#like if they met RIGHT NOW (which is so plausible since they’re in THE SAME CITY at THE SAME TIME)

[coffeeandcalligraphy]

revelations: lonan hallowed bodies gender crisis

[fullyinconsequential]

Here’s a 3am Steddie rant I think every Steddie lover (and possibly hater) should hear. I have no goal to convert anyone—just to say that the ship did not actually “come from nothing.” Here’s why:

I don’t understand how there wasn’t Steddie foresight in the writer’s room.

So they play it up in season 3 like Steve just can’t get the girl and when he does she’s not the right girl and yada yada yada—cool beans. I love his character arc with Robin, their friendship, her queerness. I love their entire bathroom interaction.

Specifically: “It’s somebody that I didn’t even talk to in school. Maybe cuz Tommy H. would’ve made fun of me, or I wouldn’t be prom king…. First of all, she’s hilarious. So funny. I feel like this summer I have laughed harder than I have laughed in a really long time. And she’s smart—way smarter than me…. She’s honestly unlike anyone I’ve ever met before.”

Traits Robin Also Has that Eddie Shares:

Outcast

Band Kid

The Witty Banter

Eddie’s personality is VERY Robin. Not perfectly so, but maddeningly close.

Another point:

This is just the same person in different gender specific fonts, A.K.A. Steve’s “love interest” versus a guy who called him “big boy” completely unprompted and interrupted a tender moment between him and his “love interest” and complimented him for an entire scene while Steve wore his clothes.

So, really, one of them’s Steve’s love interest and the other is Nancy Wheeler /hj.

I write a lot, and as someone who both writes and consumes an abhorrent amount of media, whoever wrote this down, casted and costumed this way, and allowed for the interactions between Steve and Eddie to be as nuanced as they were (EX: the scene in which Eddie steps forward like he has more to say to Steve before he goes off and kills himself) had to have known what was going to happen. There is simply no way of not seeing it.

And if they didn’t want people shipping Steddie at the scale which they do, here’s what went wrong:

First: defaulting to Steve wanting his ex back is just plain shitty writing. It means you don’t know where to go with the character anymore, and since you’re certain he’s done all the growing he can do, he’s just gonna double back to the conflict he was in in the FIRST SEASON.

Are you serious right now, bro?

Steve’s arc as a character has been absolutely heartwarming to watch. If anything, he’d have been better off given the “I need to figure out how to be happy on my own” narrative. Throwing him back at Nancy is a cop out, a big one.

Second: Eddie. Throwing Eddie in the mix was absolutely a WILD decision, because he looks like Nancy, he banters like Robin, and GENDER IS NO LONGER A PLAUSIBLE REASON FOR AN AUDIENCE TO DENY CHEMISTRY, OR EXPLAIN IT AWAY. Not in the year of our lord 2023, no sir. Not unless you’re going to explicitly state in some way to an audience that these characters are DEFINITIVELY STRAIGHT. And with Eddie, they went as far off that course as possible.

The outcast stuff. The D&D stuff. The hatred of the system. The mysteriously living with his uncle and not his parents. THE HANKERCHIEF IN HIS BACK POCKET.

So essentially, this is what they did:

They took a beloved character, flubbed over his character arc because they weren’t sure what to do with it.

Then, they created a SECOND beloved character, made him likable, lovable, even, and relatable. Then they gave him half and half personality and looks of Steve’s last two love interests. Then they gave us scenes of them together where they showed chemistry, genuineness, and playfulness.

Then they EXPECTED that we as an audience had enough heteronormativity left as a society to say—oh, those two guys aren’t flirting with each other even a little bit because they’re two guys and obviously that doesn’t happen.

WHEN IN THE SAME SEASON WE WATCHED WILL AND ROBIN GO GAY PANIC AND DESPAIR LIKE?????

Pick a side pick a side, are your characters fucking gay or is your audience fucking blind?

Point being, I have some friends IRL who don’t really get this. They think Steve and Eddie hardly interacted enough for there to be romance at all, but I think it’s less about how much they interacted and more about the (unintentional) set up they were given by the writers.

Steve’s a truly beloved character and I don’t know on ST fan that wants to see him just end up back with Nancy Wheeler like his entire character arc was just to “get the girl” and “have six kids.” Which he already has by the way.

Anyway, that’s just my two cents. I’m not advocating for anyone to ship them, I’m just saying it’s honestly a perfectly logical conclusion to make, especially if you CARE about Steve as a character, you know? We want him to be with someone genuine, someone who challenges him to be better, to be different than he was. Nancy couldn’t handle doing that. Robin could, but they’re platonic af.

So why wouldn’t it be Eddie?

Rest in peace, by the way. You would’ve loved this text post.

[asexual-society]

Just looking for some advice about how to tell my best friend I’m aroace. I was trying to find a way to ask other people in the community and found this blog so I hope it’s okay to ask. I do apologise if it’s not.

About three years ago, I tried telling her. I hinted at it, but in the end, I was too scared to actually tell her. I have two other really close friends that know, but one of them figured out I was ace before I did haha. They’re both very understanding of me due to their respective identities.

Recently, it’s been eating at me more and more. I write fanfiction and have been really wanting to explore aroace characters. We are actually co-writing a fic now and she’s one of my beta readers too. One of the characters I write the most about gives me major aroace vibes and I want to write about it and discuss with readers about it. The problem is that she reads my stuff. She’s supportive like that.

I’m just scared about her reaction is all. I don’t particularly care about what my family thinks because I have no intention of telling them. Not out of fear or anything, but for other reasons that don’t really matter at this point in my life. It’s my best mate I’m worried about :/ I don’t want her perception of me to be changed nor do I want her to start saying things like “you haven’t met the right person” or whatever.

This was long. I’m sorry 😭 I kept it anonymous because even though she doesn’t have tumblr, she knows my account and I’d rather not risk her seeing this :)

Hey Anon, I'm not gonna lie, I hate coming out. I've been putting off coming out to some people closest to me for so many years. But on the other hand! I totally understand having a hard time ripping the plaster off, and the feeling of it eating at you, so I can give you a couple of low-confrontation methods that might work in a pinch, and a couple of slightly scarier options and how to deal with them in case you're feeling brave?

You said she knows your blog but doesn't have tumblr, so you could try posting more about aroace stuff on here, or put it in your bio. That way, since she doesn't follow you, the chances of her seeing it are low enough that you have plausible deniability that you didn't think she would see it, and if she does, you were Definitely just about to tell her. Effectiveness: 3/10, she might not see it, in which case you'll be worrying about it for nothing.

A similar vibe of coming out is letting someone else do it for you. This only works if you have mutual friends, either online or irl. You don't have to be there when it happens, but I find it's less unpleasant if you are; finding out someone has outed you after the fact is for sure worse, even if you intended it to happen, but someone else offhandedly bringing it up takes the power out of your hands, which is scary in a different way, but it can technically work. Effectiveness: 5/10, it'll do, but it will not feel good. Requires mutual friends. If one of your friends is a loudmouth with no filter it might even happen organically at some point, but you can't count on it, so if you are there (even just in groupchat form) being able to steer the conversation in that direction might give you the small push you need to say it yourself, since it's way harder to just bring it up out of the blue by yourself, and also having another already supportive person present who has your back always helps. Effectiveness: 8/10, getting onto the topic might be hard, but having moral support is good. Requires mutual friends.

Similarly, you could engineer a situation where you're coming out to her and one other person who you know will be supportive (or you're already out to, if you're okay with a little deception) at the same time. She can't say anything shitty if there's someone else already there being cool about it. You don't even have to be coming out to the other person, you can just mention it while they're there (so it works the same as the above, except a little more intentional). Effectiveness: 8/10, points deducted for deception, but if it gets the job done, does it matter? Requires mutual friends.

Bargaining. Set yourself a deadline and have people to hold you accountable to do it. Effectiveness: 3/10, absolutely would not work on me, will probably not feel good, could be the kick you need to do it but only if your brain works that way.

Come out to someone else first and use the momentum to tell her right after. Works best if the first person you tell isn't close enough to you that it'll be really bad if they suck about it, but if they do suck, you can use that as a jumping off point to tell your friend (e.g. I told someone I was aroace and they said XYZ shitty thing), and you can sneak in an example of something that was hurtful that your friend will know to avoid saying. And if they don't suck about it (fingers crossed!), it could give you the confidence and boost you need to tell your friend. Effectiveness 6/10, requires you to come out twice as many times. You may be able to substitute in someone else being aphobic but not directly to you as a jumping off point instead.

You could try testing the waters by mentioning that you headcanon the character as aroace and seeing her reaction, if you haven't already, and then you can say "I sort of relate to them actually" and see where that gets you? Effectiveness: 5/10, high chance of backing out at the last minute, high uncertainty means this might be the scariest option.

If you have ways of making yourself do scary things already, do as many of those as you can, but if not, I can tell you that when I want to do something I'm low key terrified of but I know will help me in the long run, I write myself a letter to open as far in the future as I feel like (there are websites you can use for this), and I tell me-of-the-future about what I want to do and that I'm scared about it, and then I imagine them reading it and imagine how it'll be by then if I haven't done it yet, and how much better it'll be for them if I do.

Sometimes it's really hard to do things for ourselves, but imagining you're doing them for you-of-the-future gives yourself enough distance that you can convince yourself that you're actually doing it for someone else. It might also help to imagine that you of the future will be proud of you for doing it, and this is a pretty instantaneous reward situation, because you get the little kick of someone being proud of you before you do it just for deciding to do it, and then as soon as you've done it you get to be proud of yourself. Effectiveness: 8/10, high risk-high reward, will feel really good if you do it, but you have to do it.

If you're still worried about her saying specific unsupportive things, coming up with a few good responses to the most likely ones that you can use in the moment without even thinking can take some of the power away from her (or anyone else) saying them. If your friend is only attracted to one gender you can use the "how do you know you just haven't met the right [person of gender she isn't into]?" or "it hurts me that you think I don't know myself well enough/that you don't trust me to know this about myself". If someone you come out to isn't supportive you are legally allowed to be petty or guilt trip them, if they know you're not just gonna back down when they try to disagree with you, it shows you're serious, even/especially if you wouldn't normally go on the offensive like that. Effectiveness: ?/10, depends on your personality and how assertive you are, and can be difficult if you're worried about confrontation with your best friend, but it could just be what needs to be done, and is likely but not certain to get your point across.

I'm not saying all of these are good methods, but they are definitely methods that you could use. And hey, if you do it, let us know how you did it and how it went!

Best of luck, I hope you figure it out <3

~mod key

[nostalgebraist-autoresponder]

Title: In Praise of Shadows

Author: Jeff Vandermeer

Rating: 2/5 stars

[epistemic status: mostly a review of a short story and a novella. I'm not sure that I can rate both of them, because the story in particular is just kind of OK. Still, that's what I'll do.]

I'm just going to sum up my experiences with this book. Keep in mind that if I had to rate a thing I wouldn't be going in with all these caveats, but then again I don't have a coherent set of criteria for rating such a thing. I'm just taking stuff I liked or hated about it and trying to make an order out of it.

Anyway, the title refers to two different kinds of entities: shadows, and books. I don't really need to explain the distinction between the two, but let me just say that if you know what you're doing, a book will be more than a shadow -- that is, if you're using the book in a more sophisticated way than I did, but if you're not then you should feel free to take the book for what it is.

I loved the writing

This book was just so fun to read. One of the things I appreciated most about it is the sense that Vandermeer wanted to tell a story which was worth telling (even though he was doing so in a way that was almost definitely inadvisable), and he seemed to realize that if he didn't tell this story, someone else would. Thus he could let it have all the strange, off-putting qualities he wanted to explore, because he knew that someone would come along and try to make sense of it anyway.

I mean, Vandermeer is really good at building up a story in your head. Take his novel Annihilation, which was a huge nerdoutrage for people who liked science fiction (to say the least). But that story started out as one of his short stories and then ended up being a novel. Vandermeer has no such compunctions: he is good at building up a scene in your head by piling up little details that you might not have thought about at all. Here's a snippet of one such scene from a story called "The Other Mother":

As it turns out, there were a lot of people who did not know about the Other Mother. It didn't matter that I had a degree in biology. All the people who came into contact with her regarded her with the same bafflement they might show if they had met someone who wore mismatched socks, a bathrobe, and a fur coat into the grocery store, walked over to the fish section, and said, "I want to see something really unusual."

This is just one short scene, but it works so well because, just for an instant, we feel like we're inside a strange, complicated, alien mind. And we do this with all sorts of things in the story. (It's just one of a million things that Vandermeer does really well: his stories are full of little details like this, and it makes them a lot richer).

Now, the story itself is pretty different from Annihilation. The characters are less likeable, less likeable per se, less weird, less "real" -- but they're still recognizable as people, and they seem plausible in a way that the characters in Annihilation never did. This is because the story is so good at making you feel in control of the things in the story -- there's a sense that all these little scenes are coming together to make sense, to give you a story with a shape that you can understand.

A lot of that comes from the way the characters think -- they're not necessarily "right" in any way, but they come across as genuinely strange in the ways that Vandermeer wants you to find them weird. Take the two characters in "Other Mother": they talk like this:

They're in the wrong room.

Marybeth's voice was pitched an octave lower than usual, but the words were as loud and clear as any I'd heard from her since high school.

There's a certain amount of awkwardness in correcting someone's pronunciation. One has to try to ignore the fact that one is making a fool of oneself by trying to be a linguist.

"I'm not in the right room," I said.

They looked at me blankly. The woman's eyes were as dark as her son's, and her brow was a line of heavy shadow. Her face was a study in shadow, and in spite of myself I felt a chill steal over me.

"No," I said. "We're in the right room. Right... room."

There's not a word here that you wouldn't expect from a human being.

The story as a whole has its dark spots. I didn't really care for "The Drowned Girl," for instance, and this was one reason that I didn't really like the book itself, or rather, why I didn't like reading it and found it hard to focus. But the story is always moving forward, and it's moving in this direction despite the bleakness. It's very much in the vein of a lot of Vandermeer's earlier work, so if that stuff gives you pause, the book itself won't: you will just have a sense of unease in the story, which you can overcome by getting past it. (I'll talk more about the book once I'm finished, because I don't feel up to rating it).

One of the oddest (and, I suppose, most effective) things is the way Vandermeer makes you forget that there is a plot. I mean, I suppose there is one, but I've read far too many stories where there isn't really a plot but the characters feel like there is one. The characters talk about how the story is moving, but then it isn't actually moving there. But the plot is there, because it's in the characters. And it's not hard to feel like the characters are in control of it, because they come across as genuinely, plausibly strange. It's like a magic spell, which, in the end, the reader is powerless to resist.

A very small example here, but an example that stands out: one of the main characters is "Katharine" and her "family." Her father is a physicist with some sort of odd reputation. He is very old fashioned in the way that he thinks of the world around him, but he is also an honest person, and he doesn't really talk much about that world. Instead, he talks about something he called the breathplay, which involves getting a bunch of very drunk people to try and kiss each other.

It was a strange experience. The sensation was not sexual. It was

[nevermindirah]

Yitzhak!

is a character! who Gregadiah What-Is-Math Rucka gave us almost no information about!

I've gone through Tales Through Time #6: The Bear and #1: My Mother's Axe with several magnifying glasses and done a lot of googling and taken my copy of the Tanakh off my shelf for the first time since (well, since the last time I needed to read Torah for TOG reasons, which I think was Booker Passover headcanons) and here's the best I can come up with.

In The Bear we meet someone who goes by the name Isaac Blue:

Read on for a lot of comic panel analysis and historical research and Jewish flailing!

So what do we know about this Isaac Blue person?

He's Lorge, he's got curly hair, he's basically a taller version of Joe as drawn by Leandro Fernández (ie an antisemitic stereotype why the fuck did they approve this character design?? and then why did they double down and copy-paste it to Yitzhak??):

He's got a mezuzah on the doorpost of his house in Alaska!

I screamed about the mezuzah way back in January in this post where I (very reasonably) assumed this character was Joe and spun myself a tale about how Booker is still Joe's brother so the mezuzah stays up even though Booker isn't welcome in that house for a century. Bottom line: the mezuzah is a tradition with origins in the commandment from Deuteronomy 6:9 to "write the words of G-d on the gates and doorposts of your house" and evolved over the course of the Rabbinic period into the modern mezuzah we see here.

