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theetherealbloom · 2 months

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TAKE ME DOWN TO LIFT ME HIGH

Summary: In the grand city of Rome, you, a senator's daughter, are entangled in a world far removed from your aristocratic upbringing. Your chance encounter with General Marcus Acacius, a renowned gladiator and war hero, changes your life forever.

Paring: Marcus Acacius x f!reader

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, AU, PWP, Some Plot and more smut, ANGST, Fluff, SMUT, Fingering, PIV, Unprotected Sex, Exhibition Kink, Age-Gap, Ancient Rome, Canon Violence, Gladiators, Blood, Gore, Politics, Sexism (it’s ancient rome, babe), Sneaking Around, Forbidden Love, Loss of Virginity, Boobs,

Word Count: 6k

A/N: The amount of research I had to do for this was insane. I was more obsessed with Greek Mythology than Roman so I needed a refresher. Hehe, there’s not a lotttt of drama, but it leans more into the smut side and just cheesy over all plot lol and a little fun ceremony in the end. Everyone say thank you to @wheresarizona for listening to me go feral over Marcus. Go send her some love cause she deserves it :>

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

dividers by: @/saradika-graphics

Song: Selene by NIKI

| Main Masterlist |

The return of General Marcus Acacius was an event of grand opulence. The streets of Rome were alive with screams and celebrations as he rode his golden chariot, smiling and waving at the throngs of admirers. It was as if the bloodshed and death that marked his victory were distant echoes, easily forgotten by the jubilant crowd.

"Long live General Marcus!" someone shouted.

"A true hero of Rome!" another voice rang out.

You weren't supposed to be in the crowd. Your place was at home, learning household chores such as cooking, cleaning, and weaving—the essential skills expected of a Roman matron. Yet, here you were, hidden beneath a hood, blending with the common folk as you watched the celebrated general parade down the street.

As the parade came to an end, you discreetly followed behind the procession, your eyes fixed on General Marcus Acacius. He was dressed in white and glittering gold, a stark contrast to his usual attire of blood-stained armor and weapons. Even though he was smiling and waving at the crowds, you could see the disdain in his eyes for such a grandiose display.

You had heard stories about him, rumors whispered amongst the noble families of Rome. They spoke of his ruthless acts on the battlefield, of his unwavering loyalty to Rome, and of his preferences. Yet here he was, parading through the streets in all his glory, hailed as a hero by everyone.

You couldn't help but feel drawn to him despite everything you had heard. There was something about him that intrigued you, something that made your heart race and your cheeks flush.

Your mind was filled with thoughts of General Marcus Acacius, wondering what kind of man he truly was beyond his reputation as a war hero.

As you stood there, trying to remain inconspicuous, your eyes met his. The connection was electric, almost as if the gods themselves had intervened. Marcus’s gaze was so intense that it seemed to pierce through the crowd and find you alone. He noted every feature of your face, his expression betraying a hint of fascination.

You felt your cheeks flush with heat and quickly looked away, breaking the eye contact. Your heart pounded in your chest as you turned and began to scurry home, the thrill of the encounter leaving you breathless.

Your pulse raced as you made your way through the bustling streets of Rome, trying to push aside the image of General Marcus Acacius's piercing gaze. You couldn't understand why you were so affected by a man you barely knew, but there was something about him that drew you in.

You managed to sneak back into your room, just barely slipping past the household guards. Being the daughter of a senator afforded you certain privileges, including an education that many girls your age could only dream of. Your studies typically included reading, writing, and arithmetic, equipping you with the skills necessary to manage a household and participate in society. You were also taught music, dancing, and literature, for understanding and appreciating poetry was considered a virtue for a Roman woman.

As you settled in your room, the memory of Marcus’s gaze lingered in your mind. The image of his rugged face, scarred from countless battles, and his piercing eyes was etched into your thoughts. There was something about him that was both terrifying and captivating.

A soft knock on your door interrupted your reverie. It was your handmaid, Lydia, her expression curious.

"Where have you been?" she asked, her voice low but firm.

You hesitated, then sighed. "I went to see the procession."

Lydia’s eyes widened. "The general’s return? You could have been caught!"

"I know," you admitted, "but I had to see him."

"Why? What could be so important?"

You bit your lip, unsure how to explain the inexplicable pull you felt towards the gladiator general. "I don't know, Lydia. It's just... when our eyes met, it felt like something changed."

Lydia shook her head, her expression a mix of worry and understanding. "You must be careful. The world outside is not as forgiving as the walls of this villa."

The days following the procession were filled with a whirlwind of emotions. You couldn't shake the image of Marcus from your mind. Every time you closed your eyes, you saw his intense gaze, felt the inexplicable connection that had sparked between you.

The grand villa of your father was abuzz with preparations for the evening’s banquet. Slaves hurried to and fro, setting tables with fine silverware and arranging elaborate floral displays. The scent of roasted meats and freshly baked bread wafted through the air, mingling with the delicate fragrance of flowers.

Tonight, your father, a respected senator, was hosting a dinner in honor of General Marcus Acacius. The entire house was a flurry of activity, with guests arriving in their finest attire, their laughter and chatter filling the atrium. You stood near the entrance, feeling the weight of your responsibilities as the senator’s daughter.

Your mother approached, adjusting the drape of your stola with a critical eye. “Remember, you must be on your best behavior tonight. This banquet is crucial for your father’s alliances.”

You nodded, though your mind was elsewhere. Ever since you had seen Marcus in the parade, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. The memory of his piercing gaze had haunted you, and now he was here, in your home.

"Come," your father said, his hand on your back guiding you through the crowd. "I want you to meet someone."

You followed, your heart pounding in anticipation. As you approached, you saw him standing there, taller and more imposing than anyone else in the room. Marcus Acacius, the hero of Rome, the man who had invaded your thoughts and dreams.

"General Acacius," your father began, his voice carrying the weight of his status, "allow me to introduce my daughter."

Marcus turned, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. He bowed slightly, a gesture of respect, but his gaze remained unwavering. "My lady," he said, his voice like velvet, "it is an honor."

General Marcus was the most strikingly handsome man you had ever seen. His chiseled features were framed by dark brown eyes beneath thick, black eyebrows. His long, aquiline nose and firm mouth, accentuated by a sensuously full lower lip, completed the picture of rugged masculinity. He stood tall, towering over most men, with a lean, muscular body and broad, powerful shoulders.

His hair, a captivating mix of salt and pepper, was cut short and fell in loose curls around his head, with distinguished grey patches in his beard that added to his allure.

"The honor is mine, General," you replied, your voice trembling despite your efforts to stay composed.

"Please, call me Marcus," he said, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "We are, after all, in more intimate surroundings."

Your father chuckled, clearly pleased with Marcus's easy charm. "I will leave you two to get acquainted," he said, patting Marcus on the shoulder before moving away to mingle with other guests.

The moment your father left, the air between you and Marcus seemed to crackle with electricity. He took a step closer, the heat of his body radiating towards you. "I must confess," he murmured, his voice low and intimate, "I have been looking forward to this moment."

You swallowed hard, feeling the blood rush to your cheeks. "As have I," you admitted, your voice barely a whisper.

Marcus's eyes darkened with desire, and he reached out, his fingers lightly brushing against your arm. The contact sent a shiver down your spine, and you felt your knees weaken. "You are even more captivating up close," he said, his voice husky. "I find myself drawn to you, like a moth to a flame."

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat as his hand slid up your arm, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. He leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. "Do you feel it too?" he whispered.

You nodded, unable to form a coherent response. The intensity of his presence was overwhelming, his scent, his warmth, the sheer power of his focus on you.

As Marcus's hand continued to caress your arm, you felt your heart race with a mixture of excitement and nerves. You had never been this close to him before, and the realization that he was interested in you sent a wave of exhilaration through your body.

His lips brushed against your earlobe, making you shiver. "I want to know everything about you," he murmured, his voice sending sparks down your spine. "Your hopes, your dreams, what makes you laugh and what makes you cry out for mercy."

You turned towards him, meeting his intense gaze. "I want to know about you too," you said, feeling bold in his presence.

A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he leaned closer. "There is not much to tell," he said modestly, though the way his eyes roamed over your face suggested otherwise. "Just a soldier who has dedicated his life to serving Rome."

But there was something more behind those words, something hidden beneath the mask of duty and honor. You could sense it in the way he held himself, in the intensity of his gaze.

"I don't believe that," you said firmly. "There is so much more to a person than their profession."

Marcus's smile widened into a grin as he took another step closer to you. "You are wise beyond your years," he said appreciatively.

The room around you seemed to fade away as you became lost in each other's gaze. It was as if there was no one else in the world but the two of you.

Suddenly, a loud noise broke through the moment – someone had knocked over a vase nearby. The sound jolted both of you back to reality and Marcus stepped back slightly.

"I should go check on that," he said regretfully.

Marcus's lips lingered on your skin for a moment longer before pulling away to look into your eyes. "I promise, we will continue this conversation another time," he said softly.

You nodded, feeling a rush of warmth at his words. You couldn't wait to spend more time with him and get to know him better.

As Marcus turned to leave, you couldn't help but watch him walk away, his confident stride and broad shoulders filling you with a sense of admiration. You sighed dreamily and turned back to the feast, only to be greeted by your handmaids with teasing grins.

"What was that all about?" one of them asked, wiggling their eyebrows suggestively.

You feel your cheeks heat up, trying to hide your excitement. "Nothing," you said coyly. "Just a conversation."

As the guests were seated in the triclinium, the air was filled with the sounds of conversation and the clinking of goblets. You found yourself seated across from Marcus, who looked imposing in his formal attire. His presence commanded the room, yet his eyes frequently strayed to you, a subtle intensity in his gaze.

The evening progressed with toasts to Marcus’s victories and speeches praising his valor. You tried to focus on the conversations around you, but your mind kept drifting to the man across the table. Finally, you could bear it no longer. Under the pretense of needing fresh air, you excused yourself and slipped out into the garden.

The cool night air was a welcome relief as you wandered through the manicured paths, the soft glow of lanterns illuminating your way. The garden was a haven of tranquility compared to the lively banquet inside. You found a secluded bench and sat down, letting out a sigh of relief. The gentle rustling of leaves and the distant hum of voices from the villa created a serene backdrop as you tried to gather your thoughts.

As you sat there, the faint sound of a conversation caught your attention. You turned your head slightly, realizing that a group of senators had gathered nearby, their voices low but urgent. You recognized the voices of some of the most influential men in Rome, including your father.

"I hear that Emperor Caracalla is eager to stage a grand spectacle," one senator said, his tone conspiratorial. "He wants to solidify his power and win the favor of the masses."

"Indeed," another replied. "I heard he plans to pit some of the finest gladiators against each other. And there are whispers that General Marcus Acacius himself might be forced to take part in the games."

You felt a pang of concern at the mention of Marcus's name. The thought of him in the Colosseum, fighting for his life, was almost too much to bear.

"Emperor Geta is not pleased with this idea," a third senator interjected. "He sees it as a waste of a valuable military asset. But Caracalla is determined. He believes a victory in the arena will elevate Marcus to legendary status, securing loyalty from the soldiers and the people alike."

Your heart pounded in your chest as you processed their words. The political machinations of Rome were ruthless, and it seemed that Marcus was caught in the middle of it all.

As the senators continued their discussion elsewhere, their voices drifting away back into the villa, you felt a presence behind you. You turned to see Marcus emerging from the shadows, his eyes fixed on you with an intensity that made your breath catch. He moved silently, his powerful form cutting through the darkness like a predator stalking its prey.

"My lady," he said softly, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. "It seems we both seek refuge in the quiet of the garden."

"Marcus," you whispered, your voice trembling with a mix of fear and longing. "I overheard the senators. They plan to have you fight in the Colosseum."

His expression darkened, and he closed the distance between you in a few swift strides. "I know," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "The emperors play their games, and I am but a pawn. But tonight, I do not wish to think of such things."

He reached out, his hand cupping your cheek, the warmth of his touch igniting a fire within you. "Tonight, I only want to think of you."

Your breath hitched as he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours with a tantalizing softness. The kiss deepened, his hands roaming over your body, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. His touch was both possessive and gentle, his need for you evident in every caress.

"Marcus," you gasped, your hands tangling in his hair. "This is madness. If we are caught..."

"Let them find us," he murmured against your lips. "I would rather face the lions in the arena than be without you."

His words sent a thrill through you, and you responded with a fervor that matched his own. Your bodies pressed together, the heat of your passion driving away the cool night air. The world around you seemed to fade, leaving only the two of you, lost in each other.

"Promise me," you whispered, pulling back slightly to look into his eyes. "Promise me you will come back to me, no matter what happens."

"I swear it," he said, his voice filled with determination. "No matter what the emperors or the gods throw at me, I will return to you."

With those words, he captured your lips again, sealing his promise with a kiss that left you breathless.

Your breath hitched in your throat as he reached out, his fingers tracing the delicate curve of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. He leaned in, his warm breath ghosting over your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

His voice, a velvety whisper, sent a wave of desire flooding through you as he murmured, "I want you. Here. Now."

The moon was high in the sky, casting a soft glow over the garden, as Marcus pressed you against the wall. His hands roamed over your body, igniting fires with each touch. You could feel his desire for you, and it only fueled your own.

Without breaking the kiss, he lifted you up and pressed you against the garden walls. His body hovering over yours as he trailed kisses down your neck and along your collarbone. Every nerve in your body was on fire, and you couldn't contain the moan that escaped from your lips.

With a growl of need, Marcus captured your lips once again while his hands began to explore under your dress. The feeling of his warm skin against yours sent shivers down your spine as he traced patterns along your thighs.

"Marcus," you gasped between kisses. "We shouldn't-"

"Shhh," he whispered, gently sliding your white cotton robe off your shoulders. "I can't resist you any longer.”

Marcus unexpectedly reached out his large, rough hands and cupped each one of your breasts, weighing them in his palms. Your body jolted at the sudden touch, your skin tingling under his warm heat. You could feel the calluses on his fingers, hardened from years of wielding swords and other battle weapons, leaving tiny marks on your delicate skin like a trail of fire.

As he squeezed and rotated your breasts gently, desire surged through you, igniting a deep longing within. You wanted to surrender yourself completely to him, to offer up not just your body but your very being to his every whim. The sensation was so overwhelming that you yearned to throw your head back in abandonment and give in to the all-consuming pleasure he evoked.

The protests that had escaped your lips now transformed into guttural moans of pleasure as his skilled fingers worked their magic on your most sensitive spot. Every touch sent electric shocks through your body, making you shiver and writhe against the wall. As Marcus trailed his fingertips over every inch of your slick flesh, you felt yourself becoming more and more lost in the overwhelming waves of pleasure coursing through you. With each stroke, your body arched further off the wall, desperate for more of his touch. It was like a symphony of sensations, building and crescendoing until you were completely consumed by the intensity of it all.

He slid a finger between your legs and pushed it deep inside you. Pleasure shot through your body, causing you to arch and writhe as he expertly stroked your tight passage.

"My lady, you have an incredibly tight cunt," he grunted out, his voice strained and revealing his own growing arousal. His features twisted in pleasure and his eyes glinted with a primal lust.

He firmly grasped your aroused nub and slid another finger into your tight, welcoming entrance. "We have to be quiet or we'll risk getting caught," he whispered in your ear.

You nodded eagerly, pleading, "Yes, anything. Please."

As his skilled fingers gently rotated over your sensitive clit and his other digit pumped inside your wet, pulsing core, you couldn't help but surrender to the pleasure he was bestowing upon you. From the moment his eyes locked on yours, you knew you were his to be used however he pleased, your body a vessel for his insatiable desires. With each expert movement of his fingers, you felt yourself spiraling into a dizzying state of pure ecstasy, completely at his mercy. Your flesh responded eagerly to his touch, begging for more as he claimed you as his own.

The General's gentle touch on your skin was electrifying, bringing a growing pleasure to your body that felt almost overwhelming. You could feel yourself getting too hot, too tense, and you were afraid of releasing the intense climax that was building inside you with just a single touch.

"Oh Goddess," you gasped, tilting your head back against his shoulder and shutting your eyes as your desire became sharper and more urgent.

A sharp cry escaped your lips as his long finger penetrated you, rotating and rubbing inside your core while his other fingers worked relentlessly on your sensitive clitoris. Your body squirmed against the intense pleasure, your hands grasping at his muscular arms to anchor yourself amidst the overwhelming sensations. He chuckled softly as you began to move your hips in a circular motion, still continuing to bring you pleasure with his skilled touch for several minutes. Just as you were about to reach the edge of climax, he eased off slightly, keeping his movements quick and light.

But eventually, your body tensed up and convulsed, your movements erratic and desperate, your breaths coming in short gasps. As the tension in your loins grew tighter and tighter, you let out a high-pitched wail and reached the peak of ecstasy. Your walls pulsated around his probing finger, which was now coated in even more of your warm juices.

As the waves of pleasure subsided, Marcus gently turned you to face him again. His white robe and short toga were cast aside, leaving him naked in front of you. He stood tall and proud, his lean and muscular frame on full display. But it was his erect penis that took your breath away. It was massive, thick and much longer than average, standing rigid and red above a nest of dark pubic hair.

His impressive and exposed physique took your breath away as you gazed upon it. "Oh, my Goddess!" you exclaimed, feeling overwhelmed by his sheer size.

Without hesitation, Marcus reached out and grasped your thighs, pulling you closer to him. He leaned over your body, closed his fist around his member, and guided the tip towards your still-dripping entrance.

He managed to get the thick bulbous tip of his penis through your opening. You immediately felt stretched and full. You gave him a pouting look, your hips wriggling in an effort to accommodate him. “You big brute, you’re tearing me apart.”

He clenched his teeth, sweat starting to matt his silver and grey hair at his forehead. The pleasure of being inside such a tight flesh was almost dizzying, and he had to pull in all of his control to prevent himself from plunging completely inside of you.

That would come later, he promised, once you had been well oiled by him. He pushed again and managed another inch, and slowly continued to advance his penis inside your channel.

“You’re so tight,” his voice was harsh and strained, as if in pain. It wasn't too far from the truth; she felt tight around him, almost like a vice grip. But despite the discomfort, she was so warm and smooth inside.

With a groan, he slid the thick bulbous tip of his penis into your opening. A sharp pang of fullness shot through you as your body stretched to accommodate him. You gave him a pouting look, your hips wriggling and contorting in an effort to ease the pressure. "You big oaf," you playfully scolded, though there was a hint of pleasure in your voice.

He clenched his teeth, beads of sweat beginning to form on his forehead as he fought for control. The sensation of being inside such tight, warm flesh was almost overwhelming, and he had to take deep breaths to calm himself. He promised himself that he would give in completely once you were well-oiled by him.

He pushed with all his strength, feeling the resistance of your body as he slid deeper and deeper inside. The walls of your channel were smooth and slick, clenching around him like a vice. He couldn't hold back the grunt that escaped his clenched teeth, a mix of intense sensation coursing through his body. It was a pleasurable pain, like being held in a fierce embrace by someone who loved you too much - an exquisite torture that he never wanted to end. But with each slow and deliberate thrust, he knew that the pleasure would only intensify, building to a climax that would leave them both breathless.

Slowly but surely, Marcus eased his penis deeper into your body. With each inch of progress, you both felt the intensity of your connection grow stronger. Your entire body trembled with each thrust he made. When he was halfway inside you, Marcus used his fingers to stimulate your clit, sending waves of pleasure through your body. Your core throbbed with ecstasy as Marcus took advantage of your relaxed muscles and thrust deeply inside you until he was fully engulfed.

You and Marcus both groan at the same time. He quickly covers your mouth with his hand, gently hushing you. "Shh, my Carissima... I know it feels good, but we must be quiet. We can't risk your father catching us in this compromising position." The General continues to stimulate your sensitive spot, using his fingers to tease and moisten it further.

Your hips continued to rock and push against his manhood, your desire growing with each movement. You leaned back and moaned as General Marcus Acacius took full control of your body. He held onto your hips tightly as he thrust deep inside you, the pleasure intensifying for both of you. It was clear that neither of you was far from reaching the peak of ecstasy.

You let out moans and contorted your body as the large, broad, man moved back and forth between your legs. As your face twisted in pleasure and your head thrashed about, you experienced this unfamiliar sensation called sexual pleasure. Your climax came quickly and intensely, feeling like it lasted for several minutes. You threw your head back and let out a scream as the intense pleasure broke through between your thighs. A hot wave of pleasure spread throughout your body, causing your hips to writhe against Marcus'.

As your body trembled and released into an intense orgasm, you felt Marcus' muscles tighten beneath you. A deep, primal roar escaped his lips as he too reached the peak of his climax. The sound echoed through the gardens blending with the rhythmic pounding of your heart and breath. It was a moment of pure, raw passion that left you both gasping for air and tangled in each other's embrace.

As the intense pleasure slowly subsided, you became aware of the small droplets of blood trickling down your thighs and onto the grass. It was a sign that your virginity had been taken, marking the end of an era and the beginning of a new one.

General Marcus Acacius carefully pulled out of you and helped you to sit up. You could see his concern in his eyes as he looked at the blood staining his robe on the ground and your thighs.

"Are you hurt, Carissima? I didn't mean to be so rough..." he asked, his voice filled with worry.

You shook your head, still trying to catch your breath. "No… I'm fine," you managed to say.

He let out a sigh of relief and gently wiped away the blood with a nearby cloth. You winced slightly at the slight soreness between your legs but it was nothing compared to the intense pleasure you had just experienced.

Marcus held you close, his strong arms wrapped around you protectively. "You were amazing, my love," he whispered in your ear.

A flood of emotions washed over you as you realized what had just happened between the two of you. You had shared an intimate moment with General Marcus Acacius, someone who was forbidden to you because of your status as a daughter of such nobility. And yet, in that moment, none of that mattered. All that mattered was the overwhelming feeling of love and desire that consumed both of you.

Your mind was spinning, knowing all too well what would happen if anyone found out about your relationship with the General. Your father would surely punish both of you severely and possibly even sell one or both of you off.

