“I’m not sure there’ll be any cookies left though,” Bobby says with a sorry smile. “I didn’t know you were gonna drop by. I would have kept you a few otherwise.”

“It’s fine,” Athena assures. “This wasn’t planned, I was just close-by.”

“You can have mine,” Buck blurts out. “I’ve kept a few for later but I’ve already had too much anyway.”

“Oh, Buckaroo,” she says, looking sincerely touched. “Aren’t you the sweetest?”

He blushes and ducks his head. She laughs at him, gentle, and pinches his cheek.

If, at the beginning, someone had told him that he would hold Athena in such high esteem, he would have laughed. They did have a rocky start, but he is glad that they are past that now.

She goes to get the cookies he has set asides, he expects Bobby to follow suit but he stays behind, giving him a pointed look, not saying anything at all.

“What?” Buck breaks.

“I know you haven’t had any cookies, Buck.”

It’s true. Since it was his turn to do the dishes, he kept his for afterwards. He shrugs, not knowing what to say.

“You’re a good man.”

Buck feels warm with the praise but his first reflex, as always, is to dismiss it.

“It’s just cookies,” he says.

“I’ll make another batch tomorrow,” Bobby promises, a soft proud smile on his lips.

“You don’t have to – ”

“I know.”

With that, Bobby goes to his wife, and Buck feels right at home, in his station, surrounded by his family.

.

5. Eddie & Christopher

Buck jumps at every chance he has to spend time with Eddie and Christopher. He feels bad about it at times, like he shouldn’t intrude so much.

The one time Buck tried to bring it up to Eddie, the only answer he received was a heavy stare and a promise of, “You could never intrude, Buck.”

He has to remind himself those words whenever he feels like he should leave, let the two spend a day just together. But it’s so hard, and he is to selfish.

And he loves them so much.

It’s so easy to be with them too, they welcome him into their family with opened arms, and he can’t help but feel complete with them, like this is what he has been searching for, and now that he has them in his life, he does not have to look anymore.

He loves them. And he knows they love him, but he still worries that he doesn’t mean as much to them as they do to him.

“Are you okay, Buck?” Christopher asks him and Buck jolts with the knowledge that he has been lost in his thoughts for too long.

Eddie, thankfully, is getting them ice cream and as such has not been able to notice Buck’s slight change in mood. Good, because otherwise he would drill him until Buck gave in and told him about his insecurities.

“I’m good, buddy.”

Christopher is a smart kid, and he is clearly not fooled by Buck’s answer.

“Dad says you should tell people if you’re sad.”

“I’m not sad,” Buck protests. “I’m happy. You make me happy – you and your dad.”

It’s the truth. They make him happy. He smiles at Christopher, the kid that he wishes could be his, the kid he wants to help Eddie raise.

He lets that joy spread through him, warm his body and his soul. He will take whatever he can take, and he will be happy with it.

He already is.

Christopher seems satisfied, he smiles brightly at Buck who can do nothing but to smile back just as brightly.

“What’s got you two so happy?” Eddie asks as he comes back, holding three cups of ice cream. He is smiling too at the sight of his son and his best friend so joyful.

“We just are,” Christopher says – simple as that.

Eddie’s face does something very complicated that Buck can’t follow, his emotions changing fast before settling on a tender, soft expression.

“So am I, then.”

It’s not until Christopher has wandered off a bit, not far enough that they can’t see him, that Eddie brings it up again.

“So what was that about?”

“What was what about?” Buck asks, his gaze locked on Christopher.

How much he loves that kid. Buck wants to be there for him for as long as he lives, if they will let him.

How much he wants. Going back to his flat at night, to its empty rooms and its heavy silence – he hates it. He wants to stay with them, always, he wants to wake up next to Eddie and fix Christopher his breakfast and bring him to school.

He wants. He longs.

“Buck?”

The words are right there and he has to bite his lips to keep them in.

I love you. I’m in love with you.

I love your kid like he’s my own

You’re my family.

I want this, all of it.

“He said it,” Buck says at last. “We’re just happy.”

Eddie gives him a curious look but he does not press.

“You deserve to be.”

“So do you, Eddie.”

“I am.”

Buck breaks the eye contact first, feeling himself blush. Eddie nudges him with his shoulder and they share a laugh as they watch Christopher coming back to them, going as fast as his legs will carry him.

He is happy, truly, and that’s the only thing that matters.

.

+1

It’s all of them again, something that happens both often and yet too rarely.

There’s no particular reason for it, except that they could all make it, and it’s a wonderful sunny day in Los Angeles.

And they all love each other.

Because this is a family, and that’s what families do.

He does not think he could ever get tired of the thought. They are all there, sitting outside in the sun, having finished a great meal, the kids are playing close, their laughter filling up the air.

Every person that he cares about, in the same place, at once. What else could he ever ask for?

He feels a hand on his shoulder. He blinks, getting his head back into the present.

“You’re alright, Buck?” Bobby asks.

He is. He is happy.

He wants to say it, out loud, with pride.

He does not want to fight the urge back anymore. He wants to say these words he has been carrying with him for so long.

Because he has been able to say it to other people but never to them. He owes them the truth.

“I never thought I’d have this.”

Everyone’s attention turns to him, the words blurted out too loudly not to.

“What do you mean?” Athena asks, not unkindly.

He hesitates.

“A family.”

There’s a beat of silence. Buck looks away, but now that he has opened the damn, the words can’t be stopped. They rush out his mouth with desperate precipitation.

“I mean, Maddie and I, we had a family, sort of. Our parents, they’re – well, they’re not great.” He knows he is rambling but he can’t bring himself to stop the inflow of words. “And I thought it was always just gonna be just the two of us, but now like, I look at all of you and it’s just – I know, I tell myself, these people, here, that’s my family. Our family.”

He pauses. “Is that a weird thing to say? I’ve made it weird, right?”

“No, Buck,” Hen reassures from where she’s sitting across from him. “Of course not.”

“And you’re right,” Chim continues. “This is a family.”

If Buck could see himself in a mirror, he would probably be all red, with eyes too shiny.

Some part of him, the part that has always been ready to run, to let people go before they can abandon him, wants to run away from the moment. There is too much emotion all around, too much sympathy in everyone’s gaze as they look at him.

Eddie’s hand finds his under the table and squeezes, and Buck turns to see his boyfriend giving him a loving smile.

“Yeah?” Buck asks, softly.

“Yes.”

Buck looks up, he catches Maddie’s eyes and in them, he reads the same gratitude for these people, for that new chance at a family that they have been given.

Bobby raises his glass.

“To family,” he says.

“To family,” they all echo.

Eddie’s hand in his, his family around him, this is where Buck belongs.

Life has never been so kind.

[birlcholtz]

Bittydex??? (Also your bitty/holster and bittyrans hcs were works of art)

omg. the baking duo. i don’t think i’ve ever like seriously thought about them but NOW I AM AND I LOVE IT HERE GOES

dex is originally wary of bitty for a lot of reasons but a big one is that bitty is openly gay and cute and thus firmly jeopardizes dex’s ability to stay closeted/repress everything for his entire time in college. oh boy.

but of course, eventually he’s like y’know what fuck it whatever bitty’s cool i can do this

and as he gets to know bitty, it’s almost laughable how different they are, but dex eventually kind of internalizes the correlation between baking and being openly gay (for bitty) as a kind of... causation? like, maybe he can get more confident about himself if he embraces baking too. is this good logic? i actually have no idea dex is tired let him live

so anyway that’s what has him, only about a month into his first semester (listen everyone on the team is so goddamn supportive of bitty and dex sees how much he loves being here and!! he wants that too!!! so yes he gives up on the whole ‘repress’ thing very fast), poking his head into the kitchen when he hears bitty opening and closing the fridge in a pattern that means he’s getting out ingredients and asking if he wants help

bitty is all in favor of literally anything dex does that isn’t fighting with nursey and he’s also glad that dex is seeking him out, because come on bitty has heard from nursey about the adventure with the samwell republicans sticker and even though it’s gone now he can’t help being a little concerned?

so dex asking if he can help with the baking is good for both of them honestly

bitty immediately sets him to cutting up fruit and they talk a bit as they work but mostly it’s just kind of a comfortable quiet (not silence because bitty’s got some music playing, but quiet is different entirely)

bitty eventually finds out through some subtle comments on dex’s part that his family is absolutely rampant with toxic masculinity and homophobia and that for dex, literally baking in and of itself, not just slice and bake cookies but actually baking something from scratch and spending time in the kitchen willingly, is an act of rebellion

it’s a lot easier for dex to find out that bitty’s relationship with his parents is a tiny bit strained because he’s not out at home, because bitty talks about his mother so much that it’s easy to infer. sometimes he tells dex about something his father did that his mother told him about. he never seems to talk to his father though

so baking becomes a kind of... alliance, i guess? the two of them are united. bitty does have his suspicions about why, perhaps, dex is so keen on getting to know bitty in particular-- his comments about the homophobia in his family make bitty even more suspicious-- but he doesn’t say anything. that’s not for him to ask about.

