#and even though ive cut ties with him for good reason it was nice to see and remember

[nelfs]

oh my god. i just found a picture in my blog archives of my ex kissing my pet cockatiel, which is a) weird because i barely post photos of myself and im surprised i posted a full photo of him, and b) waaaaaaaah

#i deleted it but i lost all the photos from the start of our relationship on my old iphone #and even though ive cut ties with him for good reason it was nice to see and remember

[waitimcomingtoo]

The Hint

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!reader

Synopsis submitted by @jasmine11685: Peter gets jealous when you have to flirt with someone on a mission

Masterlist

“Wow.”

That was the only word Peter could say as you descended the staircase in a form fitting black dress. The slit up the side added an elegant touch, something needed for the ball you were going to.

“You look pretty “wow” yourself.” You smiled shyly as you lifted the hem of your dress to walk towards him. “The suit is a nice change from the flannels, though I do love those.”

Peter opened and closed his mouth a few times, but no words formed in his brain. As soon as you put your hands on his collar to tuck it under his suit jacket, his name was lost on his and all he knew was yours.

“So this is what it’s like to be speechless.” He chuckled nervously as you straightened his jacket.

“Shut up.” You giggled as your face flushed. “Your ties a little crooked.”

“Thanks.” Peter whispered as you adjusted his tie. “You look beautiful. Like, the kind of beautiful that makes you want to cry when you look at it.”

“Thank you.” You laughed again, out of habit. You looked at Peter through your eyelashes as your shaking hands slid down his jacket.

“Nervous?” He asked softly when he noticed your unsteady demeanor.

“A little.” You smiled weakly. “It’s uh, it’s a shame I’m gonna have to waste all this beautiful on some douche who won’t appreciate it.”

“Well I appreciate it.” Peter assured you. “All of it. What is your mission exactly?”

“I just have to get some information out of Harry Osborn. Apparently he’s the only one who knows what’s his father has been doing up at Oscorp. We have to find out his plans before he does something dangerous. Could you help me with this?” You asked as you handed him a diamond necklace. You turned around and Peter carefully moved your hair off of your back.

“Oh.” He said in surprise as he clasped the necklace around your neck. “And how are you planing on getting that information?”

“I’m gonna flirt with him like my life depends on it.” You said confidently as you turned back around. “Because who knows? It might.”

Peters face twitched in confusion as his eyebrows knit together. He felt a white hot jealousy run all the way to his scalp when he learned about the plan.

“You have to flirt with that asshole?” Peter laughed nervously and cleared his throat. “He’s a total playboy. He’s probably never done his own laundry a day in his life.”

“I think I can handle him.” You winked at him as you touched your your lipstick. “And his laundry.”

“I have no doubt in your abilities. I just wish you didn’t have to use them on him.” Peter said, mostly to himself.

“It’s fine, Pete.” You assured him. “I’m actually excited to do it.”

“Excited?” Peter began to sweat.

“Yeah.” You grinned in excitement. “This is the biggest role I’ve ever had in a mission. I really want to do a good job so I can impress my dad. That means I’m gonna have to pull out my best flirting.”

“Your best flirting?” Peter was really beginning to panic now.

“Yup. I need this boy to fall in love with me.” You told him. “Watch, by the end of the night, he’ll be putty in my hands.”

“I don’t think you should do this, Y/n.” Peter blurted. “I think we should get Natasha or someone else to do it. You shouldn’t have to be the shiny object we use to distract the enemy.”

“I’m fine with it, Pete. My dad didn’t give me this role because I’m pretty. He gave me this role because I have good communication and manipulation skills. Plus, I’m closest to Harry’s age. It all works out.”

“He could be really dangerous.” Peter protested. “You could get hurt.”

“I’m really dangerous.” You stated. “And he’s definitely gonna get hurt.”

“Just be careful, okay?” Peter sighed, making you look at him. You walked over to him and cupped his face in your hands, making his breath hitch in his throat.

“I got this, Petey.” You said gently. “I know you’re worried about me, but you have no reason to be. I can do this. And you, Sam, and my dad are gonna be listening the whole time. We’re gonna catch this guy. I know it.”

“I just don’t want you getting hurt. If things go wrong-“

“They won’t.” You cut him off. “Go ask my dad. He drew up every possible outcome of this plan and they all end with Harry getting his ass kicked.”

“Okay.” Peter nodded and gave you a smile. “I’ll go talk to Mr. Stark.”

~

“You just had to believe in her.” Peter grouched as he barged into Tony’s office. “You just had to recognize her talent and trust her enough to carry the mission.”

“I’m sorry. Is that anger directed towards moi?” Tony touched a hand to his chest. “Are you mad at me?”

“Yeah, I am.” Peter said. “You know I like Y/n and sent her off to flirt with the richest playboy in New York City?”

“Hey.” Tony said sternly. “Playboy is my thing.”

“Why did you have to make her do this job?” Peter whined. “She’s gonna fall in love with him and forget all about me.”

“He’s a criminal, Peter.” Tony reminded him.

“So? Girls love that!” He protested. “You remember how she acted around Loki.”

“Don’t remind me.” Tony rolled his eyes. Peters face shifted back to his forlorn expression and Tony saw how much this was hurting him.

“Look, kid, don’t sweat this mission.” He said as he put a hand on Peters shoulder. “She’s just gonna get the information she needs from Harry and you’ll never have to worry about him again. You can go right back to your little will-they-won’t-they bullshit or whatever it is you’re doing.”

“I have a plan.” Peter insisted. “And Harry is going to put a serious wrench in my plan, thanks to you.”

“You have a plan?” Tony doubted. “Ive been watching you pine after my daughter for years. When is this plan going into action exactly?”

“I’m just going to think really hard about how I’m in love with her and wait until she realizes.” Peter mumbled as he adverted his eyes.

“Yeah?” Tony cocked his head. “And how’s that going for you?”

“I think she’s just about to get the hint.” Peter said and Tony let out a groan.

“Kid, just ask her out.” He reasoned. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

“She could hear me.” Peter stated. “And then say no.”

“She’s never gonna take the hint unless you actually give her the hint.” Tony reasoned. “Why don’t you try tonight? She’ll be all giddy from successfully completing the mission. Perfect time to confess those bottled up feelings.”

“I don’t know.” Peter sighed. “Maybe.”

~

An hour later, you were making eyes at Harry from the bar. After locking eyes a few times, you signaled for him to come over.

“Hey.” Harry knocked on the bar twice and looked down at you. He sized you up before smiling in approval and sending you a nod.

“Hey.” You gave him a sultry smile as he sat down.

“You all by yourself?” He asked as he drummed his fingers on the bar.

“I was.” You took a sip and looked at him through your lashes. “Until you came along.”