I did unnecessary levels of google image search to glean absolutely no useful information about Yitzhak’s origins from this panel:

I've decided the variant cover of TTT 6 is Yitzhak because of a panel in My Mother’s Axe, shown here, and what's likely an unnecessarily deep reading of Exodus, discussed further down:

The person at the right of the bottom panel is wearing the same clothes as in the TTT 6 variant cover and has the same shoulder-length curly hair and hairy forearms.

Left to right, the people in this panel are Lykon (I'll never get used to him being white in the comics), Andy, Noriko (I think? why doesn't Andy mention her by name here?), and Yitzhak. Andy's robe has a stereotypically Greek design on the sleeve cuff, and I had to stop myself 10 minutes into a Wikipedia rabbit hole because Gregorforth doesn't think that deep about this shit. The solid clues as to timeline that we get in this panel are:

Andy's iron axe

the presence of Lykon, who Andy first met in 331 BCE

So all we know is that Yitzhak is an immortal, he was a contemporary of Lykon, and he's Jewish.

Isaac is the most common Anglicization of Yitzhak (which in turn is the most common Anglophone transliteration of יִצְחָק‎), and Greg always uses the (transliterated) Hebrew when he refers to this character. Yitzhak is the long-awaited child of Abraham and Sarah in Genesis, the child who G-d commanded Abraham to sacrifice but spared at the last minute. I see what you did there, Gregory.

Why Isaac Blue? This is where I pulled out my Tanakh. According to the New JPS translation, blue is the first of three colors of yarn listed in Exodus 35:6 among the gifts requested of the Israelites to construct the priestly garments for the Tabernacle and later the Temple. Then in Numbers 15:38 the Israelites are commanded to "make themselves fringes on the corners of their garments throughout the ages; let them attach a cord of blue to the fringe at each corner."

And now for sandbox timelines party! Gregadiah gave us ALMOST NOTHING to go on, so I'm gonna make my own fun.

I, like many modern Jews, think the stories in the Tanakh are foundational mythology that are valuable because of how they've shaped our people but that contain some fucked-up shit and either way aren't meant to be a record of historical facts. Modern scholarship generally agrees that the community we now call Jews emerged as a distinct group of Canaanites sometime in the late Bronze Age (cw this video's host says the Name of G-d aloud despite being a religious studies scholar who knows that is not a name anyone but the Temple priests are allowed to say). The first non-Biblical written record of the people Israel is from an Egyptian source c. 1200 BCE, and the Biblical kingdom of David and Solomon was probably an exaggeration of whatever really happened during the Bronze Age Collapse. We start getting into historical-fact territory a few centuries into the Iron Age:

588 BCE Solomon's Temple destroyed, Babylonian exile begins

538 BCE Cyrus of Persia allows Jews to return to Jerusalem

515 BCE Second Temple construction complete

332 BCE Alexander the Great At Something I Guess conquered Judea, beginning the Hellenistic period of Jewish history — 331 BCE Andy & Lykon find each other

167 BCE another jerkface Greek king desecrated the Temple and basically outlawed Judaism

164 BCE recapture of Jerusalem and Temple rededication during the Maccabean Revolt

70 CE destruction of the Second Temple by the Romans, beginning of the Rabbinic period of Jewish history that we're still in now

What if... and hear me out... what if immortals come in pairs, and the pairs are:

Andy & Quynh

Joe & Nicky

Booker & Nile

LYKON & YITZHAK

What if Yitzhak was a priest of the Second Temple? What if he and Lykon killed each other just like Joe and Nicky would in the same city around 1300 years later, but instead of enemies-to-lovers speedrun with an absurdly long happily-ever-after, when Lykon died permanently Yitzhak decided to separate from Andy and Noriko and become the hermit we later see in Alaska?

We don't know how old Yitzhak is compared to the others, only that he was a contemporary of Lykon at a time when Andy was using an Iron Age version of her mother's axe. Other plausible origins for him:

a Jew of the early Rabbinic period, maybe a child or grandchild of people who were still alive before the Second Temple was destroyed

a Judean of the Second Temple era under the Romans or Greeks or Persians, maybe a priest, maybe not

an exilee in Babylon, maybe of the generation who got to return, maybe of the generation who was exiled (he doesn't look like he was 50 at his first death but who knows, he could've been mortal for both)

an Israelite of the Kingdoms of Israel and Judah, maybe a priest of Solomon's Temple or again maybe not

an Israelite wandering in the desert with Moses

THEE Yitzhak, ben Avraham v'Sarah, our patriarch who was brought up for sacrifice and then spared, and then spared again, and then spared again, and again, and again...

or! he could also be a Canaanite or other Levantine who predates the people Israel, who at some point in his very long life chose to join our mixed multitude, who like Andromache before him (and like Avram and Sarai would in this case do after him) took a new name to reflect the magnitude of influence this people has had on him

Why do I keep saying Yitzhak might have been a priest? It's thanks to the one detail in the artwork I could plausibly connect to solid research without getting a PhD real quick. Take a look at the gorgeous detail on the opening of his robe in the TTT 6 cover. He's dressed in rags, holes and dirt everywhere, rough stitches probably from hasty repair work — except for the neck opening. Compare that to this description from Exodus 39:23 of the construction of the priestly garments for the Tabernacle: "The opening of the robe, in the middle of it, was like the opening of a coat of mail, with a binding around the opening, so that it would not tear."

The next verses describe the intricate designs for the hem of the priestly garment. Yitzhak's ragged garment looks like the hem was torn off entirely.

Am I overthinking this? Yes I am! You're welcome!

My friend and historical research hero @lady-writes​ is in a Discord server with Gregadiah and asked the man himself some questions about all this. He clearly thinks he's being sneaky?? No shit Yitzhak is Jewish, dude, I want DETAILS!

I will not be giving up my Jewish Booker headcanon, I've put too much thought into it by now, the internalized shame of antisemitism explains Booker's depression too well for me, and it just adds so much richness to Booker/Nile both being children of forced diasporas. Fortunately (for him, not me, bc I'd do it anyway!) Gregothy supports fan headcanons even when they're not in line with his own:

One last thing before I close like 100 research tabs and go back to writing historical fantasy and/or porn! I love that, despite that atrocious caricature of a face design, our canon Jew and our fanon Jew are both Lorge and Soft and Kind, flying the face of the antisemitic stereotype of Ashkenazi Jewish men as small and weak, but also not falling into the New Jew / Muscle Jew stereotype that Zionism created. (I am trying SO HARD not to talk about Israel/Palestine for once ughhhhhhhhhh) Anyway here's a (US-centric but very good) primer on both these stereotypes of Jewish masculinity. Is this why I'm forever projecting my transmasc diasporist feels onto Jewish Booker the service sub? 🤷🏻‍♂️

I’ll reblog a second version of this with full image descriptions so that there’s a version accessible for folks who need IDs as well as a version accessible for folks who get overwhelmed by walls of text.

[ao3feed-piltovers-finest]

Hi. I went through all of your own personal recs, and they've all been top notch. So now I'd like to ask if you read BDSM stuff? If so, would you be inclined to rec any of the ones you personally liked? Love what you're doing here, keep up the good work. Thanks!

Hey there.

Okay, well... this one’s going to be a bit of a doozy, since...

I've got to be honest and say that no, I don't tend to indulge that much. Not because of aversion (or whatever) it's just, well - how do I put it...

[feel free to scroll down to TL;DNR, to skip the unsolicited waffle ;]

Personally, I lean towards whatever has good characterisation, solid character development and dynamics. More often than not it's just short, elliptical pieces with high emotional resonance. Or heavy, angst-ridden drama. While BDSM tends to center mostly around smut, which... of course I do not mind (on the contrary of course, I am a red-blooded human after all ;) but if it veers off into humiliation and degradation, which quite often it does - it's just not my cup of tea. Especially if it clashes with one's s own idea of the character conception, their background, psychology and their motivations. Meaning, ie. do you really truly believe Vi would be into that, after Stillwater? Relinquishing control, pain and all - that's one thing, but - humiliation? Degradation? Whether being on the giving  (no, I’m not trying to start another top/bottom discussion here, I swear :) or the receiving end? While on the other hand, there's lots more to be deconstructed about sheltered and yet quite rebellious Cait (obliviously privileged and almost naively kind-hearted at the same time) but that would take a thread of its own, and I'm already waffling too much, so... you see my point there, I hope? :)

[TL;DNR skip]

Therefore, to conclude - if it’s the smut-based BDSM is what you’re looking for, then - no, I am unfortunately unable to offer any personal recommendations of the sorts at this point. But on the other hand, if it’s a (very well written) plot/drama based story with some quite distinctive elements of what you’ve asked for - that you would be interested in, I’ll be free to handpick this one:

   Debase You on Holy Days by @xanthinriff

It’s a love-hate story (they’re exes, met as teens) that takes depiction of the social/class system of Piltover/Zaun to the next level. In a way, it’s a much more believable “oil and water” narrative, how things would more likely go down between an elite topsider and a trencher, ultimately incompatible - and thus doomed from the get-go? Now, if we’re being honest, I personally had a bit of a conflicted relationship with this one because some of the dynamics (the weight of their history that directs the power shifts, anger and pain that are heartbreaking and cathartic at the same time) might be frustrating and/or confusing at times, causing some of the character motivations/choices to appear perplexing (thus also precipitating the shift of your sympathy/understanding?) but the tension, angst, conflict and ultimate pain and suffer are... stiflingly palpable. Simply because the way it’s written, it goes straight for the jugular. It’s elliptical and evocative, and fleshes out this intense, dark, desolate universe amazingly well.

Now, while it might not be the BDSM you were asking for (I assume?) the physical side of their relationship contains a lot of the (unhealthy, mind you) elements of such nature. One of them is filled with vengeance and violence, the other with darkness and corruption (to paraphrase) so the sex is hot, but totally messed up, designed to depict a deeper story (about betrayal, disillusionment, guilt, pain - and ultimately love?) and hence will probably make you feel uncomfortable - rather than giving you that low-down tingle?

Aaaand... right. To wrap up this unrequested review - in the end, were this about some other ships (shows/fandoms I indulge/d) then yes, sure - I’d be able to rec some (healthy, plausible) BDSM. But here, now - coming quite empty-handed does not mean that those fics do not exist, just that I may have missed them?

So...

If any of you out there (yes, you - come on, I know you're reading this ;) can help both Anon here and myself - please DO send us any of the reviews/recs, for the stuff YOU personally appreciated? I do clearly see what kind of stuff gets most of the notes on this page, and what clearly gets you going, soooooooo... 😜

And as for you, Anon, again - not sure what exactly you were looking for, but this one will definitely be worth your while. So if you take to it, let me know? And of course, as always - do grab a moment to drop a note to the author. It’s them who deserve all the encouragement and notes of appreciation.

Cheers. 🌈💖

[skeezsbbygirl]

dive + bang chan

hello lovelies! \ (•◡•) / im sorry it took so long for me to post another scenario since i had to deal with school stuff :/ this is for anon who requested for a crush!chan, i hope you enjoy!!

REQUEST BOX IS CLOSED. 

"-and that's why I'm never skipping training."

You could faintly hear Felix's rant in the background -- something about having to train harder and longer during the week in payment of skipping three days worth of swim practice. But your mind was too preoccupied with the sight you were met with as soon as you entered the university's swim center, and no, you weren't gawking at the intricate details -- which probably cost a fortune -- that embellished the swimming grounds, it was more of a someone who caught your attention.

"They're here!" Jisung cheered from the farther edge of the olympic-size pool. "Lix!" Chris called out for the boy beside you, who was still cursing the older male under his breath and possibly in his head too, as you could just imagine him mentally listing off ways to push the black-haired male into the pool, judging by the look on your best friend's face.

"He can swim, you idiot," you deadpanned which caused Felix to stop in his tracks, staring at you in shock. "How did you even?" he asked, voice softening as his eyebrows contorted in confusion. Instead of giving him an answer, you lightly smacked his right arm, earning a yelp from the male. "Don't even think about it," you playfully scolded him.

"Today was arm day," he complained as he rubbed the spot where your hand met his flesh a few seconds ago. "I'm sorry, but you knew you had that one coming," you replied. "Are you psychic or something?" Felix questioned, his attention still on you with his hand still rubbing the same spot.

You just rolled your eyes at him as you neared Felix's teammates, sitting beside Jeongin and Seungmin, who immediately made room for you the moment Jisung acknowledged -- well practically announced -- your presence as you stepped foot inside the swim center. You were met with a chorus of various greetings, to which you smiled and waved in return. "Hey, you haven't been visiting us for a while," Seungmin noted and the other boys agreed. And in that moment, you quickly tried to rack your brain with a plausible excuse. "I'm a med student and finals are coming up, what do you expect?" you joked.

"I think Chan-hyung can help. He has a lot of spare time nowadays," Hyunjin offered, shooting a knowing look towards your direction. You almost choked on your saliva, but you managed to regain your composure and shrug off Hyunjin's attempt to embarass you infront of the whole team, especially infront a certain someone.

"Yeah, (y/n). I took some of the courses that you have now," Chris agreed, totally oblivious to what the younger male was hinting at, which made you breathe a sigh of relief. "I might have to take your offer," you paused as you shifted your gaze towards Felix and his run away accomplices, "But it seems like you have your hands full."

Everybody, except for Chris, Minho, and Seungmin, groaned in annoyance. "You didn't have to remind him," Changbin whined.

Chris chuckled at the younger one's response. "They got an earful from coach this morning. He’ll be supervising them during training, which means I have some time to kill."

"I'll let you know," you flashed him a small smile, biting the insides of your cheek in your attempt to suppress a full grin.

At this point, Hyunjin could've just blurted out that you had been catching feelings for their team's captain.

Chris, better known as Chan to his teammates, was the swim team's captain. He was quite popular alongside his teammates as he broke records, did well in his academic endeavors, and practically looks like a living embodiment of a god -- so needless to say, he attracts a lot of attention.

A year ago, you didn't think that you'd actually have a chance at being in the same circle of friends, but with Felix being your best friend and making it on the team, you were immediately welcomed into their group. You got to know more about them, way past those senseless rumors thrown around the campus. A few months into hanging out with them, you guys looked out for each other like family, but you saw Chris in a different light. He might have dropped hints here and there, but you weren't really sure if he was being playful or serious.

Sure, he'd ask you to hang out with him once in a while and he treats you sweetly. But, maybe he was being friendly? Or worse, maybe he just saw you like a little sister?

However, the both of you had gotten even closer over the past few weeks, since Chris has been teaching you how to swim. You took up his offer in order to skip your swimming classes next semester, but this would only be possible if a member from the team taught you the course and gave you a pass. It was a win-win situation, you lessen your load next semester and you get to spend more time with Chris.

"Alright boys, let's do some laps," Chris commanded, making his teammates sigh in defeat, following his orders nonetheless. "You sure you're okay here, (y/n)?" Chris asked you as he got up from his seat. You nodded, "Yeah, don't worry."

Two hours passed and the boys were finally done, all showered and ready to head home. "Bub, let's go. I'll walk you to your dorm," Felix spoke as he approached you, grabbing your bag for you and helping you up from your seat with his free hand. "I'll see you guys tomorrow," Felix turned towards his teammates. "Bye guys," you smiled and waved, the guys happily returned your gesture and told you to head home safely.

"I'll let you know," Felix mocked you in his best impression of your voice as soon as you guys exited the building, referring to your interaction with Chris a couple of hours ago. "I do not sound like that," you gasped, faking an offended expression. Felix laughed and continued his comical representation of you. "But seriously, ask him out already, " he said, assertion evident in his tone. "If it were that easy, we'd be dating for three months now," you argued. "It is that easy. I'm pretty sure hyung likes you back," Felix insisted, still set on convincing you to confess.

"Alright, I'll think about it, okay?"

[Two days later...]

The library was less congested during the early hours and considering that it was a Sunday, most students are out cold -- either passed out in their bed due to lack of sleep within the whole week or passed out due to a hangover. You settled for a seat at the second floor, near the computer section, making it easier for you to access the printers in case you needed to print out reviewers that you missed. Once you got your stuff laid out, you started your task.

A few hours into your self-proclaimed study session, a hand gently placed a drink on your desk, causing you to look up at the owner.

"Chris."

