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spoopydooblr · 1 year

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My King Will Be Kind Chapter 7 / Kendall Roy x OC

an: YALL ITS BEEN A MIN! my bad!!! ive just been doing my thang and honestly fell out of love with this story for a sec. i had to rewatch some episodes of s4 to get myself back into it and here we are! this chapter is a bit of a filler, as next chapter is going to be Living Plus which should be a shitshow lmao. PLEASE enjoy and lmk what u think! i love getting your messages it literally makes my day!

tw: mentions of death, cursing

Even when the first season of Delirium came out and was trending on every platform, Stella was still flying mostly under the radar. Sure, she had her fans, but the hype around her was nothing like it was now.

Stella had given up on Twitter, as the reactions to her and Kendall were not so great. People either had no fucking idea who she was or were completely disappointed in her choice in men.

im not gonna lie idk who tf stella allen is

Stella...girl...kendall roy...?

E! News even did a segment on her a few nights ago.

"Who is Kendall Roy's new girlfriend?" The peppy anchor said. "Well I've got you covered, folks!"

Some of Stella's scenes from Delirium flashed across the screen. They even had a blurry pap picture from the wedding to complete the package.

After the segment, her mother called her, almost in tears.

"Stelly, baby, what have you gotten yourself into?" She asked.

"Everything's fine, Mom, please don't worry."

"I don't want you involved with that family. Your dad hated ATN, remember? And that guy...how old is he?"

She cringed. "I know, I know."

"I thought you liked that boy from the movie?" Her mother mentioned.

"You mean Damien?" Damien was a costar who she went on two dates with over a year ago. she knew her mom wanted the best for her, but that had been over.

"He was such a nice boy. Why don't you call him?"

"He broke up with me, remember?"

"Oh." She thought for a moment. "What about--"

"I like Kendall, Mom."

"Really, babes?"

"Yeah..." Stella paused. "I mean, he's actually a really good guy."

"I'm sure he is, but doesn't he have kids? Doesn't he have an addiction problem? Are you really ready to deal with all that?"

"He's clean now, he told me."

"Isn't that what every addict says?"

"He barely has time to use, Mom, he's so busy."

"How does he make time for you, then?"

Stella thought for a moment. To be honest, she didn't know how to answer her mother's question. Things were hectic, to say the least, for the Roy's right now.

As she sat in her apartment, scrolling through Twitter and defending herself against her mother, Kendall was at his father's wake. He had invited her to go with him, but warned that all of his family and company would be there.

"It's gonna be a fucking fuckfest." He had told her.

Though meeting Shiv was definitely on her radar, Stella couldn't bring herself to go. It wasn't even really a wake, it was more like a business meeting in a dead man's penthouse. There wasn't a place for her there, and she didn't want one. Kendall didn't seem disappointed, as there were other things on his mind. Neither of them wanted to be questioned by his family when there were important decisions to be made.

"It's going to be tough, Mom, but I like him. It'll be okay."

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It was later that night when Kendall appeared on Stella' doorstep again. They had been texting every day, but with Logan dying, Kendall and his siblings were busy. It almost felt like things were back to normal, if it weren't for the thousands of tweets about their relationship. She thought that Logan's death would have surpassed them in the news, but it only intensified the spotlight on her and Kendall.

Again, it was late at night when Kendall called her, saying he was at the front door. This time Stella was more prepared, as she was still up doing work. Still, she was eating cold pizza out of the box and wearing a big t-shirt and shorts when he called.

"You need to stop doing this." She teased, opening the door for him.

He was quiet as he stepped into the threshold of her tiny apartment. For once, he had nothing to say to her as he entered.

"What's up? How was the wake?" She ran her hands down his arms, genuinely concerned about his mood.

"It's--" He started. "It's me."

"What do you mean, baby?"

"It's me. I'm...I'm CEO. Me and Rome, we're gonna do it but it's me, mostly."

Stella's jaw dropped. Sure, she was used to having Kendall as COO of WayStar, but CEO? This was on a whole different level.

"You're what?"

"I'm the fucking CEO." He said, looking at her, his hazel eyes brimming with tears.

"You're the fucking CEO."

"Yeah."

Stella threw her arms around him. Though it was a bit of a shock, she knew that CEO was Kendall's dream. He worked his entire life to be in this position and he was finally getting to it. He returned the hug, picking her up.

"H-how did this even happen?"

"Dad wrote it down. Before he died. The board still has to decide, and the GoJo deal is still there, but for now, yeah, I'm it."

"Oh my God. That's insane."

"I know. Fuck."

"What have you done to celebrate?" She asked.

"Well, I just got out of the wake." He sat down on her couch. "I came right here."

Stella's heart soared. It made her incredibly happy that Kendall wanted to share this news with her first. She sat down next to him, trying to ignore the pizza crusts on the table next to them.

"Well what do you want to do?" She genuinely meant it, not in a sexual way.

"Honestly, I just really need to sleep. I, uh, have to be in the office tomorrow at eight."

"Oh, shit, okay."

"It's okay. I wanted to see you before the shit show starts tomorrow."

"Well, you're welcome to stay as long as you want, but I don't want to keep you."

"No, no." He pulled her into him. "You're stuck with me."

"In that case..." She kissed him softly. "Do you wanna smoke some weed?" Stella nodded towards the pipe on her endtable. There was a half-smoked bowl inside already.

Kendall smiled, "I think you read my mind, pretty girl."

She laughed, trying to reach the pipe while still in his grasp. Her hands reached the bowl and Kendall magically produced a lighter.

They sat across from each other on the couch, Stella handing the pipe to Kendall.

"You first, Mr. CEO." She giggled when a giant smile spread across his face.

He thanked her, taking the bowl and lighting it.

"Wait," Kendall said. "Won't this set off the alarm?"

"Oh, they're broken, don't worry." Stella laughed.

He nodded, lighting the pipe and inhaling.

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After twenty minutes and a few too many puffs later, Stella was curled into Kendall's arms on her tiny couch.

"The wedding was nice, you know." She whispered into the cold morning air.

"I'm sure it was. Con planned the whole thing."

"It was beautiful. Even the loony cake."

Kendall chuckled. "I'm glad you stayed. It says a lot about you."

"I love family. And I love weddings."

"You want a big wedding, Stella girl?" He said, weed clouding their minds.

"Yeah." She said, eyes glazed over. "I want a huge ring too. You think you can do that, Ken?"

"Definitely." He smiled, secretly promising to himself that he would actually, one day, make that happen.

"Not a boat though. Kinda tacky."

"Anything you want, Stell."

"Think you can get both of our families to get along?"

"That, I'm not so sure about."

She was quiet for a second. As much as talking about weddings was fun, it just reminded her of her father. Who would walk her down the aisle? Who would she dance with at her first dance?

"What's on your mind?"

"Nothing, I--" She started, "I miss my Dad."

"Me too." Kendall said.

She immediately felt bad for even thinking about her own grief. Kendall's wound was still fresh while Stella had grieved over a year ago.

"What happened to him?"

"He, um, went to sleep one night and didn't wake up." Hot tears pricked at her eyes. "My mom woke up next to his body. It was like, the worst thing ever."

"I'm sorry."

"No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't be talking about it right now. You're like, grieving your own loss."

"My Dad was a piece of shit." Kendall laughed. "But he was still my Dad."

"I know baby." She looked up at him, both holding back tears. "I know."

He kissed her softly. All she could see in the dark room was his face.

"I think I love you." Kendall said, like it was the easiest thing in the world.

"What?" Stella sat up. She was not expecting to hear those words.

"Sorry, uh--" Kendall stuttered, and for once, he didn't really know what to say.

"You love me?"

"Yeah. I fucking do." They sat across from each other on the couch again, Stella frowning to herself.

She had no fucking idea what to say, but she knew one thing. "I love you too, Ken." Stella mirrored the goofy smile plastered on his face.

"I fucking love you, Stella girl." He kissed her face all over, pushing her down on the couch. "Let me make you mine."

She hummed as his lips traveled down her neck. "I'm yours, Kendall." Stella giggled as his cold hands reached under her shirt.

"As much as I'd like to fuck you, I really have to get some rest." He whispered, putting his head on her collarbone.

Stella nodded, knowing tomorrow was just first day as CEO and staying up late wasn't exactly the best idea. "Do you wanna stay?"

Kendall's face lit up. He nodded eagerly.

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Stella was awoken the next morning by her dog growling and barking from the kitchen. He probably wanted to be taken out. She rubbed her eyes, realizing that there was barely any light coming from the curtains. It had to be four in the morning. She rolled over, expecting to find Kendall, but he was nowhere to be found.

"Ken?"

"In here!" His voice boomed from the kitchen.

Stella reluctantly got out of bed, walking to the kitchen and seeing possibly the funniest thing she had ever seen.

Kendall was sitting criss-cross on the counter, hiding away from her dog. Stella couldn't help but laugh. Her dog was less than 15 pounds and was all bark and no bite. Of course, Kendall didn't know that and probably had never been around dogs in his life.

"Ken, oh my God." She giggled, taking a picture of his scared state on top of the counter.

"He was barking at me!"

"He's a chihuahua, Kendall." Stella said as she scooped up the little dog.

"Last time I checked, chihuahuas were mean."

"Okay, true. But Kurt is a sweetie, right baby?" She kissed the dog on the forehead. "Don't be mean to mommy's friend."

"Friend?" Kendall pretended to be hurt.

"Sorry. Don't be mean to mommy's boyfriend."

Kendall got down from the counter where Stella noticed he had been trying to make coffee with her old ass coffee maker.

"Oh, God, you didn't try to make coffee, did you?"

Kendall looked at her sheepishly. "When did you get this fucking thing? 1998?"

"When I was two years old? No."

"Jesus, you're a baby." He smiled at her. The age-gap thing was kind of weird for her still, as she had never dated someone as old as Kendall.

"And you're fucking old." She said, rummaging around to make coffee for him. "This coffee isn't great, sorry."

"It's okay. I'll have Fikret get me some. He's on his way."

Stella frowned, not ready to let Kendall leave their little bubble yet. "I'm so excited for you, Mr. CEO." She wrapped her arms around his neck. "You're gonna kill it."

#kendall roy #kendall succession #kendall roy x oc #kendall roy x reader

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klaus-is-the-real-number-1 · 4 years

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I Wanna Be Adored 2 (Number 5x reader)

A/N: wowe a part 2 of my i wanna be adored fic this is also an old draft that ive finished after s1, give the first one a read x

Request: hh.. that five imagine was so soft and sweet to read, great job <3 would you ever consider doing a part two? maybe the rest of the hargreeves meeting five's s/o? feel free to skip this one. but for real, it's such a good text <33

Words: 1529

“I’m just not drinking as much coffee anymore.” He said matter-o-factly. “I used to not be able to sleep very well so I’d just drink a lot of coffee to keep myself awake but I guess I just don’t have to anymore. I’ve been sleeping really well recently when I’ve been with you.” You smile as you feel him gently press a kiss to the side of your head. You smile contently, beginning to close your eyes, his heartbeat sounding like sweet music to your ears.

“Five, do you have a girl in your room?” A distance voice was heard echoing through the academy.

“Shit.” He mumbled into your hair, you knew it was going to be a long day in the Academy.

Five looked around frantically, trying to decide what to do. He pulled you up from his bed, mischievous glint in his eyes as he moved quickly to the window, you shake your head, trying to let him know you weren’t going to jump out the window. Giving you a wink, he pulled you towards his closet just before Fives bedroom door swung open.

“Shit. They’re not in here Diego!” Five let out a quite breathy laugh, locking his eyes with yours. It was only in this moment that you realised your closeness, it’s not like you have never been as close to Five as you were in that moment but the small space in the closest emphasised it. Five could feel the sudden change in mood as well, slowly moving his hands around your waist.

In that moment you forgot about Fives two older brothers peering out the open window, you forgot about your exams, you forgot about everything except Five. The collision of your lips felt like a thousand lighting bolts between the both of you. You were both so horrifically in love with each other but neither of you could get the words out.

Klaus and Diego had came to the conclusion that Five and y/n had either climbed out the window or teleported away, that was until they heard a loud thump come from the direction of the closet. They both slowly crept forward before swinging the closet door open expecting to find their ‘younger’ brother. Klaus and Diego were met with nothing but a few toppled over books with no answer on where Five or his ‘friend’ were.

You collapsed back onto your bed in a flash of blue, giggling like school children giddy from a sugar rush. In the closet you’d both gotten too into the moment, Five pushing you against the side of the closet wall resulting in a bang.

“I would really like to meet your family, you know.” You say softly to him, settling into a state of calm. “So at least they know who you’re with rather than stress them out when they don’t know where you are.” His hair was silky to your touch.

“I know,” He let out an almost overdramatic sigh. “They’re strange, I don’t want to scare you off. You’re the best thing that’s happened to me.” You smile at his words but you were concerned, you knew all about Fives time in the apocalypse or at least as much as he would tell you, he would sometimes let something slip about the crippling loneliness or his time in the commission.

“I’ve been able to deal with your strange ass for the past year, I think I can cope.” You slightly shove him as you speak, admiring the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles. “Maybe if you warn them in advance, then they won’t “scare me off’ and they’ll be slightly normal?”

He seemed to think about it, for just a split second the only thing whizzing around his fast mind was the thought of you meeting his family. Every possible situation that could occur whizzed through his head, every bad situation with every one of his siblings.

“Okay.”

A shiver ran down your body as you stood at the doors of the large mansion, waiting for the right time to knock at the door, or even just to convince yourself to do it. Every time you had been to the academy no one else was home, except for Pogo and Grace of course but they never asked too many questions, or Five just blips you into his room, you’d never knocked before.

But you knew you had to do this, for Five, so his family doesn’t worry as much. You’d even put on your best pair of jeans and best t-shirt, just to hope to make the right impression to his six sibling. So despite all of the atoms in your body screaming with anxiety not to knock on the door, you banged the knocker, you couldn’t even get a third knock in before the door swung open to reveal a nervous looking Five. His face lit up when he saw you, his eyes drifting up and down your figure.

“You look nice.” He said as he held his hand out for you to take, gently pulling you into the academy.

“I do try sometimes, you know.” You squeeze his hand as you stepped inside, hearing the chatter of his siblings from the other room. Letting go of his hand, you gently lift your bag from across you. Without missing a beat Five gently took it from your hand and hung it up.

“It’ll be fine.” Five whispered in your ear as you walked into the room, reassuringly placing his hand on the small of your back. Your face instantly got red as you got closer to his siblings, all of their eyes falling on you, some giving you kind smiles while some didn’t show any emotion at all.

“Hi,” You spoke softly to the crowd, giving a soft smile. “I’m Y/n.”

“She’s my girlfriend.” Five added, moving his hand from your back to around your waist, giving it a gentle squeeze. A series of raised eyebrows erupted around the room as they all glance at each other. The room fell silent until someone finally spoke up.

“It’s really nice to meet you, I’m Allison.”

“Klaus.”

“Luther.”

“Vanya.”

“Ben also says hello.” Klaus spoke again.

“Diego.”

“Come sit down.” Allison said warmly, moving over so there was enough room for you and Five to sit down. You gladly sat down with Five squeezing next to you, his hand still resting around your waist.

“So,” Klaus said as he crossed his legs and rested his head on his hands. “How did you both meet?”

“I work at Griddy’s in between school, Five came in a lot and we just ended up talking, this was nearly a year ago now I think.” You say nervously, you gripped both of your hands together to stop them from shaking.

The mood relaxed as you all made general chit chat, asking about your ambitions and your interests, how you’re doing at school and even a little bit about your relationship with Five. Diego however, had not muttered a single word, he just kept intently staring at you, maybe trying to read you and judge your character, or maybe he was still mad about when he last saw you.

A cold breeze drifted through the room, causing you to shiver and your bare arms get goosebumps. Five ran his hand down your arm, feeling how cold you were. “Want me to get you a hoodie?” He spoke quietly to you, you shook your head no to his question, not wanting to be a bother. “I’ll get you one, you’re freezing y/n, I’ll be back in a minute” The last part was spoke mainly to the room as he stood up and started walking to the stairs only to be gone in a flash of blue.

“Diego, I’m sorry!” You spoke quickly. “I’m sorry about how Five acted with you when you saw me last, I was the one who wanted to meet you all.” You were almost tumbling over your words as they spilled out of you. “I just thought you should know who Five is with when he’s not here, I’m super responsable and always make sure he’s safe.” When you finish your face was flushed, the anxiety crept up on you as you spoke, being unable to read Diegos face.

“I appreciate that, thank you,” He said genuinely. “We just worry about him sometimes, ya know.” You nodded to his words before Five appeared before you, he was now wearing a jacket over his own hoodie and holding one out to you which you gratefully took.

“We’re going to head off,” Five said to the room, waiting for you to pull his hoodie on before pulling you up by your hand. “I’ll be back later.”

“It was nice meeting you all!” You say, you received a series of ‘you too’s and ‘come back any times’s. You walked with Five to the door before wrapping you bag back around you and leaving the academy. Fives hand was instantly in yours as soon as you were walking down the steps and out into the street, swinging it as you both walked.

“I think that went rather well.”

#number 5 #number five #number five imagine #number five x reader #number five fluff #number 5 x reader #number 5 imagine #five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves #five hargreeves imagine #tua five #The Umbrella Academy

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butterflies-dragons · 4 years

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Sansa, Jon and Sweetness

I know that “sweetness” could be a bad omen for other characters in different contexts, but in these quotes of Jon and Sansa “sweetness” means innocence, family, dreams, beauty, desires and love.

Sweet Lady

Remember when Jon Snow called his mare “Sweet Lady”?

The mare whickered softly as Jon Snow tightened the cinch. “Easy, sweet lady,” he said in a soft voice, quieting her with a touch. Wind whispered through the stable, a cold dead breath on his face, but Jon paid it no mind. He strapped his roll to the saddle, his scarred fingers stiff and clumsy. “Ghost,” he called softly, “to me.” And the wolf was there, eyes like embers.

—A Game of Thrones - Jon IX

As I said before, there are so many things to say about this quote:

Jon Snow, the guy who is supposed to like the warrior woman type, whispered to his mare “Easy, sweet lady”. He could’ve said “Easy, girl”, but he said: “Easy, sweet lady”. Oh Jon, you are such a romantic dork.

Lady is also the name of Sansa’s direwolf.

Lady and Ghost are mentioned together and linked in many passages of the Books. I love it.

At this point Lady is dead, so she is literally a ghost.

Later in the Books Jon also dies. So we have a direwolf with a dead master and a master with a dead direwolf.

And guess who is the female character that is called ‘sweet lady’ the most? Yes, the answer is Sansa.

Red haired girls calling Jon Snow “Sweet” & Jon Snow calling red haired girls “Sweet”

Ygritte:

Tormund frowned down at Jon. "Best go, if it's the Mance who's wanting you."

Ygritte helped pull him up. "He's bleeding like a butchered boar. Look what Orell did t' his sweet face."

—A Storm of Swords - Jon II

Sansa:

“There's a new High Septon, did you know? Oh, and the Night's Watch has a boy commander, some bastard son of Eddard Stark's."

"Jon Snow?" she blurted out, surprised.

"Snow? Yes, it would be Snow, I suppose."

She had not thought of Jon in ages. He was only her half brother, but still . . . with Robb and Bran and Rickon dead, Jon Snow was the only brother that remained to her. I am a bastard too now, just like him. Oh, it would be so sweet, to see him once again. But of course that could never be. Alayne Stone had no brothers, baseborn or otherwise.

—A Feast for Crows - Alayne II

Jon:

Blood meant little and less amongst the free folk, Jon knew. Ygritte had taught him that. Gerrick's daughters shared her same flame-red hair, though hers had been a tangle of curls and theirs hung long and straight. Kissed by fire. "Three princesses, each lovelier than the last," he told their father. "I will see that they are presented to the queen." Selyse Baratheon would take to these three better than she had to Val, he suspected; they were younger and considerably more cowed. Sweet enough to look at them, though their father seems a fool.

—A Dance with Dragons - Jon XII

Red Hair exists Jon Snow: Lovely! Sweet!

Sweet Dreams of Winterfell

Jon and Sansa really want to go back to Winterfell, their home:

If I could show her Winterfell . . . give her a flower from the glass gardens, feast her in the Great Hall, and show her the stone kings on their thrones. We could bathe in the hot pools, and love beneath the heart tree while the old gods watched over us.

The dream was sweet . . . but Winterfell would never be his to show. It belonged to his brother, the King in the North. He was a Snow, not a Stark. Bastard, oathbreaker, and turncloak . . .

—A Storm of Swords - Jon V

That was such a sweet dream, Sansa thought drowsily. She had been back in Winterfell, running through the godswood with her Lady. Her father had been there, and her brothers, all of them warm and safe. If only dreaming could make it so . . .

She threw back the coverlets. I must be brave. Her torments would soon be ended, one way or the other. If Lady was here, I would not be afraid. Lady was dead, though; Robb, Bran, Rickon, Arya, her father, her mother, even Septa Mordane. All of them are dead but me. She was alone in the world now.

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa IV

Sweet flowery smelling

Jon is OK with sweet flowery smells:

"Maybe he never washes, so he smells as rank as a bear."

"Then I'd push him in a stream or throw a bucket o' water on him. Anyhow, men shouldn't smell sweet like flowers."

"What's wrong with flowers?"

—A Storm of Swords - Jon V

The shield that guards the realms of men. Ghost nuzzled up against his shoulder, and Jon draped an arm around him. He could smell Horse's unwashed breeches, the sweet scent Satin combed into his beard, the rank sharp smell of fear, the giant's overpowering musk. He could hear the beating of his own heart. When he looked across the grove at the woman with her child, the two greybeards, the Hornfoot man with his maimed feet, all he saw was men.

—A Dance with Dragons - Jon VII

Sansa smells sweet like flowers:

Sansa Stark, he mused. Soft-spoken sweet-smelling Sansa, who loved silks, songs, chivalry and tall gallant knights with handsome faces. He felt as though he was back on the bridge of boats, the deck shifting beneath his feet.