“Mind if I stay?” He raised an eyebrow as he flagged down the bartender. You made a face as he ordered a drink before smiling at him.

“I prefer it.” You flirted.

“Good.” He accepted his drink and took a long sip. “I don’t like being told no.”

“Then you better give me something to say yes to.” You leaned on your hand and leaned towards him. Inside, you were gagging at his arrogance. On the outside, you were eating it up.

And that made two of you.

“Oh God.” Peter gagged as he listened to the banter through his ear piece. “This is torture.”

Sam, who was standing next to him as they both kept an eye on you, gave Peter a look.

“Relax, kid.” He sighed. “She’s just doing her job.”

“You’re a pretty bold girl. I like that.” Harry cupped your chin before releasing it. “Just not as bold as me.”

“Oh yeah?” You raised an eyebrow, grabbed his drink, and downed the rest before slamming the glass down. “How about now?”

“Oh, you are going to get me into trouble.” Harry chuckled and he scooted closer to you. Peter watched in disdain as the jealousy coursed through his veins again.

“That doesn’t sound so bad.” You crawled. “Don’t you like trouble?”

“I love it.” He insisted as he held out his hand. “My names Harry Osborn. You’ve probably heard of me.”

“I have.” You smirked as you shook his hand. “I’m Y/n.”

“Why is she talking like that?” Peter whined upon hearing your flirty tone. “She never talks like that.”

“Because she’s not trying to sleep with you, dummy. Thats why.” Sam snorted as he continued to watch.

“What?” Peter snapped his head towards Sam. “She’s not trying to sleep with that guy. She’s just getting information out of him.”

“Yeah well, guys tend to talk a lot more once you’ve tired them out.” Sam shrugged as he sipped his own drink. Pete’s face fell as he stared Harry down with daggers in his eyes.

“She wouldn’t do that.” Peter mumbled.

“Shhh.” Sam waved his hand. “I’m trying to listen.”

“So,” you took another sip from your drink, “Whats it like being the son of one of the most powerful men in the city? Wasn’t your dad like, 25 when he founded Oscorp.”

“23, but who’s keeping score.” Harry shrugged as he looked around the room. “I’ll probably do something like that soon. Maybe something even bigger. I already have a lot of ideas. Pretty impressive, huh?”

“Totally.” You egged him on but rolled your eyes when he looked away. “Do you ever get to watch his experiments?”

“Baby, I’ve seen just about all of them.” Harry bragged as he played with your dangling earrings. “He’s done things you wouldn’t believe. Things that aren’t even legal.”

“Yeah?” Your eyes widened in excitement and you leaned in closer. “Like what?”

“I can’t tell you here.” Harry pulled away suddenly and sighed. “I don’t want anyone hearing.”

“Alright.” You purposefully took the bait. “Then let’s talk somewhere else.”

“Do you know a place?” He played nonchalant as he put a hand on your knee. Peter watched the scene in front of him and looked away.

“Yeah. My bedroom.” You smirked and stood up. “Let’s go there.”

“Bold.” Harry rubbed his hands together and stood up as well. “You’re dangerous.”

You took his hand and lead him towards the elevator, feeling the gun that was strapped to your thigh brush against your leg as you walked.

“You have no idea.” You mumbled. You passed Sam and Peter and gave them a nod as you lead Harry towards his interrogation. Peter looked like he was ready to fight someone and Sam looked entirely amused. You gave them a thumbs up before leading Harry upstairs.

~

“What’s the craziest thing your dad has done?” You asked as you sat down on the bed. You flicked your leg out and pretended to examine your heels to draw his attention. Harry took the bait and held your ankle in his hands, admiring the fancy shoes Mr. Stark had given you for the mission.

“Why do you want to know?” He asked coyly as he looked up at you.

“Because I like to get a little crazy myself and I want to know how much you can handle.” You shrugged as you shook your hair out. Peter gulped as he listened, feeling his jaw tighten in anger. Tony joined him and Sam at their post and looked around for you and Harry.

“How’s the mission going?” He asked when he didn’t see you anywhere.

“Horrible.” Peter grumbled.

“She didn’t get him to the secondary location?” Tony worried.

“She did.” Sam cut in. “Peters just mad that his girlfriend just found herself a boyfriend.”

“She’s not my girlfriend.” Peter snapped. “Maybe she would have been if Mr. Stark wasn’t a destroyer of young love.”

“Parker, quiet.” Sam commanded. “I’m trying to listen.”

“How do I know I can trust you?” Harry folded his arms as he looked down on you.

“You can trust me.” You told him as you reached up to grab his tie. You used it to pull yourself up and off the bed before planting a kiss right on his mouth.

“What was that?” Peter touched his fingertips to his ear piece when he heard silence from your end.” Why did she pause?”

“She didn’t pause.” Sam shook his head as he checked his watch.

“Then what-“

“She kissed him.” Tony cut in while giving Peter an apologetic look.

“She kissed him?” All the color drained from Peters face and Tony felt he was to blame.

“You know the Green Goblin?” Harry asked once you pulled away.

“Yeah.”

“That’s my dad.” Harry admitted, and Tony and Sam quickly wrote it down.

“No way.” You pretended to be impressed. “I don’t believe you.”

“It’s true. He was dying so he invented this serum to keep himself alive. It ended up giving him all these crazy abilities.” Harry boasted, incriminating himself further. “And he’s got this glider that he can fly around on. You’d love it. It’s very shiny.”

“Wow. I love shiny.” You gushed, fighting the urge to punch him in the throat then and there. “How much serum did he make?”

“He has one more vile that he said he’d give to me when I’m older.” Harry tweaked his eyebrow as he smirked.

“So you’re gonna be the next Green Goblin? Isnt he a bit of a bad guy?” You continued to draw information out of him as your fingers danced around his collar.

“Maybe I am bad guy.” Harry shrugged. “Like father, like son.”

Harry leaned in to kiss you again but you dodged it and laughed as you moved away.

“Bad, huh?” You composed yourself so you wouldn’t be suspicious. “What else has he done?”

“He gave one of our scientists these metal arms. They can rip a person in half. Ive seen it happen.” Harry continued to brag and you recorded every word of it.

“Dr. Occtavius.” Tony realized. “That’s how he got his weapons.”

“Thats crazy.” You gasped and played with his hair. “What’s your dad gonna do?”

“He’s basically forming a league of bad guys.” Harry shrugged like it was no big deal. “Guys way worse than the Avengers.”

“Does he have a problem with the Avengers?” You wondered.

“My dad hates them. I hate them too.” Harry scoffed and you held back a laugh. “That’s why we’re gonna wipe them out. New York can’t rely on a bunch of guys in dress up, and we’re gonna show them that.”

“How are you going to do that?”

