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write-and-wander · 4 months

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Touch: Chapter 7

Pairing: Kylo Ren x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, angst, and a new version of the sequels

Word count: 7.6K

Author’s note: Everything comes down to this- the final chapter :)

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6)

Chapter 7: Journey's End

He’s searching for someone. Who? He’s not quite sure anymore. A Kenobi not yet brought to the dark side, now running loose, should be his enemy. Another target to hunt down before the resistance gains another leg up. A companion gifted to him by the force, however- someone who needs him just as much as he needs her- that’s something entirely different altogether. If he is meant to rule the galaxy with her by his side, then he now has no way of protecting her. What if they find her first? What if she strays from her purpose- from our purpose?

He knows that if you were to turn against him, you could very well be his downfall. What if I don’t have the strength to stop her?

He paces the room, his mind racing through multitudes of possibilities and their solutions. The tablet still sits open on the table, the red indicator for the missing ship’s tracker still lying to him. You are gone. And he has no way of finding you. Unless…

The force has brought us together before, he thinks, focusing on you; on the shift in the atmosphere- in the force itself- when you were present. He calls out to the force.

And it answers him.

As if rounding a corner, you walk in, your name immediately tumbling from his lips.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

You’re walking- almost jogging- through the resistance base, discerning faces and scanning over heads in the search for Poe. Come on, come on, where is he? You pull a couple of different people aside, asking them if they’ve seen Dameron, only to be met with shrugs and wild guesses. You start to make your way out of the main rooms and begin to weave through hallways, praying to the force that you don’t get yourself lost in the maze of the bustling base. You come to a fork and stop for a moment before you feel the force pulling you to the left. Rounding the corner, you stop dead in your tracks at the sound of your name and the sight of your abandoned Commander.

“Where are you?” He asks right away, his voice gentle.

Why would the force do this now, of all times? “I need to go,” you say curtly. You try to move past him, but he steps over, blocking your way.

“You were so close,” he says low, his brown eyes boring into yours.

You pause and take a breath to speak, but you can’t seem to find anything to say.

“Please, come back to me,” he pleads, his voice breaking, “I feel so lost.”

You shake your head, taking a step back. He closes the gap, his face just inches from yours.

“Come home,” he whispers, bringing his arms up to your sides. He lowers his eyes to level with yours and moves to grab your shoulders.

Just before his hands touch you, the man right in front of your face snaps to Poe Dameron, whose hands are now holding your shoulders.

“Hey, you!” he greets with a smile.

You jump, breathing hard.

“Woah, woah, hey-” his voice drops as he immediately switches gears, “you okay, Kenobi?”

Relaxing into his grasp, you let his strong arms keep you steady as you collect yourself.

“Yeah, yeah-”

“Deep breaths,” he interjects.

You nod, swallowing hard. “I need you to come with me to Coruscant.”

“Just me?”

You nod again.

“Why?”

“I have something you need.” You watch excitement grow in his face as he nods, taking your hand.

“Well, then, what are we waiting for?”

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

You land on Coruscant shortly before Poe does, as he had followed you closely on the trip over. You land further off than you normally would, attempting to divert attention to from your house.

When you walk in, you realize that this time, the house feels stale. There’s a noticeable layer of dust on the surface- this place hasn’t been so well kept. Did Vilya just… stop taking care of this place?

Poe lands even further yet, and waits a while to follow you into your home.

“So,” he starts, looking around at your home. “this yours, or?”

“Yeah,” you answer quick, focused on what you came for. You head straight into your parent’s bedroom and withdraw the wayfinder from its hiding spot for the last time.

Poe is looking around when you return. You hold it out towards him. His eyes widen.

“Here.”

“How the hell did you manage to get this from them?” He asks with a grin, taking it from your hands to inspect it.

“I didn’t.”

He freezes, looking up at you. “Then how do you have it?” Though his words form a question, his sudden shift to a cold tone frames it more like a statement.

“It’s a long story, Poe.”

“Oh, we’ve got time,” he retorts. He pockets the wayfinder.

Staring back at him, your expression shifts from nervous to hurt. Does he not trust me? I guess I didn’t think about how I would explain this to him. How do I even begin to explain everything?

“You’re lucky I trust you,” he adds, pulling up a chair to sit and motioning for you to follow suit, “or you wouldn’t still be standing. Now talk.”

You nod, sitting down in front of him. You know you can’t blame him for his reaction- any person with half a brain would respond in kind. You’ve never seen Poe this guarded before though- especially with you- and it’s unsettling, to say the least. Shaking off your discomfort, you collect yourself.

“Remember how my parents left me a few gifts after they disappeared?”

He nods.

“That was one of them. But it was different then. The light in there was green. It felt different when I carried it.”

“Different how?”

“It wasn’t anything... dark; just the opposite, actually- it was light. And it promised hope. And I used it to find Luke.”

“Skywalker?”

You nod. “Turns out, he changed it so my dad could find him down the line- but when my dad disappeared, he changed it so I could use it.”

“That’s a real convoluted way of leaving an emergency contact,” he quips, relieving some of the tension in the room.

“Wasn’t my idea,” you defend, putting your hands up.

“Fair point…” he affirms with a soft smile. “So why’d it change?”

“Well, Luke smashed it the second I showed it to him.”

Poe laughs, “right.”

You can’t tell if he was being sarcastic, but you’d rather not try to clarify. Instead, you continue. “But I wanted it back. It was still something my parents gave me, and I thought maybe it was worth a shot.”

“So, what, you built a new one?”

“No, no, I, uh…” You pause, realizing this is going to sound ridiculous. “I reached out to the force, and it… fixed it.”

Poe stares blankly.

Desperate to move things along so as to not waste anymore time, you give up on trying to explain it. “It would make more sense if I could show you.”

“Sure,” he says hesitantly, clearly not buying your story, but not in complete disbelief either.

“May I?” you ask softly, lifting your hand to his temple.

He shoots you a confused look, but when your expression remains completely serious, he finally nods.

You place your hand on the side of his head and call out to the force. Please. Let me show him. Show him what you showed me... Show him the wayfinder.

Your memories flash through the front of your mind- holding the wayfinder, hiding it, using it to find Luke, watching it shatter, reaching into the dark side to retrieve it, seeing Exegol, hiding it from Poe, hearing of it on the resistance base, and handing it to Poe. You drop your hand in your lap, watching Poe’s expression shift from confusion to resolution.

“I’ll be damned,” he murmurs. “You’re a special one, Kenobi.” He stands.

“So you’ll get it to Rey?”

“I will.”

“Do you think General Organa will be okay with it?”

“I think she’ll be relieved to know it’s almost over.”

You nod, taking a deep breath in relief. It’s almost over, you repeat to yourself.

“What’ll you do?”

You stand. “You’ll need time to get everyone ready and get over to Exegol, right?”

He nods.

“I’m gonna buy you some time.”

His face falls as he mutters your name in disbelief, his head tilting slightly to one side.

“I’ll make sure the Order isn’t on your backs. And if they are, like I said: I’ll buy you some time. I’m kind of a big deal over there,” you joke half-heartedly.

He shakes his head. “Are you sure?” he asks, concern saturating his tone. He knows better than to try to stop you- not because you couldn’t be convinced otherwise, but because he knows damn well he’d try to pull the same card if he were in your shoes. That was something the two of you undeniably had in common- the guts it takes to come up with big plans, and the iron will to try no matter how risky.

“I’m sure,” you answer with a deep breath, “it’s the least I can do.”

He nods, reaching out to shake your hand. You oblige, before he immediately pulls you into a proper hug. “Just come back to us, okay?” he whispers.

“Only if you promise to come back too.” You pull away just enough to look him in the eyes.

Poe lets out a breathy laugh. “You’ve got a deal.”

With one final squeeze, you both let go.

Poe heads straight to his ship and you watch him take off.

You’re about to jump into your own ship when you pause for a moment. Though you made a promise, you both knew it wasn’t one you were certain you could keep. You decide that, just in case you don’t make it back to your new home- to your family- you want to get one last look at the place you grew up in. Just a few minutes can’t hurt.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

He’s tearing through space in his TIE Whisper, combing through the galaxy using the force- though it isn’t helping as much as he had hoped. He feels like he’s holding his hands straight out in front of him, reaching into darkness, feeling around blind, hoping that eventually his fingers will graze your shoulder just long enough for him to understand how he can reach you. She’s close. I can feel it.

He glances at the navigator and sees a familiar planet marked on the map. He looks up, almost as if to confirm that this map isn’t lying to him too. Coruscant is right there. He thinks back to the tablet- to the tracker installed in his ship that you managed to remove. He’s hesitant. Would she really have come here? Where I could so easily find her? Is she leading me away from something else? He debates diverting his path, feeling stuck between going after his latest lead and going after you. If she is my way forward, he reasons, then I can have both.

Arriving at Coruscant, he sees a ship parked away from your home and lands next to it. It felt odd to be back at this place- it’s been a while since he last visited.

With your first trip home, he used the tracker in your ship to pinpoint where your house was. In between your visits home, he would stop by to search through your house, ensuring his own security. Unfortunately, on one such visit, he ran into a woman dressed as a stormtrooper stocking up some food in your cupboards, her face red and stained with tears. Even worse, he recognized her; she tried to replace him years ago. He knew it would only be a matter of time before she turned you away from him, used you against him, or managed to do both. He was quick to dispose of her.

He leaves his helmet in his ship and walks up to the doorway, in which the door was wide open. For a moment, he worries that this is a trap, but the thought vanishes the moment he sees you. You’re alone, humming to yourself as you stand in the center of the main area, looking around the space. Again, he speaks your name into the silence.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

You jump at the sound of a familiar voice calling to you, whipping around to see Kylo standing in the door.

“I was worried I’d never find you again,” he professes breathily as he rushes towards you, raising his arms to embrace you.

You step back, uncertain of what to say.

He stops while his brows stitch together upward in a pained expression of confusion, arms slowly returning to his sides.

“I don’t need you anymore,” you assert, finally finding your words. “I found someone to restore my memory. I just wanna be home now.”

“But you promised…” he trails off.

Your heart breaks as you watch his face. He looks exhausted. Desperate. Lost. You think of the resistance and the friends counting on you as they prepare for their hardest fight yet. You think of what Luke had said to you when you first met: ‘You can guide him back.’

“I can’t do this without you,” he adds, his voice hovering just above a whisper.

Taking a deep breath, you nod. “Okay… But I won’t go back to the Finalizer-”

“You won’t have to,” he interjects, “I know where to go. Just come with me. Please.” He offers his hand to you.

You take it, your motions stuttering for a moment as a wave of déjà vu hits you- you’ve seen this before too. Maybe this is how the force reassures me that this is the right way, you wonder, by reminding me of those visions.

As your hands join, you both pause to take in the moment before moving on. Kylo leads you out of your house and onto his personal ship. He plugs in a new set of coordinates and takes off.

You’re both silent on the way over. Kylo is focused on piloting the ship, eager to get wherever it is you’re going as fast as possible. Meanwhile, you’re thinking about everything that suddenly seems to be happening at once, worried that you’re bound to let someone down. Before you can worry about it any longer, you seem to arrive at the destination as Kylo lands his ship.

He steps out and offers his hand to help you step down onto the slippery surface of the wreckage, surrounded by raging sea. The roaring waves seem to you like a physical manifestation of the dark chaos that surrounds this place. In your mental periphery, whispers tease as your thoughts. You brush them off, focusing on your footsteps. One step at a time. Keep moving forward.

Kylo guides you through the wreckage of the destroyed spacecraft, eventually making it to the room in which the wayfinder was kept. Your heart stops as you watch him pick up a pyramid made of stone and green glass. There’s another one? As he picks up the guiding device, admiring it, your heart continues to sink as you realize: not only is our deal over, but now the resistance is in danger.

He turns to you.

“Is that the wayfinder?” you ask, hoping he’ll buy into your clueless act. Think, you plead with yourself.

He nods.

“So… what did you need me for?”

“We can move forward now- together,” he begins, closing the gap between the two of you.

You pause for a moment, trying to think of something to say, desperate for a course of action. I can’t convince him to stop. But I can’t let him have that wayfinder. Suddenly, it dawns on you.

You hold your hand out in front of you. “Can I hold it?” you ask, softening your tone as best as you can.

“You won’t be able to use it. You don’t even understand-”

“I know, but… The Force gives me visions. Sometimes it shows me the past, sometimes it guides me towards the future.” You place a hand on his shoulder. “I want to understand,” you whisper.

He nods, gently placing the object in your hands.

You take a couple of steps back as you stare down at it. Visions of Exegol flood your mind again- but this time, darkness grows as lightning erupts from below the surface up into the sky above. Your eyes widen. No, focus, you reprimand yourself. You look up at Kylo. Without another word, you think of Luke and smile.

“What do you see?” He asks as his face begins to light up.

With as much strength as you can muster, you catapult the wayfinder through the massive broken window on your left.

Kylo’s gaze follows the object as it flies into the violent waves outside. In an instant, curious eyes flip to rage. He draws his saber.

Without a moment of hesitation, you draw both of your own sabers.

“First, I killed your father,” he growls, his volume rising as he walks around you in a circle, “then, I killed your friend-”

Vilya, you realize in horror, no!

“Don’t make me kill you too,” he yells, his threat echoing against the metallic walls surrounding you.

With a yell, you charge at him, lifting both sabers and bringing them down towards his head.

A clash rings out as his saber crashes into your own, blocking your attack. Kylo pushes up and to the right, forcing your blades off of his own and bringing them downward.

As he attempts to swipe at your legs, you jump and twist around to swing towards his arm.

He spins out of your blade’s path as you land and jumps off the mass of shrapnel behind him, pushing his blade straight down towards your shoulder.

You roll out of the way and jump up as Kylo swings at you again, meeting his blade with one of yours. You aim your other saber at his side, but he swings down to catch it with is.

With an angry yell he begins to swing wildly, moving towards you. You start to walk backwards to maintain distance, catching his blade with one of yours at the end of every swing.

Making your way out of the room, you manage to find an opening and graze his side as you spin your saber around his arm.

He retracts for just a moment- just long enough for you to turn and run.

He chases you outside of the decaying construct, catching the back of your thigh with the tip of his saber.

With a cry, you reflexively spin around with your blades pointed towards him. Your foot nearly slips on the soaked metal you stand on, but you manage to catch yourself and use it to slide over to dodge another attack.

Kylo continues to push you backward as he swings at you with increasing speed and ferocity, his anger guiding his every move. He lifts his saber over his head and forces it downward, meeting both of your sabers crossed over one another in a screaming clash.

You struggle to keep the red saber away as he pushes down, forcing you onto your knees.

“After everything I did for you,” he spats through gritted teeth, “you destroyed our future.”

Just as your arms are about to give out, the pressure suddenly lifts and Kylo stares out blankly.

He hears his mother’s voice calling out to him. ‘Ben,’ she whispers.

In an instant, you realize this is your only chance to get out alive. I promised. You spin back up to your feet and bring your blade down on Kylo’s thigh.

He feels that she’s fading, and a searing pain in his leg tears him away from her, and then she’s gone. He drops to his knees with a cry.

Before he can retaliate at all, you’re sprinting towards his ship. He stands to chase after you, but as he turns, he sees his father, Han Solo, standing in the way. Another wave crashes over him. The water comes down, and with it, Han Solo is gone.

And you are flying away.

I can still buy them time.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

When Kylo finally gets back to the Finalizer, you are the only thing on his mind. Finding you has never been more crucial to his life’s work.

However, the moment he arrives, he’s called to the throne room. His search will have to wait- just for a while. Soon.

Walking in, he kneels before Snoke, who briefly delivers the news.

Time suddenly moves differently as the words ring in his mind. ‘She’s been sent for execution. She is useless to us now- and only a distraction to you. A weakness to be eliminated.’

Unbridled fury blinds him and commands his body to move. Though his mind is far from him, his body is swift in its delivery of judgement. It all seems to move past him in a blur. She’s dead, he hears, over and over and over in his mind, screaming louder and louder. She’s dead. My future is gone before I could even reach her. She’s dead.

When his body finally stops, his chest heaving in labored breath, he looks around him to see bodies scattered across the floor. Snoke’s legs still sit in his throne, but his torso lies on the ground beside it. The blood of the praetorian guards riddles their already-red suits with dark crimson splotches.

He’s killed his way through everyone that attempted to confuse him- to turn him from his destiny- and yet he’s never felt so lost.

But before he has another moment to think, someone else reaches out to him.

‘Kylo Ren,’ a familiar voice called out in his mind, ‘You are losing your way- straying from the legacy of your grandfather. Join me. Allow me to guide you again.’

“Okay,” Kylo whispers to himself. He finally tears his eyes away from the slaughter he’s surrounded himself with and heads to his ship, on which a map through the Unknown Regions has been transmitted. Ignoring the unfolding chaos around him, he takes off from the Finalizer’s hangar, headed for Exegol.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

As the troopers drag you away for execution, adrenaline slows time down to a crawl. You think about everything that has seemed to go wrong since you made it to Chandrila, and how every decision- whether for better or worse- has brought you here. You think about your father, the man you never got to meet again who died just the same way you’re about to. It’s almost poetic. Almost.

You think about the people you care about. Vilya, who sacrificed her livelihood and her life for you. Poe, whose promise you’d be breaking. Kylo, who may never make it back to the light. Finn and Rey, who trained with you and welcomed you into the family you never had. Luke, who became like a father to you. Obi-Wan, the man who believed in you despite the odds, and would now have to be let down.

Be with me, Grandfather, you think as the troopers bring you to your knees, the laser ax humming near your ear.

‘Bring balance back to the force,’ his voice replied urgently, ‘balance, padawan.’

You hear the whispers of the dark side teasing your mind again, and this time, you take its hand. In one swift movement, you wrench from their grasp, turn around, and lift both troopers off the ground in a chokehold with the force. The moment they fall unconscious, you dash to the hangar, taking the lesser-known hallways and shortcuts you've grown acquainted with to get there as fast as you can undetected. When you arrive, you run to the closest ship and hop in, taking off the moment the ship starts running. Though some troopers notice your sudden departure via an unauthorized ship, their blasts are powerless against your escape.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

Arriving back to the resistance base, you’re surrounded by chaos. Countless ships are beginning to take off, while many others are speeding around to gather their supplies and say just-in-case goodbyes and well wishes. Looking for any familiar face, you find Finn handing off gear to some pilots.

“Finn!” You call out over the noise of the crowd, weaving through the bodies to reach him.

His head perks up at his name, and upon your arrival, he greets you.

“Have the others left yet?”

“Rey is already there. I think Poe is on his way, but he’s still reaching out to our allies for help.”

You nod. “What about General Organa?” you ask, realizing the normally hands-on general is nowhere to be seen.

Finn's face falls. He glances to the pilots, who wear a similar expression, and they take the rest of the gear before promptly heading off to their respective ships.

“She’s gone,” he says finally.

Your heart sinks. I didn’t know…

“But we carry on,” he adds. “In her honor, and in the name of everyone we've lost along the way.” Finn puts his hands on your shoulders. “We could use your help.”

“I’m no pilot-”

“No,” he interjects, shaking his head, “Help Rey.”

“I don’t know if I can-”

“You have to try,” he pleads.

His look of desperation takes you back.

“Someone has to try,” he reiterates. “I’ve seen you train. You’re the only one of us who can keep up with her, and I’m worried she can’t do it alone.”

“Okay,” you nod, “I’ll try.”

He pulls you in for a hug, whispering a ‘thank you’ beside your ear.

“I’ll see you later then,” you suppose.

“See you there,” he confirms as he takes off towards the base.

You get back into the ship you had taken from the Finalizer to find that Finn sent you the map they had retrieved from the wayfinder. With a deep breath and a prayer to the force, you take off to Exegol.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

Rey steps off of her ship and onto the ground of Exegol with Leia’s lightsaber in hand. Before her stands- no, floats- what must be an old Sith temple just above the planet’s surface. She looks up at the massive black structure as lightning strikes the ground nearby at random. She moves forward, eventually finding a platform that begins to lower her underground.

She watches the statues surrounding her grow in height as the platform falls lower and lower until it finally stops. She steps off and follows the guidance of the force as it leads her into the amphitheater that holds Darth Sidious, held by the Ommin Harness, and his throne. She slowly walks up to Sidious, who greets his granddaughter with an all-too ominous sense of anticipation.

With words he knows will sting, Sidious taunts her, insisting that her legacy is here. Though a comment on her parents and a threat to her friends tempts her for a moment to give in, the force pulls her back as she realizes: I’m not alone.

You’ve arrived- she can feel it. And you’re just in time.

She steps away, the hum of her drawn saber echoing in the massive room.

Sidious senses a shift and pulls back. At the same time, the Sovereign Protectors make their way out of the shadows.

Rey brings her blade up with a smile.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

Kylo lands beside an old X-Wing fighter when he arrives to the stormy planet. The dark side is potent here, meaning that the light stands out all the more- and Rey is a crimson stain on a blanket of snow. He doesn’t need to see her to know that she’s already here. In his mind, though, it’s just one more person from a long line of people that must be eliminated.

“All these lives, just for control?” The voice of Han Solo beckons from behind, stopping Kylo in his tracks.

Kylo keeps his back to the ghost of his father. “They’re sacrifices for the greater good. Control can put an end to the suffering.”

“The suffering will never end, son. It’s life. And no matter how hard you try, you’ll always find more like me- people who want to really live.”

“I killed you!” Kylo bellows, fists clenching at his side. “What makes them any different?”

“Did you?” Han asks, taking steps towards his son.

Kylo stops. For once, he’s wordless.

“No matter how hard we try to run, we always end up back home. The sooner you accept that, the easier your life is gonna be, kid.”

