#of course he's also just wrong. he's not smarter than them. and the tower is not the highest point in the world.

[transmascutena]

the fact that he spends all his time grooming kids into believing they're mature enough to consent and then turns around to condescend to them about how young and stupid they are and how they actually don't understand anything makes my fucking blood boil. i need to kill him

[ibijau]

Sins of the father pt1 / On AO3 Wanting an alliance with the Yiling sect, Jin Guangshan arranges a marriage. One of the children Wei Wuxian had from his infamous harem of seducted women will marry his own grandson, Jin Ling, in exchange for a large sum of money. Of course Jin Ling is less than thrilled about it, and it seems neither is Wen Yuan, the strange and silent boy who now shares his life. Nobody in the history of the world has ever been more unlucky than Jin Ling. But there is more to his new husband than meet the eye, and if Jin Ling can figure out what secrets Wen Yuan holds, he might just have a shot at happiness.

The weather had started pretty good that morning, only to quickly degrade as time passed. It was nearly a full blown storm by the time the bride's sedan appeared down the road, with such rain and wind that would ruin everyone's clothes. Jin Ling took it as a bad omen. But of course, Jin Ling was in a mood where he would have found fault even with sunny weather. The blue skies were mocking his misery, he would have said. Still, it was very stormy, and that felt appropriate for the most mismatched wedding the world had ever seen. 

Naturally, Jin Guangshan was to blame. Jin Ling used to adore the man who spoiled him rotten, but in recent years he'd somewhat revised that opinion. At now fifteen, Jin Ling was starting to suspect that everything wrong with his sect could be traced back to his grandfather. It was an opinion he kept to himself. People were already quick to call him insolent, arrogant, or ungrateful, he didn't want to prove them right. Besides, grown-ups hated it when young people were smarter than them, and Jin Ling suspected many adults in his life hadn't yet realised what a problem their sect leader was. 

But really, it had been Jin Guangshan's idea, this wedding, as well as the alliance going with it. And he'd refused to listen to reason when anyone had pointed out the risks, which was one thing. But he'd also not paid any mind to his oldest grandson's very real emotions on the topic, which Jin Ling hadn't expected. He was the oldest grandson, the future heir. He'd thought his wishes would have more weight than that, but Jin Guangshan had been quick to put him back in his place, letting him know nobody cared about what he wanted.

And now Jin Ling was getting married, against his will. 

As the bride's sedan came closer, it became noticeable that people were accompanying it. Jin Ling squinted, trying to get a look at his future spouse's friends and relatives. Instead he saw nothing but a dozen corpses, some half rotten, others as fresh as if they'd just died, which had to be worse. There was only one living person visible, a gaunt man wearing dark robes who walked in front of the rest. Even without ever meeting him, Jin Ling knew this had to be Wei Wuxian, the Yiling Patriarch, the entire reason for this whole stupid wedding. 

At last, the bridal sedan arrived in front of Carp Tower's gates. The sedan's door opened and Jin Ling got a first peek at his bride, a slender figure dressed in red, whose head was covered by an opaque veil of the same colour. When that person stepped out, Jin Ling wondered if there had been a change of plan, if Wei Wuxian had found a daughter of his own after all, one he was willing to sacrifice for Jin money. There was no way this small, frail figure belonged to the boy of seventeen whom the Jin sect had bought. This bride was shorter than Jin Ling, and more slender too, when already Jin Ling was at that difficult stage of growth when his entire body seemed made of bones with no flesh attached. A girl would be a better deal, of course, as she could give the Jin sect an heir. But she'd be in more danger with some of her in-laws, especially if she had the misfortune of being the least bit pretty. 

But no, this had to be a boy. There was a very flat chest as a first hint, and then the hands peeking out of the sleeves, the only visible part of this newcomer, looked too big and rough for a girl. This really had to be Wen Yuan, the bastard son to whom Wei Wuxian hadn't deigned to give his own name. 

Jin Zixuan nudged his son, and Jin Ling stepped forward to offer his hand to his bride. This earned him a glare for Wei Wuxian, as if somehow Jin Ling was at fault for this situation, as if it weren't Wei Wuxian himself who had sold them his own child. Wen Yuan did not move. Perhaps the veil was too thick, and he couldn't see Jin Ling's hand. Or else he saw it, and just didn't want to take it, to make Jin Ling look foolish. 

“We welcome you here,” Jin Ling said, sounding awkward to his own ears. “We hope… we hope our preparations for this joyful day will satisfy you.”

Wei Wuxian's glare intensified, seizing Jin Ling with terror he couldn't control. It wasn't just him, either. Behind him, the adults were shifting uncomfortably. Even Jin Ling's mother looked ready to jump in, as if she didn't quite trust her childhood friend after all. 

“I will take the money before I give you the boy,” Wei Wuxian announced. 

Jin Guangshan stepped closer, although he did not dare approach as much as Jin Ling had. 

“We have it, of course. But surely such matters can wait until after the ceremony? We have prepared a banquet that you will surely…”

“I will have the money now,” Wei Wuxian cut him, his expression darker still. “And I will not step inside Carp Tower, not unless my people can follow me there.” 

Saying this, he gestured at the corpses which had now gathered behind him in two neat rows, like an army following its commander. 

“Someone go get the chest,” Jin Guangshan ordered. “Guangyao ! Hurry!” 

Jin Guangyao rushed away, and the wait began, made uncomfortable by the rain and the wind. Even with his pretty good cultivation, Jin Ling was starting to feel cold, and he knew he couldn't be the only one. His mother had to be miserable, and his younger siblings too. It gave Jin Ling some twisted joy to notice that Wen Yuan was shivering too, suffering as well from the capricious whims of his father, but that was short lived. Wei Wuxian himself appeared untouched by the dreadful weather, still standing tall and proud to glare at everyone, never noticing the discomfort of his own child. But then again, what more could be expected of a father so willing to sell his son? 

At last Jin Guangyao returned, carrying a small chest Jin Ling knew to be filled with gold. The price of Wen Yuan's life, of Jin Ling's own ruined future. Wei Wuxian opened the chest to check its content, something Jin Ling found unspeakably rude, while knowing his grandfather would have done the same had the positions been reversed. When he was satisfied with what he'd counted, Wei Wuxian handed the chest to one of his corpse soldiers. He then turned to Jin Ling, his expression severe. 

“If anything happens to my son, I will make your family wish you were never born,” Wei Wuxian warned. “And I'll make you watch everything I do to them, until there's nothing left of this sect but ashes. This is my son, and your treatment of him will be taken as a reflection of your respect for me. Am I clear?” 

Jin Ling quickly nodded, so nervous he could hardly breathe. Wei Wuxian turned his cold eyes to Jin Guangshan. 

“The same goes for you, and for that son of yours.”

While Jin Guangshan swore that Wen Yuan would be treated well, Jin Ling wondered why Wei Wuxian was worried his father of all people would do anything bad. It was fair to be wary of Jin Ling himself, who as a husband could easily mistreat his new bride if he wished, although he'd been raised better than that. And as for Jin Guangshan… The less said, the better. But Jin Zixuan ? He was universally well liked, and well respected, with a reputation for kindness. Why would Wei Wuxian think his son would be the exception to Jin Zixuan's kind disposition? Was Jin Ling's new bride so unlikeable that even his father might get irritated? 

While Jin Ling worried, Wei Wuxian took his son in his arms and hugged him tight. It would have seemed like a sincerely affectionate goodbye, had Jin Ling not known how much money his father-in-law was earning from this.

“Don't forget what I've taught you,” Wei Wuxian ordered Wen Yuan, his voice wavering. “Let me know immediately if anything is wrong. I meant it, I won't let anyone hurt you.” 

Wen Yuan nodded, but said nothing. And yet when Jin Ling was finally allowed to take his bride's hand to guide him inside Carp Tower, he found the older boy's fingers were icy and shaking from emotions he couldn't hide. 

Wei Wuxian watched as the entire Jin sect followed the young couple, all of them in a hurry to put distance between him and them. Glancing back, Jin Ling saw his mother linger a moment, hesitating to approach the man who had once been a boy she knew, before her husband lead her away so she wouldn't miss any part of her son's wedding. 

-

It felt wrong to get married to someone who didn't have a single person representing their family, nor a single friend. Wen Yuan might as well have been a ghost… But no, even a ghost wedding would have had relatives present, someone, anyone. 

Jin Ling knew he ought to have felt sorry for his bride, but he was too busy being humiliated that this was the spouse his grandfather had found him, someone so unwanted and isolated. Everyone his age was going to mock him and say even all of the Jin money wasn't enough to find him a decent spouse when Jin Ling's personality was so difficult. 

But the worst was yet to come. 

After every usual ceremony, Jin Ling and Wen Yuan were sent to the house they would now occupy as a married couple. It was another thing that upset Jin Ling about the whole business, being made to leave his old room to move too far away from his parents and siblings to see them as easily as he used to. He hadn't even had a choice in the decoration, so everything looked showy, the way his grandfather preferred. 

Once the door closed behind them and they were alone for the first time, Wen Yuan pulled on his veil to remove it. Jin Ling didn't have time to be disappointed he couldn't do that himself. Instead, he was faced with the greatest shock of the day, the final humiliation this marriage had to throw his way.

“Oh damn, you're ugly!” Jin Ling exclaimed. 

Wen Yuan's cold eyes turned to him, his face impassive. Maybe it didn't hurt him because he knew he was ugly. There was no way he didn't know, actually. But really, there was nothing appealing about him. He was skinny, even more so than Jin Ling had suspected. This was not the elegant slenderness of a talented cultivator, either. Instead, Wen Yuan looked as famished as a peasant after a decade of bad harvests. He was also deathly pale, making for a harsh contrast when his cold eyes were surrounded by dark circles. There had been an attempt to tie his hair elegantly, but the result was messy, his hair in such a bad condition that it couldn't hold in place. 

People said Wei Wuxian had been a handsome youth, comparable to the twin jades of Gusu Lan, and even to Jin Ling's own father. Apparently, his son had inherited none of that charm. It made Jin Ling want to cry from humiliation. They'd bought him a bride, such an expensive one, too, and this was all his family could find for him. Jin Chan and the rest of his cousins were going to laugh at him for the rest of his life. 

Jin Ling's existence was ruined for ever. 

Still, that poor half dead boy in front of him wasn't to blame. They'd both been treated like pawns by the adults around them, but maybe they could make the best of this. Ugly as he was, Wen Yuan might at least be clever, or kind, or funny, or anything at all, as long as it didn't bring Jin Ling even more shame. 

“Sorry, I was rude,” Jin Ling said. “I just didn't expect… Nevermind that. Do you want to eat?”

He gestured at the food which had been laid out for them before they even arrived, selected from the banquet his grandfather and his guests were having in the main hall. Every dish was more elaborate than the last, except for a pot of simple lotus root soup. Normally Jin Ling loved it, but everything was so awful that day, even the sight of that soup felt embarrassing. His mother was the wife of the future sect leader, she should behave like it. Now Wen Yuan was going to think this soup was among the best they could offer, and… And it was! No dish in the world could beat it, but it was just a simple soup, it had no place at a wedding banquet… But Jin Ling loved it, and his mother had made it because she loved him, and… 

“Come on, let's sit and eat,” Jin Ling grumbled. “You must be hungry.” 

He went to sit at the table. Wen Yuan hesitantly followed him, glaring at the dishes as if one of them might bite him. Maybe he really was scared, in fact, because he just sat there and didn't move to take anything. 

“You can have anything you like,” Jin Ling insisted, demonstrating by putting some food on his own plate. “All of this is for us. Or do you want to drink, first? There‘s wine here, but I can ask for water or tea if you'd prefer.”

Wen Yuan said nothing, and still didn't move. Maybe he was one of Wei Wuxian's fierce corpses, Jin Ling wondered, before quickly dismissing the idea. There were arrays in place around Carp Tower, a fierce corpse couldn't have gone in without notice. His new bride was alive. Rude, unpleasant, ugly, but alive.

“If you don't eat meat, that dish is vegetarian,” Jin Ling offered. “That one too, I think. And there's fried rice here, I don't think that has meat. Just eat something, alright?” 

Still silent, Wen Yuan watched him like a hawk. Maybe he was deaf. Maybe he was stupid? Maybe he'd grown up surrounded only by walking corpses, never getting a chance to develop social skills or learn any manners. 

Maybe… 

Maybe Jin Ling was too angry to care anymore. He'd done his best to be welcoming, he'd done his duty as a new husband, what more was he supposed to do? If Wen Yuan didn't want to eat, he could starve for all Jin Ling cared. But as for Jin Ling himself, he started scarfing down food, because he hadn't had anything since dawn anyway. 

Almost immediately, Wen Yuan served himself some of the same dishes Jin Ling was eating, and started his meal. He ate only small pieces, and very slowly at that, as if the richest foods the Jin sect could offer didn't quite satisfy him. Or maybe he feared poison, Jin Ling realised when he tried other foods, only for his new husband to try them after him, never eating anything that Jin Ling hadn't tasted first. As if they'd be stupid enough to hurt Wen Yuan, when it might start a conflict with Wei Wuxian. 

When they were done eating, Jin Ling had servants take away the leftovers. He made sure to stand near his new bride until they left, and to smile as if the situation were a pleasing one. He didn't want to give his grandfather any reason to be displeased with him, on top of everything else. 

Alone again with his husband, Jin Ling ought to have chatted with him. A wedding night was a good occasion to get to know one's spouse after all. But Wen Yuan hadn't said a single word so far, and Jin Ling doubted it was about to change. So although it was still early in the day, Jin Ling showed Wen Yuan his bedroom. Jin Guangshan, with his views of marital fidelity, had agreed the newlyweds should be allowed separate rooms. A small kindness, easily granted when he had no grandchildren to expect from that union. Wen Yuan did not look surprised to have his own space, nor pleased, nor even upset. His indifference appeared limitless. Without even thanking Jin Ling or wishing him good night, Wen Yuan entered the room and promptly closed the door behind him. 

This had to be the worst wedding in history, Jin Ling miserably thought as he walked to his own room. A fitting prelude for what was sure to be the most miserable marriage ever, worse even than that of his grandparents, who hadn't spoken to each other in five years at that point. It was just so unfair, and Jin Ling wanted to die, so everyone would miss him and regret that they'd forced him to marry that corpse-like boy. Or maybe he run away to Yunmeng and ask his uncle to adopt him and then someone else could get his husband. Jin Chan, maybe. They'd make a fitting couple, both of them unpleasant to look at, and even worse to be around. 

Or else, or else… 

Jin Ling fell asleep like that, imagining elaborate scenarios that freed him from this nightmare, quite certain that he was the most unfortunate person who had ever lived.

[the-white-soul]

Flowey: This doesn't help convince Chara some humans are good! No one here should be getting stabbed. Not Chara or Kara or even Dess!

*Flowey wraps his vines around the wound tightly as they're on the way to get help.* Dess, you live in this world. Do you know the closest place to get medical help? If not we could help Kara ourselves, but this is bad. *Flowey does some magic healing, which does wonders for HP, but little for physical injuries like these.*

Actually, don't know if anyone will take us in... Not after the whole scene I made. I still think that was the right thing to do but still.... They'll remember all our faces. Let's just go to Toriel's house, quickly. I'm sure she'll have some bandages and dressings. Then you can lay down.

(Dess) "Don't worry, I'll get the monster ambulance. Wait, you're not a monster, s***." (Kara) "It's fine. Put the cloth on, and it'll heal itself in time." (Dess) "If that's how your world works." *Dess puts it on his arm, luckily his left arm. They're a right-handed kid.* (Kara) "I can only become a monster with a monster soul and usually are stable for around an hour. Suffice it to say I'm not killing to fix my wound." They look at each other and laugh. (Dess) "Thanks for saying I shouldn't get stabbed, Flowey. That means something to you. Also, can me and Kara be alone for a second? Everyone else went away, but not too far. Kara, it's no secret that you and I should settle our relationship." (Kara) "They nod. I can't in good conscience be with you. I tortured you for a while. I have a seeking feeling you'll always be afraid of me." (Dess) "That's fine. My sister was afraid of everything." (Kara) "Look where that got us." (Dess) "She looked at a clock tower and laughed to herself. You know this was the same time I left your universe. 7 pm. Okay, what's another reason for you not being with me? Noelle wouldn't care and would probably be happy." (Kara) "Flowey has shown me what a good friend should be. Kind, supporting, loving, and kind. You and I both know how mean you can get." (Dess) "So can you! Plus, why do you care so much about that Flower? He seems to be the one mean to you." (Kara) "You take that back! Flowey is my best friend and a much better friend than anyone I've ever been with besides maybe Noelle. You don't get to say he's wrong. Do you think he's mean to me?" (Dess) "Well, yes, of course he is. He's always so condescending." (Kara) "You're one to talk. I might not like Toriel as much as others, but I'm not at your level of rudeness. I can't be a girlfriend to someone like that." (Dess) "Hypocrate." (Kara) "I'm just saying it now. I'm not even sure if we should be friends. I wish your Dad disapproved of us. Your Mom was smarter than you'll ever be." (Dess) "Don't leave me. I have no one left to love like you!" (Kara) "Well, I'm very sorry, FOR THE INCONVINCE OF ME NOT GIVING A FUCK!!!" (John) "Um, we heard some of that." (Kara) "You did?" (John) "Replace some with all, and you've got it." (Kara) "Slaps their head. Alright, fine. Say what you need to say, and then we can say about Chara." Meanwhile

(Chara) "That's good. I never want to have someone betray me again. Want to know a secret? I'm the Flowey from Clover's dimension. Yep, that was me! I even made one of the monsters impossible to pass without killing them, forcing them into a neutral run. I'm the reason Clover destroyed an entire civilization. And I'd do it all over again if it'd get me a different outcome."

[onestepbackwards]

So Ingo be CHUGGING that juice.

Can I ask how much Emmet drinks?

(Can he handle the friend zone in yandere mode?)

Emmet drinks a LOT of respect juice. Despite how clingy and touchy he is, he is fully aware of people around them, and what their boundaries are.

Yandere Emmet though, it kinda depends. How long has he been pining for you? Talked to you? Been in your presence? I like to imagine the longer he waits, the harder it is to keep his distance. However, much like Ingo, if he is with you often, you probably won't see too many yandere tendencies. Though it's a lot harder to handle his physical reactions to things than Ingo. Not even with sexy stuff either. If he's upset someone is talking to you, his face quickly turns into glare. His body language changes into a threatening one. He towers over you from behind, staring down his opposition. His grin is still in place, but his eyes promise pain. If you turn back to him, his posture and expression change in an instant. To whoever he was glaring at, the shift gives them whiplash. He also wants hugs. Often. If you don't like being touched, he will always ask. He won't hug you if you don't want him to, but expect to be asked for a hug at least once a day. If you are fine with him hugging and touching you, he will be attached to you all the time. He'll constantly hand onto an arm, or be holding your hand. He also will wrap an arm around your shoulder often. You two are best friends! Why wouldn't he? Especially in public, he practically has your hand in an iron grasp. You don't mind, of course. Plus, having your friend hold your hand keeps unwanted advances away! Being yandere though, he is also a lot more... Bold than Ingo. He would be more willing to go into dubious territory. Watches you sleep, touches you while sleeping, stealing things like underwear... He'd toe the line a lot more than Ingo, but he's also more confident about it. He'd be a lot harder to catch too. If you don't live together, he will break into your house if you didn't already give him a key as well. Though he is so friendly, and over all the time anyway, you may as well give him one! Though if you two are roommates, well, that just makes things easier. Besides! Being roommates is the smarter option anyway! Less money to pay for taxes/rent! One of his favorite things to do is kiss you when you are sleeping. He knows he shouldn't, and you would be upset, but he can't help himself! If he can't be romantic with you when you are awake, he'll take what he can get. He doesn't do much. He kisses you gently on the lips, pretending you are awake. He also loves kissing your face, peppering you with kisses. He's very careful about it. Waking up to him kissing you wouldn't be ideal, after all. He also takes pictures while you sleep. A lot of pictures. He uses them for later. If he can't be intimate, then he can at least fantasize about you. Sometimes he'll even move you around, and pose you. He knows this is really wrong, but he can't help it! He wants you so bad, but doesn't want your friendship to end! So if he can't have you, or at least change your mind, well... He has a stash he can work with.

[sometimesoliloquy]

The Handmaid’s Tale 5x09 “Allegiance”(or “Are We There Yet?”👀

 Ok, first of all I would like to know who the heck butchered the closed captions in this episode, I usually keep them on for clarity but this time it was just confusingly distracting; there were so many wrong word usages I thought I was reading Twilight. Secondly, I would like to know who butchered Nick's beautiful hair, and can I have a word with his barber. Thirdly, I would like to know how they plan to try and wrap up all these season 5 storylines (gently guided towards The Testaments) in less than an hour, especially when they've spent like 60% of the season solely on Luke making sad and/or annoyed faces.

Mark Tuello is giving June and Luke a briefing of the Hannah rescue mission as they walk through a military airplane hangar. He introduces them to Commander (yeah I did a double take at that, too) Elijah Vance, who is so alarmingly attractive that for a second I wonder if they've decided to add a third love interest for June and make it a lop-sided pentagram(?). But then he tells June that he's going to bring back Hannah and return to his own daughter, with a reassuring nod of his very attractive head, so of course we immediately know he's definitely not going to make it. June once again bullies Mark into something he probably definitely should not be doing, demanding he let her and Luke watch the live feed of the raid, which I would assume is supposed to be super high level clearance (Mark is such a softie, he just can't say no! At least not to blondes).

