#no one agrees to let them dig around the foundations to ‘have a look’ | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jq37 · 3 years ago

Text

Twice Upon a Time - Neverafter Ep 1

The Times of Shadow

What is up y’all? A new season of D20 has started and I’ve been lured back to recapping by the siren song of fractured fairy tales. Fairy tales are one of my first loves (my thesis project for school right now is a fairy tale retelling in fact) and it’s very exciting to see that the D20 crew is digging into the darker side of these foundational stories.

I hesitated in starting recapping this season because as much as I love doing these, it’s a big time commitment and I am A Busy Person BUT the premiere ep was just so fun that I couldn’t resist. So, here’s the deal. I will do my best to keep up but no promises, OK? And I’ll be messing around with the formatting a bit to see if there’s a way to make the process a bit easier for me so bear with me.

And with that we start our story in the only way we really can…

Once Upon a Time.

Rosamund Du Prix (Siobhan’s PC)

We start with Brennan mesmerizingly telling the traditional tale of Sleeping Beauty–it goes down exactly like the Disney version. Three fairies. A fourth who isn’t invited and crashes the party after the first two have given their gifts and curses the baby princess to prick her finger on a spindle on her 18th birthday, killing her. The third fairy uses her gift to soften the curse so death turns into a 100 year sleep. Parents try to protect her by getting rid of all the spinning wheels but magic’s gotta magic and on her 18th birthday she finds a spinning wheel in an old tower and pricks herself anyway. She falls into a deep sleep as does the rest of the kingdom and the kingdom–the kingdom of Reverie–is covered in briars.

Rosamund (who I will be calling Roz) wakes up, 100 years later, unable to close her eyes or mouth because of the briars that are growing out of her body and all around her, completely encasing her. Everyone at the tables is visibly and audibly gagging at the description which I will spare you. Roz is horribly claustrophobic but also feels a weird sense that she’s holding something that feels like a troubling sort of sixth sense (not fully explained but I’m wondering if it’s some kind of Ranger ability because she is a level 1 Ranger).

She manages to get a hand free with minimal damage to herself (one fairy did give her the gift of grace after all) and painfully pulls the briars out of her mouth and nose. As she does, she hears whispers in her own head that she can’t understand and which stop when the root of the briars are out of her stomach.

Roz shakes the Briars that surround her, looking for the prince who was supposed to rescue her from this fate and, as she does this, pricks her finger. A tendril of the massive plant pokes out and drinks her blood, giving her a vision of the hundreds of corpses of the princes who have tried and failed to rescue her. The briars seem to think they are keeping her safe from the world outside and are fearful to let her go.

Now, well past the point of uneasiness, she tries to tell the plants thank you for the hospitality but it’s time for her to go. The plants do not agree and after she fails at trying to lull them to sleep with a lullaby, the plants try to stick her with the spindle and put her back to sleep. There is a bit of a tussle which ends with her diving out of her tower window and barely making it to the bottom in one piece. When she calls out to see if anyone is around, she gets no answer and decides to make her way out of Reverie–a process that takes months of traversing the thorny landscape. The kingdom seems fully destroyed.

By the time she escapes, she is in *rough* shape and she’s fashioned herself a bow of thorns.

[Note: Sleeping Beauty as a ranger is an interesting take. I wonder if she’s going to go Beastmaster for the traditional Princess With Animal Companion? Maybe Drakewarden if she wants to play with the Maleficent angle from the Disney version. Would be pretty cool to take on some of the traits of your captor–and she does already have the thorny bow. Fey Wanderer is an option because she was fey-touched upon being born.]

Now, in the present, Roz is a part of a traveling caravan in a wagon that’s going to the town of Shoeberg. In her wagon, she finds something damp and unpleasant being covered by a threadbare blanket and when she removes the blanket, she finds herself a surprise.

Gerard of Greenleigh (Murph’s PC)

Ger is prince turned frog turned prince turning back into a frog. He’s at the halfway stage so he’s still human height and build but with huge bulbous human eyes and damp, mottled, green skin.

He still has the bearing of a prince though and quickly identifies who he is and insists that his situation is temporary. Roz realizes that she’s related to him via marriage (“I think we’re cousins 3 times”) and is happy to join the self-gaslighting about how everything is fine and good and will be back to normal soon enough. They’re royals after all.

Ger says that though his kingdom is taken and his wife is missing, everything is fine and the fact that he’s turning back into a frog has NOTHING to do with his relationship with his wife which is FINE–something that Boffit (the trollson manager of the caravan who tells them they’re stopping for the night) doesn’t really buy.

From there we’re thrust into Ger’s flashback.

It is post-curse break and he’s doing pretty well. Except, he’s starting to realize that his frog traits are coming back. First his throat swelling. Then his eyes start migrating to frog positions. Then his tongue gets all stretchy. (“We fixed this though,” he says with a pathetic but kind of charming dismayed petulance). He tries to ignore the changes, even as he has a tense dinner with his wife–Princess Elody. Elody is discussing war-time matters with three of her generals–the kingdom is at war with Snowhold, the kingdom of the ice queen–but Ger just wants to talk about the upcoming ball and leave the unpleasantness to the soldiers.

Elody is baffled by her husband’s lack of interest in actively protecting the kingdom and his desire to hole up in the castle while others fight and die for them. It’s the Time of Shadow, she says. Never After is being overrun with giants and witches and sea creatures! Why is he so content to coast on their supposed happily ever after? Though Ger clearly isn’t the fiercely protective active ruler she is, he says he’ll try to take a look at his fencing books. And she says that she’ll try to give him what she can. But that night, she doesn’t come to bed because she falls asleep at her war table with her generals. And the next morning, Ger’s nose is gone. Bad!

[Note: Ger is a fighter. I don’t really have a good guess on his subclass. I am fascinated by his relationship drama with his wife, though. I really hope she shows up again soon because the dynamic of these two people being in love but having such opposed life philosophies is very interesting–especially when it’s having the mechanical consequence of forcing Ger to turn back into a frog. To be in denial about how things are going as you’re literally turning into a frog is so indicative of character.]

Back in the present, we shift to another carriage in the caravan–a very nice shoe being pulled by 4 white horses. Inside is the pompous Lord Bandlebridge of Shoeberg who is toasting two figures–a cat wearing a cape and boots and a puppet of a little wooden boy (with a splintered nose–I’m guessing it was removed to allow for lying without an obvious tell).

Through a back and forth, we learn that Puss in Boots (also known as Pib to his friends–I’ll be going with Pib or Puss interchangeably) and Pinocchio are scamming this man. They’ve told him that Pinocchio is actually a prince who stole 40 pennies from a witch and was cursed to be a puppet. They just need to borrow 40 gold pieces to break the curse and then they’ll pay him back in platinum. Lord B is so desperate to believe the story that he doesn’t look too deeply into it and goes with everything they say.

Puss finds that he is very hungry and slips into a flashback.

Puss in Boots (Zac’s PC)

Pib is living the good life in the Kingdom of Marienne. He’s straight up chilling on a pillow in a shaft of sunlight and his breakfast is brought to him–100 live mice!

The king comes in to talk to him privately and, as soon as they’re alone, starts freaking out. This is the miller’s son–Tomas–who in the traditional Puss in Boots story–is thrust into king-ship by Puss’s trickery. That’s all well and good but now it’s wartime and Tomas doesn’t have any idea how to run a country! Giants are attacking. He doesn’t know statecraft! He can barely read! And he loves his wife but he’s been tacitly lying to her for years and it’s all getting to be far too much.

Pib just brushes it off and is like, hey buddy. Don’t worry. It’ll all be fine.

Spoiler alert: It is not fine.

The kingdom falls to giants and Puss flees. And he has no idea what happened to Tomas and his wife.

[Note: Puss is a tabaxi re-skin and a rogue. Also don’t have a guess/hope in mind for subclass but I do love the bringing of the Puss In Boots story to its logical conclusion of–yeah, this guy doesn't know how to run a country. Of COURSE it’s gonna end badly the second times are bad and you can’t let the kingdom run on autopilot.]

Back in the present, Pinocchio is being a little brat and rubbing Lord B the wrong way. To calm him down, Pib calls Lord B his best friend and hugs him–checking his pockets as he does and finding a scroll which he notes but doesn’t steal.

Now, we check in on the third carriage in the caravan. Inside are two figures–”Mother” Timothy Goose and Ylfa Snorgelsson (better known as Little Red Riding Hood). Red knows Tim because he’s an older guy who used to read stories in her village. When things “got bad” (we’ll get to that) she met up with him.

They both get the announcement that the caravan is stopping for the night from Boffit (and that payment will be due in Shoeberg which is a problem because they don’t really have money). They have to stop in the Blackwoods (a primeval forest) which isn’t safe and they both offer to help with keeping watch (Red clearly being the more physically capable of the two).

As they stop, they also see two notable carriages that haven’t been mentioned before (a teapot drawn by a giant rabbit–clear Wonderland ref–and an uncovered chariot drawn by a ram with an older gentleman in it). They also see the shoe carriage which sparks their interest because Tim has this magic book that he writes words in that disappear. But the word “Shoe” stuck. So it has to be somehow relevant to his quest.

They go talk to Lord B who is going off about how much of a thriving metropolis Shoeberg is even in these hard times. While he does this, the guy in the ram chariot calls him a fucking idiot under his breath. Tim tries to respond to Lord B but is haunted by a vision of something behind Lord B and flips out, calling it a fucker and a piece of shit–freaking out Lord B so much that he runs off.

“I saw him again,” he confesses to Red and we jump into his flashback.

“Mother” Timothy Goose (Ally’s PC)

The Lullaby Lands are a really sweet place that’s mainly farmers and animals and doesn’t need a king or a queen to rule it.

Tim walks home with his son's bones in his arms.

His husband–Henry Hubbard–is horrified as Tim explains that their son, Jack, didn’t actually find whatever egg he said he found and was clearly mixed up with something shady. Tim said he saw Jack talking to some giant, black, demonic looking gander (a male goose) and say “I need my third wish” and then watched him age rapidly into the pile of bones he’s holding.

Then the gander said, “Do you wish to know what just happened?” and when Tim said yes, he was trapped in his own set of three wishes. He then wished for something to get his son back and was given the leather-bound book we saw him with before.

As a veteran bard and witch, Tim isn’t a stranger to magic. He opens the book, looking for an answer and finds the pages blank. Undeterred, he starts writing in the book and finds that everything he writes in the book disappears except for the word Jack that sticks.

He writes all day long and in the back of his head he hears the demonic whisper, “There’s no way you’ll find them all in time, Goose.”

Eventually, he notices a stain on the floor of the house where his son made a mess as a younger child, jumping over a candle and tries to just describe the person he wants. His son. He writes in his book the nursery rhyme (which it seems like he wrote in the world about his son) Jack be Nimble, Jack be quick, etc.

As he does, light fills the room and he sees a window open in the pages through which he sees his son, healthy and well and in a version of Pottingham that doesn’t seem afflicted by the floods tormenting it IRL.

“Dad I’m still here,” the Jack on the page says. “[The book] can save more than me. You’ll save them, I know you will.” Before he can say more, he is cut off and starts running. The book in the story sticks and Jack’s bones disappear in motes of golden light.

Tim realizes he has a LOT of work to do.

[Note: Tim is a bard. I could see College of Lore. Maybe Eloquence or Spirits? Also, I HATED how he got roped into his wishes. That’s some fey/lawyer B.S. “Do you wish to know?” Get out of here with that B.S. I hate the gander. All my homies hate the gander.]

Back in the present, the three groups of PCs are starting to get acquainted. Pinocchio introduces himself as a prince and, as a princess, Roz wants to know where he’s the prince of. Maybe they’re related! He lies and says he’s the prince of Shoeberg which Lord B overhears and knows to be false because he’s from Shoeberg.

Lord B starts accosting Pinocchio who is defended by Tim and then the Ram dude who comes to back Tim up. Ram dude is muscular and has armor and a sword. Though he backs up Tim in telling Lord B to step off, he also whispers to Tim that Shoeberg sucks and he shouldn’t talk about it so much.

Lord B retreats to his shoe carriage and on a Nat 1 insight, Pinocchio thinks that, despite his lie, he’s fine to still go in there. Everyone tries to stop his “chaotic entitled” ass and Red ends up stopping the sword of one of Lord B’s guards with a hairy paw and she goes into a rage. Flashback time for Red.

Ylfa Snorgelsson (Emily’s PC)

Red is outside of her home she is returning to. Apparently, she strayed from the path when she shouldn’t have and shit went down. She knocks on the door, and calls for her mom. No one answers. Red pleads for them to open the door, saying that her grandma is dead and she doesn't have a place to go but her mom says that her daughter is dead.

Read assures her that she’s alive and says somewhat fearfully that she doesn’t know what she might try to do to get in.

Inside, there’s some whispering about wolf-trickery and waiting for a woodsman but Red is eventually let in.

She manages to quell her churning thoughts and tells herself that everything will be fine once she’s in. Her mother will help her fix everything…but as soon as she steps in, a silver dagger falls on her while her mom calls for her siblings to run out the back door. It was a trap.

Her rage boils over and she flips the dinner table. A voice tells her to remember to breathe. She does and then, just like in the story, she huffs and puffs and blows her entire family away. Yikes!

[Note: God, talk about trauma. Love the weaving in of the Three Little Pigs story here. And man, Red is so young. Just a pre-teen. Emily plays her so unsure and awkward. I can feel Emily readying some emotional killshots with this character. Her pleading to be let in (which I realize as I write this is very “Little pigs, little pigs, let me come in) was so sad. Also, she’s a Barbarian in case that wasn’t clear. Path of the Beast would be the obvious subclass but we’ll see if she throws us a curveball as she is wont to do. Also,what’s the over-under on her multiclassing into bard? She already has a bard mentor in Tim and we call know mama needs her spell slots.]

In the present, the guard flees at Red’s display of strength and Tim hugs Red.

Pinocchio admits he’s not a prince but he and Pib tell a very sanitized story about how times are hard and they’re just been taking care of each other.

The stranger who helped them reveals himself as Old Cole (ie: Old King Cole was a merry old soul–but he doesn’t seem very merry anymore). He explains that Shoeberg was founded by an unkind woman who gave lordships to all of her shitty sons (ie: There was an old woman who lived in a shoe). It’s a rough city that chews people up and spits them out and it sucks that it got to survive while many other better cities crumbled in the Time of Shadow.

He’s–as far as he knows–the last survivor of his kingdom–Jubilee. Ger asks if he knows anything about his wife and Cole says she was a brilliant warrior on the battlefield (she’s a mace-wielder btw, and ad props for her to being a queen who actually gets her hands dirty) but he doesn’t know if she’s alive right now. Pib asks about Marienne as well but Cole only knows it was overrun by giants.

[Note: This probably isn’t important, but Cole is essentially making Stone Soup by his carriage which is another famous childhood story I wanted to point out because it’s glossed over.]

Everyone is told that they don’t get to eat if they don’t help with the food so Roz tries to do the princess thing of calling birds to help her. Of course, they’re in a gnarly, ultra-cursed forest so on a Nat 1 a fucked up ostrich comes to help her and she politely declines.

Pib and Pinocchio figure they can just steal some food and bring it to “help” but, when they go to do that, Pinocchio notices a coach with a key in it. When he opens it, he sees someone familiar is in there and sends Pib away while he talks to them privately (though Pib tries to eavesdrop).

Inside is a shadowy silhouette that Pinocchio nervously addresses as “Mom” Brennan says he’s only ever seen her shadow.

His mom says that Roz is very important and is being hunted so he needs to help keep her safe and hidden. She’s too busy caring for his father. Pinocchio asks for an assurance that his dad is OK and she says that she promised to keep him safe when she married him. She says something about some candle “burning low” and reminds Pinocchio of the night they met.

[Note: I can’t believe I’ve gone this far without mentioning that Lou had committed to this Mickey Mouse sounding squeaky voice for Pinnocchio which is Certainly A Choice. Also, not sure what the candle refers to yet. The most famous candle story is the Jack Be Nimble one and that doesn’t fit. Will think about this more.]

Pinocchio (Lou’s PC)

Pinocchio is in his town (Amarti in the kingdom of Marienne) up later than he should be. And he’s a real boy. A pointy woman in all black carrying a staff shows up and Pinocchio recognizes her as the second fey he’s met in his life.

The woman has a ball of magical energy which looks so so fun and says each child will get a chance to play with it if they answer a question honestly. Behind her, going into the village, something shadowy flickers. Maybe rats?

She asks a child what their father’s name is. He answers. There’s a scream in the village. She moves on to the next child. Same thing happens. The kids start crying, realizing something awful is happening.

She gets to Pinocchio. She asks for his name. Then she asks for his father’s name. He lies.

Instantly, he drops dead and wakes up on his strings in his father’s house as his dad breathes in and turns.

Back to the present, Pinocchio’s mother says that he’s been telling a lot of lies and she hopes he can keep them straight. And that’s where we end for the week!

[Note: OK, this is my big Pepe Silvia moment of the week. I have this fraught relationship with the show Once Upon a Time but I feel like it’s prepared me for the analysis I’m about to do.

When the character card shows up for Pinocchio’s mom it identifies her as “The Stepmother” (who is his patron btw–he’s a warforged warlock) and it identifies her as being from Cinderella. BUT it doesn’t say she’s THE stepmother from Cinderella.

Let’s think about this for a second.

She’s presented in silhouette. Why? It could just be patron dramatic-ness. But it also could be to set up for a reveal later.

We never get a name–just a title: Stepmother. And it’s totally normal that Pinocchio would just call her mom. But that also could be a setup for a reveal.

This is a weird pull but there’s an apt quote from Disenchanted (the other thing I’m currently obsessed with). “Stepmothers are wicked but they’re not usually very powerful.” Cinderella’s stepmother as a patron wouldn’t be my first guess, you know? Like, of course in this world she COULD be magic, like Tim is, but I think there are better candidates here.

Let’s think about the flashback now. Pinocchio’s mom leads into it by telling him to remember when they met.

He describes the fairy that he meets and her features. But Brennan also says he’s only ever seen his mom in silhouette. So the fairy and the mom don’t seem to be the same people even if that is the night that they met. Brennan also says it’s the second fairy he ever met which means the first is likely the Blue Fairy. So this isn’t likely a twisted version of the fairy from his story.

So the fairy this is likely to be is the one from Cinderella. The Fairy Godmother. And it seems like she’s controlling rats which tracks with the Cinderella story–rodents to horses, right?

(Though, sidenote, because I’m going full Pepe Silvia, I will also point out two other possible links. The first being something Pied Piper related. And the second being a Pinocchio pull as the Pleasure Island owner in the Disney version has these shadowy minions. Oh and while we’re talking shadows–Peter Pan. None of this is part of the analysis proper, just throwing out possibilities.)

ANYWAY, if this fairy is Cindy’s fairy and I’m skeptical the stepmom is The Stepmother then what if Pinocchio’s stepmother is Cinderella herself? The OG Stepmom in the story never had enough proximity to magic to be a patron but Cindy did. I could see her getting magic much more easily. And it would be a killer reveal story-wise.

I don’t know what the motivation would be yet and I don’t even know if she’s evil or just shady. But there was clearly a lot of intentional vagueness during this section, and this is my best attempt to parse it. I look forward to getting more puzzle pieces as the season goes on!]

#dimension 20 #dimension 20 spoilers #d20 #neverafter #neverafter spoilers #twice upon a time #aww shit here we go again

151 notes · View notes

boldlyvoid · 4 years ago

Text

Amethyst you so much

Summary: Spencer has had a crush on Y/N since she started working at the bau. She only ever works the night shift after a case, handling all the aftermath gracefully. one night, Spencer stays back and they strike up a conversation about rocks, causing their feelings to dig a little deeper.

Warnings: pure fluff, weed mention, hurt/comfort, grief and mourning

Word Count: 6.4K

Read on Ao3

Late nights at the office had become his thing since Gideon left.

He couldn’t bring himself to go home some nights without a game of chess, a cup of coffee, and the ambiance of the post case staff working. He would’ve had no idea about what goes on after they close a case if he didn’t stay behind most nights.

The phone rings almost every 10 minutes, and it’s always answered by the sweetest voice. The fax machine never turns off, and the most beautiful girl in the world is always running around placing papers in different places.

He’s been smitten with her since she started here, 2 years ago. Never seeing much of her since she was switched to the night shift, always wanting to just watch her from afar, never speaking to her unless he needed to.

“Yes, again we are so sorry for the door,” he can hear her voice from the back corner of the room. “Agent Morgan will be paying for that out of his paycheck, don’t worry, Mr. Kennings. We’ll be sure to remember your hotel when we’re in the area again. The FBI has a very generous budget for overnight cases. Of course, you have a good night too.”

She hung the phone up harshly and let out a deep sigh. He turned around to see her face in her arms, resting against the desk. She looked done, completely fed up. He would be too.

She looked up then, noticing that he was making eye contact with her. She awkwardly smiled and waved at him, “sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Spencer replied. “We asked for the key, I should have stopped him from kicking it in.”

She laughed then, walking over to his desk so she didn’t have to yell across the room. She sat on the corner of his desk lightly, “why do you stay every night?”

“Oh, um,” he wasn’t prepared for this. She had never talked to him before. She was barely able to even look at him when she used to place papers on his desk 2 years ago, now she was on his desk.

“I don’t like to bring the work home with me, it’s better to destress here before I go to my apartment,” he answered, half honestly.

She nodded slightly, “I get it. Luckily I go home in the mornings so the sun helps me feel better.”

“Going home in the dark isn’t fun,” she lightly smiled up at her.

“Do you want a coffee or anything?” She asked softly, “seeing as I am still your assistant as long as you’re here?”

He laughed lightly, “I would, but I’d like to join you in the staff room for it?”

“Okay,” she stood, straightening out her shirt as he stood as well.

He held the doors open for her, letting her walk out first, still smiling as she waited in the hall for him. Never being anything less than 1 foot from him for some reason, and he didn’t mind in the slightest.

“Do you like your job?” He asked lightly.

“Oh yeah,” she laughed. “It’s like customer service on crack. Have you ever had to explain to someone why you can’t pay for the cracked foundation after Agent Morgan’s ransacked a place?”

“I honestly never thought of who has to deal with the aftermath,” he awkwardly admitted to her. “I’m so sorry.”

She couldn’t stop laughing as they entered the kitchen, “it’s fine. I never have to apologize on your behalf, it’s everyone else who seems to be reckless. Sometimes I feel like it would be better if I came along to babysit.”

“That would be helpful,” he smiled softly as she entered the staff room.

He watched as she took a new coffee filter out of the cupboard. Emptying the coffee pot with ease, rinsing everything before adding the water and scooping in the grounds. He was mesmerized by how fast she was able to do it, then again it was sort of her job.

“What mug would you like?” She turned to him with a smile that made his heart skip a beat.

“Um, the purple one, if it’s there?”

“You really like purple, huh?” She teased him, standing on her tippy-toes to reach the mug for him.

She placed it on the counter before grabbing a white mug, it had a bumblebee on it, “bee happy” written along the top. It was perfect for her.

“Purple is a stress-reducing colour,” she explained. “When I was a kid my parents painted my room purple so that I’d sleep better.”

“I’ve always been drawn to it.”

She leaned against the counter while the coffee pot started to percolate, “Probably because of your anxiety, coffee doesn’t help that.”

“It’s in my DNA to be like this,” he tried to joke, knowing he succeeded when her smile crept back onto her face.

He was on a mission to keep seeing it.

“For someone who spends a lot of time with dead bodies, creepy places and bad people, you sure are a mousy little thing aren’t you?” She teased him.

“I also love Halloween, go figure.” He’s not sure where the confidence came from, being able to make light-hearted jokes like this was only easy with the team.

Which she technically was a part of. He’s seen her almost every single day for 3 years, slowly being able to get comfortable enough for this very moment.

“What else are you into, outside of here?” She asked honestly, making his heart swell as no one else had ever asked him before.

“Lots of things,” he sighed. “I love to read, I’ll read anything. But mostly I enjoy far-off worlds. Lord of the Rings, Star Trek, Doctor Who, Sherlock mostly.”

“No supernatural?” She gasped. “Sacrilege, honestly. What kind of nerd are you if you don't support supperwholock?”

“That's the show with the monster hunting brothers right?” He tried to recall it to his mind.

She nodded with a pressed-lipped smile, “it’s bad but in a way where I can’t stop watching every Thursday, they just introduced an angel who is pretty gay. Star Trek is cool too, I guess, I was raised by Trekkies.”

“My mom was into Doctor Who.”

“Mamma’s boy,” she teased him slightly, returning her focus to the coffee as she poured the now finished brew into their mugs. “She was nice when she came in that one time, I made her a very sweet coffee just like yours.”

He reached for the sugar then, poring a generous amount into his mug with a grin, “how much do you like?”

“the same amount,” she couldn’t help but laugh. “I hate the taste of coffee, but it keeps me awake.”

He poured the sugar into her mug as she places a spoon in each. Allowing him to stir his own before picking it up finally. Holding the warm ceramic in his hands, it was almost as warm as the feeling in his chest when he looked at her.

He’s felt it for a long time. He’s been caught staring at her by Derek, JJ even tried to get him to give her his number. Which she already had for when she calls him into work in the middle of the night. They knew he had a crush, he did too. He just didn’t know what to do about it.

“Come to my desk, I want to show you something?” She asked softly, avoiding eye contact as she walked towards the door.

He followed, like a lost puppy, all the way back to her desk. It was always neat, he always looked at it when he made his way up the stairs to the briefing room. He could even see it from where he sat at the table sometimes. Always wanting to see her leave in the mornings.

She had a collection of rocks that always changed, he loved the blue one the most but it wasn’t there currently. She had all new ones since the last time he looked.

“Here,” she hands him one. It’s brown and gold, the colours moving and shifting as he turns it with his fingers. The gold running through it like a beautiful wave.

“what’s this for?”

“It’s a Tiger’s eye, for good luck and happiness,” she smiled. “Keep it at your desk and maybe it’ll be easier for you to relax when you come back?”

The butterflies in his chest were swirling then as she looked up at him with pleading eyes. Wanting him to take it, wanting him to feel better. Caring for him.

“Thank you,” he barely whispers, clearing his throat softly. “It’s very nice of you.”

“You’re always nice to me, so,” she shrugged.

They sat down then, he dragged his chair from his desk over to hers. Sitting in close as she explained all the meanings to her rocks. He listened carefully, getting to examine each one as she spoke.

“This one is Jade, it’s for balancing emotions and allowing compassion so I don’t scream at everyone on the phone,” she laughed as she placed one in his hands. Her fingers brushing his palm softly.

It was a beautiful green stone with a thin white line running through it, separating into 3 directions as he flipped it over, “it’s beautiful.”

“I know some people don’t believe in this stuff,” she started to get embarrassed as she placed them all back on the shelf. “But I’ve always thought; if the moon, which is just a rock, can control the water, and humans are 70% water, then who’s to tell me the moon cycles don’t control my emotions and these smaller rocks can’t help problem areas?”

“You’re not wrong,” he shook his head softly as he thought her words over. “People depended on the stars and planets for guidance originally, as well as rocks and herbs for healing, just because it’s outdated doesn’t mean it doesn’t work?”

“Thank you,” she smiled. “No one has ever agreed with me that easily.”

“Anytime you want to talk, I’ll just be over there,” he pointed at his desk. “And I’m a phone call away?” He swallowed sharply at his boldness, trying to stay calm as he awaited her answer.

“I do have your number,” she smiled, reaching out to place her hand on his. “But you should go home, I’m sure you’re chilled out now.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, staring at her hand as they touched. He lightly wrapped his hand around hers, holding it slightly, running his thumb over her knuckles. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“And every day after,” she whispered, tilting her head as she smiled at him.

This was going to be interesting.

—

Penelope was always dragging him out. She would take him shopping, to dinner, to the movies. She was like his big sister, dedicated to making sure he wasn’t always cooped up or trying to retreat into a fantasy life.

She kept him busy.

She had 4 bags in her hands as they walked down the street, peering into the store windows to see what else she could possibly be interested in taking home for someone. That’s when they passed the natural health store.

He stopped in his tracks, seeing all the different rocks on the wall accompanies by little cards that described how they could help. He opened the door and rushed inside before Penelope even noticed he stopped following her.

“Good afternoon!” The shop owner called out to him. “How can I assist you today?”

“Um, the girl I like has a rock collection,” he says softly, knowing Penelope is behind him listening. “Crystals more specifically, I’d like to get her some?”

“Well, you came to the right place,” the man beams, escorting him to the wall of rocks. “What is she like?”

“Wonderful,” the words are carried out of his mouth on a sigh as he thinks about her. “She’s confident and nice, and caring. She’s always positive and just so lovely.”

“I’ve got you,” the man starts picking rocks off the wall and placing them in his hands.

Spencer follows him to the desk where he lays down a handful of rocks, Penelope is shockingly quiet as she stands beside him, staring at the collection. She’ll be full of questions later, all of which he is terrified of.

“This is a rose quartz, pretty basic love, beauty, anti-depression stone,” he pushes the pink and a green rock towards him. “Serpentine is for new adventures, observation and insight. I have a feeling you’re up for an adventure with her?”

Spencer nodded enthusiastically, “I like that one. It would be better to get her some rare ones, some that have to do with friendship, new beginnings, or opportunities?” He tried to explain his feelings as best as he could. Not knowing if he sounded dumb for a change.

The man smiled wide, “here,” he dipped below the counter and dug out a box. “Chrysocolla is literally for new beginnings, love and opportunity.”

He hands Spencer a vitreous, raw blue stone with small green marks running all through it, it’s beautiful like her. “This is perfect.”

“I’ll throw in a Kiwi Jasper as well, it’s for being by someone's side, support and trust. As well as a Ruby in Zoisite it symbolizes finding the joy in life with someone,” he hands Spencer two equally beautiful stones, prepping a bag and wrappings for all of them.

Spencer lays out the 5 stones he picked out, watching him wrap them with care before placing them in a bag. He rings everything up, Spencer pays and before he’s even out the door Penelope is pouncing on him for answers.

“Who?!”

He can't help but blush and stutter, trying to brush past her and continue walking down the street. “You can’t hide forever Spencer, who is she?”

“How do you know it’s a she?”

“You literally said so?” She looks at him like he’s an idiot. “Come on? I won't tell anyone!”

“Y/N.”

The gears are turning in Penelope's head as she tries to place a face to the name, knowing she’s seen her somewhere, “From the office?”

He nods softly, “the one Derek bullies me for staring at?” He clues her in more as they walk.

“He also bullies her for staring at you,” she adds with a smile. “She’s going to love those, when are you going to give them to her?”

“I was thinking about just leaving one on her desk every day? Maybe with a note for why I picked it?” He really wants to woo her, she’s too special to just flirt with.

“She’s going to love that.”

—

Sure enough, he walked into work every day for the next week, placing a rock on a sticky note on her desk. He was never around when she was able to see it, only knowing she got it when he'd arrive at work the next morning with a note reading 'thank you ♥︎ ' on top of his files.

He thinks about her all weekend, planning how he'll give her the last rock as he takes the elevator up that morning. Only to see her sitting at her desk, phone pressed to her ear as she tried to talk someone out of suing the FBI, she looked absolutely miserable. Just a casual Monday morning for her, almost at the end of her shift.

He rushed over to his desk, putting all his stuff down to dig one of the rocks from his satchel. Picking the Kiwi Jasper for today, he grabbed a pen and a sticky note and wrote her a little note.

“Always here if you need to talk, -Spencer ♥︎”

He walked over to her desk, she was still talking so she didn’t notice him until he was right there, she looked up at him with a thankful smile.

“Yes sir,” she answered the person talking to her. “Can I call you back after I speak to the chief? thanks.” She hung up on him, turning all her attention to Spencer.

“I know you know it's been me leaving these, but I brought you in another one,” he says softly, placing the rock in her hand and sticking the note to the shelf where it would end up.

“oh my gosh, Spencer?” She placed her free hand on her heart as she looked at the rock.

“You looked upset?”

She stands and pulls him into a hug, he can feel all the eyes on him as he holds her back, letting his chin rest on her shoulder as she squeezes him.

“Thank you,” she whispered as she pulled back, awkwardly smiling at him as she also noticed everyone staring.

“Always,” he smiled back, hand still resting on her arm. “Um, I have a case I need to get to.”

“Of course, good luck,” she smiled.

He pulls the tiger's eye out of his shirt pocket, showing her that he still had it, “kinda hard not to have good luck with this.”