(chowder and nursey know that dex bakes with bitty a lot. chowder is glad because it means the baked goods get produced faster and he’s also glad that dex is spending time with bitty because he always seems more relaxed afterwards and it really does help stop him and nursey from fighting. nursey is intrigued because he’d thought after taddy tour (and after the first couple weeks of their first year) that dex would avoid bitty like the plague. he’s curious enough to accept that maybe dex has hidden depths. that also helps with the fighting.)

when they go home for winter break, dex and bitty agree to contact each other if they need to vent or just talk to someone they can relax around. neither of them has any legit emergencies, but they do text a lot and call each other a few times. bitty sends a picture of a pie, dex responds with ‘god i wish it’s so weird not being in the kitchen all the time. my brother gives me weird looks’ and bitty immediately starts compiling recipes for them to make as soon as they’re back at samwell

dex fixes the oven for the first time of many and bitty is so thrilled that he just kind of throws his arms around dex, who freezes for a second before letting himself hug bitty too (honestly i don’t remember if this happens before or after winter break but either way. same thing applies)

and in spring semester dex becomes fully aware that he has a problem. which is that spending time in the kitchen has changed from a hope that it’ll help him feel able to be more open to just wanting to see bitty, and be around bitty, and hear bitty’s voice and the casual endearments he throws around like they’re nothing and the way he puts a tense hand on dex’s arm while they’re both watching the oven to see if it’s going to actually preheat, and his smile and compliments when dex does something right and the way he flicks water at dex right after he washes his hands to get him to laugh, and the way he slides on oven mitts with the same calm efficiency that he steps onto the ice for warmups and dex is fucked. okay?? he’s fucked. the whole reason he’d been wary of bitty in the beginning was because he was worried about falling for him and guess what??? he did

but at the same time, dex can’t make himself shove it down. he’s still not out at samwell, but he’s getting to a point where he feels like he might be comfortable with that. bitty is probably tied with chowder for being his closest friend. dex can’t find it in himself to push all of that away.

as for bitty, he’s gone from being pleasantly surprised that dex is a fairly quick learner in the kitchen to looking forward to baking with him. dex always relaxes when he’s there, and bitty is sure that dex doesn’t know this, but he’s beautiful when he’s not so goddamn stressed. but at the same time, bitty knows dex is Going Through It with regards to sexuality-- he’s gone from being suspicious that maybe dex isn’t straight to knowing it but still waiting for dex to say something himself. so he keeps those thoughts to himself but it’s nice to see dex smile. especially when bitty knows he caused that

also dex keeps fixing the oven over and over and bitty knows that dex bakes a lot too so like. he has selfish reasons to fix the oven? but dex will LEAP to fix the oven if something is wrong with it and when he figures it out he always gives bitty this relieved smile that bitty is finding makes him increasingly flustered.

in the midst of all of this, dex is consulting with the upperclassmen about the best kind of oven to get bitty for his birthday. it’s a little over a month away, but between jack, ransom, and dex, they’re probably going to be incredibly overprepared because it’s what they do

in early april, dex pushes a bowl of sliced cherries over to bitty and says, ‘i’m gay.’ and bitty leaves the cherries where they are and hugs dex as tightly as he can, because he knows how long it’s taken dex to be ready to say that and he knows that in not very long, they’re both going home to places where they don’t know if they can ever say that

they stand there like that for a while, and dex doesn’t cry, but he almost does, and that’s when he says, okay, let’s bake this pie. and bitty agrees. (when it’s cooled, they eat almost half of it themselves before telling anyone else there’s pie)

baking together feels just a tiny bit different after that. not bad-- not bad at all. just a bit different. dex coming out changes their dynamic a little, because it means bitty finally lets himself acknowledge that he’s kind of got a huge crush on him, and then bitty basically can’t stop the endearments from coming out of his mouth. he tries to keep it to things he also says to the rest of the team-- mostly ‘hon’ and such-- but dex catalogues every sweetheart that slips out, and he knows he blushes, and both of them can’t help but feel that they’re dancing around something

then bitty’s birthday arrives, and dex installs the oven as quickly as he can while still double- and triple-checking things, and he’s just standing up and packing his toolbox back up when bitty and nursey enter the kitchen, and dex can’t help but blush when bitty looks at him like he hung the moon

and then bitty hugs him and dex hugs him back so hard that bitty is lifted off of the ground, and the rest of the team looks at each other like are you seeing this too??? because literally none of them noticed anything except that dex likes baking almost as much as bitty does. nobody realized there might be another reason lol

and both of them, independently, think that this might be the moment. but then the moment passes, and then they’re taking finals and getting ready to go home for the summer, and dex and bitty make the same promise they did over winter break but there’s more of a sense of urgency about it.

at first, they call each other once a week, just to keep up. bitty learns dex has taken to hanging out with his high school sort of-girlfriend, who’s got super short hair now and introduces him to hayley kiyoko’s music, and his family probably thinks they’re dating again but mostly they just wander around when neither of them has work, or they hang out in each other’s rooms (with the doors open, because of household rules). in july, she whispers to dex about her girlfriend in new hampshire and dex, that night when both of them are at home, texts her about his... well, bitty. whatever he and bitty are to each other (he also shows her a picture of bitty and she’s like oh he’s cute and dex is like yeah he really is)

the first person dex sees when he gets back to campus that august is chowder, who’s on his way to the haus after walking with farmer to the volleyball house. they’d been on the same flight back and have spent the whole last week together, along with plenty of other visits and trips with each other over the whole summer, and dex’s whole chest aches with how much he wants that. and yeah, it’s different for chowder and farmer, who live an hour away from each other in california and can see each other basically whenever they want, but chowder talks about how much his sisters love farmer and how their families got together for the 4th of july and dex aches.

they get to the haus, and everyone who’s arrived has congregated in the kitchen, where bitty is making a strawberry rhubarb pie dex has made with him at least five times. it’s second nature to come into the kitchen and head straight for the counter. bitty passes him the filling ingredients without a word, but with a smile, and keeps going. (the rest of the team trade looks)

but dex feels daring. all that talking to chowder about farmer has made him envious. so later, when most of the team is in the living room chatting about their summers and bitty’s headed upstairs to plug his phone in, dex slips out of the living room, heads upstairs, and knocks on bitty’s door. and bitty opens it and puts a hand on dex’s arm almost automatically when he asks how his summer was, and maybe that’s why dex feels bold enough to say, ‘it was okay. but i missed you.’

and bitty smiles softly at him and says, ‘i missed you too.’

the next time they’re watching the oven to make sure it preheats-- the new oven is actually functional, so it’s more habit than anything-- dex feels bitty’s hand slip into his own, and he immediately looks at bitty, who’s determinedly looking at the oven, and squeezes his hand. and then bitty looks at him, and dex can’t help but smile

some headcanons:

dex is a master of identifying when someone is aiming to check bitty during a game and immediately just. getting in their way. he’s very obstinate

does dex enable bitty’s procrastibaking? more than he wants to. he’s fully aware when he gives in that he probably shouldn’t, but it’s very hard to keep bitty from doing something he wants to do

bitty always brings dex tea or hot chocolate or a snack if he’s studying or fighting with java in the computer lab. the other compsci majors are very jealous

bitty is also a great sounding board for dex when he’s trying to figure out how to solve problems. explaining the problem to someone who doesn’t know anything about coding is a time-honored tactic of programmers everywhere and bitty is always willing to listen

winter trips to murder stop ‘n shop inevitably result in bitty walking as close to dex as is physically possible. (’it’s COLD’ ‘sure it is’)

the kitchen becomes the place where people can automatically find both of them. they’re just there all the time

flannel stealing? flannel stealing. they always find their way back into dex’s possession soon enough, but not before bitty’s worn them enough that they smell like him

lardo gives her dibs to nursey because dex basically lives at the haus already anyway. he does still wind up converting the basement into another room though because he needs a place where he can get work done and any room that bitty’s in isn’t conducive to that. yes it still has a steam shower because dex is extra as fuck

with regard to fining the rest of the team, they absolutely have a good cop/bad cop routine worked out. who is which depends on the day

chowder: bitty’s officially gone mad with power. dex: yeah i kinda like it. chowder: keep it in your pants

[raybyanothername]

SGA Secret Santa - The Handler

An 4x15 "Outcast" AU in which Rodney went along to the wake and Dave - in true Big Brother fashion - sees through John like he's a wet piece of paper.

Written for xRinsexRepeatx in the Stargate Atlantis Secret Santa 2019 fic exchange.

The original request was for a McShep fic with maybe a little fluff or something kind of new in either a canon-compliant or canon-adjacent AU - so I racked my brain and remembered that I'd gone searching for an Outcast AU with Rodney a few months back and hadn't been able to find one. This is my attempt to fill that void with a little bit of McShep and a little bit of the Sheppard Brothers.

~.~.~

John walked up to the house with two men. Dave blinked when he caught sight of his little brother. His shoulders were low as he approached. Dave broke off from whichever incessant brown-noser he’d been half-listening to go meet his brother.

“John,” Dave held out his hand, “I wasn’t sure you were going to make it.” John shook his hand, a tight smile spreading over his face. “Good to see you.”