Serena is having Mommy & Me glamour shots taken for the fertility center, under the strict direction of a slightly manic Mrs. Wheeler (is it just me or is she getting more and more unhinged?), who is feeling very bossy today in her big-girl pants. Alanis ixnay's Serena's plan to be at the grand opening with baby Noah. She is not worried about Gilead Commanders, but she is worried about germs. And breastfeeding. She wants "her smart boy" to go back on the bottle so as not to bond too much with the handmaid because he surely must miss it. Serena towers over Mrs. W about to strike back, but then remembers who is wearing the (very small) pants and utilizes June's advice. The passive-aggression in this scene alone could fuel a month of PTA  meetings. Back at Commander Lawrence's, Aunt Lydia's new matchmaking service is now in full swing. Well, I guess it's not new, just expanded from matchmaking sex slaves handmaids with rapists commanders, to now matching fresh widows with their husbands' killers. Lawrence is panicking because Naomi is 2 minutes late (he would hate me), but finally she arrives for her audience with the king commander, for some reason seeming a bit apprehensive (no idea why). She goes very quickly from begging not to be booted off to the colonies, to humbly lobbying for just a nice little condo for her and little Charlotte, but Lawrence is "not her realtor,” goddamnit, I mean doesn't Naomi know a romantic and heartfelt marriage proposal when she hears one? Luckily, Yenta Lydia is there to help translate, and Naomi says what we're all thinking "this is a marriage proposal??" Yep.yep! Done being the most awkward we’ve ever seen him (for now), Jlaw tells her to mull it over and excuses himself for "work". Lydia counsels her to overlook the small silly little matter of her prospective fiance having had her husband shot in the head in the middle of brunch like a week ago, and she warily says she'll think about it. Lawrence eavesdrops and I can't really tell if he's hoping she'll say yes, or praying to whatever esoteric god of economics he believes in that she'll say no. It's nighttime at the Wheelers, and Serena's putting a bottle for Noah in the fridge, when she gets an idea. Taking a page straight from June’s Handmaid playbook, she decides to pay Mr. Wheeler a little visit in his office to try and get him on her side (if Mom says no, ask Daddy, amirite?). Unfortunately for her he's a bit smarter than Fred (and also still pretty pissed she played him and shot his driver), and he sees right through her buttering up. He's a practical man, though, and being a businessman as well (I guess, I actually have no idea what he really does besides Gilead cosplay, does anyone?), he also appreciates a good sales pitch. He says he'll consider her proposal to play God's fertile vessel messenger or whatever at the center's opening reception and promptly dismisses her with his eyes. Serena says "praise be" but Mr. Wheeler did not graduate from Gilead commander college, so he just responds with a super enthused "oh yeah”, and Serena leaves, satisfied with her small victory (over her small oppressor).  June and Luke arrive at the command center to watch the live feed of the raid. Mark directs them to the screen showing a birds' eye view of "all the activity at Hannah's school" and June stares in awe at being the closest she's been to Hannah since the glass box incident, and the closest she's been to getting her back, ever. As she's drawn closer to the screen and emotionally whispers out to Hannah, we hear girls' collective bedtime prayers fade in and cut to Hannah standing in the prayer circle with her classmates. As the camera zooms out we get a glimpse of their dorm (I guess, for lack of a better word?). It actually  reminded me a lot of the red center except instead of rows of cots they have cute & cozy little white lace-curtained glamping tents arranged in a circle. At least they would be super cute and cozy if they weren't basically transparent, merely offering the deceptive suggestion of privacy. And, you know, if the whole concept weren't so damn creepy. Inside her preteen bride glamping tent, Hannah appears to say her own silent prayer, and then looks cautiously over to the Aunt on duty before opening her picture-bible (since no words, and stuff). She turns the pages from--interestingly--the story of NOAH and the ark (hmm) to the Tower of Babel and Abraham sacrificing Isaac... She finally turns to a blank page and I start thinking "Omg is she going to write something??" and I'm getting all excited but then she pulls out a drawing of flowers in a spiral pattern (which brings to mind “precious flowers” in The Testaments) and I'm like oh she's just drawing, that's cool too, and I mean she obviously likes gardening so I guess she likes flowers, and wait, is drawing forbidden too, is that not considered a "wifely" art or is it too close to writing since technically you're using an implement also used for writing and I'm so wrapped up in these thoughts that I almost miss when she actually does pick up a pencil and smiles wistfully as she WRITES(!!) "HANNAH", signing her name (her REAL NAME, AHHH) at the bottom of the drawing. At this point I have so many questions, but I'm also crying too hard to concentrate on any of them. This is all intercut with June's rapt tear-filled eyes glued to the screen and the sound of the pilots' transmission... when all of a sudden alarms sound, the signal is lost, and the civilians are kicked out of the war room. Tuello eventually emerges into the hallway and tells them the girls are safe... but still at the school (so short-term safe anyway I guess). Gilead had anticipated the raid and all three planes were shot down by their anti-aircraft systems, no survivors (RIP, hot good-guy commander, tragically we barely knew thee!). Cut to June's devastated face.

Back on her porch, June's phone rings and it's Lawrence, who she does not sound very pleased to hear from. He protests that he "was trying to avoid all this bloodshed" and some other Gilead nonsense, and FUCK, of course it was a Jlaw set-up!! So he sent the video of Hannah, I have to think it was his" insurance policy" to get June to New Bethlehem. If she she somehow didn't turn it over to Tuello, he would know he had her hooked on relocating; if she did and the Americans used the metadata to plan something (as they  did), he would be ready and make sure it failed (as he did), and there he would be to again offer her NB (as he does), as her last and only resort to be close to Hannah. He sweetens the pot by "dangling Nick in front of her" and while she's super pissed that he's also now trying to use Nick and her feelings for him to manipulate her, she seems to actually be considering it for a second. Until he reveals that there's another catch now: he wants her to denounce the American military action to feed the Gilead propaganda machine. And THAT is a deal breaker. She calls him out on being "one of them" despite knowing better and when he does the "blah blah I'm making it better for Eleanor blah blah" thing, June verbally nut punches him in the heart saying that Eleanor hated him and was so ashamed she'd rather die and she watched her die and oh man I never thought we'd see this confession out of her to be honest, and it is intense! Lawrence is crying and honestly it's hard not to feel a little bad for him here even though it's pretty much the truth and I think deep down he knew it too (I mean I'm pretty sure we literally saw Eleanor tell him she hated him and try to shoot him). Then he says that Eleanor still would have wanted him to help June and Hannah (which is true) but he means he's gonna "help" by bringing June to New Bethlehem, not by actually doing the right thing (like Eleanor would have actually wanted), so it's pretty clear he's really just still trying to use her for his greater plan. She makes one last tearful attempt to beg him, in vain, and then tells him he can go fuck himself, and herself proceeds to fuck up her garden in an anguished fury. Luke comes running out of the house and human-straitjackets her and I assume he's trying to be helpful and calm her down but it was painful to watch June physically restrained and begging to be let go. I also suspect her "please let me go" has a deeper meaning, but I've been thinking along those same lines for multiple seasons without fruition so who knows. Just as Serena is about to once again escape the Wheeler house for her big fertility debut, Mrs. Wheeler comes stomping out in her new Reformation dress and promptly bitchslaps her, twice. Did Serena turn the other cheek? Maybe, but only because she didn’t have a choice. I have to admit I burst out laughing here because honestly, compared to all the misdirected abuse she perpetrated on June and Rita, I think she got off light here, and I'm not above a little schadenfreude. Mrs. W is super pissed that Serena went behind her back to get Mr. W's permission, and even more pissed that this slut sluttily snuck into Mr. Wheeler's study after hours! She indignantly demands to know just who Serena thinks she is, and uh, duh she thinks she’s June, obviously. Mrs. W is now coming with (GET IN, BTCH, we're going Gileading), and this is gonna be a fun field trip.

(well well well, how the turn tables) June goes to see Mark, who is looking very defeated and I do feel very bad for him, Mark needs a win, FFS! She tells him about Jlaw and that she is DONE with that son of a bitch. She's itching to keep fighting and wants to know what's next. Mark asks "what about Nick Blaine"? OH, she’ll never be done with Nick Blaine, sir! NEVER. Sorry, where was I? Oh right. Mark informs her about the offer he proposed to Nick. She's startled, and initially looks maybe concerned at the risks of Nick spying in Gilead, but when Mark tells her that Nick could come to Canada (eventually), could get immunity, the wheels start turning, and an impossible spark of hope lights her eyes. This is clearly something she never thought could happen, and the possibilities it brings up are quite seductive. Mark is all of me when he says “maybe you could persuade him” (GODDAMNIT JUNE, DO WHATEVER IT TAKES, WOMAN). He notes that Nick (an Eye and a Commander) defecting could have a big impact. He adds that June could too, if she were to put her power to use, but she says she doesn't feel comfortable doing that "right now" (same wording as Nick, twinning!). I have to think she's afraid that being more public could possibly put Hannah or Nichole, or both, in danger. She tells Mark to set up the meeting with Nick, and determinedly marches off to kick her boo's butt for turning down that ticket to Canada.

(Ok but what about now... How bout now... Now?)

At the Gilead "fertility center", Serena is holding court to a gaggle of impressionable, baby-hungry women and espousing the wonders of Gilead fertility. "There was a lot of heartache and disappointment" is an interesting euphemism for "we committed treason, mass genocide and then enslaved all the remaining women to either make them human incubators or our unpaid domestic help", but alright. Really, she swears though, it's the clean air and prayer. Also on display is a propaganda poster of a woman with perfect golden locks of fanned out hair, smiling beatifically at her plump new baby, because motherhood is very glamorous (said no mother ever). "Smiling" through her teeth, Mrs. Wheeler summons Serena to send her home, without Noah, and tomorrow “I’ll bring Noah by myself".  Ok, Alanis, yesterday you didn't  want him exposed to all those germs, but I guess you've forgotten this. But the little guy has to be fed first and uh oh, Serena didn't pack a bottle. The sweet nanny (martha?) jumps in to take the blame (oh NO, girl, she doesn't deserve this kindness from you!). Mrs. W wants Serena to be snappy about it, but Mr. W suggests it's up to bb Noah and is then quickly reminded of who wears the pants, even though he is currently literally wearing the pants, as Mrs. W shoots him a look that instantly withers his testicles. As Serena walks to the back for a private place to nurse, we see the wheels turn in that scheming head of hers. At Serena's request, kind nanny leaves her alone, and now I am very worried for kind nanny's health and safety and I wish they had given her a name because I feel weird just calling her "kind nanny". But anyway, I hope she doesn't get punished for Serena's scheming, because as soon as the door closes Serena is out the back exit and running headlong into traffic with her precious miracle child. After nearly getting run over (she turns to try and shield baby Noah though so I guess her motherly instincts are kicking in), she begs the driver to help her and the very startled purple-haired woman tells her to get in. Looks like this Thelma has found herself a new Louise! It does strike me as yet more irony that this is a person Serena likely would have turned her nose up at in the "before" as a sinful, slutty woman, just because of her appearance. June pulls up to her and Nick's "special place" at the old Mary Magdalena school, and damn it looks so different, all green and teeming with foliage and birds chirping; it's really a beautiful setting. I half expect a bird to land on June’s hand while she sings to it. Nick is sitting at the top of the stairs smoking (aw, just like old times) as she approaches. He wishes she'd said yes, taking her (and me!) aback. "To Lawrence's offer?' (yeah wtf, seriously, Nick?). She counters, demanding to know why he said no to Tuello's offer. She's pissed, and he's defensive, and they argue about which one of them is going to move in this long distance relationship. And then Nick drops the bombshell: Rose is pregnant, which suddenly silences June. She struggles with a complex mixture of emotions, from the gut punch that this revelation is to her heart, to relief that he won't have to navigate the handmaid issue, and finally seems to come to the realization and acceptance of what that means; that he will not be coming to Canada and (at least for now) is tied down to Gilead. Though he's still reacting a bit defensively about "doing what's best for his family", the gentle and simple understanding she shows quickly brings down his guard (as if he could ever keep that up with her!) and he approaches (as if they could ever keep that much physical distance from each other!). They contemplate the mess of it all and look at each other with major heart eyes. Nick inevitably glances down at her lips and in my head I start singing "Kiss the Girl" from the Little Mermaid but goddamnit no luck. Nick sighs emotionally and asks her to tell Nicole she loves her and thinks about her all the time (stop, I'm sobbing). He's looking down like it's too hard to look at her, and saying he should go like he really doesn't want to, and June disarms him again with a small joke. They go all googly-eyed again and say "I love you" to each other in the most heartbreakingly matter-of-fact way (I'm sobbing even harder now). He takes a breath and leans in juust a hair (yes! sha-la-la-la kiss de girl!)...and then maddeningly veers at the last second, leaving June breathless and me like the wailing face emoji. I guess I get it though. It's like if he allowed himself to give in to the smallest touch his resolve would crumble and he'd never be able to tear himself away. STILL EFFING HEARTBREAKING, though. "Hey Nick" she calls softly, still flustered but calm and smiling warmly. "Children look up to their fathers. Set an example" (yes, you realign that Blaine moral compass, girl!). He looks at her thoughtfully, and walks away (nooo). I wonder if he's thinking also of Nichole again (and not just the child he plans on being able to raise) and being internally devastated again (ok, jesus, can I please stop crying yet?). June does that thing she does a lot recently after talking to Nick where she's breathless and crying and smiling and heartbroken and happy all at the same time. It's a detail I love about these two: the way they have specific little body languages that are exclusive only to being around each other

(I’m sorry, can we just look at these heart-eyes again?)

Later on, a super lively engagement party is going on at Lawrence's lair of darkness house (christ, these people could really use a good drinking game or something to get things going, maybe charades?). While the menfolk are busy talking politics and drinking and other things unbecoming of a lady, the women gather in the sitting room and Mrs. McKenzie fawns over a pregnant Rose, telling her how much joy her own (stolen) child has brought to her life. Mrs. Calhoun, meanwhile, is a real negative nancy: mean-girling first Aunt Lydia (she can't sit with us!), and then poor Rose, saying some super shitty things about "being concerned about the baby", "considering". Ok, bitch, you stole your baby from a poor brain dead girl you kept "alive" as an incubator, but please, go on. In Lawrence's office, under the fire-lit glow of a beautiful vagina flower painting (no irony deficiency here!), McKenzie, Calhoun and new beardy commander who I guess is kind of important congratulate themselves on their dick swinging military victory and brag about the fun new friends they’re making, like Russia, China and North Korea. Jlaw makes an "Any club that would have me as a member..." reference, but only Nick seems to appreciate the joke. MacKenzie again talks about "taking care of June Osborne" (but like why is he so obsessed with her tho) and Nick and Lawrence have to try and hide their uncomfortable expressions, AGAIN. Having sufficiently bro'ed out, the men join the wives and Nick is a good attentive husband while Jlaw and Naomi stare at each other like they'd rather be anywhere else (I change my mind, send me to the colonies!). MacKenzie toasts Jlaw as "one of us"(yikes). Nick raises his glass but his expression is  contemplative, verging on wary? If Lawrence is indeed  "one of them" now, is there still a "we" to be had with Nick and Lawrence? Or will their interests start conflicting. Hmm hm hm. Nick may be willing to make some concessions if he believes it is for the greater good, and to protect his family, but I have a feeling he'll soon reach his limit. Whereas I think Lawrence has shown he has no such limits, and is willing to do anything to enact his vision, (which he also sees as his redemption). Naomi looks vaguely terrified as Lawrence grips her shoulder in truly the most awkward way possible affectionately, his wedding ring (to Eleanor) prominently displayed on his finger. In Little America, Mark reads off the names of the fallen soldiers at a candlelight vigil, although it's kind of hard to be heard over the obnoxious yelling of asshole protestors (like can you guys take a break for one night?). Tuello calls up Hot Commander Vance's adorable daughter Emma to lead the pledge of allegiance, but the poor sweetie falters under the pressure and all the stupid shouting. June (who's there with Moira, Luke and Rita), asks Emma's tearful mom if she can help, and kneels by the child's side to recite the pledge together. Just when Emma's getting on a roll and the crowd joins in and it starts getting emotional and inspiring and stuff and even I start being like "God bless America!", suddenly shots ring out and the crowd screams and ducks. Sweet little Emma is frozen in fear, but luckily June goes into mega mom mode, slow-mo diving to throw them both to the ground and shield the kid. Bullets rip through the hanging American flag, preeettty much right where they were just standing, so THAT was close. June's face can confirm. *** Allegiance. Sooo many allegiances. They were broken, formed, strained and renewed over the course of the episode. Lawrence definitively demonstrated to June that his allegiance is and always will be to his mission of "reforming" Gilead, trying to correct his mistake and implement his original utopia (without the religious nutjobs), whatever the collateral damage may be (including his own personal wishes). June's first allegiance will always be to her daughters, and her top priority to see them safe (hey hey, the next episode title!). Lawrence is now at odds with this goal, and so instead  she commits to the fight against Gilead, and working with Tuello. Forming, if not an allegiance, than at least an alliance, against their common enemy.  On the surface, it would seem like Nick's allegiance is now to his family, his "new " family with Rose and their baby on the way. But it's bullshit to say that June and Nichole aren't his family, too, as he makes clear to her later. They both understand that they each have people they care about and need to protect, but the fact is it doesn't take away from their bond, and they also reaffirm their allegiance to each other in their "I love you's". While Lawrence and Lydia seem to be strengthening their alliance further into allegiance, Lawrence and Nick's may be becoming strained, and could soon reach a breaking point. As Lawrence further aligns himself with traditional Gilead in order to gain the power to achieve his goals (including forming a marriage allegiance with Naomi), Nick may start to doubt the "vision of a better Gilead" that I think he badly wanted to believe in (as he has his own guilt weighing heavy on his shoulders), either in Lawrence's sincerity or implementation. A reckoning may be coming where Nick has to draw a line in the sand, and I for one can't wait for that. Tally ho to the finale!

[namis-daydream]

Bokuto Koutaro is a name that is known across many spheres. He’s a big man with a big reputation. His presence practically stretches across all of Japan. He’s got connections and eyes everywhere.

His hands are in just about every pot, his company diverse in its deals. Food, merch, decor, you name it.

His greatest achievement is his company Fukurodani co., named after the place where he first found his passion.

When people speak the name Bokuto, they’re talking volleyball. They’re talking national level tournaments. They’re talking showmanship.

The public knows if Fukurodani’s name is attached to any sporting event or product, that thing is going all out. People that knew him growing up wouldn’t be surprised. Going all out was attached to Koutaro’s personality.

Now, in select other circles, rather than inspiration the name Bokuto instills fear.

Though his flamboyant nature is known across the masses above ground, underground is a completely different story. He is still just as much of a leader and kingpin in his shadow work, but he is a lot more serious there.

Some like to call him the puppeteer of all Japan, pulling strings and moving things from behind the veil at his whims.

He was all too powerful, and many knew it.

His mannerisms may have made him seem rather air headed, but he at times could be smarter than anyone had ever imagined. He was rarely wrong about his hunches.

One of which being that he had been followed lately, by some woman. He had noticed her in the crowds when he was out doing promotions. He had seen her in the audiences at times he would be on the court above ground. He could feel the glare of her phone camera on him as he was loaded into his car to go about his business.

She was nowhere near as bad as some of the obsessed fans he’s had in his past (which he is normally able to deal with easily, no harm no foul). But it was also definitely something more than casual. It was just treading the line enough to start bothering him. And of course, it is his first inclination in his position to think it could be a spy.

His boys have brought her to him today (or so they thought), and now she was sitting in front of him, confined to a chair and subject to his steely gaze.

It was silent, the air thick with tension as he sized her up. She was a good actress, he’d give her that. He almost believed she was actually scared.

His voice is normally upbeat, with the timbre of a scratchy tenor. But as he speaks now in a surprisingly dark tone, his voice is a low growl laced with ice.

“You seem to have quite the knack for seeing me around, don’t you?”

I squint my eyes at the harsh light dangling above me when someone tears the bag off of my head, a few futile tugs at my limbs assure me they’re secured around a chair and i swallow back a sob at the predicament i find myself in.

Its dark, despite that one headache of a lamp hanging off the ceiling, squeaking every few times it swings in the otherwise deadly silence of the room. There’re more people than what my eyes can see, some hidden in the shadows, others behind me— i couldn’t count them, god forbid my eyes stray away from the man towering over me—

Wait a minute.

“A-aren’t you, B-Bokuto? The volleyball player?” I ask, more confusion with every syllable i speak out. It takes a few minutes for me to realize that he won’t answer, fully aware of how my body trembles as the gears shift in my head.

“Y-you must be mistaken! I came here— there, god I don’t even know where I am! I was just watching the game, why the hell am i tied up in a place that smells like shit?” I let out a desperate sob unknowingly, tugging at my arm to try and wipe my own pathetic tears before they trickle down my cheeks but i just end up wiggling in my seat. “Let me go,”

[strawwritesfic]

Severus Snape x Female!Death Eater!Reader: Quiet [Part 3 of ?]

Summary: When things get too quiet, you’re bound to go searching for excitement whatever trouble it brings.

Rating/Warnings/Tags: T (sexual references; fantastic racism; foul language; continuing with a ridiculous premise for a Harry Potter fan fic; arranged marriage; set during Deathly Hollows; headmaster!Snape; cruelty toward house-elves)

Challenge: “115 Words” by BonitaWolfSpirit on Lunaescence Archives.

Tag List: @imaginesfire; @anfre109

Part 1: Regret Part 2: Steps

Quiet

Hogwarts wasn’t quite so grand an establishment when one returned to it as an adult. A lot of time for reflection revealed as much. Being pure-blood, the school never seemed as mystical and intimidating to you as it had to your half-blood and muggle-born peers. In fact, it had seemed a little small and dingy upon your arrival. How could it be otherwise after hearing so many stories about your forefathers’ experiences there? It seemed that memory had caused the building to grow in size and stature. You were almost surprised (and certainly disappointed) by how degraded it appeared once you returned.

True, part of that could be chalked up to it being the summer holiday. No students loitered about to fill the corridors with laughter and spellwork and smells. None would for some weeks yet. But that could explain only the aching atmosphere. Hogwarts wasn’t dirty. Far from it. Clearly the house-elves remained working even when the rest of the school staff did not. It was just quiet. Too quiet. Not a single half-real resident would speak to you—not an elf, nor a ghost, nor a painting. They all fell silent, each and every one of them, when they heard your approach.

In the end, what bothered you was not the vacancy. You could get used to silence. Undoubtedly you would long for it once September arrived. No, what really bothered you was the handful of wizarding company you were forced to keep.