“I have no home,” he laments, turning his head back just over his shoulder.

Then, Leia speaks: “Oh, that’s a terrible excuse.”

Finally, Kylo turns around to see his father and mother standing side by side, looking at him with nothing but compassion in their eyes.

“Pave a new path, Ben,” Leia beckons.

He takes a few long moments to think.

“There’s so many choices,” he finally whispers.

“It never matters how many options there are,” she reassures him, “you’ll know which one is right.”

“But even the right path seems so dark now.”

“The light will find you,” Leia encourages.

“It always does,” Han adds.

His parents fade, and he turns to stare out to the horizon. With a grunt, he throws his saber. As it arcs in the air, a bolt of lightning strikes down, running through the lightsaber and reaching the ground. The hilt cracks as it falls to the dead earth, the kyber crystal inside shattered into pieces.

No more.

“Ben?”

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

When you arrive to Exegol, you take comfort in the feeling of having been here before; it gives you more confidence in your ability to help Rey. Landing near the massive black box that seems to float on the planet’s surface, you notice two other ships are already there. You take your place in line with them and step out of your ship.

Your eyes are immediately drawn to the man you had been running from for so long now. He stands at a distance, his body half-facing you, and yet he seems to be staring off into nothing, taking no notice of your arrival. You watch as he throws his lightsaber into the horizon, a lightning bolt catching it as it flies.

You hesitantly walk towards him, but as you approach, you realize something is off. The man before you is not at all the man you had come to know, and at the same time, he has never seemed to be more himself. Suddenly, you’re reminded of one of the first times you had seen into his mind, all those months ago: the visions of his mother longing for him to come home- the sound of her calling his name. As you look to the man before you, only one name comes to mind; so, in a shaky voice, you call to him:

“Ben?”

He turns to you. The light. His mind takes a moment to process the sight in front of him. He runs to you. Before you can embrace, he stops just short. But what if she’s only a ghost, too; here to haunt me for my failure?

You sense his hesitation, his fear, and his aching heart. You take his hand in both of yours. “It’s me,” you affirm softly.

His shoulders relax as he lets out a shaky, thankful breath. She’s alive. Despite his moment of blissful victory, he is still left unsure of what to do or say next.

Something tells you he didn’t come here to help. Yet, you know now that he can. Together, you think.

“I have to do this,” you finally say, your voice carrying a greater confidence than you were used to.

“I know,” he says softly.

“And you do too.”

He nods. “Together.”

You remove your sabers from your belt and hold them out in front of you. Your eyes linger on the saber in your left hand- Anakin’s saber. The one Kylo unknowingly brought you to in Tatooine. The one Luke gifted to you and trained you with. The one that could bring balance to the force when carried with the other. Looking back up at Ben, you hand him his grandfather’s lightsaber.

You both draw your grandfathers’ blades as the Knights of Ren suddenly surround you. Clashing blades and strained yells and thuds of bodies ring out in a cacophony accompanied by the sound of thunder as you fight. As blades once turned against each other return back to weapons meant to work together, you both feel the spirits of Obi-Wan and Anakin guide your minds and your blades to act as one. Though fighting well, the Knights of Ren could not stop the power set in motion by the two of you.

It's as if the force is using you both to heal a wound neither caused.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

Luke was first caught off guard by the smell of smoke, as if a giant bonfire had been started somewhere nearby. It wasn’t until he saw the source of the smoke that he began to panic.

Running towards the old tree, he’s horrified to see flames engulfing the trunk. As he begins to hopelessly attempt to put out the flames, he realizes Yoda has been standing there all along in his ghostly form.

“Help me!” Luke cries out in desperation.

“No need, there is. Start the fire, I did.”

Luke stops as Yoda’s words sink in. “You did what?”

“Time, it is. Pave a new path, we must. One of balance. Set in motion, you must,” Yoda explains.

“But we could still use those!”

“Create something new, you cannot, if, cling to the old, you will.”

Though a little reluctant to admit it, Luke sees the truth of Yoda’s words, even if he disagreed with the drastic actions taken to underline them. It was time to let go of the idea that there could only be one or the other- light or dark. He could still leave a legacy, but it could be a better one; it could be dedicated to accepting the balance already within the force.

“So how do we start?”

“Your nephew- needs you, he does. To Exegol, you must go. Made right, wrongs will be.”

Luke wonders if perhaps the force will make a way for him, so he could still help guide his nephew; perhaps he didn’t fail Ben completely. Maybe he could help his latest padawans, too. But there’s only one way to know.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

You and Ben manage to finish off the Knights of Ren and make it down to the throne room of the Sith Citadel by the time Rey defeats the last of the Sovereign Protectors.

As Rey steadies herself again, the three of you line up and ready your blades. For a moment, with the each of you giving it your all, it seems you just manage to counter every move Sidious can throw at you. We have a chance of winning this. However, after only a few moments of vicious back-and-forth attacks, Sidious forces the three of you backward.

Holding Rey and Ben back with the lightning that streaks from his hand, Sidious force chokes you, lifting you up and towards him. “Give into your pain,” he growls at you.

He then turns to Ben. “Your anger made you stronger,” he taunts. He throws you off to the side, your back slamming into the stone wall surrounding you.

Using the force, he holds you there, a few meters off the ground. “And you cannot save them all,” he cackles to Rey as the ceiling of the Citadel splits open.

Hanging above you are hundreds and hundreds of ships flying amidst a massive Sith fleet. Canon blasts riddle the sky as the ships all fire at each other. Suddenly, a gigantic bolt of lightning arcs up into the sky, splitting into hundreds of small branches, each attaching to a resistance ship.

As the lightning shoots upward, Sidious slams you to the ground.

You hear both Rey and Ben yell as you hit the ground with a thud and blackout.

When you come back to consciousness, you look up to see Luke standing a few yards away from Sidious. Casting out from his hands is a cluster of lightning, aimed directly for Luke.

Luke’s eyes are set on Sidious, his determination made clear in his expression. On the other side of the bolts of lightning are Luke’s hands, catching the lightning and pushing it backward.

Sidious laughs as Luke begins to slide backwards due to the force of the attack he’s holding back.

Blueish spheres of energy begin to build in front of Luke’s palms as he finally holds his ground and begins to take steps towards Sidious.

Sidious’ expression shifts to concern as Luke overtakes the power used against him and harnesses it.

With a shout, Luke pushes the energy he had channeled back to Sidious, and suddenly the lightning bolt branching out in the air above disappears as Sidious is forced backwards. Cracking and crashing sounds ring out as the harness holding Sidious up and keeping him alive breaks down, some pieces falling to the ground.

Luke flies backwards from the resulting explosion, landing hundreds of feet away from the fight.

Ben jumps up with his saber, set to fly down on Sidious and split him in half, but he’s stopped just inches before his blade can touch the Sith. His saber falls to the ground as he’s held in the air.

You finally manage to get to your feet and run to Luke, but before you can make it even halfway to him, you’re suddenly being dragged backwards towards Sidious.

In just a few moments, You and Ben have been forced to your knees side by side. You watch helplessly as beams of whispering, swirling light are drawn out for your chest and his. You feel the force cry out as you become increasingly weaker. Your body fights to get into overdrive as death draws near, but to no avail.

A sick laughter echoes in the chamber as Sidious watches his decomposing body come back to life, sapping the power of a dyad.

Suddenly, the pressure holding you and Ben up relieves and you both drop.

Rey stands between you, two sabers clutched in her hands.

Another arc of lightning crackles over your head, which Rey catches and pushes back with Obi-Wan’s saber.

“I,” Sidious bellows, his voice ringing out in the room and in your minds as you struggle to stay awake, “am all the Sith.”

Rey begins to push forward. As she passes you, you can hear the voices of countless people whispering. This time, the whispers aren’t dark, hissing threats. Instead, light seems to glow around her as the whispers make her stronger.

“And I,” she answers through gritted teeth, drawing Anakin’s saber and crossing the blade over Obi-Wan’s, “am all the Jedi.”

She reaches the steps of Sidious’ decayed throne and forces the lightning back onto him.

His flesh begins to rip and tear away from his bones. He cries out in agony as his power, his throne, and his life are finally ripped away from him for the last time until there is nothing left.

The moment he’s gone, you glance up at the skies to see the Sith ships explode as the resistance ships- now recovered and revitalized with hope- destroy everything that’s left.

You smile weakly, looking back to Ben to make note of the victory, but he’s no longer there.

He sits beside Rey, who lies limp on the ground.

You manage to crawl over to her.

“Do something,” he pleads to you.

I’m the healer. I should be able to do something. You look down and gingerly take Rey’s body from Ben’s hands. As you hold her, though, you sense that she is too far gone for any tincture or medicine.

“Give her to me,” Luke instructs softly as he kneels down next to you.

You look up at him hesitantly as you shift Rey from your lap into his.

“It’s time we bring an end to the Jedi, too,” he begins, looking between you and Ben as he holds Rey, one hand cradling her head while one rests on her stomach. “One extreme will always foster the growth of the other. Forge a new way.”

You nod, and though you don’t understand why, something churns in your stomach telling you that this is goodbye.

Ben nods, and it seems he understands more than you do. “Thank you,” he whispers, his eyes sparkling as they well up. A tear gently rolls down his cheek in silence.

With a soft smile, Luke closes his eyes and calls out to the force one last time. He takes a deep breath.

Rey’s breathing grows stronger as color comes back to her body. She looks over to you, then to Ben, then to Luke.

You smile at the sight of Rey sitting up, her strength renewed.

She turns to Luke to thank him, but before the words make it out, Luke disappears.

You blink a few times as you look down to see his robes left behind in his place.

Rey turns back to you both with a grin, sharing a knowing look.

Though he’s gone, you realize you can still sense his presence, and you finally understand.

Without wasting another moment, you pull Rey and Ben into an embrace. You all let out a breathy, almost incredulous laugh. We did it. We won.

You all help each other onto your feet and stand. Rey gathers the robes of her mentor and calls the stray sabers to her hands. You and Ben take your sabers back from Rey and look up to the skies.

Though the ships are no longer firing, and most are still, you can almost hear their cheers from down here. One by one, the resistance and their allies begin to take off, heading back to wherever they came from.

The three of you silently return to your ships. Rey gets into hers first.

“I’ll meet you there,” you promise.

She nods, thanking the both of you one last time, and takes off to return to the resistance base.

You watch her leave before looking back down at Ben, who can’t seem to take his eyes off of you.

He closes the gap between you and wraps his arms around you in a strong embrace.

You return the affection without a moment of hesitation.

While you’re holding each other, it feels as if something has finally finished; as if a chapter is closed- one that you both-and the force itself- were waiting for all along.

You let go just enough to see Ben’s face and, with as much courage as you have left, kiss him.

When you finally pull away from each other, you both wear a bright smile.

“I need to return to my friends,” you finally say.

“Go,” he encourages, walking backwards to his ship.

“Where will I find you?”

“I’ll be home.”

You laugh as you watch him take off. You know he means your home, in Coruscant- but, you do like the idea of sharing it with him.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

Arriving back to the resistance base, you struggle to find a place to land among the scattered ships that were hastily parked and the masses of people celebrating the final victory. Eventually, you do find a place to comfortably park your ship.

Although you’re exhausted from the insane day you had just endured, you’re also antsy to see your friends again. You wander through the clusters of people, scanning for anyone you recognize. You realize trying to ask anyone for direction would be hopeless- not just because they would have no real answer, but also because they’re caught up in their own moments. Finally, your eyes land on Rey and Finn, locked in a tight embrace.

You jog over to them and see a weary looking Poe approaching the couple. You run straight to him, nearly toppling him over in a hug. He lets out an easy laugh.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

“For what?”

“For keeping your promise.”

“Only because you kept yours,” he answers, relief clear in his voice.

You lightly peck his cheek and pull away.

He gives you a wink before Finn barges in and hugs Poe, the two of them laughing. You turn to Rey and the two of you embrace again, your laughter joining the cacophony of jubilation that surrounds you all.

It’s over. You all won. And you can change the future for the better.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

After some retellings of the battles you each fought and making plans to meet up again to discuss the journey that now lies before you all, you decide it’s time to head back home. You start making your way back to your ship to see Luke leaning against it, grinning as he waves at you. Beside him is Obi-Wan, arms crossed, watching with a smile. The two of them, though appearing to you clear as day, seem to be somewhat translucent. You stop in your tracks.

“Thank you,” you whisper to them, “for everything.”

With a wink from one and a nod from the other, they fade away.

You get back to your ship and arrive at Coruscant to see Ben standing outside, leaning against the doorway of your home as he watches the sunset. When you reach him, he lifts and spins you in another hug, setting you back down with a kiss. There is so much to say, but for now, it will have to wait.

The two of you head inside to celebrate, rest, and dream about the future you will create together.

(Epilogue)

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aroaessidhe · 10 months

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Mid-Year Book Freakout 2023

1. Best book you’ve read so far this year

The Art of Prophecy - this was so fun and made just for me I enjoyed it a lot The Misadventures of an Amateur Naturalist - really good and also quite unique for the space it’s sitting in I think! The Adventures of Amina al-Sirafi - this is very good and fun I loved it

2. Best sequel you’ve read so far this year

The World We Make - love this duology!! NK Jemisin does it again etc etc A Day of Fallen Night - prequel technically, but I enjoyed it a lot and more than priory I think! Sailing By Carina’s Star - i am enjoying this trilogy a lot we love queer pirates The Shadow Cabinet - somehow even more wild than the first book

3. New release you haven’t read yet

I don’t keep lists of books I need to read, so of course when I try to think of something my mind goes blank, here’s a couple from my library holds/kindle To Shape A Dragon’s Breath Wander The Night also does Flight & Anchor count if I’ve read the original patreon version but not the published version yet

4. Most anticipated release for the second half of the year

(same situation lmao) I’m looking forward to He Who Drowned The World! that’s the first thing that comes to mind

5. Biggest disappointment

tbqh I’ve read a lot of disappointments but they’re mostly self published ones that I read soley because of aspec characters that didn’t hold up in the writing department and are not very well known anyway. (I’ve read tons of selfpubs that are amazing too of course!!) so I’ll just mention some traditionally published ones: Rosewater - I did go into this with the wrong expectations for one, but also the MC was so (intentionally) misogynistic it was hard to enjoy :/ The Wicked Remain - there were a few iffy things in the first book but also things I liked and the second book just...didn’t really add to the things I liked. idk Song of Silver, Flame Like Night - I knew this wasn’t gonna be entirely for me in the first place but man what was up with the only other female character (that’s not dead) having an absolute caricature of a mean girl rivalry with the MC in like. a calling each other slurs kind of way not a fun way

6. Biggest surprise

Beating Heart Baby - I enjoy reading YA contemporary but there’s usually a limit to how much I enjoy it compared to sff, but this went beyond what I expected and I really loved it The Meister of Decimen City - I didn’t have any expectations for this, someone just mentioned it on a discord and I got it from the library, but I loved it a lot!

7. Favorite new author (debut or new to you)

See generally I only call people favourite authors if I’ve read and loved like, at least 3 separate books from them, and I don’t really have any of those for this year.....you need to work to get my loyalty Here’s a few authors that I’ve read a second book/series from them this year and am like, ah yes, I will read the next one: Ceinwen Langley Rebecca Schaeffer Liselle Sambury

8. Newest fictional crush/newest favorite character

tbh I’m not one to separate an individual character from their book or like, the other characters surrounding them very often, so I just can’t think of anything specific... all the women in The Art of Prophecy are great

9. Book that made you cry

I’ve actually started recording this in my stats this year HAHA, with “fully crying” “teared up” and “cried from cute/happiness” and,, I did not expect that there are only 3 books that have made me fully cry????? Which are: In Other Lands and Lirael (nostalgia def has a part to play in both of those) and Beating Heart Baby. I can’t remember why I cried for that one but clearly it was a lot lmao

10. Book that made you happy

I mean it’s a reread but In Other Lands of course

World Running Down - only just read this and I really enjoyed it! a good mix of an interesting sci-fi future that isn’t super dark but also doesn’t shy away from various issues, and an interesting romance! (me enjoying a romance, shocker)

witch hat atelier! - how could it Not make you happy tbh

thanks @violaeade for tagging me!

I will tag @thereadingchallengechallenge @nycorix @speculatives @dkafterdark and anyone else who wants I guess

#laya talks #i read too many to give a single answer to any of these sjdghs

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kyndaris · 2 months

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Heal the World

Despite being nominated for several categories at the 2023 The Game Awards, Spider-Man 2 did not manage to win any of the prestigious trophies. A fact that has been both lambasted and poked fun of on the internet. But when you consider the sheer quantity, as well as the quality, of games that came out, the fact Spider-Man 2 was even nominated is proof of its greatness. Especially when it was going up against heavy-weights Baldur's Gate 3, Alan Wake 2, Final Fantasy XVI, Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom and Super Mario Bros: Wonder.

2023, it should be noted, was a game of big releases.

Following on from several strategy role-playing games I was stuck playing, it was only in the latter half of the year I was able to play catch-up on many of the triple-A titles. Even now, though, I have yet to tackle Final Fantasy XVI, Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom, Baldur's Gate 3 and Alan Wake 2.

To be fair, I've bought all the titles. They are, unfortunately, just sitting around waiting for me to devote the necessary time to make the adventure worthwhile.

Once I do, of course, be sure to see posts pop up throughout the year. Even as I try to balance work, my writing hobbies, the books I read, shows I watch (at time of writing, I've gotten into Blue Eye Samurai), and whatever travel I also have planned. In fact, I should hopefully be publishing the sequel to Wild Child soon. After pounding out the chapters during a period where everything has gone back to normal, taking the time out to write a full-length novel is very time-consuming. Not to mention the editing I'm doing (which would probably be better if I had an actual editor and at least one beta reader) to polish up a few things.

In any case, the story of my journey with Spider-Man 2 began not when I popped the disc into my PlayStation 5. Nay, the story begins with the day I purchased the game at a store in the heart of Sydney CBD. I was catching up with a high school friend and had just seen a Facebook post about an exhibit in Barangaroo. After dinner, off we trotted - after much convincing on my part that a walk down to Barangaroo would be for the best - to take in the flipped truck suspended by spider webs and New York policemen milling about telling everyone within earshot that, "There was nothing to see here." The trip, capped off with a photo of the truck, was made memorable when I muttered under my breath how the hired actors were pretending to be NPCs. Only, of course, to be remonstrated by my friend for saying such a thing.

And honestly, it it is true that I shouldn't be calling the people I see only in passing as NPCs. After all, in their own mind, they're the main character and I'm the NPC lurking in the background of their story. Which only serves to drive home the disconnection we have with the people around us or who might share the daily commute with us.

Still, what a thing to say to dismiss another person.

I'm reminded of a scene in the book Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow by Gabrielle Zevin, which my workplace bookclub read, where Sam called his best friend, Max, an NPC right to his face. I know Max didn't take it to heart but what a cruel and heartless thing to say to someone who has supported you throughout your game developing journey and is then ruthlessly gunned down on the pretense he was you by angry gamers.

Anyways, back to Spider-Man 2. The game follows on from Spider-Man and Spider-Man: Miles Morales. Ten months on from the last game, we see Peter Parker and Miles Morales working together to keep New York safe. And though the Avengers seem to exist in the world - what with Avenger Tower jutting up above the New York skyline - we never see these other superheroes once during the struggles Peter and Miles face. Nor do we see cameos from the likes of Daredevil, Jessica Jones, Iron Fist or Luke Cage.

Which is such a shame.

But it also highlights the problem of having so many comic-book superheroes call New York home.

Spider-Man 2 starts with Peter taking on a job as a physics teacher at Brooklyn Visions, the school Miles attends. As he's teaching them about surface tension, Sandman attacks. Torn between his responsibilities as civilian Peter and that of Spider-Man, Peter joins up with Miles to take down Flint Marko in an epic showdown that saves the city. Unfortunately, due to dereliction of duty as a teacher, Peter is fired. A side-effect of being a superhero who keeps his identity hidden (although given how often his friends have since said his name during the game, I'm surprised it's still a secret).

From there, the game introduces us to Kraven, a man who seeks his death in glorious combat with a mighty opponent. As such, he captures Mister Negative and Scorpion while the two were being transported from the Raft. He even administers a high dose of Lizard serum into Dr Curt Connors to face up against a worthwhile opponent.

It is only when Peter acquires the symbiote that excitement enters Kraven's eyes. In the latter chapters, he fights against Peter and demands that our erstwhile hero stop holding back even showing off a battered Miles. Before Peter can kill him, Miles intervenes and Peter is then freed from the symbiote's control.

Of course, Spider-Man 2 is not content to have Kraven as the big bad for this game. Oh no.

As many know, once you've introduced the symbiote, you've also introduced Venom. But instead of Eddie Brock taking on the mantle of our favourite anti-hero, it is instead Harry Osborn.

Though Harry was only mentioned briefly in the first game, in Spider-Man 2, Harry returns from a long sabbatical in Europe and supposedly cured from his terminal illness. Harry is introduced early, hiring Peter to work at his environmental technology startup called the Emily-May foundation where the pair can pursue their childhood dream of "healing the world." Unfortunately, during the events of Spider-Man 2, with Peter taking on the symbiote, Harry's health - both physical and mental - deteriorates. Desperate to return to a semblance of normality, Harry reclaims the symbiote and is then transformed into the Venom we all know and love.

He is later stopped by the combined efforts of Miles, Peter and MJ. The final battle leaves Harry comatose and our heroes shattered once again by the sacrifices they had to make in order to save the city they call home.