Dave looked to the left at the taller man beside John – dreadlocks, facial hair, he held himself like a military man but Dave doubted he served in the Air Force. The man to the right was worse - shorter, balding, he looked more like an accountant than a soldier.

“I contacted your unit commander at Peterson, but, uh,” Dave looked back to John now, “Those messages don’t always seem to reach you.”

John shuffled his feet, “Well…I came as soon as I heard.” Dave smiled tightly, nodded, looked at the tall man beside John. “This is Ronon, and Rodney,” John gestured out to each man respectively before his hands returned immediately to his pockets.

Dave’s lips quirked up – he shoved down a memory of John in his prep school uniform trying to blend in with the other freshman – and shook each man’s hand. He gave Ronon credit, the man kept a neutral expression through the awkward tension that was emanating from Dave and his brother. The same could not be said for Rodney, who had a perplexed expression on his face as he looked Dave up and down.

“You three,” Dave looked from each man to the next, “You all work in the Air Force? Together?” Rodney’s face scrunched up in disgust.

“What’s that suppo-“

“They're civilian contractors.” John cut Rodney off, mid-sputtering and scowl. Dave raised an eyebrow, looked at John, who avoided eye contact as he pursed his lips. Their rhetoric teacher would have been displeased.

“Right.” Dave sighed. “Anyway, John,” Dave forced eye contact with his brother, “I think we should probably talk.”

John nodded, looked at his feet. He dragged his eyes back up to Dave’s, “Yeah.” Behind him, Rodney was rolling his eyes.

“I’ll catch up with you later,” Dave turned away, bit his bottom lip as he forced himself not to tack on ‘alone.’ Whether the men were actually civilian contractors didn’t really matter to Dave, he didn’t know them, he didn’t trust them.

He could probably say the same for John actually, with how long it had been since the two had spoken face to face, but… Dave looked over his shoulder to see his little brother talking to the animated Rodney.

“And you say my ability to communicate with my sister is stunted?” Rodney’s voice carried on the wind and Dave couldn’t help but grin as John’s face puckered up like a peach.

Little brothers don’t really change all that much and Dave could handle John.

-.-.-

“That’s what he does, he handles things.” John shrugged, looking away from where he’d glanced towards his brother.

Rodney narrowed his eyes on John as Ronon asked another question, “How come you never mentioned him before?” Rodney’s eyes did not flutter, he merely….blinked. Rapidly.

John had only mentioned Dave Sheppard once in their whole time knowing one another – and even then it had been a guilt-trip meant to push Rodney into talking to his sister.

“Wait…” Rodney drew both Ronon and John’s eyes, “When was the last time you were home?” Rodney twisted his hand in the air, trying to indicate more than just this mansion and estate.

John shuffled his feet. Ronon’s lips pursed together to hide a smile.

“A few years…” Rodney raised an eyebrow. John continued, “Before I got stationed in Antarctica.”

Rodney chuckled derisively, “Of course, because you’re the biggest hypocrite on the planet.” John blushed as Rodney stuck his finger in his face, “Don’t think I won’t bring this up the next time you bug me about calling Jeannie.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” John held up his hands in surrender as Rodney stalked off in search of food.

Ronon leaned over, grinning, “So…you told *him* you had a brother?” John groaned.

-.-.-

When Nancy walked up to John at his father’s wake she was unsurprised by his…fidgeting. He’d noticed her coming and twisted back around swiftly. As if she was going to fall for that.

The last time they’d seen each other was when he’d been laid up in Germany after the helicopter crash – he’d been blitzed out of his mind on painkillers and sobbing about Dex and Mitch – so it wasn’t like she didn’t understand his reaction. She tried to smile, put him at ease.

“I didn’t expect to see you here.” John wasn’t just fidgeting, he was tense. His shoulders were locked and his hands kept clenching as they stood there. She shook her head and pulled him in for a one-sided hug. He somehow managed to tense even more.

John’s grin was tight as he introduced her to his friend Ronon, who hung back – both physically and conversationally. Nancy raised an eyebrow at that, but John was already rambling a bit, trying to ask her about her life. She only had to correct him the once, and she supposed remembering her husband’s name wasn’t top of John’s list of priorities.

“In his mind,” John actually smiled talking about his dad, a little sarcastic, but a smile. “Marrying you was probably the best thing I ever did.”

Nancy gave herself points for not laughing. This John – awkward, fidgety, unsure of himself – that was the John she’d married, but she’d seen him elsewhere. She’d seen him once with Dex even – John was never unsure of himself except around her. Around her, or his family. Anyone who got too close.

“Ronon!” Nancy’s eyes darted towards the man walking up to John’s friend. He was short, stocky, wide shoulders. And scowling. “You’ve eaten some of everything right? Does anything taste citrus-y to you?”

Ronon smirked, “All of them.” The man’s face scrunched up.

“Come on! The caterers thought I was making up my citrus allergy. Completely blew me off!” The man’s arms went up and wide as Ronon arched an eyebrow.

“Sounds like more food for me, McKay.” Ronon was outright grinning now. He took a bite of something on his plate, chewed slowly. McKay crossed his arms and stalked towards them.

Nancy watched John’s reaction – he looked between her and this man, McKay, and his shoulders somehow managed to tense even more. Even he wasn’t careful, he’d need a chiropractor to unlock his shoulders. Nancy’s lips quirked up.

“Okay, how do I get the snooty caterers to tell me which of the food is poisoned?!” McKay didn’t so much as glance in her direction as he spoke to John.

“Usually you ask them, Rodney,” John turned, facing Rodney fully. Even with the tension in his shoulders, Nancy caught the smile that flickered on John’s face as he spoke. “Nicely.”

Rodney huffed, “I was nice!” Ronon snorted behind him. Rodney shot him a withering look, “They laughed when I asked if anything had citrus in it! Laughed!”

John shook his head, a hand moved to his hair.

“Just drop John’s name,” Nancy cut in. Rodney’s head snapped to her and she felt his gaze whip over her as if noticing her for the first time. Analyzing. “They’ll take you more seriously now, especially if they’ve seen you come over here.”

“Who’re you?” Rodney’s head quirked to the side. His eyes stayed on her face. Nancy smiled at him as he looked at John. “Is she important?”

“She’s his ex-wife.” Ronon supplied. Nancy noted his smirk was back and when Rodney’s eyes narrowed on John she knew why.

“You have a wife?!”

“Had.” Nancy and John spoke at the same time. Rodney’s face puckered.

John cleared his throat, “Rodney, this is Nancy. Nancy, this is Rodney McKay.”

“Pleasure.” Nancy tried not to laugh at John forgetting her current last name as she offered a hand for Rodney to shake. He took it. She smiled at him. He frowned, deeply. Nancy looked to John then, “So, he’s…”

“Yup.” John was not looking at either of them now. He was rubbing the back of his head and looking longingly at the barn. He’d never been very good at the personal stuff.

Rodney glared at the sharpness of John’s voice, “Okay, I’m confused, what’re we talking about?”

“He doesn’t –“

“Nope.” John cut her off, still not looking at her. Rodney was looked at her though, eyebrows raised. She shrugged.

“I’ll leave you to it then,” Nancy shook her head, shared a smile with Ronon over Rodney’s shoulder. “It was good to see you, John. Even under the circumstances.”

Nancy heard Rodney ask John a very pointed question about ex-wives at funerals as she walked away. She glanced over her shoulder to watch him gesture wildly, all while John tried to hide a fond smile that had his hazel eyes shining gold.

Dex had been quite a handful too as she recalled.

-.-.-

“So…” Dave scratched the back of his head as he led John into their father’s office – his office. Dave shook his head, “I’m sorry about what I said yesterday.” John’s footsteps paused. Dave turned to face him, meeting his eyes, “I was angry, and hurt, and I said things I shouldn’t have.”

John shrugged, his eyes lowered to the floor, “You weren’t wrong. I haven’t- ...I was avoiding contact.” He looked back up at Dave. He didn’t say that he got all of Dave’s messages to Peterson, but he was biting his lip like he was trying to keep himself from admitting it.

“And dad could have sent you a message, same as I did, but he didn’t.”

John let out a breath, stopped biting his lip.

“So, which one is it – the muscle or the mouth?” Dave plopped into one of the high back chairs in front of the desk. John’s mouth fell open. “And don’t even try to deny it, Johnnie – I was the one who told you not to marry Nancy in the first place, remember?” John’s jaw snapped shut.

“Rodney.” John sunk into the chair beside him, shoulders hunched as his bottom lip puckered out in a pout. “Not that we’re actually… I mean, there’s rules against it, and I’m…”

“Horrible about emotional communication.”

John scowled, “Thanks, Davie.” Dave smiled, winked.

“You want a drink?” Dave pushed himself up and headed for the drink cart, “As I recall, these things are easier when neither of us is sober.” John’s lips quirked up.

“Just don’t try to give me relationship advice again.” John took the tumbler of scotch that Dave offered him. “Billie never spoke to me again, after the boom box incident.”

Dave shrugged, took a sip of his drink, “In my defense, I was drunk when I said that.”