—A Storm of Swords - Tyrion III

On the morning her new gown was to be ready, the serving girls filled Sansa's tub with steaming hot water and scrubbed her head to toe until she glowed pink. Cersei's own bedmaid trimmed her nails and brushed and curled her auburn hair so it fell down her back in soft ringlets. She brought a dozen of the queen's favorite scents as well. Sansa chose a sharp sweet fragrance with a hint of lemon in it under the smell of flowers. The maid dabbed some on her finger and touched Sansa behind each ear, and under her chin, and then lightly on her nipples.

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa III

Sweet as Song

Jon seems fond of sweet voices and singing:

The wildlings seemed to think Ygritte a great beauty because of her hair; red hair was rare among the free folk, and those who had it were said to be kissed by fire, which was supposed to be lucky. Lucky it might be, and red it certainly was, but Ygritte's hair was such a tangle that Jon was tempted to ask her if she only brushed it at the changing of the seasons.

At a lord's court the girl would never have been considered anything but common, he knew. She had a round peasant face, a pug nose, and slightly crooked teeth, and her eyes were too far apart. Jon had noticed all that the first time he'd seen her, when his dirk had been at her throat. Lately, though, he was noticing some other things. When she grinned, the crooked teeth didn't seem to matter. And maybe her eyes were too far apart, but they were a pretty blue-grey color, and lively as any eyes he knew. Sometimes she sang in a low husky voice that stirred him. And sometimes by the cookfire when she sat hugging her knees with the flames waking echoes in her red hair, and looked at him, just smiling . . . well, that stirred some things as well.

—A Storm of Swords - Jon II

With their black hoods and thick black cowls, the six might have been carved from shadow. Their voices rose together, small against the vastness of the night. "Night gathers, and now my watch begins," they said, as thousands had said before them. Satin's voice was sweet as song, Horse's hoarse and halting, Arron's a nervous squeak. "It shall not end until my death."

—A Dance with Dragons - Jon VII

Sansa sings sweetly:

It wasn’t fair. Sansa had everything. Sansa was two years older; maybe by the time Arya had been born, there had been nothing left. Often it felt that way. Sansa could sew and dance and sing. She wrote poetry. She knew how to dress. She played the high harp and the bells. Worse, she was beautiful. Sansa had gotten their mother’s fine high cheekbones and the thick auburn hair of the Tullys.

—A Game of Thrones - Arya I

So the singer played for her, so soft and sad that Arya only heard snatches of the words, though the tune was half-familiar. Sansa would know it, I bet. Her sister had known all the songs, and she could even play a little, and sing so sweetly. All I could ever do was shout the words.

—A Storm of Swords - Arya IV

He thought of Robb, with snowflakes melting in his hair. Kill the boy and let the man be born. He thought of Bran, clambering up a tower wall, agile as a monkey. Of Rickon's breathless laughter. Of Sansa, brushing out Lady's coat and singing to herself. You know nothing, Jon Snow. He thought of Arya, her hair as tangled as a bird's nest. I made him a warm cloak from the skins of the six whores who came with him to Winterfell … I want my bride back … I want my bride back … I want my bride back …

—A Dance with Dragons - Jon XIII

Sweet Bran

Jon and Sansa remembering Bran’s sweetness:

When the dwarf grimaced, his scar tightened and twisted. "The boy's earned himself a dagger, wouldn't you say?" Thankfully Tyrion did not wait for her reply. "Joff quarreled with your brother Robb at Winterfell. Tell me, was there ill feeling between Bran and His Grace as well?"

"Bran?" The question confused her. "Before he fell, you mean?" She had to try and think back. It was all so long ago. "Bran was a sweet boy. Everyone loved him. He and Tommen fought with wooden swords, I remember, but just for play."

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa IV

When nine-and-ninety hostages had shuffled by them to pass beneath the Wall, Tormund Giantsbane produced the last one. "My son Dryn. You'll see he's well taken care of, crow, or I'll cook your black liver up and eat it."

Jon gave the boy a close inspection. Bran's age, or the age he would have been if Theon had not killed him. Dryn had none of Bran's sweetness, though. He was a chunky boy, with short legs, thick arms, and a wide red face—a miniature version of his father, with a shock of dark brown hair. "He'll serve as my own page," Jon promised Tormund.

—A Dance with Dragons - Jon XII

This post was so sweet to write ♡

#Sansa Stark #Jon Snow #Sansa x Jon #Jon x Sansa #jonsa

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honeyhan-123 · 5 years

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Say Thank You XIII

Series Summary: Nearly five years have passed since Steve Rogers saves your life without so much as a thank you. When he sees you again by chance, he makes sure that he’ll never let you go and maybe teach you some manners in the process.

Series Warning: This will be a dark!Steve fic with stalking, kidnapping and manipulating as well as non-con and dub-con situations. Please don’t read it if you don’t like that sort of thing.

Chapter Warnings: Mentions of death and hyperventilating.

Word Count: 3.2k

AN: Just a little reminder that this was set in between Civil War and Infinity War but obviously occurs over the course of a few months....

I. New York ~ II. Madrid ~ III. The Apartment ~ IV. The Trip ~ V. The Basement ~ VI. The First Lesson ~ VII. The Waiting Game ~ VIII. The First Attempt ~ IX. The Darkness ~ X. The Truth ~ XI. The Syndrome ~ XII. The Meeting

Series Masterlist

My Masterlist

XIII. The Mission

Bucky had barely even gotten halfway back to the flat he shared with Sam when he got Steve’s call. The screech of tires rang through the New York City streets as he rushed into a U-turn, immediately heading back the way he had just come. The short, less than a minute long, conversation he had just had with Steve replayed in his mind on a loop.

How the fuck had they missed this?

Bucky blamed it on the fact he had been at Steve’s, out in the suburbs nearly all day because there was no other logical explanation of how they could have missed a flying doughnut in the middle of New York City. He thumped the wheel in frustration. Maybe if he hadn’t been so lost in playing house Tony would still be here, that kid would still be here.

As he approached the house, he saw Steve out in the driveway, waiting for him. ‘Wheels up is in twenty, I just need five minutes to go talk to her and then if you could drive me out to the hanger that would be great.’

Bucky followed him numbly into the house, lost in a daze. ‘Yeah sure, whatever you want. I just… I just don’t understand why I’m not going.’

‘Because, the team needs me and I need you here Buck, I need you here with her. Not only do I need you to look after her but I won’t be able to do my job, not until I’m a hundred percent positive that she’s safe.’

‘She’ll be safe with Banner. You need me on this Steve, we have no idea what we’re going up against.’ Bucky tried to argue despite knowing how futile it was. When Steve made his mind up about something, it stayed that way.

‘She doesn’t know Banner and Banner doesn’t know her. Plus, I know she’ll be safest with you. Please Buck, I really need this. You know I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t important.’ Bucky sighed, running a hand through his tangled locks.

‘Yeah okay, I’ll babysit her for you. Just get home safe Punk.’

‘You know I will Jerk, especially now that I have someone to come home to.’ Bucky’s heart clenched as he watched Steve turn, darting up the stairs to his room, a sinking feeling settling in his chest.

You stirred as you felt someone shaking you gently, heard them softly calling your name, ushering you back into the realm of consciousness.

‘Sweetheart, open your eyes. I don’t have long and we need to talk.’ Your eyelids fluttered open at the worry you detected in Steve’s tone, your head groggy from being awoken so soon after retiring for bed.

‘Did Bucky go home? I’m sorry I had to come upstairs, I was just so tired. It’s been a big day.’ The words escaped you in a yawn, your mind still half asleep.

‘That’s okay Sweetheart, I know you’re tired and after we talk, I promise you can go back to bed.’ You jolted further awake, whatever was happening had obviously made Steve very stressed.

‘What’s going on Stevie? Why are you… Why are you packing a bag?’ You hadn’t noticed his frantic movements until this moment as you were transfixed on the small duffle bag that was slowly being filled with his belongings.

‘I have to go out of town for a few days. Three days max but probably only two. Bucky is going to be looking after you while I’m gone okay? And then, when the mission’s complete, I’ll come right back home.’ He momentarily paused his packing, coming back to the bed to cup your cheek in his palm. ‘I’ll miss you so much and I’ll be home as soon as possible but I need you to be a good girl for me. Do you think you can do that? Do you think you can behave for Bucky?’

You shook your head with fervor, ‘No, no, no, no. I don’t… I don’t understand. Why are you going? Where are you going? You can’t leave me Steve, you can’t. I need you. I know that I haven’t been the best behaved but I thought… I thought we were okay. Why are you leaving me?’ Panic heaved through your body as you clutched at him, trying to force him to stay with you.

‘I’m not leaving you Sweetheart. It’s just for a few days, I need to get in touch with some old friends and after that I’ll be right back here with you. Everything’s going to be okay, I promise.’ You hadn’t noticed the tears spilling from your cheeks until he brushed them away with his lips, kissing you softly, longingly, lovingly.

‘Everything is going to be okay Sweetheart. Bucky will look after you while I’m gone but you need to behave for him, promise me you will.’

You nodded, still not quite understanding why he was leaving. ‘I promise Stevie.’ His hands clutched yours, his eyes dancing around your face, memorising you before he picked up his bag.

‘I-’ He cut himself off, gazing out the open door. ‘I’ll miss you Sweetheart, behave.’

You nodded, clutching the sheets to your chest. ‘I’ll miss you too Stevie.’ He spared you one last longing glance before disappearing out the door, the thunk of the front door swinging shut echoed through the silent house a few moments later.

You watched as the sun rose, the sky slowly lightening turning from midnight blue to a soft and hazy cornflower and then eventually a grey-ish baby blue. The streaks of pink and orange coloured the sky just as the streaks of your tears covered your cheeks, darkening the soft grey sheets.

Only when you were certain that Bucky was awake did you finally slip from your silken prison, your feet padding over the soft carpet to the bathroom, your hands numbly twisting the cold metal taps. You relished in the warmth the water gave you, and if you tried hard enough, you could almost imagine he was here with you. All night long sleep had been evasive, the bed too cold, too unfamiliar without Steve lying by your side and now you were paying for your dependency.

You stayed in the shower for far too long but no one was there to bother you or tell you to get out, so you allowed yourself this one reprieve. It was only once you got out of the scalding hot water, your entire body burning from the heat that you realised your mistake. Just as it had been yesterday, your clothes were still downstairs, locked away in the basement and without Steve with you, you had no way of getting to them. You supposed his clothes would just have to do.

Dressed in a bottle green t-shirt and a pair of soft grey trackies rolled up more times than you could count, you made your way out of the room. You paused at the top of the stairs as you saw a door ajar. It had certainly been closed yesterday when Steve had taken you to your new bedroom. Softly, you crept over to the room, promising yourself and Steve - despite his absence - that you would only poke your head in before going down stairs to Bucky. Yet, as you approached, the promise flew from your mind, replaced with thousands of burning questions.

The room in question was clearly a guest bedroom, a calming blue motif, echoing your lonely night of staring out the window. However it wasn’t the room itself that made you pause, but the man inside. His back was to you, glistening with water from his own shower, and your eyes widened as you noticed the soft pink scars that stemmed like tree roots from his left shoulder. From his visit yesterday, you knew that he had some form of metal prosthetic yet you hadn’t realised the metal extended up past his wrist to his shoulder. Whatever had happened to him clearly wasn’t a child friendly story.

You stumbled back from your perch behind the door as he suddenly whipped around, his eyes meeting yours. ‘I- Sorry. I was just… I didn’t know what this room was. I’m sorry.’ Your gaze was locked on your hands, twisting nervously in front of you as you saw him pull a shirt on hastily.

‘It’s okay, this is just the guest room, I’m going to be staying in there until Steve gets back. Do you want some breakfast?’ You nodded softly and followed him as he led the way downstairs, heading into the kitchen. ‘What would you like Doll?’

You glanced around the room, taking a seat at the island bench. ‘Just some toast please.’

He raised his eyebrows. ‘You sure? I can whip you up some eggs, bacon too.’

‘No thanks, just toast is fine… I don’t think I’ll be able to eat anything anyway.’

He nodded pensively pausing slightly before speaking again. ‘You miss him already.’ The click of the toaster being pushed down screamed into the silence as you thought on his words. It was true. It had barely been twelve hours yet you did miss Steve, the bags beneath your eyes a clear enough indication.

‘Yeah I do, but it’s not just that. I’m worried. Why did he have to leave so suddenly? Why did he leave me here with you? Please don’t take that the wrong way, I just don’t understand what’s going on.’ The words poured from you uncontrollably as you let out the questions that had swirled around in your head all night.

‘It’s okay I get it. Personally I don’t really understand why he left me here with you either but that’s just Steve. He always has to be the hero.’ Bucky seemed lost in his memories, only to be brought back by the toast popping and he moved off, gathering a plate and some spreads for you.

As you started spreading the raspberry jam, he began speaking again. ‘Apparently yesterday, while we were busy catching up and getting to know one another, a spacecraft came down to Earth. Tony, Bruce, and the kid, Peter, and some wizard or something tried to deal with the situation but these people, they were after the time stone.’

‘The time stone?’

‘Yeah, I don’t really understand it myself but according to Bruce and the wizard there are six stones, apparently called the Infinity Stones. And there’s this guy, Thanos, who is trying to track down all six stones which will allow him to eliminate half of the human population and he already has two of them, three if we count the fact that he has Strange now - he’s the wizard who holds the time stone.’ You didn’t understand a word of what he was saying but one clear message was coming across in screaming bold letters. The world was in danger.

‘And so Steve has gone to get the Vision, he’s one of us but… well again I don’t really understand it because I wasn’t there for it, but apparently he somehow has the mind stone embedded in his brain and so we have to make sure he’s safe from Thanos. I’m not sure what the endgame is but- hey, hey, hey, don’t cry. It’s okay, you’re going to be fine. We’ll all protect you.’ He awkwardly patted your shoulder, trying to calm you down as you began to hyperventilate. It was just like the last time you were in New York.

When your breaths didn’t slow, he pulled you into his chest, wrapping you up in his warm embrace, whispering words of comfort. If you tried hard enough you could convince yourself that his large and incredibly warm body was Steve’s and that it was him soothingly rubbing your back. ‘Shhh… shhh Doll. You’re going to be fine, I promise.’

Minutes passed before you could pull yourself together enough to disentangle yourself from his embrace, because while he was comforting you, he wasn’t Steve, the one person you longed to see now more than anything.

A silence stretched over the kitchen as you poked at your toast that had grown cold but you didn’t mind, your appetite had vanished, not that you had much of one in the first place. ‘Thank you Bucky for comforting me, I just… I just don’t have the best experience with New York and now Steve’s gone and I just don’t know what to do.’

‘I understand Doll, Steve told me about what happened but you’re safe here with me and when Steve gets back from his mission you’ll be safe with him. There’s nowhere in the world where you would be safer, I can promise you that.’ You nodded accepting his words but finding it hard to trust them. ‘Hey, why don’t we play a game or something to take your mind off of things? I know Steve at least has a deck of cards lying around here somewhere.’ You forced yourself to smile, graciously accepting his offer as you followed after him, searching through the house for a deck of cards.

The day has passed slowly despite Bucky trying his best to keep you distracted. Even though he tried to hide it, you caught him nervously glancing at his phone multiple times, checking to see if there was an update. Eventually the sun had started to dip below the horizon, the sky fading from a clear blue to an orange-purple haze and eventually darkening to a gentle twilight.

Bucky had made dinner, some chilli con carne that made you feel a little homesick for Madrid but you appreciated the thought. He had brought out some wine too that you had gladly helped yourself to. Perhaps a little too much considering how long it had been since your last drink but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. The alcohol alleviated your pain and worry with every glass so it wasn’t surprising that by the end of the meal the bottle was empty. You were tempted to try and persuade Bucky to get another but your slurred words didn’t help your case. Instead he had sent you to bed, making a show of how tired he was himself and mentioning numerous times how Steve would want you to look after yourself.

Although the alcohol had helped while you were awake, when you finally drifted off to sleep it was another matter entirely. Bucky’s words from earlier in the day haunted you, conjuring up memories that had long since been forgotten of a heavy weight pressing against your body, pinning you down onto the hard tarmac, the screams of unseen civilians, the blood of those that hadn’t been quick enough. And Steve.

Steve being beaten by numerous aliens, his shield lay discarded, broken in two by your face as he fought defenselessly. You tried to warn him, tried to scream at him as one of the Chitauri crept up behind him, its’ scepter in its hand, ready to deliver a fatal blow. You could only watch in horror as Steve fell, a gaping hole in his chest right over his heart, the life fading from his eyes as the Chitauri cheered in victory.

Bucky heard the sobs first, uncertainty as to what to do crawling through him. Although you had spent the day together, he wasn’t sure where he stood with you, whether or not you would appreciate him coming in and trying to comfort you. He also didn’t want to overstep with Steve, he knew that you were his girl and that a bedroom was a very private place, so he did nothing, merely sat out in the hallway listening to you cry.

It was only when he heard the screams that he realised you must have been asleep, suffering from a nightmare. Considering everything that he himself had gone through, he could understand just how terrifying they could be so he didn’t hesitate before standing up and rushing into your room. He watched for a moment as your body writhed on the bed, unsure of how to proceed. Personally for him, he had to be woken up from a distance, the light turned on and someone calling his name otherwise things could turn very bad very quickly, but he doubted that would be an issue for you.

Instead, he softly padded over to you, gently pressing a hand against your shoulder, shaking you softly as he called your name. He watched as you slowly came out of it, your screams ceasing before your eyes slowly fluttered open. ‘Bucky? What’s going on?’ Your voice was hoarse from the screaming and his heart hurt as he saw you so broken.

‘Shhh… It’s okay Doll, you were just having a nightmare. It’s okay, Steve’s okay.’ You nodded as he handed you a tissue to wipe your tears with.

Bucky waited until he thought you had calmed down enough before he made to stand up from the bed, his own calling to him like a siren. When he got to the door he heard you softly call his name. ‘Bucky?’

Turning back around, one hand on the door handle, he waited to hear what you needed. ‘Could you stay? Please?’ A rampage of emotions flowed through him as he processed your question. On one hand there was nothing he wanted more but on the other hand he knew that was the exact reason why he shouldn’t. Yet finally, the memory of Steve making him promise to look after his girl surfaced, making his mind up for him and so he nodded, shedding his shoes and pants, crawling into the silken sheets, his heart racing as you curled into him, pressing your body against his. ‘Thank you.’ He couldn’t respond as he felt your heart rate calm down, your breaths slowing, becoming deeper as you fell into a slumber.

His heart ached as he stared up at the ceiling, his arms wrapped around you. He tried to convince himself that it wasn’t because he wanted you to be his, just that he wanted someone and the way that your body curled against his, despite seeing just how torn and broken he was, gave him hope that maybe, one day, he would find his someone.

Eventually, his eyes drifting shut as his breathing matched yours, a faceless woman dancing through his dreams.

You were awoken by the shrill of a ringtone, screaming into the silent bedroom, a groan escaping you as the warm body beneath yours moved, leaving the bed in search for the culprit. Through your shut eyes you listened in on the conversation absentmindedly, stretching your body as you tried to wake your mind up.

‘Steve, hey. What happened, how’s Wanda and the Vision?’ You couldn’t hear Steve’s response, but you could almost feel the tension build in Bucky as a long silence stretched before he responded. ‘Are you sure that’s the best idea?’ You waited again and heard Bucky sigh. ‘Yeah okay, I’ll go wake her up and pack a bag. We’ll meet you at headquarters.’ He hung up and turned to you, poking you gently in the cheek. ‘I know you’re up Doll, we have to go.’ That was enough for you to instantly open your eyes, searching his.

‘What? Where are we going?’

Bucky’s lips pursed as he answered, his brow furrowed in thought.

‘Wakanda.’

Tags will be added in a reblog

XIV. The Reunion

Series Masterlist

My Masterlist

#steve rogers #steve x reader #steve rogers x reader #dark!steve #dark steve #dark steve x reader #captain america #captain america x reader #dark captain america #marvel #mcu #dark marvel #dark mcu #dark verse #bucky barnes #the winter soldier #infinity war #honeyhan writes #say thank you

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perseusjackson-jasongrace · 4 years

Text

Empires on the Horizon IV

Jason is a CEO: Part IV

Here’s my masterlist for the next part and my other stuff

new beginnings

look fragile

like glass

but when grabbed

sparkle

like diamonds

-badpoetry

“Good morning Mr Grace,” Grover Underwood smiled from his usual spot behind the coffee machine.

“Morning, how are you?”

“Much happier for seeing you less like someone kicked your puppy,” He gave Jason a knowing look.

“How?”

“There are some things the brain cannot hide, matters of the heart are often one of them.”

He didn’t really have any reply to that, so he gave the man an awkward smile and shrugged.

“Your usual then?”

“Yes please, and an iced coffee for Hazel.”

“Ah where is the darling this morning?”

“She’s coming into the office later, something about needing to go home first? She must have stayed at a friend’s place.”

Grover raised a dark brow, “Mhmm and where is your driver this morning? I noticed you drove yourself in today.”

“Uh I think Frank took the day off,” He frowned trying to piece the conversation he’d had with his friend in his sleep-deprived brain.

“Oh interesting,” Grover’s chocolate brown eyes twinkled in amusement, but before Jason could question him a warm cup was being shoved into his hand and he was being ushered away to wait for the iced coffee.

Collapsing into a chair, he pushed his glasses up his nose and wrapped his scarf tighter around his neck. Winter was beautiful but gods it was cold. He glanced around the café taking in the familiar forest green walls and dark wood floors. There was no sun streaming through the windows today so the gold accents on the tables were dulled and dark, like hidden bronze. He traced his fingers around the edge of his cup, losing himself in the motion, in the feeling of heat on his cold fingers, in the small gusts of wind against his cheeks as the door opened and closed, in the noise of a bustling store, in the–

“Hello Jason,”

“Luke,” He took a deep breath, “Fuck off.”

“Aw don’t be like that,” He sniggered.

“Please Luke, I don’t have the energy for this right now,” Exhaustion was a thousand-ton weight on his bones.

“That’s your problem Jason you never wanted to take things head on. It was always let’s wait for this, let’s get their opinion first, let’s just give it a couple weeks. You could have had the world begging at your fingertips if you just went for what you wanted.”

“Are you done?”

Luke’s responding laugh was malicious, “You are so-“

“Leave.” His voice was stone.

His ex-boyfriend scoffed, “Pathetic.”

