#like just come into my ask box & tell me random head canons or whatevs

[delusionally-loveless-by-choice]

Random Bo Sinclair Headcanons!!

authors' note: these are def just personally influenced, and if im being honest this was in my drafts for like.. a year and a half I think, and well I wrote it in the dead of night and was emotional and delirious. anyway, if u like any of these or wanna discuss his pass leave a note or reblog!!

Bo likes reading—mostly nonfiction but he has read a good amount of fiction when he gets his greasy hands on them. He needs glasses to read sometimes. reads when he isn't busy, andusually is before before (if he isn't drunk lol)

He likes to sketch—in his childhood Vince was the artist, just naturally good at it. His parents hoped Bo could have an artistic talent as well, but soon gave up when they realized he was too much to handle. Bo always liked to randomly doodle when he got bored. Likes to doodle whatever he can, in his youth it was usually just funny sketches of people that he'd make fun of

Has a great ass singing voice—first heard him humming in the garage to some song. Later that day after Bo n u got a couple of beers down, the music was low and playing and you heard him just belt it out. Sure it mostly comes out when he’s drunk but gad damn . You just egg him on because you need more bo singing voice.

He likes a lot of alt music. Loud shit. Metal. Rock. Etc. But he’s also secretly into classic romantic shit., (to me personally just the vibe of romantic older music, but im bad w names so like idk songs like put your head on my shoulder dunno)

He has like only three different caps that he circulates through. Theyre all dirty so help him out here, gift him a new one or help him wash them bec them caps are dirty as shi

He just has stickers and he puts them almost everywhere. In certain spots on the truck, in the garage, on his tool box case, etc. Some are from the people he and his brother catch, and others are ones he's gotten on his own over time (there's a sticker in his truck that is most definitely a hello kitty sticker, he denies it was him but he stuck it on when he was plastered and is unable to rip the sticker off its place)

Never learned how to ride a bicycle. Him and his brothers not having the best upbringing, they never really got those bonding moments. I imagine one day after finding a bicycle, and assuming you know how to ride one, he just looks at you as if you discovered a new planet. he never considered that other people knew how to ride those things. So surprised and impressed. He wont ask you to teach him so you kinda have to like coax him to try it. Would definitely get frustrated. I also imagine that if theres a possibility of kids, and he sees you teaching them how to ride a bike he would definitely be holding back tears when he sees you teaching them how to ride a bike (he'll join in bec he wants to learn too but he'd just stand on the side until you tell him to try it)

loll I edited them but I wrote these so long ago and many are def jus self-indulgent . fucj it they head canons for a reason ;)

[zeta-in-de-walls]

Fanfic: Tommy introduces Phil to Shroud!

Hey guys, I have had the urge to do some writing recently. Unfortunately, I’ve discovered I am only passionate about writing conversations between Phil and Tommy. Eh, whatever. This one takes place on the DSMP. Theoretically canon compliant.

Comments + feedback appreciated. ❤

Wordcount: 1041 words

-

Phil wondered quite what he had done to deserve random visits from Tommy of all people at the most unwelcome hours. Did he have some way of discerning when would be a bad time and make it a point to come over? Or was this just some innate talent?

Naturally, Phil had just decided to get into designing a rather complex dome involving several different hues of coloured glass that required an attention to detail to get all the lighting to be just right. It would require the utmost concentration. Therefore, it was the perfect time for an annoying teenager to drop in and start distracting him.

“Phil! What’s up big man?” TommyInnit said loudly, jumping right into his lair, trampling over some flowers and throwing a bucket of water on the ground to catch his fall. 

It took all of Phil’s considerable patience not to tell him to just go away. And only because he knew it wouldn’t work anyway. Tommy would probably just get upset. And you did not want to deal with an unhappy Tommy. He woud get under your skin in an entirely different way.

“Hey mate,” Phil said instead, keeping his voice as carefully neutral as possible. “Need something?”

“No - though I did borrow some of your stone! I can’t find where you put the rest of it actually. Has anyone ever told you, your stuff is really annoying to access?” Tommy said cheerfully.

“That’s deliberate, Tommy. To make sure no one can steal it,” Phil replied, sighing to himself as he looked away from the unfinished glass flooring.

 “But Phil! You forgot one important flaw which means its harder for us to access! I probably broke your storage system just finding the hidden box! Honestly, that’s got to be really annoying.”

Tommy was exaggerating, Phil knew. He was grinning cheekily which meant he knew exactly what he was doing no matter how innocent he sounded. But then again, Tommy would happily cause trouble, somehow knowing just how far to push it without being too destructive. It was easier to let him get away with it. (And maybe some of his antics were just a bit amusing.)

“Mate, you could just ask first?” Phil replied, approaching the boy to see if he could detect any damage.

“But you’d probably just forget Phil. I know what you’re like, you’d see a random piece of andesinite and get distracted. Or you’d just say no,” Tommy said, with his usual nonsensical logic.

Then he saw the creature on Tommy’s back. He flinched, switching to high alert.

“Wha- Tommy get back!” Phil said, grabbing a sword.

Tommy blinked at him in confusion, completely oblivious to the danger.

It was a... giant spider? It’s long legs were clinging to Tommy’s shoulders like some sort of monstrous backpack.

And then Tommy smirked, eyes alight. “Oh, haven’t you met Shroud? He’s my pet spider!” 

Phil watched in awed horror, sword still held limply in hand, as Tommy reached round, patting the creature, encouraging it to rest its head on Tommy’s shoulder where he could more easily coo at it. 

“Tommy that’s a hostile mod. Don’t pet it! They eat children,” Phil warned, not sure how to respond to this. When did Tommy become his responsibility?

“I’m not a child, Phil! Shroud’s nice. See, he likes being cuddled,” Tommy said, grinning like this was some sort of practical joke.

“Uh-” Phil had as little clue as ever how to get through to this strange kid. “Wait, is it wearing socks?” 

Indeed, at the end of its long, hairy legs, were little blue bits of fabric. It was absolutely absurd on the red-eyed mob. It was almost- no it was not cute at all.  What was Tommy thinking? Not that Phil should ever try to comprehend his mind.

“Oh yeah! Sometimes Shoud can get a little moody. Mostly when it’s nighttime and he sometimes tries to kill me a little. It’s a bit annoying so I gave him socks which keeps him from scratching me!”

“You gave him socks to stop him from attacking you,” Phil repeated numbly.

He was both full of questions and without words. 

“Yep, he sometimes still tries to bite me but don’t worry, he’s not poisonous. The rest of the time he keeps me great company. I love him,” Tommy said merrily like there was nothing wrong at all with any of that.

“Tommy that thing is not your friend, its dangerous. You should let me kill it!” Phil said, brandishing his sword. 

Tommy’s eyes widened in alarm. “NO! Don’t hurt him. He’s really nice. He’s a friend spider! Look him in the eyes, Phil. He’s good.”

And Tommy was backing away now, his earlier relaxed posture replaced with a defensive stance and despite his keen words, there was a steely look in his eyes. Damn, he was really going to fight him on this?

Of course Tommy had grown attached to a monster of all things. Why was no one watching out for this kid?

“Tommy, I’m trying to help you. Befriending hostile mobs isn’t good for you. Think about this rationally,” Phil said, keeping his voice calm and soothing. Tommy needed to learn how to take care of himself. 

“Oh shut up, you don’t understand, I need Shroud,” Tommy growled back, and there was a sudden bitterness in his voice.

“C’mon Tommy. A friend wouldn’t hurt you.”

“All friends hurt you Phil. That’s what it is to care. Not that you’d understand! You kill the people you care about!”

Phil froze. Taken aback by the sheer venom in his voice and exactly what he was implying. 

And Tommy was already leaving. Hurrying away with the spider still on his back like it was a part of him. 

Phil didn’t run after him. The boy was not his responsibility. He was just some stranger who bothered him sometimes and sometimes gave off worrying signals. Just some kid starving for attention and was finding it in some spider of all things.

He shouldn’t care about him. Like Tommy said, caring meant letting them hurt you. He was gone now, leaving him in peace at last. Probably wouldn’t be back in a long time.

So why did he feel strangely bereft?

[mandoalorian]

Aphrodite’s Stone [Maxwell Lord x Reader] SMUT *sex pollen*

Summary: Your boss, Maxwell Lord, tasks you to acquire an important gemstone from the Smithsonian museum's annual gala, not realising the powers that it possesses and how it can possibly affect you when an accident occurs.

Rating: 18+ ONLY.

Word Count: 6k

Warnings: SMUT (sex pollen, automatic dub-con due to the nature of it being a sex pollen), female recieving oral, thigh riding, fingering, creampie, boss x employee relationship, mutual pining. No spoilers for WW84 but some slight references and mentions of canon type mythology/lore. Oh, and there's actually plot!!

Author's note: Feels like all I ever do is write for Max Lord hehe. This is my first ever sex pollen so I hope it’s okay! I tried to make it as canon-typical as I could and I’m actually really happy with the outcome. Also I haven’t written mutual pining in so long so this has been really fun!

Masterlist

"Did you get the stone?" you whispered, waltzing over to Maxwell who had been schmoozing with a few of the gala guests. He stiffened up when he heard the sweetness of your voice. Your presence always took his breath away. He cleared his throat and placed his half empty champagne glass on one of the silver trays that were getting passed around.

"No, not yet," Maxwell admitted and you sighed. "I've tried swindling the geology department but they won't budge."

"Can't imagine why," you rolled your eyes sarcastically, referencing the time earlier in the year when Max had stolen a very specific citrine stone from the Smithsonian Museum. Of course their trust in him would've been altered. Maxwell quirked an eyebrow at your brief comment and you raised your hands defensively. "Sorry sir." you looked down nervously and he nodded his head, choosing to dismiss what you'd said.

"This is where you come in," Maxwell said, clicking his tongue. Your eyes met his again with curiosity. He took your hand, carefully dragging you to a quiet corner of the party. "You can get the stone."

"Me?" you asked almost rhetorically, your eyes turning comically wide. You were his assistant. He trusted you with menial tasks such as making coffee, handing over paperwork and grabbing his mail— not acquiring some ancient artifact from a different continent.

"You can do it!" he grinned enthusiastically. You were beginning to think he was putting on his charming and persuasive television voice and you furrowed your eyebrows together unimpressed. "Carol Thomas over there, she's the director of the museum. You must make sure she doesn't see a thing. But that tall guy with the dark hair? That’s Ken, and he’s been watching you all night."

You blinked in bewilderment. "He has?" you tilted your head, looking at the man Max had pointed at.

Maxwell's gaze burned into your body as you watched the geology department interact with one another. Of course he has— Maxwell felt like saying. Every man at the damn gala had their eye on you. You looked remarkable, and you were too humble to have even noticed. He brushed off your question.

"Go over there and butter him up a little," Maxwell smirked as you turned back around to face your boss. "But not too much." he quickly added on to the end, feeling a little too defensive over you. "Find out where the stone is. Can you do that?"

"What does it look like?" you mumbled, not really liking the idea of having to flirt with a slimy looking man just to get some random rock thing.

"Ruby." Max snapped back like there was no question about it.

You looked back at Maxwell, a small gasp escaping your lips as you took in his appearance. He looked drunk with desire, and you realised how much he must've wanted that stone. Maxwell's eyes were a beautiful shade of honeyed brown that sparkled under the amber lights; they were beautiful. You felt your lips curve into a small smile of agreement and you felt Maxwell's large, ring clad hand rest on your shoulder, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. You made the decision to get the stone, knowing how much it meant to him. You hadn't even realised that the primal, hungry look that crossed his face was actually nothing but pure lust for you.

The second you walked away, Maxwell picked up his champagne glass and finished it off with one quick swing, the bitter taste of alcohol rolling down his throat. He tried to shake off these feelings he had for you, deeming it as unprofessional. He knew from the very start that it was a mistake hiring you. The moment he saw you waiting outside his office to be interviewed, was the moment he had to have you. But of course, his own insecurity meant that he felt as though he couldn't act on these feelings. He may have been a charismatic TV personality but deep down, he had his own, personal reasons that made him feel smaller and weaker than everyone else. For who could ever love a man like him?

"Hey, Ken, is it?" you smiled, extending your arm and grabbing the man's hand. You immediately cringed, feeling the sticky nervous sweat that coated his skin. The dark haired archeologist pushed his glasses up the curve of his nose and shook your hand a little too aggressively.

"Wow," he muttered, looking you up and down before clearing his throat. "Uh, yes. Ken."

You fake smiled, hiding your disgust, tearing your hand away from his and rubbing your palm against the material of your dress in disgust. You wanted to kill Maxwell for making you do this. From the dark, shadowed corner in the ballroom, Maxwell watched you intently, a flame of envy burning in the pit of his stomach.

"I hear you have an exhibition happening?" you took a glass of your favourite alcoholic beverage that was being passed around by a waiter.

"Yes, but it's not ready yet." Ken revealed and you nodded your head understandingly.

"That's a shame," you sighed, a fake sadness dripping from your tongue. "I'm a sucker for gemstones."

"Yeah?" Ken asked as you peaked his curiosity. "What's your favourite kind?"

"Oh, I like the red ones," you joked, and to your surprise, Ken actually laughed.

"We have a whole sub-section on garnet," Ken admitted and your lips parted slightly, omitting a small ‘oh’ as he continued on. "It's beautiful."

"I'm actually more of a ruby type girl myself." you explained, wondering if you were evening making the slightest bit of sense. Even if you weren't, Max knew that you'd be able to wrap Ken around your finger from your good looks alone. And he was right.

"We have one ruby," Ken whispered, leaning into you. Maxwell scowled as he watched Ken push his body into yours. He was seconds away from intervening. Max wanted the stone, but not if some slimy gemologist was making you uncomfortable in the process. Maxwell paused dead in his tracks when he saw you gently push Ken away from you, laughing politely. Max decided he couldn't watch anymore and decided to walk away, finding a group of women to distract himself with.

"Can I see?" you shot Ken your best pleading eyes.

"I'm afraid not. I could pull a few strings with the garnet collection but the ruby is 3000 years old. It's from ancient Greece, and it's the last of its kind."

You pouted, turning your heel, about to walk away, when Ken grabbed your arm and stopped you. "I mean!" he called and you raised your eyebrow, trying to hide your winning smirk. "I suppose I could pull a few strings. It's in the gallery, you must go alone though. And don't tell anyone. And remember to look— not touch."

You grinned, leaning in and gently pecking Ken on the cheek. "Thank you." you said, feeling his cheeks heat up under your lips. You pulled away from him and spun around. You watched out for Carol Thomas, making sure she wasn't looking before you slipped out of the gala and made your way to the gallery.

You were truly in awe as you looked over all the different rocks, each different sizes and different colours but all equally as beautiful as each other. Your eye finally caught the attention of the ruby Max had sought after for so long. You were no expert on geology but this didn't seem like any normal ruby, it sparkled and glittered and stood out from all the others. It was caged in an acrylic box, but it took no effort for you to lift the box off the crystal and swipe it, pushing it into your purse. It barely fit, but you managed to make it work. Double checking that no one was around, you swiftly exited the gallery and made your way back to the main party.

Maxwell wasn't in the corner you had left him, but instead, he was talking to a group of women; flirting no doubt. You rolled your eyes as they tossed their hair and giggled as he leaned into them. You couldn't help but wonder what exactly he was saying to woo them. Grimacing, you stormed past the group of girls and grabbed Max's arm, tugging and pulling him away from them.

"I got the stone," you informed your boss, briefly glancing back at the girls who were scowling at you for whisking away Max. You frowned, feeling unamused.

"Are you okay?" Max asked, sounding genuienly concerned. This was so dumb— of course you were okay. You had to be okay. It was completely fine that Max was flirting with other women, it's not like he had any interest in you anyway. It's not like you owned him. He was a grown man and he could do whatever he wanted.

"Yeah." you shot back, offering him a gritted smile. Maxwell nodded his head slowly and leaned into you.

"My driver is outside waiting. Head back to my office with the stone, I'll only be right behind you." you didn't know what it was, but suddenly, your boss' voice sounded dark and... seductive. The way his breath fanned over the shell of your ear made you shiver. Without saying another word, you left the party and travelled back to your workplace.

It was no surprise that Black Gold Cooperative was deserted when you let yourself in, sliding your employee card through the terminal and squeezing through the revolving doors. It must've been almost midnight, and you were the only one in the building. You slipped behind the main desk and booted up the computer where you had access to turn on all the lights in the building so it didn't feel so sinister. As you waited for the computer to turn on (and it felt like forever), you took out the gemstone and placed it on the top of the desk. Even in the darkness, there was something so attractive about it. No wonder Maxwell was so desperate to get his hands on it. He had an affinity for geology, although it was almost secretive. You remembered the one time he invited you over to his house, he had a whole shelf that was proudly displayed with rocks and minerals. It was a hobby of his that he didn't share with anyone else. But he trusted you.

He definitely shouldn't have trusted you.

You left your purse on the main desk as the lights finally illuminated the building. Holding the ruby in both of your hands, you carried it up the stairs, through the call centre and into Maxwell Lord's extensive sized office. You admired the way it sparkled and shone under the bright lights, so much so, you weren't watching your step. You let out a yelp as you tripped over a chair which had been carelessly pulled out, falling to your knees as the stone went flying across the office, landing near his desk.

You felt your heart sink into the depths of your chest when you heard it smash. No— there was no way. Gemstones don't just smash like that. Terrified, you crawled over to where the stone had landed and saw that it had quite literally smashed into smithereens; almost like glass. At least, that's how it sounded. The crystalized rock had turned into some kind of sparkling red fairy dust that looked almost magical. It was like a shimmering illusion. You scurried around the floor wondering how the hell this had happened. How the rock had smashed and turned into a pile of glitter. You knew you wouldn't have long until Max came back.

Your legs began to feel weak, but you decided it was just from your anxiety. Shit, the rock meant so much to Max. He gave you one job. One easy fucking job and you couldn't even do that right. You were so fired.

You began to collect the sparkling red dust in your hands, desperately scooping it up but sighing when it fell through your fingers. Your actions became more erratic, knowing your boss would be back any second. No matter what, you couldn't pick up the dust. You looked around his office, wondering if he had a brush or something to shovel it up with, but of course he didn't.

There was something weird… the dust from the gemstone wasn't just glittering, it was quite literally sparkling— gleaming, even. When you touched it, it made your skin tingle. It sent aches of heat flooding down your body. It was enough to make you suspicious but once again, you shrugged it off as nerves. You cared about Max so much, and he was going to be so pissed with you.

When you heard the double doors to his office swing open, your whole body stiffened up, your eyes squeezing shut. You were on your knees still, your back faced away from Maxwell as he merrily came waltzing into his office.

"I called Roman Antiquities from the carphone," he announced, his voice as vibrant as ever. "They're so happy we managed to get the stone," You felt your eyes grow comically wide. Wait— the stone wasn't even for him. It was for somebody else. Things just went from bad to worse. "So," Maxwell slid his hands into the pockets of his tailored pants. "Where is it?"

You slowly rose to your feet, scrunching your nose up in displeasure as you prepared to tell your boss what had happened. How you had been so clumsy. "I- I didn't realise you were sending the stone to Roman Antiquities." you mumbled, slowly turning around and nervously biting your lip.

"I didn't mention it?" Max shrugged casually. "Yeah, apparently it's in high demand."

"Ken said it comes from ancient Greece, and there's only one made," hearing the words leave your lips didn't make the situation any better, you realised. "Do you know what's so special about it?"

"Yeah," Max replied, walking towards his desk. "There's a lot of things special about it. Can I see it?" His dismissive tone made you feel small and uneasy.

"Max…" you drew his name out like it was the longest melody in the world. He looked up at you, waiting for you to continue. "Something happened. I uhm…" you let your eyes wander around his spacious office, refusing to land anywhere but him. He, however, was staring directly at you. "I had it with me. And I carried it carefully to your office but— I wasn't really paying attention to my surroundings and I-" you halted suddenly, feeling your whole body heat up, and a fire shooting through your core. You squeezed your legs together and pursed your lips into a fine line, stopping a moan from escaping. What was going on?

"And?" Maxwell urged, his voice growing increasingly more concerned.

"And-" you gulped. It was a weird, strange feeling. Like suddenly, all your scents had been heightened. The smell of Maxwell's rich cologne filled the room, intoxicating you and sending you into a frenzy. "Wow." you mumbled out.

Maxwell said your name sternly, breaking you out of your strange yet blissful haze. You were used to him saying your name, usually in a condescending way. But this time it was different. It was deep, gravelly and outright delicious.

"I broke the stone," you announced with a shaky exhale. You began to feel slick between your thighs and your eyes widened. Were you… aroused? You just about managed to look back at Max and suddenly everything felt different. You saw him in a completely different light.

Sure, you'd had fantasies about your boss before. He was an attractive, single bachelor and he always made you feel special. He always made you feel important. You would sometimes daydream about him at work, watching him from the back of the conference room as he led team meetings. You'd go home after a long day only to think about him whilst you showered, and even before you went to sleep. Suddenly, your feelings made sense.

"You. Broke. The. Stone?" Maxwell gritted out. Your eyes dropped down to fixate on his Adams Apple. Had his voice always been so sensual?

"Max," you whined, squeezing your eyes shut as you grabbed onto the edge of his desk, your fingers curling around the corner so hard your knuckles turned white. "I don't feel so good."

Max slowly walked over to you, looking you up and down. "Where are the remnants of the rock?" Max quizzed. You let out a moan as the feeling of arousal became excruciating. He called your name again and you just about managed to point in the general direction of the pile of glittering red dust. Maxwell's eyes widened. "Oh no no." he said, hurrying over and examining it, but being extra careful not to get too close.

"I know," you cried. "I'm sorry."

"Did you-" Maxwell swallowed the lump in his throat before turning back around to face you. "Did you touch it?"

"Y-yes," you drew out, rubbing your thighs together trying to create some feeling of friction, but doing so discreetly so your boss wouldn't notice. "I tried to clean it up."

"Shit," Maxwell muttered, hurrying over to his desk and spreading out a pile of papers. The papers were filled with information about the very specific ruby stone, and Max read it closely and as quickly as possible.

"What is it?" you asked worriedly. Maxwell's eyes widened and he wrapped an arm around you, carefully navigating you behind his desk and sitting you in his chair. You curled up into the softness of the leather seat, humming in delight your dress rode up slightly and the material stuck to the back of your legs.

"There's something you should know," Maxwell frowned. "The rock… they call it Aphrodite’s Stone."

"Aphrodite?" you breathed out. "Like, the goddess of love?"

Maxwell nodded, flicking through a few more of the pages. "Yes," he confirmed. "But uh- not just love. I mean, it was love, yeah but. She was also the goddess of beauty, uh- procreation, passion and…" Maxwell took a deep breath. "Pleasure."

You made a fist so tight your fingernails pressed into your skin as you shuffled around in the chair. Maxwell was so close to you, you just wanted to pull him on top of you and take him now— exactly how he was. But no, he was going on about some Greek goddess.

"Max please," you begged and his head snapped in your direction. You didn't even realise the way your chest was rising and falling, the way you were heaving and panting. Just the sight of you alone was enough to stir something up inside of Max. Beads of sweat laced your collarbones and hairline as you whimpered and moaned. "Can you just- please- tell me- what’s going on? What's happening to me?"

"The stone contains a kind of sex pollen," Max blurted out and your eyes snapped open.

"Are you kidding me?" you asked and Max shook his head quickly. "Like- a drug?"

"Yeah… and you touched it. Shit okay, let me go grab a bowl of water and we’ll try and clean the remnants from your hands…" Max said quickly, biting his lip and bolting over to leave his office when you shouted for him to come back.

"N-no, it won't work," you whispered, holding your arms out and ushering for him to come back over to you. "Please, please Max…" Your hands travelled to the hem of your dress as you started to peel it up. Max watched with intent, his once honeyed brown eyes turning so dark— almost black. His eyes raked your body as he watched you squirm in his office chair. The same chair he sat in every single day. "Please help me take this dress off. I feel so constricted."

"I-" Maxwell began but stopped when you sighed dramatically, tossing your head back.

"Don't fucking argue," you groaned and Maxwell felt taken aback by your attitude. You had never spoken to him like that before. He'd hate to admit it, but the desperation that dripped from your tongue caused Max's cock to throb in his pants. "Please."

Maxwell took your hand and pulled you up from his chair, briefly noting the wet patch from where you had been sitting. He had to sit back in that chair tomorrow morning, and you had made such a beautiful mess of it. His large hands manouvered around your body as he turned you around, finding the zip to your dress and pulling it all the way down to the small of your back. He took a step back as you shuffled out of it and he politely looked away, not wanting to invade your privacy or make you feel uncomfortable. He took off his tuxedo jacket and offered it to you, in case you felt the need to cover up, but instead you just glared at him.

Maxwell found himself subconsciously licking his lips as his heart rate climbed at the mere sight of you. There you were, standing before him in nothing but lacy black lingerie. He felt his cock grow thick and stand at full attention as he took in the sight of your alluring body. It was perfect in every way, even better than he had ever imagined in his dreams.

"What do you need?" Maxwell asked, his voice low. "What can I do for you?" The pollen in the stone made everything sound so seductive but you could swear that even amongst all the heat, you heard genuine care in his voice.

"I don't… I don't…" you weren't about to tell him that you didn't know, because that would be a lie. You knew exactly what you wanted, and he knew enough about the stone to know exactly what you wanted as well. You needed him, craved his body and ached for him to fill you up and pleasure you. You felt your cheeks heat up, unable to find the pride to actually ask your boss for this. Maxwell took a step closer to you, breaking any distance. He smelt so good.

"Anything you want," he whispered, wanting you to know that he'd be more than willing to help ease you. "Anything you want you can have it."

"Anything?" you asked, pressing your hands to his chest and letting your fingers trace the soft material of his dress shirt.

"Anything." he affirmed.

With that, you grabbed the straps of his suspenders and pulled his body into yours. A low groan emitted from the back of his throat as you pressed your lips against his. You wrapped your arms around his body, your palms laying flat against his back as he kissed you. His tongue licked your lower lip and you moaned wantonly, opening your mouth slightly and granting him access to explore you further.

Max's hands settled on your hips, his fingers playing with the waistband of your panties. You moaned, dragging your own hands to his hair and running his fingers through it.

You loved his hair, you always thought about touching it and playing with it. He always styled it so perfectly but, to your surprise, it wasn't hard with hair-product. Instead, it was soft and glossy and it was like you could feel every wave. He eventually pulled off you, gasping for breath.

"I don't want to take advantage of you when you're like this," Maxwell frowned, as you pushed him into his office chair. "I mean, shit. I want this. I've wanted this for so long…" he rambled on as you slid out of your panties and unclipped your bra. His eyes widened when he saw you stand on his office, completely nude and shameless. He thought you looked breathtaking. You were quick to discard the garments, unable to hide the triumphant smirk that played across your lips as you straddled him. You perched yourself on top of his leg and instantly began to ride his thigh, rubbing your soaking wet pussy over his expensive pants.

"Let me," you moaned, leaning into him and kissing his neck. "Let me use you then."

"Yeah?" Maxwell asked shakily and he felt you nod into his shoulder as you gasped out another moan. "Okay. Take what you need." he said before wrapping his arms around you and dipping his fingers into the small of your back. You could feel the coolness of his gold rings tingle against your warm skin and it only turned you on even more. You couldn't count the amount of times you had imagined the ridged feeling of his rings press up against your walls as he slid his fingers inside of you. Max flexed the muscles in his thigh and you yelped slightly at the friction. "Oh, you like that?" Maxwell asked, and done it again before you could even respond. You tugged on his tie, fumbling as you slid up and down over his leg. You just about managed to loosen it, pull it off, and discarding it on the floor amongst your other pieces of clothing.

"I like these," you giggled, tugging on his suspenders. "But I want them off."

"Cum for me first," Maxwell growled, feeling his hard member press against the confines of his pants. They'd grown extremely tight around his now throbbing erection. You looked down and gasped just at the sight of him. You lowered one hand, while keeping the other hand draped around his body, keeping you steady. With your free hand, you traced the imprint of his cock and smiled when you watched his eyes flutter shut from only your gentlest of touches.

"You weren't even affected by the stone," you giggled, humming in delight as you reached for his zipper. You didn't stop sliding your slick pussy over his thigh, your movements building up your oncoming high. "And look at you." you wiggled your fingers into his pants and your eyes widened as you felt his cock. "Fuck… Max Lord going commando?" your laugh came to an abrupt end when Max's grip around you tightened. He took your hand away from his manhood and set it on his bicep as he held you by your hips and muttered dirty words into your ear.

"Cum for me." He gritted out again, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck and gently nibbling at your skin. He pulls his hands down to your breasts and squeezes at them, his thumbs grazing over your nipples.

"So close," you warned him as your walls began to contract against nothing. You ached for his cock, now more than ever. Still massaging your breasts, he reattached his lips to your neck and trailed sloppy kisses all the way down your collarbone. "Shit Max, fuck I cant," you gasped.

"Can't what? What is it baby?" Max asked, pulling away slightly and cupping your cheek with his hand.

"I can't cum without… without…" tears pricked your eyes as the gushing sense of sexual desire coarsed through your body.

"What do you need?" Max whispered.

"You. Inside me," you managed to stammer out with absolutely no shame. Max looked absolutely wrecked, his dark blonde hair that was once perfectly styled had completely fallen out of place and his chocolate brown eyes were glazed with lust. But he was gorgeous and you couldn't help but smile knowing what exactly you had done to the esteemed Maxwell Lord. You shuffled back slightly, and Max glanced down at the wet patch you had left on his pants. He couldn't contain his grin.

"I don't have a condom," Max admitted. The revelation surprised you as you pegged Max for the kinda guy who endured a lot of sex in his office. It seemed like the perfect place, but come to think of it, he never really had girls around. Only you. You didn't care that he didn't have a condom. In fact, you kinda liked it. You wanted to feel every ridge and vein of his thick cock as it filled your pussy.

"Good," you smiled, standing up with a wobble. Max stood up after you and cleared his desk before patting the expensive oak wood, ushering you to lay down.

But first, you pulled down his suspenders, unclipping them from his pants and throwing them to one side. You worked at his shirt buttons one by one until eventually, you pulled it off and dropped it to the ground. You wasted no time, unzipping his pants and pulling them down to his ankles. You licked your lips in delight as his cock sprung free and he stepped out of the pants that had pooled around his feet.