“With an attack on New York City on the 8th.” Harry told you, and Tony immediately wrote it down. “The Avengers won’t know what hit them.”

“That sounds pretty scary. Will you keep me safe?” You batted your eyelashes at him and he ate it up.

“I can’t listen to this.” Peter took out his earpiece and slammed it on the counter. “I’m going in there.”

“Parker! Stay where you are and - you know what? I don’t care.” Sam shrugged it off and continued to listen to your conversation.

“Of course baby.” He cupped your face in his hands. “It’s gonna be a direct hit on the Avengers tower. A pretty thing like you won’t be anywhere near there.”

“Actually”, you took his hands off your face and dropped your smile, “I will.”

“What?” Harry’s face faltered at your sudden mood change.

“Did you get that guys?” You touched your fingers to your ear piece and waited for the confirmation. “Copy that, dad.”

“What?” Harry’s face twisted in anger. “You’re an Avenger?”

“Look at you! So smart. You figured it out.” You said sarcastically.

“No.” Harry shook his head. “I don’t believe you. There’s no way you’re an Avenger. You’re my age and a chick.”

“Not just an Avenger. I’m a Stark too. Want me to prove it to you?” You asked casually.

“How?” Harry raised an eyebrow. You gave him a swift punch to the throat that knocked him on his back.

“Like that.” You blew your hair off your forehead as you checked your nails.

“You bitch.” Harry wheezed from the floor.

“You see, I can’t have you and your father attacking my friends.” You crouched down beside him and shrugged. “I’m gonna have to take you in.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you.” Harry swiped at you but you dodged it.

“I know. But this cute little microphone recorded everything you said and sent it to the police.” You pouted and pointed to your mic. “They should be here soon. You might want to wipe the lipstick off your face before the get here.”

“I’m not going to prison.” Harry grumbled as he sat up.

“Aw, but you are.” You said as you pulled him off the floor and put his hands behind his back. “Daddy can’t bail you out of this one, like how he bailed you out of your 17 parking tickets.”

“How do you know about that?” Harry asked as he looked over his shoulder at you.

“I know everything, bitch.” You leaned into his ear to growl.

“No. I’m not going down for this.” Harry broke out of your hold and swung at you. You dodged the first one, but he got you right in the jaw with the second one. You stood up and got ready to fight him as he put his fists up.

“You’re not even that pretty.” He exclaimed as he swung at you again. Right as his fist collided with your face, Peter burst in the door.

“Yes she is!” Peter shouted as he jumped on Harry’s back. Harry threw Peter onto the bed and lunged for you again. You close-lined him with your arm and dug your heel into his back once he was on the ground.

“Peter? What are you doing here?” You asked as you stepped on Harry’s back harder with your heel. “I got this.”

“There’s something I have to tell you.” Peter panted as he got off the bed.

“You won’t get away with this. I will sue!” Harry writhed around beneath your heel.

“Can it wait?” You asked as you pulled Harry off the ground. “I’m a little busy.”

“It can’t wait.” Peter shook his head as you shoved Harry against the wall. “There’s something I’ve been holding in for a long time and I need to tell you.”

“I wouldn’t even bother dude.” Harry said with his face squished against the wall. “She’s a total bitch.”

“Was I talking to you?” Peter growled before shooting a web at Harry’s wrists to handcuff him.

“Ohhh I see.” Harry laughed humorlessly. “Spiderman is mad that I stole his girlfriend.”

“Can you shut up? I’m trying to have a conversation here.” You barked at Harry. “I’m sorry, Peter. Please continue.”

“I didn’t want you to flirt with Harry tonight because you can do a lot more than just sit still and look pretty.” Peter began.

“I know that, Peter.” You nodded.

“I also didn’t want you to flirt with him because I was jealous.” He confessed.

“Jealous?” You asked as you put Harry in the hotel chair and began to tie him up.

“He likes you, stupid.” Harry grumbled. You shot Harry and angry look, but when you looked back at Peter, he was nodded.

“He’s right.” Peter admitted , taking you by surprise.

“You like me?” You lips twitched into a smile as you tightened Harry’s rope. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I was scared you wouldn’t like me back. You’re my best friend, Y/n.” Peter said softly. “If you didn’t like me back, everything would change. We’d still be friends but it wouldn’t be the same. I didn’t want to risk that.”

“I’m sorry.” You frowned. “I should’ve been more clear then.”

“Do you seriously have to do this here?” Harry whined and you smacked him on the back of the head.

“Clear about what?” Peter wondered.

“That I like you too.” You smiled sheepishly at him. Tony listened to the confession over the ear pierce and smiled to himself.

“There you go kid.” He mumbled to himself. “She got the hint.”

Tag List 🏷

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#peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #iron man #tom holland fluff #tom holland fanfiction #iron dad

[tofumedic]

hi! might i please request some headcanons of lucifer, mammon, and barbatos with a fem!mc who's never particularly been spoiled before? (your writing is fantastic, by the way - i love your content! 💞)

Lucifer, Mammon & Barbatos with an MC who's not used to being spoiled!

(This is fem mc like requested! and you are too sweet i hope you enjoy this is the first time ive written for barbatos so im a little nervous;;)

Lucifer

Lucifer is always keeping an eye on MC, first as a precaution that nothing was being planned against Diavolo.

Though this quickly was thrown as an excuse instead of the full truth, because he definitely was also taking mental note of things she enjoyed and that it was strange how her smile effected him without any magic tied to it.

He also noticed how she seemed hesitant to agree to any outings with him that involved money being spent, it wounded his pride quite immensely until he realized she also had difficulty accepting nice things from his brothers.

Was she suspicious of how nice they were acting to her? Was she not used to it due to her life before coming to Devildom?

No matter what the answer was, it simply would not do. So he tried working on it with her, trying to slowly indulge her not even in sins but with praise and small meals before moving on more to letting her sleep in his bed when she looked just a bit too tired and fancier meals.

During this process of trying to ease her into letting herself be taken care of, expect a serious conversation in safe privacy.

"MC, you should be aware that as the avatar of pride I also take pride in what's mine. And that in turn, it spreads to you with reason. You are good enough to let yourself be spoiled, please grant me that honor."

Mammon

Mammon likes gifting things, he rakes up the money from working and trying to find lost change, and he will buy her things even to the upset of his brothers for now having a bigger loan to them.

It's worth it for his human! But when he goes to give her gifts she seems just as embarrassed and standoffish as he does giving it.

It confuses him, and he will make a small fuss and end up either leaving it in her room or in his on a small table out on the open if she wants it.

Mammon does note that she has an "easier" time accepting small trinkets he had crowed from the side of the road or at his work, small things like rocks with just enough quartz to sparkle or bottle caps from different beer bottles never giving the same one twice (he also always washes them first he doesn't want you to get sick).

