#me deviating from canon just to suit my very own needs? very likely

[creative-caramel-coffee]

Hiiii :) okay so this kinda deviates from your prompt list but doesn’t Yano?

Wandanat x r where r has been in a bad relationship and her period was always something that caused her to get in trouble, r would fear Wanda and nat seeing her on her period, but it’s now painfully obvious bc she’s leaked on her suit. One of them mention it and that caused r to have a panic attack and get so caught in her own mind she reacts instinctively to protect themselves but the girls are there to comfort and love their gf

~ a writer you follow 🕯️

Period Panic

Pairings: Wandanat x R

Word count: 1.4K

Summary: After hiding her period from her girlfriends due to past relationships, what happens when you leak on your suit during a mission?

TW: mentions of past abuse, panic attacks, period / blood, canon typical violence, non sexual nudity, past trauma, flinching, crying

A/n I love this idea. I hope I did it justice. I am happy to explore any requests that aren’t on my prompts list as long as they follow my do’s and don’ts so I’m happy to write it. It was quite fun to write :) Also would you like to be 🕯anon? (So I can know when its you) Im very excited to get a request from a writer a follow (I only ever really follow my favourite writers so it means a lot)

Standing in your bathroom you quelled the anxiety rising in your chest. Sure, Wanda and Natasha had always been amazing. They were by far the best girlfriends you could ever ask for.

But that didn’t stop the fear you felt at the idea of them finding out. Past relationships had ingrained fears in you that were hard to shake. As a child your period was simply a fact of life. Something you would deal with and move on. However, after your last long-term relationship you began to fear it. Your partner had made snide remarks, insults and mean comments whenever you expressed anything to do with that time of the month.

At first you simply had brushed it off. However, as time went on, they had only seemed to become more aggressive in their actions. Eventually, by the time it ended you were afraid of that time of the month. The unbothered feelings you had towards your period were gone, replaced with a deep-rooted fear of inadequacy and disgust for yourself.

A knock broke you from your thoughts and you sucked in a sharp breath.

“Detka?” It was Natasha, most likely back from training and wanting a shower.

“Y-yes?” You cursed yourself for the waver in your voice, knowing as a trained spy she wouldn’t miss it.

“Are you ok my sweet?” She asked.

“Yes, I’m fine, I'll be out in a minute.” You called slipping on that mask easily.

“Ok love.” Nat said and you sighed softly in relief. Maybe she hadn’t realised

Quickly you went to your hidden stash of period supplies. You didn’t want Wanda or Natasha to ever know when your period was so everything you needed was kept hidden. Pulling the pad from where it was tucked inside the centre of a spare toilet roll in a small cupboard you stuck it in your underwear as quietly as possible. Shoving the wrapper in your pocket to dispose of later you washed your hands and exited the bathroom. Making sure you had left no blood or evidence before leaving.

As you entered the bedroom you caught a glimpse of Wanda pulling off her shirt as Natasha smiled at you and took your place in the bathroom for a shower.

“How are you this morning my lovebug?” Wanda asked and you smiled.

“Im good. Are you ready for the mission?” You asked and Wanda sighed.

“I wish we could just stay here and cuddle.” She said and you nodded.

“Me too.”

“We better get changed into our suits the jet leaves soon.” Nat said leaving the bathroom in record time. She had a towel around her as she grabbed her suit and retreated back to the bathroom to change. Wanda nodded and grabbed her own suit, slipping it on in the corner of the bedroom. Once Nat left the bathroom you took her place and changed. Wanda shot Nat a confused look, normally you had to issues getting changed in the same room as them. Nat shrugged and decided to keep a close eye on you for the mission.

In the bathroom you looked at the pads wings that were visible on the outside of your undies with disgust. Shaking you head you pulled on your suit. It was rather tight but snug. The light grey colour was a risk, but you had no alternative. You simply prayed the pad would be enough and left the bathroom.

Wanda was sat on the bed watching Nat slip all her weapons into her suit before they stood and the three of you left to head to the jet. Tony, Steve and Bucky were waiting as the three of you got on board.

“Geez i almost thought i got stood up.” Tony said and shoved Nat toward the cockpit. “Do your thing Romanoff.” He grinned and Nat glared at him.

“Stark.” She said warningly. Tony put his hands up in a surrender and she suppressed a smirk. Although she was quite soft behind closed doors with you and Wanda, she had a reputation to uphold in the compound. Nat settled herself in the pilot seat and the jet rumbled to life.

The mission itself was rather simple. Tony and Steve had cleared the west wing of the base while Natasha, Wanda and you had done the east. After taking out a handful of agents and grabbing the hard drive of intel that shield needed, Nat holstered her gun and her and Wanda walked behind you as you made you way back to the jet. Wanda’s eyes fell on your ass as you walked. Widening slightly at the red patch between your legs.

You had never been one to make a big deal of your period with them, but Wanda didn’t think you appreciate it if the boys saw. Wanda nudged Natasha whose eyes were scanning the trees as you walked to the jet which was in the woods near the base. Natasha followed Wanda’s eyes and nodded in agreement. The two girls stopped their movement and as you realised, they were no longer following you, you turned around swiftly.

“What’s wrong?” You asked in high alert now scanning the trees for a threat.

“Honey.” Nat said with a soft tone.

“Sweetheart here take this my love.” Wanda said handing you a jacket.

“W-why?” You asked starting to worry.

“Love your periods escaping a little.” Wanda said trying to make you laugh so you didn’t feel bad. At the look you had on your face Wanda began to get worried.

Your eyes widened and your breathing picked up. Wandas hand still held out the jacket, but you made no move to reach for it. Nat studied you every move as your hands clenched and unclenched at your sides. Fingers trembling slightly. Your breathing was now short as ragged as you struggled to get the air into your lungs. Your chest felt tight, and your heart began to race in your ears. Tears dripped down your cheeks and for a moment the two girls froze, unsure of what was happening.

Before they could react, you began to apologise profusely. Seemingly afraid of what they would do. Nat carefully took a step towards you, but you flinched back before your legs gave out and you curled up on the floor. Nat soon became aware of how exposed you were and simply shoved down her feelings. Gently she picked you up in her arms, unbothered as her suit was black and didn’t show blood stains. Wanda went ahead on high alert to protect the both of you. You sobbed and buried your face in Nat’s chest.

“It's ok love, we aren’t mad.” Nat said rubbing her hand up and down your back. She whispered words of reassurance and began to exaggerate her breathing as she realised how pale you were begging to look.

“Breathe with me my love. In deep for four. One…two…three… four. And hold…. Two … three … four. And out… two … three…four. You're doing so good for me lovebug.” She said coaching you through the panic attack. Once back on the jet Nat took you to one of the small rooms and sat on the floor with you still tucked into her.

Wanda sat next to Nat and rubbed your back as you continued to cry into Natasha’s neck. The two girls began to get a hold on your breathing. Still talking softly and reassuring you. Wanda had told Steve to pilot the jet as he was just as qualified as Natasha just not as smooth. Soon you found your head in Nat’s lap curled into her stomach as your legs rested in Wanda’s lap. Wanda drew shapes on your thigh as your breathing went back to normal. You pulled a hand to your eyes and began scrubbing at it harshly to get rid of the tears. Nat took your wrist in her hand and pulled it away from your face gently.

“None of that now love.” She said and pressed kisses to your knuckles. You felt a warm feeling in your chest at how they cared for you. Tentatively you asked.

“You're not m-mad?” You said and Nat frowned.

“Never my sweet.” Wanda said and Nat looked at you.

“Sweetheart we will never, ever be mad at you for the things your body does. We love you just the way you are. Period or no period.” Nat said pressing a kiss to your forehead. You buried your face in her stomach again.

“Thank you.” You mumbled into her skin and Wanda chuckled.

“Anytime sweetness.” She cooed.

MASTERLIST

[k1nky-fool]

Truth of a Parallel

Part 4: Half Measures

Masterlist

Miguel O'hara x OC: Elisa Hannen

Pairing M/F

Per-chapter Rating: Mature

Warnings: Violence, Introducing characters that are relevant to Elisa's Canon, cool beans for you if you recognize some names, Major Character Death, angst, Elisa is not a perfect character, she will be a little out of pocket in this chapter. I can only hope I've done good enough in this fic that you didn't assume Elisa is always 100% in the right.

Taglist: @gatnalien @sevikasstressball @musicmansauxcord @2downbad4dilfs @its-paprika

Gif by: @prettyoatmeal

-Miguel-

At the very least Carnage was in its own universe. Unfortunately, it was too dangerous to go in after everything and remove the Multiversal Traveling Device. And even if they succeeded, it's not like she couldn't be prevented from making another one now that 5302 was without a spider.

"Miguel?" He thought it had been Elisa, but it was a different Widow. "We gotta talk."

"Yeah. Give me a minute." He agreed, setting up a Breach Watch in 5302. If they couldn't track her, they would at least know when she leaves. "What do you need, Charlie?"

She leaned against his console, staying behind while the other Widows went ahead to discuss next steps with Elisa. Her suit was mostly green and gold, and she slapped her mask down on his desk. "Unfortunately, I think it's high time we discuss that Clara's serial killing might be a parallel trait."

"We don't know that for certain-"

"Certain-my-ass, Miguel, we know of three universes now where she's got her nasty claws in everyone's guts." Charlie snapped back, fast. Her southern accent came roaring in whenever she began to get even a little upset, much like his own accent. Both of them were lucky they were still using words the other could understand.

"And if we tell every Widow to investigate Clara Kassidy like a serial killer, then we will likely run into a universe where she isn't." Miguel argued.

"Unless it's a parallel trait." Charlie reiterated. "She's in my universe too! You really think I'm not lining up right behind Elisa?"

Miguel wasn't an idiot; he knew Charlie and Elisa's universes were the most similar so far, and they were all on the same timeline. Which meant if Elisa's Clara got caught, correctly or not, Charlie's was most likely next.

"We don't have evidence of-"

Charlie didn't break a sweat. She pulled up a scan of a newspaper from her universe.

Brooklyn Butcher Claims Another Life

"It's front page news, baby."

Miguel let out a long sigh. She wasn't wrong, but the readings were clear that the parallel identity of Clara Kassidy was inconclusive of any certain parallel trait. The only things they were certain of were her name, and that her profession was always a scientist of some sort, occasionally deviating into more engineer territory, which was nearly the bare minimum to constitute a parallel identity.

"Charlie, the readings say she's only Semi-Canon." Miguel said.

"You think I can't read?" Charlie asks in offense. "That clearly says 'Inconclusive.'"

"And if it were conclusive, it would say so." He stated, shortly. His temper was beginning to get the better of him. "I'm sorry you have to deal with this, but we can't call it Canon without a conclusive reading-"

"Was Maxine conclusive enough for you?"

"¡No te pognas así!" Miguel snapped. "I didn't want Olivia to die either!"

Charlie stood up straight up against him instead of backing down, but he just deflated immediately, leaning back on his console and rubbing his face.

"Miguel… at a certain point, it's just denial." Charlie said, leaving him as she went to check in with the Widows.

He didn't want to believe that this was a fate waiting for every Widow. Miguel wasn't stupid enough to believe that denial meant anything, but he knew the readings. Clara Kassidy had at least a seventy percent consistent identity, but that remaining thirty percent made a load of difference. She wouldn't always be a serial killer, which meant she wouldn't always find Carnage.

And none of that changes the fact that Elisa's next.

He didn't sleep. It was also apparent that none of the Widows had left yet either, even in the dark hours of the morning. He couldn't blame them. Miguel imagined it wasn't easy to watch your friend die on the news.

Looking back on her records, Olivia had always been an overachiever. She was always one of the first to volunteer for a mission if she was nearby, and offered her universe to crash if someone just needed a break from their own.

She used her watch to store investigation notes. They'd be useful since she wrote down everything she learned about Kassidy.

However, it wasn't just business she kept there, she also took personal pictures. There were plenty of pictures of varying groups of spider people messing around with her in 5302, most of which were Widows, but it seems that many more would feel her absence.

Not just spider people, but she also kept scans of personal pictures too. There wasn't one person in her life she couldn't treat like a friend. Pictures of Claudia, Nora, Oscar, and even 5302 Elisa were scanned so she could have those memories with her.

Miguel had to close the file, but he was used to this feeling of failure.

A silent notification lit up in the corner of a screen, letting him know someone had left his universe.

Elisa Hannen: 928B - 4167

He really shouldn't. Miguel pulled up the web of routes between universes, seeing her icon travel through the portal. It would start to look weird if he followed her, right? As soon as she asks why he was there, what would he say?

Hey, Elisa! Sorry I showed up, but I can't sleep, and you're the only person that's hugged me in years.

That would be an interesting way to get kicked through a building again.

Miguel took a deep breath, seeing her icon land safely in 4167. "Estoy lelo, estoy lelo, estoy muy lelo." He repeated to himself as he opened his own portal anyway.

The portal opened outside her apartment. It was probably best that he didn't draw too much attention, so he went to her bedroom window, hanging off the side with a web and knocked sheepishly on the glass.

She wasn't in her bedroom, but she had heard him. Elisa barged into her room, looking around for what made the noise, only to find him at the window. Her expression gave way to confusion, but she opened the window for him anyway.

"Is something wrong?" She asked as she helped him in through the opening that was barely big enough for his shoulders.

He stood in her bedroom, as she became more concerned, but he wasn't sure what he was going to say. "I uh… I didn't want to leave you alone."

Elisa seemed to think there was something else, but she was kind enough not to ask. "You got any clothes?" She asked, but was already picking through her drawer for something to give him.

"No, I-" What she had was clearly from a man somewhat larger than him and he could tell that by the weight of them when they hit his face, but he also really didn't want to hang around in his suit if he could help it. He silently just put them on without much more thought. “Thank you.”

“You crashing here for another chance to get a good night’s sleep?” She asked, not even worrying about him being in the room while she put on her own comfort clothes and Venom retracted her suit back beneath her skin.

“Can I?”

“I asked if you were, not where you’d be crashing.” She clarified.

“Yes?” Miguel tried.

“That is an answer.” She agreed.“So what brings you here?”

“I didn’t want you to be alone.” He repeated.

“That’s the start of an answer.” Elisa said, “But we both know that if you were worried about me, you’d have just told me to not spend the night alone. You could have told me to spend the night with another Widow, or you could have sent someone else to accompany me. So why did it have to be you?”

The room went silent while Miguel couldn’t figure out what to say. Elisa wasn’t about to let him off the hook either. “I was awake.” He dodged. “I want to not be.”

“Technically true.” She noted, taking a seat on her bed. “So then why did it have to be me?”

“Maybe it didn’t have to be you.” Miguel bristled.

“Then it’d be someone else.” Elisa pressed.

“Híjole, loca. What do you want?” He gave up.

“I just want you to tell me why you came to my apartment, in my universe, looking for a place to crash.” She stated clearly. “What made you decide I was the one to come to?”

Golden eyes pierced his being, and Miguel was left feeling exposed to her, despite that this was the most amount of clothing he’d worn in front of her. She wasn’t angry, or determined, her gaze was soft, but she wanted an answer.

Elisa deflated, assuming he had nothing. “If it’s really for no reason, then just go to sleep.”

“I did make that choice.” Miguel broke.

“What?”

“You asked me yesterday.” Miguel explained. “You asked me that if I had a choice between incredible power or falling short of protecting the people I love, what would I choose?”

Elisa stood and slowly made her way over to him. Her hand reached his fingers in some unsure gesture of comfort. Miguel was unsure too. It was already bad enough that he was here, but letting himself just tell her what he meant was all he needed.

“I chose that power, and I failed anyway.” He confessed, taking her hand in his.

“Not even Venom and I can save everyone, Miguel.” Elisa said softly, but he couldn’t look at her face. She took his cheek in her hand and guided him to look at her. When he did, her smile was bittersweet, and her face was soft. "Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really, no.” He answered honestly.

Elisa nodded, accepting his answer. “What would you like to do?”

Miguel took a deep breath, allowing her comforting gestures to help when he wanted to be the one to comfort her, and make the future feel just a little less hopeless. Elisa seems to have accepted whatever reality she’s in, regardless of what it means for the multiverse. On some level, Miguel wishes he only had his own universe to worry about, but the reality he lived in included the entire multiverse.

“I want a damn break.” He chuckled, maintaining as much honesty as he could.

Elisa smiled and just pushed a curl of hair out of his face. “Then I can hide you from your responsibilities here for a while.”

“Thank you.” He followed her as she went to bed and she offered the spot beside her. He didn’t even care about whatever insinuation that made, he was just tired

-X-

Miguel awoke early in the morning to Elisa snuggling comfortably into his side. He didn’t know exactly what to make of that, but he didn’t think waking her up was a good choice. It wasn’t until now, when he saw her face so perfectly peaceful and relaxed, that she was always scowling at something or another, even when she was smiling. Mistrust so apparent on her waking expression now that Miguel could see what she looked like without it. It’s not much of a surprise, though. This line of work was not kind to anybody that had taken the responsibility.

Miguel’s watch began to buzz against Elisa’s side, but he silenced it without even looking at who was trying to contact him. There was only a brief moment of silence before Elisa’s watch began buzzing on her nightstand, but he couldn’t pull it with a web before Lyla’s form intruded on them.

“Oh my circuits!” Lyla laughed, and waking Elisa

“¡Vete a la chingada!” Miguel tried to swat her form out of the air, but she glitched away and took a selfie with both of them in the background in bed.

“See you at HQ, boss!” Lyla saluted and disappeared.

“What the hell just happened?” Elisa stretched and rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

Miguel just groaned, pinching his brow. “No puedo más. No puedo más.”

“Miguel?”

He got up and took a deep breath, navigating through his watch to find that at the very least, Lyla wasn't absolutely cruel. She only sent the picture to the Widow's squad channel. "¡La voy a desconectar y tirarla a la basura!"

Elisa laughed, pulling up her own watch’s display. “The Widows are already calling me a lot of… colorful names.” Elisa read through as the messages were coming up. "Charlie called me a funeral floozy.”

This was a good thing for her? Figures, she’s able to roll with the punches. Her universe has almost nothing but actual slander pieces on her, and the Widows probably knew she’d take it well. Elisa was only going to be the butt of a group inside joke. Miguel was about to relive getting bullied in high school.

There was just nothing he could do about it. "Me rindo." Miguel just scanned his suit back on and left her spare clothes in a pile on her bed.

“Miguel, it’s at least a little funny out of context.” Elisa jabbed, but he just opened a portal in her room and immediately stepped into it. She wasn’t far behind and she landed in step with him on the other side of the portal. “Hey, just stop for a second.”

He almost forgot she was much stronger than the usual spider on account of Venom. Her grip on his wrist stopped him dead in his tracks. Miguel took a look at her, noting that she was much more calm than he was. “Don’t worry about what they say. They’ll have their fun, gossip for a bit, but we all have reality to get back to. It’s a little lighthearted ribbing in a very dark tunnel we’re in right now.”

Miguel knew exactly why it was weird for him. He’d gone to Elisa because he knew she’d understand why he had to make the choice he did, and why it hurt especially because it was always his call to make. She’d made the same choice he did. “I didn’t want them to know.”

“They don’t have to know the context.” Elisa said. “Widows are investigators. They’ll notice it’s not scandalous, that I’m half awake, and that you and I aren’t romantically involved, and they’ll move on. It’s not their business, and we don’t have to tell them.”

She had a point, but that didn’t mean this wasn’t gonna hurt. “Fine, but this isn’t gonna be pleasant.”

“Oh, I hope not.” Elisa hopped up ahead of him and entered the spacious room. There were a few Widows waiting. One being Madison who immediately rolled up to her on rollerskates.

“So, was it you or Venom that wanted a piece of Spider-Man?” Madison asked. Elisa ignored her, but Madison stopped her from walking away by draping herself over Elisa’s shoulders and keeping her skates dragging on the floor. “Don’t suppose you wanna share with the class where you got that number?”

Madison’s watch projected the hologram of Lyla’s picture. “Cross reference says the deer mascot on Miguel’s majestic chest is actually-”

Elisa ducked Madison and let her fall to the ground, but spiders don’t fall that easy, and she sprung up fast and was back to skating.

“Why do you still have Eddie’s senior year basketball hoodie?” She asked out loud and Elisa froze.

“Eddie?” Miguel asked, now that Madison had peaked his interest. “Who’s Eddie?”

“Eddie Brooks.” Charlie said from the platform. “Elisa’s ex boyfriend and former high school sweetheart.”

Suddenly Miguel’s worries disappeared. The Widows had determined Elisa was the more fun target, and for once, Miguel wasn’t on the wrong side of the joke. He also realized that maybe he still had to get back at her for kicking him through that building.

“Yeah, Elisa.” Miguel wondered. “Come to think of it, you hadn’t even finished asking me if I had anything to sleep in before you’d already taken it out of your drawer.”

Several Widows gasped like he’d just given them the drama of the year, and Elisa zeroed in on him as he walked past her. “You switch sides fast.” She noted.

“That’s for the building trauma to the head. Twice.” He explained, noting how her suit went flat before the textures came back. “Bájale, Venom.”

The Widows were not interested in why Miguel had gone to Elisa’s, and none of them wanted to know if something was going on between them. And Elisa also wasn’t wrong that they would know they weren’t romantically involved.

“So, what’s the plan?” Charlie asked.

“It’s too dangerous to go get the MTD, but I set a breach warning on 5302.” Miguel briefed the four that stood around, including Madison who was distracted by gliding around on the floor in her roller skates, but he knew she was listening. “Carnage will be most vulnerable outside of its universe, so that’s when we attack.”

“So, what happens to 5302 after- all this?” Elisa asked.

“Our job is to keep making sure Clara and Carnage don’t cross any universes until Venom and Elisa recover.” Kat explained.

“What?” Elisa asked.

“The Canon says that after a Widow dies, Elisa and Venom take over the Widow’s vigilante work.” She said like she was repeating herself. “Right now 5302 Venom was injured by the fight with Carnage.”

“You didn’t tell me that!” Elisa snapped, looking to him for some kind of challenge to that. “Are you telling me that if I fail, there’s nothing to protect my universe when I’m gone?”

“We don’t know that for sure.” He said. "Canon Events don't always look the same, but the outcome is the same. If you die fighting Carnage, then your universe will heal."

"Yeah, but you don't know that!" She snapped again, making the whole room go quiet. "You haven't even seen a Widow survive this, let alone if I'll be different!"

He wished he had some sort of answer for her, but she knew the truth too well for him to lie to her. So he just told the truth. "I have to believe that this isn't where every Widow ends."

Every Widow went silent. The distance between all of them might as well have been across universes, even as they stood on the small platform.

Miguel could only hope that meant they were listening. "You all know the Widows have always inhabited a very small branch of the Polyverse." He pulled up the hologram projection of the polyverse model. "What I kept secret from you is that the Widows are self contained."

The projection changed, showing the Widow universes didn't branch like they thought, but they were all fractals of each other in a more circular pattern. The point where they all meet in the middle is their field trip to Oscorp.

"I was worried that if I told you, then you would be able to deduce your Canon Events from each other's. For the sake of not destroying all of your timelines, I can't tell you everything I know, but my hypothesis is that as the timelines diverge farther, the Canon has to stretch farther." Miguel explained.

Canon Events tied certain Widow's to each other on different parts of their timeline, but the model was clear. This allowed for a lot more variables than any of them had previously thought, but it did mean one thing.

"You have no idea what Canon says." Elisa was the one to give a voice to what the other three were clearly thinking.

It made him feel like a failure. It was his job to have all the answers, and it was his job to lead everyone to the best outcomes in their universe. But he had nothing for the Widows. Instead Elisa had been forced into being their only lifeline.

"I'm sorry." It was all he could think to say.

"It's not your fault, Miguel." Elisa said. "From the looks of this, anything could happen."

"So what's the plan then, Elisa?" Charlie piped up.

"I'm going back to my universe, and I'm going to survive." She answered clearly. "And I advise all of you to do the same. Miguel will notify us if Carnage breaches 5302, and we'll move in to attack it while it's vulnerable."

Her plan sounded awfully familiar, but Miguel knew it was because Elisa could see reason too. Going in after Carnage was far too dangerous.

Kat gave stern looks to everyone still standing. "I don't forgive you for lying to me." She glared at Miguel, but he didn't dare let his guilt roar into anger at her. She was well within her right, and he never expected Kat to respect him much anyway. Kat left him with a stinging in his lungs.

"I think Kat's a bitch." Charlie offered him that comfort. "Elisa, whenever you face Clara, I want you to give it everything you've got. And Venom, don't stop until Carnage and Clara are nothing but strings in your teeth."

Elisa took her hand to bid her farewell and Venom had shown its gratitude by wrapping a string around Charlie's arm.

When it was just Elisa and him again, he wished he had anything more to say to her.

"You can always come monitor my universe if you ever want a change of scenery." Elisa offered.

Miguel couldn't stop himself from smiling at the thought. "That's a hell of a way to say you don't mind me crashing at your place."

"Well, I can't show all my cards, that wouldn't be very smart."

"But you'll show that one?"

"Crash at my place again, and maybe you'll see more." She teased.

"You're playing a dangerous game, hermosa." He warned.

Elisa laughed. "I don't suppose you know my mother is Colombian."

"Then she definitely told you what it means."

Elisa went quiet, and that might have killed him if it weren't for the smirk on her face. "I'll see you tomorrow, Miguel."

He'd just have to wait until then.

“Hey, boss?”

Madison’s voice made him jump since he had forgotten she was still here. “What, Madison?”

She swung up to the platform, landing gracefully on her roller skates as she rolled backwards into sitting on the desk. “I think we might have a problem.” She said, using her watch to look at the hologram of the Widow���s web of the polyverse.

He might not be inclined to hear polyverse theories from someone from a universe that hasn’t even figured out touch screens yet, but Madison had a knack for spotting things he didn’t usually catch. “What’s up?”

The hologram transferred to the room where she could better point it out. “So every Widow has a Clara, but not every Widow gets Carnage. And as far as we know, Clara might not always be a serial killer.”

“True.” He allowed, knowing she was just trying to gain a complete understanding of everything before she ultimately said something controversial.

“We have to take into account every Widow when we hypothesize Canon.” She further established with him, and he nodded. “But like it or not, Elisa is different.”

That was a strange way to phrase that, and it was starting to make him nervous. “Different how?”

“For starters, she’s the only Widow to have kept Venom, she is its preferred host in every Widow universe. She’s also the only Widow that tried to cure Dr. Connors, but that might just be her background in chemistry and being so close to Dr. Connors. She is also the only Widow to break up with MJ. We don’t all date her, but Elisa’s the only one that’s gotten dumped by her.” She listed. “And most critically, Elisa is definitely the most violent Widow out of all of us.”

“Elisa isn’t violent, she’s jus-”

“Dude, did you see what she did to Physk?” Madison asked.

“That was Venom.”