“And I was drunk when I did it.” John chuckled, shook his head.

“Maybe try something less…spectacular,” Dave gestured with his glass as he sat back down, “I got the sense this Rodney fellow doesn’t like the spotlight half as much as he pretends to.”

John shrugged, “You were always good at reading people.” He scratched the back of his head, Dave watched him with narrow eyes. “What?” John looked up at him, eyes wide.

“You love him.” Dave watched with a mixture of amusement and sadness as his brother downed the last of his drink. “Pretty sure he feels the same way, given how he glared at Nancy through half the wake.” John groaned, head falling into his hand.

“It’s not like we’re not…together, we’re just not…” John was as red as their mother’s favorite wine as he looked desperately around the room. Whatever word he was looking for did not magically appear on any of the walls. “Together.”

Dave snorted, “Are you aware you’re over forty now?” John sunk back into his chair. “That’s a no.” Dave pushed out of his chair again. He grabbed the bottle of scotch and placed it on their father’s desk in front of them before sitting down, “Alright, start at the beginning, little brother.”

-.-.-

“Are you drunk?!” Rodney had his hands on his hips when John stumbled into the hotel room.

John smiled at him, eyes swimming as he glanced around the room. When he noticed that Ronon was gone he wrapped an arm around Rodney’s neck.

“If you kiss me while drunk, I will hit you.”

John’s bottom lip stuck out, “But Rodney~” John’s whine had Rodney rolling his eyes.

“Did you talk with your brother?” Rodney walked John over to the bed and then shoved him off onto the mattress. John plopped down with a huff. “Get everything all…” Rodney waved his hands around in a wide circle, “…figured out.”

“He told me I was being an idiot,” John’s head lulled to the side, a faint smiling pulling at his lips.

Rodney’s brows scrunched together, “That’s…good?” John chuckled, nodded. “Well, good then.” He muttered about how weird Americans were as he unlaced John’s shoes and pulled them off.

“I love you.” Rodney straightened, one of John’s shoes in his hand. He looked down at John’s goofy grin. John repeated it, enunciating each word, “I. Love. You.”

Rodney dropped the shoe, “Wh-why? What?” Rodney looked over the room, spinning as he were checking for cameras, “How?”

“Well, I mean, I think there’s some brain chemicals involved, and I’ve heard certain star signs are compatible and –”

“Don’t be stupid!” Rodney rolled his eyes and swatted John’s leg, “You know what I mean.”

John just grinned at him again, “That’s what my brother and I talked about.” He wiggled his way up the bed till he was sitting up against the headboard. “How I’m hopelessly in love with you and being an idiot for not telling you.”

“Oh.” Rodney blushed. He started fiddling with the hem of his shirt. He could feel John watching him, when he glanced back up he saw that John was still smiling at him even though he hadn’t said it back. Rodney’s brow scrunched up, “Don’t- don’t you want me to say it back?”

“When you feel like it,” John shrugged, he folded his arms behind his head. His eyes were still swimming and his smile was goofy and drunk. He was absolutely adorable, but Rodney would never admit that aloud. Even under threat of torture! (Actually torture, not guaranteed.)

Rodney shuffled is feet and puckered his lips again, “Tell me again when you’re sober.” He stomped off to the mini fridge and threw a water bottle at John’s head. “It doesn’t count if you’re drunk!”

“That’s what Dave said too,” John chuckled, catching the water bottle and then gulping it down quickly. Rodney rolled his eyes and started fiddling about looking for takeout menus. John watched him with the softest smile yet, heart lighter as he watched Rodney's blush creep up to his ears.

[fckinwild-kiwi]

Time to Realize (pt. 1)

Warnings: maybe some swearing in this chapter? other than that, nothing! Word Count: 3.9k

Important note: The Greek mythology throughout this piece does not accurately represent Greek mythology to its fullest extent. Some things are changed for the sake of the story. One major point is the relationship between Hades and the rest of Mt. Olympus. With that being said, their relationship isn’t family-oriented, but Hades is welcome throughout Mt. Olympus and everyone gets along enough to be considered tolerated.

A/N: This is the first installment of the Hades!Harry fic that I’m bringing to life! The first chapter is very introductory but there are some major things that happen. I’m going to be updating this frequently (I already have the first few chapters ready)! Let me know what you think or what you’d like (or hope) to see!

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 All great love stories have a beginning. Her great love started in college. Like most people, it didn’t happen right away. Two years had come and gone before she realized what was happening and what was right in front of her. But when she noticed, oh man. The flame burned so brightly and so fiercely that nobody dared cross her or the love she shared with Hades. Persephone was a force to be reckoned with, but she had a heart of gold and an enchanting green thumb.

   If someone had asked y/n to explain how her freshman year had gone she would have grimaced before saying it was average. Like the rest of her peers, she spent numerous hours getting completely shitfaced at random parties sometimes forgetting most of the night. Another commonality between herself and the rest of the student body was the amount of coffee she consumed and the number of hours she spent cramming in the campus library for exams.    Those were all just things that had happened. During her freshman year, she had also met some of the most important people in her life. They always say that the people you become friends with in college can last a lifetime. And two years later they were still going strong. Their group started out with just y/n, Christine, and Rowan. Christine and y/n were roommates and quickly realized they had everything in common except their taste in partners. Rowan wiggled his way into the group through a mutual class that he and y/n shared. She invited him to study with her and Christine… The rest was history.    That was until Sophomore year when Harry was introduced into the group. Y/n had met him when she was working in the campus Greenhouse. She was studying to be a botanist, so the Greenhouse had become her safe space and a unique area for her to learn new tips and tricks when it came to understand the lifecycle of plants and how to prolong their cycles. She hadn’t noticed him right away; she was way too engrossed in nursing a gazania back to health. It wasn’t until she heard someone let out a frustrated grunt that she realized she wasn’t the only one there.    “Is everything okay?” She asked looking up and noticing a tall man with a brown head of hair bent over a petunia plant.    “Erm, yeah sorry. I just can’t for the life of me figure out how to properly water this petunia,” He responded with a huff before standing up fully.    “Let me help, yeah?” She said, putting her watering bin down and walking towards Mr. tall, dark and handsome. “You have to be calm and patient when dealing with plants. It’s almost as if they know that you’re frustrated. Petunias don’t need a lot of water, but- oh my god it doesn’t look like she’s been watered in like three weeks!”    “Well,” the stranger began, rubbing the back of his neck. “I haven’t had time very much to make it to the greenhouse recently…”    “That’s okay, we will make her good as new. You need to be more careful though,” she said, carefully touching the petunia while pouring water onto the plant. “I’m y/n by the way.”    “I’m Harry.”    Soon after that, y/n had invited Harry to join their group study dates and in exchange, Harry asked y/n to help him in the greenhouse so he could pass his intro-level botany class. For y/n, that was a no brainer she would use any excuse she could find to spend more time there. And with that, Harry fell into their little group with ease.    So far junior year had proven to be a lot more demanding. Classes hadn’t even started but as y/n walked up the stairs in her new apartment complex she was realizing the amount of work she had yet to do. The apartment was a simple two-bedroom/two-bath just perfect for her and Christine to continue the tradition of being roommates. As she unlocked the door to the apartment, she was pleased to find out that Christine had not yet made it to the apartment. This would give y/n time to unpack and settle in without any hovering of Christine’s sickeningly adorable and supportive family. They were ultimately the best, but y/n envied them. She was an orphan. Both of her parents had died in a car crash right after she was born leaving her to deal with the harsh realities of the foster care system. That was why she worked so hard in school, there wasn’t a whole lot of room for failure, the fate of her scholarship depended on it.    As she carried her suitcase and few boxes towards where her room would be, y/n noticed a dark red envelope laying on the full-sized bed. The envelope addressed to y/n y/l/n. She held the card in her hands, admiring the expensive and thick feeling of the envelope. Confusion welled up inside of her. Who would have had access to this room? And who would have known that she would pick this room in particular? With her patience thinning and her confusion growing, y/n ripped it open. Inside was a card that read:

We’re happy to inform you that you’ve been invited to an elite dinner party. Joining us will be the most influential people in the industry of creating and nourishing the life of all forms. Together we will enjoy a night full of laughter, industry connections, and the celebration and creation of life.    If you intend to join us, please RSVP by contacting the number printed on the back of this card.    We do hope you bless us with your knowledge of vegetation and all things botany.