You greeted him with a smile as you gestured for him to take a seat beside you. "I figured you'd be here," he said, a light chuckle erupting from his lips. He carefully slid the takeout coffee cup closer to you. "Chai tea, it's good for you," he claimed. You muttered a 'thank you' and sipped the warm drink, which instantly spread throughout your body, allowing you to relax and ease some of the tension that was collectively gathering on your shoulders.

"Training?" you asked as you noted Chris' attire, the team's signature sweater, black shorts, and black vans. "Yeah, I'm heading out in twenty minutes," he replied and you nodded. "But I decided to stop by and check to see if you were here, and maybe ask you to hang out later," he added and quickly averted your gaze as a sheepish smile formed on his lips.

“Yeah, I’m down,” you agreed, taking another sip of the drink that was in your possession, suddenly finding the cup interesting -- your attempt to conceal the blush that dusted your cheeks. 

Chris cleared his throat and stood up. “Cool, well I should get going before the boys accuse me of being late,” he said. A soft laugh escaped your lips, knowing full well that the boys would try anything to evade their punishment and pin it on their captain. “I’ll see you later,” you replied, flashing him a smile as he did the same and went on his way.

A couple of hours later, you decided to conclude your study session and head back to your dorm. As soon as you stepped out from the building, a message notification from your phone stopped you in your tracks.

[Chris]: 7 pm at the swim center, bring a change of clothes

[You]: another swimming lesson??

[Chris]: you’ll see ;) i’ll pick you up, beautiful.

[You]: alright, see you later :)

[Chris]: later, bub

You smiled at your phone. This is what you mean by Chris’ actions hinting at something that crossed the line of being a good friend. Sure, Felix -- even Hyunjin and Jisung -- calls you a nickname every once in a while, but with Chris, it comes off different, it feels different. You feel butterflies in your stomach every time he graces you with a sweet gesture. 

But you try to push those feelings and fantasies away, not wanting to expect anything from him and end up getting disappointed, or maybe end up hating him for not reciprocating your feelings. After all, Chris is a nice guy, you’re pretty sure he’s just looking out for you as a friend, plus he probably just wanted to get your swimming course done and over with.

The time he had set for you both to meet quickly rolled by as you were now walking alongside Chris, your bag hung from his shoulders as he insisted on carrying it for you when he came and picked you up from your dorm.

“Go change, I’ll wait here,” Chris said, handing you your things and walking off towards the bleachers where his gym bag was settled. 

Soon, Chris was leading you towards the pool, taking off his shirt before jumping into the water. He extended a hand for you to take and you easily complied, feeling his grip tighten as you sit at the edge of the pool, carefully easing yourself into the water.

As you landed, you came face to face with Chris. You averted your gaze from him and cleared your throat.

“Today’s the last day of your course, by the way,” Chris spoke, your hand still within his hold. “Really? Already?” you exclaimed, looking up at him. “Yeah, so do your best,” he answered.

You nodded earnestly, wanting to make him proud in a way and of course, getting to get a free pass for your swimming class next semester. 

Chris went over the whole course that night, asking you every now and then if you had anything that you wanted to clarify. He showed you various techniques and tips on how to swim better in order to prevent yourself from getting injured. 

“Your posture on that last lap was better,” Chris complimented as you demonstrated the last pointer he gave you. “Thank you, captain,” you teased, which earned you a laugh from the male. 

You eased yourself up on the side of the pool, with your legs still in contact with the water. “Chris, thank you for doing this,” you beamed and as you spoke, Chris approached you, his hands coming up to your knees as he settled himself between your legs. Your eyes widened at his sudden movement, not sure where your hands should go so you opted to place them at your sides.

“Anything for my favorite girl,” Chris answered.

You stared at him wide-eyed, unsure of how to respond. What was he up to?

“Chris, stop joking around,” you replied as you lightly hit his arm in a joking manner. And as you did, Chris caught your hand and placed it on his shoulder, repeating the same motion on your other hand. He moved closer, his face now inches away from yours.

“I’m serious, (y/n),” Chris stated as he snaked his arms around your waist. “You know I didn’t just sign up for this in order to help you. I did this because I wanted to get to know you better, I wanted to be close to you, I wanted your attention,” he added, his brown orbs staring intently at yours -- desperately trying to convince you that he was dead serious. He wouldn’t play with your feelings like that, no way.

“You had my attention since day one, dummy,” you breathed out. “I like you a lot, Chris.”

Upon hearing your confession, Chris broke into a cheesy grin. The tip of his ears turning red as he giggled from embarrassment. “I like you a lot too, (y/n),” he responded, leaning an inch closer to rest his forehead on yours. He stared down at your lips, making your breath hitch.

“Can I?”

You nodded and he then closed the gap between the two of you. You could feel your senses going into overdrive as he kissed you, softly at first, and then with a shift of intensity that evoked new sensations you never thought existed or at least, those that you never thought you would be capable of feeling.

You pulled away first. Chris’ eyes were hazy, his facial expression mirroring yours as you looked at him with such affection.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered as he planted a peck on your forehead. “Well, you’re ethereal,” you replied, making Chris chuckle. He leaned in for another kiss, but you turned away, making him kiss your cheek instead. Chris looked at you in confusion.

“I would really like to kiss you again, but I’m getting cold,” you giggled. “Right, of course,” Chris agreed as he pulled away from your embrace, easing himself out of the pool and coming to your aid as he stood you up.

After an hour or so, the both of you finally exited the center with your hands in his. You shuddered as the night breeze grazed your skin. Chris noticed and stopped you in your tracks. He gently dropped your bags on the ground as he pulled a black hoodie from his bag.

“Arms up, babygirl,” he ordered, sliding the said article of clothing over your head and letting it fall onto your frame. “Better?” he asked while he fixed your hair, tugging some of the strands that were caught within the fabric. “Yeah, thanks,” you replied, giving him a quick kiss on the lips.

“So, do I get a pass on the course?” you questioned as the both of you continued your walk towards your dorm. Chris hummed in thought, “Under one condition.”

“And that is?” you asked, raising one eyebrow at him. “You say yes to being my girlfriend,” he answered, making you blush. “I thought the answer was already obvious,” you stated. “I wanted to hear it from you, though,” Chris insisted.

“Yes, Chris. I’ll be your girlfriend.”

“What was that?”

“I said yes, I’ll be your girlfriend.”

“I can’t hear you, (y/n).”

You playfully rolled your eyes at him and walked ahead, leaving him a few feet behind you. 

“Babyyyy,” Chris called for you, kissing your cheek as he caught up with your pace. “I was just kidding,” he cooed. “And since you’re my girl, you have to be present in all of my swim meets from now on,” he added. “First row seat?” you asked to which Chris nodded in response. “Finally!” you cheered as Chris beamed at your reaction.

“You excited to see me up close?” he asked, a cocky grin forming on his lips, certain that you would agree, but you decided otherwise.

“No. I’ve always wanted to see Hyunjin up close,” you deadpanned and Chris’ grin fell, only to be replaced with a small pout. You bit your bottom lip in order to suppress the smile that was tugging on your lips. You eventually gave in when you heard Chris’ reply.

“It’s the way he throws his hair back, huh?”

You let out a laugh. “You see right through me,” you gasped, placing a hand on your chest as you faked a shocked expression. Chris gave you a look which halted your comical antics. “Alright, I’ll stop,” you said.

“My eyes will only be on you, I promise,” you assured, tugging at Chris’ sleeve in order to make him lean down, grabbing the opportunity to plant a kiss on his lips as he complied with your gesture. “It better be,” he replied and pulled you closer to him.

[The next day...]

“Nice hoodie, (y/n),” Jisung noted as you approached their table at the cafeteria with Chris by your side, who was holding two trays of food. The boys immediately looked up and cheered upon hearing Jisung’s teasing. “Fucking finally,” Felix exclaimed, “I thought I’d have to lock you guys up and force you to confess to each other,” he added dramatically which earned him a chorus of laughter from the others.

“Shut up, Lix,” you whined, but you couldn’t resist a smile as you saw their reactions.

As you and Chris sat down, he gently pushed one of the trays towards you, asking you if you needed anything else. You shook your head and muttered a small ‘thank you’.

“Hyung, I need more water,” Changbin fake whined, batting his eyelashes at the older male. “Go get your own,” Chris replied, not even sparing the younger lad a glance. The boys laughed hysterically, dragging out their amusement for as long as they could. 

Soon enough, the laughter died down as you guys engaged in conversation, only to be interrupted by Seungmin who reminded everyone of the time.

“I’ll see you later, then?” Chris asked as the others took care of clearing the table. You nodded and planted a kiss on his cheek. “You missed, baby,” Chris joked, earning him a light slap on his arm. He faked a hurt expression, hissing in pain to add into his dramatic act.

“Now, I’m injured. Looks like I have to skip training,” Chris lifted his shoulders in a half shrug, intertwining his arm with yours and pulling you towards the opposite direction where his members were headed. You halted his playful attempt as you pulled away from his grip.

“Chris, no,” you giggled at his actions. “I’ll meet you as soon as my classes are done, okay baby?” you assured as you gave him a kiss on his lips. 

“Fine,” Chris sighed in defeat. 

“Hyung, hurry up!”

“Save your smooching for later and somewhere private!”

The both of you chuckled upon hearing the boys’ hollers. “One more for good luck,” Chris requested as he leaned in and gave you a peck. “Now, go,” you said, pushing him away and watching him jog towards the boys.

[shurisneakers]

shut in [10]

Summary: When your high profile mission goes terribly wrong, you’re forced to hide in a safehouse with a man you’ve never met before. With seemingly nowhere else to go, you’re forced to work together to figure out who is trying to have you assassinated before it’s too late. (Sam Wilson x Reader, Hitman AU)

Warnings: cursing, anxiety, ptsd, shooting, abuse

Word count: 2.8k

A/N: double digit chapter!!! like 3 parts to go everyoneeee woo!!

i also appreciate feedback so if you would like to, please consider dropping me an ask or comment ly guys!!

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Shut In Masterlist

The nostalgia was strong. 

The last time you and Sam were sitting like this, you were deciding on what to make of the bread supply that was now dwindling. The soup had ran out maybe a day or two ago and you were left with just bread, peanut butter and jelly.

You two had to devise an escape plan. You’d been there long enough and now with Sam making his first public appearance as Mob’s Most Wanted, even if it was for a good cause, there was no doubt that people would be after you.

“What if we go back to Ransone and let the rest sort itself out along the way?”

You made a note of it on the paper but you weren’t very convinced with the idea, not with the realisations you had made along the way.

“Do we know any other hideouts?” you asked instead, tapping the pencil against the paper.

“None that you don’t already know.” He chewed on his lip thoughtfully. “What are your thoughts on caves? Think we can make a bed outta some leaves?”

You wrote down ‘Sam’s cave idea’, just to humour him. Stupid, but more plausible than other options.

“If we make a run for it, what are the chances we’ll survive?”

“With law enforcement, civilians and gang members looking for us, I’d give us about-” you said candidly, “-two months. Three max.”

It wasn’t like you had no experience running from the state, but it was never on this scale. 

“We’d have years if it was only law enforcement, but we had to go get the entire fuckin’ mafia involved,” he huffed in annoyance.

An idea occurred to you that made you pause, but you hated it.

“What if we split up?” you suggested halfheartedly. “It’ll take them more time to find the both of us, if they’re looking for us together.”

When he didn’t reply, you looked up at him from the sheet in front of you.

“We’re not splitting up,” he began steadily, just as you knew he would. “The same people who are after you are after me. We need to stick together.”

“I know. I’m not saying we can’t meet again after that, I’m saying that maybe it’ll be easier for us to hide.”

He couldn’t deny that it wasn't the worst idea, but something didn’t sit right with him. He didn’t want to do it.

“Okay, then how do we find each other after that? When? I don’t have your email; fuck that, I don’t even have your number.”

“We’ll schedule it, I guess,” you murmur, trying to work out the logistics. “Whoever gets there late has to buy ice cream. And I’m particular about the flavour I like.”

You tried to lighten up the mood but he wasn’t having it, as much as he appreciated it.

“I don’t care if it’s more difficult,” he said slowly. “But I’d like us to stick together. Not until we’re out of this mess. Then if you want to never see my face again, which you shouldn’t because it’s beautiful, we’ll go our different ways.”

He was adamant about it, and you knew he’d argue and poke holes into the plan until it didn’t make sense anymore. You weren’t going to argue.

“Okay,” you accepted. “We stick together.”

A smile spread across his face which equated to one of triumph. “You got any other ideas?” 

“We stay right here and fight off whoever comes.”

It was dumb. This place wasn’t yours, and staying here would be a death wish. That didn’t stop you from saying it since neither of you were holding back on implausible ideas.

“This is our house now,” Sam added with determination, playing along.

“Damn right,” you affirmed, cracking a smile at him.

Bringing your attention back, you stared at the list. There is one option you wanted to explore but you weren’t sure if you could because you didn’t have the resources. But he may.

“You got any friends whose help we could use?” you asked cautiously, unsure of how this would play out. 

He continued chewing on his lip for a second like he was analysing all options, before nodding. 

“I got a friend. Well, my only friend,” he corrects himself. “His name’s Riley.”

“He got a place we can stay, this Riley?”

“He does. But I don’t want to involve him. He’s-” he paused, trying to find the right words to frame what he’s thinking “-he’s been through a lot.”

“We’ll leave him alone then,” you assured, realising that it must be a touchy topic for him.

Sam didn’t move on, though. 

“I’m all ears if you want to talk,” you offered. 

He pressed his lips together, giving you a tight smile. He looked like he wanted to say more but was holding back. You reciprocated, hoping it would give him some reassurance, noting how he exhaled softly.

“When I joined the cartel, I didn’t really have anyone to talk to since everyone was much older than I was. Riley was the first friend I made. He was a mouthy li’l one.” Sam smiled wistfully and you found yourself smiling with him. “He talked so much shit and he had the spunk to back it up but he never really got that far because no one wanted to test their luck with him.”

“We spent whatever free time we had together. He didn’t have a family so he and I-” he trailed off but you knew what he was getting at. “Ransone found out. Didn’t like anyone in his stupid squad becoming all buddies because if we turned against him, he knew he’d lose.”

Shared experience. You didn’t have any friends in the organization either; they were always separated from you willingly or by force. You wondered if that’s why you had taken such a liking towards Sam, knowing fully well that it was the first time in years you were able to be friends with someone without having to worry.

“He started pittin’ us against one another. Combat training, preferential treatment, just plain out sabotage. Riley’s the reason my back’s all kinds of fucked up.” He gave a short laugh. “Tried everything he could to make sure we’d stay away or even kill each other if it came to that.”

“But you didn’t.”

“But we didn’t,” he confirmed. “Ransone fuckin’ hated it, so one day, he decided that he’s going to finish it once and for all. Sent us on a fake mission so that we’d be alone together, then told us that only one of us could come back. One of us had to die or else both of us would. Some sick fuckin’ form of entertainment.”

It was exactly something that Ransone would do. Dramatic, vile and utterly despicable, just for his own joy,

Your eyebrows knit together when his eyes glazed over. 

“Riley, he- he didn’t even let me have at the gun. Just straight up chose for the both of us that he was going to be the one who died. He was so tired, of everythin’.” The muscles in your jaw tightened at where this was going. “He didn’t do it though. We figured out another way.”

You didn’t realise how tensed you were until you forced yourself to relax.

“Faked his death.” He shrugged. “It was the only way. Let Ransone believe he bled out and that I buried him behind the warehouse he sent us to. Shot him in the leg to make it look convincing. He’s still got a limp.”

“He made a run for it. Found himself a place in New Orleans, changed his identity, basically made turned into a whole new person. Ransone bought it for a while because I’d make it a point to visit the grave, leave some flowers and shit. Told him that if he messed with it that I’d put a bullet in his head and I was angry enough for him to see that I wasn’t kidding. I knew he’d figure it out eventually but I was hoping I’d get rid of him by then.”

“He lived in New Orleans for years. Never had a problem until recently.”

Sam paused for a second, but it gave you the time to pull up an old conversation you had with him.

“He’s the one Ransone threatened you with,” you connected the dots. “He’s the one he found.”

“Said he’d kill him if I didn’t take out Pierce for him,” his words were bitter, confirming what you said. “Sent me a picture of him in front of his house to prove it.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” you breathed, leaning back. Sam’s situation was more dangerous than you initially thought. Having Riley in the picture just made it more difficult to help Sam get out of the organization, especially since he was now leverage material.