She bit back a smile, her eyes gleaming as she took a deep breath through her nose. Releasing the same feelings he was keeping inside, allowing both their butterflies to swarm out together.

—

He loved when they had cases in Virginia. Being able to stay in the bullpen and work was relaxing, it was easier to think where he felt safe.

He was working on the geo profile all alone, a huge map stretched across a clear case board as he laid a yardstick across it. Drawing a thick red line with marker over it, in his own little world as he worked away.

He doesn’t realize she’s standing there too until she’s lightly pressing her hand on his back.

“Hey,” she whispers softly. “It’s 10 pm, thought you’d like a coffee?” She places the purple mug on his desk with her purse, turning her attention back to what he’s doing.

“Thank you, I’m almost done here,” he says softly, finishing the red triangle he was making on the map.

“I’ve always found it fascinating how you do this,” she complimented him. “You’re so careful.”

“Like baking, it’s an exact science,” he smiled softly.

It made her giggle slightly, placing her hand back on his back as she moved in closer to look. He wanted her to stay there forever, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to focus. He tried his best to steady his hand as he finished the line.

Putting the yardstick back down and turning to her, she doesn’t move her hand, instead, softly moving to rest on his arm as she stands close to him. “How are you?”

He feels nervous for some reason, it’s not like she hasn’t been this close to him before. It’s just that she’s close and she smells wonderful and he wonders if her lips would be a better wake-up call than the coffee she brought.

He realizes he’s staring at her lips when he licks his own, “I’m good,” he furrows his brow and clears his throat with a nod.

She smirks at him, “how come you’re the only one still here? Hotch said it could wait till tomorrow?”

“I was waiting for you,” he admits, “but I got carried away setting this up, I never heard you come in?”

“Cause I didn’t,” she scrunches her nose slightly as she straightens her stance. “I saw you working hard and went right to get you a coffee.”

“You’re wonderful,” he blushes as the words slip out, trying his best to keep eye contact when all he wants to do is kiss her.

She pats his arm slightly as she backs up a little, grabbing her bag from where she set it on his desk. “I’m going to set up for the night, come talk to me before you leave?”

“Of course,” he says as she walks away, letting out a small sigh as he realizes just how badly he wants her.

He never gets to talk to her before he leaves, she’s on the phone when hotch comes storming in. Saying something about another body and making Reid leave with him. He’s busy for 3 days straight, thinking about her with every free thought he’s able to squeeze in.

He carries the rock from her in his pocket everywhere he goes; in his pants beside his keys, in his bag with his books, in his breast pocket, over his heart, behind a bulletproof vest. Feeling it press against his chest, a part of her keeping him safe where ever he went.

They finish the case with minimal damage, Spencer specifically making sure that Derek leaves all the doors on the hinges for Y/N’s sake, cleaning up any messes they make so she won’t have to hear about it over the phone. They all notice that he’s doing it for her, quietly appreciating the fact that Spencer is happy for a change, that there’s a glimmer of hope in his eyes again.

He arrives back at Quantico 30 minutes before her shift starts. Everyone else is packing up for the day while he sits at his desk, reading to occupy the time before she comes in.

Only she doesn’t.

30 minutes pass and she’s nowhere to be seen, it’s only 9:02 by the time he starts to panic. Wondering if she’s okay, hoping she’s just in the elevator or grabbing a coffee that’s actually good, somewhere outside of the office.

“Reid,” he hears Hotch calling him from his office door. “She just called in, her grandmother passed away last night so she won't be in.”

“Oh,” he furrows his brow, looking at him with confusion. “How did you know?”

“Penelope,” he smiles. “She’s still here too, and she knows where Y/N lives.”

“It wouldn’t be weird to go see if she’s okay?”

Hotch just smiles at him again, “go see her, Reid.”

Getting her address from Penelope felt a little weird, but she writes it on a sticky note for him and he’s out the door before she can even pry into what he’s going to say. Which is good, because he doesn’t know yet.

It’s late, but he stops by the little rock store on his way to her house. Seeing the lights still on and the same man from before behind the counter.

“Welcome back,” he’s overly cheerful for it being so late. “How did she like them?”

“She likes the ones I’ve given her so far,” he smiles, looking over the wall himself this time for the right one.

Scanning past every emotion and affirmation known to man as he looked around, picking out a beautiful pink Rhodonite for healing grief, supposedly acting as a hug from emotional troubles. And a Rainbow Moonstone for inner peace, harmony and strength.

“She’s lost someone recently?” He asks as Spencer places them on the counter.

“Her grandmother,” he says softly. “These are good, right?”

“They’ll be perfect, we also have amethyst bracelets, they’re good for healing and drawing in positive energy,” he points towards the small display of bracelets. Small purple stones separated with small gold beads.

He picks up 2 of them, placing them on the counter as well.

“Is she still just a crush?”

Spencer laughs lightly, “unfortunately.”

“She might be more after this,” he smirks, ringing him up. “I’ll give you a 2 for one deal on everything, I have a feeling you’ll be in a lot.”

Spencer thanks him as he pays, picking out a small purple bag for the rocks and bracelet. Placing one on his own wrist before leaving. Also picking up some cookie dough ice cream and a card at the corner store just beside her apartment. Remembering all the times Penelope, JJ or Emily has mentioned it being the best ice cream for crying.

He takes a very deep breath before knocking on her door, hoping to every god out there that she doesn’t find this incredibly inappropriate and weird.

“Spencer?” He hears her voice before she even opens the door, looking out the peephole at him.

She whips the door open, eyes puffy and swollen as she looks at him in shock. She’s in a big sweater and shorts, tears dripping down her cheeks as she shakes her head at him.

“I thought you could use some cheering up?” He awkwardly smiles, holding the ice cream up for her to see.

She wraps her arms around his middle, burying her face against his coat. Still crying as she holds him, he holds her with his free hand, shushing her as he presses his cheek to her head.

She pulls back with a sniffle, “come in,” she offers with an arm out, ushering him inside the small room as she closes the door.

He takes his shoes off, handing her the ice cream so he can take off his coat and satchel too. “This isn’t weird right?”

“Not at all,” she laughs slightly through the awkwardness. “You don’t know how much it means to me that you care this much.”

“I brought something for you,” he says as he struggles to dig everything out of his pocket.

He hands her the card and the little purple bag, seeing the overwhelming glance grow on her face. Her eyes grew wide as he mouth opened, speechless.

She opened the card first, reading the passage about grief that was already provided. Dealing with grief was something Spencer knew too well, adding something a little special to the bottom of the card.

“To live in hearts we left behind is not to die,” -Thomas Campbell. As long as you remember her, with a smile on your face and love in your heart, she will always be with you ♥︎ Spencer

She wipes her tears with her forearm, placing the card on the counter beside the ice cream before she opens the bag. She pulls out the bracelet first, absolute shock on her face.

“Spencer?” Is all she can say, in a high squeak as she shakes her head at him.

“I didn’t want you to be sad,” he says softly, stepping into her space and placing a hand on her arm. “I love seeing you smile, and I thought this could help.

He takes the bracelet from her grasp and places it over her hand. Resting it on her wrist softly, straightening it out against her sweater as she notices the matching on over his shirt sleeve.

“Oh this is so cute,” she swoons. “thank you, really Spencer.”

“And there are some rocks for grief healing in there too, one is supposedly like an emotional hug which should heal the grief and sorrow, and the other is more for inner peace and harmony,” he rambles away, not wanting her to miss anything.

She pours the rocks from the bag, into her hand, looking them over silently with a smile, “they’ll look great on my desk.”

“The purple looks nice on you too,” he compliments her, watching her eyes drift up to him.

She places the rocks on the counter before wrapping her arms around him once more. This time he’s able to actually hold her back, tight as possible as he rubs his hand over her back.

She smells like home, clean laundry and happiness. She’s soft and warm, he holds her perfectly against his chest, like she was a missing puzzle piece that someone finally found under the table, she fits into his life like she was supposed to be there.

She kisses his cheek softly before she pulls back, causing him to pull her into a real kiss on impulse. Connecting their lips as she sighs into the contact, melting into his grasp as she kisses him back.

Her lips are soft, fitting between his own gently as she breathes him in. Her hands reach up to grip his cheeks, kissing him again and again, placing pecks to his lips and cheeks with her eyes closed as he giggles.

“Thank you,” she whispers against his lips, “for everything.”

“I’d do anything for you,” he whispers back, kissing her one last time before she pulls away.

“I was actually about to smoke some weed on the fire escape and probably cry some more,” she laughs lightly. “would you like to join me?”

“I’ll stick with a bowl of ice cream,” he smiled awkwardly.

“Nice one,” she laughs as she opens the ice cream.

“What?”

“Oh, you didn’t even get the reference you made,” she laughs lightly, “to get high you smoke a bowl, so…”

It makes him smile, “I'm a comedian part-time.”

He makes her laugh again, loving the sound of her giggle replacing the tears. “Why aren’t you this funny at work?”

He thinks about it for a little, watching her scoop the ice cream into two bowls, “it’s a little hard to make jokes when people's lives are on the line, I know everyone else does but I get too focused.”

“They probably wouldn’t appreciate your jokes even if you did make them,” she says as she handed him a bowl with a spoon. “They’re kind of mean to you, in a family way but it still sucks sometimes to overhear.”

She walks into the living area then, grabbing a few blankets and opening the window to the fire escape. Crawling out to sit on the ledge, waiting for him.

“I don’t mind it,” he says as he finally sits down beside her.

She places the blanket over their laps, both of them sitting criss-cross applesauce as they ate.

“Do you like your job?” She asks him, just like he once asked her.

“Most of the time,” he nodded as he got brain freeze. The cold air, the cold ice cream, everything that was catching up to him as he scrunched his face up at the feeling.

She laughs at him only a bit before she’s also attacked by the brain freeze, holding the vein in her neck as she chokes out another laugh, trying to warm up the blood going to her head so the pain would stop.

They’re both just a mess of giggles together, unable to say any words as they let it all out. She leans her head on his shoulder lightly as they calm down to just soft chuckles. He presses his cheek against her head.

“Thank you, Spencer,” it sounds like she’s crying a bit. “My grandma was a lovely woman, she’d be glad I’m laughing right now.”

He reached out a hand for her to hold over the blanket. She interlocked their fingers softly, both cold from holding their ice cream bowls.

“If she was anything like you, I’m sure she was the most wonderful woman,” he says softly, not intending to make her cry but having a feeling he might.

“Would you be interested in holding me on the couch while I cry?” She asked softly, tears in her eyes as she looked up at him.

“Whatever you need, I’m here for you.”

—

He’s late for work the next morning.

Waking up to the smell of coffee, opening his eyes to a strange view. He’s on a couch he doesn’t recognize in a room he doesn’t know too well.

Then he remembers, they ended up cuddled up on the couch. He wakes up to the memory of her on his chest, crying softly as they listened to some music, he ran his hand over her back while she went through it all, blessed to have his support.

He fell asleep under her at some point, waking up alone with a blanket laid over him. He sat up to see her in the kitchen, pouring coffee into a travel mug.

“Good, you’re awake,” she smiles at him. “Coffee is ready, I uh, I have this button-up shirt from a guy friend, if you wanted to wear that to work today? So they don’t think you stayed here?”

“That’s smart,” he replies as he rubs the sleep out of his eyes.

Getting up, he uses the bathroom, changes and takes that coffee from her. He’s not expecting her to kiss him on the lips at the door, but she sends him off to work like an old housewife.

He doesn’t want to pull away from her, keeping her pressed against him as he leans in for 4 more kisses before she finally pushes him out into the hallway with a laugh, “get to work!”

“Fine,” he sighs, “are you going to be in tonight?”

“Yeah,” she smiles, “funeral is in West Virginia next week, so I’ll be in until then.”

“I’ll see you later?”

She nods slightly with a soft smile, “you’ll be seeing a lot of me soon, Spencer.”

“Good,” he winks at her before heading down the hallway and towards the street entrance.

He sighs as he walks outside, resting his back against the apartment complex door, taking a moment to think about everything that just happened, the night of company and the wonderful send-off.

It was something he could get used to.

He rushes into the briefing room when he arrives at Quantico, sitting down with his coffee and pretending he wasn’t late. Listening carefully to JJ’s presentation of the case as he flips through everything he missed already.

“Wheels up in 30,” he heard Hotch say as he zoned back in. “Nice of you to join us, Reid.”

“I know that travel mug from somewhere,” Derek said as he stared at Spencer, who was taking a sip to avoid the awkwardness.

“Hmm?” He played dumb.

“That’s Y/N’s. She washes it every morning when she leaves to go home, I see her do it every morning,” his eyes open wide. “Holy shit.”

“Isn’t that the same tie and slacks from yesterday?” Emily teased him as well.

“Her grandma died, I brought her ice cream and slept on the couch okay?” He all but yelled, flailing his arms slightly so they’d all back off.

Derek reached his fist out for him to pound it, “good man.”

Then Penelope noticed the bracelet, “did she get you that?”

He sunk his hand into his pocket then, “no.”

“What?” Emily and JJ asked in unison, straining their necks to try and get a good look at what she was talking about.

He nervously held his arm out for them, showing them the purple bracelet resting over the sleeve of his shirt. “I got one for her too, it’s for healing and peace. It’s what she needs right now.”

“Oh, so you love her,” Derek smiles as he teases him. Making everyone else in the room swoon slightly.

“Okay and?”

“Oh my god!” Most of them shout at him, embarrassing him to no end. He was so glad she wasn’t at work this morning or else she would be able to hear this from her desk.

“Did you kiss her?” Rossi pries, asking what everyone else was thinking.

He scrunches his face, pushing his glasses up slightly as he clears his throat, “a few times.”

“Is she your girlfriend?” JJ kept the questions coming.

“Not yet,” he said softly. “Kinda weird to walk into her apartment while she cries to say ‘hey sorry about the death in your family, want to date me?’”

“Yeah,” Emily agrees, shrugging lightly. “At least she knows you like her now, it’s been what? 2 years?”

“2 years, 3 months, 17 days and 43 minutes,” he confirms with a small nod and pressed lips.

“Gross,” Derek teases him.

“The plane is leaving in 10 minutes,” Hotch cut into their fun.

Making them all gather their things and continue the interrogation in the elevator, and eventually on the plane, and in the police precinct. Even Penelope called him in the middle of everything to bug him about her.

The questions were never-ending, everyone wanted to know how they even started talking, who made the first move, how he plans to ask her out. They were relentless, he almost regretted admitting to anything.

They bug him all throughout the day, all the way until they’re arriving back at the BAU late that same night. He almost doesn’t want to go back to the bullpen and see her with all of them, knowing they were going to follow and say something.

She’s waiting in the hall when the elevator doors open, a pressed-lipped smile on her face, “bad news.”

“Another one?” Hotch sighs, “have Garcia send us the info. Be at the table in 10.” He pushes his way out of the elevator, passed them all as they stare at Y/N.

“Hi?” She awkwardly waves at them all, showing off the bracelet on her wrist.

“See ya, Spence,” JJ and Emily say as they matt his shoulder, dragging Derek and Rossi towards the bullpen doors.

“Sorry,” he apologizes for them softly, stepping into her space.

She wraps him up in a quick hug, keeping one arm around his waist as she guides him towards the bullpen, “it’s fine, they’re going to have to get used to us being together.”

“Together?” He repeats her words.

“I only cry on my boyfriend's shoulders, if you're up for the title?” She teases him softly, pinching his side as they walk towards the doors.

“Can I frame “Dr. Spencer Reid, Y/N’s boyfriend” beside my Ph.D.’s?” He keeps his hand on her shoulder, holding each other slightly as they walk towards her desk. He felt like one of those kids who wouldn’t let go of their girlfriend's hand in the school hallway, attached to her at the hip.

“I’ll make one for you while you’re gone,” she laughs lightly.

They stop at her desk where he sees all rocks he got her collecting on the shelf, as well as a cup of coffee and his favourite kind of donut.

“Thought you deserved something nice too,” she says as she nudges his side.

He kisses her on the cheek as a thank you, “you’re welcome,” she smiles to herself. A feeling of pride growing in both their chests.

“See you later?” He asks as he picks up the coffee and donut, walking away slowly as she smiles at him.

“Come home to me safely, Doctor Reid,” her voice is just loud enough for everyone in the briefing room, where everyone is waiting at the window, watching them, deciding to put on a show in return.

He stops on the steps to look at her softly, “I’d fight a thousand unsubs to come home to you.”

“I’ll leave the light on,” she blows a kiss at him, making him blush a deep red.

He waves, making his way up the steps and into the briefing room. A smile on his face, heart thumping in his chest, all the support in the world swarming around him as everyone patted him on the back.

That tiger’s eye really did bring him good luck and happiness, and her name was Y/N.

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid request #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #one shot #fluff

930 notes · View notes

izusun · 4 years ago

Note

*hands you an AU dump to hoard like a little goblin handing a small coin to a dragon*

OKAY so basically: after the doctor's visit where Izuku learns he's quirkless (I hc that they went when he was about five n' a half), Inko does a little bit of research on quirks and more specifically on her son's notebooks, learns that he's even more brilliant at quirk analysis than she originally suspected, and (after looking at some not great quirkless statistics) she instead informs Izuku that no, he's had a quirk all along! It's an analysis quirk!

So she updates the quirk registry, and Izuku goes through his life believing he has an analysis quirk, albeit teased for being a late bloomer, but he still can't shake the insecurity being quirkless for that one and a half year gave him.

He does research on all sorts of things, hacking, knife throwing, first aid, and building his own support gear and takes to all of it like a duck to water. He also does research on UA's policy for support gear in the entrance exam (cause surely they've gotta have a policy for non-offensive quirks like Koda and Hagakure) and finds that he can take one with him if he builds it himself. He goes fuckin bonkers.

Anyways: he trains with Katsuki, cause they're relationship is pretty good since Izuku has a 'quirk.' They both demolish the entrance exam. (Also Izuku kinda swears a lot because Katsuki rubs off on him)

Aizawa doesn't notice a goddamn thing is amiss until the battle trials on the second day (he decides to shadow All Might that day), where when he was using his quirk to silence his students while Izuku was rambling, he just didn't stop, as if he didn't notice anything was wrong. It happens again during the USJ.

So at some point during the sports festival, Nedzu (who is now intrigued because of Aizawa's complaining) invites Izuku into his office during a free period and lets him go ham on analysis, all while Aizawa is secretly there erasing Izuku's 'quirk.' Nedzu invites Izuku to be his personal student (making Aizawa go grey), he says yes, and then Nedzu drops the absolute BOMBSHELL that Izuku is actually quirkless. Cue an existential crisis.

(Also Izuku gets captured at the training camp alongside Katsuki because of his "analysis quirk," wonder how well that goes for him~)

- Goblin anon (sorry this one was kinda long)

GOBLIN?? DUDE???? HOLY SHIT I KNEW YOUR AUS ARE ALWAYS PHENOMENAL BUT THIS RIGHT HERE??? D U D E

i misunderstood the prompt a bit but i genuinely don’t know how to backtrack, so here you go goblin. sorry again o(TヘTo)

ok first of, inko taking on a stronger stance to support her son? love that of her. like, she doesn’t say sorry when izuku turned to look at her and cried that he can’t be like all might. instead, she took him in her arms and assures him that he will be a great hero. at first, of course half of it is lip service because she doesn’t know how to help her quirkless boy be a hero, since, you know, heroes need quirks.. (or do they)

and then she comes across a quirkless self help group which rang many many warning bells in her head. what kind of life do quirkless people live when a google research of them resulted in subsequent pages of results like how to stay safe when quirkless, or how to find jobs when quirkless, or quirkless mortality rates?

she fears for izuku, until she notices that her son’s smart. too smart for his age, but inko thought she’s just being biased. but izuku’s wit is something many people notice, for an instance, when izuku goes to the park to play and his friends’ (the few ones who stayed) parents tell her that her son’s smart for a quirkless person, she realizes that izuku’s wit is far more vast than normal.

then a thought worms into her head but wouldn’t it be bad to lie…but also, no one would be any the wiser.

further pushed by all the statistics she keeps seeing, or the lack thereof, about quirkless people, she makes the decision and pours it to izuku.

izuku who’s far smarter than his age and understood what his mom is asking from him. izuku who already saw the disparities between quirked and quirkless people at the tender age of five. izuku who knows what it means to lie about something as personal as a quirk, but realizes that it’s necessary for him to do so if he wants to live a “normal” life.

so he agrees; he tells inko that he’ll work even harder to sharpen his mind, and to keep expanding his knowledge.

when izuku’s quirk file is officially updated, he watches how his peers and teachers revert back into treating him as izuku. he regains his old friends, but he chose to drop them because he doesn’t want to surround himself with people who thought he was less for being quirkless.

katsuki stayed, surprisingly. katsuki stayed and everyday he kept bothering izuku to “get your quirk already!” katsuki stayed because he can’t fathom that the smartest boy in their class (of course not as smart as him, psshh) is quirkless. deku couldn’t be quirkless. (but if he found out that izuku, indeed, is, i wonder what would happen…)

katsuki was one of the loudest to celebrate when izuku announced that his quirk arrived.

“finally!” he screams and bothers izuku about the semantics of his quirk. he really wasn’t surprised to find out that izuku has an analysis quirk because he thought that nothing else would better be suited for izuku.

he doesn’t know that izuku pours so much of his time into learning and studying, often bypassing basics and intros to take more of the developed courses that are usually recommended for older ages. he doesn’t know that izuku is just a naturally smart kid with the ability to fill the gaps of his young mind with knowledge upon knowledge, storing and stacking them until he feels that he’s laid a sturdy foundation for his fake quirk.

then izuku began threading into different areas. he learns how to get into cyberspaces; hacking into accounts and delving more into how to access private information. he doesn’t thread too close lest he gets caught, but he learns the logistics of maneuvering around the web and burrowing in empty spaces to branch out his own. he creates and designs web algorithms for himself, just so he doesn’t trigger anyone who is looking into the web movements. he hones this and uses it to access more information.

then when he deems it enough, he turns his attention to something more tangible and something more physical. he learns other ways to be a hero; how to fight without a physical quirk, how to win against bigger opponents, how to use analysis quirk in fights.

izuku becomes more than a fake analysis quirk user; he creates it.

mental quirks are hard to describe, more so to compress, thus he creates new definitions of an analysis quirk. what used to be a silly lie is now a tangible fact that izuku believes in. because what makes a quirk? because what makes analysis a quirk? he learns these semantics (often political) and uses it to his advantage.

then he finally threads to hero analysis. at first it were classmates he analyzed; eyes running quickly at their forms and watching with great interest before calculating everything he’s seen and transversing it with the things he learned, and bridges these two facts together to create an analysis. it was a struggle at first: he didn’t know which to put emphasis on until he realizes, he doesn’t need to. he weaves them together and lets his analysis run long and watches how his hobby comes into fruition.

following his classmates are current heroes. these were more tough and more fun, and any of the information is less shared. he doesn’t tell his classmates or teachers about his analyses, only katsuki. and katsuki’s breath hitch every damn time at izuku’s talent quirk.

it is in their second year of middle school that midoriya begins to incorporate the facts with himself to create physical performances. the issues and things he learned through observing are now practiced by himself. he calculates the best way to fight with a body as petite as his, often taking examples from pro-hero hawks and other women heroes. their agilities and physicality suit izuku’s young body; he doesn’t see the merit in punching his way through things when he physically cannot.

so he learns ways to ease his muscles. he learns ballet and gymnastics; lets his muscles contort and mend themselves anew. he finds his balance and roots himself firmly, and learns to calculate his actions so he doesn’t waste his energy. katsuki doesn’t say anything, but he sees izuku’s dance and falls in love.

then in the spring of their third year of middle school, izuku learns how to build and handle weapons.

this is the easiest. izuku learns that weapons aren’t tools, but extensions of his arms and hands. they are not to be revered and not to be depended on because they can fail. instead, he learns to wield weapons as though they are parts of his bodies. he learns how to use swords and often narrowing to wooden sticks that can be picked up anywhere; he learns how to fire guns and how to hide daggers in his uniform. he learns that his body is the best weapon to use and that tools are just arsenal to help him win.

then he learns how to build them.

by summer, izuku begins reaching into UA’s servers. they are hard codes to crack, but not impossible. it takes him five days to access old entrance exam videos. the next day, the videos are snuffed and he is left to try digging deeper into UA.

he fails.

nezu must have caught onto his codes and proceeded to build walls against it.

so he slithers out. but a five minute video of last year’s entrance exam is enough for izuku because he learns two things: one, heroes must defeat villains and two, heroes must save others.

izuku prepares for this. unknowingly, katsuki is taught these same principles. katsuki would grumble and tell him that he knows what heroes must do, but izuku continues to hammer it down to him.

by the time of the UA entrance exam, izuku falls into the ease of having a fake quirk. he passes the written exam with flying colours and although it took three teachers to approve his support gears (present mic had to pull in powerloader, midnight, and hound dog to ensure that the well designed support gears are made by the hero student examinee and not by a support student examinee. majima saw the works and begged nezu to allow izuku to be his student.), izuku still succeeds and dominates the entrance exam.

when the zero pointer was released, he had flung himself towards the girl crushed by debris and yanks her out. he doesn’t waste a modified grenade to explode the zero pointer because through his calculations, doing so would not only create more collateral damage, but would also endanger the examinee in his arms because she still would be caught in the crossfire.

nezu hums in appreciation from the screening room, after all, smart minds always do think alike.

izuku gets a whopping 92 in the physical aspects of the entrance exam.

katsuki gets 85.

aizawa gleefully takes them in.

izuku thinks that no one will ever know of his and inko’s secret, but one look at nezu’s beady eyes and he knew that the stoat knew. it became a game to them, then. a game to see who else would realize.

and while izuku is smart, he doesn’t realize that nezu has basically taken him as his personal student the moment he and izuku had created a bet.

it takes two months for aizawa to figure things out. surprisingly, he is the only one to do so and he only realizes due to the many untimely attacks of LoV.

——

how angst would it be if katsuki realizes that izuku’s always been quirkless during their captivity in the LoV’s hideout.

180 notes · View notes

kythed · 5 years ago

Text

what love tastes like

terushima yuuji x reader

synopsis: in which you learn that falling in love tastes like monster

“Taste,” he says. He holds the cold rim of a freshly opened can to your lips, and first it’s metallic, salty, but then it’s sweet.

You take a sip.

“So you’re telling me you’ve never tried Monster before?” he asks, taking a drink himself. The two of you are sitting on a park bench across the street from a gas station. He licks his lips-- the silver ball embedded in his tongue winks at you, a shallow token of youthful rebellion that somehow seems more significant on him.

“Never. I’m more of a Dr. Pepper girl.” You reach for the can again, letting the saccharine liquid sloshing inside coat your tongue. It’s really too much for me, you think. But of course, you won’t tell him that.

“Not anymore,” he says, and he slips a firm hand around the back of your neck, pulling you towards him and daring you to look away with a wicked grin-- it’s attractive, to say the least. “Now you’re my girl.”

You’ve barely parted your lips to respond before his mouth is on yours, tongue halfway down your throat, and you’re whimpering into the kiss as he snakes a hand down your back and presses your body to his. The whole ordeal tastes like Monster and feels far more energizing than the packaging promises.

Within your first day of meeting him, Terushima Yuuji has already claimed you as his own.

And you’re okay with it.

He’s about as healthy for you as the Monster is-- which is to say, not at all.

In your next couple months of dating him, this becomes apparent. He takes you to the edge of the woods at twilight and lights your first cigarette, laughing as you take a draw and end up coughing. Plucking it from your fingers, he holds the cig high as smoke curls into the hazy sky and eventually melds with the faintly orange cumuli. “Guess it’ll take a little practice before you can smoke with the big dogs, huh?”

You flush and snatch it back, determined to prove your aptitude for defiance. By the end of the night, you can blow smoke rings-- he applauds, and for some odd reason your heart swells at his lazy grin.

(The next kiss tastes like tobacco and novelty.)

He shows you each of his tattoos, some of which peek out from underneath his clothes, some of which aren’t exactly visible to the onlooker’s eye. There’s a tendril of ivy climbing down his forearm, a flock of wild cranes taking flight from his left shoulder. A dark silhouette is on his chest, kneeling low to who knows what. You trace the image of an unlit candle on the back of his neck, asking what it means-- for a millisecond, his mouth tightens into an expressionless line, but then he laughs. “Why, you want one too? Let’s go to the parlor then.”

When you decline, he takes a permanent marker from his bedside table and prints a small label on your inner wrist. ‘Mine’ it says, accompanied by an oddly appropriate smiley face. “Then this will have to do.”

(This kiss tastes like ink and enigma.)

He brings you to a decrepit manor on the outskirts of town-- legend has it a young, newly wealthy couple purchased it twenty years ago, unaware its foundations rested on a centuries old cemetery. The spiteful spirits drove them to the brink of madness. The sort of madness that could only be alleviated by the resounding finality of death.

“They were found hanging from their bedsheets in the west wing,” Yuuji whispers to you, his breath tickling your ear. An unwanted tremor runs from your head to your high-tops. You don’t believe in ghosts, so it must be because you’re cold. (At least, that’s what you tell yourself.) “I want that kind of love.”

You turn, surprised to see his expression remains entirely serious. “The kind where you die for one another?”

“The kind where you die with one another,” he corrects, wistfully gazing into the dingy bay windows protruding from the manor’s anterior.

You remain silent.

“Life is just an accumulation of bad decisions, and love is just an accumulation of bad decisions you make with another person,” he muses, still peering at the grandeur of the lonely estate. He turns to you, a dangerous glint in his eye. “Wanna make a bad decision with me?”

The next hour is spent in the modest company of Yuuji, a couple of baseball bats, and the empty halls of a long dead house. There’s no one to witness the two of you shattering each dusty antique vase save for the portraits on the wall. Soon, their frames, too, receive a violent visit from a vindictive bat, usually accompanied by Yuuji’s unadulterated glee and a resounding whoop.

You’re not a fan of destruction. Especially not the destruction of rare, precious items reminiscent of a life bygone. Yet, it’s exhilarating to indulge in it, to swing your bat with a meaningless vengeance and watch as whatever priceless heirloom that evoked your baseless wrath fractures into pieces. You demolish a set of fine china found in the dining room cabinet and Yuuji gathers you into his arms, kissing you fiercely (it tastes like some sort of perverse, seductive joy, rosewater mixed with ashes). He chuckles into your mouth when you push your tongue into his, retribution for your first kiss many weeks ago. It’s deliciously gratifying.

If Yuuji is right, and love is just a mosaic of bad decisions and desire-- maybe you’re okay with that. Maybe this is all I really need, you think, watching Yuuji from the corner of your eye on the drive home. Yellow street lights cast irregular shadows on his angular features, lending him an otherworldly sort of beauty.

“What is it?” he asks, without taking his eyes off the road. One of his hands inches up your inner thigh, giving it a quick squeeze before retreating to the responsibility of the steering wheel.

You hesitate, just for a second. An unseen force constricts around your throat; you banish it with a hard swallow. “I love you.”

One second passes. Then two.

He says nothing the rest of the ride home, and you sit in mortified silence, watching traffic blur by with glassy eyes. You must’ve misread this whole thing. You’re just a fling Yuuji plans on discarding whenever he grows tired… your mouth goes dry with regret.

When you pull up in front of your house, he walks you to your front door. You can hardly stand to look him in the eye.

“Well, thanks for today,” you say, examining your shoelaces with false interest. “I had a lot of--”

“I love you, too.”

Startled, you look up. “I- what?”

“I said,” he says, stepping close, putting a hand beneath your chin to tilt it upwards. Your body is eclipsed by his larger one, and you’re overwhelmed with the sudden urge to hide from his penetrating gaze. “I love you, too.”

A beat of silence.

“Oh,” you breathe, and, suddenly, his lips are on yours, kissing you fervently— but this time, it’s chaste, it’s… loving (and it tastes like honeyed laughter). Only for a second though.

Then his hands are on your waist, fingers gripping hard enough to leave bruises; he’s aflame with a hotblooded passion-- your body is his Holy Grail and your mouth is its rim. He leads you into the hallway, fumbling to close the door behind him. You gasp when he pushes you up against the wall and harshly sucks at the sensitive skin beneath your jaw, your nails digging into his back through the thin fabric of his t-shirt.

“I love you,” he mumbles, painting your neck with a line of ardent kisses, trailing from right below your ear to right above your collarbone. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

There’s something a little too tender in the way he caresses your face the next morning to wake you after he’s slipped his clothes back on, in the way he smiles softly at your bleary eyed confusion, in the way he holds you in his embrace a fraction of a second longer than you hold him in yours before saying goodbye.