Once y/n finished reading the card she sat it back down on the bed feeling as confused as she was before she opened the envelope. This invite seemed too wonderful to be true, and who would have gone through all of the work of getting into her apartment just for a sketchy invite? If it was real though, it would be a huge deal for her and her future career. ‘What the hell,’ she thought to herself. ‘I’ll just call the number later what harm will that do.’ A few moments later, y/n heard a commotion as someone was opening the door. “Oh my god,” She said running towards her friend. “I’ve missed you so much!” “How long has it been again?” Christine asked. “Okay stop, two weeks is way too long for me to go without seeing you,” y/n said, rolling her eyes. “Do you have more stuff that I could help get?” “No don’t sweat it, my dad and brother are coming up with the rest of the stuff,” Christine said. “So the weirdest thing just happened,” y/n began as she went back to her room to grab the letter. “This was sitting on my bed when I got here today. It’s so weird but oddly enough I’m super proud and excited?” “What the fuck? That is weird, you should totally RSVP though,” Christine said after she finished reading the letter and tossed it back to y/n. “If the number is something sketchy then just don’t show up but if it’s real, that’s a huge deal.” “Yeah, you’re right. Have you talked to either Rowan or Harry recently?” “I talk to Ro every day. I haven’t had a chance to talk to H, though,” Christine said, her hands overly gesturing as she spoke. “The last text he answered from me was like a month ago. It’s almost as if he’s dropped off the face of the earth.” “You’re so dramatic, he and I facetimed last week. He said he would be back to town soon,” Y/n said feeling defensive over Harry. “I’m going to go unpack and RSVP to that dinner thing. Meet back out here soon for dinner?” “Actually, I’m going to get dinner with my fam before they head back home. You can come with though?” “No that’s okay, I’ll drag you out of bed for breakfast tomorrow instead,” y/n said, before nudging Christine and walking away. “More like I’ll be dragging you out of bed,” Christine mumbled out as she walked away. On her way to her bedroom, y/n pulled her phone out and dialed the number from the back of the card. As soon as she hit call, an automated machine answered the call, “Thank you for responding to your invite. To confirm your RSVP please say confirm.” “Uhm, confirm.” “Thank you, y/n. You are now RSVP’d. The dinner party will take place on August 17th at the Radiance Resort. The event will promptly begin at 7:30 p.m. please wear attire appropriate for a gala,” the automated voice said before the call ended. “So this feels oddly real,” Y/n said out loud as she began to unpack. “I guess I’m going to a dinner party tomorrow night. After a few hours of unpacking, y/n decided to take a shower and get ready for bed. She was exhausted, moving into an apartment took way more effort than she remembered moving into the dorm did. She fell asleep quickly and easily only to be woken up by someone jumping on her bed. “Leave me alone, Christine.” Y/n said, wrapping her pillow over her head. “No, I knew this was going to happen! We agreed to breakfast this morning, so get your ass up so we can go.” “Oh my god, okay!” Thirty minutes later, y/n and Christine were seated at a local café drinking coffee as a waitress brought out their food. “So I called that number last night,” y/n said as she cut off a piece of waffle and brought it to her mouth. “And? What happened?” “I think it’s real. An automated voice answered right away like literally the second I pressed the call button. And it knew my name? I don’t know it was weird, but I feel like there was no way that was fake. This is going to be the fanciest thing I’ve ever been to.” “If it’s as fancy as you say, you’ll need a new dress!” “That’s not necessary, I think I have the perfect one,” y/n said, her leg shaking uncontrollably as her nerves for tonight started to grow.

Y/n looked in the mirror trying to calm her nerves enough to appreciate how beautiful she felt while wearing the dress she bought for prom her senior year of high school. She had worked two jobs all of senior year and was so happy when she had saved enough money to buy her dream dress. When the day of prom arrived, she ended up not going so she could help the little girl in her foster home who she had taken in as a little sister. She had a really bad case of the flu and Y/n didn’t want to leave her all alone. Thankfully though, the dress still fit and for a split second, she felt as if she was a senior again, getting ready to dance her heart out. A knock on the door startled her out of her wishful haze, “Hey Chris, can you get that?” “Hey Haz,” y/n heard Christine say from the hallway. “What are you doing here?” “I’m here to pick up y/n for the dinner thing tonight.” Y/n strapped on her heels before grabbing her purse and walking out into the entryway. “Harry what are you doing here, you can’t be going to the dinner party…” “You look-you look Woah,” Harry said, as he pulled you into a hug. “I’ve missed you.” “Thanks, Harry,” Christine said, interrupting the moment. “I missed you too!” “You know I always miss you, Chris,” Harry said, before redirecting his attention back to y/n. “You ready to go?” “Yeah, I’m good. See you later Christine,” y/n said as she followed Harry out of the apartment. “Really though, you know you’re my favorite but how did you get invited?” “I’m offended that you would for a second, doubt my worthiness.” “Well, you do suck at botany and I thought that’s what this was for?” She asked as they approached Harry’s range rover. “The whole thing was super vague though, so maybe I’m just misunderstanding everything.” “It was a bit vague, it’s not all about botany… Although you could say that’s a major part. If it was all about botany, then you’re right. I wouldn’t be invited.” “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you,” y/n said, reaching up to pinch Harry’s cheek. “Just so you know, I didn’t say it earlier, but I missed you too.” The rest of the ride to the hotel was quiet. Y/n kept thinking about what was going to come. What was she getting herself into? As they pulled into the parking lot, she noticed the number of high-end cars covering the parking spaces. Instantaneous dread washed over her body. “Harry,” y/n said, grabbing onto tuxedo covered arm. “I don’t think I can do this. We should go home. We could watch a movie together or even grab a hamburger. I don’t care what we do but I don’t want to go in there. I’m not fancy enough for these people; they’re going to see right through me.” “It’s going to be okay love, trust me,” Harry said as he put the car in park and shut the engine off before unbuckling his seatbelt. “Give it half an hour. If you still hate it, we will leave. I bet you’ll feel at home though.” “Okay, let’s hurry though before I really do chicken out.” As they walked into the ballroom, y/n was in awe of the elegance that surrounded the room. Everything looked as if it had the essence of heaven surrounding it. With soft white lighting and pale blue tablecloths adorning the tables, it was breathtaking. Y/n looked around at the people mingling amongst themselves. It looked like something out of a movie, way too beautiful and otherworldly. “C’mon, love,” Harry said, pulling her further into the room. “It’s about to start and there are a few people I would like to introduce you to.” Harry took her hand and guided her towards the rest of the people at the party. “Tina,” Harry said, getting the attention of the woman standing before them. “This is y/n.” “Oh, my Gods! I’m…Tina!” The woman said enthusiastically. “We’re so excited you could make it. We’ve heard so much about you. I’ve heard your botany skills are just magical.” “Well thank you so much, they’re not that impressive though,” Y/n said, her cheeks heating up. “But standing next to Harry here, they’re probably the best in the world.” “I’ve seen that guy in action so even without seeing what you can do, I’d believe- “ “Y/n!” A voice boomed, interrupting the unknown man previously talking to y/n. “Ignore Herman, it’s so good to finally introduce myself. I was a friend of your parents... My name is Jove. You’ve grown into a beautiful woman; your parents would be so proud.” “You knew my parents?” “We were like family, sweetheart,” a woman’s voice said, approaching y/n with tears in her eyes. “My name is Demi. I just- wow, you’re so grown up!” “It’s time to begin dinner,” Jove said, garnering the attention of the rest of the attendees. “Everyone please make your way to your assigned spot at the tables. Dinner will be served momentarily.” Harry placed his hands-on y/n’s lower back, ushering her towards their table. Y/n was more overwhelmed than she had been when she enrolled for her first semester at University. How did everyone know who she was? How did they know her parents? And why did she feel oddly comfortable around these unknown people? The rest of the night continued on rather smoothly, the anxiousness and overwhelming feeling that was falling on y/n’s shoulders at the beginning of the night was washed away. Dinner was spectacular and the live music that was playing softly in the background sounded brilliant but the best part of the whole thing to y/n was Harry. He really looked like he was in his element and for the first time since they become friends, she was picturing a real relationship with him. The whole night felt too domestic, too optimistic. “Y/n,” Harry said, gaining y/n’s attention as he stood up and gently grabbed her elbow. “Come with me, there’s something I’d like to show you.” “Okay,” she responded immediately getting up to follow him. Once again, he placed his hand on her lower back, this time, instead of guiding her towards their table, they were walking towards a wide array of vegetation ranging from flowers to fruits and vegetables that were located right outside of the ballroom. “Oh, Harry,” y/n said, her eyes wide as she placed her hands onto her heart before reaching up and pulling him into a hug. “This is so beautiful.” “I knew you’d like it, I also noticed that there were a few flowers that were dying and thought maybe you’d like to look at them? Maybe we could fix them together,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Of course,” She answered, reaching up to kiss his cheek before pulling back away, her cheeks burning. “Let’s take a look at them.” Y/n followed Harry over to the other side of the arrangement where there were, in fact, a handful of flowers that looked brown and in need of love. Y/n grabbed Harry’s hand, bringing it towards the flowers, as his hands touched the nearest flower, it started to wilt faster causing Harry to instantly retract his hand. “C’mon love, you know that I don’t get along the best with these sorts of things,” Harry said his eyebrows furrowed. “You though, you’re incredible with bringing them back to life. How about you try instead?” Y/n nodded before stepping forward, placing one hand on the dying flower and the other on the nearby watering bin before she gently started pouring water on it. Almost instantaneously the flower started to come back to life, its color becoming the most vivid and prettiest shade of blue. “Incredible,” Demi said with tears in her eyes, making her presence in the room known. “I knew it was you, I just needed to see it with my own eyes.” “What do you mean?” Y/n asked, confused as she looked at Demi and then at Harry. “Let me explain it to her a little later, yeah Dem?” “That will be good, H,” Demi said, as she walked towards the pair. “I’d like to invite you to eat dinner with me really soon… Had-Harry is invited too of course…” “Oh, um okay, sure,” Y/n said, confusion was bubbling through her again. “What do you need to tell me, Harry?” “How about I take you home and we can talk about it there?” “H, I came here to make connections… I haven’t even talked to anyone with regards to botany.” “No sweetie, we all watched you just now. And we’ve been keeping an eye on your progress especially while you’ve been in school. I’ll give you my phone number but just know that you’ve made lots of connections,” Demi said as she approached y/n with a slip of paper. “Thank you so much,” y/n said, grabbing the piece of paper. “I’ll definitely call you then.” “You two get out of here, you’re too young to spend your whole night with a bunch of old people,” Demi said, pushing them towards the door. “I’ll make sure to tell everyone else you said bye. I’m sure you’ll see them all soon!” Harry grabbed y/n’s hand leading them out of the hotel and back towards his car. Y/n’s mind was reeling. “You have a lot of explaining to do, mister.” “I know I do,” Harry said as he closed his car door behind him and grabbed her hand again. Y/n looked down at their connected hands and for a split second forgot about the wild night she had just experienced. For a moment it was just her and Harry again just enjoying each other’s presence. Neither of them saying a word afraid that they might ruin the moment. Y/n looked at Harry watching him while was driving. “H, thank you for tonight. It was definitely weird and of course, we need to talk about what you know that I don’t but I’m so happy you were here with me.” “Oh love,” Harry said, releasing a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “I’m so relieved to hear you say that.” “Jesus Harry, were you worried that I would be repulsed by the idea of hanging out with you alone?” “Of course not,” He said, gently nudging her arm with his free hand. “I just- you just make me nervous sometimes and I wanted to make sure you were okay with being here, with me.” “I would literally not want to be with anyone else, especially at an event like that one,” Y/n said, smiling up at Harry as he pulled back into the parking spot at her apartment complex. Harry smiled to himself as he turned the car off and walked to the other side to open y/n’s side, helping her out of the car as well. Y/n grabbed his hand, bumping into him slightly as they walked together. “Y/n,” Harry said, stopping in front of her door and rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ll come by tomorrow and explain everything to you… I just want to warn you that it’s weird and please keep an open mind. I don’t want you to think differently about me…” “Harry, I would never think differently of you,” She said as she pulled him into a hug. As they pulled apart, y/n took a moment to look at his face. Really study his features. As she kept staring, she couldn’t help but think that there was no possible way that a man has ever looked as beautiful as Harry did. Instead of letting her mind control her actions, y/n decided to jump the gun and listen to her heart. She hesitantly put her arms back around his neck and pulled him down to her level, pressing a chaste kiss to his unexpecting lips. Harry pulled back, surprised by the kiss before pulling y/n back in and wrapping his arms around her waist. Again, this time surer of herself, y/n leaned in bumping her nose with Harry’s before closing the gap between the two. As y/n’s lips touched Harry’s soft plushy ones for a second time, they molded together as one causing y/n to lose all the doubts she had about her friendship with Harry and what this meant. She believed that this was how kissing was supposed to feel, like the missing half of your soul meeting the other part of it. After a few minutes of enjoying Harry’s lips on hers, y/n pulled away with her eyes closed and a smile etched on her face. Slowly she opened her eyes to see a grinning Harry looking down at her, curiously. “Goodnight, Harry,” Y/n said breathlessly, before slowly turning around and opening her door. “Goodnight, love,” Harry said, smiling as he turned around and shook his head. As he walked away, she thought she heard say, “You blow my mind, my sweet Persephone,” but she brushed it off, assuming it was all in her head.