He also will always offer to help her get ready or take care or her if she doesn't have the energy to brush her hair or pick a nice outfit, he's there!

Though if she doesn't want to ask but he sees the small glow in her eyes of want, he will do it as if commanded and there's no getting away until he's finished.

"Stop apologizing just- just let me take care of you too, ya always do for me so.. it's only fair anyways.."

Barbatos

He is another where pampers and spoils are in his nature, though he knows how to cut it off if it is being a nuisance or something undeserved. Barbatos has a lot of history on that front taking care of Diavolo.

When he hears good things about what progress MC's made or when she is to visit the castle, he will add some of the food she has seemed to enjoy to the list of what he wishes to prepare for that day.

He knows she has issues being pampered, he's seen her deny him taking his day off to spend with her in one of the timelines of his dreams, so he sticks to stuff close to his job detail, simply requesting for her to eat lunch or have some tea he made.

Barbatos will also make a habit to also send MC reminders like he does for Diavolo over D.D.D. making sure she isn't skipping too many meals and let's her know when Diavolo is planning nice events.

His way of pampering is more formal, polite and sweet from a small distance trying for her to get used to what sweetness she deserved

"[message sent 1:32pm] Please let yourself remember that I'm proud of you for your hard work recently and to eat the leftovers I left in your possession by tonight before they get bad."

#chenqingxu #im sorry if this feels off im not completely awake yet aa #obey me #obey me mammon #obey me lucifer #obey me barbatos #om mammon #om lucifer #om barbatos #obey me imagines #obey me headcanons #tofu answers! #tofus blurbs!

[wellimaginethat]

Stitches: Part One

Pairing: Connor Rhodes x Sister!Reader

Requested?: Yes

Word Count: 3099

Author’s Note: This idea was super cute and I loved it, wish I could have gotten it written sooner for the lovely requester but stupid writers block hit. I decided I am going to make this into two parts

Trigger Warning(s): Hospital, needles, panic attack, injury, needing stitches, being bullied, physical assault

Disclaimer: I don’t owe nor am I affiliated with any of the Chicago shows, I just like to play with the characters

Summary: Y/N Rhodes is the younger sister of Connor, she’s been being picked on at school and it escalates to where she needs stitches and ends up in the ED, where she has a panic attack due to a fear of needles and hospitals, so Connor shows up to save the day.

Chicago Med Tags: @bethii1, @drakelover78, @lorenakaspersen​ (want to be tagged? message me!)

Y/N = Your Name

High school is rough, especially when you’re being bullied. But you tried to shrug it off and ignore it, but that just seemed to make it worse, so you tried talking to the teachers and the principal and that is how you landed in the ED.

You were brought in by the ambulance because you were pushed down a flight of concrete steps, luckily you didn’t get hurt too badly but the school called the ambulance regardless.

You absolutely hated hospitals, or rather you were terrified of them. You didn’t really have a reason for being afraid of hospitals, but they freaked you out. Everything about hospitals freaked you out. The doctors, the nurses, needles, the noises. Everything. And given that you were already upset over what happened, it just made it all worse.

When they wheeled you in, you heard the paramedic talking to a nurse.

“Sixteen year old female, pushed down a flight of concrete steps outside the high school, has a massive gash on her forehead and possibly some broken ribs.”

When they got you into the room, the nurse the paramedic had been talking to and a red headed doctor walked in.

“Hi my name’s Dr. Halstead, can you tell me your name?” The doctor asked

“Y/N Rhodes.” You managed to get out, your eyes were darting around and you looked uneasy.

The nurse looked at the doctor before looking at you. “You’re Connor’s little sister, aren’t you?” You nodded silently, feeling almost like a little kid. Dr. Halstead peaked out of the room and you heard him call your brother to your room.

The minute Connor walked in his face fell and he rushed to your side, checking you over and especially taking a look at the gash on your head. “God, Y/N, what happened?” He asked you in an incredibly worried tone, looking at you with an almost scared look in his eyes.

“Jake pushed me down the stairs at school.” You told him weakly, scared and sad. “He was mad because I told the principal about him.”

Connor nodded before looking at Dr. Halstead and nodding for him to head out of the room so they could talk.

The nurse approached you then with a soft smile. “My name is Maggie, how about I get an IV hooked up to get you some pain meds to help?” She asked you in a soft voice, noticing how scared you seemed.

“A-an IV? Doesn’t that involve a needle?” You asked, stuttering a bit. You shook your head violently, causing yourself to see stars, when she nodded. “No...no needles.” Maggie seemed hesitant but nodded a bit. “Alright, how about we wait on that until your brother gets back? Maybe he can ease your worries?”

You nodded a bit and watched as Maggie also stepped out of the room.

“I’ll talk to Goodwin about it, see if she’ll allow it this one time.” Connor told Will as they talked about five feet from your room, you couldn’t hear them but could see that Connor was discussing something with your doctor and it made you curious.

“Talk to Goodwin about what?” Sharon walked up behind him after hearing her name, looking at Connor.

Connor took a breath, thinking how best to broach the subject to her to convince her. “My sister was hurt.” He started out. “And she’s scared of hospitals and doctors and pretty much everything involving medicine.”

“I sense I know where this is going.” Sharon stated but waited for him to continue.

“Let me treat her.” Connor stated.

Will crossed his arms, waiting for Goodwin to tell him no.

Before Sharon had the chance, Connor spoke again. “She’s absolutely terrified and I’m afraid if someone else treats her it will cause her to have a panic attack.”

“And you think if you treat her you can avoid this?” Sharon asked him, skeptically.

Connor slowly nodded, a bit hesitant. “I believe so, yes. I know it goes against the code of ethics-”

Sharon cut him off, glancing over into your room and seeing how frightened you seemed before looking back at your brother. “I will make an exception.” She told him. “Due to the circumstances, I feel it’s in the patient’s best interest.”

Connor was beyond grateful and relieved. “Thank you.” He told her before heading back to your room. “Hey.” He said softly, moving over to take another look at the gash on your head. “So it looks like you’re gonna need stitches, okay?” Your eyes widened and you shook your head. “No no no no…” You started to panic.

Connor gently placed his hands on your shoulders. “Hey there, look at me.” He said softly, waiting until you looked at him. “It’s going to be okay, alright? I’m gonna take care of you and it’s all going to be okay.” He said softly.

You nodded silently but your eyes were still full of fear.

“Now Maggie is going to give you an IV, I want you to focus on me while she does that.” Connor said softly as Maggie took your arm in her gloves hands. “Just focus on me.”

You kept your eyes on him and winced when you felt the plastic tighten around your bicep, trying to brace yourself for the needle.

“Just keep focusing on me.” Connor said softly.

You squeaked when you felt the needle pierce the skin in the crook of your elbow but you managed to not panic or black out, which was an amazing feat.