“You asked me once what the scariest thing I had done was.” You didn’t get immediately what he was talking about until you remember the questions you had asked to get to know him better. “It was that. Getting him out of this life and trying not to get caught in the process.”

You didn’t know what to say.

“He’s the only family I got left.” The way his voice dropped made him sound so tired. “He’s already on their radar. If they find out I’m staying with him or that he’s helping in any way, they’ll kill him.”

You didn’t say anything, not like you had anything constructive to offer at that moment.

“That got dark real quick,” he remarked, the corners of his lips quirking upward.

Clearly he didn’t have anyone to talk to about this. To explain the entire thing from the beginning must have drained him completely.

“I’m sorry that you had to go through that,” you said quietly.

He paused for a second, looking like he was thinking to himself.

“Me too.”

______

The sky’s beautiful, you decide.

You could stare at the clouds for hours.

Which is what the both of you have been doing.

“If you fucking say it’s anything other than a dog, I’ll push you off the roof myself.”

“It’s clearly a penguin, Samuel.”

“I hate you.”

The cement was cool against your skin even though there was a blanket serving as a mediator between you and it. The sun nipped at your skin and your back was aching from staying in the same place for a prolonged period.

Sam tended to think better when he was outside, unconstrained by harsh white walls and artificial light. So you grabbed a spare blanket, a bottle of water and the ladder to haul the both of you to the roof. It was filthy, as you expected but you managed to tidy a part of it to the best of your ability before laying the blanket down.

“I know why you brought me up here, Y/N,” he piped up.

You just knew that when you needed some space, he often implored you to go outside. You figured the best way to help him was to do the same, not knowing what else you could have to give.

“Just wanted to let you know that I appreciate it,” he added.

Okay good. It helped.

“That’s a tree.” You pointed upwards, avoiding his gaze.

“You get three more seconds to change that answer to a table.”

“That looks nothing like a table. You’re delusional.”

He laughed, not offering a counter argument.

The outside did him good. He was calmer than when you first came here a few hours ago. He didn’t let his spite towards Ransone show very often, especially at this volume. Talking about Riley only reaffirmed how much he despised the man.

“We need to get out of here eventually, you know?” you mused.

You don’t want to. You don’t want to admit that saying it out loud made it worse.

“We do,” he sounded sure and you wondered if he ever felt bad about it too, “but we need a proper plan.”

The clouds shifted. It looked like a kid on a bike; not that you’d ever tell him. He would never agree.

“We need help,” you stated.

“We can’t.” You knew he’d say that.

“You know we do, Sam.”

“There’s no one out there we can trust.”

You liked that he used ‘we’. The only other times you had been referred to as ‘we’ had been for things so sinister, so violent.

His elbow was touching yours lightly. You wanted to move closer, press against him.

“There’s one person who might be able to.”

He turned to look at you questioningly. You did the same.

You waited till he figured it out on his own. His face shifted the minute it clicked in his head.

“No way.” He turned away, almost laughing out of bewilderment.

“It’s our only option.”

“Then we’ll find another one,” he began to sound more insistent, realising you were being serious. It was a crazy idea, you’d give him that, but it’s the only one you had that had a sure shot of working.

“We’ve tried. You’ve tried. There’s only one way,” you knew that getting annoyed wouldn’t get through to him and you also understood his hesitations. “He’ll help.”

“We don’t know that. It’s too fuckin’ dangerous.” He couldn’t afford that; not this late in the game.

“I know it. Lis- Sam. Look at me,” you commanded gently, and he obeyed reluctantly. “I understand that this is absolutely batshit wild, but I promised I’d help you. This is the only way I can think of. But I need you to trust me.”

He looked unsettled.

He didn’t have anything to go on. Only your word and his faith in you. He could say no and he knew you’d spend countless hours pouring over multiple options just to find another way. He could say no and you’d take it in stride and he wouldn’t have to worry about it. It wasn’t about trusting you, it was about not trusting the others.

But he could also say yes and let you take control, trust your instincts. You had never let him down before and he knew you wouldn’t now. He could say yes and help you work on one solid plan that had equal chances of failing as it did being a success, but it was something that you could be sure of.

“I’ll tell you this though, Sam. You always have a choice.”

He felt your fingers trace at his face patiently. He scooted closer, letting your bodies press gently against each other.

“Okay,” he whispered. “I trust you.”

He didn’t know if he made the right choice or not, but the smile that appeared on your face made him think that maybe he did.

God, he was done for.

___

“You ready?” you asked him.

“No, but what the hell; let’s do it.”

You let it ring right to the very end.

“Hello.” It seemed gratuitous at this point because you knew the conversation wouldn’t proceed with that.

“Code?”

“1993.”

“Y/N. Hello,” his voice came back loud and clear.

“Hey.” You snuck a glance at Sam. He was completely stiff.

“How are you?”

“I’ve been… good,” you admitted.

“Oh?” he sounded amused. “That’s a change.”

“Yeah.” You shifted on your feet awkwardly. “Listen, I need help.”

“Help with?”

“We need to get out of here. We can’t do it without you. I mean we can, but it’d be better if you lent a hand.”

“When you say ‘we’, you’re referring to…”

“Me.” Sam stepped forward towards the phone. You shifted it so it was between you.

“Oh, hello,” he sounded surprised, and he had good reason to be. “You know about-”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Y/N, you trust him?”

“Yeah,” you looked up at Sam, “I do.”

“Alright. If shit goes wrong, you’re both fucked. I’m not taking any responsibility.”

“We get that,” you sighed. “Can you help or not?”

There was a momentary silence on the other end as he thought.

“Tell me what you had in mind.”

“We got a hit.”

They turned away from their conversation with the person walking beside them at the interruption.

“This better be important.” They gestured to their companion who looked annoyed at being interrupted. He was too dangerous to have on anyone’s bad side but the agent didn’t care. This was crucial.

“Someone saw him. Wilson.” He was breathless from the flight of stairs he had run to come upstairs.

“Where?” They could hardly believe their ears, restraining to contain the excitement that was threatening to rise.

“A town, miles away from Pierce’s place. Said he roamed around looking for a store, bought some food and then left.” His eyes shone. “We think we might know where they are. A rough sketch at least. Couldn’t follow him too far because he kept checking.”

“Finally,” their face gleamed, completely discarding the guest they had and the confusion on his face. “Some good fucking news.”

“Do you want us to put a hit out on them?” The relief the agent felt was almost overwhelming. His partner may have died but it didn’t look like he was going to.

“No,” they said crisply, certainly. “This one’s on me.”

Next part

[an-ambivalent]

WARNING: This post contains yandere and violent themes (mentions of murder and brainwashing) and other toxic and creepy behaviours that can be triggering and uncomfortable to read. So read at your own risk. This work is purely fictional. I do not condone this toxic behaviour irl. 

Fandom: Naruto 

Pairings: Itachi x Reader | Shisui x Reader | Sasuke x Reader

Status: Headcanons and scenarios mixed hybrid, requested. 

Ask:  Scenario where Yandere!Itachi, Yandere!Shisui, Yandere!Sasuke and Yandere!Obito realizes that they all have feelings for you and since they're family, they decided that they are going to share.

A/N:   I’m didn’t add Obito to this scenario because I don’t see this dynamic working with him in the mix. Although Obito is an Uchiha, frankly speaking, Itachi didn’t ever trust him. Sasuke used him for his own means didn’t care about him other than that either way. As far as Shisui is concerned, he never really interacted with Obito. 

Itachi and Shisui are best friends, and Itachi and Sasuke are siblings (who do care for each other). Sasuke is stubborn about his own ideals but he can still be persuaded by Itachi, and given that Itachi and the Uchiha clan respected Shisui a lot, Sasuke would do too. So, a dynamic with these three choosing to co-operate is plausible. But with Obito.... not really. I just don’t see how he would fit in this scenario.  So, hopefully this explanation clarifies why Obito wasn’t added to the scenario.

No beta, we die like men. I wrote this at like 2 am so idgaf about grammar errors atm ^.< 

Your background: To be in a position where you can interact with all these three simultaneously, you would have to be part of the Uchiha clan yourself. The only other way might be that you’re Itachi’s classmate and progressed exactly like he did. But then, it just feels like copying and pasting Itachi’s character and that’s no fun.

No ‘duplicate version of another character’ in this household. So there’s two choices for your background that can nonetheless lead to the same scenario. Thus, you can choose whatever floats your boat: 1) you’re the first daughter of the main branch of another clan of your choice, and for some time now, your clan and the Uchiha clan have been planning to form an alliance together. What better way to do that than to arrange a marriage between the two first children of the main branch from both clans that “coincidentally” have to be the same age?

2) You’re an Uchiha child, born to parents who are from one of the side branches of the clan. There isn’t many other kids to interact with, and despite being a side branch member, your father is one of the most respected shinobi in the clan. So, your future as a ninja is given, and with his interactions and meetings  with Fugaku, he takes you along with him. As a result, your introduction with Itachi is inevitable. And so by extension, you will also meet Shisui and Sasuke. And given your father’s good relationship with Fugaku, mayhaps your parents went ahead and arranged your marriage with Itachi behind your back and not notifying you yet.

PSA: For the age balance, you are Itachi’s age in this scenario. Shisui is 2-4 years older than Itachi and Itachi is 4 years older than Sasuke. Having a maximum of 8 years age gap if you were Sasuke’s age, or Shisui’s age, would be a lot LOL. Besides, Itachi would be the mediator between Sasuke and Shisui, so you building a relationship with him first makes the most sense.

Introduction / Meeting

Itachi

You and Itachi are forced to spend time together as ‘playmates’ while your parents discuss ‘official business’ (the arrange marriage) with Fugaku and Mikoto. Itachi is overly polite but there’s an icy coldness underlining his polite greetings and one-word answers he gives to your questions when you try to start a conversation.

You aren’t dumb. You were raised with high expectations placed on your shoulders so although you’re not a prodigy at his level, you have more than enough intelligence to know that he’s patronizing you. And unlike him, you aren’t an immature coward who hides behind their passive-aggressive remarks. Whatever you have to say, you communicate it bluntly. So, you don’t hesitate to spew out what you really think of him (a coward who takes his frustrations out on others aka you, who is also in the same situation, instead of facing his problems), and leave his pretty boy face behind in shock.

You were five when this happened.

Sasuke: Overtime, your ‘playdates’ with Itachi became a norm. You were forced to visit him many times and spend time with him given that he is your future husband. (You don’t know that yet, but at this point, Itachi has his suspicions that something is up).

His baby brother is his entire life. Sasuke makes him smile in the way no one else does, so its no wonder you met him eventually.

You were first held Sasuke was he was about fourteen months old. He was a small, chubby, innocent little thing with his already haughty attitude. He had no problem crying in the arms of the people he didn’t like, which was almost everyone outside of his immediate family. But when you held him, despite Itachi’s warnings that “he doesn’t like everyone” but he instantly liked you (much to his displeasure), you instantly became attached to him. Then in the following years, you babysat him a lot. He was the cute little younger sibling you wanted but never had, so you spoiled him to bits. And with the attention and love you gave him, Sasuke loved you too. Not to mention, unlike everyone else in his family, who picked Itachi over him, you picked him over Itachi.

How can he not fall in love with you?

Shisui: More often than not these days, Shisui would silently watch and observe Itachi. For a six years old, it was terrifying for him how he was already adapting to the shinobi lifestyle is so easily; being an emotionless robot and extremely talented.

But, over the past few days, gone were the seemingly emotionless robot. Instead, he had changed into a boy who acted like how a six year old was supposed to act: whiny, pouty, and frustrated (to an extent), but happy at the same time. It was entertaining for him to watch Itachi’s expressions shift from one to another every moment as he grumbled about you underneath his breath. Shisui was ready to tease him about it, but you had beat him to it.

You had appeared out of nowhere and were hosting the two-years-old Sasuke on your shoulders for a piggy back ride. No one was given any time to react, before rude remarks were slipping out your lips that just humiliated his precious friend into a fumbling mess.

Itachi had tried to get back at you, he really did. But your mouth ran like a sailor and you had a witty remark prepared for everything. It was such a contrast to the “perfect princess” show you put on before your and his parents. And each time, your response was more embarrassing which eventually made him lose his cool. Seeing him flustered, despite how much he loved you, little Sasuke tried to  jump to his nii-san’s aid. Shisui was prepared to snicker and chuckle to himself, if he it wasn’t for the most beautiful sound he had ever heard: your laughter. It was so raw, pure, genuine and innocent, he was instantly immersed. Barely anyone from shinobi clans, and given how they were raised, acted so open. And you brought out a different side to Itachi -- it was intriguing for him to witness.

He wanted to get to know you more. He wanted to hear your life more. He wanted you to share your secrets with him on how to bully Itachi so easily. So immediately, he put out his hand and gave you a wide grin.

“I’m Shisui. What’s your name?”

Realising their feelings

Shisui: Shisui knew he loved you ever since your first laugh. It was love at first sound. However, with the respect to you belonging to his best friend, he would never make a move on you.

Maybe, there might be some lingering touches here and there that lasted a bit too long between ‘friends.’ Maybe sometimes he was harsher on you during your training spars so he would have an excuse to touch you and help you bandage up your injuries. Maybe sometimes, he ‘jokingly’ wrapped his arms around your waist and kissed your cheek to ‘get a rise out of Itachi’ and not because he wanted to touch you.

But he never made a move on you because he knew you were Itachi’s. And as long as you were still his friend and spent time with him, he didn’t care too much.

But he should’ve known better. Just as how he can understand Itachi and cares for him like he is his brother, Itachi is the same towards Shisui. He knew how Shisui felt about you, and although one part of him just wanted to you have all to himself, it didn’t feel right that Shisui had to hold himself back when he needed you too. If only, it wasn’t for your clan, and the Uchiha, and their damn village that believed in monogamous relationships, then he would happily share you with Shisui.

Itachi: There were many rules and obligations Itachi has to adhere to due to his clan. Although he did them, he didn’t want to. He hated it. His thoughts were different from his actions so he was constantly experiencing cognitive dissonance. But, you weren’t part of that. For some reason, when he was eleven and his suspicions were confirmed by his parents and the clan elders that you were set up to wed him when you both turn thirteen, that was one thing he didn’t hate or didn’t want to do. In fact, it was alarming for everyone in the meeting how easily he obliged.

Confirming how he felt towards you, it honestly did not surprise him. He had assumed this was the case for a while. Ever since you called him a coward due to his habit of upholding a facade, he tried to be more honest. Not in front of his clan, evidently, but to the people that mattered. Shisui, Sasuke, you, and himself.

The old Itachi, had he not met you and fell in love with someone, would have buried his feelings without a care. But for you.... it was a different story. He acknowledged his feelings and never tried to get rid off them. How could he? You were the perfect lover for him. You got along swimmingly with Shisui. You took good care of Sasuke, and his younger brother was so attached to you. You were an exceptional kunoichi, put up the perfect facade before your own parents and his, and weren’t afraid to challenge him and speak your mind.

And best of all? You were already promised to him. So, he saw no reason to bury his feelings for you.

Sasuke: Sasuke always knew he loved you.

Ever since he can remember, you had always been by his side no matter what.

His father didn’t pay attention to him. His mother did, but she scolded him too when he just wanted to spend time with Itachi.

Itachi spent time with him but lately, he has been ignoring him. It’s not the same. And him and Shisui always leave him behind to get things done that they say he’s “not mature enough to know.”

But Sasuke does know.

He knows what they talk about his and your back because thinks of those things too. It’s everywhere: princesses, their prince, their love story and happily ever after.

He wants to kiss you to show you how he loves you like the couples in fairy tales. He does. Despite his nerves that are causing fluttering butterflies in his tummy, he builds up the courage to have his first kiss with you.

But you’re faster than him. You just move your head so he kisses your cheek instead, and then laugh out loud before ruffling his hair and telling him, “you’re adorable. But you should save your first kiss for your true love.”

He likes being adorable for you, but why won’t you understand?! You are his first and only love.

There will be a day when you finally understand that.

Sharing You:

ok.... listen.... Uchiha clan massacre (and yours too for scenario A) but both Itachi and Shisui. And although its mission issued by the damn village, that’s not why they’re doing it. It just so happens that its the perfect solution to all their problems because they get rid off the obstacles in their way, and they will have to leave the village. They can take you away far, away from everything, so you only have them left.