[nakey-cats-take-bathsss]

Life As We Know It 

Clarke and Bellamy have nothing in common except mutual hatred for each other and a shared love of their Goddaughter Madi. When the loss of their best friends forces them to move in together and raise Madi as their own, they'll have to come to terms with their relationship and the fallout of Lincoln and Octavia's death.

It may just take a few exploded diapers, pounds of applesauce and 5000 re-watches of Little Orphan Annie for them to figure out they don't hate each other so much after all.

Based loosely off the romantic comedy of the same name

Completed! 

*Ch. 1 posted below + AO3 Link* 

Prologue 

February 2nd, 2019

“What you want to do is capture the essence of his expression. It’s all in the eyes!” Clarke instructed, gesturing to the model in the middle of the room. She took in her favorite view, Friday afternoon charcoal sketch class. The class was aimed at high schoolers, most of whom had dreams of going to art school. They were an enthusiastic bunch, she loved affirming their talent and watching them follow their dreams.

Lost in her musings of high school talent, Clarke didn’t notice Harper standing in the doorway. She took a step into the room and held up Clarke’s phone. Clarke usually didn’t keep it on her while she taught but Harper looked panicked as she pointed to it wildly.

“You guys are doing great! I just have to check up on something real quick” Clarke assured as she took off her smock and followed Harper into the hallway.

“Sorry I normally wouldn’t interrupt you but your phone has been going off like crazy, it’s an unknown number.”

Clarke nodded and quickly took the phone from Harper, just as the phone began ringing again. Confused, Clarke answered and a tinny voice replied, “Arkadia Memorial Hospital, is this Clarke Griffin?”

A pit of dread immediately formed in Clarke’s stomach as she made her way to her office. Her hands were shaking now as her mind ran through all the possibilities of why they could be calling her. The operator paused and redirected her to another line. The dread continued to grow for Clarke until the phone reconnected and she confirmed her identity to a doctor. 

“You are listed as one of the emergency contacts for Lincoln and Octavia Blake, I’m sorry to inform you that there’s been an accident. Is it possible for you to come to the hospital?” A nasal voice asked.

At the word accident, Clarke’s mind whited out and her ears began ringing. Moving on autopilot she grabbed her keys and ran out of the school, forgetting her class entirely.

 She had met Lincoln on her first week of art school. As the two oldest people in their freshman lecture, they became fast friends. Neither of them had any family to speak of, so they kind of formed one together. They supported each other during their starving artist years, their first ugly pieces and celebrated their small victories in a cramped apartment that Clarke’s dad had left her in his will. Clarke had never had siblings, but Lincoln was the closest thing to a brother she had ever known.

He was gruff but kind and the best sculptor she had ever met. His sculpting is what had brought Octavia into their lives. Back when they were fresh out of school and doing shitty gallery shows in the bad part of town, a girl with long brown hair who wore funky sweaters would come to every exhibition to stare intently at Lincoln’s art. She came every week without fail, to every gallery that Lincoln’s sculptures were shown at. Lincoln used to watch her from afar and light up whenever he saw her looking at his work. Eventually, the week before Lincoln’s sculptures hit it big, Clarke convinced him to go and talk to her. The rest is history.

Clarke had never seen two people who complimented one another as well as Lincoln and Octavia, they were truly soulmates. Octavia with her bright smile and long limbs quickly became a staple in their lives. Much like Lincoln, she was a little rough around the edges but she loved fiercely with her whole heart. She never really questioned Clarke, just accepted her as Lincoln’s sister and loved her as such. It seemed logical of course when their daughter Madi was born that Clarke would be her Godmother. 

She reached Arkadia Memorial in record time and ran as fast as she could to the emergency department. When she reached the waiting room she skid to a halt, in front of her was none other than Octavia’s brother Bellamy Blake folded over in a chair wearing a worn Arkadia Fire Department sweatshirt and sporting red rimmed eyes.

    April 11, 2015

“Maybe I should just cancel…” Clarke held the phone between her shoulder and ear as she washed her paintbrushes in the sink.

 “You’ve been single for 3 years and  he just moved here, it's the perfect time for you both to start over.”

“I’m going to give you a code word…if I text you a fireball emoji he’s trying to murder me and you need to come save me,” she said seriously, drying the brushes and carefully placing them back into a chipped mug. 

She readjusted the phone and grabbed a rag to wipe down the paint splattered tables.

“You won’t need a code word...you’re being ridiculous, I've met Bellamy. He's exactly the opposite of that oily soft boy who must not be named, it'll be a nice change.” laughter cutting into Lincoln’s fake exasperation.

 “You can never be too careful…he might be  a psycho murderer.” Clark continued, "But you're right about Finn, he was a greaseball." 

 “Clarke. Bellamy’s a little rough around the edges but he’s great. Plus it'll be nice for you guys to get to know each other before the wedding." 

 “The maid of honor and the best man, tale as old as time."

 "True as it can be." Lincoln continued, the smile evident in his voice, "I think you guys are really well suited."  

 "I'll take your word on this but if he kills me I'll haunt you from beyond the grave.”

 “I’m hanging up. Try to be positive about this.”

Logically, Clarke knew that Lincoln was right and that she needed to start putting herself back out there. Her life had been pretty boring since her best friend had met the love of his life and moved out of their apartment. Her cat shockingly doesn’t make for a sparkling conversationalist.