“Oi, what’re you doing here?” a gruff male voice demanded the minute you stepped into the kitchen.

Times like these served to remind you that your master’s wisdom did not trickle down to his followers…if indeed he had wisdom to pass on, which you doubted now. Such times also served to remind you just how far you had fallen in rank. Not so long ago, Alecto and Amycus Carrow would not have dared to question your presence anywhere you pleased to put it. Now they did so endlessly.

The two of them sat at a little round table laden with food. A puddle of house-elves stood around them, their huge eyes flashing nervously in every direction, but mostly toward the corner where you knew their problem fellow lay. If she were smarter than usual, she would keep out of the way until the Carrows grew bored enough to try other entertainment venues—such as spitting off the top of the Astronomy Tower. Of course, staying out of the way would also have made her smarter than you.

“I should think anyone with any brains at all would know why a person might enter a kitchen at this time of day, Amycus,” you answered coldly.

He swallowed a too-large hunk of roasted chicken. “Who are you calling brainless, eh?”

“He’s got more brains ‘an you,” Alecto said. “'Least he’s got something to do around here.”

“That’s right. Alecto 'ere is deputy headmistress. What’s your assignment?”

“Oh, that’s an easy one. She’s the headmaster’s slag, she is.”

Your lips curled. These two—these two arrogant, foul-mouthed fools—were so far beneath you that they might as well have been a pair of flubberworms. They were about as attractive as flubberworms, too. Yet they as well as everyone else in the Death Eaters’ employ saw fit to insult you.

Alecto cackled at the look on your face. “What’s wrong, [Name]? Did I hit a nerve? Offended, are you, that the rest of know just why you’re here?”

“If you already know,” you said, “then why did your brother ask?”

“You callin’ me brainless again?” Amycus demanded.

“That’s two mistakes. One more an’ I’ll have you sacked. Oh wait. Can’t sack someone who doesn’t have a purpose, can you?”

“Don’t waste your breath, Alecto. She’s just upset we won’t lick 'er boots. Used to think she was a princess, didn’t she? Now she thinks that just because her husband keeps her around for—”

“I assure you that you don’t want to finish that sentence. Not if you expect to keep all your body parts attached to the proper places,” you broke in.

The twins went milky-gray with fury when they spotted your lifted wand. Several of the more intelligent elves dived for cover.

“Miss—” piped up one of the less intelligent ones.

“Don't—” tried another.

Amycus and Alecto leaped from their seats brandishing their own wands, knocking several elves to the floor in the process.

“You think you can take us in a fight? Eh?” Alecto shouted.

“You think your husband’s going to save you? You think he cares if we crucio you 'til morning? Not if we make sure not to leave a mark on your pretty skin!” Amycus said.

You threw an exaggerated look over one shoulder without ever lowering your wand. “Last I checked, he wasn’t here. Do your worst. I could outduel the both of you with my hands tied behind my back. I might have married down, but at least I’m not so inbred I can’t tell a bludger from a snitch.”

That did the trick. Alecto and Amycus began to shriek insults at the top of their lungs. Curses flew through the air—none of them fatal to you, but the house-elves all wisely made a run for safer passages through the castle. Not that it mattered. The Carrow’s aim was abysmal. Still, you couldn’t blame the house-elves for fleeing in terror.

You watched the chaos for a good half-minute before pocketing your wand and turning to leave. It wasn’t worth your time and energy to engage the twins in any real fight. Better to save any of that for when your husband made his return. All you’d wanted was to rile them up, and you could consider that mission accomplished.

Unfortunately, you had not accomplished what you’d risked leaving your quarters and encountering those imbeciles for. The painting swung shut behind you, sealing out their continual racket and leaving you for the third night in a row without supper.

Damn, but you were hungry. Snape had forbidden the three of you from using the Great Hall. He said it was because there was no point in wasting resources on the likes of you. Ha. You knew the truth. All he wanted was for you to lower yourself enough to eat with your cohorts, or at least to ask a house-elf to bring you a platter of sandwiches to eat alone. As if.

You were not going to suffer any further indignities at Snape’s greasy hands. If you had to starve to death, so be it. Doing so would put you out of his reach even if it accomplished nothing else. Perhaps it would do double duty and inconvenience him. It was not your fault you were at Hogwarts. If you had had your druthers, you would still have been at home, if a hovel like Spinner’s End could truly be called your “home.” Since nothing else fit the bill any longer, the hovel would have to do.

The Carrows were right about one thing, though (which was an all-time record for them): Snape had only one reason to keep you around, and that reason was not enough to force you to endure your present conditions. At least at Spinner’s End you could eat whenever you pleased. The pictures did not whisper behind your backs there either, as they did at the school that night as you marched mindlessly through the dark corridors.

You blinked in an attempt to dispel this well-worn pathway of thoughts. In doing so, you found your reflective wanderings had placed you exactly where you needed to be. The gargoyle statue leading to the Headmaster’s office sat in front of you. Technically, you weren’t supposed to go inside unsupervised. Technically, that didn’t matter to you. After the fit you’d kicked up over being forced to move, your dear husband should already have known your feelings about the situation, but why not illuminate him a fourth time?

Only a moment of hesitation preceded your speaking the password—quietly, in case Peeves lurked nearby, as no doubt he would be thrilled to pass the information along to your new bosom buddies in the kitchen. Your hesitation troubled you. Why shouldn’t you enter? Snape was so busy with the work for the Dark Lord lately that you doubted he was anywhere near Hogwarts at all. And if he was, well, so what? His comfort and privacy were not yours to worry over.

The stairs spun upward beneath your feet. As you climbed, you strained your ears to hear any sound of a conversation you ought not have been privy to. Snape did not always remember to cast muffliato when ensconced inside the office. You’d managed to catch a few snippets of information here and there, but nothing so far that might reinstate your position among the Death Eaters. That night, no voices reached you through the thick door. Assuming this to mean that your husband was either out or alone, you walked right into the room without knocking.

“Ah, Miss [L Name]. It’s been so long that I hardly recognize you. Oh, but forgive me. It is Mrs. Snape now, is it not?”

You froze to the spot at a familiar voice coming from somewhere in the room. The trouble was that you could not see who spoke. No one sat behind the large old desk. No one appeared to be there with you at all. Who the voice belonged to was probably of more pressing concern, though; certainly it was not your husband saying these things, nor the Carrows, but so many of the Hogwarts staff either returned home for the holidays or had too much to do with the Order at present that you knew no one else ought to have been on the grounds.

“I am over here, Mrs. Snape,” the same voice said.

That time, you caught a flash of movement from the corner of your left eye. Over there sat the wall adorned by the portraits of every headmaster Hogwarts had ever had, the good, the bad, and the ugly. You blushed slightly at having forgotten that they were there, too. Would they tattle on you to Snape when he returned? Doubtless. Though all but one were either absent or sleeping, you knew them well enough to know that either or both could be an act—and it was likely the one addressing you wouldn’t bother keeping quiet himself.

“Dumbledore?” you asked, unable to entirely hide the surprise in your voice as his blue eyes twinkled at you from across the office.

He smiled at your approach. “I was wondering if you might ever sneak up here. You’ve come close a handful of times, I realize, but never bothered to open the door.”

It shouldn’t have come as such a shock to find your own headmaster here posthumously. Not only once or twice had Dumbledore called you here during your time as a student. Your activities earned you several lectures in this very room. You’d also had the chance (when Dumbledore delayed in arriving for your meetings) to speak to Phineus Nigelus, your ancestor…but alas, he was not in his frame that night. This was a pity, as you’d have much rather have had a conversation with him than your own instructor.

You started as you realized you’d been scanning the paintings instead of answering Dumbledore. Again, you wondered why that bothered you. It was not like he had any real feelings to offend. Perhaps he never had, for his picture remained patiently waiting until your attention returned to him.

“Snape—” you caught yourself with a sharp breath, then went on, “Severus has forbidden me to be here.”

“And you listened? I find that difficult to believe.”

“He is in charge around here now.”

“Ah, yes. Do not worry. I did not expect you to mourn my passing. And I suppose that Severus is in charge of you now as well?”

“That’s not what I—”

As usual, the mere lifting of Dumbledore’s eyebrows had you falling furiously silent. Were the Carrows still down in the kitchen, you wondered. Maybe they weren’t such bad company after all. Better than the alternatives.

“Do tell me, then, what you meant,” Dumbledore prompted you.

“What do you care?” you muttered, covering your elbows with your palms.

“I have no reason to. Humor me, however. A painting only receives so much news, especially in times such as these.”

“I am not here to discuss my love life.”

“Very well—although I must point out that I never said anything about your love life. Let us find something else to talk about,” he went on before you could interrupt. “How are you?”

You could not believe this was what your life had turned into. Had you not got good scores while at Hogwarts? Sure, you had not been a Head Girl or a prefect or even a quidditch captain. One could even say you hadn’t done a very good job at keeping your head down. You’d been smart, though, and clever, and willing to prove yourself. Now you were stuck in school as a grown adult, talking with the painting of a man you despised about your feelings.

“Not well, I take it,” Dumbledore said into the silence.

Spinning around could not quite remove the sensation of his eyes on your back. “Why on earth would I be well? You have no idea—you can have no idea—holed up here in your castle—you have no idea what it’s been like the past few years!”

Even as you shouted these things, you knew they weren’t strictly true. If Dumbledore did nothing but hide away in Hogwarts, your master would not hate him so. If Dumbledore did nothing but keep out of the way, there would have been no reason for the Malfoy boy to be inducted into the Death Eaters solely for the assignment of killing him. But you did not want to give Dumbledore any quarter, especially not when he said in a soft voice:

“I do not have any idea what it has been like for you. Severus has told me some things, of course. I would not say that I was 'holed up’ anywhere, or that I have no idea what’s going on at all. Even now, I am given the odd snippet of news—the same snippets of news you sneak up here to devour. But I digress. Have you really fallen so far that you think being cared for and living somewhere you don’t know is worse than what the people you have attacked for so long go through?”

“Cared for?” you repeated, because what else could you say? “Cared for? I don’t know what lies my husband has been feeding you, but I hardly call what he has done for me 'caring’ for me!”

Dumbledore said nothing.

“I never asked for him to care for me! I never asked for a husband. All I asked was to be given the chance to prove myself. And for what? One bungle? One mistake? Lucius Malfoy has made many more spectacular mistakes than I have and yet I don’t see the Dark Lord casting him aside by marrying him off to the most pathetic among us!”

“Really? You find Severus more pathetic than the Carrows?”

“Quit doing that! You always do that!”

“Do what?”

“Purposely misunderstand me!”

“Perhaps you simply aren’t as clear as you could be.”

You could feel the heat pooling in your cheeks. It never had taken Dumbledore much to get you riled up like this. So many months of being cold and alone made your anger feel altogether strange. The Carrows were sounding like better and better company.

“You always were so enamored with your sisters,” Dumbledore said. “You always wanted to be just like them. After the incident, I was not surprised at the direction you chose to take your life.”

That had your shoulders up around your ears. “Don’t talk to me about that.”

“Even after all this time you won’t think about it?”

“I didn’t want to talk about it then, and I don’t want to talk about it now!”

“No. I suppose not. I do wish that you’d listened to me, [Name].” A sorrow crept into his voice that had goosebumps erupting over your skin. “So much sorrow could be avoided. So much loneliness. You truly think that Severus does not care for you?”

“I know he doesn’t.”

“You’re wrong.”

“What a surprise that you think that way!”

“He does care. He has told me.”

This was absolute insanity. Only the days of being stuck with no one to speak to but house-elves and paintings (both of whom avoided you as much as they could) could explain why you stuck around—or at least did so without trying to find out if a slashing hex or two could silence this dead man forever. All the same, the gentle way Dumbledore spoke made you think twice about storming out. Your voice softened as you asked:

“Why would he tell you that?”

“We are closer than you think, your husband and I. Why do you think he brought you here, except to keep you from—”

“That is quite enough,” came a new voice from behind you.

With a gasp, you spun on your heel to face the fireplace in the back of the office. Snape had returned as silently as ever; the green in the fire told you had had floo’d there, but not how much of your conversation with Dumbledore he had been allowed overhear. You flushed. Hypocritical though it might have been, you did not like the idea of him having heard any of that. He did not look much happier than you. His dark, beady eyes narrowed as they looked past you right at the painting.

“Severus, good evening,” Dumbledore said pleasantly. “I take it the mission went well.”

“As well as could be expected,” he answered cryptically.

“Were they any causalities?”

“We will speak about it later. What were you two talking about?”

“You. Are you embarrassed?”

Instead of replying, Snape snapped his attention to you. His lips curled at once. “I thought I told you you never to set foot in here when I am not here to supervise you.”

“I—” you began hotly.

“Yet you gave her the password. Curious,” Dumbledore put in in a mild tone.

“I did not ask for your opinion,” Snape snapped.

He did not look himself, you realized. You did not spend a lot of time with your husband as a general rule. Only at Death Eater meetings were you forced to be close enough to him to look at him those days, and you were summoned to meetings so rarely that even that hardly happened. Snape looked worn down, though, like he had not been sleeping. The idea of asking him what was so wrong occurred to you…only for you to realize he was sweeping up upon you before you could do so.

“Out.” He grasped your wrist and marched you toward the door. “When I have need of you, I will call you. Do you understand?”

For once, you wrenched out of his grip and to turn on him. The poison on your tongue vanished the moment you got a good look at him now that he had drawn close. You forgot momentarily how much you loathed it when he touched you. Yes, you might have been so starved for affection after long months of being shut in his home while he was teaching that you agreed to the quick encounters the Carrows had so basely referred to, but that did not mean that you permitted his clammy palms to cling to you outside of those encounters.

All you could think of then was how exhausted Snape looked. Hollow, even. He had looked that way the night Dumbledore died; now he looked almost as though he’d grown intimate with a dementor.

Why had Snape given you the password to this office? You realized then that Dumbledore was right about that being curious. If your husband wanted nothing to do with you, there would have been no way for you to access him without the means he himself gave you. Did it have something to do with that hollowness? Or was it simply another of the games he liked to play to remind you just how far his position above you remained?

You found you could not ask that question either. Some part of you was afraid of the answer. Instead, you opened your mouth to inform him, “I only bothered coming up here to try finding some food, I’ll have you know.”

“Why would I keep food in the headmaster’s office when there is a perfectly good kitchen so many floors down?” Snape asked, sneering.

“For the same reason I hoped to find some. One should not have to look at either Amycus or Alecto while digesting. Being forced to look at both of them is a form of torture to which not even the cruciatus can compare.”

The corners of his mouth twitched, or so you thought. “Yes, that is something I have experienced myself on several occasions.”

“Then you know how desperate I am after three days with only them to eat with.”

“Yes, desperate enough to risk looking at me.”

All you did in answer was to raise your eyebrows. That time you were sure you saw the makings of a smile on his ugly face. Would wonders never cease? Dead men talked and Severus Snape found you amusing. But the almost-smile was gone in a flash, replaced by his usual sour expression.

“I will have something sent to your quarters. In the future, I expect you to follow my orders and stay away unless I request your presence. Whether or not the Carrows are your only options to dine with is not my problem.”

“Don’t hold your breath,” you said lightly.

No punishment came: no pain, no flash of light, no hoisting into the air. Snape only gestured for you to leave of your own volition. You could hardly believe your luck. Still expecting some comeuppance for your flippancy, you turned toward the door with only a faint chuckle from Dumbledore bidding you farewell. A few scant scraps of conversation floated after you as you scurried down the stairs:

“I am glad you brought here with you, Severus.”

“She does do a fair bit to keep me on my toes—and does a marvelous job keeping the Carrows out of my way. It’s a good thing they loath her more than they do me.”

“If that’s the excuse you’d like to give yourself for keeping her around, I will not disabuse you of it. [Name] does not seem to think you capable of anything further either.”

“I’ve never claimed the woman was stupid.”

Then you slipped out into the dark corridor. The gargoyle statue ground back into place with no magical input from you, which left you once more in absolute silence. You walked back to your own bedroom just as quietly, in part to avoid attracting the attention of the castle’s other residents. Running into Peeves at this hour would be just as irritating as another row with the Carrows. In truth, however, you were too busy thinking to make much noise.

What did Snape mean about you keeping him on your toes? Why did Dumbledore think Snape was capable of doing more than keeping you prisoner for his own amusement? For what purpose could anyone delude themselves into thinking Snape was trying to protect you? There was nothing to protect you from!

By the time you climbed into your waiting bed, you’d all but convinced yourself the whole lot meant nothing at all. Snape had dragged you to Hogwarts for one reason and one reason only: because he could. That you spent your days being either bored out of your mind or insulted by people beneath your station would only give him further pleasure. And Dumbledore? Dumbledore had always only told you what he thought would mold you to his idea of you. The only thing you could not square away was why he wanted to defend the man that had killed him.

Whatever was going on, those two were in it together. The voices you’d heard on your handful of visits to the office stairwell had always belonged to the two of them. You recognized that now. Your husband and your master’s most hated enemy were plotting something. Now you were determined to find out what. So Snape was tired. So what? He’d brought it on himself, and his bringing you along he would live to regret. Playing your cards right now just might restore you to your place at your master’s side.

[mosswillow]

Jumping In (Dark!Steve Rogers x Reader)

Warnings: 18+ adult content!!, Kidnapping, smut, Dark fic, vaginal fingering, noncon/dubcon, yandere.

Summary: You submit your application to the Avengers as a joke. You’re nowhere near qualified enough for the job. So why do they want you?

AN: A big thanks to @rayofdawnworld for commenting on “Your Room” that they wanted to know about the other Avengers. This one is (obviously) Steve and is happening chronologically before “Your Room.” You can read it by itself though!  I also have a story forming for Bucky in my mind so I’ll probably do him next. 

You’ve always been the type of person to jump into things without thinking. It’s gotten you into plenty of trouble throughout your life but you’ve always managed to get yourself out of it. It’s opened up opportunities for you and taken you all over the world. You put in the application for SHIELD almost as a joke, thinking there’s no way they would ever hire you, especially not to work with the Avengers.

The joke becomes serious when you get a call from Stark Tower offering you a job. You skim over the contract eagerly and sign it immediately, jumping on the opportunity to work your dream job.

After a whirlwind week you find yourself standing in the middle of a high tech training room surrounded by Avengers. Being around a group of people as powerful as the Avengers is intimidating to say the least. The contrast between you and them is stark and you feel your confidence slip trying to keep up with them. They all assure you that you’re doing great and they’re glad to have you with them. It feels like a little family and you get pulled in immediately. You find yourself gravitating to Steve, or maybe he gravitates towards you. He shows up everywhere you go, at the water fountain filling up his bottle, running at the treadmill next to you, stretching on the mat. He watches you spar with different Avengers, giving advice and words of encouragement.

“Keep that arm up Y/N.”

“I will, thank you captain.”

“Call me Steve.”

“Steve.”  You smile.

You spar with Bucky and try to ignore Steve's looks. You don’t know if you feel flattered or uncomfortable with the attention he’s giving you. You decide that he’s probably just trying to be friendly since it’s your first day.

It doesn’t stop though and you constantly find yourself in situations with Steve. He’s in the elevator with you or walking by your room as you’re leaving. You even bump into him at the grocery store.

A week later you open your door to see Steve waiting for you just outside your room. Your heart does a flip at the sight of him standing in front of you. His hair is damp and you try to control your mind from imagining him in the shower. His tight white shirt shows off his muscles, which doesn't help your wandering mind one bit. You shift your eyes away from him and chastise yourself. God, He smells good and you wonder what soap he uses. He gives a cocky half smile and takes a step toward you.

“Good job yesterday.” He says, moving in front of your line of sight.

“Thanks.” you smile and force yourself to look him in the eyes.

He puts his hands in his pockets and rocks on his feet looking nervous.

“I thought I could treat you to coffee?”

Your heart starts beating rapidly. Is he asking you on a date? Steve Rogers asking YOU on a date? It can't be that. The flirting has to be in your head.

“I’d like that,” You mirror him, putting your hands in your pockets. You realize too late that you don’t have pockets though and end up awkwardly rubbing your hands against your sides.  Steve lets out a chuckle and you cross your arms and laugh along with him.

You follow Steve to a nearby coffee shop and he orders you a drink. The two of you sit at a semi-private table in the back next to some barely cognizant university students who are furiously typing away on their laptops.

“How are you enjoying being part of the team?” Steve asks.

“I love it! Everyone is really nice.”

“Are you nervous for your first first mission?”

“A little bit,” you confess.

“I’ll be there with you, don’t worry.”

That was definitely flirting, you think. Captain America is flirting with you.

You smile and take a sip of your coffee. This is like a romance novel, a cute coffee date with a literal super hero. It comes to an end though when you notice a kid taking a picture of the two of you. Steve frowns and cocks his head towards the prepubescent photographer.

“I think we should head back before we get more fans.” Steve Says.

Steve does a silly pose for the kid as he passes by and pulls out a signed Captain America card. The kid stands stunned looking at you as you walk out of the shop. Steve puts his hand on your back and leans in.

“Sorry this was so short. We’ll have to go somewhere more private next time.”

“Don’t apologize! The coffee was amazing, thank you so much.”

It only takes twenty minutes for you to start getting phone calls. A picture of you and Steve is all over the internet. It looks very incriminating, Steve's arm on your back and him smiling close to your ear. You answer your phone and hold it away from your ear as your friend Amy yells at you from the other end.

“Captain America!” She screams over and over again.

“Are you guys dating now or...”

“No, he was just being nice.”

“The picture looks like he’s being a lot more than nice. Please hit that Y/N, if you don’t I’ll scream.”

“You’re already screaming.” you say with a laugh.

“Seriously though, I want to be invited to your wedding one day.”

“Amy! he’s hot for sure but he’s also kinda my boss and I’m not ready for anything serious right now.” The picture of you and Steve is still in your mind. You can barely take care of yourself and certainly aren’t ready for everything involved with dating Steve Rogers.

You hang up the phone and smile to yourself. You can’t believe how your life has changed so fast. One day you’re working security at a hotel and the next you’re working with the avengers and flirting with Captain America.