Jason watched as the face he had been so in love with sneered at him, the scar running down a pale cheek twisting into malice. His soul ached for what could have been, it burned for what now was. It always surprised him how drained he felt after every interaction with Luke- like crashing down from a potent high. Being with Luke was a high, was euphoria and hope and sin. What the fuck went wrong?

His phone buzzed in his pocket.

“Talk to me,”

“Why do you insist on answering the phone like you’re some sort of mafia boss?” His sister grumbled.

“Hello to you too Thalia,”

“I just wanted to let you know that I’ve set you up on a date tonight. Six-thirty at Sun and Songs.”

He groaned, “No. I am not in the mood.”

“Jason Grace,” She started; he could feel a rant coming on, “You cannot stop living your life because you have a wanker of an ex-boyfriend. You have been in a slump since Luke and it is affecting you in ways you’re too scared to admit.”

“It is not affecting me,” He was tired of having this fight, “I literally dated Piper for like three months.”

“Mhm and were you happy? Did you put all you could into the relationship?” She didn’t wait for his response, “No, you may have been a little happier, but you weren’t you. So you will go on this date tonight and in five years when we’re planning your wedding you better be thanking me in your speech.”

“Gods Thals,” He snorted, “We haven’t even gone on the date yet and you’re already planning a wedding?”

“Wait does that mean you agree to it?” She squealed through the phone.

“Yes loser,” He held in a laugh, “I’ll go on the date. But if it doesn’t work out you drop all of this. No more setting me up, no more interfering.”

“Yes sir. Now, how work’s going?”

“Besides the fact that Project Hestia is on hold because of this stupid contract everything is good.”

“Isn’t your fancy lawyer lady sorting it out?” She muttered.

“Reyna is a great lawyer and you know it.”

“Yea but she’s also my ex-girlfriend so I get to be a little resentful.”

He snorted at that, “Of course, and how are you?”

“I’m good. The Conservatory is still standing so I can’t be doing too many things wrong.”

“Didn’t you guys get cheetah cubs this weekend?”

“Oh Jase!” His sister cried, “They are just the absolute cutest things. Did you know cheetahs are so shy that some conservationists and wild-life biologists recommend giving them emotional support puppies?”

“So what you guys got puppies and cubs?”

“We haven’t got the puppies yet; they’re only arriving this week.”

“Well send me pictures when they’re together, maybe I’ll have them framed and hung around the office as a morale booster.”

She laughed, the sound crackly through the speaker, “Will do little bro. Listen I have to go but call me tomorrow to tell me about the date.”

“Wait!” He yelled, ignoring the weird looks from the café patrons as he walked out, “What’s her name?”

“Zoe.”

***

Jason was nervous. That was the only explanation for his shaky hands and the zoo of creatures in his stomach. He had gotten to Suns and Songs fifteen minutes early with a lavender and daisy bouquet in hand. The restaurant his sister had reserved was nothing short of incredible. Dark maroon draped over each table, and opulent candelabras sat in the center, lit only if the table was occupied. Glass and crystal chandeliers swung slowly from the high wooden beams, catching on the light and making a kaleidoscope of the room. Even the way the air smelt was decadent here. Like wood smoke and perfume, some hint of chocolate, maybe. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but he wanted to bottle the scent and bathe himself in it. Trying not to be suspicious he took another deep breath in; it calmed his nerves if nothing else.

“Mr Grace?” someone put a soft hand on his shoulder, “Your guest,”

He thanked the waitress, getting up to greet his date and pull out her chair. He tried to muffle his gasp when he finally turned to her. She was stunning. Midnight skin contrasting elegantly with the pastel yellow dress she wore. Braids intertwined with glittering strands; it cast a pale silver halo around her head. Small hoop earrings glinted as she moved, and the bracelets at her wrist clinked gently when they shook hands.

“Hi, Jason Grace,” He smiled.

“Zoe Nightshade.” She flashed beautiful white teeth.

He handed her the flowers, “You look unbelievable.” He truly was in awe of her.

“Thank you,” Her smile was soft, but her voice was crisp and direct, “And these are gorgeous.”

“Would you like to order drinks?”

They scanned the menu quickly; Zoe ordered a cocktail he hadn’t heard of and he ordered the first thing he saw that didn’t have tequila in it.

“So,” He asked, and then cringed at himself internally. Starting any conversation with so was bound to make it awkward.

He cleared his throat, “How do you know Thalia?”

“We work together at the Conservatory. I moved here a couple months ago because I got transferred from the wildlife center in Germany.”

Jason didn’t know what but something about her voice made his insides melt. She said everything so undiplomatically– like if it wasn’t a fact it wasn’t worth uttering.

“Oh that’s cool. What do you do?”

“I’m a veterinarian. You?”

“Well I was a structural engineer but somehow over the years I got roped into being a town and regional planner.”

She frowned, tilting her head assessingly, “You did not finish your engineering degree?”

“Oh no I finished and got my masters in structural but then I started my company and I realised I needed other qualifications to run it the way I wanted to so I had to go back and get a degree in urban and regional planning. By the end I felt like I had been studying since the dawn of time.”

She laughed at that, and a look of surprise crossed her face, as if it was as unexpected to her as it was to him. “I know how you feel. I love animals and I’m passionate about my work but when I was done studying, I vowed never to go back. Studying for seven years after school and then trying to do it all over again feels like a one-way ticket to the end of the road.”

He mirrored her smile, “How did you get into veterinary sciences anyway?”

“My father was always busy, and my sisters were… interested in anything that could make them more beautiful, or richer. So I was pretty alone for most of my childhood. At some stage I convinced my father to get me a dog, Ladon. We were inseparable. But he got hurt when this man,“ She said it with such disgust he almost flinched. “This man hurt him. Kicked Little Ladon out the way when he was just trying to say hello. We had to take him to the vet, and I remember them being so sweet and kind to my dog and I knew I wanted to be exactly like that when I grew up.”

“Any chance you know where this man is so we can kick his ass?”

She laughed, raspy and bursting, “Don’t worry little eleven-year-old me kicked Mr Alcides as hard as I could in the shins.”

“Good,” he nodded with conviction, “He deserved more but you found your passion so there is some balance.”

She hid her grin behind a sip from her drink.

“Sir, ma’am,” Their waitress stepped to their table, “Would you like to order?”

Hours later, cheeks flushed from the liquor, laughing over Thalia’s antics and their shared need for structure, they finally decided to call the dinner to an end.

“The focaccia was to die for,” Zoe groaned, patting her stomach.

“Honestly, I may have to marry the pasta.” He sighed contentedly.

She giggled, and he knew it was a rare thing for her because her face caught that surprised look again.

“Want to grab dessert?”

“Oh gods no,” She shook her head in alarm, and then frowned as the realisation of what that meant washed through her.

“I had a really great time tonight,” He started softly.

“Do you want to walk to the park? We can stop and have gelato?” Her dark eyes were full of nervous hope.

He blinked at her, a little shocked she wanted to continue the date, “I thought you didn’t want dessert?” He teased.

“Maybe the walk will burn off some of these calories and i’ll have space for a little ice-cream.” She scunched her nose.

He knew the gelato was just an excuse, so with a grin that lit up his whole face he grabbed her hand and nodded, “Let’s do it Miss Nightshade.”

Her face glowed with relief and enthusiasm as they tucked their chairs in and exited the restaurant.

“Tell me about your family. How come you weren’t interested in the rich side of life like your sisters?”

“I guess being the youngest kind of made it all seem pointless. I had seen what happened when their vanity became malicious and I didn’t ever want to turn into something I couldn’t recognise. I went to stay with my Aunt Diana through high school. She owned a bird sanctuary. That’s where I interned in my college years.”

“Wow,” He looked down to her, awe evident in his face, “And it didn’t bother you to be so far away from your father and sisters?”

“Honestly, I’m not even sure they noticed when I left.” She shrugged, “It was a long time ago. I really only see them for family functions now.”

“And your aunt?”

“She still has the bird sanctuary, but she mostly works in the background now. My cousins, Bianca and Phoebe, run it full time.”

“Do you miss it? Were you guys close?”

“Much closer than my sisters and I. I do miss them, but I definitely can’t say I miss the sanctuary. Some of those birds were evil.”

Just then a loud squawk came from above them. She scowled at the sky, “I’m talking about you Auretta.”

He tried to hold in a laugh but Zoe stuck out her tongue childishly and they both bent over in laughter.

“Maybe we shouldn’t hurl insults while we’re out in the open.” He managed to gasp.

“Good thing the gelato shop is right there.” She grinned, grabbing his hand and sprinting towards the small, illuminated store at the end of the cobbled street. Her dress shimmered, moved like rays of light. She looked like a star.

“Come on,” She yelled, tugging at his hand harder.

‘Alright, alright,” He snapped out of his admiration and let her lead him into the shop.

“Hi, what can I get you?”

“Want to share?”

“Sure, you choose,” He waved a hand towards the abundance of flavours behind the glass.

“Please can we have one scoop of chocolate, one scoop of vanilla and,” Her brow furrowed as she scanned the tags, “And one scoop of cookie crumble.”

“Why did I think you were a sorbet girl?”

“Sorbet in the summer, anything else for the rest of the year.” She said matter of factly.

He nodded solemnly, “Yes makes sense.”

She swatted his arm, grabbing the cone from the lady with a thank you, “Gods I feel like a teenager again,”

“I know what you mean,” Her excitement was infectious.

“I have to ask,” She swallowed a chunk of cookie crumble, “What on earth were you thinking when you decided to eat a stapler?”

Jason groaned, “Why did Thalia tell you that? She swore she wouldn’t tell anyone and if asked I would say I fell off my bike or something.”

Zoe giggled, “Come on, spill.”

“Okay, first of all I was two,” He sighed, embarrassment heating his cheeks, “And it was shiny, and it made a cool clicking noise, and I wanted to know what it tasted like.”

“I can just picture a little Jason crawling onto the kitchen counter and trying to bite down on a stapler.” She teased.

“Yes well now I have this scar,” He pointed to his upper lip, rolling his eyes.

“Battle scars. Very worthy.”

He shoved at her shoulder lightly and they dissolved into laughter once more.

It was almost midnight by the time he had dropped her off at home and stepped into his apartment. He looked at his phone to see a couple work messages, and something from Hazel– things he could reply to in the morning he decided, tugging off his tie and discarding his clothes as he walked to his room. He was asleep before his head hit the pillow, his phone still glaringly bright and open on the chat with his sister.

You were right. We’re going on a second date.

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

Grover is like some other worldy deity that spews life lessons every time they meet and i am so here for it! Anyway what y’all saying??? How are we feeling?

Tags (if you want to be added to/ taken off the tag list just let me know, all my channels of communication are open):

@lesbian-peanuts

@leydiangelo

@queen-of-demons-and-hell

@msdrpreist

@sparkythunderstorm

@nishlicious-01

@lucyisblue

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emybain · 5 years

Text

Love Conquers Hate

I have come to the conclusion that I can only write fluff. also, yes ive been wanting to write the parade from nova’s pov since reading the epilogue (despite how much I love magpie). no shame.

SUPERNOVA SPOILERS

The sunlight warmed Nova’s face as she laid back on the star float, legs hovering over the edge. She had been sitting, waiting for Adrian as he left to find them something to eat or drink. Oscar had accompanied him, and they had been gone for twenty minutes so far. As each minute grew longer, her patience grew shorter, so Nova resulted to a few minutes of sunbathing. Beside her, Ruby was chatting with Danna and Narcissa, who were going to be on the float as well. Ahead of them, probably two or three floats, Nova could hear a marching band warming up as well as the whooshing and whipping sounds of the color guard's flags.

They had been called to the parade set up three hours ago so that everyone could be accounted for and put in order. Before, Nova had been curious as to why they needed three hours to set up for an hour and a half parade, but after witnessing the amount of stress the organizers and performers went through beforehand, she now had a deeper respect for parades.

Now they were waiting for the parade to begin, awkwardly standing around on a random residential street. Someone had mentioned a while ago that they still had thirty minutes, and that was when Adrian and Oscar left for food.

An elbow nudged Nova’s side gently. She opened one eye, raising her eyebrow at Ruby, who pulled her up. “There’s someone here to see you,” she said, grinning from ear to ear. She gestured in front of them.

Nova ran a hand through her hair, blinking at the young mom and the little girl behind her legs who was no more than five or six. She shared a knowing look with Ruby before hopping down from the float and kneeling to peek around the mom’s legs at the girl.

“Hey there.” Nova smiled sweetly. “What’s your name?”

“Go on, Camden.” Her mother stepped to the side and pushed her daughter forward encouragingly when she didn’t immediately answer. “It’s okay.”

Camden peeked up at Nova, and for that brief moment, Nova saw the awe in her eyes. Then she tore her gaze away, cheeks red. “My name’s Camden,” she said in a tiny voice. “I...I was wondering...can I have your autograph?”

Nova opened her mouth, gasping dramatically. She clasped her hands together. “Of course!” She rummaged for a marker in her pockets, knowing she put one in there specifically for today. Already, multiple people, not just children, had come up to her and her friends asking for autographs. “Where do you want it?”

Camden’s shy exterior began to drop just a little as she handed over a superhero cape. Nova asked her what her superpower was as she wrote out a short message. She learned that Camden had perfect balance, which pushed her into doing gymnastics.

Nova handed back the cape, freshly signed. Camden grinned down at it with sparkling eyes. Then she looked back up at Nova.

“Miss Artino,” she began, “how do you be brave? See, I want to be just like you when I grow up, but I’m always afraid.”

Nova tilted her head to the side, not all that surprised at the child’s honest question, as most children were honest, but surprised at the subject. She thought about it for a moment. Behind her, the three other girls stopped talking, and she could feel their gazes on the back of her head. “Well, Camden, bravery and fear go hand in hand. It’s impossible to be brave if you aren’t at least a little scared.”

Camden’s eyes widened, and she leaned forward. “Really? Does that mean you get scared?”

Nova nodded solemnly. “All the time, but I’m still brave.” She paused. “Some of the bravest people in the world are scared of many things, did you know that?”

She shook her head quickly, and Nova pressed on. “It’s true. Because those people are afraid to lose what they love, so they choose to be brave to protect those things. Do you understand that?”

Camden swayed from side to side, contemplating, before smiling a toothy grin and nodding. “Thank you, Miss Artino. I think I get it now.”

Nova matched her smile and stretched her arms out, offering a hug that the child accepted. The mother thanked Nova, and then they were gone, back to the small neighborhood crowd watching the parade from their homes.

Meeting kids like Camden was nothing new for Nova these days; they always stopped her on the streets asking for photos or autographs or screaming how much they loved her. At first, Nova was weirded out and not sure how to even approach children. While it still made her uncomfortable to think that people idolized her for the very same reasons Nova used to despise the Renegades, she had become a pro at talking to children, and found a tiny bit of joy in brightening their day.

“Water?” Nova turned to find a water bottle pushed in her face, the owner of the voice belonging to her boyfriend. She smiled up at him and accepted the water. Oscar showed up beside him and they passed out water to everyone.

“You were gone that long and water was all you could find?” She hopped back up on the black parade float, designed to be like a night sky with a thousand shining stars. It was Adrian’s idea, as well as his creation.

“Tell me about it,” Oscar groaned. Ruby scooched over and he sat beside her, arm snaking around her waist. The movement was almost natural, and Nova couldn’t help but think back to a year ago when Oscar could barely hold it together if Ruby so much as brushed hands with him. “Not a food truck in sight. They must all be in the big ticket areas.”

“We’ll get nachos after the parade,” Ruby assured him, patting his thigh. “Any word on how much longer until we start? Mom said Jade and Sterling are growing restless.”

“At least they have food,” Oscar grumbled.

Adrian took a seat beside Nova, and they laced their fingers together immediately. “It’ll probably be another five or so minutes.”

Narcissa rested her head on Danna’s shoulder, who pressed a kiss to her hair. “I should have brought a book. It’s been three hours!” She sighed dramatically. “This parade is great and all, don’t get me wrong, but it should not be this long.”

Nova agreed, although she kept her mouth shut. It was ironic, really, when she thought of where she was a year ago. Who she was a year ago. She had been so filled with hatred and loneliness, craving a revenge that was aimed at the wrong people. So much time and energy and so many resources poured into one goal that ate away at Nova’s humanity for ten years, preventing her from seeing the truth. And now, she recognized that revenge was an illness; it weakens someone and plagues them of any real happiness, convincing them that it is the cure when in fact it is the parasite. Now, she knew that, and was grateful that she was rescued from it’s cage before it was too late. Now, she was here, with the people she loved doing the last thing on the planet she would have ever thought she would do. A year ago, she was at the parade, yes, but with a completely different motive.

One of the parade organizers, a middle aged man whose name Nova didn’t bother to remember, came by and told them to get to their positions. Nova took a quick sip of her water and accepted the hand that Adrian offered. Together, they got on the topmost point of the large star in the center of the float. Ruby and Oscar went to a point to their right, and Danna and Narcissa to their left. After a moment, the float lurched forward and began its slow trek down the street. The neighborhood watchers began clapping and cheering, the children jumping up and down and waving at the group of six people on the star.

Nova waved back, putting on what she referred to as her “camera smile”, the one she reserved for the media and for events like this.

The parade route was supposed to take them along the most known streets of Gatlon and end at Headquarters, something that would take between an hour and an hour and a half to complete. Like every year, it would be televised around the world, and similar celebrations would take place. However, what made this year different was that everyone was now a prodigy. Because of this, it seemed almost silly to solely celebrate the Renegades and their success. No, the Renegades had learned from examples like Nova and the Anarchists and the Rejects that one’s abilities didn’t determine how heroic they were. So, on the Day of Triumph, the Renegades parade was now meant to celebrate all prodigies of all shapes and sizes and abilities. Nova felt as though it was a small victory in the direction of a future she desired, a future where everyone could be equal. It brought tears to her eyes when she was told that the villain floats were being tossed, as well as the Council’s float. In their places would be floats honoring the gifts of prodigies and honoring the warriors lost in the fight for freedom and equality. It moved her to see a float for Honey, despite what the woman had done to Nova prior to her death. It made her grin to see a float for Callum Treadwell, a prodigy who quite possibly had the greatest gift of all, yet was never on a task force like other Renegades. Nova could only fathom what he would think if he were here today.

“Are you okay?”

Nova glanced beside her at Adrian, who was still smiling and waving at the cheering crowds. But she noticed the concern in his eyes.

“Yeah.” She wiped at her eyes, which had gotten a little misty, and reached for his hand. He clutched her tightly, a promise. “Just a little overwhelmed is all.”

The float turned a corner, and the roaring of the crowd somehow went up two dynamics. They were on what many of the organizers referred to as “TV Street”, where most of the excitement took place for the celebration, as well as where every news station would be covering the parade. It was the street with the best seats for the parade, and the most media. It was also the street where…

Nova nudged Adrian lightly, making him look down at her curiously. “This is where we met.” She nodded to a familiar spot in front of a vendor selling merchandise. “Right there.”

Adrian’s smile grew genuine, and he pulled her closer. “I love you, Nova Artino.”

“And I you, Adrian Everhart. Every day, I will love you.” Sweet rot, she was letting Danna and Ruby suck her into their shared love of rom-coms and romance movies. She didn’t much care, though. Her heart was full, the fullest it had ever been.

When she tilted her head up to kiss Adrian, the crowd went wild. Nova tuned them out, her attention fully on the boy standing beside her. She savored this moment, the way he tasted of the donuts Oscar brought earlier that morning, the feeling of a hand in her hair and another clutching her hip. Too soon did he pull back, but Nova knew from the secretive glint in his eyes that there would be many, many more kisses later in the day when they were alone and away from the eyes of the media. She couldn’t wait.

But for now, she let herself be wrapped up in his arms as they both waved to the many cameras pointed at them and smiled at the crowd. A sign held by a kid caught Nova’s eye; when the child saw Nova watching him, he grinned and raised the sign higher, shouting something Nova couldn’t hear. But the sign was enough explanation: Love Conquers Hate.

She couldn’t agree more.

#supernova spoilers #renegades #archenemies #supernova #nova artino #Adrian everhart #Oscar silva #danna bell #ruby tucker #anarchists #nodrian #tuckva #dannissa #my writing

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summahsunlight · 5 years

Text

Pathways, a series of drabbles

Title: Friendship

Word Count: 2014

Pairings: Kes/Shara, Luke/Sela (OC)

Characters: Kes, Shara, Luke, Sela (OC), Poe, Kaleb (OC), Evelyn (OC)

AO3/Master List

Poe, Kaleb and Evelyn meet for the first time.

Yavin IV, 8 ABY

Nothing exciting ever happened on Yavin IV. Which was perfectly fine for his retired military parents, but for little Poe Dameron, it was the most boring place in the galaxy to live. It was hard when you only had the native wildlife as your friends. Poe was certain that other children his age, on more populated planets, had each other to play with. He wasn’t stupid; he knew that he probably had more freedom to roam his home planet than most kids and his mother always tried to make it up to him by taking him up in her A-wing.

Poe glanced up at the blue skies, his brown eyes watching as the clouds swept by. His mother had indulged his love of ships and flying since the moment he could talk. Someday, he was going to blast off this rock, he was going to go to flight school, he was going to become a pilot—perhaps the greatest pilot the galaxy had ever seen.

It was getting late in the day and he knew if he stayed out in the jungle much longer, well, his parents would start to worry. They might have let him have free range of the jungle, but that didn’t mean they worried less about him. Poe looked down the path towards the ranch, and smiling, took off in a run, leaping over unearthed tree roots and grabbing onto low hanging vines. He laughed with delight as his feet left the ground, as he flew through the air on the vines. He landed just at the edge of the Damerons’ property and blinking into the bright sunlight realized there was ship parked in the nearby clearing—a ship that he did not recognize.

Visitors were also rare for the Damerons, being on the far reaches of the Outer Rim and it was not time yet for their supply order to be delivered. Poe’s brow furrowed as he sprinted towards the front porch, curiosity getting the best of him. His mother had the windows open, letting the warm jungle breeze move through the house. Creeping under one of those windows he could hear voices. Papa, and Mama, of course, but there was another woman and man, and their voices were not familiar to him. However, the way his parents were talking to the couple, Poe guessed that they knew Kes and Shara.