Even with the knowledge of what had just happened, and what could, it was difficult for you to feel remorse or embarrassment. Instead, you felt a sense of contentment and fulfillment that you had never experienced before.

Marcus chuckled warmly and gave you a soft kiss on your lips. "You are truly something special, Carissima," he said with adoration in his eyes.

You blushed at his words, feeling a surge of happiness wash over you. Despite the risks and consequences, being with Marcus felt like the most natural thing in the world.

But as the reality of your situation sank in, a sense of worry crept into your mind. How would you continue this relationship without anyone finding out? How could you possibly be with Marcus when your father would never allow it? Or worse, your father having you marry someone else?

Marcus brushed his fingers against your cheek, and it felt like he could read your mind. "We will find a solution, my love. I promise I will marry you and make you my wife," he whispered to soothe your fears.

The weight of Marcus' words settled heavily in your heart. The thought of being married to the man you loved filled you with joy and hope, yet the reality of it all seemed impossible.

"How could we possibly make that happen?" you asked, your voice laced with worry.

You couldn't help but feel a sense of doubt. How could someone as powerful and respected as General Marcus Acacius be able to marry someone like you? You were just a daughter of a nobleman, while he was one of the most influential men in the kingdom.

Marcus spoke with unwavering assurance, his gaze locked onto yours. As you looked back into his eyes, all your doubts and fears dissipated. You were certain that he would do anything to keep you safe and by his side. "We will find a way, my love. I will do whatever it takes to make you my wife."

"I believe in you," you said softly, placing a hand on his chest.

Marcus smiled and leaned in to kiss you again, his lips gentle and loving against yours. In that moment, everything else seemed to fade away except for the two of you.

"But we must be careful," Marcus reminded you, his tone serious once again. "We cannot let anyone find out about us until the time is right."

You nodded in agreement, understanding the risks that came with your relationship.

"We must also gain your father's approval," Marcus continued. "It won't be easy, but I am determined to prove myself worthy of you and your family."

You couldn't help but admire Marcus' determination and love for you. Despite the challenges ahead, he was willing to do anything to be with you.

As the sun began to rise, you woke up in your room with a smile on your face. Today was the day that Marcus would finally meet with your father and ask for your hand in marriage. You could hardly believe the moment had arrived, the day you had dreamt of for so long.

Ever since he had first confessed his love for you, the two of you had been meeting in secret, stealing moments together whenever possible. The clandestine nature of your meetings had made your bond even stronger. The thought of being with Marcus made every challenge worth it.

You dressed carefully, choosing your finest gown, and adorned yourself with simple yet elegant jewelry. Your heart raced with anticipation as you made your way to the garden where the betrothal ceremony would take place. The air was filled with the scent of blooming flowers, and the gentle rustle of leaves created a serene atmosphere.

In the garden, your father stood with Marcus, deep in conversation. The sight of them together filled you with a sense of pride and hope. Marcus, in his formal attire, looked every bit the honorable and powerful man that he was—a general respected by all of Rome.

Your father turned to you, his expression warm. "My dear daughter," he began, "today is a momentous day as the gods have blessed us. General Marcus Acacius has proven himself to be a man of honor and valor. It would be a great honor for our family to be united with his."

Marcus stepped forward, his eyes never leaving yours. "It is my greatest wish to make you my wife," he said, his voice filled with sincerity. "I promise to honor and protect you for all the days of my life."

The betrothal ceremony commenced, a formal ritual between your two families. Your father and Marcus exchanged respectful bows, symbolizing the joining of your households. Gifts were presented, and the dowry was discussed and agreed upon. A scribe stood by, ready to document the agreement in a written contract.

Marcus then produced a small, ornate box and opened it to reveal a beautiful finger ring. "This ring," he said, "is a symbol of my commitment to you, a tradition that stretches back through the ages."

He took your hand gently and slid the ring onto your finger, his touch sending a thrill through you. The ring was exquisite, a delicate band adorned with intricate engravings that spoke of ancient craftsmanship.

"You honor me with this gift, Marcus," you said softly, your voice trembling with emotion.

Marcus smiled, his eyes full of warmth. "The honor is mine, my love."

With the ring in place, you turned to the scribe, who handed you both the written agreement. You signed your name carefully, your hand steady despite the whirlwind of emotions within you. Marcus signed next, his signature bold and confident.

Finally, the moment came to seal the betrothal with a kiss. Marcus stepped closer, his gaze locked onto yours. He cupped your face in his hands and leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a tender, sweet kiss. The world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in that perfect moment.

As you pulled away, you saw the approval in your father's eyes and felt a rush of joy and relief. You were now betrothed to Marcus, the man you loved, and your future together was set.

"Let this day be the beginning of a lifetime of happiness," your father declared, his voice filled with emotion.

Marcus took your hand, his grip firm and reassuring. "Together, we will face whatever the future holds," he promised.

And with that, your hearts intertwined, you knew that your love would endure, growing stronger with each passing day. The journey ahead was full of promise, and with Marcus by your side, you felt ready to embrace it all.

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acertifiedmoron · 2 months

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"dragons plant no trees" gets thrown around a lot as fact, but i think the veracity of that claim is still up for debate in the books. because dany (like bran and jon and many others) is a narrative symbol of hope and rebirth within the series because of her connection to dragons and fire, not in spite of it. this is because dragons in asoiaf have a much more expansive narrative function than simply 'nuke metaphor'. the 'exclusively weapons of war' image they have acquired breaks down immediately if you recall that the first thing dany does with them is begin dismantling an unjust status quo. she rallies the unsullied at the gates of astapor with cries of dracarys! dracarys! freedom! <- dragons as a symbol of hope and freedom for the persecuted. and obviously they've been built up as an oppositional force against the others. we're told when the last dragon died summers became shorter. in that respect the dragons, or more specifically, fire which is warmth which is passion—very much embodies life against the numbing, deadening threat of eternal winter that the others represent. but fire also consumes, which simultaneously makes dragons agents of destruction, or as adwd shows: the monsters who eat little girls and leave behind their bones. but when dany found herself chained to a false peace which effectively undid her cause in meereen, it was the dragon that rescued her and reignited her fire to fight back—which is to say that dragons represent a wealth of contradictions within the text and this is likely something grrm means to parallel with the others to some extent, by questioning their apparent narrative role as the one true evil. because i doubt the series is gearing up towards a spectacle-esque battle wherein our heroes get to practice righteous, easy violence on a monolithic army of monsters. that feels like it would undo a lot of asoiaf's preoccupation with investigating violence against socially acceptable targets, even if said target is ice sidhe. and this binary between a one true good and a one true evil, i.e. melisandre's philosophy ("if half an onion is black with rot, it is a rotten onion. a man is good or he is evil.") is not something the story takes as given.

instead there's this exchange between bran, jojen, and meera in asos: "but you just said you hated them." / "why can't it be both?" / because they're different. like night and day, or ice and fire." / "if ice can burn. then love and hate can mate."—and i think it's talking about reconciling two conflicting ideas. because the dream of an eternal summer is just as unsustainable as the threat of eternal winter. i think the battle for dawn is more about questions of seasonal harmony. the first line from agot's summary says, "long ago, in a time forgotten, a preternatural event threw the seasons out of balance", so it's not totally out of question for the series to end with that seasonal balance restored once more. and that question of balance and how it can be achieved then works as a metaphor for a bunch of other things. because asoiaf at its core is very interested in exploring big contradictions, like love and duty? how do you keep all your oaths without betraying someone you love? how can one hope for a just, rightful ruler in a world where the systems in place can never allow such a thing? how do dragons plant trees?

you cannot frame dany's arc as a binary choice between planting trees or embracing (dragon)fire. because the fire is hers, it is a part of her, that's who she is. and her character has always existed outside of rigid dichotomies. at the end of agot she had two options, resign herself to a life of seclusion as a widow or die with the last of her family in that pyre, instead she performed a miracle. presently, i think grrm means to explore necessary, revolutionary violence with her arc because you cannot deal with institutional slavery by simply negotiating with slavers like she does in adwd. and the consequences thereof because she's also been set up to be more reckless with dragonfire in the future. but i think there will be an eventual reconciliation there, between her dreams "to plant trees and watch them grow." and her role as the mother of dragons, as a revolutionary figure. because if ice can burn, then maybe dragons can plant trees. they'll learn how to.

#love jojen btw like yeah king ominously mutter the main series thesis statement just like that.#have wanted to make this post for a while because that quote is everywhere. why are we taking hallucination jorah mormont at his word...#someone else must've already said something similar in response. sorry if this is repeating a bunch of known stuff #anyway i want a citadel sam chapter so bad. i need to know about the seasons!!! i was so excited about it in affc #but then i realised sam wasn't making it to the citadel proper in that book. maddening!#dany #daenerys targaryen #asoiaf #valyrianscrolls #magic in asoiaf #*[🫀]#dragonposting

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smashingveteransandnewcomers · 4 months

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The Retold Tales of Team RWBY

@astral-multiverse

Legends. Stories scattered through time. Mankind has grown quite fond of recounting the exploits of heroes and villains, forgetting so easily that we are remnants, byproducts, of a forgotten past.

"Do not worry...I will be fine..."

Man, born from dust, was strong, wise, and resourceful, but he was born into an unforgiving world. An inevitable darkness — creatures of destruction — the creatures of Grimm - set their sights on man and all of his creations. These forces clashed, and it seemed the darkness was intent on returning man's brief existence to the void.

"I'll show them...I'm not some little girl that needs to be looked after anymore..."

However, even the smallest spark of hope is enough to ignite change, and in time, man's passion, resourcefulness, and ingenuity led them to the tools that would help even the odds. This power was appropriately named "Dust".

"Just you wait! Soon, I'll be just as strong as you, Cloud!"

Nature's wrath in hand, man lit their way through the darkness, and in the shadow's absence came strength, civilization, and most importantly, life. But even the most brilliant lights eventually flicker and die. And when they are gone... darkness will return. So you may prepare your guardians, build your monuments to a so-called "free world", but take heed... there will be no victory in strength....Heh Heh...

"But perhaps victory is in the simpler things that you've long forgotten. Things that require a smaller, more honest soul...."

We find ourselves in the City of Vale, where Outside the shop 'From Dust Till Dawn' a lone figure walks up, clad in green, they look up at the sign

"Hey, a Dust Shop! We could use a restock!"

"Hope you know what your doing..."

As the lone figure walked in, the looked around, gathering what they needed before bumping into someone, which shocked them soo bad they stumbled back!

"W-Whoa-URGH!"

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forfunandfandom · 5 months

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This moment was beautiful. I knew what they were going to do as soon as the water turned to poison.

Viet Nam was colonized on-and-off by China for around 1,000 years. During that time, the story of Hai Bà Trưng was one of the few stories of heroism that survived to the modern time. At the end of their rebellion, they committed suicide by jumping into a river rather than be captured (Chinese records said they were captured and beheaded, but I chose to believe the Viet records).

While the story of this event wasn’t perfect, I appreciate a story revolving around Viet heroes.

What’s more, the story turns their deaths into an heroic act. As opposed to two desperate women committing suicide, this time, they sacrificed themselves to save countless people.

It’s an ongoing theme in FGO that being summoned gives heroes a chance to be more than their legends. Hai Bà Trưng’s legend is ultimately a tragedy. Thăc said it herself that she doesn’t feel like a hero because they ultimately failed to make a lasting change. Viet Nam continued to be colonized long after their deaths.

Even so, their rebellion gave the Viet people a sense of pride that we did stand up against our oppressors. To this day, there are streets, schools, hospitals, etc. named after Hai Bà Thưng.

The event story calls them “new” gods, but they died in 42 AD so their legend is around as old as Jesus. They are very old heroes, though not as old as Dagon, which is the point. Hai Bà Thưng stood in the middle between the far ancient past (Gilgamesh’s era) and the modern era (Tesla’s era and after). They are old enough to feel disconnected from what modern Viet Nam is now, which is why Thǎc feels like she didn’t have much effect on history, yet they are not so old that they feel forgotten and twisted. There’s a big street in Saigon named after them, so they are very much still remembered, unlike Dagon who feels bitter at being forgotten.

I had my doubts when this event seems to start out as a comedy, but I like how it pulled together, leading to that beautiful scene pictured above.

#fate grand order #hai bà trưng #trung sisters

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thealbatrovss · 17 days

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ghosts in the leaves // worst wolverine x reader

summary: you’ve been stuck in the void for years, and logan doesn’t even seem to care.

one shot: ANGST, then fluff of course. I love a sadass story with a happy ending. swearing lol. suggestive material. This is my favorite one I’ve written so far. Enjoy!!

word count: 1k+

masterlist

He was too busy drinking to notice your silent pleading.

You and Logan sat against the rocky wall of your hideout base. The rest of the group of forgotten heroes were planning the final showdown with Cassandra in the next room over.

They left the two of you alone, noticing the tension growing more and more intense. Logan tried to protest, but they shut him out. He wouldn’t stop grumbling to himself about it. That, you noted, hadn’t changed about him.

Wade would occasionally poke his head out from behind the wall, hoping the reunited couple would get back together already. He loved jumping into other peoples business, you noticed. He seemed like a troublemaker.

Johnny would’ve really loved this guy.

You still didn’t understand why Logan was refusing to talk to you. He looked like hell, but so did you. Did he even care?

You just wanted to wipe the blood from his suit and the dirt from his face. Tell him about the hell you’ve been through down here. Ask him about the hell he’s been through back home.

But Logan would rather gargle piss than talk to you at all. That, you were beginning to realize.

He wouldn’t even look you in the eye. He only looked at you when he first arrived. That familiar glow returned to him at that moment. You thought you saw the love of your life return to you right then and there, eyes and mouth wide open. But by the time you ran over to him, throwing your arms around his body, tears streaming down your face, he was pushing you off him and opening a bottle of bourbon.

You could see him fighting the urge to open another one. He balanced it on his hand, and spun the bottle on the floor like it was a game. Guess he won by the fake smile on his face as he placed the lukewarm drink to his lips.

“Are you going to talk to me? Or are you just going to keep drinking?”

He picked up another glass after downing the last one, licking his lips. “I don’t talk to ghosts.”

Your stomach dropped, like a stone in a pond. Your lips fell, a weight dragging them down. “Logan-”

His fists balled up, face turning red. “Don’t fucking say my name.” All the venom leaking from his mouth seemed to form a weapon meant for himself, but he kept aiming it straight at you. “Just don't.”

You held your head high. “Why not?”

“Because,” he took a long drink before continuing. “Your voice is drilling into my skull, that’s why. I don’t talk to ghosts and they don’t talk to me.” Logan shifted his body, facing away from you.

You closed your mouth, letting the words die inside. Instead, you watched the leaves fall from beside the open door.

The trees here never changed. They were stuck in a perpetual autumn. It was haunting to look at. You forgot there were other seasons sometimes. You missed the snow in winter. Icicles hanging from the roof of Xavier’s mansion. You missed the spring flowers and that early summer rain. All you had was autumn, and Logan had the rest. He didn’t seem to like any of it at all anymore.

The Logan you once knew and loved, if he saw you alive and well, he’d come running to you, holding you tight, whispering words of comfort.

This Logan though…He was tired. And angry. So angry. Grief radiated off every inch of him. It almost became a superpower on its own. You weren’t a stranger to that power. He kept you at a distance too, back when you first met.

You had the outline of his back memorized like the back of your hand. This was your Logan. He was just jaded now. Years of believing that you were dead and that he had failed not only his friends and family, but you, the most important person in the world to him, had changed him.

Down here, your one goal was to reach him. Well, you had accomplished that. But not in the way you had wished.

“If there’s any ghosts here, it’s you.” You said it without looking at him either. Just watched the leaves fall.

Logan shut his eyes tight, the veins in his neck growing stronger. His jaw loosened, the bourbon missing his mouth and spilling all over. “Fuck!” He cursed himself.

“Did someone wet the bed again?” Wade's red head popped its way into the room. “Jesus, you two look like you fucked with the lights off. Does this place even have lights? And have you made up yet? I’m sick and tired of this meeting and I wanna join in.”

He sure knew how to make an entrance. It was almost amazing how annoying he was. Again, Johnny and him would’ve gotten along. But Cassandra got to him first.

“Turn around and walk back in there before I pop that tomato of a fucking head of yours.” Logan spat, taking another swig.

Wade gasped, putting his gloved hand to his mouth. “I’d let you pop just about anything, Wolverine.” Before he could say anything more intrusive, Blade's hand grabbed his head, pulling him back behind the wall. Wade still kept ranting all the way back into the other room.

“I’m glad you have a friend.” You tried, shifting uncomfortably in your super suit. “I wouldn’t of made it if it wasn’t for my friends down here.”

And the thought of you. You wanted to finish with that.

“He’s not my friend.”

“Seems like he’s your friend.”

He shook his head, leaning against a rocky pillar. He wanted to keep the distance between you and him as far as possible. You were going to keep running towards him anyways.

“As soon as I arrived it was too late.” You started. “They were all dead.” You paused, letting the grief settle in. Logan sat there as still as a ghost. “I was going to find you before you found them. I'm so sorry you had to see them like that.” You let the tears flow this time. “But then the TVA- they got me. Said I killed one of their own a few days prior. Which is bullshit. But they didn’t care, and they sent me here. I’ve been trying to get back to you ever since. I'm sorry, Logan.”

It happened as quickly as he drank those bottles. He got up, wobbled a bit as he stood, and walked out the door, crushing autumn leaves under his feet.

The silence he left behind was worse than his venom.

Wade popped his head back in, the other four following as well. “We did it! Operation, Stealing Cassandra’s Wii hidden underneath their bed, is underway!”

“What’s under Cassandra’s bed?” Elektra questioned.

“Oh, all kinds of stuff.” He started counting on his fingers. “Video games, velveeta cheese, a bunch of those for some reason. Cowboy hats, pixie sticks, a signed dvd of The Green Lantern. Truly an evil monster, my god.”

Gambit leaned over to Laura. “Do you think one of my missing cards could be hidden under there?”

Laura ignored him, walking over to you, noticing your wet, red eyes. “Hey, are you okay? Where’s Logan?”

“I’d like to know the answer to that question too, Laura.”

Logan’s daughter nodded, squeezing your shoulder before going to look for the shadow of her father.

It was growing dark now. Night was here and all you wanted was to sleep. Maybe you’d wake up in Logan’s arms again and he’d pepper light kisses across your face, taking all those years without him away. Like they never even happened. Like you never lost anything or anyone.

It was still night out when you woke up. Wade's snores were keeping everyone else up, so they moved him outside. You walked by him as he was passed out in a pile of leaves, making your way towards the burning campfire.

Logan sat slumped over the smoke, chin cradled to his chest. You could’ve sworn you saw tears disappearing into the fire. But you didn’t want his dagger like words again, so you turned back around.

And then you heard your name.

It was whispered so softly, like a strong wind. You waited a few more beats, hoping to hear it again. And you did. His voice was strained. Calloused over like he had said your name so many times before that it hurt so bad every time you never said his name back.

But you did this time.

“Yes, Logan?”

“I was just thinking-” His voice was wavering, like he was on a tightrope, wondering when he’d fall off. “I was thinking about your birthday. I’ve missed so many of them.”

Your eyes glazed over, a well of spring water washing away the autumn you still adored. Before you could run to him, he was already there. Strong arms found their way around you. Those lips kissed every inch of your face. It was like returning home again.

“I’m so fucking sorry.” He was barely keeping it together. “I thought you were dead. And then I saw you and all I saw was another failure. I’ve failed you. You’ve been trapped here. And I didn't come to save you. All I did was punish you.”

“It’s okay.” You held him tight, but he held you tighter. “You didn’t know. You had to go on thinking everyone you loved was dead. Logan, you didn’t deserve that.”

He held your head, finally meeting your eyes with his own. “I love you.” He rarely said it. But he didn’t have to. You always knew. “And I’m sorry.”

“I love you too.”

“I’ll be sorry forever.”

“Then I will be too.”

A mix of sorrow and happiness clung to his face. He laughed, as if he was laughing for the first time. “You’re here. You’re not a ghost. I’m not a ghost.”

#the wolverine x reader #wolverine x reader #logan howlett x reader #deadpool and wolverine #logan howlett #the wolverine #ravens masterlist

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perpetual-stories · 9 months

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Eight Strategies for Improving Dialogue in Your Writing

Well, hi! Oh my… wow! It’s been a long time since I’ve posted! I’ve been very busy and I am genuinely sorry to all my followers, but that doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten about this account, but here is one final post for the year!

Hopefully next year I become consistent with it again!

Let’s begin!

One of the best ways to help a reader connect with your writing is by crafting excellent dialogue. Use these tips to learn how to write dialogue that showcases character development, defines your characters’ voices, and hooks readers.

Why Use Dialogue?

Good dialogue performs all sorts of functions in fiction writing. It defines your characters’ voices, establishes their speech patterns, exposes the inner emotions, and showcases their character development. Beyond mere characterization, effective dialogue can also establish the setting and time period of your story and reveal information in a way that doesn’t feel overly expository.

Authors use lines of dialogue to reveal a character’s personality and express their point of view. For instance, an archetypal football coach might speak in short, terse sentences peppered with exclamation points and quotations from famous war generals. By contrast, a nebbish lover with a broken heart might drone on endlessly to his therapist or best friend, speaking in run-on sentences that circle around his true motivations. When an author can reveal character traits through dialogue, it cuts down on exposition and makes a story flow briskly.

Eight Writing Tips for Improving Dialogue

The first time you write dialogue, you may find it quite difficult to replicate the patterns of normal speech. This can be compounded by the concurrent challenges of finding your own voice and telling a great story overall. Even bestselling authors can get stuck on how a particular character says a particular line of dialogue. With practice and hard work, however, lackluster dialogue can be elevated to great dialogue.

Here are some strategies for improving the dialogue in your own work:

Mimic the voices of people in your own life. Perhaps you’ve created a physician character with the same vocal inflections as your mother. Perhaps your hero soldier talks just like your old volleyball coach. If you want to ensure that your dialogue sounds the way real people speak, there’s no better resource than the real life people in your everyday world.