---

You shake your foot nervously on the way to your first mission. Your role is simple, in fact it's almost impossible to mess up. You’re nervous anyway though. Everyone tells you it’s normal for your first mission and you take deep breaths trying to calm down.

You exit the jet and make your way into town. Your only job is to distract your mark for five minutes. You check your watch and start your way toward your mark.

“Excuse me sir?”

“Yes?”

“Do you know a good breakfast place around here?”

It’s beyond easy. You keep the conversation up for five minutes and end it quickly. Steve gives you a pat on the back after, congratulating your successful first mission. It feels off. Anyone could do what you did. You’re nowhere near as skilled as the Avengers and don’t understand why you would be picked for the job.

“What’s wrong doll?”

“I just don’t feel like I’m really good enough to be part of this team I guess.”

“You’re more than good enough.”

“But you guys are so much stronger... and faster... and smarter.”

“We look for more than those things when picking recruits. Trust me, you’re exactly what I… We need.”

You feel a little better and push away your doubts.

---

The missions become harder after the first one but you’re still never put in direct danger. They say you need more training before taking on more dangerous roles and you agree. You’re not sure if you’ll ever improve enough though and it makes you guilty, like you’re taking up space in a team that someone else could have. As you start becoming more part of the group Steve starts coming onto you more. He takes you out several times and starts becoming more physically affectionate. You like Steve. Aside from being gorgeous he’s old school, bringing you flowers and opening doors. There’s Something about him that feels disingenuous and your gut prevents you from starting a serious relationship.

You meet a barista at the same coffee shop Steve took you to. He’s cute and you  decide to give him your number impulsively. He texts you that evening and you stay up late texting back and forth. The next day everyone stares at you as you stretch before your training. You’re not sure why until you notice Steve standing outside of his office.

“Y/N, can I see you in here please.” His voice is an octave lower than usual and a chill runs down your spine.

“Of course.”

Steve closes the door and motions for you to sit down.

“I’m aware that you’ve exchanged numbers with someone who is unapproved.”

You nod slowly, confused how he knows at all and why it’s a big deal.

“This is a huge security risk.”

“I already ran a background check on him.”

Steve sits on the edge on his desk and caresses your cheek.

“Why do you want to talk to this boy when you have me?”

You push his hand away.

“I mean, I like you Steve but I’m just not ready for the commitment yet, you know that.”

His eyes narrow and he looks at the hand you pushed away.

“I understand.” He says.

You stand to leave and he calls after you.

“Oh, and remember you have a curfew. I don’t want to have to reprimand you.”

Steve feels different, unhinged. You’ve only been late a few times and only by a few minutes. You push away your worry hoping it will get better. He’s probably just not used to feeling rejected. He’ll get over it.

---

“Y/N, don’t you dare enter that building.”

“There are still people inside Steve!”

“It’s too dangerous. Help is on the way, don’t do it.”

You rip the com out of your ear and run into the building. There’s smoke everywhere and you cover your face with your arm. You make fast work of reaching the blocked room, breaking the door in and letting the room of people out. You escort them out of the building and to safety.

“Thank you so much.” A woman says, hugging you.

“No problem.” You smile.

The building starts collapsing in front of your eyes and you watch it burn. You walk back to the jet, coughing and bruised and get checked out as soon as you land.

Steve waits for you outside of medical.

“What were you thinking Agent!”

“Not now Steve.”

“It’s Captain and yes now.”

You sigh.

“I was thinking, Captain, that I needed to get those people out and I was right.”

“And what would have happened if the building had come down on you? Help was coming and you had an order. You’re lucky your lungs are ok with the smoke you inhaled.”

You push Steve out of your way and walk towards your room.

“It was a risk I was willing to take,” you call back.

You reach your room and take a long shower, thinking about everything. As much as you want to fit in with them you just don’t. Something tells you that you need to quit. You need to get out of here and never look back. you decide that you’ll hand in a two week notice tomorrow.

The next morning you wake and dress quickly still feeling the same as the night before. You head to your door and turn the knob but find it locked.

“What the fuck?” you pound on the door but nobody answers. You pick up your phone to call for help. It won’t connect to the internet or call anyone. Your computer is the same way. As the day passes you start feeling more and more uneasy. They have to know by now that something is wrong with you. your voice is raw from yelling for help and your hands bloody and bruised from pounding on the door.

Finally, hours later you hear the click of your door unlocking. You open it to see Steve standing with his arms crossed on the other side.

“I was locked in my room.” you say in a quiet voice.

“I know, I locked you in.”

“What’s wrong with you? That’s insane Steve!”

Adrenaline rushes through your body and you start pacing. Everything is telling you to get out. This is not what you signed up for.

“I quit.” you say defiantly.

Steve rushes toward you, pinning you to the wall. None of your self defence training helps you. He’s so much bigger and stronger, trying to fight is a joke. You know your best bet is to stun him somehow and run but you can barely move.

“You can’t quit doll.” He brushes a hand down your body, giving your butt a squeeze. Your eyes widen in shock.

“I’ll report you.”

“To who?”

You start thinking, your eyes darting back and forth. He slides his hand into the front of your pants and rubs the bulge in his pants against you. your breath hitches and you relax your body a bit. You scream at yourself to do something. The hand in your pants rubs against your clit expertly and it takes everything you have not to let out a moan.

“Ah, I see you’re getting it.”

His finger slides to your entrance and he prods you before submerging his finger. You gasp at the intrusion and realize that he’s barely holding onto you anymore. Your hands grasp his shoulders and you lean against him.

“This would have been much easier if you had followed my plan. You had to go putting yourself in danger.” He chides.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Please you’re scaring me Steve.” you say,

“It was going so well but you’re unpredictable, flirting with that barista.”

He pushes his finger in deeper and you whimper.

“If I don’t take action now I might lose you and I can’t lose you.”

“Get away from me,” you beg.

He grasps your hip painful tight.

“You're my girl now, ok? My girl doesn’t disobey me, especially not on missions.”

He pumps his finger, coating it with slick.

You realize that he won’t listen to reason but you try anyway.

“I’m so sorry you’re right I’m your… your girl, just let me go please.”

He pulls his finger out and gives you a kiss.

“See, there’s a good girl.”

He pulls a ring out of his pocket and places it on your finger. His watch vibrates and he looks at it before kissing you on the cheek.

“We can celebrate tomorrow.” He winks.

He leaves you in the hallway and you back into your room, shaking and crying.  You don’t care if he locks you in again. You need to be in a place where you feel somewhat safe and can process everything that just happened. You take the ring off and throw it across the room.

The night is spent curled in your bed crying and the next morning you walk self consciously to the kitchen. Bucky sits at the counter eating cereal and he knits his brow when he sees you.

“Hey, what’s wrong.”

You shake your head.

“You can tell me.” He looks at you with his big kind eyes and you decide to confide in him.

“Steve… assaulted me. He’s out of his mind, saying all sorts of crazy stuff. I don’t know what to do.”

Bucky holds you close.

“You’re his girl Y/N, don’t provoke him and you’ll have a good life.”

You tear yourself away and look at him with disbelief.

“It’s not a secret Y/N and we’re on Steve's side.”

You back away and head straight for the exit hitting Tony on the way

“Woah, what’s the rush?”

“I quit.” you say, tears starting to fall.

“You can’t quit princess, you’re Steve’s.”

Your breaths become shallow and your head starts feeling light.

“How did you think you got the job in the first place Y/N?”

You run to the elevator slamming the button over and over but it won’t let you down.

“What’s wrong with Y/N?” Thor walks over.

“She’s having a hard time adjusting to being Steve’s,” Tony answers.

“Let me out.” you yell.

Steve comes out of nowhere catching you in his arms and you throw your head back and duck. He stumbles back. Other Avengers start to gather and you pull your fists up in defense.

“I want to leave.”

“Come with me back to your room doll, it doesn’t have to be this hard.”

You stand your ground and Steve goes into a fighting stance. You don’t even have a chance, he has you trapped in his arms within minutes.

“I don’t understand.”

“We got your application in the mail. As soon as I saw your picture I knew you were the one I’ve been looking for.” he coos.

“Why go through the whole facade?”

“Use your brain Y/N. Everyone knows we’re together. There’s pictures of us everywhere online. You’ve talked to friends and family about our relationship. It won’t look weird when you drop off for a while because of your job and when you come back engaged nobody will blink an eye.”

“No.”

You look at the Avengers, you’re family. None of them do anything to help you. Every single one turns their back and walks away nonchalantly like it’s just another normal day.

Steve drags you to your room and closes the door. He walks over to where you threw your ring grabbing it off the floor, and places it back on your finger.

“This doesn’t come off again,” He says.

You look at the ring and back at Steve over and over trying to make sense of all of it. Steve walks purposefully to the drawer you keep your candles and lights several, placing them around the room.

He backs you into the bed and undresses you slowly and meticulously. He sits back and looks at your naked body, taking his time touching and examining every piece. He grabs your legs and parts them, looking at your pussy and two fingers in.

“So wet for me already.”

You shake your head and he lands a slap on your thigh.

“No.” He commands.

“Be good so I don’t have to punish you. You’ve seen me work, you know what I’m capable of.”

You bite your tongue and force yourself to lie still as he slams his cock into you. You cry out in pain and he rubs your arm and whispers sweet things. He kisses you as he pushes his cock deep into you. He grabs your chin and squeezes until you open up and let his tongue in.  you reach out and grab his arms and he pulls at your leg until you hug them around him.

“You can come Y/N.” he whispers

You shake your head.

He reaches between you and pushes against your clit. You fight against it for as long as you can but it becomes too much. An orgasm crashes over you and you flutter around his cock. He thrusts hard enough that you get pushed into the headboard and seconds later he’s coming in you. He smiles down at you, lovingly stroking you face.

“I love you Y/N”

You stay silent and he pulls you into a constricting hug.

“Don’t worry doll, you’ll love me soon.”  

You’ve always been the type of person to jump into things without thinking. It’s gotten you into plenty of trouble throughout your life. You’ve always been able to get yourself out of it,

but this time.

This time you jumped too far.

[waitimcomingtoo]

fine line - p.p

chapter 4

pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Synopsis: there’s a fine line between love and hate and you and Peter dance it on a regular basis

Series Masterlist and Regular Masterlist

“Would you stay with me?” You asked timidly, assuming the answer would be a definite no.

“Of course.” Peter nodded, making you recall the time your dad told you he would surprise you. Peter sat down next to you, giving you your space but still close enough to comfort you. You heard him chuckle after a beat of silence and looked at him curiously.

“You know, that’s the first time you ever called me Peter.” He commented, looking at you with a half smile.

“I’ve called you Peter before.” You insisted in your hoarse voice.

“No. I would’ve remembered if you did.” He chuckled. “You always call me Parker.”

“Oh. I guess I do.” You realized as Peter reached forward and wiped your tear with his thumb. You held eye contact with his and he dragged his thumb down your cheek, letting his warmth assuage your pain.

“Thanks.” You mumbled, giving him a weak smile.

“No problem.” Peter said sincerely. “This is the longest we’ve been in a room together without yelled at each other. It’s also the closest you’ve ever let me near you.”

“Sorry.” You said as you got ready to move. “I can move over-“

“No, it’s okay.” Peter stopped you by placing a hand on your arm. “I want you close.”

You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth to hide how happy his sentence made you. Despite how awful you treated him, he was always kind to you. Usually his generosity made you even angrier, but you didn’t have the strength to hate him tonight.

“You shouldn’t be nice to me. I’ve never been nice to you.” You shook your head and look down at the box of tissues in shame.

“I believe in treating people how you’d like to be treated. You’re also letting me be nice to you, which is a nice change.” Peter cracked a smile as he brushed your wilting curls out of your face. You leaned into his hand for a moment, closing your eyes as you finally felt peace.

“I don’t hate you.” You said suddenly, making Peter raise his eyebrows. “You said I hated you before. I don’t, really. I’m sorry I made you think I did.”

“I’m sorry too. I know this hasn’t been easy for you. I didn’t even want to move in. Mr. Stark insisted, he thought I’d be able to keep you company.” Peter laughed slightly, feeling the irony of his statement.

“Then why did you?” You wondered. You always thought it had been Peters idea to move in as a way to reap the full benefits of being an Avenger, but it turned out you were wrong.

“My aunt just got this job at a charity and she absolutely loves it, it just takes up all her time.” Peter explained. “It’s the first time I’ve seen her happy since my uncle passed and I didn’t want her to chose between her job and taking care of me, so I moved in here. I…I didn’t know Mr. Stark was gonna take me on all the missions and stuff.” Peter said softly. “I never meant to take your place.”

You opened your mouth and quickly shut it, feeling incredibly stupid and guilty for how you’d been treating him.

“I didn’t know that. Any of that, I didn’t...I didn’t know.” You said quietly as your eyes filled with regret.

“You and I don’t talk much.” Peter shrugged sadly. You tilted your head to the side, looking at him sympathetically in an entirely new light.

“You were right before, you know.” You told him. “I am jealous of you for being my dads favorite.”

“Y/n, I was just saying that.” Peter apologized. “That’s not how I really feel and it’s definitely not true.”

You looked straight ahead at your deep blue bedroom walls and let out a sigh, knowing the impending conversation wouldn’t be easy.

“He wanted a boy.” You said after a beat of silence, busying yourself with your fingernails so you wouldn’t have to look at him.

“What?”

“When he adopted me. He wanted a boy.” You explained further, feeling a blush of embarrassment cover your face and neck.

“I’m sure that’s not true.” Peter shook his head as he shifted a little closer.

“Yes it is.” You smiled sadly. “They did all these family matching events at my foster home when I was a kid and he would always stop by. I always saw him talking to the boys. He never signed any papers though, I think he was just browsing.” You chuckled, and Peter did too.

“You don’t have to tell me if it’s difficult to talk about.” Peter said kindly as he rested a hand on your knee.

“I want to tell you so you can understand.” You insisted, feeling like this was your best shot at an apology.

“Okay. I’m listening.”

“I never got picked.” You came outright with it. “I would show up to these events in my best dress and biggest smile and watch all my friends get taken home by some family, even if it was just for a test run, but nobody ever picked me. It gets to you after a while.”

“I’m sorry. I had no idea.” Peter sympathetically squeezed your knee.

“No, it’s okay. If some other family had wanted me, I wouldn’t have ended up with my dad.”

“You’re really strong for being able to see the bright side of all this. I don’t know what I would’ve done.” Peter shook his head as he got a look into your history.

“I appreciate that.” You smiled softly at him, letting him know you were no longer upset.

“How did you end up with Mr. Stark?” Peter wondered.

“He came pretty late one day, after an event had been going on for a while. He had Pepper with him that time, I guess he finally convinced her to come. By the time he arrived, all the boys had already been taken, and I could just see the disappointment in his face. Then he made eye contact with me.” You smiled to yourself. “I had seen him there so many times, but this was the first time we interacted. I had on this fluffy pink princess dress to make myself look more presentable. He saw me and laughed.”

“Princess. That’s why he calls you princess.” Peter made the connection.

“So you’re not as dumb as I thought.” You teased him, playfully this time, as you nudged him. “He bent down in front of me and asked if I’d like to live in his castle for the week, and I said yes. After the week was up, he brought a suitcase to my foster home. He said my suitcase matched his because we were a family now. It was the first thing that had ever been mine, you know? Not a hand me down or anything. It was mine. Those suitcases are all worn out now, but we still use them for every mission. At least, we used to.”

“Thats why you were upset he threw his out. Y/n, I’m sorry. I didn’t know any of this. You never - - You don’t talk to me.” Peter’s voice was pained as he got the full picture of why the fight had upset you as much as you did.

“I know. And I’m sorry for that. I know this doesn’t justify why I treat you the way I do, but I hope it explains it a little.” You looked at him apologetically. “It’s dumb but I always saw those suitcases as a symbol of our family. And then he goes and throws them out to buy one for you. Not that I would need one anyway since he stopped bringing me on missions and I just, I don’t know, I felt replaced.”

“That’s not dumb.” Peter insisted. “Mr. Stark likes having me around but I could never replace you. You’re his daughter. I know he spends a lot of time with me but that doesn’t mean he wanted a boy.”

“That’s not the only thing, though.” You continued. “When I got to his house for the first time, before the tower was even built, he already had a room set up. Blue walls and little shirts with sports slogans on them told me what I already knew. He wanted a boy. He wanted you.”

“Bold of you to assume I’d ever wear a shirt with a sports slogan on it.” Peter slipped a joke in, making you chuckle softly.

“Yeah, well. You check all his other boxes.” You reminded him. “You’re smarter than me, better at technology than I am, and you’re a freaking superhero for crying out loud. I can’t do half the things you can and he knows it. And when you guys save the world together or build these amazing inventions, it’s like you’re rubbing in all the things I could never do with him. It just reminds me that you’re what he wanted.”

“So are you. He loves you.”

“I don’t doubt he loves me. I just doubt I’d be his first choice.” You shrugged sadly. “You and I are both orphans and if you hadn’t had your aunt and uncle to take care of you, you would’ve ended up in the same place as me. And if you had been there that day at the event…”

“You think Mr. Stark would’ve chosen me, not you.” Peter finished your sentence, and everything made sense to him at once.

“Yeah.” You whispered as tears filled your red rimmed eyes once again. “I’m sorry I don’t call you by your name. I’m sorry I’m mean to you and push you away. But you have to understand, you’re not someone I ever wanted to know. And when you say things like him preferring you, I believe you.”

“I never should’ve said that. I wish we had this conversation when I first moved in.” Peter sighed heavily. “I would’ve understood you so much better. And I…I wanted to understand you.”

“You did?” You jerked your head back in surprise at his statement.

“Yeah. It was kinda a bummer when I realized my mentors extremely beautiful and intelligent daughter hated me.” Peter chuckled as he rubbed the back of his neck. “He talked so highly of you, I wish you could’ve heard it. He’s this world famous billionaire inventor and superhero and his greatest accomplishment is his daughter. It made me really excited to meet you. And then…”

“And then I made your life hell.” You squeezed your eyes shut in embarrassment as you finished his sentence. “I’m sorry, Peter.”

“It’s okay. I still liked you, even if you were mean to me.” He smiled sheepishly. “I could tell you were funny and nice from when I heard you talking to other people. I just didn’t understand why you didn’t like me.”

“I feel like we could’ve been really good friends by now if I hadn’t been so quick to judge you.” You pouted as you looked at him. “I thought you were taking advantage of my dads money of something. You’re actually a really good guy. I should’ve listened the first 50 times me dad told me that.”

“We can still be friends. I think I’ll be around a while.” He teased your usual hatred of him being around as he bumped his shoulders against yours. You laughed as you moved together, feeling grateful for the second chance he was giving you. Something he had said clung to the back of your mind and in the name of being honest, you brought it up.

“Do you…do you really think I’m beautiful?” You asked curiously as you looked at him. A blush spread from Peters nose bridge all the way to the tips of his ears when he realized you caught his subtle compliment.

“Um, don’t you?” He shrugged, answering your question with a question to put the ball back in your court. Your lips twitched into a smile before you looked away, feeling flustered in place of your usual disdain.

“To answer your question from before, my date was lame.” You shrugged. “Harry was on his phone the whole time, something about fantasy football? I don’t know, I wasn’t listening. Rich people are like, super boring.”

“I thought you liked him? Last I heard, you wanted to be his girlfriend.” Peter couldn’t help from rolling his eyes as he spoke.

“Oof.” You clicked your tongue. “If you haven’t figured out by now that I played up my feelings for Harry to make you jealous, then maybe you’re not smarter than me.”

“You wanted to make me jealous?” Peter repeated for confirmation. “It worked, but why?”

“Do you want to know the number one thing that annoyed me about you?” You asked him, the fight a distant memory now.

“I don’t know. Do I?” Peter chuckled as he rested his head in his hands to look at you.

“No matter how much I disliked you,” you shook your head and shrugged slightly, “I always liked you more.”

“I thought you said you would never like me.” Peter recalled, a hopeful smile tugging at his lips.

“Yeah, well,” you moved closer to him, sitting on his thigh and resting your hand on his shoulder, “I guess I had a change of heart.”

“Well.” Peter looked up at you with a fire in his eyes. “What ever am I going to do about that?” He said slowly as he drummed his fingers on your leg.

“Yeah. What are you gonna do about it, Parker?” You brought back his old nickname to really push him.

“I have a few ideas, Princess.” Peter mumbled before crashing his lips to yours. Your hands immediately went to his hair, tugging it for all the times he made you stressfully tug at yours.

“You drive me crazy with all your eye rolling.” Peter said between kisses as he pushed you down on the bed. “Nobody is that annoyed all the time.”

“Every time I saw you in the lab I hoped you’d burn your hand on the benson burner.” You confessed as you trailed kisses on his jawline.

“I hate when you leave your cereal bowls out. Do you know how disgusting almond milk looks when it’s left out? Ugh it made me so mad.” Peter groaned as he pinned you to the bed.

“I hate when you’re in the kitchen when I’m baking. You’re so annoying.” You whined, tilting your head up to kiss him.

“You’re so annoying.” He shot back as he pulled you closer.

“I cannot stand you.” You shook your head before kissing him again. “At all.”

“That makes two of us, princess.” Peter gave you a cocky smirk as his hand traveled up your leg. 

“I told you not to call me that, daddy.” You shot back, making Peter gulp. You laughed wickedly and propped yourself up on your elbows. “Thats what I thought. You’re all talk.”

“That wasn’t fair.” He growled, teeth grazing your earlobe now. 

“You just can’t handle it.” You teased him. 

“I think I’m in love with you.” Peter said simply as he pulled his shirt over his head.

“Same.” You laughed at the irony. “Now shut up and kiss me.”

Tag List 🏷

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[kanonsarchivedblog]

Nightmares

Word Count: 1425 Warnings: None Genre: Angst Characters: Deidara, Hidan, Kurotsuchi Author's Note: Deidara suffers from PTSD, which presents itself in the form of nightmares and night terrors. Also, Deidara uses they/them pronouns. If you don't like that, please just scroll away. This was inpsired by Lauren Babic's cover of Lovely. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ “Deidara!” Kurotsuchi called, nearly tripping over her feet as she chased after the blonde. “Get back here!”