Terushima Yuuji may play the part of a reckless delinquent, but he’s not your average troublemaker. There’s something inscrutable behind his gaze, even as he sprays obscene graffiti on stop signs and shoplifts alcohol from the neighborhood drugstore, a walking cliche of hoodlum culture.

There’s something a little too careful about the boy who claims to be careless.

Yuuji is still fun, of course. He takes immense pride in being fun. He invites you to one of his friends’ gigs, some sort of grunge-esque affair with a heavily pulsating bass line and a preponderance of cheap liquor in red plastic cups. The drummer winks at you during one of the songs-- later Yuuji slugs him in the jaw, taking a few hits in the process, and makes a show of kissing you sloppily while the poor drummer nurses his rapidly forming bruise with a pack of frozen peas. (The kiss, of course, tastes like blood and pride.)

He teaches you how to use a switchblade-- “Just in case,” he says, wrapping his hand around yours in an effort to show you the proper grip. In exactly what situation you’d be forced to use a switchblade remains unclear, but when you ask he just laughs and shrugs, spinning the knife in between his slender fingers. “You never know.”

(He tells you a story of a fist fight years ago and lifts his shirt to point out a pale, faded scar-- the other guy brought a knife concealed in his sleeve. You then agree it doesn’t hurt to be prepared.)

The two of you trespass on the regular, scaling fences and picking locks to dip your feet in private pools, to run barefoot on the soft grass of a golf course late at night, to explore taped off tunnels and underpasses.

All of it is fun, all of it depicts your relationship as something accidental, something reckless, the convergence of two beings as coincidental as the convergence of the two cells that provoked the Big Bang.

But your intimate moments, the faintest imprints in between the lines, tell a different story. One onlookers don’t see.

They don’t see how Yuuji places a hand on the small of your back to guide you over a crosswalk, or how he pours a coffee and carefully blows on it before bringing it to you. They don’t see how he laughs when you laugh and smiles when you smile.

They don’t hear what he whispers to you under the sheets-- sweet nothings that would make Cupid himself blush-- as he touches you slowly, purposefully, following your curves deliberately as a sculptor molding clay.

They don’t feel his kisses, delicately placed on your lips, your neck, your stomach and thighs. They don’t feel his eyelashes fluttering on your cheek as he allows himself to rest with you in his most vulnerable state.

It’s during these moments that deep secrets are so shyly exchanged in the sleepy haze of late nights and early mornings. He bares his soul to you in all its imperfection (you suspect you are the only one to have ever seen it in this state). He shatters himself bit by bit like the vases you splintered so long ago, offering you the fragments so you can gradually piece together the entire portrait.

“You know how I told you my dad taught me how to fight?” he asks one of these times. Your head is in his lap as he strokes your hair ever-so-lightly. You nod, looking up into those sweet brown eyes-- they look sad today. “That’s only half true. He didn’t teach me, but I had to learn because of him.”

You take his hand and brush your lips over his knuckles, humming softly, and he takes this small act of comfort and stores it away like he always does.

I’m sorry.

“I’m scared of trying to be someone different than I am now, but I want to be. I wish I could be.”

You can.

“I’m sorry for getting you into so much trouble these days.”

Don’t be.

“I think we should run away, just you and me. We could make it, you know.”

I know.

Of course, all good things come to an end. You know that.

You just aren’t anticipating something so good to end so soon-- as suddenly as Terushima Yuuji becomes yours, he disappears.

One morning, he’s sleeping in the bed next to you, and the next he’s gone without a trace. Literally. He leaves behind no extra t-shirts, no stray sock or phone charger, no note. You pad down the hall, ducking your head into each room.

“Yuuji?” you call. “Is this some sort of joke?”

It’s not.

You call his phone and reach his voicemail. Hey, this is Terushima. Not available right now, probably busy doing somethin’ stupid or taking a piss. Leave a message if you want.

The sound of his voice grows more and more painful to hear over the next six months. At first, you call every day, then every week, then every month. At month six, you’ve stopped calling at all. If he wanted to answer, he would. You don’t even know why you’ve kept it up so long when he obviously left for a reason.

So, you pick up the pieces of your broken heart and cobble them together again. It’s not a graceful recovery, but it’s a recovery, and that’s what matters. The gaping hole he left is gradually filled by your family, your friends-- you don’t go on a single date, but that’s okay. (You’re just not ready. You tell yourself that you will be, someday.)

Soon, you’re whole again. As you discover, there are ways to find yourself other than falling dangerously in love with a dangerous boy.

You run into him one day, eight or so months after his disappearance. You’re filling your car at a gas station, and at the park across the street, he’s sitting next to a girl you don’t recognize. She laughs at all his jokes and sips a can of Monster he offers her. As if he can feel your stare, Yuuji glances over and catches your eye. He jogs across the street, dodging traffic, and you two exchange tentative pleasantries before the conversation comes to an uneasy rest on the taboo-- why he left.

It wasn’t because of you, it turns out. At least, not really. You were just the catalyst.

“I was the problem,” Yuuji says, laughing, though the smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “You remember how I once told you I thought love was making your bad decisions with someone by your side?”

You nod, and the wound has scabbed over enough for you to remember it lightly, with a slight curve of the lips.

“You showed me that wasn’t true.” He tugs on the collar of his t-shirt absentmindedly, not quite meeting your gaze. “I started wanting to make good decisions instead. And that just wasn’t me. Love isn’t for me.”

“It could’ve been,” you say simply. He stares at you, momentarily unable to form a response. Then he laughs it off, a sound you used to adore that now sounds harsh and grating.

“Maybe someday,” he says, but his expression tells you otherwise. It tells you how scared he is of ever being that person.

The thing about love is that it gives you something to lose. It gives you a reason to make good decisions. It gives you something to fear for.

As he turns to leave, Yuuji freezes in his tracks. He throws a look over his shoulder. “Just for the record-- it hurt. Leaving. I did love you.”

You smile. It’s a genuine smile, but it’s sad, too. “I know.”

And the thing about fear is that some people can’t bear it well enough to let themselves love someone.

You watch his retreating back for a brief moment before climbing into your car. It’s not until you’re halfway home that you realize you’re crying. Tears roll down your cheeks into your lap, staining your jeans.

You hope he comes to love that new girl, the one he’s sharing a Monster with. You hope she loves him back with all her heart. You hope she spends hours and hours picking through his pieces and reassembling him from the bottom up. You hope she comes to find that his kisses taste like tobacco and novelty, like ink and enigma, like rosewater and ashes and joy. You hope that, to her, those kisses never taste like regret.

You hope that this time, he’s scared. But not so scared he can’t let himself stay.

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #hq terushima #terushima #terushima yuuji #terushima x reader #terushima yuuji x reader

1K notes · View notes

autisticlancemcclain · 2 years ago

Text

“You want us to what.”

Lance doesn’t give a flying fuck how angry he sounds, potential diplomatic crises be damned – hell, he wants to cause a crisis. He wants to raise some hell.

The dignitary sniffs derisively. “The beast is a dangerous pest, Blue Paladin.”

“Not the blue paladin,” Lance growls, because he isn’t, “and I am not murdering an animal in cold blood just because you can’t deal with it properly.”

“Lance,” Allura hisses, but he has no problem ignoring her.

“Can’t deal with it properly — do you hear your paladin!” the dignitary sputters, waving an angry hand in Lance’s direction.

Shiro closes his eyes, taking a deep breath, before plastering on a tight smile and trying to salvage the situation. Usually, Lance would hate to cause Shiro any stress at all, and would do whatever he could to reduce that stress. This time, Lance is going to dig his heels in. He is not going to let a living being be needlessly exterminated. Lance isn’t anti-animal death, or anything — he has no problem with others eating meat, or using animal products. He thinks using animals as gifts and not letting any part of them go to waste is very wise, and he has a lot of respect for people who manage to do so successfully. Sport hunters, on the other hand, or people who kill without good reason? Therein lies his problem, and he’s beyond happy to make a big stink of it.

“Could you describe the beast?” Shiro asks.

“Happily,” the dignitary grumps. “I’m eager to describe its horror to you, Oh Great Leader of Voltron.”

Shiro visibly tries very hard not to roll his eyes. Lance refuses to take any joy in the reaction, even though he would usually laugh.

“The beast is as large as half our royal castle. Its teeth are larger than our tallest soldier, and sharper than a luxite blade. Its fur is rough and coarse, enough to sand the paint clean off the walls it brushes by. Its roar shakes the very foundations of our city. It walks on four legs but stands on two, right before it rears up to smash our buildings to dust. It is a menace, a pest, and a danger besides!”

“So you have a grizzly bear problem,” Lance snaps. “Close your garbage cans at night and quit complaining.”

“Lance, please,” Hunk mutters, but Lance will not back down. Not when a life is at stake.

“Has it actually…hurt anyone?” Keith asks.

Lance shoots a grateful look at Keith.

At least someone is on his side.

“Yes!” the dignitary cries.

Keith shoots a look back at Lance — a well, I tried if Lance has ever seen one — but that is not good enough. Lance glares at him.

Traitor.

“Explain,” Lance demands.

The dignitary frowns, looking down their nose at Lance and shaking their head. “I’m not talking to you.”

“Would you mind explaining,” Pidge deadpans, barely refraining from rolling her eyes.

Lance knows Pidge well enough to know that she’s not on his side, exactly — she threw stuff at him when he started insulting the dignitary initially — but there’s nothing that pisses her off more than someone talking down to her family. Even if she doesn’t agree with said family. She’s loyal, like that.

“Fine, since you asked so nicely,” the dignitary says, cutting a look to Lance, who makes a very crude gesture with his hands in response and ignores the four (4) tired sighs from assorted teammates and co. around him.

“The beast easily and ruthlessly took down several of our soldiers as soon as they opened fire on it. And it further still injured many of our knights when we sent them to its cave! It is a mindless, killing machine, and must be exterminated immediately.”

Lance throws his hands up in exasperation. “No shit it’s defending itself! What do you expect it to do, stand there while you shoot at it?”

“If it didn’t want to be shot it shouldn’t have ventured into the city in the first place!”

“It’s an animal! How the hell is it supposed to understand city limits and boundaries?”

“That’s not my problem,” the dignitary says coldly. “It has posed a threat to our people, and so it must die. And if Voltron wishes for our signature in the Coalition, you will come to our aid, or else you can count yourself down one planet’s alliance.”

Allura stiffens. “You would really risk your people’s protection over a difference in opinion?”

“Your blue paladin —”

“I am not the blue paladin, you brainless amoeba —”

“Your blue paladin,” the dignitary repeats, pointedly and icily, “has insulted us greatly. The situation is no longer up for debate. If you wish to sign an alliance, the paladin must handle the problem himself. That is our final stipulation.”

With that, the dignitary ends the call, cutting off Shiro’s pleas for him to wait.

All eyes turn to Lance.

“I am not killing an innocent animal,” Lance snaps. “Forget it.”

Keith sighs. “Lance —”

“No.” Lance clenches his fists, glaring at his team, chin raised and shoulders set. Beside him, Mr. Snuggles spreads his fangs and hisses. The mice — currently resting on his head — scramble to their feet, presumably also tensing up. Ivy — a venomous vine he picked up on a planet a few missions back — winds up his arms. “I am not just being ridiculous. You heard that idiot. They’re provoking it. It’s not doing anything wrong.”

“Lance —” Keith tries again, but Lance is not willing to hear it.

“I will not take an innocent life to buy an alliance. And if you do, I swear to God, I will never forgive you.”

With that he stomps out of the bridge, ignoring the dozens of calls of his name and pleas to “wait a goddamn second, Lance, c’mon.”

Lance stomps all the way to his room, muttering about stupid careless dignitaries and team members who won’t listen to him and how everyone is going to make him grey early and he is not Shiro, lord above, so he can’t pull that garbage off. Ugh.

He slams his door behind him and flops on the bed, and is marginally surprised to find his tears stinging his eyes.

“This is a stupid reason to cry,” he announces to no one, voice muffled in his pillow. “Why must I cry about stupid things. Why can’t I cry about regular things. This is dumb.”

There’s a clicking sound accompanying a gentle bump to the leg hanging off his bed. He drags his head off the pillow, sniffling, to see Mr. Snuggles sitting to the side of his bed, fangs clicking. The mice sit on his head, as they are wont to do (which, understandably considering the natural predator of mice, used to scare the shit out of Allura. But Mr. Snuggles has never been anything but gentle with them, even when they roughhouse on his back or play tag under his leg and accidentally trip him. He seems to be quite protective of them, actually. It’s very sweet. Lance thinks it might be a microhylid frog/giant tarantula situation, even though Mr. Snuggles can’t lay eggs, and it amuses him greatly). Ivy uncoils from his bed frame, wrapping a vine around his ankle and tugging carefully. Blue and Red both loudly mother him in the back of his mind.

It’s nice.

Lance sighs, wiping his tears and sitting up against his headboard.

“This sucks,” he says to his assortment of companions, all who seem to agree with him. Mr. Snuggles and the mice crawl up the leg of the bed to sit in front of him, and Ivy makes her way around his shoulders.

None of them can talk to him, obviously — how fucking cool would that be, though — but each one of them is an excellent listener (even the mice, who like to gossip, but Lance preemptively forgives them).

“It’s just —” Lance huffs, frustrated. “I get that the planet is probably tired of being lightly terrorized by a giant beast, sure, but is murder really the answer? Plus, have they even tried talking to it? Maybe it’s very reasonable! I’m sure I —”

Lance shoots up, startling poor Ivy, but holy shit.

Holy shit!

“That’s it!” he shouts, grin nearly splitting his face in two. He leans over, just barely managing to grab his holopad, and starts sketching out the plans.

“Now if I just — and it shouldn’t be too hard — I’ve done more in less time — hell yeah!”

He’s startled out of his fervour by urgent squeaks, and when he looks up, he sees the mice waving to get his attention.

“Yes?”

At his acknowledgement, they scurry into formation, laying together to make a question mark with their little bodies.

Lance snorts. He may not be able to speak their language, but they have no problems making themselves clear.

“I can’t tell you,” he scolds. “You’re going to snitch to Allura.”

They mice squeak sadly, but Lance knows better. Last time he gave in to them, Allura knew within the minute.

“I’ll be back soon, okay? Don’t wait up for me. Platt, Chulatt, Plachu, Chuchule — there’s some of that fancy grain you like in the cupboard. Mr. Snuggles — here.” He opens up space youtube, quickly opening up a horror movie reaction compilation for the fear demon spider. “That’ll keep you fed for a bit.” He props the holopad up on his pillow, scrambling to his feet and heading to the door. On the way out, he pulls the string on his special blue sun lamp — “That’s for you, Ivy!” — and then he’s out the door, plans in hand, to find Coran.

Luckily for Lance, he runs straight into him.

“Lance, dear, I was just coming to look for you,” Coran says, right outside his door.

Lance grins. “I can see that.”

Coran narrows his eyes. “You’re… remarkably chipper, Number Four.”

“Mhm.”

He holds up a hand for Coran to pause. He strains his ears, and smirks as he just barely picks up on the sound of near-silent footsteps behind a closed door. He makes pointed eye contact with the advisor, then inclines his head at Keith’s door.

Coran gets the point.

“Well, if you’re really feeling so much better,” Coran says loudly — too loudly, but Lance doesn’t have much in the subtlety department either, so he can’t complain — “would you mind helping me recalibrate the fabricator?”

“Absolutely,” Lance says, dragging the advisor by the hand in the opposite direction of the fabricator.

“Will you speak plainly, now?” Coran asks, once they’ve put some distance between them and Keith’s eavesdropping ass. (That is, however, probably an unfair reaction. Keith was likely listening in to try and find a way to help, in his own awkward way. If Lance wasn’t currently feeling just a smidge betrayed, he would feel touched.)

“Okay, so. I have a Plan.” Lance puts emphasis on the word so Coran knows it’s Capitalized, because this isn’t just a regular plan. This is a rescue mission. It’s espionage. A heist, even.

“Oh, no.”

“Oh, yes!”

Coran sighs, dragging a hand down his face.

“Lance,” he says warningly, but Lance won’t hear it.

“C’mon, Coran! You trust me, right?”

“That is a manipulative question —”

“You trust me! You said so yourself!”

“Fine, child. Yes, I trust you.”

Lance claps his hands together. “Excellent! So. I refuse to be a murderer, as you may have heard.”

“That would have been very hard for me to miss,” Coran says drily.

Lance gracefully ignores the comment. “And since I will also go apeshit if anyone else becomes a murderer, I have come up with a plan!”

“Lance. Number Four. My dear. Time is not our current luxury. Please share your plan.”

“Right. Okay.” Lance rocks back on his heels, shooting Coran a guileless smile. “How well do you think you can imitate my mannerisms?”

———

Lance has no idea how powerful he truly is.

Seriously. Completely oblivious. He’s convinced that he’s the only one on the team who’s not powerful — and Keith knows this because those are the words Lance said with his own mouth. He’s so convinced that power is Shiro’s strength, Pidge’s intelligence, Hunk’s wit and compassion, Allura’s regality, and Coran’s wisdom. He’s even completely sure that Keith has power in his speed and initiative.

Somehow, though, the heart of Voltron does not know how he holds everyone in the palm of his hand. He does not see the picture of terror he makes; jaw clenched, brown eyes flashing with determination, back straight and shoulders set, demonic spider at his side, telepathic mice gathered on his head, poisonous, sentient vine wrapped around him — and the spirts of two lions, red and blue, growling in tandem behind him as he swears that no harm will come to the beast by Voltron’s hand.

Lance did not see the fear in the dignitary’s face. He did not notice his team staring at him with wide eyes, leaning far away from him and his own army. He did not see the pure, concentrated power rippling from him in waves.

If Keith’s being totally, completely honest, it’s kind of hot.

But it’s also a pain in the ass. As much as Lance’s greatest strength is in convincing people to listen to him, when he sets stubborn eyes on a task, the Universe herself cannot sway him. Keith has a snowball’s chance in hell of managing either.

“Just try,” Shiro pleads. “Please. Attempt to convince him that, as much as it sucks, killing the damn beast is the easiest way to secure this alliance and move on.”

“Shiro, your braincells are spilling out your ears like loose marbles if you think that I can convince him to even listen to the words I will attempt to say.”

“Holy idiom, there, cowboy,” Pidge teases, and Keith breaks away from the intense stare-down with his brother to stick his tongue out and shoot her the finger.

“That’s a normal idiom. Sorry that you grew up in Michigan where the most interesting insult you ever hear is someone saying please with a little more passive aggression than usual.”

“…Alright. Point to Keith.”

“Mhm. That’s what I thought.”

“Paladins!” Allura snaps, ignoring Hunk’s smartass comment that she is also, actually, a paladin, and as such is included in such snappish remarks and thus has lost a good chunk of ethos. “Focus! Stars, it’s like I have to do everything around here. Keith. Put your big boy pants on.”

Shiro chokes with laughter, desperately trying to pretend it’s really a cough, but it fools no one.

God, those two need to stop hanging out together. Shiro is dragging Allura down to his level. Poor woman.

“Talk to Lance,” she continues. “He only really listens to you.”

Keith looks at her incredulously. “Listens to me — have I missed something? I asked Lance to lead a briefing yesterday and he asked me what deity died and made me king of the jungle. He doesn’t listen to a goddamn word I say.”

Allura raises an eyebrow. “Did he?”

“Did he what?”

“Lead the briefing yesterday?”

Keith deflates. Because, well. “Yeah,” he mutters.

“So you’re just being a pussy, then,” she summarizes – why does Pidge insist on teaching her modern slang and why does she like it so much – and this time Shiro doesn’t even pretend he’s coughing. Hunk and Pidge also lose their shit.

“I resent that,” Keith says haughtily, denying nothing.

“Yeah. Okay. Off you go. Convince him to at least attempt to hear us out.”

Keith sighs, but does as asked, making his way to his and Lance’s rooms. He decides to take a minute and gather his thoughts — see, he’s learning, look at how not-impulsive he’s being — and heads to his room first.

When he gets there, he spends a few meditating beside his bed — he’d rather stick a hot iron through his eye than admit it, but Shiro and Black may be a little, teensy, itty-bitty bit correct about taking time to gather up thoughts and reflect or whatever.

Just as he’s about to get up and knock on Lance’s door, he hears Coran’s heeled boots click down the hallway.

Oh, fuck yes. If Coran talks to Lance, he might actually listen without argument! Lance has no issue following Coran’s instructions!

…On the other hand, Coran’s just as much of a — and Keith says this with all the fondness in his heart, believe him, if he didn’t find it so damn endearing he would not be spending his nights imagining what will happen when he finally grows enough of a pair to ask Lance on a date — tree-hugger as Lance is. He won’t be happy about the beast killing either.

But, hey. Coran’s a wise guy. It’s probably fine.

Just in case, though, he gets up as quietly as he can — he knows Lance’s goddamn bat ears will hear him if his fucking heart beats too loudly — and leans against the door to hear their conversation.

“Lance, dear, I was just coming to find you,” Coran says.

So far, so good. If Coran was already trying to find Lance, it was probably to try and gently convince him that saving the beast might not be the best option, right?

Keith heart sinks a little as a new thought worms into his brain: maybe, Lance isn’t just being stubborn, and he’s actually upset. Maybe Coran is going to make sure Lance is feeling okay, like a good person.

…Yeah. That’s more likely. Keith kind of feels like a jackass.

He startles out of his thoughts as Coran’s voice, notably louder than before, speaks again.

“Well, if you’re really feeling so much better, would you mind helping me recalibrate the fabricator?”

“Absolutely,” Lance says, and he does sound remarkably happier than he did when he stomped out of the bridge.

Huh. Maybe Lance convinced himself…?

As he thinks it, he knows it’s not true. But it might not be best to bring it up now, then. He’s only just gotten into a good mood, it will probably be better to bring it up over dinner, or something, when the good mood has enough time to settle properly.

Keith nods to himself. Yeah. That’s totally not an excuse because he doesn’t want Lance to look at him in complete betrayal again when Keith attempts to convince him that saving the beast is not an option, or anything.

Right.

Totally.

———

Lance is feeling remarkably better at dinner. Coran wasn’t sure about the plan, at first, but Lance was very convincing, so he relented. It helped that Coran also is not fond of needless animal murder, which is why he’s Lance’s favourite.

(Well, currently. Usually everyone is tied for his favourite, but no one else had his back today at the meeting, so they’re all currently tied for second-favourite. But they’ll have a chance to redeem themselves after this mission is over.)

He and Coran are the last to arrive to dinner, predictably, so Lance doesn’t waste a second.

“I am now on your side,” he announces as soon as he walks through the door. “You’re all correct, we should get this alliance at all cost, and murder the beast in cold blood. I am completely on board with your plan and happy with all the innocent blood about to be on my hands.”

The team, also predictably, stare at him in shocked silence. Lance sits primly in his chair, accidentally-on-purpose elbowing Mullet in the head, and immediately shoves food goo in his mouth so no one can ask any follow-up questions.

Also predictably, that does not work.

“…There were a lot of contradicting words in that announcement,” Mullet says. (Lance is currently very mad at him and as such he has been demoted from fond nicknames and even his regular name so he will be Mullet until Lance wants to bite him — angrily, angrily, not the way he usually wants to bite him — less.)

“Ooooh, SAT word,” Lance responds, just to be a jackass.

(It works. Keith reaches over to attempt to flick him, but unluckily for him Lance is very used to that reaction to his particular brand of annoying, and so Mullet falls off his chair due to Lance kicking it out from under him before his flick lands).

“So,” Lance says, as Mullet curses at him from the floor, “does anyone else have any comments or concerns?”

There is a very heavy, loaded silence, before Shiro, Allura, and Hunk sigh in tandem.

“Yeah, you’re not going to be leaving my sight,” Hunk says.

“Agreed,” Shiro mutters, head in his hands. “Sorry, buddy, but at the moment I can’t trust you not to go rogue. I was going to let you stay on the castle with Coran, but I no longer think that’s viable. You’ll have to stay with me for the mission.”

“That’s fine,” Lance says, working very hard to shove the smugness out of his voice. He thinks he does a pretty decent job. “You’re all dead to me anyways, so it doesn’t matter.”

“Christ,” Pidge mumbles into her goo.

Allura pinches the bridge of her nose. Lance hears her muttering ‘I signed up for this’ over and over under her breath.

The rest of the meal passes in tense silence. When Lance finishes, he stands up abruptly, tucking his chair back in with enough force that he might as well have thrown it, and washes his dishes with such vigour that he actually has to slow down so they don’t break. He then stalks to the door, pauses, and faces the team (except Coran, who is visibly fighting back a smile and avoiding eye contact — hehe, Lance knew he’d get him fully on board eventually).

“I am going to go to bed, for my final night as a man with a soul,” he says. “I’m sure the rest of you soulless individuals will have no problem going right to sleep tonight, but I will be tossing and turning for the whole time, as I ponder how many of my moral codes I will be breaking tomorrow, so I’m going to get an early start so I can squeeze out as much rest as possible. Have a wonderful rest of your evening.”

He walks calmly out of the room until he’s out of eyesight, then sprints full speed to Coran’s room, resisting the heavy urge to jump on the man’s bed to expel some nervous energy. Instead, he meticulously reorganizes the advisor’s bookshelf. (He gets pretty into it, honestly. Coran has a veritable rainbow of colours decorating the covers of his collection, and Lance loves to go ham with the colour coding. That’s the best part of the ‘tism, he reckons.)

“I had those ordered in a specific way, you know.”

Lance practically jumps to his feet at the teasing remark, turning to face Coran so fast he makes himself a little dizzy.

“Did it work?! Are they suspicious?! Are they ready to velcro me to one of them so I can’t run off?!”

“It did work, you evil mastermind. They’re all convinced you need to be under constant surveillance. They’ve even created shifts so you’re always being watched.”

Lance cheers.

See, his plan is really quite simple. No matter what he says or does, the team is never going to fully trust him with this mission. And understandably so — Lance has made his position quite clear. It would be foolish of them to think that Lance wouldn’t try anything. No matter what, they’re going to be wary of what Lance is doing.

But Lance was counting on that, you see.

He fully expected to be under watch. He also knew that they expected him to fight them, tooth and nail, the whole way. But if he subverted their expectations, just a little — if he said he was on board with the plan while making it very clear that he had no intention of following anyone’s orders — well, now they’re paranoid.

And if there’s one thing paranoia does, it’s make you sloppy.

Tomorrow, they’ll be so focused on watching Lance, so focused on thwarting whatever potential mutiny that they think he has cooked up, that they’ll be forgiving if Lance’s mannerisms are a bit… off. They’ll expect it, even. And they’ll spend so much energy on watching Lance and planning for his acting out that they won’t notice if Coran, up in the castle, isn’t sending a constant barrage of cheery check-ins on the comms.

And, most importantly, they will not be investigating the beast very closely at all.

The actual plan is very simple, with all that information in mind. All Lance has to do tonight is record and set up some of Coran’s regular check-ins to sound off during the day. Then Coran is going to exercise his shapeshifting ability — he’s going to turn into Lance for the day, as shifty and suspicious as possible.

And Lance? Lance is going to sneak out the castle after everyone’s already gone, find the beast before they do, and solve the problem his own damn self.

After all, that’s what the stupid dignitary wanted.

If you wish to sign an alliance, the paladin must handle the problem himself, the dignitary had said. Lance smirks to himself.

That’s not a problem.

Not a problem at all.

———

The first emotion Keith feels, immediately upon waking, is intense dread.

And if that doesn’t sum up the day he’s about to have. Fuck’s sake.

He already feels pretty guilty about yesterday. Besides the fact that Lance is his right hand man — they’re supposed to have each other’s backs, and Keith definitely didn’t have Lance’s, because even though Lance wasn’t in the right he wasn’t in the wrong either — and they’re supposed to be leading this as a team, Keith knows part of the reason things fell apart so quickly is because he didn’t talk to Lance last night. He probably couldn’t’ve convinced Lance to kill the beast, obviously, but they could have definitely explored some different angles together. By letting things fester, Keith pretty much ensured that Lance was going to come up with some elaborate, dangerous scheme that was going to cost them an alliance, and worse, possibly get Lance hurt or killed. (Lance had a good track record with dangerous animals, sure, but this is a beast. The thing sounded like a mix between a polar bear and a dragon. There’s only so much Lance can do, uncanny abilities or not.)

But what’s done is done. Keith can’t very well redo yesterday and make Lance un-mad at him and everyone else, so he’ll have to make do with what he’s got.

And what he’s got is first shift on make-sure-Lance-doesn’t-mutiny-duty.

Fuck, Keith thinks as he makes his way out of his room, this is going to be the Actual Worst.

As usual, Keith is one of the first people on the bridge. Unusually, Lance is next. (Usually he is last, and also late).

“Hey, Lance,” Keith says, trying to muster up a smile.

Surprisingly, Lance beams right back. “Hello, Numb — uh,” his smile falters. “I mean, hi there, Mullet.”

Keith slumps. “I’m still Mullet, huh.”

Lance nods.

“You reckon I’ll work my way back up to Keith, soon? I’ll do anything, you know I will. I’ll even try your horrible face mask with you.”

To his further surprise — Lance must have actually slept well, or something — Lance smiles again, and this time it’s soft even to Keith’s eyes.

“Really? You would do that?”

“I’d do anything for you,” Keith says, and it’s more than he means to.

Lance frowns, and Keith’s heart sinks for the millionth time in just a few hours.

“Except help me save an innocent animal’s life,” he says, and there’s nothing Keith can say to that.

They sit in tense silence until the rest of the paladins arrive.

Shiro counts them once they do, like they’re kindergarteners and he’s a very tired EA, and furrows his brow when he finishes.

“Six. Including me. Who are we — where’s Coran?”

“He said he’ll be here in a few dobashes,” Lance says. “A calibrator broke down in the control room somewhere — nothing urgent, but he wants to get it fixed to get it out of the way. He’ll be back before we’re gone long.”

“That’s fine. Thank you, Lance,” Allura says, transparently trying to ease the tense line of his shoulders, a little.

It does not work. Lance sets his jaw and looks away.

Allura sighs. “I’m sorry, Lance,” she tries. “I know this is hard for you. If it were possible, and we had more time, we’d find another way.”

“Whatever.”

Keith decides that enough is probably enough. Allura and Shiro look genuinely dejected and apologetic, and both Pidge and Hunk look upset.

“Look, Lance, this situation sucks for everyone, okay? It sucks. We’re going to do what we can. If we get to the situation in question and we can actually manage to fix things without killing the beast, then that’s what we’ll do, okay? We’ll do our best.”

Lance exhales, shoulders slumping. He looks… guilty, and his guilt certainly does nothing to appease Keith’s.

“Sorry,” Lance mutters. “I know this is hard for everyone.”

Keith swallows the lump in his throat. He genuinely can’t remember the last time a non-major battle mission sucked so unequivocally for everyone involved, but Jesus Christ.

“Let’s just go,” he says, and everyone nods before following him off the castle and to the wet, humid heat of the planet.

———

Lance wants to bolt the second they step out of the castle, but he knows better than that. So he waits, watching them carefully from the windshield (he’s got no better word for it, okay) of the bridge until they’re itty bitty specks. Then he throws on his backpack, grabs his scanner, waves to his pets, and runs in the direction the beast was last seen.

He keeps up a pretty quick pace for a while, not bothering to muffle his footsteps — he doesn’t want to startle the poor thing — and keeps his ears peeled for the sounds of a large animal making its merry way through the woods.

By ‘large’, he means ‘unfathomably gigantic’, because everything on this planet seems to be. Every tree is as wide as four Hunks, and taller than the castle. The various small woodland critters he’s seen running around have been at least the size of Pidge. Idly he wonders how the hell the evolution on this planet even worked, because all the flora and fauna seems to be gigantic, but the people here aren’t much bigger than humans.

He eventually starts to hear the sound of running water, and wastes no time following it. If he’s correct — and he truly thinks he is, as does Coran — this beast will be sitting carefully by the river’s bank, waiting for fish to swim close to it.

See, Lance is almost sure this beast is the planet’s equivalent to a grizzly bear.

And he’s positive it’s injured.

It’s the only thing that makes sense! He did some light research last night, and discovered that the planet is right in the midst of their springtime. He also discovered that, over the winter months, the planet’s city limits had expanded pretty dramatically, cutting into a large chunk of the forest. Lance believes the new city limits bled into the bear’s hunting grounds, and when the bear woke from hibernation in the spring and went looking for food, it ran into the new neighbourhoods. Startled, of course, it got defensive, only further terrorizing the people. Lance thinks that the bear was dazed enough to be hurt by the city’s armies, and now the bear is in pain and full of anger towards the new animals in its territory.