Mix dialogue with narration. Long runs of dialogue can dislodge a reader from the action of a scene. As your characters talk, interpolate some descriptions of their physical postures or other activity taking place in the room. This mimics the real-world experience of listening to someone speaking while simultaneously taking in visual and olfactory stimuli.

Give your main character a secret. Sometimes a line of dialogue is most notable for what it withholds. Even if your audience doesn’t realize it, you can build dynamic three-dimensionality by having your character withhold a key bit of information from their speech. For instance, you may draft a scene in which a museum curator speaks to an artist about how she wants her work displayed—but what the curator isn’t saying out loud is that she’s in love with the artist. You can use that secret to embed layers of tension into the character’s spoken phrases.

Use a layperson character to clarify technical language. When you need dialogue to convey technical information in approachable terms, split the conversation between two people. Have one character be an expert and one character be uninformed. The expert character can speak at a technical level, and the uninformed one can stop them, asking questions for clarification. Your readers will appreciate it.

Use authentic shorthand. Does your character call a gun a “piece” or a “Glock”? Whatever it is, be authentic and consistent in how your characters speak. If they all sound the same, your dialogue needs another pass.

Look to great examples of dialogue for inspiration. If you're looking for a dialogue example in the realm of novels or short stories, consider reading the great books written by Mark Twain, Judy Blume, or Toni Morrison. Within the world of screenwriting, Aaron Sorkin is renowned for his use of dialogue.

Ensure that you’re punctuating your dialogue properly. Remember that question marks and exclamation points go inside quotation marks. Enclose dialogue in double quotation marks and use single quotation marks when a character quotes another character within their dialogue. Knowing how to punctuate dialogue properly can ensure that your reader stays immersed in the story.

Use dialogue tags that are evocative. Repeating the word “said” over and over can make for dull writing and miss out on opportunities for added expressiveness. Consider replacing the word “said” with a more descriptive verb.

#writing #writing advice #writing tips #writers on tumblr #original writing

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moonlight-prose · 29 days

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RIGHT WHERE YOU LEFT ME

➛ 03. BRIDGE OVER TROUBLED WATER

a/n: we are getting down to the nitty and gritty of this man's pain. and he's finally starting to the accept the fact that he has to talk about what happened to him. honestly out of all the chapters this one might be my favorite. solely for the soft vibes i tried to shove into what is already a very angsty story. also somehow wade weaseled his way further into this chapter than i intended him to. so enjoy the humor i've tried to add throughout. (i am reposting this since it didn't show up in the tags yesterday.)

summary: to open up was like taking a knife to a steel door. he never saw the use in letting someone in. but dinner spent in your company and conversations over wine and whiskey is where things begin to take a turn.

word count: 8.3k+ (i don't even know how tf that happened.)

pairing: logan howlett x f!reader

warnings: partially explicit scene, angst by the bucket load, vulnerable and emotional logan, grief, trauma, heartache, fluff, domestic vibes, alcohol consumption, wade breaking the fourth wall, wade being a shit wingman, the beginnings of something more.

PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER | SERIES MASTERLIST

Blood poured over his hands and soaked into the ground below. The warmth of it coated his senses, dug into the grooves and lines of his palms. He swore he felt it down to his bones. Now permanently mixed with a version of him long forgotten—the man who used to smile.

Their shouts of pain rendered him immobile. Useless to help them, useless to save their lives. Useless. Useless. Useless. He fought against the restraints, the invisible shackles put there by his own hands. Whether to stop him from going or to keep him from harm—he'd never know—but he battled regardless. With a snarl, he felt them snap, his claws sliding free in all their familiarity. A weapon of destruction unable to be used for salvation.

When he began to run he felt it. The piercing echo of her. The power she emanated as they took her life, brought her to the brink of death. He felt her voice punch through his chest—puncturing him in his heart. She screamed his name with her final breath. Called out for his help; for him to save them all.

He could almost see her in his mind, the horror that befell a school of such powerful people. And he loathed himself for breathing. For living after they were taken so quickly from him.

His family. His home.

What once existed would no longer return. That alone broke him further than their deaths. The knowledge that his world—his universe—would be without their heroes. So much of their worth had been given to humanity. Only to be stripped of their lives within the blink of an eye.

And he couldn't save them. He could barely stand on his own two feet without stumbling.

"Logan!" The scream split along his skull, rupturing veins that healed far too quickly for his liking.

What the fuck was the point of his abilities if he couldn't put them to use? If he couldn't do the one thing they counted on him for.

Their blood stuck to him, burrowing into skin that would never scar. He'd never have proof of the wounds that rested along his heart. Forever damned to carry the weight of his own failure—the guilt that ate him alive. For what? To tell the story he could barely stomach himself? What was his life to the lives of those who meant so much more?

Why did he have to fucking live?

He stood on the doorstep. Death stained the walls, pierced the air with its pungent copper tang. He keeled over at the bushes, all the alcohol he'd consumed expelling itself from his body at the sight. His family was dead. His family was dead and he couldn't join them. He couldn't fucking die.

What once felt like a gift—eternity to find these people who loved him—now rang true with the only word that could make sense. Curse. His curse.

"No," he gasped, eyes bleary with tears as he scrambled to his feet and sprinted through the broken down door.

His claws came free, expecting a fight. Only to be met with silence. An eerie echo of nothing.

No laughter, no life, no chatter of students.

Nothing.

The breath ripped from his lungs as a blaring horn spilled in through the apartment's open window. In an attempt to get some cool air, he pushed the couch closer to what airflow there was. The only downside was hearing everything as he slept. Each little noise and loud mouthed fucker as they wandered the rather empty street. He wanted to leave—move to a better spot where humanity was sparse—but the pull of you across the street kept him there.

"Fuck," he grunted, eyes blinking away the nightmare that tore at his psyche.

The bottle of whiskey underneath the kitchen cabinet called his name. Offering a respite against the horrors he couldn't run from. And with a pained groan, he stumbled towards it—grabbing his coffee mug from the counter. The amber liquid felt bitter against the back of his throat. A familiar burn he welcomed.

He may not be able to stay injured, but this he could have. The darkness at the end of the bottle. The silence he found in collapsing drunk against the couch.

The streetlight outside lit the area filled with trash and the few people sleeping in darkened alleys. If he listened hard enough he could hear their heartbeats. Smell the pungent scent of the city as it seeped through the window. He could feel the thrum of New York beneath his feet—unfamiliar in its nature but home nonetheless.

The sight of a light flicking on grasped his attention—a glimpse of you staggering to the kitchen for a glass of water clear through your window. You should really get curtains, or blinds. He'd help install them for you. But then he'd never get this again. A small insight into your life, a peek into what he left behind a day ago.

Your lips against his still seared through his body—your moans and want for more left him breathless. And he had to go and fuck it up. Just as he did with everything in his life. He ruined the good. Corrupted the innocent.

Doing the same to you felt unfathomable—painful.

But how could he stop?

When you were catching his gaze in the window. Your glass of water was forgotten and the blanket dropped to the leather chair behind you. He left the bottle on the floor by the couch, his empty mug beside it as you grabbed for something. Logan yearned to hear your voice. To apologize for how he left things. But saying sorry never came easy and he found that keeping you at a distance was much safer than what he actually wanted.

The ringing on his phone broke his penetrating gaze. He reached for it quickly, pressing it to his ear as you brought your phone to yours. A breath was all that echoed through the small speaker—soft and warm. He swore he could feel it against his cheek. Hear the echo of your heart pounding beneath his.

"Can't sleep?" you uttered, finally putting his mind at ease. He exhaled a deep breath—hearing it fill your ears as warmth trailed down your spine.

"Nightmares."

You watched him stand still as stone. His fingers gripped the phone for assurance. A sense of stability from a past that had already cracked him in half. The sorrow in his eyes practically bled through the streets. Lapping at your feet like the waves on a shore. And in an act so unlike yourself, you took a step forward. You stood in his grief and offered to drag him to the sand—gave him hope that this world might treat him differently.

Logan wouldn't save himself because he believed he deserved it.

He'd save himself because he knew you deserved a better man.

"Do they happen often?"

The soft echo of your voice tinged with sleep set his mind at ease. For the first time that night he felt himself breathe properly. He could taste the sweetness in the air, the heat that clung to his skin held traces of you when you started to open your window.

Leaving you at your door suddenly felt like the stupidest decision he'd ever made. But the fear is what kept him at a safe distance. He couldn't hurt you here in this shitty apartment. He couldn't destroy what good you held in your heart standing here at an open window.

"Every night," he rasped. His hand clenched, the bones of his knuckles shifting as silver began to peek through the pierced skin.

He knew you could see it. He heard your heart speed up through the phone. And with a ragged sigh, he retracted them forcefully—hiding the beast within to present you with the man beyond.

"You don't have to hide them from me." If you turned, you'd see the punctures in your door you tried to hide with duct tape. The claws that came free because of your touch—your kiss.

They should have scared you.

Logan almost wished they had.

"You don't want to see that part of me honey," he muttered, watching as you stood closer to the ledge—your hand pressed to the chipped wood. "It's not all sunshine and rainbows."

You laughed and he felt it down his spine. "No. I think that's only in Wade's mind."

"Don't say that fucker's name please," he groaned. "Not while I have you here."

"Did I touch a nerve? Wolverine?"

Your smile deepened, mischief practically dripping from your words. Yet Logan couldn't help fixating on the way his title sounded off your tongue. The hero name he loathed for so long suddenly made his heart flip. He gripped the phone tight enough until he heard a faint crackling sound—his body going taut at the thought of you saying it under different circumstances.

Moving past the subject was all he could do. All he wanted to do.

"Why are you up bub?"

You sighed, leaning against the window frame. "Restless. Too much energy from the day."

"Not too much moving in the archives huh?"

"I'll have you know I walk constantly. It's a very demanding job."

He snorted. "Down to the end of the bookshelves and back?"

"Shut up." Your laughter echoed across the street and it nearly startled him how normal he felt. How human. "I can guarantee my job is a lot more work than yours."

"You're right. Saving the universe is nothin' when it comes to books."

"I'm going to hang up."

"Don't. I'll stop." Despite his serious tone, he didn't try to stop the chuckle you felt strike against your heart. The husk of its deep nature.

The memory of his touch still rang clear in your mind. How his lips molded against yours, his body firm and hot beneath your touch. You weren't restless because of work. In fact you felt the pain in your feet begin to spread up your calves the longer you stood there. You couldn't sleep because of him. Too busy replaying that moment to find time in your schedule to sleep.

"Logan." His gaze fell serious at the soft murmur of his name. "Tell me about your dream."

He bit back the urge to push you away, to claim he was fine. That nothing happened and acknowledging it wouldn't save him from himself. But that's not what you were trying to accomplish, and he knew that. He could see it clearly in front of his face. But he was a man hardened by the nature of silence—of ignoring his pain until it eventually withered and died inside him.

Changing that wasn't a battle he'd win tonight. Nor tomorrow.

He sighed, seeing how you fought back a yawn. "Not tonight honey."

"Why–"

"I will." Your breath echoed loudly in his head. He wished he could feel it. "I'll tell you everything. Just not tonight."

Your finger traced the silhouette of him against the glass. "When?"

"I don't know." He imagined your touch was against his skin, pictured how you'd trace the lines of his muscles. How you'd lick along his veins for a taste of him on your tongue. "Tell me about your day."

"That's boring," you groaned.

"Not to me bub. I like history." He smiled. "I used to teach it."

"Fuck off. Did you really?" You perked up within seconds, eyes alight as they were the other night. And Logan felt himself get dragged in a bit deeper. He knew he was fucked the second he saw you, but now...there was no stopping the inevitability of you. "I guess I learn something new every day. James."

He growled, low and hungry—pleasure filling his stomach. "Don't start somethin' you can't finish honey."

Silence filled the air and Logan felt the doubt pull at his nerves. He watched you lean into the glass, your scent filtering through the warm air. Sharp and heady. Darker than your usual honeyed sweetness; the taste of it spread along his tongue—shivers rolling down his back. You wanted him. No fuck that.

You needed him.

"And if I want to," you breathed, trepidation and hope overlapping in your words. "Finish this."

He bared his teeth in a grin that felt feral—as if he could taste your flesh. "We will," he stated with such severity. A promise lined in truth for once. "Now go on. Tell me about your day."

He awoke to the sounds of clashing pots and pans being tossed on the stove—the incessant beep of the coffee machine blaring off every thin wall. And Wade singing loudly—and horribly—to some fucking pop song from the eighties Logan would learn the name of against his will. He groaned, slamming his head back against the couch in the hopes that this was all a dream.

If he wished hard enough maybe he'd wake up to silence.

Or to you.

"Good morning peanut!" Wade's voice shouted, another bang sounding off behind him. "I've got coffee, Canadian bacon, and the final answer for what came first—the chicken or the egg."

Logan longed to stab himself in the skull. This quick healing factor became a fucking pain in the ass at the worst of times. He staggered into the kitchen, immediately wishing he'd drank the entire bottle of whiskey last night at the sight of Wade in a pair of white underwear and nothing else.

"What the fuck." He shut his eyes, reaching blindly for a mug and the coffee pot.

"Yeah..." Wade slammed the pan on the stove, a now broken yolk spilling over the edge. "Laundry day and Al called dibs on the top load. Just call me Risky Business."

Logan's sigh was ragged, beyond exhausted as he gulped down the first dose of searing coffee. "He wore a shirt in that fucking movie."

"Lookie here! Someone is up to date on their Tom Cruise movies. Don't tell me you're a Top Gun fan honey badger because I have some fucking news for you. We topped them for highest grossing movie of all time." Wade smiled as the destroyed egg slid onto a chipped plate. "Financially topped. Personally, I don't think scientology allows Tom Cruise to fuck anymore."

"I'm not listenin' to your fuckin' bullshit," he grunted, pouring another cup.

The charred egg was slid his way. "Aren't you gonna ask me?"

"Ask you what?"

Talking this early in the morning made the veins in his throat strain—his grip on the mug nearly cracking the porcelain. In times like this Logan felt the overwhelming need to throw his roommate out the fucking window.

If only to get thirty seconds of hearing him scream on the way down.

"What came first."

He moved to make another pot of coffee, ignoring the chatter that fell from Wade's mouth. In order to even feel coherent enough to make sense of it, he'd need four more cups. Or enough to bathe in if the morning didn't calm down. The sun blinded him as he turned to glance out the window; the air stale and hot choked his senses. He'd never felt this overstimulated before—this out of place.

"You look like you've seen better days in a horror movie. Up having late night phone sex?" Wade grinned and leaned across the counter—his head in his hand and love in his eyes. "Tell me about it, stud? Tell me more, tell me more. Did you get very far?"

"Oh god," Logan groaned, slamming the coffee pot back into place. "Can you shut the fuck up for once? I'm begging you."

"Did you beg her?"

His claws pressed to Wade's smug face—blood spilling against his cheek. "I will cut your fuckin' mouth off."

"I just wanna know why you're waiting so long to give her the Hugh Jackman."

"The what?" he growled, heat blistering against his face.

"Ya know." The crude gesture to his groin had him digging his claws directly into Wade's cheek. But even then he mumbled around the metal piercing his skin. "The package. The full shebang. Rock her like a hurricane—or whatever the fuck that German band was talking about. Cause I sure know she's aching for it."

"Don't fucking talk about her like that."

Wade smiled until his cheek sliced down to his mouth. The sight was disgusting enough for Logan to forgo wanting breakfast. And lunch. And dinner at that.

"You don't believe me! HA! Let me tell you, you're pretty but there's nothing going on up there." A tap on Logan's forehead forced the claws to sink just a bit deeper. "That sweet angel across the street is ready to save that horse and ride you instead cowboy. All. Night. Long."

"You don't know what you're talking about." Yet even as he said the words he felt the lie stick to the back of his throat.

Last night's conversation was proof enough that Wade was telling the truth. Even Logan could fucking see what was right in front of him. Someone beautiful, someone smart. Someone...he wasn't worthy of. If he combined all those factors he only came up with one conclusion. The longer he stayed away from you, the better you'd wind up being.

The safer you'd stay if he wasn't constantly shoving his way into your life.

The loud sigh from Wade's healing mouth shoved another wave of guilt into Logan's stomach. "Look. Ignore it all you want, but sooner or later you're gonna wind up with only your hand for some company and she'll find someone who actually wants to be with her."

Wade was right. For once.

What Logan didn't expect was the anger he felt at the visual of you finding someone else. The rage that nearly overwhelmed him. That's how it should be. You with someone better, a man who actually gave you a chance at a relationship. One that wasn't doomed from the very start. He let the thought simmer, chewed on it for as long as he could.

And not a minute later came to the answer he'd been looking for.

Logan would rip apart any other man without hesitation if they came into your life.

This wasn't a fling. He'd known that on his Earth and knew it now. He clawed his way out of a grave once to get back to you. And he would do it again and again and again. As many times as it took to make sure he got a glimpse of your smile, felt the love in your touch.

"Grab your shit we've got somewhere to be," he grumbled, shoving the burned egg in his mouth and washing it down with fresh black coffee to kill the taste.

"Yes! Now there's the Wolverine I know." Wade shouted, pumping his fist in the air. Logan couldn't tell if he was being vulgar or not.

"Let's go bang your girl!" A snarl ripped through his throat, blood splattering on his bare chest as he pinned Wade to the wall—his claws embedded in the man's heart. "Or you bang her and I quietly stay at home with the window open to serenade you two with the sensual sounds of Marvin Gaye."

He grinned, eyes flashing over Logan's shoulder. "Directly from Sam Wilson's playlist if you know what I'm getting at Marvel fuckers."

On days where people were stuck at work and students infiltrated the library above, you found the solace of the archives to be everything you needed. For an hour you'd been placing books in their correct spots, labeling boxes to be housed somewhere new, and theorizing where you went wrong the other night when Logan left.

You didn't want to let the disappointment get to you. Nor should you. The phone conversation last night clarified enough for you to know him leaving wasn't your fault. It wasn't due to your kiss or even because he didn't want to be there. He simply hadn't healed from what his world did to him. Whatever Wade mentioned to you in a ramble of semi-seriousness gave you enough of a picture to know what that might have been.

No matter how much you wanted to help him; to make him see that you weren't scared of what he had to give. This wasn't your war.

Logan made sure you understood that.

That still didn't stop the swell of dismay at his actions. The belief that you weren't good enough to hear his story began to eat you alive the longer he pushed it off. Each comment came tinged with pain you'd never be privy to. Agony he wanted to endure alone.

You would give him the space he needed—the time that was required in order to heal from wounds you couldn't see. They were there. Dug into the shape of his heart—carved into the metal of his bones—but Logan wouldn't allow you to bear witness to that. To a broken side of a man who wanted to be better. If only he knew he didn't have to be for you to ache for him.

The thought of him alone left your heart twisting in your chest and stomach fluttering.

You slid another book into the correct spot, silence echoing like a void that went on for miles. Only for the ring of your phone to shatter it like glass. You scrambled for the device in your purse, breath filling your lungs at the sight of his name as it flashed across your screen.

Maybe this made you seem desperate—a type of clingy that would make any other man run. You couldn't find it in yourself to give a shit.

"Logan," you said—his name leaving your mouth in a breathy manner you regret within moments.

"Oh shit girl you've got it bad."

The pounding of your heart jumped at the loud echo of Wade's voice blasting through the small speaker. "Wade?"

"The one and holy." To say you were perplexed felt like an understatement. But before you could spill the millions of questions on your tongue, Wade kept going. "Hey! What kind of wood do you prefer?"

A loud rumble of an engine blared in the background—killing your ears. "What?"

"Oh right fuck me. Silly question. There's twelve thousand words already written about what type of wood you prefer." He laughed as the sound came again. "I'm talking the tree kind. Got a preference for scents?"

"She's not gonna be able to smell it you dumb fuck!" Logan shouted. You heard an audible screech before a loud rustle had you pulling the phone from your ear with a groan. "Honey?"

You smiled, walking towards the part of the room that didn't echo with your voice. "I'm scared to ask what you guys are doing today."

"Oh," he chuckled. You wished he'd bought a better phone, longing to see each expression that crossed his face. "I owe you a door."

That kiss reemerged in your memory once more. Burning through your body in quick rapid strokes. As if Logan was fanning the flames of something stronger—a fire that you wouldn't be able to control. You imagined what he looked like at this moment, if he still wore the exhausted look of grief from last night. Or if he'd covered it with a mask of annoyance due to Wade.

"I can just call the building manager to fix it." You put it on your list of things to do today already, but the idea of seeing Logan again was too tempting to pass up.

He huffed, falling silent. Wade's voice shouting about the Lorax became all you heard for a brief moment—Logan no doubt figuring out what he could say to fix this. The glimpse of him last night had set your teeth on edge in a way you'd never experienced before. You felt you could sink your canines into the tension and rip it to shreds with ease.

"Where I come from it's only right to fix what I broke."

What he broke.

This wasn't about the door. You could see it clearly in the pained way he spoke his words—each one more clear than the last. Leaving you in a rush with no fucking explanation left him worried that you weren't going to be around if he kept pushing you away. You were something good—a light he sought in the darkness he found himself in—and messing up this chance wasn't going to happen twice.

He'd done this before. He pushed those he loved away.

Doing the same with you only made his chest echo with the hollow emptiness that he'd grown tired of feeling.

"You can fix my door under one condition," you said, effectively breaking the silence.

"Anythin'."

The flutter in your chest felt lethal when he spoke to you like this; open and willing to bend where you wanted him to go. A man had never given you this before. The attention, the knowledge that he wanted all of you. Not just sex, or meaningless conversations. He wanted every piece you were open to sharing—every dark crevice and thought you felt embarrassed about.

You only wished he'd understand you wanted the exact same thing from him.

"Dinner. My place. Seven p.m."

Fuck what you wouldn't give to see his smile as he let out a sigh of relief. "I won't be late."

You smiled, worrying your lip between your teeth—that familiar gooey warmth now back in your chest. "You better not be."

"I've got great timing honey. Got nothin' to worry about."