What I liked most about Spider-Man 2, however, as a criminology major in university, was its focus on rehabilitation. Many of the supervillains that Spider-Man fans have come to know and love have been reformed in some way or another. Be that Tombstone to Mysterio. Many of these villains have chosen to turn over a new leaf and assimilate back into society. The most tragic and most human is the story of Sandman. Threatened by Kraven's hunters, fearing for his daughter and not being heard by those in power, he resorts to the only thing he knows in order to garner attention: attacking the city.

It is a tale as old as time.

And helps support the tenets of strain theory in crime sociology.

Of course, there are a myriad reasons why people turn to crime.

But these glimpses are so important to understand the complexities of why someone might resort to doing something illegal. And it's a far better exploration of redemption than what Spider-Man: No Way Home attempted. As I've stated before, change takes time. While No Way Home plucked our villains during their final showdown with the various Spider-Man across the multiverse, Spider-Man 2 shows the results of Mysterio and Sandman having served their time and seeking to mend their ways.

This all culminates in the interactions with Mister Negative and Miles Morales. And while Miles cannot bring himself to forgive what Mister Negative did, he is able to move past the anger.

The other message in Spider-Man 2, of course, is that some burdens cannot be taken on alone. The tagline for the game is: 'Be Greater. Together.' Something I wish more people would take to heart. When a community comes together, there is so much more that can be done. Unfortunately, the Western world prefers to champion individualistic effort over those of a collective.

Capitalism seems to forget that if you don't have your workers or people who can afford to purchase your goods, then what's the whole point? And if you're curious where this odd segue came from, I'm currently playing through Octopath Traveler 2 and Partitio's story is very much of a big-hearted merchant who looks out for his town. His dream, funnily enough, is to destroy the devil known as poverty. Something our modern world still has not been able to solve (but could. If there was any profit to it. But who are we kidding? There isn't.)

From a combat perspective, Spider-Man 2 changes things up a little by introducing a parry mechanism as well as a few other new abilities for the Spider-Men to enjoy. While this kept the game lively, it annoyed me that I needed a full Focus bar in order to heal. This was especially difficult in the latter boss battles against Scream and Venom. I'm not sure if the reason why I struggled through them was because I hadn't topped up my Focus bars prior to the mission or if it was simply me not gelling with Peter's abilities.

What I do know was that I hated how the attack you couldn't dodge, but had to parry, was highlighted in red and that the unblockable attack was blue. Especially when the game had trained you early on with managing a perfect dodge when the spider sense was red. It also didn't help that in the battles with Scream and Venom, these indicators didn't last for very long and I couldn't cancel an animation if I was already mid-dodge to parry an attack.

At least the checkpointing was generous!

As for other gameplay moments, I had to say the swinging was smooth as butter and the web wings added some great diversity to travel. Especially with the wind tunnels all around the city to help one get from Point A to Point B.

And because of these quality-of-life improvements, I didn't feel like the new map, which now included Queens and Brooklyn, was that much larger than the original Spider-Man game or as time-consuming to get through like a map in the open-world Assassin's Creed titles.

So, while Spider-Man 2 didn't win at The Game Awards, it certainly won my heart as the second last game I played in the year 2023. And I'm certainly excited to see what Insomniac cooks up next, despite the hack. The studio is great at nailing story, gameplay and world while serving up side-dishes of heart. Best of all, it didn't have me chasing after pigeons!

In a year teeming with big titles, Spider-Man 2 was everything I wanted in an open-world game without overstaying its welcome.

Thank you Insomniac and here's hoping Spider-Man 3 brings on the Green Goblin in all his glory! Oh, and Silk. I'm curious to how they'll insert that comic storyline into the game.

#video games #spider-man 2 #peter parker #miles morales #mary jane watson #harry osborne #venom #kraven #rehabilitation vs deterrence

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cazimagines · 3 years

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A Freudian Slip - Part 3

Part 1, Part 2

Masterlist

Synopsis: While a fight breaks out Zemo asks you to run away from him, you accept leaving on an eventful journey with him

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Smut

Author’s note: A final 3rd installment for ‘A Freudian Slip’ I hope you all have enjoyed this brief series! Next to come out is a sequel to ‘Perfectly Exasperating’

Bucky carried Zemo back into the house bridal style, his hands gripping tightly around Zemo’s legs and chest, and dropped him onto the sofa in the midst of the room. Zemo was knocked out from when John Walker had the brilliant idea to stop Zemo from smashing all the super-soldier serum by chucking his shield at him. You could see a nasty bruise forming on the top of his head where he was struck.

You gently run your fingers over the side of his face. At this moment he looked so peaceful sleeping, his lips pulled up into a natural slight smile, parts of his hair dangled down across his forehead, his face softened and not tensed like it usually appeared to be. You brush the hair back into its usual place, running your fingers over his feverish forehead.

You turn to Bucky and Sam, whose eyes burn into yours, millions of questions flashing through them, yet they remain unspoken. “I’ll look after him,” you tell them, turning your gaze back to Zemo's peaceful form. It was easier to stare at him than them at the moment.

“You and Zemo have been spending a lot of time together,” Sam states, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Because I’ve been making sure he doesn’t betray us,” You snap back, refusing to look at them

“Sam and I have been doing that as well and you haven’t seen us giving him bedroom eyes,” Bucky argues back, stepping forward, but Sam grabs a hold of his arm to stop him from going further.

“Look y/n, we’re just concerned about you. That guy a criminal, he could easily manipulate you,”

Your eyes flash to him angrily, “You think I would be easy to manipulate,”

“No, that’s not what I meant-” Sam says but Bucky interrupts him

“Yes. I know him, y/n, that is exactly something he would do. You can’t trust him,”

“I’ve told you already, I’m just making sure he doesn’t betray us. There’s nothing else. I’d appreciate it if you believed me,”

They sigh in defeat, glancing at each other, then back to you. “Look, I will not argue with you. Go get him the things he requires. Bucky and I need to check to see if we can find Karli. I might get a chance to talk to her again” Sam says and he and Bucky turn their backs, sending one last concerning look at you over their shoulders then disappearing.

You sigh looking back to Zemo who still slept peacefully unaware. A smile tugged on your mouth, but it twisted to a frown. You all knew damn well you had been lying. Whether you wanted to admit it, you liked Zemo. Every time you saw him, the urge to kiss his lips pulled you in. You could still feel his embrace, his kisses on your neck, shoulders, collar. The sensation of him inside you, touching you. You craved it more and more like he was your addiction.

You don’t know how you hadn’t gotten to this point of being so obsessed with him, where it had kicked in. You always found him attractive, from when you first laid your eyes on him as he broke out of the prison, you felt that attraction pull to him. You never expected it would be anything more though till that one embarrassing moment when you called him daddy in the undercover mission. You could still feel your cheeks burn up in embarrassment as you remembered that night, but you could also feel your body warm up as you thought about what happened in the alleyway. How he kissed you so passionately. So earnestly.

You had tried to deny your feelings, pretend it wasn’t there, and that kiss that never happened, but Zemo would not let you avoid him. Your eyes flickered to the bathroom and your breath hitches as you remember the intimacy you two spent together there. It was there you felt you truly saw Zemo for the person he was. A man who was lonely and broken from his past. A man who cared for you no matter what Sam or Bucky says.

You felt so scared when you saw the shield hit Zemo. Panic gripped your heart as you rushed over to him. John peered down at you like you were dirt as you cradled Zemo’s head in your lap. Sam and Bucky had run up to you and were surprised you were on your knees holding his head in your hands.

As you were observing him, Zemo's eyes cracked open, and he moaned in discomfort, bringing his hand to rub his eyes. Leaping up, you shouted at him to stay still as you fetched a flannel, running it under cold water, and brought it back to him.

He smiled as you handed him the flannel, the sides of his lips curling up like a cat. “Thank you” he mumbles.

“I’ll get you a drink,”

“You’re being very kind to me y/n,”

“Don’t get used to it,”

He snickered at your sudden switch to hostility, “Will we constantly be bouncing between kindness and hatred?”

You exhale, sitting down beside him, handing a glass of whiskey to him. “I don’t hate you, Zemo, though I really should. There’s something about you I just love and I can’t let go.”

You hesitate, both of you pondering over your sudden confession. Zemo raises the flannels of his eyes and looks over at you. His eyes, which are full of wonder, scan yours. You wanted to look away, embarrassed, but you couldn’t. You didn’t want to keep running away from how you felt.

“You terrified me earlier. I thought John Walker had killed you.”

His eyes switched to concern as his eyebrows furrowed, “I’m sorry I frightened you y/n. I- I never thought I would ever get over my wife and... I still love her but you enthrall me, you drive me wild because I want to know everything about you, feel all of you, touch all of you. It’s been so long since I felt this way and it frightens me.”

You reach out your hand to grasp his and he runs his thumb over your knuckles,

“Zemo I-”

The door opens and both yours and Zemo’s head snaps towards it as Sam and Bucky walkthrough. As quick as lightning, you let go of Zemo’s hand and strode away to the opposite side of the room. Zemo’s eyes sadly glance at you, then to his hand, and he lets out a sigh. He takes a sip of his drink, then pulls the flannel back over, his eyes settling down on the sofa.

Bucky rolls his views and wanders off while Sam grabs a seat at the table to work on his laptop. The silence was suffocating. At least for you. Sam seemed to try hard to concentrate on the laptop, but Zemo relaxed, sipping his drink and you pulled out your phone, playing a silly game to waste away the time.

“Were you ever offered it?” Zemo finally asks Sam. Sam’s gaze leaves the laptop looking at you, then over to Zemo.

“What?”

“The serum,”

“No,”

You glance between them, not knowing if you should leave or not. Sam didn’t seem to want to be engaged in a conversation, but Zemo wasn’t taking the hint.

“If you had been, hypothetically, that is, would you have taken it?”

Without a second hesitation, Sam replies, a harsh tone to his voice, “No”

“No hesitation. That’s impressive,” Zemo says, nodding in approval.

He raises his hand, taking off the flannel with a slight grunt, “Sam,” he says as he holds the flannel in his hand, his gaze unwavering from it.

“You can’t hold out hope for Karli. No matter what you saw in her. She’s gone. And we cannot allow her and her acolytes become yet another faction of gods among real people. Super soldiers cannot be allowed to exist.”

You look down to the ground, frowning at Zemo’s words, but Sam answers without hesitation, “Isn’t that how god's talk?"

Zemo’s eyes continue to glare down at the flannel, for once not speaking up.

“And if that’s how you feel, what about Bucky?”

“Blood isn’t always the solution” Sam finishes as you hear a door click in the background. As Bucky walks in, you get up and walk over to Zemo again, who sits up to let you sit beside him. He gently places his hand on your knee, your eyes flickering to each other, hiding the action enough so the others don’t see. Though you both say nothing because of the present company, it’s as if you could read each other's thoughts. You were both conflicted on what path to follow and because of that, you found solace in each other.

“Something’s not right about Walker,” Bucky mutters, shrugging off his jacket.

“Like we hadn’t known that from the start,” you mumble

“Well, I know a crazy when I see one. Because I am crazy,”

“Can’t argue with that,” Sam agrees

The two argue about the shield once again and you were preparing to stop them when the doors once again burst open and John Walker and his partner storm in. All your heads turn towards the disruption and you groan in frustration at seeing him.

“All right. That’s it. Let’s go. I’m ordering you to hand him over,”

Both Sam walks out in front of John to stop him from getting nearer Zemo. You stood up to go stand by him as well, but Zemo grasps your hand as he gets up, shaking his head. Your eyebrows turn down confused, but he doesn’t offer you an explanation.

With his other hand, he hands the bottle of whiskey over to you, then picks up his glass, dragging you over to the kitchen counter. You weren’t paying attention to what Sam and John were saying till a spear flew past them, imbedding in one pillar.

Your eyes widened as you saw Dora Milaje storm in.

One of them speaks in Wakandan to Bucky, obviously pissed. “Release him to us now” she orders in English. Zemo’s eyes glance anxiously from yours to them, his mind swarming with thoughts of how to get out.

“Hi, John Walker. Captain America.” John says walking over to them. They refuse to say anything to him, so he looks awkwardly away.

“Well, let’s uh put down the pointy sticks and we can talk this through, huh?” he says, patronising them. You wanted to facepalm because of his stupidity.

“Hey, John. Take this easy. You might want to fight Bucky before you tangle with the Dora Milaje,” Sam warns

John Walker however doesn’t listen. He proceeds to antagonise them till he finally places a hand on her shoulder and all hell breaks loose.

Both you and Zemo stand at the side watching John Walker fight them. Zemo sips his whiskey and offers you a sip. You smile slightly at his nonchalant attitude about the fight, letting him raise the glass to your lips as you drink.

Both Sam and Bucky eventually join in the fight as well, and once again you move to join them, but Zemo’s grip on your hand tightens. “Not now little one” he mutters

He peers around, watching the fight as you stare questionably at him, “Zemo what the hell is up with you today. Did that hit to the head get rid of your common sense” you whisper angrily trying to tug your hand out of his. Zemo rolls his eyes at you, clasping your hand.

“We need to go” he whispers urgently and tries to tug you towards the bathroom.

“What? Zemo, Zemo wait. What do you mean we?” You ask, grounding your feet into the floor.

He looks around at the fighting, his skin becoming whiter as he gets more worried. “We don’t have a lot of time y/n, please. I need you to come with me,”

You didn’t know where he wanted to go, or how he was planning on leaving, but you could see fear prickling in his eyes as he looked at you.

“What about Sam and Bucky?”

“They will be okay. Please y/n, I want to spend this time with you. I don’t want to do this alone,”

You stare into his eyes once more, then nod, finally making your choice.

You let him lead you back into the bathroom and close the door behind him. He quickly pushes the bath aside, revealing a passageway into the sewer.

“Ugh,” you say to yourself as you look down the hole. “Ladies first,” Zemo says, placing his hand on your back, the side of his lip curling up into a smile as he guides you over to the hole.

You shoot him a glare before grasping onto the ladder and clambering down as fast as you could, trying your best not to slip.

After a minute you reached the bottom of the ladder and Zemo arrived quickly after. It was so dark down there, but thankfully Zemo had a flashlight in his coat. Once again grabbing a hold of your hand, he guides you down a pathway.

“So this was the best escape plan you had?” you ask, your nose wrinkling at the unpleasant smell

“I’m sorry y/n, did you have a better plan?” he replies sarcastically

“Well, I didn’t know I was running away with you until a minute before,”

Zemo pauses, beaming the light on your face, making you cringe. He lowers it slightly. So it wasn’t in your eyes but still illuminated your face.

“I owe you a thank you for coming with me. I know it wasn’t a simple decision to leave your friends for a person you meet just a few days ago,”

“When you put it like that, you make me feel even crazier for making this decision,” you grumble

“But it’s okay Zemo, Sam and Bucky will be fine without me, and I wanted to be with you,”

Zemo raises his hand to cup the side of your face, his thumb running along your cheekbone. Quickly he pulls you to him, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. His spare hand holding the flashlight wraps around your waist as he holds you there, moving his lips on yours, which you reciprocate.

As suddenly as it had started, it ended. He pulled away slightly, his lips still brushing against yours. “Thank you, little one”

His nickname for you sends shivers along your spine and you let out a husky breath. He smirks at you, turning around, and continues to walk down the pathway.

Eventually, you reach another ladder that you can climb up. You blink a lot as you emerge into the sunlight, finding yourself on a random road.

“What now?” you ask

Zemo walks over to a car, jumping into the driver's seat, and pats the passenger seat next to him. As you get in beside him he easily hot wires the car and gets the engine started.

“So have lots of experience stealing cars?” you ask Zemo and he chuckles, “When you become a criminal you pick up a lot of new skills,”

“I suppose aiding with the escape of a criminal now makes me one as well. You bring about a lot of surprises,”

“I’ve been told I am quite surprising,” he glances at you, smirking as he drives, “And seductive,”

You slap the side of his arm lightly, “Eyes on the road, mister”

“Mister? I think I prefer what you called me before. Hm, what was that again?”

You groan as Zemo brings up that embarrassing night for you, “You’ll never let that go, will you?”

“You calling me daddy? Of course not. I quite like it,”

“Where are we even going?” you ask trying to direct the conversation somewhere else

Zemo turns from looking at you to the road, the smile on his face slowly fading.

“Sokovia,”

Your breath hitches as he says the name of his country, bringing back the reminders of his previous family.

“I want to see the memorial,”

You nod quietly, not sure what you could say.

For the next ten minutes, you two sit in uncomfortable silence. All previous moments where you were having fun had faded. Eventually, Zemo sighed in frustration and made a sharp turn in the car, pulling into a secluded spot on an empty road.

He turns off the car and turns to face you. “It seems to me we need to talk,”

You look to him then away, “I don’t think so”

“Y/n” he growls

“I said we don’t need to talk!” you shout, glaring at him, but you snap your lips shut as you realised how much anger had suddenly built up in you.

Recognition flashes in Zemo’s eyes as he stares at you, “This is about my family, isn’t it?”

You look away, your cheeks burning as you knew how ridiculous you were being.

Zemo nods his head, looking at the road ahead as he thought over what to say.

“You are part of the reason I want to go to the memorial,” he finally admits

It was your turn to look at him, puzzled. He pushes his lips together as he prepares for what he wants to say next.

“I love my family. Every day, I miss them. But I also really like you y/n. You are someone I want to spend all my time and money on just to make you happy. Every time I look at you, I want to take you, no matter where we are. And I feel I owe it to my family to visit the memorial to pay respect and to accept that it is okay for me to move on,”

It felt like with his words he had lifted an enormous weight off of your shoulders. Tears sprung to your eyes and Zemo looked panicked noticing them but you grinned, placing your hand on his shoulder.

“Thank you, Zemo,”

His fingers run along your arms and up to your face, tracing your jawline. His eyes flicker from your eyes to your lips and slowly move forward towards you. Once again he captures your lips with his but this time it was gentle like he was trying to savior you. You grasp the fur parts of his coat and try to pull him closer, you can feel through your kiss him smirking.

“Would you prefer to take this to the back seat?” he rasps and you nod your head quickly. You pull away from the kiss, shifting in your seat so you can clamber onto the long seat at the back of the car. Zemo holds onto your waist as he follows you through the back. He sits down on the seat and pulls you onto him so you were straddling his waist. His hands grip tighter to your hips as you go back to making out with him while you ground on his lap, feeling wetness stain your pants.

You smirked into the kiss as you felt Zemo’s trousers stiffen and a bulge appear as you grinded on him.

“Let go of me Zemo,” you sigh as you pull away from the kiss, hesitantly Zemo lets go of your waist curious to see what you were planning. It was hard positioning yourself with the limited space you two had in the car, but you sat on your knees, pushing his legs apart as you settled between them. You reach up and tug down the zip on his trousers, exposing his boxers. Zemo sits back and watches you as you tug them down, exposing his member.

Already some pre-cum had leaked from it, which you gladly licked up, running your tongue along its side. You traced the vein that stuck out, feeling it pulse against your tongue. Teasing him, you flick your tongue over the tip, hovering your lips just around it but not going further.

Zemo finally moves, impatiently he grasps your hair in his hand and pushes you down onto his member, making you take all of him. He lets out a groan, his eyes fluttering shut as he rolls his head back as he felt the heat of your tongue on his member. You suck your cheeks in to give him more pleasure as he pumps your head up and down so that his member could go in as far as it could.

You grasp his tights to position yourself better. You could feel aching between your legs as you longed for more, but at the moment all you wanted to do was please him. Zemo pushed your head faster, grunting, feeling pleasure swarm over him. He then suddenly pulled you off his member, grabbing your arms he lifted you, getting off the seat and pushing you on so you were lying down on your back.

“Forgive me little one” he purrs as his hands roughly grasp at your trousers and quickly pushes them down, exposing your pants. “I need to feel inside you” He runs his finger up them chuckling feeling the wetness soaking through.

“Do you have a condom?” he asks, looking in your eyes, “We don’t need one” you gasp, the urge to feel him swarming you.

“As you wish,” he says, immediately pushing your pants aside and slipping into you.

You moan feeling him stretch you out but as soon as he was in you he drew back almost completely out of you but snapped his hips back into you. He thrusts with all the strength he has, pushing your body up and down on the seat.

You wrap your hands around his back, your nails digging into his back as your body moves up and down with him. His head settles on your shoulder, where he leaves hickies. Every time he pulls back from kissing and biting you he would whisper things in Sokovian that you couldn’t understand but you were sure were endearing.

His fingers snaked down to find your clit and rubbed it, sending shock waves of pleasure to your brain. You let out a loud moan as you felt the knot in your stomach tightening. As if knowing you were close, Zemo's hips thrust deeper into you, hitting the right spot to make you let loose, your walls clamping down on him as you came. He groans into your neck, feeling your walls flutter around him. His thrusts grew more erratic till you could feel him twitch in you and his seed spill into you.

He pants heavily, finally looking you in the eyes. “I love you little one,” he whispers

You smile, placing a kiss on the side of his face, “I love you too... daddy”

He chuckles and finally gets off you.

The car drive after that was comfortable. Zemo liked to drive with one hand on the wheel while the one hand resting on your thigh, as if reminding you, you belonged to him and only him. Hours later, you finally arrived at the memorial.

Holding your hand, Zemo walks up to the sculpture. He speaks to himself in Sokovian first, getting whatever he needs to say off his chest. After that he turns to you, his eyes capturing yours as they were glazed with tears, “The loss of my country, of my family, broke me y/n, but in some twisted way I am not as upset as I was about it before because it led me to you. I don’t blame you for any of it, I know you had nothing to do with the Sokovian attack just like Sam and James. I’m so glad I could spend these last moments with you.”

You look at him confused, “These last moments?”