“And if she had a problem with it, she would have dropped Venom.” She pointed out, making Miguel go quiet. “My point is that if Elisa had found Clara, I don’t think Clara would have survived long enough to ever see the inside of a jail cell.”

He couldn’t deny that the Canon was unclear enough that Madison could be right. Elisa might have not had to face Carnage at all. “Regardless, the event does still fit the Canon, maybe the police would have caught her before Elisa could. Maybe that violence is what she needs to defeat Carnage.”

Madison deflated, likely knowing she’d get an answer like that, but she wasn’t done. “So, just like that? You hear that and you don’t even want to look into it?”

“Madison, Lyla and I don’t have a predictable enough model for the Widow Circuit.” He reiterated. “I can only guess at the correlation between the Widow universes and every other spider in the Polyverse. Since I have to guess, the stable state of all the Widow universes likely means that all of you are safe for now. Including Elisa.”

“It doesn’t even occur to you that Elisa might not have to face Carnage at all?” She argued back. “If her universe was left alone, she might not have to risk her life fighting Clara and Carnage together.”

“The Canon is intact, and fully stable.” Miguel said in finality, but it was hard to leave someone like Madison thinking they’d messed up, when she wasn’t wrong to bring it up. “I understand your point. But there are just enough variables to suggest that Elisa was never meant to be the one to catch Clara.”

“I don’t want Elisa to die.”

Her sentence echoed across the room, leaving Miguel frozen in place. What had really caught him off guard was that Madison wasn’t angry. She wasn't even frustrated, or confrontational.

Madison was just scared.

“Elisa’s different. Like you said.” He repeated. “She’ll survive.”

She seemed at the very least fine with that answer. “I hope we’re right.” Madison swung back down to the floor, leaving him with that lingering, terrified, feeling.

-Elisa-

She had to go into work today. It wasn't ideal, but at the very least, Elisa could keep a close eye on things as she helped with the aftermath of Dr. Kassidy going to prison.

"The Daily Bugle said the judge denied Kassidy's bond." Was the first sentence out of Nora's mouth, and the entire lunch room lost much of the tension it was holding. Everyone's but Elisa's.

The room split off into its own many conversations to fill the silence. Some speak of anything to distract themselves from the situation. Some discuss what they think the trial is going to be like, what the lawyers' strategy will be. Elisa just sat in silence, picking at her food, but steadily drinking a chocolate milk for Venom's sake.

At least until someone sat across from her. Elisa had almost forgotten that her own universe's Olivia was still alive. And seeing her sitting down in front of her was a kind of peace Elisa was happy to find.

"How have you been, Olivia?"

She seemed puzzled that Elisa was speaking to her at all. "I've been worse." She said. "How about you?"

"I've been worse." Elisa laughed. "Are you gonna take some time off?"

"I don't think it'll do anything for me, but there's a bar up by 44th avenue. Me and some friends were gonna hang out there for a bit tonight." Olivia shrugged.

"That sounds nice."

"You can come join us if you want." She offered, making Elisa nearly freeze.

"I wouldn't want to intrude."

"The more the merrier." Olivia countered. "And besides, it's a better place to catch up than here."

"You know what, sure." Elisa caved in. "I could use a little distraction." ”

The bar was a cute little place and it wasn’t especially busy tonight. Other than a few small groups, Olivia and her friends were the only ones there.

“Are you sure you’re ready to socialize with humans?” Venom asked.

Better than socializing with spiders.

“Fair enough.”

Olivia was the first to spot Elisa by the door and wave her over. She was kind enough to introduce her to the three people she was with. “This is Greg Stacy,” He was a cute guy, with a tamed punk style, but even with the green ends of his blond hair, and piercings along his ears, lip and nose, he smiled like he was made of sunshine.

“and you remember Charlie.” Olivia continued.

“Yeah. I haven’t seen you since high school.” Elisa recalled, but it was strange to see her after meeting Widow 2256.

“I hate to bring up ancient history, but is it true that you got radiation poisoning from that escaped spider on the Oscorp field trip?” Charlie asked.

Elisa couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, that was me. But at least my mom and uncle didn’t have to deal with the bills. Dr. Connors was so embarrassed that it even happened, she made sure we didn’t have to worry about it.” She recalled. “And who’s this?”

The last woman was easily six feet tall, being just slightly shorter than Greg and much stronger than him, but as Elisa looked at her, more senses began to warn her that something was dangerous about this woman.

“This is Francesca Castle.”

“Call me Frankie.” She allowed, but her eyes didn’t stop looking over Elisa in the exact same way Elisa was watching her.

As Elisa’s senses warned her, Venom caught it too.

“Frankie is armed.”

She had a gun tucked into her belt, hidden under her T-shirt and leather jacket. And while she couldn’t see, Elisa would bet that Frankie has another one in her boot, obscured by her cargo pants. Frankie herself was definitely ex-military. Her dark hair was cut close to her head, and her face was practiced with controlled expressions, even now as she was relaxing with friends.

Greg was the first to make Elisa feel welcome. “So, you went to the same girl’s academy as Charlie and Olivia?”

“Yeah, I also work at Oscorp with Olivia.”

“Oh, what do you study?” He asked.

“Biochemistry mostly, but I’m occasionally approached for cybernetics, since Dr. Connors was originally taking a biomechanics approach with that department. Though, the current approach will probably also be abandoned soon, since the head of the department is in prison.”

Greg hissed through his teeth. “Yeah, I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It is what it is.” She shrugged. “What about you? What do you do for a living?”

“I produce music, and my band makes a living.” He answers. “But let’s be honest, you could probably tell.”

“It was either that or you look great for a meth dealer.”

Greg snorted out a laugh. “I don’t make nearly enough money to be a good meth dealer.”

“Well, if you love doing it, then who cares how you’re making a living.” Elisa wanted to go see if she could find any CDs from his band at her favorite music store.

“Being a meth dealer?” Greg’s face went tense making her laugh.

“No, I mean your band.” She smacked his arm, but even Venom could tell she was desperate. Venom might not know it was because she desperately needed a distraction from Miguel.

Elisa and Greg stayed close for most of the night, even playing a game of darts before they moved to the patio. Unfortunately, Greg had to leave early, but not before he slipped Elisa a napkin with his number on it.

“You got what you wanted, are you really sure it’ll be enough?” So much for Venom not knowing.

Olivia, Charlie, and Frankie all talked about stuff that had been in the news recently, but it eventually got to Clara Kassidy’s arrest.

“She’s the second department lead to end up in prison this week, but also the second to be fired for criminal activity.” Charlie pointed out. “At a certain point, it’s just denial.”

“It’s not like we don’t do background checks.” Olivia defended. “Kassidy’s criminal activity was something she kept secret from everyone, including the law. We wouldn’t have found that if we tried.”

“What about Oscar?” Charlie asked.

Elisa had an answer for that. “Oscar was being exploited by William Physk, and while that isn’t an excuse for the choices he made, I can’t blame him for being manipulated. I’m happy just knowing that he’s in prison.”

“Eh, prison won’t ever stop them.” Frankie piped up.

“Got something to say, Frankie?” Charlie asked, definitely knowing she was just stirring the pot.

“There’s only one way to make sure someone like Clara Kassidy isn’t ever a problem again.” Frankie said proudly, knowing Olivia would definitely disagree. “Just like this Widow, sending Octavius to prison, sending Kassidy to prison, it’s a half measure. Tell you what, she had the right idea with Physk and his gang. Cops couldn’t even find the heads of their corrupt coworkers.”

“It was fun.”

A little therapeutic too.

“I’ve never been one to argue for capital punishment.” Elisa disclaimed. “I do think that there’s no prison other than death that can hold Clara Kassidy.” Or perhaps she was letting her imminent and terrifying look into her future impact her opinion on this.

“I hope she gets shanked in prison.”

“Frankie!” Olivia barked.

“Shit happens, Olivia.” She said, but Olivia was just done. She left the group with her tab.

Charlie at least had the foresight to take some cash out of her wallet for her and Olivia’s bills before she started walking after her. “Sorry, I should talk to her.”

Which left Elisa standing next to Frankie against the railing on the patio.

“You really stand by that?” Frankie asked. “Only death can stop Kassidy?”

“Yeah, but maybe I’m just tired of being lied to by my senior researchers.” She sighed. Frankie caught her eye in a playful, knowing way, that made it a little hard not to laugh. “Still, people like Physk, and Kassidy. Sometimes they’re just good for feeding animals.”

“What did you call me?”

Only because it would be weird to say I would feed their heads to my friend.

Frankie nodded in agreement, finishing her beer and turning toward Elisa to set it down. But she had moved to crowd Elisa against the railing. “So why didn’t you?”

Elisa’s blood ran cold, as Venom recoiled. Frankie took a step forward, but when Elisa didn’t cower, she stopped as if noticing for the first time that she couldn’t scare her.

“Why don- didn’t I do what?” She hated that she stuttered through that.

“The cute scientist act might work for them, but you’re a little more than that.” She spoke quietly to not draw too much attention from the bar tender or anybody else that might be walking by.

Still if there was one thing Elisa was, it was petty. “You think I’m cute?”

Frankie pulled the gun from her belt, but Venom had reacted before it could even be a threat. Elisa’s hand was wrapped around the barrel of the gun, but as Frankie began to pull it back slowly, she saw the metal was bent into the shape of her hand.

“Whoops.”

“Some grip you got there.” She pointed out. “Didn’t Widow catch a runaway train?”

Elisa groaned, not that Frankie knew she was Widow, but that this meant Frankie would have to earn her trust fast, or she’d do whatever necessary to ensure Frankie didn’t spill the beans to someone more nefarious. Right after she learned how Frankie had figured it out. So either learn more about Frankie, or best case scenario, scare her enough into silence.

“There’s a pretty easy way to start on both of those.”

She webbed Frankie’s mouth so she wouldn’t scream as Elisa grabbed her and swung both of them up to the roof of a building a few blocks away. It was easy to tell that she was not prepared for that, but she was quick to get on her feet once Elisa had dropped her on the roof.

Elisa let Venom cover her body. She calmly took off the outfit she’d worn while Frankie was trying to pull the web off her face. It was a nice outfit, she didn’t want Venom to ruin it with its oily form. “Cute attempt at scaring me, but I’ve done much worse to people that have pulled a gun on me.”

Frankie got the web off her face and took a knife off her belt. Elisa didn’t even move. Venom would break that knife in half. She could be set on fire and Venom could protect her.

“Just tell me how you found me.” Elisa commanded.

“Luck of the draw.” She answered, noticing that she wasn’t in a fight. “I served with Greg, and he was friends with Charlie. She’s a bit of a gossip, and when Octavius was finally arrested, she brought up that you worked under him, and also that you got radiation poisoning from Oscorp when you were a kid.”

“So you decided to investigate? Off of what?”

“Actually, I thought Charlie might have been lying about it.” Frankie admitted. “Greg’s my friend, I was protective of him, and I thought Charlie might have been embellishing her details to make a bigger story out of it for attention or something. When I looked into it, the news articles were there, but you stood out.”

“Why?”

“Because of Claudia Connors.” She said like it was obvious. “She took you under her wing, and when she went off the handle, Spider-Woman was there on the news, trying to save her life. You became Widow when you killed Physk.”

That sounded about right. But at the very least she had no idea about Venom.

“So I still have the question, why didn’t you kill Kassidy?”

“I didn’t turn her in.” Elisa answered simply. “I would have if I found her, but I didn’t see her until she was already at the station.” Frankie believed her, but she definitely didn’t like what that meant.

Before Frankie could say anything, a bright flash in the sky caught their attention. By the time they could make out what was happening, all they could see was what looked like a shooting star leaving a trace across the night sky.

"It's here."

"Where did it land?"

"Far enough to give you almost three days. Carnage will hitchhike hosts until it finds one suitable enough to inhabit.” Venom explained.

“So what the hell was that, Widow?” Frankie asked.

“An alien spaceship.” Elisa answered honestly.

“You can just tell me to fuck off, I won’t take it personally.” She deadpanned like Elisa was just yanking her chain, but it’s not like there’s not much that Frankie can even do to help her kill a symbiote. “So if you didn’t catch Kassidy, then who did?”

The answer to that did not make Elisa any more comfortable with her odds. “Whoever did wants Kassidy alive, that’s all I know for sure.” She lied.

“And you don’t think the cops just did their jobs for once?”

“The cops were just as surprised to have her. Someone found her notes at Oscorp, and anonymously handed it over to police.” Frankie did not look any happier than Elisa was to learn that information.

“So what do you do now?”

Now that Carnage was on the planet, she felt fresh out of options.

“We should have killed her when we had the chance.”

Elisa stopped, as the beginning of a terrible idea began to form.

Who said we’re out of chances?

“Now I try to finish the job.”

Frankie’s eyes snapped to hers. “You’re going to break into a high security prison and kill an inmate without getting caught?” She scanned Elisa’s face for some sign of a reality check, but Elisa was only getting more excited at the thought. “You got some brass low hangers on you.”

“Well, like you said, for someone like Kassidy, prison is a half measure.” Elisa swung down to begin making her way to the prison.

“She seemed pretty concerned about this.” Venom said.

“It’s just a prison, Venom.” Elisa scoffed. “The worst we’re gonna find is a bunch of violent humans.”

“Does that mean it’s time to feast?”

“Only Clara. We don’t want to draw too much attention to ourselves. If a bunch of prisoners and guards turn up dead in the same way Physk’s gang was found, then they’d know I broke in to kill a bunch of people who were already not threatening the public.” Elisa said. “I want this to be a message to everyone that I don’t play by rules that let people like Clara Kassidy take up space on this planet.”

It took a while to get to the prison that Clara was held at. Elisa was beginning to form a plan. She could break into the warden’s office to find where she was being held. From there, she’d probably do best by finding the cell from the outside wall, dodging the spotlights. Her senses would be able to guide her away from getting caught.

She wasted no time jumping into action once she had figured out her operation. The warden’s office was dark, likely because he had gone to bed for the night, but Elisa was cautious as Venom crept through the cracks of the window and unlocked it for her to climb through.

There was a computer in the office, though it seems the warden wasn’t very tech savvy, since his username and password were written on a sticky note on the side of his monitor. Most places were digitizing records, but luckily since Kassidy was a newer inmate, she’d be in the system.

Cell block D.

A creak down the hall made Elisa hop up into the tiled ceiling to hide from anybody that might be walking in. An unassuming janitor opened the door and began doing his nightly routine for the office. Unfortunately, he set up his cleaning cart right beneath the window that she needed to get out.

We’re winging it.

“I knew this was a bad idea.”

While he was distracted, she slipped out of the ceiling and carefully made her way to the warden’s bulletin board and took the tacks out of the map of the prison. She silently made her way down the hall, dodging the occasional guard, but there was still something nagging her senses.

As she turned the corner to cell block D, something grabbed her and pulled her into a hidden nook away from the open hallway.

Elisa was ready to claw at its throat, but she stopped, being face to face with Miguel.

“What are you doing here?” Miguel hissed.

“I’m trying to solve my own damn problems, what the fuck are you doing here?” She shot back.

Miguel’s face was hidden by his mask, but she could guess he wasn’t happy. “I’m trying to save your ass, and here you are throwing everything away.”

“Did you put a tracker on me!?” Even Venom felt the rage that filled her.

“No, I got a ping on 5302 Kassidy.” Miguel said.

Elisa was shocked into silence. “She’s here?”

The sounds of someone’s footsteps slowly coming forward scared them both into silence. All of the hair on Elisa’s neck and arms stood on end as the steps came closer, and closer. The steps stopped, leaving the echo of boots to bounce off the walls, but it died before it could escape. The sound of something slick and heavy squelched across the concrete floor like an animal on the hunt wading through mud. The thick smell of metal could have made Elisa throw up if her instinct to call it blood had won over what she really knew that smell meant.

That was a symbiote without a host.

They know we’re here.

All of Elisa’s muscles jumped into action as Venom took complete control. Venom Screamed at Carnage in a vicious claim of territory.

Clara only turned her head toward them, and she smiled. Crimson liquid spread across her body and Carnage's face took form with dead, white eyes, a mouth full of teeth, and claws that twitched in anticipation. Another set of claws crept through the bars and ripped the door right out of the brick wall, sending the entire building into chaos.

Deafening alarms split through the halls and echoed back to Elisa, and all she could do was survive.

-Miguel-

He had to do something, or she would die.

Elisa and Venom might have had a chance with just one of them, but now there were two of them and Miguel’s watch was alerting him that this was a Canon Event. There’s no way for him to know which one of them had triggered it, and even if 5302 was an OUCH in this universe, removing her would still break Canon.

He had to leave. Miguel deployed a surveillance drone and escaped through the portal.

Once landing in his universe, he immediately put up the feed from the drone.

Both of them charged Venom, and it leapt away, but once it was on the ceiling, one of them tackled it and sent them flying through the concrete.

The drone followed, and revealed that Venom had gotten out of their grasp, but was injured. It ran, leading both of them down the hall as prison guards rushed in with guns drawn.

One of the monsters lunged toward the guards and began tearing them apart, while the other pursued Venom. When it caught up to Venom, it ripped a cell door off the wall and used it as a shield between the two of them.

Carnage wasn't having it, and pushed them through the outside wall with little effort. Both symbiotes fell through the air, and when they hit the ground, Venom didn’t land on its feet. It still managed to use the bars to push Carnage off of it and get up.

Miguel heard several sets of running steps come down the hall to see what was going on. It seems the Widows had figured out what was happening.

“Is she ok?” Charlie asked.

“She’s injured.” Madison noticed first.

“She’s fighting both of them!?” Kat yelled.

Miguel couldn’t respond to any of them. His mind was repeating the same thing over and over, and he couldn’t process anything else.

Stay alive,

stay alive,

stay alive,

stay alive,

stay…

The second Carnage finally joined its companion, landing on a prison bus that crumpled under its weight. It dripped with the blood of everyone that had met an end tonight.

Venom staggered as it stood, but this time it moved first, lunging at one of them with its talons in a desperate, violent move. Carnage only moved to catch her and throw her into another prison bus. The bus hit some kind of electric transformer, which ignited the leaking gasoline and erupted with a blinding explosion. The bus continued to burn, but Venom stepped out of the rubble, still off balance and weak.

It screamed again in challenge, and lunged again at Carnage. This time the second monster grabbed Venom while the other stood in front of it. Venom tried to get free, but it was too late.

Miguel felt something crawl up his spine and settle in his lungs, making it impossible for him to breathe.

Not again.

Carnage sunk its claws into Venom’s skin, making it scream out in pain. It pulled on its skin, ripping the symbiote out of Elisa, leaving her in her old Widow suit as she went limp.

The one holding her, dropped her without a second thought while it watched the other strangle the mass of black liquid. Carnage squeezed until the mass went limp and it began dripping from her fingers.

The two turned to Elisa, but Miguel felt able to breathe for the first time in what felt like hours as she started shuffling away. They regarded her like an insect.

Elisa moved quickly, webbing the bus behind them and pulling it to hit both symbiotes.

They were thrown into the wall of the prison as Elisa managed to get far enough to hide behind the burning bus while they regained their footing. One of them perched on top of the thrown vehicle and let out a roar of rage.

Elisa’s breath came out in short panting as she held her arm in pain. Her eyes stayed on the ground, not daring to look up. She was fighting herself. She’d lost Venom, and she couldn’t face them alone.

With nothing left, Elisa ran.

The Widows erupted into whispers of concern, seeing that instead of fighting, their fellow Widow had fled. Miguel was focused on the alert that had appeared on his screen.

Canon Event: Success

[clericofshadows]

ooh question about regis: does he enjoy all the attention he gets for being "commander shepard" or is it more like "im tired, please leave me alone already - i just want ONE DAY-" kind of deal? // also as a kind of piggyback question - did he join the alliance b/c it was "expected" of him or did he not see any other viable career path for himself?

great questions! you really got me thinking a bit with these :)

I'd say for the most part, yes. He used to hate being called Hannah Shepard's son and becoming the Butcher of Torfan effectively distanced himself from that. So he's now Regis, the Butcher of Torfan, or Regis, N7 Sentinel, or Regis, first human Spectre, or Regis, L2 biotic, or Regis, Commander Shepard. Are there times he doesn't want the attention? Definitely, but overall, he accepts the attention and tries to use it for as much "good" as possible (or warps it to suit his own needs as necessary). I think a part of him likes the attention more than he should, but he's also not afraid to shut it down if it goes too far.

I could go on for a while about this question lol. My main deviation from canon with Regis is that he was also at BAaT, so he and Kaidan met very early. Kaidan was still the one that killed Vyrnnus, but he had a support system in Regis. The two kept in contact. Regis, like Kaidan, took some time to "find himself" before joining the Alliance mostly to avoid the attention he would get as being the son of an Alliance solider and for being at BAaT. He wanted to get in on his own terms, so he took time off to get a degree and to do some research into biotics and biotic amps and other technologies. Alliance took note of his accomplishments, but he wasn't going to take them up on their offer until hearing from Kaidan that he was thinking about joining. So he followed Kaidan into the Alliance and found out he liked the Sentinel designation a lot more than he thought he would. And really, the rest is history. I chose the Torfan background for him as another way for him to distance himself from his mother, who I headcanon as a "perfect paragon" solider opposed to Regis's primarily renegade tendencies.

[maximoff-pan]

l’amore de ma vie | fred weasley

Summary: When Fred invites you to Bill and Fleur’s wedding, your feelings for your best friend are stronger than ever before. What happens when you realize just how much you love him?

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: Fluff...i-is that a warning?? Anyway buckle up for some sickly sweet goodness....

A/n: I know, I’m terrible. It’s been a little while longer than I’d intended but I hope this makes up for it! Feedback is very very much appreciated! I love seeing what all of you think of my writing! Without further rambling from me....enjoy!

Sidenote: This is a total AU. It completely deviates from canon, as Bill and Fleur’s wedding goes smoothly in this version. No violence here haha...only happiness! (I guess what I’m trying to say is, in no way shape or form is this an accurate recollection of the books, this is purely from my imagination...)

• • • • •

“Fucking weddings...” you mutter as you walk through the massive white tent that adorns the front lawn of the Weasley residence. Everything is perfectly displayed, tables meticulously set, with delicate flowers littering the venue.

The romance of it all makes you want to throw yourself into Bill and Fleur’s masterfully crafted, six-tier cake. And watching as Molly rushes in and out swiftly with the brightest smile on her face, it all reminds you of how you should be getting ready right now. But you just can’t stomach that.

It’s not that you’re not happy for Bill....you’re ecstatic and you absolutely adore him. He’s been a role model for you almost your entire life. And it’s not like you’re not an absolute romantic, because you are...but weddings always make things complicated. They manage to dig up feelings that you’d rather not confront.

Feelings for a certain Weasley twin...

That’s why when he (said twin) and George invited you to the wedding, you were reluctant to say yes. It’s hard to pin point exactly when you felt your friendship with Fred (at least on your end), morph into something more, but you’ve managed to keep your feelings for him locked away for the better part of four years. And as far as you’re aware, the only person that’s truly caught on is Hermione...because you’re convinced at this point that she just knows damn well everything.

“Something on your mind?” A voice startles you, bringing your attention back to the bustling world surrounding you.

Turning around slowly, you’re greeted with Bill’s towering figure. You huff out a quick, teasing laugh. “You know, it’s not nice to interrupt a lady’s thoughts.”

“Forgive me,” he chimes with a chuckle of his own.

Bill knows your humour, and he knows you well enough to recognize when you’re using it as a defence mechanism.

“It just looks like you’re about ready to make a run for it,” he continues, “and I wanted to make sure my favourite guest doesn’t ditch me on my wedding day.”

“You know I would never ditch you.”

Bill sends you a look, clearly not impressed by your jokes. You can tell he knows something’s wrong, but you don’t want to be the first one to bring it up.

“I’m fine.” You reassure with a soft smile. “I promise.”

He only nods at you, and he’s not quite sure if he’s convinced, but he’s confident things will work out in the end. “You know, I best be getting ready.” He grins wide. You reciprocate his grin with an additional giggle.

“You best be. Or else Fleur might divorce you on the spot.”

“Wouldn’t that be a shame.” Bill shifts his weight from foot to foot. “I’d have the record for the shortest marriage in wizarding history! Mum would have an absolute shit fit.”

You both burst into a fit of laughter, before you’re nudging him out of the tent and towards his home.

There’s a comfortable pause of silence as Bill thinks to himself. He can see it in your eyes exactly what you’re thinking about. Having been around you for years and Fred even longer, and watching the two of you grow up together, he knows what’s troubling you. Bill Weasley is not a stupid man, and he knows love when he sees it. Better yet, he knows the fear of losing that love that runs rampant in your mind. If Bill has learned anything in his years on this earth, it’s that love allows for the greatest of happiness but it also allows for the greatest manifestation of fear. Unrequited love can be more painful than the relief of returned feelings, but Bill Weasley knows you both well enough to know that these feelings you and his brother share, they’re anything but unrequited.

“I should probably be getting ready too.” You break the silence and remind yourself of the upcoming event as you step through the front door of the Burrow.

You both turn to each other, acknowledging your parting of ways. You hear Arthur shouting for his oldest son from above. “I guess that’s my cue.” Bill simply nods in the direction of the staircase, taking a step towards it. You stand still, just watching him for a moment.

He leans his head over his shoulder for a brief second, already a few steps up the winding stairs. “Oh and (Y/n),” he breathes, “my brother may be an oblivious twat, but to give him some credit, I see the way he looks at you, and I’d be blind to say he isn’t in love with you too.”

In love with you too....

And as soon he’s said it, the cheeky bastard’s disappeared up the stairs, leaving you dumbfounded and completely still.

Fucking hell. Your mind wanders, his words at the forefront....so apparently Bill knows and surely if Bill knows, George must too. Are your feelings for Fred that obvious?

• • • • •

You step through the doorway to Fred and George’s room hoping to find a certain twin. You spot him sitting cross legged on his bed, fiddling with a prototype for the shop that you’re sure you’ve seen him working on before. His ginger hair is messily in his face, his tongue sticking out in concentration. He’s the picture of a working artist....pranking materials being his art. You heave a sigh. Like you, he’s nowhere near ready for the wedding that is going to take place in a few hours.

“Do you know?” His head whips up at the sound of your voice. It’s such a vague question, one in which a normal person would question what it itself is in relation to, but George knows exactly what you’re getting at. But maybe he’ll screw with you a little first....

“I know lots of things love. You’re going to have to be more specific.”

A groan passes your lips. Maybe he doesn’t know....but the way his lips are turned upward, the smirk that seems to be growing on his face tells you otherwise. You’re not blind; you know the games George Weasley likes to play.

“Don’t be coy asshole.” You send him a look that says ‘try me.’ “I know you know. My question is, why haven’t you told me that you know?”

“I haven’t a clue what you mean.” He continues testing the waters of your frustration, seeing just how far he can go before you snap.

“Oh fuck me!” You exclaim, hands thrown up in the air. You point at him, eyes narrowing in his direction. “You’re a prick George.”