“You did good.” Connor said softly, standing to get what he needed. “Now I’m going to have to give you a shot to numb the area so I can stitch up the gash, okay?”

“Wait!” You said quickly, stopping him before he had a chance to even get the syringe ready. When he looked at you, you met his eyes. “Just give me a second to prepare myself.” You said quietly, still trying to work through the emotions of getting the IV.

Connor nodded and set the syringe down on the sterilized tray, waiting until you were ready.

You took a couple of deep breaths before you nodded. “Okay...I think I’m ready.” You told him and he picked the syringe up.

“Do you want to hold my hand?” Maggie offered softly, holding her hand out to you.

You smiled weakly and nodded, taking her hand as you squeezed your eyes shut, bracing yourself.

It went a lot better than you or Connor was expecting, soon enough the area surrounding the gash was numb and Connor was able to start stitching it up. Luckily, if the gash left a scar it was along your hairline so it would be less noticeable, and you’d be able to hide it with your hair.

“Alright, almost done.” Connor said as he did the last stitch and tied it, cutting off the excess and setting it off to the side before taking a seat. “Now, tell me again what happened.”

You chewed on the inside of your cheek. “Jake’s been bullying me for a while now, but it just keeps getting worse. After he beat me up yesterday, I told the principal and then today he attacked me again and pushed me down the steps outside of school when I was trying to leave.” You explained, looking at your hands. “It just keeps getting worse.”

“Sounds like maybe we should inform the cops.” Maggie remarked softly.

“Why? They probably won’t do anything.” You were convinced that you’d just have to deal with it.

“What he did today qualifies as assault.” Connor told you gently, agreeing with Maggie and nodding to her.

She disappeared out of the room, probably heading to call the police.

“It’ll just make it worse!” You exclaimed, worried, wanting Maggie to stop before she got the cops involved.

Connor hushed you gently, moving to sit on the bed beside you. “It’s not going to get worse.”

“You don’t know that!” You insisted, trying feebly to push him away when he carefully pulled you into a hug.

“I do know that, because I’m your big brother.” Connor told you. “And big brothers are supposed to protect their little sisters. I’m sorry I didn’t know what was going on before otherwise I would have done something a lot sooner.”

You sniffled. “What if the cops don’t do anything?” “Well then I guess I’ll just have to have a talk with Jake’s parents.” Connor replied.

“His parents can’t do anything, he’s eighteen.” You replied quietly, leaning into the hug more as exhaustion took over you. You just wanted to go home and pretend nothing happened.

“Well that means he’s an adult and the cops should do something considering he attacked a minor.” Connor told you, trying to ease your worries. He glanced out of the room and noticed your dad was standing at the nurse’s station. “I’ll be right back.” He told you softly, kissing the top of your head before pulling away from the hug slowly.

“I want to know where my daughter is.” Cornelius demanded of the nurse.

“I just need a name, sir.” The nurse tried to tell him in a polite voice.

“I’ve got this, Doris.” Connor told her, gaining the attention of his dad. He wasn’t thrilled to see him, but the two had an unspoken agreement that they would play nice whenever you were around. “She’s in here.” Connor motioned to where you were, leading your dad in.

“Dad.” You were honestly happy to see him, even though he was a pretty absent father, you still adored him and you were kind of his pride and joy for now, favoring you over your two older siblings.

Cornelius walked over. “What on earth happened?” “A boy attacked her at school.” Connor told him, crossing his arms. “Did you know she was being bullied?”

“Bullied?” Cornelius looked at Connor and back to you before looking back at your brother. “I had no idea.” Connor scoffed. “Figures.” He muttered under his breath, looking out of the room and taking his attention off you and your father as he watched for the police to arrive.

After your brother’s dramatic exit, you and your father both fell silent. You were keenly aware of the fact that your father favored you compared to your siblings, and that he and Connor had an especially strained relationship for some reason. Neither of them ever put you in the middle of it and they always attempted to play nice in your presence, keyword being attempted. As a child, you weren’t aware of the fact that they had issues, but now that you were getting older it was rather hard to ignore, especially in tense situations like this.

You could hear different sounds coming from different rooms in the ED and it made you uncomfortable, causing you to shift on the bed.

“Are you alright?” Your father looked at you with concern in his eyes.

You nodded silently at first. “Yeah. I’m fine.” You finally managed to reply in a quiet voice. “I just really don’t like hospitals.”

“Well after you’re released we’ll take you home and you can rest in the comfort of your own bed.”

You smiled tiredly at him and nodded. “Sounds good.”

It was a while longer before the cops finally showed up to ask you some questions, and that was when Connor finally came back into your room.

“Miss. Rhodes, can you tell us what happened?” A female cop asked you in a polite tone, like the kind adults use with children who seem upset.

You shifted on the bed again. “There’s this kid I go to school with and he’s been bullying me for a while now.” You told her, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear nervously. “It’s been getting worse and worse and today he pushed me down the front steps at school.”

The female cop wrote what you said down, nodding as she did so. “And what did you say his name was?”

You pulled your lip in between your teeth, chewing on it nervously.

Connor walked over to you and gently touched your arm to comfort you.

“Jake. Jacob Smith.” You corrected yourself, taking a deep breath. 

“And how long has this been going on?”

You thought about the question, trying to pinpoint just when Jake started bullying you. “About a year or so. It started when I was a freshman and just continued on. I think it was my second semester as a freshman.”

The cop nodded and was about to speak before your dad interrupted.

“We want to press charges.” He insisted.

You shrunk down a bit in your seat, knowing how your father could treat people, already embarrassed.

“We understand, Mr. Rhodes, but we do need to conduct an investigation into this first.”

“An investigation? Look at my daughter, she’s in the hospital for Christ’s sake! She’s traumatized!” He did have a point, but you knew the cops were just trying to do their jobs.

That’s when the male cop spoke up. “We understand that you’re upset, sir, but we need you to calm down and let us do our job.”

That didn’t bode well with your father.

“Dad, please.” You begged quietly, looking up at him with tear filled eyes. “Just let the cops do their job.”

Cornelius had a hard time saying no to you, given that you were the baby of the family and his favorite child, so he slowly backed down and took his seat at your bedside again.

“I hate to say it, but our dad has a point.” You brother spoke up, thankfully much calmer than your father. “She was attacked by this boy and it did cause her both physical and mental harm, so we would appreciate it if you could make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

Both cops nodded to him. “We’ll talk to the witnesses, it was reported so we’re sure it will be a pretty open and shut case, but we do need to conduct an investigation.”

“We understand.” Connor told them, glancing over at his father before looking back at the cops. “Or at least I do.” He said in a lower voice as he walked out of the room with them.

It was a few minutes before Connor came back into the room.