Max gently pushed you backwards into his desk and you hopped up, sitting down and laying back. "You're so beautiful," Max sighed as he drank in your appearance, wanting to savour this moment and remember it forever. "Open your legs." he commanded as he stroked his cock. He gathered his precum which had been leaking from the tip for God knows how long, letting it slick between his fingers as he jerked himself off at the mere sight of you spread out on his office desk. You obeyed his instruction, closing your eyes as you prepared to feel his cock push inside of you.

But instead, you felt his hot, wet tongue lick a stripe up your clit. Your whole body stiffened up as you released a groan you didn't even know you were holding back. "Fuck- what the fuck," you curled your fingers into a fist as he continued to cat lick you. You just about managed to open your eyes and see the vision of his head in between your legs as he devoured your dripping pussy. "You're really dragging this out, huh?"

He was good. He was so good. He knew his way around your body perfectly and you swore, in that moment, that perhaps you were made for each other. Maybe it was just the effects of the stone but you had never had such a satisfying sexual encounter.

"When I saw the mess you made on my leg, and how wet you were, I knew I had to taste you," Max admitted, his voice was gruff and sent vibrations through your core. He continued lapping you up, humming and moaning in delight on the occasion he'd suck at the bud of your clit and draw out a moan from your lips. "And fuck, you taste so good."

"But I want your cock inside of meeee," you whined.

Max didn't attach his mouth from you once, but he did bring up his hand and push a finger in between your folds and began to massage the entrance to your hole.

"Gotta prep you first," Max told you, before pushing his index finger deep inside you. He moaned at the feeling of your walls around him and felt his cock twitch against his stomach. Obscene wet noises echoed through his office, as well as your moans and pleas for more. "So greedy," Maxwell chuckled. "Always wanting more," he pushed in his middle finger, stretching you open. He looked up at you, his eyes hungry as he pumped his fingers into your pussy. It wasn't long until your legs began to quiver and shake profusely. You screamed when Maxwell pulled out his fingers and shoved them in your mouth. "Taste," he told you as you sucked on his fingers. "Good girl. See? You taste so fucking good. I could get used to this."

When you had cleaned your juices from his fingers, you felt him line himself up against your entrance. You reached out, holding onto his strong biceps for support as he thrusted inside of you. He grunted, squeezing his eyes tight shut as your walls tightened around you. He was big— bigger than you'd ever taken before. If you weren't so aroused from the stone, you wouldn't know if you'd be able to take him. He filled you perfectly. He pushed himself balls deep into you and then came to a halt.

"M-move," you whimpered, pressing your nails into his skin.

"Beg." he shot back, smoothing the hair out of your face and running his thumb over your puckered and sore lower lip.

"Please Max, please. Fuck me." you felt tears prick your eyes and Maxwell took the hint, finally thrusting in and out of you. Your cunt was so tight around Maxwell he couldn't believe how perfect of a fit you were. He dragged his thumb to your clit and started rubbing intricate circles as he increased his speed. His movements became sloppy and rapid as his fingers pushed you over the edge. "Cum inside of me," you gasped out the second you felt his cock twitch inside of you, indicating that he was close.

"Are you sure?" Max asked and you nodded your head.

"Never been so sure about anything in my life." you screamed, your back arching as you finally came undone. You absolutely drench him, and if it was any other situation, you might've felt a little embarrassed. But Max was in ecstasy when your cunt tightened around his cock like a vice and milked him of all that he had. He spilt his seed inside of you, the warmth coating your walls and shooting jolts of pleasure down your body.

You found yourself completely engulfed in a post coital haze, and Max kept himself inside of you until he softened and could slip out of you without causing you any discomfort. "You might be sore tomorrow," he mumbled, pressing a kiss into your neck. You hummed, whispering something incoherent but your smile was very telling. You had never been so happy. "But the effects of Aphrodite's Stone should wear off now."

"You took care of me," you whispered, your eyes slowly opening. You sat up and wrapped your arms around Max, pulling him into you. You felt completely and utterly spent, and Maxwell couldn't disagree either. He walked you over to his chair and sat you in his lap.

"Of course I took care of you," his voice was gentle and sweet like honey. "This was all my fault. And I should've warned you about the stupid fucking rock in the first place."

"Stupid?" you raised an eyebrow. "That was the most fun I've ever had," you laughed and Maxwell couldn't contain how happy your revelation made him. "But… are we going to be in trouble?"

"You don't have to worry about a thing," Maxwell hushed you, smoothing out your hair and pressing a kiss into your hair. Something in his voice made you trust him and believe in him. You just knew he wouldn't let you get into trouble. "I'm glad this happened."

"Me too." you whispered before closing your eyes and burying your head into his chest. Curled up into his lap, your naked bodies tangled together, you both fell asleep in his office chair. Maxwell Lord created a frightening and intimidating aura, but, the truth is, you had never felt more safe and more comfortable in your whole entire life. You knew that this happy accident was going to be the start of something great.

Taglists (let me know if you wish to be added!)

Permanent: @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell @ah-callie @luvzoria @stardust-galaxies @wickedfrsgrl @goth-topic @nerdypinupcrystal @wonderfulfluffer @kiwi-the-first @pedroepascal @castiel-barnes @honeymandos @rocketqueen @ladycumberbatchofcamelot @dybalalover10 @girl-obsessed-with-things @elena-myth @moth-guillotine @pedro-pascal-love

This fic: @lostcherryinwonderland @thewayofthemandalorian

[anemo-writes]

hello travelers! again, thank you for putting up with my inactivity, it’s been hard to write lately haha. anyways, i thought this would be something fun to post and for everyone to enjoy, whether you celebrate Valentine’s Day or not :) (note: this will probably be more fanon than canon so please bear with me, i’ll make it as canon as it can be :’) i also kept this pretty short, so hopefully that’s okay too,, and sorry for this being late haha—i wrote this very late at night so don’t mind any typos you find please)

much love,

~ anemo-chan <3

(The Playable) Genshin Impact Characters on Valentine’s Day (Romantically)

super romantic; gifts you a bouquet of flowers and takes you out to eat at a fancy restaurant/cooks for you.

Diluc

He is nervous. He’s never paid close attention to the countless amount of people who have lined outside the tavern to ask him to be their Valentine, only to be rejected. There was absolutely no way that he would turn to Kaeya for advice, so unfortunately this was something he would have to figure out for himself. He figures that it wouldn’t hurt to go traditional, so that’s what he does; he buys a large bouquet of roses (which he had to get from Donna, seeing that at the hours that he ended work were very late and Flora’s shop was not open at the time—yeah, that was not fun) and presents himself outside your doorway, to which he invites you to join him for a late dinner—which he makes!

Lisa

She leaves a letter on top of your nightstand, paired along with a singular rose. The letter states for you to meet her outside of Good Hunter, where you find her sitting at a table with a candle dimly-lighting up the surroundings. She greets you with a warm smile, gesturing for you to sit down—the two of you enjoy a candle-lit dinner as well as bolognese she specially requested for Sara to make for the two of you to enjoy together why does this remind me so much of Lady and the Tramp,,

Tartaglia

Oh boy. It’s always a fun time spending a holiday with him, seeing that it could go two ways; one, he would be too busy to celebrate it with you on the day of, and he would take you out the day after, or two—have a store’s entire line of merchandise presented to you outside your doorstep, in which a very, very smiley Tartaglia hidden within the pile (after all, he was the best present!) After you’re done moving all of the gifts into your house (it took up the space of your entire living room), he tells you to cover your eyes and follow him. He takes you to one of the most well-known restaurants in Liyue (which currently doesn’t have a name because it is very late here!), and insists that you order whatever you want, and however much you want.

Zhongli

Over the years, he’s witnessed many, many couples celebrate this holiday and every year he’s wished to do the same. He finds the perfect opportunity to do so when Valentine’s Day is around the corner, and boy does he plan it out for the two of you. He’s even made sure to have his wallet on him at all times—it would be extremely rude for you to have to pay if he happened to forget his wallet. He makes sure to stop by to pick up a bouquet of flowers, as well as a bottle of perfume (not in a bad way, just to clarify) from Ying’er’s shop that he recalled you liked. He makes sure to pick you up early from your work place to make sure you made it to your appointment on time; after all, being late to an appointment was similar to breaking a contract, no?

surprises you with homemade sweets.

Fischl

Oh, she is so nervous—of course, she doesn’t show this. The entire week, she spent researching recipes to create a special batch of chocolate-dipped strawberries just for you—she even sent Oz to the nearby farms to “borrow” the freshest strawberries for the treat (the farmers were too scared to confront the talking bird who “borrowed” their strawberries, so luckily they got away with it). She dips them in a purple-colored chocolate (because what other color would she use, really?) and drizzles on a dark-chocolate syrup to top it off. She’s too shy to actually give it to you herself though, so she has Oz drop it off for her.

Ganyu

Even though she’s quite busy, she’s somehow found time to whip up a special batch of chocolate just for you! She shapes them into Glaze Lilies (which she found quite hard, which is why there are so few of them) and presents them to you in a neatly-sealed box. She’s quite modest when your eyes widen and tell her it’s the best chocolate you have ever eaten, claiming that she only followed a recipe, when she really made it from scratch.

Keqing

Like Ganyu, you have no idea how she finds time to create a perfect array of chocolates, which she made herself! However, with her tightly-packed schedule, she has to drop it off at your house in advance, to which you accept happily. She tried to decorate them with designs of cartoon-versions of your faces, but they’re a bit...messy. Nonetheless, they’re tasty, and to her relief, you enjoy them.

Mona

Somehow, she’s managed to scrape up enough mora to buy you a necklace; yes, a necklace, and a real one at that—none of that fake, costume jewelry stuff! She even added a pendant shaped like star, just so you could be reminded of her whenever you fiddled with it or even glanced at it. She’s quite flustered when she gives it to you, ignoring the way you ask how she managed to save this much mora to be able to buy something like this, changing the subject on how you should never-ever take it off (because it looks great on you.)

Noelle

One word: pancakes. (Have you seen the ones she makes for her special dishes? They’re frigging amazing) As a dutiful maid should, she wakes up especially early to prepare a homemade breakfast just for you, to which she serves to you just as your wake up in bed. The fluffy stack of pancakes are decorated with fruits cut up in heart-shapes, as well the words, “Happy Valentine’s Day, Y/N”, written neatly with chocolate syrup—it’s quite a sight to see, to be honest, and utterly delicious. Lucky you!

Xiangling

The day before, she tells you to meet her at the restaurant around noon. When you arrive, the restaurant is adorned with Valentine decorations, as well as a terrifying amount of food; she insists that she only made it for you, so you better eat up! Before she can show you the other dishes, the restaurant is suddenly filled with a strong, bitter smell—something burning. With a yelp, she runs into the kitchen, coming out a few minutes later with a tray of half-scorched cupcakes, their Gouba-shapes adorned with...a lot of burn marks. Oh well, it’s the thought that counts, doesn’t it?

buys/makes a present for you.

Albedo

Without your knowledge, Albedo has been creating a collection of artworks throughout all the time you had spent together. The pieces include portraits of you, portraits of you and him (sucrose helped with this), as well as just random sketches of the little things that remind him of you, such as the bare, snowy-white terrain where the two of you first met, as well as its flora and fauna. If you request it, he’ll even make the painting come alive (literally), and the two of you run to Sucrose’s dwelling, who is very shocked to see the pair of you running from a Frosted Lawachurl when she peered out her window to see if she could pinpoint the sounds of distant screaming.

Amber

Is there anything better than a matching set of wind gliders? Not only that—they were homemade! She spent the last couple of weeks putting together a pair of gliders for the two of you, customizing them to your tastes (which she nailed!) She quite literally drags you to the nearest hill to test them out, and the two of you end up challenging each other on who can get back to the Knights of Farvonius Headquarters the fastest—spoiler alert: she did.

Barbara

Oh, she would make the cutest card for you—the envelope is decorated with cute stickers (some of them even had her face on it; there’s nothing like promoting merchandise, am i right? jkjks) She also pairs it off with a box of chocolates that she bought from Sara—however, what she didn’t know was that in the box was a special-edition spicy chocolate truffle. With your luck, that was the first one you chose—and boy, were you met a surprise (it was so bad that you were begging Barbara to use her Vision on you, which she refused of course). Fun times.

Chongyun

He’s real sweet. After his expeditions and commissions, he opens the freezer (yes he keeps them in there, don’t judge him) to an array of ice sculptures, shapes varying from flowers, hearts, and such—although it’s quite the simple gift, he’s put a lot of effort into them, even putting in the extra effort to cast a spell to make sure they would not melt; it’s all worth though, when he sees the absolutely giddy expression on your face, and the look of pure awe as you pick one up and study it closely, admiring all of the details and work that’s he put in.

Ningguang

She sends out informants to find out what you like, whether it be something that your gaze settled on for too long or something you’ve mentioned while talking to her—on the day of, you open your door to a mountain of gifts, with Ningguang herself peering out from behind it with a calm smile and a wave (which was the opposite of your reaction, because who has that much mora to purchase all of these gifts?!?)

Razor

He doesn’t have a clue on what the holiday until Lisa asks him if he’s planned something for the two of you during one of his lessons. When he shakes his head no, Lisa suggests that he make you something, to which he sets out on an adventure to do, looking for flowers and flower stems to weave into a pair of matching bracelets—they’re not the prettiest, but he is pretty proud of it; after all, it was his first time making something like that. He’s quite nervous to present it to you, afraid that you might not like it, but all feelings of worry melt away when you slide it on with a huge smile on your face, insisting that he wears his too.

Sucrose

At first, she considers gifting you a present that she created herself; of course, with her work being alchemy, she isn’t sure if that would be the safest option, despite being talented herself. And so, she resorts to buying a present for you—she is very picky with the present though, insisting that it should be perfect since she could not make one herself. She even consults Albedo when selecting some of the presents (he doesn’t help her unfortunately; he believes that she should figure it out herself haha). Like Razor, she’s quite nervous to give it to you, but lets out a huge sigh of relief as you thank her happily for the gift, wiping a bead of sweat from across her forehead (sucrose bby anything you give us would be perfect,,)

whisks you away somewhere sentimental, where the two of you can enjoy a special date.

Beidou

It’s ungodly early in the morning when Beidou presents herself in front of your doorstep, announcing that you’ll be joining her and the crew on a special ride. She tugs you along beside her until you reach the harbor, where you are met with the sight of her ship adorned with streamers and banners, varying between shades of pink and red. Onboard, there is a table filled with goodies the crew collected and made, and boy do they look delicious. The group sets out to sea, and you take your place next to the captain, who even lets you steer the boat (momentarily, at least.)

Bennett

He takes you to meet his dads; yes, yes—he knows that it’s not the most romantic thing to do on a day dedicated to lovers, but he figures it’s just as important. Besides, they’ve been asking about you for quite a while—they even set up a small party within the Adventurer’s Guild, with the help of Bennett, of course. You spend the day listening to their old adventuring stories, as well as bits from Bennett’s childhood (poor boy is flustered from all the information his dads are spilling, but he’s still happy either way; after all, he’s with the most important people to him.)

Kaeya

He quite literally kidnaps you; one second you’re walking in the streets of Mondstadt on your way to work when suddenly someone grabs you by the waist and pulls you into an alley way (that sounds so creepy but i swear he means it in a good way). He only chuckles and shields himself with his arms as you punch him lightly, retorting that he scared you. He doesn’t care that the two of you have an overwhelming amount of work to do—after all, Valentine’s Day only comes once a year, right? Surprisingly, he doesn’t take you the tavern, but instead...Dawn Winery! Diluc received quite the surprise when he is met with the two of you standing outside his gates, with Kaeya requesting a wine/grape juice taste-testing. Yeah...you guys didn’t get any of that, but you did manage to snag a couple of grapes on your way out! Good for you!

Venti

You wake up in your bed, opening your eyes to see a very-smiley Venti laying beside you, chin propped up against his hand as he watches you yawn sleepily as you force yourself out of bed. You’re then presented with a handpicked-bouquet of Ceceilias, the freshest of the bunch, if he may add. You barely have time to thank him before he hoists you up in his arms and out of your dwelling, gliding over the city of Mondstadt as he whisks you away to Starsnatch Cliff, where he’s prepared a special performance just for you (and no, you don’t need to pay.)

Xingqiu

While he’s not the most romantic, he does have a clue on what people look for on Valentine’s Day; after all, that’s what cheesy-romance novels were for, right? Unbeknownst to you, he takes you on a date very similar to the one the main characters in his favorite novels partook in—and you don’t find out until you catch him peeking into the pages while you weren’t (you were) looking. Again, it’s the thought that counts—

doesn’t celebrate Valentine’s Day.

Jean

Sadly, she probably forgets about the holiday. She’s too busy holed-up in her office to notice the couples gathered up in the courtyard, sharing moments with their lover. It’s not until she walks out to take a breather that she notices the commotion—she immediately calls you over, apologizing frantically. Of course, to this you respond that’s it’s okay, but that you would much rather her take the rest of the day off to spend time together, to which she reluctantly agrees.

Xiao

“I do not have time to celebrate silly human traditions like that.” He would say as you bound up to him, exclaiming that it’s Valentine’s Day, the day where you can give sweets to your loved ones, and asking if he had someone special in mind to spend it with. He’s irked when your gaze falters and the grip on the object you’re hiding behind your back tightens—he only grows more irked as you mutter to yourself how you’ll give the chocolates you made to someone else. He scoffs loudly, avoiding your gaze as he lays out his hand in front of you to accept the chocolates (just because he doesn’t celebrate the holiday doesn’t mean he can’t get jealous!)

[levihantrash]

Hi! Got a prompt for you if you're interested (feel free to write a drabble, a one-shot, or a multi-chap): Levihan, "One more chance." Open to interpretation. Thanks, and good luck! :)

okay so i decided to combine this prompt together with my headcanon for that levihan ring merch for a canon setting one-shot!

One More Chance

"What do you think of rings?" Hange asks Levi out of the blue, in the little room that could suffice as an office for his unofficial position as second in command.

"Why?" Levi knows that Hauge doesn't ask questions out of the blue without motives.

They could be random, absurd, silly, but there was always a reason behind their questions.

Hange plants one elbow on the table, bent forward in anticipation for Levi's answer. His eyes catch the glint of Hange's bolo tie as it swung back and forth.

Jewellery? Vanity aside, Hange knows better than Levi how expensive it is to obtain warm clothing and food, much less a bunch of shiny rocks. They spent days mulling over the Survey Corps’ budget, where to allocate resources, how to seek funding, and to keep expenses humane but tight.

“Why?” He repeats, unsure as to whether to sneak in a crass joke as Hange’s eyes were shining—in a different tone compared to the bright-eyedness that showed whenever they made a new discovery. It was, what was it? Nostalgia? Levi is certain that Hange had never, of ten years being by their side, even hinted at a desire for a ring, for whatever reason they might yearn for the object.

Hange knows Levi is perturbed—suspicious, even. They know that such an ambiguously-worded question, simple as it was, will not warrant a straightforward answer from Levi. He is far too observant to not think of Hange’s line of questioning as uncharacteristic from the usual. The usual Hange will elaborate; they will give details. Perhaps this is a ring made from a special sort of metal to go undetected from metal sensors to sneak past the enemy and pass on valuable information etched in code on the inside, for example. Whatever reason that prompted Hange to take a sudden interest in rings wasn’t for battle, or for moral good, which frankly, is more embarrassing for them.

“Do you keep those patches with you?” Hange changes the topic. Levi blinks, then turns to the drawer and pulls the handle. The open drawer speaks for itself; filled with rows and rows of haphazardly torn patches of the Survey Corp’s uniform, the emblem of the wings of freedom.

“You keep it here, huh…” Hange muses, touching one patch tenderly, feeling the crusted blood stain at the tip of their finger.

“Do you remember who each patch belongs to?”

Levi shakes his head, not defending the lack of differentiation between the patches. To him, each patch is louder than a name attached to it. A fellow soldier whose heart he carried on within him.

“If I die, Levi, will you bring back my patch?”

“Don’t ask stupid questions.” Levi is quick to retort, sounding mildly irritated that Hange brought up the possibility of death.

“We all die someday.”

“We should think about how to stay alive,” Levi says firmly. “And what does any of this have to do with rings?”

Hange laughs, patting Levi on the shoulder affectionately. “You won’t let that go, huh?”

“It seems important,” Levi says, disgruntled. “You’re not usually so hesitant.”

“It’s not.” Hange waves their hands defensively, straightening up to avoid Levi’s gaze.

“What’s that in your pocket? Your hand keeps touching it.” Levi is sharp as ever, Hange thinks, itching to back out and tend to more important commander duties.

“Maybe next time! I have to go!” Hange brisk-walks out of the office, leaving Levi in the dust. He has the immediate urge to follow them, to grab their arm and ask what’s wrong, to force some kind of coherent understanding to this muddled conversation. Yet, he continues sitting on the chair, wondering if their mutual awkwardness had swept past them in the form of a lost opportunity. The patches flutter a little in the wind, as though asking him, what are you so afraid of?

He closes the drawer and sinks back onto the creaky, wooden chair, waiting for Hange to come back.

The next time he sees them again is when he’s so battered that his back trembles at the prospect of sitting on another hard surface. The series of negotiations, arguments, plans, fly past him in a whirlwind of decisions led by Hange. He occasionally spots the bulge in their side pocket, but his head is spinning with a million of other more dire worries to figure out what the hell is this unresolved mystery from months ago.

One night, as Hange tends to the bandages around his head, traces the stiches on his face, and mumbles quiet nothings about how they’re glad he’s alive, he finally lifts a shaky hand to point at the bulging pocket.

“Are you going to tell me what’s in that?”

“Nothing that will help us stop this mess,” Hange says, sweeping some of the fringe off his forehead to wipe the sweat underneath.

“But it’s important to you,” he states. Hange nods slowly.

“And you want to show it to me.” He tries, unaccustomed to the presumptuousness of his claim. But there is little time. If there was ever time before, now they were running on thin, cracked lines of time, teetering over the edge.

Hange sighs, and stuffs a reluctant hand into their pocket to bring out a small box.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t use the Scouts’ funds.”

“The Survey Corps doesn’t exist anymore,” Levi reminds them, to distract his mind from speculating endlessly about what’s in the box. He wants to sit up. Physically straining himself feels unwise, so he settles with tilting his head to get a clearer view of both Hange and the box.

Hange carefully holds his shoulders to sit him up, leaning him against them.

“I got rings for us.”

“Huh?”

The box is opened, and inside were two shining rings in silver and gold. Purple embellishment on the gold and green on silver. Not to mention it was heart-shaped rings. Levi feels his cheeks getting warmer by the second by its blatant implications, and is thankful that the bandages literally covered half his face.

“I know, I told them not to make it heart-shaped but you know when Reeves knew it was for you he said I had to make it obvious, whatever that meant,” Hange says quickly, snapping the box shut so as to save themselves from having to confront what was glaring at them.

“It’s not practical for fighting,” Levi murmurs, reaching out to take the box from Hange.

“Dedicate your hearts… wasn’t that what Erwin said?” Hange, always the one to inject light humour in tense situations, decides it will be alright to quote Erwin’s war cry in what is essentially a confession.

“Right.” Levi opens the box, looking expectantly at Hange.

“What?”

“Rings are for wearing, right?”

“You said they weren’t practical!”

“We’re not fighting now.”

Running their hands through their hair, Hange looks rather sheepish. “It’s a bit selfish but I just want to be remembered. As more than a patch.”

Levi frowns, bandages crinkling. “You think I’ll forget you?”

“I don’t know.”

“I won’t forget you. Ring or no ring.”

Upon hearing the seriousness of Levi’s voice, the light-heartedness returns to Hange, as they cheekily present the ring to them.

“Well then, will you dedicate your heart to me, shitty Captain?”

“Whatever, Four-eyes.” He says it as flippantly as he can, yet handles the ring like sudden movement will break it.

“Hah! I wonder what the kids will say about the rings…” Hange stretches out and lays beside Levi, admiring the ring on their hand amidst the backdrop of night stars. He takes their hand and weaves his fingers through it, placing their interlocked hands on his chest.

After the plane takes off, Levi’s eyes are trained on the floor. The plane rattles, swerves, and gains momentum. Everyone around him is emotional—rightly so, because their leader had said a fleeting goodbye before leaping to their death. He holds one hand in the other, feeling the cold metal on his finger. Rings don’t leave the smell of Hange’s skin when they lie their head on his shoulder after a long day. Rings don’t capture the sound of Hange’s laugh when they make friendly banter with their juniors, or when Levi makes the occasional, dry joke that only they pick up on. Rings don’t emulate the dialogue of their late-night discussions in his office, the tea that he makes and that they drink from the same cup—to save the time needed for washing, according to Hange. He doesn’t protest.

Still, the ring is all he has left. The one chance Hange had, they entrusted in him this ring. They could translate Levi’s words into more palpable versions for other people, but they could not for the life of them come up with words to express their more vulnerable feelings. For Hange, the ring was another chance to cement what remained unspoken: I hope you remember me. I’m here with you.

The last chance Levi had, he placed a fist on their heart.

“Dedicate your heart.” The ring flashes in the sunlight, making Hange blink back tears.

Now, he clutches one hand in the other.

“See you, Hange.” The ring stares back, patiently. He closes his eyes, bringing the thin, metal sentiment to his lips.

“Keep watching us.”

thank you for the prompt @djmarinizelablog !! ^_^

[quirklessidiot]

Title: first meetings [ii. the small pink-haired boy] Genre: just angst, drama, romance, historical fiction Pairing: Sorcerer!Sukuna x gn!sorcerer!reader (heian era; pre-curse sukuna)

Synopsis: in which you befriend the slave boy you’re supposed to spy on.

Warnings: not canon stuff, future dark themes,, smoll manga spoilers, slavery, whipping, mentions of rape, language and violence Notes: im kinda back i guess skksks also these are pretty much random au’s of my own take of sukuna’s back story uwu, theyre arranged in no particular order and you can read them in any order. This started out as a random one shot and i couldnt get it out of my head lol ksksksks, def not canon btw but it is canon that sukuna used to be an all powerful sorcerer before he turned to the dark side or smthng.

lil dictionary: non-person-  usually what they called slaves during the heian era.

masterlist [for other parts] ;; taglist 

“That’s beautiful.”

Contrasting to your rather clean and prestigious appearance, the young boy was dressed in rags and had dirt painted on his face. You could tell by his uncommon red eyes that he didn’t want you here nor did he even want to be associated with you.

“...the boy is rather prideful.” your otosan recounted a few nights before, you’d usually have conversations like this since you were quite close with him and he did like to confide you with these things,“but he has spirit, he’d be good for a ward.”

“What are you doing here?” He spat, being a part of and the sole heir of your family meant you were also treated with dignity and respect, it seemed like this boy wasn’t afraid of anything or anyone, this made you grin wildly much to his disdain, “Oi, stop grinning like that. You’re creeping me the fuck out.”

“I’m Y/N.”

“And I don’t care.” 

“Has anyone told you that you’ve got quite the temper?”

“Well, has anyone told you that you’re being an annoying bitch?” he bit back, five minutes into your first meeting, this strange boy seemed to want to get furthest away from you. He seemed to be rather ignorant to his overflowing cursed energy, your father was right, this boy was definitely no joke. 

“That’s sad.” You pouted, “All I wanted to say was how beautiful that Kimono is.”

“I was at a store, looking for some clothes that best suited you when I saw a young boy of your age…” your otosan narrated, “Who had a rather high cursed energy, he seemed unaware with it. He works as an errand boy, I believe, he carries heavy clothes and silk… His looks are hard to miss Y/N, so I’m sure you won’t miss him...try to talk to him…”

The boy looks up to you, completely annoyed, “Well, you said it. Now fuck off, yeah?”

You chose to ignore him and just bend down to his level, you had no training for today so you might as well join the boy for a moment since you had time to kill, “You know, if you keep keeping that attitude up, you might scare the customers away.” you mumbled, loud enough for him to hear.

“Yeah?” he clicked his tongue, “Looks to me that you aren’t even here to buy anything.”

“He seemed rather…” Your otosan described, “perplexed...so you might as well go in my stead…”

“Ah.” your grin doesn’t seem to fade despite his rather rough way of speaking, “You just seemed around my age so I got interested.”

“No shit, now buzz off. I got no time for kids like you.”

He talks as if he was older than you, it’s no surprise. Boys like him tend to think they know quite a lot.

“Do you wish to tell me your name now?”

He was silent for a moment.

That’s when realization dawned upon you, why he seemed perplexed around your otosan, why he thinks you were an annoying buzz, and why he couldn’t reply when you asked for his name. You feel yourself inwardly cringe at your mistake, it seems like the boy your father took interest in is a slave with no name, “Twenty.” he mumbles, shrugging nonchalantly.

“What?”

“They call me twenty.” he recounts, his voice is still rough around the edges, remaining uncensored by his identity.

“Right…” you tilt your head, “Twenty…”

“You’ve got silks to bring to the next town, boy!” a loud voice calls out, cutting you short, making the pink-haired boy put the pretty kimono down and back for display. Without even sparing you a glance or a word, he retreats to the back and you’re left squatting there alone. You watch him from behind, specifically at the bandages that peeked through his wrists.

The boy had piqued your interest to the point that you made it your weekly agenda to visit him and a-some-nights agenda to watch over him. He still ignores you and seems to be annoyed by you every time but he doesn’t seem to be doing anything about it so you just sit there. 

You were also still in awe by how much raw energy he possessed, you’d ask your otosan if he knew any sorcerers with lost children because it surely seemed as if this boy wasn’t ordinary.

“Just keep an eye on him,” was all your father said as you watch the boy close up shop late at night from on top of a roof, “He might make a great sorcerer and shift the tides.”

Your otosan was not one for gambling on people but it seemed like he made a large bet on this boy. 

As usual, you’re watching over him close up. It’s late and the owner of the place walks out, a pipe on his lips. Right then and there, he slaps the pink-haired teenager right at the face, “You should’ve joined the customer awhile ago in the dressing room, boy.” he growls, “It would’ve been quick…”

You feel the negative energy emit stronger than ever and your grip on your knife is tight, “Don’t get involved, Y/N.” your otosan’s warning echoes in your head, yes your otosan may have been interested in him but he was never one to dwell in human affairs, saying they were annoying and a mess to clean up.

“...It seems like the lesson a few nights ago wasn’t enough.” you snap back to reality and watch his boss stretch out a whip with its pointy ends and you feel your blood run cold. 