You suddenly hear footsteps approaching and you quickly spin around, seeing Bucky appearing behind you. Your head snaps back to Zemo. “Zemo what the hell is going on!?”

He smiles sadly at the floor, then back at you, grabbing your hands. “I’m afraid I must ask something hard of you y/n. Please, can you leave”

The breath left your lungs; it felt as if your entire chest dropped hearing his words.

“... What,”

“I don’t want you to witness what must happen next,”

Your gaze flickers from Bucky who was standing back letting you two have your moment to Zemo who looked desperately at you.

“I’m not leaving you, Zemo,” you state

“Y/n…”

“NO!” you shout

“Y/n I-” Bucky says walking forward, but one death glare from you quickly shuts him up.

“How could you ever ask something of me like that, especially after... after everything that has happened,”

“I should have told you y/n, I’m sorry, but I needed to spend these last moments with you because you are so special to me, I didn’t want to ruin the moment by telling you what was to come,” tears gush from your eyes as you shake your head at him, He steps closer to you, holding your head in his hands, using his thumbs to wipe away your tears.

“And because I love you, I don’t want you to see this. You know there is no other way out of this. It has to happen, and it’s okay, I’m ready. Just like I could with my wife, I know you’ll be able to move on and find someone who will give you everything I can’t and never will because you deserve so much better than me,”

“I love you,” you whisper, the hot tears spilling down your cheeks. Your eyes examine every detail of his face, trying to ingrain everything in your mind.

“I love you little one,”

He pulls you into one last kiss, gentle, but the romantic moment drowned in sadness.

You pull away. Turn around. You don’t look at him. You can’t because you know if you do you won’t be able to leave. You glare at Bucky though you know as well as Zemo it isn’t his fault. You walk a slight distance, just enough so that they are out of sight, and then you collapse on the floor.

Your hands into the ground, pulling at the dirt as you let all your pain out, trying to hold in your sobs. How is it you had fallen for that man so quickly? You loved him; you had risked giving him your heart, and he was pulled so quickly from you. You felt betrayed; he didn’t tell you what he was planning, but you couldn’t bring yourself to hate him for it either.

You don’t know how long you stayed there, but you opened your eyes when you felt a shadow fall over you. Looking up, you saw one member of the Dora Milaje looking down at you.

Your eyes widen in surprise, and then you gasp, connecting the dots. “Zemo'' you whisper, jumping off the ground and running back to where you last saw him. Sure enough, as you arrived you saw him being escorted to the Dora Milaje aircraft.

Hearing your footsteps, Zemo glances over at you. Sadness flickers in his eyes as he stops walking to look at you, but they grasp his shoulder, forcing him to look forward and to keep moving. You watch as they escort him away, till you couldn’t see him anymore.

Bucky walks over to you, looking at the floor guiltily.

“I’ll see him again,” you tell Bucky

“y/n I don’t think-”

“I’ll see him again, Bucky. You can count on that”

Taglist: @sinister-sleep @cable-kenobi @faustlyaccused @chipster-21 @icarusinstatic @yallgotkik @montypythonsholysnail @bunniwritesx @checkurwindow @huntheimpossible @jayxkelsi @avgravy @prestigious-tea @wonderwoman292 @there-goes-thefighter @multiyfandomgirl40 @freyjasamael @ineffablebean @aloyssia @hannahbal-the-fannibal

(I can't tag some of you, I'll keep trying but maybe check your invisibility)

#zemo #helmut zemo #baron zemo #zemo x you #zemo fluff #zemo fanfic #zemo smut #zemo imagine #zemo x y/n #i love zemo #zemo x reader #tfatws #marvel #daniel brühl #mcu

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iwadori · 3 years

Note

Hey! I really liked that atsumu x reader fic where reader's Kita's sister. Could we get a similar fic but instead it's Kuroo dating kenma's equally as socially awkward sister/team manager?

Dating your Brothers teammate PT 2 (Kuroo)

Part One Part Two Part Three

Word count: 1.8K

Genre: angst, fluff

You were a first year in Nekoma high school

You kept to yourself, since you found it hard to make friends

You spent your time in your classes, the library or joining your old brother’s (kenma) practices, although when you did attend you didn’t socialize with all your brother teammates you either sat with a book on in your hand or (if you were lucky) played on Kenma’s nintendo swtich.

When Kuroo first saw you, he thought you were the prettiest girl that he ever laid his eyes on. He was speechless, to say the least. Kenma introduced him and you first as when you started in your first year, since he knew that you two should at least be acquainted with each other as you were all going to be walking to school together.

You found Kuroo very annoying (and that was an understatement) his debonair smirk, his wild wild bedhead and all of his continuous chemistry puns were things you found attractive annoying about him.

Sometimes when you attend practice, you could tell that Kuroo was trying extra hard in an attempt to ‘show off’ to you, but you took no notice since you knew what type of guy Kuroo was (well you thought). Kuroo was a heavy flirt (well everyone he laid eyes on) he also was a giant dick. To you, he was a your average stereotypical teenage boy.

One day, Kenma fell ill with a cold so it just left you alone to walk to school. However, when you left your house, you see the last person you want to see.

“Kenma’s not coming today” you whisper softly, but loud enough for him to hear.

“Yeah I know” he smiled

“So then why are you here?” you ask

“Well I’ll have you know Y/N, I’m here to see you.” he said as you start walking

On your route to school, you don’t say much just letting Kuroo talk about things or asking you questions to which you just nodded or shook your head in reply. As much as you’d like too, you didn’t know how to properly talk to someone like Kuroo, knowing the types of conversations he’s used to having with people, especially other girls.

Reaching the gates of Nekoma, before you could step inside Kuroo pulls you to side and puts his hands on your shoulders “Y/N” he says,

“Yes Kuroo?” you look up at him

“I just want to say I like you..” he says waiting for a response from you

“I-I ...umm” You didn’t really know what to say, although you did find him annoying beyond relief there were some redeeming qualities about Kuroo that you could think of. But would two even work properly?

From your lack of response Kuroo continued, “I’m sure you don’t trust me right now, but Y/N don’t worry I’ll make sure I’ll prove to you that I’m a good guy for you.”

You couldn’t do anything but nod, since you didn’t really know what to say to that. Just then, the bell rings and you were still frozen in place, only snapping out of your trance when you hear Kuroo shout from afar “Don’t worry Y/N im going to do my best to woo you!”

Over the next month, Kuroo is doing his extra best to get you to fall in love with him doing things like: walking you to your lessons, carrying your books for you, bringing you lunch and spending everyday complimenting you to your face and to his friends.

His actions made you swoon, you did feel more comfortable around him, although you haven't confessed your feelings yet, you were planning on to at the date that you reluctantly accepted to go on. You were going to have dinner first at this nice restaurant that you showed interest in ages ago and you were planning to watch a sequel to *insert favourite movie here* since he knew that you really liked the first one.

Before leaving out to the date you looked in the mirror giving yourself a once over. ‘Wow I look hot’ you thought smiling, you were kind of excited to see Kuroo and hear what he had to say about how you looked today. When you were leaving you were startled by Kenma who said

“Where are you going Y/N?” he asked with his eyes focused on his game

“Oh, to the library” you lied your cheeks heating up.

“Sure, you are...” he said

“Bye Kenma” you say putting your hand on the door knob

“Oh Y/N” he calls

“Mhm”

“You look nice today” making you smile wide giving your brother a ‘Thank you’ before finally leaving.

On the way to the restaurant, you had a pep in your step, you felt the happiest you’ve ever been in a while. You stood outside the restaurant and took a few deep breaths to calm the sudden surge of nerves that washed over you. You counted to 10 and walked in the resturaunt freezing at what you saw, there was Kuroo looking as handsome as ever but next to him was a beautiful girl who was tall and had long hair, pretty eyes and a great body who also reminded you of someone you knew (but you just couldn’t put your finger on it.)

She exclaimed “Tetsu!” and pulling into a hug, her boobs pushing against his chest making you cringe. You didn’t know what to do, you couldn’t compete with this European-looking supermodel, especially she already looks really friendly with ‘Tetsu.’

You storm out the restaurant a bit too aggressively, causing attention to yourself making Kuroo look at over to you, cursing himself for knowing how the situation looks to you. He chases after you, but sadly you were already gone.

When you got home, you rushed upstairs to your room with tears in your eyes. You knew this was stupid in the first place ‘Trusting a guy like Kuroo Testurou, how stupid can you be.’

Kenma came into your room, never asking or caring to know what happened as he knew that once you were ready to tell him you would. You and Kenma have always been close, as you’re both as quiet as each other you never felt the need to be surrounded by a bunch of people since both of you were just what each of you needed.

You managed to forget the awfulness of your ‘date’ getting distracted by trying to win in a game of Murder Mystery on roblox and also having fun trolling 6 year olds with your brother. The night was basically ended and before you dozed off to sleep and Kenma went to his own bedroom he said “At least talk to him Y/N” leaving your room not waiting for a response.

As you slept, you thought about what Kenma said ‘what more is their to say to Kuroo?’ You did think about all the possibilites of what could’ve really happened with Kuroo and that girl. Maybe they’re just friends? You didn’t want to think about the possibility of you being wrong. You were never wrong. So you just slept with the assumption of Kuroo being who you thought he was in the first place. A womanizing dick.

As lonely it was, you didn’t tag along with Kenma to the gym and you made sure to wake up earlier so you didn’t have to walk to school with your brother and your boyfriend his best friend.

Kuroo really wanted to talk to you again but you were heavy on the ignoring him. He even asked Kenma for help, but even though your brother was definitely always going to be on your side no matter what, he didn’t want to be in between his bestfriend and his little sister.

When you were walking home from school one day, you were stopped by the pretty girl that was with Kuroo on your ‘date.’ “Hi, my name is Alisa Haiba” she said smiling

‘Haiba’ you thought ‘Where do I know that surname?’ until you realised, “Oh your L-”

“Lev’s sister, that knucklehead is my brother” she laughed

“So what do you need me for?” you ask

“Me and Kuroo are just friends, I know you probably won’t believe me but me and him are NOT dating or anything romantic, he’s as much as a little brother too me then Lev is” she said

“Oh ok, thanks” you didn’t have any more to say and with this newfound information, you did feel more inclined to give Kuroo a chance, and that is if he even wanted one after all the ignoring and avoiding you’ve been doing. Now you feel stupid.

You thought back to all your times with Kuroo, making you smile. You knew what you had to do, you couldn’t shy away from this anymore, you thought about the scenario of him completely rejecting you and to be honest you were content with that as if ‘you don’t ask you don’t get’ or whatever the saying is. Since it was Friday, you knew that Kuroo would be at Kenmas playing smash bros on their switches (and that’s when you would usually spend extra time at the library to avoid him.)

So, you rushed to your house, dramatically opening the door exasperated. “Kuroo!” you shout, not even looking to see if he was there, to your horror there was the whole team over tonight who were quite humored by your shout.

You went red and then shyly whispered “May I speak to Kuroo please?” looking up at him “that’s if you wanted”

“Umm...sure” he said getting up to follow you into your room.

Kenma gave you a reassuring smile that read ‘Everything's going to be ok.’ You led Kuroo to your bedroom and sat on your bed fidgeting.

“I’m sorry”

You both say at the same time, making each other laugh he waits for you to speak, “Kuroo, I’m sorry for misreading the situation and ignoring you and making you out to be a complete dick, I know I’m probably a bit too late but I’d love to ask you on a proper date... one that I won’t run away on this time”

“Y/N, it’s fine. I’m sorry for not actually explaining the situation as I know what it looked like. And yes, I will definitely take you up on that date... that’s if you’ll have a ‘dick’ like me” he jokes

You playfully shove his arm, making you both laugh. You spend the rest of the night with Kuroo in your room catching up on all the things you’ve both missed out on in the time when you were ignoring him.

The date you went on was better than you imagined, Kuroo was definitely a great guy (making you feel even more stupid for assuming differently in the first place.) You developed an amazing relationship with Kuroo, which lead you to eventually become mrs Y/N Kuroo and having Kenma and Kuroo be able to officially call themselves ‘real brothers’

AN: I really actually enjoyed this one, so I hope you do too. <3

#haikyuu x reader comfort #haikyu angst #haikyu x reader #haikyu scenarios #haikyuu fluff #haikyu fluff #haikyu headcanons #kuroo x reader #kuroo headcanons #kuroo scenarios #kuroo angst #kuroo fluff #kenma x reader #kozume kenma #signedwithane😌

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reidsnose · 3 years

Text

neighborly pt 2

overview: just a cutesy little sequel to neighborly :)

genre: f l u f f

a/n: could i have made it longer and more domestic? yes. did i feel like i owed yall a fic and also this would be cute? also yes. as always pllssss lmk what u guys think ab it :)

masterlist

after finding out you were neighbors you also found out you could talk to each other through your vents. though that was fun and you guys adored calling out the others name and announcing that you're coming over, some other tenant living in the building didn't enjoy it as much as you guys did. you believe his exact words were "hey love birds, shut your mouths before i crawl through these vents and do it for you". so that was cool....

but! it resulted in a knock system on your floor and his ceiling.

5 knocks means "can i come over?"

2 knocks means "yes"

1 knock means "no"

the both of you had yet to use the "no" knock. so for the time being you were constantly over at each others apartments. leaving behind all kinds of reminders of each other. in a totally platonic non platonic way. the truth was you guys never said no to the other coming over because you had fallen desperately in love with each other. desperately. and yet neither of you had made the first move.

so after spending yet another day together, you were laying on your backs now, eyes trained to the sky as Spencer pointed out constellations. when the two of you weren't in one of your apartments, you were on the roof of your building. he had shown it to you after a rough case and you two stayed up there talking for hours. from then on it was a place of comfort and joy for the both of you.

Spencer pointed to three stars lined up perfectly next to each other and began telling you the story of Orion. he got to the part where Orion vows to kill all wild animals when you interrupted him, letting out a chuckle.

"how ambitious," you joked.

"i guess thats one way to put it," he chuckled back. "but we all need ambitions. its what keeps us going."

"is that so?" you turned to face him for a second, admiring his side profile.

"yes. your ambitions for example are..." he turned to face you and you looked back at the sky to think.

now it was his turn to admire your beauty. he watched the wheels turn in your head as a small smile cracked on your face.

"my ambition is always to be the hottest person in the grocery store," you replied.

he let out a hearty laugh from deep in his stomach which was absolutely music to your ears. laughs like that weren't common for him. except when he was with you.

"pick a real ambition!" he laughed.

"i don't know! i'm content with what i have. i mean no i'm not but yes i am." you furrowed your own eyebrows at the confusing sentence you just uttered.

you were trying to be honest while also concealing your feelings for him. you were truly happy with what you had in life. friends, a family, a neighbor who works with you and is also your best friend. but that last part is what gets you. because you wanted to be more than friends.

"there isnt anything you want?" he questioned, looking up at the sky, afraid that if he stared at you for too long he'd lean in and kiss you.

"i just feel like we're lucky as is."

"us specifically?"

"i meant in general but us too. the odds of just existing are-"

"about 1 in 10 to the 2,685,000th power."

"exactly! and then i get lucky enough to exist at the same time as you..." you trailed off, looking up to avoid crying. "and then we get to actually meet each other. and work together! and in some crazy twist of events we're even neighbors! i just feel so...lucky."

you weren't sure why you were getting emotional about it, but truth be told, you didn't put into perspective how grateful you were until he asked.

Spencer turned to look at you, and somehow you were even gorgeous when you were on the verge of tears.

and the way your mind worked? don't get him started. he was, quite literally, a genius, but he had never met someone with a mind like yours. funny, sweet, smart, interesting, AND grateful.

grateful for him.

"y/n.." he breathed, completely unable to put into words how much you mean to him.

you turned to look at him, feelings you've been repressing bubbling in your chest as his eyes searched your own.

"whats your ambition?" you tried to change the subject off of what you'd just said.

"you." he whispered, heart pounding in his ears.

that was it.

you couldn't take it anymore. simply couldn't take it.

after almost two years of knowing him. after feeling yourself slowly fall in love with every moment you spent with him.

from when he came to knock on your door and found out you were neighbors.

every carpool to and from work. every sleep over and no-invitation-needed hangout. every night you two fell asleep on the couch at one of your apartments, tangled up together. every teasing comment from the team that made you both turn red. from knocking on walls and annoying your neighbors. all the countless nights you talked with him and the stars.

after all of this, that was the final straw.

that. was. it.

you leaned in crashing your lips with his. he kissed back almost immediately, skipping a beat from the initial shock of what was happening. you felt like you were floating, heat spreading all through your body before seeking refuge on your cheeks.

Spencer was sure this was the best feeling in the world. nothing would ever amount tp this moment. in fact, he had never been happier. he must be dreaming. he wasn't lying. everything he wants in life points back to you. you are truly his ambition.

you pulled away from each other, breathless and blushing like a couple of teenagers. a soft silence filled the air between you. such a perfect moment. Spencer reached up and tapped 3 knocks lightly on your forehead.

"what does three mean?" you chuckled, going over the knock system in your head.

"i love you." he answered cautiously. wasting no time you tapped 4 knocks to his forehead. "what does four mean?"

you stifled a smile before speaking.

"i love you too."

ultra mega super cool taglist:

@mac99martin @imhreid @spencersmagic @hollydaisy23 @raelady1184 @a-broken-pact @padfootswife @hey-there-angels @star-stuff-in-the-cosmos @sonnydoesrandomshit @coffeereid-deactivated20210303 @averyhotchner @laurakirsten0502 @reidyoulikeabook @rem-ariiana @spencerreid9 @vampire-overlord @takeyourleap-of-faith @s1utformgg @violetspoetic

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #reid #spencer reid fluffy #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fanfiction #dr spencer reid #dr reid #bau #behavioral analysis unit #criminal minds fluff

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blouisparadise · 3 years

Photo

Here is a list of amazing bottom Louis fics that were posted or completed during the month of January. Between the third month of the Bottom Louis Fic Fest and all the other fics that authors posted throughout the month, it’s clear that this was a great way to start off the year of bottom Louis fics! Happy reading!

1) Leave It All Here In This Bed | Explicit | 1071 words

One of Louis’s many sleepless nights.

2) Games Are Only Fun If You Win | Explicit | 1554 words

Louis and Harry have a bet. If Louis wins that means he's off laundry duty. If he loses well.

Let's just say Harry won't be complaining.

3) If It Makes You Feel Alive | Explicit | 1691 words

Louis is horny one night on the tour bus so he and Harry fuck while trying not to get caught by the others.

4) Beg Me Silently | Explicit | 2140 words

“So, your boyfriend…is he planning a magic night for you at home?”

Louis snorts. “He’s not, actually. He’s pretty hardworking, you see, so he comes home late.”

“Such a shame.” Harry walks towards Louis, so close that they’re sharing the same space. “You’re so beautiful, Louis. If you were mine, I wouldn’t make you wait for me.”

5) Birthday Wishes | Explicit | 2895 words

Note: This is part 3 of this series.

The one where Harry takes Louis to dinner for his birthday, and gifts him with a vibrating butt plug he wears to the restaurant. Fluffy birthday sex follows.

6) New Year, New Beginnings | Explicit | 3577 words

Note: This is part 4 of this series.

The one where Louis and Harry unexpectedly end up at the same New Year's party. Louis makes Harry jealous, and Harry shows him just how bad of an idea that is.

7) Heaven In These Sheets | Explicit | 3557 words

Bunny Hybrid Louis has it out for his boyfriend’s phone.

8) Pits Of Love | Explicit | 3934 words

Harry smells Louis' sweat for the first time after they've moved in together. His alpha goes a bit wild.

9) First Blow Hits You Cold | Explicit | 3986 words

Louis wears a shirt with a big ass H on it for his livestream, and Harry really, really likes it.

10) Close Your Eyes And Surrender To Me | Explicit | 4209 words

Note: This is the sequel to this fic.

Harry hummed and pressed his lips to Louis’ forehead. “I am very stressed, but I also know you’re stressed and tired too.” He glanced to Louis’ face seeing the confirming nod. “But, if you’re sure you’re up for it.” Harry smirked, waiting for Louis to say it was okay before he laid the boy down on the bed and hovered over him. “I really love this color on you. You look so pretty. Always do.” He spoke quietly, rubbing his hands over Louis’ soft thighs and moving them to his tummy. He then moved his hands up to Louis’ hair. It had been a while since Louis’ last haircut and it was now long enough that he could tie it up in little ponytails and even little braids. Louis currently had two hair clips in his hair. One was gold with little stars on it and the other gold with a moon. “I love your hair princess. Do you feel pretty?” He asked.

11) P Is For | Explicit | 4349 words

Note: The pairing for this fic is Louis/Pedro Pascal.

Louis and Pedro, winter in New York, a coffee machine, and bilingualism.

12) Pull Out Your Heart | Explicit | 5028 words

He wants to apologise, the five letters sit on the tip of his tongue but he does not. It means nothing to either of them.

13) Loving You's the Antidote | Explicit | 5070 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest! Check out the full collection here.

Prompt 302: Alpha Harry & Omega Louis are divorced but still spend each other’s heat/rut together because they only really trust each other but things get complicated when Louis (or Harry, author’s choice) spend it with someone else. Cue angst with a happy ending.

14) Sweet Talk With A Hint Of Sin | Explicit | 5095 words

“What the hell are you wearing?” Harry had the nerve to ask, and Louis bristled slightly.

“Well, what the bloody fuck does it look like?” Louis snapped, breaking his seductive demeanor momentarily because he was wearing this ridiculous get-up for Harry. He had thought that this would go over well.

And now that the moment was here, it was going anything but.