“Thank you.” Your father told him tightly. “For agreeing with me instead of them.”

Connor didn’t respond, just shook his head a bit. He knew if he responded it would just lead to an argument and he didn’t want to put you through that.

“Can I go home?” You asked him quietly as he walked over to your side. “Please? I’m exhausted and I hate the hospital.”

Connor nodded. “I know you do.” He looked at your dad. “How about you come fill out the discharge papers so we can get her out of here?”

Cornelius nodded and stood up. “We’ll be right back.” He told you softly, touching your hand gently before following your brother out.

“You need to watch yourself around the cops.” Connor warned him once they were out of your earshot.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Connor turned to face him. “It means you need to be nice otherwise nothing will get done.”

Cornelius scoffed at that. “I know how to deal with people, Connor.”

“No you know how to push people around and buy them off.” Connor retorted, crossing his arms. “Just back off this time, let the cops do their jobs.”

Cornelius walked past him and to the nurse’s station. “I’d like you to discharge my daughter now. Y/N Rhodes.” As soon as the papers were signed, he went back to your room. “Alright, we’re good to go.” He gave you a smile.

You looked past him. “Where’s Connor? Isn’t he gonna come say goodbye?”

“He had to get back to work.” Your dad told you, but you could tell he was lying. Something happened and you knew it and it made you feel like your stomach was sinking into a black hole. You swallowed around the dry lump in your throat and nodded, trying to pretend you didn’t suspect anything. “Oh. Okay.” You could write the sadness off as not getting to say goodbye to your brother. You got up from the bed slowly.

“Do you need some help?”

You shook your head. “I’ve got it, thanks.” You waved him off as you grabbed your backpack from the floor before heading over to him. “I’m so ready to get home.” You breathed out, simply exhausted. “I just want to change into my pajamas and curl up in my bed.” You had plans to watch movies the rest of the afternoon.

Your dad nodded and walked out of the hospital with you, leading you over to his car.

Once you were home, you did exactly what you said you would, changed and curled up on your bed. You fished your phone out of your backpack before tossing it to the floor beside your bed. When you turned it on you saw you had a bunch of text messages from your friends asking if you were okay, you decided you’d respond to them in a bit, wanting to text your brother first. 

It took you a few minutes and a few erased attempts before you decided on what to say. Hey, I just wanted to let you know that we’re home. Sorry I didn’t get to say goodbye, dad said you had to get back to work. I love you, talk to you later. And with that you hit send before you began replying to all your friends.

The rest of the night you stayed in your room, texting your friends and watching movies. The housekeeper checked on you a few times, but you didn’t see or hear from your dad at all the rest of the night, which honestly wasn’t that unusual. You may be the favorite, but you were pretty sure he only remembered he had kids when it suited him or he was forced to remember.

Eventually, despite the fact that your head began to throb, you were able to fall asleep. The next morning you were rudely awakened by your alarm clock alerting you that it was time to wake up and get ready for school, which you immediately dreaded after remembering the events of the prior day. You got dressed before picking your phone up and checking it, only to see you got a text from your best friend informing you that Jake had gotten arrested.

Part Two Coming Soon...

#connor rhodes imagine #connor rhodes imagines #connor rhodes x reader #dr connor rhodes imagine #dr connor rhodes imagines #connor rhodes x sister!reader #chicago med imagine #chicago med imagines

[clonecaptains]

PAPERCLIPS | a Javi Peña x reader fic

rating: T for dramatic elements; will change to M in future parts

summary: You think your crush on Javi goes unnoticed - until Steve and Connie take matters into their own hands. 

a/n: ive had this story idea in my head for months and im so glad it’s finally out of my head and actually WRITTEN!! there will be a part two for sure, and others if i feel inspired!!

Paperclips

Being Javier Peña’s neighbor isn’t the worst thing to happen to you. Being a secretary at the DEA office is. Seeing Agent Javier Fucking Peña every day of the week is slowing killing you. His cute little ass in those tight ass jeans. He knows what he’s doing, and you hate him for it. The suits are just as bad. Displaying his broad shoulders, showing off his sharp jaw. You want nothing more than to yank him to your level by one of his ties and kiss him harshly. Yeah. You hate him.

But you won’t do anything about this hopeless crush. You haven’t done anything for weeks.

Your desk sits up higher, you look down at the boys from your perch. Javi’s desk faces away from you, which allows you to stare at the back of his head (and ass) all day. Every once and a while you get lucky and see his face when he leaves his desk to go out in the field, or when he comes into work in the mornings. He’ll turn and offer a nod or a simple wave good morning.

You are friendly acquaintances. You’ve spoken on occasion at the dreaded office parties. The only reason you ever have gone to those are the free food and the small chance to see him.

Your staring at the back of his head is the most you do lately, your crush too strong to get up the nerve to ask him for coffee. Luckily, he can’t see you pine away for him.

But unbeknownst to you, there’s a watchful pair of eyes that have seen your longing gazes at the back of Javi’s head.

One Steve Murphy.

He’s seen every glance. Every flustered look cross your face. He doesn’t want to pry, not at first. But then he remembers how his buddies set him up with Connie. And hell, Javi could use someone nice like you in his life. Someone less dangerous to get involved with than communist informants.

Steve’s told Connie every detail, it’s much more entertaining to discuss then the heavy topic of death and drug lords. Connie’s only concern is the office romance drama, but she’s your friend. And she wants the same thing for you – Javi is a good man. And being neighbors with you, she’s also seen the looks you’ve given as Javi walks down the hallway.

They are planning more on how to get you with Javi than you are.

So far, your plan is hoping he’ll need a paperclip and will come ask you for one. And then suddenly ask you to coffee and then take you back to his place and-

Oh shit.

Javi’s wearing a blue shirt today, your favorite. And you might have let your eyes linger a little too long. And you’ve just made eye contact with Steve. He quirks a brow at you, and a small smirk appears on his lips. His piercing gaze just past Javi makes his partner curious, and the object of your affections turns his head in your direction.

When Javi’s eyes meet yours, you quickly avert your gaze. Trying to busy yourself with something important. Which consists mainly of organizing your already organized desk.

Javi is none the wiser, he shrugs and goes back to work. But Steve, he saw all that he needed to see.

You spend the rest of the day with your head down. You’ve had enough embarrassment for one day. It pains you that you’re missing out on the blue shirt though.

Normally after work you come up with some excuse to try and say hi and bye to Javi on his way out. He almost never goes straight to his apartment after office hours because he’s typically working out in streets. It’s your small chance to get some form of interaction with him.

Tonight though, you get out of there as soon as possible. It kills you to leave, you can hear Javi and Steve laughing at their desks. You want to turn around and see that smile you dream of.

So instead, you get out and head home.