‘Don’t get involved-’

You ignore your otosan’s words in your head and throw a stone right at a nearby sign, resulting in a booming clang, making the cat nearby yelp outloud. The pink-haired boy jumps on the spot and so does the older man at the sound.

“Ah fucking-” the older man curses, tucking the whip back in, “No food for you for three days. Know your fucking worth, non-person.”

Your grip on your nodachi lessens as you let out a sigh of relief, whatever legal terms your father must be talking about needs to be done quickly.

On the next day, you’re on your way to visit him again. Carrying the bento box that you know he’ll refuse again because of his ‘pride’ yet you stop dead on your tracks when you find his owner and an older man talking, Sukuna seems to be standing behind them, looking quite uncomfortable.

It didn’t take two and two to guess what was going on, the amount of cursed energy leaking on him was strong so you could only guess this was the man who wanted to get his way on him yesterday. Your nose crinkles in absolute disgust, “Don’t get involved-”

Once again, you ignore your otosan’s words.

“Hey!” You call out, you see his red eyes widen, “What are you doing?”

The older man frowns at your sudden appearance, “None of your business brat. Now go home-”

“I said,” You repeated, your voice dangerously low, “What are you doing to him?”

“He’s a non-person, kid.” his ‘owner’ growls, you notice his hands dangerously close to his whip, “A fucking slave in simpler terms, now get the fuck out before I beat him and you.”

“You don’t scare me.” Your eyes are narrowed, truthfully, no one ever scares you. You were the heir of your clan. It was to be expected and drilled since your curse energy manifested when you were five that fear would come last, “Now unhand the boy.”

“This bitch-”

“Now, now.” The other man smiles, cutting the pink-haired boy’s ‘owner’ off,  “Maybe I can take that young child with me too. After all, they seem to be good friends. Two is better than one…”

You watch the other older man snake an arm on the young boy’s shoulder and you could feel the fear leaking out, it was harder to mask and hide now. 

“Is it alright to put a little scar on’em? So that they’d know-” He gets ready to take out the whip while your fists are clenched, this would be easy. You could get away with this later, at least you’d take the boy away from this place and help him control his energy after. 

Yet before you’re able to land a blow, the pink-haired boy yells at you to move as his ‘owner’ takes out a whip to whip you.

For someone who didn’t seem to like your presence, he was rather quick to defend you, having his face get hit in the process by the sharp whip. Your eyes widen in surprise, “Ah, shit… Y/N, run!” he yells but you’re staring at his very bloody face.

It would obviously leave marks like the wrists and who knows which parts since he was always covered by that very loose raggedy kimono.

You clench your fists tightly and look up from his blood features, the ‘owner’ stops on his tracks when he meets your very cold gaze, “Do you know who you just messed with?” you asked, “You really think I won’t tell my otosan that you planned to make me your prostitute?”

“Y-Y/N, jesus christ just fucking run-” he tried to stutter out, any evidence of the prideful and strong boy who tried to shoo you away was now gone.

Yet like the stubborn child you are, you ignore him and instead take out your family seal and drop it in front of them, ignoring the pink-haired boy’s plea’s and watching the two men in front of you turn white as a ghost as they see the nameplate, “My name is Ryomen Y/N.” You stated, voice loud and clear, “And you better hope that I’ll let you out here dead or me and my otosan will hunt you down for the rest of your life.”

taglist [if your name is crossed out, i cant tag you!] @shinhiromi ;; @hcn421 ;; @airybnb ;; @coldbookworm ;; @kristineyoshaii ;; @frankenstein852​

@iguessimastannnow

[badgirlcovenrep]

The Goddess' Blessing (of a daughter)

Chapter Two

Here it is... hope you enjoy

After Tiffany is in warm pajamas and her hair is nicely brushed, they head to the living room to meet Edwin, who is sat at the couch watching some kind of civilian sport that features a stick. Scylla never took interest in televised sports - that was not really part of witch culture - but she thinks it's sweet, how enralled he is when they come out. She remembers Raelle telling her once that she used to watch games with her dad.

Scylla can almost see her sitting there beside him, in her civilian clothes, snacking on nachos and discussing what was happening on screen. It made her heart tug painfully. Once again she considered if coming here was a good idea at all. Seemed like everywhere she looked, she could just see Raelle, and even if she'd seen the other girl just a day before, here, inside her childhood home, it did nothing to how much Scylla missed her - and how she wished Raelle could be here, with them. Warm and peaceful and free.

"Hey, dinner's still in the oven." Edwin informs, once he sees the pair of witches have joined him, but still, he rises from the couch and crosses the living room towards the kitchen "I got some boxes of Rae's toys when she was a kid down from the attic earlier, and I thought you'd like to take a look, Tiffany."

The small witch was still unsure about her new surroundings, and Scylla gently directs her to join the man in the kitchen, where he had settled two sizeable cardboard boxes over the tiled floor, filled to the brim with random toys that went from surprisingly well kept barbie dolls to matchbox hotwheels and loose pieces of lego.

"Wow, Mr. Collar, you didn't have to." Scylla assures, as Tiffany puts her doubts aside for a minute to peek curiously into the box.

"Of course I did, it's not like these were going to use all the way up in the attic."

"Well, you're very kind. What do we say, Tiffany?" Scylla coaxes the younger girl, as she's started sorting curiously through the barbies. The necro is happy to see she seemed to be feeling safer.

"Thank you, Mr. Collar." Tiffany smiles up at him.

"You, little one, can call me Edwin if you like, and same goes for you, Scylla." He declares, and Scylla can't help the affection that settles inside her chest.

Jonas was right. She really *was* going soft. But the witch is not so sure she minds it that much anymore.

"Alright... Edwin." She nods.

"Good." The man smiles, leaning down to take the box Tiffany hadn't yet looked through, "let's take these to the living room so you can play near the fireplace. It's getting cold."

****

Edwin sits back down on the couch a while later, and Scylla helps Tiffany sort through Raelle's surprisingly big collection of beanie babies. The young witch is fascinated with them, and she's lining them up in a circle with plastic cuttlery for each, getting them ready for a tea party as Scylla watches sleepily from the couch, when suddenly the phone rings.

Edwin gets up to answer. They can hear from the living room when he picks up, but aside from that, the conversation is nothing but muffled sounds. Scylla could listen in if she wanted, farspeech is not that hard, and she can surely manage to hone in on a conversation that is happening just at the end of the hall.

But Edwin is kind to them, and she's trying to be a better person, even if she can't push away the curiosity - the thought - that maybe it's Raelle. And how much she wishes to hear her voice.

She knows it isn't right though, so Scylla decides not to peek. They deserve their privacy- not without some internal protesting, she turns her attention back to where Tiffany still played with her new (to her) toys.

"Oh, no! You spilled your tea, mister giraffe!" She exclaims, knocking the yellow giraffe plushie against it's pink teacup until it topples over the carpet, "I can't give you more tea right now, sir, the other babies haven't gotten any, you'll have to sit down and wait. Yes, I'll make you more tea in just a minute." Tiffany grabs the equally pink teapot and turns to the stuffed hippopotamus, tskng annoyedly with a roll of her eyes "some clients are so impatient, mrs. hippo."

Scylla smiles fondly, settling down into the soft cushions of the couch and resigning herself to watching the game absentmindedly. Just then, Edwin peeks his head from the hallway.

"It's Raelle." He says, and Scylla's heart jumps at hearing her name, "she wants to talk to you."

The necro would've been embarrassed at how fast she gets up, but her mind is one tracked at this point, and she can barely hold herself back from running down the hall to where the phone sat by the back door.

Edwin had settled it speaker up on top of the phone box as to not hang up, and when Scylla finally comes face to face with the device, she can't help but stop - just for a minute - in hesitation. What they had lived a year ago was so fiery and fast paced. Scylla felt as if it enveloped her whole before she could even see the surface. Like canon-balling into the deep ocean when you can't swim.

Now, whatever they had- it felt tentative and unsure. Like walking across tight rope blind-folded. It was new, and she didn't deal very well with change.

Even then, as the witch picked up the phone with a shaking hand and settled it into her ear, beside her shaking nerves - it became quite obvious to her. Anyway Raelle wanted to be in her life, Scylla would never be able to deny it.

"Hey." She says, finally, and from the other side, a soft sigh comes.

"Hi." Raelle sounds tired, and Scylla wants to ask why, but the fixer continues before she has the chance, "I'm glad you both made it safe. Dad seems excited that you're there."

"Yeah. Your dad's been very nice." Scylla chuckles, resting the palm of her hand against the wall to suppress the heady, dizzying feeling in her lungs. Like she's just now taken a breath for the first time since hearing her voice in the clearing.

"He even brought down some toys from the attic. I hope you don't mind" The necro chooses to say, looking for anything that could distract her from the feeling and help keep herself upright "you didn't tell me you had like, a hundred beanie babies."

"Oh, Goddess." Raelle moans in mock embarrassment, but Scylla can hear the smile in her voice, and she can't help but smile too, "I- hm- I forgot they were in there. I asked him to bring them down for her once you guys got there."

"They're cute." Scylla replies simply, "Tiffany loves them. Thank you."

"Well- she can have them. They don't really have use in the attic." Raelle says, and they stop for a second of amused silence before the blonde speaks again, "what's her favorite?"

"I don't know. Honestly all I know is that the giraffe is a really bad customer." Scylla replies, chuckling lightly at the previous interaction she'd watched.

"Oh, yeah, he has always been an asshole." Raelle laughs, and Scylla joins her, for a second they sit there in little fits of giggles. It's refreshing and so very light. The necro thinks maybe she shouldn't have been worried after all.

Whatever they had before, it was absolutely incredible - it took Scylla's breath away to even think about it - but this? This was all of that wrapped in warm, soft silk. This was different, and honest, and it filled her with butterflies that threatened to flutter out of her throat with each tug along the rope that tied them together so very tight. She wished, more than anything, that Raelle was there, in the dark hallway of her childhood home with her.

"Thank you." Scylla hears herself say before she can truly think about it, as she leans down to rest her forehead lightly against the cold wall to settle her aching heart, "for believing me. For helping me."

Raelle clears her throat on the other line and sighs before she speaks again. For a second Scylla thinks she might have burst the glass bubble that extended around them, but then-

"I never got the chance with my mom but I- I get to have that with you. I guess I can't help but want to try." Raelle decides. She sounds so soft, Scylla's heart strings tug once again, and she's left at a loss for words. Somewhere in the kitchen, the oven timer rings, but Scylla is barely aware of it.

"I guess I also did save your life. Twice now." She speaks out, after a few minutes of silence. On the other line, Raelle chuckles, and Scylla can't help the pride that settles over her for having caused that.

"Yeah. Guess you did."

"Scylla! Dinner!" Tiffany calls out from the kitchen, and it startles Scylla a little out of the stupor that settled over her body as he lifts her head towards the rest of the house.

"I should let you guys eat." Raelle decides, sighing as if she doesn't want to hang up just as much as Scylla hoped they could be physically together. For a second, she lets herself believe that to be the case.

" I- thank you, for calling."

"Yeah... thank you for- hm- being there when I did."

Scylla's heart tugs against her ribcage once again, and she can hear Raelle's soft breathing on the other side. The witch feels as if she could stay there all night, given the opportunity, but Tiffany is annoying Edwin with a thousand questions about the game he'd been watching (she finally finds out it's hockey) and Scylla figures she should go save their host from being questioned to death. Besides, she is quite hungry.

"Good night, Raelle." She says, finally. "Try to sleep, okay? You sound like you could pass out any moment."

"I will." The fixer assures, simply "G'night, Scyl."

****

The next morning, Edwin very graciously lends her his truck and offers to watch Tiffany while she goes to meet with the Dodgers. He doesn't ask many questions, but Scylla still offers quite a bit of information. She understands how frustrating it must be to be left in the dark, and for once she doesn't feel the need to be as secretive as she'd been before.

The place they send her to is out of the city, away from the bright lights and military patrols. She takes back roads that almost seem to lead to nowhere a couple of times, before they cut into the horizon to reveal more sprawling landscape. Protective magic, she realizes, and the only real reason she hadn't been led away by confusion was probably because she was expected.

Scylla remembers staying at the farms before, when she was very young.

It'd be a good place to grow up, she thinks. A place where Tiffany could be away from all those things that so very desperately wanted to trap her for her voice.

She remembers harvesting berries when she lived here, squeezing them into her mother's basket as she smiled fondly back. It was a good memory. All the ones here were.

Before her, the fields come into view, a variety of different fruits and vegetables, tended by people of all ages, in simple but well kept clothes. Beyond them, the pastures, where fat brown cows chewed lazily at the grass, and even beyond that an orchid of fragrant trees that Scylla knew bore a multitude of fruits, all spring and summer, from juicy plums to red, big apples.

She passes it all to reach the gates, wooden and simple, but still flanked by two imposing towers from where respective guards peered down, one on each tower.

"State your business." The one on the right demands, once Scylla has rolled down her windows to the frigid winter air outside.

"I'm here to see Velma." She says, pulling down her sunglasses.

They give her only a nod in response, and the gates open so that Scylla can drive down the winding road up to the main house. It's an old, opulent mansion, built somewhere along the Victorian era. Over the years, the community had surrounded it by other buildings and houses alike, some looking newer and others, older and dustier, but all sturdy and charming, with flower boxes and wood panelling over the windows.

People and children walk to and from them, carrying various objects and chatting along their companions calmly. It feels peaceful here, and Scylla can't help but observe their languid movement as she parks the truck by some other trailers. It's definitely different from what she remembers, bigger and yet eerily emptier.

Scylla shakes her head to clear away the thoughts, sure there are a million explanations as to why there wouldn't be many people out here when it's still 7A.M. and so cold her fingertips threaten to freeze under her gloves. She gets out of the car, adjusting her coat and nodding slightly to a pair of older witches walking by before starting her way up the familiar path to the main house.

Velma Bjelke had come from Sweden along with her parents years before she was born. They had fled the great European witch war in the late 80's. All three had never been in favor of conscription, but given the way things were going in the old continent, Scylla guessed it was worth the shot to move all the way here. She wonders if they ever regretted it. But it was never something she thought to ask before they died.

When she was younger, Velma used to be around all the time. She was her mom's best friend, with whom she shared the knack for necromancy. Velma taught Scylla her very first seeds, and she acted like a second mom to her throughout the years they were together.

Eventually Velma had settled herself at the farms, where they all lived for a few years, and when Scylla left along with her parents, Velma chose to stay behind. She never quite knew why they left, and it was another thing she'd probably never get the chance to ask.

It should be around ten years since they last saw each other, and Scylla couldn't say she didn't feel apprehensive as she went up the stairs. But as soon as her feet were planted on the porch, the big oak doors swung open and there stood Velma, looking older than Scylla remembered her but still just as recognizable as she'd always been with her curly red hair, big glasses and flowy dress.

"Sweet girl." She sighed out, "I have missed you so much"

"Hi, aunt Velma." Scylla smiles, just as the older witch takes a step forward and pulls the youngest witch into a long, tight hug, "I missed you too."

I gave Scylla another mother figure and this one ain't dying

This fic is mostly gonna be fluff but it's also gonna have some plot around the Camarilla and the Dodgers that's gonna be put in C3, which is coming tomorrow or the day after

Hope you enjoyed, and feedback is always appreciated 🥰

[avengerscompound]

Small Gods: Patience - 4

Patience:  A Black Widow Fanfic

Patience Masterlist | More Small Gods PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Natasha Romanoff x F!Reader

Rating: E

Word Count:  1786

Warnings: canon typical violence

Synopsis: Every day Natasha prays for more patience to deal with a litany of things from waiting for her target to make a move - to not yelling at Clint for putting empty milk containers back in the fridge.

When her prayers are answered, Natasha finds that having patience is easy, holding on to it is a little harder.

Chapter 4

Natasha was not good at emotions.  She didn’t like them - so she buried them.  It was better to be the cold and heartless assassin who could be killed at any moment than to risk being hurt in a way that mattered.  She shut people out and pushed them towards others so at least she could see what being happy might look like on someone else, even if she never felt it herself.

Except - Natasha was happy.

It took her a little while to realize that was what the feeling was.  She recognized happiness in those short joyful bursts where she’d be with a group of people you care about and they’ve all let their walls down and just briefly she would too.  That quick burst of serotonin never lasted but always felt good while she had it.

That was nothing like what she was feeling now.  It was a long-term contentedness, mixed with hope, and just enough excitement to keep her interested.  It was scary really.  She was vulnerable.  She had something to lose.

Yet all around her things seemed better.  Food tasted better.  Spending time with her friends felt different - she could connect with them more.  Even Clint’s annoying habits seemed to lean more to funny than annoying.

The others noticed it.  Sometimes Clint would flinch when he made some stupid joke - like he was expecting to get cuffed on the back of the head, and when it didn’t come he’d look at her suspiciously - almost as if he thought she was saving up to get him later.

She put it all down to you.

Natasha was falling for you.  Hard.  She sought you out in her free time, and you popped in her head even at awkward times like on missions.  You had cracked through her hard outer shell and even though she was scared of her soft parts being exposed, it felt good.

“Nat, head in the game,” Steve shouted.

Natasha whipped around to see a HYDRA agent running directly at her.  She flipped forward, kicking them in the head and then following through with her baton.  The agent practically flew backward and landed in a heap.

“Nat’s daydreaming about her lover again,” Tony teased as he blasted his way through a bunker.

Natasha scowled.  She had been distracted, and she had been thinking about you.  This kind of grunt work always felt mindless and repetitive, like putting books into boxes.  She was a spy - not a soldier and it was easy to start thinking about other things when she was doing such repetitive work, but usually, the only thing she had occupying her mind was the job and the mindless banter happening over the comms.

“Please never say lover again, Tony,” Clint teased.  “That gave me the heebie-jeebies.”

“Thor says it all the time!”  Tony argued.

“Yeah, but that’s Thor!”  Clint said.  “Thor can say all kinds of weird shit and it sounds good.  Doesn’t mean you get to.”

“Why thank you, Barton,” Thor chuckled.  “That is very flattering.”

“I’m as good as Thor!”  Tony yelped.

There was a sudden group shouting of dissent and Natasha couldn’t help the smile that crossed her face.  She had always had such a love-hate relationship with the group’s banter during battle.  It was nice being part of them, and she did enjoy dropping her own snarky comment into the mix but growing up the way she did - fights were serious - fun was for other people.  It felt slightly wrong to be joking while you were also fighting for her life.

“Let’s all agree right now that no one, not even Thor mentions anything about my lovers,” Natasha snarked.

The group continued to fight, Natasha pushing all thoughts of you down and focusing on the job.  By the time everyone had been arrested, the operation had been shut down and Natasha had performed the lullaby on Hulk, it was late and Natasha was exhausted to the bone.

She piloted the Quin back silently, just listening to Clint jabber away as her thoughts drifted back to you.  She knew there would be a debrief to go to, but what she really wanted was to go straight to your place and curl up next to you before passing out for a good twelve hours.

She could wait.  She was better at that now.  Besides, it was worth the wait.

She guided the jet down onto the launch pad and as it drew the jet down into the hanger, she and Clint began the cool-down procedures.  The back of the jet opened up and everyone got up and trudged off.

When Clint got up to disembark, Steve took his place.  “What happened out there today?”  He asked.  “You nearly lost your head.”

“That’s why we’re a team, isn’t it?”  Natasha asked.  “Make sure no one misses anything?  Get each other’s backs?”

“Of course,” Steve assured her.  “And we’re all here to pick up the slack.”

“I’m hearing a big ‘but’ coming,” Natasha said.

Steve smiled and shook his head.  “But…” he said.  “It’s not like you, Nat.  You always have your head in the game more than anyone else.  You’re the one I don’t have to worry about.  So when I do, it worries me.  Is everything okay?”

Natasha frowned.  Her head wasn’t in the game.  Steve was right.  She was happy and happiness meant her work was suffering.

“Everything is fine, Steve,” she said.

“You sure?”  Steve said.  “I’m only asking as a friend.  If there was something up, I’d want to help.”

“It’s fine.  I’ll sort it out,” Natasha said.

Natasha was exhausted by the time she showed up at your place.  She hadn’t slept for almost thirty-six hours and she thought that she’d broken a rib in the battle.  She needed to see you though.  Rip it off like a band-aid.  She liked you.  She liked you a lot.  So much that if she didn’t cut it off now it was going to turn into love and once that happened, she wouldn’t be able to do it.  If she was with you, she would be worse at her job, and if she didn’t have her job, she was nothing.

She knocked on your door.

She could hear you singing on the other side and when you pulled the door open your whole face lit up.  “Tasha!”  You squeaked and launched yourself into her arms.  She made a pained ‘oof’ sound as you wrapped your arms around her, but that didn’t hurt as much as her heart did right at this moment.  You were always so cool and put together, the excitement and pure joy you expressed seeing her were too much.  Natasha was going to hurt you and it was going to kill her to do it.  “I didn’t know you were back.  I am so happy to see you.”

“Krasotka,” Natasha said, closing her arms around you and breathing you in.

You must have heard the pain in her voice because you pulled back immediately and looked you over.  “Are you hurt?”  You asked, pulling her inside.  “Let me get you some ice.”

“It’s fine,” Natasha assured you.  “I’m fine.”

“I can tell you aren’t,” you said, guiding her to the couch and almost pushing her down on it to sit.  “What do you need?  Have you eaten?  I can get you food.  Something to drink?”  You paused and quirked your eyebrow.  “Earth-shattering orgasm?”

“Sit down, Krasotka,” she said.  “We need to talk.”

You narrowed your eyes and took a seat, folding your arms over your chest.  “I don’t like the sound of that.”

Natasha nodded.  “I can’t do this anymore.”

“‘This’ as in ‘us’?”  You asked.

“That’s right,” Natasha said.  Her heart was already hurting.  She wished she was a stronger person.  Someone who was allowed to have everything.  Someone who could be in love and do her job.  Someone who could be happy and not feel like the world was falling apart because of it.

“I supposed I should be glad you’re doing this in person,” you said, sitting back in your chair.  “Do I get a reason?”

“Does it matter?”  Natasha asked.

You nodded.  “Yes.  Because I know you’re happy when you’re with me, and I know you like me, so whatever it is, is stupid and if you say it out loud, I’m hoping you’ll be smart enough to figure that out yourself.  I have faith in you.”

“I do like you,” Natasha said.  “This isn’t about you.  It’s about me.”

“Wow,” you scoffed, raising your hands. “I don’t think I have ever gotten the ol’ it’s not you, it’s me before.  Continue.”

Natasha was getting angry now.  She had expected you to be upset, not hostile.  She had prepared for tears and begging, not to be told she was an idiot.  She sat up straight and folded her arms.  “This is hard for me, okay?  I don’t owe you an explanation.  It was fun.  But now it’s over.”

“And that’s that?”  You said.

“Yes,” Natasha said, getting up.  “That’s that.” 

You stood up too, bailing her up against the wall.  She was half tempted to actually fight you.  If that’s what you wanted to make this, she was quite capable of kicking your ass.  You brought your face close to hers, she could feel the warmth of your breath on her lips.  “You’re making a mistake, Natasha.  I don’t know what happened while you were gone that got you all up in your head and made you think you don’t deserve me, but it doesn’t really matter.  The world is not a place of fairness or balance.  It’s just random chaos and in that, you called to me and I came.  You’re going to realize that breaking up is a mistake.  I know you will because it is.  We’re good together and you wanted me.  I can wait.  I’m very patient.”

A million different arguments popped into Natasha’s head but instead, she just pushed you away and stormed out.  She had never felt the desire to cry as much as she did right now.  Her heart felt like it had been shattered into a million pieces and she’d done it to herself.  She walked down the street not even knowing where she was headed, all she knew was that she wanted to go back up to you and tell you she was sorry and that you were right, but her anger and her pigheadedness stopped her.  There was a bar on the corner, she went straight inside.  She wouldn’t cry but she would drink.  Maybe she’d even find someone to take her home tonight.  Right now she’d do anything to stop herself from thinking that she’d made a huge mistake.

// NEXT

[divinerivals]

Just went to the elriel tag to look at their art because I genuinely love them but now I feel somehow. I am fairly new to the fandom and don’t know how things work and that people go all out for shipwars I didn’t know if you don’t ship a certain ship you should stay away from their content they made me feel so icky for shipping elucien they didn’t use the exact words of calling him a creep but there was so many insinuations I legit saw one say that if you ship elain and lucien your weird because why would you ship people that are uncomfortable around each other. Neglecting the fact that there is a reason and deeper meaning to why they have this reaction towards each other and it’s not because elain thinks Lucien is a creep he is literally one of the most respectful males in this series , honestly I didn’t know the fandom was a cutthroat place like this and I do love the contents but it’s a lot for me. I didn’t know who to tell since your practically one of the first eluciens I followed and looking at your page it’s feels like safe space so hope this ask is okay.

First sorry I'm late to the response (my little one was sick and I've been offline 90% of the day). And this is always okay! Anything on your mind Fandom or not send me an ask. I'm happy you think of me as a safe space ❤ ❤

E/riels are a special brand of wild and moronic behavior. Not all but majority of them are some of the biggest immature cyberbullies I've ever witnessed. I'm so sorry you had the unfortunate pleasure of dealing with them.

Elucien is endgame. They can accept it and keep E/riel as fanon or leave the Fandom.

This is what I don't understand. Obviously not every ship in every book, movie, TV, etc will be Canon. We all have tropes we favor and characters we think would be good together. They won't be endgame. They might not even have a relationship. But that doesn't stop fanon. With fics, edits, art, head canons, whatever. Your ship can exist in Ganon. You can have this happy little slice of fanon heaven. I've done it time and time again.

You know what I didn't do? Change narratives in the Canon text to claim them for a fanon ship. I didn't provoke others online for shipping the Canon ship(now if they came for me or my friends it's on but I didn't go into random posts or ask boxes spewing negative. Calling them worthless or far worse because of it.) Anyway, I don't understand why E/riels can't just be satisfied in their own little fanon world. And leave everyone alone.

Lucien isn't a creep. He is kind and very respectful towards Elain. Three. He's given her three years and will continue to give her whatever time she needs to come to terms with bond. He'd never resort to some dumbass duel, cry like a selfish toddler that he's left out, or please himself to a fucking bottle of headache pills. Thats because he values. She means something to him. Even if they broke the bond, he would always be there for Elain. Unlike a certain bat boy who only wants her as a forbidden booty call.

Now that, that's out of the way. Let's talk about this Fandom. I'll be the first to say babes. Alot of this Fandom is toxic. And not just the E/riels. I've seen it from anti sjm, to anti/pro certain ships and characters. Tbh, if I wasn't apart of Star Wars or the HP Fandom. Shipping both Reylo and Dramione....I probably would have left this one.

I understand if you decide to leave this Fandom or take a step back (sometimes it's a good thing!).

However lovely anon. There's alot of us who do love acotar and although we know there's flaws in the characters and the books. We love it dearly. It's a special place in our hearts. You're Fandom experience is what you make of it. What I mean by that is simply if you wanna stay in the Fandom because the series itself do four things as often as you need too:

1. Block the tags

2. Block users

3. Unfollow those that make this experience negative.

4. Don't listen to E/riels (they've twisted so many narratives, have been consistently rude to artists and I believe well known bookstagram accounts too. Might add Vassa X Lucien shippers too. A few of them twist the narrative too in saying Lucien wants Vassa. When we were given those Jurian x Vassa moments. However, I've never had a bad experience with them personally)

Fandom should be fun, not stressful ❤

If you'd like a list of blogs in the Fandom who don't contribute to the negativity let me know. I'll try and get one for you. I hope if you choose to stay that your experience gets better. At the very least you'll have me ❤

[captainsimagines]

To Topple A Giant || Chapter Four

Summary: You had made it your mission to destroy even the smallest evils. When the opportunity arises to finally take down your own family after years of gaining their trust, you reach for it. And so does Steve, the man who represents a symbol of everything you hate.

Pairing(s): Steve Rogers x Reader || Avengers x Reader

Part 4 of 10 ~ Mini-Series

Warnings: This story contains mature themes and discussions such as extreme canon violence, strong language, emotional angst, mentions of Endgame deaths and recoveries, sexual situations, and emotional/physical abuse. All trigger warnings will be listed before the chapter. This is purely fanfiction.

Warnings in this Chapter: reference to past sexual assault (very minimal); misogyny/sexism; mention of Infinity War deaths/Endgame deaths; abusive parental relationship; canon violence; heavy drinking; reference to cocaine use

Word Count: 13,900+

~

Tony’s Cabin, 2023, 8:56pm

      “Uh…”

You and Steve stared at the little girl in front of you, bouncing up and down with excitement as she held up one of Tony’s repulsors, the safety on but pointed right at the two of you. Steve instinctively pushed you behind him, the obvious fact being that a blast would most certainly kill you and not the super soldier himself. You were having difficulty holding in your laughter, watching as the girl kept poking at the metal, awaiting its true power. 

“Can I have that, Morgan?” Steve asked, his voice raising ever so slightly to try and seem nicer to the kid. 

“Talk to her with your regular voice, Steve. She’s five, not a toddler.”

“Yeah!”

Now you laughed at Morgan’s declaration of approval, still standing behind Steve with your hands braced on his back. 

Steve sighed and rolled his eyes playfully, “Alright, Morgan. Can I please have that back? It’s not a toy.”

“But daddy left it for me!”

You smiled at her, “Yeah, but he didn’t expect you to use it so early! Wait until you’re like… ten, then you can look through his things!”

“Y/N, ten?” Steve gave you a bewildered grin, eyes bright and laughter restrained. 

“Okay, twelve.”

His shoulders sagged with a heavy laugh. He reached over and took the chance, grabbing Morgan’s wrist softly and ejecting the glove from her small hand. 

“There we go!” you cheered, stepping out from behind Steve and scooping her up in your arms. Morgan started laughing loudly, kicking her legs to try and escape your hold. “Ah, don’t kick me!”

You had offered your time to Pepper whenever she needed it. You didn’t expect that she would call so early asking for a huge favor, her husband’s funeral not even four months ago. But you didn’t hesitate and packed an overnight bag, reassuring her that nothing would explode on your watch. On your way out of the temporary safe house, Steve had caught you just in time. A quick question of your future whereabouts and he was joining you, a tiny twinge of guilt in his chest from not seeing Tony’s daughter in so long. He was one of her godparents after all, just after Happy and Rhodey, beating out the third crowned position from Bruce. 

He had been hurt by that initially, asking why he wasn’t even considered. 

‘Bruce, the first time she comes into your room and stands over your sleeping body to let you know she had a nightmare, you’d scream.’