His grin only widens. “I’m pretty sure you’ve got the wrong twin (Y/n). Last time I checked, Freddie’s the one you want to fuck.” He says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

And....Bingo. There it is. The exact confirmation you wanted and feared.

You recoil, eyes widening at him. Your voice goes soft, serious. “Why didn’t you tell me that you knew?”

His warm eyes meet yours, a calmness to them that is surprisingly reassuring. “I’ve made a living out of not taking things seriously and meddling in other people’s lives (Y/n), but what you and Fred have, I won’t meddle in that.” He pauses for a moment, his voice softening. “It’s not my business to push you two together. You’ll realize it at your own pace.”

“Realize what at your own pace?” Fred leans his body against the doorframe. He’s dressed in a suit, his hair done up nicely, and unlike his twin, he looks entirely put together. The irony almost makes you laugh. You’ve always known George to be the prepared one, ready hours before he needed to be. And Fred a scambler, leaving everything to the last second, to be fashionably late was his life motto.

“Just how stupid the two of you are going to look all dressed up with no dates.” George answers for you, keeping the true nature of your conversation a secret. “Even Ginny’s managed to catch the chosen one.”

You huff out a laugh. “You’re an idiot.”

“Ah,” George muses. “But I am an idiot with a date.”

Fred grins at the two of you and your banter. “Angelina’s better off without you as her date.” He jokes.

A laugh passes your throat, Fred joining in with you. “Oh, sod off!” George pipes before shoving the two of you out to get ready.

• • • • •

Hours later you find yourself ready on time, a shocking revelation to you and each of the Weasley’s. And George is too. He sits beside you grinning like a mad man. Fred is on your other side, smiling all the same.

The ceremony is wonderful and quaint. You knew the moment you saw Fleur all those years ago, just how beautiful she was, but you never could have imagined just how much you’d grow to think of her like a sister. And it’s funny because you’re neither a Delacour nor a Weasley, and yet you feel like you belong. It’s different from the love you know Harry and Hermione feel for the Weasley’s, because ultimately, they’ll both marry in and it will be official, and as much as you love Fred, you know that will likely never be the case for you. But that’s the thing you love most about Molly and Arthur and their children: you don’t have to be related by marriage or blood to be a Weasley.

And seeing Fleur and Bill smile, seeing the pure happiness that they exude in this moment, it makes you forget why you ever questioned coming. It makes you hope that one day you can find what they have. You’d spent the last few minutes mesmerized by their first dance as a married couple. You’re so caught in a trance that you don’t hear the clapping when they’ve finished and stepped off the dance floor.

Your eyes snap up at the clearing of a throat beside you. George nudges you and you turn to look at him. He points at Fred who’s gazing at you curiously. You must have looked like a daft idiot, an utter love struck expression on your face.

“I’m sorry.” You laugh. “Did you say something Freddie?”

“Dance with me?” He asks.

Fred’s question lingers as you contemplate whether or not to accept his outstretched arm. But then your eyes drift up to his, and you catch the mischievous glint that rests in them. It’s in that moment that you know there is no turning back.

Groaning, you relent into his touch. “One dance.” You say, but you know that if he asked, you’d dance the night away.

The grin that spreads onto his face is nothing short of beautiful. It’s unmistakably perfect the way the light catches his features, his ginger hair glowing in the overcast moonlight, and an ethereal aura glistens from his skin. Fred looks youthful...and he looks undeniably happy.

Gripping your hand, he leads you to the dance floor. You catch a brief glimpse of Bill whose lips are tugged into an encouraging smile. Fred snaps your attention back to him as he pulls you into his body, bringing your arms to rest around his shoulders. You can hear the faint thrumming of the slow and melodic music drifting towards you, but all you register is the sound of Fred’s heart beating against yours. Wrapping yourself in his embrace, you allow yourself one second to believe that he might feel the same.

Your feet move in sync almost flawlessly, and it’s as if you’re reading each other’s movements without any effort. (Despite being known for your clumsy nature). But if you’re being honest, it’s always been like that with Fred....easy that is. Easy to read each other, easy to be with each other. It’s just natural. 

“You’re quite graceful Freddie.” You nudge him playfully, breaking the silence between you. 

“And you’re quite...” his voice drifts softly, “something.”

The half scoff, half laugh you let out rings in his ears. “Are you implying that I’m not a good dancing partner?”

“You’re a formidable partner love, just a shit dancer.”

Your eyes light up in amusement. “Well we can’t all be as graceful and beautiful as you Fred Weasley.”

He plays along happily. “No.” He agrees. “I guess we can’t. But I reckon everything else about you, your beauty, your wit, your affinity for kindness, makes up for your lack of dancing skills.”

It’s that self assured attitude that draws you to him. Yet he’s not the slightest bit arrogant. He simply believes in himself, knows his strengths and his weaknesses, is completely aware of his self worth, and he won’t let anyone tell him otherwise. It’s addicting to be around, and a quality so desperately you wish you could find in yourself.

And when Fred compliments you, you can believe that he’s telling you the truth. He makes you believe things about yourself that you would never dream to think about on your own. As cheesy as it sounds, he makes you feel seen. He makes you feel special. And it’s so strange because for as long as you can remember, everyone has always thought of you as merely the best friend of the infamous Weasley twins. Hardly to anyone had you been your own person with your own identity. But Fred never made you feel like that. You’ve always been someone to him, not just a product of who you chose to be friends with.

“You shouldn’t say things like that you know.” Your voice goes quiet.

Fred notices the change in your body language as you begin to close yourself off from him. “Why not?” He asks. “It’s the truth isn’t it?”

Your eyes catch his and your breath hitches. This feels like something. It feels like a moment, the moment that you’ve been waiting for. You never believed Fred could ever feel the same for you, but the look he’s giving you feels so so real.

“Fred, do you-“ You start, but he cuts in for you.

“Feel it too?” He finishes.

“Yeah.”

“I do.” He replies.

Your heart races in your chest as he pulls you closer into his embrace. This confession of feelings is nearly wordless, and yet it feels perfect. You’ve never needed to say a lot to Fred for him to understand you.

You’ve always just had that kind of connection.

You barely notice that you’re still dancing, your bodies moving on autopilot. And the people around you fade to nothing. Your focus is solely on the man who holds your heart in his hands.

Your movements slow as Fred tilts your chin towards his face. “I’ve been in love with you since we were 11 years old.” He says. It’s nearly impossible for your mind to process it. “I’ve known for so long, I just didn’t want to ruin what we have. But I reckon if there’s ever a time to do it, now seems pretty good.”

A gentle smile rests on your face, your heart warm at his words. “Now is perfect.”

Fred hums softly, his warm brown eyes searching yours for any sign of regret. He sees nothing but adoration staring right back at him.

“Can I kiss you?” This is the first time you’ve seen Fred so timid.

You smile coyly, nodding your head. “Such a gentleman.” You tease, pulling him gently towards you. Your lips meet so softly and briefly that you almost miss it.

But no matter how brief, it’s a feeling you’ll never forget. You both want more of each other, but you also know that standing in front of Fred’s immediate and extended family and friends, you can’t simply put on a show for the world to see, as much as he wants to.

You pull back for a moment only to find yourself wrapped in each other’s arms, swaying to the music. Most people in your situation would say something. Maybe they’d profess their love, or whisper sweet nothings into their lover’s ear, but right here, right now, words don’t need to be used.

You don’t need to say I love you to feel that you are loved. And you know Fred feels the same.

• • • • •

Off to the side, Bill takes a moment to part from his wife, approaching his younger brother with a shit eating grin.

“Bloody hell.” George runs a hand through his hair, spotting Bill striding towards him.

Their eyes lock for a moment and George notices his oldest brother’s lip quirk upward. “You owe me 20 galleons.” Bill states matter-of-factly.

George grumbles, reaching into his pocket to pull out the payment. Handing it to Bill, he smiles. “Get back to your wife you tosser.”

Bill nods, taking a step towards Fleur. He turns to face his brother, eyes glinting with mischief. “Just know, when they get married, I’m telling everyone I won.”

///////////////////

Taglist:

@amourtentiaa

[starlightrows]

4 — The New King

The Queen of Tatooine Masterlist

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Pairing: Boba Fett x reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: Discussion of losing parents, mention of disordered eating, bed sharing

Summary: Saved from an untimely death by starvation and exposure, Boba offers you a place in his palace

*This chapter contains an Easter Egg for an upcoming series that severely deviates from canon*

When you wake up your head is throbbing and you feel sick to your stomach, you’re so hungry. But the one thing you don’t feel, is cold. In fact you’re actually quite warm and comfortable at the moment. You crack your eyes open and are confused to find yourself wrapped in a worn blue blanket, laying in what looks like a large storage closet with a mattress on the floor.

You peer out the open door and see you’re on a ship. How did this happen? Who’s ship is this? Suddenly your stomach growls loudly… you smell something… something good. It doesn’t matter who’s ship this is, you have to eat whatever it is that smells that good.

You clamber out of the sleeping closet and see Boba turning off a hot plate and sealing a bag that surely must contain dehydrated food. He turns when he hears you.

You stare at him, at the food. You’re confused and starving. Having no idea what to stay you just stand there.

He offers you a hand, a gesture to approach “It’s not the most flavorful or healthy dining option” he says “but it’s hot, and will be ready in just a few minutes”

You step closer cautiously and look up at his face “How did you find me?” You ask in an unsteady voice

“I went back to the inn and saw what happened to it. And the town. Followed the road, I figured you’d take the shorter path with water even though it would be uphill and colder” he explains, handing you the sealed bag and a long handled spoon. You open the bag and dig in, not even caring what it is. “Eat slowly Princess, you’ll make yourself sick”

He’s right. You’ve seen it before. Travelers who haven’t eaten in days… weeks even… come to the inn and eat a lot of food in a short period of time… they land up retching in the woods behind the inn. So you slow down and actually taste the food as you eat it.

You make it about half way through the meal before you feel a little sick. You don’t normally eat this much food to begin with. So you set aside the bag of food and let your stomach settle. Boba is eating from a similar bag of food. You study your current meal companion and apparent savior.

“Why did you come back? Why did you come after me?” You ask

“I told you I would” he says “I came back to extend you an invitation, to come to Tatooine”

“You want me to go to Tatooine with you?” You're surprised by that. Sure he’s said it the last time you’d met, but you didn’t think he’d meant it. Men who pass through little towns like yours generally don’t keep promises to return.

“You don’t have to by any means” he says “But the offer is on the table”

“I can’t exactly refuse, can I? My home and businesses are gone…” This is coming out all wrong. This man just saves your life and you’re treating him like he planned this all out “I’m sorry… that was rude and ungrateful”

“You are not wrong” he points out “Put it another way. As you have said, you can’t go back. So I’ll offer you a choice, Princess. Come with me to Tatooine, or tell me anywhere you’d like to go and I will take you there”

“You would really do that? Just ferry me anywhere in the galaxy or take me back with you to Tatooine? That is a kindness I can’t repay”

“You already have. You saved my life that night in the storm. And I did promise you I would come back for you”

“Why?” You ask in a whisper “why would you come all the way back here? You owe me nothing… even if I did let you come in that night”

“Because you made an impression, little one. I found myself thinking about the sweet innkeeper at the edge of the universe often. Even before you saved my life. I always planned on coming back for you, I only wish I had done so sooner”

You let his words sink in. I always planned on coming back for you. You can feel your heart beating in your chest and your cheeks flushing with heat. “I’ll go with you” you say softly “back to Tatooine… Let me work in the kitchens or something to be useful in your household”

“We can talk about that later” He chuckles. “I know it isn’t flavorful, but I want you to eat and get more rest. Replenish your strength”

Your stomach is full, given that you usually don’t eat heavily on a regular basis. But he’s right, you know you need to eat more. Not just right now to recover from hypothermic exposure, but in general. That’s always been a struggle for you. But you do try. The food is right there, and he has been kind enough to offer it you freely.

Boba returns to the cockpit to manually fly his ship, you force yourself to eat at least a few more bites of the rehydrated food he prepared for you. You take the blanket from the cot where you woke up with you, and climb up into the cockpit to sit with him.

He doesn’t turn when you slide into the seat next to him but he does when he notices you wrapping the blanket over your shoulders.

“Apologies Princess” he says “This ship was not built for comfort”

“It’s alright. Just a little cold” you run the edge of the blanket between your finger tips

“You won’t be cold when we reach Tatooine” he chuckles

“No, I suppose not. I’ve heard Tatooine’s binary suns make it so that nothing grows” you can’t imagine it. A world where nothing grows. You grew up in the greenery of a forested planet, at the base of a mountain with rich soil for growing vegetables.

“Tatooine is rather desolate” he admits “Most of the palace is actually built underground to keep cool”

“The palace” you muse “And how does being king suit you so far?”

“The Hutt’s left that place a mess. The palace and their business affairs. It’s all been a nightmare cleaning it up” he admits “My partner Fennec and I have only been able to clear out a few rooms, the business affairs take precedent”

The word partner pulls you up short. Your heart sinks. Partner… your mind immediately jumps to significant other. If that’s the case, then why is he inviting you into their space? Does this person know Boba has made this journey to see you? Do they know he’s bringing you back with him? Your mind races, and you feel a bit measure of panic setting in. What if this partner has no idea, and gets angry? What if this situation turns sour and you have to figure out somewhere else to go?

“You’re awfully quiet” Boba observes “Have I said something to offend you?”

You figure you may as well ask… better to know what you’re walking into rather than go in blind. “Your partner” you swallow the waver in your voice “What are they like?”

“She’s a former bounty hunter like me” he says

Oh no… now you’re really in trouble…

“Hmm… and she’s just fine with you flying off to the edge of the galaxy to visit an innkeeper?” you try not to make the question sound like an accusation.

He turns to look at you with the ghost of a smile on his lips “You misunderstand little one. Fennec is my business and hunting partner. She has no influence or opinion over my personal affairs”

Relief floods your heart, followed instantly by embarrassment. “Oh, that’s… that’s good I suppose. I just didn’t want… I didn’t mean… I just don’t want to cause problems”

“You’re not causing problems. I offered this to you, and to be honest I am glad you accepted,” he admits

That makes you feel better, a little more at ease. In that moment, you realize why you’d reacted so suddenly and severely in your mind. You like him.

You haven’t had many crushes in your life, not a ton of opportunity for it. When you were young there were a few other kids your age in the settlement, maybe one or two of them caught your interest, a few secret kisses in the barn or behind the one roomed school building, but it never lasted, and for good reason. The people who passed through your inn were never really the type you had interest in either. Until now…

Hours pass sitting in the cockpit next to him, chatting about your life in the settlement and his traveling on his own since the age of ten.

You don’t want to pry, but you do make a comment on it “Ten is quite young to be on your own”

“You said yourself you were young when your parents passed and left you with the inn” he points out

“Suppose loss like that makes a person independent” you sigh

“Would have been nice if we didn’t have to be independent so early in life” he said curtly

“I would have liked to have brothers or sisters” you say wistfully “At least things seemed to turn out well enough”

“I think if my father had lived longer, I would have had a younger sibling” Boba says “I think my mother wanted a another son or daughter”

“Your mother never found love again?” You ask sympathetically

“No idea, I haven’t seen her since the beginning of The Clone Wars” he says, starting the command sequence to drop out of hyperspace

Since the beginning of The Clone War… over thirty years ago… “That’s very sad” you say quietly

“It’s better this way. I don’t think she would be proud of some of the things I’ve done” he says “But maybe someday I’ll find out what happened to her” You take that as a queue to drop the subject.

The ship drops out of hyperspace, and Boba starts the landing approach sequence. Tatooine is a massive planet. Even from space you can see it’s yellow sand and rock formation topography. It’s a wonder how any species manages to live there, given the prominent lack of water or greenery.

As the ship flys down closer to the surface you find that the chill of space dissipates, and heat radiating off the planet's surface permeates through the reinforced walls of the ship. You shed the blanket that had been keeping you warm before even touching down.

The palace is massive. The biggest structure you’ve ever seen. Three cylindrical towers built into the cliffs overlooking The Great Dune Sea.

Boba engages the ground security protocols, and lowers the ramp and escorts you to the intimidating durasteel door. There are no guards, no one patrolling to prevent entry. Boba opens the door with no indication of announcing his entry. The entryway is a short sandy strip of a room leading to a descending staircase.

He offers his arm to you “Careful Princess, these shifting sands make these steps more slippery than you’d expect”

You accept his offer, and place your hand in the crook of his arm and start down the staircase. He’s not wrong, loose sand on stone is slippery and you are glad to have his arm for stability.

The staircase ends and leads into a large space clearly meant to entertain groups. The room is in disarray. It is clear, based on the drag marks and blood splatter in the sand, Bib Fortuna and whoever else of Jabba’s entourage remained died at the hands of Boba and his partner. Outcropping in the stone walls lined with low couches, pillows, tables and chairs. Many of which are broken or knocked over. A large grate in the center of the floor sits at the foot of an elevated platform. A throne.

Boba lets your arm go, freeing you to move about the space and explore. He ascends the shorter staircase to reach the throne and sits, quietly observing you. After a moment you turn to him, and take in his regality. He’s intimidating with his emotionless helmet and solid stanced posture. A king in every right.

You smile at him and give a small curtsy “My lord”

He chuckles behind his mask, so very contrary to the stoic picture he paints with his armored silhouette. “Come, allow me to show you the rest” He rises from his seat, and extends a hand for you to take.

He shows you down a hallway lined with doors, explaining they’re private rooms previously used for guests. “Most of them haven’t been cleaned in decades”

“You would think with all the credits the Hutt’s had, they’d pay for cleaning services” you shake your head

“Unfortunately I haven’t had the time to clear out many of the private quarters. Just the Master’s chambers and a single guest room Fennec uses” he tells you, turning down a hallway with an ornate door at the end. Clearly the Master’s chambers he was referring to.

The room is bigger than the footprint of your inn. High ceilings to let hot air rise, an en-suite fresher with a deep soaking tub, a massive bed is the only furniture left in the room. It’s beautiful despite not being decorated or well maintained. But you could imagine it was much worse if this is what Boba describes as “cleaned out”.

“If you are comfortable, I would like to invite you to stay with me in the Master’s chambers” he says from behind you “At least until a room can be cleared out for you, if you so choose”

You whip around to look at him. An offer to share a bed with a king. He must see the touch of fear in your eye because he quickly speaks again.

“I have no intention of asking favor of you. I only wish to make sure you’re comfortable here. You have my word.”

You soften at his promise, and give a silent nod before thinking better of his hospitality. “Thank you”

Later that day you finally meet Boba’s infamous partner, Fennec Shand. She’s got a sharp eye, quick wit and a taste for good spotchka. It’s an interesting tale to hear how they came to meet and land up in each other’s company.

As there are not yet staff or guards in Fett’s employ, dinner is some kind of hunted desert beast Fennec killed yesterday. It’s actually not too bad, but not like the game hunted on your homeworld.

“In time we will get this sorry excuse for a capital back up and running” Boba says when the meal is finished “Full staff and guard and reopen trade”

“I can help begin clearing out the palace” you offer “Make suitable accommodations for your staff and guard, and any allies that may come to stay”

Boba looks to you “You are not obligated to do so little one, but your help is appreciated”

“I enjoy having projects” you admit with a smile “Things to work on and keep me busy”

“Then you make take the task, for so long as you choose” he smiles at you.

Despite his haggard appearance, Boba has a nice smile. It softens him, brings out the light in his eyes. You find yourself returning the smile, and unable to wipe it from your face.

The evening comes to an end. Fennec excuses herself to return to her own bed chambers. Not without casting a sidelong glance between you and Boba, still chatting away. Eventually Boba leads you back to his own chambers. True to his word, he takes his robes into the fresher to allow you the privacy to change into borrowed sleeping clothing.

“I’ll buy you new clothes tomorrow” he promises, climbing into the oversized bed beside you.

Your impulse is to thank him politely and decline the offer, but given that you are his guest and no longer have property of any kind, it’s a kindness you have to accept.

“Thank you” your cheeks burn with heat, a little embarrassed to be needing so much from him at the moment. Borrowed clothing, a place in his palace and in his bed.

You get down under the blanket on the bed. Night time in the desert is quite cold, and sandstone walls that keep the palace cool during the day turn the air chilly when the binary suns set.

Boba turns towards you, laying on his side, he looks as if he wants to say something. Ask you something. But instead he just stares, with his dark soulful eyes and seemingly perfect hint of a smile

“Goodnight Princess”

Tag List: @cannedsoupsucks @otterly-fey @paige6768 @littledragonlady @star-hoes @aeryntheofficial @xx-small-town-witch-xx

[marisol993]

For some time now I've seen, over and over again, that the Qunari in the Dragon Age Universe are apparently some kind of racist caricature of black people, muslims and other types of poc's, bipoc's, minorities, ....

From a personal perspective I never saw them as such, but since a personal view of things isn't very objective and can be skewed by ones life-experiances I was completely willing to admit, that I might have been wrong about that and had an opportunity to learn something new here.

The more I thought about it and critically examined this statement though, the less I agreed with any of it. Especially since a lot of arguments in favor of this view seemed to boil down to "this person of [insert relevant minority here] said so". I.e. another "personal viewpoint".

So let's get into a critical analysis of the Qunari and why I think that they are so very far removed from any kind of "minorty" (from a western point of view) coding that you couldn't even see it with the power of the Hubble and James Webb space-telescopes combined:

First of all, who are the Qunari? The Qunari are tall, medium to heavily built, horned (or unhorned, if you only played Origins) humanoids, that come in varying shades of grey skin, with whiteish hair. They are more intensly sexually dimorphic than the Dwarves, Elves and Humans of Thedas, with the males being sometimes nearly twice as wide (especially in the shoulders) and much more muscled than the females. They call themselves the Qunari as they are followers of the Qun (their guide to life and society), though the word is more of an umbrella-term, since anybody of any race is called a Qunari if they "convert" to the teachings of the Qun.

Here's a picture:

At this point some people might already remark, that the Qunari are very obviously "black-coded" since apparently nowadays any deviation from natural, real-life human skintones automatically has to mean, that the fantasy-race in question is meant to reflect black or brown people (even if they are green or bright purple), unless you literally give them a complete and utterly snow-white skintone. If that is the argument you want to go with, I would like to redirect your eyes to the picture above, as it already disproves this. As it is shown there (and in the DA:I Character-Creator), the Qunari can come in a complete spectrum of skintones (from very light grey to nearly ebony), just like all the different races of Thedas (even the dwarves for some reason, which doesn't make much sense for a race that lived underground for most of their history, but what can you do..). This basically means, that yes there are dark-skinned (or "black") Qunari, but there are also those that could be better described as "light-skinned", so the coding-qualifier goes away.

Then there are the people, who might want to say, that because they are tall and "burly", together with the unnatural skintone makes them "black-coded" which is something I never really understood, since the tallest people in the world by ethnicity are the Dutch and if you look at heights in correlation with body-weight the Russians take first place. Both countries not really know for their large populations of darkskinned-humanoids. Another coding-qualifier that goes away.

And then there are the people (who I would seriously suggest should maybe review their own "racial" views, if "black and brown people" is the first thing they think about when it comes to this), who say, that they are a stereotype of the "savages and natives", which is something that is actively contradicted in canon. One of the most prominent traits of the Qunari is that they are efficiant to a T, use every resorce at the disposal to it's maximum (including their people) and that they are more technically and scientifically advanced than many other race in Thedas (except maybe the dwarves) . This is shown through their mastery of gunpowder (which they call gaatlok) and the fact that they can use chemicals and drugs to literally warp the mind of people without needing magic. They are in no way presented as "savage" and if they are named such, it's usually by people who they are actively at war with, who want to insult them. They are also not "natives" of Thedas. Even their so called "homeland" in Thedas, which is called Par Vollen, was colonised by them, when they landed at it's shores in 6:30 Steel-Age and started converting the original population of Tevinter humans and elves, with whom they have been at war with ever since. Let me say that again: The Qunari are active colonisers and at war with the Tevinter-Imperium, who's people are the original population of the land. Not exactly a typical "native or black" stereotype in western media.

So who do I think the Qunari are actually modeled after?

Well let's summarise:

The Qunari came from across the ocean in their ships filled with cannons and guns, to colonise the land and convert the native population towards their beliefs. They are currently fighting a war against the Tevinter-Imperium, an old and powerful empire, that engages in widespread slavery and practices blood-magic by sacrificing said slaves, sometimes also to one of their many gods.

(If you can't guess who I think they are supposed to be modeled after by now, I would recommend to maybe picking up a 7th-grade history textbook again)

Yes, you can make a very strong case for the Qunari actually being these guys:

The Conquistadors (heck, if you cross out a few letters you can even anagram the word "Qunari" out of the word Conquistador). Who also came from across the sea with ships, cannons and guns to colonise the land (south- and middle-america) and convert the native population (to christianity) and fought an ancient and powerful empire with slaves and blood-sacrifices (the Aztec-Kingdoms).

So after pissing of one half of tumblr with that, let's start with the other half by talking about the apparent "muslim-coding" and how I disagree with that too.

Let's start with a rough definition of what a muslim is and how I think that that alone shows how the Qunari are in no way coded to be them:

I would define a muslim as somebody who is an active member of the religion of Islam. Islam is defined by it's holybook (the Qur'An), which was revealed to the prophet Muhammad by an all-knowing and omnipresent abrahamic god.

This in and of itself basically already disqualifies the Qunari from being "muslim-coded" since first and foremost the Qunari are not a religion. They do not have a god and they don't pray to any, the Qun is not a "holy-book" and Ashkaari Koslun (the guy who wrote it) was not a prophet, who wrote down the word of god, but a philosopher who basically crafted a "guide to life and society" with his works.

If you really wanted to find something that is slightly "muslim-coded" in the world of Thedas, you might actually have more luck with the chantry-stuff, since they do have a prophet (Andraste) who could talk to god (the Maker), they have a holy book based of her teachings (the Chant of Light) and they believe that the whole world should follow those teachings, so god will return to them (singing the Chant from all four corners of the world). They even have their own flavour of jihadist religious warfare with the Exhalted Marches (though all in all I do think that the Chantry can be better viewed as a take on christian religions since the split between the Imperial Chantry and the original one is similar to the split of the (western) christian church into catholics and protestants).

So what do I think is a better representation for the Qun in the real world?

Well lets look at it in the simplest way possible that the canon gives us:

The Qun is a guide for the life of the Qunari (the people of the Qun) that ecompasses everything from laws, legislative guides, too how society should be struktured and how everyone has to fit into and function in that society, from the most mundane and simplest tasks and jobs to it's highest administrative bodies. Everyone in this society is evaluated, so that they can be put into a position that is best suited to them and their skill-sets. There they will then each work according to their abilities and each be provided for according to their needs (see what I did there). Yes, the Qun can in my opinion be best described as a take on an authoritarian-socialist guide to life, written by somebody with a similar philosophie as Karl Marx.