Harry’s brain seemingly malfunctioned, completely unbothered by the fact that he was now standing in an actual pool of red wine, or that there might even be broken glass directly next to his feet. He was focused solely on his boy splayed out on their bed. “Are those ears?”

“Yes,” Louis mumbled, reaching up to finger the burnt orange fur of the fox ears. “And a tail,” he said, shifting to lay on his stomach so that his perky ass was on display, showing the way his lube slicked hole had been prepped and was now hugging the impressively sized plug attached to the fox tail.

15) New York's Beauty | Mature | 5274 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest! Check out the full collection here.

Prompt 104: AU where Harry is an alpha wolf and Louis is a hybrid kitten. They were roommates. While they were arguing about something stupid, Harry wanted to bend Louis over the kitchen table and knot him right there. He slowly accepted his feelings and extreme desire for Louis, so he started to tease the hybrid until he would beg Harry to fuck him. They fall in love.

Louis needs to feel comfortable with the camera so harry fucks him until he is blushing and calm and gentle.

16) I Went Astray To Make It Okay And He Made It Easy | Not Rated | 5537 words

Note: This is a sequel to #17 on this list.

Harry makes sure to put on his blue truckers hat that has 'if you ain't a fisherman, you ain't shit' printed on it to hold back his hair out of his eyes. He remembers when he came home after buying it and Louis went on for days about much he looked like such a Dad. He made sure to fuck him hard that night and show him that he's a fucking DILF not just a Dad.

17) You Make My Heart Beat Like The Rain | Explicit | 6611 words

Note: This is the prequel to #16 on this list.

"You're stunning, eh?" Harry whispers, his Canadian accent thick with lust. It usually slips out when he gets horny because he knows it turns Louis on. Harry presses his lips into the curve of his neck. His hot breath makes Louis shiver. He opens his eyes and sees Harry's bigger, tattooed arms wrapped around him, completely engulfing his smaller frame—and, fuck, maybe he is up for it.

Why does his boyfriend have to be such a fucking DILF? He blames it on a twitter thread he read a few weeks ago.

18) Baby, Let Me Love You Goodbye | Explicit | 6837 words

Harry and Louis are going through a divorce after being together for 10 years, so Louis comes over to collect his things, and, well…what’s a little goodbye sex, just one last time?

19) A Place To Call Home | Mature | 8113 words

The thing is, he’s pretty sure he’s found home in a person in his life, someone who’s been essential in everything he’s done since he was seven years old. Through every broken bone, through every breakup, through every failure; through every triumph, personal and professional, and every goal he has scored in his time in Man U, there’s been someone there for it all.

That’s his best mate. Harry. A twenty-two year old with the kindest heart known to man, a slow drawl that is entirely too endearing, with the dreams to open up his own flower shop. A quiet and earnest boy with those he doesn’t know, and open and honest and absolutely lovely with those he loves.

It all hits him, really, the night of their final game of the Premier League. Again, timing is not his forté. They’re gearing up, ready to hit the field for the second half against Liverpool that determines their ranking in the League, when his brain decides to come online (after seventeen years, apparently), and conveniently supply him with the revelation that oh yeah, you’re kind of in love with your best friend.

20) To Love Without Reason | Explicit | 8854 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest! Check out the full collection here.

“Come on in, soldier,” Louis pats Harry’s chest and walks away, leaving Harry to follow behind.

Harry stands in the living room, looking around at Louis’ dwelling. Family pictures placed high on a shelf, certificates of Louis’ practice, and other trinkets that make Harry entirely too nostalgic.

“I have to warn you,” Louis says as he puts the kettle on, the water droplets from his hair trickling down the golden skin of his back. “The door jams if you lock it so you'll have to leave it ajar.”

Harry acknowledges with a soft hum, too entranced by Louis’ glistening skin to form a coherent reply.

21) It's A Game We Play In The Sheets | Explicit | 9426 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest! Check out the full collection here.

“Louis is… He’s a boy I’ve been talking to.” He bit his lip, grin evident. “After I watched one of his videos during a Harry Reacts a few weeks ago I messaged him and…”

His sentence was cut short by the sound of a timid little “Hi” being whispered into his ears.

Harry closed his eyes for a second, pausing to take in the online presence of the real-life fairy, before he opened them and smiled. “Hey Lou. Ready to play with me?”

22) One Track Mind | Explicit | 9911 words

“You have a lot of friends, huh?”

Harry nods again. “A few.” The muscles of his bicep flex under Louis’ touch, and the alpha looks a bit drunk from the feeling, his eyes blinking slower and lips quirking at the corners. He’s leaning in, his alpha scent surrounding Louis from all sides.

“Mm,” Louis hums, squeezing his fingers tight, just to hear the sharp way Harry inhales. Then, when Harry is least expecting it, Louis returns the earlier sentiment—leaning up on his tiptoes and pressing his weight into Harry for balance, drawing his lips up close to Harry’s ear, and whispering, “Why don’t you go tell them goodnight.”

23) See You When I Get Home | Explicit | 10308 words

"What are you thinking about?" He repeats Louis' question from earlier.

"You." Louis' reply comes out in a moan. It shocks Harry, and his brain scrambles for the right thing to do, the right thing to say. He doesn't even know how to feel, or if he even heard Louis correctly.

"Me?"

24) Floating | Explicit | 10435 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest! Check out the full collection here.

The one where Louis has control over water in every form but he doesn't know what to do with it. Harry is here to guide him.

25) I'm At Your Mercy Now (And I'm Ready To Begin) | Teen & Up | 10552 words

Where Louis' soulmark was leaked, Harry keeps his private. They're both famous popstars. Louis is waiting for his soulmate, Harry has a feeling it's him but Louis is completely oblivious.

26) You And I 'Till The Day We Die | Explicit | 10807 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest! Check out the full collection here.

Prompt 124: A fic inspired by Groupie Love by Lana Del Rey, where Harry is a Rockstar and Louis is his cute little boyfriend who tries to hide himself in the middle of the crowd. (Preferably set in the 80s)

27) Moonlit Sky Over Gentle Waters | Explicit | 11377 words

Harry left his hometown to sail the seven seas and returns seven years later, yearning for something — or rather, someone — that he isn't sure he can have.

28) Late Night Devil Put Your Hands On Me (And Never, Never, Ever Let Go) | Explicit | 11524 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest! Check out the full collection here.

Harry is a demon that feeds off of people’s nightmares. He finds his next meal in Louis’ dreams where he changes and molds them to become scary nightmares. Soon harry learns Louis is a lucid dreamer- he can act on his own in his dreams. They interact in the real world and have sex in the dream world. when the demon catches feelings for louis, he wants to live.

29) If You're Feeling Lonely | Explicit | 12807 words

The guest list is on the desk. Louis runs through it and stops a third of the way down, a familiar name catching his attention.

Harry Styles.

All he needs to do is confirm whether Harry Styles is the same Alpha whose scent left such a memorable impression on his body.

30) Want You To Play With Me | Explicit | 14335 words

"I'm quite not finished with you yet." Harry whispered right on the shell of his ears and squeezed the girth of his cock, making Louis shudder a sloppy puff of air as the tickling sensation ran through his spine, Harry was intoxicating. "Let me play with you a little more, Lou. I promise I'll give you what you want. Be my good boy, hm?" He slowly annunciated every word and licked a warm line on the nape of Louis' neck — Louis curled in his arms at that. Submitting himself a little bit more.

"Always wanna be your good boy." Louis whispered back and enveloped Harry's hand in his.

31) No Good Unless It's Real | Explicit | 17021 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest! Check out the full collection here.

Louis is a very busy farmer who’s just trying to make it to his next nap and Harry’s the new hot vet that’s determined to infiltrate every area of his life.

32) Tennis Court | Explicit | 18285 words

Louis and Harry are co-workers and Louis is sure Harry hates him because he always refuses to help him with his heats.

33) Joker Is Wild | Explicit | 18444 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest! Check out the full collection here.

Prompt 390: A reality show AU where Louis, Harry, Liam, Zayn and Niall are selected to stay at confined in a luxury mansion for 1 month, where they are required to have explicit, graphic sex at all times, like a porn Big Brother kind of show. Every week there are several different sexual tasks and trials that they must overcome together, which all ends in orgasms for all of them. When the boys all discover Louis is strictly a bottom, and a slutty one at that, they all can’t wait to get their hands on him. Bonus if other hot celebs are there too, like Shawn Mendes, for example. Includes lots of hard gay sex, rimming, blowjobs, gang bangs, ass worshipping (Louis ass, of course) and double penetration.

34) Baby, Let Me Love You Goodbye | Not Rated | 20249 words

Louis almost calls Harry daddy. Cue denial, feelings, and way too much dirty talk.

35) Give So Much (Not Enough) | Mature | 24610 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest! Check out the full collection here.

“For my little lion,” Louis slid the smoothie bowl in front of Oscar, letting him dig in with his little hands. “And for daddy.”

He didn’t process the bowl in front of him, the push across the table causing a raspberry to roll off and fall on his lap, because Louis calling himself mummy may make him feel all sorts of mushy emotions, but Louis addressing Harry as daddy was suddenly having a very different effect on him. Since when did Louis saying daddy out loud render him speechless?

“Daddy’s still sleepy, but we’re up bright and early right Ossie?” Louis’ cooing shook him out of his daze. The man coughed, picking the raspberry off his lap and swallowing it with unintentional, and very unnecessary, eye contact with Louis. “Well, is it better than your protein smoothies and why?”

Harry chuckled, spooning another heap of the strawberry banana goodness into his mouth, “Way better sweetheart.”

A friends to lovers au with tons of mama Louis and domesticity.

36) Short And Sweet | Explicit | 29658 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest! Check out the full collection here.

Louis is a shy university student in a world scarce of male omegas. He's always dreamt of having an alpha despite his sheltered upbringing, fantasizing about being loved and cared for. He's immediately smitten by the mysterious alpha with curly hair, broad shoulders, and the addictive coffee scent.

37) Under Thorn And Bramble | Explicit | 31931 words

Note: The pairing of this fic is Louis/OMC. This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest! Check out the full collection here.

Prompt 445: A historical AU where Louis is working as a servant on a farm. The family that owns the farm is exceedingly cruel to him and he is often exhausted and in pain from his work. A mysterious stranger boards at the farm and is very intrigued by Louis, but Louis doubts his interest in genuine. Any pairing fine.

38) Pink In The Night | Explicit | 32324 words

His finger was tapping on Louis’ chat before Harry could even think about it, eyes reading over the last text he’d sent Louis. I miss you. Do you miss me?

Harry had felt so pathetic that December night, alone in the dark room of the Japanese apartment he’d been staying at, the strong smell of alcohol clinging to his clothes.

Louis hadn’t replied, but Harry wasn’t surprised; he had texted Louis a few times before while he’d been away, but there had never been a response.

It pained him to admit that this was their new normal.

39) Coeur De Pirate | Explicit | 34207 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest! Check out the full collection here.

He tilts his chin up as the Captain strides across the deck, his footfalls falling loudly against the planks. The crew watches them from afar.

Stepping into his space, the Captain wraps an arm around Louis’ waist and pulls him in. He lowers his head to breathe his words against Louis’ cheeks. “I won,” he whispers, “I’ve come to claim my prize.”

40) If The Sun Don't Shine | Explicit | 36330 words

In a world where you meet your soulmates in dreams, Louis has spent the last three years going to bed hoping to finally meet his, only to end up disappointed time and time again. It all changes with a violin.

41) The Pirate And The Piper | Explicit | 38396 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest! Check out the full collection here.

The one where Harry is Hook, Louis is Pan, and nothing is what it seems.

42) Begged And Borrowed Time | Mature | 40198 words

Prompt 60: Time travel AU where Louis somehow gets thrown back in time and ends up in the dark ages, during the reign of the Styles family.

43) I Ain’t Gonna Fence You In | Mature | 40645 words

Louis Tomlinson is a 18 year old city boy who is forced to spend his summer before his senior year at his aunts farm. There, he meets Harry, a 19 year old country boy his aunt hired to help around the farm.

Maybe the farm isn't the worst place to fall in love?

44) Don't Want No Other Shade Of Blue | Explicit | 43285 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest! Check out the full collection here.

Prompt 339: it was foretold that Alpha Prince Harry would be mated to a beautiful male omega with eyes that could rival the stone amethyst, but Omega Prince Louis refuses to believe it.

45) No Easy Choice, But You’re Mine | Explicit | 44963 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest! Check out the full collection here.

Louis is an omega hitman with one last job that goes a little sideways. Harry is the alpha bartender that looks a little too closely and cares a little too much.

46) Sedative Duty | Explicit | 46588 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest! Check out the full collection here.

Pop-star of the moment Louis Tomlinson is on his third-world tour. He decides to hire renowned professional dominant Harry Styles to unwind while on the road. In an effort not to raise suspicion by the crew, fans, and press, Harry pretends to be his bodyguard. He ends up being far more than that.

47) Just Always Be Waiting for Me | Explicit | 46837words

Note: Please be sure to check tags for any trigger warnings.

Harry Styles is a librarian at a private school who is not very devoted to his job but is very devoted to Louis Tomlinson, the resident English teacher, and has been ever since they met six years ago beneath a lonely streetlight.

Louis Tomlinson is a self confessed bookworm whose passion for Peter Pan, the literary classics and Harry Styles' happiness knows no bounds. He's self sacrificing, somewhat self loathing and haunted by a trauma he can't talk about.

Mutual pining abounds in this fic where a Peter Pan quote is never just a Peter Pan quote, caretaking is a love language and a platonic nude is never actually platonic. Louis has a kiss that belongs to Harry but he also has a painful past that might end up hurting them both.

48) Since The Future | Explicit | 48947 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest! Check out the full collection here.

"It's done."

The words were barely above a whisper when they left Harry's mouth, but they hit Louis with the force of a freight train. It was done. Holy fuck. They had created a time machine. And tomorrow, they were travelling to the future.

49) Dirty Laundry Looks Good On You | Explicit | 50581 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest! Check out the full collection here.

When Louis Tomlinson finds his clothes lying in a sad soapy mess on top of the washing machine in which they are supposed to be, he acts upon his anger and retaliates. What he doesn’t expect is having to deal with a six-feet tall, curly-haired and dimpled man in return, who seems to arouse confusing feelings within him and to make his life take an unexpected turn for the better (or worse?).

50) Hamartia | Explicit | 66970 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest! Check out the full collection here.

Six years is a long time for Louis to mend his heart back and erase every lingering, stubborn memory of his ex-lover, Harry Styles. But when news of the war being over spreads across the world like wildfire, and he stumbles upon the alpha he vowed himself to never see ever again, he realises that not even a lifetime will be enough for him to pick up the scattered, broken parts of his soul. He's far from expecting the alpha he loved to be struggling in the same way.

All the ointments in the world might never soothe the pain out, but it doesn't take long for them both to come to the conclusion that, maybe, the only medicine to their heartbreaks are what caused them in the first place.

51) Feeling Borrowed, Always Blue | Explicit | 68214 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest! Check out the full collection here.

Louis has been dreaming of his wedding since he was young - he just never expected it to happen like this. words

52) Mind Over Matter (You Under Me) | Explicit | 73825 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest! Check out the full collection here.

It’s dark outside when Harry finishes practice for the day.

53) Rogue | Not Rated | 94992 words

Louis is a rogue Omega who's suffered through rejection and abuse for the biggest part of his life. He stumbles onto the Styles pack, quite possibly the kindness one he's ever met.

54) Chandeliers And Fake Smiles | Mature | 145010 words

On the brink of winning their first Grammy; up-and-coming rock band One Direction find themselves in the midst of the biggest scandal of their career - right before tickets for their world tour go on sale. in order to save their reputation, Louis Tomlinson must find it in his heart to forgive pop singer and heartthrob Harry Styles after his first impression rubbed him entirely the wrong way. after all, they cannot sell a relationship if it looks like they hate each other.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

You can find other monthly roundup fic rec lists here.

#bottom louis #top harry #blp fic recs #monthly fic recs #fic recs #larry

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slippinmickeys · 3 years

Text

A Sequel: Amazon Archeologist/Scientist AU, Part 2:

You can read on AO3 here.

1. “How does it feel to have cured cancer?” asked Kathy Lee. Scully couldn’t take her eyes off the rim of the host’s wine glass; it was smeared with lipstick, and the wine contained therein had legs, running down the bell curve of the glass in thin amber stripes.

It was oddly, surreally quiet on the unnaturally blazing stage -- multiple cameras pointing at them, a team of professionals sitting in dead silence in the dark spread out below.

“I only wish I’d done it sooner,” Scully said, going off script a bit. “I think of the people that died while we were still searching, still researching, while the studies were being checked and… I just wish I’d found it sooner.”

The host’s face softened, and she reached forward and put her hand over Scully’s on the arm of the chair where it was resting. She gave it a squeeze and Hoda took over, “Up next, the group BTS is going to sing us their latest single!”

There was a dull bell that rang off to Scully’s right and the stage manager stepped forward, headphones clomped over his ears, his mic slung low around his jaw.

“We’re clear!” he called, “Sixty seconds!”

The show would be cutting to a co-host standing at a stage set-up outside 30 Rockefeller Center. Scully reached up to unhook the mic attached to her lapel, and a trio of sound technicians descended on her. In ten seconds, she was relieved of all equipment, and she was left swaying in the funnel of the Fresnels on the too bright stage.

“You did great,” she heard from her left, and the show’s host winked at her, and retook her hand, leading her to the dim cool just off stage.

She found Mulder standing before her once her eyes adjusted, just outside the reach of the stage lights, looking nervous and out of place, his hands clasped behind his back. He was wearing a turtleneck and a suit coat, looking every inch the tenured professor.

“And who’s this?” Kathie Lee asked, looking at Mulder brightly.

Scully shook herself, trying to remember her manners. It wasn’t always easy, having spent so much time in the field.

“Uh, this is Mulder,” she said, “Dr. Fox Mulder. My, um… my fiancé.”

The television host smiled warmly at Mulder and clasped his hand.

“I’ve heard the story of your meeting,” Kathie Lee said, “It’s a real pleasure.”

“I’m a big Giants fan,” Mulder said, giving her hand a firm shake, “the pleasure’s all mine.”

The host winked at him and then stalked off, and Scully exhaled, falling a little into Mulder’s side.

“I’m glad that’s over,” she said.

“The price you pay for changing the course of human history,” Mulder mumbled, squeezing her into his side and kissing her hairline. He led her off the soundstage and into a waiting limo.

2. It had been a whirlwind since the Nobel Prize Award ceremony in Stockholm. It was cold in Sweden in December — especially to a person who’d spent years in the humid jungles off the beaten paths of the world, and she and Mulder both felt out of place and perpetually in the clasp of a bone-clutching chill.

“I just want to be back in the field,” she’d whisper to him, and he would kiss her hand. With the prize money, they could buy a house, start a family — but they both would rather be in a jungle somewhere, sweating into the other’s skin on a too-narrow cot, in a too-hot clime. There was no science when they were in the cradle of the other’s hips, there was just each other. Sex made life more simple. Sex made life more fun. But sex didn’t cure cancer. Pleurotus Mulderatus did that, and the world wanted to hear about it.

3.She had a free ticket. Any university, any assignment.

“I feel pressure,” she told him, her nose pressed into his ear. “What do you do after you’ve cured cancer?” she asked, earnestly, “there’s nowhere to go but down.”

He’d taken her to Rhode Island, to his family’s cottage in Quonochontaug, creaky and drafty and smelling of mildew and old pine. No one had visited in decades and everything needed to be cleaned and aired out.

They kayaked and frolicked in the waves, drank coffee in adirondack chairs and listened to the pinched squawks of hovering sea birds. They’d find a place in the dune grass, down low where the wind wouldn’t catch them. They’d soak up the sun and then go into the cottage and make love between the knotty pine walls, their moans absorbed by the thick shag carpet laced with the grit of sand, faded drunkards path quilts nailed to the walls.

“Down is a state of mind,” Mulder would murmur into her ear, “Up is fighting gravity. You have nowhere to be but here. You have no one to impress but me.”

He would catch her lips with his own and they would sink into each other gratefully.

4.Mulder was burning pancakes in the kitchen when there was a dull knock on the screen door.

Scully was laughing at Mulder’s culinary ineptitudes when she turned toward the sound, her laugh fading when a well-done-up woman appeared on the stoop, holding her hand up to shield her eyes from the sun’s glare, trying to see into the murky depths of the house.

“Are you press?” Scully asked through the screen door glumly, her mood taking a nose dive.

“I’m Samantha,” the woman said, and it took Scully a full five seconds for her synapses to fire, to figure out the identity of the visitor.

“Oh my god,” Scully said, swinging the door open to admit the polished woman waiting on the other side. The door itself was swollen with humidity and didn’t shut all the way -- it caught like there was a second latch. “Come in, come in!”

Samantha had a full head of thick hair just like her brother, but it was curled and tawny, streaks of not-quite-blonde highlights running from the roots. She was wearing Lily Pulitzer pastels, and would have looked at home in a sun hat or on the pages of Coastal Living.

“You must be Dana,” she breathed, smiling widely. Scully nodded and looked around self-consciously. “God, this place hasn’t changed in thirty years,” Samantha finished, shaking her head ruefully. “Where’s Fox?”

“Kitchen,” Scully said, inclining her head toward the cooking space, though she knew Samantha knew right where to go.

“You’re using the cast iron?” Samantha said boldly and apropos of nothing, stepping into the sunny kitchen, “God, I hope you seasoned that thing.”

Mulder’s face brightened at seeing his sister, and he turned to her fully, enveloping her in a hug, a greasy spatula in one hand, held out so as not to soil her clothes.

“Like you can cook,” he drawled, turning back to the smoking pan.