There were questions about how the Damerons had been since they both had mustered out of the military, questions about life on Yavin—Papa and Mama answered them, with laughs and happy sighs; they loved the peace here, they loved being with their son.

And there were more questions, from Papa, on where their friends were going to stay while the Temple was fixed up and their new house was built; a small silence, and then the man asked if Kes and Shara could take them in… but only if his family wouldn’t be a burden to Papa and Mama…

“Of course, you can stay here as long as you like, Luke,” Shara exclaimed. “And you’d never be a burden!”

“How long do think it will take for the Republic to send those supplies to get that Temple up and running?”Kes asked.

“Hopefully not long,” the man replied in a soft, warm tone. “After all, no one has lived in some of those temples for thousands of years.”

Poe lifted himself onto his tiptoes and peeked into the window. Seated at the dining table with his parents was the man, Luke, who wore a black tunic and pants, and one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen in his young life. If angels existed, Poe imagined they would look like her. She had long copper brown hair, pulled back in a loose bun and in her lap, a baby girl slept, peacefully. A little boy with sandy brown hair moved about her legs, munching on a fresh koyo fruit, the juice dripping down his chin.

Shara chuckled and used a cloth napkin to wipe his chin clean. Her brown eyes shined brightly watching the small child move around her table. “Poe gets just as messy when eating koyo fruit. I think you and he are going to become great friends, Kaleb.”

Kaleb simply smiled at his mother and reached for more koyo fruit. Poe’s tummy grumbled, reminding him that he had not eaten any lunch yet. After breakfast, he’d taken off to the jungle, to get lost in his adventures—to defeat the Empire in his X-wing. Now that the Empire had been thoroughly defeated by Poe, he was hungry. He thought about leaving his hiding spot and going inside so he could enjoy koyo fruit with the other little boy, but the woman was asking after him.

“Where is Poe?” the woman inquired, looking around the house.

“Probably half-way up a Massassi tree right now,” Kes said with a warm chuckle. “Always exploring that boy, with his head in the clouds.”

“He tried taking my A-wing up the other day, on his own,” Shara added, with a shake of her head. “Had it in pre-flight mode and everything, all on his own.”

Luke glanced in his direction and Poe dashed out of sight. He was incredibly proud of himself for getting the A-wing into pre-flight mode all by himself, and he was sure he would have gotten it to launch if his mother had not found him. “Smart boy,” the man said, with a soft laugh. “Sounds like he’ll make a great pilot one day, Shara.”

Poe beamed with pride from his hiding spot. His mother and father would tell him he could be anything he wanted, but they never acknowledged he’d make a great pilot. Poe surmised his mother never said it because she didn’t want to upset his father; Kes hated the idea of his son joining the military and becoming a fighter pilot. The former Pathfinder wanted a different life for his son.

Inside the house, Poe heard the scraping of chairs on the floor. Kes was telling Luke that he’d walk him down to the Temple and they could reminisce about old times while they checked for repairs that needed to be done before his students moved in. Poe jumped from the front porch and hid in the bushes his mother had planted, watching as Kes and Luke left, walking down the path towards one of the old, abandoned Massassi temples, recanting stories of their days fighting in the Rebellion and how they both had hated the cold on Hoth. He watched them go before he climbed back onto the porch and then slipped in through the front door.

Shara heard him and turned to smile at her son. “There you are. Come here, little pilot, there’s some people I want you to meet.”

Poe gazed across the room at the woman. The baby girl in her lap had woken up and was now eating some koyo fruit as well. The little boy, Kaleb, was leaning against the woman’s leg, his blue eyes watching the older boy, cautiously. Poe shifted his gaze to the baby; her cheeks pulled into a warm smile and he couldn’t help but smile in return at her.

“I don’t think we have to worry about the children being friends, Sela,” Shara said, ruffling her son’s hair. “Looks like Evelyn already likes you, Poe.”

“I think we’re all going to like the much quieter life here on Yavin then on Hosian Prime,” Sela replied. She gave her daughter a kiss on her head and put the little girl down. “Too much chatter and invasion of privacy in the Capital. Don’t get me wrong, Shara, I knew what I was signing up for when I agreed to marry Luke—you don’t marry the hero of the Rebellion and start a family with him without the holonet breathing down your neck. But stars, it was really starting to affect the children.”

Shara frowned, watching as Evelyn wandered over to Poe, her sticky fingers holding out some fruit to him. “We might be living in the far reaches of the galaxy, but we still get the holonet; their obsession with your children, and Leia, disgusts us.”

Sela ran her fingers through Kaleb’s hair. “It’s why Luke wanted to leave; a quiet place to raise our family but also to rebuild the Jedi.”

Poe tore his eyes away from Evelyn, not caring that her sticky little fingers had latched onto his. He’d only heard stories of the Jedi, from some of the older men down at the colony, and his mother would often tell him tales of Luke Skywalker. Luke. “Are you Skywalkers?” the boy asked, eyes shifting towards Sela.

“Not just smart, Shara, but insightful,” Sela said with a smile that lit up her whole face. “Yes, we’re Skywalkers. I hope you don’t mind we came to live here.”

“You’re going to live here?” Poe questioned; brow furrowed in curiosity. Why would anyone want to live here? Nothing happened on Yavin IV. It was a boring place.

“Luke needs a place to train new Jedi,” Sela answered him, honestly. “Do you think you can show Kaleb around? Show him all the fun places to play?”

“Sure. Can he climb trees? Those are the best places to play. You can pretend to be fighting against the Empire up there.”

“He can’t climb trees—yet—but I bet you can teach him.”

Brown eyes met blue ones. Poe had never actually taught anyone, anything. But if it meant having a friend and not just the woolamanders, well, Poe was going to try to teach Kaleb how to climb trees. He felt a tug on his arm and Evelyn let out a little cry as she stumbled over her small feet. She fell on her bottom and large tears rolled down her cheeks.

Poe glanced between Shara and Sela, a look of guilt and remorse passing over his young face. He didn’t mean to hurt the little girl; he had completely forgotten that she was even standing with him and holding his hand. He had just gotten so excited at the thought of having real friends… “I’m sorry!” he gasped. “Did I, did I hurt her? I didn’t mean to hurt her!”

Sela picked Evelyn off the floor and wiped her baby’s tears. “You didn’t hurt her,” she assured the little boy. “She’s just learning how to walk and she’s a little unsteady on her feet. She scared herself more than actually hurt herself.” She gently touched Poe’s curls. “You’re a sweet boy.”

“As sweet as they come,” Shara said, handing him a bowl of koyo fruit. “Poe, do you think you can take care of Kaleb and Evelyn for a few moments, while I help Sela bring their things into the house?”

“Yes, Mama,” Poe said, munching on his koyo fruit. He watched as Sela placed Evelyn on the floor. Immediately she started to cry when Sela left her sight.

Cautiously the little boy sat down next to the crying baby. Poe smiled at her, softly. “It’s okay, your mama will be right back.” He held out some fruit to Evelyn. Her big blue eyes looked towards where her mother had gone, and then at her older brother, who was lounging over the chair, just watching. “Here, Evie,” he said, giving the little girl a nickname that would stick with her well into adulthood. “You can have some of my koyo fruit.”

Evelyn tentatively grabbed the fruit he offered, her cries not as loud or persistent. She finished her piece and then reached into his bowl for more. Poe continued to smile at her and talk to her. By the time his mother and Sela returned, both Evelyn and Kaleb were sitting with Poe on the floor—the bowl completely empty.

Poe turned his smiling face up towards his mother. “See, Mama, I took care of them. We’re friends now!”

Somehow, Shara knew that they would always be friends, the three of them, and that they would always take care of each other.

#star wars #star wars fanfiction #poe dameron fanfiction #luke skywalker fanfiction #poe dameron #kes dameron #shara bey #luke skywalker #sela swift (oc)#kaleb skywalker (oc)#evelyn skywalker (oc)#kes dameron x shara bey #luke x oc #daddy luke!#it's little poe!

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seperis · 6 years

Text

Fic: All the King’s Men (SPN)

I don't say this is my offering of guilt to DtA readers, because hey, I love this story, but--it is a little, which is of benefit to all. When I'm frustrated with the bullshit that is my mental health, I remember I've never had this much fun with my fic, and that helps. Merry Insert Your Winter Holiday Here: I hope you're having a great time celebrating or loafing. Especially the loafing: that's what holidays are for.

Summary: This is Hell, and that’s how they survive.

Notes: In my defense, I wanted to do another outsider pov. This is not what I expected, but well, it happened. Set after In the Hall of the Mountain King and that scene in Book IV, Chapter 10. Checked over by Kel_hath_no_fury because she's awesome. I think I fixed everything.

Warnings: well, it's set in Hell? Torture, violence, bloodplay, etc. About half is consensual, if that helps.

The door opens at a touch, and from the back, she can see the hesitation before the others go inside. Stupid: if he didn't want them to enter, the door wouldn't open; if they weren't allowed here, they would never be able to enter. Alistair doesn't play games like that, doesn't need to; stupidity generally does all the work for him.

She hears someone's breath catch, everyone freezing, and without thinking, she drifts closer to the group and stops short at the sight of the bed. Through thin, gauzy curtains, she sees Castiel stretched out on blood-stained sheets, Alistair hovering over him. Lazily, Castiel slides a leg over Alistair's shoulder and arches, and the soft, hungry sounds are lost beneath a low, reverberating moan she can feel down to what passes as her feet these days.

So maybe she was wrong about that.

Sitting back on his heels, Alistair shoves the curtains back, licking blood-smeared lips and grinning at them. She hears one of the others make a retching sound and glances over to see the rack just opposite the bed. She can't tell who was on it, but it's easy to guess; Alistair apparently was taking further atonement from Castiel's past sins, and Castiel likes to watch.

Alistair follows their gaze and his grin widens. "Gonna need more," he says pleasantly. "You volunteering?" It's addressed to them all, and she has to admit a reluctant respect when their leader steps forward.

"Master," she says. "They're here." "Yeah, I know." He turns his attention back to Castiel, hooking his fingers behind Castiel's knees and pulling him down the bed. Sliding his hands down the length of his thighs from knee to hip, Castiel arches with a moan as bloody sigils come alight across his skin. "I'm the Pit, sweetheart; I know everything that happens here."

Maybe she's the only one that hears the implied warning; despite their power, Alistair's lieutenants have surprising blind spots. Castiel lazily pushes himself upright, and with the curtains pushed back, not much of the long, lithe body is hidden. Even with the implied invitation of drawn curtains, she knows she should look away (Alistair brooks no rivals, even those only imagined), but she can't quite.

In the Pit, they never see Castiel as anything but flawless, ineffable, beautiful, terrifying, inhuman: an angel remade in the Master's own image who uses the rack like Hell's never dreamed. Even here, Alistair is an artist; she traces the elegant lines of the sigils carved over Castiel's shoulders and down his back with her eyes, the fingertip bruises dotting his hips and thighs, the bloody outline of teeth and scrape of fingernails and rope burns around his wrists, none of it yet unmade. Tipping his head up, Castiel smiles slowly, focused on Alistair like they aren't even here, and for him, maybe they're not. Right now, she's not sure they exist for Alistair at all beyond a momentary inconvenience. And Alistair doesn't like inconvenience.

"Tell me you got a better reason than that to interrupt," Alistair continues, watching Castiel with a little smile. "Kind of busy at the moment."

"They're looking for you."

"No other reason for angels to be in the Pit." In theory, she knows they go wherever they want; in fact, they rarely leave their compounds, near-impenetrable structures built at almost the beginning of time.

(Near-impenetrable: it surprised her to discover even angels have lapses.)

As far as she knows, before Alistair's Ascension, they hadn't toured the Pit itself in millennia. She's not sure if it's simply distaste at the presence of so much (former) humanity or offense to their so-delicate angelic sensibilities. Since then, however, it's a regular feature, and it's not like she can't guess the reason, and only half of it is Alistair himself.

Sitting back on his heels, Alistair pulls Castiel into his lap and tugs him down for a hungry kiss while reaching for his knife and making a cut across his shoulder. Castiel leans down at the first well of blood, and Alistair's eyes close, breath catching audibly in the quiet room.

"There we go," he croons, mouthing a kiss just behind Castiel's ear. "Just like that."

"They'll expect you--" the leader starts. "They want me on my knees, they can summon me and make it happen themselves," he interrupts, tipping his head back. "That it?"

No one answers, and she swallows; this is why she came. Taking a deep breath, she pushes her way to the front. "Master, they're looking for Castiel as well."

Alistair stiffens, hand freezing in Castiel's hair, and the full power of green eyes slam into her. She sucks in a breath, rocked, but keeps her feet; it's not much, but it's more than she would have thought she could do. For a moment, she gets an impression of--surprise? Satisfaction?--but it's gone in a breath. "Where are they now?" Almost as if in answer, Castiel stiffens, visibly shuddering, and Alistair tightens his arm possessively, looking at the rack across the room. It exists everywhere, of course, but until now, she didn't realize that meant wherever they were could be seen; it's never showed her anywhere but where she was with it. Barely breathing, she watches the angels survey the Pit and then the rack, their revulsion obvious, before they turn their attention to those on display: Castiel's latest works. Faintly, she hears Alistair murmuring to Castiel, words indistinguishable but tone soothing as he watches as well.

"Master," someone behind her says, a mistake; you don't interrupt Alistair if you don't have to. From the corner of her eye, she notes none of them are looking at the rack, don't even seem to notice, as if--as if they can't see what she can. "If they can't find him--"

"They can't unless they actually see him," Alistair interrupts. "They can't tell the difference between us anymore, not in the Pit." Stroking Castiel's hair back, he murmurs something and Castiel nods dreamily as Alistair guides him back to the cut, licking along the wound hungrily to catch all the escaped blood, and Alistair sucks in a sharp breath. "They asking for him by name?"

"What, Whore of the Pit?" a voice mutters and something inside her snaps.

Before she can think, she manifests her knife, turns, and buries it in their gut. Grabbing a handful of hair, she jerks them close enough to breathe their last breath. "You don't call him that."

As their mouth falls opens, she spits in their face then twists the blade until it grates on bone and jerks downward in a long arc, gutting them before finishing a castration that finally makes them scream. Jerking her blade back out, she watches them fall, their agony washing through her in sensuous waves. All this time, the grinding misery of helping to break souls was only that; this, though, this is pleasure. She wants to do it again, now.

"I've been waiting forever for that," she breathes. She's gonna spend millennia on a chain for touching one of Alistair's lieutenants, but she doesn't care; it was worth it. Raising the blade to her lips, she licks it clean, enjoying their shock and rage while she can as she takes their power; it's not much, but it's more than she's gotten from anyone since she got off the rack. "Anyone else?"

They're thinking about it; she hopes they try. A hundred, a thousand millennia chained up, she'll take it and more laughing if it means this time, she doesn't have to hide, to wait, to pray, to hope; this time, they come for her, she can fight back; this time, she can protect herself; this time, she'll take them all with her.

"You--" their leader says, her knife drawn and advancing. "You're nothing. You're gonna be less than that when I’m done--"

"Fuck yourself," she breathes, feeling the taken power course over her like heat; it burns, but she likes it, wants more of that, too. "You want me? Come and get me."

"Stand the fuck down." She drops to her knees with the others, forehead scraping against the stone floor, and abruptly, the body vanishes; the screaming takes a little longer. As the silence stretches, she warily looks up and sees a pile of dust in Alistair's upraised palm. He closes his hand around it; when he opens it again, it's empty. "Figure they need a tour of the Pit," he says, like he's talking to himself. "Few thousand years, I'll check in, see what they learned."

She licks her lips and waits for her turn.

"Lucky Cas wasn't paying attention or they'd have to deal with disembodied laughter the whole time," he remarks to his silent audience, tipping his head back with a sigh before focusing on her again. "Might add that later. Everyone up, I'm getting a crick in my neck. Well?" It takes her a moment to work out she's not dust in the Pit, but she doesn't forget he asked her a question. "Not yet, Master," she says, climbing clumsily to her feet. "They--uh, they called him the 'Consort of the Master of the Pit'." "You're fucking with me." Nosing the dark hair above Castiel's ear, he breathes something and Castiel pulls back, eyebrows raised. "Consort of the Master of the Pit, what do you think?" Licking one last time, Castiel seals the cut with a brush of his lips before straightening. "No one ever accused my Brothers of excessive imagination." The cold eyes flicker over their audience and then settle on her, and she finds herself bending again by reflex. Castiel is the one who broke her, but she doesn't expect him to remember her; he broke thousands of souls on the rack during his apprenticeship and more since, and she was only one of many.

The room abruptly shudders around them, warping. She grabs for the doorway, hearing the others groaning, rolling onto the floor (ceiling), and tries to work out what's going on.

"What--" someone whimpers.

"Shut up," Alistair snaps. "Cas?"

"They're partially occupying the same discrete area of space we're in," he answers distractedly. "It's--odd. It will pass."

"I'll take your word for it." Slowly, nauseatingly, the shifting slows to a stop. "And they're gone. What the fuck--" She glances up and sees Castiel frowning, blue eyes distant. "Cas? What?"

"I'm not sure." The blue eyes focus on them, pausing on her for a shaking moment before focusing behind her. "They concealed something outside the Pit; find out what and return within the hour." "Yes, Master," they breathe, and she fondly hopes they choke on having to say it. As they leave, she notices their leader is staring at the blue stones lining the walls It takes her a moment too long to work out why; those aren't stones.

"Are those..." The leader's voice cuts off, and Alistair looks his interest. "Its eyes?" "Decorating idea," he says, looking at Castiel. "Forgot to ask. You like it?" "I love it," Castiel breathes against his lips. "You spoil me."

"So it has to watch," she murmurs, appreciating the thought, then freezes as Alistair focuses on her, wondering what the hell is wrong with her. "Forgive me, Master--" "I'll think about it," he says, which means 'no'. "I almost forgot: did I order you to come here today?" "No, Master."

"That," Alistair says, raising a hand and looking bored, "was not worth what you're about to--"

"It was worth it," she blurts out. "I'd do it again, Master."

Alistair lowers his hand. "Get out," he says to the others, focusing on her. "Let's talk, sweetheart."

She freezes in place, feeling the satisfaction radiating from the others as they leave and hears the doors close with the same finality the last restraint was attached when she was placed on the rack. She can feel his eyes on her, pushing inside her head, and fights not to flinch.

"Huh," he says, sliding off the bed, jeans and a t-shirt materializing as he paces to the rack, looking over the (multiple) remains; it was a three chain kind of evening. "You were one of the last holdouts from that group. I had to send Cas, and gotta tell you, who had you wasn't that bad." His lips curve in faint approval. "Pissed her off so much, it was great. She was so sure she could do it." She nods shortly; that would be Alistair's favorite lieutenant, and yeah, she's still pissed about that, in case anyone was wondering.

"Wrong tool for the job, as it turns out, almost fucked up everything," he adds, waving a hand, and the remains vanish back to their chains to be forgotten (for a while). "My bad, you just never know." She remembers when Castiel took over just like she remembers every second of those years, but those last five are branded into her like nothing else. They used to (know each other?), but since she rose, everything before the rack is a gaping hole she feels every second of every goddamn day. There are something like memories, flicking into and out of her mind in painful bursts (sunlight, a woman's bright laughter, warmth, rest) but they vanish before she can grasp them. They hurt, but they hurt even more to lose, even if she can't quite remember what it is she lost, even a name.

As she waits for Alistair's judgement, she finds herself looking at those blue ornaments. It's gotta burn a little when the first angel ever broken on the rack of Hell realizes their current place in the universe. The angels hate Castiel; it's a degradation, what he does with Alistair, and she's not even sure if they find the sex more offensive than the fact Castiel sits with Alistair on the throne of the Pit.

Unlike Castiel, the angel Alistair broke fell apart, nothing left to even know how to fight. She stares at those blue jewels, unable to stop herself from smiling. Alistair's work is always fascinating in its sheer brutal refinement (there's a reason he scares Hell itself), but as it turns out they still aren't afraid enough. She glances around, marking the locations, carefully set at regular intervals around the room, not just the bed. This wasn't the Master of the Pit exercising his expertise in designing the perfect eternal torture; that was just an accident (he can do something like this by accident). Alistair spent a ridiculous amount of time, effort, and minions to reshape an angel of Hell on the rack into a toy to entertain Castiel when he's bored.

"Before we get down to business," Alistair says pleasantly, sitting on the bed, and it takes everything in her not to look at the rack (soon enough when she's on it again for Alistair's next round of foreplay), "want to tell me why you're here without a direct order?"

She swallows; he wouldn't believe the truth. She barely believes it herself. "Only way to move up is your favor, Master," she answers, which has the benefit of being true. "I'm meat for half the Pit and get all the shit jobs, and I’m tired of it. I saw an opportunity and I took it." "It's Hell," Alistair says as Castiel lazily stretches out, resting his head in Alistair's lap like an exotic, pampered pet. "It's not actually supposed to be awesome." Castiel makes a dissenting sound, and Alistair looks down fondly, stroking through the dark hair. "Awesome for anyone but us," he corrects himself. "I'd almost buy that--I mean, I'd pretend I didn't because then I'd miss your screaming, but I would--but it'd be a lot easier and less stupid to get in with my lieutenants and considering how they feel about you, that's saying something. Though after today…."

Yeah, she kind of figured, thanks. "For future reference, you missed two nerve centers that would have made your extempore disembowelment and castration even more excruciating," Castiel tells her. "I taught you better than that." "I didn't think--" She cuts herself off, wondering at the hot feeling in her face, like somehow, she can still flush. She can bleed--fuck, can she bleed, that never stops--and be dismembered and vivisected and hung in pieces, but somehow, it never occurred to her she can still fucking flush. "I'm out of practice, Master. The rack doesn't offer much challenge." Overseeing the rack is grueling, miserable work, and more than once, she's envied her victims. Their pain is always a surprise to them in endless variety (they certainly carry on like she's a master sadist beyond compare, which shows how limited their experiences really are); her pain is constant, mundane, and never, ever changes, not once since she rose and Castiel left her as meat for the Pit.

"That," Castiel answers, "is not an excuse." "Can she answer my question now?" Alistair asks, and Castiel rolls his eyes and nods. "Thanks."

"Warning you about a danger to Castiel might elicit favorable treatment, Master," she says quickly. "It was worth the risk."