So all in all, I don't think that the Qunari are in any way black-, brown-, bipoc- or muslim-coded, but a fantasy take on the Conquistadors, if instead of a bible they had all carried around "A Guide to Life, Luck and Community, written by Karl Marx (during one of his more productive weekends)", visually represented by giant Minotaur-People of many colours.

Also I find this obsession with finding every and any kind of reflexion of our real world in some random fantasy setting, by people who are most of the time actively looking to get offended by at least something and mostly every- and anything, quite contrived most of the time and that the day people on tumblr learned the word "codeing" a significant part of the internets critical-thinking skills and will just shrivelled up and died.

Thank you for coming to my TED-talk.

[xxdearlybeloved]

Like You Do

Modern!Ragnar x Reader

Summary: You have an interview at Lothbrok Holdings that leads to an opportunity you didn’t see coming.

A/N: This is a self-indulgent 5.7k word fic about falling in love with Ragnar that I had too much fun writing. There is smut, but it’s a LOOOOOT of fluff and sweetness and the tiniest sprinkle of angst. As usual, fuck canon and just join me for the ride!!! Also tagging @kvitravn​ for feeding my Ragnar thirst, I hope this makes you happy!!!!

You didn’t believe the job posting was real and grew even more skeptical when you were phoned for an interview. Everyone wanted to work for the Lothbrok’s, but you had to have the right connections to even hear about the openings. The posting was vague, administrative, but you would do anything to get a foot in the door.

You looked around you, taking in the people as you made your way to reception. The lobby was filled with other anxious interviewees and your heart sank, surely they were more qualified than you were. As you all followed the stern looking woman into a bleak meeting room, she gave you more details about the job. You would be one of the admins for Ragnar Lothbrok. This had to be a joke.

One by one, you were called in to interview. You knew you were overqualified for an admin job, but you hoped your sincerity for the opportunity to learn from one of the greatest minds of your generation would come across. So as your name was called, you swallowed your nerves and confidently strode into the room.

There, sitting next to the stern woman you had been prepared to impress was Ragnar. His eyes connected with yours and you were grateful your feet still carried you to the table. You sat, focusing on the woman who was asking you questions as you felt Ragnar’s eyes on you. You could tell that the woman was unimpressed by the lack of actual administrative work you had done, but you emphasized how you were eager to learn and knew a great opportunity when you saw one.

“Thank you, but I’m afraid we’re looking for someone with different qualifications.” You nodded, standing to leave.

“Thank you for the consideration,” you said before turning to Ragnar. “It was an honor to meet you, truly.” You left and tried to keep the tears inside until you were at least a block away.

That same night, you rallied your friends for a consolatory night out. You had been friends since college, and it was nice that you all still lived in the same city. None of them could believe your story as you downed another whiskey at the club, questioning what the hard work was for if you couldn’t get the opportunities you wanted. “Maybe I should have just been a bottle girl,” you said, watching one go past you to a table further down.

“Is that… is that Ragnar there?” You followed your best friend Macy’s gaze to the table she was mentioning, your eyes immediately connecting with his. You quickly turned around, what joke was the universe playing on you?

“Holy shit, he’s coming over.” You suddenly regretted all the alcohol you’d had, hoping he wouldn’t stop by and that you wouldn’t sound like an idiot if he did. You hoped you still looked as good as you did when you left your house, rarely making it out with your friends anymore as you all had such busy lives.

You watched your friends faces with anticipation and then horror as their eyes settled on something right behind you. No fucking way.

You turned and towering over you was Ragnar Lothbrok, once again in the flesh. You thought you saw a smile in his eyes but that could have just been the flashing lights.

“Nice to see you again,” he said, remembering your name. He probably remembered everyone’s names. You gave him your most dazzling smile before introducing your friends. “You ladies are all very beautiful,” he said, looking over all of them but then resting his eyes on you. You blushed.

“We heard she bombed her interview,” one of your friends yelled over the music. You turned in shock, laughing along with the rest of them as you waited for his reaction. You moved over as he slid in next to you, casually resting a hand around your waist as he leaned in to talk with your friends. What was going on?

“She would have been so bored in that job,” he said, turning to look at you and nearly melting you in the couch you sat on. “It’s just scheduling and rescheduling meetings, she seemed way too smart for that.”

“Oh she is,” another of your friends said. You couldn’t concentrate on the conversation, feeling the heat from his arm through the thin fabric around your waist, trying not to jump every time he shifted around you.

“Well, it was great to meet you all. The drinks are on me tonight,” he said, standing to go. You immediately felt a shiver as the cool air rushed to the space vacated by his arm. You turned to tell him thanks, but he was already gone.

You went about your life, but Ragnar seemed to be everywhere. Not literally, but he was in the news or his name was on an ad for Lothbrok Holdings. The sky reminded you of his eyes and he found his way into your mind as you lay in bed.

The odds were almost impossible that you would see him again. Even slimmer that you would savor his touch. It truly was a gift that you wished you could hold on to forever, but slowly it began to fade like all memories do. After awhile, you could barely distinguish the memory from the dreams.

Then, one day, you felt again like the universe was playing a joke on you yet again. You were eating breakfast, checking your emails for the day when you got one from Ragnar’s admin. You wondered if it was the same one who had recently gotten the job.

It was just as vague as the job description had been, “Please be at this address at 11:45.” You weren’t clear if it was for another interview, but what else could it be? You had less than 36 hours to prepare.

The day went by too fast, but when the night came you were begging for sleep to come. It ignored you. You took off the entire day, catching a couple of hours of sleep before climbing out of bed and getting yourself together.

You opted for a more feminine look, deviating from your usual suit interview look. You’d hoped it wasn’t a mistake, but you remembered the way Ragnar looked at you last time and decided it wasn’t. You’d risk the job if it meant he would look at you like that again.

You arrived at 11:30 and waited, and waited, and waited. You were hungry, having been too anxious to eat earlier. The anxiety had worn off and now you were hoping your stomach wouldn’t rumble through the interview.

At 1:30, you were pissed. You stood to leave, not even bothering to check with the receptionist who hadn’t come to check on you once over the past two hours. You heard her calling after you but you were already out of the door. You were around the block when your phone rang. You didn’t recognize the number, but something told you to answer it.

“Hello?”

“Ragnar,” he said. You could hear people talking at him through the phone. “Please come back, I’ll be done soon”

“Where are you going?” You stopped walking, holding the phone close to your ear like that would make the voice more real.

“Who is this?” You knew who it was.

“It’s been two hours,” you said, more harshly than you meant. You were very hungry.

“Where are you going?” he asked again, hushing the people around him.

“To get food, Mr. Lothbrok. Maybe we can reschedule? You seem occupied.”

“Tell Clarice where you’re going and I’ll meet you there,” he said, transferring you before you had a chance to respond.

You were done with your food before he showed up, spotting you in the crowd and ignoring the ogles along the way. It seemed like he only had eyes for you.

He was breathless as he sat down. You had the urge to reach out and calm him, but you resisted.

“I’m sorry,” he began, calling over the waiter who was there immediately. He ordered and then turned the full force of his eyes on you. “My meeting ran long. We had some… unexpected events”

“It’s fine,” you said, taking a sip of water. You were suddenly very thirsty. “We can reschedule the interview”

“Interview,” he said, confused. “What interview?”

Now it was your turn to be confused. “At 11:45?”

“Did she say it was an interview?” he said, shaking his head. “I had asked her to schedule lunch with you.” As if they’d heard his words, the food appeared in front of them.

“Lunch? Why?”

“I wanted to see you again,” he said, his eyes fully focused on you again. You swore you would crumble under the weight of them.

You watched as he arranged his plate and began eating, finally catching your breath without the weight of his eyes on you.

“So this isn’t about a job?” you said, just to be clear.

“Do you need one?” he asked, smirking at you. “I’m sure we have something available, this lunch is on me so don’t worry about that”

You couldn’t help but smile, your brain still processing having lunch with Earl Ragnar. Well. Watching him eat his lunch.

It felt like catching up with an old friend. He finished his meal while he told you about the places he had traveled, a few of which you’d had in common. Ragnar was definitely the king of his own world, but you felt like he still longed for others.

The minutes turned into hours. You felt the place empty and you were sure they’d closed for lunch to prep for dinner, but no one came to kick you out. They just politely cleared the table and refilled your drinks.

Ragnar would listen intently when you talked, his whole focus on you. You felt like his eyes could see into your deepest thoughts. Where normally you felt like you had to put up walls, only showing people what you wanted them to see, Ragnar completely annihilated any defense you had.

When he spoke, you were hypnotized. The air felt rarefied and more than once you were tempted to reach out and touch him, just to make sure he was real.

Sooner than you wanted, people returned for an early dinner. You absentmindedly checked your phone when Ragnar excused himself to take a call and were surprised at how much time had passed. One of your friends had texted you an SOS for drink plans, and you were already going to be late since it was across town.

When he returned to the table, you gave him an apologetic smile. Was that sadness in his eyes or had you just imagined it?

You stood to go, watching Ragnar put more money than was needed on the table that you were sure covered 20 more meals. He led you outside, guiding you by the waist as people’s eyes followed you out of the door.

You lingered a little outside, Ragnar’s hand falling from your waist too quickly for you.

“Dinner next time?,” he asked, reaching gently, almost absentmindedly for your hand. As if it was the most natural thing in the world.

You nodded, licking your lips, suddenly overwhelmed with the desire to kiss his.

Time seemed to stop as his hand pulled you closer while the other guided your face to his for a gentle kiss that lasted forever but was over too quickly. Before you could catch your breath, he was around the corner on the way back from where he came.

Traffic had made you 30 minutes late for your friend. You spotted her quickly, her drink half gone and yours with the ice mostly melted. You slid into the booth, already apologizing before you noticed the look on her face.

She was elated.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” she loud whispered, clearly very excited. How could she know already? “It’s on his fan page, ‘Ragnar and mysterious girl have lunch’”

You stared in disbelief at her phone, not aware that anyone had taken pictures. Luckily they were blurry and with your back to them, so you could stay mysterious. You’d hoped no one had taken pictures of them outside.

Ragnar’s romantic history was not a secret. He had a very public divorce with Lagertha and it was an accepted fact that he and Aslaug were divorced in all but name. He had remained relatively under the radar since then, at least romantically, but you couldn’t believe what your eyes were seeing now.

“No one reads these pages,” you said, hoping that would make it less real.

“Well someone does, because I do,” she said, taking her phone back and doing a general Google search. It was already on some major news outlets.

You buried your face in your hands. “It was only lunch, I swear,” you blushed.

She listened as you told her everything. “Do you think you’ll see him again?”

You shrugged. You knew how you felt, but you didn’t know how he did, especially with this very public review of your innocent lunch-that-wasn’t-an-interview. Honestly, who knew?

Dinner was your next date. You had a few days’ notice, which was a blessing and a curse. It allowed you to prepare for it physically, but exhausted you mentally. Your mind went over and over his words. The call had been brief, but still made you smile to think about it.

“Where are we going?” you’d asked, hoping your voice didn’t betray your excitement as you mentally scanned your closet.

He paused and you pictured him scratching his chin as he thought over his response. You wondered if the hair would tickle if he kissed you.

“Some place special,” he replied, and you knew that’s all you were going to get.

“Well then where should I meet you?” you asked playfully incredulous.

“I’ll find you. Be ready at 6.”

“Will you be on time?” you heard yourself ask, immediately regretting your words.

His silence seemed to stretch on forever. “My night belongs to you.”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

“So am I.”

You were going to run out of vacation if you kept having to take time off to prepare for these dates. You used the afternoon to make sure everything was ready since you couldn’t tell from his words where the night would lead.

When you were done, with the last hour going more quickly than you’d needed, you knew the extra time had been worth it. You felt every bit the seductress he made you feel.

At 5:59 your doorbell rang. You laughed to yourself as you went to open the door.

“Ma’am,” a driver said to you. You were a little disappointed.

“I’ll grab my bag,” you said, going to turn off your lights and taking another quick shot of whiskey to calm your nerves.

Ragnar watched as you followed the driver to the car, looking very much the confident goddess he couldn’t stop thinking about. The driver opened the door and you slid in, your smile brightening as you laid eyes on him.

“Hi,” you said, falling hypnotized in his eyes.

He didn’t say anything, he just reached over, brining his body closer to yours. He moved some of your hair behind your ear, pulling away but still closer than he was before. His proximity set all of your nerves on fire and you just wanted him to touch you again.

He was casually dressed, jeans and a shirt that was simple but not cheap. You couldn’t tell if you were overdressed.

“You look very beautiful,” Ragnar whispered, his eyes fully focused on yours again. You felt yourself leaning into him, letting your fingers trace his beard, then his lips, before your eyes went back to find his watching you.

He moved closer, brining his lips to yours just as softly as he did the first time. Your hand found it’s way to his hair, hoping that would keep him from pulling away too quickly. You felt his mouth open against yours and you let out a shaky breath as your mouths explored each other.

Ragnar broke away to kiss your neck, leaving you to close your eyes and give him greater access. Were your going to make it to dinner?

The car began to slow and you whined as he pulled away, trying to catch your breath before you felt the door open for you.

You were in an alley downtown, which wasn’t exactly what you pictured. Ragnar came around the car and took your hand, waiting patiently as you took in your surroundings. He went to a door and opened it before pulling you inside. It was dimly lit with crates piled high and you wondered if it was one of his warehouses. You walked towards a wall before seeing an elevator.

“Where are we going?” you asked. You knew he was dangerous but surely he wouldn’t bring you through all of this just to kill you.

He didn’t say anything as he smiled, calling and stepping into the elevator. It was one of those industrial elevators, loud and shaky, and you pressed yourself into him for comfort and stability, closing your eyes as you climbed. You went all the way to the top floor, stepping out onto a roof top.

It was completely decorated, a skyrise private bar with an amazing view of Kattegat. You could see the darkness of the water and the lights of the city. You jaw dropped at the gorgeousness of it all. There was staff waiting with drinks. A few other people were there but none of them looked twice at the two of you.

Ragnar took two drinks, handing one to you before taking your hand and leading you to a table. He smiled as you looked around in awe.

“This place is amazing,” you said, taking a seat and smiling as he opted to sit next to you instead of across from you. The lighting was dim and the chairs felt like sitting on a cloud.

“It’s one of my favorite places in the city,” he said. You could easily see why.

The food came while you talked. He explained how he found this place and used it for whenever he wanted to get out but didn’t want to be bothered. Only a few people knew about it, and you felt honored to be one of them.

“Are you trying to hide me?” you joked, desperately wanting him to address what you both had yet to talk about.

He looked at you, not answering your question. It made your heart race. Was he trying to hide you? You could understand, you barely knew each other. But what wasn’t he saying?

Your heart began to fall a little as you realized that he wasn’t going to answer your question. You closed your eyes, putting your head back and listening to the music. You felt Ragnar’s hand on your waist, his lips on your jaw and then on your lips. You kissed him back, but you needed something else right now.

You stood, reaching for his hand. He smiled, taking it and standing to meet you. You guided his hands to your waist again, bringing your arms around his neck. Slowly you danced, holding each other. You didn’t know how long you would get with Ragnar, and you just wanted a moment to take it all in.

Too soon, someone came to interrupt you. He spoke with them briefly before coming back to you, apologetic. There was an emergency and he had to go.

“Should I wait?” you asked, not sure from his silence earlier if you would see him again.

“I’ll see you again,” he said, kissing your forehead before taking your hand and leading you back to the elevator. One of his men took you down and you found yourself standing in the other corner from him, already missing Ragnar’s touch. You couldn’t explain the tears as you got back in the car, driving to your home alone.

Ragnar kept his promise. The next few months were filled with other very intimate, sweet dates. There were of course the normal lunches and dinners, often in private rooms after the amount of attention you two had started to get whenever you were out together. There were also the private museum tours, the art galleries and a couple of Sundays on a secluded beach by the sea.

You often had a hard time reconciling the man who handled you so gently, so sweetly with the man who you knew he was. Nothing about him could be mistaken for weak, but you rarely felt unsafe around him.

He would call you randomly in the middle of the night, just to know you were there while he worked out something. The first time it happened, you thought you had to give him a brilliant answer, but you honestly didn’t even understand what he was talking about. There was too much context you simply didn’t know.

Sometimes, you would offer up your thoughts and he would pause for a long time while he chewed it over. You loved these conversations, him bringing you into his world, into how his mind worked. He truly was a visionary, and it left you in awe.

Your relationship had become so vulnerable. You felt yourself confessing things to him that you didn’t even realize were true until you said them out loud. In some ways, he knew you better than anyone else even though you’d only known him for a little while.

Of course, those late nights also made you think about being with him in a physically intimate way as well. After all of these months, the most you’d ever done was kiss. But that’s not to say it wasn’t enough. His kisses lit a fire in you that the coldest of showers had a hard time putting out. You ached for him.

In your showers, you imagined him pressing his body against yours. In your bed, you imagined it was his hands and not yours roaming and teasing your body. No matter how good it felt, it did not feel like enough.

Ragnar could sense this, but he didn’t want you to feel like he was pushing you towards anything. He didn’t know how much he could promise you, and a part of him was afraid to let you down. He’d definitely done that before.

He had to go away for a few weeks, and they somehow felt like the longest of your life. He was too busy to call you as often as he usually would, which already didn’t feel often enough. Those few minutes would last you days.

“Oh my God, you’re in love,” Macy said as the rest of your friends squealed with glee. It had been awhile since you’d seen them, but they could not believe how much had changed the past couple of months with Ragnar. He went from a stranger to having your heart in his hands. Of course you were in love. But you didn’t want to be.

As you spent time separated, you couldn’t help but slowly come back to reality. How could you know that Ragnar was serious about you? You hadn’t really talked about it since that night on the rooftop, but you didn’t know how to bring it up to him again. You didn’t even know what you wanted him to say.

You hadn’t vocalized this with your friends yet, knowing they would tell you what you wanted to hear. It was very possible that Ragnar was just a very exciting chapter in your life and even though that idea pained you, you just wanted to enjoy the present.

 When he finally returned, you were overjoyed to get the call from Clarice saying that he would pick you up that night. The call took you by surprise since you had no idea when he would be back, so you left work as soon as you could to get ready.

The car came when she said it would, but there was no Ragnar. You got in, saying hello to the driver but not saying much else. He took you away from the beach, up the mountains to where Ragnar had mentioned he lived. When you went off a hidden driveway, you were pretty certain where you were going.

The driver parked in front of the house and got out to open the door for you. It was colder up in the mountains, but you were also sure you felt a chill from the beauty of Ragnar’s house. It was a mix of modern and rustic, wood beams and glass. It was lit on the inside so it made the whole place have an ethereal glow. It was beautiful.

You watched the car drive away before building up the courage to walk to the door. You rang the doorbell once and waited until you were bathed in light and the smell of food as the door opened. You looked up at Ragnar, his eyes tired but happy and almost launched into his arms. You breathed in his scent as you held each other before he laughed and suggested you go inside.

He took your hand, giving you a brief tour of the house until you got to the kitchen. It looked like most of the food was done already, so he told you to have a seat as he plated the food for both of you. You stole some of his wine as he smirked at you. He got another glass and poured some wine in both so you could have your own.

This was perfect. You had your shoes left by the bar with your plates, drinking wine in front of the fire as you and Ragnar just took in each other’s presence. Your legs were intertwined as you told him about your life, watching his eyes start to close as you figured he must be exhausted.

You got up to take his glass to the kitchen, tidying up what you could without knowing where everything was or where it all went. His home definitely had that cold bachelor feel, but it was beautiful and you couldn’t help imagining yourself in it.

Ragnar was fully asleep and you couldn’t help watching him as you climbed back onto the couch. You decided to cuddle into him this time, feeling whole and warm from the fire and his body heat. You barely woke up when you felt him carry you to his room.

When you woke up the next morning, you were disoriented. The room was flooded with light as the glass wall looked out into the trees on the east. You took a minute to reflect as you thought about the night before. You didn’t have to turn around to know you were alone.

You got out of bed and found the bathroom along with a note telling you that he would be back later. No details, as was his way, but you thought the note itself was cute. You saw a robe and decided to take a shower, loving how the soaps smelled like him. Like everything else about him, the shower felt complicated to figure out, but when you finally did it was exactly what you needed.

Clean and dry, you made your way back to the kitchen, making yourself a simple breakfast of eggs and toast that seemed to taste better than any you had had before.

You had no idea when he would be back, so you decided to explore. The daylight showed you the grounds, and they were post card perfect. You found his study and started reading one of his books, lying on the soft rug that felt too soft not to be a blanket.

When you made it back to his room, you fell onto his bed, fully appreciating how soft and cozy it was. You stretched, feeling your nakedness in his robe with his scent all around you. It was enough to make your head weak.

You let your hands travel down your body slowly, first teasing your breasts before lightly tracing your fingers down your stomach to your core. It didn’t take long until you were soaking, your fingers expertly chasing that high that felt all the more intense as you were in a strange place, feeling deliciously exposed in Ragnar’s bedroom.

You didn’t try to hide your moans, with no neighbors there to over hear you, you let your mind imagine Ragnar’s hands expertly stroking you to your climax. Your hips moved as you cried out desperately, feeling release but still missing the feel of someone else’s hands on you.

But then you did feel someone else’s hands on you. You opened your eyes in instant fear only to find Ragnar’s eyes in front of yours. You only saw them for a second, full of lust, before his mouth was on your neck tracing down to your chest and hungrily sucking on your breasts.

You whined, overwhelmed by the feeling of his beard tickling your sensitive areas and his weight on you, but it wasn’t nearly enough.

“Were you thinking about me?” he asked before flicking your nipple with his tongue and moving to kiss down your stomach. You were mute as you arched your back as he continued to place soft, wet kisses in a neat trail to your center, surprising you with an occasional drag of his tongue.

You moved your legs wider to let him comfortably sit between them, your heart racing as you locked eyes with him. He was silent as he moved to kiss your inner thighs, laughing as your squirmed beneath him.

“Please,” you said hoarsely, trying to move closer to him. But he was no closer, maintaining complete control.

“Please, what?” he said, taking his thumb and rubbing your juices around your clit once. You let out a guttural moan.

“I need you, please” you begged again, your hands restless as he was just out of reach.

He gave you a devilish grin as he repeated the action with his thumb before replacing it with his tongue. He was not shy, his strong arms holding your legs open while his tongue did what your hands could not. Your cries turned to whimpers as you felt yourself on the edge again, trying hard to close your legs but Ragnar’s grip was like iron, keeping you spread before him.

Only when he felt your legs shaking in his hands did he slow his pace, coaxing you down as he eased his grip. You felt him close your legs before coming up to hold you, praising you while he stroked your hair and placed gentle kisses on your head.

You let your heart beat slow and your breathing return to normal. Taking a deep breath to steel your nerves for what you were about to do, you turned to face him, bringing your lips to his.

“Ragnar,” you said as you pulled away. He looked at you, so deliciously spent in his arms, your body falling out of his robe. “I need you to fuck me.”

You saw his eyes change from concern to primal, for the first time feeling a little afraid of what this man was capable of. He sensed that, but that did not stop him from pulling your head back gently so he could kiss your neck again.

“Are you sure?” You knew you were being greedy, but you needed him inside you. You nodded as you turned your body to face him, running your palm until you found exactly what you’d expected. He was more than ready for you.

You brought your lips to his as you undid his pants, stroking him as you felt him hold his breath against your lips. He exhaled, bringing his forehead to yours as he asked you again if you were sure.

‘I’ve never been more sure of anything,” you said, feeling the truth in your confession once again.

He growled, pulling himself from your hand and standing, turning your body to your stomach and bringing your legs to him. He would make love to you one day, but this was not the time. He had watched you play with yourself and moan his name, had felt you come around his tongue, and now you were still begging for him.

He was only a man.

Wasting no time, he entered you, pausing only after he was fully sheathed as both of you adjusted to the feel of him inside you. You felt full, positioning yourself to take him better. You nodded as he asked you if you were all right, gripping the comforter when he began to pound into you.

He started off slow, his rhythm intentional and strong, holding your hip with one hand and he ran the other up your back, praising and soothing you for taking him so well. You were so wet and he felt your walls pulling at him, saw your eyes shut tight as you moaned with your face pressed into his bed.

You cried out as you came around him, but he didn’t stop, feeling you milk him as his name came out of your mouth in a guttural moan. He kept fucking you after you’d come, through the whimpers and whispered pleas, not stopping until you had gone silent and he emptied himself inside you.

He didn’t pull out of you immediately, coming to join you as he whispered praises in your ear, gently rubbing your arm and your back, kissing every part of you he could as you reached for his hand.

You had never felt like this before. It was overwhelming and you were surprised by the tears in your eyes. And he didn’t leave. He’d held you the entire time after you gave everything to him. You ached but he soothed you. You couldn’t deny how you felt anymore.

When he was soft, he slowly pulled out and turned you around, needing to look into your eyes as you still hadn’t made a sound. He saw tears in your closed eyes. Concern filled his as he wiped them away until you opened your eyes kissed him, pulling him closer to you.

If you are interested in another chapter, I have an idea just let me know!!!!

He lay there, on your naked body, listening to your heart beat slow with your arms wrapped around each other. You couldn’t say anything if you wanted to. It wasn’t long before you fell asleep and your lover tucked you back into his bed, taking off his clothes as he slid in behind you so he could be there when you woke up.

[incarnateirony]

Hot take, the reason handfuls of people truly hate Dabb era isn’t really because anything is wrong with it--but in using a mytharc that is more centered in personal involution and introspection, Dabb has created a schism.

I have said in the past that there are a few major impacts that make people hate canon over time: for example, old season SPN as much as we loved it, the characters were essentially fun base archetypes and the canon universal structure, plot structure, etc was a lot thinner. It was a huge sandbox to play in and imagine in--the characters, the world, etc. Over multiple showrunners and persistent callbacks and strengthening of old canon, this size narrowed down.

People used to filling in the blanks however they want lost the plasticity of the characters with how they inserted dreams and wants, and often even levels of self insertion. Some people truly felt the characters deviated from the fanon form they had crafted for them in their own heads, and other people still continued to resonate closely with what grew forward out of it as things became more clearly defined, less blur-lensed in the distance.

The issue being, alchemical involution storylines force us to confront our own weaknesses. For the people who at this point now hyper-identify with characters, in a highly heated fandom ready to turn any character fart or grilled cheese sandwich into a battleground or argument, everything escalates into an “attack.” or “hate.” 

The nuance of looking at our own weaknesses, flaws, and how to become a better person get lost in the fandom turmoil, and also in personal turmoil where people just aren’t ready or willing to take the steps that the characters in the show are now walking through, one pace at a time. Because if Dean has to address his anger as being unfair!! Is my anger issues unfair??? If Cas has to find some way to stand up to his depression!! are they just telling me that I can just blow mine off???? If Sam has to face his lifelong dependency issues, does that mean I need to find a way to branch off more individually? This sir is an ATTACK, I’m going to SUE. I’m going to write VERY LONG TUMBLR THREADS declaring this all cruel and unwoke and dumb dumbz poopie head or just send off 140 character tweets yelling that it SUX ASSBUTT.