“I know enough to hire a caterer,” she said, plunking down in an olive green vinyl kitchen chair, looking at ease but totally out of place in the dated decor of the cottage. “So. Who do I have to fuck to get a mimosa around here?”

“Me,” said a voice from the entryway. The screen door slammed ineffectually shut and Scully’s own sister Melissa stood awkwardly in the slant of sun showing through it, holding several plastic bags laden with glass bottles and juices, a hopeful, nervous smile on her face.

“Missy?!” Scully squeaked, and Mulder looked to the door, his face chagrined and pleased as Scully launched herself at her sister, wrapping herself in the earthy patchouli smell of the woman, the plastic bags clunking to the floor at their feet.

XxXxXxXxXxX

“I got ordained online,” Melissa said, drinking a Bellini from a yellow smiley-face mug, her feet tucked under her on a rough-hewn dining chair. “It’s perfectly legal.”

“But it’s--” Scully started, then abandoned her argument. She looked to Mulder desperately, who smiled and plunked a cup of hot coffee in front of her.

“It was only an idea,” he said, squeezing her hand and sliding an ancient sugar dish in front of her. The crinkles around his eyes had hardened in the ocean-reflected sun, lending him an air of easy humor she hadn’t witnessed much of in the jungle.

“Don’t you need two witnesses?” she asked, realizing how lame it sounded the second the words were out of her mouth.

Samantha leaned over and grabbed her hand, squeezing her fingers in such a way that made her feel bolstered and secure. “Not in Rhode Island,” Mulder’s sister told her, looking her square in the eye.

“We don’t have to do it,” Mulder said, still standing at her side, “but I thought…”

She felt overwhelmed with emotion, thinking of her father, who hadn’t lived long enough to witness her greatest achievement, which would have saved his life.

“Mom sent her wedding dress,” Melissa said, holding up a garment bag -- it was a yellowed ivory in the kitchen sun, the zipper up its middle aged and brittle.

XxXxXxXxXxX

They exchanged vows on the beach in front of the old cottage in a whipping Atlantic wind. Gulls hovered overhead and the sun was as bright as a brass doorknob, the air clearer than glass.

Samantha had read a poem by an amateur poet named Tim Pratt called Scientific Romance (Mulder having confessed to her later that night that it only seemed right to have had a reading replete with scientific notation for a wedding between two people such as themselves). Melissa had read words as old as the institution of marriage itself and they exchanged simple rings and had eyes only for each other. Scully handed her bouquet -- a small posy of wild swamp azalea and yellow flag that Melissa had picked the hour before -- to her new sister in law as she strode up the peeling wooden steps of the house. Mulder had insisted upon carrying her over the threshold and Melissa and Samantha had stood back thoughtfully, and were now sitting closely on the beach, heads bent together, talking in hushed tones.

Scully didn’t know quite what to do with herself, dressed in old lace in the heavy salt air, her left ring finger feeling as heavy and pendulous as an old bell. Mulder wrapped his arms around her from behind and told her they never had to leave.

“Nobel Laureates live in Rhode Island, too, you know,” he whispered into the hair behind her ear.

“Mmm,” she said happily, watching her sister and his dig their feet in the gritty sand.

He kissed the skin where her shoulder met her neck. “Life can be as simple as the state motto.”

“Which is?” she asked.

“Hope.”

5. She stood above the riverbank, the grass a trampled, muddy squelch. A monkey called from overhead, a high primate shriek that echoed through the canopy. Its compatriots soon joined in, the welcoming committee announcing the rare arrival of a visitor.

He sat in the back of the approaching hollowed-out canoe, his knees practically to his neck, the lanky bones of him jutting out at all angles. He wore jeans and chambray, all wrong for the climate, but the blue set off the dark mink of his hair, and his eyes -- as green as the river upon which his boat perched -- caught hers from twenty yards away -- they held her gaze as the craft glided to shore, and he leapt off with the galumphing grace of a power forward.

“Dr. Scully I presume,” he said, finding his balance on the slippery shore and reaching a hand forward. She clasped it gratefully, then brought it to her belly, which was protruding out like a carved fertility statue, a life-sized goddess, gravid and full. “I thank God, doctor, that I have been permitted to see you,” he finished, and they embraced on the shores of the jungle river, perspiring and damp and finally, finally feeling at home.

#fanfic #msr #my fic #the x-files #au #prompts #drabble ish

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13uswntimagines · 4 years

Text

The One Where Lindsey *Accidentally*Breaks the Internet (Lindsey Horan x Medic!Reader)

Request: reader is the medic for the thorns and her and lindsey are secretly together and lindsey accidentally lets it slip one day via instagram or something? and the the fans go crazy bc they’ve already been shipping them since lindsey flirts with R every time she can?

Author’s note: So this was super fun to write and there will totally be a sequel like way far down the road. I hope you enjoy it. I should also mention that the reader has an M.D and is the team doctor for the Thorns and the USWNT.

Lindsey Horan was a lot of things. A fantastic soccer player. A loving girlfriend and a woman with a bad habit. She was a tease through and through, loving the effect simple actions could have on both you and the fans. And since quarantine, taking cute photos of you had gotten even easier. Though you hadn’t outright admitted to dating, the fans were nearly certain that the two of you were quarantining together.

Sure they had been suspicious before, with all of your girlfriends flirting during both thorns and national team camp. The middy just couldn’t seem to help herself from distracting you from your medical staff duties, and the fans had noticed. But with Lindsey’s most recent post of you cuddled up with a cup of coffee on her balcony, the Portland skyline in the background, had just about sent them over the edge. It was also the reason for a very excited Somnett’s FaceTime ahead of their scheduled Instagram live.

“So how had quarantining with Y/n been,” Emily asked with a teasing edge to her voice. Lindsey sighed, rolling her eyes and settling back on the couch of your shared apartment. A wide smile broke across her face at the sight of you set up with all your practice medical stuff at the kitchen table, your glasses perched on your nose, a pen tucked behind your ear.

“Good, she’s so fucking adorable,” She said breathlessly, ignoring Emily’s loud cackle of amusement.

“Have you seen the Instagram fans?” Emily asked sobering.

“Yeah, they’ve been going crazy over photos from like 2 years ago,” Lindsey smirked, thinking of her most recent post, and how you had pulled out a photo of you and her in France to one-up her.

“I mean, your girl did a post for Horan hump day…” Sonnett said raising an eyebrow. So maybe both of you sucked at subtlety.

“She also did Tobin Tuesday and Sonnett Sunday,” Lindsey laughed, shaking her head. You may have been on the Medical staff for both the Thorns and the national team, but you minored in photography, and absolutely loved to show your photos off.

“Yeah, but we’re talking about the picture of baby you two. Don’t act like you don’t love to tease them,” Emily snickered, and Lindsey winced slightly. So maybe the photo that she had chosen was from college you on your trip to Paris the week you two met, and maybe in return, you had posted one of her just after you both made the national team in your respective fields.

“I like to tease Y/n, the fans are just a bonus,” Lindsey shrugged, smiling at Emily’s laugh. The two of you were so gooey with your love, hence why the fans were very much onto you.

“Hey babe, can you come help me for a second?” You called out from the table, glancing over the top of your glasses towards your girlfriend.

“Duty calls,” She said in a dramatic voice, moving to hang up the phone.

“Wait, I wanna say hi,” Emily pouted. She knew you could hear her, but she hadn’t actually gotten to see you. You were her best friend and it sucked that she was trapped in Georgia while you and her other best friend got to ham it up together. Lindsey rolled her eyes at the dramatic woman and heaved herself off the couch.

“What’s up, baby?” She asked, setting the phone down on top of one of the many open textbooks so Emily could see you both and wrapped her arm around your shoulders. You sigh, leaning back into her.

“Can you hand me that pack of thread?” You hum, pointing with your forceps hand towards a box on the other side of the table.

“Are you sewing up a chicken?” Emily questioned, her face scrunching in disgust as she took in the scene before her. You were sitting in what the team had deemed your doctor garb (meaning your hair on a bun, glasses perched firmly on your nose, and exams gloves slipped over your hands) with a dismembered chicken in front of you. From the look of the tools on your hands and the half put together chicken, Emily could only assume what you were doing.

“Yeah, I need to practice so I can do one on the fly,” You mumbled, gesturing where you wanted Lindsey to place the new needle and thread pack and puckering your lips to kiss her in thanks.

“Didn’t you do that enough in med school?” Emily teased, her eyes shining. It was rare that the team got to see soft interactions like this between the two of you, and frankly how adorable the two of you were was criminal.

“Hi to you too, Sonnett,” You stuck your tongue out at the woman, finally taking your eyes off your ‘patient’ for the first time. Her cackle brought a smile to your face.

“I’ll just be in the other room. Sonnett and I are about to go live,” Lindsey miles, smoothing back the hair that had fallen in your eyes and kissing your forehead.

“Okie Dokie baby” You smiled up at your girlfriend, pursing your lips for a kiss. She obliged with a giggle. “see you soon, I’ll be watching,” you laughed, wiggling your eyebrows.

“You guys are sickeningly sweet,” Emily made a fake gagging noise that brought your attention back to the offending device.

“Shut up Disani,” Both you and Lindsey snapped together. You loved the woman, but she sure knew how to ruin a moment.

*****

“Come on Linessie, you know that I’m the best cook,” Emily snorted, ignoring the interviewers stupid question in favor of bantering with Lindsey.

“Hey, I’ve gotten way better,” Lindsey huffed, pointing her finger at the blond and refraining from saying that you were most definitely the cook in your relationship.

“Yet you still let Y/n practice her medical skills on your chicken before she cooks it,” Emily rolled her eyes, her hands gesturing wildly at the mention of her most recent phone call with the two of you.

The interviewer froze, her eyes widening. She had been fine with Emily and Lindsey going off the rails a little bit and talking more to each other than answering the questions. The fans loved it and the stories they were telling were gold, but she couldn’t sit back and let this admission slip by. It was the only acknowledgment Lindsey had ever made to your living arrangements, and with the recent string of photos, it may have been the break she was waiting for.

“Wait wait wait, Y/n as in Thorns med staff Y/n, since when were you guys roommates,” The woman interrupted Lindsey midway through her sentence.

“Since we started dating like 3 years ago,” Your girlfriend shrugged offhandedly, returning to her point about her cooking (or lack thereof) ability, leaving the interviewer and a large majority of the fans to sit in shock.

Lindsey paused at the loud pinging of the comment section going crazy. She paused, her eyes drifting towards the rapidly moving comments, smirking when she saw some of the comments from her teammates, and the fans crazy nonsensical comments in return. She winked at the camera, loving that she just broke the internet, and biting her lip unsure of what your reaction would be.

*****

“Nice live stream babe, but I think we need to like to make an official post or something,” You smirked, plopping down in your girlfriend's lap after she ended the stream, poking her dimples, using your thumb to smooth out the worried lines in her forehead.

“I just came out on live stream, and that’s what you say?” Lindsey scoffed, raising her eyebrow at you.

“I mean I love you, and I’m happy we don’t have to hide anymore, but like don’t you think we should tell them we’re engaged?” You asked shrugging, pecking her nose with a smile.

“I think we’ve broken the internet enough for one day,” She rolled her eyes at you, leaning up to peck your lips, tired of your shoty aim.

“The team is going to be pissed when they find out we didn’t tell them you proposed,” You singsonged, laughing lightly. Sure they had posted enough coupily photos of the two of you to last the fans a while, but when they realized you were getting married, it was going to be a media frenzy.

“I’m sure they’ll post enough photos to crash the site,” She laughed, wrapping her arm around your waist and pulling you closer.

“Well, I know a few other things we can break,” You hummed, nudging her chin with your nose and placing a few kisses on the underside of her jaw.

“Yeah?” She asked, tilting her head to the side to give you more room, moaning lightly when you found the spot you knew drove her wild.

“Hmm, but you better not share this on fucking Instagram live.” You smirked against her skin, teasingly running your teeth along her pulse point, and placing a very wet kiss there.

“I think you put the verb in the wrong place in that sentence-” She breathed out, sighing at the delicious sensations you were sending through her.

“Shut up and take your pants off. I think I need to practice my exam skills” You smirked devilishly at her, and suddenly the team and the fans were the last things on her mind, even though she did just technically break the internet.

#uswnt x reader #uswnt imagine #uswnt imagines #lindsey horan x reader #lindsey horan imagine

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doubleddenden · 2 years

Text

You know, after how much love my post from September got for analyzing the timeline, I thought maybe I'd have some more material for the literal last week of 2021

Other than personal stuff things seem pretty normal. I mean there's some stuff but nothing absolutely as outlandish as horse meds.

But I'll try to scrap some stuff together

Idris Elba is Knuckles the Echidna. We knew that from an announcement, but we all saw a trailer for the second Sonic movie and he was actually Knuckles. It wasn't a prank. Man apparently was so excited he did a ton of research for the role. Tails is there too I guess.

Putt Putt and Freddie Fish are coming to the Switch. I am 5 again

Prince of Bel-Air is relevant again. Shit what year is it

YouTube took away the ability to see dislikes, benefitting their advertisers and corporate accounts and literally nobody else. Luckily you can either install an extension that let's you see it anyway, or just down vote anyway to make an intern cry privately

There's several BoTW style games in the works coming next year. Pokémon Legends Arceus, Sonic Frontiers. A couple of indie titles. Craziest one is this small title known as, get this, Breath of the Wild ***2***. Crazy shit. Maybe it'll actually come out this year

Yall know that giant Swedish goat thing that people used to set on fire? It hadn't been burned down since 2016 due to increased security measures. Well a MAD LAD FUCKIN DID IT AND WE GOT A BURNED ASS GOAT. Maybe the timeline will stabilize now.

Matrix released a new movie again. Apparently it sucks, like it's 2 other sequels. But Keanu Reeves is still a handsome man with a heart of gold, so we'll let it slide.

Matrix also released a pretty cool tech demo for Unreal Engine 5 on PS5. Shit looks realistic af and honestly is more hype than the movie. If you're one of the 10 people in the world that actually owns one, great!

Bleach released its teaser for the Thousand Year Blood War arc. Maybe we won't have to wait 1000 years for the arc to actually finish before breaking off into another filler arc

Speaking of 1000 years, Queen Elizabeth seems to "not be doing well." Let's see if it's legit or if there's going to be a Weekend at Bernie's scenario

Facebook is now META and is pushing for VR type stuff. This is very useful to all the Boomers that use FB and definitely know how to use technology without the help of their kids and grandkids on tiktok abd twitter. Now they can receive medical and political misinformation by guys pretending to be catgirls with giant honkers, jiggling in real time! Gib me ur cwedit cawd infurmation, uwu

Companies are still upset people are working in the comfort of their own homes and sitting countless hours typing on a computer and making calls, and still aren't shutting up about wanting them to come to the office in awful traffic with awful gas prices with awful coworkers in the middle of a pandemic to sit countless hours typing on a computer and make phone calls

Spider-Man No Way Home is out I guess. BUT YO WE GOT A SICK TRAILER FOR INTO THE SPIDER VERSE 2! PART 1!!!

And of course, Apple is prodding into Tumblr's business again with an extensive list of tags that are going to be forbidden on their iTunes app. These include tags such as "girl", "mental illness", "racism", and of course, "MILF." Of course, in true Tumblr fashion, users found a workaround by either using Tumblr in a web browser, or literally owning anything but an overpriced Apple product that already has an expiration date the moment it leaves a factory. But if I were an iPhone owner, I would be very sad that now I would have to hop over to Reddit to find literally hundreds of subreddits dedicated to milfs, anime tiddies, and specifically anime milfs and tiddies, and if i wanted to see racism, I would be forced to log into FB again to see how my high-school classmates are doing. A tragedy, I tell you. Ain't leaving tho. No siree.

New Year. Won't say Happy because we all know that's a trap. Won't say bad either because that was taken literally this year too. So have yourselves a year.

#the timeline #2021 #sonic the hedgehog #idris elba #knuckles the echidna #apple #tumblr ban #bleach #matrix #botw #spiderman #into the spiderverse

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mertronus · 3 years

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Rumors - Part 2

A sequel you requested, and a sequel you shall receive! Seriously...if only this was canon!!! Didn't read Rumors part 1? Well there's the link My Asks sre open! I've started lists of Prompts & Questions so have fun!

Hermione’s eyes fluttered close as Ron’s lips lingered against her cheek. Her face split into a wide grin and she did her best to keep her breath steady - her heart was pounding inside her chest.

Ron’s girlfriend. I’m Ron’s girlfriend! Me!

When he pulled back, she could hear the elevated whispers around them. Somehow she knew that such a simple kiss had sent the message Ron obviously intended to - that the rumors were (now) true: Hermione Granger was in fact Ron Weasley’s girlfriend.

All Hermione wanted to do in that moment was to throw herself at him and kiss him properly. His lips felt so extremely soft against her cheek, she could only imagine how amazing they would feel against her own. But they were in the middle of the Great Hall...it was way too public. She drew her bottom lip in biting it gently, wondering if she should suggest they go somewhere more private.

It was as if Ron read her mind. “Come on,” he said standing and pulling her up with him - their fingers still intertwined. “Let’s go for a walk.”

Hermione hurried out of the Great Hall after Ron, taking three to four quick steps per each of his one long strides to keep up with him.

“Where are we going, Ron?” She asked breathlessly.

He shrugged. “Dunno yet...any ideas?” He hesitated near the entrance hall and Hermione nudged him toward the door.

“Well, you said a walk...and it’s lovely outside.” He regarded her and nodded in agreement.

Once outside, they both automatically led themselves to the big beech tree by the lake. Hermione knew they both had a free period after lunch, so they both had plenty of time before they were due in Charms - their last class for the day.

They sat under the tree together - their hands still connected and their sides right up against one another. Hermione suddenly felt shy as a calm silence settled over them.

“So,” Ron finally broke the silence, “when you asked me to the Christmas party...you really were asking me on a date?”

Hermione nodded. “I thought that much was obvious.”

“Wasn’t,” he shrugged. “I honestly thought it was because you didn’t want me to feel left out.”

“Oh, Ron,” she turned to face him, “No. I really only wanted to go with you. Just like…” She trailed off and bit her lip.

“Just like what?”

She turned away. “No...it was two years ago.”

After a minute, Ron sucked in a breath. “The...the Yule Ball?” Hermione nodded. “I really buggered that up didn’t I? If I’d known Hermione...I would have. I just…”

“Doesn’t matter,” she looked up at him. His eyes were so clear and bright - the most beautiful shade of blue she had ever seen. “We’re here now, aren’t we?” She leaned in the tiniest bit, hoping he would catch her hint.

“Yeah,” he whispered, his hand coming up to cup her cheek. “We are.” Then, he leaned in and brushed his lips against hers. She brought her hands up to sink her fingers into his silky soft hair, thus ensuring that his lips didn’t leave hers.

In just those first few seconds, Hermione decided that she was absolutely addicted to kissing Ron Weasley. She silently vowed that her lips would never touch another's.

When they returned to the common room a long while later, Hermione dashed up to the girls’ dormitory to grab what she needed for Charms, desperate to get back to Ron.

She paused and glanced into the mirror, a gasp escaping her lips. Her hair was a wild mess of frizz and curls - no doubt from Ron’s fingers running through it. Her skin was flushed and her lips were red and swollen.

She looked exactly how she felt - thoroughly snogged.

Hermione ran her finger along her lower lip and let out a small giggle. Had anyone told her when she woke up that morning that she would spend the afternoon snogging her boyfriend Ronald Weasley by the lake, she would have laughed at them. And yet...this was her life now!

“So,” came a voice from the doorway, “the rumors are true then?” Hermione looked up to find her roommate Lavender leaning against the door frame with her arms crossed in front of her chest. She had an odd expression on her face that showed just a bit of disappointment.

“Um, well...yes,” Hermione turned from Lavender to continue the task of swapping out her books. “They weren’t when they started but…” She turned back to Lavender, unsure why she felt the tiniest stab of guilt at the girl’s sullen face. Had she fancied Ron?

“But,” Lavender finished for her, “they are now.” Hermione nodded. A smile spread across the blonde’s face. It was both genuine and forced at the same time. “Well, congratulations then! That’s wonderful Hermione, really.”

“Thanks,” she smiled warmly at Lavender and headed out of the room pondering her roommate’s strange behavior. By the time she reached the bottom of the stairs, however, she decided that any feelings Lavender had for Ron were likely superficial - they never spent any time together after all - and she would have a new love interest by morning.

One that was not Hermione’s boyfriend.

“Ready?” Ron smiled as she approached him. When she nodded, he held out his hand for hers and they started towards the portrait hole. “Coming Harry?” Ron called back to their best friend. Hermione looked over to see Harry and Ginny talking quietly by the fireplace.

“You go on, mate. I’ll be right behind you.”

They both nodded and climbed through the portrait hole hand in hand.

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

Ginny grinned widely at Harry after they watched her brother and Hermione leave the common room. “See?” She said poking him playfully, “I told you it would work!”

Harry chuckled and shook his head. “You do know that could have gone horribly though, right?”

“Nah,” she waved him off. “As crazy as those two are for each other? It wouldn’t have gone wrong. They just needed a little nudge.” At that, she gave Harry a nudge of her own paired with a coy smile.

Ginny delighted in the color that spread across his cheeks and the way he began to sputter incoherently.

“Come on Potter,” she said, grabbing her bag. “My class is on the way to yours. You can walk me.” She shot another smile over her shoulder and he smiled back as he followed behind her.

#ron and hermione #romione #6th year #side hinny

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phoenixblack89 · 3 years

Text

Secret Crushes

My second one shot is pure filth. Gotta warn ya. Might make a sequel... Dunno... But the lovely Travis is getting one next.... Then that amazing bad boy Mac.