“Catch me first!” The thirteen year old cackled, grinning as they ducked behind a large boulder, panting softly from sprinting through the crowds. Graduation; Kurotsuchi finally became a chuunin, two years after they had. She was their kohai, their student- she would be learning beneath them and the guidance of their Tsuchikage. Next year, they’d be able to apply to become a jounin. The mere idea had them giddy, had their heart skipping a beat. An official Iwagakure jounin!

The sound of footsteps had them turning, eyes widening in surprise as they stared at three figures, the landscape around them changing. Wait. No, no, this was wrong. This wasn’t the Tsuchikage memorial they’d been hiding behind. This was-

This was the studio they’d created, that had been gifted to them to perfect their art. No, no! Not again, they didn't want to go through this again! The kiln behind them crackled, hot against their back. “Akatsuki?” They asked, brow furrowing in confusion. The strange cloaks they were weren’t fit for Iwagakure’s weather, they noted. “Don’t know, don’t care! It has nothing to do with me.” The fifteen year old declared, gaze drifting back down to the clay spider they were molding. “The only thing I wish to do is continue making my art, hm.”

“Sure, he seems like he’s full of energy,” the one in the puppet- Sasori. That was Sasori! “But he seems like the type to die young,” he finishes, gaze directed upwards towards Itachi. Uchiha Itachi- and Hoshigaki Kisame. They were the ones who brought them in.

Not again, please, not again! They tried to scream, to force their voice out, to plead and beg, but nothing changed. The cocky attitude remained. “Just who the hell are you anyway?” They asked, apprehension coloring their words.

“We know you’re aiding anti-government factions,” Kisame began, head tilting as he studied the blonde. “We’re here to give you a purpose.”

“Purpose?” Deidara scoffed. “I don’t need a purpose!”

“Alright,” Itachi murmurs, shaking his head, “that’s enough. I’ll handle this.”

No, no, no- not again, not again! Deidara panicked, their heart racing as Itachi approached, the tomoe spinning in his gaze. Please, not again!

“NO-” Deidara yelled, jolting up in their bed, chest heaving as the memories of their dream began to drift away. Another nightmare. Their gaze frantically searched the dark room, lit only by the light that spilled in through their window of one of the many neon signs that could be found throughout Amegakure. “Just a dream,” they murmured, reaching up to scrub at their eyes. “A dream.” But it wasn’t a dream. They weren’t in Iwagakure.

They were in Amegakure, in a damned tower with a Buddha’s head that sat atop it, in a village that rained endlessly. No, they weren’t home. A shuddering breath is drawn in as they draw their legs to their chest- a flat chest, one that felt right. Comfortable. A year had passed since that surgery had taken place, the scars fully healed.

Their eyes filled with tears as the adrenaline began to wane, the same moment the door opened. Head snapping up, wide blue eyes studied the figure in the door- tall. Not Sasori. No black tomoe on red irises shining in the dark light. Instead, it was lilac eyes and silver hair. Hidan. “Another nightmare?” He asked, voice gruff from sleep.

That’s right- his room was below Deidara’s. Of course he’d have heard them yell. “Sorry,” they mumbled, shaking their head as Hidan steps in, closing the door behind himself. “They’re coming more often.”

“Well,” Hidan hummed, coming to the other side of the bed,”’s close to when you were brought in, yeah?” He asked as he settled down, making himself comfortable in the pile of blankets and pillows and- was that a stuffed spider?- that made up Deidara’s bed. This wasn’t the first time.

It wouldn’t be the last.

A sigh that devolved into a whimper escaped Deidara as they nodded, face in their hands. “I didn’t want this,” they whispered, voice catching. “I never wanted this. I wanted to be good. I wanted to do good. I never intended on joining, or even on leaving Iwa. I had to run. I had to. Until I could master this,” they motioned with their hands, voice unsteady as tears began to roll freely down flushed cheeks. Pretty, Hidan thought distantly. “I was a threat. I already had this stupid fucking kekkei genkai, and coupled with the- the forbidden jutsu, I was dangerous. But I was good, Hidan. I was a good fucking person!” They yelled, slamming a fist down against their own thigh, hard enough to make Hidan grimace in pain. “I worked for my village and I had a student and now? Now, I’m a fucking S-Class to be killed on the spot. I’m only eighteen, and I’m known all across the fuckin’ nations for doing something that I never wanted to be a part of in the first place.”

Hidan’s brow furrowed inward, a hand reaching out to grasp onto Deidara’s arm, tugging them down gently to lay with him. No words were exchanged as Deidara curled in against him, their sobs soft, muffled by the back of their own hand, the fight in them extinguished just as quickly as it appeared. He could only imagine the pain that had come with Deidara’s borderline kidnapping. He’d heard some details from Sasori himself, a few from Kisame.

Itachi never spoke of it, as if he were ashamed of what he’d done. And he should be.

“One day,” Deidara whispered, breath hot against Hidan’s neck. “ One day, I’ll make it out of here. Even if it takes a hundred years,” their voice is filled with a conviction that surprises Hidan.

His arm tightens around them, holding them closer. “One day, you will,” he agrees, though he isn’t sure what he truly is agreeing with. “Go back to sleep.” It wasn’t even dawn yet, too early to rise and do anything. “I’ll stay. Just go the fuck back to sleep.” When he gets no response from Deidara, he pulls back a touch to glance down- only to find the blonde explosion expert sound asleep, brow still furrowed but otherwise calm. Their face was still wet with tears.

Carefully, he reached up, drying the tears with the edge of one of Deidara’s blankets. They were the youngest out of all of them- the youngest, the most troubled. Aside from maybe Itachi. That dude was fucked beyond belief. But Deidara had only been fifteen, just barely, when they were brought in. He remembered that day- only three months after he himself was brought in.

The screaming. The fighting. How Deidara had decked Itachi and nearly scratched Zetsu’s left eye out before Kisame had gotten ahold of them. How they screamed and growled, threatening to make this entire village ground zero, until Konan had brought them into her office.

The screaming had stopped soon after, and was replaced with sobbing and a soothing voice.

“What the fuck are we even doin’?” Hidan muttered to the dark room, though he received no response. Kakuzu was still asleep in their bed- or, he had been when he’d rolled out at the sound of Deidara’s scream. He’d half expected to find Sasori in here- but that was mere wishful thinking. The puppet master didn’t care about nightmares.

Probably didn’t even sleep.

Sighing, he readjusted, nose scrunching up at how many fucking pillows Deidara slept with. Comfort- he could get that. The kid was barely eighteen, now- and still had these damned nightmares at least twice a week. A part of him wondered what Itachi had shown him. But a larger part, the smarter part, knew better than to ask. Instead, he stayed quiet and did what he could. Which wasn’t much- but, shit, something is better than nothing, right?

He pulled the blankets up high, covering Deidara completely before even bothering with himself despite the chill in the room. He kept them close, tucking their head beneath his chin, into the crook of his neck. Sleep came quickly, sweeping over him and dragging him down deep.

It was strange. Normally, he had nightmares- hell, that’s all he ever had. But on nights like this? He didn’t dream.

He couldn’t help but wonder as he fell into the warm arms of sleep if Deidara had dreams during these times, or if he, too, was dreamless.

[olivarryprompts]

Fanfic Friday #11

Welcome to Fanfic Friday! Each Friday I post a new here and on A03. Enjoy x

Read and save it on A03 here https://archiveofourown.org/works/33567529

{fancy suits from dad}

Ships: Peter Stark & Tony Stark, Pepper Pots/Tony Stark

Warnings: swearing, just fluff otherwise :)

Wc: 2,319

Here’s the thing, Peter Parker grew up in Stark Tower, which eventually became Avengers Tower of course. So whilst his whole class was buzzing about their field trip, all he could think was, “shit, shit shit.” His dad was going to embarrass the hell out of him. His Aunts and Uncles were going to endlessly tease him.

So, no Peter was not looking forward to the field trip. Not in the slightest. He still wanted to go, though. He knew that the rumors of his internship being fake were started by Flash, the annoying teen. He also knew that Flash had not once said his real name, preferring the name Penis Parker. It didn’t bother him as much as it used to. Also since highschool began, Flash had calmed down with his bullying. Well, maybe Flash hadn’t calmed down and high school was just bigger and he had thicker skin. And a new support system with plenty of people to go to.

Peter had been adopted by the Starks when he was a mere ten years old. At first, he was terrible at receiving any gifts or even too much attention. Slowly but surely, he got more and more used to it. Now, he wouldn’t not know what to do if any of that was taken away. Plus, he really did find a liking for expensive suits, however shallow. He looked good in them, and his father always insisted on buying him more and more. Tony would always find an excuse to spoil the kid a little more, however much Pepper tried to stop him.

“Peter, please see me after class regarding an urgent matter.”

Brough out of his thoughts, Peter swiftly nodded his head.

He looked at the board to see the words from before still written on them, “Field Trip to Stark Industries!” It might as well have said, “Dig Peter Stark’s Grave!”

“So, let’s get started with today’s lesson, graphing imaginary numbers on the complex plane!” He’d done this one a while back with his father. Something about not only learning applicable science and engineering. Peter tapped his glass, and the episode of Arrow he’d been watching on the car ride over began playing. He’d be ever grateful for his father’s gift of EDITH to him. Pepper had tried to ban him from wearing them to school, but hastily gave up when Peter pulled the spiderman danger card.

“Alright, class dismissed. Please remember to do this homework pages 11-18 on this unit’s homework handout.”

Peter, forgetting his teacher's previous request, was very glad to be on his way home. He was one foot out of the door when the teacher called his name. Now, his day had gone pretty well up to that point. Bucky made pancakes for breakfast, which were delicious. There was wayyy less traffic on the way to school. He’d aced an essay and a couple of quizzes, and then he even participated in PE effectively. But alas, all good things had to come to an end.

“Mr. Parker? The discussion.”

“Right,” Peter thought, joining the teacher at his desk.

“Peter, you are truly a great kid. I know you’ve been through a lot recently and in your life, but it is no excuse to make up an internship. We both know that it is not real. Now, acknowledging that you have a bright future, the administration and I have come forward with an offer. If you agree to write an apology, expressing that you understand what you did was wrong and immoral, you will both be allowed to come on the trip and no punishment will be given to you. If you choose to not take this opportunity, you will be banned from the trip and will be chastised.

Peter just stood there, not really comprehending. Apparently Flash’s little rumors were a lot bigger than he anticipated.

“I-i-I’m not lying,” was all he could manage. He had filed all the right paperwork and proved his internship.

“I’m sorry to hear that you will not come forward with the truth. You have up until the day before the trip to hand in the letter if you change your mind. Goodbye Peter.”

Peter just let his legs take him out of the classroom, then out of the school, and then to the road, a couple blocks away, where his dad picks him up from.

“Hello mini-me.”

“Hey,” Peter said, jumping into the passenger seat.

“‘Hi Dad, thanks so much for taking time out of your busy schedule to pick me up each and every day. Sick new car by the way! I’d love to drive it sometime!”

Peter just rolled his eyes with a smile, “Car looks great dad. McLarren’s are superior yet.”

“Ungrateful, so so ungrateful. What’s got you in a mood then?”

“Nothin,” Peter said, pulling out his phone.

“Oh come on, tell me. Tell me or I’ll call Ted.”

“Ned, Dad. We’ve been friends for like three years.”

“Not the point.”

“Just something at school.”

“Wow how very descriptive. You know I’m trying to do the whole feelings thing here, and you should appreciate that coming from my emotionally stunted self.”

“You’re so dramatic. Basically we’re having a field trip to your tower, and I’m not allowed to go because the teacher doesn’t think I really have an “internship.” Which, to be fair I don’t but that’s on you and not me.”

“Nah na na. I offered you an internship, and you said I’d be bored.”

“It would be. Doing a project for your company under strict supervision of some person would be sucky. I mean I can do anything I want from the lab you built me.”

“I know, but remember technically you are my intern. Remember we did that whole personal intern bullshit for the school.”

“Oh right. Is that why you keep harassing me about submitting all my completed projects.”

“No, that’s all your mother. Something about not wanting a lawsuit over a fake internship.”

“Make sense. She tends to be a lot smarter than you.”

“Ah, I feel so attacked. The abuse I suffer.”

“You’re terrible.”

“I am internally crying, kid. Sobbing.”

“Shut up,” we laughed.

“Who’s home?”

“You saw Buck and Sam this morning. Nat and Steve came back from their mission this afternoon. Thor and Loki are back for dinner tonight.. Strange might be coming round, not sure though. Cliff and the family aren’t back for at least a couple weeks. Oh and Bruce is wholed up in his lab as usual.”

“Shit. Everyone staying till the end of the week.”

“Yeah, oh the field trip. You’re screwed. You should have not told me.”

“Ughhhhh!!!”

“I love your life Petey.”

Peter walked into the kitchen and saw Steve reading a newspaper.

“Uncle Steve! Your back!” he smiled, dropping his bag off near the sofa. Steve got up to give the smaller boy a hug.

“Yep. Mission completed.”

“Nice. Can you tell me about it?”

“Yeah, it was nothing too interesting. We just needed some more intel into a terrorist organization stationed in the US. Most of the mission was recon. The next steps are being taken in a couple weeks.”

“Good to know there’s an active terrorist organization out there,” Peter said lightly.

Steve just smiled, not quite understanding the modern humor.

“Where is everyone else?” he said, realizing the living room was not in it’s normal chaotic state that he’d come to love. The chaos was his favorite reminder that he had so many people. He liked having lots of people, even after all this time.

“Nat and Buck are training, they invited you to join if you want. Bruce is in his lab, and dont worry he slept and ate last night. Not sure about the rest.”

“Right, thanks. I think I’m going to go train.”

Before he knew it, it was Friday morning, and his school was coming to his home. He was going to try very hard to ignore them. To do so, he asked his mum to let him sit in on some meetings. He had an easy in to the R&D and mechanical side of the company via the other interns. He was actually planning on hanging out with some of the “other” interns later that day. They were always happy to let Pete in on their projects and let him give them a hand. But he was always interested in getting more detail about the business side of the company, and he liked to get a window into it. Pepper was always happy to show her son the ropes. I mean he was heir to the company after all, even if he didn’t know yet.

He asked his mum to only schedule meetings after 12 as he requested a sleep in. Pepper was always happy when Peter slept as he was a little too much like his father. So, he woke bright and early at 11:00 o’clock.

After a scroll through his phone and a quick shower, he was ready to pull on his far too expensive Brunellio’s custom suit. It was one of his favorites. His father had got it custom made when he was in Italy, and told him he simply could not resist getting one for the kid. Pepper just smiled.

He had a large breakfast (enhanced metabolism) and headed towards the 34th floor where his first meeting was located. He’d been shadowing his mum for almost a year now whenever it was convenient, so he had the rointine down. He was almost sure he could take over a few of her meetings.

“Hi honey,” Pepper said, giving the boy a quick kiss on the cheek on the way to her own chair beside him. Peter blushed before resuming his professional posture and facial expression.

“Good morning everyone, as you can see Peter will be joining us today. I want to talk about some of the services we provide for our employees and their feedback. I’m aware we have a large portion to talk about so Kendra please take it away on that front.”

The first meeting went smoothly as planned. It was a discussion on the progress of the internal services, aka the IT department. Peter hadn’t learned much about their IT department, so it was good to listen in to. Pre these meetings, he, of course, does research into the background stuff, so he’s not completely lost. Pepper’s assistant usually provides him with a packet of info about the Stark Industries side of things. He is also given a list of key words and concepts he might want to make sure he understands. The research is fun for him, it makes him feel all professional.

Usually he spoke during the meetings, asking a couple questions and suggesting some ideas, but for this one he just learned and took in. The next meeting, however, was very much so his field. He’d spoken a lot with advertising, becoming very interested in the data analysis behind it. He even took a stats class so he could keep up. In that one he asked questions Pepper was on the verge of asking twice. He also contributed to the analysis of data once. Pepper usually liked him to participate as it was good for him, but he always felt bad suggesting stuff to the senior adults. He usually spoke to his mum or dad about projects for the company, preferring that.

They hung back in the room of the second meeting.

“Good job in this one Pete. Took two questions right off my tongue.”

“Thanks ma,” he said, always appreciating some approval.

“That’s all I’ve got for you today, kid. Rest of the stuff is, ya know.”

“Course. Thanks for these two. It was good to learn about internal affairs a bit more. Have a gap of knowledge there.”

“Yeah. Was that the first time meeting our CIT?”

“I believe so.”

“Well, next time we have a broader IA meeting, I’ll pull you outta school,” Pepper suggested.

“Really? That’d be epic.”

“Course, hun. Jarvis, sort that out please.”

“Of course Mrs. Potts.”

“Thanks J,” Peter yelled.

“Anytime mini-boss. No need to disturb the entire floor.”

“Are AI supposed to be so snarky?”

“Dad programmed it, what else would it be?”

“Valid point.”

“Right, got to run. See you later.”

“Bye, love you mum!”

“Love you too, Pete.”

“Jarvis, could you send me the tour plan for the visiting tour today?”

“Absolutely, sir. They’re on your phone now.”

“Thanks J.”

Looking at the plans Peter smiled. He had successfully avoided them the entire day. It said they were supposed to head back to school at 2:30, and it was about to be three. Smile on his face, he trotted down to the lobby to grab a coffee before going to meet Loki at the arcade. Don’t judge them, it was their thing. Taking the private lift down, and then walking straight to the coffee stand and ordering.

“Mr. Parker!” he heard the angry voice of his teacher, “How dare you show up here aft-”

Shit. shit. Shit.

“Edith, call dad, and tell him it’s urgent in the lobby.”

“Of course Peter.”

“Peter, are you listening to me! You are going to face extreme consequences for this.”

“Your coffee,” the man said, not realizing it was Peter, level ten personal of the tower, that was being yelled at.

“Thanks.”

“How dare you get coffee! In this building! Security!”

Tony arrived spotting his son instantly.

“Kid this best be impor- I see.”

“Hey Mr. Stark,” Peter said weakly.

“Mr. Harrington is it? Please stop harassing my intern.”

“H-he, he is y-your intern?”

“Yes. My favorite. Please exit the building and never question him again. You will be hearing from me.”

Let’s just say, Monday was an interesting day. At least Flash backed off, he was definitely an intern at SI, and no one embarrassed him on the trip.

[allegra-writes]

“Fine line” Part II

Peter Parker x Reader x Harry Osborn

NSFW

Warnings: Smut, threesome.

SERIES MASTERLIST | MY MASTERLIST

You couldn't help the hiss that escaped your lips as Peter gently padded the cut on your shoulder with gauze.

"Sorry" He flinched, "I'm being as soft as I can…"

"I know, Pete, it's ok" You reassured him.

He sighed,

"No, it's not. I'm good at this, god knows I've had practice, but I'm not a doctor…" nonetheless, he grabbed the needle and medical thread, "You should have let Simmons take a look at you"

"She was rather busy"

"I know" Peter was well aware of the carnage, the attack on the city had been vicious. S.H.I.E.L.D Tower now laid in ruins, hundreds of agents hurt or even…

"Your sister is going to be ok" He reassured you. Again. You nodded, swallowing through the knot on your throat. Peter finished his work, placing the softest, most careful of kisses right under the injury. He knew how scared, how worried you were. He knew that was the reason you didn't let doctor Simmons take care of you, cause you didn't want to distract her from tending to Daisy.

"I mean it" He insisted, "She's strong, just like you"

"Yeah, I know" You sighed, "I just wish we were smarter"

You had been naive, the both of you, in believing you had seen the last of the Goblin for the night, not realizing the whole incident with Harry had been just a distraction.

But the Goblin had miscalculated too, he hadn't counted on your whole former team being in the city to meet your boyfriend. All of S.H.I.E.L.D'S best and brightest in the same place, at the same time.

That mistake had ultimately cost him his life.

"What happened to Norman?" You hadn't stuck around for the clean up, too occupied taking an unconscious Daisy, and other badly hurt agents, into the med bay of the Zephyr to get treated. "To the body, I mean"

Peter avoided your eyes, instead choosing to keep wrapping a bandage around your shoulder.

"Peter?"

"I took him back home" He finally blurted out, still not meeting your gaze, "His home, I mean. I know Fury probably wanted to study him or something but I just… Harry, I couldn't- his father, disappearing just like that? Harry deserves to know, he deserves to know his father is not coming back. O-or if S.H.I.E.L.D didn't take the body... I couldn't let Harry find him like that, all broken and bloody on the street. I just-... I just couldn't…"

It clicked then, watching your boyfriend's tear streaked face. All the late night phone calls, talking till sunrise, all the times his patrols around the city had taken him to Oscorp, his diving head first tonight to save Harry, suddenly it all made sense.

"You're in love with him"

"So are you" It wasn't an accusation, just the statement of a fact. You weren't really surprised he had realized, not when he could hear your heartbeat quicken whenever Harry showed up in the news.

The silence fell between you like ghost, a heavy presence, invisible but suffocating, for several moments, until Peter gathered enough courage to break it,

"I still love you, Six. This doesn't change that"

"I know," you sighed, "I still love you too"

"What are we going to do now?" He looked about as lost as you felt.

"I don't know, Peter…"

"I- I don't want to lose you" He choked out a sob.

"You won't" You stood, pulling him in, wrapping your arms around him. He held onto you hard, almost so hard it hurt, but you couldn't let go. You wouldn't. "You won't lose me, Peter, ever. Not for this, not for anything"

He leaned back just enough to crush his lips to yours, pouring all his desperation, all his fear and guilt into a bittersweet kiss. His arms wound even tighter around you in an iron grip, afraid if he let go for just a second, you would disappear from his side.