You look forward to a quiet evening. You need a distraction. Something, anything to keep your mind off of him. Which only seems to make you think about him even more.

It’s getting later and the wine in your system has you feeling warm. There’s a warm buzzed feeling that spreads over your body and settles between your legs.

Maybe the wine wasn’t such a good idea. And you’re being ridiculous. So, Steve saw you looking at Javi. Is that a crime? Javi is handsome. Most women in the office notice him, even the married ones get a little smile on their face when he walks by.

It’s more than that. Having your crush discovered isn’t the end of the world.

Maybe you know that if Javi was interested he would have done something by now. Maybe you know that if Steve tells Javi about your crush that something will happen. Or that something won’t.

You want to get over this crush, but all you can think about is the arousal between your legs. You’ve seen him bring women home, but it’s been some time. That’s given you a false hope you think. Regardless, you know he’s a good lover. Thin walls.

You ache.

Those nights when he’s brought a woman home have been awful. You don’t listen on purpose, and more often than not you wish you couldn’t hear. Couldn’t hear women scream out his name, wishing it were you crying out his name into the dark.

On top of all that, you know that most times when he brings someone home, it’s been a bad day for him. He brings a prostitute home to ease his sorrows with the high of a release. You want to be there for him not just sexually, but emotionally. Living next to him isn’t the worst thing, but not being able to help him when you’ve seen the weight he carries is.

You’ll see him at work the next morning and try not to pretend you didn’t hear the headboard thwacking and how much you wish it were you.

Yeah. That wine wasn’t a good idea.

You’ve created a fantasy which you entertain, maybe it’s wrong but right now the wine is talking. Your fingers tease yourself and you’re close to the edge when you hear a rapid knock on the door.

Feeling flushed and disoriented, you quickly tug your pants back on and hurry to open your door.

You’re met with the sight of a woman, obviously drunk.

“Is Javi here?” she laughs twirling her hair with her fingers. You feel sick.

“You have the wrong apartment,” you tell her and point to Javi’s front door across the hall.

Disrupted by the noise, Javi’s door opens. His eyes widen in slight shock at seeing the two of you talking. He pushes his door open, and this other woman walks past him into his place. His eyes flick up to you in a silent apology and he closes the door behind him with a click.

The silence in the hallway is deafening. You stand in your doorway in disbelief. You can hear muffled voices across the hall, and you slam your door behind you in anger. You wince at the slam, then you sink down to the floor. Tears fall from your eyes, who were you kidding?

You get no sleep that night, and every sound that drifts over from his apartment to yours fills you with dread. You’ve heard nothing sexual in nature, but that doesn’t make you feel any better.

You don’t even want to go to work. You don’t want to see him. You’re mad at him, even though you’re actually mad at yourself.

Most of the day goes by before you really get a chance to see him. And for that you are grateful.

You smell his cologne before you see him, and his tall frame hovers by your desk. His voice comes out gentle and raspy.

“I’m sorry about last night,” he starts. A small part of you hopes he’ll apologize for what it looked like, apologize for hurting you. “I’m sorry she disrupted your night.”

Oh.

“Thanks,” is your weak reply. You can’t even bear to look up at him. Shit, he smells really good too. He almost never comes up to your desk. And now that he’s here, you just want him to go away.

“Javi, I-“ you manage to look up at him. And you don’t have a clue what you’re gonna say. His eyebrows raise as he’s ready to listen to what you have to say.

“Great!” You hear Steve’s voice cut through. “I’m glad I got you both together!” he claps his hand on Javi’s shoulder. “Connie and I are having a little get together tonight, and we want you both to come! Be there at 7!” he squeezes Javi’s shoulder and gives you a nod and leave before you can tell him no.

Javi shakes his head but gives you a soft smile. “Connie’s cooking isn’t that bad,” he jokes getting a laugh from you. Even though you curse yourself for laughing, you’re still mad. But when you see him smile at your laugh, you’re not….completely mad.

You spend the rest of the day and afternoon panicking about what to wear. Who else was going to be at this “get together”?

You can only assume it’s a casual thing, but still. Knowing Javi will be there has your insides churning.

You arrive early to help Connie, and to compose yourself. You’re helping her to set the table when Javi walks in. He gives a polite nod, and Steve is quick to greet him with a beer.

You flush, and Connie sees you actively trying to avoid any looks. She gives you a gentle nudge with her elbow, getting you to look up at her.

“It’s alright,” she whispers. “He’s into you.” She looks over at the boys in the small living area. Javi’s shrugged his jacket and is sitting with Steve, one of them laughs at a joke.

You nod your head ‘no.’

“He isn’t,” you tell her with a small shrug. “Is this all that’s coming?” you ask trying to change the subject. It dawns on you then that this is a setup, a double date. You start to panic.

“Hey,” Connie’s words are soft but firm, “it’s just dinner.”

She’s right, and you know she is. But you’re not sure if you can handle looking at him. All you can think about is the woman who came knocking on your door last night and him taking her in. What else would she have been there for other than to get a little taste of Javier Peña?

It’s hard to avoid those big brown eyes when he’s sitting directly across from you at the table. The conversation is light and humorous. But the way Javi is looking at you, it’s as if he knows something. Like he can read your mind.

“Dessert?” Connie’s cheery voice tears you from your thoughts.

“I’ll help,” you tell her. You need air, you feel like you’re suffocating under his glances.

“I’d say it’s going well!” she giggles once the two of you are out of earshot in the kitchen.

“How can you even tell?” you groan. “He’s not into me Connie.”

“I don’t know, he’s been making eyes at you across the table.”

“Connie,” you hiss. “He is not into me. He brought home some woman last night. Why the hell would he be into me?”

“How do you know-“

“I know. I know!” you hiss sharply trying to keep your voice down. “He brings those women home for a fuck, I know I’ve heard! And I will NEVER be one of those women.”

And not that you want to necessarily be one of them, that he fucks only – but-

“He doesn’t want me.”

“Who said that?” Javi’s voice has you turn in the little kitchen. You almost drop the plate in your hands. Connie and Steve exchange a look. Your eyes are fixed on Javi. You wish the earth would swallow you whole.

Embarrassed and upset, tears start to well up in your eyes.

“C’mon,” Javi offers you his hand. Your arms are crossed tight against your chest, but at the softness of his voice you relax and take his hand. He guides you out of the apartment, and you turn to Connie – she gives you a smile and a nod saying, “it’s ok.”

So, you follow Javi. He guides you down the hall to his apartment. He pats his pocket but doesn’t feel his keys.

“Shit,” he laughs, “they’re in my jacket pocket-“

“We can go in mine,” you reply pulling out your keys and open your apartment door.

You’re not entirely sure what is happening, but you open the door and he follows behind.