Bullshit. You nearly said it, but a loud shuffle and a few bitten off curse words—mainly growled on Logan's end—cut your conversation short. A triumphant laugh you could only figure to be Wade's pierced your eardrum as the phone was unwillingly handed off once again.

"I just want to let you know I've got money on whether or not he nails you tonight. So don't let me down cupcake."

"You're betting on this?" you exclaimed, loud enough to hear your voice bounce off the walls and echo back to where your supervisor was no doubt sitting.

"Of course. I'm not one to turn down the sleazy art of gambling." He sighed wistfully. You'd never wanted to punch someone more in this moment; suddenly aware that this is how Logan must feel every day of his life. "Besides if you heard the sounds that came out of our shower this afternoon. Oh ho ho. Something tells me that he was letting off some Steam Boat Willy to the thought of his late night phone buddy."

Disgust at Wade's words was rapidly overshadowed by the thought of Logan in the shower. Naked and desperate to find some release after your conversation last night. To say you hadn't pictured what he'd look like hard and aching from your touch would be a lie. But actually knowing that's what happened left you winded.

Your chest heaved as your body grew warm—the image of him with his hand around his cock, his head thrown back in pleasure, almost made your knees give out.

"Your thinkin' about it huh?" The overconfidence in Wade's voice snapped you back to reality within seconds.

"Shut up."

"Got ya red handed angel."

With a roll of your eyes, you made to head back to your work—Wade's words only served to fluster you more than you wanted. "Don't piss him off too much okay Wilson?"

His laughter nearly appeased you as the piercing sound of a saw went off again. The both of them must have ventured to a warehouse to find materials. You wanted to confirm your thoughts when Wade did it for you. As if he could hear you loud and clear.

"Who knew our man had lumberjack experience?" He sighed dreamily, a shout of what you guessed was Logan saying fuck off filtering through. "God it's like watching X-Men Origins Wolverine. Back when his hair screamed Staying Alive and I went by the name Billy Butcherson."

A cough from behind you gave enough notice that you had in fact been caught by your boss—her glare burning through the back of your skull. The short break you were allotted passed five minutes ago. Normally you'd be fighting your way to the end of the day. Today though...you felt that delicious bite of excitement at knowing you'd be spending tonight with Logan.

"I've got to go. But Wade..."

"Yeah?"

"Take a picture for me will you?"

"Already done. Got my phone set to burst. Which is what Logan's gonna do tonight instead of tainting our shower walls–" Logan's roar of I'll fuckin' kill you came seconds before you heard a thwack overlapped with Wade's high shriek.

The line went dead instantly.

The elevator wasn't moving fast enough for your liking—each flash of a floor passed sent another wave of nerves through your body. Work dragged on longer than you expected. And the groceries you picked up on the way didn't feel like enough to make a meal grand enough for a night like tonight. You tried to destress by saying he wasn't expecting much. This wasn't even a date.

That is until you realized...that's exactly what this was.

A date that felt long overdue.

You hadn't known Logan long enough to pursue a relationship as deep as this, but that's where things got fuzzy. He knew you. Or a version of you that felt entirely different to the person you were now. And maybe that's where the security that this would last came through. The knowledge that no matter what happened, Logan was in this for the long haul.

This wasn't temporary.

A creak of the doors opening didn't deter you from digging through your mountain of thoughts. Each one more worrisome than the last. You should be terrified that this was it. The future had already been written and Logan was at the end of the road. That alone would be reason enough to turn tail and run.

Then you turned the corner leading directly down your hallway.

Logan stood leaning against the wall, a lit cigar in his mouth, smoke trailing past his lips, and a heavy wooden door placed directly beside him. A toolbox that looked to have seen better days sat by his feet. A bouquet of honeysuckle and peonies placed directly on top—wrapped in brown paper with a yellow and blue bow.

Whatever fear might have lingered in your body dissipated when his gaze found yours and his lips pulled into a smile.

"You're early," you said—desperate to catch your breath. The scent of his cigar lingered on your senses, mixing with the leather of his jacket.

Suddenly Wade's words from earlier felt a lot more real than you expected. He showed up dressed casually. Jeans, flannel, the familiar dog tags strung around his neck. Yet whatever transpired the night before came rushing back with the promise of more.

This was a date. But whether it would lead to something else you'd leave entirely up to him.

"I told ya I had great timing honey."

Heat trailed down your body where his eyes followed. "I didn't believe you."

"I know."

The claw marks on your door brought a flustered smile to your face. As if to say you were okay with them staying. You wanted them to stay. Logan's eyes darkened at the sight, a flash of something worse taking hold of his mind as you pushed it open.

You longed for him to tell you the truth. He wouldn't either way. But the hope still remained—lingering on the edges of your heart.

"Easy enough to fix," he muttered, reaching for his tools—the bouquet of flowers gripped tightly in his large palm.

"I didn't know what exactly to get." He stood in your living room, eyes trained on the window. Finally he was on the other side—in your home—and yet he found he didn't belong here. "Do you have a preference?"

He sucked in another drag from the cigar before pulling it free—stamping it out on his palm as you watched. A heady wanton look crossed your features. You doused it quickly in favor of unpacking the groceries. He made sure to store it away for a later time. One that didn't feel dragged by the weight of his own thoughts.

"I'm not picky."

You nodded. "Feel free to use whatever's useful. I don't have tools though."

"I came prepared bub." He lifted the box with a smile and suddenly recalled that he bought you flowers. Much to Wade's annoying comments about this being a first date. Logan wouldn't push you in any direction you felt uncomfortable going towards. But in an irritating turn of events, Wade was right. Twice. "These are for you."

The smile on your face was worth every dollar and excruciating minute spent picking out what went with what. He reminded himself to thank Wade. Even if it left a bitter taste in his mouth.

"They're beautiful." The delicate white lay atop pink flowers that filled your senses. An aroma you'd never known could work so well together. "Why these?"

A touch of crimson began to tint the tops of his ears as he let out a breath. "They're uh..." He coughed. "The day we met I said somethin' kinda awkward."

"I smelled different."

"Yeah." Logan wanted to bury himself six feet under at the teasing glint in your eyes. "That's how you smell. To me. Like honey and flowers."

There had to be an explanation for the way your heart split down the center—as if to offer him one half. To give him a part of yourself that once didn't belong to him. But that's where you were wrong. Even in a different universe, he would find you. You were once everything to him; the person he'd go through hell for. That fact never changed. Even if you did.

You wanted to spill every emotion, every truth about how your heart already longed for him in ways that left you reeling. But Logan wasn't a man to speak longer than he had to. And before you finally gained the courage to open your mouth, he was stepping back into the hallway. His hands busy with a project and mind eons away.

Dinner was simple to cook knowing he'd eat whatever you made. Pasta, some wine, and an old bottle of whiskey a friend of yours bought sat on the table as he put the final touches on the door. You'd spent the time at the stove combing over every word spoken. Every minute touch and fleeting look. As he worked effortlessly on setting your new door in place.

A dark honeyed wood with grooves throughout that almost resembled the small panes of a window. The quality was stunning. Beyond anything you'd seen before.

You wanted to prod and ask where he learned to do this. But the sight of him slightly sweaty, flannel tossed into his toolbox, and arms on display when he carried the door to its spot, left you dazed. Each movement caused the muscles beneath his skin to ripple—face screwed in a look of concentration while the sound of the drill echoed off the hallway walls.

For a moment you forgot dinner was cooking as you practically ogled his form. That familiar flame burned through your body when his gaze met yours and a smile crossed his lips.

Logan could feel your eyes on him—the aching burn of your gaze now seared into the bare skin of his arms and shoulders. And he fought himself to keep going. To ignore your now heady scent—the way your heart sped up with each shift of his body—and finish what he started. If he was being honest, which he rarely was with himself, he put on a show for you.

You liked him.

He just wanted to reaffirm that fact once in a while.

The smell of slightly burnt garlic had him biting back a smile as you rushed to fix what his distraction caused. His ego swelled. Heart pumping with a sense of pride the second he caught you flustered with your head bowed in the kitchen.

"Smells delicious honey," he said, testing the lock on the door a few times until he felt satisfied with his work.

"It's not much." You popped open the two types of alcohol, pouring a generous helping of wine in your glass. He fixed himself his own whiskey. "Something my sister taught me when I was in college. She believed if there was nothing else to cook, pasta was always the correct answer."

"Smart woman."

You pushed the plate his way and caught the grin he hid at the small act of domesticity. What began as a nerve-wracking date became an insight into what your future with him might look like. Dinner at a tiny kitchen table, his jacket draped over one chair, the scent of flowers twining together with the faint traces of his cigar.

A life that felt perfect enough to keep forever.

"I hope you know Wade's betting on tonight," you said, pouring another glass of wine.

You were settled next to him on the couch, dinner resting full and warm in your stomachs. The alcohol tasted sweeter on your tongue compared to an hour ago. He lounged with his legs spread, glass balanced in one hand. A lazy look of satisfaction in his hazel eyes.

Logan had never felt this comfortable. Soothed by the scent of you beside him, the whiskey on his tongue, and the sight of you with your legs curled beneath you. The red wine made you smile more, laugh easier. He noticed how you bloomed before him, light shimmering between small jokes and half assed teases.

All his life he wondered what home would truly feel like. What would having a place be? And this...you beside him with an endless night stretched before you, gave him the answer.

Home felt like you.

He groaned, head falling against the back of your couch. "He's a lucky fucker with that can't die bullshit. What's the bet?"

Your eyes dragged to the door—tracing the carved marks as his hand hesitated to settle on your thigh. "That you'd and I quote nail me."

"What?" he spit.

The laugh that bubbled to the surface echoed with the heady effects of too much wine. "I hate to break it to Wade. But I don't have sex on the first date."

Logan's lips turned up, hand finally against the bare skin of your leg. Your skirt fanned around your lap, covering your soft skin that lay beneath. "So this is a date huh?"

"Yeah." He tugged you closer. "At least I think it is."

"I think so too."

Unconsciously, you toyed with the chain of his dog tags, catching a glimpse of the worn letters of his name. Any other time you'd push the questions away. You would claim that tonight wasn't the right time. After all this felt good, right in ways nothing had before. But the wine made you loose lipped. Braver than the other times you pushed past the line he drew deep in the sand.

Except this time...he started the conversation.

"You asked about my nightmares last night."

Your eyes caught his, fingers stilling against his chest. "I know you don't want to talk about it."

He shook his head with a deep exhale he felt down to his stomach. "If this is what I think it is. What we're startin' here. Then you should know what you're getting into honey."

"I know what I'm getting into–"

"No. You don't." He sat up straighter, tugging you close until your legs lay over his lap. "You don't know what happened to me. What I did..." He sucked in air as his heart began to twist. The cold wash of anxiety suddenly brighter than a few minutes earlier. "What I couldn't do."

The pain in his eyes chipped off a piece of your heart. Oh how you longed to give it to him.

Cupping his cheek, you felt the scratch of his beard against your skin. "Logan. You're not a bad man."

"Yeah bub. I am," he barked in a half laugh meant to discourage you from seeing his grief.

That's what this was. The full spectrum of his emotions scared the shit out of him more than any villain he fought. More than the thought of dying alone one day. The moment you saw them for yourself, he knew you'd run. He almost expected it. Which is why he'd taken so long—put it off each time the curiosity lingered in your gaze longer than he liked.

He told himself you didn't need to know.

It was better this way.

Tonight proved that all those reasons—all those excuses—stood no chance when it came to you.

"I don't believe that," you whispered, your other hand curling around his dog tags.

"Gotta remember I'm not him. I'm not the hero and never have been." When you looked at him like that—eyes wide and lips turned down—he felt the full weight of the words he was about to say out loud. Words he hadn't spoken since Laura met him by the fire way back in the Void.

Somehow saying it to the other Logan's daughter felt easier. As if he couldn't disappoint her anymore than he had. She'd been there at his death, watched him struggle to protect her, and loved him in spite of all that. She called him Dad and spoke over his grave with a smile. Knowing full well he'd never come back to life, he'd never find his way back to her.

Laura wasn't his kid and yet...he knew she'd understand.

But saying it all to you…

He wasn't sure he'd survive it if you never understood.

"The X-Men in my world weren't as respected as the ones in yours. We were heroes, but the humans. God they fuckin' hated us." His eyes burned with each memory that came rushing back. A river that threatened to drown him. "And I always had to be an asshole. I didn't know what home felt like—what...family felt like. So when I got it, I pushed it away."

"Oh, Logan–"

"No, let me...let me finish honey." He gripped the glass until he heard a crack—his eyes dazed and mind lost to a different time. The night that would later become his ghost. "So I left and did the only thing I was fuckin' good at. I drank until I couldn't feel anythin' anymore. And the humans decided they'd had enough of the X-Men."

Grief struck your heart straight down the center. Tears spilled down your cheeks at the sight of him so broken—so raw from a time that would never leave him. You finally knew why Wade never explained it to you.

This wasn't his story to tell. Not his past to share.

"I came home and they were–" His fingers dug into the skin of your thigh in an attempt to ground himself. Claws slipping free as he struggled to get the final words out—the truth of why he pushed you away. Why he should keep pushing you away. "They were dead."

You pressed yourself against his side, lips against his temple as he silently bit back the emotions he refused to set free. What would become of him once they were finally out? He couldn't risk hurting you because of it.

"They called for me." His breath was ragged, voice thick with tears that never fell. "Jean. Charles. I heard them die in my head. But I was too fuckin' drunk to save them. I got home and all of them were...Jesus. The humans called us mutants vicious, but I'd never seen anythin' like this."

The worst part crawled up his spine with a chill that had his claws coming free. "And you. You survived due to your gifts. Apparently you hid in the future—snapped there without even realizing it. But by the time you returned they were dead and no matter how many times you tried to go back, you couldn't." He raised his head, eyes red and glassy. "You tried to kill me that night. I couldn't blame you for it cause I wanted to die."

"That's not me."

He shook his head. "I know, but you have to know why it happened. I couldn't protect you honey. I couldn't protect any of them."

"The humans did this. Not you." You dragged his face to yours, forcing him to see the sincerity in your eyes—the fire that burned no matter the variant. "You did not kill your family Logan. Don't take their shame."

"It's easy for you to say that bub. You weren't there." He felt your touch mark against his skin and fuck how he wished it would leave a scar. "I'm not the fuckin' hero. I'm the man who fucked it all up because he was too proud for his own good. I need you to see that."

Your gaze hardened. "Why?"

"So you know what you're gettin–"

"Bullshit," you demanded. "I know exactly what I'm getting into Logan. I knew the second I met you. So don't do that. Don't push me away." The press of his forehead to yours leveled the pain and allowed him to breathe. "I'm here to stay. Whether you want me or not."

He grinned, tears finally falling as your lips found his. You breathed life back into his chest, made his heart worth beating again. For all that time he damned himself, loathed the reflection in the mirror, he never thought he'd get this. The soft press of your kiss, the bitter tang of wine on your tongue as his hand gripped your hip—his claws retreating back into his body.

"Trust me. I want you," he mumbled against salt stained lips and broken smiles. "I'll always want you."

"Then it's a good thing I want you too."

That familiar flicker of sparks still existed in the air, begging for more. But you were content to stay here. Kissing him over and over again in order to embed the sensation in your mind.

"Thank you for telling me," you sighed, fingers curling into his hair to drag his lips back to yours.

The thud of his heart ran through his whole body. "Can I show you somethin'?"

You nodded, pulling away as he dug into his pocket. As much as he longed to keep kissing you, to spend all night right there on that couch. He knew there'd be time for that. A night where you were both unburdened by the weight of a past that defined who you were. Tonight was not that night.

The picture was old, burned slightly at the edges and crinkled, but he handed it over with a grin. A group photo like the one stored in the archives at your job. Only this time you recognized two faces among the small team of people in yellow suits. You were smiling with an arm around Logan's waist, your face pressed against his chest.

The sight of his smile—wide and unfiltered—made your heart leap. But the blue aura that seemed to wrap around your body is what gave you pause.

"The blue..."

"Your powers." He pointed to the way it ended at your hands, seeming to stem directly from your chest. "Turning them off wasn't really a thing you could do. Somethin' about time being a constant flow of energy. Charles always explained it better."

Thousands of questions came to mind. All of them pertaining to the powers and the team and more specifically him. He sunk into the couch with a sigh, his eyes hazy with a different kind of need. An ache that no doubt begged him each night. Sleep. Rest without any nightmares, free of the shackles he'd placed on himself.

So you stood, nearly startling him when you did. Nothing had to be said about your intentions, or why you held out your hand for him to take. He simply followed. Each step heavier than the last. The kitchen could be cleaned tomorrow, the bottles put away later. You couldn't find it in yourself to care when his hand was in yours and he smiled at you as if you'd hung the moon in the sky.

"Thought you said Wade was losin' tonight honey?"

You laughed, pushing the flannel from his shoulders as you led him to your bed. "He is. We're just sleeping."

There was no mistaking the doubt in his eyes, the trepidation of his nightmares. "I might hurt you."

"No you won't." Drawing his hand up to your mouth, you lay a kiss along his knuckles. "I trust you Logan."

"You shouldn't." His breath was a shuddered exhale at the sight of you pulling your dress up and over your body.

"Well too bad," you replied, tugging the covers back while he pulled off his shirt—leaving his boots by the door. "You don't scare me Wolverine."

"Wolverine huh?" Crawling into bed with you was easy. Though the mattress sunk under the weight of his bones, you still let him tug you closer—his arms wrapped around your bare waist. "It was James the other night."

"Careful," you said. "Or I'll start calling you Howlett."

A growl rumbled in his chest, his teeth nipping at the bare skin of your shoulder as you laughed. And suddenly he remembered what it was like to live. To want more than just the bottom of a bottle and a peaceful night's sleep. He could recall nights like this in the past. A different you curled up against his body—the love resonating in how you clung to him.

It all slammed into him at once.

Although tonight he didn't push it away. He kept you close, his nose burrowed in your hair, and welcomed the gentle tug of a few hours rest.

Tonight—for the first time—he slept.

Without nightmares.

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x y/n #logan howlett x you #logan howlett #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #wolverine x y/n #my writing

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sharoo · 1 month

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Thinking about Don Quixote in light of the revelations of Warp Express drives me insane.

Don's colour is Oblivion Yellow. Oblivion signifies both destruction and the state of being completely forgotten. I can't stop thinking how "Rocinante" is written on her shoes in that shade of yellow, the yellow of purging from history and memory.

Vampire Don has been on screen for less that 5 minutes and I already feel so much about her. She's a second generation kindred, meaning she's likely been bitten directly by whatever has caused the Bloodfiend to come into existence. She's the purest blood since Nosferatu.

How old do you guys think she is? How long has she had to live this way, feared and shunned and not fully in control of herself because of the endless hunger?

Don Quixote the book is a satire poking fun at the hero's delusion that his violent, uncontrolled actions could ever be seen as anything but despicable. But there's also the interpretations of Don Quixote as a dreamer who wanted to do good. And I can't help but think about how, in his madness, he truly wished to be noble. And now I'm thinking about both the stances being possibly true.

The impossible dream of becoming a hero because what you actually are is monstrous and hated. The entire fantasy being, perhaps, a desperate effort to redeem yourself in the eyes of the people around you. You want others to look at you and see a hero, you want the press to cover your stories of chivalry. Why?

Because that's way better than being the teeth in the dark, the horror story told to children so that they do not go out at night. You're so old, and you're so tired of living the way you do and so, so hungry against your will.

I am of the opinion Don should have a Big and Will be Bad Wolf E.G.O. for this reason exactly.

And I think her wish will have to do with her state, helping her control it, accept it. And it will require the understanding perhaps only Dante can provide.

#murder on the warp express #don quixote #limbus company #i am chewing on drywall i need to know what happens to don

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alicesivory · 2 months

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Old Habits Die Hard [4/?]

Previous Chapter // Main Masterlist // Next Chapter

Pairing: Nightwatch! Aemond Targaryen x wildling female! Reader

Genre: Historically accurate Aemond

WC: 3370

Summary: Aemond ventures beyond the Wall.

“Your hair looks nicer when it’s braided now.”

It seemed that the she-wildling could not keep her mouth shut. Rolling his eyes, Aemond changed the subject quickly, “How long ‘til we reach your people’s camp?” Aemond asked. “Just keep the horse in a steady pace up ahead and we’ll reach them in no time,” she answered him whilst comfortably sitting in front of him, between his arms that held the reins of the stallion. The reins were relaxed, and the stallion responded effortlessly to his light guidance through the cold and dark forest. The forest stands in eerie silence, its dense canopy casting a perpetual twilight over the twisted, gnarled trees. Shadows dance menacingly across the forest floor, where fallen leaves and branches lie in disarray, as if disturbed by some unseen force. The trees themselves seem alive, their bark scarred and contorted into grotesque shapes, carrying with it the faintest whisper of forgotten secrets, and the occasional creak or groan of the wood echoes through the stillness, adding to the sense of foreboding.

No wonder they call this the haunted forest.

“What lies in these woods?” Aemond asked once again. “Wild animals, mostly. But we don’t really hunt at night. It's a bad omen,” she replied. “Sometimes we see them at night, that’s where they emerge.” Her words made Aemond wonder, “Who do you speak of?”

“What do you think the walls were made for?”

Aemond thought for a moment.

“To keep your kind away from entering the realm,” he said, hesitantly. Not quite confident with his answer. For he knew that the wall’s purpose was more than just keeping a few wildlings out of Westeros but, he does not know what. “It wasn’t even built because of us. My people were separated from yours because we were unlucky enough to live beyond the wall when it was built,” she explained. “It was the others that they were afraid of.”

“Others? Other tribes?”

“No. The undead.”

Chills ran down from Aemond’s spine.

The White Walkers.

He has read countless books about the white walkers and the long night. How the battle for the dawn unfolded, yet all he knew was that it was all a myth. A fairytale. Stories to scare your child so they would sleep for the night. He recalled how the White Walkers were first written and mentioned during the Age of Heroes. Born of powerful and untested magic, they were created to protect the Children of the Forest during their war with the First Men. What once used to be puppets and soldiers for the Children of the Forest, the magic within the white walkers took a turn and rebelled against their creators and brought nothing but destruction to the realm.