Of course it’s attacking.

Now, if only the team stopped a goddamn second to listen, and I wouldn’t have this problem, Lance thinks to himself, but pushes the thought away just as quickly, scowling to himself.

He forces himself to pause the reflection and save it for later, because it’s not the right time. He’s on a mission. He doesn’t have time to feel sorry for himself, let alone have time to be mad at the team.

It’s just as well that Lance pulled himself out of his thoughts, because straight ahead, looking at him warily, is the bear.

And oh, what a beast it is.

The dignitary — not to give him any goddamn credit, the bastard — was barely exaggerating. The bear is huge. It’s definitely not bigger than a castle, sure, but it’s big enough that Lance knows to keep a respectful distance, and right now the bear is sitting. He can’t imagine how scary it would be on a rampage.

For the first time, a tiny tendril of guilt crawls up his spine. The dignitary might be a pompous dick, but Lance is starting to realise that’s coming from a place of genuine fear, for themself and for the people they represented.

(Lance is still not going to kill the bear, obviously. It’s not the bear’s fault that it’s scary. But Lance is willing to admit that he did not handle the situation with the dignitary like an adult, and especially not like a paladin, and probably owes them a bit of an apology.)

“Hey, there,” Lance says softly, slowly swinging off his backpack and setting it down in front of him.

The bear growls in warning.

“I know, I know, you like your space. I’ll stay over here for now.”

Without looking away, Lance crouches down, blindly searching around the bag until his hand wraps around the two objects he’s looking for. He slowly takes them out and carefully sets one of them — a back of Altean-style dehydrated wild berries — on the ground in front of the bag. With his other hand, he pours a steady stream of water on the pouch, and he and the bear both watch as the pile of berries gradually grows in size until it’s the size of Lance himself.

Lance sits next to them, criss-cross-applesauce, with his backpack on his lap.

“These are for you,” he says, tone even. “I figured it might be pretty hard for you to forage or hunt right now. You must be hungry.”

Logically, it should be impossible for the bear to understand him. But it must like his tone, because slowly — ever so slowly — it uncurls, keeping a careful eye on Lance as it limps over to him and the berries next to him.

Its legs are the size of Earthen tree trunks. Its head alone is bigger than Lance. Its teeth —visible now that its mouth is open, tongue hanging out, salivating in anticipation of the wonderfully juicy berries — are sharper than any razor.

Lance should be afraid.

He’s not.

“Oh, you’re a beautiful thing,” he coos as the bear leans forward and takes a tentative bite from the pile.

The bear side-eyes him — a look that so clearly says ‘bitch, please’ that Lance can’t help his laugh.

“And you take no shit, huh?”

The bear grunts, apparently deciding the berries are safe, and then digs the hell in. It devours the pile so quickly that it’s there in one second and gone in the next.

Once the pile is finished, the bear turns to look at Lance expectantly.

Lance holds his hands up. “I got nothing!��

The bear huffs — no, really — and ambles closer to Lance. It lowers its great head down, and with a nose bigger than Lance’s head, starts sniffing Lance’s backpack for more.

Lance laughs again. “There’s nothing in there, you silly creature. No food, anyway.”

The bear finally decides he’s telling the truth — or, more likely, doesn’t smell any more food — and flops to the ground, looking to Lance in what he can only describe as petulance.

“I have no more food,” Lance says again. He reaches out hesitantly, slowly, and carefully rests his hand in between the bear's cute little ears when it makes no move to stop him. “But I might have more help for you, though.”

The bear rumbles. Lance takes this as an indication to continue.

“I noticed you were limping. Your front right leg. You’ve got some matted blood on there, too. If you’ll let me, I can clean that wound, stitch it right up, and you’ll be as good as new. That sound okay?”

The bear doesn’t make any more noise, but it does flop over on its side, leaving its right side up for access.

Lance takes a deep breath.

“Okay, big guy. Let me fix you up.”

He gathers up his bag and walks over to the wounded leg in question. He inspects it, but can’t really see the wound under all the blood.

“I’m going to clean it first, okay? I’ll get some river water first. That’ll be better than antiseptic.”

The bear grunts.

Lance grabs a clean cloth out of his bag — really, it’s a queen-sized sheet, but in comparison to the bear looks as small as the tiniest of rags — and soaks it in the frigid river, ringing it out as best as he can with his tiny human hands.

He walks back over to the bear and begins gently wiping away the nasty, coagulated blood from matted fur. It takes a while, but he’s eventually able to see the wound.

He does not like what he sees.

The wound starts cleanly, like it was a cut, but then looks torn, like the flesh was ripped. Lance isn’t sure what weapon may have caused it — that’s more of Keith’s thing — but knows it was certainly no natural cause.

“I’m going to need to apply quite a bit of antiseptic,” he tells the bear, even though the bear most certainly does not know what that is. “It’s going to hurt, but I need to do it, because it already looks a little bit infected.”

He opens his massive tub of antiseptic and holds it out for the bear to sniff. Its giant nose wrinkles, and then it looks pained, but it carefully lays its head back down on the ground and tenses its muscles.

Lance takes that as permission.

“Sorry, sorry, I’m sorry,” Lance babbles as he pours the horrible chemical over the wound and the bear roars in agony. “I know, I know. I know. It’s okay. Let it out. It’s done, now, once the sting fades.”

The sting must fade eventually, because the bear quiets, although it breathes heavily and remains tense.

“It’s okay,” Lance whispers, petting the first patch of uninjured fur he can reach. “It’s alright. The worst part is over, okay? That hurt so bad that you’ll barely even feel the stitches, okay? Just the smallest pinch.”

The bear whines, high and long, and Lance bites back tears.

This could all be avoided if people just used some compassion, for fuck’s sake.

He closes his eyes and swallows roughly. That’s not fair. It’s unlikely that anyone meant for this to happen, and it’s unfair for Lance to blame people. Sometimes life just sucks.

But it’s his job as a paladin to make it suck marginally less, and by God, he is going to do his job.

“Ready for the stitches, big guy? It’s the second-to-last step.”

Lance reaches into his back again and digs out the absolutely giant suture needle, so big it’s basically a weapon, and the beast-sized sutures. He gets to work carefully stitching up the wound, applying every ounce of Abuela’s sewing lessons into his furrowed brow and steady hands.

It takes a while, but eventually the wound is closed up neatly.

“Almost done,” Lance assures the bear. It makes an almost purring noise in response, which makes Lance beam in delight.

He takes two last things from his pack — some Altean antibiotic numbing ointment, and a mummy’s amount of bandages.

“This’ll be cold,” he warns, before spreading a generous amount of the ointment onto the wound. The bear audibly sighs in relief, slumping further into the ground as its muscles finally un-tense.

Lastly, Lance carefully wraps the wound in the bandages until it’s completely covered, then stands back, hands on his hips, to access his patch job.

“I think you look okay!” he says with a grin. “Try standing.”

The bear gets up using its three unharmed legs, then gingerly applies weight to the injured one once it’s balanced.

It blinks.

It applies more weight.

Suddenly it roars, in delight this time, and ducks its head to nudge Lance gently in thanks. Lance laughs, petting the creature everywhere he can reach.

“You’re welcome!” The bear makes that almost-purr noise again, and Lance sighs. “Now all we gotta do is convince this whole damn planet that you’re a big, giant softie.”

The bear pulls its head away, making Lance pout, and stares at him for a moment.

“What? You have any bright ideas? I, unfortunately, did not plan this far. I kinda thought something would come to me on the way.”

The bear grunts. Then it opens its great jaw, reaching for Lance, but it doesn’t eat him — it carefully hooks Lance’s hoodie in its teeth, lifts him up, and tosses him gently on its back.

Lance blinks.

“Well this is a — development.”

The bear grunts again, pawing at the ground. It starts off down the river, but not in the direction where Lance assumed its cave to be.

It’s headed to the city.

“What’re you — oh,” Lance cries, and is a little embarrassed to be outfoxed by a bear.

“That’s a great idea! If the people see you treating me gently, then won’t be so scared, and I’ll be able to explain. You’re so smart!”

If Lance didn’t know better, he’d think the bear seemed smug.

But he does know better, so he gets comfortable, organizes his pack, and starts planning what he’s going to say to make this whole crisis blow over.

———

“See! There it is again! It is going to attack us, we must act immediately!”

Keith wonders how badly it will make everything worse if he feigns a heart attack. He thinks he could be pretty convincing.

“Animals make noises,” Keith says tiredly. “The roars are not getting any closer. How did the previous attacks go? Was there some sort of roar-increase?”

The dignitary hesitates. “Well, no. The first time it happened the beast seemed startled, and then it was angry.”

“Shocking, that,” Lance says, and this time no one fights him.

The longer this debate has been going on, the clearer and clever it has become that Lance was correct.

Before they decided to go after the beast, the team decided it would be best to get as much information from the dignitary, security team, and royal family of the planet as possible. They expected it would take maybe half a varga to go over a couple reports, make a plan, and go after the beast – and hopefully manage to subdue it rather than kill it, to solve the problem on as many fronts and please as many people as possible.

Of course, because the universe finds their endless struggle amusing, it did not go that way. Instead, they’ve been here for the past four vargas at least, trying to get as much information as possible from the scattered reports and eye-witness accounts they could gather, all while half-watching Lance in tense silence (who, to be fair, has mostly stayed in one place and ignored everyone except for making the occasional bitchy comment).

They are getting nowhere.

It turns out the royal family and many community leaders are not nearly as fond as the dignitary and the soldiers of killing the beast. No one can agree on anything, not a plan of attack, not a plan to avoid attack, nothing. Keith has been listening to the same circular arguments ever since he got here, and as the not-black-paladin, he’s expected to contribute, so he has to pay attention. And usually that’s tolerable – it’s not the first time he’s expected to participate in a meeting that has gone on forever and done nothing productive, nor will it be the last – because he’s got Lance next to him, with a running commentary and joke stream that makes the whole thing easier to bear, along with a steady hand on his arm when he gets mad and often even a solution to wrap the whole thing up.

But, obviously, Lance is furious with him and everyone, right now, and is sitting as far away from Keith as he can manage, doodling on his holopad.

It’s miserable.

“I simply feel like there are more options that we should consider,” someone says diplomatically. Since that is literally the ninth time that exact sentence in that exact tone has been said in this meeting, Keith does not get his hopes up. He’s honestly half prepared to die and be buried in this stupid meeting room.

As the room descends into arguing once again, with absolutely zero new conclusions or changes, Keith finally gives up on paying any further attention. There’s nothing he’s missing, there’s nothing he’s contributing, and, he will admit it, doing meetings without Lance on his team is genuinely more than he can handle. He has no idea when he reached this level of codependency – because he can distinctly recall a point in time where doing meetings with Lance so much as in the same room would have them at each other’s throats in seconds – but he is in no place to handle it now. He lets himself drift, staring out the window across the table from him and deliberately thinking of anything except the flash of hurt in Lance’s eyes before it settled into fury, last night during the call.

As he observes the pretty scenery in front of him, rolling hills of yellow grass and an off-blue sky, he notices something strange along the backdrop of a pretty countryside. Along the edge of the far-off forest, there is a dark spot, out of place from its surroundings. He squints his eyes, leaning forward to try and figure out what it is. His posture piques the curiosity of the others at the table, and soon everyone is looking at the spot, watching with growing concern as it seems to get bigger, significantly bigger, and starts even to take shape.

“It has come again,” the dignitary says, hushed. They have genuine fear reflected in their eyes, which softens Keith slightly towards them. Maybe they aren’t just being a stubborn dick.

It takes a second to process, but soon the room descends into chaos, because for all that they have been discussing for hours, no plans have been made. Time is up, though. The beast as come to them, and now they must plan on the fly.

“Ready the guards,” says the queen. “Be vigilant and prepared. I would have appreciated more time, but there is none. We must be prepared to protect ourselves and our people. Last time we managed to scare it off with –”

“Wait!” Pidge shouts, the only one still sitting and facing the window. There is command in her voice, the likes Keith rarely hears from her, and her fingers twitch like they do when she’s calculating something in her head, solving a problem none of them even considered. “Nobody move!”

All the gathered officials in the room stand in tense silence, half watching Pidge and half watching the rapidly approaching beast. As it gets closer, it becomes apparent that it’s not approaching on its own. The beast, which Keith can now see resembles a truly gigantic bear, has a carefully bandaged leg, more than is capable for an animal, and is guided forward but someone sitting on its back, tiny in comparison to its head but visibly determined from even this distance.

“I knew it!” Pidge crows, springing up from her seat and pointing at Lance with manic glee in her eyes. “I fucking knew it! Your posture is way too good!”

Lance stares at her for several moments, eyebrow raised, and then sighs. Keith watches with a dropped jaw as he grows several inches taller, as his hair gets redder and his face gets bushier, until Coran sits in the place where Lance just was.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Shiro mutters, dragging his hand down his face. “I’m going back to the astral plane.”

Coran shrugs. “Lance’s plan simply had more research and direction. Also, I’ve not been out on a mission in too long. I will admit that played a role in my decision.”

“Well, Jesus, Coran, do you think we maybe could have –”

“Hey, guys, not to interrupt, but the giant beast is getting closer, people are aiming fire at it, and my dumbass best friend is currently riding on its back, so,” Hunk says. “Can we maybe worry about that first?”

The seriousness of the situation hits them all pretty quickly, and they adjust their attitudes accordingly. Lance is approaching faster by the second, no longer a shadow in the distance but a distinct figure, waving his hands like a dumbass and either completely oblivious or completely apathetic to the myriad of weapons, poised to fire, pointed in his direction by a horde of soldiers. The team rush outside with the rest of the officials, calling out for people to hold their fire, although it doesn’t do much, and the great beast swerves several times to avoid getting blasted.

“Stop! Stop! Don’t shoot! That’s a paladin!”

“Fire away!” the dignitary shouts over them, fury lighting their features and stubborn set to their jaw. “The insolence of their paladin does not negate the risk the beast poses!”

The paladins and the dignitary, along with several others on their side, glare at each other. The team may not approve of Lance’s methods, and there will be some serious discussion later, but that doesn’t change the fact that their fucking friend is out there being shot at, and they’re not going to stand back and let it happen.

“I swear, if you hurt him –”

“If he wasn’t trying to be hurt he shouldn’t have –”

“Hold on!” Lance shouts, finally close enough to hear. “Everyone – cool it for a sec! Hold on!”

There’s still a lot of fear on a lot of faces, and a lot of anger, and a lot of weapons raised. But when a guy riding a fucking giant beastly grizzly bear the size of a house tells you to cool it for a sec (Jesus fucking Christ, Lance), then you cool it for a sec. There’s a kind of inherent authority demanded.

Lance pulls gently on the beast’s when he reaches a respectable distance, and it stops. (Keith knows, at this point, with the demon spider and the poison plants and just…everything else, he shouldn’t be surprised, but somehow he still is). He leans down and kisses it right between the ears, which causes several gasps and, if Keith is hearing correctly, a couple fainting bodies to hit the floor, before hopping to the side and sliding to the ground. His slight smirk suggests to Keith that the show of friendliness with the beast was an intentional one.

He keeps on hand on the beast, but he turns toward the gathered crowd of people, searching until he finds whoever he’s looking for – who, it turns out, is the dignitary.

“I have come to apologise,” he says solemnly. His tone and posture give no indication of sarcasm, and in fact, he has softened his entire face considerably, looking to the dignitary with more grace and understanding than anyone has, so far, let alone the person who not twenty four hours ago was flipping them off and calling them a brainless amoeba.

“I give up,” Allura mutters after a moment of shocked silence, throwing her hands up and sitting heavily on the ground. “I rescind my position. Hunk, you’re in charge now.”

Hunk pats her delicately on the head. Lance easily ignores the both of them.

“I really am sorry,” he says to the dignitary, which Keith thinks might be a hard case to make with the giant beast of controversy not two feet behind him. “I didn’t…I think there was some miscommunication here.”

The dignitary sniffs derisively, keeping one wary eye on the beast. “If by that you mean you refused to communicate with me at all, then yes.”

Lance holds his hands up in surrender. “Yeah, fair. I didn’t handle this well. But there was something off, here. If you’ll allow me to explain?”

For a moment Keith thinks, somehow, everything is going to go smoothly (for once). The dignitary seems to be genuinely considering Lance’s offer, and from experience Keith knows how convincing Lance’s earnestness can be. Besides that, this whole alliance is rocky, and the tension is coming to a head – a civil agreement could end this whole thing. Lance, although still among the most stubborn here, is offering something of an olive branch.

But all at once, the dignitary’s eyes harden. They open their mouth, stubborn set to their shoulder, and Keith’s hand tightens on his bayard. Lance, sensing the incoming fallout, does what he does best:

He talks.

“Corduroy was as scared as you were!” Lance blurts. The absurdity of his statement gives everyone pause – who the fuck is Corduroy – and he takes that opportunity to steamroll right on, talking so fast it’s difficult to keep up but impossible to look away. “You guys expanded your city limits in the winter, right? An increase of the entire perimeter to compensate for new growth and new projects. You’ve been planning for it for years, replanting a forest farther out to prepare for what you have to cut down. But Corduroy’s hunting ground was all the way to the edge of the first.” He looks back at the bear, who Keith can only assume he has named Corduroy, and smiles at it. It makes a rumbling noise in the back of its throat and limps forward, causing several scattered shouts of fear and raised weapons, but the beast only stares at them in what can only be described as judgement before nosing gently in Lance’s hair.

Keith’s jaw drops. Lance has had, what, four vargas with this thing? Five? And it already treats him with the same quiet affection that Blue or Red do, covering him in affection when he comes buzzing into their hangars, a bundle of enthusiasm. Only this bear is wild, and untameable, and apparently scared and injured besides.

The Blue Paladin is the Paladin of empathy and fluidity, indeed.

“Corduroy didn’t intend to attack anyone,” Lance continues softly. One of his hands reaches up to stroke the flank of the beast, as high as he can reach – which is not high. He doesn’t even reach up to the bear’s shoulders. “But if you woke up from a month long nap to try and find some food only to find other people taking residents where you used to live and hunt, and all of those people were screaming and running and making a ruckus at you, you’d get defensive too, I think. In fact you did! Understandably. This whole thing was just fear from all sides.”

The queen clears her throat. “The beast,” she says. “Corduroy. It…you have subdued it?”

“Not subdued,” Lance corrects. “It was just hungry. And hurt. And a little distrusting, I think, but it seems to understand reason pretty well.”

The queen hesitates for a moment, then nods to herself. She takes a step forward, her people parting for her instantly, until she is inches away from the beast. The beast watches her warily, but does not bear its teeth, nor does it growl at her closeness.

“Don’t, your majesty,” the dignitary begs. There is genuine fear in their voice. Keith wonders what has made them so afraid, if it was just the up-close struggle with the beast itself or if there is more to it. He figures it’s not his place to ask. “Just because one inane individual has somehow earned the beast’s trust does not make it trustworthy. Remember the pain it has caused.”

“And look at the pain we have caused it,” she murmurs. The bear snorts, injured leg pawing carefully at the ground. Slowly, giving the beast ample time to turn away, she extends her hand. The air itself feels like it’s holding her breath. Her hand finally stretches out as far as it can go, and she rests it on the bear’s great snout as it bends its head to meet her. The touch seems to loosen her shoulders instantly, and with her relief the rest of the crowded people exhale, tension that has been building finally coming to a head and leaking out.

“I can’t say I approve of your methods,” the dignitary says begrudgingly. “But I suppose I did ask you to solve the problem yourself, didn’t I.”

Lance beams. “Yes! I was very smug about it!”

Keith hears a snort behind him. When he looks, Hunk and Shiro are looking deliberately at the ground.

“The important thing is that I think this matter is as good as solved,” Coran interrupts smoothly. His face is a mask of pleasant professionalism, and Keith suddenly remembers that Coran has been managing disastrous diplomatic affairs for longer than toilets have been invented on earth, so. Maybe they should be asking him along for way more missions than they do. “I trust, your majesty?”

The queen nods. “Yes, I think so. If you’ll return with me to the meeting room, we can outline final arrangements for the alliance, and then you may return to your ship.”

“Indeed,” Coran says, cutting a glance back at the rest of the gathered team. He meets eyes with Keith, then glances at the stubborn way Lance distances himself from the rest of them, and purses his lips. “We have some matters of our own to settle, I believe.”

———

The walk back to the Castle is silent, and endlessly, endlessly tense.

Lance expected it to be. Well, kind of. He didn’t expect it to be easy. He’s grateful, at least, that he was allowed to say goodbye to Corduroy, to bite back his tears and hold the great beast tightly. He’s grateful at least that the team gave him that kindness, before this strainedness, the discomfort, the side-eyes and significant looks.

Coran isn’t mad at him, which is better than nothing. Coran slung his arm around Lance’s shoulder the second they left to the castle, the way Lance does to Hunk when he’s anxious, and walks next to him merrily humming to himself.

“You did the right thing, child,” he whispers as they climb the steps, lagging behind everyone else. “Were there things you could have done more gracefully? Yes. But you made the best choice and worked with what you had. I’m proud of you.” He presses a kiss to Lance’s hair and squeezes his shoulders gently, allowing Lance a moment to shudder an exhale and compose himself, before letting go and walking off, knowing Lance can handle himself.

Lance straightens his spine. He can handle this.

Everyone stops just inside massive front hallway of the castle entrance. Lance considers just marching forward to whatever room he likes and making them follow him, but he doesn’t quite have that much confidence. As unlikely as it may be, some part of him hopes that no one is even going to bring up this whole…thing. He hopes Shiro is going to clap his hands and say ‘great job, team’, and they’re going to split off to unwind as they always do after missions.

But of course not.

“So are gonna head to the briefing room, or…?” Hunk asks, wringing his hands.

For whatever reason, the idea of locking himself in the briefing room to sit at a table and discuss the matter as they usually do makes him want to throw up. The idea of going anywhere, or waiting even one half second longer to talk about the situation makes him feel like he’s going to explode.

“You promised that we were a team,” Lance blurts. He’s not sure who he’s addressing, and he’s not facing anyone, eyes trained to a random spot on the wall, but the words bubble out of him, as warbled and hurt as he feels. “But you left me.”

Lance can feel his eyes begin to burn, and the humiliation of it makes him hunch, makes the surety of Coran’s earlier words fade to the back of his mind. He can feel the lump in his throat grow larger and larger, feel the unsteady pound of his heart, but he can’t bring himself to move, to look around the room, to meet eyes with his teammates. He forces them open and keeps his gaze locked on the wall, unblinking, terrified to let the water he feels building start to drop, because he can’t afford to look weaker than he already does.

“I try—” He can’t quite manage to choke down the tears, and his voice comes out weak from the failure of it, not quite raspy but reedy, almost. “I try so hard. I know that’s not enough, but —”

“It is.”

Lance looks over, startled at the same choked quality the words have to his own, and finds Hunk in a similar state, cheeks wet and eyes blurry. The rest of the team, upon further inspection, do not look angry with him but distraught, and it shocks Lance, truly, because he knows that they love him, obviously they do, but then why was he less important? Why was his position the wrong one to have? Why was he not consulted with the same seriousness as a random dignitary from a not-yet-allied planet, if not moreso?

“You guys don’t trust me enough to make real team decisions,” he whispers. “I’m not — I’m not smart enough for you.”

Every face looks stricken. Coran, even, looks at Lance wide eyes.

But it is Keith who makes a strangled noise, a sound caught in his throat, and says “No, Lance, that’s not —”

— and something in Lance, that has been bent since yesterday, cracks in two.

“I trusted you the most,” he chokes out. He doesn’t say the words so much as flings them in Keith’s direction, barbed and pointed. “You’re my — you said I was your right hand. You said you couldn’t lead without me. You said there’s no one else you trust more to have your back.” His face twists. His next words are near silent, but nonetheless ring through the hall. “You lied.”

Keith’s hand, extended halfway between them, remains frozen, unmoving, as still as he is. The only part of him that moves is his chest, rapidly swelling and flattening with his quick breaths. Lance’s breathing is just as quick, heartbeat only racketing with every inhale, but none of it is actually managing to carry any oxygen to his lungs, and his vision begins to blur, limbs start to feel heavy.

“I just want to be your equal,” he manages, before his legs begin to give out from under him and he stumbles to the floor, barely managing to catch himself in a sitting position. He sees Shiro twitch out of the corner of his eye, either a startled jump or a reflex to catch Lance does not know, but ultimately he doesn’t move; none of them do, frozen in their spots.

For a while Lance sits there. At one point he puts his head between his bent knees, breathing heavily, blinking the spots out of his eyes. It takes his lungs a long time to start working properly, for every inhale to actually bring in air, but even then it’s shuddering. All the strength and stubbornness, and maybe even adrenaline, that has kept him up through this mission has leaked out of him. He is too weak even to stand.

He feels when someone sits down heavily in front of him. The floor vibrates slightly with the force of it, tingling at his palms flat on the floor.

“You make me nervous,” Keith says quietly. “I’ve never met anyone like you.”

“That’s a stupid cliche.”

“You’re a stupid cliche.”

Lance’s head is still between his knees, but he can almost feel the intensity of Keith’s wince, the force at which he cringes in on himself. It unfortunately makes him smile.

“…Sorry. Reflex.”

It’s not okay, really. But he’s getting there.

“It’s okay. You’re still learning how to express your big boy feelings.”

Keith kicks him gently on the ankle, and this time Lance looks up, meeting his wry smile.

“I really am,” he says softly. He holds Lance’s gaze for a moment, then his expression shifts to something more troubled, eyebrows creased and mouth turned down, although his indigo eyes hold the same softness.

“You do things…I’ve never seen anyone do what you do. No one can come close. No one else can coo at a fear demon spider, no one else can befriend man-eating vines, no one else can scoop up a scorpion. No one else can tame a grizzly bear the size of a house. That’s all you, Bug Boy.”

Lance’s breath hitches. Keith’s use of the nickname is deliberate, evident in the slow and careful way he said it, and it is a risk. He knows the history behind the name, and Lance’s history in general. Further still he recognizes the precocity of the situation they’re in.

But for the first time since Lance learnt what that nickname really meant, since he learnt how most of his peers felt about him, the name doesn’t sting. In fact, something like pride blooms in his chest, if cautious and surrounded by doubt.

“Then why didn’t you let me try my way? Why were you — why was everybody — so dismissive?”

Keith shrugs. “Honestly? I was floundering. I was completely out of my element and I was stressed out and I just chose the easiest option.”

“The option that was the least fair to you,” Allura summarizes, taking a seat next to them. “And I’m sorry.”

“Me too,” Hunk says. Pidge and Shiro quickly follow suit, earnest nods and leaky eyes, all coming to join Lance on the floor. On even footing. Coran’s hand comes to rest gently on his head.

“We will do better next time,” Shiro promises. “You have very distinctive strengths, Lance. I’ll be remiss to forget then again.”

“Ditto!” Pidge says, solemnly holding her hand up.

Lance considers making them squirm and really beg for it, but tears are actively streaming down his face, and also his mouth keeps trying to smile without his permission, so he decides to let it slide.

“I’ll hold you to that,” he threatens.

Keith grins at him. “Good, you Snow White-ass heart attack inducer.”

278 notes · View notes

itsthestutterforme · 4 years ago

Text

Becoming Mine (Vincenzo)

Summary: Y/N is working with Vincenzo and a loyal ally from Italy. Han seok captures her and tortures her for information. She holds out longer than he hoped and wants her loyalty for himself.//SMUT WARNING, MINORS DNI

Jang Hanseok sent Ms. Choi to get her hands dirty and oversee the torture of Y/N for information. Y/N and Vincenzo grew up in the Mafia together. They taught each other everything.

He has asked Y/N for help with taking down Babel and she said yes without any questions asked. And now she has to suffer the consequences of loyalty.

First they started with electrocution. They tied her to a metal chair and put spark plugs on the back side of the chair. They would send a jolt, each longer than the last. "Go to hell!" She yells at Ms. Choi after the jolt that lasted 20 seconds.

Then they moved on to cutting with the thinnest daggers. Death by a thousand cuts, she always thought it was a cliche thing to use. But hey, to each their own torture method.

Her hair sticks to her forehead and the sides of her neck as he digs his knife across her collar bone. "Fuck!"

Ms. Choi walks into Hanseok's office with a grimace. "What's wrong?" "She's not breaking. She's a lot stronger than I thought." Ms. Choi says, linking her hands behind her back. Hanseok stands from his chair and rounds the desk.

"What tactics have you used?" He asks. "Electrocution, cutting, waterboarding, fire and even bludgeoning and she still tells me to go to hell." Choi rambles.

"I could use someone of her loyalty," Hanseok states. "I want to meet her," he adds. "With all due respect, sir, she'll never agree to that. She's endure days of torture for Vincenzo, she isn't going to give him up or betray him. She's willing to risk her life for him." "Will you risk your life for me?" He asks, searching her face for a response.

"I'll kill anyone you tell me to, sir," "That didn't answer my question. I still want to see her." He says. Ms. Choi drives him to the warehouse where they keep Y/N. She was currently unconscious from the pain she has endured. Hanseok's face grimaced and he says, "You took get your hands dirty a little too literally."

Y/N gasped as she regain consciousness and she groaned softly. She looked up to see Jang Hanseok and he smiles. "Who the hell are you?" She asked before spitting out some blood in her mouth. "Hopefully, I'll be your new boss." He says, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "In your dreams, tough guy." She snarks.

A man punches her across the face and she looked at him with pure annihilation and vexation. That look gave Hanseok butterflies in his stomach. The feeling was beyond the norm and he had no idea what the origin was. She opened her mouth to say something else but Hanseok intercepted.

"Touch her again, and I'll have you thrown off a building." He threatens. Hanseok watched as the man stepped away from her. "You, cut her loose," He adds, pointing to another man.

"Sir, are you sure about this?" Choi asked and he didn't answer. She was cut free and the first thing Y/N grabs is the man's throat before breaking it.

Another man came at her and she ducked under the punch before punching him twice in his armpit before punching his throat. She limps over to the table where her weapons were and grabbed her smaller knives.

She tossed them in the air and within seconds, three men dropped dead with the knives in their skulls. Which only left Ms. Choi and Jang Hanseok.

She grabs a gun from one of the corpses and aimed it at them. "Tell me why I shouldn't kill you both," "Do that and my men sets that entire plaza on fire with everyone inside."

"I'm calling your bluff lady, you're just trying to save your ass because you know that I'll put bullet in your head without blinking," she says as she cocks the gun and applies steady pressure on trigger.

"Wa-" she pulls the trigger and sends a bullet straight through Ms. Choi's head. Hanseok chuckles wryly before saying, "Now I'm in need of a new lawyer and strategist," he says, his hands still stuffed in his pockets.

"Who are you?" "The CEO of Babel," he answers nonchalantly. "So you're the one who started all this,"

"Well I can't take all the credit. She had her fair share," he says, referencing to Ms. Choi. Red dots appear on Y/N chest and she notices. "I have this place surrounded. One move to shoot me and you'll get shot to pieces. Just take the easy way and work for me. It'll be a lot of fun." "Right, like killing innocent people is fun,"

"It seems like you enjoy killing people." "Only those who deserve it," she snaps. "Regardless of your intentions, my guys wills drop you before you can fire. Question is, do you want to live and be treated like a queen?"

She doesn't respond and he adds, "Or I can kill both you and your mother. She loves to visit a little shop in.. Siena, right? What's it's called again?"

Her grip tightens on the gun before tossing it across the room. "Kill her and I promise to kill you and every single one of your sponsors," "Looks like you and I have more in common than we thought. Come on, let's get you cleaned up." He walks out of the warehouse and she hesitantly follows.

Y/N's POV

You sigh softly as you stepping into the cold, crisp in contrast of the warm, misty air in bathroom. You had pulled your hair into a loose ponytail before you put on Hanseok's shorts and t-shirt. You hate to say it, but his clothes were extremely comfortable. He promised to take me out shopping tomorrow for clothes.

"I didn't know what you liked so I bought everything," he says, referencing to the various plates of food on the kitchen counter. Your eyes settle on kimchi jiagae and you make your way over to the table.

You a grab a few bowls to try some of the kimchi jiagae, bulgogi, dakdoritgang, dakgangjeong and mixed rice. You set them on the tray sit on the pillow he prepared for you.