Since Lincoln moved out and Finn had turned out to be a dick, she had thrown herself into work.

And she was now the proud owner of a small art studio and school. Initially, it had been difficult and sad but after a small feature from a popular art blogger, it seemed that she was finally getting her footing. The small studio had grown immensely in the past year and she was able to bring in her childhood friend Harper as a co-teacher.

Clarke finished wiping the tables and examined herself in the mirror by the door. She would need a shower before she met this tall dark and handsome mystery man. She looked like she had been hit with an acrylic paint tornado. 

On her drive home she listened to her favorite motivational podcast, hoping the affirmation would bring her some confidence for the rest of the night.

As time crawled closer to the date, her excitement grew. It had been a long time since she had gotten dressed up for someone else. After a lot of trial and error she finally decided on her favorite red bodycon, a nice pair of black heels and hoop earrings. She curled her hair into loose waves and perched on her couch to wait out her date.

An hour later, Clarke's optimism was quickly dying down. He was already late. Over an hour late. Fidgeting and checking the clock again, she shifted her dress down her legs and tapped her foot. She was starting to get annoyed, restless and hungry. She considered the Babybell cheeses in her fridge and wondered whether eating one would really matter in the long run. Right as she was about to head to the fridge, there was a loud revving outside and her phone pinged with a text from an unknown number,

 “Hey it’s Bellamy, I’m here.”

Rolling her eyes at the fact that he didn’t even bother to come to the door. Clarke gathered her purse, took a deep breath and headed out.

She was met by two things, a very hot man and a very large motorcycle. 

“I’m not really dressed for a that,” Clarke mumbled as she took in the sleek black bike and the messy haired man in ripped black jeans and frayed olive-green shirt. Dammit, Lincoln was right...he looked nothing like Finn. He was tall, dark, handsome and his arms were deliciously large. 

“Hold on tight, promise I won’t read too far into it if you cop a feel” he winked at her, arms flexing as he fished a helmet out of the seat

“I said I’m not really dressed for this, I don’t know if my leg will get over it," she replied, irritably crossing her arms over her chest. 

His eyes flitted down to her boobs before he snorted, “Don’t be scared babe I gotcha.”

“I can drive us," she insisted, moving her hands to her hips. 

“C'mon baby, live a little," he groaned, pulling the helmet off his head fully. 

“Either I drive, or I go back inside,” she tapped her foot. 

“We can just go back inside and get to it, if that’s what you really want Princess…” Bellamy winked and dismounted the motorcycle, turning to gesture toward the cars lined down the street.

“I’m not a princess,” Clarke argued while fishing through her purse for her keys.

“If the shoe fits,” Bellamy was about to smirk until Clarke clicked the lock on her car and the lights went up on the smallest car he had ever seen. “There’s no way I can’t fit in it that,” he mumbled gesturing at the mini cooper.

Bellamy looked between Clarke and the car in exasperation, “Like I said…I can drive or you can leave” she said with her hands on her hips. He sighed, looked at the car and then back at her before climbing in the passenger seat and slamming the door.

“Where do you want to go?” He asked, adjusting his messy hair in the rearview mirror. 

“Well where did you make a reservation?” Clarke arched an eyebrow, she could feel her temples beginning to throb.

“I figured we would just go with the flow,” he said irritably, adjusting the collar of his jacket. 

“I know a place, it’s owned by a friend of mine and Lincoln’s from art sch-“ right as Clarke was about to finish, Bellamy’s phone began to blare a cheesy Pitbull song.

“Why don’t you get that, I’ll just wait,” she rolled her eyes and looked pointedly at his phone. The song paused and then began ringing again. 

“No it’s okay give it a sec and it’ll go to voicemail”

“I insist go ahead”

With a pained expression on his face, Bellamy answered the phone, "Heyyyyyy what’s up?” he glanced at Clarke while making affirmative noises, “Yeah how about I stop by around 10-“ he looked at Clarke again, “actually make that 9:30”

“SERIOUSLY” she yelled as he hung up

“What?! It was a sick friend!” he answered defensively, throwing his hands in the air. 

"Right, a 'sick friend'," she mocked, rolling her eyes for what felt like the thousandth time. 

"Yes. They umm very ill and need assistance," 

"I would LOVE to know what illness can only be cured by your PENIS," she yelled, she could feel her face beginning to heat up. 

"Oh my god chill the fuck out!" he yelled back, turning his body fully to face her. 

“We don’t have to do this…I know it means a lot to Lincoln and Octavia but you don’t seem to care since you answered a booty call in front of me,”

“I can't believe Octavia said you were cool, suburbia has gotten to her. You’re literally the most uptight person I've ever met,” He smirked

“GET OUT OF MY SMART CAR” Clarke yelled, jumping out of the car and slammed the door behind her. Bellamy followed and hopped on his motorcycle without saying goodbye.

***

After a hot shower to wash away the terrible night, she put on her comfiest PJs and curled up onto the couch with a glass of wine. Sinking into the pillows, she grabbed her phone to call Lincoln. He answered on the first ring.

“I take it your date didn’t go well.” Lincoln sighed, the disappointment evident in his voice.

 “Linc…we didn’t leave my street.”  

 “Did you even give him a chance? Behind the motorcycle he really is a good dude,”

 “HE ANSWERED A BOOTY CALL IN FRONT OF ME!!"  

 “Ugh damn it...Octavia said he had changed. I swear I didn't know."  

“I’m sorry Linc, I know you wanted it to work out but it’s not really salvageable,” Clarke sighed, knowing how much it meant to Lincoln for her to get along with Octavia’s family. Especially since the wedding was coming up soon. 

 “You guys didn’t click. It’s fine. Are you going to be fine for the wedding?"

 “We can share breathing space for the wedding but I’d prefer to never speak to him directly ever again,”

 “Sorry about your night…can’t help but feel a little responsible”. 

“It’s not your fault Bellamy thinks his penis is the best thing since sliced bread. I love you bud. You meant well and that's what matters. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, there's a glass of wine with my name on it,” Clarke hung up the phone and sighed deeply. It stung to know that she had let Lincoln down even if Bellamy was a total asshat.

Clarke closed her eyes and savored her sip of wine, dating sucked and she would honestly prefer to just die alone in peace.

Her phone pinged and much to her surprise it was from Bellamy, “Look…I don’t like you (and you obviously don't like me) but I love Lincoln and my sister so I think we should just ignore each other from now on,” Unfortunately, he was right…they were basically family and she was going to have to see his stupid handsome face at all the time. “Deal”  Clarke replied.  

 February 2nd, 2019

Clarke approached Bellamy, his head was in his hands and he looked like he had been crying. He had balled up the sleeves of his sweatshirt and used them to wipe his eyes. 

"They won't tell me anything and I've been here for an hour," he murmured, his voice was ragged and cracked at the end of the sentence.  

"I'm sorry, I was teaching I didn't check my phone," she answered quietly, not really sure why she was apologizing. She couldn't bring herself to meet his gaze. 

"You didn't miss much, I think I scared off a few nurses," he admitted and something about his expression made Clarke want to reach out and touch his hair. She refrained, shoving her hand in her pocket instead. 

"The waiting is somehow the worst part," she mumbled, not quite meeting his gaze. 

Just as Bellamy was about to answer, a solemn faced doctor approached them both, “Clarke Griffin and Bellamy Blake?”

They both nodded, and Bellamy stood to stand behind Clarke, sure to maintain a healthy level of distance. She wrung her hands together and shifted from side to side. The doctor's expression was unreadable and it was making her stomach turn. Bellamy was nervously tapping his fingers against his leg and the sound of his skin hitting the denim was starting to grate on her. 

“Lincoln and Octavia were rear ended on the highway by an 18 wheeler. It was a very serious accident.” The doctor grimaced, gesturing for them both to take a seat. The pit in Bellamy's stomach grew as we took a seat on the bench next to Clarke. Their legs were squished together and she reached out, carefully placing her hand on his knee. His skin tingled, this was the first time Clarke had touched him non-violently in years and it felt strange but he placed his hand over hers. Whether he liked it or not, she was the only person who understood how he felt right now.  

"So when can we see them?" Clarke asked, voice shaking.  

The doctor, set his clipboard down on the bench beside him and leaned forward. "Their injuries were very severe, they were both in surgery for several hours and had the best possible care. We truly did the best that we could. But unfortunately, with accidents like this, it's a lot of pain and stress on the body. In the case of Lincoln and Octavia, their bodies just couldn’t handle the damage. I’m so sorry to have to tell you this, but we lost them." 

Clarke crumpled, chest heaving and ears ringing. Bellamy wrapped an arm around her uncertainly, he felt like he was frozen. It didn't feel real. It wasn't possible. Bile rose in his throat and a wave of nausea washed over him. Octavia was dead. 

“Their daughter…they have a daughter, she’s one. Is she okay?” Clarke said suddenly, whipping out of Bellamy's grip. Tears filled his eyes as panic set in, he hadn't considered that Madi could have been in the car with them. 

It was only then that they noticed a police officer standing to the right of the doctor. He was equally solemn faced and took a seat beside the doctor. 