“But they were nothing but old stories. Fiction, even,” Aemond protested.

“They are far from fiction, snow-hair.”

The wildling looked back to him, surprisingly close since they were cramped at horseback.

“What did they call you back there? I couldn’t recall. Was it Almond?”

“Aemond,” he grunts.

She chuckled, “I like snow-hair better.”

“And what of you?” Slowly speaking her name which seemed foreign to his tongue.

“Close enough,” she shrugged with a smirk, looking back into the road. Aemond wondered once again of the undead she mentioned. Were they lurking behind the old trees of this very forest? Were their lives at stake when they stepped their foot to this forest. “They took my brother,” she said, capturing Aemond’s attention. “The undead?” She nodded at his question. “He seemed to forget about time that day. But what kind of child remembers time, really? They wanted to play all day. So he did, running inside the woods without me or my mother’s attention, wanting to become a great hunter who enters the forest with no fear like my father. And he never came back.”

He felt sorry for the girl, for he himself had felt the same kind of grief when he heard of Aegon’s death. Especially when they could’ve done something to prevent their deaths. “Sometimes I wonder if they buried him at all. If they did, I wonder where they buried him,” she said, spacing off into the distance. “There is no sympathy from the dead. Nor do they care for the living,” he said to her. “I know. But I’d like to think they did. He was just a child.”

The whole ride quickly became gloomy and sour as the pair battled their grief as bad memories and remorse overcome their thoughts. “Does that stop you from hunting in the forest?” Aemond asked, trying to bring peace to her. “No, not really. I think I became eager to hunt here. Maybe one day I can find him well and just…cleverly hiding between trees,” she said with a bitter chuckle, sensing her denial of her brother’s disappearance. A sense of protectiveness washed over Aemond, knowing what it felt like to see light in the midst of darkness. Denying the truth to comfort yourself. He knew of that feeling.

“Maybe one day you would. One day.”

Crack. Swish.

“What was that?”

Crack. Crack. Crack.

“A wild beast?” Aemond asked.

A figure emerging slowly behind the tree as they pass. “That is no beast,” the wildling alarmingly said, taking over the reins and snapped it making their horse gallop through the dark forest. “I would’ve preferred it to be a wild beast so we can take it home, yet you and I know that is no beast, snow hair,” she spoke as the harsh winds of the north hits their faces. Aemond looked back, seeing two..three...four figures catching up onto them.

“How do we escape them?” He asked.

“Hold on tight.”

She took a turn in a swift motion, galloping off the road going between trees. In hopes for them to stop gaining on them. The wildling kept snapping the reins ordering the horse to go faster with only the moon being their source of light. “C’mon…c’mon…,” he heard her grunting as she took a glance behind and saw some still following their tracks. Galloping between trees, their horse finally took them to safety at the edge of the forest, to a clear opening.

Making Aemond have a clear vision of the undead.

Their skins were pale, almost blue.

They look like humans yet they were not at the same time.

The creatures frightened him more than anything else, but as they neared the edge of the forest, the White Walkers ceased their pursuit and vanished behind the trees. Aemond exhaled deeply, relieved that they had escaped the forest unharmed. Suddenly the horse neighed, abruptly stopping. Making both of them grunt in pain when they nearly fell. “What’s wrong?” The wildling asked the horse before an arrow striked a tree behind them. They looked around, trying to find any signs of life.

“What are you doing?” Aemond hissed when she stepped down from the horse. “Where’s my dagger?” She whispered, ignoring his previous question. Aemond sighed, tossing her the dagger beneath his black cloak. Catching it with ease, she spoke into the air,

“It’s only me! Gruff? Yuri?” Aemond was curious about those people she called out. Were they one of her people? Who were they?

“Blimey kid, you scared the shit out of us!”

A loud booming voice suddenly said, emerging from the snowy ecosystem. Their thick fur coats also seemed to be efficient for camouflage. Aemond saw how his peculiar she wildling smiled brightly when she spotted her friend, running towards the tall red haired man giving him a tight hug making them both laugh as he picked her up in his arms.

Aemond rolled his eye.

“Thought you were gone for! We saw those creepy dead people- thank the gods!” The red haired wildling said, ruffling her hair. “Oww! No! Do you think that low of me, old man?!” She asked with a laugh, shoving the man away from her. “Oi, I'm not that old, young lady.” Locking her head once again with his arm. “Yuri! Look who just came back from the dead!” The red haired shouted, now another wildling emerged from the opening. His hair was blonde, almost as light as the hair of the Lannisters. “We really thought you were dead, kid,” Yuri said, patting her shoulder.

Who were they? Why were they awfully close with her?

From what he witnessed, a young woman could only interact like this with the opposite gender if they were siblings or wedded. Even he never saw any of his wedded acquaintances interacting this way. Were they her siblings? They don’t seem to resemble one another, were they bastards? Did they came from different mothers?

Aemond cleared his throat, stepping down from his horse, interrupting their reunion.

“Ah yes- Gruff, Yuri, this is ehm..Aemond Targaryen. The man that I spoke of to the both of you,” she said. The red haired, who was named Gruff looked Aemond from head to toe. “Gruff and Yuri are my hunting friends. We’ve been hunting together since we were children and fun fact, we have the same grandsire.”

Gruff slowly approached the one eyed prine, keeping an eye on him. Aemond straightened his back to appear taller, gripping the handle of his sword, preparing himself. Once Gruff stopped in front of him, their noses bumping into each other, he spoke,

“Did your mum fucked a snowman?”

“I beg your pardon–,” Aemond stepped closer, ready to draw his sword out.

“–Alright that’s enough!” She quickly stepped between the two men. “What Gruff was trying to say was, how is your hair silver?” She asked. "My father, my grandsire, my great-grandsire—all of them had silver hair," Aemond hissed, his gaze fixed on the red-haired wildling. "How did they end up with silver hair?" the red-haired wildling asked, crossing his arms. Aemond couldn't believe how absurd this conversation had become. Frustrated, he let his hands drop. "We're from old Valyria," Aemond explained with resignation. "It's simply a trait we have—silver hair is just part of who we are."

“Valyria? What’s that?” The blonde wildling asked curiously. “It's a place far from the north, Yuri– Now come on! We must bring him to the Chief.” Walking past them, she held the horse’s reins and started walking ahead. Gruff purposely bumped Aemond’s shoulder as he passed through the one eyed prince. Aemond rolled his eyes again, resigned to the childish behavior of these people, before catching up and walking alongside her. Compared to the two wildlings, he found her more tolerable. At least she didn’t ask pointless questions.s. “I have told our Chief about you,” she said. “I am sure he will take it easy on you,” she said.

“Does he takes it easy with anyone else?”

“No, not really. He’s quite rude if you ask me.”

“As rude as your friend there?” Aemond chuckled bitterly.

“You’re in for a ride,” she chuckled, patting Aemond’s shoulder.

As much as Aemond would like to worry, he could not as he knew that she was the one who brought him to her people. For her people needed him, not the other way around. He hoped that this agreement would be the means for her to fulfill her promise and return him to Westeros once and for all. Additionally, he couldn’t help but notice her diminutive stature compared to his own—she barely reached his shoulder, smaller than any lady from Westeros yet possessing a fierceness and demeanor that defied conventional femininity. A smirk tugged at his lips..

And there he saw it. In the vast expanse of snow-covered terrain, a tribe lives a nomadic life, their existence marked by resilience and adaptability. Their tents, typically made of sturdy animal hides or woven materials, scattered across the field. The tents are insulated with layers of fur and cloth, designed to withstand the biting cold. The camp itself is a lively hub of activity despite the harsh environment. Smoke curls up from several central hearths, where fires are kept burning to provide warmth and to cook meals. The scent of roasting meat and simmering stews mingled with the crisp, cold air when he stepped closer to them.

Like when he first entered Winterfell, all eyes fell upon him, following him as he walked side by side with her. “It seems you have captured the people’s attention,” she teased with a cocky smile. “Why is it because of my hair or my eye?” He asked. “Neither. It’s your attire.” Aemond looked down to his clothing. Of course, he’s still dressed like a member of the night’s watch.

“We hate the crows in here, so it’s better for you to strip those clothes after you meet our Chief,” she said, giving him a wink. Before he could protest, a snow hit his cloak, making him flinch. Turning around, he saw a couple of children running around, even snickering at his presence. “Careful now boys!” She chuckled, greeting some of those children. “Never seen a crow, huh?” She crouched down, talking to the children surrounding her.

“He only has one eye!” One of the children tried to whisper to her. “Scary, isn’t he? Tell you what, I’ll let you pick on him when I’m not around,” she said to the kids, making them snicker and giggle in excitement.

She was really good with children.

Throughout his life, he rarely sees his mother or even his sister being this natural with children. It makes him wonder if she has one.

“For the meantime, can all of you keep an eye on our horse?” Offering the rein to the children, in which they eagerly accepted before taking the horse away. Aemond curiously kept his eye on the horse as the children led it away. “Don’t worry, they are very gentle with horses. They know their purpose,” she reassured him before she started to walk once more.

Approaching one of the biggest tents in the area, the spearwife stops beside him, “If the Chief likes you, you’ll live another day.” Before smiling mischievously stepping inside the tent. Slightly on edge, he hesitated to follow them inside. But he would not cower in fear and enter anyways. Reminding himself to keep himself in check if he wants to go home. He stepped inside, his eye falling onto a man sitting in his chair as his companions surrounded him, whispering to each other.

“Chief, I would like you to meet the crow I spoke of. This is Aemond Targaryen,” she introduced him. Aemond nodded with respect to their chief, an older wildling who carefully inspected Aemond, standing up from his seat. “Targaryen,” he said. “A peculiar tribe. Was it true that your family had power over dragons?” The Chief asked in which Aemond instantly nodded, “Yes, my Lord.”

All of them chuckled humorously.

“Lord? I’m flattered to be called a Lord,” the chief said in humour.

“So, where is your dragon now?”

Swallowing a lump in his throat, Aemond spoke.

“She was killed at war.” A sense of bitterness, trying to mask his grief and sadness for Vhagar’s death.

“A shame,” the Chief said.

A pregnant pause.

“I want everybody out of this tent.” Aemond’s eyes widened. Was he going to be murdered? Did he not fulfil the Chief’s expectations?

“But Chief–,”

“–Especially you, girl. I shall talk to you when I’m done with this crow.”

Aemond instantly locked his eye with hers. Even her expression was unreadable as she hesitantly turned around to exit the tent. She gave him a nod, giving him support before leaving him alone with the Chief. Aemond turned his gaze back to the Chief who was crossing his arms inspecting Aemond from head to toe.

“The girl likes you,” the Chief chuckles. “If it wasn’t for her you’d probably be dead by now. Killed by those crows.” Aemond kept his expression stoic as he brushed off the Chief’s words. “Speaking of crows, she told me you were forced to be one. Was that true?”

Aemond nodded.

“Yes, Chief.”

“What was your crime?”

“I was called a traitor to the Starks. Yet I beg to differ, for it was them who were traitors,” Aemond bravely said.

“Traitors to whom?”

“The Throne. My brother.”

“Your brother? Your brother sat on a throne?”

“Yes, Chief.”

“That makes you a prince, then.”

A title he deeply missed. Aemond stood proudly, straightened his back as he kept his chin up high.

“I am–,”

“You were.”

“For you are currently not in Westeros, my boy. You are beyond the wall. Everyone beyond the wall fights for survival. For nature does not care if you’re a king or a criminal. And so far as I know, you stand before me,” the Chief said, telling Aemond to abandon his title as prince. “Where does your loyalty lie, boy?” The Chief asked, stepping closer to the one eyed prince. “To the crows?–”

“–No,” Aemond spoke with no hesitation.

“The Starks?”

“Never.”

The Chief hummed in agreement. “The girl told me you wished to be rewarded. To go back to your family.” Aemond nodded, wishing nothing more than that. “So you’re loyal to your family,” he pointed out.

Aemond nodded.

“Good. A man should always stay loyal to his family.”

He poured his drink onto his cup, “But will you stay loyal to us as you serve my tribe? And lead us to victory?” Aemond looked down, seeing the cup lent to him. Offering a friendship– an alliance– trust. Trusting a wildling. It seemed impossible for him, but he recalled simple questions by those wildlings about his hair. They were a simple tribe, living out of the complicated politics of Westeros. He could outsmart them easily and they’re offering him friendship.

She paced back and forth in front of the Chief’s tent, waiting for the Targaryen to exit the tent unharmed. “You seemed stressed, kid,” Gruffed snickered, crossing his arms as he took notice on worried expression. “Of course, I am,” she said, stopping her steps abruptly. “May I know why?” He chuckled.

“Is it because of the crow?–”

“–He is not a crow. He loathes the crows as much as we do.”

Gruff chuckled amusingly.

“And? I bet Chief will tolerate him–,”

“–What if he doesn't? What if he beheaded that man and puts him on a spike?!–”

“–So what? What if he were beheaded? You should not care for that outsider—,”

“–I don’t care about him! I-I-I just want what’s best for our people–,”

“–You like him,” Gruff points at her with a mocking laugh. “I don’t! You pig!” She shouted defensively, quickly slapping Gruff’s arm repeatedly. “You do! You like that snow haired boy!” Gruff kept pointing at her as he teased her. The young she wildling grunts in frustration as he denies her feelings for the Targaryen. “If you speak of this one more time, I will kill you in your sleep, Gruff.”

“Oooh you’ll kill me in my sleep, eh? Right, sure you don’t like that boy, surely if he one day betrays us will you kill him in his sleep?”

“I will. And I’ll cut off his cock and hang it in front of your tent,” she speaks bluntly.

“Right, you sure you won’t use that for anything else?”

Her face turned red before she threw a hard punch across the red haired’s face. Groaning in pain, Gruff still laughed at her being so flustered with his words. “Why do you like him anyways? Is it because of his hair? His eye? Ooh his other eye, the sapphire?” Gruff asked, sitting up curiously looking at his friend. “For the last time, I do not like our new comer,” she repeated herself. “Keep telling that to yourself, kid. If I see silver haired babies one day–.”

The tent opened, Aemond stepping out of the tent.

Unharmed.

“Ah, so he gave you a chance to live another day,” she said quickly, changing her once worried demeanour into the confident young wildling she is. Aemond could only nod, towering over her. “I shall, and I will.”

His purple eye fixed on hers, “Where can I find new clothes?”

a/n: stay tuned for the next chapter and I apologize if this is not my best work but😊✨

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ellestra · 2 months

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Tribute

I laughed almost non-stop watching Deadpool & Wolverine. The crass and gross and the ridiculous are mixed in with just a bit of clever. And then there's the pure joy of watching to almost indestructible dudes killing each other in violent ways (it's a WB cartoon kind of fun).

But as always it's the layer below the humour that really hits. And in a prefect Deadpool way this one worked both in the movie but also on the meta level. It's the story of a failed superhero that the Avengers didn't want and whose girlfriend left. Here trying to save his world to save his friends. He gets a second chance at being who he always wanted to be but the price is abandoning everyone he came up with. MCU and Sacred Timeline is one person deal. But this is where Multiverse pays off. It means he can keep his friends and timeline. He just has to fight cybernocracy that would rather dismantle it instantly first.

And it's a story of a fallen studio which movies lost the audience and couldn't find the right way to tell it's stories (with extra layer of Disney's Marvel being on precipice of that too now). All it's properties buried and replaced for a new shinier thing. We could move on and only acknowledge the pieces that haven't been tarnished. And yet, this movie looks back at it all, and brings back the discarded ridiculed. Including the ones we never even got. Using Void to discard them and Alioth to eat them into oblivion is such a prefect metaphor you'd think it was invented for this Film. It's a prefect integration of MCU ideas for the plot of this one story.

The whole movie is practically a tribute to the early days of Marvel and superhero movies that created the momentum that MCU then built it's 30 billion empire on. This is what makes each cameo count. It isn't there just for a joke or Easter Egg moment but it ties to the theme of the story, We are revisiting the forgotten heroes, the fallen ones, the ones who never got to be. And if we are lucky the ones who still might be (please, please let us keep Daphne Keen).

It's also a reminder of how long both Jackman and Reynolds have been in this. The first X-Men movie came out 24 years ago. Reynolds was in Blade: Trinity 20 years ago. I don't think it's an accident a lot of those cameos went to the beginnings with Pyro and Electra. And even with the MCU actors reminding us they started in Fox as Evans came back as Johnny Storm. Even Jon Favreau cameo as Happy Hogan was a reminder he was once Foggy Nelson in Daredevil. This was reunion movie in more ways than one.

And the behind the scenes of those movies, the whole history of Fox Marvel films really hit you in the end. Even the failures like the last Fantastic Four. Even to the X-Men Origins: Wolverine and the Deadpool abomination there. This is what got us here. This is for all the fun we had over the years with these characters and superheroes in general. This was the start.

Of course, Deadpool wouldn't be Deadpool if they didn't desecrate and made fun of the very thing they were paying tribute too. Both the initial fight and any reference to Fox made sure of that. Reminding us that even the best parts of the past shouldn't be sacred. You should build new stories and not be afraid to change. There will be new Blade. And a new Johnny Storm. And maybe a new Deadpool and Wolverine one day too (long, long time from now apparently 😋).

And new universes give you new opportunities to meet people. Maybe even find a romance like B-15 and Peter. Or become a villain. I'm not sure how I feel about the Doom Announcement but let's see. This movie reminded us it's just one more "same face - different person" case in this multiverse.

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redundantz · 1 year

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Ancient Loz AU Story

10,000 years before the events of BOTW the Princess of Hyrule and the Hero who wields the sword that seals the Darkness first fought off the Calamity. With the help of the Sheikah, Guardians, Champions and the Divine Beasts. However, the hero and her best friend; the Prince of the Gerudo, were now missing. The only one to return from the fight was the Princess… Bloodied and bruised. She emerged from the castle alone. No longer the energetic, and free spirited person she used to be. Now, she is filled with a sole dedication to her Kingdom. But cold, and filled with deep sorrow. She orders the Sheikah to create shrines to train the next hero.They prepare the towers, store the Guardians under the castle till they are needed. Research started on the slate where it can be used for building infrastructure and even battle. Anything to help prepare for another Calamity.

The Gerudo Prince wasn't seen again and the heroes identity was forgotten But, the Royal blood of Hylia lives on….

Link is from a traveling caravan. His family has blood from the ancient Zonai tribe. He travels with a decent size troupe along with his sister, father and grandmother.

He meets Zelda during a festival where he was entering an archery contest in castletown. Zelda, who was disguised as Sheik, was also entering. She beat him at the contest(barely), but was extremely bothered by how good he was.

The festival goes on for about 3 days and at the end there is the sword ceremony where all the people coming of age(18) can attempt to pull the sword. She was presiding over it and witnessed him pull the sword and his whole life change. Not long after they meet officially and Link is appointed as her Knight; She introduces him to Ganondorf, her best friend from childhood.

And the chaos and comrade-ere ensues~

Over 3 years they travel, train, fall in love and wait for the day when the evil is supposed to show itself. With no sign of the great evil, they start to relax a bit. But that is when it strikes. Ganon travelling by himself at this time. Explores a cave in the Gerudo desert and encounters something ominous. Whispers in the dark speak to him and his fears and wants and his distaste for the King of Hyrule…. The voice is familiar, much too familiar, and before he can fight back it consumes him. When he awakes he is alone. He isn't instantly ‘evil’ but over time it twists his thoughts and actions. His closest friends and mother grow concerned. He becomes harsher and radical. Cruel. During a secret meeting with the King, Ganon assassinates him. Zelda happens upon Ganon covered in blood. She thinks he's hurt and is concerned by his behavior the past year. He snaps. He tells her every dark thing he has been thinking, and that he killed her father. In shock, and devastated, she can’t move as Ganon is about to strike her. But Link manages to get to her in time because the master sword was glowing, something he has never seen before but an instinct so old took over him. He races to escape with her. Ganon takes over the castle. But only as a steward because the King and the Princess are nowhere to be found. No one is the wiser to his malevolent plots. Yet. He knows she has to act fast since Zelda and Link escaped.

Zelda and Link make it all the way to Kakariko Village and Impa and they are all Informed that the Calamity is upon them. No one can believe it is their Ganondorf who is doing this but it is undeniable. They grieve, but they must act fast. With the help of the Sheikah they gather the guardians, monks and send word to the Races and Champions to prepare for battle. Zelda listens as Link hums an old Zonai Lullaby his mother used to sing to him. And it makes her remember something she read about. A story about there being an ancient Zonai device below the castle that would help defeat the Demon King.

Impa knows the tunnels She can help them sneak in. So they prepare to infiltrate the castle.

Under the castle they find the Zonai Artifacts that were left behind for sealing the great evil.

Ganon's followers saw them enter however and informed him. Knowing this is his chance he stops all pretenses and releases his power. Unleashing a mob of monsters and a cloud of malace into the castle and across Hyrule. But the Champions and Shekah are prepared to meet them.

Looking around for any clue. Trying to think of anything they read or that Link heard from his family that could be used to turn on the sealing jewelry. They don’t know how to activate it, but Ganon is going to be upon them soon as they had to fight through hordes of monsters beforehand.

Out of the dark behind them he emerges.

Zelda and Link manage to avoid the surprise attack. They both go on the defensive. They fight and try to reason with him. They can’t believe this is their friend, their lover. The fight is tough, because they all know each other's moves after training together for years along with the emotional turmoil. Zelda tells Link he needs to figure out how to activate the artifact if they are to succeed. She will hold him off. But by this point they are both exhausted.

Ganon manages to cut Link, spraying blood over the floor and the statue. Link falls to the floor and Ganon towers over him ready to strike him down, but Zelda blasts him away. Ganon turns his attention to her. Annoyed with her meddling and manages to land a blow on her also. Cutting the tip of her right ear off.