"You like spicy food, huh?" He says and you nod. "Yeah, my brother likes spicy food too." You wait until he comes back with his tray of food to dig in. You hum lowly as you eat your bulgogi and you feel a hand touch my chin. You pull away and look at him with confused.

"What the hell are you doing?" "I'm sorry, I just.. you look.. you're beautiful," "If you think that you can someone convince me into sleeping with you, you have another thing coming,"

"What? I can't appreciate your beauty without something in return?" He asks innocently. "Hell no," you sneer. He chuckles before saying, "I'm going to have some fun with you."

Over the next few weeks, he has bought you a whole new wardrobe, shoes and jewelry. He's even made sure my hair and nails are done with complementary spa days.

He's been pampering you ever since you were a part of his life. You've been enjoying it but you've developed a sense of waiting for the other shoe to drop.

It also raises questions. Why did he choose you? How long will this pampering thing last? Is your mom still held hostage? What is he planning on doing with Vincenzo?

"Hey, kitten." You roll your eyes at his new pet name for you. You have no idea where he got it from because you are nothing like a kitten. You were playful or adventurous, but you were high maintenance.

"How many times do I have to tell.." you trail off as you see him in a light blue three piece suit with white leather shoes. His hair was combed to the side with gel and you could smell his cologne from where you sat.

"Why are you dressed like that?" "Do you like it?" He say, nearing you slowly. "No," you lie and he smiles at you. "You sure about that?" He leans his hands on either side of you and ducked his head to be at your eye level. "I bought you a matching dress. Get dressed, we leave in an hour."

He nudges his nose against yours before leaving the room and leaving you hot and bothered. Ever since you walked in on him lifting weights without his shirt, your mind came up with various, filthy scenarios that made your panties soaked.

You stand up from the chair and walked into the bedroom to see a goregous silk, light blue dress with diamond seam around the midrange of the stomach.

You take a shower and apply your favorite lotion and perfume before you slide on the dress. You latch on the sparkly, light blue heels. You put on your robe and sit down to apply some foundation, highlight and mascara on to your face.

You were just about to clip your hair up and leave a few curls out but you hear Hanseok say, "Leave your hair down." You look at him through the mirror to see him leaning his arm on the door frame, pulling his dress shirt taught around his solid biceps. He eyes you with a soft smile on his face. "You look beautiful," he says as he nears you once again.

"I know." You stand up and meet him half way across the room. "Shall we?" He says , offering you his arm. "Let's just get this night over with,"

You two return at one in the morning and you were infuriated. He spent the whole night flirting with random women at the gala. "You make no sense to me, Jang Hanseok." You say, taking off your earring and tossing them on the dresser.

"What makes you say that?" He asks, sitting on the bed to take off his shoes. "You pamper me with all these gifts, clothes, jewelry to convince me to stay in your life and then you spend the entire night flirting with every one you could lay your eyes on." You snap.

He takes off his vest with a sigh and loosens his tie. "I wanted to see if you cared. Cared about me and my attention." "Well, do you?" He adds. "If I didn't care, do you think I would have said anything?" You snap.

He grabs the back of your neck and pulls you inches away from his face. He tightens his grip and says through gritted teeth, "I've had enough of your attitude, just answer the question."

"I just did." His fingers dig into you neck enough to cause discomfort but not enough to break skin. "Do you care about me?" He asks. "Unfortunately, yes." "Why unfortunately?" "It only makes it harder to-" "

"To betray me?" You push his hand away and say, "What the hell makes you think of something like that? I was going to say it makes it harder to say no but you always think everyone is out to get you. It should be me asking the qu-"

He stops your rant by slamming his lips on yours. One hand rests on the back of your head and the other smooths over the dip of your back.

Your fingers work on unbuttoning his shirt as you walk him onto the bed. He sits on the edge and pulls you into his lap. You pull his shirt off his shoulder and leave kisses up his chest in it's wake.

He moans softly and you could feel his hard on press against your inner thigh. You tug the rest of his shirt off and push his back on the bed. You buck your hips against him and a soft whine leaves his lips.

You quiet him by tenderly biting down on his bottom lip. His lips latched onto yours and presses your core harder against him.

He pulls your hair gently to evade your attention from his lips. He rolls you on you stomach and stands. "Han seok, what are you-" he rips the dress open from the back, making you yell out in surprise.

"Damn it, I liked that dress." "There's plenty more where that came from kitten," he smooths his hands up the back of your legs and squeezes your ass.

You pull off the rest of your mangled dress, leaving you in your white lace set. "And don't you dare rip-" he rips the lace underwear in two and pulls you so your knees are on the edge of the bed. "I'm going to kill you, Han seok."

"I've been wanting to get a taste of you since I set my eyes on you." You let out a squeak when you feel his hot breath agaisnt your core.

You've never been in the position before so you have no idea what the expect. He licks up the stripe with slow, deep licks, each lick lasting longer on your clit. "Oh God," you grip the sheets with a white knuckle grip when he curls his tongue along the upper wall and caresses a g-spot. Your legs started to shake and loud moans leave your lips when he slips in two fingers and curled them hard.

You tried crawling away from him, feeling overwhelmed of the pleasure but he holds you back by your thighs. With a few more licks, you release yourself on his tongue and he hums with satisfaction.

"You taste a lot better than I thought, baby." Your body already started to twitch and you could tell that this was going to be a long night.

You roll onto your back and chills roll down your spine when you see him licking your juices off of his fingers. Pushing yourself backwards, he pulls you closer to him by your ankles. "Han seok, please. It's too much."

"You're doing great, kitten. Just relax and let it wash over you." He says softly, pecking your lips before settling himself between your legs once again.

He spreads your legs wide before he sucks on your clit harder and faster than the first time, sending shock waves through your body. "Fuck! Oh my God!"

Looking down at him, he locks eyes with you and he completely devours your bundle of folds. He alternate between licking side to side and up and down with a curl of his tongue.

Your back arches and stars cloud your vision as you come down from your second high. He pulls away from you with his lower face covered in your juices. "Come here," he lifts your trembling body and dropping it into his lap. He smooths his hands over your ass before unbuckling his dress pants.

He pulls down his boxers and his erection stands up tall, making your whimper. He's going to destroy you. "I'll be gentle," he whispers, lifting your chin to meet his gaze.

You nod your head in agreement and lines himself up at your entrance. Throwing your head back as your walls expand and contract around him. You wrap your arms around him and bury your face into his neck and he bounces you in his lap.

Time slows a few seconds when you meet his gaze. "Oh God," you chant as the knot intensified in your stomach. "I'm close, Han seok."

His lips locked with yours and your boys jolts forward when his thumb rubs hard circles on your clit. Your entire body spasms as he cums inside of you but he continued to rub circles until you came.

He stayed buried inside of you while you sat in his lap as you both catches your breaths. Resting his forehead against yours, he says, "I love you. You believe me what I say that, right?"

You nod and holds the sides of your face. "Say it," "I love you," "Good girl," he pulls out of you and slides you both under the covers.

You lay directly ontop of him with a thin sheet covering the both of you, sighing as he draws circles on your back.

#kdrama fanfic #vincenzo #kdramas #smut

259 notes · View notes

junicai · 4 years ago

Text

ridin’ n rollin’.

| order no. | 8/21

| summary | When the world is already off kilter, should you not free fall down to meet it?

| word count | 2.4k

| warnings | injuries

| era | circa. April 2020

Aria stumbled into the changing rooms, fist shoved into her mouth to stop the broken cry from jumping out on the wave of tears that threatened to spill from her eyes. Her free hand was pulling at the mic pack, desperately trying to unwind it from where it was tucked in on the waistband of her trousers.

A pair of hands joined her, unravelling the wires quickly and efficiently. Once the mic pack was removed, it was handed off to someone else - Aria wasn’t sure who - and she was being spun around to face a concerned Renjun.

“What happened?” He demanded, already searching the rest of her body for injuries.

Aria didn’t know.

The day had started off on the wrong foot; like god himself had woken up on the wrong side of the bed.

Donghyuck had stumbled into the bathroom at six in the morning, and his retching woke up Jisung who was sleeping next door. The maknae had sleepily shuffled into the bathroom to see what was wrong, but when he was greeted with a shivering Donghyuck clutching to the toilet bowl like a lifeline, the tall boy snapped awake.

Aria had been woken up, and then Jeno, and Renjun and Jaemin woke up soon afterwards from all the noise caused by the commotion.

It took them two hours, but by eight, Donghyuck was curled miserably into the corner of the couch, pale cheeks contrasted by a bright red flush sitting high on his cheekbones. A waste bin was placed on the floor in front of him, and two fever reducers were all but force-fed to the boy.

At first, Donghyuck had adamantly refused to take them; saying that he wasn’t sick, he had just eaten something that hadn’t agreed with him and he was fine now, see?

Aria all but scoffed at that. She held it in, because she knew she’d be doing the exact same thing, would she be in his position. The broadcast performance was scheduled to be filmed that evening, and no one liked stepping down. Not even for a day.

It was only when Aria had fixed him with a pleading look, eyes wide and worried, that Donghyuck caved. The two pills were swallowed, and when he was once again comfortably swaddled in as many blankets as they could salvage from around the dorm did the members return to their own morning routine.

After all; the world doesn’t stop turning for a sick member, although sometimes Aria wished it did. She hated to leave Donghyuck alone; and she knew he’d never admit it to them, but he hated it to.

All of them did, really. It was visible in the way that Jeno had put the back of his hand up to Donghyuck’s forehead three times in the last ten minutes; in the way Jisung was hovering anxiously, waiting for an instruction to go get a glass of water or another pillow; the way that Renjun had only rolled his eyes a tiny bit when Donghyuck insisted he was well enough to perform but stumbled backwards onto the couch when he attempted to stand up. Jaemin had lunged for his arm, catching the sick boy before he could do himself some more damage.

The van had pulled up outside the dorms several hours later; and Donghyuck had waved them a sullen goodbye from his position on the couch. Aria closed the door behind her, but not before reminding him again to take another fever reducer in an hour, and to keep himself hydrated.

Donghyuck had rolled his eyes, and told her to stop worrying. “You’ll turn yourself grey, mom.”

Aria had narrowed her eyes and stuck out her tongue, swinging the door shut. She relished in the bright burst of laughter that echoed through the hall.

The journey to the venue was quiet.

As was the changing room - the only noise coming softly from Chenle’s earbuds that he’d put in the second they’d located their room, and the soft bustling of the stylists as they moved around the members.

Aria was tensed in her chair, anxiety running up and down her spine at the thought of something happening to Donghyuck while they were gone.

What if his fever spiked again?

What if he fell and didn’t have the strength to get up?

What if-

“Noona.” Jisung’s voice dragged Aria out from her own head. His larger hand encircled her smaller one, gently but firmly unravelling the fingers that were digging her nails into her palm.

She took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. “Thanks, Sung.” She whispered, patting his hand lightly.

Jisung made no move to leave, and instead took up the vacant spot beside her on the plastic-covered sofa in the corner of the room. “You’re worried.” He stated.

Aria turned to look at him. Jisung had lost a lot of the baby fat from his cheeks that year - accentuating his jawline. He looked older, more mature. It suited him, she decided. Maturity was something he wore like it belonged on him; settling like the sun sets comfortably without fail.

“We all are.” Aria sighed out eventually, taking a glance around the room. Jaemin was laid back in the chair as a stylist worked on fluffing up his hair, keyboard clicking obnoxiously as he typed on his phone.

Normally the sound would bother Jeno - who was sitting adjacent, in a similar position - was it not for his phone making identical clicks.

Aria couldn’t blame them; she’d turned her phone off silent the second they’d left the dorms in case Donghyuck called one of them.

If the boy knew how frazzled the group was without him there, he’d have a fit. He’d never let them live it down.

“It’s hyung, noona. He’ll be fine.” Jisung said, nodding resolutely.

“He will, Sung. He’ll be fine, and then we can all go back to complaining about his presence.” Renjun made his presence known as he entered the room, directing his attention towards the pair immediately.

“Ari, they’re looking for you for mic check.” He said, jerking his head over his shoulder.

“Right, okay. Thanks, Injunnie.”

The following thirty minutes passed in a smushed blur of costume fittings, foundation brushes and an uncomfortably suffocating amount of hairspray. Aria was coughing by the time the stylist let up, waving a hand to try and disperse the smell.

“Ari? We gotta go.” Jeno called, already halfway out the door.

“C-coming,” She choked out, eyes watering slightly but determined not to wipe at them, less she end up with a streak of black across her cheek.

By the time Aria had met up with the others in the wings, sliding her in-ears in, her breathing had steadied, and a little knot was beginning to form in the bottom of her stomach. She still got nervous before performing - didn’t think it ever really went away completely - but those were normally excited nerves.

This pit that was slowly growing felt foreboding.

It went ignored, sliding under the radar as her in-ears began the steady metronome click that she’d become so accustomed to. She zoned out, and zoned back in, body moving in time with the others in flawless unity.

Dancing without a member always felt off - felt empty, but it was nothing the group hadn’t dealt with previously. They knew the formations, knew who took what lines to fill in, and where their positions changed to keep formations looking slick and clean and not like one of them had been knocked over like a bowling pin; out for the count.

Aria stepped backwards to let Chenle take her place as centre. Her mind was busy, tracking Jaemin’s positioning and making sure she stayed far enough away to give him space; so when a heavy, piercing sound ran through her right ear, she hardly registered it.

It took her a moment, but her gasp of pain was heard over the microphones, a both hands coming to clap over her ear as the in-ear continued to bleed head-scrambling sounds into her brain. Aria tilted sideways, knees crumbling beneath her as she lost her balance and went crashing to the floor.

She didn’t hear the gasp that floated up around the room; skimming right over her head that was pounding like a sledgehammer. Her hands scratched at the floor, trying for purchase and finding none.

Jeno, behind her was already half-dancing his way closer to her, and trying to help her back up without completely abandoning the song entirely. Aria’s breath was coming fast; the tech team having enough sense to cut her mic for the time being.

When a half bar of silence sounded instead of Aria’s vocals, Chenle stepped in, ever the professional, singing her lines for her as the girl tried to regain her balance.

Despite Jeno’s insistent push towards the wings, Aria shook her head minutely at the boy, rejoining the second last chorus. She could feel the boys’ eyes on her, burning into her back.

The in-ears bounced around her neck on their chords, having unconsciously tugged them out from her ears.

Per the formation, there was to be a metre and a half gap in between each member, but Jaemin paid no mind to that, coming to stand almost directly beside her in the final few bars of the song; completely prepared to catch her should she take another stumble.

Aria was the first off the stage, stumbling over her own legs.

She stumbled into the changing rooms, fist shoved into her mouth to stop the broken cry from jumping out on the wave of tears that threatened to spill from her eyes.

Her vision swam like she was sea-sick.

With her free hand pulling at the mic pack, desperately trying to unwind it from where it was tucked in on the waistband of the orange trousers, her breath was coming in heavy, shallow gasps.

“What happened?” He demanded, already searching the rest of her body for injuries.

“I don’t- I can’t- ringing-” Aria gasped, hands coming to clutch at Renjun’s jacket. “My ear, it’s- it’s ringing, I can’t-”

“Ari, I need you to breath, hold on a second, okay?” Renjun asked, shooting a look at Jaemin, who went to gently pull off Aria’s sweat-soaked jacket.

She sunk to the ground, knees giving out for a second time. Renjun followed her, Jeno’s arms slipping beneath her armpits to stop her hitting the ground too hard.

The only sound in the room was Aria’s uneven breathing, coming in irregular pants and choking her.

The members settled around her, but being mindful to stay a comfortable distance away. Should Aria slip too far into her own mind, too many hands could send her flying into another panic.

“I can’t hear.” Aria whispered eventually, hands still maintaining their tight grip on Renjun’s jacket. He inhaled sharply, turning to face her dead on.

“What? What do you mean you can’t hear?” He questioned, his own hands moving to gently grip the sides of her face.

“Ringing,” Was the only explanation that Aria offered, canting sideways in his grip.

Renjun choked lightly, trying to hold her upright. “No no, Ari, you gotta stay sitting like this, okay? What happened?”

Chenle and Jeno exchanged a glance.

“Did she hit her head?” Chenle asked.

Jeno instantly shook his head. “No, I saw her fall. She was clutching at,” he pointed. “Her right ear though.”

Renjun looked back to him, before returning his focus to Aria. “Hey, Ari? Ari, your ear is ringing, right? Am I right?”

Aria nodded slowly.

“Okay, that’s okay. Was the feed too loud, or something?”

This time, Aria shook her head, lifting a hand to mime an explosion by the ear. “Was like it exploded.”

Jisung looked frantic. “Did her earpiece blow up?!”

Jaemin emerged from the doorway, a mic pack clutched in his hand and a dark look on his face. “Feedback.” He grit out. “Mic pack malfunctioned, sent nearly 120 decibels into her right ear.”

Jaemin held up the offending piece of equipment. “It even fried the voice coils.”

Renjun was trying to keep Aria from slipping sideways. “What does that mean?”

“It means, Ari just got blasted with the sound of a fire cracker right in her eardrum. It’ll be ringing for a while.” Jaemin moved to crouch behind Aria, taking some of the weight from him.

“Permanently?” Jisung asked.

“They don’t know, but probably not. It’s mostly the shock of it, that causes ringing, I think.”

Jeno swiped a hand over Aria’s forehead, swooping the hair back from her face. She whimpered at the act, nosing her way closer to the hand. Leaning down to her left ear, Jeno lowered his voice to let him whisper gently.

“Hey, baby,” He began, keeping his voice level. “You’re gonna be okay, alright?”

Renjun’s arms tightened around Aria’s middle, and it wasn’t long until Jisung and Chenle moved forwards to do the same.

“The in-ear got a little loud, that’s all,” Jeno continued, hand coming to gently flick at her right ear. “No explosions - your ear is still there. Do you want to try standing up with me?”

At Aria’s mild agreement, Jeno shifted into a crouch and the multiple pairs of arms around her waist loosened minutely.

“You’ll be a bit off balance, baby, but that’s fine. That’s normal, and you’re okay. If you feel like you’re going to fall, then I can carry you, okay?”

“So, what I’m hearing is, we’re never using in-ears again?” Donghyuck whisper-yelled from his position on the couch; Aria tucked into his chest.

His fever had broken while they had gone, and their manager suspected it was just a twenty four hour bug.

Aria shifted slightly, whining at the noise, and Donghyuck instantly began crooning at her, whispering soft words of comfort in her left ear to get her to go back to sleep.

Renjun rolled his eyes. “Jaemin considered it.”

“Hyung looked like he wanted to murder someone.”

"I still do."

347 notes · View notes

salemorbit · 4 years ago

Text

By Suprise

[MHA x genderneutral!Reader]

Headcanons for Midoriya, Bakugou, and Todoroki

~~~~~~~

first kissesssssss how they would do it bc i'm soft like that hehehe

~~~~~~~

❄️Todoroki 🔥

whoooooo boy this man

when i say This Man

Yes, he's mostly emotionally oblivious but alas...

You had had a crush on Todoroki since the first day of class 1-A

When you walked in and chose your seat, everything was going smoothly

Until He Walked In

And Oh My God

You could've sworn it raised ten degrees in the classroom and it wasn't just todoroki's quirk as you felt your face heat up at the sight of the pretty boy

And then he sat next to you and your entire world froze

From then on, you were always so nervous around Todoroki and flustered whenever he would ask you a question about an assignment or if he could borrow a pencil

You greatly admired his quirk and his control over either side of his body, jealous of the fact that he had such an amazing quirk that caught the eye of tons of hero agencies

Little did you know, Todoroki also had feelings for you as well *eyebrow wiggle*

He thought your personality was amazing, and your skills in battle were astounding when both improvisational and strategic

Poor guy totally fell for you in a matter of days

It wasn't until near your graduation from UA that Todoroki grew a pair and decided to shoot his shot before your hero agency whisked you away from him for good

With proper support from Midoriya and Bakugou Todoroki invited you to a celebratory dinner for your graduation and planned to seal the deal then

Todoroki nervously fiddled with his hands under the table, staring down the candle in the middle of it intensely. It was two minutes until your scheduled meeting time, but Todoroki had arrived ten minutes early to get over his nerves.

A minute later, you walked in with all smiles, and your eyes twinkling under the ambient light, and your hair done exactly the way he liked it, and--

He wasn't over his nerves.

Todoroki awkwardly stood up as you came toward him, returning your smile gently.

"Hey, Shotou!" You said, sitting down across from him. "Long time, no see," you joked. Todoroki smiled at your lax nature and sat down again, gripping his napkin tightly.

"You look wonderful, [Y/N]," he commented, trying not to let the nerves shine through. You felt yourself blush at the compliment, waving it away bashfully.

"Oh, stop that," you grinned. "You look dashing as always, Sho."

Todoroki's cheeks flared as the waiter came over to take your orders. Miraculously, Todoroki didn't stutter or make a fool out of himself the whole night. The two of you just chatted about the upcoming graduation plans and futures with your respective hero agencies. His heart raced at the fear of possibly backing out of his plan last minute, but Todoroki scolded himself for his anxiety. He was going to do this, whether his legs were shaking or not.

At the end of the dinner, Todoroki walked you back to your third-year dorms. Your conversation never slacked, flowing normally between you two with the foundation of your friendship for the last three years.

You walked close to Todoroki, hand brushing against his every now and again, and you would be lying if you said it wasn't on purpose. As you arrived in front of your dorm door, you both fell quiet. It was the first time in the night that it was awkward, neither of you willing to look the other in the face. You cleared your throat and glanced up at Todoroki, noticing his red-tipped ears. A smile flitted across your face.

"Thank you for tonight," you said, rocking back and forth on your feet. "It was really fun! We should do it again sometime, you know, to catch up with our hero agencies and all."

"Yes, that would be nice," Todoroki nodded stiffly. He awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck as silence blossomed between you again.

"Well, good night," you said, turning to unlock your door. Right as you opened it to step inside, Todoroki stopped you.

"Wait," he said, quickly grabbing your wrist with one hand and tugging on it. Your heart skipped a beat as you turned around with his pull.

And suddenly you were right in front of him, looking into his bi-colored eyes that were mere inches from your own. Your breath caught in your throat as you realized the proximity, one of your hands instinctively going to his shoulder to steady yourself while his own hand held your wrist gently.

"I-" You started out, but Todoroki nervously interrupted you.

"If you're uncomfortable-" He rushed out, but you shook your head, smiling slightly.

"No, this is good."

"Yeah?"

"Yes," you breathed out, swallowing thickly. There were a few seconds of quiet before Todoroki's eyes flicked down to your mouth then back to your eyes.

Then his lips were on yours, soft and hesitant, giving you the option to pull away if you'd like. Luckily for Todoroki, you returned the favor, deepening the caresses and moving to interlace your fingers with his.

The moment was tender and vulnerable, spilling out three years worth of pining and stolen glances when the other wasn't looking. You smiled into the kiss, pulling away to catch a breath.

Todoroki looked flushed, an excited gleam in his eyes that bore into yours. You knew how he felt without him having to utter a word, and vice versa.

Stepping backward toward your door, you smiled more fully at him, apparently not able to wipe the look off your face. Todoroki had a dazed look in his eyes as you leaned against the doorway.

"Good night, Sho," you said, squeezing his hand before letting go. He nodded, a stupid grin on his beautiful face.

"Good night, [Y/N]."

••••

💥Bakugou💥

If you think you're making the first move with Bakugou, you are sorely mistaken

With his incredibly spicy attitude, it was no mystery why you would always get so frustrated with Bakugou so quickly

This is kind of like an enemies to lovers situation, ya dig?

Walking into UA, you had known Bakugou sparingly throughout elementary and middle school

There were a few words exchanged here and there, but nothing lengthy until you found out you would be in the same hero course with him at UA

During the first year, you got to know him a little better

You got to see how he fought, how he learned, how he pissed you off

And he also got to see all those same qualities from you :)

But underneath all of that surface level rage and red-haze lay thick layers of admiration and romantic feelings you both had toward each other

tho you totally wouldn't outright admit it

It wasn't until halfway through your second year at UA that things really started to heat up between the two of you (no pun intended)

It all started with a group assignment that paired you with Tsuyu, Kaminari, and Bakugou

Let's just say...things escalated pretty quickly

"You're an absolute ass, and you know it, Bakugou!" Your voice rang through the common area, despite it being relatively late in the evening and most of your classmates were in their rooms relaxing.

Or at least trying to relax, but becoming unsuccessful when your and Bakugou's voices reached decibels such as these. Even Jirou couldn't stand the noise.

"Maybe if you listened to me in the first place, we wouldn't have to recalculate all of your stupid equations!" Bakugou snarled back, throwing his papers onto a table. They spread out and fluttered to the floor, creating another mess you would have to clean up later.

Poor Tsuyu and Kaminari watched the back and forth for several minutes, not daring to intervene between your quarrel. With Bakugou's explosions dotting the air around his clenched fists and your quirk making your aura radiate intense energy? No, thanks.

"That's rich, coming from you," you scoffed, crossing your arms. Bakugou huffed and took a threatening step closer to you.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" His voice got dangerously low, but you were determined not to let your facade crumble. You lifted your chin higher indignantly.

"Uh, guys?" Kaminari gulped. "Maybe we should take a break-"

"Piss off, Sparky!" You and Bakugou yelled at the same time. Kaminari withered in his seat, exchanging a worried look with Tsuyu. The frog-girl just shrugged, trying to finish her own work in the meantime.

"You're so unbelievably dense, Bakugou," you let your head fall into your hands. The fiery blond grit his teeth and clenched his fists.

"Says you."

"You know what? I've had enough of your insults-"

"You've had enough of my insults? Eat shit and die."

"Take your own advice!" You yelled, throwing the last of your papers at Bakugou and finally storming out of the room. Bakugou let out a frustrated roar and fell back into his seat, shoving his hands into his pockets.

For the first time that evening, the common room was quiet. Bakugou was silently seething in his seat, not touching any of the papers that flew to the floor. It went like this for about five minutes until Tsuyu spoke up.

"Bakugou," she cleared her throat, "maybe you should go apologize to [Y/N]. What you said was kind of uncalled for."

"Yeah," Kaminari hesitantly agreed, testing the waters. "You were kinda rough with them."

"Well, maybe if they weren't so stupid then I wouldn't have had to say shit like that," Bakugou grumbled. He was quiet for a moment before he sighed, getting up.

"I don't need you extras sopping all over me," he grunted, walking out the door. "I'll go find them."

The sun was setting as you sat on the bench outside the dorms, trying your best not to cry. Tears welled up at the edges of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. You couldn't let Bakugou get to you like that. He didn't deserve to get to you like that.

You sniffed and looked down at your hands, feeling a pang in your chest. Did he really think you were that stupid? Did he really want you out of his way? You dryly laughed to yourself, wiping at your eyes. Of course he wouldn't want you, you thought. He was dead set on his future and you were just an obstacle he needed to step over. You meant less to him than you wanted to.

"Hey."

Your head snapped up to see Bakugou standing a few feet away from you, hands in his pockets and eyes trained on you. You frowned, purposefully looking away from him.

"I said, 'hey.' What, did you go mute all of a sudden?" Bakugou scowled at you when you didn't turn to look at him. He sighed deeply before looking out at the sunset himself.

"I'm sorry."

Your breath caught in your throat at the words. Did Bakugou, the Bakugou Katsuki, really just apologize? And to you of all people? You turned a surpised gaze to his standing figure, eyes on his profile. His scowl was softened as he looked at the sun, golden light washing over his features.

In that moment, he was beautiful. And your face heated up at the realization, butterflies swarming your stomach. Flustered, you shifted in your seat, attempting to compose yourself.

"You feel sick or something?" You teased.

"A guy can't apologize without it being weird?" Bakugou shot back, eyebrows furrowed, annoyed.

"It's a little out of character for you specifically," you tilted your head to look at him.

"Yeah? Well, it's 'a little out of character' to just walk away from a fight," he mocked you. You shook your head, standing up to face him.

"Do you ever stop?"

"Do you ever shut up?"

"What's your issue, Bakugou?"

"Maybe you're my issue!"

"What does that even mean?" You spread your arms exasperatedly. Bakugou took two steps toward you.

"It means what I want it to mean," he growled.

"Care to share?"

"Shut up!"

"Make me!"

Bakugou grabbed your waist and pulled you close, forcefully joining his lips with yours. Your hands found their way onto the sides of his head as he gripped one hand on your torso and the other in your hair. The kiss was furious, passionate, and longing all rolled into one.

It eventually slowed down as soon as it started, your previously knitted brows relaxing as you two found a rhythm in the madness. He smelled of singed wood and something sweet underneath. Exactly what you expected.

Breaking away with a gasp, you let your hands slide down his neck and rest on his shoulders. You searched his eyes for anything negative: regret, disgust, anger. Instead, you found a firm softness looking back into your own.

"Hey," you whispered, unable to raise your voice any louder. He smirked at your speechlessness.

"Hey," he replied smoothly, wrapping both arms around your waist. You smiled, playing with the locks of hair at the back of his neck.

"I'd like more where that came from," you quirked an eyebrow at him playfully. Bakugou just rolled his eyes and took your hand from his neck begrudgingly, pulling you toward the dorm entrance.

"Get your calculations right, and maybe we can negotiate."

••••

Midoriya

soft boy soft boy soft boy soft boy

We all know that if Midoriya finds someone he likes, this boy PINES

Pines like a mfing evergreen forest man

Anyway, you and Midoriya had always known each other in middle school and now in UA

You both ended up in the hero course, but you transferred in after the first year because of some quirk development

Midoriya with his own developing quirk felt sympathy for you trying to keep control over something so new for you

He naturally gravitated toward you, kind of self-appointing himself as your mentor as you went through the different changes and trained with your new abilities

He grew to really like your humor and openness to the situation and how your spirit never died even when you were struggling

And you admired his willingness to help you! He was so kind and you'd never really had anyone be nice to you with no ulterior motives before

It wasn't long, or surprising, when you two started to develop feelings for each other

One day while you were training your quirk, Midoriya thought he'd stop by to spar and test your skills

One thing led to another and....well....

You dodged Midoriya's leg with expertise and landed squarely on the ground. Jetting off to the left, you aimed for a side sneak attack to catch him off-guard. You activated your quirk for a boost, one of the new developed abilities, and swept his legs from under him in a flash. Midorya was sent to the matted ground with an oof, landing on his back. You stood over him proudly, holding out a hand for him to take.

"That's a new one," Midoriya commented, hoisting himself up. "What do you call it?"

"I don't have a name for it yet," you rubbed the back of your neck as he walked to his bag on the bench. "Probably just...sneak attack kick? I dunno, it's not much of a sneak attack if you see it in broad daylight."

Midoriya laughed at that and lifted a notebook from his bag, clicking a pen and writing in it messily. You stretched your arm over your head and attempted to peek around his shoulder to see what he was writing.

"Whatcha doin'?" You asked curiously. Midoriya quickly closed the notebook and turned around, an embarrassed look on his face.

"N-nothing!" He said. You grinned evilly and put your hands on your hips. Midoriya gulped.

"You got a super secret notebook for super secret thoughts?" You joked, pointing a finger in his chest. He nervously shook his head quickly, tightening his hold on the notebook.

"No way! I was just- uh, just making a note, that's all!" He tried to cover up, but you could see through his facade. Shaking your head, you gave him a pitying look.

"After I just showed you how quick I can be, you really think you can keep your little notebook a secret?" You held the notebook up in your hand, causing Midoriya to do a double-take. He lifted his hands from behind his back to see that you put one of your own empty notebooks in his hands, fooling him into not noticing your switch. You wiggled the notebook cheekily.

"Give that back!" He squeaked out, reaching for the book. You held it up and away from his reach just barely, pushing him away with one of your hands.

"If you want the notebook, you're gonna have to catch me!" You laughed, sprinting off to the other side of the room. Midoriya chased you, using his quirk to make his reflexes faster. Fortunately for you, you knew his tricks. Anything he thought of to try to get the book back, you already figured he would do.

"[Y/N], don't make me ask again," Midoriya reasoned, holding up his hands. You shook your head again, grinning.

"I don't think you even asked a first time!"

"[Y/N], please."

"Why don't I just take a little look-see here..."

"No!"

Midoriya launched at you, but you twisted your body at the last moment to catch him with your legs. He fell to the ground with you pinning him and sitting on top, still holding the notebook. He was dazed from the landing as you began to flip through the pages tauntingly.

"Let's see..." You began, not noticing the terrified look on Midoriya's face. "Stat records, costume ideas...Ah! Hero notes!"