The police officer spoke quietly, “Madi is fine. She was in the care of a minor at the time of the accident and has been released to DCFS. We will look into you both being able to see her tomorrow.”

Bellamy let out a sigh of relief as a complex set of emotions washed over him. Grief for his young, vibrant sister and her strong, caring husband, relief that Madi was alive and overwhelming sadness for the parents that she would never know. Shocked that somehow he was the last Blake standing. He placed his hand over Clarke’s on his shoulder, he might not like her but she’s all he had in this mess.

[jadeender]

Altered: Epilouge

The next morning each of them woke up in their beds. Curse, Ravio, and Legend were all returned to Legend’s house. Time woke up the next morning in bed at Lon Lon Ranch to a cry from Malon, happy he was back. Sky awoke in the still recovering Castle in his room and immediately sought out Zelda to tell her what had happened, who he'd seen. Warriors awoke in a similar way, hoping the trouble he'd be in back in his own home would have dispersed.

Wind and Tempest awoke in the bedroom they would now share, with Aryll running in crying happily that her brothers were home. Wild woke up alone in his house in Hateno village and sighed. Twi too woke up in his home alone.

Hyrule was returned to his home and awoke to go talk to his Zelda's, they deserved to know where he'd been. Four and Maverick awoke in Fours house/ forge. 

Three months later

Maverick crossed out of the shadow realm and stood in front of the farmhouse at Lon Lon Ranch. They've planned a little party to celebrate the end of their adventure and everyone was coming. Even Savage and Noble had been convinced to come. 

The past few months had been good, Four had resumed his job at the forge and was making weapons, cups, cutlery, and just about everything you could from metal. Just to have something to do Maverick had decided to take up some metal engraving, his shadow blades were small and precise enough he never made a mistake the embellishments be added to his lights products had been very popular with the locals. 

Officially the locals knew him as Fours brother, having travelled to visit his brother and deciding to stay. This suited him just fine, because I'm a way he felt like he was. 

He was still working on figuring out who he wanted to be, he'd rediscovered a passion for reading and spent much of his down time in books. And he was living a good life, he didn't like to be around people but the townspeople were kind and the quiet retreat of the forge were enough to keep him doing fine. 

Four stepped up next to him and opened the door and gave his friend a mischievous smile. It was time to see everyone again.

They walked in and pretty much the entire hang had already arrived. Malon was busy bustling around, Wild was in the kitchen cooking with Legend passing out plates and forks. 

The others were sitting at the table telling stories from the past month. At the moment Warriors was dominating the conversation as bombastic as ever.

"Training the new army is going much better than I'd thought it would. A good number of men came from across Hyrule when we put out the call for soldiers. We compensated the families of the old army, and Zelda and I have been personally visiting them when possible and set things right. It's not perfect but we're working towards perfection. Soon the new army will be fully trained and it'll be business as usual." Warriors said gesturing.

"A whole army trained in 3 months? Only you could do that 'captain'." Hyrule mocked laughing at his own joke, the others cracked up as well and then noticed the two new entrants into the house.

"It's good to see you again." Time intercepted them as they headed to the table. He looked different, almost younger with the armor and like a burden had been lifted. 

"Happy to be here." Maverick replied forcing eye contact, no longer scared of it. 

Four and Maverick took seats at the end of the table were Wind was regaling Ravio and Curse with tales from home. He was in the middle of talking about their most recent adventure with Tetra fighting of an enemy horde of pirates.

"It really was amazing. He's getting much better at controlling his powers, the whole fleet was swept up in a storm and delayed by a week. By the time they reached us they were almost too tired to fight." Tempest shifted uncomfortably at the mention of him but quickly switched to bravado.

"Don't pretend like it was your idea, it was my plan that saved you when they tried to take you hostage." He pointed out very self assured.

"Yes because calling down lightning is exactly what I would have done, you know considering I was inches away from the guy, that was real safe." Wind shot back.

Everyone got a kick out of that laughing at the twos “arguing”.  By then the table had been set and they were just waiting for their last guests to arrive. Savage and Noble were the last to arrive but when they did there was a noticeable difference. Whatever injuries they had suffered from fighting Maverick were completely healed. 

Noble was of course dressed in his best, his tunic and cloak were high quality and his braided hair was free of any and all dirt, decorated with what appeared to be ribbons, and peculiarly enough a golden feather. Savage was himself. Although apparently living with Noble was a good influence on his as his hair and clothes were clean and free of blood stains, though his tunic still had some characteristic tarrering, the dark wolf pelt wrapped around his shoulders. 

Maverick got up and greeted them first, gulping slightly. "Hey so, I'm sorry for what happened while I was under Callous's control. I don't really remember what I said or what I did but I know we fought, and I'm sorry."

He squirmed waiting for a second. He knew whatever fight they'd had he'd won much to his own surprise. But had no idea how they'd treat him now.

"It wasn't you." Savage replied gruffly. "No doubt you would have never chosen to attack us if not for that bastard, I'm only sad I wasn't there to see him die. I won't hold any grudges, as long as you don't hold any against me."

Maverick unconsciously touched his neck where scars of wolves teeth lingered and nodded. "You did what you had to do then, Eternal was the one to blame, not you."

Savages features softened a little, and gave Maverick a look one could almost call enduring. "But if we ever fight again don't think you'll win. You proved you can win a fight for once, but don't get cocky."

Maverick nodded, his face determined..even though he had been under someone else's control the skill had been his own, he was a better fighter now and not a scared one at that.

Noble gave him a look and with his scratchy voice just said, "it's good to see you not in a fight."

The last two sat and the meal started. Despite the term "little party" they'd gone all out. Stew, various meats, pies and cakes had been made. Skewers of fish and roasted vegetables, all served with cold refreshing Lon Lon milk of course.

The meal was amazing, everyone was in a good mood. And after almost an hour they started cleaning up and they retired outside to enjoy the sunset. They sat in the field with colors streaming across the sky, orange and pink and yellow. 

“I'm glad everyone’s here. It’s great to be home, and to rest. Even if Malon has been keeping me busy around the farm.” Malon laughed him as Time continued. “But I’ve missed all of you. Our adventures touring your worlds and my own, even though we had tough moments, I will always treasure that time. It was different but relieving to have others along for the journey this time. Thanks to you all I was able to return home alive, and in one piece this time.”

Time shifted as Malon stood to stand next to him. “We have a little surprise for all of you.”

Malon stood in side profile and creased down her shirt, showing just the beginnings of a baby belly. The crowd rioted! Everyone was thrilled, that after everything Time was gonna have a family, and he’d found the peaceful life all of them were still searching for. 

After a round of congratulations and everyone calmed down Four and Maverick stepped up.

“Well we can’t compete with a new baby but we do have a present for everyone.” Four held up a bag and removed from it a bangle about an inch wide. Simple silver metal but it was inlaid with a triforce, one corner of which was colored green. Maverick began to pass them out as his light continued. “Maverick and I made these together. I shaped the band and he did the engraving. After all its the spirit of courage that unites us so we figured we’d make a physical reminder of that. Something to make sure we don’t forget each other.”

“And for the darks, we may not be spirits of courage, but we’ve all shown we’re not cowards either. So we made these.” The bangles were identical to the ones they’d given to the other except the corner of the triforce was the color of each of their eyes. He’d painstakingly made sure to find paints to match each of them. “We’re not like the lights but not completely different. And i thought this would be a good way to remember them.”

Maverick pulled the last one out, its corner a brilliant blue and slipped it on. 

“They’re beautiful.” Noble said slipping is on and admiring the glinting metal. “You matched it perfectly.”

____________________________________________________________________________

The rest of the evening passed quickly, they made a campfire out there under the stars in Lon Lon Ranch. Sharing stories and enjoying one last night together. They talked well past midnight. And eventually guests began to leave. Tempest and Wind traveling back to their seaside home. Curse tacking Hyrule home before returning for Legend and Ravio, promising Malon he would make her a good deal to sell her Lon Lon milk in the other hyrule, offering a generous cut.

Noble and Savage stayed much longer into the night but eventually left as well, bound for bed, napping apparently being something they’d taken to recently now that the adventure was over, no doubt they had plenty of sleep to catch up on. 

Twilight and Wild were staying at the ranch for a little while so they also went up to their rooms until only Four and Maverick remained.

"It's time we went home." Maverick said standing from the couch he and Four had been sitting on as they chatted with Time and Malon. 

"You're welcome to stay here tonight if you want. You know we have the room." Malon offered, but the two refused.

"We'll be home in seconds, and there's nothing better than your own bed." Four said as he also got ready to leave.

"I can't argue with that." Time smiled and caught them before they could vanish. "Remember you're always welcome here, whenever you want to drop in, please do."

"We appreciate it." Four answered as story disappeared into the shadows and reappeared in a room with two bunk beds and one single bed off on its own. 

Maverick flopped down on the single bed as Four looked pensively at the bunk beds as if trying to decide where to sleep.

Eventually he picked the bottom bunk of one bed and laid down. And everything was calm in the house, darkness fell over the room and the two lapsed into sleep, their adventure finally over.