The statue lights up from the blood. The blood of a zonai. That was another part of the Lullaby from Links family Zelda realizes. The Jewelry glows and expands before flying off the wrists of the statue to Link. He is surrounded by a green glowing light that blasts Ganon and Zelda back. The bands constrict around his arms and legs disintegrating the clothing underneath. He screams. Zelda watches on in horror as Link transforms before her. His skin is turning black and his bones and skin stretch until he is 6 ft tall. What did she get him into? This was supposed to help them what was happening… She is living in a nightmare. What else will she have to give up. She cries as she looks at him, feeling his pain and fear. His hair band she had given him falls from his hair. Rolling across the floor towards her. “..Zelda….” He says

She picks up the hair band and goes to him! But he is not really responding. He is restrained and struggling within himself. His head is filled with the spirits of the Zonai he knows what he must do…he knows this is the last time he will see Zelda and Ganon. To seal the Demon King he must sacrifice himself. He says the last part of the Lullaby to Zelda and she knows. This is it. She kisses him. Though a bit strange now that he's so tall and his lips are cold. Ganon is getting up across the cavern from them, laughing. He mocks them and their weak attempts at thwarting him. One last clash. Zelda manages to get his weapon from him and Link plunges his arm into Ganons chest activating the sealing power. Glowing green. They both freeze in place and all is quiet. Entombed under the castle. The malice and monsters disappear. Zelda cautiously goes up to them. She doesn't touch them lest she break the spell somehow. The only thing she does is grab the hair bangle that fell to the floor in the final fight. It was the one from Ganon’s hair. And she left for the surface.

Alone.

Thanks for Reading! <3

#zelda #ancient loz au #zelda au #link #ganondorf #tloz #totk #legend of zelda #ganzelink #zelink #i finally wrote something!!! its not a fic but now you guys can fianally read mainly what i had in my head #thanks for liking my AU everyone i can say it enough #botw #there is probably so many issues and plot holes or contrivances but whatever im jsut having fun!#this doesnt even make sense now that totk is out but oh well #long post

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anki-of-beleriand · 3 months

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A Heart Made Of Glass ch.15

Summary: Ten years ago you left Wanda and the Avengers to heal your broken heart. You never stopped being a hero, just as you never stopped being in love with her. But life had to go on.

Now, after all that time, she is back and with her is a young woman needing help and an enemy that may not be as afraid as Wanda to lay a claim on you.

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff x Powered!F!Reader - Scarlet Witch x PoweredF!Reader - Past Wanda Maximoff x Vision - CarolxF!Reader

Warnings: Angst, drama, mentions of cheating, fluff, violence, smut, Switch!Reader, internalize homophobia, hurt, comfort, Wanda being a complete mess, anger management issues, jealousy, Requited/Unrequited love, idiots in love, swearing, mentions of alcohol. More tags as the story progess.

Author's Note: This story is a continuation of Dirty Little Secret I was really surprised at the response I got for the story, I did all the tags you guys ask for but if I forgot someone please do not hesitate to tell me. Thank you for the support.

Reader has some decisions to make, Wanda is just confused, and things are finally looking up for the both of them.

Please, do remember English is no my mother tongue so forgive my grammar, spelling and funny mistakes.

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14 - Chapter 15 - Chapter 16 - Chapter 17 - Epilogue

Chapter 15

From Kamar-Taj

Time didn't stop after Wanda left.

Days and nights came by without any significant changes, the different agencies that had come to help during the dome incident had long gone and you were left alone once more.

Tony had stayed behind long enough to ensure you and the others would be fine. And Monica had stayed to keep Carol company before going back to her normal duties; life in general went back to what it was.

Like the waters of the ocean surrounding Ulsteinvik, there was only calmness and the people in the city had forgotten and forgiven the small disruption in their lives. You were still as welcome, as the first time you got into the city to help those in need.

The holidays had been welcomed by the inhabitants of the city with fireworks and a party that lasted a full weekend. You had enjoyed the admiration and sheer happiness on America's face whenever she went from one stand of food to the other, when she got in contact with teens her age and soon found herself living a life she hadn't enjoyed so far.

A bell sounded to your left, the door of the restaurant opened with a twirl of cold wind sneaking inside the place. You shifted on the chair leaning against the wall, your eyes following with amusement the discussion America started with Yelena.

“She is unbelievable, you would think she is the same age as America.” Natasha snorted when Yelena slapped the table pointing to the street, soon the both of them left to prove a point missed by you and Natasha.

“I think they like to mess with one another far too much.” You shrugged, grabbing the glass of wine you had been drinking and taking another ling sip.

It wasn't until then you noticed you had been left alone with Natasha. The Widow smirked, quivering a brow at you, her hands placing themselves on the table with her eyes never leaving yours, you knew what was about to come. For more than two weeks everyone had been trying to get a hold of you and the letter and know exactly what the young witch had said to you.

So far, you had been successful in pretending that letter never happened, making sure you were never alone with Natasha or Yelena.

“Well, are you going to tell me?” Natasha asked, leaning back on the chair, her clear eyes studying you. “Whatever it was, it really had an effect on you. Should I be worried?”

You exhaled placing your closed hands on the table, the steam coming from your mug covering your chin. Natasha scrutinised your posture and your facial expressions, it was something she had been doing in the last couple of weeks knowing that whatever had happened with Wanda was still affecting you in ways you didn't want to. You had been standing on the outlines, trying to disappear behind your shadows while zoning out whenever everyone was sharing light conversation at the dinner table or a mission was being shared.

“Wanda told me what she did after the funeral,” you started the story, your head tilting to the side while your hand made a gesture to the waitress for the woman to bring another round of coffee.

“It is a rather long story, Tasha.” You smiled when the other woman raised a single eyebrow at you.

“So I see, I'm going to finally get the full story? The real one?”

You chuckled, shrugging while taking a long sip from the cup.

“She went back to the compound, went through my room until she came across the small trunk I kept in the wardrobe.”

You could see as realisation hit Natasha in a second, her eyes went wide with a slack jaw marked by the disbelief of what Wanda found inside that place. You nodded smiling bitterly at her

“Yeah, she found everything and then, she just wanted to see Westview and the area where the place was supposed to be.”

From there you told Natasha everything you heard from Wanda and whatever blank spaces you filled in with some digging. You knew Tony had helped Wanda at some point, then she was contacted by Strange to help with the case of America which led her to your doorstep. Even after that, it was obvious something had happened, and that was the moment in which Agatha entered the story.

Agatha had worked in the shadows lurking Wanda to the spot she had been looking for I'm Westview. She had made it possible for Wanda to break down, with the enchantment she had placed before Wanda's arrival, she had worked her way into the fantasy guaranteeing that she could control some aspects of the fantasy.

Pietro and Vision had been some of them.

“Do you believe them?” Natasha finally asked, she squinted her eyes reading your reaction at her question. “It sounds convenient that Agatha could only bring dead people, so Visions being there was a coincidence meant to manipulate you. Convenient.”

The door of the café opened and closed again, the conversation around your table was suddenly louder than it had been moments ago. You scolded thinking over what Natasha was just saying, it was something you had thought but it was far too elaborate for Wanda to just make it up.

Right?

Besides, Agatha did admit to the manipulation. Your eyes hardened, you clenched your jaw tilting your head until your eyes focused on the world outside. Whatever doubts growing in your mind stopped when you remember childish laughter and then non-stop babbling from the twins.

“They look like me.” You mumbled turning to Natasha. “You should have seen them, Tasha. Billy and Tommy have some resemblance to me and Wanda, their eyes, the colour of the hair, the smile, some mannerisms…”

“Is this why you have been acting weird since you came back?” Natasha leaned over the table, she didn't miss your behaviour in the last couple of weeks her concern for you had been latent at all times but she had always respected your space allowing you to just come to her to talk.

You purse your lips grabbing a napkin, the frown deepened with your eyes flickering between confusion and nostalgia.

“Partially.”

It was so easy to pretend you were still angry at hurt by what happened ten years ago, to just turn your back on the young woman you had met on a mission angry and scared that ended up becoming your life. Never before or after her did you feel the same for anyone, not even Carol. And when Wanda came back, hurt, scared, tired and asking for help your heart trembled with the same love you thought you had buried in the past.

But love was not enough.

“She is still in love with you.” It was a statement, Natasha drank her tea glancing out of the window. “I don't think she never stopped loving you.”

“Love is for children.” You smirked amused by the roll of Natasha's eyes.

“True, but sometimes love should be enough.”

“It's never enough.” You leaned back scratching the back of your neck. “I could experience first hand what it would be like to be with her.”

Natasha softened at your words, she heard as you narrated every single detail of what you lived in the other universe. How you became a parent to the children that seemed to love you even though you were a different mom to them. How your other self would glance at Wanda and how that Wanda would look at you.

For the first time ever since everything happened you opened up about your fears, your hopes, and your wishes. It hadn't been easy to come to the conclusion of what you really desired, of what you really needed. But, here you were, pouring your heart out to Natasha, the only woman apart from Yelena that could beat some sense into you.

“What did the letter say?” Natasha finally asked, you hesitated before putting the letter from your pocket and handing it to the other woman.

“That love should be enough to start again.” You replied, focusing your attention on the people walking down the street. Natasha concentrated,reading the letter left by Wanda on the day she went away.

Dear Y/N,

I’m not good with words, and I don't even know how to say everything I wish to tell you. My words had been trapped inside my head for over a decade, and I wasn't sure if approaching you with them was a wise thing to do. I knew of your anger towards me, and I knew you were probably feeling a hatred I didn't want to see in your eyes. I just couldn't deal with you not looking at me with love and happiness, the way it used to be.

I made many mistakes. But the biggest one was to let you go.

I asked for forgiveness once, but I wanted to say it once more.

Please, my love, forgive my weakness and my indecision. I should have never acceded to what was easy, to what my parents would have wanted, to what everyone was expecting of me. I know this doesn't make it any less stupid or hurtful, and that I should have never hurt you in such a way.

You are my world, and ever since you’ve been gone I have been so lost.

But I push myself to continue because I cannot give up, I have to discover my worth to be able to reach out to you once more.

I don't want to keep going knowing you are out there and that I am not with you, and I don't want to live with the past above my shoulders afraid of at least tried to be with you. After what we lived in these last week's I realized, I don't want to.

I understand if you are no longer interested, and that you already have someone else in your life. If that's the case, I would step aside but be there for you as a friend.

If not, then…I won't give up on you. I love you, I am still so much in love with you that sometimes it is hard to breathe and my chest twisted painfully knowing you and I could be…in another time, in another universe.

I will leave, not because I want to, but because I need to.

But I will wait for you, if this is what you want.

Love should be enough for now, right? This time around I promise you I won't let you go without a fight, my heart is already yours, Y/N, it has been for more than a decade. Please, just…give us a chance.

With love,

Wanda M.

Silence followed Natasha just as she placed the letter on the table. The only sounds breaking into their shared space were those of cutlery and low conversation in other tables, everyone was oblivious to what the two women had been sharing and even the weight of the circumstances leading them to the situation they were in at the moment.

You rested your chin on the back of your hand, your eyes dancing around the streets following patterns with your mind going back to the letter. You had learnt it's contents a long time ago, ever since Yelena gave you the letter.

“The only one that can do something about this is you, you know that, right?”

“I know.” You faced Natasha, your lips curving upwards.

“I've been with you all this time, Y/N.” Natasha chose her words with care, never once letting go of your stare. “I've seen the good and the bad, I've seen you fighting against your own pain and becoming the woman you are right now…and I have seen Wanda as well, she wasn't as lucky as you were.”

“I know.” You whispered, Natasha offered a tender smile placing a hand on top of yours.

“I want you to be happy.” Natasha squeezed your hand winking. “I think it will take time but, perhaps, a friendship is not a bad idea.”

You opened your eyes at those words, your heart leaping inside your chest.

“You think…it is possible?”

“It's what you want, isn't it?”

You didn't answer, but if you were honest with yourself, it was what you wanted and what you had already decided to do. You were still afraid, going back to Wanda would it mean to face a past that was not completely erased and buried, and it was also a chance of falling harder than ever and not being able to go back from these emotions anymore. But, now that you knew what could happen, you couldn't say no to just give her and yourself a chance.

Before anything else could be done or said a tap on the window called your attention, Yelena and America were grinning through the window pointing to some bags they had on their hands. You snorted turning to Natasha who was still looking at you with tenderness.

“I guess we should go.”

“Let's go, the .”

Natasha didn't ask, and you didn't elaborate, but the both of you had come to the same conclusion and now it was a matter of time for you to step into the road leading to Wanda Maximoff.

________

She could hear the shower running, the sound of your voice singing a random song from your playlist. Carol smiled, closing the door of the room behind her, her footsteps taking her to the bed where she saw your clothes scattered around the bed. The blond-haired woman went to pick them up, thinking about the domesticity of her life in recent weeks.

The whole fiasco with Wanda had made her feel insecure, Carol had seen the conflict in your eyes but as soon as the other woman had been out of the picture it was easier for you to go back to Carol. It had not been easy, and Carol had been patient enough to know that it was time for her to make the proposal.

It was something the both of you had talked about before, Carol still had a duty to the Galaxy and she would be more than happy to share her travels with you.

Carol grabbed your jacket, her eyes flickering around until they fell on the white envelope inside your pocket. Without thinking too much about it, she grabbed the envelope looking at its contests before sitting down to read the letter.

The warm water rolling down your back felt heavenly, you lifted your face to the shower while letting the notes of the song overwhelmed your senses. It had been a long day, America was about to start school once more and Yelena was supposed to leave for New York the following week

Your conversation with Natasha left your soul lighter, while your heart trembled with anticipation of what you would do. A part of you knew what should be your next action, while another part dread the conversation you needed to have with Carol Danvers.

When the both of you started the relationship, you never left space for romance. It was physical more than emotional, yet Carol had become a close friend and someone you could trust with your life, it was only fair for you to be honest with Carol. You didn't know what would happen with Wanda, but Carol was too emotionally involved with you for you to just leave things the way they were.

You excited the bathroom with a towel covering your body, your hands stopped midair just as your eyes fell on the woman sitting on your bed.

“Carol! Hey, I didn't expect you here so soon, I thought you were with Monica.”

Carol winced, lowering her gaze, she pressed her lips together before facing you. You cocked your head, blinking slowly at the seriousness from the other woman.

“She had an important meeting, it didn't make sense for me to stay behind.” Carol stood up, her hand holding a familiar envelope.

Your eyes opened slightly, your eyebrows shooting upwards while the other woman stretched her hand in your direction.

“I never have a chance with you,” she stated, you opened your mouth ready to say something but the other woman shook her head. Tears welling up in her eyes.

“No, don't say anything, I know.” Carol shook her head looking away, “you told me, hell even Natasha told me, but I just thought she had hurt you enough for you to stop feeling anything for her.”

The conversation was turning out to be something uncomfortable with you dressed only on a towel. You tried to hold onto it, while trying to be as serious and as clear as possible.

“Carol, this has nothing to do with Wanda.” You started almost wincing when Carol narrowed her eyes at you nodding to the letter.

“I think it has everything to do with her.”

Silence followed such declaration, you stood there undecided as to what to do or how to proceed. The hand holding the letter was heavy, while the one holding the towel had been shaking all this time. You could see the hurt in Carol's eyes, how lost and really brokenhearted she was feeling at the moment.

It was something you had lived once that you wouldn't want anyone experiencing the same situation as you did.

“Yes and no.” You stated trying to look for the right words. “I have been running from my emotions for a very long time, from my past and this mission…I never thought I would be facing everything I thought I didn't need or even want.”

“So now you're going back to her?” Carol couldn't help but press the subject, her eyes never leaving yours.

“I’m not sure as to what do I want to do or what it is exactly that I am looking for,” this time around you stepped forward, your hand left the towel to grab Carol's hand. “I just know that I have to do something about it and…see what will happen.”

Carol wanted to add something else, she wanted to say something but whatever she might say would sound hurtful and resentful. You stepped closer waiting to see if she rejected your proximity but if anything Carol seemed to give in.

“I'm sorry.” Your voice was above a whisper, her hands soon wrapped around your waist and you could feel her warm breath on your neck.

“I never wanted to hurt you, Carol.”

“I know, I just wish I was enough for you.”

Without thinking too much, or actually planning on doing something different your cupped her face leaning in to share a goodbye kiss. Carol sighed, kissing you harder, pressing you against the closest wall trying to imprint in her mind the last memory she would have of you.

______________

Three months later

The rain was falling on the roof with constant tapping breaking the silence in the room.

The heavy aroma of incense and myrrh impregnated the air in the room, the placed was decorated with earthly colours and there was a single chair that had been occupied by a strange man wearing a dark orange Kasaya. The man had been there ever since you arrived at the temple, his eyes dancing around a book he was reading with attention.

Your feet took you to the closest window, the world right outside was a full range forest that was being clouded by the falling rain and the darkening sky. Thunder broke into the valley, and you winced hearing the rumbling sky right above your head echoing its rage with nothing to quiet down the sound. Your eyes flickered to the sky, and for that moment, your mind drifted to the last couple of weeks in which your life had change so drastically.

After Carol found Wanda’s letter in your pocket, she decided to leave for good.

It was a tough decision, and a part of you regrated the way she had to leave and how things ended up between the both of you. It hadn’t been fair with the other woman, but you never made any promises that you couldn’t keep. In the end, Carol understood this and after one last goodbye, she left to comply with her mission to the Galaxy.

You always thought you would go looking for Wanda after that, but you didn’t.

Instead of just going where your heart was telling you to go, you stayed behind to fix and organise your life the best way you could. Natasha and Yelena kept up with their mission, the brought former Widows and some hurt powered individuals that you helped to go back on their feet while teaching America about her powers while giving her a taste of a normal life.

It had been working just fine, America had been getting used to her life with you and she was getting into the whole high-school adventure the best way she could. Life in Norway had always been a quiet experience, and something that you had fallen in loved with ever since you got there; that was the reason you never left. But in the midst of all of this, and life going back to what it was you found yourself going back to the letter and to Wanda.

It became quite the habit for you to just sit outside or go to the lighthouse to think and overthink about Wanda, the letter, and what you should do next.

“Why do you keep pretending to think about what you’re going to do when you already know?”

Yelena had been the first one to question you, and you didn’t have a complete answer to that. You just gave a vague answer dismissing the young woman before going back to ignore the tug at your heart, and the memory of Wanda inside your head.

“I talk to Wanda yesterday, she wants me to tell you that she really is grateful for the book you send over, help with the boredom.” That time it had been America, and the teen had come at you with a frown and narrowed eyes. “Did you really send her a book? Why didn’t you go to her? Or wrote to her? Or even call her?”

You didn’t have an answer for those questions, so you just shrugged and proceed to ask America about the girl you saw her talking to the other day. America had blushed and soon had forgotten her questioning of your actions, you merely smirked keeping the words Wanda had sent to you closed to your heart.

“Everyone is tired of you being an idiot, so Tony sent his jet that it is waiting for you. You’ll leave at midnight, go pack your stuff.”

Natasha had not been as subtle as the others, and she had gone on full commanding mode before setting everything up for your departure. That was how you ended up at the other side of the world, with just a single backpack and waiting in the lobby with a storm happening right outside the window.

Ever since you went into the plane your heart had been leaping inside your chest, shivering while awakening a hoard of butterflies in your lower abdomen. You had been trying to control your nervousness, and your thoughts had been protected by a dark cloud ever since you arrived at Nepal. You didn’t know what you were going to say, but you did know that the time to fix everything had arrived.

“Y/N, this is really a surprised.”

You turned around to see a smirking Strange standing by the door, you returned the smirk walking towards him with your hand stretched out.

“Strange, I have to say I was forced to make up my bag and come here.” You shrugged making a face, “didn’t have much of a choice.”

“And yet, this is the place you want to be, right?” Strange chuckled tilting his head, “took you long enough.”

“Is there everyone talking about me behind my back?” You grumbled shaking your head, Strange shrugged stepping aside to show a long hallway.

“We were merely speculating and hoping.”

“Hoping?”

Strange walked beside you, his face a mask of complete peace. The man had not age that much, and yet he seemed to carry with him the weight of the world and a duty that came to him when he needed it the most.

“We were hoping for you to make the right decision.” Strange stopped at another door, this time around those eyes of his hardened while they pinned you to the spot. “Wanda has made great progress here, you know? I know things between the both of you were not easy when you were younger but things are different now.”

“I know that.” You scowled lifting your chin, “that’s the reason I’m here, things are different now and I think it is time for me to just…”

You waved your hands around, the gesture trying to replace the words you didn’t dare to say to this man. Whatever you had come to Kathmandu for, it was something you would discuss with Wanda alone. For a moment, Strange gave you an odd quizzical stare before his face relaxed again and he opened the door.

You opened your eyes impressed by the sight, right in front of you there was a huge yard filled with training grounds that were completely empty under the rain. In each corner of the squared Yard there was a fountain decorated with mythological animals pouring water with a melodic fall. Your eyes went from the yard to the ceilings and the sky, then they finally focused on a young man standing by the closest column waiting patiently for something.

Strange cleared his throat presenting the young man to you.

“I have set up a room for you, Carlos will take you there.” Strange dedicated you along stare before speaking again. “Everything had been set up, and when you’re ready you will know where to go.”

“Thank you for having me here, Strange.”

“Don’t mention it, as I said, I think this is necessary and I think it would be beneficial for you and her.” Strange waved at you, turning around. “Just…don’t break her heart.”

Those words shoot a cold, sharp pain through your heart, your eyes opened and your mouth was already formulating a retort to such words. However, you stopped yourself when the sky ignited into a bluish-silvery light and thunder growled through the valley.

You jumped startle turning your eyes to the sky.

“Sometimes silence is better than no silence at all.” Carlos smiled gently at you; he bowed showing the opposite side of the hall to you. “Shall we, Mrs. Y/L/N?”

The young man led you a room in the far corner of the compound, it was under the shadow of a mountain while facing the forest and the far-away city of Kathmandu. The room was quite simple, with a single bed, a bedside table, a desk, a bathroom and a wardrobe it was something that reminded you of your younger days.