"[Y/N]-" Midoriya groaned but you hushed him.

"You've taken notes on almost all the heroes you've encountered. Impressive!" You nodded. Midoriya covered his reddening face with his hands, admitting defeat. You remained perched above him, straddling his torso.

"I'll pay you fifteen dollars to let this whole thing go," Midoriya reasoned. You just ignored him, scanning through the entries until you found one on yourself.

"Wow, my first fan!" You laughed, looking over the page. "Such detailed notes, too. You've got my special attacks, my defense moves, my favorite color-"

That made you stop. You instantly shut up, staring at the entries that Midoriya had made on you. Looking over the list, and it was long, you saw that his notes stretched far past just what made you a hero.

He had noted your favorite color, what you liked to eat, your favorite animal. He had your likes and dislikes neatly scrawled on the pages, front and back filled with different tidbits about yourself that he had picked up. You looked past the notebook and down at the embarrassed boy.

"I don't know if I find this flattering or creepy," you admitted. Midoriya quickly removed his hands from his face urgently.

"It-it's not like that, I swear!" He exclaimed, shaking his head. "I'm not weird, I promise. I just...thought you were noteworthy, that's all."

You felt something blossom in your chest as your own cheeks went red. Clearing your throat, you glanced back at the notes he had taken on you, no doubt things you had told him or ranted about in the past. He really thought you were noteworthy?

Further down the list were things that were less surface-level and more of his own opinions: your personality, the sound of your laugh, how your eyes looked when you were excited. You couldn't help but smile at the effort.

"I'm sorry if it's weird, I just-"

"I think it's really sweet," you interrupted him, laying the notebook on the ground. His chest warmed at the sight of your sincere smile, you looking down at him like that.

"Y-You do?"

"Yeah! No one's ever really paid that much notice to me," you admitted sheepishly. Midoriya's eyes softened at your comment.

"I don't see why they wouldn't," he said impulsively. "You're amazing. I couldn't help but notice you."

You smiled stupidly down at the boy who had shown you so much kindness these past few months. He had shown that he cared about you in so many ways, all of them small and unique to who he was. You felt so incredibly lucky to have found someone like him.

"I know we just sparred," Midoriya blurted out, "and I know we're kinda sweaty, but you look really cute right now, and I don't really have much else to hide so I guess it couldn't hurt to maybe just-"

"Yes, you can kiss me," you finished for him. Midoriya sucked in a breath, smiling thankfully, before pulling you down to meet him halfway.

Your hands rested on the mat on either side of his head as he pulled you down by your shirt, gently moving his lips against yours. The kiss was soft and sweet, just like the way he treated you daily. You couldn't help but smile into it, allowing yourself to get lost in the moment that you'd dreamed of for weeks.

Breaking apart, neither of you had much to say as your faces were both incredibly red and Midoriya could barely process how his dreams had come true just like that. You leaned down to give him one last parting kiss before attempting to get up from the floor.