@lilythemadqueen @fandomsaremykryponite enjoy sweeties!

Warning: Pure smut. Feels. Arsehole sibling. Underage drinking.

Fuck knows how many words this is cos ain't got a clue.

Edit: I've fixed the fucking errors I saw and added some to it. And got the read more to work! Yus! Enjoy sweetums

PART 2 Part 3

The party was in full swing and you hated it. Why your older sister had insisted on throwing a wild party while your parents were away was beyond your understanding. Must be a cool girl thing you thought as you wandered down the stairs to grab a bottle of water from the fridge. The house was packed to bursting with her friends and their friends. Hell, you're sure some of the teenagers weren't even from your town, not recognising the vast majority. Word of mouth had turned it from a small party for her classmates into a full on rave.

Sighing you pushed your way through to the kitchen your mother would no doubt be dismayed at seeing at the moment. Your mother was somewhat house proud and the kitchen was her pride and joy. Never ever letting dishes pile up in the sink, the shiny chrome polished within an inch of its life. You secretly couldn't wait for the fallout in the morning when they got back and saw the spilled alcohol, cigarette butt's and various other less savoury things spread from the party. Your sister was in soooo much trouble.

"Watch it fat bitch!"

You grit your teeth at the oh so creative insult as you shoved the jerk away from you. He glared down at you from his 6 foot height.

"What's an ugly fuck like ye even doing here?"

"I live here arsehole." You spat back, shouldering your way past and out the back door. Taking a deep breath you wandered the gravel path down to your secret escape at the bottom of the garden, hoping no one had tried to get in. Smiling as the old barn came into sight you felt the tension ease. As you neared you slowed, hearing two distinct and familiar voices. Your mouth suddenly felt drier as your heart pounded.

"Oh Connor!" Your sister moaned and you froze.

She wouldn't... Would she?

She knew you had a somewhat strong crush on the elder MacManus brother. His blue eyes and kind smile making butterflies in your stomach every time you saw him. Tears sprang to your eyes at her betrayal and you hurried your steps past the barn, hearing her shriek in shock. Connor and her eyes following you as you stormed past.

"Sis!"

"Fuck off Sara! Get back to the party!" You called after her, as you broke the treeline at the edge of the property. Tears fell slowly and silently as you pulled out a crumpled and almost empty packet of cigarettes. You slipped suddenly and fell head first down the bank to the stream running at the bottom of the hill. A shriek escaped as you braced for the very cold and surely sudden dip. You stopped quickly and waited for the impact against the icy water but it didn't come. Opening one eye you realised you were being held up by a pair of strong arms. A deep breath of relief came from you as the arms set you down on the ground gently.

"Ye alright?"

Your head turned and you gave a weak smile. Murphy's eyes were lined in pink hues, almost as if he, himself, had been crying like you.

"Could ask you the same."

"Aye... Just... Connor ye know."

"Yea... Sara."

He bit his lip and offered you a cigarette. You took it and shuffled to sit beside him. You both smoked and cried silently together. Both content to not mention the fact you were crying to the other, taking the comfort from each others pain and not judging.

"Older siblings, am I right?" You tried to joke, wiping at your eyes. "They sure know how to hit a sore spot."

"Connor's younger than me." Murphy laughed, wiping at his own cheeks. You smiled weakly and shrugged.

"Here's me thinking ya were twins."

"Aye... But I'm older. Fuckin' bastard knew I liked her as well." He sighed and ran his hand through his shaggy dark hair. You nodded and flicked your cigarette into the water, watching silently as it floated away.

"Yea... My sister she... Erm... She knew I liked Connor. Well... Was..... Damn... That I had a bit of a crush on him... Sorry."

"Yea? Bitch. Ain't a good sister doing that when she knew ye liked him" Murphy said, wrapping his arm around your bare shoulders at the shiver that ran you with the cold. He smiled as you wrapped yours around his lower back. "What a pair we make, eh? Our siblings are over there fuckin' like rabbits and here we are wishing it was us instead"

"Nah. We know better... Sara is just a bitch and Connor... He'll soon learn she's one too."

"Yea? What about you? Don't think I caught ya name lass?"

"Y/N. Everyone called me other things though." You gulped, biting your lip and giving a shaky sigh.

"Oh aye? What's that then?" He smirked at you, thinking it was some cute nickname.

"Mostly fatty, bitch, ugly... I'm not pretty or slim like Sara and I get why Connor would see her before me. She's everything I'm not."

"I... I don't... You are pretty. And so what if ye not some skinny bitch... I like ye and any one who can't see how amazing ye fuckin' are don't deserve ye time." He smiled sweetly down at you, his fingers grazing under your chin to make you look at him as you ducked your head.

"Thanks. But that's not true."

"Course it is! I say it is! And I always, always tell t' truth." He smirked, puffing out his chest. You giggled and shook your head. You leaned your head against his shoulder and sighed.

"I just wish someone would see me for me... And not what they always see. Fat ugly little bitch... Wish he'd of seen me..."

"He ain't worth ye time."

"She's not worth yours..."

"Aye. I see that now." He shuffled down to lay on his back, pulling you with him and smiled.

You lay in quiet contemplation for a while, the distant sounds of creaking wood and stifled moans making both your hearts ache.

"We should go get a drink! Drown our sorrows." You suggest, despite being not keen on alcohol. Murphy laughs and sits up, reaching into the pocket of his coat and pulling out one of your dad's whiskey bottles.

"Damn. Read my mind lass." He smiled and opened the bottle, gulping it down without a grimace before handing it to you. You choked down a mouthful and smacked his chest lightly as he snorted at you.

"I'm not a big drinker like you MacManus!"

He smirked and leaned over you so your faces were mere inches apart, a smirk curving the right side of his lips upwards.

"Aye... What else ain't ye big on then?"

"What?! What the fuck does that mean?" You feel your cheeks burning in embarrassing red.

"Well... I'm here and ye here.... Thought we could forget our sorrows another way... If ye up fer it?"

"You mean... In.... What way? I mean... I... Fuck"

You sound like a fucking fool, stumbling over your words as his hand draws patterns along your waist slowly. Biting his lip he closes the distance between you and his lips meet yours. It's different to how you imagined your first kiss to be. You always imagined it to be a burning passionate, uncontrolled thing but this was soft, unurgent and gentle, sending a thrill of something to your core.

"How old are ye anyway, lass?" He asked, pulling away suddenly. You bit your lip and avoided his eyes until his finger brought your face to his once more. "I don't wanna get in trouble..."

"I just turned 18... You?"

"19... You... Have ye ever done this before?" His blue eyes searched yours for a moment before he sighed.

"No... But... I... I... Want to... If... If you want to leave you can. I won't stop you. I get most guys don't want someone so inexperienced."

Murphy glanced around for a moment, seeming to decide on the right course of action before slugged his long leather jacket off and laying on the ground beside you. He nudged his head to the side, your eyebrows creasing in confusion. He gave a smile and a chuckle before lifting your hips and sliding you on top of his jacket. His lips find yours again as soon as you shift yourself over on to his jacket fully and you wrap your arms around his neck. Gasping slightly as his hand drifts under your shirt and traces along your ribs. Pulling back slightly you take in his eyes, now darken with needful desire. He kisses your cheek softly and runs his palm upwards slowly and bits his lip, his white teeth shining brightly against their rose hue.

He licks his bottom lip as he tugs your shirt upwards and lowers his head to kiss along your stomach, you squirm in embarrassment. You hate the extra fat that gathered along your stomach and hips. His head raised to your face and he sighed.

"Ye beautiful lass. Every single inch..."

"Don't... I know its not true." You reply, tears coming to your eyes again in frustration. Anger at yourself for the lack of control you have over your own eating habits. You comfort ate, it was a habit nothing seemed to break you of. Murphy kissed you gently again and gazed down into Y/E/C eyes softly. His thumb running along your cheek softly.

"Told ye. Always tell t' truth. Believe me... Ye beautiful... Absolutely... Beautiful." He whispered between giving you soft kisses along you jawline and down your neck. You moaned as he kissed a sensitive spot. He smirked against your skin and focused on that one spot, sucking, licking and grazing it with his teeth. His hand reached under your shirt and stroked gently over the chubby plains of your torso to your chest.

A sharp gasp released from your mouth as his fingers ran along the edge of the unattractive sports bra you wore. Smirking against your collarbone he slipped his fingers inside and tweaked your nipple. A flood of arousal dropped into your panties and you moaned, arching upwards into his touch.

"Ye like that lass? Feel good, aye?"

You nodded and pulled his lips to yours. He groaned, your hips bucking upwards into his at the sensations he was causing to rush through you.

He pulled away and leaned back onto his knees, his hand running down your body to your covered core. He licked his lips and glanced at you as he ran a finger along your jeans button. Nodding at him, he smiled and flicked it open before dragging the zipper down slowly. His hands slipped inside and tugged them down over your hips as you bit your lip in nervousness.

You sat up slightly and reached for his belt, eyes boring into his blue ones as you pulled his belt from his jeans, tossing it to the side carelessly and reaching for the waistband. Shuffling slightly he helped you ease them down over his hips before laying you both down again. Only your underwear separating the heat of your bodies as he kissed you passionately, his hips rocking slowly into yours. Your hands found their way into his hair and tugged slightly as you both began panting at the friction of your hips. Your underwear was damp with your slick.

"Are ye sure ye want this lass?" Murphy panted into your mouth as his hand reached between you to cup your wet core, rubbing it hard causing you to gasp and squirm under him to get more pressure, more friction, more... Something, you didn't know.

"Please... Murphy..."

"I got ye lass." He whispered as his finger reaching under the elastic of your plain cotton underwear and ran through the folds of your dripping core. His fingers slid into you as his thumb found the bundle of nerves at the centre of your thighs. Rubbing his thumb in smooth, lazy circles he kissed against the spot he'd sucked a dark mark onto on your neck. His pants and moans echoing loudly in your ear as his fingers thrust in and out of you in time of his circling thumb. Your heart sped up and pounded against your ribs as a totally new sensation began building in your gut. "Cum fer me beautiful."

It felt like something inside had snapped and your body tensed all over, your legs shaking around Murphy's strong arm, your breath caught in your throat and as sudden as it began, it ended and you felt yourself more relaxed than you could ever remember being before.

"Good girl."

"Fuck... Murphy..."

He raised his head and smiled cockily down at you. He bought his hand out of your underwear and raised it to his mouth. You could see the glint of your moisture coating his long, graceful fingers in the weak starlight as he began to lick and suck his fingers clean. Your jaw fell open at that sight. You had heard of people doing it but to see someone do that, and with your juices no less, caused a rush of shame and desire to course through you.

His face lowered to yours once more and he smirked against your ear.

"Maybe next time... I'll lick this delicious pussy out..."

"Murphy..." You gasped, feeling slick pooling once more.

"Aye lass?"

"Please..."

He kissed you once more, hands finding the waistband of your underwear and gently lowering them down and gazing down at your core. Your legs closed in shame as your cheeks heated. He chuckled and pushed them apart again and studied you intensely.

"Fuckin' perfection."

He reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out his wallet, fishing out a condom and ripping it open with his teeth. His eyes found yours as he shuffled out of his boxers and grasped his hard thick cock in one hand, pumping it up and down for several moments, his eyes never leaving the sight of your bared core. He rolled the condom down his cock and leaned over you once more.

"Are ye absolutely sure beautiful?"

"I'm sure Murphy." Your voice replied, an edge of nervousness obvious in the way your voice sounded so quiet and wavered slightly. He smiled and kissed you, his tongue slipping into your mouth as you felt his cock brush against your mound as he positioned himself between your thighs.

His tip ran along your slit as he guided it and you gasped at the foreign feeling. His eyes held yours as he slowly pushed into you. A sharp cry of pain came from you and your body tensed under him. He reached for your hand, which was clawing at the fabric of his coat and grasped it in his own. Holding himself still and steady until you adjusted. You nodded slightly as his lips ran along your cheek, kissing away the tears that had slipped from your eyes. His cock inched slowly deeper into your unexplored pussy and he paused again to look you in the eye, making sure you were okay with each slow thrust.

"Ye alright?"

"Hmmhummm." You replied, gritting your teeth as you felt the burning grow sharper as he inched forward more. He gave a groan and shook with restraint. His heart was pounding in his ears at the feeling of your tight cunt squeezing his cock. He had never been with a virgin and but knew from Connor's numerous boasts that they felt tighter than anything else. He was by no means a virgin himself and was determined to make this a pleasurable experience for you.

Even if it killed him.

He gave a loud moan as he finally bottomed out inside you and kissed you passionately allowing you a moment or two of adjustment. You ran your fingers through his hair over and over as your tongues battled. You felt his cock twitch deep inside you and gasped into his mouth as his thumb once more began circling your clit.

"Murphy please..." You moaned, twitching your hips to encourage him to begin moving. His thrusts were slow and steady against you, taking his time to build until you both were absolutely sure you felt no pain anymore. His hand held one of your thighs around his hip and the other circling your clit, pleasure building slowly for the both of you. Sweet kisses left against each others necks as he began thrusting a little faster with each thrust.

Your back ached up to his chest as he hit a spot inside you that made you feel a sharp jolt of pure bliss.

"Ohhh... Fuckkkk.... Murphy..." You gasped into his mouth as he began aiming for that spot over and over, increasing his circling thumb's speed and pressure. Your toes curled in your boots as you suddenly were blinded by white light and your orgasm ripped through you. A loud shriek of unadulterated pleasure ripped from your throat. Murphy smirked and thrust harder, chasing his own release now he'd made you have a chance to cum over his cock. The walls of your pussy fluttering around his cock and your clit twitching under his thumb. His hair hung around his face in sweat soaked strands and you brushed them away to kiss him, still shaking in post orgasmic bliss. His body tensed against yours and he came, a guttural moan echoing loudly around you. His breaths coming sharp against your neck as he slumped over you and gave a little huff of pleasure.

"Fuck lass. I've never had one like that before."

"Huh... Guess that means it was okay?" You panted, suddenly nervous again. Would he feel satisfied? Did he really enjoy it? Was it good? Were you good?

He pushed himself onto his elbows and kissed you deeply, fucking your mouth with his tongue.

"Beautiful, I ain't ever lettin' ye go! Not after that."

You smiled as you kissed again with a laugh.

"MURPH! WHERE ARE YE?!"

You both froze and looked at each other. Murphy quickly pulled his cock from you, grimacing at the slight splattering of blood on the condom as he pulled it off and pulled his boxers and jeans on as you, too quickly dressed once more. Footsteps and the sounds of snapping twigs coming closer.

"Murph?!"

"Aye! I'm 'ere!" He yelled back as you stood and dusted down his jacket, handing it to him so he could swing it back onto his body. He grabbed your face and planted a sweet kiss on your lips quickly and smoothed down your hair as he gave your cheek a sweet kiss.

"There ye are! Oh..."

Connor paused and glanced between you two with an eyebrow raised.

"What’s going on here then, Murph?" He smirked. Murphy pushed his brother back in the direction of the house.

"I was helping her. She seemed upset. Dunno why though." He glanced over his shoulder at you and winked cheekily. "Kid needed a shoulder t' cry on. That's all."

"That right... Well come on. We best get home before Ma sends t' alarm out. Ye know how Uncle Silas is."

"Aye."

The brothers walked away and you followed slowly, Murphy glancing back over his shoulder at you with a happy but shy smile ghosting his face every now and then. Connor waved goodbye at the door to Sara and blew her a kiss in return to the one she'd blown and you rolled your eyes at the pair. Sara tried to grab your arm as you passed and you shrugged her off, rushing upstairs to your room and locking the door. You went to the window and watched as the twins walked down the drive.

Murphy paused before he left the gate, looked up and smiled widely at you and raised his hand. The streetlight lit his face up and you smiled, giving a small laugh as Connor shoved him ahead with a laugh and a glance upwards. You ducked away from the window quickly and lay on your bed, a ridiculously wide smile bracing your own face as you bit your lip and gave a small laugh.

Maybe tomorrow at school wouldn't be so bad. Not now you had a secret thing going on the darker haired MacManus.

#normanreedus #smutty goodness #murphy macmanus #Murphy macmanus fanfiction #Bds fanfiction #Murphy x reader #Bds smut #Murphy macmanus smut #PhoenixBWrites #boondock saints fanfiction #boondock saints smut #Secret Crushes

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arrivisting · 3 years

Note

I’d love author commentary on basically the whole scene at Ekkaia in all my war is done (or any individual part of that scene, if your prefer). Taken together, it’s one of the most beautiful and emotionally complex and heartrending things you’ve written, from the description of the sea itself, to the difficulties of Fingon and Alqualondë, to Gil and the ocean and his ‘mother’, to Fingon and Gil beginning to tackle the thorny subect of Maedhros.

I should admit something about all my war is done: it's the most fugue-like my writing has ever been. I jotted down a few notes on my commute into work - I was deeply underwater with my PhD at the time, three months away from submitting - and then the idea of writing a sequel to scion seized me so profoundly that I sat down in the Starbucks where my bus stops, took out my laptop, and wrote instead of just collecting my coffee and walking down to my office. I wrote 15k. In one day. In about five or six hours. I've never achieved anything like that before or since - I do have good days where I can knock 2-4k out easily, but not 15k. (You might note that the posted part of all my war is done is only 12k, but I wrote all the way up into the next bit with Fingon in Tirion that you've read, up until Turgon at the dinner table). I didn't sit down or plan events; I didn't actually know much about what would happen: but I knew they were going to Ekkaia and they'd have some kind of resolution there. These are my phone-notes, from that morning:

You can see, I think, something of the way an idea hits me. I note down a few snatches of plot, not necessarily in any order, some lines I think people should say at some point, although I might not use them, sketch out some things (Formenos's ruins were going to feature more heavily, but they're waiting for a later story).

(It makes me laugh, the words my phone doesn't accept - Gil-galad, for one - and the ones it automatically capitalises from where I've yelled enthusiastically about elf things at people. I never stop long enough to correct spelling etc when I'm trying to get something down).

I clearly knew from inception that I wanted Fingon's place to be called the hill of waiting, and had tried out the name in Sindarin; because my verbs are not good, I came up with Amon Dartha. It was when I was redrafting that I realised Amon Darthir had existed actually in Dor-lomin(!!!) and the name was even more perfect symbolically than I'd meant it to be! Did I know that, unconsciously? I don't know.

You can see, too, that the Sea of Ekkaia was almost the very first point to hit me, and that I knew it and the scene there would be important, and that I knew that the story was about Fingon finding a way to tell Gil-galad that he had been loved, and wanted, and that meant talking about Maedhros; and that at the end I wanted Gil-galad to be gently, impersonally, firmly clear that he would not, could not, be staying to wait with Fingon.

Okay, DVD commentary proper - I'm sorry, I remember awfully little about writing this, given the fugue state and my thesis and everything, so I'm not sure how useful this will be!

“Oh,” said Gil-galad when they broke out of the woods and began to ride down over the dune-lands to the rocky shore. “Oh!”

The Sea of Ekkaia was beautiful, in its own way, but that way that was like no other place in Arda, in either Aman or Middle Earth.

It was a dark-blue that was almost black, even in the late afternoon, and the shore was less sand than gravel, a strange inconsistent rubble of rock and broken sea-shells that had been dashed to pieces by the constant fury of the waves. Staring out to sea, one did not see the far-away horizon the way one did on the gentler coast of Belegaer: there was no gentle faraway blue haze through which one might, perhaps, on a clear day, imagine that Middle Earth could be glimpsed, or at least the Straight Path.

No: instead along the horizon there was a seam of silver light, and then a great blackness, where the Sea of Ekkaia met the Uttermost West that was not quite the Doors of Night, but was certainly the end of Aman itself. If you stood on the shore watching, the seam would ripple with a pulse of light, sometimes green and sometimes white.

It was so far from anywhere the Eldar of Valinor lived. While they clustered around the Belegaer like moths to flame, this shore seemed instead to repel them. Was it the sight of the world’s end itself? It might be; yet Fingon thought there was more to why this wilderness was so little visited, this howling black sea lashing itself against a grey shore. It was beautiful, but not in the way Elves liked things to be beautiful: it was too raw, too unfinished, too savage.

It was too close to where Mandos kept his Halls, which were not only a thing of spirit but also matter, at least in the way that things in Aman were both. Too close to where Nienna’s tower looked out into the Void and where she wept, and wept, and wept. It was too close to death and to rebirth, to judgment and to pity.

There's a little Dawn Treader, I think, in this idea of the uttermost West. I don't know why I thought the seam of the world should pulse with strange light, but it's an uncanny kind of geography, so near Mandos and Nienna, and I like the sense that this is the end of the world, but not the end of the universe.

A lot of this came together serendipitously. I knew some kind of memorialisation of the river that bore Gil-galad needed to be part of his story; that meant going to the sea; and it's clear from the notes that I had already decided that couldn't mean Alqualonde because of kinslaying reasons and memories. (And that that too would need to be confronted). Therefore: roadtrip to Ekkaia. Therefore, the question: what would Ekkaia be like? We don't really know anything about it - only the good qualities of Belegaer. This was really written by a process of inversion, a way of pulling what we know about Belegaer inside-out, and imagining a place at the world's edge, a place that was empty, a place that was uncannily close to difficult things, to Mandos and Nienna; a place that seemed to repel the Eldar as surely as Belegaer drew them like iron filings.