"Don't leave me… please don't leave me" He didn't realize the words were escaping his mouth between kisses until your answer reached his ears, soothing like a balm:

"I won't. I'm never leaving you"

The ground was swept from under your feet, as Peter picked you up, bridal style. He needed you, his sunshine, his anchor to-

"I'm sorry to interrupt, Peter" Karen's voice resonated through the apartment, "But Harry Osborn is in the lobby, asking for you"

You both froze. It wasn't completely unexpected, you knew how brilliant the blonde heir was under that frivolous bad boy façade, but Peter seemed to be taken by surprise. He searched your eyes, silently begging for guidance, but deep down, he knew what the right thing to do was, the only possible course of action.

"Send him up" He ordered Karen, gently setting you down on your feet again.

"Of course, Peter" The AI replied, with what Peter could have sworn was approval, if that was even possible.

You found a silk robe to put on over your flimsy summer pajamas, covering your body not out of modesty, but to somewhat conceal the bandages and bruises littering your skin. Peter smiled, it was just like you to hide your vulnerabilities, especially if you were expecting a confrontation. He took your hand, and you stepped out of the bedroom together. Come what may, you knew you could face it, as long as you had each other.

"Harry!" The gasp left Peter's throat unbidden, as soon as his eyes fell on his friend. It was a pitiful sight, the blonde still wearing the same clothes from last night, rumpled and dirty, the stench of alcohol coming out of his pores, so strong even you without your super senses could smell it from the other side of the room. He rushed to him, couldn't help it, but Harry's words stopped him dead in his tracks, in the middle of the living room.

"It was you wasn't it? You killed my father. I broke into his lab, read his files… he was the Goblin. Did you know?"

"Harry-"

"DID YOU KNOW IT?!"

Peter hesitated, but in the end he answered honestly.

"Yes"

"And you still killed him… you knew he was my father, and you still killed him!"

You took a step forward, subtly placing yourself between them; you knew your boyfriend would not defend himself if Harry was to lash out, probably believing he deserved it.

"No, Harry. I did." Peter might have knocked the monster out, but the coup de grâce had been all you. You could try to defend yourself, to make excuses, say you were following orders, that he was too dangerous to live. But the truth was, when you had seen Daisy go down, bleeding, her body shattered, limbs bent in strange, wrong angles, you had seen red. You would have done the exact same thing, even without director Fury's voice in your ear.

"The Goblin almost killed her sister" Peter intertwined his fingers with yours. Of course he would advocate for you even if he wouldn't for himself, "and he also... hurt Kate" Understatement of the fucking century, but at least her injuries weren't life threatening.

Harry crumbled in front of your eyes, all the fight leaving him at once.

"He tried to kill me too" His own dad, the one person in the world who was supposed to love him unconditionally, had tried to murder him. Without flinching, without hesitating, all to mess with Spider-Man's head. Had Peter made a different call, go for you instead of him...

"The serum that transformed him affected his mind, Harry" You pointed out, consoling, "We don't know how much of your father was left inside the Goblin"

Harry scoffed, it would have been easier to believe your words if it had been the first time. But he could still remember, if only barely, the cold water of the pool in winter, lungs burning with lack of oxygen, his small legs kicking desperately, uselessly, and his father's blue eyes, colder than the water, watching him from above, doing nothing. Until the gardener had saved him

No, Norman Osborn had been a monster long before becoming the Goblin.

And what did that make Harry, then? Why had he come looking for Peter and you? At first he had thought he wanted blood, but now, having the both of you in front of him, he wasn't so sure.

Without your battle uniforms, you didn't look like the super human, terrifying villains his alcohol ridden brain had built you up to be. Standing there, bare feet in your sleeping clothes you were frail, vulnerable. Red eyed and bruised, you looked almost as bone weary and exhausted as he felt.

He couldn't do it.

"Did you mean it?" He managed to get out through the sobs shaking his frame, "What you said back on top of that building? Tha-that it's the choices we make and… and not what we are… th-that define us?"

Peter sidestepped you, advancing towards Harry.

"Every word" Slowly, ever so slowly, like approaching a wild animal he didn't want to spook, he reached out, "Give me the gun, Harry"

Harry's eyes went wide, but he complied, untucking the small 9 mm from the back of his waistband. He handed it over to Peter, who in turn offered it to you. Quick as lightning, you released the latch, unloading it and tossing it on the coffee table.

"I'm sorry" Harry croaked between tears, "I'm so sorry"

He hadn't noticed how cold he was, until Peter enveloped him in his warm embrace.

"It's ok, Haz" You heard him whisper, "It's going to be ok. We got you now…"

"Make it stop" Harry's cries were muffled against your boyfriend's shoulder, but you still could feel the pain in his voice, loud and clear. It hurt like a physical blow to your chest, knocking the air out of you. You had tried, you really had, but apparently your feelings for the blue eyed boy weren't as under control as you had thought "Please… make it stop"

He wasn't even conscious of the words leaving his mouth, as he begged to a god he didn't believe in, to whoever might be listening, for something to numb the pain. To feel anything else than that soul crushing agony consuming him.

Peter's eyes found yours, a silent request for permission. You didn't know what was in his mind, but you trusted him, with more than your life: You trusted him with your heart.

You nodded. It was all Peter needed. He cupped Harry's face with his hands, and kissed him.

It was surreal. Suddenly, you were witnessing your boyfriend passionately making out with the man that had been haunting your dreams for months, and you should have felt jealousy or betrayal, but the truth was, those were the furthest things from your mind. Because Harry seemed to be finally kissing back, fingers tangling in Peter's curls, still wet from your shared shower, tugging just enough for the brunet to let out the most delicious little whimper and fuck, but that had to be the hottest thing you had ever seen in your life.

And Peter had probably felt the change in you, the rising in your temperature, the beating of your heart, cause he reached for your hand without even looking, pulling you closer, guiding the blond man towards your lips. His once familiar mouth quickly reacquainted itself with yours, tongue exploring, teeth nibbling softly. The shock sent shivers down your spine, as Peter's hands opened your robe, sliding the cool silk down your arms. His lips on your neck had your head spinning, and you had to hold onto Harry's strong shoulders to stop yourself from falling.

"Hello" He breathed out as you broke the kiss, cursing your need for oxygen.

"Hi" You smiled, "It's been too long"

"Far too long" Harry agreed, the beautiful ocean of his eyes, dark and turbulent with lust.

Peter didn't stay idle for long, agile fingers working open Harry's shirt, stepping closer, pushing your body further into Harry's space. It wasn't long till you found yourself trapped between two naked, equally stunning torsos, pushing and pulling, as Peter's and Harry's lips collided again over your shoulder.

You felt your boyfriend's hand slip inside your sleeping shorts, teasing you over your panties.

"Peter" You reached back, arm hooked on the back of his neck for purchase, as he tugged your underwear to the side, and buried two fingers inside your tight heat.

"Fuck!"

Startled, you opened the eyes you hadn't even realized you had closed. You were ashamed to admit you had pretty much forgotten the other man's presence, Peter was just that good, knew your body that well, but Harry was still standing in front of you, eyes fixed on the erotic way Peter's hand was moving inside your shorts. His other hand lowered the straps of your camisole one by one, baring your chest to Harry's wonderstruck stare.

The moan that escaped your lips as Peter started expertly massaging your breast finally pulled the golden haired man out of his trance,

"Can I…"

"Touch her?" Peter finished for him, placing a sweet kiss on your temple, as your head rolled back, coming to rest on his chest, "I don't know, buddy. You'll have to ask her"

You heard Harry's voice, but it was hard to concentrate with Peter's fingers penetrating you over and over again, grazing that perfect spot inside you every time. Peter chuckled a little smugly,

"Baby girl, is it ok if Harry touches you?"

"Yes!" You panted, at last "Yes, please, Harry… touch me"

He did more than that, lips closing around the nipple not currently between Peter's fingers, hands roving all around your body, tearing and ripping at clothes with Peter's help, until you were completely naked, and completely at their mercy.

Your boyfriend laid you down on the massive chaise lounge that dominated the living room, yellow, like almost everything else on your apartment, he wanted everything to remind him of his sunflower when you weren't there. He positioned you so your legs would hang out the border, guiding Harry to kneel between them.

"Bossy, aren't you?" The blond quipped, playfully.

"Oh, you have no idea" Peter smirked from behind his back, turning his head to capture his lips again in the filthiest of kisses. You watched Peter's hands trail down Harry's chest, lower down his abs and further south stil, undoing his button and his fly, disappearing inside his pants.

Your breath catched at the same time as his, when Peter's hand closed around his member, slowly pumping up and down, up and down, the same hypnotic, insanity inducing rhythm you had taught him a lifetime ago on a tropical island.

Harry's head fell forward, eyes closed in bliss, but that was when Peter saw you.

"Naughty girl," He murmured, eyes zeroing in the way your index finger was rubbing circles on your clit, "you know I hate it when you do that…"

Your smirk was defiant,

"What are you going to do about it?" You let your other hand travel over your skin, caressing softly, teasing yourself as much as teasing him "You have your hands full"

"I'll take care of her" Haz was looking at you longingly, "Please, Peter… let me take care of her…"

"Hmmm… only because you ask so nicely" Peter's words were a little slurred, and you knew he was drunk with the power. Having both you and Harry to dominate, to do as he said was making him dizzy, almost overwhelmed.

But for once, having his senses dialed up to eleven wasn't painful, no. He was in heaven.

"Put your mouth on her, Haz… she's fucking delicious, tastes just like strawberries…"

Harry bent over, licking his lips, eyes fixed on yours. The movement pressed his ass against Peter's hard on, making him hiss.

"Can I-"

"Yes, please"

Your boyfriend tugged both Harry's pants and boxers down. You couldn’t see exactly what he was doing, but Harry’s handsome face, contorting in pleasure, gave you a pretty good idea.

"Oh, god, Harry!" You gasped as his tongue, at last, made contact with your flesh.

He hummed as if in agreement, flattening his tongue over your slit before using the tip to tap your pearl. Your hand flew to his head, finding purchase in his golden curls as he licked into you eagerly, rocking his whole face against you.

He was nothing like Peter. This was messy, obscene, it lacked Peter's finesse and precision, but fuck it was good.

You could feel the coil tighten inside you, already so close to the brink from Peter's hand, but just as it was about to snap, Harry's lips left you.

"Oh, fuck!" His curse was muffled against your thigh. You could see your boyfriend's curls over the curve of Harry's back and you could only guess what his wicked tongue was doing to the boy between your legs.

"Oh yeah, he's quite talented at that isn't he?" You giggled despite your frustration

"So good" Harry moaned, "So so good…"

Peter came into view then, placing kisses along Harry's spine.

"If you want my mouth on you" He whispered in his ear, loud enough for you to hear, "keep yours on her"

Harry nodded, enthusiastically.

"And make sure she comes," He went on, "that's the only rule: Our girl gets to come… Over, and over," He punctuated every word with a kiss down Harry's back again, "and over, and over…"

The most wanton of noises left Harry and you knew conversation time was over as he dove right back in, separating your lips with his fingers, thrusting his tongue inside you as deep as it would go. Your back arched off the chaise, crying out loud when Harry decided to add a finger, and then another one, as his lips closed around your clit, sucking a little too hard.

It was too much.

"Haz… fuck, ah!... Slow down, baby"

"Keep going, Harry" Peter's tone was stern, as he watched you writhe in pleasure. He was on his knees again, coating two of his fingers with lube. When had he gone and fetch it, you had no idea. "Make her come… god you have to see her, she is so gorgeous when she comes…"

And it wasn't going to take long, with the way Harry's tongue was circling your clit and the vibrations from his own moans and sweet little whines, you could feel yourself right at that edge, all you needed was something to tip you over.

Harry's hand made its way to your chest, finding your breast and massaging just the way you liked it, the way you had done earlier. He was a fast learner. But you didn't have much time to marvel about that, cause you were finally falling, every nerve of your body going up in sparks, your cries of ecstasy intermingling with his, as Peter finally, finally entered him, torturously slow, making him feel every lavish inch.

The stronger boy's measured but powerful thrusts pushed Harry's body forwards. He wrapped his arms around your waist, burying his face on your stomach, mouth slack against your skin, muffling his sounds.

"Careful there," Peter warned, slowing down his movements almost to a stop, "She's hurt"

Harry opened his eyes, and they came to rest on your bruised ribs. You could see the thoughts behind his icy blues crystal clear, the misplaced guilt twisting a knot in his entrails: His father had done that to you. But you refused to let those heavy feelings invade your bubble of solace, refused to let his father ruin this for him too. Squaring your jaw, you looked up at Peter,

"What are you waiting for, Tiger?" Your boyfriend's eyes went wide at your commanding tone, "Fuck him like you mean it"

Peter gulped, goosebumps erupting on his skin. Oh yeah, he might be a big boy now, but your dominant voice could still make him weak. He wondered absently if it was simply you, and everything you did, that turned him to putty in your hands.

"Yes, ma'am" He grabbed onto Harry's hips, picking up his rhythm.

"Oh god!" Harry sobbed into your skin. You ran your hand through his curls, caressing soothingly.

"He feels good, doesn't he? So hard and big…"

"So big…" The blonde agreed, "so deep…"

"How does Harry feel, Peter?"

Your boyfriend was biting his lip, looking down, fixated on the place he was disappearing inside Harry.

"So good, so fucking tight…"

You sighed, yearningly. They were breathtakingly, heartbreakingly beautiful. All lean and strong muscles, locking and releasing, miles of soft creamy skin colliding on skin, tiny beads of sweat glistening in the soft morning light. It was fascinating, watching them move together, the dirty sounds leaving them more than enough to make you wet and ready again.

But before you could say something, you felt Harry's turquoise stare on you.

"Six… I need you, please" He pleaded, small and shy, as if afraid you would say no. You looked at Peter for reassurance, but he was already bending over, reaching for Harry's cock and unrolling a condom around it, pushing him further up your body. The blond whined in complaint when the movement caused Peter to slip out of him.

"You liked that, didn't you?" Your boyfriend moved closer, kissing his shoulder, "Like me filling you up so good…"

Harry and you moaned in unison, making him chuckle.

"It's her turn now. She needs to be filled too. So go on, bury that gorgeous cock of yours between her legs" Peter encouraged, softly, his tone a stark contrast to the vulgarity of his words, "and I will fuck you so hard she will feel it"

Harry cursed, Peter’s dirty mouth was going to be the death of him, he just knew it.

No, he was already in heaven, he decided, as he braced himself on his forearms at each side of your head, taking his sweet time entering you. He would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about this, the truth was he had, a million times. In fact, every time he had taken a girl that looked just enough like you into his bed. But they were never quite right. Never had your perfume, or their hair was the wrong color, or their eyes were the wrong shade. Now it was really you, and never in his wildest dreams had he pictured it could be like this, your breathy moans underneath him, your heat embracing him so perfectly… As your boyfriend did obscene, immoral, delicious things to him from behind, driving him right to the brink of sanity.

And he didn't waste any time, thrusting hard and fast. Soon, Harry was a sobbing mess, trapped as every move to escape Peter’s cock drove him deeper into you, every motion backwards and away from you impaling him further on Peter’s cock. There wasn’t much he could do, but take whatever Peter gave him.

You clung onto his back, blunt fingernails digging into his skin,

“I'm going to come… Harry, I'm going to come on your cock”

Fuck, you were just as dirty as your boyfriend. And it was truth, he could feel it, feel your walls quivering around his dick, feel your body starting to shake with the force of your orgasm. Peter bended over, grabbing hold of his shoulders, changing the angle, hitting his prostate over and over, white hot pleasure exploding without warning. Harry drown his screams into your mouth, his climax almost painful in it’s intensity, his vision going black.

…

“…Alright, then what about the Academy of Science and Technology?”

You made a face,

“You need at least one PhD to get in…”

“I got a master’s in engineering, does that count?”

“You could get into the Academy of Communications with that” Peter interjected, lazily caressing your naked back. The three of you were in bed, a mess of legs and arms intertwined together, as the sun went down over the city outside.

“That’s the easiest of S.H.I.E.L.D’s academies to get into, right?” Harry mused. Freedom, what a strange thing it was: He had spent his whole life craving it, wishing to be able to do whatever he wanted, go wherever he wanted, be with whoever he really wanted, without fear of his father judgement, without fear of his wrath, and now that he finally could… It was slightly terrifying.

A part of him almost felt guilty, for being so eager to tear apart everything his father had worked so hard for years to turn him into. For allowing himself to feel something this good not even 24 hours after his death. But a touch of your hand, or a glimpse of warm brown eyes, and it all faded away. His second thoughts, his doubts, his responsabilities… In fact, everything outside that bed faded away until there was nothing more than the three of you, alone in the world, still tangled together just talking and touching and basking in the afterglow.

You nodded,

“Data specialists and field agents. But I seriously think you could get into Operations, if you really want to”

“I think she’s right. I'm getting into the Academy of Operations this fall, and” Peter decided, finding Harry’s hand under the sheets, interlocking their fingers together “I really would like you to be there with me”

Harry was speechless. He had wish, he had dreamed, but he hadn’t let himself hope. That this… whatever it was, wild, and exiting, and delicate and precious between the three of you was not a one time thing. He had tried to convince himself that he would be fine if it was, that he was going to treasure it anyway, be glad it happened, enjoy it while it lasted. Even if it killed him the next day.

It was a fine line between happiness and heartbreak, the one he had been walking with you today.

“I… Well, I mean” He stammered “I think I would love to. Go with you, I mean. If I can get in, that is”

Peter and you exchanged a look, one of those silent communication things you seemed to always have going on, and he felt the littlest pang of envy. He wanted to be privy to those conversations, like he wanted to be a part of yours and Peter’s world. He wanted to know what the Cavalry was and why Peter seemed to be so scared of it. He wanted to be able to keep up with yours and Peter stamina. He wanted to spend so much time with you that not knowing your name stopped bothering him, cause he literally knew everything else about you, like Peter did. He wanted to speak the same language you two seemed to share…

And maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t an impossible dream. Because suddenly he found himself with an armful if you, capturing his lips in a possessive kiss that spoke of something deeper than lust and passion, something permanent and meaningful and as inescapable as fate, ‘You are ours now, you belong to us. And we are never letting you go'

Yeah, outside of that bed, the world had shifted again, fallen apart and crumbled to pieces for Harry just like it had for Peter almost a year before. And once you left it, you were going to have to face the aftermath. Harry was going to have to deal with the press, and the fact that his father was a villain. Peter would have to deal with his aunt, and Pepper and to not only explain his sexuality wasn’t conventional, but his relationship now wasn’t either. And you would have to deal with S.H.I.E.L.D, and the rebuilt, and to explain Fury and May how you had ended up with no one, but two boyfriends that had once been your mission. And none of you had any idea how you were going to do that. Or how you were going to make this between the three of you work, because the world was cruel, and didn’t take kindly to things that were different. But you knew the alternative was to painful to even think about it.

Truth was, there was a lot the three of you didn’t know. But there, in each others arms, watching the NYC lights start to shine outside the massive window, you knew one thing: You were going to be alright.

THE END.

[bestworstcase]

i’ve been thinking about this post from a couple days ago and how i shared my four questions of character development but didn’t actually give an example of what my answers look like and it’s bugging me a bit because it occurs to me that it’s kinda just. lobbing a tool out there without documentation on how to use it properly rip

so uh. further details with examples ft. the bitter snow cast.

#1: what are they looking for?

all characters have an UNFULFILLED DESIRE that motivates them to action. the more central to the story the character is, the harder this must be to attain, as a general rule. this is, ideally, NOT an exterior goal. instead, it is the intrinsic wellspring from which the character’s goals and aspirations emerge.

EXAMPLES:

cassandra: it’s complicated. she is a character defined more by what she lacks than what she wants, per se; she does not feel secure of her place in the world, she craves trust because she feels she is distrusted, she craves respect because she feels she is overlooked, she craves love because she feels unloved. she doesn’t want to be a servant. she is terrified of insignificance, of being forgotten. she does not fit, and this hurts her. she is riddled with self-loathing and self-doubt because of the discrimination she has endured due to her saporian heritage. but if pressed to explain what she wants… she can’t summon a true answer. she doesn’t know what she wants, so what she is looking for fundamentally is to figure that out.

rapunzel: complicated again. she is a character defined in large part by what other people want from her. a people-pleaser who becomes anxious, persistent—even forceful—in her efforts to make everyone happy. she isn’t accustomed to paying attention to her own desires, and tends to neglect them unless she is acutely unhappy. i think she is looking for herself, more than anything.

varian: he is searching for answers. he wants to understand how the world works, to discover what it has to teach him. simple.

caine: she is looking for freedom. her life has been a long succession of horrific losses: her father was brutally taken from her, her mother became horribly ill, poverty and familial obligation robbed her of what remained of her childhood, she became disillusioned with the faith her aunt tried to share with her, her best friend died in her arms. she wants vengeance, and she also wants to stop carrying these ghosts with her, and she also wants to stop looking over her shoulder all the time and waiting for the next loss to catch up with her.

zhan tiri: she is looking for peace. she is the oldest living being in existence, and she came from nothing, and every single significant moment in her unfathomably long life has been soaked in blood and pain and death. her intrinsic nature is to hunger—always needing, always restless, always empty—and more than anything, she longs to break this endless circle of want.

#2: what’s stopping them?

every character must have an OBSTACLE which DISRUPTS their pursuit of what they’re looking for. it is the thing standing in their way. this is NOT the antagonist—it is the reason the character cannot easily overcome the antagonist. ideally it is something intrinsic.