‘I wouldn’t be angry, just scared!’

‘Okay, after Cap here, you get custody.’

‘Oh, yay. Drafted fourth.’

Steve was happy to go see her on such short notice though, racing back up to his room to gather some overnight supplies as well. But you didn’t think anything of it - it was just a godparent wanting to see his godchild. 

“Ouch, that hurt,” you laughed and placed Morgan down in her bed. “Nighty night time.”

“Daddy said he left things for everyone, not just me.”

Steve’s eyebrows shot up with curiosity, a sudden interest to know what his gift was exciting him. He had already given him the shield back... but then Thanos broke it. Maybe, another shield? No, T’Challa had already offered to send him a new one.

“Ooo, that’s interesting! I wonder if he got me that pretty bracelet I saw in that department store window that one time,” you gushed, pulling the blankets over Morgan. You fluffed out her hair, smiled at her, and told her goodnight. 

“Night night!”

Both you and Steve called out from the doorway of her bedroom, “Night night!”

Several minutes had passed before you brought up the prospect of secret gifts again, knowing Steve was just as interested as you were. 

“Want to go find them?”

Steve immediately stood up, clapping his hands together and giddy with excitement. “I won’t tell if you don’t!”

“Deal.”

You searched everywhere - living room, the garage, kitchen cabinets - even racing into the master bedroom, stealthy and secret, shame rising as you carefully picked up items around the room. “This feels like an invasion of privacy.”

Steve chuckled from outside the door, “Hurry up!”

But you found nothing. There was only one more spot to look - his office. You almost didn’t want to intrude any longer, this being his most sacred space, but the mere chance of Tony giving you a gift from the afterlife made you extremely happy. So you and Steve searched, stacking and restacking random papers and pushing away gadgets and books in the bookshelf. Finally, a small opening in the third shelf alerted you of your mission success. 

“Oh, fuck yeah,” you cheered, reaching in and pulling boxes and clipped pieces of paper, all different colors and sizes, from the compartment. They were labeled with various names - Rhodey, Pepper, Happy, Clint, Thor, Steve, Nebula, you - and Natasha. 

Steve sucked in his breath, his gasp similar to yours. “He got these before…”

“Yeah,” you nodded, handing Steve his labeled box. It was light blue, a white ribbon delicately wrapped around it, and with a cute little red ribbon with Steve’s name on it. It wasn’t big, but it was more than enough. 

“Open it,” you said. 

Steve shook his head, “Let’s open ours together.”

You agreed to his terms, taking your folder into your hands. It was one of those same art folders you had when you bought some new planners or notebooks. It was black, custom-made it seemed, as it had your name on the front in gold, cursive writing. 

On the count of three, you both opened your presents. 

Steve pulled out two sets of dog tags from the box, the sound of them clinking together reminding him of the times he would hug his fellow soldiers on the battlefield, cheers of victory mixed in with the smell of sweat and dry blood. He read the names on the metal. 

‘Steven G. Rogers

987654320 T42 O

Brooklyn, NY. P.’

‘James B. Barnes. 

32557038 T41 42 O

R. Barnes

Shelbyville, IN. P.’

He had not known they recovered his dog tags, faintly remembering clutching them tightly as he flew the plane into the ice. But SHIELD must have kept them for the museum, and Tony had recovered them. Bucky’s, however, were lost as soon as Bucky fell from that train. They were more rusted than Steve’s, almost as if HYDRA kept them underwater or stored for the majority of Bucky’s sentence. But no matter how Tony had gotten them, he was eternally grateful. 

“Wow,” Steve said, clearing his throat. But you were too caught up in your reading. 

      ‘Target whereabouts discovered mid-May of 2017. Only T. Stark and N. Romanoff approved for mission.

      Transport at 20:00 hours. Target(s) confirmed and exterminated at exactly 0802 Pacific Standard Time.’

You choked on the sob that suddenly broke through, hand instantly reaching up to cup your mouth. Steve put his tags back into the box, shushing you to get you to calm down. “What is it? What’d he get you?”

Four pictures accompanied the short report, each face crossed out with red paint. A tiny laugh escaped and tears of joy started to flow. To say Steve was confused was an understatement. 

“He… he got me justice.”

Steve took the file from you, reading over every word to somehow understand what you meant by justice. His eyebrows were furrowed in concentration and he looked up at you for more explanation.

You brushed your hair back and rubbed at your cheeks, the smile on your face now straining. Whether it was a sudden change of mind or the closure of your trauma was just that satisfying, you told Steve exactly what Tony and Natasha had done for you. 

“After I joined you guys in New York, Fury sent me on a mission to infiltrate and bring back information about this dude my father was trying to literally destroy. But I had to play both sides  - the good and the bad.”

Steve set the file down, his full attention on you.

“I got the information but for some reason, it wasn’t enough for my father. I had forgotten to get the most vital piece, something he thought I would automatically know,” you scoffed, your smile faltering at the next part of the story. 

“I cost him ten million. And to teach me a lesson, he let these men do whatever they wanted to me. Anything.”

Steve’s breath hitched as he understood what you meant. And it was no longer a mystery why you had been planning to kill him ‘again’ after everyone came back from the snap.

“I returned to the compound in such bad shape. I only told Natasha. She cleaned me up, she took me to med-bay in the middle of the night, she brought me breakfast in bed,” you chuckled at the memory, hand reaching out to hold Steve’s. 

“And Tony’s gift was murdering the men that hurt me.”

Steve let a few tears slip himself, his hand gripping yours tighter. “Y/N, if I would have known-”

“Hey, it’s okay. You didn’t know, though. I thought only Natasha knew. She promised me she would take care of it. I just didn’t think she would actually find them.”

“I think we know that Natasha could find literally anything and anyone,” Steve said. 

You agreed with his statement, a smile returning to your face. 

You jumped from your sitting position and went back to retrieve Natasha’s gift. “Hey, should we?”

Steve eyed the small, black box in your hand. He sighed as he walked over to you, eyes returning to the box. 

“It was meant for her.”

You frowned, “Yeah, and I’ll ask Pepper if we can give these to everyone else.”

You paused and shook the box near your ear. It felt heavy in your hand, and the contents gave a little jingle. 

“But this one was for Nat. I think she’d want us to at least see it.”

Steve chuckled and just nodded, awaiting the reveal. You pulled the ribbon and opened the box, surprised that Tony had given her a piece of jewelry. “Oh.”

Steve took the bracelet from the box, oblivious that the movement would unlock the charms from their heavy chests. In a matter of seconds, charms of similar size but different designs dropped to encircle the silver band. You inspected them in Steve’s hand - a red/white/and blue shield, Mjollnir, a pair of wings, two arc reactors, a singular arrow, a silver arm, a spider, an emerald heart, the letters ‘W’ and ‘V’ intertwined, a black cat, an ant - and your symbol, an intricately carved silver charm no bigger than your thumbnail, of your face. Tony knew no specific object or symbol was tied with your Avengers status, no one had ever given you one, but this was perfect. 

“Wow,” Steve whispered, examining each charm closely with a lazy smile on his face. 

“We were her family. This was an ode to that.”

“What do we do with it?” Steve asked.

You just shrugged, “Frame it? It would feel wrong just taking it for myself.”

Steve agreed. Later that night when Pepper returned home, you showed her what Morgan led you to. She let you keep your gifts and take the others, absolutely loving the idea of framing Natasha’s bracelet in the new compound being built. 

Present Day, 2025, 8:10 am

     The bright light from the open windows hadn’t hit you as suddenly as the random throw pillow that connected to your face, startling you with a quick gasp and causing you to choke on your spit. You snapped up, belly down and hair wild, eyes still half-lidded as you searched for the aggravator. And he stood there with a stupid grin on his face, already dressed in his stupid old man clothes, and stupid blond hair perfectly pushed back. 

“What the fuck was that for?” you tried to yell, voice cracking at the end and just the slightest hint of drool threatening to spill from the corner of your mouth. 

“I ordered room service. Plus, we have to leave in an hour.”

You grabbed as many pillows as your one free hand could hold, the other still tucked into the pillowcase below your head. You flung them wildly, none actually hitting the super soldier directly. His chuckle pulled a deep groan from you, and no longer wanting to look like a fool, you stumbled out of bed and pushed passed him roughly. 

“You could have woken me up the same time you got up.”

“But you looked so peaceful.”

His sarcasm was not helping your souring mood. Steve headed over to the monitors to turn them on, already setting up the morning video chat with Bucky and Sam. “Do you always sleep like a mounted spider?”

You flicked him off, “Leave me alone so I can take my morning piss in peace!”

You slammed the door and made your way to the toilet. Now, you were no morning person. But it was simple enough for you to crawl out of bed with only minimal protest when your awakening was a peaceful one. Having a pillow thrown at your head while mid-dream was practically excruciating and no one, not even the grandest morning person in the world, could possibly awake happy from that. And to top it all off, you couldn’t even remember what you were dreaming of. Just another thing to blame Steve for. 

After you had done your morning routine and slipped into a really comfy outfit, the breakfast finally arrived. You muttered a quiet thanks to Steve for ordering your favorites and damn him for knowing you preferred waffles over pancakes and a variety of creamers to choose from, and quickly filled Bucky and Sam in on what the plan for the day was. 

You had been on missions with Steve before, but no matter how many times you regrouped in the mornings, you had never actually seen him wake up. After your rude awakening, you wondered at what point during sunrise he opened his eyes - ‘cause you’ll be standing over him with a pillow of your own. 

“Torres has the air footage scheduled for around five today, then he’ll link you to the camera for the remainder of the mission,” Sam clarified. 

“Is it possible to link earlier?” Steve asked. 

“Not unless you can get the Wi-Fi password of the estate.”

You chuckled, still funneling mouthfuls of waffle into your mouth. “So, we can hack the Pentagon whenever we feel like it, but we can’t hack into my father’s estate without the Wi-Fi password?”

Sam cleared his throat, “You are so lucky this is a secure line.”

“Wait until she finishes her breakfast and her head will be screwed back on straight,” Steve joked, taking a long sip from his tea. 

Almost immediately, your phone dinged with a new message. You angled your phone away from Steve but your smirk was enough to alert him of a side conversation happening under his nose. 

Bucky: Ouch, I wouldn’t mind if you hit him upside the head.

Y/N: he threw a pillow at me to wake me up :(

Bucky: hit him

Y/N: bet

“Stop talking about me over the phone.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Steve grumbled, the rough sound catching Sam’s attention as well. His eyes flashed back and forth between the two of you - Steve desperately trying to catch a quick glance at your messages, and you leaning away from him with thumbs moving at a rapid pace. 

“Y/N, how you feeling?”

You put your phone down and pretended to not notice how Steve was trying to get a glimpse of your screen. 

“A little queasy, in all honesty.”

A myriad of emotions were present and coiling in your body, each trying to sprout and bloom and gain their five seconds of fame. And for the past several years, it was easy to downplay their true power. Because the power they held wasn’t one of distressing strength, but rather one that tip-toed to the front of your anxiety driven worries. It planted itself there, up front, but ever so silent. For it to finally meet its match, to possibly be freed of such a coil - well, you were more worried about not succeeding in its erasure than its final blooming. 

“We’ve come up with a system to make sure we both don’t go overboard or to tell the other that we’re alright,” Steve said, eyes on the monitor but hands loading bullets into your trusty handguns. 

“Alright, that’s good,” Bucky spoke, finally. He typed away on his keyboard, “Give us a word we all use in case we need back-up immediately.”

“Mm, you should ask Steve. He loves his safe words.”

Steve rolled his eyes, “Something Avengers related? Or something no one would ever say?”

“Pick anything you want, just don’t let it be awkward to repeat out loud,” Sam joked. 

Steve pondered for a few seconds before he settled on his chosen word, a hint of a smile forming. “Widow.”

You nodded, “That’s sweet. She’d like us using her alias for a dirty little safe word.”

You huffed suddenly, shoulder colliding with the carpet, the realization that Steve pushed you from your chair causing you to stare at him with your mouth hanging open. “Hey!”

“Steve, every single day I accept your fate from her murderous hands,” Bucky grumbled, Sam’s loud laugh causing the speaker to give a quick halt of static. 

“She’s okay- hey!”

You flew across your chair and onto him, lunging your body as your main weapon in taking him down. You both tumbled to the floor, the sofa chair you collided with scraping along and pushing the coffee table with it. A lamp shattered on the floor right when you wrapped your arm around Steve’s neck and hooked your legs from underneath him and around his waist, his back to your front, both his arms coming up to tug yours out of reflex. 

“Yield, you little shit,” you grunted, the grip of your arm remaining loose on purpose but your legs tight, heels now digging into his slim waist. 

Steve groaned, both from your pointy heels and the sudden impact his body made with the ground. “I’m letting you win.”

“You seriously got a mouth on you.”

You let him go anyway, choosing to save your strength for the mission and not waste it on a petty little fight. Besides, you could always smother him with a pillow in his sleep. 

“You two done?”

Both you and Steve stumbled getting up, faces back in your teammate’s view as you smoothed down your clothing and wiped at your foreheads.

“Now that that’s over,” Sam continued, clearing his throat. “The only task for today is to get a feel of the place, establish a legit backstory providing you some leverage, and to swipe those ID’s.”

“Got it,” you acknowledged, standing again to begin hooking your weapons in discreet locations in your clothing. 

“And we’re not responsible for that broken lamp so it’s coming out of your paycheck.”

     California really wasn’t like any other state. There was a vast difference from Northern and Southern, the difference being the amount of green fields visible. In Southern California, the mountains and desert areas took up most of the landscape, with an industrial complex here, a growing city there, and then nothing for a good ten miles. Since most of the landscape was below sea level, the atmosphere was almost always dry, modest dust storms forming only to quickly pass a freeway and disintegrate once it found the other side. It was more urban, more lively with people. But Northern California, even if it experienced the same weather patterns as the south, was mostly humid during the winter season. The mountains here were covered in lively agriculture, livestock roamed freely in the gated areas near the freeways, and the overall environment provided a rural look. 

 And the differences just stood out to you, your excitement for the livestock starting to annoy Steve as you kept pointing out every cow you drove past. He threatened to stop the car and dare you to tip one. 

“So, how did we meet?”

Steve chuckled, “We’re coworkers, Y/N. Thought that question was obvious.”

You whined, “Steve, we have to put some drama into it! How about we say we met during one of Tony’s parties after Fury assigned you to this?” 

“And what? I asked you to dance?”

You leaned over your seat and poked his arm, teasing him. “Would you have asked me to dance?”

Steve shrugged, “I mean, sure.” 

He glanced at you and then back to the road. “Can’t we just be honest? I like the way we met.”

 You pouted, “The way we met is a matter of national security.”

   “You brought that thing back to an unguarded planet?” Loki seethed, his voice still a whisper as he followed Thor through the hallways of Avengers Tower. A tower he had been prisoner of for a few weeks now, but would soon be released from once Thor decided to return home. Besides, it had been more than a year since his unfortunate attack and after thousands of apologies, brainwashing excuses (which were true!), and quite a few long labor hours equivalent to Midgardian community service, his leash was extended somewhat. 

“How am I the more level-headed one right now?”

Thor grumbled in response, now on his hands and knees as he searched for the tiny animal that had already eaten its way through the plush of the interior walls. “It couldn’t have gotten far. And how was I supposed to know the oxygen levels here would cause it to go crazy?”

“You couldn’t. In fact, I don’t know why it’s here in the first place!”

“Keep screaming, Loki. I bet that would make it come to us quicker!”

Loki was about to come up with another quick quip, but was interrupted by a quiet mumble down the hall. 

“Oh?”

You rocked back and forth on your heels as you stared at the two brothers - one sweeping the floor on all fours and the other ducked down to scream into his brother’s ear. “Whatcha looking for?”

“Now, don’t be alarmed, Agent. But I may have misplaced my dog.”

“Dog?” Loki tilted his head, hands now cupping the side of his head in disbelief. 

Your eyebrows shot up from his reaction, “Not dog?”

“It’s… an animal from Asgard.”

“Okay, what does it look like?” you asked, now more interested than ever. 

Thor cleared his throat and rose to his feet slowly, “Like a dragon.”

You stepped back, almost tripping over your left foot. An involuntary laugh escaped from your lips and you brought a hand up to try and stifle it. “You brought a dragon into the tower?”

“He brought a dragon back to Midgard,” Loki clarified as he walked over to the wall and pressed his ear against it. 

“Oh, yeah. That’s much worse,” you agreed. “Fury’s gonna shove his foot so far up your ass-”

“Yes, yes. I know what awaits me. Now, help us find it!” Thor begged. 

This wasn’t how you expected to spend your first day as an Avenger. After all the training and promoting, the paperwork and oaths, you thought you would have a pretty chill afternoon. Arrive at the conference room, get the name badge and a rundown of your new field suit, and meet the rest of the team. Freshly nineteen and energetic as ever, you accepted this as a test. Find the dragon, make a good impression. 

It only took a few more minutes before you three stumbled on an otherwise empty hallway, staring down the colorful creature as it licked one of its paws. 

Your eyes widened, “It looks like an alebrije.”

“You have these creatures on your planet?” Loki asked, surprise written over his face. 

“Nope, alebrije’s aren’t real. They’re fantasy.”

“Nevermind that, help me catch it!”

Loki began shushing his brother, hands swatting his massive shoulders in the process. You leaned down to the floor and tapped it with your fingernails, hoping the nice gesture would cause the creature to meet you halfway. 

“Hey, buddy,” you cooed. “Can you come here please?”

The creature raised its head, colorful eyes on full display. Similar to rings of fire, but face like a fox, and fur as soft as silk. It titled its head, interested for only a second, before it kicked back and rushed toward the three of you at full speed. 

“Oh, shit-!”

As he was the closest, Loki pushed Thor to the wall and lifted you from the ground. But before he could throw you out of the way too, the creature leaped. Loki shielded you with his body, wrapping his arms around you and picking you up as the creature kicked his back and sent the two of you flying through wall after wall. Loki was taking the force of it all, his chest angled in a way to protect your head. It was about ten walls you two flew through before you landed in what seemed like conference room B… or C… or A. Loki rolled you over and groaned in pain. You landed on your back, bright lights blinding you as you tried to adjust. Then a figure came into view as your blurry vision cleared. 

You blinked rapidly and stared up at your new Captain. You smiled, a bit delirious, and raised your hand up for a handshake. 

“Y/N Y/L/N, new recruit!”

Steve just stared, eyebrows scrunched, an expression resembling a scowl and bewilderment painted on his face. He took your hand in his and shook it. 

“Forgive us, Captain,” Loki spoke, coughing as he turned over. “But you might want to get that shield of yours.”

    “When did we become a couple?” you continued once you agreed on the ‘party meet-and-greet’ as your previous answer. 

Now, this was a question Steve was wondering about since before you mentioned the necessity of such answers. Although he didn’t fantasize about being your significant other, he did wonder what possible event could jumpstart it. If anything, and he would take this to the grave, he assumed a line would be crossed during a particularly tempting mission. Bucky had admitted to him that on one mission, and Steve promised to take this to the grave as well, Bucky had to kiss Wanda to keep their cover. The feelings subsided soon after the mission was over, but Bucky confessed to real feelings developing. So if Steve had to bet, a particularly tempting mission. 

“When we were searching for Bucky?”

You nodded, “That works. We can say the fall of SHIELD basically led to us to realize how weak the system was and how we could easily manipulate it.”

The road veered off to the side, now dirt and unevenly layered. You checked the directions Torres gave you just to make sure. 

“And when is my birthday?”

You didn’t expect Steve to answer so quickly, and to get it right. Perhaps he looked over your file and remembered, because you were certain only your little friend group knew it. It was Bucky, it had to be him, the little shit, he told- 

“Surprised?”

“A little. How do you know it?”

“Nat. Who do you think sends you those chocolates every year?”

You were overjoyed, really. “Wha-? Natasha said she did it.”

Steve smirked, “She covered for me.”

“Why?”

“Because for five years after the snap, you and Nat did nothing for yourselves and did everything for everyone else.” He had been witness to the two of you pulling all-nighters, washing the sheets of your fallen teammates as if they were going to return that weekend, celebrating their birthdays in secret with a small candle and a prayer. Moving from the compound and into his own apartment was hard enough, but seeing his remaining teammates wallow in cursed self-determination was worse. So, he asked Nat about your birthday to send you chocolates and a lovely handwritten note, careful to write in a font different from his natural one, and he would fold tiny paper airplanes and leave them around the compound where only Nat could find them, providing her a sense of playfulness in her busy day. Little joys to make up for such an impact.  

“If it makes you feel better, I sent gifts to Nat and Bruce, too.”

But because Bruce had no forwarding address at the time, Steve settled for quick text messages here and there. 

“And here I was thinking I was special.”

Steve laughed at your statement. He reached into the middle compartment to grab the mics you would be wearing. “By the way, make sure to hide this behind your neck. My mic will blend in as a button.”

You inspected the flat, button-like mic, awed by how intricate their design was. “They connected to Bucky’s?”

Steve clipped his onto his shoulder, the camouflage effect throwing you off. Yup, you loved science. “Yeah, they record everything and immediately send it back already transcribed.”

You unfolded the sun visor and watched how the mic picked up the color of your skin and blended naturally. “Remind me to send T’Challa and Shuri a gift basket.”

“And more.”

The estate was exactly how you remembered it. Modern and simple all at once, a brown exterior to easily blend into the surrounding forest, and massive front gate that only opened with a specific code. You leaned out the window and typed it in. There was no speaker this time, probably evidence of newly installed cameras. 

“It’s beautiful,” Steve muttered, pulling into the long driveway and following the brick road. 

It truly was. Even from where you were, you could see into the mansion as the walls were all practically made from glass. The walls in the back were normal, however, as that’s where most of the business was conducted. There were no swing doors, only large and heavy double doors made from cooled lava rock. And even though your father was a very organized man, the house was littered in trinkets of all origins: professionally stuffed exotic animals, roman and oriental statues, porcelain eggs, multiple pianos, and first editions of some of the most popular books in the world. There wasn’t any set theme for this house, but it was screaming ‘money’. 

Steve parked the car away from the others, careful to leave enough room around it to ensure an easy escape if needed.

“Remember what I said - play the part. Leave the smart mouth to me, they know me. It’s what they’ve come to expect.”

Steve clicked his seatbelt and sighed heavily, “I apologize in advance.”

You gave him a small smile, “Nothing to apologize for, Steve. Like I said, this is a mission. Don’t stress about it.”

He shook his head, “Still.”

The sincere look in his eyes sent a tingle down your arms. You cleared your throat, “I feel dirty saying this, but know your place. You may be a Captain but you’re not manning this boat.”

For some reason Steve felt that he truly needed to apologize in advance. For the past several years, it wasn’t entirely real to him. He had not been directly involved. But now that he was here, parked and staring at you - the one person who had a first hand account of the horrors inside - he needed to make sure you understood he would never actually hurt you, or you him. “I trust you.”

You removed your seatbelt and opened the door, “I trust you, too.”

It was windy today, the ruffles from the trees almost disguising the labor coming from the back. You assumed they were still building the reception area. Steve jogged over to your side and hooked your arm in his, his body tenser than yours. Someone opened the heavy doors, immediately swallowing the oxygen for miles with merely their presence. You couldn’t help yourself from a small grimace, lips spreading into a straight line as you forced any other expression besides hatred. 

Seda, standing at barely six foot and a smug look plastered on his aging face that worried even Steve. This was the man that had shot you when he was on the run - the man that would most likely do it again. 

Seda quickly stepped down the stairs, “Y/N, so lovely to see you again!”

You let go of Steve to walk ahead, arms extended to match the idea of a grand entrance. “Really? Because the last time we saw each other, you shot me in the gut.”

Steve swore he saw Seda’s upper lip twitch. “You hold too many grudges. I was just following your father’s orders.”

You rolled your eyes and finally came to a stop in front of him, arms crossed over your chest. “Obviously.”

“And I’ve finally got the chance to meet Captain America! You’re much larger in person.”

No matter the acting skills one must obtain for this line of work, it was still obvious Seda was speaking through clenched teeth. He scanned Steve up and down, somewhat intimidated.

It was such a sudden shift, one you obviously knew was coming, but the deepness of Steve’s voice still caused unnatural goosebumps to rise. “I get that a lot. Helps in this business, though.”

Seda let out a low chuckle, “I would think so.” He turned and instructed the two men who had followed him out to reopen the heavy doors.  “This way.”

Steve tried not to gawk at the amount of decorations and old-timey artifacts he swore should belong in a museum. So much furniture, so much history that shouldn’t mix but somehow worked. And was that… was that a stuffed polar bear?

“So, how you doing, Seda? Besides the usual,” you asked, hooking your arm back with Steve’s. 

Seda walked with his head held high, only tilting his head downward when giving a silent greeting to those who walked by. You tried to memorize faces or see if there was anyone you recognized. But your father barely kept the same team for more than a few years. They either left voluntarily and luckily, or were simply never heard from again. 

“Excited for the wedding. Jackeline has been running around nonstop on her finishing touches,” Seda responded. 

You huffed out a laugh, “I bet she has. She used to have a scrapbook that outlined six different wedding themes.”

“And I haven’t seen the end of it.”

Only a few more twists and turns and you were finally near the familiar hallway that housed your father’s darkest work. The interior design was purposeful, no windows and no cameras. Steve unhooked your arms, opting for a more formal presentation between the two of you. Seda was difficult to please, but your father was near impossible. Better to not have his hands all over his daughter during their first meeting.  

“Hey, what’s the wi-fi password? I’m expecting a few important emails today,” you asked before Seda opened your father’s office door. Steve had to restrain himself from blessing the ground you walked on. Bless you for remembering. 

“‘Guadalajara’.”

“Thanks,” you mumbled, sending the password to Torres as quickly as you could. 

It wasn’t the grand entrance you expected, truly, but you didn’t expect to see your father simply chilling behind his desk signing a few papers. He usually paced, was in a random meeting, or on the phone. Here, he was just… strangely normal. 

He looked up, eyes locking with yours for the first time in seven years. “Now, I haven’t seen you since your little weekend trip to Jalisco!”

Yeah, since you had me shot. 

Stepping into the office, the smell of cigars was heavy. Musty and daring, enveloping you like the times it did before. But now you had Steve - sweet Steve whose warmth you could feel behind you. 

You shrugged, “I’m not traveling much outside the country these days. Too much shit going on.”

Your father stood up and let out a dry laugh, “No lie about that. Seda was telling me how loose the borders were when half the world croaked.”

“Emigration was common, yup.”

He smiled at you, walking over and placing his hands on your shoulders. You did your best not to tense your muscles. “I wish I could have been there. You guys made millions those five years.”

You swore you heard Seda scoff near the corner of the room. 

“It’s about time we met! Ernesto Vega,” your father introduced himself, holding out his hand for Steve to take. 

It was instant, the change, and you found yourself pushed softly to the side as Steve stepped forward. “Steve Rogers, sir. It’s an honor to meet you.”

Your father was practically beaming, “Y/N isn’t giving you a hard time with all the business, aye?”

Steve chuckled, “None at all. She steps back when asked.”

Okay, maybe he was a better actor than you took him for. 

“I can’t believe you even have to ask,” your father hummed, glancing back at you with a disapproving look. 

Steve shrugged, “More like ‘ordered.’”

It was scary how easily Steve was making your father laugh. “So, she listens to you? I wonder what that’s like.”

You interrupted, scoffing quietly. “I have literally done everything you’ve asked.”

And without glancing at you this time, your father quipped. “Everything but learn how not to complain.” 

You rolled your eyes and met Seda’s stare. He always enjoyed the torment your father caused you. When he ordered you do something sketchy and you objected, Seda always had a front row seat to the slaps and harsh language spit in your face. He had a way of bringing up the abuse in almost every conversation he held with you - like it gave him some form of sick satisfaction.

“Regardless of my daughter’s inability to listen, I was still surprised when she named you as her partner.”

“The whole hero game was getting boring. I needed excitement.”

Your father agreed, “Don’t we all?” 

Before he continued, he squinted his eyes at Steve and scanned him once more. Almost like he was double checking his initial choice. 

“And you’re fine with breaking the laws of the country you’re the mascot for?”

“America has changed over the last hundred years. Trust me, I should know.”

Steve was answering exactly how you two practiced. You couldn’t help the small tinge of pride that it ignited. 

“Oh, I can’t believe you’re older than me. I mean, look at you.”

“The positives and negatives of being America’s science experiment, sir.”

“But here you are now. Working for me.” Your father stepped back to sit behind his desk again. “I’m very happy.”

“Likewise, sir,” Steve replied as he shuffled closer to you, trying to not seem so suspicious. Last time Steve wanted to crawl out of his own skin was when he was barely being introduced to the new world. Times Square really was a concrete jungle, his and Bucky’s old apartment building had been demolished in the fifties, and inflation… don’t get him started on inflation.  

“I’d like you to meet my two friends.” Your eyes widened. No, you weren’t supposed to meet them today. You hadn’t planned for this. 

“Friends and competition alike.”

You tried to keep your voice steady, “Shouldn’t you warm them up before you invite them in? They’re gonna take one look at Steve and freak.”

Your father motioned for Seda to open the door. “Then prepare your speech quickly.”

Before you or Steve could come up with a game plan, your father called out to the new arrivals. “Amigos! Me gustaría presentarles al hombre detrás de toda mi operación.”

The men summoned were completely different from the last time you saw them. Given you saw Ramirez long before the snap and White even before then, change was destined. Ramirez was skinnier, no more protruding stomach, wrinkles almost nonexistent and eyes lively. He hadn’t disappeared with half the world, but one of his daughters did - so getting her back definitely helped his overall health. White, on the other hand, aged overnight. His hair was now gray, eyelids sullen but eyes wide, and his nose was tilted awkwardly, like a surgery to counteract the powder he sniffed. You couldn’t remember if he was dusted or not.

“Tienes que agradecer a mi hija por esto.”

He did not just give you credit for this. 

“No fucking way?” Ramirez spoke, almost like he was out of breath. 

Curse your father for not preparing these two. You quickly reminded yourself where your gun was hidden in case things got out of hand. 

White stepped forward, circling you and Steve as if you were displayed in a museum. “Do we each get our own Avenger?”

“Maybe in the future. But this one’s mine.”

“I’m an Avenger, too. But okay,” you mumbled, offended by his singular statement. Steve’s lip twitched slightly but the look he threw at you let you know he wanted to smile. 

“¿Cómo lo hiciste?”

“Ya sabes cómo es... La gente simplemente sigue mi ejemplo.”