I was thinking visually about New Zealand, too. I spent my childhood summers on the beaches up north, mostly around Tūtūkākā, which are bright and lovely, with golden or white or tawny sand, with gnarled pohutukawa and blue-green water. Like this:

That's what beach and sea meant to me, and it was a shock the first time I went to one of the black sand beaches where the wind howled and the colours weren't blue, green, gold, but iron, grey, navy, black. I loved it, but it felt so other, so passionate, so strange. That shock and that wild beauty and desolation were things I wanted to get at, though Ekkaia would be far more wild and desolate still.

They left the horses in the thin sea-grass, and their shoes, too, and walked down to the water. “I missed it,” Gil-galad said, and closed his eyes, breathing in the brine. “I missed it badly, all the long years besieging Mordor before I died.”

I think Gil-galad would be very marked by his upbringing first in the Falas and then on Balar; you don't lose that, if you grew up by the sea.

The wind took up his long dark hair and made a banner of it as they walked along the rough crescent of rocky ground where the waves met the shore, and around their bare ankles small stones tumbled back and forth in the lace-edge of the water.

When I was young I used to stand in the water and let the waves bury me up to my ankles, watching the water move in, out, spreading skirts of lace overlapping as new waves came in. I could do it for hours. There's something very liminal about the water's edge, between the solid land and the sea, which is why I put this conversation in it, I think. They're in a liminal space and at a liminal moment. It's the scene the whole story has been inexorably building toward, the point where all Fingon's painful scraping-away of his barriers finally reaches his skin.

“Sometimes in Middle Earth it became very difficult to believe in the Valar,” Gil-galad said, his eyes still closed, “in the blood, and the mud, and the filth. There were so many great and small unfairnesses, day upon day, year upon year.” He opened his eyes and looked towards the Uttermost West where the world ended. “And here it is impossible not to. Look at it!"

This is a little more hopeful than the original version, which I don't have anymore, but went pretty much:

"Sometimes in Middle Earth it was very difficult to believe in the Valar,” Gil-galad said. "In the blood, and the mud, and the filth. There were so many great and small unfairnesses, day upon day, year upon year.”

It was a comment more about Gil-galad's rueful scepticism than wonder - because he fought the Dagorlad before he died, because he spent the last ten years of his life in mud and blood and filth and horror. I work on the First World War - its literary legacy and traces in the decades after, more than its immediate experience or actuality, because there was a ten-year period after 1918 where it was more latent than overt, a traumatic lacuna of silence, a Nachträglichkeit- and I thought in the blood, and the mud, and the filth was a little too on the nose.

I kept it, though, because Tolkien was drawing on his own memories of the trenches with the Dagorlad and the Dead Marshes, with those blurred lines of solid land and mud/bog, the living mixed up with the remains of with the dead, all the themes you see again and again in the war poetry and the officer war-books. (Santanu Das is very good on this, as is Eric Leed). Paul Fussell is a bit old-hat now, but his argument that WWI altered the sensibility of its survivors because of their close, consanguinous co-existence with the dead is something I still find valuable. I think there's a lot of WWI survivor in the way I think of Gil-galad, actually, I'm just realising - not that he survived the Last Alliance. He's detached in a different way from Fingon. Fingon's built himself a thick layer of repression/denial, a kind of callous to protect himself from confronting or thinking about what Maedhros did, and what that means for him and to him; Gil-galad is entirely present, but somewhat detached in some ways, the way people who came back from war could be. Not that Fingon and Finrod aren't also separated from the Amanyar by their time in Beleriand and experience of war and death, but Gil-galad lived there for millennia, and he fought a longer, harder, more total kind of war than they did.

But he's at the Sea of Ekkaia, as west as you can get. So much of Tolkien is about that endless longing glance west, that movement: why is this very westernmost edge so under-explored?

I wanted Gil-galad to be softened by this encounter with the sea, so I went back and let his wonder be as much at the spectacle itself as the sea, like the greater hand at work he had sometimes doubted being visible was something wonderful rather than something to be bitter about. I wanted to position him to be potentially open to, perhaps, the Valar; perhaps, to Fingon. I hope he doesn't come off as closed-minded: I think of him as having a fair mind, and good judgment, but - despite placing him here between the sea and the shore - very clear personal lines between what he thinks is just, and what is not. Certainly, it helps a lot, never having known the Feanorians when they had not fallen.

The seam of the universe pulsed with light, and beyond it was – what?

Unutterable nothingness, something worse than death.

Perhaps Maedhros.

This is an important line for Fingon. He hasn't though the name of his own accord for much of the story, flinching away from it; it's only come in when Finrod and then Gil-galad speak the name. This is the first time he's thought it clearly of his own free will, and this is I think the first signal that he's brought Gil-galad here to be as honest and earnest with him as he can be, however much it hurts, or however much it might drive him away. Because if he isn't, and doesn't, Gil-galad will be driven away anyway, and Fingon wants to be connected with him, the first time he's wanted that kind of bond with anyone since he returned.

(I think of Finrod as someone who just kept turning up, regularly, and forcing Fingon to associate with him; and then bringing Amarie; and then his children; and not taking no for an answer. It bothers Turgon rather terribly that they seem to be friends now, when they were never that close Before: that Fingon pushes him away, but allows Finrod to keep pushing; that Finrod does push. He doesn't know about Gil-galad, of course).

He's brought Gil-galad here to show him if possible that he was wanted, to conjure up lost Ringwil where she might be felt if not found; and to do the same for Maedhros. This is a signal that this journey to the sea is as much about Gil-galad's missing father as his missing mother.

The almost-forgotten tang of salt in the air always mingled with the smell of blood in Fingon’s worst memories, and he was not the only one who remembered. The waves were gentle around Gil-galad’s feet, but they boiled furiously around Fingon’s, delivering small spiteful slaps at his calves.

Spiteful was probably the wrong word here. I don't necessarily mean a dramatic boiling or bubbling; but the water is harsh where it touches him, the kind of slapping roughness you get when the tide is coming in rough.

It took Gil-galad longer to mark the difference, engrossed in the joy of the sea and spectacle as he was, and when he did, his face changed. There was something terribly sad in his eyes when he lifted them from the water to look at Fingon.

It wasn’t why he had brought Gil-galad here; but Fingon didn’t want to imagine the look he would receive if he brushed aside the silent question. “No,” he said. “I am not forgiven.”

“So I see.”

They could probably leave it there.

But Fingon won't, because he's trying. He's really trying to connect after all the time flinching away from it, and he's remembering what Gil-galad said about talking, and what Finrod said about mistakes and silences in their first life.

He said, “You said you loathed the thought of being the son of – a murderer. But my own hands have not been clean since Alqualondë, and death didn’t unstain them. All the time you thought I might be your father, you must have known I was a Kinslayer, too.”

I tried to signal this in their earlier tower conversation with Finrod, and Gil-galad's changing of the topic, but I feel like it's a little abrupt here.

“Yes,” Gil-galad said, and his expression didn’t change. “And when the knights that had served you came to me, they told me that you killed that day in ignorance, that you came upon a battle already being fought; that you took up your sword to save those you loved and didn’t question whether it was just. I heard that from others, too, those who had less reason to bend facts to a flattering pattern; survivors of Gondolin and of Nargothrond. I did ask."

“Ignorance wasn’t an excuse. I died ashamed of it, and I live again with the shame.”

"Good!” said Gil-galad, and there was no forgiveness in his voice, even when Fingon jerked his head up in shock. Instead there was the stern ring of a king used to weighing the ideals of justice against the world as it was, the king who had walked arm in arm with Eonwë the Maia, led his people through many full-fledged wars, and held court and meted justice to them for an Age. “That gives me a far better opinion of you than any of the stories did! I’m glad.”

I remember talking to you about this in the comments, about what it meant that Gil-galad wasn't forgiving him. I think I really meant condone, but I also don't think it's Gil-galad's place to absolve Fingon - he wasn't the one wronged! - and that it's important to me that, because Fingon does truly regret it, he doesn't wish to be absolved, to slide away from it. I don't mean he ought to wallow in it or flog himself with it daily, but I think it would be important to him to shoulder and own that guilt rather than ever allowing himself to put it behind him or have someone else tell him it’s quite all right.

I think this is a moment where I show that they're quite similar, too, because even if Fingon wasn't aware that a bracing, clear assessment was just what he wanted, it was what he needed, rather than people being kind (which he's had a lot of, since he returned; and which hasn't touched that central guilt he's hidden from them, that he loved Maedhros, who had done such terrible things. It's prevented him from accepting kindness made him block people reaching out to him. Gil-galad is not being kind, but just, and still reaching out).

It felt like Fingon had been struggling to take a full lungful of air for a long time, and now something constricting in his chest had loosened, as it hadn’t even after the Valar themselves had judged him. It was only now that he realised that he hadn’t wanted Gil-galad to forgive or absolve him. He had wanted – needed – Gil-galad to be better than him, to withhold forgiveness when it was unmerited; and Gil-galad had. He had become the shining legacy they had all hoped he would be, the thing they had all somehow done right.

The water slapped at his ankles again, in impatient reminder.

This is too brief a transition. I should have fleshed the join out more.

“I think Ulmo would come to you here, if you called. You were a king by the sea in Middle Earth, and you may not remember it, but it was a river who gave you life.”

Gil-galad looked at him as if he’d grown an extra head. “What?”

“I brought you here for a reason,” Fingon said. “Where did they go, the drowned and poisoned rivers of Beleriand? I don’t know; but Ulmo might.”

I've really personified the rivers, but I think it's a clear and easy extrapolation from the Withywindle and the River-daughter in The Fellowship of the Ring that I don't need to justify in order to argue that every river might have had its own attendant Maia-spirit. It does make what happened to the Rivers of Beleriand much worse, though, and I wanted to look at the way a character that was a throwaway mechanism in scion ended up being sickened and dying as horribly as Beleriand did; this story was really about following all those lighter bits in scion home, to the end of the line, and looking at the long-term impacts of something that began more lightly. In this verse, Ringwil was a river, but also a person; and I think of her and Finrod as sharing a strange human-river friendship and overlapping enthusiasms.

He clapped Gil-galad on the shoulder, hoping it said all the things he meant it to say. Affection had been so easy for him once, in the life that had been taken from him by the fiery flails of the Balrogs, but now it came hard, and the sea-smell was in his nose, the terrible memories too close to the surface.

He had surely outstayed Ulmo’s tolerance by now. Fingon left Gil-galad there in the water, and didn’t dare glance back until there was thin sandy soil under his feet again.

Only then did he look once more towards the sea.

Gil-galad was standing in the shallows. His broad shoulders were bunched tight, as if he was readying himself for something very difficult, a confrontation with one of the Valar he had long doubted.

Then he spread his arms out, empty-handed, and tipped his head back, and the light on the horizon grew unbearably bright, whiter than white, more silver than silver; and a face began to move upon the water.

I really like this, honestly. Which I can't/don't say often! The temptation to overwrite this was strong, to show this encounter, to describe the Vala: but I think it's often stronger not to show something numinous, to pull away, to let the mind fill it in.

Again, this is Gil-galad as I imagine him: still somewhat distanced from the Valar by the Dagorlad and the things that happened there (and I think perhaps doubly unhappy in that he lived through the end of an Age once before, and that time, at least, the Valar came: they did not come in the Second, nor send so much as a messenger, and such obscenities as the fall of Ost-in-Edhil and the drowning of Numenor had been allowed to happen, and Men and Elves were left alone to come together and break Sauron's grip). Doubting, but not angry; doubting, but still curious. Open to listening.

a face began to move upon the water is of course a deliberate sideways reference to

And the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters.

It took a very long time. Fingon could not watch; his eyes dazzled.

Can you tell I was teaching The Duchess of Malfi at this time? Cover her face; mine eyes dazzle; she died young. That sense of a light too bright and white to look upon; that sense of guilt; that faint reference to life lost untimely. This wasn't meant to be a direct intertextual reference, but that net of meaning was there, lightly. Again, I wanted to under-write rather than over-write. I know I have a tendency to over-write.

And of course - there's a sense here that Fingon is refusing the kind of close enoucnter with Ulmo he could/might have. There's water in his eyes. From the wind?

“Thank you,” Gil-galad said when he rejoined him at last. His eyes were glowing, and he whistled Ceredir to him from where he was tearing ropey roots of sea-grass from the dunes with great relish. “Thank you for bringing me here;” and he didn’t say it the way he’d thanked Fingon for the horse, or the armour, or the sword, or even the lance.

Because this is a real gift, something that means something to both of them, something more honest/painful. Fingon's been trying to connect through gifts but not serious conversation or sharing, like some estranged parents do, throwing money at the problem rather than giving of their time or their selves, and however well-meant, it hasn't worked.

“I didn’t truly do anything."

“You brought me to the Sea. I know – I could see – how difficult it was for you."

"Well,” Fingon said lamely. He cleared his throat. “What did Lord Ulmo say about – oh, I can’t call her your dam! – the Maia who bore you? Did she – was she there?”

The dam pun is Finrod's. Don't blame me.

A little of the light dimmed, but it didn’t quite fade away. “No, she’s gone. Back to the Timeless Halls, he says; but one with him again, Ulmo, at the same time.” Gil-galad made a noise. “I don’t pretend to understand any of it, all the metaphysical nonsense of the Ainur! But he was kind to me, and he told me something of her – that she delighted in the making of me.” The corner of his mouth turned up. “I left the flowers we gathered earlier in the waves for her and the sea didn’t dash them back onto the shore. I’m sure Ulmo broke a few laws of Arda there.”

I like this image of the flowers suspended in the water. I had it clearly in mind from before I began to write.

"You were wanted.”

“I’m beginning to believe it,” Gil-galad said.

“You should,” Fingon said. He took a breath. Talking is how you sort things out; and a long time ago, Fingon had been known for his valour. Gil-galad deserved to know how much he had been wanted, who had called himself a political compromise given birth. The truth of that had stung.

And it was less than the truth. Fingon could still remember the first time he had opened his mind to Maedhros over the leagues between them and let him see Gil’s small face through his own eyes, holding nothing back. He had shown Maedhros the dark long lashes and the squashed baby nose, the milk-blister on the bow of Gil’s upper lip, the way his whole head turned an alarming red when he wailed; shared with Maedhros Gil’s fondness for being tossed in the air, his splashing joy in his bath.

This is is me trying to describe a baby without being too sentimental about it, because Fingon wasn't all, oh look at the toesie-woesies, or my son, my son: his eye was more detached, and you see him in scion thinking of Gil-galad as it.

I've been thinking about why Fingon in no way allowed himself to consciously dote on the baby, why that streak of denial that's so strong in his second life was there in his first light, and really: it would have been dangerous to let himself love him, to see Gil as his son and Maedhros's. He was born at a time of terrible loss, after the Flame, when they all expected they could die themselves. He was moved around Beleriand like a game-piece. Fingon was always going to lose him: he wasn't going to get to raise him, after all, until and unless Morgoth was defeated. Maedhros wasn't going to meet him, until and unless &c. It was easier not to let oneself get attached than it was to confront those hard facts and let oneself be hurt by them. Easier to think of him as a baby Finwean prince, and that only: a political pawn, not a son.

Conversely, Maedhros maintains a physical distance, but not an emotional one. Here's a bit from Maedhros's perspective:

Finrod had told him that. They had written, back and forth, in the long months as Ringwil’s belly swelled, as the child formed, as it began to move and stretch and turn frog-like inside her. They had corresponded constantly during the first months of the child’s life in Nargothrond, and during the first months of his life, Finrod had sent long scrolls detailing every change in Artanaro’s weight, his length, his hair colour, his eye colour, how much milk he’d consumed each day: screeds winging forth to Himring until the child was old enough to survive the secret trip north.

Fingon’s letters had been infuriatingly spare of useful information while the child was fostered at Barad Eithel. Beloved, ineloquent Fingon: Fingon, who had nevertheless shown him the child as no reams of paper could.

Fingon had given him forever the rounded bloom of his full cheeks, and the pursed mouth, sullen in sleep: the feathery, rather cross-looking eyebrows, and the small hands with their deep dimples and smaller fingernails, curled into the edge of Fingon’s furred mantle.

Maedhros had felt the way Fingon hovered between wonder and confusion at what they’d wrought: the way he couldn’t quite manage to think of the child as his own, this thing spun out of air and calculation and freshwater into heavy, solid life. He could have loved him so desperately, Maedhros knew that. He was halfway there, hovering in terror on the edge, afraid of falling. If the baby had stayed in Barad Eithel longer; if Fingon had watched him begin to creep around on fat little knees, to pull himself up on the furniture and to take his first steps – to hear the baby babble turn into words and speech – his heart would have opened to him like a flower, and the child would have become the centre of his universe, the sun in his sky.

Fingon had never known what to do with Idril as an infant, either, but he’d easily become an adored uncle as she grew up. If they’d had more time – if the child had been permitted to stay with Fingon even a month longer before being sent for safety to Cirdan –

Well, they’d never had enough time.

There had been few walls between them then, so he had felt Maedhros’s bright joy, the painful love, in its moment of birth: swelling and swelling like a cloud with rain, as though his heart was growing and his blood was leaking out of him at the same time, transmuting into pure tenderness and iron purpose.

I like this because I think of the Ekkaia scene as a cloudburst, full of emotion that has been swelling and swelling and now released. This is one bit of the breaking-through.

He had never needed to ask whether Maedhros considered Gil-galad a son.

“I don’t want to talk about – him,” Fingon said with difficulty, and the salt breeze stung his face, his eyes. “I know you loathe him, and rightly; and I do, too. I do hate him; or I hate what he did. I do! But you should know – you deserve to – that he wanted you, badly, although he never met you; he never wanted the shadow on him to touch you or to taint you.

And this. You can see here where I spun off into cliffs of fall, which isn't a scion story, but sprung out of this speech. It was already there in those sketchy notes, too, a lot of what Fingon's saying here: this important line about hating Maedhros, or what he did (that movement from clear certainty to trying to separate the deeds from the loved one; to urgent reptition - I do! I mean it, I really do! - which means he doesn't, can't: this is the heart of Fingon's guilt, because he wants to hate Maedhros utterly, but he can't, and he is profoundly in denial about that).

“He always wanted children; I took that from him even before the Oath did, but I gave it back to him with you. I loved you first of all for that, but he loved you for yourself. Because you existed, against all hope and possibility and fate and chance; and because you were ours.”

Gil-galad said nothing. There was still a wildflower tucked behind his ear, but the brilliance had quite left his eyes.

“Well,” Fingon said at last. “I needed to tell you that. You should know that you were never – not only – you were wanted very much."

Beloved ineloquent Fingon, &c.

They were some miles from the beach when Gil-galad said, “‘Ours’?”

“Yes."

I was trying to let the gaps and breaks talk for me in the text. Under-writing.

The beginning was full of these little breaks, too, because they didn't yet know how to talk to each other; now at the end, that connection, and their conversations, are breaking down again. It's echoing that ride together at the beginning very strongly, but now it's not Gil-galad trying to become acquainted and Fingon giving light, unsatisfying answers. These are the real questions/answers at last, and the whole story has really been about getting to the point of Fingon and Gil-galad in Aman where they actually could have the kind of conversation Gil-galad was trying to have at the start.

Some miles further, Fingon said, “Did you ever meet him in Beleriand? After I died. I always wondered.”

“No,” Gil-galad said.

It didn’t seem like he was going to speak again, and Fingon had begun to assimilate that knowledge, that pain – that Maedhros had never seen him, had only ever known him through Fingon’s own eyes – when he added,

“But I saw what he did. Have you ever seen a whole city ruined, and known the ruiners to be Elves? It wasn’t even a city, poor Sirion! It was a refuge, a place for the desperate, as far to the West as they could get, as close to the safety of the Sea. They had so very little. No great stone palaces, no towers, no spires. Little enough fresh food. They were able to grow so little, and they lived on fish, and sea-weed, and what brave hunting parties would bring back; and hope. They lived on hope, and they thought Elwing wore it around her throat, but the Valar didn’t come for them: Maedhros Fëanorion and his brothers did instead, and they burned and killed and ravaged. I’d say they salted the earth, but it was salt already. To fall on any innocent Elven city would be a horror: on poor Sirion it was the greatest cruelty I ever saw, and entirely pointless."

They said nothing more.

I like this, too, actually. You see a little here of why Gil-galad might be healthily sceptical of the Valar - they didn't come for them: Maedhros Feanorion and his brothers did instead - and that very post-war experience of seeing a descrated, destroyed town. Worse when you had seen it when it was whole, when you knew the dead and fled.

Sirion is, I think, the worst thing the Feanorions did. I find it worse than even Doriath or Alqualonde (though they're all awful!). These were desperate survivors, huddled together at the edge of the sea for protection. So many of their leaders had been killed or lost. Idril and Tuor had disappeared; Earendil was away; Maedhros and the others struck while only Elwing was there, and she was so young, and so alone, and so damaged already by what they'd done in Doriath. And now they’d come again. There's something about the revictimisation that gets me. It's awful.

I wanted it to be weight and counter-weight - that soft, painful, remembered moment of Maedhros seeing baby Gil-galad through Fingon's eyes, something Fingon has clearly not deliberately thought about since he was reborn, but dredges up now for Gil-galad, because he should know: and which is echoed in the beginning by Fingon's question to Finrod. But Maedhros is still the person who did the things he did, and I wanted to set that soft moment of truth against his deeds at Sirion, another truth, to point out clearly why Gil-galad would recoil so hard from this offering, this honesty Fingon wants to be able to give him. This is the dichotomy at the heart of the story: reconciling Maedhros and how one felt for him with what he did, and how one feels about that. It is irresolvable, at least for Fingon, at least at the moment I've ended it at for now.

I don't know if this is quite what you wanted, @warrioreowynofrohan, especially because like I said, I wrote this story in a frantic fog, but I hope this in some way suffices!

#not!fic

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