EXAMPLES:

cassandra: she has, again, a complicated answer—because the very thing she is looking for is the same thing that stands in her way. how can she discover her basic, most primal want if she can’t even articulate her goals? she wants, at the beginning of the story, to join the watch—but not because she wants to join the watch, so much as joining the watch is a proxy for cassandra assimilating fully, for being coronan through and through, for scrubbing herself clean of the stain of her parents’ legacy—and that proxy is itself merely a proxy for her desire to belong—and her desire to belong is, in turn, a proxy for the agony of not knowing herself. she is piling bandaids on top of bandaids on top of bandaids on top of hemorrhages.

rapunzel: she is trapped in her own story. an evil witch kidnapped the magical lost princess, who escaped and came home; a miracle. the sundrop gifted its power to the lost princess; destiny. she a peacemaker and a mediator; it is her job to fix problems. narratives piled on narratives and she’s lost—or rather, never had—the insight to recognize that there is more to her than the stories people tell about her.

varian: his crushing need for approval is the key thing standing in his way. it isn’t just that his father’s disappointment or his village’s distrust make him warier of free experimentation; it is also, and perhaps even more so, that he is afraid of finding the wrong answers. answers that won’t help people. answers that his friends and allies won’t like. answers that change his basic view of the world in ways that feel antithetical to who he is. this fear holds him back from pursuing the truth.

caine: she is looking in the wrong direction; she is trying to not care, as if by not caring she can trick the universe into not taking anything else away. she is someone who cares so deeply trying to sever herself from everything she cares about without actually letting it go, which is of course an exercise in futility.

zhan tiri: what she wants is, quite simply, impossible. this is not a human answer because she is not human. contentment is and will always be something she is not capable of feeling, and chasing it is nothing but another exercise in insatiable hunger.

#3: what are they going to do about it?

this is about ACTION. it is not an option for a character to do nothing; the nature of the unfulfilled desire is that they are COMPELLED to seek it, somehow, by some means. if the answer to this question does not involve the character DOING SOMETHING, you need to return to question number one and fix the answer there.

EXAMPLES:

cassandra: she is going to fling herself headlong and without hesitation after whatever concrete goals feel like they might “fix” the lack she feels. even if a short term goal (like helping rapunzel sneak out) clashes or is contradictory with a longer term goal (like joining the watch). even if it is an obviously stupid idea (like her secret correspondence with rosalia morcant). even if it is an impulse with little if any rational basis (like fixating on finding varian, or joining the fight in socona). she is, essentially, throwing stuff at the wall to see what sticks, because without knowing what she wants, she can’t form a coherent “quest” for herself.

rapunzel: she is going to follow the path of least resistance with whatever narrative feels the least restrictive to her at any given time. when she is fresh out of the tower, reconnecting with her real family and throwing herself into becoming a princess is that narrative. later, taking adira’s and xavier’s advice to pursue her destiny by questing for the moonstone replaces that narrative. since none of these narratives fully suit her—they are all boxes she tries to fit into—she will eventually grow discontent and cast them aside to try something new, until she finally breaks this cycle.

varian: he is going to fall into a cycle of hesitant side-stepping leading to crisis leading to frantic charge forward until he identifies this pattern and chooses to step calmly but courageously into unknown territory. his instinct is to try to go around, to find an oblique solution, but to get what he wants he will ultimately need to just face his fear head on—and deep down he is willing to do that.

caine: she is going to run, and fight, and keep running and fighting until her legs give out beneath her. vengeance appeals to her, and she’s going to chase it with everything she’s got while trying to protect what she has; her intense drive is tempered by caution, which manifests in a pragmatic approach to pursuit of her exterior goals.

zhan tiri: she is going to continuously and experimentally refine and broaden her definition of “hunger” with the aim of hitting on something that allows her to feel satiated. she is going to line up goals and systematically chew threw them until there’s nothing left. she is, eventually, going to devour the whole cosmos and then probably die.

#4: who do they think they are?

this is a question about the character’s SELF-IDENTIFICATION. how do they PERCEIVE themselves? how do they choose to DEFINE themselves? what do they see when they look in the mirror?

EXAMPLES:

cassandra: she is untrustworthy. she is ignored. she is likable but not lovable. she doesn’t fit anywhere. she’s empty. she’s unsure. she’s drowning in doubt. she is insignificant, unimportant. she has been wronged, somehow. she wants to be a hero. she is someone who wants to do the right thing. she never stops trying. she’s stupid and reckless and incapable and doesn’t deserve any of the things she wants. she probably cares too much.

rapunzel: she is good. she is kind. (she is better than other people, in some small way. she sees the potential for goodness that other people can’t, or won’t.) she is worthless. she exists to make the world a better place. she is a princess, so she has to lead. she is the sundrop, so she has to heal. she is strong. (she is weak.) her determination to be kind and willingness to trust are her best qualities.

varian: he’s probably a lot smarter than most people he knows. he doesn’t know anything, but he wants to. he’s reckless. he’s not good enough. he can’t replace his mom. he’s accident prone. he’s a disappointment. he moves too fast. he thinks too fast. he doesn’t really need to sleep. he’s better with chemicals and formulas and machines than people. he’s not someone people want to be friends with. he could do great things if people—especially his dad—would just believe in him for once.

caine: she is an asshole and there is nothing wrong with her. she’s callous. she’s selfish. she’s out for her own interest first. she’s fine. (it was her fault cornaīn died. it’ll be her fault if her mom dies, or if neasa dies, or if any more of her crew dies, or if cassandra dies.) she isn’t afraid, she isn’t hurt, she’s angry. the only person she can rely on is herself, and the only person she wants to rely on is herself. she’s not anxious, she’s being smart.

zhan tiri: she loves, and it hurts, and she loves anyway. there is a way to break the circle and she is going to find it; it isn’t over until the end; but nothing lasts but hunger. she has done nothing wrong, ever, in her life. she has so many regrets she could drown in them if she weren’t immortal. she is beautiful, stop screaming.

…and that’s the bedrock of a character. 

every individual action, every specific goal, every thought and feeling, is ultimately guided by the clash between this internal core with the realities of the setting, plot, and choices of other characters. cognitive dissonance between answers #1-3 and answer #4 is a breeding ground for inner conflict, and answers #1-3 are the raw material from which the spine of the character’s arc is sculpted.

[bonus round: this method comes from a scene in the pre-broadway houston run of the musical wonderland, wherein a character poses these questions to alice; her answers are:

#1: “i’m looking for my lost child.*”

*this being both literally her child who is lost but also metaphorically her own sense of wonder and discovery, which she has lost touch with.

#2: “i do! i keep getting in my own way, it’s all i do!”

#3: “i’m trying to figure that out!”

#4: “i’m chloe’s mother. i’m married to jack. these people are my friends. i’m a writer. i’m a teacher. i’m the dreamer of this dream. i’m lots of things; i’m my own invention!”

and when i first listened to this audio i was blown away by just how perfectly this distilled the character of alice down to her purest essentials so i immediately adopted it for character building purposes and i have never looked back because it is simple and it works.

in this scene there is also a fifth question, “what are you afraid of?” (paraphrasing: “losing the people i love”) which i have over time sort of just lumped in with how i answer the other four, because i find it to be less evocative on its own. however, it is useful information to know about a character and i recommend keeping it in mind when answering the other four.]

[jamiedc-they-them]

Who you used to (and can no longer) be (Platonic)

Requested Imagine: Dany x Brother reader, maybe reader was caught by Cersei and is reunited with Dany. idk its a stretch but it came to mind. it can be angsty or nah whatever u want, B

  It had been a while since you’d seen anything but the small reflection of light from a torch on the cell door. It had been a while since you had heard anything but the rats in the cell that you were thrown into months ago or the creaks of the door or the rustles of your chains.

You got a new sound, that being of the door opening. You also got a bit lighter, for a moment that was. The door was then slammed closed, and a voice that was anything but new spoke.

“Still awake? Hm, I have to give you the fact that you’ve lasted longer than I thought you would,” The taunting voice of Cersei Lannister spat as she approached you, goblet of wine in her hand as always, “Then again, you were always the odd one out, weren’t you? The little Targaryen runt? I do have to wonder though, what your whore of a sister will do to get you back?”

She came even closer to you, now towering over you, “See, the families all live up to their sigils, don’t they? Lannister’s as lions who tear their enemies apart; the Starks, the lucky wolves in a pack who can survive the winter; then there’s the Targaryen’s,” She poured the wine onto you, aggravating your wounds.

“As the feisty, fiery dragons, with so many scars. What’s one more though? Although, I’m sure to your sister, it would make all the difference between you being worth saving and you being left behind to rot. But we’ll see.”  

 It had been a while since Danny had been able to sleep. It had been a while since she had been able to think straight and not have her mind on something other than the fact that her brother was still missing.

It had gotten to the point where she had accidentally called Jorah, Y/N. The man hadn’t minded, of course, he politely corrected her and moved on. Still, it showed. It showed how much of her mind was chipping away at a plan to get you back and safe.

“My Queen,” Daenerys turned to Tyrion, the one who had called her name, “Maybe we should make preparations for when we get Lord Y/N….Make preparations for as to how to proceed.” He suggested, struggling to find a correct way to phrase it without triggering and setting her off.

“What do you mean?” She questioned, blunt and with a bit of fear and tremble in her voice.

He looked to the others for a moment before proceeding, “I just mean, that Lord Y/N will not fully be the same Y/N we knew before his capture…We’ll need to tread lightly. He will be traumatized.”

“But he’s still my brother.” Danny said without hesitation, firmly.

“He doesn’t mean it in offence, your grace,” Missandei said, trying to clear things up, “What he – we mean, is that Y/N will be different, and we need to be aware of that.”

Danny nodded, “We will, but I know Y/N, and I will do what is best for him.”

They didn’t meet eyes, but the others could tell that it wasn’t exactly true. She’d work on a phantom form of you.

One that didn’t exist anymore.

 “Your grace!” A soldier said as he entered the throne room, holding a folded piece of paper, “I have….” He took a moment to catch his breath, have you seen how many steps their were to get to the throne room?

“.I have news on Y/N, Cersei Lannister has him! She wants to meet!” He yelled, giving a brief synopsis of the letter.

Wow, this really wasn’t royal at all, was it?

Then again, the soldier seemed to know that, when it came to you and your safety, royalty was thrown out the window.

Daenerys stared at the soldier in shock. It seemed that the plan that she had devised on her own was also out the window.

 “It’s obviously a trap, if anyone knows my sister well enough to know one of her devious schemes, it’s me.” Tyrion made his thoughts on it known. Don’t go.

“Of course, it is,” Grey worm then turned to Danny, “You shouldn’t go, my Queen. Or, if you do, at least bring some guards with you. I’ll find you my best men –”

“No,” Her words stunned all the room, “Cersei asks for me, she gets me alone. I’m not risking Y/N: I’m not losing the only family I have left.”

She knew it was risky. She knew that this could just be something that would end up with the two last Targaryen’s                 being killed. But she also knew that she couldn’t just leave you.

She had to bring you home, to make you feel safe once again.

 It was the dead of night but hearing Tyrion gasp and knock chairs over made everyone rush to the meeting room. There, it held everyone bar one.

Daenerys.

“She left.” He announced in a solemn tone.

There was no stopping her now.

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Being the youngest made Daenerys’ motherly side show itself so much more than it ever had. Or, unfortunately, more than she ever got the chance to show it. Losing her child was hard, don’t get her wrong; to lose a life she would never know and that would be her own by blood and fix the mistakes.

Now, you were that. You were the thing she had to protect, no matter what. It had started with your brother, his abuse that went more to you as a way to punish her; two birds and all that.

Her maternal instincts made her help comfort you; it helped her help treat your wounds; it helped her be more empathetic; it helped her get through it, putting her mind of helping her younger sibling through the pain kind of helped her through her own.

 She had to admit, the small crew she had brought for the boat did a good job. Was it the most royal of arrivals? No, but she couldn’t play the trump card of the dragons yet. She had to get you back with as little hassle as possible.

Power play’s from her could wait. It could wait until she had you to help council her on it. You were always a smart one smarter than her and always willing to listen to others while arguing your own view.

She was losing it, she had to admit. Hell, she’d sailed all the way with barely any protection, so that wasn’t nothing. Still, if this was it, she didn’t want to make it worse for you.

If this was it, at least you’d be together in the end. The Targaryen siblings vs the world; the world might win, but it wouldn’t win without you both giving it one last chilling smile of acceptance.

“You’re hear to see Queen Cersei?” The guardsman asked. If he had any other right to speak, he probably would’ve mentioned the lack of guards. Still, part of Daenerys appreciated the fact that he didn’t, that he simply let it go and led her up at her nod.

Yes, she was here to see the queen. No, she was not there to burn it all down.

At least, not yet, anyway.

 The stones were sharper here. In Dragonstone, it had a smoothness to them that made it feel like you were almost gliding on them. It definitely helped make it not feel as big as it did, steps wise.

These were different, these were jagged and edgy; small bits pointing out that dug in a few instances. Definitely not well kept.  

Still, that was put aside when she reached the top. In reaching it, she saw you on the floor. She finally got a good look at you. In the dreams (and nightmares) she’d have of finding you, it’d always be you either looking normal or you being too bloodied to recognise.

This was a mix but leaning a lot more towards the dreams than the nightmares (which, unfortunately, came more often than the dreams did). You were bloody, just in your nose and a cut on your lips; your eyes weren’t too bad, if not a little fucked up from punching.

Over than that though, you were breathing and alive. When you met eyes, you looked scared more than relived. Then again, she was riding a high of relief at just seeing that you were ok.

Now came the part where she kept you and herself that way.

 “I must admit, I didn’t expect you to arrive,” Cersei said as she sipped her wine, “Then again, when one of your flock are hurt, the others huddle around them, don’t they?” She taunted.

However, the fire in her eyes died a little when she saw that it was just Danny, “Came alone, did you? It could’ve been a trap.”

Still could be, “It may have been, but I wasn’t going to just abandon my brother. Just as I’m sure you wouldn’t.” She knew it was borderline flattery. But she had to not piss her off.

“Are you alright, Y/N?” Danny asked, fire completely gone from her eyes and a soft gaze replaced it; one filled with love and familial concern. She was dead certain that these types of looks (ones of comfort and respect and love) were something that you had been sorely missing.

There was silence at her answer. You looked as if you hadn’t even heard her question. She, however, didn’t lose hope. You were still in there somewhere.

“Boy,” You looked to Cersei with a shaking body, “Answer your sister.” She commanded.

You looked at Danny, eyes fearful and slightly unfocused. You only nodded, all-be-it slowly.

“Verbally.” Cersei said, not in a snap, but a calm voice.

“I’m alive.” You croaked out.

“Louder.”

“I’m ok.” Your words finally reached Danny, and she could hear just how unused your voice had been. It was raw, and it had cracked.

She could see that you clearly weren’t. But she could deal with that later.

  “Why did you ask for me if it wasn’t a trap?” Daenerys asked.

Cersei paused, her face showing that it was a valid question, “Because, I wanted you to see what a broken Targaryen looks like. The mess that they can be. The pain that they can be in. You see, when you do fully come here, to try and take what you believe is yours, maybe you’ll remember this.”

 “He hit me.” You were shaken, still shaking as you sat on your bed and your older sister knelt in front of you.

She took your shaking hands in her own, “He did, yes.” She said, regretfully.

“Why? What did I do to make him hate me.” Your question broke her heart a little.

“You did nothing, dear brother. Nothing. It’s all his ego,” She comforted. She knew, sadly, that the damage had been done. But she knew one thing, she wasn’t going to let it destroy you.

Not you.

 “You can have him,” Danny looked at Cersei in shock, “Take it as a warning. As a precautionary tale.”

 Danny didn’t waste any time in coming to you and picking you up. She didn’t look at Cersei, only you. She then hugged you. You stiffened but didn’t hug back. She didn’t seem to mind much though. She just held you tightly.

She had you, and you were back with those you belonged with.

Now she just had to return home.

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The ride back, you sat in your room. Well, you laid in your bed, more like. You only ate when she would bring you food. She wanted to be the one to do it, she knew that you wouldn’t respond to anyone else.

She didn’t try and get you to speak. She knew that you wouldn’t want to and trying to force you to would only lead to more problems.

Still, at least she didn’t have to order the crew not to bother you: they seemed to just know from the get-go.

 “I have no choice in this.” She told you, trying to not allow her voice to tremble and show you the fear she felt. She had to be strong for you.

“I can’t just lose you.” You said in quiet voice. Your fear ruled you. Whenever you had been hurt, she had been there to help you; to help you rise back up when you fell.

Now, that would be gone.

She glided to you, kneeling once more to your level. She put her fingers under your chin and lifted it up, “Whatever happens, we go together. I’m never leaving you, little brother. Never. I’ll protect you as much as I can.” She promised you and pulled you into her arms.

You hugged her back, fearfully.

 The boat arrived, and there stood four or so angry advisors. Well, angry and relieved. Danny walked slowly, holding your hand and arm, and helping you walk down the ramp. She had almost not done this, as you had flinched and pulled your arm away when she went to touch.

However, after a moment, you had allowed it. She led you down, fully concentrated on your wellbeing. She didn’t take any notice of her friends. She only said one thing to you.

“We’re home.”

 The tent was big, but that didn’t matter to you. It was lonely. You were lonely. However, you didn’t tell her; you knew she had enough on her plate, and your issues would only add to that.

“Hey,” You looked up at her soft eyes that seemed to notice your turmoil, “We’ll be fine. We’ll make it through this to the other side, together. I promise, you’ll be fine.”

 “I kept it the same. I didn’t want to touch anything just in case you wanted to make any changes yourself.” You nodded mutely as you entered your room. In the past, it would be a place of comfort, a place where you could feel almost free. This was not that. This place felt foreign and the warmth was something you were used to, just in a torturous way.

The first thing you did was close the curtains.

“You used to love that in the morning.” Your sister didn’t know why she said those words; but she still had.

“Maybe, but not anymore.” You used to be quiet, but this was the quietest she’d heard you.

 She remembered the first time she had been forced to have sex with Drogo. The way he was in charge and she whimpered. She had still been holding out some sort of hope that she could get away from his.

She knew she wouldn’t be able to. She knew she had to adapt.

So, she did. She gave into it. She gave into him. Deep down, she was still the scared little girl who had been dealing with her own trauma. But that girl was repressed more and more.

In the name of survival.

 She had woken on a brand-new day. She woke up with some vigour this time, just happy to have everything back to normal in a way.

She got up and ready for the day, taking in the view from her room.

She then left to fetch you. She felt like a walk would maybe help you a little. They had in the past after all.

However, when she knocked on your door, she received no answer.

“Y/N, it’s me.” She said softly, hoping that announcing that would help you.

Still, the door did not open.

When she went to knock again, she stopped herself when she put her ear to the door only to hear nothing inside.

She put her hand on the handle, turning it. It went all the way; the door was unlocked.

She opened it fully, and her eyes widened, and her breath quickened at what she saw, an empty room.

 She didn’t think she could run this fast, yet here she was. She was yelling orders, “Find Y/N!” Was the main one she was able to track.

You were missing again, but this time it was voluntary.

Now, she just figure out where you had gone. Where you had taken yourself to.

She stopped, letting oxygen fill her lungs. As she took deep gulps, she pressed her back against a wall and took a moment to think; to actually think.

 “Come on!” You cried out in excitement as you led your sister by the hand to your destination.

“Slow down, Y/N.” She tried to be serious, but your happiness made her have a smile of her own at your enthusiasm. You had always been a more pessimistic one, but these moments that could last for a while and bursts of happiness made herself happy.

“Here.” You said, stopping and lowering your hands, pulling her towards you.

Ahead of you laid a lake. It wasn’t the largest, or the deepest. But, still, a small lake was a small lake.

The sun seemed to catch the water just right and it shimmered.

“Oh, Y/N, it’s beautiful.” She said, softly. She took the view in. This beat anything from her window for sure.

 That was the day before you were taken. It was a memory that she both played over and over again, but also wanted nothing to do with it.

Now it was the key.

She knew where you were now. Only thing was, the context of your visit had changed. Just like you had had.

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She was right, you were there. You were sat down instead of stood. She watched you for a moment. Actually, saw you for who you were now. Yes, you were still her brother, but you had changed.

She approached you, taking a seat next to you. For once, she didn’t try to force anything. Instead, she just looked at the view, taking in the head and the peacefulness of the place. It was nice.

“I started to have visions while I was there,” She was the now the one looking up at you. However, she didn’t talk, “I couldn’t tell you when I started to do that. It just kind of….happened. Moments where I would see things that a rational part of me knew wasn’t there, but that part was destroyed by the part that wanted it to be real.”

“Who did you see?”

“A mix of you and the others. To be honest, mostly you,” You looked at her as you continued, “You’ve always been the one to look after me. And I appreciate it, so much. But, since I got back, it’s….it’s just been too much. You’re acting as if I’ll snap right back to who I was, but I won’t. I can’t.” You confessed.

“I know….I know,” She let her voice shake this time. She wasn’t going to hide her emotions anymore. You were old enough and knew enough about to world to know the feelings she had, the fear, the pain, and the loss.

“I’m sorry that I did that.”

“We’ll get there. We’ll get there.” You assured; but it seemed it was more so for yourself.

“What can I do right now?” She asked.

“Just….just stay.”

“Of course.” She assured.

[xuxszx]

nervous |Henry Cavill

Pairing: Henry Cavill x Reader

Warning: smut, first time (?)

"You nervous?" his voice was thoughtful. His T-shirt I was wearing was far too big for me, but I didn't care. I actually enjoyed it. My body has never been a source of pride for me. Wide hips and thick thighs were the worst parts of my body. My breasts, big ass and flat stomach saved me - maybe they were not perfect, but I liked them. But now that I knew Henry was going to see me completely naked - I was a little scared and stressed. What if he doesn't like him? "Come back to me" his smile managed to chase away even the darkest thoughts. I was damn in love with this beautiful man who allowed himself to sneak in and live in my heart without my permission.

"I'm sorry, I was thoughtful" he ran his hands over my shoulders and made goose bumps through me. How was it possible that he was always warm. I hugged him because right now I needed to feel his strong arms around my waist. My heart was pounding, and it's all because of Henry.

"What's wrong, honey" the concern in his voice was very charming. I guess he will always impress me with his protection and with what love he looks at me. He was an incredibly loved person and probably there was no other man in the world with such a beautiful smile. I didn't want to tell him about my fears, he certainly saw other more beautiful girls before me. I was afraid that I would not please him and he would not want me anymore, although it would be a huge surprise for me. "Tell Me" he murmured softly against my lips, rubbing the tip of his nose against mine. How did he do that such small gestures seem incredibly loved and unique?

"Just... " I tried to cover my flushed cheeks with my hair. It was so hard to admit the uncertainty I felt. But it was still my Cavill, I could tell him everything. "Surely you saw... All these, other girls and ... They definitely were better than me" shock is painted on his beautiful face when he hears what I say. He is surprised and I don't know where to look away because he is looking at me so closely.