And like... it’s kind of sad?

Guys, it’s literally okay to have weak points. We’re human. We all do. In fact that is a major moral of current Supernatural. Having flaws is okay. We can strive to become our best, perfect selves, but that also takes confronting where we have shortcomings. Even if those shortcomings come from trauma, even if those shortcomings come from all kinds of elements outside of our control, this is basically “Supernatural as therapy”. If we don’t look at those, figure out how to apologize for them, approach them, speak them out into the world, we actually get lost to a putrefied version of ourselves and if we don’t grow back out of it into something new, we just fester. If we take it one day at a time, one step at a time, bonding to the best interpersonal elements of friends and family around us taking us by the hand when we need it, without being fully reliant on or shoveling the entire weight of our burdens off onto them-- then we can become better people. The world can become a better place.

But SPN fandom environment isn’t very suited to this. It’s easy to tuck away, to pull the blanket over our heads and scream and yell that it’s not fair to a character, because we don’t want to face how that relates to us with our emotional lens characters. But screaming into a pillow all day isn’t going to make it stop. The end is here, and Supernatural is trying to get you ready for it, and at the same time leave you some very good morals for the future as long as you open your hearts and minds to it. Not just to cute guys stabbing monsters. 

Not just to a favorite ship’s goals. Not just to funny jump the shark episodes. But to an actual, meritful, mature discussion of life, self, personality, goals, dreams, futures and yes, eventually, death as something we will have to face in our distant future. I hate to break it to you, but nobody ever makes it out of life alive. But it’s okay. Because the point is that they were here at all and we got to know them. And, if you have faith, you can see them, one day, on the other side, once you’ve done your best to make a better world, here and now, for the legacies in your wake.

This is all but impossible for people to avoid now, like the days of the old sandbox, essentially imagining barbie characters of archetypes people can dance around however they want and spin around in the empty space. The dense canon leaves very little because the world is so thickly structured and powerfully written -- but not as powerfully as the characters, very defined and very grown, whether it’s what Early Season Barbie Players wanted, or Late Season Character Lensers that are actually struggling going “but--if (character) (issue)... then I--” 

It’s okay. It’s really okay guys, I swear. Nobody has to be perfect. Not your favorite character. Not you. But ... well, listen to Dean.

DEAN

it's not about being strong.

I mean...Look, I don't know what you saw over there, and I don't know what you went through.

I know it was bad. But I also know that you came out the other side because you are strong.

But even when we're strong, man, things are gonna happen.

We're gonna make mistakes. Nobody's perfect. Right?

But we can get better. Every day, we can get better.

So whatever you're dealing with, you know, whatever...whatever comes at us, we'll figure out a way to deal with it, together.

[sokkathebluewolf]

I am chickened out from gladiator because it is this long and it keeps getting longer is it worth my time to read it ??

... Uh, well. I can’t help but wonder if you’re aware this blog is run by the actual author of the story in question? I don’t know if you expect me to give you a non-biased answer when I’ve considered the story was worth 8 years of my life xD as far as I’m concerned, it absolutely has been worth it, but I can’t speak for the whole wide world when it comes to that. If you want the opinions of readers, there’s probably other blogs run by people who have read the story and who might have critical opinions about it... that may be what you were looking for. If, however, you were deliberately hoping to get my opinion on my own story... well, yes, for me it’s clearly worth it xD Otherwise, I would’ve quit ages ago.

The story is indeed very long and it keeps getting longer, and it will keep getting longer because we’re not done yet and won’t be for a while :’D if you’re the type of reader who can’t stand it when they catch up to stories and have to wait for updates, well, feel free to give it a shot when I’m done writing it, I guess? It’ll be a while until then, but it’s up to you. If you don’t like reading really long stories, then it’s probably better for you if you don’t force yourself to read this one, I know not everyone is ready to dedicate that much time to reading something, especially if they have lots of things to do. Hence, if the length daunts you, that’s alright, it daunts me too and I’m responsible for it xD it’s fine if that deters you from reading it.

But as the way you phrased your question almost sounded like you’re challenging me to give you some sort of sales pitch to catch your attention, let’s see if I can pull it off:

Gladiator is a massive ATLA AU, not only in terms of story length but also scope: it’s a complete rewrite of the entirety of ATLA in a more mature setting, starting chapter 1 with the characters 5 years older than they were in canon. Aang’s adventures in saving the world did not take place here because of a simple enough reason: Katara didn’t accompany Sokka on his boat on the fateful day when they were meant to find Aang, which means the story as we’ve known it simply doesn’t take place. I’ve taken liberties here and there, added some changes from canon when I needed to do so, in order to ensure the story works, but the gist of the story is to set a stage where the Fire Nation marched onwards, practically unopposed, and conquered the Earth Kingdom with the power of Sozin’s Comet (just in case it needs to be clarified, without certain technological developments, Ozai’s wild plan to incinerate the whole world wouldn’t happen, and if Team Avatar isn’t assembled before the Comet shows up, said technological developments simply wouldn’t exist... :’D). I’ve had to figure out how many details would change, how much of the original story would or wouldn’t happen without Team Avatar’s involvement, I think most my choices have been solid, but it’ll be up to you to decide if you think they are or not if you read the story.

The worldbuilding of Gladiator, then, is preeeetty huge and complicated because of that starting point. There’s a lot of elements that are completely new (such as the Gladiator League and all its derivates), some OCs, some lore expansion, so you can definitely say it’s an ambitious project. In a sense, I’ve reset canon to zero, and at the same time I haven’t, which makes things complicated but, for me, really fun to develop. If you’re interested in seeing more of the Avatarverse explored, characters repurposed, with new dynamics and relationships, Gladiator may just be what you’ve been looking for :D

In my experience, the main reason why most people stumble into this fic (other than by sorting FF.net’s ATLA stories by review count and drawing blanks upon glimpsing a Sokkla story on the first page xD) is because they’ve been drawn into Sokkla, or they’re looking for stories centered around Azula or Sokka. Gladiator, evidently, features all three such elements because, obviously, those two are the protagonists and their relationship is the beating heart of the whole tale. I’ve been asked in the past who’s the real protagonist and I honestly still have no idea xD but anyways, if you’re interested in reading a story with a toooooon of Azula character development, even if it takes place across a long, long time, this story may just do the trick. I’ve done the best I could to keep her character as true to what I believed a young adult Azula might become, within the circumstances of this story. She has grown a LOT in 200 chapters, goes without saying (if she hadn’t, I’d be one heck of a failure of an author x’D), so if you’re interested in seeing a slow but effective growth arc for Azula, you’ll certainly find that in Gladiator. Same is true for Sokka, but I think most people who come to this fic for Sokka are interested in seeing him being a badass, which we have plenty of as well xD still, it’s also a long and slow process for Sokka to grow into a powerful warrior, neither him nor Azula start out in the story with all the answers, and they both bump into many hurdles as they navigate their complicated lives.

There’s a lot of humor in Gladiator, perhaps more than expected with a story that has that sort of dark premise, but it’s, on great measure, because Sokka and Azula are inevitably given to banter xD if you want to read a lot of banter between those two, well, you may not be bored in 200 chapters because, while the nature of their exchanges does vary as they both develop, their conversations are usually pretty spirited and they love trying to outsmart each other all the time.

If you are already a Sokkla shipper and the main reason you’re here is because you want more Sokkla goodness in your life... I’ll just say Gladiator has become a bit of a dream come true for me as a Sokkla shipper as well, because it’s the perfect space for me to work with virtually every idea I’ve ever had for these two. Yes, there’s drama and conflict here and there, if you’re not too given to angst there’s a few parts of the story that won’t sit so well with you, though if you love angst you’ll probably enjoy them plenty... yet what I’m most proud of, with this story, is having developed their relationship not only as best I could, but I’ve also attempted to defy typical storytelling structures for romance stories, where the lead couple can’t seem to have a stable relationship because “that would be boring”. Screw that, man: these two have been in a serious relationship together in-story by now for well over half the published chapters, and I’ve had the time of my life writing their dynamics as a couple while the plot continues to develop around them. This, however, is not everyone’s cup of tea, so if you aren’t all that given to seeing such traditional romance storytelling structures dismissed because I wanted to write my favorite ship dealing with all their external struggles while finding strength in the bond they share, Gladiator may not hold your attention long enough for you to devote yourself to reading it beyond chapter 100-ish. On the other hand, if this subversion of romance structure is what you’ve been looking for all your life, or if it’s what you always wanted and never knew you wanted it, or if you’re simply curious as to whether it works or not, Gladiator may suit your interests fairly well. Again, Sokkla is the absolute center of this story, both together and independently, so if you want to see a rewrite of ATLA with them at the core of just... everything? xD that’s absolutely what you’ll find here.

That being said, there’s things I guess you should mind about Gladiator: I have some relatively controversial takes about certain things, including interpretations of fan-favorite characters that some people have been known to take offense over. I, personally, believe my interpretations of those characters don’t deviate that much from canon or that, when they do, the setting itself explains why the deviation works as it does, but due to the fact that I work with a protagonist who was in a villainous role back in ATLA, her relationships with some characters can be more complicated than a lot of people seem to believe they should be. Hence, if you’re not particularly adverse to reading content that brings up big questions about the motivations of certain characters, or how they’d react if the story from ATLA hadn’t happened exactly as it did, you’ll have enough fun in Gladiator. If, however, you don’t particularly care to see anything that shows beloved characters in a not-so-flattering light, this story may not be for you (though, if you’re willing to humor me and allow my story to question your perception of those characters, feel free to try the story as well). 

There’s also a variety of dark themes and situations in Gladiator, something that any reader should be warned about in this day and age: I am 100% against violence for the sake of violence, to name one such subject, and I generally try to portray it with as much nuance as possible, but even if I feature my own characters criticizing their violent world and wanting to put an end to the strife caused by the Fire Nation, some of the violence in Gladiator may be a little too much for the readers who prefer the tone of the original ATLA. Hence, if that’s how it is for you, it’s another reason to approach the story with caution. I won’t pretend I’ve handled every theme and subject perfectly, but I’ve never wanted the darker moments to feel gratuitous in any way, so if you’re open to reading a darker take on the Avatarverse, this may work for you after all.

Alas! If you want to see Azula growing out of the toxic Fire Nation indoctrination, if you want to see Sokka gaining confidence and strength as a man and warrior, if you want to see a fleshed-out but still very much villainous Ozai, if you want to see Toph fulfilling her dreams of joining an all-out fighting league where she can beat people up for a living, if you want to see a myriad of secondary ATLA characters (like Song, or Shoji!) given new lives and even genuine protagonism, if you want to see Zuko discovering he’s allowed to just... be happy? xD Gladiator may prove interesting enough for you.

Furthermore, if you want to see Azula being true friends with Mai and Ty Lee, discovering a dragon, developing new firebending styles, confronting her misplaced beliefs about herself, rebelling subtly (and lately, not so subtly) against her father, growing into a great leader who could change the Fire Nation’s nefarious direction...  aaand if you want to see Sokka fighting creatively (sometimes with TWO swords!), navigating the dangerous waters of interacting with Fire Lord Ozai, staying true to his beliefs while also learning that the world is not as black-and-white as he was raised to think it was, understanding himself better and making the most of his potential as a quick learner, writing embarrassing haiku and being an unapologetic rebel who goes toe-to-toe with Heads of State just because he can... yep. Probably read it? xD

Lastly... if you want to see Sokka and Azula grow through their mistakes, learning to understand each other, fighting side by side, training together, dancing to no music, learning the underrated pleasure of proper communication in a relationship, sassing each other left and right, flirting in ridiculous ways, taunting each other in many regards, laughing at each other’s terrible jokes, protecting each other fiercely, challenging each other to a spicy ramen eating contest, discovering indirect bending, being highly inappropriate at times and places where they shouldn’t be, making long, dangerous yet fun journeys together, sneaking around to meet up when they’re not supposed to, standing by each other in their darkest moments, watching over the other when they’re sick/injured, being ready to sacrifice virtually anything for each other, and even defying and defeating even death to save each other...? Well, I don’t know if there’s any other stories where you might find all of this, but I can guarantee you’ll find it in Gladiator :)

If none of this is convincing enough... that’s a shame, but I understand. If it convinced you to give it a shot, however... I guess I’ll just hope you enjoy it enough to stick around! :) thanks for taking my story into consideration regardless of whatever you decide. Have a nice day!

[grapefruitsketches]

Untamed Spring Fest 2020 - Day 20: Fond

1,479 Words - Nie Brothers, POV Nie Mingjue, pre-canon 

When you kill a beast, you do it all at once or not at all. Anything else is just cruelty. Nie Mingjue just hopes his brother can avoid such beasts entirely.

The Red Blade Master rarely had nightmares. But when he did, they always featured Nie Huaisang.

Huaisang caught up in the fury of a battlefield. Huaisang hit by a stray arrow at an archery competition. Huaisang burned in flames, drowned in water, falling from snowy peaks. He dreamt of wild boars, of qi deviations. He had helplessly watched his little brother die in so many painful, awful ways. Then he would wake up, and quietly creep through the Unclean Realm to find the boy still dozing, splayed out on his bed and snoring without a care in the world.

So Nie Mingjue wanted his brother to learn to fight - to defend himself, to tread cautiously but surely through whatever situation life through at him, to be the kind of man who could face any danger, and win. But more so he realized, as he watched his gentle brother tend to birds or excitedly read out a poem he had found particularly striking, he wanted his brother to be the kind of man who would never have to face any danger at all.

When Huaisang had expressed a total disinterest in the blade, for the sabres, and a preference for curling up with a book or wandering the marketplaces, looking for treasures, Mingjue couldn’t say he was too disappointed. He was almost relieved, when Huaisang had asked if he might spend less time training his cultivation, and more time learning about the various beauties and joys of life that were so absent the mountain fortress they called home. But Mingjue hadn’t been able to grant his request. He made sure Huaisang had some spaces in the Unclean Realm to himself, but he knew he couldn’t let his brother retreat from training entirely. The other disciples would question the decision to lessen the troops even by one. It would make Huaisang a target. Still, he worried that Huaisang’s life in the Unclean Realm would force him to sideline the things that would truly make his life feel worthwhile.

And this risk to his brother’s wellbeing could not be tolerated.

“What is that?” the young clan leader asked as he approached his brother in the garden. His brother quickly hid the book he was reading behind his back.

“Uh… nothing…” he avoided his brother’s stare.

Mingjue rolled his eyes and quickly grabbed for the book, glanced at the cover, and sighed, “So you are reading these kinds of things too now?” he tossed the book to the side, and it landed gently in the gravel lining the path.

“I… I like the art?” Nie Huaisang tried.

Mingjue shook his head, “I have never understood the appeal of these things,” he shrugged, picking the book up only moments after he had thrown it there and dusting off the cover before returning it to his brother, “But I suppose there’s no real harm to them.”

Huaisang grabbed the book back, blushing fiercely, and tucked it away in his sleeve, still avoiding eye contact.

“Listen. Huaisang. I wanted to talk to you about something.”

His little brother looked up to him, confused, “To me?” Usually it was the younger looking to ask his brother for something - permission to walk through the mountain paths, money to purchase more fans, more paintings, more of… those books, as Mingjue now knew.

But the Red Blade Master was firm, “Yes.” He swept his sleeves back as he sat down on the bench, next to his brother, “As you know, the Lan Clan hosts an annual lecture, open to the disciples of the main clans.”

Huaisang nodded slowly, starting to realize where this might be going.

“I would like you to attend this year.”

“But… Dage…” Huaisang looked up, pouting, “No one my age will be going for another few years!”

“The other disciples your age take part in all their own sects cultivation training. I am willing to accept that our clan’s methods don’t suit your… temperament,” it was the kindest way Mingjue could think to express it, “But I cannot have you lie idly around all day either. Besides,” his tone became kinder at Huaisang’s woeful expression, “There are plenty of disciples your age in the Cloud Recesses. I have been talking to Xichen about the possibility of you attending at your age, and he thought you might be a good companion for his brother. He is also around your age and will be attending the lectures.”

Nie Huaisang’s face brightened, “Really? A companion?”

If Mingjue expressed his emotions even half as readily as Huaisang, he would have smiled at this. Mingjue had talked about more with Xichen than just Lan Wangji, but their mutual concern for their brothers’ loneliness had come up more than once. Mingjue thought the gentle pastimes of the Lan clan might suit his delicate brother’s preferences more than the frequent impromptu spars and spot check drills favoured in the Unclean Realm. Huaisang had few if any friends in the residence, seeming to prefer the chatter of merchants or the company of fiction.

Huaisang leaned back, “But… but Dage…” he bit his lip, “The Cloud Recesses it’s… well, they’re very strict there, right?”

Mingjue nodded, “Yes. And I expect you to make our sect proud.”

Huaisang picked up the fan that was lying closed by his side, and tapped his hands nervously with it, “I just…” he whispered, “I don’t want to let you down.”

“Then don’t!” Nie Mingjue replied, hoping that if he said it so confidently it would be easy, “It’s time for you to live the experiences you spend so much time reading about!” he had a sudden recollection of what book exactly Huaisang had been reading when he’d found him, “…Some of the experiences at least. Grab life by the hands!” he gestured as if to strangle some unseen person standing before him.

Though Nie Huaisang smiled at his brother’s vigour, his eyebrows pinched with apprehension, “Um… I’d really rather not…” he sighed.

Nie Mingjue, who they both knew had never really needed Huaisang to agree to his plan, said “Nonsense! You will love Cloud Recesses. You can read books all day, and there’s no fighting allowed inside.”

This made Huaisang smile, before his eyes snapped wide and he looked in shock to his older brother, “Wait, no fighting? I thought you wanted me to live up to the Nie values? How am I supposed to do that without…?”

“When you kill a beast, you do it all at once or not at all. Anything else is just cruelty.” Mingjue advised, “We both know you are not a warrior. But that is not the only thing that makes us Nie men. We train ourselves in what we are best at. If a quieter method suits you, we should make sure you have the chance to develop that skill. Explore the world, find things that please you, but also,” Nie Mingjue gripped his brother by the shoulders, pressing on urgently, “Make friends. Learn new ways of doing things. Understand this world and how it works. If your strengths are in beauty and stories, make that the strength you use in the world.”

Nie Huaisang nodded hurriedly at his brother’s intense stare, still fidgeting with the fan. The Red Blade Master’s gaze drifted towards the movement. He grasped the wrist of the arm holding the fan, lifting it forcefully up to Nie Huaisang’s eye level.

“This fan. If you can find a way to make this pretty fan you like so much as powerful as my Baxia? Then you will be truly carrying on the Nie legacy, able to use the strengths at our disposal, whatever they may be, to confront our enemies.”

“Ah.” Nie Huaisang nodded, but his one raised eyebrow revealed his skepticism.

When Mingjue had mentioned Huaisang’s penchant for fiction and interest in the intricacies of the world around him to Xichen, the Lan clan leader had suggested that perhaps he would make a better politician or strategist than fighter. Mingjue agreed that his brother had this potential. He often seemed to notice and interpreted subtleties in disciples’ or servants’ actions that would prove to be prophetic, noticing the first red nose of a cold that had swept through Qinghe, a dazed look of a returning disciple that had proved to be a concussion, and once, memorably, a sly exchange of glances that had turned out to be the earliest sign of a hidden romance between one of their top disciples and a servant.

But Nie Huaisang had no desires for such greatness, no desires to wield his talents for more than frivolous gossip. And weeks later, as the Red Blade Master fondly watched his brother say goodbye to each of the birds in his garden in turn, before grabbing the bag that Mingjue knew contained hidden books throughout the lining, only hoped his brother never changed.

[abigailnussbaum]

How to do Garak/Bashir in Canon DS9

Yesterday there was a fun tweet asking people how they would remake DS9 if they were given the option today.

Which led to some fun discussions (you can see my answers here). Obviously one thing that pretty much everyone said was “canon Garak/Bashir”. That’s generally considered one of the show’s big missed opportunities, with both Andrew J. Robinson and some of the show’s producers expressing regret over never having gone there. But it did get me thinking: how would you tell this sort of story? Because look, it’s one thing to write Garak/Bashir in fanfic, filling in gaps in the canon or changing the entire tone of the story to suit your ‘ship. But if you’re retelling DS9 along basically the same lines - the end of the Cardassian occupation, the discovery of the wormhole, the Jem’hadar, the Dominion, the war with Cardassia - and with the personalities of the characters and the tone of the show largely unchanged, how do you fit Garak/Bashir into that story?

There are some obvious issues with trying to work this ship into the show’s story and overall tone. For one thing, Bashir is a Starfleet officer. We like to make fun of his early, annoying incarnation, but even in that form he is clearly a decent, principled man with strong values. It’s one thing to flirt (literally or figuratively) with a mysterious, sexy spy, but getting into a relationship with him would not only be stupid, it would run counter to Bashir’s image of himself. You could go in a dark direction with this - Garak seduces Bashir purely as a way of gaining power over him (and perhaps out of force of habit); maybe they end up in a kind of Hannibal/Will relationship. But that doesn’t seem sustainable in the long-term, or congruent with the type of show DS9 was. Bashir can’t trust Garak, and Garak has done things that Bashir would consider disgusting. That’s something you have to take into consideration if you want to write them as a long-term couple.

It’s also worth considering that, as much as the Garak/Bashir pairing lingers over the fannish perception of the show, it’s not actually that prominent in the series itself. The last episode that I would call a Garak/Bashir story, “Our Man Bashir”, is an early S4 episode, well before the Dominion War happens. And Garak is absent for a lot of the later developments in Bashir’s life - “Doctor Bashir, I Presume” (you’d think Garak, with his complicated relationship with his father, would have something to say about Julian having been illegally genetically enhanced by his parents) or “Statistical Probabilities” (a troupe of savants who claim to be able to predict the course of the war would surely be of interest to Garak). In most of these stories, Bashir is accompanied by O’Brien, a much safer option as far as suppressed sexual tension is concerned (it should go without saying that this feels like a deliberate choice on the show’s part, to undermine any idea of a Garak/Bashir relationship). Meanwhile, Bashir is absent from most of Garak’s important Dominion War stories - his relationship with Ziyal and her death, his position in Damar’s rebellion, “In the Pale Moonlight”. So if you’re going to retell DS9 with Garak/Bashir as a real ship, you'd have to rewrite a lot of these stories to take that into account.

Finally, you’ve got the show’s ending, which is an extremely dark one for Garak, who gets everything he thought he wanted - his position restored, a place of honor in Cardassian society - just at the point where Cardassia is decimated and, in his words, left dead. Working a romance with Bashir into this ending would be tricky, and risks ending up with the final scenes of Man of Steel - two people making out atop a mass grave.

(Obviously, I’m taking it as a given that this hypothetical version of DS9 is much, much better at writing mature, complicated romantic relationships than the real one. Most actual DS9 romance was painfully juvenile, and the one exception, Sisko/Kasidy, was also an extremely low-drama ship - Sisko literally sent Kasidy to jail and the next time they met they were like “so, that was a bit of a bump in the road; dinner later?” It should go without saying that Garak/Bashir would not be a low-drama ship, so the writing would need to be there to support it.)

Anyway, complicated but obviously not impossible. This is what I’ve come up with for how I would rewrite the show with Garak/Bashir as an ongoing couple. I’m sure there’s plenty of fanfic with other, better ideas.

To start with, lose the claustrophobia business. Or, you know, keep it, but the reason Garak was expelled from the Obsidian Order and banished from Cardassia is that he’s gay. (To be fair, I feel like “claustrophobia” was pretty clearly code even in the original show.) A lot of people in the upper echelons of the Cardassian hierarchy know this - Dukat certainly knows - and miss no opportunity to harass him about it.

Obviously, in this version of the show Cardassia is deeply queerphobic. I don’t think this is a huge leap. Cardassian society is deeply conformist, and family-oriented in a fascist-adjacent sort of way that prioritizes the father as the master of the home. It’s hard to imagine a society like that tolerating deviations from gender norms, and it seems fair to assume that reprecussions for such deviations would be severe.

Garak doesn’t actually have a problem with this - or at least, not that he expresses. Garak’s defining trait is that he believes in, and loves, Cardassia deeply, and espouses its chauvinistic (in both senses of the word) values to anyone who will listen. But at the same time, he’s smart enough (and enough of an outsider) to know how hollow and destructive those values really are. So Garak will explain to anyone who challenges him on it that Cardassian homophobia is right and proper, while knowing that he has fallen victim to it himself.

Bashir is out. Though “out” might not be the right word because the Federation is so nonchalant about queerness that the notion of being closeted doesn’t really exist anymore (this is a version of Star Trek where we actually follow through on the promise of a more progressive future). But at any rate, to Bashir and the other Starfleet characters, him being gay is so unremarkable that it doesn’t even come up until his and Garak’s frienship is already established. This deeply shocks Garak - he knew humans were perverted, but the good Doctor, his friend? Bashir, meanwhile, wastes no opportunity to needle Garak about his society’s barbaric homophobia (Garak: “humans may be prone to such... urges, but Cardassians are made of finer stuff”; Bashir: *rolls eyes so hard he can see the back of his head*). But at the same time, and without being entirely willing to admit it to himself, Garak is intrigued.

And so we continue for about five seasons. Garak flirts with Bashir, partly because he thinks this is a way of unsettling the good Doctor, but really because he wants him. Bashir assumes that it’s all an act, and plays along with it a little because, hey, sexy spy. But he never imagines that it could go somewhere real, and probably wouldn’t follow through if it did.

And then Bashir gets replaced with a Changeling (this is a version of DS9 where that idea was seeded throughout the first half of the fifth season instead of being decided on five minutes before “In Purgatory’s Shadow” started shooting). And the changeling takes one look at Garak, sees an obvious in, and seduces him. Which clearly causes some awkwardness when Garak finds the real Bashir in a Dominion prison camp.

Bashir finds out. Worf tells him (this is a version of Worf who isn’t weirdly sexist and judgmental about other people’s sex lives). (Bashir: “why is Garak being so weird around me?”; Worf: “he and the fake you were doing it”; Bashir: “what”; Worf: “they were boning”; Bashir: “WHAT”; Worf: “they were engaging in sexual intercourse”; Bashir: “that's not possible. Garak only flirts with me to keep me on my toes”; Worf: *shrugs* “if that’s what you want to call it”.)

So now Bashir is upset because he’s spent the last five years bugging Garak about Cardassian homophobia and it turns out that Garak was a victim of it, plus he’s now been victimized by someone wearing Bashir’s face. And Garak is upset because he let his attraction to Bashir (Garak: “my base lust!”) blind him to the fact that his friend had been replaced by a changeling, leading to him being comromised as an agent (I will leave it as an exercise to the readers which one bothers him more). And, well, if you can’t get from there to romance on your own, you may not have read enough fanfic in your life.