You decided to speak, anything to get White to stop inspecting you like some ancient artifact. “Steve green lights the routes and passages. He’s been a main player all along.”

White squinted at you, “And how long has this been going on?”

“For almost ten years,” you answered. 

White shook his head in surprise, eyes wider than you thought possible. His accent was more slurred than you remembered. “And you’re telling us now because-?”

Your father cut in, “The world is still in ruins. If we combine our forces like we discussed before that unfortunate disappearing act, we’ll be unstoppable.”

This seemed to catch Ramirez off guard, as if he truly didn’t remember the conversation your father brought up. You shoveled his reaction deep into your memory. Maribel would have to look into it.

Still, Ramirez played along. “And you’ll be loyal to us, too? Not just Ernesto?”

Steve nodded, his posture straightening. “I would.”

Now, the two new arrivals looked at you. You raised an eyebrow. 

“Don’t look at me. I do what he says,” you admitted, nodding your head toward Steve.

They seemed to accept that answer. 

“And he’s here to help us move the shipment this Saturday?” White asked.

“That’s the plan,” your father confirmed.

It was time for Ramirez to circle you both. But he did so more casually and without the intent of kicking you in the shins, it seemed. He went to sit on the couch nearest the door, away from the crowd. You could sense Steve tensing up, so you turned your body slightly to the side so you could see Ramirez through your peripheral.

“How do we know we can trust him? What those stars and stripes have to do with us?”

“You hear that Captain?” your father asked, leaning back in his chair with that twisted smile that always made your stomach drop. “Time to prove your loyalty.”

“Are you seriously going to haze him?” you spoke, a hint of a teasing tone on your words. It was time to liven up the conversation, for both your sake, or else your father was sure to go overboard. His hand… where’s Steve’s hand?

“Does she speak for you?”

Steve stepped forward, “No, she doesn’t.”

“Prove it.”

You should really punch your chest to get your heart beating again. Was he going to make Steve try the product? Record something as blackmail? Kill someone?

“Wha-” you began, but were immediately silenced as an arm wrapped around your neck and held you in place. The coldness of the gun’s muzzle tickled just below your chin, still and steady, but nonetheless terrifying. Your father had held you in this position before - hell, most of his men did when asked. But it wasn’t any of your father’s men threatening you under orders - it was Steve.  

“Obviously, I’m not going to kill her. You need her for this whole operation to work. But a little roughing up never did any bad.”

He removed his other arm but kept the muzzle under your chin, grabbing both your arms skillfully and pinning them behind your back. 

You had never seen your father so pleased. “Why are you dating my daughter?”

Steve chuckled and clicked the safety. No, no. 

You scrambled to open your right palm and squeeze what you could reach. Steve seemed to understand right away, and he loosened his grip and placed his other shaking hand into yours. You squeezed tightly. 

“Now, that’s like asking a man why he breathes air.”

No matter the position he currently had you in, you still praised his acting skills. 

“Perhaps. But I know my daughter. Why you?”

Steve kept a firm grip. “Luck?”

“It seems so. Let her go.”

He released you immediately, clicking the safety back on. Seda was in front of him before Steve could place it back on his person, grabbing the gun and emptying it. Seven rounds tumbled and scattered to the floor. This seemed to please both men, as Steve wasn’t presenting himself with an empty threat. He really could have killed you. 

“I’m assuming Y/N has told you stories about me. About my men.”

The floor beneath you was uneven, it seemed, but once your mind stopped playing tricks on you, you settled. You shot a quick glance to Ramirez, his eyes closed and hands clasped in his lap. He seemed distant.

“Only the ones worth repeating, sir.”

“Oh? And which are those?”

“Orders and the like.”

“So, you don’t know much? Nothing interesting? Nothing that could make me seem like the bad guy?”

The room grew hot, whether it was the natural air or the bubbling anger boiling in your stomach.

“Like I said, sir. I ask her what I want to know and she tells me. Other than that, it’s your call.”

The room fell silent as they debated their other questions. 

“How much do the other Avengers know?”

You were about to respond when Steve spoke instead. “Oblivious. I’m still the stars and stripes for them.”

White scoffed, “Those symbols don’t mean shit in this new world. Ridiculous of them to still assume you’re the same man.”

Steve’s jaw tensed, “Exactly right, sir.”

This seemed to be enough for your father. He stood from his chair, walking over to shake Steve’s hand again. So righteous and personal, almost like he hadn’t just ordered the assassination of an old friend a few days ago. “I like you, Captain. You’ve boosted my business, you’ve handled my daughter, you’ve made me a lot of money.” 

He looked away from Steve to look at you now, laying eyes upon a person he hadn’t bothered to reunite with in person. You had fought so hard not to be in the same room ever again, but now you were. A small little office, holding whatever air you were forced to share, on a mission that could change everything. You hated him, absolutely detested the ground he stood on, blamed him for the fallout, the change, the hurt. 

“Seda, you trust him?”

Seda opened the office door and started ushering the other two men out. “I’m getting there.”

Your father laughed, “Always so cynical.” 

Ramirez stood from his seat behind you, already gunning to make a good impression on your Captain. He shook Steve’s hand, “Until next time.”

“Sir,” Steve returned the handshake. Ramirez only adjusted slightly, and held his hand out to you. You looked down at it, momentarily stunned from any attention, but shook it in the way you were taught. Firm, short, and ready for business. You grinned at him and he returned the same emotion. 

“Two Avengers. Wow,” he mumbled, and tilted his head in a farewell. You watched him go, a silly smile on your face. 

You went to take your leave, cautious of being left alone with your father. But as fate had it, he stopped you from leaving so simply. 

“Oh, and Y/N?” 

You turned on your heel, lips plastered in a straight line. You raised your eyebrows at him, already annoyed from the request he most certainly had, no doubt. “Meet me in a few minutes. Alone.”

You forced yourself to nod, turning quickly and leaving the room. You shuffled down the hallway, Steve hot on your trail and reaching for your hand. 

“Hey, hey. I don’t want to leave you alone.”

He tugged you back to him, but you pushed him into the corner room you were originally heading for. You shut the door softly, and allowed Steve to grip your hands in his. 

“Well, you gotta. Link our mics. You’ll hear everything.”

“Safe word?”

You chuckled lowly but retracted the teasing attitude when you saw genuine worry written on Steve’s face. “Widow, Steve.”

“I didn’t mean to scare you back there. I couldn’t think of anything else to do-”

You shushed him, voice barely above a whisper. “It’s okay. You didn’t hurt me.”

“I fuck with you all the time but I would never take it that far.”

Where was this coming from? Steve looked like he was about to start hyperventilating. “I’m good. You didn’t hurt me. I’m fine, see?” you placed his hand on your chest, making sure he could feel your heartbeat. “I’m good.”

“You’re good?”

“I’m good.”

Steve removed his hand and placed it over his own chest, rubbing slightly. “I’ll be right outside when he talks to you.”

“I know you’ll be. Now, stand guard, whistle low to alert me.”

“This the room? You know the code?”

It was a simple office as well, but resembled more of a library than a workspace. It was dimly lit, cluttered, smelled of the wooden cabinets and the dust collecting on the books, and lacked any windows as well. You nodded to confirm Steve’s question, heading over to the farthest bookshelf and pushed it away from the wall. The loose dust swooped from the wood surface and into the air instantly, and you had to pause to sneeze down your shirt. 

You wiped your nose, “I’m third in command. My father may have some things hidden but I have to know the codes to shit like this.”

Steve leaned his ear on the door gently, “You’re clear.”

You gave him a thumbs up and fiddled with the outside of the safe. It was built into the wall, black in color and definitely made way before you were born. It was quite rusted, the gold numbers on the lock almost faded. 

“Let’s hope he didn’t change it.” You turned the dial - seven, thirty-three, eighteen - and it clicked on the first try. “Bingo.”

“Did you have a backup plan if that didn’t work?”

You snorted quietly, “Smash?”

Steve rolled his eyes and pressed his ear back on the door. 

Everything inside had been recently rearranged. You figured your father used some of these ID’s when entering the country for the wedding and left them stacked on one another for the quick heist on Saturday.  “We’re in luck! Both my father’s and Seda’s ID’s are here, along with-”

You cooed, taking out your phone and opening the camera app. You snapped multiple pictures, with and without flash. “Stacks and stacks of cash.”

You pulled your purse in front of you and pulled out your wallet to make room, shoving it into your back pocket instead. 

“Help me put this in my purse.”

Steve left his post to help you shovel the ID’s discreetly into every pocket your purse provided, shoving things into corners so nothing protruded. 

“Damn, we gotta leave the money,” you pouted. 

Steve chuckled, “What a horrible thing.”

A sudden, boisterous laugh right outside the door caused you to rip your arm away from the safe, thankfully pulling the last of the ID’s with you. You pushed them into your purse, zipping it up. Steve reacted quickly as well, shutting the safe and rotating the dial, pushing the bookcase back into its original position. 

“It’s Ramirez and White,” Steve whispered, looking around the room for any help. “What do we do?”

“Ramirez…” you blinked, eyes wandering around the room as well. Think, think, think. The doorknob jiggled. “Trust me.”

You ripped your purse off and threw it to the nearest couch. You hooked your arms around Steve’s neck and jumped to wrap your legs around his waist. 

“Oh my-”

In any other scenario, the whimper that left your throat would have been caused by a surge of ecstasy. But you were frightened of being caught, the whimper a blatant signal to just follow your lead. 

“Slam me into the wall, Captain.”

The door flew open just as Steve did as he was told. 

“And I told him it was ridiculous - oh my…”

You lifted your head from Steve’s neck, wide eyes to accompany your surprised state. “Oh! I thought we locked the door!”

Ramirez covered his eyes bashfully, turning around and staring at the wall. “Don’t mind us, we were just looking for loose smokes.”

Opposite to his intruding partner, White laughed at the scene before him. He dipped low, hands on his knees as he joked. “Didn’t think Captain America had it in him! Been a stiff ever since the ice, huh mate?”

You could feel Steve tense against you, and he froze entirely. You drew your hand up to play with the strands of his hair, putting on your best flirty tone possible. “Oh, trust me. He’s pretty stiff right now.”

Steve seemed to calm under your touch, so he turned his head over his shoulder and gave an embarrassed smile of his own. 

“Excuse us again, Y/N. You two enjoy your time,” Ramirez apologized, pulling at White’s jacket to guide him out of the room. Once you heard the click of the door, you jumped from Steve’s grasp and immediately began patting his back. 

“I’m sorry.”

Steve chuckled, his blush rising from his shoulders to his cheeks. “It’s okay, you saved us.”

You inspected him closely, a little embarrassed with yourself. It was a bold move, but one that needed to be done. You stood in silence for a few more seconds, each of you adjusting to such a sudden change of breathing pattern. 

You shut your eyes and groaned silently, “I need to speak with him.”

“Can I wait outside the door?”

You picked up your purse and swung it around your torso, “No, you need to wait in the car. Or smother Ramirez and White, your call.”

The lines on Steve’s forehead deepened, “Y/N, I can’t leave you alone with him.”

You wanted to argue further because Steve really over exaggerated. You fought a whole army of aliens, robots, and even the infamous Winter Soldier. Sure, you lost the battle with Thanos on the first try, you lost a teammate with Ultron, and gained a collapsed lung from Bucky’s insane roundhouse kick, but you were positive you could take your father. “You’re gonna have to. I’ve been alone with him before.”

Steve placed his hands on his hips and gave you a blank stare. “He shot you last time.”

“Ehh, Seda did.”

“Y/N.”

You laughed softly, “Then wait in the living room.”

“The shield’s in the car. If you need help, I may not have enough time-”

Steve and that goddamn shield. The guy was acting like he wasn’t a super soldier. You were annoyed. Annoyed with a pinch of salt?

“You whip that shield out to save me and I swear to god-”

“Okay, okay. I’ll link our mics.”

He fumbled around on his phone for a few seconds before you heard the softest beep from below your ear. 

     The last time you had entered that room alone, you left with a bullet lodged deep in your abdomen and with the threat of having it done again. Stumbling and crashing into the walls and random trinkets, leaving your blood stains on anything you used to steady yourself. This time would be different - it had to be. Your father wouldn’t shoot you with the Captain America waiting in the other room. Then again, your father always seemed to top himself each time you were forced to interact personally. In an instant, he dropped the good guy act. Or, hyped joy. 

Now, his stare was cold and calculated, posture upright like he was awaiting your arrival. You couldn’t help but smile and roll your eyes, a tiny scoff breaking the silence as he returned it. 

“You’re one damn good actor.” 

He chuckled deeply, “We do what we have to do in front of the people who threaten our reign.” 

You kicked the leg of a nearby chair to turn it toward you. Sitting down, you retorted with a chuckle of your own. “You’re not royalty.” 

“We are... you are.”

Third in command. Daughter of the biggest drug lord south of the border? In most cases, you could be considered goddamn royalty. Did you want to be? No, because the title that seemed to fit was ‘a chess piece in the middle of a mad supremacy’. But that was too long.  

“So, what is this? You scared my Captain is gonna knock you off your feet and take your place?” 

His hands slammed the desk. His little basket of pens and pencils toppled over and spilled onto the floor. “I have waited seven, long years for you to bring that man to me. And each time you defied me. Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you right now!” 

You remained seated, a blank stare boring into your father’s. “Uh, probably because he would avenge me. Get it?” 

He wasn’t one for jokes, though. “It would be so easy.” 

Aggravating him further was not the smartest thing to do. And Steve had the same thought as he fumbled with his own thumbs outside, hearing the conversation from afar. He almost wanted to barge in just to put your ass in time out. 

But you had seven years to make up for - a little joke here and there shouldn’t hurt much. 

“You do know I’m an Avenger, right? Trained by Natalia Romanoff herself?” 

You worded your sentence carefully, her alias need not be spoken out loud unless you needed backup. 

“Answer me.”

When his nostrils flared, you knew better than to twist the knife. 

“Steve didn’t sign the accords. He was on the run for two years before you asked me for him. This is public knowledge.”

He pointed his index finger at you, shaking it wildly. “You lie. Why you lie?”

You had to blink multiple times through your shocked state, mouth agape and involuntarily racks of laughter spilling. He couldn’t be serious. You could only repeat the same thing so many times. 

“Like I said all those years ago - He. Was. On. The. Run. No contact. I had no way of contacting him!”

He struggled to grab whatever on his desk to raise toward your face. In this case, he pointed his phone in a threatening manner. “Excuses! Remember the last time you made such a poor excuse?”

The laughing stopped, your mouth immediately shutting. You clenched your jaw to work through your murderous impulses. 

You wondered how your hands would look wrapped around his neck. Red and angry, tightening as each desperate second passes, nails forming crescents as they pressed in his skin. If there was a window, you would definitely kick him out of it. Wave goodbye as he fell dramatically. But the mansion was one story high and you couldn’t magically conjure up a window. God, this would be the absolute best time to have Wanda or Loki here to use some of that dark magic. Either way, you just wanted to wipe that shit-eating grin off his face right now. 

“He. Was on. The run.”

“And I thought you learned your lesson.”

You stood from your seat and leaned on the desk, arms holding you up and face inches away from his. “You gonna send in your men to remind me? With my Captain a few feet away?”

His lips were trembling as much as yours were - face blotchy with silver droplets of sweat and an angry blush now reaching his forehead. For a seventy-five year old man, he still had such a rage in him that didn’t risk a heart attack. Lucky bastard. 

“He best not interfere if it’s what I choose to do.”

Outside, Steve gripped the back door handle to the point it squished in on itself, metal twisting awkwardly and splintering the paint. His free hand was balled into the meanest fist, even his stubby nails wreaking havoc on his pale palm. He was making himself bleed by the restraint. He took slow breaths, eyes closed but ears fully alert. He wouldn’t cry. Not right now. 

“I called you back alone to invite you to breakfast the day after tomorrow.”

Whether it was because he knew you were only a few seconds from lunging yourself across his desk to break his neck or because he was tired from all the energy he had just exerted, your father slumped back into his seat as he spoke. 

“The hotel has free breakfast.”

He shook his head in complete astonishment, “You’re not getting out of this. I have important business to discuss with each of you.”

You continued to stare him down, “Over coffee?”

He shrugged his shoulders, “I can’t leave the estate so close to the wedding. Your sister is flying in tomorrow and I have to make sure construction is done by then.”

“Right, ‘cause you’re the best father in the world.”

Being in the same room was suffocating, but you couldn’t help but be fascinated by the man. How unbelievably thoughtless yet calculated he could be. How unbelievably fake yet so damn real in all his hidden meanings.

“Jackeline likes to think so.”

Your sister was sweet, sure, and there was an unspoken agreement between the two of you to not fight one another, being the only daughters and all. But you were eight years old when she was born, already tainted by the world in which she was just born into. Forgive your lack of sisterly bond. When you were sixteen, you dipped. Now, at the sprouting ages of twenty-six and eighteen, you two couldn’t be more different. 

Actually, yes you could. If she thought your father was a good man, she was entirely ignorant of the world she lives in. 

“Good for her. Why don’t we discuss the shipment transport during the most important day of her life?”

“Nice try. That’s what the rehearsal dinner is for - rehearsal.” 

You gave your father a sad smile, “You really won’t trust me. After all these years of following your orders.”

“Now, let’s not go bringing up the past.”

You interrupted, “Why not? You’re trusting my Captain and I to help you move that shipment but won’t trust me enough to tell me where it is right now?” 

He was back to standing but he was much calmer. “Right now, I trust your Captain more than you. What kind of man would leave everything moral behind for a bunch of criminals? A bad one.”

“You’ve known him for like, two seconds.”

Your father searched his pockets for loose cigarettes. “He left everything moral behind for me. For you. And you left me behind for everything moral.”

Rolling your eyes, you backed away from his desk and headed for the door. “Sometimes you don’t make any sense. Is that it? Are we done?”

“You accept my invitation?”

“Do I really have a choice?”

“No.” 

     The mansion seemed larger than when you entered, the hallways longer, the walls closing in, the trinkets reaching out to stop you by the wrist. The longer you stayed in this hell hole, the more likely you were probably going to unleash the rage attached to your body in the form of your favorite weapons. Bomb the hell out of this place. 

You marched to Steve’s car. He was already waiting, leaning along the passenger door like he was going to open it for you. If he did, you might kill him too. So, you repeatedly snapped your fingers at him and pointed around the car, silently but angrily motioning him to get in. He didn’t need to be told twice. In fact, he thought it might be therapeutic for you to throw the door open and slam it yourself. It was. 

Steve started the car. He didn’t need to ask, there was no reason to since he heard everything. And so did Sam. Bucky. Scott. It was being transcribed as you swerved out of the estate. God, you wanted to throw up. 

“I’ll tell you when to stop.” 

Steve choked on his breath, “Stop?” 

You rolled down the windows to breathe in the crisp cold air, teeth becoming sensitive as it passed into your lungs. “Once we get past the cameras and nearby neighborhoods.” 

“Did you need-“ 

“When I say stop, stop. Fucking damn, Steve! Listen to me for once!”

Steve didn’t know why he was challenging you. Your father had just brought up one of the most traumatic moments of your life, basically called you a hypocrite and a coward - he tried to tear you down. And here you were, holding it all together like the champ he found you to be. But he never handled your outbursts well, even if they were completely justified. 

“Don’t fucking give me orders if you won’t tell me what they’re for!”

“Stop the fucking car!”

He slammed on the breaks, instincts still kicking in during your argument and he reached his arm out to your side to hold you back from the powerful surge. His body lunged forward, however, chest hitting the steering wheel and horn. 

You scrambled out of the car and ran into the woods, feet guiding you through mud and prickly bushes until they reached a more secluded spot. Steve stumbled along after you, nearly tripping over the same rocks you had avoided masterfully. 

Before he could ask what you were doing, you pulled your gun from its hidden holster and clicked the safety. Steve’s eyes bulged out of his head just in time to see the first round sound off mid-air. He crouched down to the floor and shielded his head. You shot away from him, obviously, until all seven rounds were dislodged, aimed in the sky diagonally. 

Once the last bullet exited, you simply packed everything up. Now calm and collected, you turned around and headed back for the car.

Steve’s voice cracked as he spoke, “Seriously?”

You pushed branches away from your head as you walked, “Seriously.”

“Do you know how dangerous that is? Those bullets don’t just disappear into thin air,” Steve scolded, jogging up to speed walk beside you. 

“So fucking what? I’m keeping the rent low in this area, then.”

Steve sighed in defeat, “Talk to me.”

“Sorry, I’m shutting down.”

“Y/N-”

You groaned, tears of frustration not entirely formed, but in their beginning stages. “You already know what’s stressing me out, Steve. Do you need it in writing?”

“I know, I’m sorry,” Steve lowered his voice. “What do you need me to do?”

“Just,” you paused, stopping to face him. You opened and closed your hands mid-air as if that would help you formulate your sentences better. “I don’t know. But when I find out, I’ll let you know.”

This Steve could accept. So he simply nodded, guiding you the rest of the way with his hand gently placed on your lower back. 

     The drive back to the hotel was fairly silent. The radio provided a calming relief from such drama. Steve would glance at you every so often to check on you, but you were always resting your eyes. This was only the first day of the mission - officially. If you were this drained from one encounter, Steve needed to rethink this whole operation. Whether it was healthy to keep you on, or if the threat was just too large. But no matter the alternatives, Steve understood that this week was going to be difficult either way, and you needed to be present. This was your mission after all. He was just your partner. 

Even with a thousand things on your mind, you were still conscious enough to check your surroundings, check-in with the agent posted behind the front desk, and reconnect your mic with the teams. 

Steve pushed open your room door and threw the car keys on one of the nearby tables. “Nap time?”

You ignored his initial question, “I didn’t think seeing them in person again would be so draining.”

Steve watched you carefully, somewhat scared that you would pull out your gun again and shatter a window. “It was pretty cramped.”

You started to disarm yourself, tearing off your sweater and holsters clumsily. “And they acted like we were all on good terms! Around you, at least. I know they’re acting for my sister’s sake and then we can go back to hating each other after, but really?”

Steve sat on the edge of his bed, eyes sorry. “I really don’t know what to say.”

You threw yourself onto your bed, burying your face into the pillows. You continued speaking, albeit muffled. “You don’t have to say anything - just let me rant.”

“You’ll tire yourself out, Y/N. C’mon, we gotta draft up this report-”

You lifted yourself up and started smoothing down your hair, “I need a drink.”

Steve pointed to the computer, “The report.”

“A drink.” 

“Y/N, it’s getting late. The sooner we draft it, the sooner-”

You grumbled out again, already opening the door and shoving your boots on. “Steve, I need a drink. You know what they do to me, what they’ve done to me, what they continue to do every single day. Now, join me or not but I am going downstairs for a drink.”

Steve paused for a moment, looking around the room hesitantly. “Can I at least take the laptop?”

You threw your head back and walked out the door, “Take the goddamn laptop, jesus fucking christ, c’mon.”

     If there’s one thing you were happy about today, it was that you booked a hotel with a mini bar on the second floor. It wasn’t an outright full bar, but it was low lit, clean and the counters were made from fine wood, and there was a variety of flavors to choose from. There were only a few hotel guests spread out and a single bartender. You and Steve took seats at the counter. 

“Whiskey sour,” you called for the bartender, trying and failing to give him the nicest smile you could. 

Steve settled in his bar stool, “Thought you wanted to drink to drink hard.”

You chuckled at him and extended your arms in a stretch, “I’m mad, not depressed.”

He grinned at your movements - as if just sitting in a bar already loosened you up. “In that case, get me a beer.”

     Natasha had called Steve for help after your fourth beer and fifth whiskey. Her coaxing proved to be pointless, each request of a safe passage home seeming to enter one ear and leave the other. And you’ll end up killing her when you were sober enough for sending unwanted reinforcements, but even she didn’t want to fight you. If you wanted to drown in liquid courage, that courage churning itself into raw despair, then she would allow it. 

Steve stared at you for a few moments. Head hanging low, a deep frown etched into your tired expression, index finger tapping your glass as if you were debating whether to down it in one go or to leave it. Steve had never seen you like this, guard destroyed and face practically pale, just begging to be left alone. And it seemed the whole bar felt the same way, as there was no music playing and everyone was wallowing in their own grief. 

“I can spot you from a mile away, you know?”

Your voice immediately pulled Steve from his own mind and he was surprised you could still form coherent sentences given the amount of empty glasses in front of you. 

“I don’t mean to interrupt.”

You scoffed, leaning away from him as he sat down in the stool beside you. “Natasha sent you. Don’t tell me otherwise.”

“I’m not saying anything.”

“Good.”

Steve ordered a beer for himself, and although he was driving, one beer wouldn’t impair him anyway. It wouldn’t even cause a dent in his 20/20 vision. 

“Fucking ridiculous, it’s fucking ridiculous!” 

The bar patrons seemed to wince simultaneously and the bartender simply gathered a few of your empty glasses to wash. Steve didn’t hush you, didn’t touch you, didn’t try to reassure you. If you needed to cause a scene, it was time. Your silence for the past week had been frightening, but when Tony returned last night, half dead and without the kid, it seemed to be your breaking point. 

“Wanda destroyed it. She destroyed the fucking stone and all he did was use another to bring it back.”

Steve took a sip of his beer to disguise his quivering lip, but his eyes had no curtain. His waterline swelled with fresh tears, eyes instantly reddening, an undesired sting pinching the corners. 

“Strange must have had a reason. He must’ve, but - how can that reason include the death of trillions?”

“We’re going to find a way-”

“And if we don’t?”

Steve kept his lips on the bottle, incisors biting down only slightly as he took in your rhetorical question. You continued speaking.

“He destroyed the stones.”

“Carol is looking for answers.”

You shook your head and pulled out your wallet, leaving whatever cash you had on the counter before standing up. You stumbled but Steve latched onto your arm and pulled it to hug his waist. 

“Loki?” you mumbled, raising your head to lock eyes with Steve. He didn’t know if you were calling him another name or if you were asking for the God’s whereabouts. “Bucky?”

“Hey, stop, stop.”

“Peter?”

Steve could only nod. What use was it to lie to you? Your new vertical position seemed to magnify the true extent of your intoxication as your eyes finally glazed over and limbs trembled. 

“Let’s get you home, okay?”

Gripping his shirt, you apologized each time it would crumble and you would accidentally tug it downward. But Steve didn’t care. You were practically limp in his arms, heavy and without proper use of your legs. 

“You’re a good man, Steve.”

Steve sighed sadly but couldn’t help the small smile that formed as he looked down at you and found you sporting a silly one of your own. 

“A really good man. I’m happy you’re still here.”

Steve paused for a moment, taking in your words and holding back his own tears. If there was a time he wanted to be drunk off his ass, it would be now. He was somewhat jealous of the brief relief alcohol had given you, loose and not fully aware of the drama of the world. “I’m happy, too.”

“No, you’re not,” you slurred, allowing Steve to guide you to his car. You slumped against the passenger door as Steve searched his pocket for his key. “I heard you crying last night.”

Steve halted his search mid-pat, a hard crease forming between his eyebrows as he lifted his head. “I wasn’t-”

“I cry too,” you admitted, a drunken pout on your face. “You don’t have to lie to me.”

Perhaps it was a dirty thing for him to do at this moment because you wouldn’t remember a single word of this conversation in the morning, but he figured there was no immediate harm. He found his key, unlocked the car, and helped you inside. Only once he entered the car himself did he take advantage of your blurry mind. 

“I cried for Sam and Bucky. Who do you cry for?”

You clicked the seatbelt on, mind clear enough for safety precautions it seemed. “Poor Wanda.”

Steve nodded and started the car. “Anything else?”

“Did I ever tell you about the time Loki asked me on a date?”

Steve immediately shut off the car and turned to you. “Huh? When?”

You grinned, small giggles bubbling from your chest. “A few months ago. He was so shy, too. I said yes.”

Steve ignored the twinge in his chest, “How was it?”

You leaned your head back and tilted it towards him, your smile faltered slightly. “Never went on it. And now he’s dead.”

The urge to lean over and wrap you in a much needed hug was there, eating away at him since you called him a good man. But he had taken advantage of this situation far too much, so he simply nodded in understanding and started the car again. 

“I’m sorry.”

You barely heard him, but you mumbled a quick response before letting the alcohol fully consume you. “Me too.”

     You thanked the bartender when they slid you your drink. “I hadn’t seen him since before the world went to shit.” You took a quick sip. “Kinda strange.”

Steve nodded, wondering if he should dive deep into the issue at hand. Instead of outright saying his outdated spiel, he eased into it. He gave you a few needed sips of your drink, at least.  “Y/N, can I ask an honest question?”

You hummed, “My toes are already tingling. You could probably ask me what my kinks are and I’d tell you.”

Steve suddenly burst into a fit of giggles, “You never could handle a sip of alcohol.”

Your eyes rounded at his reaction. Perhaps the alcohol affected him in other fun ways that he didn’t know. “Nope, I’m a lightweight.”

Steve contained himself before clearing his throat, “The question…”

“Go ahead.”

He rolled his shoulders and took a sip of his beer. Leaning in closer, he lowered his voice. “If it comes down to it, and god forbid you’re incapacitated, do you want me to kill your father?”

Your mouth opened slightly, the words stuck behind your tongue. You looked down at your drink, as if some special response was swimming in it. You knew your answer, but the way to phrase it was lost. 

“I don’t want his blood on your hands.”

“But if it was the last choice?”

You sighed, “If you pull that trigger, they’ll never stop coming after you.”

Steve’s eyebrows scrunched together, “But if you pull it?”

You shrugged and raised the glass to your lips. “That’s my life, Steve. Let me deal with the consequences.”

“That’s just it - you don’t have to. At least, not alone.”

God, you hated how perfect Steve sounded all the time. Whenever he was annoying you, fighting you, or protecting you, his syllables were stretched in the most glorious way, dipping into every crevice of the person they were delivered to and warming inches of body slowly. You wanted him to have somewhat of an evil side for once in his life, but no matter how many times you thought he would explode, he didn’t.

Two years ago, when he dropped you from his life in an instant, you had assumed you finally caught a glimpse at this evil side. It was the only time you were truly scared of him. 

“You really are a good person.”

Steve swished his beer bottle around, “I wish everyone would stop being surprised by that.”

“I’m not surprised. I guess I just want to hate you, and I can’t.”

Steve’s shoulders slumped like crumbling mountains and you couldn’t stop thinking about how vulnerable he looked. You wanted to pull him closer and rest your head to his chest, hear his heartbeat and apologize for theorizing a possible hatred. 