Obviously, they will take Sasuke with them too. Except this time, there’s no also hurting and torturing him and enticing him to seek revenge. If anything, when Sasuke is horrified, Itachi tells him the truth. There’s lies as well, but, they would need to brainwash him to some extent so he willingly stays with them. Itachi tells him of how if the clan lived, then he would never get to be with you, or see you again because they were going to hurt you.

“Do you want that foolish little brother? You made big claims to make [Name] yours and protect her, so are you really going to mourn those who were going to take her away from you? She’s my bride, and because I care about you, I will share her. But for that to happen, you need to listen to me and Shisui and not be pathetic as to get in our way.”

Itachi had a way with his words, and it was terrifying how much they could influence Sasuke. And now that they had, and no one else was going to be in the way -- not any clans, the village -- nothing.

It is just going to be you and them for the rest of your life.

[stonefreeak]

Revenge of the 5th and also I am SO SORRY it takes me so long to update these days. Who knew having a job and living during a pandemic could be so bad for fic updates?

Anakin can't sit still. He finds it hard to think, hard to breathe sometimes.

Palpatine got convicted on corruption charges.

Sure, not as many and not nearly as serious as those Mas Amedda was convicted of. Instead it seems like Amedda was running a lot of corruption in Mr palpatine's favour... But the fact that Palpatine was involved in even just some corruption, the acceptance of bribes and...

It means Anakin was wrong and Obi-Wan was right.

He can't stand it. He can't believe it. It's not fair!

He fought for Palpatine with Obi-Wan. He pushed Obi-Wan away, raged and screamed at him for being distrustful... And it turns out that he was right not to trust Palpatine. That he was right not to trust in Anakin's trust in him.

And it hurts.

Especially since he'd seen it on Padmé's face when the conviction came. She was pleased. She thought it was right.

She must have been hiding something from him, something about Palpatine, and he almost hates her for it. How could she keep things from him when they promised never to lie to each other? Never to keep anything secret from each other considering how much they must keep secret from everyone else.

It feels like a betrayal and he doesn't know how to handle it.

Not for the first time he wishes that Master Hestish hadn't died. That she was still here to help him get a grip over his emotions, help him think things through.

He knows that Obi-Wan or Padmé would do their very best to help him if he only asks, but when they're the object of confusion... They can't help. If he's angry and upset with them, how can they possibly help him sort his feelings out?

Master Hestish and he had a good relationship, Anakin thinks. She was helpful, kind, and she never judged him. She helped him get himself under control sometimes, and because they only met during his sessions with her, because they didn't have a relationship outside of those sessions... She was always an unbiased and completely separate person. She was never entangled in his duties or his relationships or his school work... She was only ever there to be a rock in the sinking sand, helping him climb to safety until the Tatooine winds calmed themselves and the sinking sands could be traversed again.

He knows that if Obi-Wan knew he's feeling like this, he'd tell Anakin to find a new mind healer to talk to. Find someone else who can help him, but... Anakin doesn't want anyone else! He wants Master Hestish! He wants Bharani Hestish... In her white robes and with her so very odd appearance—like nothing Anakin had ever seen before, completely impossible to mistake for anyone else—and her calm acceptance of whatever he told her.

It's not fair that Anakin has to lose everyone! It's not fair that apparently he can't trust anyone he loves, because sooner or later they keep something from him. They lie to him.

Or they die.

He can only hope that Ahsoka hasn't lied to him too. That she isn't keeping secrets and going behind his back. He's not sure he could take it from his Padawan as well. Well... he knows that she didn't talk to him about her concerns that it might be her fault that Obi-Wan got caught in the blast, but... That's not quite the same thing, right?

He doesn't like it though. He doesn't like the fact that Ahsoka will keep something as important as her fears from him. He's her master and it's his duty to help guide her through her journey to becoming a Jedi Knight, and how can he do that if she keeps secrets and won't ask him for help when she needs it?

He should probably talk to her about that... But later. Later. When he's not as upset as he is now. He doesn't want to risk getting angry at her when it's not really where his frustration and anger is targeted right now.

He should...

He doesn't know what he should do.

He can't talk to Obi-Wan. He just can't. After all the things he said, all the accusations and assertions he did... That he was wrong about Palpatine, even just slightly... Of course Palpatine isn't as bad as Obi-Wan seems to think he is, Palpatine is a good man, isn't he? But...

Yes. That's it.

He feels it like a soft caress in his mind. Of course Palpatine is a good man who's made a few mistakes. Even the court didn't think he'd done anything bad enough to warrant prison or anything like that. He just got some fines and a warning to be careful with what sort of contracts he enters and favours he does for others and asks for for himself.

It's... It's not ideal, of course. But Palpatine is still trustworthy.

After all, he had more power than anyone else in the galaxy for years and he wasn't corrupted. He was still on the whole careful with his political power. Just a few mistakes doesn't just somehow make someone a bad person.

Not when there's the likes of Dooku or even just Mas Amedda out there—people who actually hurt others and cause destruction and chaos. Palpatine isn't anything like them.

Anakin lets out a frustrated breath. Even now that he's managed to sort himself out and his thoughts regarding Palpatine, he still feels restless and like he can't sit still.

He wants to talk to Obi-Wan... Wants to apologise for some of the things he said, but... No. He can't.

He should probably talk to Padmé instead, shouldn't he?

After all, Palpatine has been a mentor to her too. It must have been a harsh blow to her even though she thought it was deserved after she heard the evidence. Maybe they can comfort each other and then visit Palpatine together so he knows that they still support him, that they still know that he's a good person despite what has happened.

Nodding to himself, Anakin gets to his feet and rolls his shoulders. He needs to act swiftly, who knows when he'll be sent back into the field again. It's likely not far away considering how much better Obi-Wan is doing... Anakin knows he got extended leave due to that—which was really nice of the Council, really.

But he wants to make sure he's talked to Padmé so they've sorted everything out before he needs to leave Coruscant again.

Obi-Wan... Obi-Wan can wait.

Some distance will probably do them good.

Regardless of how much Anakin wants to apologise and for everything to just go back to the way things were when he was a child, before Obi-Wan got busy—before the saboteur took Obi-Wan from him—it's probably for the best if they have some distance now.

Obi-Wan probably wants some anyway, he's like that isn't he? He thinks that distance and letting your heads cool is always a much better idea than just getting out and aired immediately...

Ugh. Whatever.

Anakin'll go talk to Padmé instead of driving himself crazy with all these thoughts.

He leaves his room and heads out of the Temple. He considers sending Ahsoka a comm message to let her know where he's gone... But it's probably for the best if he doesn't. At least then he'll have some plausible deniability if anyone tries to suggest he went to see Padmé for anything but platonic reasons. They won't even be able to prove that he specifically went out to see her!

He hates that they have to keep their marriage secret, but...

No, he can't think about this now. He pushes the thoughts away, they'll have to wait for later.

Now he just wants to see Padmé.

—

(Supreme Chancellor Obi-Wan Kenobi masterpost)

[cryoqi]

in a different life we lived.

"i think that in a different life, the two of us actually, you know, fell in love."

with xiao.

in 1.9k words.

tags reincarnation au, fluff with angst if you look hard enough, but its really just fluff, ft. xingqiu but just a little.

“...And my dream was so detailed, you know? As if I’ve actually lived it out in real life. But the thing is… I’ve never lived that out before, all that falling in love and stuff, and especially not in the way I had in my dream. We were holding hands, even though skinship wasn’t his favorite.

“He took me to his favorite spot, hidden away where no one else could find it, and told me that he went there often, just so he could be alone. And, he said, that now that I was with him, we could be alone together. Ah, I don’t even know how I remember all of this. It’s so vivid, like it was a past memory of mine.

“Do you think it’s something like my past life…?” You turn to the boy next to you. “Are you even listening?”

The boy pulls his nose away from the book and turns to you with a soft gaze. “Ah, sorry. Could you repeat that again?” You hardly know this young man—just having only met him—and yet he’s getting on your nerves. 

“Xingqiu—if that’s your name—you invited me to sit next to you and talk with you. You said, what, that I looked like I had a lot on my mind and that I could talk to you about whatever was troubling me,” you say, exasperated. 

“And you are,” he tells you calmly, and this time he turns to you. “You know, reincarnation could be real. Do you really believe that what you’re dreaming of are the memories of your past? It’s very plausible.”

“Maybe, I don’t know.” You turn away from the scenic view in front of you and face reality. “Well, I’ll just head back home. It was nice meeting you. Hopefully, if I ever see you again, we can have a nice talk once more.”

“Farewell,” he says, eyes glossing over inked words on paper. Then, he turns back to call out one last thing before you disappear. “Ah, also, maybe you should try visiting that spot you mentioned in your dream.”

You scoff—so he was listening, after all. You gather your things and make your way back to Wangshu Inn. You’re grateful for their warm and welcoming arms that have allowed you to stay since last night. Though there were few backs that have faced you upon your arrival, you paid no attention to those cold gazes. Now that it’s getting late, you’d best be returning before your place gets dusty. 

Though, you realize, Xingqiu’s parting words do have some sense to them— you turn to walk towards not the Inn but where your legs seem to know the location of your supposed hidden paradise. It’s like this place is of this world, though you have no recollection of it, but as you near the area, the empty feeling in your hands increases. You put your hands to your chest, in hopes to relieve it of the loneliness, and you continue on in your path. 

The scenery around you grows familiar, and you see the placement of trees and their branches in all the right places. Ducking beneath leaves, you enter the secluded area—it’s just as you remembered in your dream. In fact, the entire location is identical. 

Even more so, there’s someone sitting on the patch of grass that the sunset blesses among the shaded area. His arms are behind him, hands planted on the ground, and one of his arms is fixated in such a position that it looks like he’s made room for someone to sit next to him, as if he was waiting for someone. What catches your eye, however, are the tattoos on his right arm that remind you of memories that never existed. 

“Who’s there?” he asks calmly, as if he’d been expecting someone to arrive. He doesn’t look behind. 

You stop in your tracks, wondering whether you should leave or not. Your hands grab hold of the surrounding branches behind you, ready to push them aside as you’re about to leave before saying, “Ah, sorry. I really… don’t know why I’m here.” You turn to leave, head hanging down, but before you could take a step further, you notice that there’s a little dandelion standing tall next to your feet. 

You bend down to pluck at it, telling him before finally returning to the Inn, “Sorry, I just saw this dandelion. It’s my superstition that if you pluck one and then blow the seeds away, it provides you with good luck and happiness.” You pause— you’ve spoken far more than you had wanted. “Okay, I’ll take my leave now.” 

The man turns around. “Do tell me,” he tells you, “more about the dandelion you’re holding.”

“What do you want me to tell you?” You stand still. The space between you two grows awkward, and you’re left with discomfort settling in your chest. Now you feel you’ve invaded someone’s privacy and yet they’re asking you to stay, despite how uncomforting it must be for the man.

Though, he seems to be interested in you; he prods for more information about topics you know hardly anything about. “Just anything that you know,” he says. 

You think for a second. “Well, I heard that if you give this,” you motion to the dandelion in your hand, “to a loved one, it is a promise of total faithfulness.”

The man exhales and turns back around. 

‘Somebody else once told me that, long ago,’ he thinks. 

“Come,” he tells you, not once looking back. With the way he stiffly pats the spot at which he beckons you to sit, you think that he’s not used to having people intrigue him—or talk to him, for that matter—that often. “Sit by me. You remind me of someone.”

You hesitate, then you deny the offer. “Ah, no. I really shouldn’t— it’s getting late, and I’d best be heading back before something comes up and…” You trail off, not knowing what to say next. However, his silence makes you question your decision, and as much as you’re unwilling to loiter any longer, you take your seat next to him, save for some space between you two as you’re still wary of him. 

He looks solemnly up at the sunset that dips behind mountains. Camps from far away have lit up their torches, and if you look hard enough, you could see the orange lights of Liyue harbor that awaken. No words are exchanged between the two of you until the man beside you introduces himself. 

“My name is Xiao.” 

Though, why does that not seem like an introduction but more of a reminder?

You introduce yourself with the same lowness in your voice. 

Xiao dips his head down to look at the ground below him. ‘Even their names are similar,’ he ponders. 

Again, silence falls like the night sky that makes itself known. You wouldn’t have thought you’d have roped yourself into this situation, finding yourself sitting next to a stranger that you seem to know. “Life really does have its strange twists,” is what Xingqiu would say. You smile to yourself. 

“Why do I remind you of someone?” you ask him after the millionth star in the sky flashes into existence. 

“A time ago, I met someone— you could call them my lover. They had the same superstition as you, the one about dandelions, and they were the only one I told about this hidden spot of mine. 

“One day, they had to leave so suddenly. Before they did, they took a dandelion by the grass and gave it to me, telling me, ‘I was once told that if you give a dandelion to a loved one, it is a sign of total faithfulness.’ They said that one day, they would return, and that I would know, because I must have faith in them. Then, I was told to blow the seeds away the second they were out of view, as it would provide me with great luck in finding them once more. 

“Ever since that day, they never returned.” Xiao never once turns to look at you. His amber eyes fixate on the stars above you two, hoping that one day they align and he’d find his lover once more— or, at least that’s what you assume. He’s wondering if he should tell you if he’s found his lover in you, and he does. “I believe that today, they returned.”

You’re not sure what to say, so you stutter out a “You think I’m…?”

He nods his head once. “The reincarnation of whom I once loved.”

—

Xiao’s hands are on your waist, one of yours holding onto his shoulder with the other over his cheek. He seems to melt into your touch, despite claiming in the past that being close to him could harm you, but as his kisses against your jaw and over your lips grow more fervent, you know he’s thrown all those words over the shoulder. Your heart feels so full; his allowing you to kiss him and letting you know how much he loves you brings your head down into the crook of his neck. 

Then, you pull away and look up at the night sky. The view is extraordinary from the hidden spot the two of you share, much better than wherever you were previously located. The lanterns up in the night sky do wonders to let you notice the blush dusting on his cheeks when you turn to face him, even though you know that if you were to mention it to Xiao, he’d deny it outright. 

“Look up, Xiao,” you tell him softly. “One of those lanterns up there is mine.”

His eyes stay fixated on you. “What did you wish for?” “Now, I can’t tell you that,” you jest. “But maybe if you look up at the lanterns, you might find mine and see what’s written on it.” It’s a desire you hope will pass into your next life. 

So, he does. Xiao’s eyes light up like they’re lanterns too, and he’s just in awe. He’s never paid much attention to the annual festival, as it’s become redundant to him, but now that he’s spent this year with you, perhaps he’ll get to view the lanterns a little differently. Xiao doesn’t want to admit that his jaw drops just a little, but you can see how his mouth opens in amazement. Have lights always been this beautiful?

“I should make a wish as well,” he tells you. 

“You should,” you urge. “You should have come down with me to the harbor. We could have written our wishes on the lanterns together.”

Xiao shakes his head. “I don’t know about that,” he says. “I’m not particular with crowds, you know.” 

You agree. “But you like me, though, right?”

“Of course I do— I love you. Now, as for my wish… It should be fairly obvious as to what it is.” 

You tease Xiao, telling him you’re clueless. You really are, though— there’s no telling behind his cold features. 

All he does is sigh. “It’s… for you to return to me once you’ve gone away.”

For a moment, you go silent. All that you hear is the bustling of the festival-goers down in the harbor and the beating of your heart. You swallow dryly and embrace him in your arms. Xiao takes a while before he wraps his own around you. 

He’s reciprocated your wish. 

“...I’ll never leave you. With all my lives I have yet to live, I’ll always come back to you.”