"I didn't say I was done," he muttered, pulling you down again and smiling before going in for another kiss.

~~~~~~

AHDKFISHWNEKDDJ these all ruined me completely goodbye i am deceased from the adorableness

requests are welcome! :)

280 notes · View notes

yourheartonfire · 4 years ago

Text

When they found Superhero, he was gardening. Down on his knees in the dirt, in a stupid khaki hat to keep off the sun, hands deep in the rich black earth in front of the tidy little cottage.

"You're him," they said, outside the little white picket fence.

Superhero stopped. Then he brushed the dirt off his hands, looked up with a friendly smile. "Well, I'm someone. What 'him' are you looking for?"

Somehow it was an answer, not a question. The hair was graying, the physique not quite so chiseled, but it was clearly Superhero.

They pushed the gate open. The Superhero did not invite them in but neither did he make any move to stop them, watching patiently from his knees to see what they would do next. So they stepped in from the street and let the gate fall shut behind them. The Superhero smiled and rose.

"Not a lot of people track me down these days," he said, gesturing them towards the pair of chairs on the porch. "You don't look like a reporter. Something I can do for you?"

"Sort of," They waited until Superhero sat then took the other chair, digging their toes uneasily into the freshly painted white boards.

"Can I get you something?" Superhero said, picking up his own bottle. "Water? A beer?"

"My mom died in the attack on the Civic Plaza," they blurted.

Superhero squeezed his eyes shut and open. He looked pained - but not surprised.

"I'm truly sorry to hear that," he said with practiced, professional empathy. Like cops or doctors who deliver bad news for a living, and then go home to eat dinner and watch TV and laugh and sleep soundly. And garden.

They looked down at their lap, where their fists were clenched around the edges of their jacket. "No, you're not," they said under their breath.

Superhero went... alert. That was the only way to describe the sudden snap to attention, the slight tensing of muscles, powers or no powers. He said nothing but somehow he was listening harder.

"That was the twelfth major disaster caused by [Villain]," they said. Hot tears were spilling over and they couldn't stop them, couldn't stop the shake in their voice. "You fought him ten of those times before. Any one of those you could've just - just ended him!"

"Murdered him?" Superhero asked, face impartial.

"Yes! Fine! Murdered him!" they cried. "He killed hundreds of people and you could've stopped him for good any time you felt like it! And you didn't - for what? Your moral code? My mom died for your morals!"

Superhero let out a slow breath. "You have every right to be angry," they said quietly. "What happened to your mother was awful and unfair. I have some phone numbers inside. People who can help you, who helped me."

"Helped you?" they cried. "Helped you find peace with failing?"

"Yes," Superhero said simply, folding his hands across his chest as he leaned back in his chair. "I saved a lot of people but there's many more, like your mother, that I didn't. I had to learn that I'm not, in fact, a god. I had to accept that I made the best choices I could, in the moment, but my powers don't include omniscience or omnipotence." He shot them a sharp sideways glance. "I'll bet your powers don't either."

They jolted. "How did you...?"

Superhero shrugged. "Like I said, not a lot of people seek me out these days. But you're not the first with that look. The power's just coming in, huh?" They bunched their hands in their pockets and didn't answer. Superhero nodded like that was what he expected. "The Hero Foundation has resources that can help you - medical help, housing help, crisis support-"

"I don't want your stupid foundation!" they screamed, leaping to their feet, hands blazing with unearthly fire. "I don't want a therapist or crisis support. I want you to be sorry you killed my mother!"

Superhero did not flinch. He did not stand. He did not even move, other than his eyes, locked on them like a missile tracking system.

"If that's what you want, kid, we can do that," Superhero said softly. "Why don't we head out back, go a few rounds where nobody will get hurt?"

"Oh, people are going to get hurt," they hissed. The flickering yellow and green aura spread up their arms to shoulders, head, torso. "I want you to know that. You're gonna be the first to die, but I'm going to make everyone hurt, just so they know how pathetic and useless you so-called heroes are!"

They expected a condescending sigh, a patronizing eye roll, a supercilious pat on the head and false sympathy. But Superhero did none of those things. He tilted his head the other way, then nodded gravely. Even through their rage, they felt an absurd surge of gratitude that at least Superhero took them seriously.

"There's a couple reasons I retired," Superhero said, hands tightening around the arms of the chair. "One is to help people like me avoid the mistakes I made when I was younger. I've forgiven myself but that doesn't mean I don't deeply regret making them. For your sake, not for mine, please believe me when I say you don't want to cross this line."

"No more talking," they hissed. "Time to die."

They reached inwards and pulled all the power they could muster, enough to level the house, most of the block. They stretched out their hands and screamed -

And Superhero raised a hand and snuffed their power like a birthday candle.

"Wha- What?" The yellow and green aurora was gone. So was the power. They reached for it desperately, found nothing within but a weak little flicker.

Superhero opened his fist, yellow and green pulsing in his palm.

"No," they breathed. "They said your powers were gone!"

"My powers are fading," Superhero corrected, focusing on the yellow and green flame until it condensed down into a perfect sphere, no bigger than a marble. "But I've got enough. As it happens, I agree with you about Villain. And what I should've done, right from the start." His gaze flicked back up, eyes marbled with unearthly fire. "If it's any consolation, think of all the mothers you'll never kill."

With a panicked gasp, they turned, they ran-

There was a sharp burst of energy, as focused and deadly as a laser blast.

A couple neighbors noticed the flash of light across their ceiling, across their window, and forgot it just as fast, chalking the silent burst up to a weird reflection or the local kids playing with flashlights.

On his porch, the Superhero sighed deeply and let the power dissipate into nothing, never to be called again. He took a final swig from his bottle, then put it down, got up, and headed out to the shed for the paint brush and another bucket of white paint for the latest scorch mark across the porch.

#my fiction #heroes and villains #hero and villain #be careful what you wish for #evil hero #maybe?#100

186 notes · View notes

insomniac-dot-ink · 4 years ago

Text

Is it wrong to lie to children?

A personal essay on reconciling with a shitty childhood and the question: is it wrong to lie to children?

It’s perplexing to have a shitty “unorthodox” childhood because initially I tried to throw out everything about It. Toss out the plumping and the rafters and the roofing, dispense of every single part of my upbringing I could get my hands on and not look back. Naturally, this approach didn’t work. It wasn’t even a real possibility. You’re still haunted by it, a ghost in the bones of a house, a foundation that remains long after the builders have left. That’s part of recovery too, to look at that ghost, to look at those bones, and keep saying: I see you, I see. I let you in. You sit with it and accept, accept, accept.

The really terrible part of this, the part where I don’t throw away the baby with the bathwater, is that you then have to raise the thing, deal with it. You have to do the hard work of parsing through the endless bits of self and placing them in “keep” piles and “discard” piles. I want to keep my mother’s kindness. I want to keep my father’s sense of humor. I want to discard the isolation. I want to discard the delusions.

But then there are these weird . . . “I don’t know” things. The things I am unsure if they helped me or hurt me. As I’ve gotten older I’ve gotten more and more of those “I don’t know” categories piling up. I’ve worked my way through most of the more obvious ones and now it’s all grey and mushy and as cloudy as a London winter. Recently, more than anything, I’ve been grappling with the fact my mother believed it was wrong to lie to children. She believed, in her flower-child way, that it was unethical in all forms.

I never believed in Santa Claus. I’m sorry to say I was a pretty obnoxious kid too because I would preach on the playground about how there was no Santa and there had never been any Santa. Which was a bit harsh, but in my defense I was under the impression these people were suffering from some sort of collective mass delusion. They were being lied to. And lying was wrong.

Is it wrong to lie to children?

I’ve known about sex since I was around 5 years old. I don’t remember why I asked, but it was something about where babies come from and so on. Most parents talk about a stork or love or some other abstract side-step. My mother described the anatomy to me and showed me a scientific diagram of the process. She told me that a sperm meets an egg and fertilizes it so the baby can grow. I learned most of this in scientific terms and was surprised when none of my middle school friends knew how a penis worked.

Is it wrong to lie to children?

When I was 9 or so our cat was eaten by a coyote. I asked my mom where he went and she said that he accidently got out the night before. She said they looked for him all morning, but it was too late. She didn’t use the word “gone” or “passed on” or “he’s in a better place now.”

She said he was dead. I said oh. She asked if I wanted to see him. I said yes. For the record, I am not actually sure if 9 year-olds should see corpses. That is neither here nor there. It was something that stuck with me though, the body of my cat with his tummy ripped out. I had never seen intestines before. His eyes were open.

But there was something cathartic about digging the grave. About helping pick up his little stiff body by the feet and placing him inside. There was something about piling on the red dirt as the sun set and letting the tears fall.

People on sitcoms hate talking about death. It’s understandable, it’s not funny, it makes for good dramatic irony when the kid asks “Where’s Socks?” and the parents go “Uuuuuh. He ran away.” I’ve never felt more alienated at those points. My cat died. He was eaten. I saw his body, and I buried it. Sometimes I think I wouldn’t want to be told he ran away-- that he had a choice in whether or not he left me.

Is it wrong to lie to children?

For a long time I thought the entirety of my childhood was wrong and bad, because I was miserable and broken at the end of it. I will assure you, my parents fucked up time and time again. But sometimes I have to stop and keep asking: Was this the wrong part? Was this the part where they fucked up? Was any part of this valuable? It’s a hard process to comb through an entire life and decide which bits are worth keeping, and if there are any silver linings.

So here is one: I am an honest person. I am a crooked person too, unsure of where to place my feet in social situations, picking my way through others normalcy. I do not readily share information, I am not forthcoming, and it’s a slow burn for me to open up about anything.

However, I notice time and time again that strangers will share personal things with me. I don’t mean for it to happen, but there’s just this pattern in my life. I once went on a car ride with a girl I barely know from my debate team. She described how she wanted to lose her virginity, she wanted it, but was scared God would be angry. That she’d be dirty afterwards. I told her that that was impossible, sex was just an act, it had no eyes, it had no priestly robes, or bearing on her soul. She cried. She said she hadn’t told me anyone this before.

I had a friend in high school who was struggling with an eating disorder, people had tried to get her to talk about it before, but I was the first person she admitted it to. In the hallway, sitting, just discussing nothing, and out it comes: I’m scared to eat sometimes. I was on a city bus and an old woman struck up a conversation with me. Over an hour or so, and she ended up telling me her fears for her own daughter going away to college. Her fear of growing old and passing on. Her problems with sleeping as she lay awake and dreaded it.

People have told me about their problems with substance abuse, their struggles with sexuality, and childhood trauma. People spill to me and I sit there thinking: Why? Sometimes I think it’s my gender or just how people are, but it always feels like I’m missing some part of the picture. Why do people open up to me, unprompted, all at once? Why me?

Is it wrong to lie to children?

Recently, I was reading a memoir set in 2001 where two young kids ask the narrator, their mother, about 9/11. They asked what happened to the people on television who were jumping off the building. Where did they go? The mother says this: They were caught. There are people-catchers that flew and saved them. Everyone is okay.

This story was meant to be heartfelt and lyrical, relatable. It ended like this: It is the job of mothers to offer gentle lies.

I had to stop reading because I was suddenly lost in a white-hot rage, unexpected, knee-jerk. How could she do that? I found myself frothing. They trusted her with answers and she lied. How could she? I knew it was irrational. It was silly even. This was a sweet story. It was meant to be heart-warming and framed in a way that suggested this is what all mothers do. This was what they needed to do.

I felt my own mother, pumping through my veins, furious that these elementary school students were being betrayed. I stopped myself of course, I knew it wasn’t reasonable. I wasn’t raised “correctly.” I had no legs to stand on.

But still, is it alright to lie to children?

I am once again faced with that unending dilemma: how to throw-out those parts of myself that don’t work and keep the ones that do. It’s difficult to say, because in some ways I agree with my mom. How can I not? But death is cruel. Sex is weird. Santa Claus is a beautiful lie.

And what’s wrong with lying? I still don’t know. What’s wrong with letting them never hurt? Never knowing the pain or gross parts of the world? What’s the harm in letting them make-believe?

But sometimes I think about all those people who have cried to me. All these unprompted confessions come with an unspoken plea: I hurt. I am afraid. I am so scared. It’s all so heavy, these painful truths.

And some part of me stands there, the part my mother raised and says: there is nothing in this life that is too shameful. There is nothing in this world that is unnatural. There is nothing in this life to lie about, even to children.

Is death too painful? Is sex too gross? Would you tell an adult that a man lives in the North Pole and watches them?

I asked my mom, years later, when I was less furious and able to talk with her again without screaming, about why she believed all this. She had told me about it since I was very young, but I never asked why. She shrugged. She said: children are people, aren’t they?

I still don’t know what to do with this.

Children are people, but they are not adults. They shouldn’t be exposed to “adult” things, right? But is that line so concrete? Is the word “adult” just a mask for the greater word, the one we really mean? We all agree: honesty is good. Lying hurts. But it’s alright to lie to kids, because in many ways they aren’t people yet, they aren’t people yet, they don’t count.

I am admittedly an argumentative person. I was on the debate team, mock trial, United Nations, I studied political science in college and fought with every single one of my professors I thought was wrong. And I stood in that playground, age 6, and told every single one of my classmates Santa wasn’t real and I wouldn’t stop. The truth was important. And my mother, no matter what, thought I disserved it.

I often felt tiny and powerless as a kid. Terrified and holding myself together by shoestrings. I often felt there would be nothing better in the world than to be grown up. Not for the money or the dating or the job, I just wanted to feel like the hurricane would end. That one day I could stand on solid ground again. My friend often says: I wish I could be a kid again, ya know? No responsibilities. Just bliss. I want to be a kid again.

I can’t relate. I never have. I’ve been busy weeding through the pipes and lighting and the carpentry of my upbringing and asking myself: is any of this worth keeping? Is any part of me built correctly? There are no right answers.

But still, I am haunted. I sit and ask myself in circles: is it alright to lie to children?

------------

My book 🌟 Ko-fi 🌟 Patreon

#personal essay #nonfiction #creative nonfiction #writers on tumblr #story time

173 notes · View notes

valhallasubstitute · 4 years ago

Text

Pleasure

Edward x F Reader

The reader teaches Edward a thing or two about pleasure

REQUEST: Can i request a *smut* with Edward from TLK?

Maybe a dane reader that absolute rock his shit like nobody before 😂 she can be Finan Or Sihtric sister maybe?! Thank you!

A/N: Evidently, I don’t think much of the English as lovers lol, I blame my first bf – Tom if you find this, thank you for the inspo. Also, if anyone’s interested in a dom reader then please let me know, I think there’s a real lack and that makes the switch in me v sad

WARNINGS: SMUT 18+. Unprotected sex – it’s the ninth century they have an excuse, you don’t. M!Sub/F!dom undertones, brief female masturbation, male receiving oral

WC: 1654

Tags: @flowers-in-your-hayr @geekandbooknerd @mariaenchanted @solinarimoon

You could honestly say you never expected things to turn out this way.

How many Danes could say they had discussed the boy King’s sex life with him? If you counted yourself then it would be three. Sihtric, your brother, and Uhtred sitting either side of you. Add in the Irishman that started it all, the baby monk and a vaguely uncomfortable looking Lady of Mercia and the number of people looking unimpressed rises to six.

You sat around the fire; ale pouch being passed between you after another successful battle, but your good spirits were beginning to dwindle as you listen to Edward describe his other conquests.

There were more than you had expected, but you supposed his title and pretty face made it hard for young maidens to deny him. You hadn’t denied yourself the pleasure of admiring him either, long blond curls that grazed his broad shoulders, and light blue eyes, usually set in a frown. You found yourself believing his words before battle, letting his passion seep through you as you lost yourself in the sight of him, arm outstretched with a sword in hand, strong thighs gripping the saddle and a ferocity that one might overlook upon first meeting Edward.

It had the foundations of a fantasy that would have kept you warm.

The conversation moved slowly, Edward relaxing and his words becoming freer. You forced yourself back to the present, preparing yourself to hear another depressing confession.

‘The last was a girl from the camp just outside of Lundon. She was wild.’

‘Wild? Now this I can get behind.’ Finan leaned forward, a new sense of interest washing over him as Edward nodded. You had already heard of the ‘daring’ places Edward had fucked, the palace guest room, the stable, and who could forget his royal tent! Wild, you decided, was something Edward had never come across.

‘She took me out to the woods and laid herself bare before me.’ You watched the interest of the group peak, even your brother raised a brow. ‘She started touching herself.’ He motioned to his chest. ‘I’ve never seen a woman so bold. How is a man meant to control himself?�� Uhtred nodded lightly, taking the ale from a grinning Finan. ‘I laid her on the ground and had my way with her.’

Finan’s face fell. ‘That’s what you call wild? Christ have mercy.’

That was when it hit you. It wasn’t that the King was a bad lover necessarily, it was that none of what he had experience had anything to do with pleasure. Not real pleasure.

‘With respect my Lord, none of your exploits deserve the praise in which you speak of them.’

Aethelflaed’s eyes snapped to you as your words settled over the group. You watched as Edward straightened himself, his hands dusting his thighs before he looked at you. The ease was gone from his denier and for the first time that night you felt like you were speaking to the King of Wessex.

‘How so?’ His voice was calm, interest peeking out from behind his pride.

‘What you have described is the way all Saxon men are. You lie a woman on her back, slip inside – she’ll make a few noises, to hurry you up.’ You shrugged sympathetically. ‘Maybe she is feeling particularly generous, or bored, and will wrap her legs around you, pull you deeper so that she might feel something and coo in your ear a sweet encouragement. It’ll last all of five minutes before you’re lying on your back, satisfied, and she’ll tell how good you were before slipping away. Am I wrong, Aethelflaed?’

All eyes snapped to the Lady of Mercia, the way she looked down and the uncharacteristic blush on her cheeks told everyone everything they needed to know.

‘The thing is, Edward, is that you never had sex for pleasure.’ The King opened his mouth, but you kept going, ignoring the baffled looks from Saxons around you. ‘Only for release and they are not the same.’

Finan was the first to agree. ‘I like the way you think Y/N.’

‘Many men do.’ You stood as you spoke, smiling at your friends but staring pointedly at Edward before retiring to your tent.

It was around an hour later when you sense that you were not alone. In just your tunic you glanced at the dagger at your side before addressing the presence.

‘It’s not very kingly to lurk in the shadows, my lord.’

‘Your words have left an impression.’ The candlelight danced on Edwards features, and you almost missed the reservation in his steps for the soft curve of his mouth. You stood, walking towards him slowly, a small smile encouraging him. ‘After you left, I thought about the things you described, and myself in relation to them. You were right and … and I would like to experience it.’

You could sense his nerves despite the way Edward held your gaze, it was unwavering but as you circled him you noted the way his hands fidgeted behind his back.

‘Experience what my king?’ You stopped in front of him, your chest nearly brushing against his.

‘Pleasure.’

His lips crashed into yours, demanding but soft. You let yourself melt into it, tasting the ale on his tongue before pulling back completely. You laughed as Edward frowned, as a prince he was spoiled, it was clear to see, but you intended to ruin him as a king.

You lead him to the furs of your bed, telling him to sit with a light push on his chest. His eyes were already trained on you but darkened as you removed your clothing, leaving your body exposed. You took delight in how he didn’t know where to look, his eyes darting from your face to your sex with his bottom lip tugged tightly between his teeth.

You let your hands roam around your body, swaying gently till you palmed at your breast, rolling your nipple between your fingers. Your eyes fixated on the growing strain in Edwards breeches as your other hand travelled south, your index finger slipping between your thighs with a gasp.

‘Y/n…’ The sound of your name on his tongue made your stomach flutter, he sounded demanding.

‘Pleasure is the pleasure of your partner.’ You moaned quietly as you slipped another finger into your heat, keeping the pace steady.

‘Show me.’ He sounded desperate.

You took your fingers from between your thighs and brought them to your lips, smiling as Edwards own lips parted in want. You moved towards him slowly, enjoying the growing sweat forming on his forehead and the way he licked his lips.

He reached for you, but you knelt before him, your hands running up his thighs before you began untying his trousers. He lifted his hips and you focused on ridding him of the fabric before turning your attention to his erection.

It stood proudly before you, the tip red and already leaking precum. You breathed in deeply before pursing your lips and blowing cold air directly onto his member. Edward inhaled deeply, a smile coming to your lips when it jumped in response.

‘You are teasing me.’

‘I am pleasuring you.’ Edward opened his mouth to argue but the words died in his throat. Your lips wrapped around as much of him as you could fit, your hands finding the rest. You bobbed your head once, twice, flattening your tongue as you went down then curling it as you came up. Edward’s left hand bunched in the sheets, grounding himself while his right tangled itself in your hair, his grip creating a delicious burn.

Breathing through your nose you took him as deeply as you could, your throat contracting around him as your vision blurred. The way Edward moaned kept you there for longer than you had any man, quickly finding yourself obsessed with the way his eyes fluttered and his throat bobbed as he tried to hold back the noises. You only stopped when your lungs demanded it.

‘God … Please, Y/n.’

You kissed your way from his balls to his tip, giving it one last lick before kissing up the rest of his body, undoing his shirt as you went. You let your hands roam around the tight muscles of his thighs and abdomen, your tongue following your fingers until you were sat in his lap, your hands tangled in his hair and your lips branding his neck.

‘I want you Y/n.’ You pulled back, lips tingling and bruised, your core brushing against his erection.

‘You want me Edward, but do you desire me?’

‘Yes.’

You smiled at him, the darkness in his eyes and his grip on your hips making you ache. You sunk down on him slowly, enjoying the way he stretched you. You stilled as your hips met his, grinding your clit against his body. The tiny jolts of movement began to pick up speed, Edwards lips discovering the slope of your neck and your hands digging into his shoulders. You wanted it to last forever, to feel the hot ache of him between your legs but you knew he was close. His hips jutted up to meet yours, one of his hands finding its way to your clit as his breath grew heavy in your ear.

His fingers were skilled, rubbing in time to his thrusts while you clawed at his back, your knees beginning to give from beneath you. You came with a call of his name, the tightness in your stomach snapping into white pleasure that washed over your body, wave after wave. Edwards’s pace didn’t slow, and your walls gripped him tightly, convulsing around him until he came with a deep moan. His fingers slowed and both his hands come to rest on your hips. He was smiling.

‘From now on, I think I will always choose pleasure.’

‘A wise choice my lord, I’ll always be happy to comply.’

#tlk fanfic #tlk #The Last Kingdom #tlk Edward #tlk edward x reader #tlk edward smut #tlk edward x reader smut #edward the elder #inga writes

94 notes · View notes

ripperdaddy · 4 years ago

Text

the viktor vector romance path + ending we deserve

Disclaimer: This is definitely something I came up with in my head. There will be a few instances that are solely made up so it can tie in with the “story.” This is purely fictional; something I wished happened if there was a possible Vik romance 🥰 This is based on my general knowledge of the game & Vik’s life. All gifs + images are from my own personal play through, but wouldn’t be possible without the help of the Appearance Menu Mod, found on Nexus Mods by the creators, MaximiliumM and CtrlAltDaz. And the shirtless Vik mod by the lovely samsnak ♡

It would start after completing the Paid In Full quest where you pay Vik back the eddies you owe him.

I feel like realistically, the general player would have to be at least halfway through the story to have collected enough eddies. I would say that a good point in the story where we can begin the romance is that you’ve already established a connection to Alt and have dealt with the VDB’s.

I think it would be a short side quest like River’s. Vik already plays a big part in the story overall on his own, so I don’t think it’s necessary to make his “side quest” too long. His romance would just be an addition to the ending.

And as much as I would love for him to be a bisexual option for both male/female V, if we’re sticking with the game’s standard with limiting partners to only one kind of partner, he would only be romance-able by a female V with a feminine voice.

V: Finally scrounged up enough eddies to pay you back in full.

Vik: Hold on to ‘em just in case - you need ‘em more than me.

V: I’m not taking them all the way to my grave, Vik. Here. And.. thanks again for doing so much work on me ‘thout ever seein’ an enny.

Vik: That’s what friends are for.

Then, there is an additional option for dialogue to trigger the romance path.

V: Friends? I think you’ve been in and out of my body more than anyone else I’ve hooked up with in Night City.

He laughs, with a coy smile. “Well, can’t argue with you there. Why don’t we take some of these eddies and grab a drink. You know, to celebrate. Catch up on old times. Haven’t seen you round here much lately, kid.”

You agree to meet at the El Coyote Cojo tomorrow evening.

You meet around 9 PM and you are welcomed by the sight of Pepe and Vik at the bar.

V: Nice choice of venue.

Vik: Thought you’d like it. Haven't been here since.. well, you know.

V: I miss him, Vik.

Vik: I know, V. Me too.

You immediately take a seat and tinker with a few dialogue options, where you can either have a sweet moment talking about Jackie or some surface questions to ask, like how he’s doing, what kind of drink he likes, etc. But it all winds down to Jackie anyway, where Vik confides in you about his past. Judging by how Vik was so affected by Jackie’s death, and V’s (if you chose the suicide ending), you can tell that he has lost a lot in his life, and keeps his circle very small.

You then achieve an even closer, more personal relationship with him. But, ultimately nothing happens other than the usual, wait 24 hours in game for a text/phone call from Vik to head into the next stage. At least now, you have established the foundation for a future romance.

Halfway through the 24 hour period, you get a text from Vik thanking you for the lovely evening. No reply needed, as he calls you once the 24 hour mark hits and invites you out for another date.

You meet at Tom’s Diner for coffee in the afternoon. It starts off with him apologizing for being emotional the previous night and asks if you’re open to hanging out again and going down to Pacifica to watch a fight with him.

Vik: Hey, V. I just wanted to apologize about last night. I didn’t mean to be such a downer.

V: It’s okay, Vik. We share the same grief.

Vik: I was going to head down to Pacifica and catch a real good match later on today. I was wondering if you’d like to come along, think it’d be great for the both of us, you know, as a distraction.

pssst even Johnny’s rooting for y’all ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Johnny: Hmm, interesting.

V: What?

Johnny: Never thought you'd be going out with this guy.

V: Vik's amazing. And I mean--we basically owe it to him since he practically saved our life.

Johnny: Don't tell me you're going out with him out of pity.

V: I'm not.

Johnny: I know, I can feel you get all mushy-gushy. It's almost repulsive. Just wanted to hear you admit it.

V: Eat a dick, Johnny.

You arrive before the GIM and blend into the crowd.

V: Nothin’ like watching guys beat the shit out of each other to get your blood pumpin’, huh?

Vik: This is a real good matchup, V. This kid’s fresh, young talent.

V: You miss it, don’t you?

Before the fight begins, Vik shares a story about his time in the ring and coming in second in the Watson Boxing Grand Prix.

There’s some extra fun options in the dialogue, you can bet some eddies on who’s gonna win, or side with him. The fight ends, and you two head outside.

Since you’re already out in Pacifica, you head over to the boardwalk (where you would ride the roller coaster with Johnny) and he starts telling you about the last days of his boxing career and how he transitioned from the sport to being a ripperdoc.

You both share a sweet moment with each other, reminiscing about old times and talking about V’s future with the relic. This is where I would see Vik confessing how he feels about you, mentioning how grateful he is for Jackie introducing you to him.

The evening ends and Vik asks you to give him some time to try and dig up some footage from his storage and have you come over to watch. You can kiss him then wait another 24 in game hours before the last quest. Halfway through, he texts you and asks you what you’d like for dinner. You can opt for pizza or chinese.

I haven’t seen or read anything about how or where Vik lives. If I overlooked something, please let me know! But for the sake of the story, let’s say he does actually have his own place that’s now introduced in the game. Personally, I think he has a typical bachelor pad, like a really nice apartment. Not too far from his clinic either. He looks like he would just walk to work. Vik definitely has a lot of money, but he’s so humble I doubt he would choose to live lavishly. As mentioned in the beginning, he typically just “sleeps nights” ever since he was over “being a legend” so I’m guessing his lifestyle is very routine. He goes to work, goes home, sleep. Seems unlikely he has a place like the Peralez’s. It would probably be just the same as V’s but decorated to his taste.

The evening comes and you are over at his place. He’s dressed in just a white undershirt, no exo-glove. You get to know more about his family, how he grew up — scanning things around his place. Then he plays some footage of one of his fights for you, while you two have a conversation and share a beer. As you two sit on the couch, you get close, then have an opportunity to kiss him.

then this is where da sex happen hihihi (ノ・ω・)ノ

The next morning you wake up and you two have a heartfelt conversation about where this is going. He already knows your situation, so I would assume he is very accepting and supportive. And with Vik, he seems like the kind of guy who would still want to be in your life and keep the friendship the same way despite no longer being together romantically. So it’s official. He’s your man 🥵 !!11!1!

Like how River gives you the “fuck the police” tank top after sleeping with him, I think Vik would give you his Night City Devils t-shirt that provides you with a significant amount of armor or some kind of cyberware upgrade that makes you invulnerable for a brief moment while using your hands to fight enemies.

Note: I was thinking of Vik giving V his boxing glove necklace, but because it's part of his character's appearance in the game, I don't think we would be able to essentially "take it" from him - unless he gives you a replica as a keepsake. Which I think would also work.

If you successfully romance, during the rooftop scene near the end of Nocturne OP55N1 (despite Vik’s disposition of him telling you to take matters in your own hands and being a little closed off), you still have an option to reach out to him when Johnny advises you to call a loved one.

V: Hey, Vik. I just wanted to say, thanks for hanging with me, until the end.

Vik: Quit talking like it is, V. Just do what you need to do.

V: I mean, think of it. It’s like I’m heading into the last round of this whole thing.

Vik: Well, in that case.. remember—keep your hands up, guarded at all times. It ain’t over just yet.

V: Heh.. I can feel it, just a few more punches.

Vik: Now look at you - the new welterweight champ of Night City.

V: Thanks, coach.

Vik: Last piece of advice from the coach's corner. Just.. be careful, kid. Remember, I’m with you.

Okayyyy, soooo I’m not the biggest fan of how CDPR gave us two of the same endings (Path of Glory). The only difference is that Rogue’s life is spared. I would have assumed that not only would we get to keep Rogue around, things should have played a bit more differently for V if we took the route of going solo against the corpos. So let’s tweak it.

This specific ending; it should be after getting through Don’t Fear The Reaper where you single-handedly manage to rip through Arasaka by yourself. Johnny goes back to Alt & Rogue is still alive. Yes nobody dies!!!

(honestly this ending can apply to any love interest you choose)

Vik and V are now living together in a lavish penthouse, entertaining an upcoming merc to do their work for them (which is now the current POV of the player.) You were recruited by Rogue at the Afterlife, who told you to visit this couple for a real, preem job.

They give you some vague details about the gig and go on for a brief moment about what you will be doing and what you should expect. Vik emphasizes to you that it’s important you get what they need because it’s for his wife, V, as her life depends on it.

As Never Gonna Fade Away is playing in the background, they tell you to break into Arasaka HQ.

Then the game officially ends.

#cyberpunk 2077 #viktor vector #v/vik #let us romance the ripperdoc you cowards

215 notes · View notes

spine-buster · 4 years ago

Text

c a t c h i n g t h e l i g h t | elias pettersson

Summary: Eleven years into the future, Elias and Svea embark on their next adventure. They have tackled everything together in life thus far with the other by their side. Now, it’s time to add someone new.

Word Count: ~13k

A/N: I hope you all enjoy reading this epilogue to Elias and Svea’s story. This style of small snippet scenes was so fun to write and I hope you like it. This sort of acts as an update on Brock and Grace’s story 11 years into the future as well! Regardless, I love these two so much.

CW: difficult birth

11 years later. ___

“I’m ready,” Svea said one night when she and Elias were in the car alone, driving home from the Parkinson’s Foundation of British Columbia Gala that they’d been to every year for almost fifteen years now, hosted by Grace. They were holding hands across the centre console.

Elias knew he had to keep his eyes on the road since it was dark outside, but he made sure to look over at his wife. It was so out of the blue that he knew exactly what she meant. “You’re ready?” he asked, wanting to make sure he heard correctly.

She squeezed his hand gently as she nodded. “I’m ready.”

>< >< >< >< ><

“So you guys are trying?” Grace asked as she sipped on her iced coffee in the quaint coffee shop in Yaletown. She rocked Dukey in his stroller, now almost 18 months old and in his prime chubby glory, though he was already fast asleep and had been since the car ride in. The kid could sleep, that was for sure. It was a nice reprieve from all the sleepless nights he cost Grace and Brock at the beginning.

“Officially. Yes,” Svea nodded her head. She was already on special prenatal vitamins. Already off her birth control. Already monitoring her ovulation cycle. Already had a checkup with her doctor to make sure everything was in order. Already having sex with Elias nearly every moment of the day she could fit it in. Not that either of them complained about that point. Almost twelve years later of marriage and they were still insatiable for each other. Elias still joked they had to make up for lost time. “I’m not a fertile youngin’ like you were but I’m hoping it happens just as fast,” she commented.

Grace nodded her head. “I’m just a baby-making machine at this point, so ask me any question you want. You know nothing is off limits with me, or us.”

***

“Fill me up, Elias. Fill me up with your cum.”

Elias groaned at Svea’s words. He grabbed her hair and pulled her towards him so her back was flush against his chest, pounding into her at a different angle now as he felt close to his release too. He licked and bit at the skin of her neck before dragging his lips up to her ear. “You want my cum, pretty girl?”

“My pussy needs your hot cum, Elias. Please. Please. Fuck me deep. Fuck a baby into me.”

He snaked an arm around to her hot core and began rubbing at her clit, and after a few frenzied gasps and moans, Svea felt him explode inside of her, filling her up like she so craved and making her feel the greatest pleasure she had ever known. Her orgasm coursed throughout her whole body and made her knees weak – literally – as they slipped further and further apart. She would have almost fell back down face first onto the mattress if it wasn’t for Elias holding her up and letting her fall back onto his body instead. As they lay on their bed catching their breaths, his cock was still inside her as it softened. “Happy birthday, Elias,” she mumbled as she kissed him. This was only round two, and they were planning to go all night.

***

“Are you serious? You just went to the washroom like fifteen minutes ago,” Brock pestered Svea playfully as she stuck her tongue out at him, quickly walking into the washroom at the mall.

Elias was looking down at his phone. Pregnancy symptoms, he’d googled.

Increased urination. You might find yourself urinating more often than usual. The amount of blood in your body increases during pregnancy, causing your kidneys to process extra fluid that ends up in your bladder.

***

“Svea, you love isterband! You can’t get enough of it!” Elias protested.

“Did we get a bad batch? It smells heinous.”

“It smells delicious!” he protested. What she was saying was unbelievable to him. Usually, she had to be told to stop eating the delicious Swedish style sausage, especially when they were back in Ånge or Sundsvall having it, and especially when it was a homemade variety. But now she was making gagging noises.

“I’m gonna go to our room until it’s done,” she said as she got up from her seat at the dining table. Immediately, Stella got up and followed her. “Call me when it’s ready. Hopefully it will smell less heinous by then.”

Elias watched her and Stella walk away. He took out his phone again and opened up the internet, still on the same tab from more than a week ago at the mall with Brock and Grace.

Food aversions. When you're pregnant, you might become more sensitive to certain odors and your sense of taste might change. Like most other symptoms of pregnancy, these food preferences can be chalked up to hormonal changes.

“Sveeeeeaaaaa!” he called out.

***

Svea was holding Elias.

She let him cry. It was important to let him cry.

His face was nestled onto her stomach, and had been there for at least fifteen minutes. His arms were wrapped around her. Every so often, she’d feel him move to kiss her bare skin, and she’d be able to feel the wetness from his tear-stained cheeks.

“I’m so happy,” he mumbled. He’d been saying that since they got home from the doctor’s office, but there was something about this time, right now, that made Svea’s heart swell a thousand times its size. His tone, the softness, the tears, the position – everything was working in a way that made her so emotional. “I’m so, so happy,” he repeated.

“Me too,” she whispered, running her fingers through his hair slightly.

“I’m going to be a dad,” he said. He looked her in the eye. “I’m going to be a dad and you’re going to be a mom.”

She nodded slowly.

***

“So all the fucking worked, then,” Grace winked from the sink.

“You’re so crass,” Svea giggled as Dukey screamed at her for more food. He already had a grape in each chubby hand and was eyeing the scrambled eggs on Svea’s spoon like it was a filet mignon. She brought it towards him and he opened his mouth easily to eat it. “But yes, it all worked.”

“I mean, you guys fuck all the time so I wouldn’t be surprised. You guys still fuck like you’re in your twenties.”

“You’re really comfortable saying the f-word in front of your 18 month old.”

“He doesn’t understand words yet,” Grace dismissed her quickly, causing Svea to snort.

“And who are you to call me out? Clearly you and Brock still fuck like you’re in your twenties too,” Svea whispered the word fuck, referring to Grace and Brock’s giant brood.

“Are you guys going to find out what you’re having?” Grace asked.

Svea shook her head. “We both want it to be a surprise.”

“It’s more fun that way,” Grace agreed. “I’m betting on a boy.”

***

“Can you see it?” Svea asked as she looked at herself in the mirror, her body in a fitted dress. She switched to a side profile to see if she could see her bump better. It was small, and barely noticeable, but it was there.

“I can,” Elias nodded, coming up behind her.

“Do you think other people will see it?” she asked. “I want to show it off.”

Elias smiled. “Show it off?” he asked.

Svea nodded. “Grace said she think I’m going to be all belly – you know, like one of those women who just grows out instead of, like, around. I waited so long to have one. Now that I do, I want everyone to know.”

Elias’s smile overtook his face.

***

“Look at you!” Grace winked as Svea approached her, her bump styled in a tight dress that showed off the small but noticeable curve forming. “Work it, Svea!” Svea danced a little bit, boogieing from side to side as Grace began to do the same. Elias and Brock rolled their eyes at each other but smiled, too, their wives completely ignoring them at this point. “I was right, too! You’re all bump!” Grace exclaimed.

“For now,” Svea smiled. “I feel wider.”

“You don’t look it, but it doesn’t matter. Get as wide and as big as you want, woman. You’re pregnant with a baby.”

“And ask Petey to go and get you cans of tuna in olive oil at 2:30 in the morning,” Brock quipped. Grace shot him a look. “Five times,” he added for dramatic effect.

***

“You want some, Elias?” Svea asked as she stuffed a spoonful of strawberry flavoured frozen yogurt into her mouth.

“I’m okay,” he shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. “You have what you want.”

“You sure?”

Elias nodded. He looked over at the clock – 3:00 in the morning. He had a practice tomorrow and she had work. But she had to have some strawberry frozen yogurt. She just had to. She needed it. Which is why Elias put on his winter jacket and a pair of shoes – but kept his pajama pants on – at 2:30 in the morning and made his way to their local 24-hour supermarket, buying her favourite frozen yogurt so she could eat it. It was all worth it, now that she was digging into it – sitting cross-legged on the bed, belly showing through her pajama shirt, eyes rolling to the back of her head every time she ate a spoonful. Now he realized what Brock meant. “It’s okay, pretty girl.”

“Just one spoon,” she said, already scooping it. She held it out to him and he smiled before he ate the spoonful. “Is it good?” she asked.

He nodded. “It’s better at three in the morning.”

She couldn’t help but giggle. She had the best husband. She wasn’t sure if others would have gone and gotten her frozen yogurt in the middle of the night. “I love you, Elias.”

“I love you too. Now give me another spoonful.”

***

“I love your cock so much Elias, fuck,” Svea sighed out.

He was much gentler these days. They both were. The doctor said it was completely safe and healthy but Elias was still…cautious. But when Svea woke up that morning placing small kisses on his shoulder, and then reached over and slipped her hand down his pajama pants, he couldn’t help himself. So he flipped around to face her, and they kissed, and kissed, and kissed, and he teased her already wet pussy with his fingers, and he hooked her leg over his torso and slipped into her easily, the both of them sighing, the both of them savouring the intimacy.

“Does it feel good?” he asked. She nodded quietly. “Does it feel different?”

“A little bit,” she nodded again, biting her bottom lip. “But a good different.”

Elias thrust harder. Svea let out a gasp. “I could bury my cock in your pussy all day,” he huffed out.

That made Svea smirk. “I’d let you.”

***

“You have to be patient.”

“I can’t be patient.”

“Well, you have to be.”

“You’ve been feeling them for a week now! I haven’t!”

“Just. Be. Patient.”

“But Svea—”

“Elias—”

They both stopped the second they felt it. It happened right where Elias’s hand rested on her growing belly. He almost couldn’t believe it happened at first, because to him, the feeling was so new. But when he realized what had just happened, and the magnitude of it, he looked up at Svea. She was already smiling. “Did you feel that?” he asked.

She nodded. “Poke where they just kicked. Trust me.”

Elias did as he was told. He poked. And poked again. Then he placed his hand on the spot.

He felt another kick.

Svea could hear a sharp intake of breath. When she looked at him next, he was already looking at her with tears welled in his eyes. “Svea…” he managed to get out, his voice cracking.

“I know, Elias. I know.”

A tear fell down his face.

***

“Svea, can I touch your belly?” Violet Boeser looked up at Svea, swaying her dress from side to side.

“Me too!” Rose Boeser joined in.

“Me three!” Lily Boeser pushed her sister to the side.

“Me four!” Poppy Boeser squeezed her way in. “Svea can I feel the baby?”

“Be gentle!” Grace called out from the picnic table. In the distance, Brock and Elias were barbecuing the hamburgers and hot dogs. Coolie, Milo, and Stella were all sunbathing near the barbecue. “Svea isn’t a science experiment!”

Svea snorted. “Yes girls, you can all feel the baby,” she smiled. Immediately, each of the girls’ hands covered her bump. Rose even put her head against her bump briefly. “The baby isn’t kicking right now but they might soon now that they feel all your hands,” Svea said.

“Are you having a boy or a girl?” Violet asked.

“I don’t know yet, Violet! It’s going to be a surprise.”

“Baaaaaaaa!” Dukey Boeser yelled from the picnic table. Once Grace set him down, he ran over to Svea as well, not wanting to feel left out now that his four older sisters were doing something he wasn’t. He put his tiny hands on top of Poppy’s and looked up at Svea. “Baaaaaa! Ba ba baby!”

“Yes! There’s a baby!” Svea grinned.

“And I’m gonna babysit!” Violet said.

“Me too!” Rose followed.

“Me three!” Lily joined.

“Me four!” Poppy finished it out, like she always did.

***

“Your placenta is a bit low, but it’s nothing to worry about,” the doctor said as she looked at Svea. “Have you been feeling any changes lately?”

“A lot more fatigue, to be honest,” Svea confessed. “I push through it because I’m still working, but when I get home I, like, barely move.”

The doctor nodded his head. “That’s normal. Fatigue in the second trimester is common. We’ll continue to monitor symptoms and monitor your placenta but it shouldn’t be a problem. But if symptoms get any worse, we’ll put you on bedrest.”

“Bedrest?”

“Bedrest. For your health. And the health of the baby.”

***

“Should we start thinking about names?” Svea asked as she lay on the couch, her head in Elias’s lap as he ran his fingers through her hair. Stella was sleeping in between her legs, letting out soft snores. “Do we want super-Swedish or super…something else?”

“This is going to be the hardest part, I think,” Elias commented before offering any suggestions. “I think something that translates well into both languages is best, don’t you think?”

Svea nodded her head. Whereas Fanny and Emil chose pretty traditional Swedish sounding names for their three boys, she knew they’d have to go the “translatable” route because of their Canadian/Swedish lifestyle. “Do you like Linnea?” she asked.

“I do, but I think it’s too popular in Sweden. I want something nice but something that stands out. There will be five other Linnea’s in her class,” Elias mused.

“So that’s Milo down the drain too, then…” Svea giggled slightly. “What about Freya?”

“Too…mythological.”

“Ivar?”

“No.”

“What about Astrid? I was going to be named Astrid, you know.”

Elias nodded. “I like Astrid. Astrid is good. Do you like Oskar?”

Svea nodded. “What about Erland, like your grandpa?”

“That’s a good middle name.”

***

Babysitting Violet, Rose, Lily, Poppy, and Dukey was good practice for Elias and Svea. They’d been doing it, really, since Violet was born, and then when Rose was added, and Lily was added, and Poppy was added, and Dukey was added…well, it all just became routine. The girls were great, and they put frilly headbands on Elias and did his makeup more times than they could count now. His favourite look was the blue and green eyeshadow they’d created, stolen from mommy’s collection in her room. The Canucks colours, obviously. He’d even posted the finished product on Instagram.

The girls also never had any trouble with bedtime, even when they were much smaller. But nowadays, Dukey did. Entering his “terrible twos” was proving to be quite the interesting time. But with the girls already in bed, it was easy for Elias and Svea to deal with him separately.

After tiring him out, Elias tried rocking him to get him to fall asleep, but he was still fussy. He kept reaching out to Svea. So Elias transferred him over, and Svea held him in her arms. “Whatsa matter?” she asked him in a sweet voice. “Does Dukey want to fall asleep?”

He fussed around for a bit more before settling down, laying his head on Svea’s shoulder. He was looking down, his face in a pout. “Baby,” he said, pointing lazily down to her bump. “Baby.”

“Yes, there’s a baby,” Svea cooed, rubbing his back. His eyes almost immediately began to droop. “But Dukey is a big boy now.”

“Yaaaaa. Dukey big boy.”

Elias watched as she continued to rub his back and coo sweet words to him as Dukey fell asleep in her arms. His hands were almost shaking, thinking about how in a few short months, they’d be doing the same thing for their own child.

***

Midsommar. Svea’s favourite time of year.

And now time for an impromptu baby shower.

Elias’s family tradition of renting a big tent on the lake was still going strong, and now, with so many new cousins and family members, the party was bigger and better than ever. Svea’s family and Elias’s family decided to incorporate a small celebration for the impending baby.

With her flower crown adorned on her head and some special gifts already opened, Elias sat down beside his wife and held her hand underneath the table. “Remember when we were young? What you did to me on the banks of the lake?”

She side eyed him. “Don’t even think about it.”