“Why do you want to hate me?”

“When you wouldn’t sign the accords, part of me saw that as the mascot of America not caring if he invaded and pillaged everything in his path.”

“But I-” Steve interjected, but you stopped him by raising your hand and waving it gently. 

“I know why you didn’t. Hell, I helped you escape.”

“Why did you help if you hated me?”

Being vulnerable with Steve wasn’t anything new. You were each other’s support system for those lonely five years, but it all changed the moment you defeated Thanos. So, for the last two years you didn’t quite get along. But here, now, you could always tell when Steve was being honest and open. 

“Guess I thought that if you were willing to help me with my family, I should help you with yours.”

His therapist desperately tried to rationalize the experiences Steve would tell, instructing him to look past hard exteriors and accept help from others. That his old friends were still friends, and enemies should never be compared to those he loved. And he knew he was easily blinded when something or someone had the slightest mishap, instantly writing it off as harmful. 

He spoke of you often during his one hour sessions - stories of your blatant silliness and crude jokes; how you would poke your finger into his sandwiches when you thought he wasn’t looking; how you almost beat up a kid and his little gang for baiting Peter after his identity was exposed; and how you and Sam had gotten into a bar fight over something so trivial, so unnecessary, that it was almost unbelievable to see you innocently scoot away from the body on the floor in the police video, as if you had nothing to do with it and those few feet of distance automatically cleared you. 

His therapist would just listen. 

“Did I ever thank you?”

You smiled sadly, “You went into hiding soon after. Then we went to battle, lost everyone, went to battle again, and then…”

“And then.”

‘And then’ wasn’t really something you two liked to bring up. It was still a fresh wound, somewhat patched up, but still open. 

You spaced out for a few minutes, both of you enjoying your drinks. You were no longer drinking to get drunk, not that it was your original goal to begin with. You just sat in comfortable silence, reliving the events earlier that day and drafting an internal report. 

“What are you thinking about?”

You pursed your lips and thought, clicking your tongue when it finally dawned on you. “This was the first time I saw Marcus White sober.”

Steve sat up straighter, “Are you sure? He didn’t look it.”

“Yeah, he usually speaks quickly and he fidgets. But he was coherent this afternoon.”

“Should that be a red flag?”

You took out your phone and sent a quick text to Torres for him to monitor White closely for the next few days, just in case. “A big one. My father referred to him more often than he did Ramirez.”

Steve tackled every idea in his head quickly, speaking as a new one popped up. “They could be planning a move against Ramirez. He’s close to overthrowing your father.”

You raised your head from your phone, “And the wedding would be a perfect distraction.”

“He would kill his greatest rival on your sister’s happiest day?”

You let out a low chuckle, “This man has nothing to lose. It won’t matter who he topples along the way.”

Steve opened the laptop, silently congratulating himself for bringing it despite your insults, and began drafting the report. The two of you worked for the next hour, nursing a couple more drinks before you sent the final copy to Bucky. 

~

TAGLIST: @dumb-ass-writer @justab-eautifulmess @supraveng @mycosmicparadise @missnighttigress​

[maulusque]

WHAT IF MAUL KIDNAPPED ANAKIN RIGHT OFF OF TATOOINE

(I started writing this and then it got out of hand and now it’s 3:30 in the morning, rest of it’s under the break so i don’t monopolize your dash)

So for whatever combination of reasons, Maul spits out the kool-aid and gets really disenchanted with Sidious a lot earlier than in canon. He starts wondering things like “why is he not telling me his master plan if i’m so important to it?” and “why do i get nothing more than vague promises of power sometime in the future, when i should be guaranteed a position as his second-in-command, after all I’ve done for this guy?” and “why does he treat me like i’m disposable, and then constantly tell me i’m crucial for his plans?”

and he starts thinking things like “hey wait a minute, none of that childhood torture made me better at anything sith-related, it just gave me crippling trauma that actually impairs my capacity for self-control and incredible violence” and (possibly due to his experiences at Orsis Academy) “oh whack looks like kids learn a lot better and faster when they’re, like, having fun? Whatever ‘fun’ is?”

and anyway by the time he gets to tatooine with orders to “find that stoner jedi and kick his ass”, Maul is pretty annoyed at his master. And when he senses not one, not two, but THREE powerful force-presences on Tatooine, one of which vastly eclipses any other force presence he’s ever felt, and belongs to a nine-year-old slave boy, Maul gets an idea. You know, (he thinks), his master sure would love to get his hands on a force-baby like that. Master Sidious sure would be evilly thrilled to have an extremely powerful nine-year-old delivered directly to his doorstep on coruscant, with the jedi having to do all the heavy lifting of training the kid. Master Sidious would probably want nothing more than to have this kid be taken in by the Jedi, so he can start grooming a new apprentice. 

And Maul, full of spite and an as-yet-undiscovered need to adopt every force-sensitive in sight, decides to deprive Sidious of a potential apprentice. He follows Anakin to Naboo (in this universe, Anakin still wins the podrace, still wins his own freedom), and, after the fighting is over, sees a prime window of opportunity, and kidnaps Anakin right out from under the Jedi’s nose. 

(In this universe, Obi-Wan does not cut Darth Maul in half and dump him down the garbage chute- Maul, unwilling to do his master’s bidding any longer, doesn’t go full out against Qui-Gon, doesn’t kill him, and Obi-Wan doesn’t get that grief-and-rage filled boost that helped him dismember Maul last time. The fight ends, the Jedi are convinced that Maul is dead, and Naboo is freed).

Once Maul has the kid, since he’s a pragmatic guy, he also returns to Tatooine and takes the kid’s mom. Maul doesn’t know how to cook, do laundry, tie shoes, or any of that shit. He doesn’t want to have to PARENT the kid, he just wants to train him. 

Maul has zero money, and also zero subtlety, so he stomps into Watto’s shop, grabs him by the neck, and says “The boy's mother is coming with me. You will disable her slave chip and let her leave unharmed, or I will squeeze your head off.” Watto complies. For Anakin, this is his first real impression of Maul- storming the junk shop and threatening his former master for the freedom of Anakin’s mother.

Maul is determined to do a better job training Anakin than Sidious did training Maul. Because FUCK Sidious. Maul can be a WAY better Sith than Sidious ever allowed him to be. And since Maul is slowly realizing how... unhelpful... the way he was raised was, he’s determined to figure out how to do it better.

So he reads. He reads training manuals, child psychology books, teaching books, studies on motivation and performance, anything he can get his nerdy little hands on. He learns that frightened children don’t perform well. He learns about “trauma”, and how “trauma” makes it hard to control your emotions sometimes. Well, you can’t have THAT in your ultimate sith apprentice. Okay, so no scaring Anakin and no traumatizing him. Maul quickly realizes that literally everything he does frightens Anakin or his mom, and frightening Anakin’s mom also frightens Anakin (cut him some slack, he’s literally never been in a positive relationship, Maul has no model for any behavior other than “evil abuser” and “subservient slave”).

Maul is not an idiot. He knows he’s not doing it right. He’s reluctant to start teaching Anakin ANYTHING until he knows he won’t accidentally damage his precious spite-apprentice. So he mostly ignores the kid while he reads and learns.

He also observes. Specifically, he observes Shmi Skywalker. Somehow, she seems to be able to interact with Anakin without scaring him. She can even tell him what to do without scaring him. She can teach and correct him without scaring him. And she never physically hurts him at all. Maul is kind of blown away- he didn’t even know it was possible to interact with people like that? HOW does she DO it???

So Maul watches and learns. He practices. Shmi helps, guides him, tells him when he messes up and tells him how to do it better. Maul gets a lot better at restraining his murderous urges. Turns out, if you immediately kill everyone who annoys you, it’s hard to ask them for advice after. The other person Maul gets pointers from is C3PO, the protocol droid the kid dragged along. Maul understands 3PO better than he understands Shmi and Anakin. 3PO is a droid. Maul was raised by a droid. Maul knows how to talk with 3PO, whereas talking with Shmi or Anakin feels like wandering around in a fog full of landmines.

So anyway, Maul and 3PO become unlikely friends, and, as Maul, determined to out-parent Sidious in every conceivable way, learns more and more social skills, emotional intelligence, and interpersonal skills, he truly comprehends how fucked up his own childhood was. There’s rage. There’s grief. There’s murderous desire for vengeance. But there’s also Anakin. Who would be scared if Maul smashed the ship or killed random people to vent his anger. Anakin, who needs something called a “positive role model”, who needs to be taught how to use the Force, and who needs the adults around him to have their shit together. There’s also Shmi, who makes him soup and hot chocolate when he’s feeling bad, and tells him off for breaking things, and who helps him get better at being a real person, and who doesn’t seem to want anything from him other than a general expectation of not hurting her or her son. So Maul deals. He grows. He heals, slowly. There’s setbacks, and gains. And somewhere in there, he starts teaching Anakin how to use the Force.

The problem is, Maul learned to access the Force first through fear and anger. Turns out, it’s really hard to teach someone fundamentals of force usage via fear and anger without first having to traumatize them. So right away, Maul hits a barrier. He doesn’t have any clue how to teach Anakin a different way though. He needs help.

But also, FUCK the jedi. NO WAY is Maul asking the Jedi for help, he hates the Jedi. Maul is still a Sith, he’s just a new, better kind of Sith, the kind that trains apprentices who are gonna kick WAY MORE ASS and be HEALTHY WELL-ADJUSTED PEOPLE while doing it (let him dream, ok?). So Maul starts hauling Shmi and Anakin around the galaxy, seeking out any non-Jedi Force-users they can, to learn Force techniques that the Sith didn’t teach Maul.

They spend time with the Guardians on Jedha, with those weird duck-people from that one episode with Jar-Jar’s girlfriend, with some wacky monks on a tiny island in the ass-end of nowhere, and even some time with a long-lost sith cult in a box system in the middle of the Unknown Regions. Maul learns. Anakin learns. Maul uses what he learns from the other force-users, combines it with what he knows, and teaches Anakin even more. The Jedi and the Sith are really the only two groups who really use the force for Big Impressive Things, like telekinesis and lightning and whatnot, so while the other force groups would have a lot to teach them both, they wouldn’t really be able to teach Anakin how to levitate something. And you can’t be the kick-assiest, bestest Sith Apprentice Ever if you can’t levitate shit. So Maul takes takes all these new techniques, like “being calm and chill when you meditate instead of super pissed off” and “using the Force while not being filled with incredible rage” and “mindfulness techniques” and “who knew you could do cool stuff like floating rocks without having to exhaust yourself by hating everything in existence, including yourself” and applies them to the skills and methods he already has. He and Anakin have to do a lot of fumbling and exploring and mistake-making, but they figure it out. And Anakin learns. And he kicks ass.

When Anakin is 11, Maul hauls him off to Ach-To to dig a crystal out of the roots of an ancient tree. He tells Anakin to hold it and meditate, to let his emotions rise around him, to feed them, to pull them through the crystal, let it resonate, let it take on the shape of his strongest feelings. After all, that is how Maul was trained to bleed his crystals. Maul’s pain and fear and anger yielded him red crystals.

Anakin comes out with yellow. Determination, fierce protectiveness, drive, hunger for justice, righteous fury. That is Anakin’s lightsaber.

Anakin grows up, planet-hopping with his Mom and Uncle Maul in a beat-up freighter with under-the-hood enhancements out the ass (Maul ditched the Scimitar right after Tatooine so his master couldn’t instantly track him down, and Maul and Anakin are both huge mechanics nerds and bond over things like “but what if you put ANOTHER PLASMA CORE IN THE ENGINE”, so this ship is, uh, certainly some sort of thing). Anakin grows up learning a hundred different Force traditions- just about every major Force tradition in the Galaxy (except for Jedi), and more than a few obscure ones. He grows up, tinkering with his droid, learning Juyo from Maul and how to sew a button from his mom. He grows up, beholden to two destinies only: “Help me take down Sidious, because he’s an asshole and a shitty Sith Lord” and “do whatever the fuck you want, because you are a Sith and no one gets to tell you what to do” (”except me.” Shmi interrupts. “Sith Lords still have a bedtime.” “Sith Lords still have a bedtime,” Maul amends, having no desire to repeat what happened when he encouraged a ten-year-old Anakin to ignore all the rules on purpose).

And what Anakin wants to do is what he’s always wanted to do- go back to Tatooine and free the slaves. Maul thinks that a big project like that would be an excellent learning opportunity for Anakin. He also wants Anakin to succeed, so he sits him down and talks logistics. How do you free the slaves without hundreds of slave owners detonating their chips when they hear what is happening? How do you keep them free once you do that? How do you get them jobs, clothes, food, houses? What about the ones who want to leave Tatooine? What about the ones who want to stay? And what about the economic upheaval that will happen when you deprive a whole planet of its cheapest source of labor? When Anakin is fourteen, they start planning.

When Anakin is eighteen, they make their move. Anakin, coordinating with Shmi, who returned to Tatooine three years earlier to organize things on the ground (living with a woman named Beru Whitesun, who is a gateway to the Freedom Path network), activates several massive orbital EMP devices, frying every electrical device on the planet, including slave chips. (The EMPs came from a pirate friend of his mom’s, who seems to do whatever she wants as long as she makes him hot chocolate). All over the planet, lights go out, slave chips fry, and radios go silent. And Shmi’s agents get to work. Ordinary citizens all over tatooine grab their rifles and head out. They meet up with others in their settlement, and the teams sweep the area, following a plan devised by Skywalker and Whitesun. They systematically visit every house in every settlement, city, spaceport, and town that is known to house slaves, and tell the slaves to grab their families and most treasured possessions and follow them.

(Tatooine is a sparsely populated planet- you can count the major settlements on two hands. If it weren’t, this would never have worked.)

Not many slaveowners put up much of a resistance- fifty angry masked people pointing guns in your face tend to make you compliant. The only slaveowner who puts up more than a token resistance is Jabba the Hutt. His resistance, however, lasts about thirty seconds, before Anakin cuts off his head.

Maul meets Anakin at Jabba’s palace, where he’s rounding up the last of Jabba’s cronies. 

“No trouble?” Maul asks.

“Nope,” Anakin replies. “You?”

“None.” Maul said. Turns out, it’s like, super easy to take down an entire criminal organization when you can turn up to a meeting of the Hutt family heads, kill them all, and waltz out past all their security forces without breaking a sweat. (Seriously, it’s kind of hilarious how Maul is literally just that good). 

“The slaves here are freed?”

“Yep,” says Anakin. Then frowns. “Hold on...” He senses a presence. Big, hulking, simple, and starving. He can sense that, whatever it is, it hasn’t seen the sunlight or been able to move freely in years. 

So anyway, that’s how Anakin turns up at Mos Espa at first sunrise, riding on the back of Jabba the Hutt’s pet rancor. “Who’s a good girl,” Anakin says, scratching behind her ear nubs. “You are!” And she is a good girl. Padme (”I just think it sounds like a nice name, you know?”) is very good at dispersing angry slaveowners who look like they might start rioting. 

The slaves freed overnight have been gathered together at pre-designated safe zones-mostly warehouses or large buildings that Shmi has been buying up over the years for exactly this purpose.

(The slaves living in remote settlements, at moisture farms and homesteads, didn’t get a visit from the freedom teams. However, Shmi had a plan for them too. She has made overtures to the Tusken tribes. Once she managed to negotiate her way into speaking to one of the leaders without getting killed, she sold them a story, a dream. A revolution. Free the slaves. Transform Tatooine. She doesn’t promise the Tuskens to expel humans from the planet entirely. She promises them equal rights under the law (she also promises the existence of laws in the first place). She promises them the right to raise Banthas, the right to traverse their ancestral lands and the return of sacred sites taken from them, the right to trade, the right to control who passes over their lands. She promises them the right to water and shade. And, she promises them half the seats on the ruling council she plans to set up. And so, on the night the EMPs blow, Tusken raiders visit every homestead on Tatooine (again, there’s only a few hundred, a thousand at most), and kidnap the slaves. Perhaps not the most reassuring experience for enslaved peoples who have been taught their entire lives to fear the Tuskens, and not without reason, but, nevertheless, it is freedom).

As the new day dawns- Tatooine’s first dawn as a free planet- Anakin, Maul, and Shmi know that the easy part is over. Now, they have to house tens of thousands of people currently cooped up in warehouses with nothing but the clothes on their backs. They have to establish and keep iron-tight control over the planet and its settlements, and quash any violent reprisals before they gain momentum. They also have to completely rebuild an economy completely upended by the overnight emancipation. 

However, Shmi’s not the only one who’s been busy for the past few years. While Shmi was on Tatooine, planning a revolution, Anakin and Maul were traversing the galaxy, gathering resources, using the Patented Maul Method (TM)- breaking into the headquarters of powerful organizations and threatening to kill everybody in charge unless they did what they said.

As the second sun rises, ships begin arriving in Tatooine’s orbit. Pop-up housing is dropped onto the outskirts of Tattooine’s settlements, the kind that mining companies use to set up new bases on mineral-rich asteroids. The accommodations are small and sparse, but each family has a kitchen, bathroom, beds, and private space. Huge generators are hooked up to cool the new housing. Anakin knows that the already-existing slave quarters, made of stone with no windows and mostly underground- are already built to keep the occupants cool, but he refuses to make the former slave population live in slave quarters. Some of the freed people are moved into Jabba’s old palace, some into buildings abandoned by rich business owners who fled the planet when they saw what was happening. Food, water, medicine, clothes, books, toys, tools, and shoes are deposited. (the Republic’s equivalent of the FBI had been utterly baffled when Galaxy’s three biggest criminal organizations started moving cargo that looked less like a drug trade and more like a disaster relief mission). 

Anakin walks among the newly freed slaves, reassuring them- yes, you are free. Yes, you will be fed and housed and clothed as long as you need it. Yes, we will try to find your child/husband/wife/mother who was sold years ago. Yes, you can go home, you can do whatever you want.

He also asks for volunteers. And he gets them. Hardly anyone would say no to the chance to work with the Skywalker, who once was a slave like them, but freed himself and returned, who freed the slaves in one night of glory, and appeared at sunrise riding a rancor.

Anakin sends out messengers, all across the planet. “Tatooine is a free world,” they say. “All slaves are hereby freed, by order of the He who Walks in the Sky. Any slaveowners who, by their own free will, turn over their detonators will not be harmed. Any who resist, will be.” Not many resist.

At the end of that first day, as the suns are setting, once the freed peoples of Tatooine are fed, and given water, and sheltered, Maul comes to Anakin.

“I am proud of you.” He says. “You have come into your power, you have mastered yourself, and so have mastered the Force. You have the freedom and the power to do anything you choose. You are no longer my apprentice. Lord Skywalker, you are a true Sith Master.” Anakin pulls him into a hug. He maybe cries a little bit. Maul maybe cries a little bit. Maul maybe also feels mildly annoyed that Anakin is a full head taller than him now.

(Sidious would be truly, utterly offended at Maul’s criteria for Sith-Lord-ness. “THAT’S NOT SITH” he would have said. “THAT’S BARELY EVEN DARK SIDE ADJACENT, YOU ARE DILUTING OUR THOUSAND YEAR HERITAGE-” but Maul wouldn’t care about Sidious’ stupid opinions, anyway).

And Anakin and Shmi get to work. They employ the newly freed people of Tatooine, constructing permanent houses, tearing down slave markets, building critical infrastructure. Anakin pays them more than a living wage, thanks to the extremely deep pockets of Crimson Dawn. He brings in doctors and teachers, and guarantees healthcare and education for all who want it (whenever one of Crimson Dawn’s higher-ups says “wait, why are we dumping massive amounts of money into this one random-ass planet?” Darth Maul just casually sidles up behind them with his lightsaber until they remember that he can literally just show up anywhere, at anytime, and kill them unless they do what he says. If Maul’s busy, he sends 3PO instead- 3PO’s been outfitted with about ten times as much weaponry as is legal, and can be very convincing when he wants to be).

While Anakin works on infrastructure and supporting the freed peoples of Tatooine, and unfucking the economic trainwreck they caused, Shmi and Beru work on the government. They write down a few, very basic rules-Tatooine is to be ruled by a council of people, half of whom will come from the Tusken tribes, all of which shall be selected by fair and free election. All citizens of Tatooine shall have the right to vote in these elections, and the right to vote shall be guaranteed to all- except for those who have ever owned or sold a sentient being. (it was a huge debate in the Lars-Whitesun-Skywalker household, this matter of restricting voting rights. In the end, it was decided that slaveowners, and ONLY slaveowners, were to be the sole exception for universal suffrage). Every citizen of Tatooine is guaranteed access to food, medicine, and water, and has the right to have their grievances addressed by the council.

Shmi works quickly to gather her council- she knows she has to do it fast, to prove to the Tuskens that she is as good as her word. The first elections are chaotic, and perhaps not completely non-violent, but in the end, there is a council of twenty representatives, with Shmi Skywalker representing Mos Espa.

The Council proceeds to have raging- and occasionally violent- debates about the structure of their future government. What rights to guarantee citizens. Should they have a court system? What about a financial system? How are they to guarantee water, food, and medicine to everyone? What even are taxes?

The Rebuilding of Tatooine is long, and hard, and contentious. There are arguments and rage and fighting- the repatriation of traditional Tusken lands is especially fraught. But Shmi promised, and so she makes it happen (Anakin and Padme may have helped too). Maul, for his part, keeps training Anakin, and keeps managing the criminal underworld with a careful balance of death threats and actual death, but mostly stays out of the way of Anakin’s Senior Project. 

Soon, Anakin is able to re-purpose the pop-up housing, since most people have moved into traditional Tatooine-built homes, suited to the environment. The newly restructured economy is tentatively taking its first steps, and Tatooine’s baby government is becoming less and less dependent on intergalactic criminal funding (partially thanks to Anakin confiscating the entirety of Jabba’s personal fortune). He spends a lot of time in Council meetings, trying not to scream at people while also trying to stop Padme from eating them. The Council debates what is next for Tatooine, and eventually, they vote to petition the Republic for membership. Tatooinians, as a people, including the Tuskens, are fiercely independant, but, as Shmi points out, joining the Republic would guarantee them to certain things like humanitarian aid, a voice in decisions affecting interplanetary trade routes and taxation, legal legitimacy and the right to call on the Republic for aid should their sovereignty ever be threatened. Most importantly, slavery is illegal on all Republic planets, which means that if any slave-owning organizations ever pushed in on Tatooine, there would be another (much better funded) organization to call on to help quash it. 

The Republic requires that a petitioning planet’s head of state visit the Senate on Coruscant to ask the Senate for entry into the Republic. The Council, grumbling, re-jiggers their constitution to allow for a “chief councilor”, and promptly elect Anakin to the position (”Fuck me,”) Anakin says. Maul laughs at him, then sobers and tells him to be careful on Coruscant (”My former master lives there.” he says. “Mind your shields, and do not let him know your true nature. You are not yet ready to take him on, and you have your planet and your people to think of.” “Yes, Uncle Maul.” Anakin says. “I will be careful.”).

Anakin shows up in the Galactic Senate, sandy robes, uncombed hair, and half smirk on his face. “I am Anakin Skywalker, free person of Tatooine,” he says. He presents the case for Tatooine’s admittance to the Republic in a booming, confident voice, drawing on his inner strength- his righteous anger and determination to ensure his people’s future- to keep his voice from wavering.

There are grumbles. Muttering. No Senator wants to be the one to blatantly say “no”- it’s a sort of miracle story, Tatooine, the little planet that rose up and threw of the shackles of slavery and now wants to join the Republic- the exact sort of mythos that the Republic itself is built on. It’s bad PR to vote against that little planet. But at the same time, Tatooine is a sandy, useless dustball that’ll need fiscal support from the Senate, with nothing to offer in terms of economic value. Many Senators are debating with themselves, not whether or not to say “no”, but how to vote “no” without losing ten points in approval ratings.

Until the Senator from Naboo, a diminutive woman who somehow reminds Anakin of his rancor, stands up. She gives an impassioned, off-the-cuff speech, reminding the Senate of how her own planet had thrown off the shackles of oppression not ten years ago, how the Republic was founded by planets like Tatooine, and how, most importantly, they had no legal basis to deny them entry, and if the Senate voted no, Naboo’s lawyers would litigate the issue six ways from taungsday- which, due to a clause in the Senate’s constitution that forbade them from passing legislation while the issue of a planet’s admittance to the Republic was on the floor, would effectively paralyze the Senate until the courts made a ruling. And, as Padme made sure to emphasize, if the court’s decision was not favorable, she would appeal. She could feasibly stop the Senate from doing anything for years, if necessary.

Tatooine is admitted to the Republic.

“Two Senators,” Anakin demands. “In order for my people to be fairly represented, my planet requires two Senators.” When complaints are made, Jar-Jar Binks threatens to explain the complicated dynamics of a planet attempting to grapple with a colonial past. He doesn’t have to. Tatooine gets its two Senators.

Anakin meets with Senator Amidala in her office, to thank her.

“Of course,” she said. “I remember a little boy who helped free my planet- how could I not help you when you needed it?”

“Uhh, thanks, yeah, that’s, really nice of you. Like your hair. Which is nice. In an objective sort of way,” Anakin says, because there is no universe in which Anakin is not a complete idiot in front of Padme. “I named my rancor after you,” he blurts.

Before Anakin is scheduled to leave Coruscant, the Jedi send a knight to scope out the new planetary leader. Obi-Wan Kenobi shows up at Anakin’s hotel room, and goes “Oh. It’s.... you.” 

“Obi-Wan!” Anakin grins. He only knew him for about two days when he was nine, but he still greets him like an old friend, like a brother. They fall into easy, teasing conversation. “I thought you were dead, I confess, after you disappeared from Naboo,” Obi-Wan admits. “I am truly sorry that I was unable to fulfill Qui-Gon’s promise to train you as a Jedi Knight.”

“That’s ok,” Anakin waves his hand dismissively. “I got trained as a Sith instead.” Then he freezes. Oops. He was not supposed to say that. Maul would be so disappointed in him.

“Beg pardon?” Obi-Wan says.

“I, uhh, got trained, as a, uh, sift...er? Instead? A sand sifter? I sift sand for a living?”

“You said Sith.”

“No I didn’t, I definitely said sift.”

“No, you said Sith.”

“I definitely did not.”

Anakin changes the subject, and Obi-Wan lets it drop. He’ll tell the Council, of course, but he honestly cannot fathom the concept of this kid being a Sith. He senses nothing Dark about him- well, at least no more dark than is present in any sentient. Besides, it’s not like there are any Sith Lords around anymore, ever since he killed Maul (luckily, Obi-Wan doesn’t see the picture in Anakin’s wallet, a candid shot 3PO took in the cockpit of their family’s ship. Fifteen-year-old Anakin, at the controls, hyperbrake still on with his hands on the hyperdrive lever, Maul, standing behind him, hands gripping Anakin’s seat and face distorted half-way through a panic-induced rant about flight safety, and Shmi, sitting in the co-pilot’s seat, laughter on her face and knitting needles in her hands).

Anakin contacts his mother, tells her the good news. The Council, moving with alacrity, elects Tatooine’s first Senators. And four days later, one year after the Dawn of Freedom, Senator Shmi Skywalker and Senator Ooutrigh (a Tusken warrior) of Tatooine arrive on Coruscant and address the Senate for the first time. 

Of course, while Anakin has been growing up, planning for Tatooine’s future, and annoying the shit out of Maul, Palpatine’s own plans have continued apace. Barely four months after Tatooine is admitted to the Republic, Obi-Wan finds himself in an arena on Geonosis. The battle goes much differently this time, partially due to the fact that Anakin has retrofitted the cargo bay of his family’s ship to house Padme (the rancor, not the Senator), and descends onto the Arena sands just as Yoda and the Clone Troops arrive, and deposits both Padme’s (the rancor, and the Senator) into the melee. 

“Hi, Obi-Wan!” Anakin calls, whipping out his lightsaber to deflect the hail of blaster bolts (Maul would disapprove, but Maul isn’t here, he’s ten clicks away, chasing down the Jedi dropout Sidious replaced him with). 

“Anakin, what the FUCK” Obi-Wan says, staring at Chief Councilor Anakin Skywalker of Tatooine, riding a rancor and swinging an honest-to-Force yellow lightsaber. 

“Master Yoda, what the FUCK” Anakin says, later, after the battle is over, when he finally gets Yoda to answer his questions about the clone troopers. “You found out about an entire-ass army of slave child soldiers commissioned AND PAID FOR by one of your own council members, and your reaction is ‘oh thank goodness, now we have an army?’ What the FUCK is WRONG with you?!” Yoda tries to explain to Councilor Skywalker that the situation was dire, they’d had no choice, but Councilor Skywalker just keeps repeating “AN ARMY OF SLAVE CHILD SOLDIERS” at him. “No choice, we had,” Yoda says yet again.

“BULLSHIT, you had no choice!” Anakin yells. “You could have chosen to not use the entire army of slave child soldiers that you legally own!”

“Let Kenobi and the others die, you would have? Hmm?”

“PROBABLY, YEAH!” Anakin hollers (”Thanks,” mutters Obi-Wan). “Sometimes the choices you have all really suck, but you still have to make them! You can’t just pretend you didn’t have any options, you HAD OPTIONS, and you chose the one that involved using a SLAVE ARMY OF CHILD SOLDIERS.” He gestures behind him to the battlefield, where clone troopers and medics are moving amongst the bodies, white and red stark against the sand, tallying their dead brothers.

Yoda shakes his head. “emotional, you are, young Skywalker.” he said. “Cloud your judgement, your feelings do.” 

“Yeah, I’m fucking emotional!” Anakin practically screams. “I have personal beef with slavery, so excuse me if I feel emotions about it. Your problem is that you’re able to use an ARMY OF SLAVE CHILD SOLDIERS and not feel bad about it! Your lack of emotions is clouding YOUR judgement!” He stomps off. Yoda shakes his head. Skywalker is young, and too close to the issue of slavery to really have perspective on it. He does not understand. It was a great loss to the Jedi Order when the Council rejected him, all those years ago- if he had been trained as a Jedi, he would have learned to put aside his emotions about slavery, and he would have understood why it was necessary now. If Anakin could have heard what Yoda was thinking, he would have turned right back around, picked Yoda up, and punted him like a limmie ball.