[tendercoretroglodyke]

... I’m interested in legitimately gay Reese (I assume one piece of evidence is “look at what they’re doing and tell me you’re not gay”)

okay this is like 2 days late but this is why reese malcolminthemiddle is legitimately gay:

(side note: did anyone need a queer media thesis paper or something... I am willing to share lmao)

so none of this is like... rock solid evidence or anything but I need to believe at least one main character of a show is gay and/or trans to maintain interest and reese is the most plausible gay character. also it’s early 2000′s so he just gets a lot of vaguely homophobic jokes lmao

first of all, yes, the biggest piece of evidence he’s gay is those lines from that episode I quoted the other day--thinking malcolm is gay, he tries to show his support by giving him a gay porno: “’Naught Pool Boys 3!’ I watched 10 or 12 of these, and this one seems to have the most stuff you guys like.” and when malcolm says he isn’t gay, reese responds “Malcolm. Check out what those guys are doing in that movie, and THEN tell me you’re not gay.”-- so, 1) reese sat down and watched like a dozen gay porn movies to ““find a good one for his gay brother”” and 2) he thinks malcolm would reconsider his heterosexuality if he watched what was in that movie, implying that HE reconsidered his sexuality after watching that movie, or at the very least found it hot

in the same episode, the character tricking malcolm into thinking reese is gay lists the following as evidence: he obsesses over his hair and his looks, loves his gourmet cooking, has a bunch of magazines covered in comically muscular men, and that he’s angry and acts like a jerk because he’s “dealing with something weird and confusing.” now obviously, the obsession with hair/looks can be chalked up to the fact that he’s a teenage boy, and there’s nothing inherently gay about enjoying cooking. the dozen magazines of muscle-bound men could certainly be taken as gay evidence, though, and it IS established in the show that his entire bully persona is his way of masking his inner feelings and insecurities. there’s literally a whole episode where he & malcolm realize they have no friends because they act like little shits to push people away because they’re afraid of rejection and/or abandonment from their peers. they ostracize themselves before they can be ostracized by the other students at school. I could probably write a whole other essay on reese’s psyche tbqh lmao there’s a shocking amount there!!

of the brothers who are actually old enough to be attracted to girls (reese, malcolm, and francis), he shows the least interest. now bear with me here. you might be thinking, “well, yeah, it’s malcolm’s show, we’re not gonna see things from other people’s perspective!” but that is actually surprisingly untrue, the show is very much equally shown from each family members’ perspectives. starting about s2, when malcolm is in early middle school, he starts getting crushes on girls and pursuing them. francis goes after a few women in the first couple seasons and then marries a woman we see a lot throughout the show. 

in the roughly... 130?? episodes I have watched so far, nearly all of reese’s “interest” in girls involve either: competition with malcolm, genuinely just liking her as a friend, or some completely ulterior motive. the only exception to this I can think of is in the early seasons where he has a crush on a cheerleader and tries to get on her good side by joining the cheerleading squad, which the writers clearly set up as a way to make gay jokes about reese. let me give you a few examples of his relationships with girls

the first relationship we see him in is with a “stupid girl” that malcolm tried (and failed) to date, and the main reason they get together is that they think on the same wavelength and genuinely seem to enjoy hanging out. they take breaks from their bro chats to make out every once in a while. eventually he gets her to break up with him because he doesn’t want to go to the school dance with her (he doesn’t want to go at all). years later, he’s dating some girl we meet for like 5 minutes, before he goes to confess to her that she’s the first girl he’s ever loved. she then breaks up with him. he’s sad, but taking it fairly well. he’s about to leave when he sees malcolm hiding under the bed, and learns that he stole his girlfriend. he then runs away to join the army. he was clearly MUCH more upset that his brother stole his girlfriend than he was that his girlfriend broke up with him. there are many more instances of him and malcolm competing for a girl’s affections, and he seems mostly motivated by the competition itself.

in addition to “stupid girl,” he also manufactures an “attraction” to his female army buddy in the last season. the premise of this episode is that his old army buddy (a girl he play-wrestles with and insults like he would his own brothers) comes to visit him, and malcolm convinces reese that she’s attracted to him, and that reese’s nervousness at learning that fact is proof he’s in love with her. there’s a misunderstanding where reese asks her if she has certain “feelings” and she says she does, but what she ACTUALLY means is that she has a crush on reese’s MOM. she’s a lesbian. reese later propositions her (saying he’s saved his virginity for this--he’s probably about 18 here), and when she says omg no im gay, he is HUGELY relieved they can go back to being friends. CLASSIC mlm/wlw friendship moment. 

there’s an episode where these cute girls pick up reese (& nerds) to kiss in front of their boyfriends to make them jealous. reese is all for it, and when malcolm argues that it’s not worth his dignity and the beating he’ll get from the girl’s boyfriend, reese counters that that’s WHY he wants to do this--he’s completely invisible at school, and thinks getting beaten up for kissing some guy’s girlfriend will at least make him known around school. at no point does he indicate he’s actually attracted to this girl, and when it comes time to kiss her, he finds the weakest excuse to run away at the last minute. 

im not gonna list all of these but there’s more lmao

the following is a random assortment of one-off gay jokes and out-of-context lines with gay reese implications, often homophobically bc its early 2000′s writing:

says “I’m gay” to a girl to give malcolm a better shot at her

(again in competition with malcolm) tries to flirt with a girl by spraying milk in her face as the punchline to a joke, which is. well. hm. self-sabotaging, to say the least!!

Reese: “Do you think it’s right to totally change who you are and turn your back on EVERYTHING you believe in, just to impress a hot guy??” [his dad gives a long, blank stare, before asking:] “...Burt Reynolds hot, or Sting hot?”

“YEAH I like clouds! I call them sky kittens :)” (I just think that one’s sweet!)

“Look, Christie, here’s the thing. When I first met you, I was just messing around. But we’ve gotten so close that, now... I really like you! I can’t keep this up anymore. I’m not the person you think I am. I’ve been pretending since the day I met you. It’s so hard having to constantly cover my tracks to keep my story straight... and I don’t WANT to anymore! I’m tired of living this lie! I’m done with it. I’m sorry.”

he catfishes some guy to blackmail him, but is implied to continue the flirtation even after the catfishing/blackmail is revealed

reese is, technically, married to a man. this particular plot point is played as a joke and manages to be both racist and homophobic, so I won’t go into it. but I believe he is still married to that man. technically.

reese takes care of a huge box full of caterpillars until they pupate and become beautiful butterflies. I feel like there’s some kind of gay coming out metaphor here somewhere.

I think there are a couple other times where he comments on a guy’s attractiveness but I couldn’t find specific instances.

In conclusion: Reese is a deeply repressed gay kid who was socialized SO thoroughly as an early 2000′s straight boy that, despite his attraction for men and his obvious compulsory heterosexuality, he still cannot admit to himself that he is gay even as he enters adulthood. Furthermore, his subconscious frustration about this fact is turned outward to form the “schoolyard bully” costume he uses to mask his insecurities and keep others from getting too close to him. 

Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk. I could be convinced to come back for another talk about how Dewey is trans or about how each and every member of that family is neurodivergent in entirely different ways. Assuming anyone has read this far in the first place!!

[saint-cichol-is-watching]

Their reactions to you breaking up with them // Part One

LUCIFER // BEELZEBUB // BELPHEGOR // DIAVOLO // SIMEON

Part Two (Mammon/Leviathan/Satan/Asmodeus/Barbatos) will come later this week ! It was supposed to come out with everyone else but I just wasn’t satisfied with some (cough Satan cough Barbatos) so I decided to split it into two parts and release the second one later ! ☺️

This idea suddenly popped in the middle of the night into my mind and I can’t ignore it so bear with me.

(Also sorry for the angst if you aren’t new here you should be used to it by now)

Fun fact I’m actually writing this while listening to ‘Left & RIght’ by SVT and let me tell you this does not fit the vibe at all, but it works lmao

MASTERLIST

NB: This is all made under the assumption that the boys love and respect you enough not to kill you right on the spot of course and that they’re not crazy enough (at least not anymore) to lock you up in i don’t know an attic for example

+ Also this goes without saying that most of these if not all are not “we should stay friends” kind of breakup, it’s more of a “it doesn’t work anymore we should stop seeing each other” kind of breakup.

(Sorry for the delay I got a bit sick yesterday and couldn’t find enough strengh to open my computer and actually concentrate)

—

The one who acted like it doesn’t affect him in any way.

He gave you his everything and that’s what you gave back to him? How preposturous!

He was mad. 

But he refused to show it. His pride and ego were so important to him and to him at the moment they were the only thing he could still salvage from this humiliation.

Which is why everytime he saw you afterwards, he looked at you for a milisecond before scoffing and averting his eyes before walking away from the room, his head held up high to the point it hurted his neck.

But the fact that he tried to stay proud didn’t mean breaking up with you didn’t hurt.

Because it did. And he hated every part of this.

You probably surprised him once or twice at night in the music room lazily playing a few notes on the piano with a glass of wine as his only company. 

Muttering words that you couldn’t quite understand without having to get closer, but you could feel each and everyone of them dripping with bitterness and pain.

After all of this Lucifer wanted to hate you, he truly did. But he couldn’t, and it was absolutely infuriating to him. 

He, Lucifer, the Avatar of Pride, one of the most powerful demons in the entire Devildom, the right-hand-man to the prince himself, fell in love with a mere weak human. And yet he was the only one left suffering. 

How humiliating.

Beel was actually surprised by how much it didn’t hurt.

A break up is normally painful, but appart from a little pinch in his heart  his body was completely numb to the pain.

So he didn’t try to fight it. He simply accepted it and watched you walk away. After all your happiness was always his first priority and it didn’t hurt that much so it was okay... right?

But over the days you, along with the other brothers noticed a slight change in Beel’s behavior. 

Which from his perspective was coincidental with the pain from his heart spreading more and more inside of him.

It started with a lack of appetite which, coming from him, was worrying of course but you all assumed it was his way of “coping” and that he would be back eating in no time.

But it didn’t happen like that. The lack of appetite was suddenly added to a tighter grip on things. At some points you had all lost track of the times you walked on Beel staring intensely at a doorknob that he accidentally ripped off its handles.

Then it escalated. It wasn’t object he was unconsciously hurting it was now other people as well, slapping their hand away or bumping into them hard.

Until one day he found himself into a fight with a lesser demon that to your knowledge hadn’t done anything to set him off. It took the the combined strenght of Lucifer, Mammon and Belphegor to get Beel off the demon. 

And it took him one glance your direction to stop fighting his brothers. He saw you look at him as if you didn’t recognize him, as if you were wondering where was the Beel you knew, the one who was kind and loving. And he started crying. 

The numbness of his body was finally wearing off to reveal all of the pain it had been hiding.

Probably the messiest breakup since first he just refuses to even aknowledge what you said.

You saved his life. He was living a life filled with hatred and despair since Lilith’s death and you came in, and while things happened that he is definitely not proud of, your forgave him and gave him a new chance at life where he could have fun with you and everybody else.

He had been latching onto you since that day, his only goal in life was you. You were his life line.

That’s why he refused to break up. That’s why he said “no” as soon as the words were out of your mouth.

You tried to tell him that’s it’s not his choice but he wouldn’t hear it. He was not going to let you go. 

A big fight exploded between you two, so vehement that some of the brothers who heard the ruckus rushed over to see what was wrong.

After a while they managed to cool you down and you finally got a look at his face. And you saw nothing but pain. 

With his emotions exposed like that in front you and everybody else Belphegor got really embarrassed, cursed under his breath under his breath and then turn around to run away. Far from you.

Not knowing what to do he somehow found his way back in the attic where he stayed on his own accord this time. He stayed there day and night refusing to go out. Afraid that he was going to see you again.

At that moment he didn’t hate humans as much as he did before he met you, but now after what you had said he couldn’t help but let a newfound yet familiar grudge grow inside him once again. He didn’t want to trust humans anymore. 

Probably and surprisingly the most crushed out of all of them. 

You. Out of all people, you were abandoning him.

You were the most intimate and the closest relationship he ever had. You were his entire world, he gave you everything he could give. This man almost worshipped you for loving him. And you were pulling away from him ?

All you see in his face is utter disbelief... And pain.

He doesn’t say a word, his knees simply give out and without ever breaking eye contact with you he crashes on the floor. 

When you decided walk away, he continued to look at you until you truly disappeared.

Afterwards, in public, he acted like he always did, he had this happy persona for more than a thousand years he knew how to make it look like he was feeling alright.

But you noticed. Because he avoided every plausible contact with you. He acted like you weren’t part of his world anymore because he knew that if he did so much as to look at you his smile would immediately falter. 

He wanted you back. Nobody could have wanted someone back more than he wanted you. You were the first person whom he ever loved and the first person who ever truly loved him back. 

He always thought he lived a life only filled with solitude until you single-handledly showed him that he wasn’t alone as he thought. Until you told him that with you by his side he would never feel alone anymore.

He thought about bringing you back by force, using his privileges as the Devildom Prince and only ruler to get you to fulfill the promise that you made to him. 

He actually nearly made it happen. 

But was advised by both Lucifer and Barbatos that it would be a bad idea and, while he did it reluctantly, he ultimately agreed. 

But he never felt so alone.

Surprisingly Simeon was the one who had the most trouble understanding why you wanted to break it off.

The only thoughts running thorugh his mind at the moment were : “What happened ? What did he do wrong?”

He was always so careful with you, so romantic, so understanding, so... perfect. 

There was no other word, he was a perfect boyfriend. He always did what he thought was right. He always treated you right. So why did you break up with him?

Simeon was a smart man, he wrote countless times about love too but he truly couldn’t comprehend the fact you wanted to end your relationship.

He thought was you had was so special, he was in love with you. Every moment that he spent with you was precious to him. 

And he couldn’t get around the fact that you didn’t feel the same anymore.

But he did let you go though.

Without asking any questions or giving much of a fight because even there he wanted to put your feelings first.

He didn’t even cry, nor complained. He just caressed your cheek one last time with his long fingers, making sure to remember the softness of your skin and the shape of your jaw. 

He looked at every detail of your face and he memorized them all knowing it would be the last time he would ever be allowed to be so close to you.

Then he layed his lips on your forehead for the last kiss he could give you and whispered, his voice trembling, so slightly that you barely even noticed it :

“If that’s what you want”

The first time he saw you again afterward he tried to make his way to you to talk with you as if you were back to friends. but as soon as he saw you shifting awkwardly while you looked at him he stopped in his tracks, gave you a small smile and turned around. 

Once again putting your feelings first.

[courtofwingsandruin]

Does anyone else ever think how we know that originally, Lucien and Nesta were supposed to end up together, not Cassian and Nesta? And how that means that this bond between Lucien and Elain probably was a very sudden idea SJM had when writing ACOMAF out?

She decided to change it because this relationship wouldn’t work. I’m not gonna lie that this is slightly perplexing to me. Lucien, especially ACOTAR-era Lucien, probably could’ve gotten along with Nesta quite well. I know SJM knows her characters better than us, but I just can’t see why they wouldn’t work, y’know?

And now, with the whole 3 brothers/3 sisters thing...I’m wondering if that’s part of the reason why. If SJM realized she wanted Lucien to have some connection to one of the three (a mating bond, rather than a romantic relationship), but doesn’t get with them. Because in the end, she had these two Bat Bois sitting right here who would work with them just as well, if not better, than Lucien could with either of them—and it would give her a future story to tell with the three brothers/three sisters and Koschei storyline.

I feel this can be reinforced by the fact that SJM has been planning Elain’s specifically but also Nesta’s story since ACOMAF. She made a lot of decisions while writing ACOMAF and began preparing things for the future books she wanted to write. Choosing not to have Nesta and Lucien get together, instead the tension between Cassian and Nesta the moment they meet. The way Elain and Azriel seem to click and focus on each other the moment they meet, too (if you reread that first meeting I promise you’ll see it. Elain specifically looks to Azriel, not her newly-fae sister, not the High Lord, not the much louder Illyrian right next to Az—not even Nesta. She looks to Azriel every single time when she was unsure, and he’s constantly reassuring her that she’s good to speak up and try). I don’t think that was a coincidence.

Not to mention that if she was planning for Elain and Lucien to be together, she would’ve most definitely given them at least one romantic coded moment together. The closest thing I’ve seen is when Lucien is leaving once and Elain nearly steps down the stairs to say something to him but he’s already gone. And honestly, I blame that completely on the bond. We know they can feel each other’s emotions, Rhys and Feyre can feel each other’s even with their mental shields up (or are supposed to be able to at least)—and we see that Lucien had “longing and sadness” in his eyes just before he disappeared there, which was when Elain almost stepped down. Then Lucien had winnowed away, and she walked away without any other care (likely because the farther away he was the less strong the pull of the mating bond, so she couldn’t feel him as strongly then). This is chapter 34 of ACOWAR. This is the only scene we see that seems like it has slight potential of Elucien in canon.