Then you get the war, and honestly, I don’t know. You could do an on/off thing. You could make it a very casual relationship in between the two of them trying not to die and/or lose the Alpha Quadrant to the Dominion. You could have Bashir say “fuck it, I might die tomorrow and this guy makes me happy; who cares if my boyfriend is a liar and a murderer”. You could even go the Worf/Jadzia route and have them muse romantically about having a life together after the war. But either way, they spend more time around each other than they did in the original series.

But! When Garak goes back to Cardassia to help Damar’s rebellion, there’s a lot of tension between them, because Damar heard from Dukat that Garak is a pervert (you could still keep Ziyal’s death and Garak’s anger at Damar over it; those two always made more sense as friends anyway). And then it turns out that there’s an entire Cardassian queer underground, and in typical Cardassian fashion they’ve turned it into a whole spy network with operatives at every level of government. (Garak: “why did you never approach me?”; queer Cardassian underground: “dude, have you met you?”) And they’re willing to work with Damar if he promises that in the new Cardassia, they will no longer be persecuted (I think this dovetails pretty nicely with Garak’s observation that Damar needs to be disillusioned about the flaws of Cardassian society). So all of a sudden Garak is looking at a future where what he is doesn’t make him a pariah anymore.

And then you get to the destruction of Cardassia, and, again, I’m not sure how that combines with Garak/Bashir. The entire ending of DS9 is pretty rough on romantic pairings in general, but at least when Kira/Odo and Sisko/Kasidy break up, it’s bittersweet, and in service of other new beginnings. Garak’s ending is just bleak, and I’m not sure how you deal with a romance on top of that. The best I can come up with is Bashir saying “yes, this is horrible, but you can rebuild, and if you need my help with that, I’m not far”, leaving a door open for them to reconnect in the future.

Thoughts?

[notcanoncompliant]

Flight (And What That Means To You)

Merry Christmas to @darker-soft-starker! <3

@starkersecretsanta

(I read your prompt and my brain took off, totally deviated from the rom-com feel, I hope you still like it!!)

warnings: mild violence, anxiety attack symptoms (kind of)

****************************************************** 

The Prompt:

Canon Divergence AU - Tony and Peter are neighbors. Tony is not obscenely rich, just a regular Joe, maybe a cop or something and lives across the hall from Peter's apartment. Peter is still Spider-Man and regularly gets caught by Tony limping back to his apartment bloody and beaten, peter gets stuck to his doorknob and there are a lot of awkward moments etc

And away we go...

******************************************************

Like many important things, Tony’s life resets with a ‘bang’. 

On his back, ears ringing, staring up at inky-grey smoke that eats up whatever view there had been of the stars, he takes ragged half-breaths and wonders if he’s done enough, if this was the right way for him to go. When his vision tunnels and his consciousness begins to recede, he still doesn’t have an answer.

*

You’re lucky. 

It’s what everyone keeps telling him. Lucky he was far enough away from the blast that he didn’t lose any pieces, lucky his vest held up just enough to keep the shrapnel from burying itself in his chest.

Lucky.

He might be, but it’s hard to feel it when he still hurts like there’s a baby grand parked on his ribs. Harder still when he wakes up, over and over and over, with the taste--the grit--of sand and copper in his mouth the echo of too-hot sun on his skin or the stinging, freezing cling of ice water on his face (in his mouth, his eyes, his stomach, his lungs--he can’t, he can’t, pleasenomorehecan’t).

It takes him four days to wake calmly enough he doesn’t bolt upright, doesn’t frantically pull off sensors and yank the drip out of his arm, doesn’t get held back down and sedated.

It takes four days for him to get his hands on a notepad and a pen.

When he does, he draws a metal behemoth shooting into the open sky.

He has no idea what it means, but he feels free.

*

‘Indefinite medical leave’ should’ve been a punch to the gut, a slap to the face. By the time they’d gotten around to giving him the mandatory psych eval, though (and it had gone as swimmingly as expected), he’d been out of the hospital for three weeks, and well-acclimated to feeling like he’d taken a fist to the stomach.

Before, he might’ve argued, fought, done his best to prove that he could still be an asset to the team, that his mid-forties are practically his prime, god damn it! 

He doesn’t, though. None of it seems as important as it used to.

Being taken off the force is the least of his concerns, not when the tug to vent the dreams (visions, almost) onto paper-canvas-something is so strong he shakes with it.

The dreams are wild. Vivid and jarring. He draws bits and pieces of them all. 

He’s got the time to do it, now. 

*

Rogers is the first to stop contacting him. Barnes follows suit. 

Clint hangs on a little longer, but ultimately stops coming around after the first month.

Rhodey doesn’t feel like a loss, for all that he and Tony have undeniably drifted apart. Rhodey’s got his family; Carol and the kids. He has time for coffee, for a quick chat sometimes. He doesn’t ask after the dreams. Tony doesn’t blame him.

Nat sticks around a little longer. Stops by every couple weeks. Comes in and drinks his crappy instant coffee and looks at whatever he’s working on. Sees him go from pencil sketches to paint. 

When she sees his latest piece, she arches a brow at him.

It’s a glove, she says, flatly. The hint of good-natured amusement sparking in her eyes is nice, even if it’s not enough to counteract the rest of her reaction.

She’s a better liar than the others, because she lies with her whole body, her whole self. It’s only because Tony knows where to look does he see the wariness in the way her glance keeps flicking back to the canvas, catching on the bronze shape, on the spots of bright color that contrast so sharply.

The visit ends more quickly than usual (and they were never long to begin with), the redhead gone after a well-crafted excuse and a lingering hug. Tony knows he’ll see her again, but it still feels like a goodbye, of sorts. 

He’s not bitter about any of it, doesn’t blame or begrudge his team for not staying; their jobs, their lives didn’t end when Tony took that blast, when a cut-and-dry shipyard raid (as cut and dry as any raid can be) went a little sideways.

And, if he’s being honest, the relative handful of times he’s seen any of them after his retirement (after four months he’s given up calling it ‘leave’, given up assuming he’ll ever even try to come back), there’s something hanging silently over them, dragging between them. 

The feeling of distance (and slight relief when they part) is mutual, Tony thinks.

*

There’s one constant, outside the dreams. One figure flitting in and out of the corners of his days, his nights, his mind.

His neighbor, Peter, is a mystery. A gorgeous, twenty-something, world-weary mystery who’s eyes flicker too sharply over the whole of Tony’s body whenever Tony opens the door to find him standing there at completely ridiculous hours.

(Not that Tony’s got a healthy circadian rhythm to disrupt, anymore).

It feels less like random kindness and more like he’s been assigned security detail, the kid’s greeting and polite inquiry--How are you today, Mr. Stark? (because he can’t get the kid to call him ‘Tony’)--accompanied by eyes moving too sharply over the whole of Tony’s body, checking for damage, before he’s off again to do whatever it is he does.

Tony’s not really sure what to do with it at first, how to respond. He’s not used to being watched over, is typically the one doing the watching, the protecting. It’s especially difficult the first couple of times, because the kid--Peter--always looks a little worse for wear; favoring one or more of his limbs, and at least one visible, fresh bruise, small scrape or cut marring his features.

He does him the courtesy of not asking about them, because Peter doesn’t ask invasive questions and obviously tries very hard not to look past Tony and into the apartment, important concessions to Tony’s privacy. It’s only fair to let Peter have his, feels like an even (if increasingly painful) trade-off.

He also doesn’t want to do anything to risk losing this. He’s glad his ‘detail’ keeps showing up. Keeps existing. 

*

After a while, it becomes routine. Once a day, Peter knocks, Tony opens, and they have their exchange. It’s...a spot of light in Tony’s world, even if it feels sort of heavy.

The lightness is due in part to the way that, regardless of apparent injury or hour of the day, Peter always offers Tony a genuine smile, even if it’s also quick or small or tired.

Sometimes, though, the smiles are more grimace than anything else. There are bands of steel behind those ones, and Tony wonders how (why) this kid got so strong, and why it doesn’t seem like there’s anyone telling him he doesn’t have to be. On those days, Tony thinks about inviting him in, offering to take a look at the injuries; he’s got first aid training and still keeps his own supplies in his place.

(He doesn’t ever offer to drive Peter to the hospital; the option never seems to occur to him until after Peter’s already vanished, down the hall or into his own apartment across from Tony’s.)

There’s something that stops him, something beyond the respect for Peter’s privacy. Something about the faint blush that appears on Peter’s cheeks sometimes during their short conversations, something about the way his own eyes sometimes drift over Peter’s form in return.

*  

He wonders, sometimes, what Peter would think of the paintings. 

He's imagined it a few times; showing him, watching him see them. He doesn't know if Peter's into art at all (not that Tony even really is, not in the technical sense), but it wouldn't really matter; Tony's fantasies don't usually revolve around the younger’s critique of his work.

More than anything, he wants to see Peter in his minimalist-but-cluttered space, sitting on his couch or leaning against his kitchen counter, propped against the windowsill, a mug of something hot in his hands and a truly relaxed smile on his face.

Sometimes the fantasies are less innocent, but...something in him just wants to see Peter safe.

*

“Okay, we need to talk about this.”

They’re standing in Tony’s doorway, another ass-crack-of-dawn ‘status check’, and there’s blood actually trailing down from Peter’s left sleeve, dripping off the kid’s fingers.

Peter fidgets in place. “...About what?”

In spite of his concern, Tony nearly snorts a laugh at the completely terrible evasion. 

He reigns it in, arches his brows. “You’re getting you on the carpet.”

The kid shoots a quick glance downwards at his hand, blanching slightly. “Shit.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s--it’s really nothing, I just--”

“‘Nothing’ is a papercut, Peter,” Tony snaps. “Putting aside the bruises, fat lip, and the fact you’re obviously favoring your right leg, you’re standing here with blood running down your arm. That’s not ‘nothing’.”  

He’s tired and frustrated and afraid, finally venting these feelings after weeks of this, weeks of wondering if Peter’s just going to stop showing up, weeks of being on edge between visits even if they come like clockwork because he just can’t lose these moments, he can’t--and he doesn’t realize he’s moved forward into Peter’s space, how close he is until he finishes speaking. 

Peter’s staring at him with saucer-wide eyes, a pink stain on his cheeks, his slightly wheezing breath fanning across Tony’s chin.

Tony backs off quickly, hands in the air. “Fuck, I’m sorry--”

“It’s okay,” Peter says, and Tony watches the bob of his throat as he swallows. “You--I’m okay. I know it doesn’t look like it, but I am. You don’t need to worry about me Mr. Stark.”

The determined set of Peter’s jaw is both compelling and frustrating, and Tony just barely manages to muscle back his urge to argue further.

“Just...I’m here,” he says, finally. “If you need to talk. If you need anything. Please.”

Something desperate and pained slashes across Peter’s features, and then it’s gone. The younger man nods, short and tense, turns and disappears into his apartment.

Tony stares at the closed door for another moment, before stepping out and shutting his own door, heading down the hall. 

Air. Air will be good.

*

Air is good. It’s always good. Always helps after the dreams, chills away the sweat, clears his head.

It doesn’t do quite as much, now, when his worries are linked to reality instead of a dreamscape, but it feels good nonetheless. 

He stands on the roof of the complex, high up, until the edge of the sky begins to change color. Like he does every time he comes up here, he thinks about his favorite of the dreams, the brief period when his nights were filled with the exhilaration of flight.

He hopes Peter has somewhere like this, that he has something good to return to, his own version of reaching the sky.

*  

"Mr. Stark, I don't feel so good..."

Wind. Reddish puffs of dust in the air, unnaturally colored sky--everything is wrong, everything is ending, failure, failed, no--

"I don't wanna go, please--I don't wanna go!"

He can't lose him, he can't lose the kid--it's his fault, Tony's fault--he shouldn't have been here, he shouldn't have--

Tony bolts upright, gasping past the taste of dust in the air--gritty on his tongue, in his throat, burning his eyes.

With a clumsy, half-conscious drive, he drags himself up off the couch to the easel, practically throwing the painting of the glove (gauntlet) to the side and slapping a blank canvas up.

He doesn't start this one with a pencil sketch, no swipes of graphite or charcoal. The paint ends up on his bare hands, coating his fingers, and then he's frantically tracing and contouring a face, neck, shoulders, craggy grey rock and more of that reddish dirt--shades of beige and brown, orange and red and blue, grey and black twisting (crumbling) away.

Time is nothing, a non-entity; all Tony knows is the need to touch, to hold, to stop the inevitable--

When it's finished, the energy drains with disorienting suddenness. It's difficult to keep his arms extended, so he doesn't; he pulls them towards himself, hunching over with a sob and burying his trembling, paint-tacky hands in his hair.

The dreams have only ever been abstract; images in a mental blender. Vague human shapes and random objects, landscapes--weird, vivid amalgamations of feelings and colors and sensations. Tasting the dirt, feeling the loss; those things are par for the course.

But none of the people in them have ever had a voice; no one has ever said a word.

He couldn’t make out clear features of the face, even staring head on...but the voice that still rings in his head sounds a lot like Peter’s, and now that the frenzy is over, it’s almost paralyzing.

After an indeterminate number of minutes, the dream fades in the way dreams do, and he uncurls with a heaving sigh and stands, drags himself to the kitchen counter to make coffee.

He's already painted it out, it’s usually enough, but when he sits back down in front of the easel, he feels sick, anxious. His hands are unsteady, knuckles white where he grips the handle of his mug, the liquid inside it rippling slightly. 

Patches of the paint are still shiny-wet on the canvas, and part of him wishes it would stay that way, something about the wetness making it seem alive. It's blurred, as though he’s looking at the image from behind frosted glass, but there’s an obvious shape, the body of the owner of that heart-rendingly familiar, rasping voice. It's faceless; a kernel of (relative) normality he clings to, so he can try to convince himself this painting doesn't feel like the manifestation of his greatest failure, of a grave error that doesn't really belong to him but still spreads, aching, behind his ribs.

He's sore everywhere--his shoulders and neck from being hunched over, his arms from being held aloft for far too long. His hands ache, too, and they’re dry, paint cracking and peeling in an ugly neutral blend of the colors he'd smeared on his fingers.

He showers, manages to get the paint out of his hair. 

But he can’t watch as the color flecks and melts (disintegrates) from his hands and disappears down the drain. 

 *

Every day.

Every day for the last four days. 

The dreams and the art are a cycle: he dreams, he draws, he gets a few days respite while he finishes the piece...and then he wakes again from a new nightmare or dreamscape and starts over. 

He’d finished the first painting the same day...but he keeps having the same dream. Keeps hearing Peter beg to stay, keeps feeling the body in his hands crumble away to nothing. The taste of dirt in his mouth won’t leave, isn’t touched by coffee or food. He’s got five variations of the same painting piled in the corner of his apartment, and he’d been sure that if he doesn’t do something, he’s going to live the same horror over and over and over.

So he’s doing something.

He’s maybe ending this vicious repetition, but he’s also making up for the way he’s been ending their conversations more quickly, the way he’s been holding back and hiding, pretending he doesn’t see the flicker of hurt on Peter’s face when Tony’s the one who evades, bids farewell and closes the door.

He’s the one knocking, now.

“Mr. St--Tony?”

Seeing Peter like this--standing there in a t-shirt and boxers in the doorway of his apartment, less bruised than normal, looking confused and alive, he looks amazing--blows whatever plans Tony had away, ash on the wind. 

He doesn’t think, just sighs Peter’s name and pulls the younger man forward into a tight hug, buries a hand in his hair, presses his face in the softness, too, everything in his head spinning with relief and joy and a painful kind of apology--

--before he notices how stiff Peter’s gone in his arms. 

Probably because, in the months since they’ve been doing this, they’ve never actually engaged in physical contact...or had a real conversation beyond the single argument those days ago. Peter doesn’t know about the dreams; he doesn’t know anything, and Tony must seem like he’s having a mental break.

Before he can make himself let go, though, Peter’s arms snap up to wrap around him, tight, so tight it makes Tony’s ribs ache.

It ends too soon, Peter pulling away to stare at him with suddenly wet, red-rimmed eyes and hope so sharp it hurts to look at.

“Are you--do you know? Do you remember?”

Cold trickles down Tony’s spine.

He knows, without a doubt, he should. He should remember, and he doesn’t. It feels like another failure that he can’t say ‘yes’, that he can’t bring himself to answer that hope with something other than tense silence.

His heart breaks when Peter steps back after a few seconds, looking embarrassed and a little panicked.

“Never mind, I’m sorry--”

“Wait, no,” Tony blurts, barely resisting the urge to pull Peter back in. “Don’t--Look, I can’t...I don’t know what you’re talking about, but maybe you could tell me? I just…” He sighs, frustrated at himself, at the feeling that he’s missing something huge and that huge thing is Peter-shaped

“I just need to be around you for a little while,” he finally says. “Is that okay?”

He’s sure he’s going to get a door shut in his face; Peter’s expression is torn, aching, and Tony wouldn’t blame him in the slightest.

But he’s lucky. 

“Um, yeah,” Peter says carefully after another long moment, something like resignation coloring his tone. “Come in, please.”

*

The layout of Peter’s apartment is a mirror of Tony’s, but significantly less cluttered. Pretty minimal, actually, less like a choice in aesthetic and more like he’s only just moved in: a futon and a desk for furnishing, a small microwave and coffee pot on the counter, no pictures on the walls or taped to the fridge. 

Tony’s not judging, can’t; he’s never lived particularly extravagantly either, and his studio only looks lived in because of the art supplies taking up a good third of it. 

As for the lack of personal touches, of photos, memories...If anything, it makes Tony feel a further sense of closeness, of camaraderie. He doesn’t have pictures up either, not anymore; can’t look at the ones of he and the team, of he and Rhodey through the years. Not since everything changed.

The futon draws his gaze, again, still pulled down flat, like Peter’s just woken up, or had just laid down for bed. Tony stares at the pillow and rumpled, pulled-back comforter, and feels a twist of guilt (not enough to leave, but it’s still there).

“I’m sorry about the mess,” Peter’s saying as he closes the door and moves to stand a little off to the side. “I wasn’t expecting company at...um. Whatever time it is.”

Cracking a joke would be ideal to diffuse the tension, or maybe even giving a generic, polite response (‘it’s fine’, ‘I don’t mind’, or, ‘you have a lovely home, literal man of my dreams’), but when Tony pulls his gaze from the futon, Peter’s lips are curved in a tight smile, his stance awkward, yearning, like he’s trying not to approach Tony, but he wants to.

“Can I touch you again?” Tony asks. 

He realizes how it sounds as soon as he’s blurted it out, and as he watches Peter blush, lips parting in silent surprise, he wishes he meant it that way; that he was only trying to finagle his way into further messing up Peter’s bedspread, wanting to touch for a reason so mundane as arousal, instead of out of the powerful desire to reassure himself of Peter’s continued existence. 

Before he can apologize or rephrase, he’s got an armful of shaking, but warm and solid, Peter.

Peter’s face--his cheeks, his nose, his lips--are warm, pressing into the bare skin at the junction of Tony’s neck and shoulder, a sensation that takes Tony’s breath away more so than the return of the tight bands of Peter’s arms, one low around Tony’s waist, the other angled up between his shoulder blades. 

Fabric tightens across his shoulders and a little at his neck, like Peter’s gripping a handful of his shirt, and Tony feels more than hears the younger speak. 

“Yes, please. Touch me.”

Tony swallows thickly and hugs Peter back. The ‘thank you’ is burning in the back of his throat, threatening to spill out...so he lets it. Breathes it strained and hollow into Peter’s hair, the kind of ‘relieved’ that hurts so much worse before it gets better, and Peter shivers in his hold.

It shouldn’t feel so good. It shouldn’t feel better to hold Peter, this virtual stranger, than it does to even think of being near his family, his old friends (his other friends, other; they’re not gone, they’re just...distant--not gone, not gone, not wrong), but it does. It feels right, in a way nothing else seems to feel anymore. 

“I’m sorry,” he hears himself say, “I’m so sorry, Peter, I’m sorry…”

He’s sure he’s holding on tight enough now that it has to hurt, but he can’t make himself stop. His hand ends up back in Peter’s hair, fingers twisting into the soft brown curls, his other hand gripping at the back of Peter’s thin, worn t-shirt, and suddenly he needs more. Needs more proof, needs more confirmation that he’s not dreaming, that Peter’s not going to crumble apart in his arms. He’s just not sure how to say it, if he can--

He flinches when he feels Peter shift, feels him nosing at his throat, feels lips parting.

“I miss you,” Peter whispers, ragged and strained, breath warm against Tony’s skin, and it doesn’t make sense, but it does.

*

The fading bruises on Peter’s skin taste the same as the pale, unblemished places, are just as soft when Tony’s lips and tongue brush over them, and this isn’t what he’d meant to do, but it’s what’s happening now and neither of them appear inclined to stop it.

They should be talking; Tony should be wondering about the question Peter asked when they hugged for the first time. He should be panicking about how Peter apparently knows him enough to mourn him (he’d said ‘I miss you’ the way Tony talks to his mother, like he was talking to a gravestone) even though Tony had definitely never met him before he left the force, before the dreams. Would’ve remembered a face like his (an everything like his, really).

But they’re not talking. Instead, he’s tangled with Peter on the futon, dragging his lips from bloom to bloom of fading green-yellow-purple down Peter’s torso, his scalp tingling with every reflexive tightening of the fingers in his hair, the disbelief and awed arousal on Peter's face as much an aphrodisiac as the taste of his skin, the texture of it under Tony's hands.

Every motion feels like something slotting into place, the restless places in Tony's mind settling a little further, the empty spaces filling with heat and emotions too big for how little he really knows this person--this beautiful, strong, wonderful being.

Tony’s not panicking. He’s not wondering. He still doesn’t know how this is happening, still doesn’t know Peter beyond the last few months, barely knows him now, but nothing has felt this easy, this right, in a long time.

When Peter spills, warm and liquid, over where their hands are wrapped together around their twin hardness, Tony swallows Peter's soft gasp, kisses him and groans Peter's name as he finds his own release.

*

There are things he needs to say, things he needs to show Peter, the way he knows there are things Peter needs to show him, tell him.

The enormity is there, a strangely relieving weight, blanketing as they sink into each other in soft, post-coital haze.

It's complicated. It’s bigger than the dreams, bigger than anything Tony can fathom.

But when Tony fades, curled together on the futon, Peter's head under his chin and one of Peter’s hands resting on his sternum…

He dreams of flight.

***

[marshmallowprotection]

ok so i was the one who sent the ask for mc cheating on saeran, and then it lead to this thought--i would love to see an au where lila ends up travelling to an alternate universe where she was evil and it lead to savior ray ending. what would lila do if she woke up right after that ending?

oh and an aside, which bad ending do you think lila was closest to getting? feel free to make up your own if it the canon own doesnt suit

I’ve got multiple BE fics on my AO3 if you haven’t checked those out. I’ve got one for just about every scenario that she could be in and they do deviate from the canon a little bit because she’s not exactly your face value MC. She’s too nice to do to Ray what happens in BE1. She cannot push him around and break him for her own amusement. 

That’s why her BE1 was Ray becoming much more overbearing with his fears onto her and she breaks underneath the pressure and becomes his doll. It’s a direct contrast to BE2 where Suit Saeran easily breaks her down and makes her a toy. There’s a difference in the phrasing here, as it is about those specific keywords. Doll implies he takes care of her and toy implies that he uses her as he pleases. 

Even in BE3, she couldn’t bring herself to turn against him, so Rika decided to keep them both locked away from each other and separated for a very long time, and when Lila cracks, she literally reprograms her to be a loyal believer for Saeran, in which afterward she forces the still unstable and unsure fusion of that came from Saeran and Ray, to take the spot as the Savior so if the group goes down, Lila and Saeran take the fall and she gets away. 

Now, if you’ve not read the Assistant Ending route, then you’ve missed out on the surely wicked timeline. I actually just finished the bad ending variant for that story. Wisteria, as in Lila under the control of the elixir, realizes that Rika isn’t going to hold up on her end of the deal to Saeran to let him destroy the RFA and Luciel. She singlehandedly convinces Saeran to help her by not telling her true plan, they manage to break down Saeyoung and make him complete one of his bad endings where he offers to teach Saeran everything in exchange for letting Minji and Judas go. The latter is forced to leave the country. Unknown and Wisteria use that power from Saeyoung to take down the RFA and bring them to Mint Eye. Once Wisteria does that, she corners V and makes him submit to her will, V has no choice... only because Wisteria promises that Saeran will be free from elixir and punishment. 

V submitted because Rika was the biggest issue. Rika absolutely loses it when V turns himself in Saeran, and not Rika. He didn’t look at her, his focus was on Saeran solely because he was the one he failed in his eyes. It causes Rika to lash out and prove she’s not capable of being in charge. She’s taken out of power, for the time being, the RFA agrees that Saeran should be in charge for the time being, although it will be forever, and Wisteria wins. Saeran is on the throne, nobody is suffering anymore (unless they need a little convincing to listen), no elixir, just a paradise built upon the ideals that Saeran has. It’s not good for Saeyoung, of course, who is forced to live only to see how Saeran has everything in his hands and so much cruel power that will only spread. 

Now, if you want me to consider a timeline AU where she is actually capable of following through with one of the canon BEs then I can totally do that. Now, if we want to consider Savior Saeran, where the MC has to turn against Saeran at the last minute and he does it because he will always bow his head to them, no matter if it hurts him... well, it’s not going to be pretty for Lila. She’s normally a very kind and timid person. If you’re saying that she woke up in this place where she decided that Rika was right and that she’s now using Saeran... well, it’s not going to be pretty. 

I’m trying to think this one through. So, I’d imagine that she wakes up and she’s not in her room. No pink, no princess walls, just darkness. She isn’t sure what is happening, but when pauses when Rika stands in the doorway, her eyes wide and unsure of what’s happening. Rika offers her hand and Lila has no choice but to listen and follow. She slowly learns that something isn’t right... because Rika is not judging her or wary of her, they’re talking like they’re... friends. That’s not right. Lila was never close to Rika and she never got close to her, she played a safe line but never said nice things. 

So, imagine her horror the more that the morning progresses and she’s dressed in all black, only to discover at the last moment that Saeran is there, and he’s on his hands and knees, quietly whispering their praise, not just Rika, but her praise as well. it fills her stomach with dread... with fear... what is this nightmare and is it possible to wake up?

She tries to question it, but she’s not getting answers. Rika only chuckles at her questions to Saeran, who hasn’t answered, patting her on the shoulder and just simply stating: “I see, you can to play a game with him, huh? Try not to break him too much... haha, I trust you know when to use your devil. He does have to speak to the crowds this evening.” 

Can you imagine her expression? 

The look in her eyes when it starts to click? 