Anakin and Maul return to Tatooine. Maul offers to assassinate the entire Jedi Council, but Anakin says no. He’s still fuming about his conversation with Yoda. He knows he gets emotional. He knows that Yoda isn’t entirely wrong- he knows he lets his emotions cloud his judgement sometimes. It’s something he’s worked hard on, over the years, him and Maul. How to take a step back from the emotions howling in your head, and how to view the situation without them getting in the way. And what kinds of situations you should let your emotions guide you. Anakin thinks he’s damn well entitled to strong emotions about slavery. 

Short of declaring war on the entire Jedi Order, Anakin doesn’t know what to do about the Republic’s slave army. The Tatooine Council releases a public condemnation of it, explicitly calling it slavery and calling for the clones to be freed. The Council seriously debates joining the Separatists, until Padme (the Senator, not the Rancor) and Shmi look in-depth at the Separatist Council, which is buried deep in the pockets of corporate interests. Shmi files a lawsuit, under the Republic’s anti-slavery legislation, suing for the freedom of the clones. It’s a battle of miserable inches, and meanwhile, the war rages.

With Dooku gone, Sidious’s only means of controlling the Separatists is through Grievous and Ventress, both of whom are loose cannons whose loyalty (and competence) he seriously doubts. It’s frustrating for him, and not necessarily better for the Jedi and their army (of slave child soldiers). Sidious needs to keep the war in careful balance, neither side gaining too much ground, to draw it out and grind the Jedi down and manipulate their public image until he can heap all the blame on them. Without Dooku to pass down his orders, he has no way of keeping a firm check on the Separatist Council, and the Seps are in serious danger of completely overrunning the Republic. The droid army is fifty times as many as the clones, and the Separatists have the Trade Federation, the Banking Clans, and all of the major military tech corporations on their side. Honestly, it’s a testament to the Jedi and the Clone Army that they haven’t lost the war in the first month.

Speaking of that first month, Anakin doesn’t spend long on uninvolved in the war. Scant weeks after Geonosis, the Separatist Army threatens to roll right over Tatooine on their way to gaining control of the Outer Rim Hyperlanes. Tatooine has no army, doesn’t even have a police force. It has no fleet, no orbital defenses, and the droid army headed their way has ten times more droids than there are guns on the planet. The Council faces a choice. Ask the Republic to send in the GAR to defend them- ask for an army of slaves to be sent to die on Tatooine, to stain the sand with enslaved blood so soon after Tatooine clawed her way to freedom, or do nothing, and almost certainly ensure the annihilation of Tatooine and her people. To die, or to live by the blood of slaves who died for you. It’s not a pretty choice.

In the end, the choice is taken away from them (and perhaps it’s a kindness, that they weren’t forced to choose, perhaps it’s the coward’s way out, but it is what it is). A GAR cruiser shows up in orbit, and the Council is hailed by a man identifying himself as Captain Rex, commanding officer of the 501st legion of the GAR.

“The Republic sent you here?” Anakin asks, incredulously. 

“Well, not exactly.” Captain Rex hedges. “The 501st is due for leave on Kamino, but the hyperdrive was making funny noises, so we decided to stop off in the nearest Republic system to check it out.” Rex shrugs. “If a bunch of tinnies just so happen to show up, it’s not like we’ll just sit back and watch.”

“Why are you doing this?” Anakin asks the clone captain, once they’ve got him on planet and in the council room. He’s got a lump in his throat, and his eyes are stinging. The 501st has no Jedi on board, no natborn officers, and no orders to go to Tatooine. Rex and the 501st showed up here of their own free will. Because they wanted to. To defend Tatooine.

“Geonosis.” Rex says. “On Geonosis, you saved the lives of over two hundred of us. Including me. We couldn’t stand by and let your planet fall to the Separatists, Councilor Skywalker.”

After the battle, during the cleanup, when Tatooinians are passing through the rows of injured, giving out water- giving out life- Rex tells Anakin the other reason.

“We all know about Tatooine, sir.” He says, quietly. “A bunch of slaves who stood up and said “no,” and took their freedom.” He shrugs. “Stories like that, it gives us hope. For the future.” He fixes Anakin with a stare. “If we let that hope die, we die too. Tatooine cannot fall.”

That is the first time Anakin and Rex fight together. Somehow, when the 501st leaves Tatooine, Anakin goes with them- officially, as a consultant/observer, appointed at the request of Senator Skywalker to observe the GAR and monitor the health and wellbeing of the troopers. Unofficially, Anakin and Rex become a lethal team, making the 501st one of the most effective legions in the Galaxy. Anakin isn’t dumb. He knows he’s being a massive hypocrite, running around with an army of slave child soldiers. Rex, however, insists that it’s different.

“First of all, we asked you to come with us.” he says. “Second of all, it’s not like you staying behind would have made any difference in our situation. And besides, scrapping clankers isn’t the only reason I asked you to come with us.” Anakin raises an eyebrow.

And Rex introduces Anakin to his older brother, Cody, commander of the 212th (Anakin is happy to see Obi-Wan again, but appalled to meet Obi-Wan’s fourteen-year-old togruta padawan, because why would you put a CHILD in a warzone, in a COMMAND POSITION). And Cody brings Anakin in on The Plan. The clones will not remain slaves forever, and they will not wait for some elusive promise of gratitude after the war is over. They will take their freedom, and they will defend their own, and they’re asking Anakin, who freed the slaves of Tatooine, to help them do it. 

“So basically, you want me on as a consultant.”

“Basically, yeah.” Cody says. “And also as a guy with a lightsaber who can leap fifty feet into the air and dodge blaster bolts. Those are always handy to have around.”

So Anakin and Rex and Cody, and Cody’s small circle of commanders, lay their plans. And in the meantime, there’s a war to fight. Shmi’s still on Tatooine, but Maul comes with Anakin and the 501st. He and Rex get along like a house on fire, but you wouldn’t know it from watching them- they do nothing but argue and needle each other. Rex sarcastically calls Maul “Commander Maul” because it pisses him off so much, and it catches on with the whole legion. Maul constantly mutters about murdering and/or poisoning Rex.

But after Ventress almost chokes Rex to death, and breaks into his mind to make him do her bidding, Maul doesn’t leave Rex alone for a week, and clutches his hand tightly in the medbay. Rex doesn’t mention it, so neither does Anakin. 

Padme, on the other hand, makes no secret of how much she loves Rex (the Rancor, not the Senator, though she likes him too). Padme seems to have concluded that Rex is some sort of long-lost hatchling, and can be seen chasing Rex down the hangar bay, trying to corral him into the nest she’s constructed in the corner reserved for her. Rex gets used to surprise cuddles from a massive predator.

The Jedi Council are at their wit’s end with Skywalker, but their hands are full and honestly, he’s a benefit to the war effort, so they assign Obi-Wan to “supervise” the legion, and leave them to it. Obi-Wan and Anakin strike up a deep friendship, unfettered by the baggage that comes with being master and padawan. Obi-Wan finds himself having serious questions about the Jedi’s role in the war, since Anakin is not at all shy about challenging him on the whole “slave army of child soldiers” thing. Obi-Wan is also, quite frankly, too busy to effectively teach a padawan, and by this point, he knows that Anakin’s had some sort of Force training. He’s fought beside him enough to be confident in his skills, and often sends Ahsoka on extended missions with the 501st, and explicitly begs Anakin to help him fill in the gaps in her training. Anakin obliges enthusiastically. 

Of course, Maul helps train her too. Obi-Wan shows up on the Resolute one day to pick her up, and asks how her training’s going. 

“Great!” She says. “Skyguy’s weird uncle is teaching me jar’kai-”

“Anakin has an uncle?” Obi-Wan asks, surprised. “Who knows jar’kai?”

And so Obi-Wan and Maul meet once again. And Obi-Wan is just absolutely pole-axed. 

“Darth Maul?” He splutters. “Is your uncle?” 

“Not biologically,” Anakin shrugs. “He practically raised me, along with my mom. He taught me everything I know about lightsabers and the Force.”

“...”

“...you did say Sith, Anakin, you bastard, sand-sifting MY ASS-”

“Oh, it’s you.” Maul says. “I won’t kill you, but only because Anakin likes you.” Obi-Wan throws up his hands.

Somehow, Obi-Wan and Maul come to an understanding. Somehow, Obi-Wan doesn’t turn him over to the council. 

At one point, a giant of a zabrak, easily eight feet tall, with skin a poisonous yellow, shows up, claiming that Maul is his brother, and that he’s here to bring him home to Dathomir. Maul takes one look at Savage and goes “Fuck that”. “I will train you in the ways of the Force,” he says. “I can show you power like you’ve never wielded before.” he says. “You shall be a great and feared Sith Lord,” he says. “Have some hot chocolate, you look cold,” he says. “Put on a sweater.” Savage, slightly bemused, comes to terms with the fact that he’s just been adopted.

It’s Maul who figures it out, of course. How could he not? He was raised by Sidious. He knows how devious he is, how his plans have layers upon layers, backups upon backups, contingencies stacked from here to the Outer Rim. Once Sidious moves, you can be sure that any reasonable outcome will be in his favor, because he has completely engineered the situation before you were even aware it existed.

The Sith caused the war and are playing both sides. The Sith caused the clones to be commissioned (these things are trivially easy to figure out, if you’re paying attention). The Sith want the Jedi dead.

“Contingencies,” Maul mutters. “It’s always a trap, and there’s always contingencies.”

When he finds the chip in Rex’s head, he shakes with rage and refuses to talk to anyone, fearing, for the first time in years, that he will lose control and hurt someone he loves. It is Rex who talks him down, who manages to get close to him, who embraces him and lets him cry on his shoulder, then scream and rage and punch the walls. When Maul is able to explain, Rex has to choke back his own terrified, horrified sobs. He holds them back, and calmly looks at Maul and says “What are you going to do about it?”

The surgery, they discover, is simple enough. An astromech can do it in two minutes (C2PO can do it in seventy seconds, and Artoo can’t stand it). When Anakin is told, he goes quiet for a minute, and when he looks back up, it is not Anakin, Rex’s friend, Maul’s kid, who is sitting at the table in the briefing room. It is He Who Walks in the Sky, Huttslayer, Breaker of Chains, who looks back at them. Anakin Skywalker has always wanted nothing more than to free all the slaves. And Anakin Skywalker’s destiny has always been to do what he wanted.

They tell Cody. They modify their plans. They quietly contact medics throughout the GAR, and Artoo quietly sends the details to every military astromech he trusts. When the army is safe from Sidious’ control, Anakin, Rex, and Maul conspire to lure him off of Coruscant. Maul takes over Mandalore, exiling the duchess and announcing a New Sith Empire. Sidious shows up, declaring that Maul has become a rival, disowning his former apprentice and attacking him, with intent to kill. Savage loses an arm. Maul almost loses his life. But as he lies on the ground at Sidious’s feet, arms trembling with the effort of holding the parry keeping Sidious’ saber from his throat, he hears “We’ve got the face shot! Go, go go!” in his earpiece. Gunfire, real slugthrowers, difficult to block with a saber, erupts around him. C3PO and his arsenal, along with Fives, Jesse, and Echo, the 501st’s best ARC troopers, open fire on Sidious. The Sith is forced to back away, raising a hand to stop the bullets in midair. Maul leaps to his feet, and Anakin joins him, lightsaber drawn. 

The fight is quick, but brutal. Maul’s hands threaten to tremble with terror, facing down the horror of his childhood, the monster whose treatment of him is woven fundamentally into his psyche, whose shadow has haunted Maul all his life, and still invades his dreams. But he reaches out to his family, to Rex, beside him, steady, full of faith in him, to Anakin, a blazing sun of love and anger, a shield of raw power, and to Shmi, all the way in her Senate offices on Coruscant, cool and calm and soothing like a desert spring as ever-present as the stars. His hands do not tremble. He raises his lightsaber against his master, beside the blade of his son. Together, they beat the Sith Lord back. Anakin binds the Sith’s blade, knees him in the ribs, and while Sidious is thus occupied, Maul cuts his head off.

“You were a terrible parent,” he pants, and spits on the corpse. Then, he collapses, and Rex is there to catch him, and Maul clings to him and shakes, and cries. Anakin reaches out to put a hand on his shoulder, and Rex pulls him in with a look, and together, they surround Maul, a bulwark against the rest of the world, a safe circle for him to fall apart for a little bit. At some point, one of them unstraps the small camera that Maul had been wearing on his chest. Ahsoka has, at that point, already sent the footage to every major news office on Coruscant.

That evening, plastered all over the galactic news, is a video of the Chancellor himself, showing up on a neutral world and attacking its sovereign leader, wielding red lightsabers of all things. And it’s obviously the Chancellor; there’s a clear shot of his face when he knocks Mandalore’s ruler to the ground and the camera gets a good view right up into his hood.

It’s a massive scandal. One tabloid shows the footage with a little counter in the corner, counting up every treaty and galactic law that Palpatine violates onscreen. The only thing that saves Palpatine from impeachment and arrest is the fact that he’s already dead. Inquiries are launched, investigators are sanctioned, documents and hard drives and testimony are subpoena’ed. Padme (the Senator, not the Rancor), spearheads the investigative committee, and within a month, they’ve uncovered decades worth of bribes, backroom deals, contracts with droid manufacturers, clear evidence of Palpatine authorizing Republic funds for weaponry that went straight to the Separatists, and even communication records between the Chancellor and the two military leaders of the Separatists. Grievous and Ventress go into hiding (the Tales of Grievous and Ventress, unlikely buddies forced on an intergalactic road trip on the run from the cops, is a story for a different absurdly long post at 3am). The Separatists break down in chaos, and the war grinds to a halt. In the middle of all the political hurricane, Cody enacts his plan, and the entire GAR simultaneously deserts, and fucks directly off to Tatooine. This ignites another scandal, with Senators calling for Tatooine’s expulsion from the Republic. Shmi stands in her Senate Pod, hands tucked into her roughspun sleeves, listening attentively while Senator Burtoni of Kamino accuses her of theft.

“If Tatooine does not return the stolen military assets, the Senate may sanction the use of force!” the Senator from Ryloth threatens.

“Pardon me,” Shmi says, “May I ask what army the Senate is planning sending to invade Tatooine? I was under the impression that the only Republic army was already there.” There’s a bit of an awkward silence.

In the middle of the shitstorm, before Shmi is arrested and Anakin declared an enemy of the state, Shmi’s lawsuit finally receives a ruling. And just like that, the clones are legally free. And the judge orders the Senate to pay reparations. Anakin cackles with glee when he hears. 

Rex and Cody, with the full support of the people of Tatooine, begin the long, hard, work of resettling their brothers and building a life for the vod’e. Shmi files a lawsuit against the Zygerrian Empire. Savage receives a new arm, courtesy of Anakin, who may or may not have added a few extra utilities to it. Ahsoka is knighted, and controversially invites Anakin to be present at the ceremony, along with Obi-Wan. Maul admits, very quietly and where only Rex can hear, that he doesn’t actually want to poison him. “I know,” Rex says, smiling at him. Anakin, meanwhile, finally marries Padme, the love of his life (the Senator, not the Rancor).

And in Mos Eisly, there is a stone slab, pulled from a crumbled wall and stuck upright in the ground in the middle of the square. No one knows who put it there, but someone carved fifty-seven names into the stone. The fifty-seven names of the clone troopers who died defending Tatooine from the Separatist army, at the beginning of the war. The last slaves to spill their blood on the sands of Tatooine.

[chalkrevelations]

Word of Honor Ep 6, and let’s talk a little about what’s canon, and what’s not, and about the particular slip-slidiness of the line between them on this show.

But first, due diligence: If you are NEW or JUST VISITING, this is a re-watch, so you’re going to find SPOILERS not just for this ep, but for the entire show. Scroll away and come back later if you haven’t seen all 36.5 eps and want to watch unspoiled. Also, heads-up, this got super long, because I had to talk about that stuff up there and then still talk about the ep. Hashtag long post (remorseful).

So, “canon,” as applied to fannish source material (in Western fandom, at least) traditionally has been considered the official stuff – the episode, the book, the comic, the movie – based on the religious definition of  “canon,” the collection of texts accepted as genuine and official within a religion. The word “fanon” – widely accepted fannish ideas – plays on this, as does the fandom concept of “word of God,” or things the Creators have said about the text but outside of it. Is it in the show as it aired or the book as it was printed? Canon. Is it not in the show as it aired or the book as it was printed? Not canon. (Apocrypha? Maybe. Anyway.) Generally, I think we’d say that things like material in the first draft of a script that doesn’t make it through revisions and onto the screen isn’t canon, even if you can get your hands on a copy of the first draft. The final product that airs is what’s canon. BUT this gets super slippery in something like WoH, in a way that’s exemplified in this episode. This ep is one of the places where people who can lip-read Chinese have spotted some significant dialogue changes between what the actors say on-screen and what lines have been dubbed in. (Everybody’s dubbed in cdramas, it’s just the thing that happens. You have your on-screen actors, and you have your voice actors. The ONLY person in The Untamed who did his own voice dubbing, for instance, was Ji Li, who played Nie Huaisang. All the other characters had voice actors dubbed in. In fact, the voice actor for Jiang Cheng in The Untamed is the voice actor for Wen Kexing in WoH.) One of the descriptions of WoH that I’ve heard is that this show was filmed as a bl and dubbed as a bromance. The thing is, nobody tried very hard to hide the shift. There are plenty of places that you can clearly see the actor’s mouths don’t match the dubbing, and they’re not artfully shot or edited to hide this. They’re fully on-screen, mouthing words that don’t match, right out in the open, almost like they want to you to pick up on it. Almost like it’s canon, because it’s right there on-screen, aired in the episode. In my first-watch reactions to Eps 36 and 37, I talked a lot about how the dubbing puts a layer of de-queered no-homo over what the on-screen actors are saying in these places, but if you can see what they’re actually saying and understand it, does that make it canon? What does it mean, both textually and meta-textually, if you can’t believe what you’re hearing – what you’re being told – because it contradicts what you’re seeing? How does that affect what we’re told about Our Protagonists and its “truth,” particularly in the final scenes? How much is the show deliberately working against censorship in this way? How much is it teaching us to look deeper than what we’re hearing on the surface?

Several people have talked about what’s actually being said by the on-screen actors in places where this happens, and I’m going to direct you to AvenueX on Youtube if you want a complete overview, because she’s reliable and has a good compilation that’s easy to find. She has a couple of videos called “Lip Reading for Sugar,” and the March 9, 2021, installment includes the Ep 6 incidences, the most significant of which are: At 3:05 in the ep, when WKX throws himself on Zhou Zishu’s back during the zombie Drug Men attack, calls him “mom,” asks ZZS to carry him, and tells “mom” that “your shoulder blades are the most beautiful.” Only no, Gong Jun didn’t say this, if you watch his mouth compared to the sound of the words. Instead of “niang” (mom), he says “Zhou Zishu.” Twice. “Zhou Zishu, carry me.” “Zhou Zishu, your shoulder blades are the most beautiful.” This is not only important because it emphasizes he’s gay for Zhou Zishu’s shoulder blades, but also because he’s fucking baked on Drunk Like A Dream incense when it happens, and later, ZZS will reveal that Drunk Like a Dream makes you see what you most desire, and he’ll confront WKX about how he “kept calling” someone’s name while he was under the influence of it. This makes no sense with the dubbing we get, because with “mom” dubbed over ZZS’s name here, WKX only calls Zhou Zishu’s real name once while he’s under the influence, at the end of ep 5. That is not kept calling. ANYWAY, once WKX clears his head and flies them away from the Drug Men, back to the a lakeside, there’s another disjunct at 5:05, when the dubbing has WKX tell ZZS not to play hero, that he doesn’t lose face if WKX helps him, and ZZS responds with something about your grandmother’s bear, which AvenueX tells me is a real Chinese idiom, although not for what. What Gong Jun and Zhang Zhehan appear to actually have said, though, is that WKX tells ZZS that this was just like a hero saving a beauty, with the implication that ZZS is the beauty, the damsel in distress, and ZZS respons that no, it’s like the beauty saving the hero, without a lick of concern that he’s the beauty, the damsel, in this scenario, just that he did all the work killing Drug Men and now this asshole is going to act like he’s the one who did the saving. At 31:24, dubbing has WKX telling ZZS that he’ll give ZZS whatever he wants if ZZS can get him some of the Drunk Like a Dream, but AvenueX tells me that he actually offers his body in exchange, in a way that implies marriage. And at 32:22, when ZZS asks WKX what he saw under the influence of the Drunk Like a Dream, the dubbing gives us some random story about baby WKX throwing a rat on his mother’s bed, while Gong Jun’s mouth seems to be saying something something about being in the bridal chamber with his beloved … so circling back to our first instance at 3:05, WKX using Zhou ZIshu’s name is now super-interesting, eh?

Another slip-slidey point of canon here is that there are two versions of this episode. The original version didn’t have the rabbit-washing scene. That was an extra that was inserted later into a Special Version ep when Youku reached 2 million subscribers. But the Special Version is now available on Youku’s channel (it’s the one I watched for this re-watch), AND it’s the regular version that’s on Netflix. So at 25:28, we now get this adorable little scene where ZZS and WKX are cleaning two rabbits in the lake before cooking them, and WKX splashes ZZS who pretends to be irritated before splashing WKX back and running away up the riverbank, chased by WKX. It’s flirty and playful and ALSO a foreshadowing of the flashback we’re going to see in a later ep, when they play together for an afternoon as children. Wasn’t canon before. Now it is.

Anyway, even with the (bad) dubbing that we get, this is a fantastic WenZhou ep. We open with them still being menaced by the zombies Drug Men, with a lot of swordwork by ZZS before he starts flagging because of his Nails Issue, whereupon WKX instantly sobers up, goes Evil Ghost Valley Master on Imposter Hanged Ghost who’s controlling the Drug Men, kills him with his Fan of Death, then scoops up ZZS and flies him off to a lake, where he attempts to tenderly check ZZS’s pulse and take care of his wounds before ZZS slaps away his hand like an offended maiden. WKX has to give him the qi smackdown in order to hold him still to :coff: pull down his robes and suck out the poison from the Drug Men scratches on the back of his shoulder. :hands: I remember the first time around, watching this with my mouth hanging open, demanding to know the heterosexual explanation for this. (Also, if you’re rummaging on Youtube, the Five Straight Guys Watching Word of Honor for this ep is not to be missed. They’re a little questionable in their reaction to the poison sucking, but before that, they’re a bunch of squeamish babies over using the dagger to further slice open the wounds to get to the poison, and it’s HILARIOUS. They can’t even look at the screen once the dagger comes out, hiding behind their hands. I love them, more and more as the eps go on, but they are WEAK compared to even the newbiest hurt/comfort fangirl.) There’s some more back and forth between WKX and ZZS about revealing their true selves to each other, no you, no YOU. WKX makes it clear that he knows there’s something really wrong with ZZS, and then they fight, set to romantic music, and ZZS ends up falling in the lake. I do the victory arms (  \o/  ) to myself where I’m sitting on the couch and startle one of the cats, because FINALLY we’re going to get rid of that execrable fake facial hair. ZZS fucks with WKX by staying underwater long enough that WKX panics and also dives in, we get some really cheap and awful underwater effects, and ZZS reveals his face! They end up back on the edge of the lake, drying their perfectly dry outer robes, while they sit around the fire together in their perfectly dry inner robes, but I am not going to complain because y’all. I CANNOT with how smug and pleased ZZS is for just a moment about WKX mooning over how pretty he is. Then he remembers to be an ill-tempered gremlin and pokes at WKX with a flaming stick, but I had to rewind four times just to catch that little moment of satisfaction about being admired again – it’s subtle and gorgeous and Zhang Zhehan is going to kill me with his face one of these days. ZZS demands dinner on this date, and fake-coughs pitifully to get WKX to go hunt something down, while he stays and does his delightful little thinky face as he pokes at the Soul Winding Box they got from Imposter Hanged Ghost. Then we get a shot of WKX looking at ZZS before he heads off to catch some rabbits that confirms he now knows he’s really Zhou Zishu, rather than Zhou Xu.

So, we’ll get back to the Ghost and the Box in a minute, but I do want to mention that this whole ep is layered through with mini-references and thematic stuff. Imposter Hanged Ghost rings his little bell to control his Drug Men, and remember that, we’ll see that again. WKX asks if ZZS came from the Healer’s Valley when ZZS offers him an antidote to the Drug Man poison; we learn later that WKX, himself, is the one who came from the Healer’s Valley. When ZZS gets the Soul Winding Box open and finds a piece of the Glazed Armor inside (Danyang’s, taken off of Ao Laizi by Ghost Valley before he was hung at the gate of Sanbai Manor), he gives it to WKX, tells him to throw it away if he doesn’t want it. WKX says he couldn’t possibly, and that he’ll wear it because it’s his first gift from A-Xu. Compare this to the way Xie’er will wear Awful Yifu’s Glazed Armor around his neck. We also see some of the thematic and referential stuff come up in conversations that form a repeated pattern in this ep of ZZS stressing what a bad and dangerous person he is: He scoffs at the idea he’s from Healer’s Valley, and asks if he looks like someone who practices medicine; WKX responds that he looked like a professional killer (true) who was cruel in the abandoned temple (presumably while escaping Mirror Lake) and frightening to a kind-hearted man like WKX who can’t even kill a chicken (particularly amusing given the prep for New Year’s dinner in a later ep, when WKX is the only one who CAN). At the lakeside and again after ZZS hightails it away from Sanbai Manor when they spot Han Ying there (HAN YING, my beloved), WKX asks if ZZS is a fugitive, what he’s hiding from, and says that he’ll protect him – by reason, because would he kill anyone unreasonably (omg, where to even begin? How many guys have you choked out at this point)? When they’re arguing about ZZS revealing his “true” face, ZZS warns that most people who’ve seen his real appearance are dead (probably true). WKX says he’s not afraid of death (not his own, at least, we’ll see that the thing he’s afraid of is ZZS’s death). ZZS warns WKX that he’s not only sharp-tongued, he’s ruthless (true). He tells WKX that he’s murdered many people (true) and set them on fire (not unlikely, frankly) and committed many crimes (true, in a way, although they were state-sanctioned, making them legal, if morally reprehensible). This is the ZZS who put the Nails in himself, who talks to himself about what a truly awful shixiong he is, who tells Prince Jin that he’s only good as a weapon. I like how we see this at the same time that we’re starting to see the side of him that’ll preen when someone thinks he’s pretty - this is a process, and it’s subtle, not as high-drama as WKX’s, but it’s there, nonetheless.

We also formally meet Xie Wang in this ep, artfully posed and playing his pipa among the bodies – old and new – of Zhao Coffin Home. He and Changing Ghost have a bit of a slapfight over whose fault it is that Imposter Hanged Ghost, who was actually Long-Tongued Ghost, got killed and got his (Danyang’s) Glazed Armor took by WKX, when Changing Ghost stole it from Ao Laizi, put it in the Soul Winding Box and gave it to Long-Tongued Ghost specifically to deliver it to Xie Wang. Xie Wang is super cool through all of this, and I think we get a sense of how deadly he is by the way Changing Ghost backs down. So, here’s what’s falling together: Some iteration of Ghost Valley is working with Xie Wang and the Scorpion Sect, giving the Scorpions access to the Soul Winding Threads, which we saw used at the Mirror Lake massacre and in the woods outside of Sanbai Manor to kill Yu Tianjie in the last ep. Via Xie Wang, Ghost Vally has access to use of the Drug Men, which we’ve seen at the Zhao Coffin Home (so far), although we haven’t yet been told (I think) how Xie Wang got access to the potions to create Drug Men (we also know ZZS read about Drug Men in a book somewhere, and got enough info to engineer an antidote to them). Xie Wang and the Scorpions have access to Drunk Like a Dream incense, which had to come from Prince Jin’s court, having been engineered by ZZS based on a much stronger formulation. Han Ying, from Tian Chuang in Prince Jin’s court, has been seen at Sanbai Manor, Zhao Jing’s place.

Meanwhile Chengling is doing poorly, with no appetite and getting bellowed at some more by Shen Shen, who would be the worst if only I didn’t know everything I know, which makes me cringe when Zhao Jing refers to Chengling as “my son, now.” NO. RUN, Goldbean. For some more thematic and referential stuff in this ep, WKX calls Chengling a “lonely chick with no one to rely on” and tsks over the fact that he’s “surrounded by hounds smarter than foxes” now that he’s under the care of the Five Lakes Alliance. This is clearly to manipulate ZZS into thinking Chengling is better off with ZZS, but it also sounds like an awfully apt description of Zhen Yan in Ghost Valley. I’m just sayin’.

[numberonephantompizza1]

Poppy Fanfic: “Ask Her”

For context: This is a fanfic I wrote in order to join the Poppy Milk dev team and show off my writing skills. Since the callout at the time said we’d need to write a lot of sidequests, I wanted to ask the question of what a Poppy-centered side-quest would be like. I got the idea that it would be from an Asker’s perspective, and everything sort of came naturally after that. Even though I’m on the dev team right now, it’s not canon to Omega Timeline: Poppy’s Story and even has some inaccuracies that contradict canon. With that said, please feel free to read the story below the cut.

---

You noticed something very different inside your room when you woke up. The lights were off and the sun hadn’t yet risen, but there was a certain… aura, coming from your door. You were filled with a certain trepidation, but… you approached it. It was hard to see in the light, but it looked… grey. 

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you stepped through...

...and found about the last person you would’ve expected. The spitting image of Frisk - CORE!Frisk, that was, looking up at you, in the middle of a white void.

“Wh- You’re real?!” you asked, dumbfounded.

“Of course I’m real. Have you been taking all this multiverse stuff for granted? Everything is real somewhere,” Core answered, simply. 

“I… I don’t… and you, me…” you panted, starting to feel a small panic attack coming on.

“Focus,” Core snapped their fingers, grounding you back in reality. Okay, this was happening now.

“Let’s get down to business. Simply: you don’t like me. And I don’t like you. But we BOTH like Poppy. Poppy, my dear, sweet angel… has unfortunately recently come to the realization that Askers ALSO exist in the multiverse. And now she wants to do a ‘meet n’ greet’ with one of her fans. Trust me, I TRIED to talk her out of it, but she can be darn persuasive when she wants to be. And as you’re now realizing, that’s where you come in. 

“I wanna make you a deal. You play along with whatever Poppy wants until she gets bored of this. If you’re on your best behavior - and that means, don’t give her anything bad, don’t tell her anything you KNOW she shouldn’t know, don’t use any magic, and be a general good influence - if you play nice, in exchange, I will allow you to hang out with ANY resident of the Omega Timeline. 