“I hope this is of your liking, Mrs. Y/L/N, dinner usually is served at 7pm, and breakfast at 6am, after those hours you are very welcome to use the kitchen at your own discretion.” Carlos explained while allowing you to se the room. “If you need anything else, please do not hesitate to reach out to me. I am in charge of you for as long as you stay here.”

“Thank you, Carlos, you are very kind.” You offered a single smile; Carlos bowed his head but before he could go you called out to him. “Carlos, wait.”

The young man turned around tilting his head with a frown on his face.

“Do you know…where can I find Wanda Maximoff?”

Carlos frown deepened and it looked to you as if he didn’t know for certain where the woman was or who you were asking for. Then, his eyes opened slightly with a glint of understanding in them.

“She usually spends her time in the Meditation Chamber, it is located it on the left wing of the compound. Near the pass to the mountain range.” Carlos hesitated before bowing again. “No one likes to go there when she is using the small chamber, Y/L/N, so please be advised of this.”

“Thank you, Carlos, I will be careful.”

The young man nodded and finally left.

You stood in the middle of the room for a while before dropping your backpack to the ground and falling to the bed. You closed your eyes, your heart beating a tad bit faster while your hands got all sweaty; there was a tingling void in the pit of your stomach making you tensed around the shoulders.

What the hell am I doing? Why am I even here? What if…what if this doesn’t work?

These thoughts danced around your head, your body regulating your breathing until you finally fall asleep. The last thought that crossed your mind was that Wanda would be in for a great surprised, and you just hoped that love really was enough.

You woke up with a start.

The room was submerged in darkness, not a single sound could be heard inside or outside your room. You sat down noticing the clothes you had arrived on, and the unmade backpack on the floor. You had fallen asleep, tired for the trip and the emotional rollercoaster you had been as of late.

You were also running from what was to come.

With a quick glance to the watch on your wrist, it was past four in the morning. You stood up and made your way to the bathroom, your mind going over the dream that had woken you up abruptly. The memories mixed with the dream of what could be, the anxiousness of a meeting you were not sure how it would turn out to be.

You took a deep breath enjoying the morning breeze that caressed your skin. The rays of light sneaking through the heavy clouds gliding above your head, it was a cold morning with little light following your stroll down the hall in the direction of the kitchen. All around you the morning routine for the inhabitants of the temple had started, with one single thought in mind, you went straight to the kitchens for a coffee before meeting with the woman you had come to see. Your lower abdomen was already filling up with butterflies, and your body tingled in anticipation.

*****

There was a small cabin located at the outskirts of the compound.

Wanda had chosen this place because it was the only place in which she could hide from the judging stare of the rest of the inhabitants in Kamar-Taj. In the last couple of months, she had been focusing on learning more about her powers and about herself, she had tried to reach out for some sort of peace while getting her powers under control.

It had worked, to some degree.

What she really found difficult to overcome, or to actually face with a cold heart was her past. And more exactly, her feelings for you. The memories mixed inside her head, the possibilities along with her desires and her hopes brought a new kind of longing to her heart. The letter she left behind had been her fighting effort to be a part of your live, she was conscious of your anger but also of your willingness to forgive.

Wanda had hoped that perhaps…

The sun raised on the horizon, this time around the yellowish light broke into the sky bathing that ground with light. Wanda rested her elbows on her knees, her eyes lost on the mountain chains spreading through the valley. She had found peace in Kamar-Taj, and after three months of uncertainty, she had given up seeking to heal her broken heart.

“You surely know how to pick these places.” Your voice broke any silence spreading through the house, Wanda jerked awake turning sharply to the source.

You stood rather awkwardly at the door leading to the yard, your hand scratching the back of your head but your eyes completely set on Wanda.

“Y/N?” Wanda whispered in disbelief; with heavy limbs she turned completely standing up. “You…what…”

The words went missing in her mind, she was dumbfounded never thinking it was possible to see you once more. To actually have you there, standing casually in front of her. You raised a brow, lips curling in amusement, you stepped closer observing as all defenses broke and Wanda stood vulnerable in front of you. Why didn't you see it before that day?

There was some hesitation on your part but, after a brief moment, you stepped closer hugging Wanda, holding her closer to your chest.

“Hey there, little witch.” The nickname rolled out of your lips with a familiarity you hadn’t lost and Wanda wrapped her arms around you tightly hiding her face in the crook of your neck.

This moment crossed your mind several times, each scenario had been different every time and sometimes the outcome had not been pleasant. But at that moment, it was everything you were looking for and Wanda was needing.

The sunny morning had changed rapidly into a snowy one, the sky darkened with cold breezes breaking into the temple forcing its inhabitants to seek refuge inside the quarters of the temple..

Wanda had been talking non-stop, it was unusual of her to just make small conversation but she had been nervous enough to have you there to just stay quiet and not say anything at all. Her hand grabbed the teapot, pouring the warm water into the small mugs she had fixed on a tray.

“Strange thought this could be good for me, he told me the offer had been on the table by the time Thanos was defeated but…” Wanda lifted the tray making her way to makeshift living room.

“But America and Westview happened.” You finished helping her out, Wanda smiled nervisouly shrugging while locking her eyes to yours. “You never have a rest, haven't you? I mean, as far as I know, you have been facing difficulties from day one and…”

“Losing you left me lost.” She mumbled sitting down, conscious that your eyes were on her.

This was the first time she referred to that moment, Wanda grabbed the mug with both hands frowning lightly.

“I was afraid of everything I was feeling, everything I was experiencing with you.” She whispered only for you to hear. “You were everything I wanted and I was…I wasn't no one, Y/N, why would you want to be with me?”

You pierced together every single moment surrounding the break up, the treason before and after, the happiness and the heartbreak. At that time, Wanda had been completely alone, having lost Pietro had been difficult and then she was trusted into a life she hardly understood, and people that were more afraid of her than anything. It was not an excuse, but you understood what Wanda was saying.

“You broke my heart so bad, Wanda.” You spoke, noticing the hardening of your voice, Wanda winced but you didn't stop there. “I was in love with you, ready to give you the world, ready to help you with the weight you were carrying…but I never saw how hard it was for you.” Wanda broke into a bitter smile, “did I ever tell you about the beginning of the war?”

The question caught you by surprise, the change of topic was so sudden you were tempted to press further into questions about the cheating and the reasoning behind it. It was the shadows crossing Wanda's face that made you rethink your options, and the fact this was the first time she spoke about Sokovia.

“You never spoke about Sokovia, or your family. Not really.” You replied, earning a simple nod.

“My family was complicated, mom lost dad when we were children and she married soon after.” Wanda spoke with the weight of memory in her voice, her eyes drifting away until the found yours once more. “My stepfather was a religious man, and mom was a school teacher that had never forced her beliefs on us until then.”

You fixed your position on the sofa, your eyes never leaving Wanda. It was the first time Wanda really opened up to you, a story and a background you didn't know and that was showing a side of Wanda that had been unknown to you.How many times did you really talk to her? How many stories had she told you about herself?

Why did you fall in love with her?

Why were you still in love with her?

“He was really tough on me, Pietro would get away with almost anything until the first bombs were heard in the outskirts of the city.” This time around she softened the corner of her eyes, her lips twitching upwards, “he was so mad he wasn't allow to go to the soccer match, that he dragged me out of the house and we both tried to get to the field. We almost died that day.”

You straightened up leaning in with eyes wide open.

“You did?”

“Yes, one of the first conflicts broke out in the neighbourhood where the field was located.” Wanda made a face, “I had never been so afraid as I was at that moment.”

“What do you miss the most about Sokovia?”

The question caught Wanda by surprise, whatever shadow of war and memory dropped for a moment giving way to a different expression.

“I loved the libraries.”

“You did?” You chuckled watching as Wanda leaned forward all giddy telling you about the public library near her home, how the books were organised on different shelves and the sight of so many books she could get her hands on had always been so tempting she found peace and happiness in these places.

“After my parents died, I was so busy trying to survive and to make my way through the world with Pietro I just forgot about it.” Wanda lowered her face, her eyes on the floor. “I was angry, lost and afraid…then, Hydra came and I didn't want to be a victim anymore.”

You purse your lips remembering those first days in which you met Wanda. An angry and dark teenager that was angry at the world for everything that had happened to her.

“I guess it must have been hard to see Pietro again.” You said all of a sudden, Wanda nodded curtly tears forming in her eyes.

“It was hard seeing everyone, everything I could have but…”

“We don't know if we could have.” You finished placing the mug on the table, tilting your head, your eyes focused on the window, glancing at the world outside. “I guess things could have been different, perhaps worse…”

“Or better.” Wanda followed your eyes to the window, it was raining with some snowflakes swirling around.

You shrugged, lowering your eyes to the watch on your wrist. It was past midday, lunch was already being served back in the main temple and your stomach was protesting from the lack of food.

“You could stay.” Wanda proposed following your stare to the outside, you teared your eyes from the window glancing at Wanda that was blushing lightly. “I mean, it is raining and the main temple must be full, and it is so far and…”

Wanda gasped tensing when your hand fell upon yours, your lips broke into an easy smile.

“I was thinking the same, but perhaps you have something to eat? I'm starving.”

The change Wanda had was almost surprising, her whole face lit up and she stood right away stretching her hand towards you. You glanced at her hand, then at the grin adorning her face before taking her hand in yours standing up and letting her guide you through the small cabin.

“Oh, you're in for a huge surprise, I've been dying to show these new recipes to someone but…” Wanda trailed off, her enthusiasm almost diminishing until you squeezed her hand smiling encouragingly at her.

“I've been on my own in this place ever since I came here. Not many are very open to share a conversation with me.”

“Why's that?” You inquired frowning lightly, Wanda shrugged looking away from you.

“They are afraid of my powers and…how powerful I am.”

Silence followed her words, but soon there was no more conversation needed it as you two reached a small kitchenette located at the back of the cabin. Wanda pointed to a dinning chair near the island counter, her happy smile was back on making sure you were seated before she started working around.

“You really are excited about this.” You commented chuckling lightly, your cheeks burning when the other woman winked at you, carefree and grinning.

“I just…” she bit her lower lip, her eyes glancing everywhere but at you, “I'm just happy I'm not alone, that I have someone to cook for.”

Wanda turned quickly busying herself with the past and the knives putting the food from a cupboard and a fridge.

“When did you learn to cook?” You asked resting your elbows on the counter, your eyes never left the form of Wanda observing the tension on her shoulders, or listening to the trembling on her voice.

“When we have to go on the run…after Lagos.”

“Those were difficult times,” you recalled the conflict and the drama, Natasha trying to balance her public life with her life as a spy, then Steve and Tony arguing like children while the world divided itself without any reason.

“You signed the treaty, though.”

“I did but it didn't matter.” You cocked your head, smiling as the other woman scowled openly at your words. “They needed the idea of control, and that's what we did. But they never got a chance to actually controlled us, our abilities and the danger that has always lurked in the dark wouldn't allow them to actually have any control. Or power.”

Wanda opened her mouth ready to argue your position, she had been at the other end of the conflict being accused of horrible crimes while being called names that had broken her at some point.

You softened your stance, sympathy showing in your eyes.

“It was different for you, wasn't it?”

“Everyone thinks I'm a monster.” She replied flatly, “I'm starting to think they are right.”

It was not only Lagos, it was Edinburgh and Sokovia, it was her working for Hydra and then coming back from the snap with anger and sadness in her heart. It wasn't easy for her, and you were just taking noticed of the external factors that had pushed Wanda over the edge on more than one occasion.

“You're not a monster.” Your replied was supposed to be encouraging but your voice hardened this statement, you winced noticing the hurt flash crossing her green eyes.

“I guess it doesn't matter anymore.” Wanda turned around busying herself with the food. “I'm here now, away from everyone I could ever hurt, trying to just control myself and learn more about my powers.

Alone.

She didn't say it, but for you the word resounded perfectly after her statement. Soon after all conversation died and the only sounds were those of Wanda moving around the kitchen preparing the lunch she had been so eager to show you moments ago.

A little restlessly, you stood up walking around the kitchenette taking noticed of the appliances as well as the actual construction of the cabin. The place was at the outskirts of a temple that had exist before any civilization had a chance to flourish. Your sight lifted to the mountain chains hovering above the valley, the dark clouds of a storm along with the drops of water covered the plain making the resto of the world invisible to prying eyes. The cabin was on the perfect spot for anyone to disappear for a while.

You turned around observing the furniture and the few things that were Wanda's. You took notice of the books, and the notebooks, her clothes and her blankets, the shoes on the floor and the pictures on the coffee table. With some trepidation, you approached the table, your eyes going wide open as they fell on the picture right on the top.

It was a picture of you and her.

You two were younger, the smiles and the closeness were evidence of what was starting to happen between the both of you. It had been a happy moment, right before the both of you escaped the watchful eye of Tony, Steve and Natasha and went out of your way to have fun and find so much needed love.

“I love that picture.” Wanda appeared out of nowhere, you jerked around finding her standing by a cabinet, her eyes far away submerged in memories. “That day you went out of your way to make me laugh, to try and make me happy…it was…”

“After your birthday.” You mumbled, smiling softly while approaching her. “I remembered.”

You stood right in front of her, the heat from her body comforting the cold ess in yours. Her eyes filled with uncertainty and hopefulness, your heart shrank at the scene wanting nothing more than to give in. Wanda wrapped her left hand around her right forearm, tension growing around you two…waiting…

“Lunch is ready.” Wanda was the first one to break the silence, the tension broke with a splash of cold water and soon there was only awkwardness.

“Good, I'm starving.” You declared touching your abdomen, Wanda smiled nodding to the kitchen.

“I…I hope you like it.” She stated stepping back an dreading you back, whatever was happening, whatever was about to happen put to a rest while you and Wanda tricked yourselves into denial.

—-----------------------

The rest of the afternoon went by without any major incident, Wanda was afraid to ask about your life but you didn't need any questions since the silence was becoming unbearable. With some select stories, you told Wanda what you had done ever since you left the Avengers, you told her about the many adventures and those tragic events that had surrounded your life. She had filled in the spaces with her own stories, but the strained that had been growing since lunch was still there lurking and waiting to explode.

You stretched out tilting your head to see the rain had stopped and the night was filled with stars and a bright, silver moon.

“I think I should go.” You mumbled but did not make any attempt to move from your spot.

Wanda followed your eyes, biting her lower lip.

“It's late.” She stated with some hesitation, “you could…you could stay the night. I mean, the walk to the main temple is long and in this darkness could be dangerous, and it was raining so …”

“You do know that I can moved through the shadows once I know where I am going, right?” You replied amusedly, Wanda blushed opening and closing her mouth.

“Yes, yes of course I know, I…” Wanda trailed off, lowering her gaze.

I don't want you to go.

You nodded briefly standing up and completing your stretching routine. Your eyes never once leaving the form of Wanda.

“Then, I'll leave. We can continue this tomorrow, if you're up to it.”

“Yes!” Wanda stood up rather fast almost falling on you, she couldn't stop blushing cursing her own inadequacy and cowardice. “I mean, that would be nice.”

“We could train and you can show me what you have learnt in here so far “

“Sure, that would be…nice.” Wanda bounced lightly wanting to say something else but unable to do so.

You turned around but, right before you were consumed by your shadows you leaned in placing a single kiss on Wanda's cheeks.

“Have a good night, Little Witch.”

You left and Wanda was left frozen on the spot, her face warm with a single hand brushing against the spot you had just kissed. With some hesitation, she wrapped her arms around herself and went to bed, thoughts of you dancing inside her head. There was just a single thought tormenting her, and it was the question that kept her most of the night awake.

What was going on with you and that sudden visit?

_____________

What Wanda thought would be a couple of days turned into a couple of weeks.

The questions tormenting her mind never stopped, but she didn't dare to voice any of them for fear of breaking the status quo of her relationship with you. Idhe was happy with what she could get, even if that meant she would think about it at night unable to sleep wondering just what the hell was happening or why you were there. She would remember your smile, your words, the conversations that made her laughed or know the Y/N she had missed all those years; and then she would turn around put her knees to her chest and let herself feel the twist of her heart thinking of the cruel torture that was seeing you and not being able to be with you.

It was difficult, but Wanda was just happy with what she could get from you.

“You have to lift your arm…yes, just like that.”

Your voice and the soft touch of your arms broke Wanda's thoughts, she felt her cheeks colouring red at the closeness of your body, the sweet torment of your warm breath on her ear.

“There you go, let's do it slowly. First learn this form before channelling the energy.”

You smiled satisfied when the young woman followed your instructions, Wanda had been distracted in the last couple of days and her frustration had grown to the point she was always tense when trying to follow up your instructions. You stepped back watching before joining her with your own exercises, taking a deep breath while enjoying the silence that echoed through the valley.

“When did you learn all of this?” Wanda huffed tiredly, she turned around to see the teasing smirk dancing on your lips. “This is…difficult.”

You shrugged, finishing the final movement before scratching the back of your head, you step closer to Wanda standing right in front of her. It was easy to see when her breath caught in her throat, how her eyes dilated and the muscles of her body tense completely. Your heart shivered lightly, your arms stretching with the palms of your hands turned to her, Wanda furrowed her brows watching as you joined her hands with yours.

“I was angry at the world, violent and a little confused when Natasha first took me in,” you explained, never looking away from Wanda while your hands alongside hers lifted and started a new form of Tai Chi.

“This technique gave me peace, but it wasn't until I left the Avengers that I realised I need to really learn about my powers.” You furrowed your brows, the memories breaking inside your mind, Wanda couldn't look away her heart leaping intensely while her body submitted herself to you.

“This helps me understand the shadows and the darkness inside my heart, besides…” your smirk grew, your eyes gleaming mischievously, “it is giving me an opportunity to be close to you, right?”

Wanda couldn't help the blush growing on her face, nor the smile that showed on her lips. You chuckled, leading her for at least fifteen more minutes before the training session was over.

The morning had been cold, and the rain had become a constant occurrence in the time you had been in Nepal. That morning had been not an exception, and by the time the training had been over your clothes were completely drenched; you made a face grabbing your jacket and the boots while looking around for your backpack. The downside of coming all the wat to where Wanda was staying was precisely that your stuff was all in the room up in the main building.

Wanda could see your hesitation and annoyance, your eyes going from one piece of clothing to the other while your hand massaged the back of your neck. The young witch chewed on her lower lip, thinking on how to proceed before stepping closer her hand placing tenderly on your shoulder.

You turned around tilting your head while furrowing your eyes, Wanda offered a tentative smile nodding to the cabin.

“I have hot water and some spare clothes, it you don’t mind.” She said tentatively, “that way you don’t have to go all the way to the temple and…well, you…you can finally take my offer of staying here.”

You pressed your lips together thinking over the offer, you hadn’t dared to tell Wanda that night would be the last one you would stay in Nepal. That day you had planned to finally have a serious conversation with her right before leaving; the last couple of weeks had been amazing and you had given in normality instead of facing the real issue that had brought you all the way to Kamar-Taj.

“I mean, you don’t have to and if you want…” Wand started babbling waving her hands while trying to hide her nervousness, you realised you had taken far too long to answer her and she was now trying to cover up for something that might not be what you wanted.

“Hey, that’s okay I was just…” You hesitated straightening up, the same nervous gesture of your hand at the nape of your neck present, “look…I just think we must talk.”

“Oh.” Wanda stepped back placing her left hand on her right elbow, her face fell only to change into a grimace that she tried to make look natural, “right, I mean you have Natasha and Yelena, and America is there and…and Carol. Right I just, I thought…”

Whatever Wanda thought got tangle in her throat as she found herself mere inches away from you, your hands had been placed tenderly on her hips and you were trying to catch her eyes in your to make sure that whatever you were going to say was not lost in misunderstanding.

“I have to go back, yes.” You started taking care of the words you were using, “Natasha and Yelena got news of something unusual happening in France and wanted my help, America is still at school so I have to make sure everything is arranged and Carol…”

A swift breeze formed around them, Wanda was frowning crunching up her nose while her eyes gleamed a single flash of red. She stepped back lifting her hand when you tried to approach her.

“I know, I get it. I never expected you to stay longer than…than what you should, I mean I don’t even know why you came here.” Wanda finally said looking away from you not really understanding what was happening, but hating the fact she was feeling so heartbroken.

“Wanda…” you started but the redhead shook her head breaking into a sad smile.

“Go take a bath and I will prepare the clothes and something to eat then, we can talk.”

You opened your mouth only to close it again nodding curtly.

“Okay.”

Without looking back at you or saying anything else Wanda turned around and left you alone feeling the coldness of the morning now more than ever.

_________________________

The sound of the shower filled your ears while the warm contact of the water heated your skin. You closed your eyes, your hands working on the knots on your back and arms moving through your shoulders and your neck whatever place you could reach. Your body was letting go of the tension, but your mind and heart were deeply tormented by what had happened in the last couple of weeks.

You had come to Nepal with a single goal in mind.

Seeing Wanda after almost five months had brought back all the love you thought you had stopped feeling for her. On that first day you had thought of just talk about what had happened and her letter, but things didn’t turn out the way you expected them and, as the days passed by you realised the conversation could wait as long as you had a chance to pretend that Wanda and you were okay.

Wanda had set up the food in the small living room, she had a laptop set up while a mug of hot chocolate rested in her hands. Her face lifted in your direction, her eyes were swollen and her cheeks were red, the smile she gave you was one of pure sadness and the sight alone broke your heart.

You approached her taking the spot beside her on the sofa, the table had been filled with another cup of hot chocolate, bread and some cheese.

“I thought you may be hungry as well, and I just thought well you told me you haven’t watched this movie and Strange got it for me under illegal circumstances.”

It was a silent offering that you took with a smile, you sat down grabbing the chocolate.

“I bet he did, don’t worry Tony has a specific program for this kind of activities as well,” You fixed your position on the sofa.

Wanda pulled on her blanket, a huge dark blue fleece she had bought on her way out of Norway. She stretched out making sure your legs were covered, her warm breath so close to your face that it sent shivers down your back.