Worse, can you imagine how horrified she is when Saeran looks at her with that tired and dead look in his eyes? She would try to sink to his level and get him to sit up, to look at her, but he’s still... submitting. She tries to gently ask him what is happening, because the last thing she remembered, they weren’t... this wasn’t what was happening. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says, quietly but flatly. “This is the way it’s always been.” 

“No, it’s not,” her soft voice would raise and crack and Saeran would flinch, causing her to let him go and panic. “No, it’s not! I would never.. I would never treat you like this! You’re scared of me, no wonder you’re scared of me if I... if I... I if...” 

If she turned against him like that. 

If she trusted Rika more than Saeran. 

“Don’t,” Saeran looked down. “Don’t do this to me again. I can’t play this game, my... my queen. I don’t wish to upset you or stop your fun, but I... I can’t think about the past. That’s not allowed. I shouldn’t imagine any time where you weren’t taking care of me like this. You’re... you’re having fun, you’re happy, that’s all I wanted.” 

“This doesn’t make me happy, Saeran, I wanted you to be happy, this isn’t happy, this isn’t us—” her voice sputtered. She would continue to crack and fumble more and more, but Saeran wouldn’t listen. 

Anon, you’ve made me want to write an actual fleshed-out variant for this AU since it’s an interesting concept. That being said, Lila was technically closest to getting my version of my BE1. She trusted Ray too much and stopped thinking about the red flags. It was only a matter of time if she didn’t push harder on him and Mint Eye. If we were to say from the in-game bad endings, then it’s possible that she’s the closest to the one on day-four since that’s what I based her take on BE1 on! 

[quirkless-and-embarrassed]

Sir Nighteye

Ok, I watched the anime and felt like doing another character meme!

Spoilers for Overhaul arc/season four of the anime.

Favorite thing about him:

I like that Nighteye didn’t allow his admiration of All Might to turn him into a pushover. Such adulation could have blinded him to All Might’s flaws, something Midoriya struggles with, but Nighteye stood firm, spoke his mind, and took action in accordance with what he believed. The way Nighteye willingly, gladly admits to being wrong (about Midoriya and All Might’s decision to fight fate) makes it clear that it wasn’t pride that drove Nighteye away from All Might, but actually principles and genuine concern/panic. Nighteye was happy to be wrong, even though it meant that his failures to change the future were true failures and not simply something out of his control. Knowing this enabled Nighteye to let go of his underlying fear that his quirk didn’t just see the future, it set the future in stone, and he’s able to die peacefully after giving All Might and Midoriya his full, unconditional approval, and after internally apologizing to Mirio for seeing him as a vessel before realizing the error of his ways.

Nighteye presumably awakened his quirk when was four or five, and he was thirty-eight when he died. That’s thirty-four years—he could have used his quirk easily thousands of times, maybe more than ten-thousand—and never once has the future significantly deviated from what he saw. Essentially, his quirk’s been the daily Word Of God since he was five years old. It’s easy for Midoriya or Rock Lock to say, bring it on, I can smash fate; for Nighteye, who has actually tried, it’s a completely different ballgame. He knows what it MEANS to try to change to fate, but he’s determined to try anyways.

I like the balance Nighteye strikes between fierce idealism and calculated realism. Yeah, the narrative often criticizes realism for not being plus ultra, but it’s a quality I like. Nighteye wanted to carefully plan Eri’s rescue and Overhaul’s arrest, but his caution didn’t make him any less committed or passionate, or any less admirable than anyone who would have (tried to) saved her immediately (it’s not like Overhaul would let anyone walk away with her).

I like his hero name. The Sir invokes the honor of a knight, All Might’s vassal, the “eye” is obvious, and “night” because he can see in the “dark”: the future is clear to him. Plus, I like the night/knight pun.

I also like just how gangly, angular, and weird he looks. He has some quality body language with the angle of his head.

Least favorite thing about him:

His stamps…his abs…come on. He doesn’t need to a fantastic fighter. His stamps are a funny weapon to be sure, but it irritates me that they’re as strong as they are. It’s ridiculous that Nighteye could cartoonishly hurl Rappa the way he did, and it was stupid to tear his shirt to show off how ripped he was. I felt like Horikoshi was trying to show us that Nighteye meets the standards of a conventional hero, when he could be just as much of a hero using his brain. At the most, someone like Nighteye, who emphasizes logic and excels at predicting opponents’ next moves, should be carrying a gun like the police.

The tickle machine. Eughh. I could barf at how much I hate it.

It’s also frustrating that Nighteye completely wrote Midoriya off as a “quirkless middle-schooler” who could never become the Symbol of Peace and actively undermined All Might even now that he was finally raising a successor. I can at least respect how upfront he is about it: Midoriya knows what he’s getting into by the time he submits his work study application to UA. But even without that, Nighteye doesn’t trouble me as much as he did the first time I read the manga because 1) I figure Nighteye saw Midoriya when he foresaw All Might’s doomed future, because Midoriya is such a big part of his life that of course Nighteye saw him, 2) Nighteye is aware that they’re working on an extremely tight timeline: All Might is due to die within the next year or two, so picking a baby successor who’s going to need tons of hands-on guidance is a bad move, and 3) Nighteye paid the price for his “quirkless” comment when Mirio lost his quirk, and, despite what he said, it was clear that he didn’t love Mirio less, or respect him less as a hero, because of it.

I like that Nighteye appreciates humor, but his final speech about laughter and smiling, combined with Mirio’s determinedly positive reaction, makes me think that he may not have taught Mirio that it’s okay to be sad, that you don’t need to always smile. That would be a disappointing failure on Nighteye’s part, since the overwhelming pressure All Might feels to be positive+proactive is part of what made him unable to accept Nighteye’s criticism. It also fits with how Nighteye’s inner monologues tend to be more sympathetic than his actual dialogue, so maybe Nighteye should have tried to be less didactic and tell Mirio that he has been Nighteye’s pride and joy, instead of thinking that and giving Mirio a last speech on the importance of smiles and humor. I think he would have been a better teacher if he’d allowed himself to be more sentimental.

Favorite line:

My absolute favorite is in ch137, as he observes Mirio’s guilt from letting Overhaul retrieve Eri and bring her back to his headquarters. Nighteye thinks:

I can’t say whether or not the future can be changed. But we can change the past. How we view the past and interpret it. That much is possible.

It’s an important life lesson, and I like how he inverts the typical, “the past can’t be changed, but you can control the future so that’s what matters” perspective.

I also like it in ch130, when Nighteye berates-slash-comforts Midoriya, who regrets allowing Overhaul take Eri back: “Enough of that arrogant thinking! Haste makes waste. Go after him haphazardly, and he’ll slip through our fingers. You’re not quite so special as to save whom you want, when you want.” Then he elaborates on their plan and finishes with a bang: “The world is not so accommodating that you can act the hero because you feel like it. The cleverest villains out there lurk in the shadows. There will be times when every precaution must be taken.”

One more, in ch161. When he’s on his deathbed, Nighteye looks at Mirio and thinks, In the beginning…I only brought you in as a potential vessel, but you stuck by me, believed in me, and at some point…you became my pride and joy.

BROTP:

Him and Mirio. I love how Nighteye took Mirio under his wing in a half-logical way, viewing him as All Might’s proper successor, only to accidentally raise Mirio as his own successor.

I wish we got to see Nighteye and Aizawa interact more. They’re both the rational mentors who get attached to their kids. It would have been nice to see Aizawa talk to Nighteye about his problem child or about Mirio, or to help Midoriya navigate his relationship with Nighteye, but since Aizawa doesn’t know about OfA and Nighteye was on his way out anyways…oh well.

I’d also love to have seen Nighteye and Hawks interact. They’re connected on a meta level, as the unofficial righthand men of the #1 heroes, and also by the idea of fate. Nighteye’s arc centered on the fact he could see the future, and the future he saw could not be changed. Hawks may or may not know it, but the imagery surrounding him is unmistakeable, and we the readers know that some sort of doom is waiting for the man who goes too fast. Whether Hawks can defy fate or if he’ll be crushed by it remains to be seen (and, like Nighteye, he’s not looking promising).

Hawks takes one look at Nighteye—perfectly pressed suit, pinched, no-nonsense expression and all—and is like oh this guy looks like he’s gonna be fun. Nighteye looks even more tightly wound than Endeavor. But actually, Nighteye actually respects and appreciates Hawks’s cavalier attitude! And though they rarely see each other, since they live far apart, they become friends who mainly swap information and keep each other up to date on villain things. Occasionally Hawks will see something ridiculous, like a meme or something, and send it to Nighteye, and Nighteye follows Hawks on social media and sometimes likes his stuff.

It’d be especially interesting to see them disagree about All Might. Nighteye is such a hardcore fanboy, Hawks professes to not be a fan, the Symbol of Peace is such an important part of how Nighteye envisions the future, and it’d be interesting to hear Hawks’s perspective on the Symbol of Peace and where it fits into his vision of the future.

I also appreciate Nighteye and All Might’s relationship, but like…idk, they got so little time together in canon, I kinda prefer to think of it as a dead brotp. Even if Nighteye had survived, I would kinda want his relationship with All Might not to be very close, because even though they weren’t angry anymore didn’t mean they could pick up where they left off.

OTP:

Hmm…not really anyone. I haven’t read much Nighteye fic. There is this one touching soulmate AU where he and All Might both bear the black symbol of someone who has been rejected by their soulmate…here.

NOTP:

No, not really.

Random headcanon:

One of the reasons he reacted so harshly to Midoriya as All Might’s successor is that when he foresaw All Might’s death, he also saw Midoriya. Midoriya’s failure to protect All Might from his gruesome death revealed him as an unfit successor, and he believes if he can remove Midoriya from the equation, then he will have changed the future.

Nighteye helped All Might track down AfO to avenge Nana, and he felt partially responsible for All Might’s injury in addition to fearing that his quirk set All Might’s future in stone.

Nighteye used his quirk on All Might between surgeries, because he couldn’t stand not knowing whether All Might would survive his wounds from AfO or not. He should have stopped when he saw All Might survived, but—he’s such a fanboy, and he saw that future!him was terrified and arguing with All Might about something, and he knew immediately just from the expression on his own face that he’d foreseen All Might’s death. He couldn’t resist looking ahead to find it and learn how much time All Might had left.

…part of me thinks that the reason Nighteye’s foresight was wrong about Midoriya’s death was because Eri also has a time-related quirk, and there was nothing Midoriya really did to change fate. Which would be sad, but. Yeah.

I’d like to think that Nighteye had a really wacky, judgmental cat with a questionably funny name. It sat on top of the fridge and looked down on him when he came home late. After his death, it becomes his agency’s cat and harbors a dangerous grudge against Bubble Girl’s aromatic bubbles.

Unpopular opinion:

It seems like plenty of people dislike him, so…I like him? He’s not even close to one of my favorites, but still.

Even though I like him, I was surprised to discover he was dead—I forgot he died, so I guess his death scene didn’t leave an impression on me. Looking back on it, I think it’s a nice enough scene, but at the time I was probably too exasperated by the overhaul arc as a whole to care much.

idk, I don’t see people talk about him much.

Song I associate with him:

uh…um…well……there isn’t really any music I associate with him. Here are a few songs that are very loose associations, I guess.

Darkside of the Sun by Tokio Hotel reminds me of how All Might’s public persona has taken over his identity, and Nighteye is seeking to save his life by retiring his persona.

Carry Me Down by Demon Hunter has the line “I know the pain inside my heart / can’t break the fear inside of yours,” which reminds me of Nighteye’s grief can’t persuade All Might to confront the reality of his imminent death, plus other stuff in the song about unspoken regrets and death.

And last, Turns to Dust by Sound Surfer and Nilka reminds me of Shigaraki (for obvious reasons), but I think it also speaks to Nighteye’s fear of his quirk.

Favorite picture of him:

Ch126 – Nighteye’s glare when Midoriya mimics All Might’s smile! He sure is intimidating 😂

Episode 75 – This moment did nothing for me in the manga, but it was genuinely moving in the anime. The voice acting and music <3 

I’ve also done Todoroki, Bakugo, Uraraka, Endeavor, Amajiki, and Shinsou!

[xfanfics]

Destiel Fic Rec List Part 1

Last Updated in October 2014. Posted in May 2020 for posterity. Listed in no particular order - the total rec list will have ~250 fics. Header graphic used with permission.

This part of the list contains: 48 fics.

Other Destiel Rec Lists: [1]. [2]. [3]. [4]. [5]. [6]. [7].

For Science! by pm_lo E | 21k | ABO, Omega!cas, Alpha!Dean,

Selected transcripts and supporting materials from Dr. Castiel Williams and Dean Winchester’s seminal study on physiological and psychological sexual response by gender designation.

Even though this is a dialogue/email text only story, I still very much enjoyed it and found it ridiculously hot. Maybe I'm just easy. (No I'm not. This fic is good, read it.)

Forget-Me-Not Blues by noangelsinthegarrison E | 68k | Firefighter!Dean, Professor!Cas, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining

Sam and Jess are getting married and Dean couldn’t be any happier for them. Honestly, they’re kind of disgustingly perfect for each other and Dean’s pretty damn excited about staying with them the week before the wedding. He’s Sam’s best man, of course, and he doesn’t even mind that Jess has her own best man to share in all the organizational duties. The more the merrier, right? Except Dean must have done something to epically piss off the universe because Jess’s best man just happens to be Castiel friggin’ Novak. He’s got even hotter since High School, but apparently no friendlier and if Cas wants to spend the week pretending like they’ve never met before? Fine. Two can play at that game.

THIS WAS SO GOOD I'M TEARING UP. tropes abound and I love it!

Cops and Robbers by kinkstiel E | 53k [WIP] | Detective!Dean, Criminal!Cas, Top!Cas, Bottom!dean

They locked eyes for a minute and then Cas leaned back as far as the cuffs would let him go, spreading his legs obscenely wide. “I want you to suck my cock, Dean.” Dean balked, mouth going dry in a second, eyes slipping to the now visible bulge in Castiel’s suit pants. “Um,” he said stupidly, face flushing red, eyes unable to pull away. Cas hummed. “Depending on how well you suck me, I might just tell you everything you want to know.” He licked his lips, smirking slightly when he caught Dean’s gaze. “And with sinful little lips like yours,” he made a low whistling sound, “I don’t doubt you’ll get every last name out of me.

So very good. Love the dark and dirtiness of it. It does get lighter and sappier towards the end tho.

Cursed or Not ❤ by Ltleflrt E | 115k | witch!Cas, shapeshifter!Dean, switching

While experimenting with magic when he was a kid, Sam accidentally cursed Dean. Now, Dean is forced to wear a spelled amulet constantly, or he'll turn into a random animal. For a little over a decade, he's learned to live with the curse, and has even found it useful in some cases, but he sure would be happier without it. When he meets a witch named Castiel, he's offered a deal. Instead of assuming all witches are bad, Dean can spend a season getting to know him. If at the end of the season, Dean still thinks he's evil Castiel will send him away with his memory wiped of the whole experience. But if he learns that Castiel is not the monster Dean assumes he is, he'll lift Dean's curse. It's an offer Dean can't bring himself to pass up.

Literally perfect. Enthralling world, magical relationship.    

Surprise Package by wannaliveindeansdimples E | 3k | Hot, , Dom Cas, Sub Dean, Light BDSM

When Cas' roommate Meg has to go out of town suddenly, she leaves him an unexpected gift.

So so hot. Non extreme Dom!cas and sub!dean.    

Never Have I ever by sweetdean M | 78k | Fluff,  High School AU, top!cas, bottom!dean

When Jo drags Dean along to a game of "never have I ever" with her friends, he finds himself getting caught up in a lot more than just a game. “Never have I ever hung out with such an asshole,” Dean countered, positively shocked at his own sass. Cas smirked again. “Oh, are we hanging out now?fricken adorable  

Road Signs by gemmiel E | 9k| Canon!verse, true form

Dean is curious about how angels have sex. Castiel shows him.

Damn. True form, soul sex, and regular sex. Yes please.    

It's Brilliant, Really by snarkymonkey E | 15k | Fluff,  AU, Professor!cas, Stuntman!dean

Castiel Novak is a History adjunct at Stanford University. He's also the most patient younger brother. When his older brother, Gabriel, decides to start *wooing* one of his younger waiters, Castiel reluctantly agrees to double-date with the intended paramour's older brother. What he didn't expect, however, was how much his own life would flip over such a careless decision.

Adorable. Hot, and adorable.  

Gabriel's Unfortunate Mistake by JackHawksmoor E | 8k | Hot,  AU

an answer to a prompt: Gabriel decides to hire a prostitute for his virgin brother Castiel as a joke, but instead accidentally hires Dean, a professional Dom. The moment Dean first lays a hand on him, Castiel knows he is lost. Dean/Castiel AU.

Um mm.... Damn. That was hot. Newbie sub!cas and pro dom!dean    

Well-Beloved Unto Me by  Moorishflower E | 3k | Alt!Canon, tentacles

The Winchesters don't get rewarded for all the shit they go through, so Dean is understandably wary when a few recharged and promoted angels offer him and Sam the vacation of a lifetime. Title comes from the Song of Solomon.

True form. And sex. MY FAVE.  

How to Date an Angel in 12 Easy Steps by Fourthduckling E | 23k | Fluff,  Alt!canon

It's not that hard to date an angel. All Dean has to do is fight off hordes of vampires, research gay porn, get sucked into a crappy Narnia, endure Sam's comments, creep out on Dr. Sexy, get harassed -- oh, and that's right-- figure out he's into Cas. Easy, right?

SQUUEEEE. Perfect and cute and cuddly.  

Two Wrongs Don't Make A Right But Three Rights Make A Left by the0voice0from0above E | 45k | High School AU, Dancer!Cas, Welder!Dean,

The beautiful Garrison Ballet School becomes home to a reckless bunch of misfits after the Colt Welding Academy is severely damaged in a fire and has to close for repairs. Needless to say, Castiel and his friends clash with their unwanted guests but there's one boy in particular who infuriates him.

Dancer!au. Love it love it love it!    

Rest My Angel by cobalt_wings E | 86k | Fluff,  Season 9 AU

Angels are falling from the sky, and Dean is losing it. Sam is dying in his arms, and one of those burning, twisting figures blazing through the night air might be his very own angel, Castiel. What can he do to help those he loves?

Sex and domestic and lots of fucking. My fave.    

One Species Too Many by wallmakerrelict E | 21k | Fluff,  Alt!canon

While Dean is laid up for a month after breaking his leg on a hunt, Cas decides that it's a perfect time to adopt a litter of kittens. But even though he's gotten better since Purgatory, Cas still isn't quite the same as he was before fixing Sam's head, and being trapped in a cabin with him for weeks on end is making that all the more obvious to Dean. When Sam takes off on a hunt, Dean has to figure out on his own how to navigate his new relationship with Cas while also helping to raise a bunch of fuzzballs that aren't even cute. Not even a little bit. (Well, maybe a little bit.)

Team free will with kittens!! So fluffy and domestic but also a touch of angst.    

It's A Bet by vitamindesi E | 34k | College AU, top!cas, bottom!dean

Destiel College!AU in which freshman Dean is dared by his best friends to hit on senior Castiel at a party. He wants to say no but then someone starts a bet and Benny bets a sum that is ridiculously high for a student and Dean can’t disappoint Benny, right? I deviated only, but hopefully it suffices.

So fabulous and smutty I want to cry. Literally perfection.

Your Call Cannot Be Completed As Dialed by eBob, K_K_TiBal T | 66k [WIP] | Fluff,  College AU

AU in which Castiel accidentally sends a text message to the wrong number and befriends the person at the other end of the line. However, accidents don’t just happen accidentally, and sometimes two completely different people are exactly what the other needs.

LITERALLY THE BEST. So many feelings. I WANT IT TO BE COMPLETE SO MUCH. Abandoned WIP.    

Equinox by luchia E  | 12k | Alt!canon, time travel

In which Castiel is the weird time-traveling freak who just might be the love of Dean Winchester's life.

Confusing but perfect time travel fic.   

If I run by betty days E | 4k | Hot,  AU, sexting, long distance relationship

"Dean Winchester is a red-blooded American male. He lifts all the things. He aims for functional strength. He counts his macros and makes fun of curlbros. He is not a member of the Tarahumara tribe and he will not read Born to Run, no matter how many times Sam tells him to, because Starting Strength is the only book Dean will ever fucking need." Wherein a friendly competition with the mysterious ThursdaysAngel turns into a sexy selfie-trading spree that motivates Dean Winchester to train for his first marathon.

Soo. Hot. Makes me want to actually exercise?    

The Little Things by Alreadypainfullygone T | 2k | Angst,  Cancer, Major Character Death

Au based on 'the big C' in which Dean gets very sick, and deals with it the denial way. Meeting a homeless man on the way. Dean/Castiel Angst. Warning for trigger - Cancer. sorry if you think I dealt with it badly.

This is only 2.8k words, and yet it managed to make me cry.    

Do What Feels Good by  Catchclaw, cymbalism E | 12k | Hot,  Alt!canon, PWP

Castiel learns to love alone time in the shower. And then he learns to share.

Fuuuuuck that was hot. Castubation and shower sex is just so hnnnggg.    

All That Is And Used To Be by MisaChan E | 26k | Alt!Canon, wing!Kink

Dean never even knew anyone was living in the old estate outside of town until its mysterious occupant contracts his shop for a very specific job: a custom piano bench with grooves cut into the back. He finds Castiel and his terms to be eccentric with a capital E but the money is too good to turn down and anyway, Dean can't help indulging his curiosity about the guy and his secretive, isolated life. There are secrets that will not stay hidden and stories that refuse to be forgotten. Especially when they happen to involve Dean Winchester and the angel Castiel.

Ugh, I love this story. Concept, execution, and characterization are all perfect.    

Do I Have Something Like That? by MysticMoonhigh E | 2k | Hot,  horn!kink, wing!kink

based on the tumblr post I made: Does anybody know any demon!Dean fics where Cas makes Dean climax by basically giving his demon horns a hand job because I want this so badly out of lifE | I'm. I've read this about three times and I think I'm finally coming to terms with my alien biology kink. Hot. Wink!kink and horn!kink. Yes.    

The Doctor Will See You Now by  PetrichorPerfume E | 7k| Hot,  PWP sub!dean, gentle dom!cas, wing!kink

Dean has a medical kink. Castiel is more than happy to oblige. Starring Castiel as the slightly unorthodox Dr. Novak who enjoys prescribing enforced chastity and daily tease and denial sessions, and Dean as his needy, submissive patient who will do anything for a chance to come.

Wowowwowowow. Um. This was super hot. Nnnghhhh.    

Into Your Hideaway by thepinupchemist E  | 176k |Angst,  a/b/o, omega!dean, alpha!cas, mpreg

Driving down a deserted road in the Rocky Mountains, Castiel finds something unexpected: An omega. Not only an omega, but a naked, injured, pregnant omega. Dean doesn't talk much at first, but that doesn't change the brightness of his soul. It also doesn't stop Castiel from falling in love with him.

I just... Wow. This was an amazing story. Beware that it is possibly very triggering, because of rape, assault, violence, and general bigotry. But perhaps because of all of that, you get a story that is almost painful in its reality, and it is all the more loveable for that.    

The World Crashing All Around by thepinupchemist E | 36k| Alt!canon, best friends wing!Kink, kid!fic

During a storm in September of 1987, Dean and Sam hear something hit their roof. When they brave the backyard to investigate, they find a fledgling angel. A story about best friendship, spoiled plans, and love, in four parts.

OH MY GOD. This was perfect all the way through. From soul bonds, to slow burn, to growing up together as best friends, it's all my favorite. And it even has wing kink, which is literally the best.    

Share Your Burden by aTimeOfMagic E | 3k Hot,  PWP, Sub!dean, dom!cas

Set at the end of 'Are You There God? It's Me Dean Winchester.' 4.02. Castiel shows Dean that he deserves respect, and Dean comes to see that Cas is not, in fact, just a 'hammer'. He also learns that his 'people skills' are definitely not entirely 'rusty'.

Damn. Um, really hot. Also, unexpectedly sweet.    

Flawless by Vaerin E | 69k | a/b/o, accidental bonding, sub!dean, dom!cas

A contract is out on the Winchesters, a large sum of money the reward for throwing them off their game. A witch in the town they happen to be passing through decides to collect. She sets her sights on Dean, trying to seduce him into leaving his job to stay with her. When she can't even convince him to warm her bed, she decides to turn her job into his punishment. Knowing he fears commitment and can't stand the thought of being with a man, she works a spell between him and Castiel... the one friend he can call a safe haven. When they end up mated the next morning, not only does the Winchester family business suffer... but so does Dean's friendship with Castiel.

Cute long soul bond fic. Contains sabriel.    

Chasing Normal by Donovanspen M | 16k | Fluff,  First time, Cuddling & Snuggling

Dean reevaluates his definition of an 'apple pie life' and what that means for him, personally.

This is the definition of domestic fluff and smut. There's a wee bit of angst because hey, it's set in the canon verse. But so worth it.    

Hold On by somuchforbaggles E | 92k | Fluff,  Angst,   mental illness

Castiel is sure that nothing in his life will ever change. Everything that happens to him is predictable, from the stability of his job to the unrelenting sporadic anxiety attacks, he can rely on his life to stay the same forever - until he saves Dean Winchester from the path of an oncoming train. From then on, everything changes for both of them, and the only way they can deal with it is together.

Woww. This was an amazing ride. Angsty and fluffy, then angsty again, then back to fluffy. So good.    

I said to myself again by avyssoseleison E | 2k | Fluff,  Praise!kink, Self-esteem issues

Dean finally lets himself be appreciated and cared for by his angel.

Praise kink is my ultimate weakness    

The One Thing You Can't Lose by MajorEnglishEsquire T | 4k | Fluff,  Cuddling & Snuggling

You know what I like a lot? The thought that Dean can just tug Cas anywhere at any time and Cas, who can lift tons without effort, who can demolish things with the light of his grace, who has battled and gone to war, has defended and broken, will just let Dean do it.

fluffy love    

Spit Slick by VeraBAdler M | 1k | Fluff, , First Time

[no description]

A super cute fluffy little oneshot :3 (tags say 'happy sex' and 'sexy cuddling' if you need more to go on)  

Late Bloomer by somuchforbaggles T | 7k | Alt!Canon, Wing!kink, Wingfic, Soulmates

On every child’s seventh birthday, a celebration is held to mark the beginning of their journey as a fledgling - a sprouting ceremony. It doesn’t matter if the child hasn't shown the symptoms of emerging wings yet, for it is scientific fact that every child grows wings in their seventh year, sometimes even earlier. Castiel is not every child.

A coming of age wing fic. With mates. Basically, I'm in love.    

Sleight of Hand by aileenrose M | 64k | Angst,  Human AU, psychic cas, journalist dean

Dean Winchester has interviewed them all--mob bosses, serial killers, crooked politicians. Next he plans to unveil the con-man who markets himself as Castiel, a reclusive and secretive "healer" who claims to heal the sick in return for thousands of dollars. Dean's expecting a challenge, but he never expected Castiel to be so clueless or sweet...or that he might be telling the truth.