"I didn't think they could hate you more," Alistair muses. "I was wrong there. You get how very fucked you are when you leave the Tower, right?" He smiles at her, chilling her to the bone. "Not saying what they'll do to you is worse than what I can, but come on; at least I'd eventually get bored. Until now, they left you intact enough to do your job." "They have a very flexible version of 'intact enough', Master." After today, assuming Alistair lets her go (a big if) she can say goodbye to ever being intact enough to do anything again. She knew the risk, prepared for it, but--yeah.

"Yeah, if right now is any example," he adds, looking her over critically, and she knows what state she's in, thanks. "You really do get all the shit jobs, don't you? You don't get anything and they cost you in the bargain." Some part of her wants to observe he's a goddamn master of the obvious as well as the Pit, but she's not that suicidal (yet). "Yes, Master." "Did you tell them about the angels asking about Castiel?" "No," she answers. "They already have your favor, so why should I give them this?"

Alistair's fingers skim down Castiel's cheek. "Lie to me one more time, and my curiosity is gonna lose to boredom. Just cleaned the rack, too."

"I wasn't sure they'd believe me or tell you or think it was important enough," she says in a rush, giving up. "I couldn't risk--Master, they weren't here for you at all, that was just an excuse. They were here for Castiel."

The room seems to drop a hundred degrees--or maybe rise, she's not sure--before Alistair says, "You think." "I know, Master," she answers. "I wouldn't take this risk for a guess."

"How do you know?" "I--I was--" She licks dry, cracked lips, tasting char. "I watched them." "Today?" "Every time they come to the Pit. I followed them from the moment they passed the borders until I came here." Alistair stills. "They never notice us, Master, but this time, they did. They were--looking at us. Not at everyone, just--" "Cas's work."

"No--I mean, maybe that, too, but they..." She swallows again. "Everyone Cas broke on the rack." Belatedly, she hears what she just called Castiel: Cas.

"Son of a bitch--" Alistair's eyes grow distant, and she sees Castiel has the same expression. "Got it. Cas?" "So that's what they were doing," Castiel says in interest. "I'm calling those idiots back; in this case, their incompetence isn't the reason for their failure." "Good thing we didn't send someone you broke," Alistair answers, and Castiel tips his head back to frown. Alistair's eyes flicker to her and he smiles. "You just might want to brace yourself; it's gonna be rough. But fun." She drops to her knees, waiting for whatever happens next; she always knew this was how it would go.

What happens next is a stillness, then a sense of something on the very edge of her awareness, like seeing something from the corner of her eye. Burying her head in her arms, she's just in time for the vertigo turns everything into nothing. She can't see or hear or even think, a hot burn like bathing in acid and a cold rage so profound it dissolves everything it touches; then she can, and she must have opened her eyes, because she's staring down into forever and can't stop screaming.

She's not sure how long it lasts (forever) but then it's over, and shaking, she checks to see how much of her is still left and estimate how much it's going to take out of her to put herself together again. There's a reason she's prey for half the fucking Pit; she's not strong enough to be anything else and can't--won't--buy it with the only thing she has to trade. She gave her submission to Castiel when she rose from the rack and to Alistair before the entire Pit, and they're the only ones she ever will. There might not be much of her left--whatever she was, if she was anything at all (nothing)--but that much, she won't give up.

Warily, she pushes herself up and back onto her heels, startled that she's still (relatively) unscathed, or at least, as much as she was before. Looking at the bed, she sees Alistair and Castiel watching her in amusement and just stops herself from asking what just happened.

Alistair grins at her. "I'll tell you anyway. They left something outside the Pit, and now I know why. They were trying to use those Cas broke to find him. Contamination: you really can't get away from it." "They were using us? How?"

Alistair raises his eyebrows. "You can tell who Cas broke?" "Yes, Master," she answers in surprise, wondering at Alistair's look of satisfaction. "We all can."

"Like calls to like," he says cryptically. "Cas's Brothers marked all of you when they were here. Outside the Pit, they got someone very stupid to act as trigger--and I'm gonna have some fun with them--and burn you all out at once." She stills. "Burn us out?" "They can't find Cas." She glances down to see Castiel lying very still beneath Alistair's hands, and after a second, she sees Alistair's knuckles are white. "In the Pit, they can't tell the difference between us. But he loses all of you at once like that...." "I wouldn't have--" Castiel says softly. "Dude, you wouldn't be able to help yourself," he says roughly. "Not if you wanted to remake them before--fuck. And you'd be right out in the middle of the Pit and once they saw you...."

"What?" she whispers.

"I'm rather curious about that as well," Castiel says, tugging the hand Alistair has clamped around his hip and pulling it to his lips. "Not enough to test it, of course, but we'll know more when you're done with Trigger. I want to watch." "I want to watch," she says without thinking. The stillness eases, and Alistair looks at her curiously. "Master, I--the information I brought you stopped this." "This is the favor you want?" Alistair asks blankly. "Wait, I thought you wanted a better job or...." He sits back and grins. "That was the lie I couldn't find; good job, you hid that one really well." "Master, I--" "We'll come back to that," he says. "You just want to watch?" No: she wants to hurt them. It's been years, but she remembers those first lessons before Castiel left, and she remembers everything Castiel did to her. If she can't reproduce it all yet, she'll take all the time she needs to learn on them. She can almost hear their screaming; they'll forget how to even beg before she's done.

"There we go," Alistair murmurs. "Hold that thought. Cas, I burned that shit Trigger did out of all of them: check 'em for me. I miss anything?" "No," Castiel answers, the distant look back. "I sent them into the inner Pit to recover. If your lieutenants come near them before I release them, they'll make very admirable compost after a sufficient amount of time being digested by Fido and Spot." Alistair bursts into laughter, falling back on the bed, startling her almost as much as Castiel's words.

"The final act will be planting a garden," Castiel adds dreamily, and Alistair wheezes. "Turnips and cabbage, perhaps." Sitting up, Alistair tugs Castiel into a kiss, and she forces herself to stare at the floor. "How many acts?" "Ten," Castiel says in a different voice--oh, please don't let them forget she's here until it's too late. "Digestion alone will take two: Fido and Spot will each like starring in their own act." "You're fucking amazing," Alistair says, laughter in his voice. "I love it. You can have Trigger when I'm done for the rough draft, how's that sound?" "I serve your pleasure alone, Master," Castiel says in a low voice, and she doesn't need to look up to know Alistair just forgot she (and pretty much anything not Castiel) exists. Then, "You can look up now." It takes her a moment to realize he's talking to her. Warily, she straightens. "In any case, the immediate threat is eliminated," Castiel continues. "It will be relatively simple to assure they can't try that again." "Honestly, I'm surprised they even thought of it," Alistair says. "When is the last time they had an idea--any idea--that didn't start with 'declare war' followed by 'stabbing anything in sight'?" "I doubt they did and I'd be very interested in finding out who gave them the idea," Castiel answers, cold blue eyes gazing into Alistair's. "Trigger is doubtless not the only one my Brothers suborned. It seems the Pit requires a reminder of the penalty of denying your will; I'll begin the purge at dawn."

Despite herself, she stills; maybe she should hope Alistair decides to punish her himself after all.

"Awesome," Alistair murmurs, leaning in for a quick kiss. "Any luck, it'll be a while before your Brothers' next visit. Especially occupying the same space shit: how the hell they missed that…."

"They didn't," Castiel answers, leaning against Alistair's shoulder. "They were focused on finding me, however, so they simply didn't care. I must applaud such breathtaking lack of common sense; it would be a bother for them to realize that among the many things they missed here is the Tower."

That rocks her enough to blurt out, "How can they miss it? It's in the middle of the Pit!" Suddenly, she's the focus of two sets of amused eyes. "Master."

"They can't see it," Alistair answers, fingertips skimming down Castiel's bare back. All the earlier marks are gone now; even the blood is undone, perfection restored. "Because they're angels?" She catches herself. "Master, forgive me--"

"It's fine. And yeah, but that's not the only reason." Alistair grins at her. "No one can see it unless me or Cas let them."

That startles her more than the fact angels couldn't see it. "But I…" she trails off under the focus of two sets of eyes.

"How long?" "Always." Since she came off the rack, it stood in the distance, watchful; no matter where she is or where she goes, she can always feel it (waiting). "After I rose--" (After Castiel left her alone.) "--it was just...there."

"Huh." Alistair glances at Castiel. "What else? Come on, not a trick question; if I wanted to discipline you, I got all I need for that. Or for fun, so just say it." "I don't know, Master," she whispers. "Sometimes--I thought it was--it felt like I was supposed to come here." "Interesting." She wonders sickly what the penalty for that is. "Sometimes?"

"More every day."

"Sounds about right," he says unexpectedly. "When Cas had you, did he tell you that you were his first after his apprenticeship?"

She opens her mouth, but the answer won't clear her mouth, tangled up with the blackened remains of her tongue.

"I'll take that as a 'no'. Something else you didn't know," Alistair says to her. "Sometimes, souls don't break. Actually, it's more 'can't'." She nods, trying to follow, but she can't stop thinking about that; she was Castiel's first. It doesn't matter--it shouldn't matter--but it does.

"Alistair--the other one--thought it was funny," Alistair continues. "Before I broke, he showed them to me. Had no idea what I was looking at; they screamed and cried, whatever, right? He left me there for three weeks, didn't tell me what they were; when he got back, I begged to leave." That gets her attention. "Why?"

"That's all they did," he says. "No matter what anyone did to them. Even if no one was doing anything at all. Three weeks of that shit really changes your perspective."

"They...why?" "Fucker wouldn't tell me," Alistair answers. "You fight, you forget why you need to, then you get up; that's how it works. The rack can't fail, and I mean that literally; that's how it was designed from the first. Still with me?" She nods, then shakes her head. "But--"

"The rack can't fail," he repeats. "That doesn't mean it always succeeds; that's a totally different thing. No one knew that, though, until they started putting humans on it." "Who--" "Angels," Castiel says, eyes half-open, but something his voice freezes her in place. "It was purpose-created to discipline angels. You must understand; angels have no concept of 'choice'. When we were placed upon it, we did not fight and we did not leave, not until it was done and all it was ordered to take from us was gone. Sometimes, that was everything."

She swallows, trying to imagine that. Everything. "It works differently on us." "That's one way to put it," Alistair says, and Castiel gives her a sleepy smile. "A human soul can hold out forever, don't get me wrong; it's possible. Benefits of free will: we can say 'no', and the rack can't take a fucking thing. So we fight until we forget what we're fighting for, and when we give it what it wants, we can get up; that's how it works. Except sometimes--that happens. They're still there because they haven't given the rack what it wants; the problem is, there's nothing for it to take."

Her breath catches. "Nothing there."

"Pretty much," Alistair answers. "Alistair, he had no fucking clue what was going on, no surprise, but we figured it out eventually. Some people don't just forget why they're fighting, sweetheart; they forget everything, including themselves. Talk about creating your own Hell…."

She tries to imagine that, but sheer horror freezes her mind; she thinks she might be grateful. "Putting someone together after that…." He shakes his head. "Like a needle in a haystack, except you don't know how many needles you're looking for and the haystacks are also needles." Cas makes a vague affirmative sound. "But way more boring." "You brought someone back from that, Master?" "One," Alistair answers, meeting her eyes. "That's how we found what was going on. Had to do some serious reconstruction, and by the way, you're welcome." "Me." That sense of nothingness before Castiel. She'd thought she imagined it. "I was…." She can't make herself say it.

"You're fine now ," Alistair assures her, looking down at Castiel fondly. "I only put you together, though; that was the easy part. Cas was the one who figured it out and who had to make sure you'd stay that way." "It's possible we could have easily reversed it before it became--complicated--but when she realized what happened to you, she neglected to inform us there was a problem."

"Yeah, and she paid for that," Alistair says soothingly, then he smiles at her. "Probably thought you were fucking with her. It was something you did. You two gave the Pit the best show we've had in millennia, sweetheart. Pissed her off so much; should have guessed something went wrong when she shut down the audience, but I figured she was tired of being humiliated."

Castiel tips his head back to smile up at Alistair. "It was the best part of my day."

She nods blankly. "Thing is, she was the wrong tool," Alistair says. "Cas formally requested permission to take over before the entire goddamn pit--there was supplication, a speech, all the bells and whistles, it was unreal. Made me sit through sixteen fucking days of that shit and as is turns out, he had enough material to keep me stuck there for a couple of centuries." "A formal supplication is a contract," Castiel recites, and to her shock, Alistair closes his eyes, looking pained. "A Master doesn't ever have to accept a request for supplilcation, but if they do, they are required to listen until the time limit negotiated before the formal supplication begins is reached; in the absence of a negotiated time limit, of course, the limit is subject to the supplication's discretion. I didn't realize you were unaware of that before we began or I would have explained." He pauses, smiling faintly. "I did apologize with sufficient prostration, I think."

"Yeah, that part was awesome, definitely worth it," Alistair concedes, then shakes himself. "Fine, I said no when you asked, that's on me. I knew better than to expect to exercise my actual literal right to your obedience wouldn't bite me in the ass, my bad." He turns his attention back to her. "That's not why I said yes, though; he was right. He was the right tool, and he was my apprentice; if anyone could do it, it was him."

"How could I fail?" Castiel murmurs, trailing his fingers down Alistair's face. "You made me."

Alistair smiles, catching Castiel's hand and brushing a kiss against the palm before looking at her again. "You hated each other, your first," he says, laughing at her expression. "Trust me, you did. Usually, that would be perfect, make it easy--and believe it or not, it was supposed to be easy. Instead, hit the one in a million; you hated her more than anything and I mean anything. Nothing she could do was going to get you to give up; just knowing she wanted it meant you wouldn't do it. And twenty-one years of that, she hit something in you and you noped the fuck out. She thought it was spite at first," he adds. "And I guess, yeah, it kind of was."

She nods numbly; thirty years of--nothing. She really was nothing.

"It took Cas two years to get you back and five to finish," Alistair continues. "We had to be sure that what you had to leave on the rack would be all you lost; you'd keep the rest."

"I don't understand." "When you break, in the end, it's because you want to--and you didn't know how to want anything. Someone had to make you want it, and Cas could do that. If you wouldn't break for yourself, you'd do it for him."

"A different tool." A faint not-memory drifting through her mind like ash, crumbling at a touch, but that's enough. She looks at Castiel. "We--we were friends. Before--here." "Yes," he answers. "We were."

She tries to think, but a strange emptiness seems to crowd out words. "The thing is," Alistair says, "we always hate the person that breaks us. When Cas said he wanted to do it, I didn't want to let him, but--anyway. Figured we'd worry about that later, except today--I knew you were lying, but it didn't occur to me you would lie to yourself. Why did you come here today? Don't try the favor shit: we both know you don't give a good shit about getting my favor. So why?" This time, she doesn't stop and think. "I had to be sure you knew they were looking for him," she whispers. "So you could protect him. I didn't tell them because I couldn't be sure unless I did it myself. I had to be sure, Master."

Alistair regards her thoughtfully, then motions. "Come here." Of their own accord, her legs unfold beneath her, pushing her up and her feet carry her to that huge, terrible bed. She wants to beg for mercy, but there's no mercy in Hell; there's just pain and anger and loss and fear and she's saturated with them all. He raises a hand, and she shuts her eyes, waiting for the pain.

Instead, a feather light touch traces down her face, over charred skin and broken bone, pressing against burnt, tender muscles and raw nerves. It doesn't hurt, and that scares her as much as anything else.

"Any reason you're not fixing yourself up a little more?" Alistair asks, pausing at the remains of her lips. In Hell, you can take any shape you want, but you have to have power to do it. Twenty years, and she still can't manage to do any better than the shape she left the rack wearing, the last of Castiel's work worn as her skin; keeping this much takes everything's she's got and she usually doesn't even get to this before she's out. She's never minded as much as she should have, and now she knows why; they were friends. "They don't give you anything, do you?" She shakes her head, the ragged, charred remains of her hair scraping against her cheek. "No. I only keep enough for--for this much."

"It's always like this," he says in a different voice. "At first, anyway. That's how it works here for everyone. The strongest use the weakest. You're the only one who can decide if it's also always, and that takes time."

Warily, she opens her eyes. "Master?"

"What you gave up, you can't get back," he says. "So you gotta make yourself again. Half the time, they never do. Meat for the Pit: that's all they are and will ever be. That's what you want?"

She shudders; she's seen them, and if there was ever motivation not to give up, they were it. Barely there, barely anything at all: Hell is a paradise entire compared to being that. She may not be anything or anyone now, but she was, and somehow, she will be again.

Alistair laughs. "Yeah, that's what I thought. So gotta know; why are you meat now?" "I don't have power, Master" she answers. "They won't give me any--" "You take power, just like they do, and you have the other half the Pit to get it from." She stills, and Alistair cocks his head. "Now that's interesting. Not meat: a lure." "Master--"

"Cas, help me out; I haven't been watching her like you have."

Startled, she looks between them.

"I thought you wanted to be surprised," he answers lazily, mouth quirking. "Six months after she rose, she realized your lieutenants hated her specifically and it gave her an idea."

She feels the skim of blue eyes like a touch.

"Show me," Alistair says, and the green eyes unfocus. Then he starts to smile before he bursts into laughter. "Fuck me, talk about history repeating: not bad. A lure. When you worked out how much they hated you, you used yourself as a distraction for others. Take their punishment yourself; fuck knows they were willing to oblige you. What do you get out of it, though? I get the loyalty--trust me, sweetheart, that part is not a surprise--but what did you have them do? Not power--not that they had any--"

"They were her informants," Castiel answers, and she shivers as Alistair's thumb slides down her ruined cheek. "She knows when angels enter the Pit, where I am--apparently almost as well as you do--and exactly when your lieutenants report, not to mention anything that might be of potential interest. She probably knows as much about what happens in the Pit--at least outside the tower--as we do, if not more. In return, she makes sure that if your lieutenants want a toy, it's her."

"And you still think its worth it." Alistair shakes his head, eyes distant. "Sweetheart, they're doing shit to you I have to be in a really bad mood to do, for fun, and you go to them willing? I get why you made the deal, but you get we're in Hell, right? You could have made terms that weren't unconditional surrender."

"Those weren't their terms, Master," she answers. "They were mine."

"Why?"

"To make a point," Castiel says softly, and she swallows hard. "It took time, but they did eventually understand, didn't they?" Alistair tips his head, waiting. "I was broken by Castiel on the rack of Hell," she answers, forcing herself to meet his eyes. "Why should I need to make terms, Master? There's nothing they can do to me that compares to him."

Alistair searches her face, then starts to smile. "Yeah," he says, almost to himself, and abruptly, she can feel him in her mind, her existence here reviewed in a breath. "Okay, lets get this shit done. Kneel." She drops immediately; she always knew this was going to happen. She has just enough time to feel a single moment of overwhelming terror before Alistair's hand closes over her throat, choking off air (how why does she need it here?). "Time to level the fuck up."

Suddenly, agony courses through her; all those years on the rack and everything since, that was like a fucking picnic; she can't even scream.

"So, last to break, first to arrive," Alistair says. "Thirty years you fucked off, but you came back and you were the first there, too. If there were rules here, you'd have broken them all, so why not this one, too? Listen to me, sweetheart: this is a test, and you will not fail."

She tries to remain passive, obedient, he's her Master and he has the right and she has none at all, but she can't help grabbing for his wrist.

"You think you know pain, but it's been it's been almost a century of lessons and you still don't get it. Gotta give you credit; that takes effort and you went above and beyond not to learn. Twenty-one years with my best lieutenant didn't even scratch you; five with Cas did, but pain didn't break you; you did it for him," Alistair says. "Fifty years of my lieutenants taking you apart aren't even touching you; sweetheart, I bet you could hold out forever if left to yourself. I'm not them, though, and I'm tired of waiting. This is the lesson you should have learned on the rack and over the last fifty years; since you didn't, you're gonna learn it now.

"Everything you ever felt before, those were practice; this is the real thing." Like that, it changes, and he's right; it's like she dreamed a vague dream of a toothache and woke to being burned alive and crushed for eternity.

"Pain's pain, always; you fight it until you give up, you live inside it and learn the first and only lesson; how to accept it," she hears Alistair say. "You broke on the rack, but you're still fighting like the moment I first strapped you down. That was then and this is now, but nothing's changed. Here's my question: why?" For a second, she pauses; why? Why what?

"Hell is pain, that's all it is; a human soul can't handle it, that's why we're sent here to suffer and rot," Alistair says. "They put us on the rack and take us apart, and we can stop it, sure, but what we leave on the rack is ourselves and we lose it forever. That's the deal, right? Sounds shitty, but here's the thing; it's a lie. We don't lose a fucking thing; we choose to leave it there. What we take with us is only what we need. They say there's no mercy in Hell; that's a lie, too, here's the truth. The rack is mercy; it's what shows us exactly what we need to keep. I broke an angel of Hell on the rack and they're still on it; they can't get up even now, they can't take it. A human, though; we can take anything.

"Some don't get that," she hears over the roar in her ears. "Sit around, mourning something they can't even remember. That's a choice, and they made the wrong one. They're no one, they're nothing, they're fodder, they're food." She scrabbles at his hands, seeing her own begin to char, bare finger bones blackening as they turn into ash. "It's just pain; you can't fight it and why would you want to? Use it."

She shakes her head as agony courses through her.

"This is Hell and Hell is pain and what we take with us when we leave the rack is this; we like it." She stills; for a second, there's--" "We love it," Alistair says "We want it. We give it, we get it, it's all the same thing, but you don't know that because you're still stuck fighting it. Today, you almost got it; how it felt to bury your knife in his gut and make him scream; you liked it. You should love it."

The memory of the sensuous, hungry pleasure of it flashes through her; accept it.

"Almost there," Alistair whispers. "What you left on the rack you can't get back; you don't want it. Everything you need here you brought with you, but you can't use it until you learn the first lesson; you don't fight your pain, you accept it."

Accept it; she stops struggling, trying to pull away, everything she'd done on the rack until fighting was all she knew, mindless, reflexive, endless. She's still fighting a war she already lost, and she wonders now why.

She stops fighting.

Forever, there's nothing but her own agony, nothing--no, there's not nothing. A bolt rips her apart, she can feel that, it's hers, and giving that up means there's nothing, she's nothing, no. Desperately, she clings to it, grasping for more, as much as she can get; she's not nothing. She imagines Alistair's lieutenants on the rack beneath her hand, how she'd teach them new ways to scream; she breathes their screams and tastes their blood and fear and loves it. She wants it.