***

“Give me your hands, Svea, fuck,” Elias moaned as he watched her rock back and forth on top of him. She did as she was told, grabbing his hands to brace against so she could keep doing what she was doing. As she rocked herself back and forth, getting closer and closer to her climax, she tightened her grip on his hands. “Does it feel good, pretty girl?”

Svea nodded. “D’you still like what you see?”

“Always Svea. Always.”

***

Grace had gone all out. She was the perfect person to host Svea’s Vancouver baby shower when she returned from Sweden almost double the size from when she left. She’d invited the Canucks wives and girlfriends to her house. She’d had her sunroom and backyard decorated in the most adorable Peter Rabbit themed décor. Stella was dressed up with rabbit ears. She’d even thought of the cutest, most perfect party favours – mini champagne bottles with “She’s About to Pop!” adorned on it. And not the cheap champagne bottles, either. This was Grace.

Too bad Svea couldn’t have any.

Svea usually didn’t like being the centre of attention, but she was having the best time being the centre of attention at her baby shower. She opened her gifts, she played the games, she laughed her head off at the game where the girls had to measure her girth.

After pictures with the guests, Svea sat down in her chair. “This was the cutest baby shower,” Holly Horvat commented to her, nibbling on the last bit of her cupcake. “But you know what?”

“What?”

“Remember that movie Bridesmaids? Remember how they had puppies as the party favours?”

Svea giggled. “Yeah.”

“Grace should have gotten us all cute little bunnies.”

***

“So the rumours are true. You’re pregnant.”

Svea looked up from her phone to see Trevor waiting down the bar for his coffee, staring right at her as she finished telling the barista her order. From behind her, one of her co-workers muttered an ‘Ew’ at the sight of him. With good reason, since Trevor was Svea’s political arch-enemy. They came up in the political world at the same time, got promotions around the same time, and were forced to work in conjunction with one another – but never actually together. And they never got along, ever.

“Yes. I am,” Svea nodded her head once. “Fancy seeing you here, by the way. Isn’t your office on the other side of town?”

“We travel all over the city,” he said. His smarmy smile made her blood boil. He grabbed his coffee and made his way towards her. “Congratulations, by the way. I wish Elias a lot of luck. He’s going to need it.”

“Just like you after we decimated you in the election, I assume.”

His smarmy smile left his face.

***

The Boeser girls got so excited by the flashing lights in the arena, the season opener in full swing. They were clapping and screaming and jumping around on their jerseys as the announcer began to announce the team, knowing that their dad would be near the beginning because of his number six.

“At number six, Brrrrrroooock, Booooeeeseeerrr!” the announcer roared, the crowd roaring as well as the girls screamed at the top of their lungs for their dad. Dukey was clapping too, balanced on Grace’s hip and in his own little jersey. Svea couldn’t help but smile.

Eventually, when they got to Elias, she knew the camera would pan to her. A member of the press corps had seen her earlier. And while she and Elias never made a formal announcement on Instagram or anywhere else in terms of her pregnancy, it was now out in the open – especially since that reporter asked about it during the media scrum earlier that day. “Your wife Svea is pregnant now; is the focus at the beginning of this season for you on hockey or on the things happening at home?”

The audacity of that question being asked made her head spin.

Lily had already wrapped her arms around Svea’s legs, and like clockwork, they were shown on the jumbotron clapping. At that point, the 20,000-plus fans in the arena could see she was seven months pregnant. The bump protruded through the jersey. And when the fans realized, they got noticeably louder. Like, louder louder. Cheering, whistling, smiling – so much so it sent shivers down Svea’s spine.

She smiled from ear to ear.

***

“Happy birthday, my beautiful wife,” Elias mumbled against Svea’s lips. He’d been kissing her, slow and sensual, but also quick and fast – every type of kiss, really – for the last fifteen minutes. He’d just made her a homemade dinner, and now he was ready for, uh, dessert.

“This time next year I’ll be a mom to a ten-month-old,” she mused.

Elias smiled. “It feels like just yesterday that we surprised Grace and Brock,” he said.

“It’s been twelve years.”

“Still feels like yesterday,” Elias kissed her again. “My moon, my stars, my Svea.”

***

“I think it’s cutting it too close,” Elias mused as they lay in bed together, Svea’s bump widening the distance between them.

“Elias, I’m only thirty-six weeks,” Svea rationalized. “My mom carried Sigrid to almost 42 weeks and me right to 40. This baby isn’t coming out anytime soon.”

“But you’ve…grown so much in the last few weeks,” he said, laying a hand on the bump. “And you’ve been so tired, and the doctor’s appointments have to be weekly because of that and I just don’t—”

“Elias—”

“It’s fifteen days, Svea. I’ll just let them know it’s too close.”

“Elias,” Svea said sternly. “You’re going to the East Coast and that’s that. You’re going to get back and we’re going to celebrate your birthday and then we’re going to have this baby. In that order.”

***

If you looked, if you really looked at the video, you could see Elias being called off the bench at the beginning of the third period.

The announcers mentioned it after the fact. And when play stopped about two minutes later, they were able to show the replay. They went through some major points of his shift, spoke about how good it was, and then showed how he skated back to the bench and sat down. About fifteen seconds later, someone came barreling through the tunnel and was screaming Elias’s name, waving him over to get off the bench. Elias complied. The analysts wondered – there was no hit, no scuffle, no trip, no high stick, no fall, seemingly no injury, no penalty at all or anything even worth a penalty during the play, and a perfectly healthy Elias Pettersson was being rushed off the bench? What was going on?

The camera stayed on Elias speaking to the man in the tunnel. Nobody could lip read but everybody could see Elias run down the tunnel once the man spoke.

“What’s wrong? What’s going on?”

“You need to get back to Vancouver. It’s Svea. She’s been rushed to the hospital and she’s lost a lot of blood.”

He was a six hour flight away in Florida.

***

There was blood everywhere. All over their bed. All over their sheets.

Svea called an ambulance. She called Grace screaming and wailing into the phone. She called her mom in Sweden crying. The pain was almost too much. The contractions were too. When the paramedics came, she was loaded into an ambulance and rushed to the hospital. “My husband. You need to call my husband. He’s in Florida playing hockey. He needs to be here. He—He—the baby—the baby—the baby—”

***

It was the worst six hours of Elias’s life. Eight hours really, from leaving the rink to getting off the plane and rushing to the hospital. Grace called in the last minutes before the flight took off to update him. Svea had placenta previa. That’s why there was so much spontaneous blood loss. The doctors had stopped the bleeding, but she’d needed a blood transfusion. It went fine. But now she was in labour. At 37 weeks.

“It’ll have to be a c-section,” Grace explained. “There was too much blood loss and too big a risk for more blood loss for a vaginal birth like Svea wanted. And I don’t – Petey – she will probably need a hysterectomy.”

“Hysta-what? What’s that?”

“They’re going to have to remove her uterus, Petey. This baby is going to be your only baby.”

***

Elias rushed to put on the scrubs provided by the nurses. He rushed to get back into the delivery room knowing that Svea had already had a blood transfusion. He rushed to be in the room to watch the doctor operate – literally operate on his wife – so that Svea could deliver the baby safely and have her hysterectomy.

***

Margot Pettersson.

They named her Margot Pettersson.

After all the blood, the fear, the frantic phone calls, the six-hour flight, the surgery, the operation – Margot was here. And she was healthy.

It took everything within Elias not to break down crying as he held her in his arms and lay in the hospital bed with Svea, who was recovering well considering the trauma and how much blood she lost. They couldn’t take their eyes off their daughter. She was perfect in every way, from the blonde hair on her head to her tiny, tiny, tiny little toes.

She was finally here.

***

It was a few days later when Svea felt confident enough to be in a photo – she didn’t “look like death” anymore, as she put it. Elias sent it to his teammates. He was on some brief phone calls with the powers that be on the Canucks for a statement and for some time off.

When he rejoined Svea in their hospital room as she fed Margot, he sat on the bed and wrapped an arm around his girls. “The bed,” she said suddenly, looking at him. “We have to buy a new bed. I can’t sleep in that bed anymore. All I’ll see is blood.”

“Grace and Brock already took care of it,” he said. “Everything is going to be fine when we get back home. I promise.”

***

The Vancouver Canucks organization would like to extend their congratulations to Elias and Svea Pettersson on the birth of their daughter, Margot. Mrs. Pettersson continues to recover in the hospital. Elias will be a healthy scratch for the next four games to ensure the health and well-being of his family.

***

Svea was on bed rest in their new bed, Stella’s snout resting on her post-partum belly. Elias never wanted to let go of Margot unless it was to put her back in Svea’s arms. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of her, either. Even when Svea was breastfeeding. He found it to be the most beautiful thing in the world, watching his wife, who he loved so much, feeding and nourishing his daughter, who he loved so much.

He cuddled with them, snuggling into Svea’s side as he watched Margot. The little sounds she was making brought a smile to his face. He brought his hand up and caressed her head gently, the blonde hair atop her head perfectly combed.

“I finally have boobs now,” Svea whispered.

Elias snorted and Svea had a cheeky smile on his face. “I’ve always loved your boobs. Big or small.”

“Hmm, don’t I know it,” she hummed, giving him another kiss. She looked down at her daughter. “She’s perfect, isn’t she?”

“In every way.”

***

Elias’s birthday was much quieter this year. Well, quieter in the sense that there weren’t any friends in his house; quieter in the sense that he wasn’t at some hip restaurant downtown eating an incredibly expensive steak while sipping on an incredibly expensive glass of wine while he wore an incredibly expensive outfit and an incredibly expensive watch, watching his beautiful and sexy wife in an incredibly expensive dress sip sultrily on an incredibly expensive glass of wine as she eyed him up and grazed his leg with her heel under the table.

But this was still his favourite birthday ever.

Sitting on the couch, a warm bottle of pumped breastmilk in his hands, feeding his eight-day-old daughter.

His life was perfect.

***

“She looks like Petey,” Brock said as he held a swaddled Margot in his arms.

“They have to biologically, you know,” Grace jumped in. “But my god you two, her eyes are so damn blue. I mean I know that’s the Swedish thing and all, but they’re sooo blue.”

“I know,” Elias smiled. “Even the doctor mentioned it during one of her checkups. She’ll have a beautiful set of eyes, that’s for sure. Just like her mom.”

Svea swooned. She watched as Brock craned his neck down and placed a quick kiss atop Margot’s head. “Getting baby fever again, Brock?” she winked at him.

“No no no, five is plenty,” he chuckled. “I just love that newborn baby smell.”

Svea, Elias, and Grace let out the all-knowing “Oooooh” sound in agreement. “You’re so right, babe,” Grace nodded. “It’s the best smell in the world.”

***

“God, I missed this,” Svea said as she took a huge gulp of crisp, clean Vancouver air. It was her first time outside with Stella in weeks, now that she was off bedrest and fully recovered from her c-section and hysterectomy. Her doctor had okayed light physical activity, so she’d invited Grace and Dukey over for a short walk around the neighbourhood. Grace had obviously agreed, and had brought Coolie and Milo along.

“Me too. You’ll be back running and doing yoga in no time,” Grace said, remembering some of their jaunts over the years where Grace would bring out Violet, or Rose, or Lily, or Poppy on walks or runs in their strollers too. When she finished strapping Duke in, and made sure he had his snacks, she rose to her feet. “You feel good?”

Svea nodded. “We just have to go slow. And I can do maximum half an hour.”

“I’ll go as slow as you want me to,” Grace said. She peeked into Margot’s stroller and noticed she was already asleep. Her son, on the other hand, was screaming about his grapes. “Let’s hope Dukey’s grapes last the entire time.”

***

Did Elias and Svea go all out for Margot’s first Christmas? Yes.

Did Svea dress her up in a red dress, green shoes, frilly headband, and reindeer antlers? Yes.

Did Svea dress her up in an elf outfit, complete with curled shoes? Yes.

Was there a portrait with the new family and Santa Claus? Yes.

Did Elias and Svea send the pictures to their family members, co-workers, and every teammate? Yes.

Did it get leaked to the media? Yes.

***

“She’s gonna start her chubby phase soon,” Brock said as he held Margot in his arms, feeding her with a bottle, as Elias sautéed some mushrooms on a skillet as part of their lunch. “She’s eighteen weeks now?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s the best,” Brock said. “They got so chunky. So squishy. I swear I went crazy for every one of them.”

“Margot was born at 37 weeks though. We might have to wait a little bit longer.”

“Well, call me the second you start noticing chunk,” Brock said. “I’ll be over here in a heartbeat.”

***

“There was a lot of blood.”

Elias held Svea in his arms as they lay down in bed together after one of Margot’s middle-of-the-night feedings. Margot had been really fussy and took a while to be put down and fall asleep again; Svea had been unable to go back to sleep herself once she was in bed, tossing and turning and not even being able to keep her eyes closed. Even Elias’s cuddling wasn’t helping, which meant something was on her mind and keeping her restless. So he’d asked her what was wrong.

And that’s what she responded with.

He knew immediately what she meant. Ever since that day, when he was called off the bench and rushed back to Vancouver, he’d beaten himself up for not being there, as a husband should have been for his wife, as she went through such a traumatic event. It traumatized him, but that didn’t even take into consideration how much it traumatized her. That’s what really mattered here. She still had to deal with it. She still had to see it in her mind when she closed her eyes. She had the memory, not him.

It killed Elias inside knowing Svea had to carry that burden with her.

“You were so strong, though. And your strength gave us our daughter,” he said.

Svea nodded slightly before she looked at her husband. “Were you scared? When they told you, I mean. When you were rushed off the bench.”

Elias nodded his head immediately. “I was terrified.”

“Of what?”

“That I was going to lose you and the baby,” he admitted. “Were you scared?”

“I was,” Svea said. “Do you…are…are you angry we can only have one?”

“Why would I be angry?” he was beside himself at her question.

“I don’t know. I just…are you angry we didn’t have a boy? Or that we can’t have a son in the future? Or another daughter? Are you angry I wasn’t healthy enough to—”

“Stop it right now,” he ordered. Tears were falling down his face at her words. “You’ve given me everything I’ve ever wanted and needed in my life. Do you understand me? Everything.”

Svea was crying now too. “You’ve just been so good to me, Elias. I want to give you everything too, like you always give me.”

“You already have,” he whispered, kissing her, feeling her tear-stained cheeks on his.

***

“You want to hold the baby, Violet?” Svea asked quietly as the Boeser girls looked at tiny Margot resting in Svea’s arms. Violet nodded her head desperately and outstretched her hands automatically. “You have to sit on the couch, baby girl,” Svea said, and Violet did as she was told.

Svea extended her arms and passed Margot to her slowly. “Put your arm up,” she said. “You have to support her head.” Violet nodded. Margot fussed a little bit, but once she was in Violet’s arms, she stopped.

Violet smiled. “Hello Margot,” she said in a soft voice, smiling.

“Hello Margot,” Rose mimicked in the same voice.

“Hello Margot,” Lily mimicked in the same voice.

“Hello Margot,” Poppy mimicked in the same voice.

All at the same time, the girls leaned forward and placed light kisses onto Margot’s face.

Svea couldn’t help but smile from ear to ear.

***

“Look at my beautiful baby girl,” Elias cooed as he finished changing Margot’s diaper, buttoning up her little onesie as she wiggled on the change table, looking up at him with her big blue eyes. “Hällo Margot! Hällo!”

She gurgled happily. Elias chuckled as he finished the last of the buttons, eventually scooping her up in his arms carefully and holding her against his chest. She settled in quickly, calming herself down as Elias walked from her nursery to his bedroom. Just as he walked in, Svea walked out of their ensuite bathroom with a robe on, drying her hair with a towel. When she saw her husband and daughter, she smiled automatically.

“Hello my loves,” she whispered, approaching them slowly. At the sight of Svea, Margot gurgled happily again, even waving her arms up and down once excitedly. “Hello Margot! Hello my beautiful baby!”

“Beautiful baby had a stinky diaper this morning,” Elias griped jokingly.

Svea laughed, placing a light kiss on top of Svea’s head. “Making daddy change the stinky ones? Good baby.”

***

Margot’s first game, after she got all of her appropriate vaccinations, was against the Toronto Maple Leafs. Elias and Svea made sure to go to the arena early so that his teammates could see her before the game. Even Elias’s friend William Nylander from the Leafs was able to pop over and congratulate the couple. Svea appreciated the gesture, since she knew how busy he was.

“Oh my Gooooooddddd,” Holly cooed as she saw Margot dressed up in a little Vancouver Canucks jersey. “The baby jersey! The baby jersey! Can Gunnar be this small again?!”

Svea laughed as Holly clutched at her heart. Bo smiled from ear to ear when he noticed, too. “She’s adorable, Svea.”

“Thanks, Bo.”

“Bo, remember when Gunnar was that small?” Holly asked her husband. She then wrapped her arms around his one arm, looking up at him sweetly. “Can we have another one, Bo? Please?”

“Holly.”

***

Svea hauled some of the grocery bags – the lighter ones, at least – inside the house. She would leave the other ones for Elias. He’d probably get angry that she brought in the light groceries, anyway. He always brought things in – ever since her surgery, at least. But she was feeling almost back to normal now, and she wanted to start contributing more again.

“Elias?” she called out. No answer. She set the grocery bags down in the laundry room and made her way into their house. “Elias?” she called out again.

It was only then when he heard loud, screaming giggles coming from the family room. Following the giggles, Svea heard the sound of raspberries being blown against skin, and an orchestra of loud, happy giggles again, this time from both Margot and Elias.

She smiled to herself. As she walked further into the house, turning a corner, she looked into the family room to find Elias on his knees in front of the couch, Margot on the cushion in between his arms in just a diaper, and him blowing raspberries on her tummy. Margot was laughing and wiggling in pure happiness. And when Svea’s presence caught Elias’s eye, he looked up. “Hey baby,” he smiled, before diving in one more time to blow raspberries.

Svea’s heart swelled.

***

“You and Elias deserve a nice Valentine’s Day date,” Grace said before taking a sip of her water. “How about Brock and I watch Margot for the night and you two go out for a nice dinner?”

Svea loved the idea, but she was still a bit apprehensive. It would be the first night away from Margot. And though she trusted Brock and Grace more than anyone else in Vancouver with Margot, it would still be a lot for her, at least mentally. She assumed it would be the same for Elias. “I’ll mention it to Elias, and we’ll think about it,” she said.

Grace eyed her. “Don’t think about it, just do it. I know it’s hard to think about, but time away from the baby will do you both some good. It’s necessary. It’s healthy. It’s hard but it’s healthy.”

***

“This steak is delectable,” Svea commented as she forked another slice of her filet into her mouth.

Elias nodded from across the table. “The wine, too. It was a good choice,” he said before he took a sip. He looked lovingly at his wife and smiled before he set his wine glass down. “D’you miss Margot like I do?”

Svea giggled and nodded her head. “I do. But I’m enjoying our Valentine’s Day date,” she said. “I wouldn’t be anywhere else in the world.”

“Me neither,” he reached across the table to grab her hand.

***

Elias and Stella walked into the bedroom quietly, Elias holding mugs of tea in both hands. He saw Svea sitting up, looking down peacefully at Margot whom she was breastfeeding. Svea grabbed the mug from Elias and took a quick sip before setting it down on the nightstand. Elias climbed into the bed, Stella following, and nestled in close with his two girls, gently stroking Margot’s blonde hair.

“Thank you for the tea,” Svea said softly, looking at him before pursing her lips slightly, signaling she wanted a kiss.

Elias gave her one easily. His lips lingered on hers, giving her small, quick kisses. “You’ve given me everything I’ve ever wanted,” he whispered huskily. “The least I could do is bring you tea.”

“Hmmm,” Svea hummed happily. “Can I suggest some other things you can do tonight?”

Elias smirked.

***

“Look here little Margot! Look here!” the photographer cooed as her assistant jingled some bells to get the attention of the baby, dressed up in the cutest little dress and tights. Margot babbled slightly and smiled at the noise. Elias could hear the shutter of the camera go off like crazy.

“Her eyes are showing up spectacularly on camera,” the photographer commented. “What a beautiful colour they are.”

Elias and Svea continued to smile throughout the photoshoot. Then, when they had to take a break, they changed Margot into a different outfit and went outside to take some more pictures. After a second break, they changed Margot into her last outfit before going to their bedroom and finishing the photoshoot.

“The photos should be ready for you in a few weeks, after editing,” the photographer said as she packed away her equipment. By this point, Margot was fast asleep on Elias’s shoulder, her chubby cheeks amplified. “She’s a cutie, you guys. I mean, just adorable.”

Elias smiled, placing a soft kiss atop Margot’s head. “She’s my little princess.”

***

At a cute little café in Yaletown, Svea pushed her stroller back and forth to rock Margot to sleep. Svea hadn’t gotten any sleep last night thanks to her daughter, and Elias being away on a road trip didn’t help matters. Svea knew babies went through sleep regression – Margot had been a fantastic sleeper, save for the last two weeks – but she wondered how long this would last. She was trying everything she could, but Margot wasn’t sleeping.

When Grace arrived without any of her kids in tow, looking especially stylish with a cute hat and thigh-high boots, Svea waved her down. Grace waved back and waited in line to order her coffee.

“You look like you haven’t slept,” Grace commented as she set her coffee down on the table and sat in the seat opposite Svea.

“That’s because I haven’t,” Svea admitted. She hadn’t even bothered to put on makeup this morning. “Margot kept me up all night. She was so fussy, Grace.”

Grace furrowed her brows. “Do you have milk with you?” she asked.

Svea nodded. “Of course I do. In the bag.”

Grace nodded, getting up from her seat. “Come on. We’re going home.”

“Wait—what—”

“We’re going back to my house, and you’re sleeping, and I’ll watch and feed Margot.”

Svea could cry.

***

“Look. At. The. CHUNK!!!!!” Brock practically screamed as he looked over Elias’s shoulder as Elias finished putting a new diaper on Margot, who was wiggling happily and cooing at seeing Brock’s face over her dad’s shoulder. “Look at you! Look at your chunk! Look at it!” Brock kept repeating.

“Brock—”

“What’re you gonna do with all these rolls? What’re you gonna do with all these rolls?!”

“Brock—”

“You gonna open a bakery? You gonna open up a bakery with all these rolls?”

“BROCK!”

“WHAT?!”

“Get me her blanket!”

Brock moved to the side and reached over to get the soft blanket he knew Elias wanted. “You don’t have to be so mean,” he grumbled at his best friend.

***

“Look, Svea! Look! Look!” Elias’s voice was frantic as he called Svea over from the kitchen. He could hear her footsteps as she rushed over to the family room. “Look!”

Svea looked at Elias on his stomach on the floor, a few feet away from Margot who was also on her tummy. She’d hit the traditional milestone of rolling over a bit early – four months in, instead of five – and now, at just over six months old, Svea watched as Margot started creeping along the floor, moving closer and closer to her dad as he kept wiggling further and further away.

“Eeeeeeh!” she would cry out in complaint of her seemingly not getting closer to her dad. “Eeeeeh!”

“Come on Margot! Just a little bit more!” Elias smiled wide.

She creeped some more, and when she was finally close enough, Elias began peppering her face with kisses. She giggled at the feeling and screeched with happiness when he picked her up and held her in his arms. “Baby’s on the move,” he smiled at Svea.

She nodded her head. “We’re not gonna be able to sit down anymore.”

***

“Where do you think you’re going, missy?” Svea asked playfully as she watched Margot crawl along the hardwood floor of the kitchen. Her chunky rolls filled out her avocado-printed onesie she was wearing as she made a beeline for the sunlight coming through the sliding door.

“Aaaaaeeeeeeee!” Margot squeaked at the sound of her mother’s voice, looking back.

“Where are you going?” Svea asked.

“Eeeeeeeaaaaaaaaa!”

“Eeeeeeeaaaaaaaaa!” Svea mimicked, knowing she should be mimicking the sounds for Margot’s development. She grabbed her phone off the counter and walked around her, crouching down on the floor and opening her camera for a video. “Come on Margot! Let’s show daddy how you can crawl!”

“Aaaaaaaadadada!!” she said, continuing her babbling and crawling as she made her way against the hardwood floor and towards the camera.

Later, when Svea held Margot on hip as she fixed a quick bowl of raspberries as a snack, she sent the video to Elias. His response was almost immediate.

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

***

“She’s cruising now,” Svea explained on the phone to Grace. “Like, she can stand, but the second she takes a step she’s too wobbly and falls down. But if she’s got the couch or the coffee table, she’s okay.”

“She’s going to be walking soon,” Grace said confidently. “You guys think you weren’t able to sit down once she started crawling? Well, good luck now,” she giggled.

“I don’t know how you did this three times in a row while pregnant with the next,” Svea admitted. “Crouching down, picking her up, over and over and over again…all that with a bump? You’re superwoman, Grace.”

“I’m not superwoman, I’m just a mom,” Grace said. “For going what you went through to deliver her, you’re superwoman too, you know.”

***

“Come to daddy, Margot. Come to daddy,” Elias beckoned as he sat with his arms and legs outstretched about six feet away from Svea, who was holding Margot up by just her hands. All of the videos Svea had sent him over the last road trip of Margot trying to walk and then falling made him want to practice once he got home. He refused to see his daughter’s first steps over an iPhone video, and Svea understood that completely.

“Go to daddy,” Svea whispered in her daughter’s ear as she let go of her hands.

Margot wobbled a bit, took a cautionary first step, then a second, and at her parent’s excited voices, she smiled and continued with her steps, reaching Elias who was so elated with joy that he scooped her up in his arms and peppered her chubby face with kisses. Svea could see tears escaping his eyes as he repositioned his daughter, holding her up again by her hands, and encouraging her to walk to Svea. Some more wobbly steps and a mid-distance squat later, Margot was back in Svea’s arms, getting more kisses.

They had a walker.

***

“Your costumes are sooooo awesome, girls!” Svea cooed as she looked at Violet, Lily, Rose, and Poppy dressed up in their witch costumes as she entered the Boeser house. “Are you girls ready to go trick-or-treating?”

The four girls nodded their heads excitedly. “What’s Margot dressed up as?!” Violet asked.

“You’ll see when Elias brings her in,” Svea smiled, watching as Dukey, dressed up as Buzz Lightyear came running towards the door. “Hi Dukey!”

“I Buzz Lightyear!” he screamed excitedly. “Look!” he turned around to show off the wings of the costume. He raised his hand in the air. “Iffity and blonde!”

“To infinity and beyond!” Svea copied him.

Before they could go any further, Elias walked through the door with Margot in his arms and her diaper bag over his shoulder. “Hello girls,” Elias greeted them. “Nice costumes! Look at Svea’s!”

The four girls cooed at her, admiring her in her cute little costume. “Mooooooom! Svea’s a strawberry!”

From inside the house, Elias and Svea could hear Grace scream in delight.

***

“Haaaaaappy Birthdaaayyyyy to you! Haaaaaappy Birthdaaayyyyy to you! Haaaaaappy Birthdaaayyyyy dear Maaaaarrrgggooooottt! Haaaaaappy Birthdaaayyyyy to you!”

Margot was smiling from ear to ear as she giggled and clapped excitedly as everyone sang to her. Her first birthday party was a hit – Irene and Torbjorn were able to come in from Sweden, Emil and Fanny were Zooming in with their kids, and practically the entire team and their kids were over the Pettersson house celebrating the big day.

“Blow, Margot! Blow!” Elias bent down so he was at the same eye-level as his daughter in her high chair. He showed her how to do it before watching as she tried to mimic him. “Blow!”

Instead, Margot made a loud fart noise with her mouth.

Everyone laughed hysterically. Elias could hear Brock scream “I hope someone got that on video!” Elias watched as Svea bent down to be at eye-level with Margot too. “On three! One, two three! Blow!”

***

“Say mama. Mama,” Elias said as he lay on his back on the couch and hat Margot sitting on his chest. “Mama. Mommy.”

“Dada.”

“No, no dada. Mmmmmmmaaaammmmmmaaaaa,” he emphasized. “Mama!”

“Dada!”

“MAMA!”

“DADA!”

“Elias!” Svea yelled from the kitchen. “You can’t force her words.”

Elias grumbled. “Mama,” he said, much quieter so Svea wouldn’t hear. “Mama.”

“DADA!”

***

“Gröt,” Svea cooed as she spooned some more oatmeal into a spoon. It was already all over Margot’s face and hands, Margot loving every spoonful. Her big blue eyes looked at the spoon excitedly. “This is gröt, Margot. Gröt.”

“Do we really want Margot’s first Swedish word to be oatmeal?” Elias laughed as he joined his girls at the table, setting his mug of coffee down and placing Svea’s tea beside her on the table.

“It’s at least a single syllable,” Svea mused. She looked back at Margot, who had just swallowed the spoonful of oatmeal and was pointing at Elias taking a sip of his coffee. “Gröt. Gröt!” Svea repeated. “Gröt!”

Margot pointed emphatically. “Fika!” she said suddenly. Svea’s and Elias’s jaws dropped. “Fika!”

Elias snorted from behind Svea. “Fika. Of course her first Swedish world would be fika.”

***

“If I’m going to go back to work – I mean, I am, it’s not a question – we need to find a good daycare,” Svea said, eyes focused on her laptop screen as Margot was napping.

“More important than the daycare, Svea, is if you’re ready,” Elias cautioned. “Are you ready to go back to work?”

Svea had thought about it a lot – she really did. Being at home with Margot was amazing, of course – it was the best thing ever, and she valued every millisecond – but she was ready to return to her career. It wasn’t that she had a duty or an obligation to, or that she was feeling forced or pressured or put it on herself to be a do-it-all working mother. She just…genuinely felt like it was the right thing to do for her. Svea never saw herself as a stay-at-home-mother, even though she and Elias had boatloads full of money and she was told by co-workers, well-meaning-but-ultimately-offensive-friends, and random people that she didn’t need to work. “I’m ready,” she nodded her head. “I know it’s not going to be the same as it was before, that I won’t be working as hard, but that doesn’t matter to me. I’ve already perfected my role. I’ve already won an election for my party. But I still…I still want to work.”

Elias nodded his head. He knew Svea meant every word. And who was he to say no? There was no way. He never held Svea back before, and he wasn’t going to start now. “Then let’s look at daycares.”

***

“Every daycare we’ve been to, I haven’t gotten the best feeling,” Svea admitted to Grace as she was over her house for coffee. Dukey and Margot were playing in their playpen in eyeshot as the women spoke about their lives. “And it’s not me being…me. I can’t picture Margot there. I just can’t. And it’s not me being picky either. We even brought her to our favourite place to see if she’d like it and she was wailing the entire time.”

Grace was nodding in understanding, but the second Svea mentioned picturing Margot in a daycare, the lightbulb went off in her brain. “Svea, why don’t I watch her every day?”

Svea was taken aback. “W—What?”

“What if I watched her? I’m already home with Dukey anyway. And you know Margot is comfortable here at the house, and she knows me. What if I watched her?”

Svea shook her head. “Grace, no. No. I couldn’t do that to you—”

“You’re not doing it to me if I’m offering,” Grace said. “You know how much I love kids. It would be so fun for me! And for Dukey! And you know how much the girls adore her so when they get home from school you know they’ll be all about it too. Will you promise me you’ll at least think about it?”

***

--- OFFICE OF THE PREMIER OFFICIAL PRESS RELEASE ---

The Office of the Premier would like to formally thank Mitchell Maloney for fulfilling his duties as the acting chief of staff for the past eighteen months. The office would like to formally announce that Maloney will be assigned the role of Deputy Communications Director, effective two weeks from today, as he transfers out of his position.

The Office of the Premier would like to formally welcome back Svea Pettersson from her maternity leave. Pettersson will continue to fulfill her duties as the Premier’s Chief of Staff moving forward.

***

“Oooooooooohhhhh fuuuuuuck, Elias,” Svea moaned, looking over her shoulder at Elias who had just slipped into her from behind. “Feels so good baby.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Svea nodded. “I love it when you fuck me from behind.”

She could hear Elias let out a low chuckle. He began moving in and out of her slowly, almost too slowly, because Svea groaned, and Elias watched as she grabbed at their bedsheets, making her knuckles white. “Fuck me, Elias.”

“What’s that, pretty girl?” he asked mischievously.

“Fuck me, Elias. Fuck me harder,” Svea begged.

Elias bent over, placing kisses along her shoulders before nestling his head in the crook of her neck so he could whisper in her ear. “I fucking love it when you beg.”

***

“Can you say bye-bye to Mama? Bye bye!” Grace cooed as she bent down to be at level with both Margot and Svea who was already bending down, having kissed her daughter for a solid two minutes, unable to leave just yet. “Say bye-bye!”

“Bye bye Margot! You be good for mommy!” Svea cooed, her voice cracking as she began waving her hand so Margot could mimic her. “Bye bye!”

“Bah-bah!” Margot clasped her hand open and closed. “Bah-bah!”

“Bye-bye!” Svea wiped a tear that had fallen from her eye. She stood up, and Grace followed, picking up Margot and balancing her on her hip. “Please call me if—”

“I will, I will,” Grace interrupted. “Please don’t worry. I’ve got it. Enjoy your first day at work knowing your daughter is safe and having fun.”

“I’m definitely gonna try…can’t guarantee it’ll happen,” Svea tried to joke.

***

“Go like this Margot! Like this!” Elias said as he was on his knees, clutching a mini-stick, trying to show Margot how to hit the ball into the little hockey net they purchased months ago, which inevitably became the one thing that helped Margot learn how to walk the most.

Margot watched intently as her dad gripped the mini stick and hit the ball into the net, fetching to get it before placing it in front of her. “Shoot! Shoot!” he encouraged, making a swooping motion with the stick.

Margot looked down at the ball, and in one swift movement, she brought her mini-stick down and hit it straight into the net. Elias went wild. He began screaming and clapping and raising his hands in the air, causing Margot to start screaming and clapping and raising her hands up in the air too. He swooped her up in his arms and gave her raspberry-style kisses, causing her to shriek and giggle loudly and controllably. “Margot wins the game! Margot wins the game!” he screamed in between kisses.

Svea could hear them from upstairs as she read over some work documents for tomorrow. She felt her heart swell with love.

***

“Who knew when we were twenty and lame that we’d be surrounded by this many girls,” Brock mused, cracking open a can of beer for Elias. Both men looked out onto Elias’s backyard to see Violet, Rose, Lily, Poppy, and Margot all playing together, blowing bubbles and trying to catch them without popping them. Margot was always unsuccessful, but she was having the time of her life.

Elias nodded his head. “We’re a pair of pretty lucky guys though,” he commented.

Brock nodded his head, looking at his four daughters. “The luckiest guys in the world.”

Later in the afternoon, when Margot had to go down for her nap, Elias was rocking her back and forth as she fell asleep on his shoulder. Rose was quiet as she stood with him in the room, keeping a watchful eye and making sure Svea was falling asleep. When Elias laid Margot down on the bed, Rose finally spoke. “Uncle Petey?”

“Yes Rosey?”

“Can Margot be my sister?”

Elias smiled. “I think she already is.”

***

“I’m actually gonna sob. She looks so cute,” Svea commented as Elias finished putting on Margot’s toddler skates. Margot was bundled up in a blue jacket with green tights, the colour of the Canucks, and her helmet was already placed securely on her head. “You excited, Margot?”

“Yaaa!” she squeaked out, smiling at her mom. “Skate!”

“Yes! We’re going skating!” Elias cooed, picking her up and placing her on his hip as he and Svea began their walk towards the ice.

Svea made sure to get her phone ready on video mode, knowing she’d been taking tons and tons of videos. Most of the Canucks and their families were already on the ice, but Margot had had a mini meltdown when the helmet was put on, which delayed them. Elias stepped onto the ice, keeping Margot on his hip as he skated around quickly, making her laugh hysterically. Eventually, he carefully set her down on the ice, crouching down slightly behind her. She began moving her feet as if she was walking, with Elias holding her hands above her head.

“Look at mommy Margot! Say hi to mommy!” Elias said as Svea followed them, skating backwards slowly, filming a video on her phone.

“Hiiiiiii!” Margot said, smiling through the wire. “Hiiiiii!”

“Hi baby! Look at you skating!” Svea cooed as she continued the video. “Look at you go!”

Margot squealed excitedly, looking back up at her dad who was smiling down at her as well. “Skate! Skate!”

***

“Let’s hope she knows how to blow this time and doesn’t fart again,” Brock commented as he helped Elias light the candles on Margot’s 2nd birthday cake.

“We’ll see,” Elias giggled. “We haven’t practiced.”

Brock carried the cake so Elias could be beside Margot and Svea. Everybody began singing happy birthday, and when he placed the cake in front of Margot, she clapped and wiggled excitedly. Once everyone finished singing, it was time to see. “Blow, Margot! Blow!” Grace called out.

She took a deep breath in. She looked like she was going to do it on her own. And then…

Fart noise.

Everybody burst out into hysterical laughter. “Two-for-two!” Brock screamed.

***

“Margot…Margot, look here,” Svea said as she balanced her on her knee, reading her a book since she’d requested it. “Look here,” she pointed at the words at the bottom of the page.

Margot reached her hands out and pulled the book closer to her eyes. Svea noticed her squinting until she brought the book really close to her face. She put her finger above her mom’s and pointed to the animal on the page. “Monkey!” she said.

Svea felt worry pool in the pit of her stomach. She pushed the book back to its original distance away from Margot and turned the page. “What’s this, Margot?” she asked again.

Margot reached out again to bring the book close to her eyes. “Monkey in tree!”

“Good job, baby,” Svea cooed, closely watching her daughter. Maybe she was overreacting. Maybe Margot was just tired. But Svea knew she was going to mention it to Elias when he got home. “You’re so smart, baby.”

***

They were pink, naturally, because Margot got to choose and she was all about anything pink. Elias was worried they would bother her, or she wouldn’t like them, or put up a giant fit once they were finally on and she realized she had to wear them all the time. He’d shed a tear or two about it, worried like any father would be. But Margot was taking to them surprisingly well.

“Look, Margot!” Margot’s optometrist smiled as she held up a mirror for Margot to see herself. “These are your new glasses! They’re for you!”

“PINK!” Margot exclaimed, swinging her feet excitedly as she saw herself in the mirror.

“Yes, they’re pink!”

Margot looked up at her dad; she was sitting on his lap, after all. Her giant smile with her little teeth caused him to smile too. “Pink, daddy!”

“What’s this, Margot?” the optometrist had already opened a book and held it open a way’s away from Margot. “What’s this right here?” she pointed to Big Bird on the page.

“Big Bird!”

***

Elias groaned as he finally slipped his hard cock into Svea. They had been spooning in bed for what felt like hours that morning, waking up well before Margot usually did. Elias could hear Svea groan at his length filling her up from behind, and she savoured the feeling of him peppering kisses on the backs of her shoulder blades. “Good morning, pretty girl,” Elias mumbled coarsely in her ear as he thrust in and out of her slowly.

“G’morning, baby,” Svea smiled. She felt Elias’s hand snake up from her hip to her breast, cupping it in his hand. “I could get used to waking up with your hard cock inside of me.”

“Mmm, be careful what you wish for, pretty girl.”

“I know exactly what I’m wishing for.”

Elias began moving his hips more, making sure he was getting exactly the right angle even though their movement were still slow and purposeful; when Svea began moaning, closing her eyes when they rolled to the back of her head, he knew what he was doing was exactly what she wanted and needed. “I love you so fucking much,” she mumbled out, putting her hand over his that was still cupping her breast.

“I love you too,” he placed a tender kiss on her neck. “Thank you for giving me everything I’ve ever needed.”

Svea smiled at that, biting down on her bottom lip. “The pleasure’s been all mine.”

***

On a beautiful, hot, and sunny afternoon in Ånge, Elias couldn’t help but smile as he watched his dad hold Margot as they swam in the pool together at his parents’ house. Margot was having the time of her life in the water – after the baby swimming classes Svea had signed her up for, Elias figured she’d be happy and in her element. His dad couldn’t get enough of being a grandpa to a little girl, and neither could his mom. They spoiled all of their grandchildren. Törbjörn had even bought Margot a little bucket hat with the Swedish flag on it to wear while they were in the pool.

“Gillar du att stänka vattnet?” his dad cooed as Margot splashed the water with her hands. “Tänk om jag gjorde det här?” he asked again, throwing her up in the air and catching her low enough so she could splash in the water. Margot shrieked in delight, and that was enough reason for Törbjörn to continue.

Elias laughed along with his daughter. She had the best grandpa.

***

“Look at all the pretty flowers Margot,” Svea said as she held Margot against her hip, watching Elias as he crowned her with a beautiful flower crown that Fanny helped him make.

“Woooowww,” Margot said, grabbing at it because she was so excited.

“Gentle!” Elias warned softly. He didn’t want it to break after Fanny worked so hard on it. “Be gentle, Margot,” he repeated as he made sure it was on snugly and properly before pulling his hands away.

“My flower! My crown!” she smiled. “Daddy, you have flowers too?”

Elias eyed Svea with a smirk on his face. Svea knew he’d already crumbled. All it took was that question from Margot. He hadn’t exactly planned on wearing a flower crown, but he knew exactly where this was headed now. “You want daddy to wear flowers too?”

Margot nodded her head enthusiastically. “Mommy, daddy, me match!”

What Margot wanted; Margot got.

***

“It would be the first picture we’ve posted of her since the Christmas card photos leaked,” Elias mused as he looked at the picture on his Instagram, almost, almost ready to hit the elusive ‘post’ button.

“We didn’t release those – they were posted without our consent,” Svea clarified. She was right. They had no control over that and were actually really upset about it. To this day, they still don’t know who did it. “This would be the first photo you post of her willingly.”

Elias looked over at his wife. “Do you think I should do it? It’s so fucking cute,” he looked back at his phone, admiring the picture one more time.

In it, Margot was in her pink fluffy bathrobe, her wet hair combed back, and she was sitting on Elias’s chest as they were in bed together. Elias was holding her, pursing his lips, and Margot was putting lip balm on his lips. A classic “girl dad” photo, he thought. And if he was going to send any message out into the world about his child and the relationship he had with her, it was going to be what was encapsulated in this picture.

Svea snuggled herself into Elias’s side, bringing her hand up and pressing ‘post’ for him. “There,” she said, smiling. “All done.”

***

“When she blows out the candles, she better fart again.”

“You’re gross.”

“She’s gotta go three-for-three, Petey, or else this party is a bust.”

“You have a boy – can’t you go make fart jokes with him?”

“I have a boy who has grown up with four older sisters. He isn’t exactly one for fart jokes.”

Elias shook his head at Brock, but he couldn’t help the smirk that grew on his face. “You finally get a boy after four girls and you can’t even make a fart joke with him,” he shook his head playfully. “Just your luck, eh?”

Brock shook his head. “I have five healthy, beautiful kids. I’ll take whatever I get.”

When Elias carried the cake in and Brock began recording on his phone, everybody began singing happy birthday to Margot – a happy, energetic but cautious, giggly but quiet, exactly-like-both-her-parents’-temperaments-it-was-kind-of-scary-three year old, who every day was looking more and more like Elias’s double. She adjusted her glasses as everyone sang to her, and clapped along too. When it was time to blow, she did.

No fart noises.

“Noooooooo!” Brock groaned loudly. Elias pretended like he was going to backslap him over the head. “No fart noise!”

“It was fun while it lasted,” Svea winked at him.

***

“Will they be in my class, mommy?” Margot asked as she looked into the classroom sheepishly, a little shy now that she was in a new environment. Elias and Svea had started to talk to her about school, and how – now that she was a big girl – she needed to start going to school to learn, just like how Violet, Rose, Lily, and Poppy went to school.

“Can I go to Poppy’s school?” she asked nervously one day.

Elias and Svea decided to take her there, knowing that it would make her feel more comfortable. Knowing that Violet, Rose, Lily, and Poppy went there too put her at ease. When they saw all the girls in the junior kindergarten class in their green plaid dresses, they could tell Margot recognized them from seeing them on the Boeser girls.

“These girls won’t be in your class, but new girls who are the same age as you will be,” Svea said. “Do you like that?”

Margot hesitated slightly before nodding her head. “I like new friends.”

***

“She is out cold,” Svea smiled as she lowered herself slowly and gently onto the couch, making sure not to disturb the peaceful image before her: Margot, after an exciting and fun day of shopping for her new school uniform, completely knocked out in Elias’s arms, sleeping soundly on his chest as he rubbed her back.

Svea cradled her body into Elias, too, snuggling up against him and admiring her daughter. From the blonde hair on her head, to her pink glasses on her face, to her cute little toes Elias still loved to pretend to eat, she was perfect. As Svea thought this, she felt Elias grab her hand between them and bring it up to his lips for a kiss, holding on to it as his thumb grazed over her skin. “We did alright in the end, didn’t we?”

Svea smiled and nodded her head. “We did.”

“She’s perfect. She’s just perfect,” he said, placing the lightest of kisses atop Margot’s head.

“I was just thinking the same thing,” Svea admitted.

Elias looked over at her, craning his head down to give his wife a kiss. “I love you more than I know how to explain. Thank you for giving me the light in my life.”

***

“Then all around from far away across the world, he smelled good things to eat, so he gave up being king of where the wild things are,” Elias read to Margot as they cuddled together in the rocking chair in her room. In her comfortable jammies and with her head on his chest, she was mouthing along to all the words of the book. Elias could see her get progressively more tired as he flipped through the pages, though she kept trying to mouth along and kept trying to keep her eyes open.

When they finished, Elias put the book on her bedside table as he cradled Margot in his arms and lay her down in bed, making sure to put the covers over her just how she liked. Still struggling to keep her eyes open, he brushed some hair out of her face. “Daddy?” she asked in her sweet voice.

“Yes baby?”

“I love you daddy.”

Elias smiled. “I love you too, Margot.”

“Will you read to me always?” she asked.

Elias nodded his head automatically. “Always.”

***

“Look at her go!” Grace exclaimed as she watched Margot zoom around the ice, chasing Poppy and Dukey around as they all giggled like maniacs. “I mean, who am I kidding? The daughter of Elias Pettersson? Of course she’s gonna skate like that!”

“She’s definitely a natural,” Svea smiled as her eyes followed her daughter around the ice. Brock and Elias both skated up behind their kids and scooped them up in their arms, giving them kisses before setting them back down on the ice together. “Do you ever think about how far we’ve all come…based on where we started when we met each other in our early twenties?”

“All the time,” Grace nodded. “We were so young! We were kids! Now there’s six kids between us!”

“A little skewed on your side, though,” Svea winked.

Grace elbowed her playfully. “We did good.”

***

“Margot! Margot!” Elias called out to his daughter who was already having fun with a new friend in her classroom as they played with a xylophone together. Other parents were in the room doing the exact same thing as he and Svea: making sure everything was okay on the first day of school. But the longer he and Svea stood there watching her, the more they realized she didn’t need them there; that she would thrive in the classroom and not have a meltdown about being in a new place.

To her credit, Margot listened when she heard her dad call her name and got up from her seat to hop over to her parents. “Mommy and daddy have to go now,” Elias said as he and Svea crouched down so they could by at eye-level with her. She nodded her head in understanding. “You listen to Mrs. Becker, okay?”

“I will.”

“Aunt Grace is going to come pick you up with Violet, Rose, Lily, and Poppy. Remember?” Svea asked.

“Yes mommy.”

“And remember—” Svea choked up slightly, Elias putting her hand over hers. “Mommy and daddy love you very much.”

“I love you too!” Margot said as she hugged her parents goodbye before skipping back to her friend and playing with the xylophone again.

Elias and Svea said goodbye to Mrs. Becker and held hands as they left the school building and walked back together to their car in the parking lot, silent the entire time. When Svea looked over at Elias once they were back in the privacy of their car, she could see tears streaming down his face. “Now you’re going to make me cry,” she said, wiping a few tears that had fallen.

“She’s so good. I’m so proud of her,” he said, wiping his own tears with the backs of his hands. “No meltdowns! Just walked right in there and started making friends. She’s so good.”

“Don’t jinx it – she might have a meltdown tomorrow,” Svea joked, trying to lighten the mood.

It garnered a smile out of Elias. He looked at his wife and placed his hand over hers tenderly. “I love you so much,” he mumbled, bringing her hand up to kiss it before cradling it against his chest, above his heart. All these years later, I’ve just grown to love you more, if that’s even possible.”

“I think it is, because I grew to love you more too,” Svea said softly. “My Elias. Always my Elias.

He kissed her hand again. “My moon, my stars, my Svea.”

192 notes · View notes