I HAVE SO MANY FEELINGS ABOUT THIS AU. The one where Dean is a skeptical journalist/professional idiot and Cas is a socially inept healer and mind reader. There's lots of angst, but the payoff is so worth it.    

Leaning In by Anonymous T | 15k | Hospital AU

Castiel never changed out his scrubs, Dean had a way of getting himself injured and Sam seemed to think it was a good pairing

Even though I have no idea who actually wrote this story, it's worth a read. I'm always up for a good medical AU.    

Someone I Forgot to Be by  MatildaMavis E | 36k Fluff,  Angst,  Human AU

Castiel is content - sort of - with his quiet life in Boston...at least, until his new neighbor moves in. It's Dean Winchester, the cliched long lost love of his life. Can these two idiots find their way back to each other after eight years, after fame and loss and heartbreak? After Dean has found love again with Cas' neighbor, Lisa? Fate can be a sadistic bitch, they've both learned that, but maybe they've matured enough to be able to handle it this time. The sparks, the attraction, the tension...or maybe not.

I thought this would be extremely painful, and it sort of was. But it was so worth it.    

Didn't Get That Particular Memo by Snarkymonkey E | 5k

Dean has worked with his best friend for years and maybe it's a bit more than that for him but not for Castiel, right? Right. And really, he'd feel so much better if Castiel would just get a companion already. Because it's not like Castiel actually wants him, right? Right.

Damn, that was fucking hot.  

Cas, You Had A Baby? by allthebeautifulthings9828 M | 132k | Fluff,  Alt!Canon, Kid Fic, Slow Build

At some point in every angel's life, raising a fledgling is required. Castiel's turn comes rather unexpectedly when his superiors hand off a newly created infant angel to him and leave him to raise it with all of Heaven's principles of blind obedience. He's not sure what to do, so he tucks the fledgling in his coat and goes straight to Dean and Sam Winchester. Together, Dean and Castiel hatch a plan to raise the fledgling away from Heaven's control. And soon, the angel Hael arrives with news that, after Castiel disappeared, she and four other angels ran from Heaven's oppression with their fledglings. Castiel finds himself the unwitting ringleader of angels choosing to raise their fledglings with the principles of free will. Is angelic parenthood too much for his deepening relationship with Dean? Who can they really trust? (Disclaimer: This story depicts fledglings consuming honey for the nourishment of their undeveloped graces. Human babies cannot consume honey, so please do not feed it to your infants. This is fiction.)

Oh. My. God. I admit that I was skeptical at the beginning about this story, but let me tell you, it sucked me in. Sometimes, you run across a story that has wonderful OCs that you get attached to. This is one of those. And of course, the baby is adorable.    

Healing by Jacqueline Albright-Beckett M | 2k | Fluff,  Canon!verse, PWP

Castiel can heal more than just physical wounds.

Sensual and romantic.    

Better Late Than Never by whelvenwings G | 23k | Fluff,  Alt!canon, friends to lovers,

When Dean first sees Castiel, he's clinging on for dear life - and things never really get any easier. In fact, they get a lot harder; Dean's worst enemy isn't always the monkey bars. Bound together year on year by the ritual pact of being a Guardian Angel, Dean and Cas grow close, showing loyalty and bravery in the face of danger. But will they ever find the courage to admit their true feelings for each other - and will it be too late by the time they do?

i LOVE best friends to lovers fics! and this delivers on that perfectly.    

Like A Candle In The Window On A Cold Dark Winter's Night by TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel T | 6k | Fluff,  Canon!verse, asexual Cas

In which Castiel saves Dean, Dean saves Castiel, there is beer and TV watching, and if it weren't for the monsters and assassination attempts, life would be almost perfect.

A cute little fic I've read multiple times :)    

How many slams in an old screen door? by dandelioness T | 15k | Fluff,  Theatre AU, Asexual Cas

In which Castiel is a theatre major terrible at first impressions; Dean is a set designer who likes Cas anyway; and the most chaotic production of Les Miserables in history somehow manages to go off without a hitch. Or, just as you should never give a moose a muffin (because he'll want some jam to go with it), you should never give a blank check to a university theatre department.

This is perfect. I can't speak for the accuracy of the information and feelings given about asexuals/asexuality, but I enjoyed this fic nonetheless.    

Breath of Heaven by solacesnake18 E | 9k

When Dean is wounded and dying in Purgatory, Castiel returns from his self-imposed exile to help him.

Wow. True!form cas and metaphysical sex that somehow manages to be poetic, emotional, and erotic all at once. I approve.    

The Mirror by CloudyJenn M | 24k | Canon!Verse,

When Dean touches a strange mirror, he's whisked away to one alternate reality after another and it doesn't take him long to realize the universe is trying to tell him something.

One of my favorite fics, and a fandom classic. So beautiful. It's a trip, but you'll love it. The ending makes me really emotional.    

Rock 'n' Roll Queer Bar by chasingrabbits E | 121k | Fluff,  Human AU

Ellen and Jo Harvelle run Harvelle's Roadhouse, a bar that unintentionally becomes a beacon for wayward queer souls. Her employees: Dean, the smartass runaway with a big heart and bigger mouth; Castiel, the college drop-out turned hippie; his (surprisingly heterosexual) trouble-making brother Gabriel; and Charlie, who has been told several times that the back room is not to be used for after-hours Dungeons & Dragons games. But there's a lot of love in this place, and a new family for anyone who may otherwise be without.

Sweet little (well, not so little really) universe. Link is to the series.    

A Million Ways to Go by chasingrabbits E | 91k | High School AU,

Castiel Novak is a preacher's son living in a world of black and white. Pragmatic and dutiful, he doesn't understand why anybody would want to make waves. Then the Winchesters move in down the street. Soon many of the skeletons in the Novak family's closet are exposed, and as the family faces them, Castiel begins to understand that there are many ways to see the world and so many more ways to live than what he's been told.

Wow, this was a ride. Set in an alternate!canon where Cas is a repressed preacher's kid and dean still grows up a hunter. Also, lots of Sam and Gabriel brother!feels. Not sabriel.

Like That Foreigner Song... by DevilMadeMeDoIt E | 5k | Hot,  Alt!Canon, Deancest, Time trave

Dean and Cas have been together for a while now, but Dean always regrets that he has been with so many people in the past. He wishes he could go back in time and tell his 15 year old self that there is someone worth waiting for. Cas gives him the chance and the outcome is one that neither of them expected.

Oh god, this was a perfect little story. So much love.    

TutorMate by faeryn M | 21k | College AU

Sam leaves Dean's laptop logged in to some app called "TutorMate" and Dean meets his brother's tutor. Cas helps him with his own work and they strike up a friendship. Before long Dean finds himself growing attached to the cute, clever Cas and flirtatiously suggests they go on a date if he applies himself to his college work. Cas agrees, but Dean discovers his online friend is not quite what he expected. (Or, in which Dean thinks he's met a cute girl and finds out he's actually met a cute boy.)

Wowowwowowow adorable. Perfect little college AU.    

More recs coming soon.

[baldwin-montclair]

Baldwin’s Nightingale (Part 11)

Characters: Baldwin Montclair/OC

Timeframe: After the S1 Finale, TV Show canon MOSTLY (some S2 and Shadow of Night).

Summary: Having agreed to become Baldwin’s wife and mate, Alisha is introduced to the De Clermont family and their allies, learning more about her husband and what is expected of her

Tag requests: @christi14 @poemfreak306 @pookie-cleary @hofficoffi @stormyheart326

The Story So Far...

The only thing able to pry Alisha from the hot, soapy comfort of the bath was the promise of yet more marital bonding with her husband.

Husband.

It would take some time before she would genuinely believe it as second nature, since it was so jarring.

She also felt the same, familiar, pang of guilt that she’d been carrying since the night before, to think of her own selfish happiness after what had happened to her mentor, guardian and friend.

He died, scared and alone.

Now, not even five days had passed since his death and she was in a luxurious bath in a stunning mansion, in Paris. Without her connection with Baldwin, however, Guillermo would have killed her too and most likely have gotten away with it.

Would that have been preferable?

She knew it would not have been, Gerbert will be served the same justice as Guillermo and she would have to live for that to happen.

Alisha intended to live, as Michael hoped she would when he hid his important secrets on a drive, in her violin. He planned for what he knew to be discovered by her, something that would help daemons. This could only be achieved if she were still alive and living meant doing what makes her happy.

Baldwin made her happy.

Drying off, she slipped on a silk bath robe, no doubt provided by the probably long-suffering De Clermont servant, and padded barefoot into the hallway and towards the illuminated lounge.

Baldwin was reading, such an innocuous yet attractive thing, his hair still slightly damp from his shower - according to him the mansion had five washrooms - and wearing a casual dark grey sweater and dark trousers.

“Wow, you even look authoritative whilst reading.” She ribbed gently as she approached his armchair.

“Did you enjoy your bath?” He asked, glancing up momentarily from his book before returning his attention to the page.

“I did, thank you for running it for me.” She stepped towards him until she stopped, right in front of him.

“You’re very welcome.” He emphatically closed the book and leant forward to inspect the graze on her knee from the night of their first meeting.

“It seems to have healed.” He observed.

“It has been two weeks.” She retorted, the speed of their courtship suddenly becoming plain.

“Almost two weeks,” he corrected, “yet this is the second night of our marriage, tradition dictates that we should be-“

“Fucking one another’s brain’s out?” She suggested, surprising him slightly.

“Mrs Montclair, you have quite the sinful mouth on you.” He jokingly reprimanded but watched transfixed as she lowered herself to her knees in front of him.

“With My Lord’s permission, I would like to put that sinful mouth on you.” Her cheeks were flushed with the forward tone of her words and she had a momentary worry it was maybe too forward for him.

He framed her face in his hands and placed a gentle kiss on each cheek, her forehead, the tip of her nose before finally reaching her lips and giving the lightest kiss before pulling back.

“Like so?” He asked, suggesting an innocent aim when he was well aware there wasn’t one.

“Not that.” She shook her head.

“Then I don’t know,” he gently stroked his knuckles against her cheek, “you will simply have to show me.”

She held his gaze as she moved to free him from the garments and undergarments in the way.

“Wait, just a moment.” He stopped her before grabbing a cushion from the nearby chair, directing her to kneel on that instead of the hardwood floor.

She was oddly touched by the sweet gesture and if she hadn’t already been eager to please him, she definitely would have been after shifting her position.

“Fuck!” He swore as she took him into her mouth.

They opted to start out for Sept-Tours in the morning and planning to be there by the afternoon.

Between her nerves over meeting his step-mother and her gratuitous enjoyment of watching him drive, she wouldn’t have minded the journey being double the time.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in anything other than a suit before this trip. I like it.“

He had chosen a dark red sweater, the sleeves rolled to just before the elbow, showing the antique watch on his wrist, very similar - if not identical - to the one worn by Rebecca, the witch from the silent auction. He usually wore an expensive, modern timepiece so this was a deviation from his norm.

“It was a gift,” he explained, noticing her focus on it, “from my father, before he left for Germany.”

She understood why he would choose it, considering his returning home, it most likely helped him feel close to the man who sired him.

“You know you can tell me, what happened. Like, you don’t have to if you’re not ready but I’m here, for when you want to.”

“I know. Give me time?” He asked, almost apologetic for his stoic nature.

“As much as you need.” She agreed.

“A warning,” he started, changing the subject, “the paperwork is likely to be very tedious. There are many assets and properties that are traditionally bestowed upon the wife of a noble, for the maintaining of her dignity, as they used to say.”

“You’re giving me property?”

“Don’t get too excited, it will be a while until you are without me by your side all of the time.”

“Why?”

“The vampire mating instinct.” He answered simply.

“Is that it?”

“It? Alisha, if you were being kept from me, I’d kill every human, creature and animal between us to get to you.”

“Not the bunnies!” She answered with mock horror, she had a hard time believing his words were more than exaggeration and artistic flourish.

“Especially the bunnies,” he warned gravely, giving her a sideways look, “they know what they’ve done.” He joined in with her teasing, making her smile.

“It will lessen in time.” He explained, making clear the truth of his words and encircled her wrist with his hand, his thumb brushing against the skin over her pulse in his own uniquely intimate way.

“Your step-mother, what do I call her? Mrs De Clermont, Madame De Clermont.”

“Ysabeau will suffice.”

“Isn’t that a little familiar? She doesn’t know me.”

“Vampires have many names, Ysabeau is the one she’s comfortable in sharing.”

She nodded absently as the high towers of the fortress came into view.

“Oh, My God, we have to go see that while we’re here it’s massive. Will we have time for sight-seeing?”

“You want to visit that fortress as a tourist?” He asked, managing to keep the amusement from his face.

“There’s no way a medieval castle of that size is privately owned, surely it’s a heritage site or something?”

“No, it’s privately owned,” he explained as he took the cut-off for road through the town and up to the fortress, “by our family.”

“That is Sept Tours?”

“It is.” He confirmed as he pulled up through the gatehouse to see Ysabeau at the top of the stairs, waiting to survey the newest member of the De Clermont family.

“Your heart is thudding my little nightingale, please try to relax.” He urged as he parked the car.

“I’m fine, just a little nervous,” she admitted, “Ysabeau?” She nodded to the impeccably dressed woman.

“Yes, and she’s clearly waiting for us.”

“Please tell me she’s not as intimidating as she looks?”

“She’s...it’ll be fine.” He answered, getting out of the car.

She tried the same to find herself unable to open the door again and had to wait for him to open it for her from the outside.

“Passenger Lock, again?”

“I open doors for you, and you, are just going to have to get used to that.” He promised as he held out his hand to help her from the car.

Being discerning about which battles to fight, she accepted his hand and let him help her from the car.

“Baldwin.” Ysabeau greeted when they reached the top of the stairs and they shared a frosty double cheek kiss before she ushered them into the great hall.

“Ysabeau, this is-“

“Alisha, I’m aware.”

“Marcus?” He rolled his eyes.

“And Gallowglass, they arrived earlier today.” She told him and turned her attention back to Alisha.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ma’am.”

Not permitted to offer a hand in greeting, Alisha was at a loss and found herself doing a shallow curtesy.

Baldwin failed to expertly turn his chuckle into an inconspicuous clearing of his throat.

“The poor thing is terrified Baldwin, what have you told her about us?”

“Nothing untrue,” he gave a look around, “I thought this place was supposed to be full of creatures, where is everyone?”

“Our daemon guests are walking the child in the hopes of getting her to take a nap. Marcus and Gallowglass are riding. Sarah and Emily, I have no idea.”

“Marthe?”

“Shopping, for the celebration dinner.”

“Celebration?” Alisha asked.

“Of course, the head of our family is married. A celebration is warranted.” Ysabeau’s expression was just as stern as before but Alisha got the sense that she was having more fun at his expense than she was letting on.

“If we must,” he grumbled, “has Alain equipped the tower as I asked?”

“Of course.”

“Then we shall retire for the moment, allow Alisha to get her bearings.”

By the time they reached the top of the stairs, Alisha felt slightly winded. The last two nights - and that morning - were the most exercise that she’s had in a while, given the events, and the number of stairs didn’t help.

“Fuck!” Baldwin swore as he opened the main bedroom to see candles everywhere, despite the obvious electrical lights. On the bed was scattered rose petals.

He lifted a nearby remote to turn on the lights but instead an unseen stereo seemed to start form nowhere.

I've been really tryin', baby

Tryin' to hold back this feeling for so long

Baldwin shut the system down with an emphatic click.

“I am going to kill them!” He promised.

Guessing his wayward nephews were responsible, she understood their decision to ‘go riding’ as she and Baldwin arrived and it was suddenly her turn to disguise her amusement.

“Don’t you dare!” He warned at her failure to keep a straight face.

“It’s kinda funny,” she admitted, “and if you really want to get them back, say nothing, act like nothing happened. All this effort for no reaction? It’ll drive them crazy.”

“That is...brilliantly devious.” He nodded, impressed.

“But you have to sell, it, no glaring,” she smirked, “well, no more glaring than usual.” She gave a surprised yelp when he playfully swatted her backside.

After a quick tour of Baldwin’s part of the tower, they decided to face the other guests and made their way to the grand hall.

“There she is, we meet again,” Gallowglass’ voice reached them before he did “have you tried out the violin yet?” He asked, innocently, glancing at Baldwin, anticipating admonishment.

“Not yet, I’ve been...” she flashed a deliberately shy look at Baldwin, “...occupied.”

“Well allow me to offer my congratulations to you both. Has he given you the tour?”

Alisha knew he was fishing for satisfaction of his prank.

“I will get to it.” Baldwin answered, still stern but giving him nothing.

“Mrs Montclair,” Marcus joined them and treated her to an amused bow, “how do you find our humble home?”

“A lot less forbidding than it looks from the outside,” she admitted, “it’s good to see you again Marcus. I didn’t get a chance to thank you.”

“There’s no need to thank me, really, I’m just glad to see that you’re better. Oh, and I should have the results of your blood work tomorrow.”

“Blood work?” She asked, looking between Baldwin and Marcus.

“You drank something that knocked you out for like a day, I took some blood samples in case it was something we had to deal with.”

“Fortunately not.” Baldwin answered curtly, directed more at Alisha.

“But you’re alright, that’s all that matters.” Gallowglass interjected cheerfully.

“Right, so, what about the tower, have you had a chance to get settled?” Marcus asked, taking the deliberate route towards a reaction.

“Yes, Baldwin’s tower is very...impressive.” Alisha smiled innocently.

“A lot of stairs though?” Gallowglass offered.

She nodded in earnest agreement.

“It was definitely a challenge, when I first saw it I thought I’d never manage.”

“I think you excelled sweetheart.” Baldwin placed a kiss on her temple.

“Thank you darling.”

The upset frown on Marcus’ face was reward enough as Gallowglass backed away slowly.

“I should go help with the...aye.” He departed towards the kitchens.

“Me too.” Marcus ran after him.

“They will consider the next prank very carefully.” Baldwin noted with triumph.

“Yep, did you see poor Marcus’ face, I didn’t know vampire’s could go pale!”

“Very Impressive?” He gave her a smirk.

“Yes, and I apparently excelled regardless.”

“That you did. I’m eager to learn what other talents you have, dear wife.” He leant down to kiss her.

“Nathaniel, more people,” a friendly daemon interrupted, calling out to someone in the other room before she joined them.

“I’m Sophie.” The girl offered Alisha her hand and she took it, one of her own, it wasn’t against Baldwin’s rules.

“Sophie, hi, I’m Alisha.”

“Another daemon, so cool, Hamish will be pleased when he gets back.” She gushed before turning to Baldwin.

“Who are you?” Sophie asked him.

“Who...am I?” He was shocked at her question when a second daemon joined them, tall and with a wary expression on his face as he pulled her back to his side.

“Baldwin De Clermont, he’s the head of the congregation.” He told Sophie.

“And of this household, I may add.” Baldwin corrected.

“Oh, Matthew’s brother!” Sophie perked up and Alisha noted the clench of her husband’s jaw.

“Baldwin, a word?” Ysabeau requested sharply from the doorway.

Alisha wasn’t sure she’d hear anyone speak to him in that tone. Surprisingly, he gave Ysabeau a respectful nod and turned back to Alisha.

“You are about to be plied with food in exchange for information, be as discreet as you can be.”

“If there’s cake I cannot make any promises.”

“There’s cake.” Sophie promised.

“You would sell out your husband for cake?” Baldwin asked with feigned offence.

“Depends on the cake,” she placed a hand on his chest, “seriously, go, I’ll be fine.” She assured him.

He watched as Sophie led her towards the smaller sitting room

“You need to feed, especially so early in the mating process.” Ysabeau told him.

He nodded distractedly, watching Alisha disappear from his view.

“Do you intend to turn her?”

“No,” he hissed, “you know very well it could fail and kill her.”

“Good that you realise that. But I suggest that it might be challenging to differentiate between the hunger of a creature and the passion of a man for his new bride. Go, hunt, feed and return to her sated...of at least one need.”

“I should change first.” He agreed and started towards his tower.

“She’s beautiful...” Ysabeau’s word’s stopped him.

“Yes, she is,” he turned back to face her, “and a very talented musician.”

“Young.”

“She’s twenty-seven, Ysabeau.”

“Hmm, young.“

“Okay, I’m going to go change.” He shook his head as he left, missing the small twitch of a smile of enjoyment on her lips.

“You’re new!” A red-haired witch breezed through the kitchen and made a beeline for the kettle.

“Yes, I suppose I am.” Alisha answered, startled as the witch gave her a hard look.

“Daemon. Is she a friend of yours?” Sarah asked Nathaniel and Sophie before turning back to resume making the tea.

“No, Sarah, this’ Alisha, Baldwin’s wife.” Sophie stated as though there was nothing strange in it.

Nathaniel swore under his breath.

Sarah’s back straightened instantly.

“Baldwin De Clermont married a Daemon?” She asked in a low voice, turning to look at Alisha.

“Sarah, come on.” Nathaniel tried to head off the coming storm.

“Yes, I mean it’s...it just happened last night and we came here right away to, I don’t know, do some paperwork, I’m not sure, and yes I guess I am Baldwin’s wife and...is anyone else thirsty?” Alisha faltered beneath Sarah’s glare.

“You’re American?” Sarah asked.

“New York, you’re from Madison, right? I recognise the accent, one of the girl’s in the orchestra are from there, it’s so nice.” She went on as Sophie handed her a cup of water with a smile.

“Let me see if I got this right...” the witch started.

“Sarah, she’s not the one to be mad at.” Nathaniel attempted again but received a withering glare.

“Baldwin De Clermont married a non-vampire creature, a daemon, an American and a daemon, all against the covenant. Is that...am I crazy or is that what’s happened?”

“She’s also a musician.” Sophie spoke up, trying to help.

Nathaniel placed a loving hand on her shoulder with a smile at her attempt to lighten the mood.

“Did I miss something?” Alisha asked warily.

“No, welcome home, Mrs De Clermont.” Sarah answered with a forced, and very sarcastic smile before she left with her tea.

“Have you heard the name Diana Bishop?” Nathaniel asked after he was certain Sarah had left.

“Yes, she’s married to Baldwin’s brother, Matthew.”

of the covenant. That witch is Diana’s aunt. It’s perhaps not fair that she took it out on you but-“

“I thought it wasn’t a hard and fast rule anymore, there’s a way to appeal?”

“There’s a way to allow creatures to directly request a dispensation,” Nathaniel snorted, “which will mostly never happen because of the vote majority required. Also, the entire genealogy of the parties are on display, that could put creatures in danger if they bring themselves to Congregation attention. Really, only those at the top will benefit.”

Alisha had accepted what Baldwin had told her, that there was nothing to worry about but now, she wasn’t so sure. He might have influence enough for it not to be a problem for them but she couldn’t take that route if it barred others from doing so.

“That wasn’t a dig at you.” Nathaniel reassured.

“I know it wasn’t,” she answered, “I also know that you’re probably right.”

Besides Michael, she had never met another one of her own kind, never mind two, she found she rather liked the experience.

“Is revoking the covenant an option?” She asked and noted Nathanieland Sophie exchanging a glance.

“I believe we have a celebration to prepare for.” Ysabeau interrupted and left before more could be said.

“I suppose we’ll be seeing you later,” Nathaniel chuckled slightly, “and don’t worry about Sarah, she’ll come around.”

Alisha busied herself deciding what to wear to the family dinner, as she hadn’t seen Baldwin for a while, he was possibly hunting.

It was strange that she hadn’t thought about how he sustained himself whilst in the city, but in the country, the only way was a fresh kill and she tried not to think about it.

A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts.

“Come in.” She called back to see a grey haired witch enter.

“You must be Alisha, I’m Emily, Diana’s aunt. Call me Em.”

Alisha shuffled her feet, slightly embarrassed.

“I’m sorry, I thought I met everyone, I didn’t mean to leave you out.”

“No apology necessary, I wasn’t here when you arrived,” she gave Alisha a smile, making her feel more relaxed, “and I took over baby watch with Margaret.”

“There’s a baby in this place?”

“Yes,” Em laughed,”you’ve met her parents, Sophie was very curious about the new daemon, Nathaniel is still not totally comfortable about Matthew and certainly not Baldwin. I offered to keep their daughter occupied while they kidnapped you.”

“Oh, right.” Alisha smiled, looking forward to meeting the remaining Wilson.

“I think this one,” Em pointed to the dress on the right.

“Yeah, I was thinking that one.” Alisha pondered, glad to have her decision confirmed.

“Happy to be of help. I just wanted to say hi, offer my congratulations and also an apology, on behalf of my partner, Sarah. I heard about what happened.”

“No need, I understand why she’s upset-“

“But she should not have targeted you, she understands that, I think she was taken by surprise, as were we all.”

“I get that. Apparently, my husband was not so understanding when it came to his brother and your niece.”

“Which is not your fault.”

“Still though, the Covenant-“ Alisha started.

Em shook her head, cutting off Alisha’s words just as Baldwin walked in the door.

“Ms Mathers,” he greeted cooly, the scent of fresh air on him, “can I help you in some way?”

“Baldwin. I was simply extending my welcome to Mrs Montclair,” she turned back to Alisha, “it was nice meeting you my dear.”

“And you.” Alisha watched her leave before Baldwin closed the door.

“I think I’ve met everyone finally, did you have a good hunt?” She asked, busying herself with putting the not chosen dress back into the wardrobe.

“Why was there a witch in my tower?” He asked, his voice low and measured.

“She honestly just wanted to say hi,” Alisha hoped a partial truth would make him drop his enquiry, “she was being polite.”

“That is rather contrary to my experience of witches.” He answered, removing his black sweater to reveal faint streaks of blood on his chest.

“Baldwin, is that-“ she rushed to him, checking for any sign of an injury.

“It’s not mine,” he assured her, “now, I must get ready, we have an hour, then we will be subjected to some ridiculous festivities but we must endure I’m afraid.”

“It won’t be so bad,” she smiled, relieved, and picked up the dress to show him, “is this okay, do you think?”

“It’s perfect.”

She smiled and hung the dress back up on the door of the wardrobe.

“Alisha, you are not to discuss the covenant or the congregation with that witch or anyone else.”

Of course he overheard.

Alisha rolled her eyes at her forgetfulness when it came to Baldwin’s preternatural abilities.

“Why?” She turned back to look at him.

Baldwin’s face was mere inches from her own, startling her. He’d never used his vampire speed in front of her before and coupled with the silence of his movements it was all the more disconcerting.

“Because I told you not to, because you will do as I say.” He tenderly cupped her face, brushing his thumb against her cheek before placing a kiss there.

“And never lie to me again!” He whispered so close to her ear.

He left the room without waiting for an answer, he clearly didn’t believe one was necessary.

She didn’t exhale until the door to the washroom was closed behind him.

———

PART 12