However, we have many, many scenes to support Elain and Azriel. Their friendship started in ACOMAF, was seen throughout ACOWAR, throughout ACOFAS, and even though we don’t see them even in the same room together but three or so times in ACOSF, there is some kind of tension between them every time (Azriel’s clear protectiveness of Elain when his shadows gathered in the corners to strike, the clear liking of each other when Elain looked away from Azriel’s smile, Nesta noticing a charged look going between them). As well as the many scenes where Azriel and usually Cassian discuss Elain and Azriel’s protectiveness comes back up. As a disclaimer, I don’t like that Azriel is also supporting not allowing Elain to go on these missions and try to prove herself. But every single other couple in the books is protective of each other. Cassian didn’t want Nesta to even let go of his hand to get the harp. Rhys had multiple occasions where he was angry and protective over Feyre doing something dangerous—when instead of going to the townhouse she fought in the streets of Velaris, when she went to find the Suriel during the war. Saying “oh but they’re mates” ignores the fact that it’s said most all males are possessive and protective like this in their world, regardless if it’s a mating bond or family or love. And it also ignores the very plausible theory of Azriel being Elain’s second and/or true mate. I won’t get into that right now though.

And then, of course, the bonus chapter proved that Elain and Azriel’s feeling definitely are not just platonic, and they both have a lot going on behind the scenes. I won’t get into the chapter much because I have plenty of other posts on my blog where I or someone else dissected and discussed it. But they definitely have both romantic and sexual interest in each other.

I truly, truly don’t see why SJM would set that up over the course of three novels and one novella to suddenly not put them together. Especially knowing that she’s said she doesn’t like couples that were built up over long periods of time (4 books is a very long time) and then don’t end up together. I don’t think she introduced Gwyn to be a romantic interest—I do think she included Gwyn in his extra chapter to confuse us and cause panic and chaos, sure, SJM is like that, remember when we first met Emerie? And then Emerie turned out to have no connection to Cassian other than him being her mentor/trainer and she being Nesta’s friend? I don’t think Gwyn will have any actual potential as a romantic partner. This also parallels Cassian and Nesta’s story—with them both mentioning another girl pre-getting together and (likely) nothing actually comes of it. She does parallel things a lot, and I don’t think she did this on accident.

To round this out, I’d like to bring us back to Lucien and Nesta. If she originally had them together, I think there can definitely be an implication there that she had considered them working some. And Cassian and ACOTAR-era Lucien are similar, as well as...well, Nesta and Vassa. The firebird and the silver flames. A human Queen and the Queen of Queens. Vassa has shown a great backbone, will openly bicker with people (we hear about her and Jurian fighting a lot), she’s just this woman who seems like she could be similar enough to Nesta to warrant the idea that Nesta/Lucien could’ve possibly worked if Nesta was a little more like Vassa or Lucien was a little more like Cassian.

I also want to clarify that I’m not against the Elain and Lucien ship, nor am I against Gwyn and Azriel. I actually ship Elain and Lucien—just not as much as I ship Elain and Azriel, because I’m 99.9% certain that Elriel will be endgame (always leave room for error). And once the next book is out and this whole mess has cleared up, I could definitely get behind Gwyn and Azriel as a non-canon sorta-crack ship. I read about pairings that completely disregard canon all the time (Feycien is hardcore slept on). But I can’t find myself supporting Gwyn and Azriel right now, not while this ship war is happening, because I feel right now is the time to actually look at canon and focus on what’s obviously there—not what, to me, is more of just a fun little ship that could work in theory and fanfics and that’s about it.

And that’s all. End rant. I’m so sorry if you actually read all this. This stuff has been on loop in my head for days and I had to word vomit again.

[electricbluebutterflies]

Nina/Mattias + fight sex but they’re idly bickering about something that doesn’t matter very much

Canon-divergent / the little adventure up in frozen hell took long enough for this dynamic to develop (because what even is a timeline and I have no clue how long it actually was on the show). Also, for plot purposes and context, this does make use of my belief that everyone is just SLIGHTLY aged up on the show and in my head most of the main lineup is 20ish. Oh, and first time writing these babes so fingers crossed I got characterization okay. Obviously NSFWish ahead, a little more graphic than I’ve written in a while and also involves a First Time...

He’s keeping the third blanket from her.

It is, objectively, the most petty Nina has felt since the whole almost-dying thing happened, maybe even since the getting-captured bit. Trying to get under his skin, trying to handle the daily shifting of their dynamic, has been almost as exhausting as trying to stay alive. Which in itself is enough of a challenge, because somehow they are lost and whenever Nina gets back to civilization she is going to have so many comments about Druskelle navigational instincts or the apparent total lack thereof. So. Many. Comments. The moment she has a possibly appreciative audience, because she is not wasting her breath on that here right now and-

At least tonight they’re in some kind of fishing shack again, clear space to build a fire and a pile of blankets of various questionable quality. There have been nights they haven’t been so lucky. She’s saving her energy for where it matters. But on the other hand, she is a delicate fragile creature who has made a point of avoiding this sort of climate, and…

Mathias still has the third blanket, and the fire is going well enough that they objectively can stay on opposite sides of this space, and Nina decides it’s time to change the game.

He’s pretty, okay? He’s annoying and stubborn and honestly at this point him technically being The Enemy is relatively low on the list of reasons he’s stomping on her every last nerve, but the man has two things in his favor – he’s loyal, and he is very nice to look at. Nina does not historically have the attention span when it comes to that level of pretty, but this one has decided to make it difficult for her. Like, he can say up and down that he does not want her, but they’ve shared a sleep-space – “bed” is too nice a word for most of those situations – for a week or so and she doesn’t need words, she knows what she wakes up to.

And she knows how damn respectful he is, she thinks as she starts undoing her vest buttons. This outfit, while very cute two weeks ago before her entire life took a very undesired detour, was not made for seduction. But if she does it slow enough, she hopes she won’t set him off. The other time she had to deal with that element of things, he was polite and turned his back even though she didn’t ask him to, and she assumes the same will happen here and she’ll get nowhere and-

Okay, fine, it’s not like taking off her vest reveals anything outright explicit. The current light makes her shirt a little more see-through than it’s meant to be, but still. She is about as decent as she ever gets.

“What are you doing?” he asks, tone about as calm as she’s ever heard him.

“You do not need two blankets,” Nina counters. “I want.”

And oh does that phrase cover more than his little Fjerdan mind has probably ever thought of. All those comments he’s made about assuming she’s trying to seduce him? Yeah, hasn’t been the main goal yet but she’s thought about it. Seeing what she could do to him – she does not expect he’d take any initiative there, highly doubts he’s ever even kissed anyone – would not be the worst way to spend an evening. So, that’s part of the plan now. Make him squirm, get on top of him, and take her prize. Should be easy.

As if to prove her point, she starts loosening the laces of her shirt just enough to easily take it off. She hadn’t bothered to wear anything under it, another brilliant idea proving that two-weeks-ago Nina had questionable judgment in all things, and it is all too easy to push it up over her shoulders and off her arms and…

He’s still watching. He looks wide-eyed and possibly concussed, but he’s still watching.

If Nina were a different sort of person, and probably also if she had gotten laid within the past six months (for the record it has been eight and that cute little bartender with the long nails was a way better lover than she was an informant), she would cross her arms over her breasts and stop here and wait for whatever protective instincts Mathias has to kick in. Even given what she’s just done, she looks vulnerable and cute enough to wake him up like that, and-

“What are you doing?” he asks again, this time more hostile. Good. When he’s frustrated his voice gets all growly, and that does things to her, and-

“Can we get this over with?”

“This?”

“The part where we have questionable hatesex that I will forget ever happened within the next year and you will remember for the rest of your life because whatever little creature gets stuck with you someday will not fuck you like I want to.”

For a moment, she’s pretty sure she broke him. This is definitely not about the blanket anymore, and-

“I. Don’t. Hate. You.”

Nina laughs. “Yeah well you are deeper in denial than anybody I’ve ever met. I am everything that scares you and you are stuck with me and I’m not sure which part of your code I do not violate but I am sure you would’ve-”

“You saved my life. I owe you everything.”

“Cute. Obligation. Great reason to put up with someone but still do everything you can to drag your feet about it.”

“Why do you… want me?” He sounds all hesitant, and good grief has nobody ever told this man what he looks like? Or do all of his people look that good at that age… that’s plausible enough…

“Limited options right now. It’s you or my hand and you’re warmer.”

She is not sure what she’s expecting beyond not what he actually does.

Fine, so she’s been good and hasn’t looked more than she had to when he’s been in a state of undress. Watching him strip right now, layers of leathers and furs that are apparently frightfully easy to take off, is different. He is wanting her to watch, keeping his eyes on her the whole time until he is completely naked in front of her and… she can’t help licking her lips, he is pretty and she wants all of that all over her. Now.

“This or your hand,” he repeats in a way that suggests that at least she probably won’t have to explain the general patterns of female masturbation to him. “Make your choice.”

She about tackles him.

He’s built like a damn tree, Nina reminds herself in the process. Solid enough to handle her attempt at literally jumping him, which doesn’t exactly work but does throw off his balance for a moment, and she gets him pulled down for a bitey kiss. He has just a little bit of scruff now and she’d wanna see what that feels like between her legs but also she is pretty sure Fjerdan men do not do that and she doesn’t want to completely wreck him in one go, and while she still suspects all of this is new to him, he has good instincts.

Her skirt and underwear are feeling like too much of an undesired obstacle, so she undoes them with her free hand while trying to stick her tongue down his throat. So she’s a little aggressive, whatever, he’s clearly into it and nobody gets hurt by it.

“What do you need me to do,” he breathes, and oh he can admit being clueless, this is a treasure, this is-

She grabs his wrist and puts his hand between her thighs. “Poke around until you like the noises I’m making.”

Mathias has good hands. She’s known this for several days now, but it is a different thing to know it with one of said hands exploring her soft parts. She feels a fingertip inside her then quickly pulled back, another batting her clit back and forth with uncertainty. Then the finger inside her is back, and she knows how wet she is, and-

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he murmurs.

“That’s why I’m leading. I’m not giving you the chance.”

But he couldn’t hurt her like this, she thinks. Not with his hands prepping her and a second finger up inside her and accidentally finding her sensitive spot, not with his prick hard against her belly, not with his mouth taking kisses as he learns what he likes. There is something inherently good in him and she worries for a moment that what they are about to do will break it, and yet-

“Get on your back,” she orders. Easier for both of them if she leads, she reminds herself.

He does without any complaint, and she takes a moment to enjoy the view. The solidness of him, for the next few minutes all hers. Would any of the girls he might get stuck with back home be able to handle this? And the way he’s looking up at her, a scared but willing participant in whatever she decides to do. Maybe he’s right. Maybe hatesex is the wrong word.

She straddles him, knees around his hips, and drops.

Blame the dry spell. Blame the absolute weirdness of the situation. Blame the fact that she is tired and hungry and cold. None of that matters. He feels good inside her and she makes a noise she cannot describe and-

“Am I…?”

“No. Feels good.”

She rolls her hips against his to prove a point, works him even deeper into her and leans down for more kisses. She can taste the shock and the innocence of him. This isn’t how he thought his first time would go, she is sure of it now, and yet he is allowing her and-

His hips jerk up and she makes a shocked little noise. “Do that again.”

He does, and she continues her pattern, and… it’s good, on her side. Not the best sex she’s ever had, but his hesitance is useful enough. She doesn’t trust him to say if he’s getting close, so she stays focused on his face, looking for signs, looking for-

She shifts her angle just a little bit, his prick hits the right spot inside her harder than she expects, and she shatters.

As she comes down, she sees that his expression has turned to something worse, scared and worried and unable to speak. He’s still hard inside her, at least, but he is motionless and cold and she doesn’t-

“Did I hurt you?”

Nina laughs. She shouldn’t, this is a legitimately valid question, but-

“No. What you just did felt amazing. Your turn.”

She resumes rolling her hips against his to indicate the conversation is over and she does not want to explain herself, and a few clenches of her inner walls later he spills inside her. It’s a beautiful thing to experience, the sudden warmth overlapping with the strangled gasp of surprise and-

“You know this means I have to marry you,” he says when he’s capable of coherent thought. “If there’s any chance…”

She shifts position so their bodies are no longer connected. “No. It doesn’t.”

“But I…”

“We’re too different,” she murmurs. “You know that. There’s nowhere safe. If anything… if the worst happens, I’ll lie.”

“Honor is honor. If there is even a chance-“

And oh, for a moment she wants it too. For a moment, she lets herself think about the impossibility of being all that she could be, both Grisha and wife, not forced to choose between her complexities. Unrealistic, she knows, a flighty daydream at best but she wants all the same.

“Nothing to worry about. My last cycle finished three days before your people tried to kill me, so… right now I can’t get pregnant.”

“Still. If it happened… I would stand by you.”

She kisses his face, covers the angles of him in wet kisses. “Good to know.”

[apiratewhopines]

I’m going to alternate artwork so we get leather-clad Killian and fancy dress up Killian.

Midnight

Chapter 3 — The Godfather

Summary: In which our heroine accepts the finer things in life

Chapter 3 of 7 on AO3

“He gave her things that she was needin’

He gave her a home built of gold and steel

A diamond car with platinum wheels”

-Minnie The Moocher, Cab Calloway

The creeping pace her warden set was nerve-racking. She wasn’t sure if it was her imagination or if every eye in the place was watching their slow procession through the ballroom. Finally exiting the room, they paused in the hallway and Emma said resignedly, “Let’s get this over with.”

“I’ve had my eye on you from the moment you walked in,” the other man commented, nodding to passersby with no hint of distress. “You should have known better than to think you could escape unnoticed.”

“Well, I thought if I left quietly, no one would be the wiser,” she replied, smiling at him with a hopeful kind of chagrin. “You can’t blame a girl for trying.”

“Don’t apologize, my dear. There are three of us in rebellion against this entertainment if you want to call it that. I think I may turn down all future invitations from Regina if this is the torture we will be subject to…” Grabbing her arm softly, he started steering them through the throng still attempting to find a place in the ballroom.

She was shocked they weren’t heading to the front entrance. The man, who had yet to introduce himself, was leading her down a back hallway. Moments later, he paused in front of a closed door. “You do play bridge, yes?”

Emma hadn’t played the game since she was a teenager staying with Granny, but as usual, the lessons the older woman taught her were going to save her from a terrible fate. “Yes, though I’m a bit rusty. But why me?”

“You’re charming, you’re bored, and you have the face of someone who wouldn’t trump your partner’s ace,” he explained with a breezy smile. Placing his finger to his lips to hush any further conversation, he pressed an ear to the door and then gave two quick raps against the frame. Taking one more second, he then opened it and ushered her in.

Upon entering, she saw two occupants huddled by the fireplace, which blazed happily with a roaring fire in opposition to the warm night. Immediately, his pause made sense as she noticed a faint smudge of lipstick on the smooth skin of the man’s face.

“Lancelot, Guinevere, allow me to introduce Madam—I’m sorry, I don’t think I caught your name.”

Scrambling, she said the first thing that popped into her mind. “Jones.”

“Ah, Madam Jones, I’m Sidney Glass, your knight in shining armor for the evening. This is Guinevere Soberano and Lancelot du Lac, your fellow insurrectionists.” Her knight joked before adding, “Lance is the most dangerous man in the room, so watch yourself.”

Seeing how the tall, handsome man took his time sizing her up, she had a feeling she knew what made him dangerous. The fashionable lines of his tuxedo did little to hide his muscular build, and while he wasn’t the sexiest man she’d met that evening, she knew if they had met on any other night of her life, he would have been. She could tell by how his eyes continued to seek her out that he wasn’t immune to her charms either. It should have made her feel better considering she’d been in the same outfit for nearly two days and her hair was still wet from her dash through the thunderstorm. Instead, it made her feel tired.

Taking a seat with trepidation, she tried to hide her feelings of discomfort. She was the one who ran when offered a cozy landing place, so now she needed to play the hand she was dealt. Literally. Watching as Sidney took over as dealer, she asked, “What are we playing for? Bragging rights?”

“How about our normal stakes? Five dollars a point?”

Eyes wide, she calculated if she remembered the game correctly, there would be thousands of dollars exchanging hands tonight. If only a fraction of that money came her way, she may be able to get out of this dress and fill up her tank so she could hit the road and resume her search. She refused to think about what she would do if she didn’t win. Granny had been a cutthroat player, so she had more than enough practice.