“Want to spend a day full of wacky hijinks with a Papyrus, or even an Underswap Sans? Consider it done. Want to know how Deltarune Chapter 2 plays out ahead of time? I know a Susie with your name on it. Whatever you want, so long as you play by the rules, and don’t ask for anyone obviously ridiculous. So… do we have ourselves a deal?”

You contemplated that offer, and everything that was happening, trying to suppress your inner urge to geek out for just a few moments. The Omega Timeline, Poppy, and all the AU’s you could think of and more were real. And you just got an invitation to visit them.

“Yeah, of course!” you nodded excitedly, though your enthusiasm only seemed to make Core more anxious.

“Don’t make me regret this…” Core sighed, as the whiteness seemed to melt away into a cozy-looking house with wooden floors and lime walls, where you were standing directly outside of a white door. Core seemed to have disappeared.

Technically, there was nothing stopping you from exploring. So you did just that. You walked up to a shelf with some family photos. One was a photo of Poppy, Core, Dusted and Rust all together, in some meadow, looking happy. At least, you assumed Dusted and Rust were happy, they didn’t show up well on camera. There was another photo of Poppy alone, looking somewhat younger than she did on the blog, seated on a chair in a photo that looked far more staged. She held an actual poppy flower in her hand and smiled brightly.

You opened the cabinet doors, curious of what knick-knacks you might find in there. Some crayons, a few random glass cups, some art by 3-year-old Poppy that was so poorly done its meaning was hard to decipher, and a locked box. You reached for the box--

“Getting a bit sidetracked, aren’t we?”

You jolted up, and faced Core behind you. Even though they were child-sized, they crossed their arms with the poise and authority of a stern parent. You laughed anxiously. “Ahahaha… ahaha… ha……..”

“...Strike one.” Core said, and vanished. The meaning of that was all-too clear. Deciding not to dilly dally any longer, you went to the room you suspected to be Poppy’s, and knocked. 

“Just a sec!” Poppy said, and opened the door. She looked up at you, and gasped. “Wow, Granpa really did come through…!” She twirled excitedly. “You must be my adoring fan, aren’t you?” she asked.

You stared down at the girl in stunned silence.

“To be honest, I kinda figured you’d be some gray guy with sunglasses, but that’s kinda silly in hindsight. How you doin’?” She asked that last line in a mock accent as you continued to stare.

“Baby,” you said.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you quickly tried to change the subject. “Yeah, it’s… y’know, it’s great to be here…” You clasped your hands together, biting your lip. You were in an Undertale AU, faced with the AU granddaughter of another AU character. You still weren’t entirely over that. Was this fever dream? Fandom heaven, or fandom hell?

“I know! Once I heard you guys weren’t from the Omega Timeline, I realized I hadn’t met even ONE of my fans… even if you guys are super annoying some of the time.” 

“Uhhh, yeah…” you wondered if you should apologize on behalf of the askers who put Poppy in the hospital that one time. Then again, it seemed kind of awkward, and it might have been best not to bring that up while Core was watching, which was always. Looking down at the cutesy girl, it was almost tempting to pull her into a hug, but you managed to keep your composure. 

“I wanted to do something a little more special than just some sorta interview, though, because you ask me questions all the time anyways,” Poppy said. “Granpa said you’ve never been to the Omega Timeline before, so I wanna give you the big tour!” Poppy went to the door. “I’m gonna be outside when you’re ready!” She left the room.

Seeing the empty room in front of you, you were tempted to snoop again, but you’d learned your lesson after last time. You headed straight out after Poppy.

You couldn’t help but gasp in awe of the serenity of the great outdoors as you were beckoned to it. You’d been outside before, obviously, but everything just looked so… nice. The blue sky, the grassy grounds, the ornate buildings… you’ve seen this place in pixel art and a couple drawings before, but seeing it with your own eyes was another story. And the next thing for you to nearly faint at was seeing the Undertale characters running around, Sanses, Undynes, Frisks, even goat moms. 

Poppy smiled. “...It’s nice, isn’t it? I KNEW taking you on a tour was a good idea.” She smirked. “Now remember, just because this is a meet-up doesn’t mean it’s free, and there WILL be a fee at the end of our ride.”

“...Uh… I left my wallet at home,” you said, patting your pockets, “And I don’t have any, uh... ‘G,’ I think. Unless the G stands for ‘Gratitude,’ amiright?” you did finger guns.

“G stands for Gold,” Poppy corrected you bluntly, unamused. She returned to her chipper attitude just as quickly, though. “Now, let me show you around!” She led you down the street. 

Walking with her, seeing so many versions of your favorite characters in the flesh, walking around… well, the temptation to talk to SOME of them was irresistible, Core be damned. You did resolve not to go too far off-track, but you shared some words with the folks you passed by, Poppy thankfully stopping each time you did. You met two Frisks - one boy, one ambiguous - an Underswap Undyne, a human version of Toriel, and surprisingly, a version of Princess Peach.

You and Poppy approached an elegant fountain, stood upon proudly by a statue of a mustachio’d CORE!Frisk. “This is the Timeline Plaza! It’s sort of the local park, where people meet up to do... stuff. Just hang out. Make a picnic. Play ball. All that good park-y stuff, y’know? And there’s stores in all directions, so it’s pretty good.” She proudly showed off her home to you, with a smile.

You talked to more on the way to the next place. An Inverted Fate Papyrus. A weird Ralsei who said his name was “Noyno.” An Asgore wearing a hoodie, who you assumed was swapped with Sans. (Poppy did scold you a little bit for this, telling you that just because someone has a hoodie you shouldn’t assume they’re swapped. You apologized.)

“This is Grillby’s! One of them, anyways. The nearest one to my house. It’s pretty good if you want an OK burger. Sanses love the place, though. It’s… kind of unhealthy. And a little gross.” Poppy said. “Especially when they just drink… raw… ketchup.”

“Can’t handle a little ketchup?” you smiled mischievously. “We drink it by the gallon back in my universe,” you lied.

“...I really hope you’re joking,” Poppy said, alarmed.

“Am I?” you smiled brighter.

“...W-well, we’re not going in there, so you can FORGET about drinking that much ketchup!” Poppy said, afraid of the sheer power of your ketchup-drinking.

You and Poppy moved onto the next spot. You met an Underswap Alphys who seemed to be trapped in a red-and-gold palette. You met a robot dressed as a circus ringmaster, who claimed to be a Chara. You met a Dummy dressed in a Frisk shirt. (You didn’t assume it was swapped with Frisk this time, which turned out to be a mistake, because it was.) Poppy stared at you awkwardly now, wondering why you were talking to all these random strangers. Finally, you and Poppy reached your next destination.

“The theater! Where we show off all the greatest hits! Including MY movie, which, not to brag, but it’s--”

Except, you’d been distracted by a hyperdeath Asriel, and were ignoring Poppy for the moment.

“...” Poppy spoke up. “That’s what I don’t get about you.”

“Huh?” that seemed to wake you up, and you looked at her. 

“Everytime it’s always, ‘have you met Underswap Sans,’ or ‘have you met JangoTale Frisk,’ or some other weird thing. You always ask that. But… they’re just people. Why do you always assume I know some random Sans or Frisk or someone?”

“I…” you were a bit taken aback. “...I don’t… we don’t assume you know them, they’re just… they’re just important.” 

“Important?” She asked. “...I-I mean, yeah, EVERYONE’s important, but, I don’t really get what you mean…”

“They’re all--” You paused, trying to collect your thoughts, think of everything you knew from the blog, and tried to actually talk to her. “...They’re like friends to me. Kinda.”

“...You guys are friends with them? I thought you were stuck in your world…” she frowned.

“No, it’s like-- I’m not ‘friends’ with Underswap Frisk, or-- or Storyshift Frisk, or Shifty or whatever, I’m just friends with… Frisk.”

...Poppy stared at you like you just said the ground was turning to jelly, or something equally bafflingly inane. “...I… think you’re confused. Look, sometimes newcomers struggle with this. Your Frisk isn’t the only Frisk--”

“I know! It’s… You don’t get it. This world, these worlds are so special and creative, and they mean a lot to me. I know we can be really edgy, and I know we ask weird questions about Dusted and Rust, but that’s all because… because...” you paused.

Poppy looked, seeming upset about hearing her siblings mentioned in the context of ‘edgy’ questions, not seeing what you were seeing. Core, standing behind her, holding up a hand signal.

The number two.

You were getting carried away. You overstepped.

“...Um… I’m sorry.” You pulled her into a hug as Core vanished. “There’s really no reason for us to ask those questions. We can just be dumb sometimes.”

“...” She hugged back. “Yeah, it’s okay. I knew you guys were super weird and dumb before I convinced Granpa to let you in here, so I guess I should’ve seen this coming,” Poppy smiled, regaining her confidence as you did your best to not be offended at being called weird and dumb.

“Okay! I think I have just one last stop in mind to cap this tour off on a high note! Literally, hehehe…” She giggled mischievously. This time, you didn’t stop to talk to others, following her directly as you approached a peak overlooking the town. For yet another time, and probably the last, you couldn’t help but ogle at the town’s beauty. “Pretty good, right?” She sat down.

“Ha… with all the climbing, I was worried we’d fall down a mountain,” you joked. Poppy seemed to roll her eyes, as you sat beside her. “...I guess I get how you can call this place home. I mean, once I stop nerding out, anyways. You don’t see stuff like this in my… reality.”

“Just gallons and gallons of ketchup, huh?” she commented. You couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Yeah.”

And you two just stared into the distance for a while. ...She wasn’t just a character. She was a human being.

...Or, technically just a ‘being,’ scratch the human part. Still, you felt a bit desensitized to all this. And so did she. You related in that way.

“I can’t say you exactly passed with flying colors, but you fulfilled your end of the agreement well enough.”

Without any warning, you were back in a white void with CORE!Frisk, just like before. You almost forgot about the deal you made, what with all the time you spent with Poppy. You stood.

“Uh… yeah. So, my reward…” you drifted off, remembering the offer Core gave you. The chance to meet just about any AU character of your imagining… or at least, any that would be peaceful enough to be in the Omega Timeline. Which still left a WIDE variety of options…

Who did you want to see? What mattered most to you?

...

Thinking deeply… you told Core their name.

“...Oh. Really? Well, I guess it makes sense for you that you’d want to see them,” Core remarked. “I can’t guarantee they’ll give you what you’re looking for, but a deal’s a deal. Let’s head off.”

You and Core went somewhere else.

---

And that’s all she wrote! If you read this far, thank you. Working on the game since then has been fun, and I think you’ll like what we have in store. Until then, ciao.

[ichigo-daifuku]

To Dye For

Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia Relationships: Dabi | Todoroki Toya & Todoroki Natsuo, Todoroki Family Genre: Gen, Angst, Canon Compliant, Random Encounters, Character Study Word Count: 1.6k | AO3 Link

Synopsis: Natsuo encounters a mysterious man in the hair care products aisle at the grocery store.

Warning: The following contains mild spoilers for the Endeavor Agency Arc and the Paranormal Liberation War Arc.

Natsuo stared at his reflection in the mirror and frowned.

As a college student, hustle and bustle filled his everyday life. He attended classes, studied diligently, moved from one deadline to another, and participated in extracurricular activities. It was a lot to get used to at first, but the newfound freedom he had was nothing short of amazing. He could do whatever he wanted whenever he wanted to, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

When Natsuo had spare time, he would usually spend it going on dates with his girlfriend or visiting Rei at the hospital together with Fuyumi. As of late, however, he had little time to do either. School activities had caused his schedule to become more hectic. The upcoming final exams would signal the end of the academic year, and Natsuo had a lot of tasks to accomplish in preparation for them.

He had been so preoccupied with his responsibilities that before he knew it, the streaks at the sides of his hair had grown crimson.

Growing up, Natsuo detested the crimson strands on his head. He didn’t mind how they stood out against his predominantly white hair at first, but as his hatred for his father grew, the sentiment spread to the biological traits he inherited from him. He loathed how those crimson streaks were the same shade as his father’s. In time, Natsuo despised how their resemblance was uncanny. People had always pointed out how his face and frame looked like a younger version of Enji. It was one of his pet peeves.

Natsuo would never forget how, for a long while, he was prohibited from visiting his mother at the hospital because she couldn’t bear to see him. He reminded her too much of Enji, even though his father was as good as a stranger to him. Natsuo wasn’t like him at all, but even if that was the truth, his physical appearance alone was an undeniable indication that he was his son.

When he was in his early teens, he started bleaching and dyeing the six streaks of his hair white. He had a way to lessen his likeness to his father, and he took the opportunity to do so. Now, truth be told, Natsuo had come to the point where he was unused to seeing his crimson hair. It was an odd feeling, but he had learned to live with it.

In retrospect, he should’ve requested a touch-up last week when he went for a haircut at the barbershop, but he had been in a rush. He disliked freeloaders and didn’t want to be one, so he prioritized attending the group meeting he had instead. With a sigh, he shook his head but didn’t regret his choice. He considered dropping by the barbershop again but thought otherwise. He could do it by himself. It had been a while since he had done the bleaching process on his own, but it was simple enough. He could do it.

Natsuo slipped his navy blue coat on and went on his way to the grocery store near his dormitory. The winter chill felt soothing and nice against his skin. It eased his mind and relieved the stress he was under, and he felt glad he decided to go out today.

At the grocery store, he proceeded to the aisle of hair care products and grabbed his favorite brand of hair bleach kit. He hummed to the tune of the music playing through the speakers and looked around, wondering if the hair bleach kit would suffice since he had the other products he needed in the dormitory. Now that he thought about it, he could do some grocery shopping as well. He should get a shopping cart.

A fellow customer entered the area he was standing on. The lanky man wore a hooded jacket that covered the majority of his face. He had his hands inside his pockets as he browsed the shelves.

The man seemed to be someone around Natsuo’s age, more or less. Natsuo was taller than him but granted, he was taller and burlier than most of his peers. He wondered if he was also a college student like him and, if so, if he attended the same institution he did. Natsuo attempted to catch a glimpse of the man’s face but failed. The stranger wore sunglasses, obscuring his features even further, except for the ebony hair hanging across his forehead. Although uncertain, Natsuo considered the possibility of this stranger’s covered-up attire being connected to his Quirk.

With a gloved hand, the man picked up a box of black hair dye and read the description on the packaging.

Oh, no, Natsuo thought, Anything but that one.

“Hey, man,” Natsuo called, approaching the stranger in a friendly manner. “I wouldn’t recommend that brand. The quality isn’t very good.”

The man stiffened but, nevertheless, replied, “Is that so?”

“Yeah. I used that brand when I dyed my hair blond when I was younger, and it completely faded after a few washes.”

“Why?”

“Well, as I said, the quality is—”

“Not that,” the man interjected, not bothering to face Natsuo fully, “Why would you dye your hair blond?”

“Ah, well… to piss my old man off,” Natsuo admitted.

“Why?”

“He has this… rivalry with a certain blond man, so he hates him. I thought it would irritate him.”

Natsuo was oversharing, and he knew it. His hand came up to rub the nape of his neck as he chuckled in mild embarrassment. He had nothing to be embarrassed about when he was just answering the man’s question, right?

To his surprise, the man probed, curious about his story, “And? Did it do the trick?”

“Nah.” Natsuo shook his head. “He just glared at me for a bit and went back to pretending I don’t exist.”

The man let out a humorless chuckle. “Figures.”

Looking back, Natsuo realized how petty of a prank that was. Of course, the man would think so, too. “Yeah.”

There was a lull in the conversation. The man shifted his head to look at Natsuo.

Natsuo was unable to see the man’s face due to his sunglasses, but he could feel his eyes as they traveled from the hair bleach kit in his hand and then to his hair.

The stranger’s shoulders shook as he stifled a laugh. He turned away and placed the low-quality hair dye back on the shelf.

Natsuo scanned the items near him and pointed to a certain section. “If you’d like a really good hair dye, this is the brand I’d recommend.”

“There’s no need.” At a leisurely pace, the man turned around and made his way to the shelf across them, grabbing a medium-sized bottle.

Hair dye remover, Natsuo noted, which made no sense to him. Wasn’t he looking for hair dye?

The man inspected the item in his hand and put it inside his pocket.

Natsuo’s eyes widened at the scene in front of him. “Hey, what do you think you’re—”

Ignoring his question, the man stepped closer to Natsuo, and with amusement laced in his voice, spoke, “Make sure to watch the news, okay?”

Natsuo froze. Why did this person seem almost… familiar?

“See you around,” the man said and walked away, “Todoroki Natsuo.”

Alarm bells rang inside Natsuo’s head. This stranger called him by his full name. He had never introduced himself nor was he wearing anything that would give away his identity.

The second Natsuo was able to collect his thoughts and get over his initial panic, he ran after the man to question him, but he was nowhere to be found. The security alarms didn’t go off despite the man stealing something from the grocery store, his escape successful.

Natsuo reported the shoplifting incident to a staff member. Since the man’s physical appearance was too obscured, the authorities had very little clue to his identity. They recorded the theft but could do nothing much about it, ultimately deciding to watch out for similar incidents from now on. When they asked Natsuo if there was anything else he had to say, Natsuo contemplated it but chose not to inform the authorities of the fact that the man knew his identity and was, most likely, after him.

On his way back to the dormitory, Natsuo clutched the handle of the paper bag of hair products in his fist, wary of his surroundings. He couldn’t help it. Having been targeted and attacked by a villain in the past, he had to stay vigilant. Moreover, why did that person tell him to watch the news? The crime he committed was theft—a petty one at that—and would hardly be worth a headline.

Still, it worried Natsuo. He sent Fuyumi a message subtly informing her of his whereabouts in case something happens to him. Not wanting to cause her unnecessary panic, he decided to leave out the details of the encounter he had at the grocery store. He’d tell her later, but for now, he reminded her to take care of herself. Shoto was at U.A., at least, he would be fine there. Rei would be safe at the hospital while Endeavor could handle himself.

Natsuo boarded the train and sat down. He set his elbows on his knees and shut his eyes, the pads of the fingertips of his right hand gently touching their counterparts on his left as he leaned forward and bowed his head, lost in thought.

Who was that man?

The question plagued his mind for a long time but held no answer.

Notes: This was supposed to be a humorous fic… but here we are.

When I was writing this story, I thought a lot about that panel in Chapter 302 where Rei said she “started seeing hints of [Enji] in the children’s faces,” and while Shoto’s left side was shown, Natsuo’s entire face was beside him.

I hope you’re all enjoying Season 5 so far. Thank you for reading! ♡

BNHA Masterlist | Main Masterlist

[thirstworldproblemss]

*BREAKING INTO YOUR ASK BOX WITH A TELENOVA GASP* Dave York: Sequel to Cici’s ideas?!?!?!?!?!?!? I thought you said you weren't writing that one?!?! 🤡 minds are enquiring tell the public ALL ABOUT YOUR SHAME!

(For this WIP Ask Game.  Feel free to send me an Ask)

Ahahaha... Ma’am!  As though you didn’t know all about that fic idea because 95% of it comes from my screaming in your dm’s!!  (Also, I’m not writing it... unless you write the middle part first!!) For the peanut gallery: 

Cici told me that she didn’t want to write a sequel to her absolutely fantastic Dave York fic, Kill Me Softly since it wouldn’t be the happy ending people want “because a murderer who manipulates his wife with sex does NOT get to have a happy ending.”  

The best outcome she could envision (as compared to “everybody dies”) was that, when wife!reader decides to divorce him, Dave realizes he loves her enough to respect her decision and goes on the run to avoid attracting danger to her & the girls.  They occasionally exchange postcards.

That’s when I set out to prove to her that even her Dave could be redeemed enough to deserve a happy ending (because I am nothing if not motivated by spite).  

Here’s how I would tell that story (cut for length and mentions of canon typical violence):

What if the postcards they’re exchanging eventually evolve to actual letters (not phone calls or emails because those are too easy to trace), then maybe one day he might start to pop up randomly while she’s traveling to various cities for work conferences.

The first time (or five) he shows up, she doesn’t want to see him. Shakes her head and mouths too soon, and he leaves without a word.  Eventually though (and it’s very clear that it’s her choice—he never forces his presence on her) she agrees to coffee, and they spend 15 awkward minutes mostly ignoring each other from opposite ends of a bench outside a random Starbucks.

Over time (a long, LONG time, probably years), short coffee breaks evolve into longer lunches where they actually talk, which evolve into her booking later and later flights back from each work trip until they have whole afternoons to spend exploring the cities she visits together.  

And as they spend more time together, she starts to realize that he’s being open with her in a way he never was before.  He tells her the truth about what he’s doing now (or, if it’s illegal or has to stay a secret then he tells her that at least, and as many details as he can).  None of it is exactly above board or safe (because even if he wanted that, he’s a fugitive now), but he’s obviously being careful to help more than he hurts and cause as little damage as possible.

Maybe there’s even a time when he’s not sure what to do about something that’s turned out to be a little more questionable than he originally thought, so he asks her what she thinks he should do, and actually listens to her advice.

She’s just so confused because she should hate him, and she does at first almost as much as she still loves him, but the longer this goes on the more she sees that he’s trying.  That he’s reaching out and being honest with her and respecting not just her autonomy, but her judgement, her opinions, her feelings.  And she feels like an idiot because she should know better by now, but she can’t stop herself from falling for him all over again, harder than ever, because he’s showing her all of himself now. (At least she thinks—hopes?—so.)

They go on together in this strange limbo—not together, but not quite as separated as they should be—until something from Dave’s past catches up with him... or rather, with her.  

The phone rings one day, and she would just know as soon as she heard his voice that something was not just wrong but truly FUBAR because he doesn’t call her.  Not ever.  He's told her over and over again that it's not safe.  So whatever is happening must be bad—hideously dangerous, probably for her—if he’s risking a phone call.

He swoops in to save her (with her consent because that’s how he rolls now), and they run off together, action movie style, while also squeezing in all the tropes: he shields her with his body; he gets (slightly) hurt and she has to take off his shirt tend the wound; oh no! it’s the last hotel room and there’s only one bed!

And the whole time she can to tell that he’s fucking terrified (because despite all the times he lied to her in the past she knows him), but she can’t quite figure out why because: isn’t this what he does for a living???  

(But of course we know it’s different this time, because it’s never been her at risk before.)

Through it all, he’d also be doing his best to reassure her and to keep a lid on his own feelings.  He’s made his peace (in every way that might affect her, anyway) with the fact that she’ll never completely forgive or accept him again, but god that’s not going to stop him from loving (or wanting) her.  He’ll never stop loving her.

In fact, he does such a good job of hiding his feelings and being respectful of her and her space, that she begins to worry he doesn’t actually want her anymore at all.  (She can read him so well about everything except his feelings for her.)  Maybe he’s just helping her out of a feeling of nostalgia or (platonic) love?

(I’m sure everyone can see where this is going, because I am nothing if not a clown for mutual idiots pining for each other 🙈)

Eventually, of course they’d get caught, trapped somewhere with no way out, the bad guys demanding their surrender, and Dave agrees to turn himself over to them as long as they let her go. 

The bad guys agree, but then go back on their word (because: bad guys), but it doesn’t matter, because Dave gets ahold of a weapon and kills them all.  (He may be older than he used to be, but he’s also damn good at what he does.) 

He thinks, of course, that that’s it.  That her seeing him kill them spells the end of any hope (even the tiny, lingering hope that he’s been harboring all this time despite himself) of reconciliation.  After all, isn’t this what she couldn’t forgive the first time around?  And now she’s actually seen what he can do—what he is—firsthand.

And is it the end of those hopes....?  Or could it be that this Dave might deserve a happy ending? 

I’ll leave that up to you, CiCi.  Let me know what you decide. 😈

[quirklessidiot]

aoba johsai’s sport’s journalist (h/c’s)

just crack+ fluff + platonic-ish relationship (gn!y/n) (w: language!) a/n: this has been bugging me for awhile now since i havent seen headcanons of this yet (if their are do send them on my ask box) and since im on a slump, i decided to write this down. this is completely fun, easy-going, and self-indulgent, really perfect for someone stuck on a slump ksks. idk if i should make some for the other schools but oh welp enjoy! happy 900 btw werkwerk uwu so weird to reach this when im not even very active.

Now let’s be honest here, it’s no surprise that the volleyball team of aoba johsai has their own sports journalist. Like, c’mon, they’re one of the best in the prefecture.

But let’s start with the basics here, shall we? Let’s start with you, how this all goes through, and how you got into this heaping pile of mess.

Yep, you.

There you were in high hopes to get into journalism for college so what better way was it than to apply for the school paper? It would definitely look good and pretty in those college applications *chef’s kiss* you’re a second year btw idk if that matters but yeah..

Much to your surprise no one was applying for the news section which was kind of sad since you wanted a buddy there.

but-but it turns out though everyone was applying for the sports section completely understandable, next to feature, it was the most exciting thing to write because there was going to be a special section and writer for the volleyball team.

You knew that volleyball was kind of a big thing around your school?? you just didn’t expect it to amass like that much people.

The editor in chief is obviously surprised, you were the first person on that day to come in there and actually apply for something else.

and guess where that led you to?

Yep, the sport’s section, specifically the volleyball team’s personal sports journalist. Your brain goes brrt brrt because you were not a sports writer at all and you were, ironically, scared of ball games.

VOLLEYBALL WAS COMPLETELY NEW TERRITORY FOR YOU.

Your editor in chief laughs it off and says, “you’ll do fine… its like news bUT SPORTS! IT’LL DEFINITELY LOOK GOOD IN YOUR APPLICATIONS!”

You’re not sure if you should be terrified or terrified?

It doesn’t help that on the first day when you enter the gym you look terribly constipated and panicking a lot because of all the stray balls being spiked and tossed around.

It also didn’t help that you crash course the terminologies and the member’s name a night before and you were just running on iced coffee that day.

Yeah, way to make a first impression, huh?

When you approach the coach, you’re not exactly sure what to say and you were this close to chickening out until you saw one of the players come up to you and ask if you were alright and if you wanted to talk to oikawa.

you’re loading for a second there.

and the poor guy who asks you if you were alright, starts looking actually worried because you weren’t responding at all.

“OH, oH IS THAT THE CAPTAIN?”

the guy literally looks very confused?? because what kind of rock were you living under that you didn’t know Oikawa???

so you go ahead and introduce yourself and say that your name was Y/N and you were the new sports journalist for the team.

“....soooo you write?”

“...”

at this point on, you’re also confused too

and idk man, first impressions do indeed last because you ended up (unknowingly) sharing the same brain cell with Matsukawa Issei.

you both were just confused there, straight up looking like two kids who got left behind by their mom in the grocery check-out line.

anyways...

He tells you the team’s pretty chill and you should stop looking like they spiked a ball on your puppy or something.

Basically introduces you to the whole team after, 

no questions asked, just go with the flow.

You basically just click and vibe???

Not only because you crash coursed and related to whatever they said, 

you literally all shared the same brain cell together.

Kentaro was another story though, kid basically hated your guts at first, it felt like if you were to say one sentence to him that day, he’d literally spike a ball at your direction.

“we’re basically the same year tho :(” -Y/N

“lmao well do i’ve got news for you, y/n-chan.” - Oikawa and basically everyone on the team.

you gradually start to understand the coolness of the sport since you had to incorporate visiting them once or twice a week during practice.

but suddenly it becomes almost a daily routine after a month because they’re just really friendly people??

like wow, they’re all friendly giants.

You’re literally just there to write about them but they’re really patient and kind, they even invite you to practice games so that you could practice out your skills in writing since you mentioned that you’ve never written for sports yet.

they even give you some added key terms that aren’t found in books and online.

you’re def closest to iwaizumi and matsukawa.

iwaizumi because he makes really funny fish jokes about oikawa (yes you arent supposed to be laughing but man theyre funny af, oikawa would usually call you and iwa corny because the jokes aren’t even that funny) and yes its canon that whenever iwaizumi sees an oikawa fish in textbooks, he starts laughing and joking about it.

no explanation needed why you ended up being close to matsukawa.

its obvious after that first meeting ya both would be besties.

same brain cell bros go brrt brrt.

incredibly!! supportive!! I CANNOT STRESS THAT ENOUGH

like when you release a new write up about them, Oikawa would usually go, “It’s such an honor to be apart of your first steps, can you sign this?”

dramatic but hella supportive, we stan the gr8 king

“oh, wow, i thought you said you didn’t write before? how come you sound like a professional already?” - Hanamaki 

another dramatic best boi.

akira + kindaichi getting shy because they’ve never experienced this yet. So whenever you try to interview them about stats or something for a special issue, they usually end up a stuttering mess

“w-well, L/N-san...”

kentaro slowly warming up to you but still looks like he wants to spike a volleyball at your face 90% of the time but unlike before you’re used to his whole thing already.

“Move, extra.”

“You were great, by the way. That was a powerful spike!”

you may or may not be included in random ramen nights with the team

yes, oikawa buys you your own bowl of ramen

itadakimasu.

he doesn’t mind tho, he really loves how you write them. 

so its sort of a thank you for giving the team justice when you write about them.

team says you’re technically part of the team so they make you your own jersey. Now when you watch your games people ask if you’re like the manager or smthng.

“ no :’) “

When they lost against shiratorizawa and karasuno, you were bawling too like you were apart of the team.

this pretty much cheered everyone up despite the loss because your crying face was apparently very funny and memable.

oh right, your article was passed on to the town’s newspaper

it was literally like 7 am on a saturday and your notifs went zoop.

they added you to their group chat and spammed you with pictures of the articles that you wrote.

“...wOW I CAN’T BELIEVE IT?? YOU GOT FRONT PAGE FOR SPORTS???” -Oikawa

“we didn’t even win the tournament but we still get a feature?? thats so cool?? holy shit?? CONGRATS KSKSKS” -matsukawa

lmao idk matsukawa looks like a keyboard smasher tbh idk why

pretty much its normal for you to even start hanging out already outside of the court and after practice to get steam buns.

more chaotic mess and clumsy you running around.

your volleyball sports writing experience wouldn’t be complete until someone accidentally spikes a ball at the back of your head amaright?

ironically, it’s yahaba who does that to you. poor smoll bean.

“wow, you’re dumb.” -kentaro says to you

“ :’)” -you.

“y/N-SAN I SWEAR IT WAS AN ACCIDENT.” -yahaba 

overall, you found yourself in a safe haven with the volleyball team and yes, you also cried when the third years graduated. 

the third years have a picture with everyone on the team + you with a very red face from all the crying?? once again, you’ve proven yourself to be a meme.

continued to write for them up until graduation.

and its def obvious you kept in touch with all of them after, duh.