"You mean you have any complexes?" the frown between his eyebrows confirms my belief that I shouldn't have told him that. Many people think that my figure is good. However, in my opinion it is terrible. Buying pants is a real drama. First of all, big thighs, secondly, big ass and thirdly, a flat stomach - they do not go hand in hand with pants designers. Warm hands on my hips roll up my T-shirt so that Henry can take it off and throw it on the floor. I run away from him when he watches me closely. I am intimidated by his attentive look on my body, and he lifts my chin and puts a tender kiss on my lips. He turns me towards the mirror and stands behind me. Hair falls on one shoulder, and a single kiss tickles my neck. "What do you not like so much?"

"Everything. Probably the most legs. I hate that when I sit down they are three times bigger. Hips, but I am comforted by the fact that although it will be easier for children to give birth. Oh, I would forget about the ass, which is huge and I can't buy proper pants through it. I don't know why you are with me, Hank. There are many prettier girls than me who would be yours with one finger kick. And ..." I speak right away. I'm talking about all my complexes because I know he won't laugh at me. He will understand me. I want to continue but interrupts me.

"You're kidding me, right? Damn, Y/N you have no reason to think about yourself badly. You are beautiful, intelligent and funny. You look after me as best you can. You are loved to everyone. I have no idea why you think you are ugly. You have a beautiful body, believe me, I'm fucking damn with it. I get angry when other guys look at you because I'm so damn possessive about you that sometimes it hurts. I don't want anyone else to have access to you because I want you all to myself. Your ass, fuck I love it. I know you get nervous when I touch it, but it's beautiful and I can't resist doing it. I love you all the way from head to toe. You are so right that there will be a girl prettier than you, smarter than you. Of course, there are people who are "more" than us. You are perfect for me, the best in every inch. I like you, damn, there wouldn't be a day when I had enough of you. I love you and if your complexes are caused by this fucking asshole, I hope he dies under the train" I laugh softly at the mention of my ex-boyfriend. I have no idea how it does that all doubts and shame I felt immediately pass.

We look deep into each other's eyes. I still can't describe their color. They are blue, but the way they hypnotize me makes me see more than just color in them. They are deep, honest and forgiving. Loving. He looks at me with damn devotion and I know he is everything I have always wanted.

I don't hesitate for a moment and press my burning lips to his. He kisses me slowly, completely guiding me. He pulls me closer, and I don't mind. I feel I need this relationship zone with him. I need physicality with him, only with him. I love when Henry touches my hair. When he plays with them, and now pulls them lightly, but I do not mind.

I put my arms around him and catfish his palms. The structure of his skin is not a surprise to me. It is smooth and soft, but it also has lumps that show its hard muscles.

Slowly moving and walking forward, which makes me take a few steps back, and when I feel our bed behind him he slides his hands dangerously close to my buttocks. For the first time I want him to take them in his hands. That his skin would be so close to mine.

He slides his hands under the panties I'm wearing and raises me high. I tower over him for a moment, but a second later he puts me gently on white bedding.

He spreads my hair on the pillow, as if forming something like a crown or a halo around my head. I see his beautiful eyes that sparkle with excitement, love and something that I can't yet define. His body fits my body perfectly. He kisses my neck, and when I feel my little mole lick, I feel a magical shiver running down my spine.

"You sure you want this?" he asks, and the concern in his voice embraces me. I feel these five words melting my heart. I have tears in my eyes and I try to chase them away quickly so that he doesn't get scared that he did something wrong. Something that could offend or hurt me.

I tell him I want it more than anything and he kisses me again. I feel his hands wandering over my body, which is devoted only to him. He puts his hands under my back and unbuttons my bra. He murmurs quietly when he sees my bare breasts. He kisses one of them, pinches and licks, gives me incredible pleasure that I can't describe in words. He deals with the second with exactly the same care and attention.

Henry comes back to my mouth literally for a moment, sneaks a quick kiss and goes down with his mouth. He kisses my neck and breastbone, touches my tongue with a mole between my breasts and keeps sliding down with kisses. I can feel his hands hooking the edge of my panties. He tenderly kisses every place he touches with his mouth.

He gently slides my panties off, then kisses my chest and runs his long and rough finger over my clitoris. A thrill of pleasure runs down my spine, and a moan breaks from my lips. I shiver slightly when Cavill press his finger harder. Slowly and gently slips his long finger into me. I grab his wrist and try to pull him away from my body, and Henry looks at me slightly scared.

I hold his cheeks in my hands and pull his face to mine. I put a sweet kiss on his lips, one more and one more, until they finally turn into something more passionate and more intimate.

I slide his hands into the tracksuits he is wearing and slide them down. I kick them off my feet when I can't push them on. I moan quietly surprised when I discover that he was wearing nothing but tracksuits. My hands go to his buttocks, I have no idea why I do it, but the structure of his body in this place is just as wonderful as in any other.

Henry kisses lower and starts his sweet torture again. He caresses my whole face with his mouth, kisses my neck slightly sucking the skin and licking it. I moan softly when his hands touch my buttocks and press our hips together.

I feel his dick between my thighs and sigh heavily when I feel his size. He strokes my breasts with his fingertips so gently that I almost can't feel them on my body. When he touches them more confidently, I moan softly. He is so gentle to me that I want to cry with happiness.

In my thoughts, I thank God for Henry William Dalgliesh Cavill, he's wonderful.

He kisses my nipple and then gently licks it as if he could hurt me. He does the same with the other nipple, and I scratch his head. I feel his warm hands on my stomach. Comes down with kisses lower and lower. I feel his warm breath on his thighs and hot breathless lips, which he kisses me with.

I look at him from narrowed eyes and the sight of the man I love between my thighs makes me hold my breath.

Henry holds my legs with hands so that I don't close them and moves his tongue up the hill. I squeak when he blows cool clit air and I feel dizzy. I moan softly and bite my lip. Henry licks my clitoris and moves one hand on my chest, massaging and pinching the nipple. He caresses me and massages my body.

He takes his lips from between my thighs and kisses me to breathlessness.

I roll him over and he lets me.

I kiss him all over his face and neck. He moans softly as I bite his earlobe. I feel his huge hands rubbing my back and nice warmth spreads through my body. I massage his chest and shoulders with hands, and he likes it because he quietly murmurs, pleased.

I love his body, he is so sexy and I am embarrassed by the fact that somebody like Henry just wants me.

We're kissing again, and the tension between us is almost palpable. I touch his hair, arms, stomach and thighs. I move lower his body and admire his sexy six-pack, which ends in a wonderful V. I can't hold my greedy eyes and almost devour his masculinity with his eyes. I never thought that I would look so ostentatiously at my boyfriend's penis and, what's worse, I don't feel bad about it at all.

I do not hold my hands and run my finger along the length of the penis, and he sucks in air loudly and leans on his elbows looking at me. I don't have the courage to do something more for him.

"Damn, you have to be so beautiful?" he asks, looking at me tenderly. I smile slightly at him and bend to put our lips together.

He pulls me straight to him and turns me over.

Now we're kissing like crazy.

Our hands wander around our bodies seeking even more closeness, and our eyes stare at each other with full understanding and desire. He pushes the last hard kiss and moves away from me, and I moan dissatisfied.

"We don't need it" I say. He looks at me with interest and then smiles broadly at me.

"I didn't think you would want to have a baby with me so soon" he teases me, but puts the packaging of condoms on the cabinet next to the bed.

However, he pulls out a small package from the drawer, and when I see the inscription on it, I feel like I'm blushing. He opens them and pours a small amount of gel on his fingers.

He smiles slightly at me, as if to calm me down, but I'm calm. He runs his fingers over my folds and I roll my eyes at the movement that surprises me. I moan loudly, his greedy fingers still wandering over my femininity. I feel how he pulls his hand away, and after a while the slippery finger is deep inside me, massaging the gel into my thirsty walls.

"Henry..." I moaning his name for a long time. I take the packaging from his hand and throw it on the floor, and I draw my boyfriend closer. He kisses my nose and rubs his hard penis with his hand. I feel it pressing against me and after a while it slips inside me very slowly. I moan softly and he freezes.

"Do I hurt you?" Henry asks, and the panic in his voice is almost palpable. Not wanting him to worry, I touch his arms lightly and massage them in circular motions. He kisses my forehead and moves my hips gently while I frown. "Babe..."

"I'm fine, just ..." I calm him down. "I'm uncomfortable" I explain and feel my cheeks are red. He kisses my cheek. He embraces my hips with his hands and lifts them slightly upwards to slip them under a half-folded pillow. He moves his hips slowly and I feel good this time. His huge, long dick stretching my pussy and damn it's so good.

I feel his attentive eyesight, which tests my reaction to his movements. I grab his face in my hands and place a tender kiss on his lips, which he deepens and extends his hand into my hair.

He moves his hips bolder and I moan loudly feeling the building pleasure in my body. In addition to being bolder, his movements are also faster and his lips wander my neck while his hands are literally everywhere. I stroke his back and he doesn't stop moving inside me.

I touch his face and kiss him as if possessed. I moan loudly in his mouth as he presses his hips against mine. It moves really confidently, and I feel like in heaven.

The moans come out from between my lips, I can't control them and apparently he really likes it. All my senses are crazy about this beautiful man, in whom I'm damn in love and I can't imagine my life without him.

Feeling such great pleasure, I embrace his hips with my thighs and experience completely new, deeper movements that make me tremble in his arms. I whisper his name as if only he protected me from insanity.

I never thought that sex would be such a crazy good feeling. Looking into his blue eyes, I feel the heat in my whole body that is only given to him.

We kiss like crazy teenagers who want their closeness. I embrace his hips tighter and they stick between my thighs even more.

Henry, still moving in me, leans over and whispers in my ear that I'm beautiful. I feel his hands explore every nook and cranny of my hunger for closeness to my body.

Henry tenderly kisses the top of my head and tells me he loves me. It repeats like a mantra. My body trembles uncontrollably. The feeling that fills me from head to toe is unbelievably fascinating and good.

I moan loudly when heat flows through my body and I climb up on the invisible ladder of pleasure. Orgasm hits me in the least expected moment. It takes me in arms and holds me several thousand years, after which I fall to the ground and I am in Henry's arms, who still moves his hips waiting for his moment of pleasure.

"Henry..." I moan, hammering nails into his buttocks. Henry comes for a moment after me and kisses me as if his life depended on it. My heart is beating as fast as if I have just run a marathon. But I've never felt so light in my life as at the moment.

"I never thought it can be so good" I say still laying under him. Henry still being in me turn around, and now I'm on his chest.

"Sex?" he ask, massage my butt. I nod and he's laughing. "Well it will be better each time".

"Promise?" I ask kissing him straight into lips.

"Promise" Henry murmur hugging me closely. "I don't want you to take this shit," he says, kissing my forehead. Immediately I guess he means pills that I take. " There are other methods of contraception, and this is definitely the worst. I don't want you to poison yourself".

"It's really cute that you care about me so much, but thanks to them my stomach hurts a little less during the period, so unfortunately I have to take them" I answer and he moans quietly dissatisfied. I kiss him on the lips for comfort and he definitely likes it.

Let me know what you think ❤️🖤

Tag list: @hatedyoufromhello @hnryycvll @honeychicanawrites @honeychicana @wondersofdreaming @thethirstyarchive @yespolkadotkitty @onlyhenrys @avengersandlovers @supersweetstache @dangerouslovefanfic @fumbling-fanfics @laketaj24 @littlefreya @viking-raider @beautifullmelodyxx @mary-ann84 @mrsaugustwalker @speechlessxx @deactivatedyssb @fishcustardandclintbarton

[dioptre-hertz]

Pathologic 2 ending thoughts

i don’t really use tumblr much anymore, but i recently finished Pathologic 2 and i have thoughts on the ending, which i felt was somewhat incongruous with the rest of the game’s themes and ideas. and tumblr felt like the right place to put a long-form post about it. so, here i am, haha!

MAJOR spoilers for Pathologic 2 below, obviously. this post will probably only be interesting to you if you’ve already played the game, so if you haven’t, be warned! hehehe!

okay, so. i have a lot of thoughts about the ending stuff, but basically it boils down to: i think the ending as presented would have been a good ending for a different game.

quick summary: towards the end of the game, Artemy learns that the Polyhedron, a physics-defying tower and architectural wonder, is rooted into the ground with a long metal spike that pierces the Living Earth. destroying the Polyhedron would therefore open a gaping wound in the Earth, spilling rivers of blood that could be used to mass-produce a cure for the plague. however, doing so would not only destroy the Polyhedron, but also kill the Living Earth, and by extension the Kin. alternately, Artemy can choose to preserve the Polyhedron, which would prevent the Living Earth from bleeding out and dying; but it would come at the cost of the lives of everyone in the town, since the plague would then be unstoppable.

so, the ending choice is principally about this: you have to choose between preserving the magical wonders of the world, the Kin and the Polyhedron and the Living Earth, but at the expense of the actual living humans of the town; or, you save the town and all its mundanities and its ordinary people you've worked so hard to protect, but at the expense of your cultural heritage and all the magical, impossible things of the Steppe. do you choose a world that is dreamlike, enchanted and strange, even if there is no place for regular humans in that world; or do you choose an ordinary, realistic world, one in which there is life for common folk but not for magic and fairy tales?

here’s what irks me though: this dichotomy is not at all what the game is about. or, to be more precise, it never felt to me personally like this was what the narrative was setting up. the choice as presented is fine in a vacuum! there’s nothing wrong with telling a story that creates this kind of clash between magic and realism, and asks you to choose between them. but it doesn’t feel congruous with the rest of the game’s story. let me elaborate.

so, part of what’s going on here is that the game is asking you to make a sacrifice. as the game itself repeatedly tells you: “you can’t save everyone”. either the Kin, the magical steppe creatures, and the Polyhedron are destroyed; or, the ordinary humans of the town are destroyed. you can’t protect both. Pathologic 2 goes to great lengths to show you that you are not a magical fantasy RPG hero who can complete every quest, rescue every NPC, overcome any obstacle and get the Perfect Ending. that’s the whole point of the overly punishing hunger and exhaustion mechanics; that’s why you die so easily in combat, why you’re always running out of time, and why the game is perfectly willing to punish you for every single mistake you make. it’s not a game about being the chosen one, who has magic powers and is uniquely capable of saving the day. right?

except... it kind of is precisely that, if you think about it. Artemy’s story is very clearly a traditional “chosen one” narrative! he is the sole inheritor of his father’s legacy, he is the town’s only menkhu, and so much of the story revolves around his spiritual journey. over the course of the game, Artemy undergoes a coming-of-age of sorts, reconnecting with his heritage, unlocking the secrets of being a menkhu, brewing magical tinctures that slow down and ultimately cure the plague. multiple characters make it explicit that Artemy is important - Foreman Oyun, Aspity, Isidor, and various minor characters of the Kin (like Nara) all talk at length about how Artemy is special, and his role (should he embrace it) is to lead the Kin once he is ready. and the entire conflict with Rubin revolves around the fact that Rubin isn’t the “chosen one” the way Artemy is!

this whole plot thread reaches its climax when Artemy ventures into the Abattoir to seek answers. there, he undergoes a series of harrowing spiritual experiences. several really important things happen here, and i want to focus on two of them.

firstly: upon reaching the central chamber of the Abattoir, Artemy is tasked with performing “surgery” on three seemingly random objects: a candlestick, a fingernail coin, and a spindle of thread. he has a metaphysical conversation with the odongh he meets there and then “connects” these objects into a living, beating heart, and the heart speaks to him. this scene is either hallucinatory or supernatural (or both), but it doesn’t matter which; the point of the scene is that Artemy has finally learned to read the Lines, learned to see how seemingly disparate objects can be spiritually connected into a singular whole. he takes three items that appear to have nothing in common, and he forges a beating heart out of them, a living thing. as Artemy himself learns:

This system isn't symmetrical. It's not just "Nerves, Bones, Skin." Or "Nerves, Bones, Flesh." Or "Spirit, Hair, Blood." Any triad is correct.

Truth is not a set point, but an intersection and confluence of many small truths. Knowing this, I can match and connect anything.

furthermore, shortly after leaving the Abattoir, Artemy has a dream in which he returns there and speaks to the ghost of Isidor, his father. here, he learns a difficult truth: that Isidor intentionally brought the plague back to the town, believing - essentially - that it was necessary for the town’s growth. the decision seems monstrous. Isidor justifies it thus:

This town was… connected wrong. Its parts were tied with artificial seams—so different, so awkward. One could say that Simon, the Mistresses, and I held it all together by force.

So I tore it apart, so you can sew it all back, better than before. Because you're better, and smarter, than I am.

so here we have the high point of Artemy’s spiritual journey, the part of the story where he finally understands why things are the way they are, and what it is he must do.

and this is where things start going wrong, in my opinion.

because all of this, all of what we’ve seen, seems to point in one very clear direction: Artemy will find a way to connect the Kin, the Town, and the Polyhedron into a single coherent whole. it fits so perfectly! Artemy learns that there is a way to mass-produce a cure, but doing so would require him to destroy the Polyhedron and the Living Earth. it appears as though the Polyhedron, the Living Earth, and the Town cannot all coexist; something must be sacrificed. but this choice is presented right after we’re told that Artemy’s destiny is to “sew it all back, better than before”. it is presented once we’ve seen that Artemy can connect a coin, a candlestick, and a spindle of thread into a living, beating heart, no matter how impossible that may sound. knowing this, he can match and connect anything.

and yet, he... doesn’t. the game does not end with a solution that connects the Kin, the Polyhedron and the Town. ultimately, Artemy fails to sew it all back together - and it’s not just that he fails, it’s that the game itself seems utterly unconcerned with that possibility once it heads into its final act. the mere idea that there could be a solution that “connects things right“ goes unexplored. even if the game wanted to be pessimistic and suggest that it can’t be done after all, it should at least acknowledge the thought! the game does admittedly have a focus on the idea that “you can’t save everyone”; this is one of its core motifs. so, fair enough! but since it fails to address that cynicism, it feels less like a statement on the game’s part and more like a lack of awareness.

but that’s not all! there’s a second thing that really bugs me. see, there’s another major event that takes place in the Abattoir: Artemy finally has his fateful encounter with Nara, the Herb Bride who has haunted him throughout the game, insisting that their destinies are intertwined and that he will one day kill her. here, Artemy finally comes to understand what it all means. in the depths of the Abattoir, Nara is waiting for him; the other Herb Brides give Artemy a menkhu’s knife, and they task him with cutting open Nara’s body without killing her:

We know how to open things up. Our way. You know how to open things up. Your way. Do you want to know why the sand pest passes us by? Show yourself.

Cut a living sister in such a way that she stays living. You can do it, if you know the Lines.

Artemy follows through, and he converses with Nara even as he cuts into her flesh; they talk to each other right until the end, when Artemy retrieves a spindle of thread from her body, and she dies.

now, this scene is somewhat tricky to interpret; Artemy must show that he can “cut a living sister in such a way that she stays living”, but in the end, Nara does die. so was he successful or not? well, i would argue that he is; even though Nara dies, he proves that he is able to read the Lines with such precision that she can speak calmly with him until the very end.

more importantly, this scene is the high point of a recurring theme in the game: Artemy’s skill as surgeon.

on Day 1, the very first part of the game, Artemy is sent by his old friend Bad Grief to perform surgery on Piecework, one of the thugs in Bad Grief’s gang. Piecework has gotten in a fight and been stabbed in the gut with a lockpick; without Artemy’s intervention, he will die. you can choose to save him, flub the surgery and kill him, or ignore the sidequest altogether; in any case, this early quest introduces the player to the surgery mechanic and serves to establish Artemy’s unique skills as a surgeon.

on Day 11, the last day of proper gameplay, you have a repeat of this encounter. while pursuing the main quest for the day, you wind up in a pub, where a gang of local bandits have set up shop. they threaten you and order you to rescue one of their pals, who has been shot in the stomach and is about to die. here you again perform surgery to save a man’s life, but this time you don’t do it through the usual surgery minigame - it happens entirely through dialogue choices, and i’m actually not even sure if it’s possible to fail this interaction. in any case, you retrieve the bullet from the man’s stomach and inform his friends that he’ll live.

so what’s the point of all that then? well, the way i see it, the point of all this is to foreshadow a climactic conclusion: Artemy will remove the Polyhedron without killing the Living Earth.

the game spends a lot of time setting this up! on Day 1, Artemy saves a man by removing a long metal spike from his gut non-lethally; in the Abattoir, Artemy proves his spiritual growth by demonstrating that he can “cut a living sister in such a way that she stays living”; and on Day 11, the game throws yet another surgery vignette at you in a scene that frankly feels a bit out of place otherwise.

all of this feels, to me, like it's foreshadowing and setting up one very obvious result: Artemy, having mastered not only practical surgery but also the art of reading the Lines, of being a menkhu, is the one person who can remove the Polyhedron without killing the Living Earth! the game spends all this time explaining that in the Steppe culture, cutting open flesh, or the earth itself, is taboo: only a menkhu is allowed to do so, because a menkhu is someone who knows how to read the Lines, who knows how to cut in a way that will not harm the Living Earth. the culmination of the story, therefore, needs to be that Artemy puts this exact skill to use. that was the point of his character arc, right?

except... no, it isn’t. in the end, there is no way to surgically extract the metal spike from the Living Earth. the only two choices we are presented with are: botch the surgery, or leave it be.

...

in the end, i feel that the ending(s) of Pathologic 2 aren’t appropriate conclusions to the ideas, motifs, and overall narrative progression we’re shown throughout the earlier parts of the game. Pathologic 2 is in many ways brilliant, and i do not hesitate to call it a masterpiece, aforementioned criticisms notwithstanding - but that’s precisely why i cared enough to write all this down! it’s a story that gets into your head, really stays with you, and maybe that’s the reason why i have such strong feelings about the direction the story takes in its final act.

if you reached the end of this post: thank you so much for reading it! i hope you enjoyed my thoughts, and i hope you have a great day!