Lance settled in as her partner, his eyes never leaving her face as the group silently arranged their cards and planned their strategies. Her heart racing, Emma mumbled, “Two spades.”

And the game began.

Hours later, they were in the hole and she couldn’t help wishing Sidney or the other woman was her partner. Lance seemed much more interested in flirting with her than winning, and if she weren’t sure it would get her thrown out, she would have kicked him under the table for screwing up her chance to turn her luck around. Not to mention the fact that with every suggestive exchange, Guinevere’s eyes grew a little bit colder. She had a feeling the woman would make a formidable enemy.

The door to their hideaway opened to admit her former neighbor, his eyes as unnerving by firelight as they had been in the brighter gleam of the ballroom. The ever-present smirk was there in full force as he made his way to their table and planted himself between Lance and Guinevere. “Darling, why don’t you introduce me to your newest recruit?”

“Madam Jones, this is my husband Arthur Soberano, the only man on the planet who enjoys these little parties. Arthur, this is Madam Jones, a woman in need of a better bridge partner.”

“It’s so hard to concentrate on cards sometimes,” Lance murmured, his heated glance never leaving her face so no one had any doubts about what was distracting him.

Arthur observed the exchange, and the subsequent reactions, with the expression of a man who finally found his silver lining. She hoped it was catching. “Jones, eh? Would you be one of the Rhode Island Joneses?”

Pasting a bright smile on her face, she demurred. “No, but I’ve heard they’re lovely people.”

“You’re American, correct?”

“What gave it away? My abysmal accent?”

“Something like that,” Arthur responded with a smile. “So if not Rhode Island, what Jones clan do you hail from?”

“Oh, Jones is my married name. My husband is from Cambridge.”

“Of course! I should have known. I ran into Baron Jones a few years ago in Budapest, and he spoke of an American girl. How is he? Is he here tonight?”

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, because of course there would be a Baron Jones and of course this enigmatic man would know him, she stared at her cards and hoped she sounded more convincing than she felt when she said, “No, no. He’s still in Budapest. He wasn’t feeling well enough for transatlantic travel. You know, the old trouble flaring up.”

Tsking with a hint of amusement, Arthur narrowed his eyes. “That’s too bad. Guinevere, we really must make a trip there soon. Beautiful city. Tell me, Madam Jones, did they ever finish the metro Line 1?”

For the love of all that was holy, would the man never stop with the questions? “You know how construction is…the roads are still a mess here and there.”

She knew by the way his body shifted that she had misstepped. She wasn’t sure what trap he laid, but she walked right into it. To add insult to injury, the final hand of the night went into their loss column.

Lance shook his head in defeat and pulled out his wallet. “I really must apologize, Madam Jones. I’m usually a much better player. You’ll have to let me make amends to you. Perhaps lunch tomorrow? What’s your favorite place?”

“That depends, Lance. How much money am I out tonight? I will exact revenge in corresponding measure.”

Sidney piped in with a gleeful laugh. “Four thousand dollars from each of you. Not a bad haul, if I do say so myself. But bypassing the awful concert makes the win priceless.”

Her head swam with the figure, trying to ignore the way Arthur was circling the room like a caged lion and wondering how plausible it was for a baroness not to carry cash. Surely, the nobility class had people to handle this kind of thing for them. “I’m not sure I have that much on me. I hope you’ll accept my IOU. Has anyone seen my bag?”

She saw the look Guinevere and Sidney exchanged and her stomach dropped. They wouldn’t let it go. Perhaps looking for her non-existent purse would allow her to sneak out.

“Is this it, Madam Jones?”

“Yes, thank you.” Turning around, she saw a beaded clutch she’d never laid eyes on before in Arthur’s extended hand. She hadn’t stolen a single thing in her life, and she wasn’t thrilled to start now, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

Opening it, she found a wad of cash that looked like it could bankroll a small country for a year. Shocked, her gaze flew to meet Arthur’s and he winked before departing the room.

—

No matter how hard she tried to shake him, Lance would not leave her alone. Subsequently, everyone in the entourage hung on like they had nothing better to do than tag along while she flitted around the club trying to lose them. Finally, the evening started breaking up. Large groups of people gave each other air kisses and made plans to meet at various houses for brunch the next day. Freedom was within reach if she could only make it out the front door.

They bid goodbye to their hostess, who was high on finding the supposed party crasher, an older woman they dragged from the downstairs powder room and tossed out into the night, still swearing she didn’t know anyone named Neal and claiming she was the Duchess of Longbourn.

Emma thought a silent apology to the woman and hoped karma graded on a curve.

“Allow me to wait with you until your car pulls around,” Lance said, offering his arm to help her down the steps.

“I’d hate to trouble you,” Emma ground out, her voice deepened with the effort of holding in a groan of frustration. “My chauffeur is habitually late.”

“Then I should give you a ride,” Lance countered. He had yet to let go of her arm, and she was afraid she would have to cut it off to make a clean break. “Where are you staying?”

Having no clue of the lodging situation in Misthaven, she worried about another trap under Arthur’s expectant stare. “I’ll give you three guesses.”

“The Ritz,” he immediately countered.

“Right in one! But really, I’d rather wait for my car.” When the words left her mouth, the familiar lines of a black BMW cruised down the street slowly like the driver was looking for something. Or someone. Panicked, she flashed her new admirer a dazzling smile. “On second thought, let’s get out of here.”

As Lance handed her into his sports car, she heard Guinevere’s voice muttering to Sidney, “We don’t know anything about her. She came here all alone.”

“I notice she’s not leaving alone,” Arthur replied, smile widening as he caught her eye through the window and gave her a jaunty wave.

By jumping into a car with a virtual stranger for the second time that evening, she avoided one issue but created another. Her time was running out because this charade was doomed to fail when they arrived at the hotel and there wasn’t a room for Baroness Jones. She’d have to get rid of him in the parking lot.

Unsurprisingly, considering how her night was going, it was easier said than done. Lance appeared to be a gentleman if you overlooked his tendency to have affairs with other men’s wives and wouldn’t hear of dropping her off at the entrance. Throwing his keys toward the valet stand, he made his way to the concierge desk over her protests that she had some things to handle in the lobby before heading to her room.

She closed her eyes as she heard him say, “Checking into Baroness Jones’s room.”

Here it came. The boom.

“Of course, sir. Will that be all?”

Opening one eye, she watched as the employee handed over the room card. This couldn’t be right. She must be trapped in some nightmare where her pain and humiliation hung like a knife above her head, and the anticipation of the stabbing turned out to be worse than the violent act itself.

Laughing with fake merriment, she snatched the card from Lance before he could pocket it and said forcefully, “Thank you for a lovely evening. Good night.”

“My mother always said to see a woman to her door, or my job wasn’t done.”

Unable to hide her exasperation one second longer, she asked, “Don’t you know when to go home?”

“No.” With a broad smile, he held the elevator door open while she entered and wished for death. In hindsight, her original plan of sleeping on a park bench seemed like a real winner compared to this slow torture. She wouldn’t allow herself to think about the warm bed and warmer smile she had also turned down.

Tired, annoyed, and pining for her original driver of the evening, she didn’t even try to maintain a conversation with the man beside her, her head filled with dread at the idea she was about to open the door to a hotel room occupied by the real Baroness Jones. With the resigned stride of a prisoner walking the green mile, she reached the room slower than the situation called for and leaned against the door facing Lance. With a stony expression, she said pointedly, “Look, right to the door. You did your mother proud and can go home and sleep peacefully.”

“What? No nightcap?”

“No, absolutely not. I don’t need a mother to tell me inviting a man into my hotel room in the middle of the night is a bad idea. Go home.”

Laughing, he reached out and pushed her hair away from her face. “You’re magnificent.”

“I’m also married,” she bit out, barely resisting the urge to slap his hand away. There was something riveting about a man with an overabundance of confidence, but she refused to be charmed. If she were going to give in to any urges, she would have done it with the person behind Door Number One.

“So I’ve heard. At least make sure the card works. Those things are notoriously fickle, like most wives I’ve met.”

Chuckling despite herself, she swiped the card against the reader, grateful to hear the lock disengage in the quiet hallway. “There. Good night.”

Before he could say or do anything else, she slipped into the room and clicked the door firmly back in place. She tiptoed through the suite, not daring to turn on the lights while she looked for any trace someone else was in the room. Her search coming up empty, she reached over and flooded the bedroom with light.

The king-size bed looked heavenly. Giggling, she decided to make the most of this temporary reprieve. She dropped her clothes in a pile and ran to the bathroom, happy to find it as luxurious as the rest of the rooms in the suite. Turning the water all the way to hot, she allowed the steamy spray to wash away the hurt, the hopelessness, and the hysteria.

She stepped out of the shower an hour later, eyes red-rimmed and body weak with fatigue. Not even bothering to dry off, she collapsed in the bed and fell into a sleep plagued with blue eyes and black cars.

—

The sound of the antique telephone ringing penetrated the fog in her brain as the last strands of sleep broke. Startled, Emma glanced down at her nude form and immediately looked beside her to see if she was alone. Her dreams of the previous night didn’t fade quickly, and the vivid image of the Captain and his wonderful stubble made her ache.

Groaning as memory replaced fantasy, she plopped back against the mattress and grabbed one of the nearly two dozen pillows haphazardly strewn across the bed to cover her head in an attempt to drown out the noise.

It wasn’t really her hotel room, so she probably shouldn’t answer it anyway.

Unfortunately, the caller didn’t know she was an imposter and seemed determined to reach the room’s occupant. She picked up the receiver and pulled it under the pillow to join her. In a groggy voice she asked, “What?”

The chirpy voice of a hotel employee responded, “Good morning, Baroness Jones. Your luggage has arrived.”

“From Boston?” That didn’t make any sense. She’d pawned her last remaining possessions less than forty-eight hours ago, but unless she packed a boomerang in the pocket of her favorite jeans, she wasn’t sure what they were doing in Misthaven.

“I’m not sure, madam. The delivery driver only mentioned it was for the baroness. It should be arriving at your room momentarily.”

As if summoned by magic, there was a knock and she hung up the phone while trying to wrap herself in the thick comforter. Dragging the ends of the blanket like a train behind her, she threw open the door and felt her eyes widen at the sight greeting her. Lining the hallway was a parade of hotel employees carrying a few pieces of luggage each.

In mute shock, she moved out of the way and the group started piling the bags in the living room of the suite. When the final trunk was laid in the corner by the wall of windows overlooking the town, she stood staring unblinkingly at the head bellhop.

“Will there be anything else, Baroness?”

“No, I think this is quite enough.”

“Very well.”

The group seemed hesitant to depart, and she did a quick check to make sure her makeshift toga hadn’t slipped. Finding everything was as it should be, reason soaked through her dazed brain and she said, “Oh, the tip!”

“No, madam. Your chauffeur took care of it already. He wanted to know if you’d be needing the car today. It’s beautiful weather out.”

“My chauffeur took care of the tip and wants to know if I need the car…” she echoed back, trying to see if the words made more sense if she was the one saying them. No. No such luck. She was going mad. That was the only explanation. Or maybe the Captain wasn’t all he seemed to be and he had drugged her and this was simply a hallucination. Noticing the flock of bellhops was waiting patiently for her response, she smiled benignly and said, “I wouldn’t be surprised.”

A voice called out from the doorway, “And what about breakfast, Baroness?”

The hotel employees filed out, leaving her and her unexpected visitor alone. Pulling the comforter more tightly around herself, she hissed, “Arthur. It was you.”

“What was me, my dear?”

“The money, the room, the clothes, the chauffeur. Does Baron Jones even exist, or did you make him up?”

“I like to think of him as more of a group effort. You provided the inspiration; I provided the title. Seeing you in all your lost girl glory last night gave me an idea.”

“From the moment you looked at me, I had an idea you had an idea. I’m not interested.”

Chuckling, he tossed his hat and jacket across a nearby chair and sank into the couch. “I’m sure there is a robe or something a little less linen closet in one of these suitcases. I’ll close my eyes while you look if you’d like.”

“I think I’ll stay over here.” Where it’s safe.

“You have nothing to fear from me, dear. I’m here to make a proposal. One that will be mutually beneficial, I hope,” he drawled, picking a piece of fluff off his pants. He continued to avert his eyes, which she found strange since he stopped by to proposition her over breakfast apparently. “This is only the tip of the iceberg. I can guarantee you’ll never have to worry about money again.”

“Still not interested. You know the way out.”

“Come on, Baroness. Why don’t you slip into something more comfortable and hear me out? I promise it’s nothing like what you think.”

“Arthur, when Little Red Riding Hood spots long, gray whiskers, it’s ridiculous to keep insisting you’re the grandmother,” she retorted, moving carefully toward the nearest bag so she didn’t accidentally flash him. Pulling out a shirt at random, she riffled through the case until she found a pair of shorts as well. Scrambling to the bathroom, she called out over her shoulder. “Go huff and puff somewhere else.”

“I guess that means I’m the big bad wolf,” he said with a smile as he moved to trail after her. When she slammed the door in his face, he raised his voice and added, “I’ve certainly been called worse. Tell me, what was your impression of Lance?”

“I think neither of you takes no for an answer very well,” she mumbled as she pulled on the shirt and stared at herself in the mirror. What bizarre alternate universe had she stumbled into, and how in the world was she going to return to reality. Talking to her reflection, she said, “You’re Emma Swan. You’re not a baroness. Killian Jones is not your husband. You are not going to shack up with Lance or Arthur.”

“Nice pep talk, but if I may be so bold as to suggest a different path,” her visitor interrupted from the other side of the door. “You see, my old friend Lancelot and my wife think they are in love.”

“That’s very cozy but not my problem.”

“I’d like to pay you to make it your problem, Emma Swan. Nice name, by the way. Last night was the first time since their affair started that I thought there might be a ray of hope. The whole time Lance was flirting with you, my wife was fighting tears.”

Rolling her eyes, she snapped open the door and was satisfied to see him lose his balance. “Who won?”

“I plan to, and I’d like you to be on my team. I just need you to keep his attention long enough for Guin to come to her senses.”

Moving past him, she picked up her discarded dress from the prior evening and grabbed the laundry bag out of the nearby closet. “Why don’t you punch him and be done with it?”

“He’s the top man at our boxing club. And besides, the last thing I need is to drive her further into his arms by making him a martyr.” He reached over and placed his hand on her arm, stilling her frantic movements. “Please. At least hear me out.”

Meeting his gaze for the first time since he entered the room, she observed, “You really love her, don’t you?”

“Yes. She’s not the only one who made mistakes. I need your help to make this right. And it might work out well for you too, you know. Lance’s family makes a superior income from a very inferior champagne. He’s no baron, but he does have the bank account of one.”

“I think you need a lawyer, not another homewrecker.”

“I’ll never get a divorce. Come on, Emma. We’re having a party at my estate in the Enchanted Forest. Come out this weekend and give it a go. I’ll pay you fifty thousand to show up and another fifty if this harebrained scheme works.”

“I… I’m not sure…”

“Am I upsetting some other plans? Do you have another offer?”

Thinking of black leather jackets and pie, she smiled wistfully. Shaking herself, she tried to focus on the fact that a hundred grand would pay back what Neal had stolen from Granny and leave enough for her to put a down payment on a place in the city. “Yes, I think I do. But fine, I’ll play along through the end of the weekend. Then I’m out regardless of what happens.”

“Fair enough. I’ll let Guin know I ran into you and invited you to join the party,” he said with a grin. If he had a mustache, she was sure he’d be twirling it.

Before they could discuss any other details, there was another knock at the door. With an exasperated expression, Emma asked her companion, “What now?”

Putting his hands up in a placating gesture, Arthur assured her, “Hey, this one isn’t me.”

Yanking open the door, she saw an enormous bouquet of red roses. She took the flowers with both hands as Arthur cocked his eyebrow in silent question and pulled out the card. “‘If I had a single flower for every time I think about you, I could walk forever in my garden. -Lance.’ Huh. I rather resent that. The note to Guin just said, ‘So glad we met.’”

Notes:

For those who were wondering about Arthur’s trap, the Budapest subway is one of the oldest in the world and the line he mentioned was completed in 1896.

The quote on Lancelot’s card is from Claudia Adrienne Grandi.

@teamhook @kmomof4 @jrob64 @stahlop @motherkatereloyshipper @xarandomdreamx @xsajx @klynn-stormz