“I just thought if this is going to be my last day with you, I would love to spend it like this.” She whispered, chewing on her lower lip before sitting closer to you.

“It is not your last day with me, Wanda.” You replied lowering your gaze furrowing your brows. “You left with a goodbye and a letter that left me confused.”

“It was not my intention.” Wanda leaned back, she was hoping for the conversation to not take place to perhaps evade the inevitable heartbreak but it seemed as if you were decided to continue without any consideration.

“I wrote that because…” Wanda brushed her hair shrugging, “I never thought I will meet with you again, Y/N, and the circumstances of this meeting make me face my past, and what I lost, what I could have.”

“You weren’t the only one, Wanda.” Your voice dropped shaking your head, “I never thought I will see you again, but when I did…”

“Why did you come here, Y/N?” Wanda finally dared to ask afraid of the answer but far to eager to know, to finally understand what had happened in the last couple of weeks.

You were looking straight ahead, your thoughts twirling around in a maze of uncertainties. Leaning to your right, you found Wanda was just as confused and nervous as you were feeling at the moment.

“I never stopped loving you.” You confessed unable to look away from those green eyes, “I tried several times to just forget and ripped away my love for you.”

Wand winced her heart clenching inside her chest at those words.

“But I couldn’t and then…” You snorted shaking your head. “Then everything happened, you come back and I just…”

“I love you.” Wanda whispered, her lips quivering and her eyes welling up with unshed tears. “I never stopped and it hurts so much knowing that I messed up so big that you…I don’t pretend you want to be with me, and I know after everything things are…”

“Confusing.” You cut in; you took a deep breath before glancing back at Wanda.

Silence fell afterwards, the tension built like an invisible force that was threatening to explode in the outcomes Wanda was afraid of. It wasn’t until that moment that she understood she had been afraid to know the answer to her question, why were you there could have many responses, but Wanda had only written two possibilities: a possible friendship, or give Wanda a chance.

Both outcomes were equally terrifying, and the silence coming from you was the most disturbing thing for her.

Wanda opened her mouth to speak but the words tangled in her throat, you had shifted your position coming closer to her the back of your hand caressing her face and your eyes, those eyes that months ago had looked at her with hatred and anger, were now looking at her with tenderness and confusion. There was something else in there but Wanda was afraid to put a label on it, hope could be such a fragile emotion.

“I thought about your words, Wanda, I haven’t been able to rest since you left.” You furrowed your brows your hand moving away but your face coming closer to Wanda’s. “Tell me, what should I do?”

Wanda found herself lost in your eyes; her throat completely dry while her heart leaped painfully on her chest. Her abdomen filled with butterflies while she tried to find the right words to answer your question.

“I came here because I needed to see you, because I missed you.” You confessed your words hitting Wanda straight in her heart. “But the real reason, Little Witch, is because I don’t want to lose you. Not again. Not anymore. So, tell me, Little Witch, what should I do?”

Time stood still.

Wanda was still trying to process your words, her heart beating really fast with her mind wrapping around what you just said. She could feel your warm breath on her face, the smell of her shampoo on your hair and the sweet scent of chocolate on your breath. Wanda had waited far too long for to give her a chance and now that the opportunity was here she was afraid.

“You…You could stay with me.” Wanda whispered cringing at her response, thinking herself an idiot for not being straightforward.

You snorted shaking your head, Wanda was afraid to see anger or disappointment, but when you put two fingers under her chin and lifted her face slowly all she could see was amusement and…love.

“Whatever you want, Little Witch.”

The nickname rolled out of you sending shivers down Wanda’s back, something shifted at that moment but Wanda wasn’t sure what it was; but even though she was afraid and unsure, she leaned in closing the distance melting as soon as her lips touched yours.

It was like the first time you two kissed.

Tentative and timid, a single touch of lips moulding to the other with trembling hands holding you to Wanda. You missed this feeling so much, her soft lips, the taste that was purely Wanda, how she just gave in without thinking too much; the world fade away and the only person that existed was Wanda.

The kiss broke too fast for you liking, Wanda rested her forehead against yours tears rolling down her cheeks.

“What so you want, Wands?” you asked softly, your hand caressing her cheek and face.

Wanda fluttered her eyes closed leaning into your touch.

“If this is our last day, I just want to be with you.” Wanda’s eyes opened wide, her cheeks burn an intense red while you wiggle your brows teasingly.

“My, Wanda, but give us at least another cup of chocolate.” You chuckled when she slapped you playfully on the shoulder.

“I didn’t mean… I just …ugh, would you stop it?” Wanda tried to hold back her laughter, but with you looking at her amused was kind of difficult.

“You have a dirty mind.”

“You’re the one with the dirty mind, I just said I want to be with you.” She retorted rolling her eyes but without getting away from your closeness.

“So movie and some snuggles?” You inquired fixing your position on the sofa, Wanda nodded playing the movie while crawling to you.

“This is not going to be our last day, Little Witch.”

“I know.” Wanda said with a flash of doubt crossing her green eyes, you wished there was something else you could tell her but for now your words should be enough. “Can we…watch the movie?”

“Whatever you want, Little Witch.”

You moved on your back, putting the movie while letting Wanda decided where she would rest. It didn’t take her took long to crawl to you resting her weight on your body cuddling closer with her eyes turned to the screen her ear placed tenderly on your chest hearing the beatings of your heart. Wanda sighed contentedly when your own arms wrapped protectively around her, and at that moment she knew she was falling in love with you again and this time around things would be different.

______________________________________________________________

Next Chapter: You meet with Wanda once more, this time around a different place and a different, as the world continues its existance you and Wanda are finally giving one another a chance to live. America gets in some trouble, Yelena brings back up, and Natasha can believe she is ready for retirement.

#fanfic #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wandaxreader #female reader #imagine wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x female reader

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yandere-3-sagau · 2 years

Text

To Take for Granted

Genshin Cult AU x Reader Angst

word count: 862

warning(s): genshin cult au, angst, neglect, death, mentions of suicide

—

They say to never meet your heroes.

Imagine you isekai but as your mortal self with no special divine powers. Only the knowledge of the characters and the game you played.

At first, the acolytes are amazed to be in the presence of the creator. They worship you, give you everything you could ever want and shower you in praise and affection.

However, the more you stay, the more their affection and worship begins to dwindle.

They begin to lose faith.

You don’t meet their godly expectations. You’re not as divine and all knowing as they had originally thought. They don’t gain any divine blessings or power from worshipping or devoting themselves to you.

You are not their perfect creator, you have flaws. You’re human.

The archons no longer prioritize you, choosing to take care of their prospective nations than to cater to you.

Their attitude change is gradual and you notice their declining interest in you pretty early on, but you can’t do anything to stop it. It’s not long before your lively temple becomes desolate with little to no visitors.

Although you’re hurt and disappointed, you are a bit grateful. You’ve read stories of imposters being slaughtered so you feel like being forgotten is better than being hunted. Still, you’re not one to stay where you’re unwanted. You begin to do research on how to return back to your original world. You’ve had your fill of Teyvat and you think it’s time to go home.

Eventually, you come to the conclusion that the only way to return is to die in this world.

Though you’re scared, you push through and find the most peaceful way to pass. A poison that will stop your heart in your sleep.

After traveling to all of the beautiful viewpoints of Teyvat one final time, you return to your temple and consume the poison.

When you open your eyes once more, you’re back home in your bed. The familiar Genshin Impact loading screen is open on your phone.

With a sad smile, you delete the app.

In Teyvat, the archons, adepti, everyone is panicking.

Plants are dying and the weather is unstable. Farmers are unable to yield any crops from the constantly changing weather. Monsters are becoming increasingly violent and restless and no one can seem to find an explanation.

Until one character remembers you.

Their supposed creator. Everyone decides to pay a visit to your temple on the off chance that you may know of a solution to their current issues.

The area around your temple is peaceful. Birds are chirping, the sun is shining along with a soft wind that keeps the area nice and warm. It’s a stark difference from the cold and gloomy weather all around Teyvat.

They knock on the doors to your temple but no one answers. After waiting for a while, they let themselves in.

They find you laying peacefully on the silk sheets of your bed. Your eyes are closed and you have a small smile on your face. If it wasn’t for your cold skin and the absence of a pulse, they would have thought you were sleeping.

When the archons announce the death of the creator, the cause of all of their problems becomes apparent to all.

The land of Teyvat itself, is in mourning.

The period of morning lasts for one whole year.

Even as the mourning period of Teyvat ends and all goes back to normal, the characters are still not at ease.

When they realize that you’re truly gone, the characters have no idea what to feel. They didn’t notice at first how much your presence truly effects the land of Teyvat.

Something about their world now just seems so artificial.

Without the presence of the creator, it seems as if everything’s become stagnant. Water still runs, clouds still float in the sky but for some reason nothing seems real. The characters feel as if they have no purpose, no drive.

They begin to notice things that they’ve never noticed before. The citizens in each of their nations seem to say the same things over and over again. The people they help with tasks, have the same reoccurring problem. It becomes unsettling.

The acolytes that have originally lost faith have become more religious than ever. They pray every single day, hoping that you’d hear them and realize how sorry they are to have neglected you.

Some have become so devoted to the point of studying how to summon or even descend a god. To forcefully bring you back to Teyvat just so they could see you in person once more.

They had beaten themselves up over the layer of dust accumulated on the furniture in your temple. Now, your acolytes come in personally everyday to make sure every inch of your temple is spotless.

But no matter how much time passes or how much they pray, they are unable to feel your presence.

Though disheartened, they understand. You must still be upset with them but how can they prove themselves to you if they never see you again? However, it’s okay if you’re not ready to come back to Teyvat. They will come to you instead.

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thekingofwinterblog · 2 months

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My Hero Academia - How NOT to do an Open Ending

In 2022, the American animated series Amphibia ended with an open ending that left all of it's ships up in the air, and the question of where the main characters would go from there up to the reader.

That might be a rather weird way to open an essay about how My Hero Academia failed, but the reason I do so, is to illustrate a point.

Namely that there is a way to do what Hori tried to do with MHA right.

Amphibia ending has the main human trio of that series reuinte after a long timeskip, with all 3 of them having found their passion in life and built careers for themselves, and while there are some suggestions that Sasha and Anne are a bit closer than what might be apparant on screen, it ultimately left the situation of their romantic relationship at this point, and from there on, up in the air withouth confirming or denying anything, beyond the fact that they for whatever reason drifted apart in highschool, but have come back together again at this point in time.

It left you with enough pieces to figure out the specifics, and how you can understand how things got from one point to another, while still giving all the characters a satisfying payoff, continued the shows themes, had no real plot holes, and wheter you ship any of the characters in question or not, it didnt ultimately matter for the quality of the ending.

The fun part about an open ending is that there is room to speculate, so long as it manages to balance all of the above.

A story does not HAVE to end on the main characters hooking up. it does not have to end with tying every single character up in a relationship and showcasing the beginning of the next generation. It does not have to have a definite ending that gives all the answers to be good.

That is one way to end a story, but it's not the only one.

There certainly are stories that NEED to end like that to be good, stories with a greater mystery, or revenge tales, or who's entire story was about one, specific romantic relationship are shit endings if they ultimately end on an open ending withouth answers.

within the context of MHA, Hori managed to weave this balance very well with it's villains.

The story of the Todoroki family in particular has all the definite endings, and tells us where all the players ends up... but it also leaves the possibility, and question of wheter or not dabi ultimately managed to make peace with his family or not up in the air.

This is a good, satisfying, tragic ending.

Spinner and compress both end up in jail for the rest of their lives, but Spinner resolves to write a book, that for better or worse will tell the league's version of the story. It's not AS good an ending as the above, but it still works just fine.

Clearly Hori CAN write a good open ending that still gives closure.

Which is why it's so baffling that MHA 430, ends up doing EVERYTHING WRONG as far as an open ending possibly could.

It has no closure, it has plot holes aplenty, it manages to leave the question of will they or wont they unanswered, not by being ambigious, but by telling us, in the most unintentionally agressive manner possible that it did NOT happen, and most damningly of all, it shits all over the Story's themes.

MHA ends with the cast all grown up in an "and the adventure Continues!" ending, similar to justice league Unlimited.

That's not a BAD way to end it... The problem is EVERYTHING ELSE in this chapter.

Because we learn WAY too much in this chapter. the gaps in the timeskip is filled... but not in a good way. instead in an infuriating manner that pisses you off if you actually starts to break it down.

Let's start with Izuku being forgotten.

So i have seen some people try to shut down criticism about the fact that Izuku didnt win fortune or fame, by noting that from the thematic point, being a hero was NEVER about that from Izuku's point of view.

And that is true... but this argument misses the bigger and more obvious problem.

The story REFUSES to tackle this from that angle.

As many have pointed out, this is a BAD outcome ending for Izuku.

He returned to being quirkless, he had to settle for a job that wasn't being a hero, he has been mostly forgotten after his one big highlight, and his friends have effectively begun to move on.

And he does not care.

At all.

Hell, a 14 year old izuku who for one brief moment gave up on his dreams to chase a more realistic future, has more genuine and mixed emotion and mixed feelings in one shot, than Izuku has about actually living through a much more bittersweet scenario.

Hell, the one moment Izuku has when he looks genuinely down in this chapter, is when Aizawa admonishes him for not being strict enough with his students.

Basically the premise here is sound. Izuku ended up in a bad personal ending to set up the return to actual heroics at the end of the chapter... And that could have worked if it committed to that.

If he was portrayed as actually having regrets about his lot in life. you know, the same thing All Might's ENTIRE STORYLINE was built around!

MHA has ALWAYS been a human story that confronted the fact that people had regrets, and problems, and they need to be honest about them to deal with them.

To not bottle everything up inside and pretend the problems arent there.

For the story to end, with Izuku doing EXACTLY THAT is a slap in the face that goes EVERYTHING this story has preached about how you need to communicate with the people around you. the entire point of chapter 429, the CHAPTER RIGHT BEFORE THIS ONE!

Then of course there is the whole "Everyone Growing apart" thing too.

Now, it's not as bad as the early translation made it seem, but the point still stands that despite the entire chapter right before the end then emphasises how everyone went their separate ways.

This chapter COULD have shown us moments where Izuku is still in contact with the rest of his class, but it does not. instead it emphasises how distant he is becoming from the rest of his former friend group. He is the lone one out, the one guy who seemingly is no longer in regular contact with the rest.

The reason for that, is that Hori wanted to make the moment where he returns to the fold that much more impactfull... but it does not work, because it basically tells us that none of the class was able, or willing to make the personal sacrifice to keep in regular touch with him during those 5 years.

But FAR more egrigiously, and spitting in the face of the Theme of actually communicating and talking with the people you care about, is HOW Izuku gets back into the game.

Apparently they spent the last 5 years pooling their money to finance a high tech suit for him to fight crime in.

And i get it. I get what Hori WANTED to do with this. He wanted to show "See, Class 1-A didnt forget Izuku after all, they still love him!".

Thats the intended message.

But the problem is, it does not work. and in fact, not only does it NOT work, but it completely goes against EVERYTHING that the story has been trying to preach for the entire 10 years of it's run.

The rest of class A never told Izuku about this. ever. Why? apparently because they wanted it to be a surprise. So they just let him go on with his life for 5 years, all while none of them really bothered to keep in regular contact with him.

There is... so much wrong with that.

But before going over the way it just hammers in the point that actually talking with the people you love isnt important after all, let's go over how this entire stupid plan could have backfired SO badly on the part of class A. Hell, it kinda did actually, if not quite as spectacularily as it could have.

What if Izuku had gotten married and moved overseas during this period? What if he had gotten married in Japan, but his entire family dynamic and plans had revolved around the fact he had a job that did not require moving around much and so got to spend a lot of time at home? Hell, even within the context of what actually Happened, U.A is still going to find itself suddenly short of one teacher who his classes relies upon, if he actually wants to go pro for real.

There are so many ways this stupid 5 year scheme of secrecy could have backfired, and it does not take a genuis to be able to see them.

basically the entire class planned out Izuku's life ahead of him withouth telling him anything about it, withouth giving him the context or preparation for how to plan his future with it in mind, and how none of them seemingly cared about how this might upend his actual personal life.

And thats just the logistical issues.

Morally speaking, this just repeatedly hammers in how this final chapters just completely abandons the themes of how you need to actually work, talk and discuss your personal matters and feelings with the people around you.

1-A did none of that.

They let their relationships with Izuku cool, when they didnt have to, seemingly with the idea that it didnt matter in the end because he'd join them anew as a hero later anyway, and they could catch up then.

Which leads me to discussing the one, actual ship who's ending actually DID matter from a storytelling perspective.

Izuku and Ochako.

Now i have seen so many bad takes across the web from the people who are happy this did not happen, or argue that it does not matter.

But the brutal truth is, it does.

And the reason it does, is not because Izuku HAD to end up with Uraraka, or even that they had to be together in the final moment of the series.

It's because one of the longest running stories of this manga had NO ENDING, NO RESOLUTION, and rather than that, it wants to suggest it might still happen anyway... Despite unintentionally KILLING IT in the most infuriating way possible.

Out of all of the cast, it is Uraraka's character who is butchered by this stupid 5 year plan, to the point it even taints her entire new character direction at the end.

Uraraka ends the story having reformed the Quirk system for people growing up, helping those with difficult quirks get past mental problems... But just all the rest of her class, she chose to neglect her relationship with Izuku under the seeming thought process that she could patch it up later... Or that she could finally confess her feelings.

I'll let Shigaraki speak for my feelings on this way of thinking.

"You heroes hurt your own families just to help strangers. You heroes pretend to be society's guardians. For generations, you pretended not to see those you couldn't protect and swept their pain under the rug. It's tainted everything you built. That means your system's rotten from the inside with maggots crawling out. It all builds up little by little over time."

The intended message of MHA is a refution of this... but in this final chapter, Shigaraki's words ring true, at least as far as class A is concerned.

As they became Heroes, they neglected the one amongst them who needed the most support and instead went off to, as shigaraki put it, Help Strangers.

They pretended that Izuku's situation in the moment did not matter, because in the long haul it would all be worth it.

And just like their predeccessors, it taints everything they do.

But Uraraka most of all. If you ignore the romance angle, she has started a massive program to help strangers in need... while also neglecting and frankly mistreating someone she loves and cares about her who needed her support in his weakest period.

If you do take Romance into account, it gets even WORSE, because then you have to accept that Uraraka ultimately rejected the message that she preached with Toga, the thing that got the blonde girl to turn coat for her.

She in the end did not manage to live a life where she actually was able to do what she wanted to do, and instead remained the exact same wishywashy girl who refused to actually be open about her feelings.

Instead, she, in her final shot of the series, is in the exact same spot she was back then. A girl who would forever pine after Izuku, but never be able to open up about it.

Which would be a bad enough way to end her character on... But then when you take into account that she also participated in the 5 year plan, and there is nothing to suggest she kept in touch with him more than the rest, just makes it so much worse.

I have said before that with this ending, Uraraka's love story was an objective waste of time, and i stand by that.

Hori didnt have to end the series with Izuku and Urarak married, engaged or obviously in a relationship, but by refused to actually make it happen, and lumping Uraraka in with the entire rest of the class, he instead did something way worse.

He made it abundantly clear that regardless of what Uraraka's feelings on the matter, the relationship to Izuku was not something special. She was NOT his Hero in the moment when he actually needed one.

Neither as a friend, or as a love interest.

Her actions tainted everything else.

And of course, there is the big plot hole of this chapter.

The single biggest, and most obvious hole that is just gaping through it, that for this story to work you have to completely ignore.

Namely that 1. All Might is one of the richest peoples in the world. Class A should not have had to actually fund Izuku's suit. All Might could, and SHOULD have done that all on his own. and 2. That this tech EXISTED 8 YEARS AGO!!!!

All Might's armored suit made him one of the most powerfull figures in this entire series.

Sure it was a bit experimental, but it WORKED! it was not some unstable prototype that coudl explode at any moment, it would have worked just fine as an actual permanent power up!

For this entire stupid 5 years of Sidelines Izuku to work, you have to just PRETEND this massive hole does not exist.

And it's not a small hole that you can justify that the characters didnt think about it. It's there, and it's MASSIVE.

The only reason it's not talked about as much as all the rest is that while this is the big Material problem of this chapter, everything else is so much worse because it attacks, destroys, and taints pretty much every theme MHA had over the course of it's long run.

---Edit---

Apparently there is a throw away line in the Trivia section of Volume 39 that All Might apparently spent almost his entire fortune on his Mech suit.

Meaning that while this isn't quite the plothole I assumed it was, it IS still TERRIBLY communicated within the story itself why All Might didn't just fund Izuku's suit themselves.

---

The themes that more than anything else was what set it apart from every other battle manga that ever existed. The Human themes of actually talking to the people around you that made MHA a special story, far more than it's superhuman battles ever did.

That is why so many people are pissed off about it.

It's also why MHA is such a textbook example of how NOT to do an open ended story.

Hori could have kept the details about Izuku's life, be it his personal or proffesional life incredibly vague, beyond the basics... but he choose not to, and instead peeled back the curtain... but rather than showcasing depth, it just made the whole thing fall apart by giving us the specific details that we did not need, and which pretty much tainted the entire ending down to it's core... All completely unintentionally.

He didnt have to show that Izuku had NO specific remaining bonds with any single members Class A that were still more important to him than the rest.

But he did.

He didnt have to go out of his way to show that Izuku was completely forgotten by society at large.

But he did, and subsequentially did not actually choose to explore that.

He didnt have to show us deep, long, internal monologues from izuku's perspective where he is cartoonishly at ease with his lot in life.

But he did.

He was too specific and detailed about the things he NEEDED to keep vague, and not specific about the details that we actually needed to know, and so it all collapses in on itself in a mess of broken Themes and morals, and shattered logic, and above all else, he managed to carelessly and unintentionally cheapen every single relationship Izuku formed with the rest of his classmates over the course of this story.

#my hero academia #izuku midoriya #ochako uraraka #meta analysis #endings #open ending #izuku x uraraka #izuocha #bad ending #class 1 a #mha #mha 430 #chapter 430

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