Dimly, like a dream: she remembers those last days (hours, years) on the rack beneath Castiel and the pleasure rippling through every agonized scream.

"There we go."

She comes to herself on the floor, gasping, shaking so hard she barely avoids knocking her head into the stone.

"Beautiful," she hears and looks up to see Castiel watching her. "I knew you could do it."

Shoving herself back on her knees, she starts to take stock--no idea how she'll fix this--when it occurs to her something's different. She blinks slowly at the sight of her own thighs, whole and complete beneath ragged jeans and tears open the rents to see smooth, dark skin, untouched. Her hands--long, perfect fingers, nails perfect ovals, up to slim arms, all flawless. Desperately, she feels over her chest through her worn t-shirt, the full, soft curve of her breasts, up to the smooth column of her throat, then--wary--over her face.

Her face.

"Much better," Alistair says approvingly. "How you feeling?"

Not just fixed: remade. And more than that; it takes her far too long to realize what she feels isn't new, just unfamiliar; she's not tired. She'd forgotten there was anything but exhaustion. She forgot how that felt.

"Good, Master," she answers blankly as long twists of locked hair falls around her face. Reaching up automatically, she starts to roll the twists together at the back of her head and pauses, staring at them filling her hands. She used to do that (before). "I don't remember what I looked like." "Don't worry, we did." Alistair extends his hand. She takes it without hesitation, and once on her feet, he turns her to face a mirror. She stares at the reflection in bewilderment: rich, dark skin, wide brown eyes, full lips parted in surprise, hair in long, hip-length twists; that's her. That's her. "Cas?" "Perfect." She shivers, warmth trickling over her skin at the low, gravelly appreciation rolling through the single word and desperately tries not to think about it. In the mirror, she sees Castiel sitting up, watching her, and there's no way she can not think it.

Alistair laughs.

"I never hated you," she says, meeting Castiel's surprised eyes in the mirror, then looks away. "Not until--not until you left."

Alistair snorts, dropping on the bed by Castiel.

"I get it, that's how it works," she says to the mirror, and she does. "I just...you were gone." "That's how it works," Alistair agrees. "What we leave on the rack we can't get back. It can't survive here, and with it, neither can we." She shuts her mouth.

"That's a lot of empty space, though," he adds. "We're starting from scratch, and sometimes, it's easier just to miss what you lost than get to work filling it up. Sure, I could have let Cas keep you, but that? That's all you'd ever be: a pet, less than nothing at all. So yeah, that's how it works; no other way to make us start filling that fucking space, and even then, half never even fucking try." He laughs suddenly. "This is Hell and it's not like its easy, but you--given a choice, you picked the hardest way every time and that's before you even rose."

She nods.

"And you were just getting started, weren't you?" Alistair continues. "Half the Pit's fodder; half the rest probably should be, but you--you used it. You spent fifty years training my lieutenants into giving you exactly what you wanted for the privilege of making you scream and beg and crawl anytime they wanted; they took the deal and only then found out you never said you would even pretend to care." He sits back, grinning. "You know why I picked them?" "They're loyal, Master," she says, because they are. "And they're the most dangerous demons in the Pit."

"They're rabid dogs," Alistair says. "The only difference between them and Spot and Fido is the number of legs."

"I like Spot and Fido," Castiel says lazily. "They're very, very good dogs."

"And that," Alistair agrees, grinning at Castiel before looking at her. "They're useful, but they have limits. They made those all themselves, do you believe it? You, though…."

She turns around. "Master?"

"You haven't met a limit yet," he says thoughtfully. "I'm not sure you even know what they are." He leans back an arm. "You start your formal apprenticeship tomorrow at dawn."

She tries not to stiffen; she doesn't need to wonder how Alistair's lieutenants will react to her among them, much less whoever gets her. "Yes, Master."

"Don't look so worried," Alistair says, looking amused by something. "Cas has been planning this since I put you on the rack."

It takes her way too long to understand. "To Castiel, Master?" Castiel is the general of Alistair's army, the instructor of every demon in the Pit, but that's not the same thing; an apprentice is personal. Alistair himself took only one, Castiel himself, and Castiel none at all. If she'd ever thought about it, she would have assumed even if Castiel wished to, Alistair would never, ever allow it.

Alistair drops back on the mattress, laughing, and Castiel shakes his head before the cold blue eyes bore into her. "Alistair gave you to me before you ever saw the rack. When your breaking was mishandled, it was for me that Alistair put you together anew. To avoid the possibility of repetition, he permitted me to break you myself, and you rose unflawed. And then I was ordered to let you go. I was not pleased and questioned his motives." His gaze flickers to Alistair, still lying on the bed and grinning. "He was, of course, right." "I never get tired of hearing you say that," Alistair says, sitting up. "Gets better every time, actually."

"You rose unflawed," Castiel continues. "Now, you're perfect, and like my Master, it would be beneath me to accept anything less."

She nods, though she's not sure she understands. She also doesn't care. "Yes, Master."

"Good girl," Alistair says as Castiel rests his chin on Alistair's shoulder, both looking at her as if-- "You can go."

If you want. She doesn't even glance at the door. "Or, Master?" "You can stay." Her eyes flicker to the rack. "Probably. What else--only one way to find out. Alea iacta est." The flush turns into a warm, sensuous heat as she imagines what he'll do to her--what they'll do to her. "I'll stay, Master." They both smile at her. "Come here," Alistair says. One step, two, and his hand closes molten-hot over her wrist, jerking her into his lap before sliding around her waist, fingers trailing like drops of quicksilver; she wonders if she'll see his fingerprints later in her back, marked out in pure silver. She hopes so.

"Almost forgot," Alistair says, a knife appearing between his fingers before the tip comes to rest at the hollow of her throat; she has to fight not to lean into the prick of pain. It's not enough, not now; she wants to feel it buried inside her, slice her wide open, take her apart over and over again. "All that and more, but not quite yet," he chides her. "One more thing. You tell her, Cas."

Cas tips her head up, thumb sliding slowly along her jaw. "It is our will that you are returned that which is yours, now and forever," he says, meeting her eyes. "Vera."

Vera freezes, something cracking open in her mind as her skin parts beneath the blade sliding down her body; that's her name. "C-Cas?"

"It's been a very long time, Vera," Cas murmurs against her lips. "I've missed you."

#down to agincourt

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loveraids · 6 years

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advice for incoming freshmen

hey guys! here’s a list of some tips i made for incoming freshmen. i thought i’d share some advice/knowledge i’ve accumulated over the years too. everything’s under the cut. if you have any questions/concerns, feel free to message me! ☀️ (tw: long post)

1. one of the biggest fears many people have entering high school is not making friends. however, there are MANY opportunities where you can make friends! besides being friendly with who you sit with in class, try joining a sport, club, extra curricular, etc. i’m not saying making friends is the easiest thing in the world- i still struggle with it today. but don’t put yourself down if you’re not immediately friends with everyone in the school in the first week- it’ll take some time to develop. remember that everyone else is just as scared as you are, and they aren’t gonna come out of their shells until you do as well.

2. depending on your school, they may start throwing college shit at u on day one (although unlikely). no matter what, don’t stress right now!! the college process really doesn’t begin until the weeks leading up to the summer of junior year. you have time!! it’s ok to not know what you want to do. college has an “undecided” major for a reason.

3. V O L U N T E E R. i cannot stress this enough. it has soso many benefits and freshman year will most likely be the most time-free year you have. find a position at your local zoo, library, camp, hospital, etc. it’s a great resume booster and can aid you in the college application process (additionally, if you have an honors society that requires volunteer hours, you’ll need them anyways). also, you get to help people !

4. freshman year is going to teach you what real high school work is. you may struggle, and it’s ok! i was one of the “bright” kids that had their grades drop once i entered high school, and yeah, it did a lot to my self esteem. but throughout the years i picked myself up- i embraced help from my peers/teachers, i figured out what method of studying works best (pro tip: studying for math? look over the basic rules and do thousands of practice problems. science that isn’t math based? quizlet and khan academy. history? quizlet.), i learned that it’s OK to get a grade under a 90/A-. it’s going to seem tough at first, but just remember that you’re adjusting to a completely new environment and work ethic. you will get through it!! please shoot me an ask if you ever need help i’ll always answer. (edit: also do ur homework!!! it could be the difference between a B+ and an A-.)

5. imagine the crustiest person in your grade right now. now imagine them trying to hit on a kid that’s four years younger than you. gross, right? that’s exactly what a senior hitting on a freshman is like!! do not do that shit!!! there is NO reason why a senior should be trying to hook up with you when they’re 17-18 and you’re 14-15. that shit is NASTY. do NOT date seniors (even juniors are sketchy).

6. high school is where you will probably encounter alcohol/drugs/sex/etc at some point. do not be pressured!! if you don’t wanna smoke or drink then don’t do it (if you’re with the type of people who pressure, you better run). ive personally never had an experience where i was pressured, and people were usually respectful, but i can’t speak the same for everyone else. wanna get fucked up and party with your friends? be careful! i’m not promoting underage drinking but lets be honest a lot of kids do it. no sense in trying to pretend like that isn’t the real world. if you’re invited to some party by someone you KNOW has a bad rep, then don’t go!! you’ll have more opportunities.

7. if you’re worried about SATs/college admissions exams, you have a year. kids in my school are kinda crazy and were studying freshman year which made NO sense to me. end of sophomore year/beginning of junior year is usually adequate (plus- the main rule with SATs/ACTs is that you should take the test NO MORE than three times- that’s three chances!! i personally did well on my SAT, so if u have any questions feel free to ask me.

8. back to the point of pressure - if you’re going to a gifted and talented program/school, you will most likely feel academic pressure. with so many bright and smart peers, your standards will end up being much higher than the general population. i’m speaking from experience.

9. student government is usually a popularity contest. if you don’t win, don’t beat yourself up. if you do, congrats!

10. take pictures! save holiday cards! make memories!! i sincerely regret not taking photos (with me in them!!) during my freshman and sophomore years. there are a lot of great memories that i didn’t record because i was too embarrassed to get in front of a camera. i’ve learned that i’d rather cringe at a photo i look bad in in the privacy of my own phone, rather than not have a picture at all.

11. start developing good studying habits right away. what motivated me was getting cute/colorful pens, highlighters, erasers, post-its, etc., and making my notes look really pretty. i have my own personal post-it collection now. if you find ways to make studying even remotely fun/interesting, it will be extremely beneficial in the long run. i remember the summer before my junior year, i was excited to go back literally because i wanted to use my new pens.

12. this is a future piece of advice, but i would say there’s a 99% chance that you will be friends with mostly different people by senior year. you might have a core few, or a bestie, but myself and many others know that there are people who we were best friends with freshman year that don’t say hi to us in the halls senior year.

13. listen, there are gonna be some snake ass bitches. there’s no avoiding it. just don’t pay attention to them!! they get off on thinking they’re better than you. the best way to no longer deal with someone you don’t like is to just not associate with them. i’m obviously over simplifying these situations, but its usually not that deep. if it’s to the point where it’s causing you a great amount of stress, then it may be something you need to talk to a guidance counselor about.

14. please. do. not. run. and scream. in. the. halls. who do u think u are?? it’s 8 AM i don’t want to hear your screeching voice as you run into 7 people!!!!!

15. the freshmen are usually the joke of the school. you’ll hear you guys referred to as gremlins in some way, shape, or form. just deal with it, you’ll understand when you’re no longer freshmen (unless someone’s being unnecessarily mean!!).

16. make friends with your teachers!!!!!!!!! stay after class to have a little conversation with them. email them after school. bring them gifts on major holidays. IT WILL PAY OFF. letters of recommendation? done! need a teacher to sign off on something? done! minorly messed up in class? they’ll let it go bc they like you! this will also probably result in an increase in your character/participation grades.

17. make a travel pack that you keep in your bag - a few small bills, pads/tampons (for those who need), pen, pencil, bobby pins, nail file, hair elastic, gum/mints, small perfume, band-aids, charger, etc.

18. thrift books sells books for really cheap!! also, ALWAYS check other places before ordering from normal bookstores (i’m looking at u barnes & noble)- they’re most likely cheaper.

19. i’m not gonna be one of those people who is like “school is the best!! it can be great for anyone if you just try!!” bc that shit aint true. it might suck ass for some of you. just know that high school isn’t your life. some people act like your life ends after high school. we’re 14-18 years old and still have so much to learn and see. if you set up a countdown to the end of high school your first day of freshman year, so be it.

20. your teachers are people too. they’re not there for you to use and abuse. they have families, problems, LIVES. they also have 3289472 students besides yourself, and assuming they should put you above the rest will only end up in disappointment.

21. social media is not all that matters. esp in this day and age, people will definitely be using snapchat and instagram (and hey! tumblr too). but don’t think you need social media to fit in. one of the most popular girls in my school literally made her instagram just the other day. to reiterate: it’s not that deep!!

22. you’re gonna change a lot (which is ok!!). freshman year i only wore hot topic and watched supernatural & doctor who. now, i just watch cooking vids and fawn over shawn mendes. it’s ok to change!! even just though freshman year you’ll change. i know i got like. super gay

23. if you find yourself having free time (or having study hall), do your homework!!! once you get home you’ll probably get distracted/lazy. what i used to do was go to my local library after school and get all my homework done so that i wouldn’t leave my school mindset and not wanna do anything. even if you don’t get everything done, you’ll thank yourself later.

24. there’s a difference between “forming your own opinion” on someone and completely ignoring their reputation/what your friends say. i can’t tell you how many people have gotten burned by the SAME guy in my school because none of them even kept in mind the warnings they had heard about him. it’s ok to give people a chance, but remember that most people’s reputations hold some truth (but not everyone!).

25. this seems pretty obvious but like. be nice. don’t talk mad shit about people you don’t know. rumors fly FAST in high school. what’s even worse is when they’re not true. fact check your shit if you ARE gonna gossip.

26. ok last point (for now). everything is gonna be new. there’s no getting around it. you WILL feel out of place. you’ll most likely be anxious. but everything will end up ok (cheesy, i know). the first week of high school is one the scariest weeks you’ll have in high school. things need time to settle. you’ll make friends, you’ll find things you like, you’ll be happy!! enter high school with a growth mindset. it may not seem like it, but your attitude WILL impact how things turn out.

overall, you guys will be fine. good luck to all of you !! if you have any questions or need advice on a specific thing, please feel free to send me an ask!! i’m always here. love u bbies

#this is still just as long as my last one but at leats it's cleaner now #feel free to add btw!!#pls rb this lol #high school #tips #freshman #freshmen #hs #advice #incoming freshman #school #studying #studyblr #back to school #Back to school tips

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skaian-fiddler · 6 years

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State of the Webcomic

Im not sure what I wanted this to be when I started writing it. I know that as of late, Homestuck, in terms of its fanbase and its surrounding politics, has been pretty bleak. And I know that it feels like there arent alot of us left that care anymore. So I guess this is going to be something of a chronicle of the comic, and its involvement in my own experience. If youre just here for classpecting memes, feel free to totally disregard this. Otherwise… strap the fuck in I guess? Theres a nonzero amount of words about to come at you. For this 4/13, this is my account of Homestuck.

On April 13th, 2009, some guy with a shitty url published the first page of an indie webcomic. As I have come to understand, this fact would eventually become something of a ‘big deal’. At the time, however, it was not. I wouldnt be aware of its existence for quite some time.

Some years passed, and people started learning that this weird thing existed. The webcomic had survived through its fledgeling stages, and had managed to gain enough momentum and a fanbase large enough to keep above the surface and on peoples radar. At this stage, the only thing I knew about the webcomic was a single word, whispered in hushed tones: “Homestuck.” A few more years passed and the fandom began to grow steadily in proportion to a roster of increasingly convoluted characters, as well as the hair-brained complexity of the comics plot.

And then, Cascade.

I heard rumor of a webcomic that went off so huge that it fucking broke Newgrounds. Suddenly the fandom was omnipresent, and potentially out of control. From what ive picked up, it was a pretty rad time to be a nerd. “Somewhere, a soused uncle deliberately shatters china on the floor. Muddy livestock is decorated, and then lost track of. The question ‘Who's mule is this?’ at times can be heard over the din. This is now your reality.”

But, as much as I was starting to learn exactly what Homestuck was, I was hearing equally as much in terms of negativity about its fandom. Of their overwhelming presence during conventions, their reputation for immaturity, the torrents of unsealed gray face paint flooding the lobbies of unsuspecting hotels. So, I stayed away. This was like, late middle school for me, and there was no way in hell I was going to risk putting my image-obsessed ass on the line for a bunch of rainbow blooded zodiac alien shitlords and their apocalyptic tendencies. So, I stayed away.

It really was the first time something pop culture had ever gotten this big. Openbound hit, and it got bigger? Somehow? More trolls? Jesus christ. The fandom kept growing at an exponential rate, faster than people could process it, and so much so that nobody else knew how to handle it.

And then it… stopped.

The Gigapause, I think it was called. At the height of their power, the fandom was left with nothing, no new content to grab hold of, no new development to fuel their fan works, no anything. The fandom starts to lose speed. A spot of hope happens, during act 6 and is subsequently dashed against the rocks below as the Omegapause kicks in. I wasnt paying attention. I was busy, there was work to be done trying to get into college.

And just as suddenly as it had come, it was gone. The webcomic concluded in a way that implied that not only the readers, but the fictional characters themselves were freed from the scope and size of their own work. Anyone still reading watched Collide, in what I can only imagine to be 20 minutes of pure catharsis. The fandom got hit with Act 7, and that was it.

This whole time, that entire span of that seven years, nobody had ever ‘told me about Homestuck.’ Until, about a year after it ended, a friend of mine told me that the way I talk reminded them of a character called Karkat (after what Im assuming was a fairly aggressive bitch fest about something or other). Upon my asking what in the fuck kind of name Karkat is, they nostalgically smiled, and asked me if I had ever read a certain webcomic.

We went back to my dorm and they pulled it up on my computer. We read for a couple hours. I didnt think too much of it, but it was amusing enough. I put it away, and forgot about it until one lazy day like month later. And then I think it was Rose dropping a bathtub in Johns hallway that sealed the deal. I dont think I have to tell anyone following a fucking classpect blog about how addicting reading Homestuck is. I got really into the classpect system, as you can see. Im damn near constantly nerding out about videogame-esque class systems and personality studies, and I thought Homestuck’s god tier system was so fucking creative and interesting. And the music, holy shit. A flash webcomic? With LEITMOTIFS?!?

I eventually figured out that thinking Homestuck is cool in 2018 was… lonely. The people that still were fans of the comic enjoyed it in hushed tones, and in shame. It was sad, in ways. A part of me wished that I had gotten to experience it at its peak. I am not one such member of this fandom that has existed when the work was in its primordial stages, and I do not for one second claim to have been at the apex of the movement.

So what does this shitty history lesson good for anyway, right? What does it all mean? It has been nine years to the day, this 4/13, and Hiveswap is the only thing from keeping what was once considered a monumental aspect of pop culture from fading into complete obscurity. I am hopeful of the future of Homestuck, but I cannot help but also feel that one day, in the near future, it will be lost to time. And so, here we are today. I walk amongst the bones of the sun-bleached empire that used to be Homestuck. Not many people live here anymore. One day, it might be empty. One day, it might be that nobody remembers it at all.

But not as long as you are here, reading horseshit like this rant. Not as long as someone is drawing shitty fan art of the Mayor, not as long as someone is shamelessly jamming out on the bus to Sburban Jungle, and not as long as someone out there who cant think of the word ‘Pisces’ without instinctively associating it with the color fuschia. Humanitys drive to build things, to create, is rooted in an effort to outlast their own lifespan. And the same is true for this thing that we have all come to love (hate?), and for all of the thousands of people that have found some connection with each other over a common bond. I know that this whole rant has had some serious cringe potential, but know this, you bunch of nerds: As long as you are out there, reading, enjoying, then the fandom is still alive and well. And better yet? You arent alone.

Happy 4/13, kids.

“I keep having these dreams. Great empty cities, silent roads stretching for miles. The Earth from space, all dark. Not a single light to guide me home. But if someone really came from another world, what would the Earth look like to them? A wilderness? A wasteland? I don't think so. Even after thousands of years they’d see a world shaped by our hand in every aspect of its being. They'd see the cities and the roads; the bridges, the harbors. And they would say: Here lived a race of giants.”

-Acclaimed Actor and Sleeping Prophet, Charles Dutton

-Alexandra Drennan, The Talos Principle

#homestuck #4/13 #not classpect #feel free to disregard #I was just in the mood #for like a fucking essay

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essu-rwby-desu · 7 years

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Chapter 4: Lighting the Fire Reaction

-LONG POST-

ITS SO COLD IT BURNS SO GOOD. (?????)

THE FASTEST IVE PROBABLY PUT OUT A REACTION POST BECAUSE HOLY SHIT BALLS, MOM.

“You wait here, I’ll go check if the coast is clear.”

Yang is totally not buying into your bullshit, buddy.

Better get ready, just in cas-. THE GLOVE. AND THE ASS CAPES ARE COMING OFF.

You know what would be neat? Since Yang is kind of the ‘tank’ in the group, her new arm could use like, oh I don’t know, maybe a small shield?

“I can’t believe you were dumb enough to let me lead you here.”

Sorry buddy, but you’re the dumb one for leading her there.

They’re scared of the small barrel popping out of her right arm? I’d be more terrified of her, oh, I don’t know, HER OTHER ARM WITH A BELT FULL OF SHOTGUN SHELLS???

…Or maybe they’re all surprised because “OH, IT’S ALSO A GUN.”

LOOK AT THIS STRUT.

See, a small shield would be nice, but I guess she’s still fending off the bullets.

This string and percussion version of I Burn tho.

LOOK AT THIS BAKUGO ASS MOVE THO. APPROVE.

AND THEN THIS SLOW GUITAR OF ARMED AND READY.

You mess with the wrong bird, and I don’t mean Yang.

Ruby, please, you can-

RUBY, YOU LITTLE SHIT.

AND AT THIS MOMENT, OSCAR KNEW, HE FUCKED UP.

SMASH.

“You forgot to engage your aura, again.”

“WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME?!”

“Because this method makes you less likely to forget.”

I mean. Oz isn’t wrong. But.

“Not bad, Ms. Rose. But Oscar doesn’t have the years of training that you do. Or I do.”

HACKS ON. ENTERING THE AVATAR STATE.

THIS IS WHAT FEAR LOOKS LIKE. AT THIS MOMENT, RUBY KNEW. SHE WAS GONNA GET FUCKED UP.

YOU’RE A THOUSAND YEARS TOO EARLY TO BE FIGHTING ME.

Like. Literally a thousand years. Or more. Cuz Ozpin is apparently fucking immortal.

Sometimes I feel like everyone should rewatch the episode just for like, not necessarily screen shots, but to look for frames like these. Like. Even though it’s a straight forward shot, this is a nice shot.

Does anyone else do this in real life? I mean the whole talk and look at the person with one open eye thing. Me only? Ok, let’s just. Keep moving forward.

Idk why, but when Nora said Ren’s semblance can mask emtions, I immediately started playing Reflections from Mulan in my head. It really has nothing to do with the fact that Ren is supposed to be designed off of the idea of Mulan. Or maybe I did subconsciously. Hm. The song has NOTHING to do with his semblance either! Brain, what are you doing.

Two songs from Mulan in 2 review posts. And I haven’t watched the movie in ages.

WHOOOOOOOOOO ISSSSSSS THAT GIRRRRRRRRLLLLLLL I SSSSSEEEEEEEEEEEE-

MORE POSITIVE REIGNFORCEMENT RUBY. YES.

5 Volumes in and we get an in-show description of what Semblances are. I know they talked about it in the World of Remnant shorts, but they were just that: Short. It’s nice to have it actually explained in the show since not many of us watched the short seri-

“Oh. Struck by lightning, didn’t die, Crazzzzzzy Thursday/”

NORA. PLEASE.

“Unlocking your semblance isn’t the end. It can still grow and evolve.”

HMMMM.

Just because Ruby.

THEY’RE. THEY HAVE GOT TO BE WITHIN 50 FT OF EACH OTHER BY THIS POINT.

OK. She’s opting for the stealth escape route.

THE LITTLE *DINK* SOUND EFFECT IT MADE. OMG. HAHAHAHA. YOU CAN DO IT LITTLE BUDDY. YOU’RE DOING GREAT.

“So after all this time, you decided to visit me.”

Mother- What?! YANG DIDN’T EVEN KNOW WHERE YOU WERE. IT’S NOT LIKE YOU WERE AT A RETIREMENT HOME OR SOMETHING?

“They started it.”

I heard this and was like “HAH. Like how a kid would try to make an excuse to their parent.”

“I’m not here for you. Ruby is somewhere in Mistral. She’s with Qrow and she’s going to need my help. I just need you to take me to her.”

You know, I get the feeling that a lot of people are gonna be like

“YOU FINALLY FOUND YOUR MOM. THE PERSON YOU’VE BEEN LOOKING FOR, FOR YEARS. AND YOU’RE JUST GONNA ASK HER TO TAKE YOU TO RUBY? DON’T YOU HAVE ANYTHING ELSE TO SAY OR ASK?”

I do feel that to a certain extent, but at the same time I feel like Yang may also have grown out of it. Whatever the reason she had for looking for her mom before isn’t the same now. Yang obviously has questions for Raven, but she also knows how important it is to find Ruby, and she probably feels like that outweighs whatever personal things she has with her mom, it just so happens that Raven was also the answer to finding Ruby.

And besides. Yang now knows where Raven’s camp is. I suppose she could just come back, albeit she may not be welcomed with open arms. Or arm. Just the one. I’m sorry.

“Because we’re family.”

OHHHH, GET FUCKED, RAVEN. Your own daughter throwing that sarcastic shade at you.

So we’ve seen what Raven’s semblances is, but not how it works, until now. She ‘bonds to certain people’ and can make warp gates to them. Yang says that she has her, Tai, and Qrow marked. Yang also says to teleport her to Qrow, NOT Ruby. It could simply be that Raven had no reason to mark Ruby as someone to teleport to, or maybe it’s because Raven can only teleport to people that are close to her: Her Family.

That begin said, Raven seems to not like the whole family thing since she does say “Family - only come around when they need something.” Maybe her semblance was found due to the opposite nature of her personality. Having a semblance that literally takes her back to her family when she has such disdain for the idea does raise a few questions. But I’ll leave it at that.

Yeah. The way her face was animated and sass she threw in with her words. Badass/Evil mom status.

Before we move on I just want to know: What the fuck is that thing on her head? Like. I get it. RAVEN. FEATHERS. BUT LIKE. WHAT. IS THAT? Is it just like one giant super long hair extension or is that literally all part of her hair?

I laughed. SO HARD. At how long this shot was held for. Like.

Oh. Hi. Uhmmm. Uhh. Hello?

“Yang?????”

“…WHYiss you here?!”

THERE IT IS. FIRST CONTACT. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH-

THE ILLUSION OF CHOICE IN VIDEO GAMES: CHOOSE STEALTH OR BUST OUT? OH YOU CHOSE STEALTH? TOO BAD, YOU’RE GOING TO BUST THE HELL OUT.

YASSSSSSS. IDC IF YALL HAVE SEEN GIFS AND SCREENSHOTS OF THIS ALREADY, THIS IS V IMPORTANT.

W: “What are you doing here?”

Y: “Well. That’s my mom. And she can take us to Ruby.”

-Slowly taking in what Yang just said.-

“That’s my mom.”

“That’s…

My….

…mom.” ?!?!?!?!?!?!

“… uhhhhhhh”

Never in my life have I thought I would hear those words. In any form of media.

Also let’s not forget that Raven straight up curb stomped Weiss in the face.

W: “YOUR MOM CURBED STOMPED ME. SHE KICKED ME IN THE FACE.”

Y: “… YOU DID WHAT!?”

Weiss’s knight could EASILY cleave through half that camp at that size. Jeez.

Spring Maiden putting a halt to this BS.

Weiss giving that stern anime look and pose.

“If you’re really going after your sister, then you need to know the truth.”

HMMMM. OKAY. SO HERE’S ANOTHER CHOSE YOUR ADVENTURE MOMENT:

So we know everything’s that been going on with Salem and Cinder and Ozpin and yaddie yaddie yadda. So once Raven tells Yang and Weiss everything, what’s going to happen? Are they still going to regroup with Ruby and join her with Qrow to fight against Salem’s assault on Haven with the White Fang? Or are Weiss and Yang going to try and convince Ruby to pull away from Haven because shit is about to get real and they shouldn’t haven’t to deal with it?

I HIGHLY doubt that Raven is going to tell them about how literally the Spring Maiden is within the camp grounds. But if she does, then??? Do the 2 of them stay? Or will Raven teleport Yang and Weiss, just to then later pick up camp and move to a new location? Cuz by then EVERYONES gonna know who and where the Spring Maiden is.

SO MANY POSSIBILITIES.

YES. FUCKING. FINALLY. YASSSSSSSSSSSSSSS. ONE OF THE MANY MOMENTS WE’VE BEEN WAITING FOR.

I TEAR UP. EVERY TIME. AND IT DOESN’T HELP THAT THE BACKGROUND SONG IS “HOME”.

-UGLY HYSTERICAL SOBS-

I maybe reading into this too much, cuz you know, emotions rising, and with knowing the lyrics to the song, I want to talk about the symbolism in this last shot.

Weiss has gotten quite a bit of development coming from Volume 4 to now. And in my opinion, it started all when she was able to successfully summon her knight.

After being told she was no longer the heiress to her family’s company, she was held against her will to stay in her room. As soon as she was able to summon her knight, she decided to take action. She was able to escape with the help of Klein. He was probably going to be the last trust worthy person she knows that she’s going to see in a while. Even while doing so, she’s had her guard up the whole time because she knew she’s no longer in a safe place. All the way up to being captured by bandits, she still shows initiative to get out.

Then she reunites with Yang. She has finally found someone she cares and trusts. Someone she probably considers as part of her family, the family being Team RWBY. So the knight fading away in this last shot is visual representation of Weiss finally letting her guard down because now she’s with family. AND WHERE DO YOU USUALLY FIND FAMILY? HOME. THE TITLE OF THE SONG THAT’S PLAYING. AND I JUSTLKSA:LSKDJA:SLKJDWOIASK jEXCUSE ME WHILE I GO REPLAY THIS SCENE FOR THE REST OF TIME UNTIL MORE OF THE TEAM GETS BACK TOGETHER.

TL;DR: Weiss’s knight fading away at the end of this scene is the visual representation of Weiss finally letting her guard down now that she’s found Yang; a team mate, a friend, a person she might consider as family.

But I may just be reading into this too much. I MEAN HOW COULD YOU NOT?

GIVE ME THE NEXT EPISODE, PLEASE ;A;

P.S.:

I SUPPORT

SMOLS GETTING HUGS FROM SWOLS.

#rwby #rwby v5 #essu's rwby reactionu #rwby spoilers #long post #lots of images and with some gifs this time!#Essu's RWBY Commentary

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rileywrites-parker · 7 years

Text

Yesterday, She Was

Peter Parker x Reader (Peter’s POV)

Prompts: “… Do you like it?” “If we’re doing this, we’re doing it the right way.” “It’s cold, you should take my jacket.” Or, in this case: he figures it out. Or: a case of the feelings and irritating hormones.

Anon Request: “Hi, I was wondering if you could do a really cute fluffy thing where like reader and peter are hanging out on a cold, snowy winter night, and there’s hot chocolate and cuddling, then maybe some confessed feelings and kissing. Thanks! Also, you’re a really great writer. I just read all your stuff.”

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI

Summary: Peter comes to the realization that maybe there’s more to his observations than just that. Maybe there’s a reason his eyes like to linger. Maybe there’s a reason he’s suddenly flustered and bothered by silly things like fingers and tongues. He’d been caught up on a different face for so long he’d failed to notice his developing admiration for the one right in front of him. Words: 3.9k Peter is 16/17.

Part I Part III Part IV Part V Part VI

Warnings: Hormones and a brief reference to that scene from that trailer we totally aren’t supposed to have seen or talk about.

His middle digits flexed into his palm as he pressed on his web shooter, web fluid ejecting, the sticky substance jettisoning towards the reflective surface of the skyscraper towering over the busy street below; the sound of it like that of an old, cherished friend, making contact and allowing him to continue swinging. He wove through the buildings with graceful, practiced ease; two years of web slinging now under his belt. His eyes scanning as he moved, ears perked as he changed arms, repeating the same motion, web latching on at a different point and onto a different structure. His body jerked slightly as he changed direction, his muscles responding with a little hesitation, cold air biting as his speed increased with each arc.

He still struggled with a few things. He’d gotten better about changing into his alter self, better about back packs; for which his Aunt was grateful.

Fighting was hard. Losing even more so.

But this he could do. This was relaxing. This was peaceful.

This was when he found refuge in his thoughts.

Thoughts that were now on a subject he’d only recently taken up; carrying him off to the night before, swinging on the webs of his memory to drinks and chapped lips.

It wasn’t the first time he’d found those lips to be the focus of his attention. There had been many late nights since middle school spent talking into the early hours of the morning; hours where he’d studied the lines of them in the dim light of the television as movie after movie played on, fixating on them while they moved, pink flesh curving around her voice, tongue peeking out when she got caught on her thoughts or when she’d spent so much time weaving her stories that the instruments of her craft needed lubrication.

He was always eager to hear everything, watching as the things she held captive in her mind sprung free for him to hold in his own thereafter.

This, however, had been the first time that fascination had twisted it’s way deeply enough into his mind that it suddenly transformed into this tangible thing; a passion; an awareness, that from that point on, would push to the front line of the war waging in his chest anytime he was in her presence.

He’d spent a lot of time watching Liz’s mouth, eyes tracing over their plumpness, admiring the way she decorated them with splashes of color, wondering how those colors would look on his face and neck, smeared against the paleness of his skin if she pressed her mouth there.

He’d liked how the whiteness of her teeth had stood out brightly against them when she stretched those plump things into a smile.

Liz was beautiful in an obvious sort of way, beautiful and kind. It had seemed only natural to him that he should admire Liz; that he should want to feel her. But then what happened, happened, and she was no longer obtainable, gone, and he had found that as days turned into weeks, he no longer thought about the shape of her, or the way she laughed. Truthfully, and in hindsight, she hadn’t even left before he had unintentionally started his thoughts on a different path; it had begun with a promise, a note, and a hug he hadn’t known his worn being had been craving.

Then, and it took a while, it got worse.

And it was all because of hot chocolate.

He’d told her to meet him on the bench beneath two trees a couple of blocks away from her apartment, ‘the place in between;’ where you always met before school. He’d told her he would see her after dinner. He hadn’t expected to get hung up by a group of thugs beating on a sharply dressed white collar in an alley on the way. He certainly hadn’t planned on swinging out into the street just in time to pull a little girl into his arms before that bus could flatten her; mother in hysterics; little blue and purple sneaker blackened and smashed under the weight of a tire.

He also hadn’t expected the clouds to sink, for the air to further chill, and the wind to begin blending little white flurries into the darkened sky.

He was thankful for the built in heater Mr. Stark had gifted him, although it had been Karen who had reminded him of it. It had been a blessing as the sun had sunk below the horizon and the cold air had turned bitter as it began to snow.

And then he was glad for the thick jacket May had shoved at him when he pulled it out of his bag, insisting he avoid being too cold as he’d left earlier that morning.

She sat on the bench exactly where he’d asked her to; always proving that she was the better friend by never failing to answer that question he had been asking for years. Billowy white clouds of moisture puffed out from her as she blew hot air into her chilled hands; tips of her fingers reddened to match with her exposed ears. She had drawn as much of herself into her center as she possibly could, legs shoved against her chest, arms wrapped tightly around knees, a plum colored sweater pulled snugly to her shivering form.

He immediately felt a thousand times worse when he was close enough to see her face, at how red her nose was, the rosiness of her cheeks, her blue-tinged lips, and the furrowed lines of her brows as she frowned.

“Peter Benjamin Parker,” she said, her lips drawn in tight, “you told me you would be here right after dinner. It’s nearly 8 o’clock.” Releasing her knees, she crossed her arms in front of her, exposing her fingers to the air.

“Uh oh,” he took a seat next to her, sliding over to where the scratchy material of his jeans sandwiched against the chilled fabric of her leggings; cool skin leeching into the warmth of his, “using my middle name and everything,” tone light, a poor attempt at making her laugh.

She tucked her fingers further under her arms, nestling them into the warmth her core provided; wild tendrils of hair that had come loose from the messy bun she wore the rest of her hair in twirled around her face, the pieces chasing after the flurries dancing on the breeze.

She wasn’t having it.

“It’s freezing, Parker,” body coiling as she pulled the exposed skin of her neck into the nest of her shoulders, knitted sweater bunching between her breasts as she retreated into herself further, “I’ve been here for over an hour.”

“I know, I know, I’m so, so sorry,” his fingers tingled as he pulled them from the safety of his pockets to unzip his jacket, “it’s just that - you know, something came up.” She frowned at that, but nodded her head in acceptance, used to the standard response he offered almost daily; always answering, but never questioning.

Little tufts of the fallen sky littered her hair, crystals hanging from the strands like he did from his webs. A flurry found the bridge of her nose, constellation of freckles hidden beneath the lightness of it; another found a long, pretty set of eyelashes; the light of the lamps overhead shining through their translucence and giving her eyes an almost ethereal, glimmering appearance.

He worked his arms out from the sleeves, freeing his shoulders and baring himself to the bitter air, shivering violently when it caressed the back of his neck and nipped at his ears. “Here, you should take my jacket.”

“No, that’s OK, you keep it.” She shook her head, the briefest of smiles pulling at the fullness of her lips.

“Please? I feel bad, and you look a little silly all scrunched up like that.” He held it out to her, the sleeves brushing against a bent knee. She took it then, pushing numb fingers through the arms, warm air pushing past her lips as she released a contented sound when the residual heat from his body trapped within the woven fibers latched onto her shivering form. She buried her nose in the collar of the slightly too big jacket.

“Thanks, Pete,” she smiled then, her lips hidden, but her eyes lighting up, the rosiness of her cheeks deepening.

“Y-yeah, sure,” he said smiling back, his own cheeks lighting up curiously. He looked down at his shoes then, at the way he’d sloppily looped the laces together in the alley he’d hastily swapped costumes in; easier and less distracting to look at than the pretty way the color in her cheeks accentuated the way the skin there curved over the delicate lines of her bones. He toed at the straps of the bag he’d sat between his feet.

A strange thought crossed his mind then: Was it normal to want to touch your friend’s face? Was it normal to want to finger through your friend’s hair? Surely it was. She had done it for him many times.

Was that normal?

It had to be.

He looked up from his feet and across the street to the yellowed lights spilling from the windows of the diner that resided squished and out of place between two towering apartment buildings. Raggedy looking garland hung around the door, faded green plastic illuminated by the equally fading light of the bulbs dotting the length of it. Someone had painted various themed figures on the door. The flurries in the air becoming more frequent, heavier; making the artificial snowy scenes on the windows seem less than as the white of the falling sky and paint blended together. Another shiver wracked his rapidly cooling muscles; envious of the striped scarf the painted snowman wore.

“We should go inside,” he said gesturing to the cozy looking insides of the building, standing before she could answer, swinging his bag around a shoulder before shoving iced fingers into his pockets, “I’ll get you a coffee or something,” shrugging his shoulders and quirking a funny brow as she looked up at him.

“OK.” She stood slowly, taking a second to stretch her muscles, zipping the borrowed jacket, her nose still hiding in its collar. Her eyes bright like the moon that was beginning to peek from the clouds.

“OK.” He stood awkwardly for a moment, looking at her, at the way his jacket sat on her shoulders, at how different it looked on someone else, someone so familiar; two sets of moistened air puffing from cold noses in sync. He looked away when her brow arched up in question, turning to walk across the street, bodies stiff from the chill of the air and the unfamiliar tension it was filled with. He reached the door first, fingers wrapping around the frozen metal of its handle, skin tingling in shock at the temperature; burning when the heated air of the diner shook its contrasting hands with his nerve endings.

She led the way to the back, picking a secluded booth in the corner; cardboard cutout of a Christmas tree hanging above your heads, spinning lazily in time with the convection of hot air spilling from the vents. He slid his bag in first, pushing it against the wall. The vinyl cushions crinkled as you sat on either side of each other. The tips of her fingers worked to free the table of the glittering salt crystals decorating its sticky surface.

“I’m thinking hot chocolate would be good,” she said, finally comfortable enough in the warmth of the diner to free her lips; chapped from the wind, dark pink and no longer slightly purpled; color attractive without the need for the waxes Liz had favored.

“Yeah? It’s been a long time since I’ve had any,” he pulled his eyes away from her to look towards the place’s lone waitress. She turned to nod her head at him as she finished taking the order of the couple on the opposite side of the room, writing diligently in her notepad. “May stopped making it for me years ago.” He needed to stop and grab a box of mix at the store. Maybe he would make her some this weekend. Ben had loved the stuff. Maybe it would warm her like he used to.

You’d placed your order, waitress walking away with a smile on her face and a twinkle in her eye.

His fingers carded through his hair, fidgeting with the waves, fingernails raking over his scalp as he looked down at her hands; hands that wove themselves together and apart again, fingertips that ran over the stitches at the cuff of his jacket. She stopped to fiddle with a hangnail.

It was unusual for the two of you to be so quiet; odd that you were finding it difficult to come up with words to fill the silence. It wasn’t entirely uncomfortable; he was never uncomfortable around her, not really. She looked up from her nails to meet his eyes, bright and glittering, an infectious smile gracing her features, pulling at his own lips before he’d even processed the fluttery feeling brewing in his chest at the sight.

Two steaming cups of sweetened, chocolatey milk clanked as they met the table, a bowl of whipped cream finding a place between them.

“Thank you,” you both said at the same time, waitress offering a smile. He pushed a cup over in her direction, her fingers looping through the porcelain handle, a pink tongue peeking through her lips as she brought the cup up to her face.

“Wait, wait, wait,” he said as he worked to unroll the napkin blanketing his silverware, pulling out a spoon and scooping a dollop of whipped cream into its silvery bowl, “If we’re doing this, we’re doing it the right way.” She released a tinkling laugh as the cream splashed into her cup, the hot liquid making quick work of melting it, sweetness mixing into the sharpness of the chocolate. He put a generous scoop of the stuff in his own cup, enjoying the sugary taste as it coated his tongue; warmth of it working to heat him from the inside.

“Definitely, you’re right.” He watched as she took her first sip, eyebrows rising as she closed her eyes and made a pleased sound; the noise bordering dangerously on what he would consider a moan; ears flushing at the strange sensation the thought stirred in his abdomen. His eyes followed her tongue as it ran over those lips, watched as it caught on the chocolate and cream that had stained them, as her tongue retreated back into her mouth, leaving a glistening trail in its wake.

He swallowed hard, his throat tight and bobbing, heart fluttering, mind shouting at him in excitable confusion, whispering its traitorous appreciation.

“…D-do you like it?” He found himself stammering, his voice cracking in a way it hadn’t in a couple of years. ‘Come on, Peter,’ he chided himself, feeling a fool for being affected and flustered by his friend.

His very attractive friend.

His friend with very nice lips and a pretty tongue.

‘Good God, being a teenager sucked.’

But was it really just that? He wasn’t sure. He didn’t think so.

She took another drink, making the same noises, the same face; lashes fluttering, teasing pink cheeks.

He put his drink down.

She nodded her head then, “This is probably the best hot chocolate I’ve ever had, truly.” A single finger reached up to run along the corner of her mouth, wet, pink flesh responding to the pressure, dimpling and stretching as she wiped sweet cream from its surface.

Then she popped that finger into her mouth.

He watched as it pushed past her lips, as she pulled it out, fingertip wet and slick.

He whipped his head to the side, heart hammering in his chest, taking his eyes off of that finger and those lips. His stomach flipped. His cheeks burned. The whole of him burned.

‘Oh no. Oh no. Oh God,’ his internal self uttering through his panicked brain.

And then it hit him, smacked him upside the head, punched him right in the chest with the power and efficiency of the thugs he’d fought off only an hour or so before.

He liked you. He really, really liked you; the friend that had always been.

But it was more than that. He was attracted to you. Really, really, really attracted to you. He realized that he had been for a while; that his brain had been whispering to his heart and that his eyes and ears had been feeding it, and that he didn’t just notice things about you, he really paid attention.

When he located courage among the muck of emotions swamping his addled thoughts to look at her again, her face was different. Under the lens of awareness, everything had softened; the hammering in his heart relaxing to a steady, fluttery warmth.

Another thought crossed his mind then: Liz had been obvious. [Y/N] hadn’t been.

Until she was.

And somehow, that was better.

Now he found himself noticing everything; found that he wanted to notice everything, to build on the catalogue of things about you he had already started filling out years ago without even really knowing.

Now as he looked at her sweet face, at the lines of her nose and jaw, the soft angles of her chin, and the way her eyes caught the light from the glittering specks amidst the garland strewn about the room, he found that her lips; and his continued, almost necessary attention to them, were like sirens, singing to him, tempting him with their shape and color.

If her lips moved against his, with his, the same way they danced around the sounds and syllables in ‘Peter,’ how would it feel? Would his blood sing out in the same way her words did? Would it boil? Or would it be like a balm, soothing the roiling waves in his stomach; calming the storm brewing in the wild ocean of his mind.

What would happen if?

‘But you can’t do that to your friend, Peter. You can’t ask that question, Spider-man.’

So instead, he’d smiled and you’d talked and laughed as you finished your drinks. He’d walked you home before trekking to his own; passing by the diner again on his way, looking into the windows, smiling as his eyes found their booth, paper Christmas tree still spinning away.

Four and a half years ago she was the new girl with the ill-suited bangs and dirty shoes offering him part of the lunch her parents had over-packed; bag of chips crinkling as she held it in front of his face, taking a seat next to him and Ned without asking if it was OK; talking about books and cartoons and stars.

Then she was sitting across from him on the bus, sitting next to him in class, walking alongside him in the hallways; bony shoulders bumping into each other, scratchy nylon backpack straps tangling together. Worming her way into their lives, his life, of her own volition, like even then she’d known eventually it would be his heart she slid into.

A year ago, she’d leant on a dented, scratchy locker; wide open, a friend offering her arms and ears in answer, not really knowing what the question was. Not knowing what she was giving. She’d been the familiar smell, his favorite braid, and a soft sweater for his chin to rest on; like then she’d known eventually it would be her comfort he would ache to slide into.

Three months ago she was the small set of too-warm fingers brushing against his as you’d walked home together. She was the sweet, floral scent in the air filling his lungs. She was the laugh that caressed his ears and squeezed at his heart; the connection between his chest and brain lagging, struggling to identify it for what it was.

Yesterday, she was.

But today, today she is.

Tomorrow, he would be.

Maybe.

When he worked up the courage to do something about it.

If he could.

Should he?

Was it really such a good idea?

With that final thought, he released the hold on the web he’d launched at the brick building across from his and May’s own, allowing his body to push through the dry, chilly air, riding the waves of momentum as it carried him to the sidewalk below. With arms outstretched he caught himself on a street lamp, whirling around it in a last attempt at expelling his nervous energy before the soles of his boots made contact with the cement.

He hadn’t even made it half way up the stairs to his door before his phone had rung. Before Tony had called asking for his help, tension and apprehension in his voice evident; he spoke of a threat to the whole of the world, to the universe. He spoke of how much he hated himself for calling.

Happy arrived seconds after that, uncharacteristically silent, face lined with worry and what looked like fear. There was a case in the back seat, not entirely unlike the one he’d been gifted that first time.

Tony had ended his call with “Suit up, kid.”

So he did.

And he’d fought.

And he’d lost, they all did. So much, too much.

He’d thought of her when he closed his eyes and deafened his ears to the sounds of chaos around him. He’d continue thinking of her, of those lips and eyes, her hair and fingers and of hot chocolate while they remained closed for days after.

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI

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justintimbershit · 7 years

Note

1-99

1: 6 of the songs you listen to most?XO - John Mayer Cabaret - Justin Timberlake Lights On - Shawn Mendes Bad Habit - The KooksHow Would You Feel - Ed Sheeran You’re Gonna Llive Forever in Me - John Mayer

2: If you could meet anyone on this earth, who would it be?literally John Mayer so I can ask him why the FUCK he played XO in Chicago and why that was only the 10th time ever and first and only time of TSFE tour he played it

3: Grab the book nearest to you, turn to page 23, give me line 17.“Mom’s stumped us. We had absolutely no idea who she’d dredge” (I’ll Give You the Sun by Jandy Nelson)

4: What do you think about most?how terrible life is and then how much i wanna die tbh

5: What does your latest text message from someone else say?“Jena should i get dropped off at your house then we can go get joe & julie?” IOWA TOMORROW FOR ED :DDDD

6: Do you sleep with or without clothes on?always w shirt but no pants lol

7: What’s your strangest talent?hating life as much as i do idk i have no talent

8: Girls… (finish the sentence); Boys… (finish the sentence)girls r hot n nice boys r hot n mean

9: Ever had a poem or song written about you?yeah bc we were in love lol :(

10: When is the last time you played the air guitar? idk i usually dont

11: Do you have any strange phobias?feet, being alone but also being in large crowds, idk theyre not very weird

12: Ever stuck a foreign object up your nose?no?

13: What’s your religion?idk man none atm prob

14: If you are outside, what are you most likely doing?looking forward to going inside. but working and therefore reading.

15: Do you prefer to be behind the camera or in front of it?behind bc i am ugly lol

16: Simple but extremely complex. Favorite band?um probably panic at the disco but then also the killers

17: What was the last lie you told?“its fine” bc no it is not fine i wanna fight

18: Do you believe in karma?ya i think so. maybe

19: What does your URL mean?i like Justin Timberlake and also swearing

20: What is your greatest weakness; your greatest strength?weakness is probably just who i am as a person and strength is idk i dont have any

21: Who is your celebrity crush?lmao. you say this like i have one. i have many. like thousands.

22: Have you ever gone skinny dipping?nope

23: How do you vent your anger?talk to someone usually

24: Do you have a collection of anything?movie/concert/sporting event tickets and also empty gatorade bottles on my floor

25: Do you prefer talking on the phone or video chatting online?phone bc im ugly

26: Are you happy with the person you’ve become?eh. better than what i was but could be better

27: What’s a sound you hate; sound you love?hate is my sisters voice lol love is john mayers voice bc he sounds like a fuckin angel

28: What’s your biggest “what if”?what if i was someone else but not really someone else just like what if i was me with a better life or a differnt life in which things didnt always go so terribly for me ya know

29: Do you believe in ghosts? How about aliens?ghosts maybe but aliens def

30: Stick your right arm out; what do you touch first? Do the same with your left arm.right arm some paper hanging off my nightstand and left nothing

31: Smell the air. What do you smell?the faint scent of clean laundry and lotion

32: What’s the worst place you have ever been to?hm.. great question. i feel like ive been to some pretty bad places but i cant recall any???

33: Choose: East Coast or West Coast?ive never been to either but east coast i think

34: Most attractive singer of your opposite gender?justin timberlake bc hes one of the most attractive men in the entire world

35: To you, what is the meaning of life?bein happy, doin what you want, livin

36: Define Art.something someone creates

37: Do you believe in luck?yes i do

38: What’s the weather like right now?humid i think

39: What time is it?9:41 pm

40: Do you drive? If so, have you ever crashed?nope to both

41: What was the last book you read?i recently finished “The Upside of Unrequited” and now im workin on “More Than This”

42: Do you like the smell of gasoline?no i hate it it makes me nauseous

43: Do you have any nicknames?jules

44: What was the last film you saw?o fuck um fist fight maybe?

45: What’s the worst injury you’ve ever had?the sunburn i got in florida was terrible bc i couldnt walk for a day so im gonnna say that

46: Have you ever caught a butterfly?no :(

47: Do you have any obsessions right now?brandon saad being a chicago blackhawk again, tommy la stella, john mayer, reading gay books

48: What’s your sexual orientation?bi

49: Ever had a rumour spread about you?uuuuum possibly ??? idk

50: Do you believe in magic?nah but also maybe

51: Do you tend to hold grudges against people who have done you wrong?in my mind yes but most of the times my actions dont reflect that especially if its been a while

52: What is your astrological sign?sagittarius

53: Do you save money or spend it?both. i allow myself to spend it as long as i still have a decent amount saved

54: What’s the last thing you purchased?lunch at panera lol

55: Love or lust?neither bc they both suck when ur alone

56: In a relationship?no lol

57: How many relationships have you had?zero

58: Can you touch your nose with your tongue?nope i am not talented like that

59: Where were you yesterday?yesterday. i think i stayed home all day then me mary and joe hung out and went to get milkshakes at steak n shake

60: Is there anything pink within 10 feet of you?the inside of the bra bra sitting waiting to be put away lol

61: Are you wearing socks right now?indeed

62: What’s your favourite animal?sloths my fav

63: What is your secret weapon to get someone to like you?i dont have one bc if i did ppl would like me, tf

64: Where is your best friend?at home id assume

65: Give me your top 5 favourite blogs on Tumblr.whats tumblr

66: What is your heritage?im italian but i was born here and so were my parents

67: What were you doing last night at 12AM?watching an episode of Its Always Sunny in Philadelphia before i showered

68: What do you think is Satan’s last name?satan satan

69: Be honest. Ever gotten yourself off?yeah lmao who hasnt tho

70: Are you the kind of friend you would want to have as a friend?i think so sometimes but other times im the worst person ever idk how i have friends

71: You are walking down the street on your way to work. There is a dog drowning in the canal on the side of the street. Your boss has told you if you are late one more time you get fired. What do you do?fuck u boss i love dogs and if u hate dogs that much as to not understand the situation i dont wanna work for a dog hater. asshole.

72: You are at the doctor’s office and she has just informed you that you have approximately one month to live. a) Do you tell anyone/everyone you are going to die? b) What do you do with your remaining days? c) Would you be afraid?a. maybe probably b. everything ive never done but wanted to c. probably

73: You can only have one of these things; trust or love.fuck. um. shit. id say love but then u cant trust the person you love so like… but at the same time i love love so much i feel like id die w/o it n ya know i dont trust anyone anyways so im gonna say love

74: What’s a song that always makes you happy when you hear it?srsly…..Bye Bye Bye by *NSYNC bc i cant be sad listening to that song lolol

75: What are the last four digits in your cell phone number?9077

76: In your opinion, what makes a great relationship?communication n openness

77: How can I win your heart?just be nice to me lol i have low standards

78: Can insanity bring on more creativity?yes i do believe so

79: What is the single best decision you have made in your life so far?buying tickets to see john mayer lol that changed my life so drastically. my life is now pre john mayer and post john mayer. he literally fucking sang xo i will never get over it that will always be the happiest moment of my life im crying while typing this

80: What size shoes do you wear?8 - 9 �� depending on the shoe

81: What would you want to be written on your tombstone?‘probably died because she said she wanted to die so often that death got sick of hearing it and killed her.“

82: What is your favourite word?fuck

83: Give me the first thing that comes to mind when you hear the word; heart.justin timberlake. god im so fucked lol

84: What is a saying you say a lot?'i hate my life’ 'i want to die’ 'u should fight’

85: What’s the last song you listened to?Fools Gold by One Direction lmao

86: Basic question; what’s your favourite colour/colours?turquoise

87: What is your current desktop picture?justin timberlake leaning on a car lookin all hot n shit

88: If you could press a button and make anyone in the world instantaneously explode, who would it be?myself tbh

89: What would be a question you’d be afraid to tell the truth on?uuuum idk it depends whos askin ya know. id answer certain questions if asked by one peson but not another

90: One night you wake up because you heard a noise. You turn on the light to find that you are surrounded by MUMMIES. The mummies aren’t really doing anything, they’re just standing around your bed. What do you do?probably cry and attempt but ultimately fail to go back to sleep

91: You accidentally eat some radioactive vegetables. They were good, and what’s even cooler is that they endow you with the super-power of your choice! What is that power?flying or teleportation

92: You can re-live any point of time in your life. The time-span can only be a half-hour, though. What half-hour of your past would you like to experience again?when john mayer played XO at my concert obviously

93: You can erase any horrible experience from your past. What will it be?losing all the pictures on my computer bc i keep saying im over it but im really not that was the entire past 4 years of my life in pictures and videos and theyre just gone its bullshit

94: You have the opportunity to sleep with the music-celebrity of your choice. Who would it be?oh man. so many. but if i had to choose one justin timberlake. wow bet no one saw that comin

95: You just got a free plane ticket to anywhere. You have to depart right now. Where are you gonna go?literally fuckin no where im seeing ed sheeran in a matter of hours im not leaving. but if it were a different day lol id say amsterdam or boston

96: Do you have any relatives in jail?not that im aware of

97: Have you ever thrown up in the car?when i was a smol child yea h but not recently

98: Ever been on a plane?when i was a child yes

99: If the whole world were listening to you right now, what would you say?um lol idk probably nothing tbh i dont wanna be held responsible for whatever happens afterwards

#questions

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teamstevesass · 8 years

Text

(I see) my future in your eyes (1/?)

Summary: An ensuing saga of cute and adorable married Finn and Rey, starting from the beginning of their marriage.

Rated: T

Warnings: None

Words: 1885

Notes: takes place in the nearish future of the sequel trilogies.

Also on ao3

Many people dream of their wedding when they're young - the dress, the flowers, the venue, the groom - and Rey isn't excluded from this. It had always been her favorite thing to think of, because every time, no matter how different the vision, she was always off Jakku. None of the details mattered, so long as she was with people she loved and loved her in return, and they weren't on the desolate desert planet where she was forced to grow up.

As she grew older, the snippets of gossip grew dirtier, more mature, and more detailed. People stopped watching their mouths - not they ever worried about it too much before - and Rey started understanding more and more about the world. For example, her wedding night got added into her fantasies of weddings.

However, no matter how many times she envisioned it, dreamt it, planned it, Rey had never thought her wedding night would end with her on the bathroom floor after an extensive round of puking up everything she'd eaten in the past week. In fact, this event had never crossed her mind. Ever. Being sick on the happiest day of her life had never been a question.

Yet, here she is, head hunched over the toilet as Finn - her new husband she should be ravishing instead of puking on - holds her hair and offers soft words of comfort.

“Let it all out,” he's saying, rubbing circles between her shoulder blades. “It's okay. I'm here. It’s alright.”

When the bout of sickness seems to be over, at least for the moment, Rey lets her head fall against the cold toilet bowl, basking in the relief it gives her, no matter how temporary.

“This is just my luck,” she groans, holding her stomach as it rolls again. “The day I've dreamed of for so long, and I come down with the most miserable virus that wants to make me its home.”

Finn hums in agreement, but not before Rey notices his slight hesitation.

She frowns, suspicious. “Tell me. You shouldn't keep secrets from your wife.”

“It's just - what if it's not a virus?” Finn suggests with the shrug of his shoulder and a doubtful look.

“Food poisoning? I suppose it's possible.” There had been that questionable appetizer Chewie had insisted be put on the menu, but wouldn’t she have felt the effects sooner than six hours later?

“Well, maybe, but - Rey, think. You're nauseous, exhausted, and haven't had your monthly in three months. It's entirely possible you're -”

“No,” she denies, shaking her head. “I can't be. Can I? We were careful!”

“Except for that time on Corellia,” he reminds her.

All the blood drains from Rey’s face as the realization sinks in. There had been a mission on Corellia, one that had required Rey’s Jedi skills and Finn’s knowledge of First Order military tactics, and there's a chance they had gotten a little caught up in the moment of having a private hotel room.

“What about my shots?” she asks, but it’s a last ditch effort. Finn wouldn’t have brought this up if it were still a variable. “It's meant to prevent this!”

“I didn't want to say anything until I knew a bit more, but somehow the new batch of shots were less effective than promised. With the luck we have, it's entirely possible.”

Rey hopes it's not. They've been married for seven - eight? - hours, and there's still a war going on. And her Jedi training! How can she become a Jedi master when she has to run after a toddler all the time? People would suggest sticking Finn on toddler-watching duty, but that’s not fair to him. Why should she continue working when Finn’s job is just as valuable to the Resistance as her training?

But then an image pops into her mind; it’s her and Finn, only slightly older, sitting on the shore of the nearby lake, pointing out constellations to a young girl with Finn’s dark, curly hair, and the same bright smile. Somehow, she already knows who this is - feels a pull to the child as though they’re connected. Perhaps by the Force, or maybe it’s a mother-daughter connection.

Another scene replaces the first one. This time, she and Finn are in a large city - somewhere on Coruscant? - with some of their friends from the Resistance. Kids are running around the apartment, laughing and screaming with joy. Banners reading ‘Happy Birthday’ and matching balloons swallow the apartment with their bright colours, and Rey can safely assume that she’s in attendance of a child’s birthday party. There are no clear indicators, but she knows the child being celebrated is her own. (And that at least one party guest is from the Dameron clan, because damn if that kid isn’t the most confident five year old she’s ever seen. Or maybe they’re a Pava. Oh god, she hopes it isn’t both!)

The scene changes again, this time with a clear focus on two kids, both looking so similar Rey swears the younger is a clone who just hasn’t aged as quickly as the first. They’re both ten feet from the ground, sitting on a low-hanging branch of a tree on Yavin IV. A quick look around gives every indication that this is the Force Tree given to Shara Bey by Luke Skywalker all those years ago. (Also, it’s humming with power, and she knows of few trees that can do that.) Rey hears a muffled shout from Finn - something about keeping safe - before he approaches her and places a hand on her bulging stomach. (A third child?) He smiles warmly, and she seemingly falls in love with him all over again.

Soon, the images rotate through faster and faster, until Rey can only catch glimpses of what’s to come. It’s dizzying yet exhilarating, and Rey finds herself wanting more .

Once the visions end, however, she knows it’s for the best. The future is a finicky thing, and knowing too much can change everything. Besides, if her life follows this path, she’ll be able to experience the joy all over again.

She smiles softly, hand going to her abdomen, from where there’s the tiniest Force signature she’s ever felt: their child. “We do tend to have some wonderful luck.”

The next morning, all of Rey’s sickness seems to have passed, so she accompanies Finn down to the mess hall. Despite the usually busy hour, few people occupy the many tables, and it doesn’t take either very long to guess how many of their friends are nursing nasty hangovers. (There had been quite a lot of drinking the night before on their friend’s parts. Finn and Rey, of course, knew they wanted to remember their wedding, and had half a glass of some rare sparkling Alderaanian wine each.)

Halfway through their meal, Poe and Jessika saunter in, far too smug for what should be an extremely hungover Best Man and Maid of Honor, and sit themselves down beside the happy - and confused - couple.

“How are the two lovebirds this morning?” Jess asks, waggling her eyebrows.

“How are you two not dying of alcohol poisoning?” Finn retorts, obviously avoiding the question. “I saw how much you drank last night. You finished two entire bottles of Corellian whiskey. Each.”

Jess shrugs, grinning smugly. “I'm just that good.”

“And I think the better question is, why did Beebee see you two leaving the medcenter this morning?” Poe asks, poking his fork at them accusatorily.

Finn and Rey share a look that speaks a thousand words. As soon as they'd woken up, a trip to see Doc Kalonia had been in order. Although, really, it just confirmed everything they already knew. The thing is, Rey's not quite three months along, and Kalonia suggested waiting another week or so to tell people, just in case something happens, and neither are sure what to do.

“Damn, it's been twelve hours and they already have married people telepathy!” Jess loudly whispers to Poe. “Or maybe it's the force. Serious question, can you use your Jedi powers to talk to people through their minds? Or can you just read minds?”

“No, we can't talk with our minds,” Rey chuckles. Sadly, Finn’s force sensitivity isn’t enough to warrant him dropping everything to become a Jedi - not yet, at least, not while the war is still on-going - so most Force-related things in their relationship are strictly one-way. “It's just, we have some news that we shouldn't share yet, but it's really great news that we really want to share.”

“Whatever this is, you can tell me. I am the greatest secret keeper on this base. Like, did you know that Poe had a massive crush on Kaydel when she first joined?”

“Jessika!” Poe hisses. “That was a secret!”

“That I never said out loud until now. I lasted five years, and I could’ve told Snap four years ago. So, I believe you are looking for the words ‘thank you’. Go on, say them.”

Poe huffs. “I am not thanking you for telling that secret! Next thing I know, the entire base will know about us because you’re trying to prove another point!” He exclaims as a mass of pilots, technicians, and Command staff push open the doors.

The entire mess falls silent. Even the cooks have stopped, spatulas and knives hanging in midair. No one moves for ten, fifteen, twenty seconds, as they all stare at the four friends.

Until Finn starts yelling, breaking the silence. “I kriffing knew it! I knew there was something between you two!”

Jessika smacks Poe’s arm. “Look what you did, Dameron. I would just like to say, for the record, that I said nothing! This is all Poe’s fault.”

“Worst kept secret of the Resistance, really,” Rey adds around a mouthful of brown mush.

“Speaking of secrets, care to share yours?” asks Poe.

Damn, Rey had been hoping they’d forgotten about it. Now, they have two options: tell their friends a week early and pray they can keep their mouths shut until Rey can at least talk to Luke and Leia, or make them wait until they fill out the official paperwork.

Rey knows they should wait, but there’s only a week left until Dr. Kalonia says the chances of losing the baby decrease exponentially, and she really wants to share this exciting time with her friends. And so, with one final look to Finn, she makes a decision.

“I’m pregnant.”

Jessika makes a noise resembling that of an X-Wing gearing up for take-off, and Rey sees multiple people jump, ready to step in and administer medical care or chop a finger off with the knife hidden in their boot. In the few seconds it takes Rey to recover from . . . whatever the hell that noise was, Jess has jumped over the table and wrapped her arms around the Jedi.

“I’m so happy for you! This is so exciting!” Jess screeches, squeezing Rey with her arms.

“Congratulations buddy,” Poe says, much more calmly. “I’m really happy for you both.”

Finn grabs Rey’s hand, glances down at their intertwined fingers, and looks back up with a grin. “We’re really happy too.”

#finnrey #finn x rey #jedistorm #jedistorm fanfic #finnrey fanfic #finnrey ff #star wars fanfiction

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