“I didn’t bring her home for sex,” Javi tells you the moment the door closes behind him. “She’s an informant, she only pretended to be drunk so no one would be suspicious. Her idea, not mine.”

“So, you know?” your voice hesitant.

“Know what?” he leans against your kitchen counter. Your arms have crossed against your chest again.

“Know how I feel?” your face heats up.

“Yeah,” he chuckles softly. “I could feel your eyes burning the back of my head, and my ass,” he says out of the corner of his mouth. He gives a gentle wink, his eyes bright and eyebrows lifted.

You bury your face in your hands, “was I that obvious?”

“Honestly, I thought you were checking out Steve at first,” he laughs. Your laugh joins his, and you feel more relaxed. “The only reason I never said anything was-“ he nibbles on his lower lip trying to think of what he wants to say. “I thought you wouldn’t want me.”

“What?” you gasp. “How could you think that?”

“My life is fucked up baby, why would you want in the mess?” He takes a step closer.

“All I wanted was to be there for you,” you admit, fiddling with the hem of your jacket.

“That’s all you wanted?” he takes another step closer. You can feel the heat of him. You look up at his face, he’s standing so close. His brow is raised. “That’s all you wanted?” he repeats in a whisper.

“Javi,” you whisper and melt into him as he closes the gap between you with his lips. His mustache tickles your upper lip in the way you hoped it would.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers against your lips and kisses the corner of your mouth.

“You don’t have to explain,” you cling to his shirt. You start to laugh and press your forehead against his solid warm chest.

“What’s so funny?” he laughs.

“This isn’t how I thought this would happen.”

“Oh?” he raises that eyebrow again.

“I thought-“

“What?” he kisses your forehead and cheeks.

“I just thought you’d come up to my desk and ask me for a paperclip or something and then ask me for coffee.”

“Baby, I will ask you for a fucking paperclip if that’s what you want.”

You snort out a laugh and he squeezes you tight. He kisses you again, and you feel dizzy.

“I don’t do this. Ever,” you flush.

“It’s ok,” he whispers kissing you again, “all I came over for was a paperclip.”

//

MASTERLIST

#javier peña #javier pena x reader #javier peña x reader #javi #narcos #my gifs #mine #my writing

[lailannajacobs]

If You’d Ever Had A Real Boyfriend, Maybe You’d Know What To Do With A Fake One | GIBP IV

Pairing: Fey!Loki x fem!reader 

Chapter Summary: You experience your first council event and get to know Loki a little bit better. 

Warnings: pure fluff

Word Count: 12.5k 

A/N: I know this took quite a while to come out, but I ended up writing far more than I’d intended and I spent a lot of time editing to try and get the fake dating as perfect as I possibly could. I hope you don’t mind the length so much and I’d love to know what you think of the chapter!! <3 

You had wanted to spend the whole hour in the bath, scrubbing the stupid Junabee from your hair, but Loki had given you an hour alone and you weren’t about to waste it soaking in a tub; no matter how luxurious or tempting it was. You’d chosen a dark silky blouse and fancy but comfortable pants, quickly noticing that Valkyrie had made a slitted compartment in the leg for your dagger. You hadn’t spoken about it with her and you didn’t know if that was her way of ominously warning you to stay safe or simply that she’d gotten a better read on you during your afternoon than you’d thought. Either way, you were glad to have it there.

Even though they clashed with the outfit, you’d kept your boots on underneath, refusing to part with them. You weren’t in the mood to get blisters from shoes you’d never worn before and needed to to know you could run and move if need be. Your steps were silent on the floor — another reason you’d kept on the boots — hopefully imperceptible even to Fey hearing. Leaning your ear against the door, you waited, listening for movement in the hallway. Nothing. Your hand was tentative on the handle. You gently pulled open the door and stepped out, eyes scanning the hallway. You bit back a groan.

Loki was leaning against the opposite wall, freshly changed into a dark suit, the cut and style similar to the likes of human fashion and his dark hair combed back. You were momentarily surprised he owned something like that, but with the mountain of clothing you received from Valkerie only hours after meeting her, you should have guessed she would have made something for him as well. It was a clever move on his part, and you wondered if it was him or his seamstress who had decided on the suit. Regardless of who’s idea it was, the clothes fit him so perfectly, even you couldn’t deny that he was incredibly handsome. The thought made you scowl. He raised a brow.

“I thought you were going to be back in an hour,” you blurted then quickly realized how suspicious you sounded.

He shrugged, “I lied.”

The silence stretched on after his words and you turned them over in your mind. He knew you would try and leave. It was the only reason he would have lied about something so unimportant. And you stupidly believed him. You ran your tongue over your teeth, trying to hide your frustration — at him, yes, but also at yourself. You should have known that after sneaking off this morning he’d be watching you even more closely. If you’d have stayed put, maybe you could have gained his trust enough to search the palace on your own. Now, you’d only made everything harder for yourself. There was no way he trusted you before, but he sure in the Seven Hells didn’t trust you now. You should have known better than this. You had to be better than this. You felt tears burn behind your eyes and you struggled to keep ahold of yourself.

He cocked his head, looking at you more closely now, as if he could see beneath your skin if he tried hard enough. You avoided his gaze, watching the trees swaying outside through a nearby window until you were sure your voice wouldn’t crack when you spoke.

You tried to turn the tables on him Instead of trying to defend your own actions, and muttered, “that wasn’t very nice of you.”

He seemed to find that funny, his intense stare breaking as he pushed off the wall and approached with slow, lazy steps, “and what were you about to do, sweetheart?”

You took in a deep breath; pasted on a coy smile. You had to calm down and get your act together if you wanted to get through this. And you were going to get through this. For yourself. For Nat. You had no other choice.

You closed the door behind you.

“Find you, of course,” you replied sweetly.

His head dipped in a slow nod, lips pursed as if he was trying to fight a smile. You didn’t for a second think that he believed me.

“Well, sweetheart, you found me,” he crooned.

You couldn’t fake any kind of enthusiasm, the words dry when you said, “lucky me.”

“Lucky me,” he countered, lips curling into a wicked grin. His eyes were bright and taunting as if he was winning a game you weren’t aware you were playing, “and now that you’ve found me, what are you going to do about it?”

His voice had dropped so that his question sounded like a dare, words laced with danger and promises of something more. Your breath caught in your throat. You hadn’t realized how close you’d gotten now that he was leaning against your doorframe. You looked up haughtily, holding his gaze as you searched for something to say in return, but you had nothing. He tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear and raised a brow, that insufferable smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth.

Annoyed and all too aware of how close he was standing, you snorted and pushed past him. It wasn’t the most elegant or articulate, but it was the best you could come up with.

“Anything I should know about this party thingy?” you asked, hoping you could get back onto solid footing with some distance and a neutral question.

He was silent as he strolled beside you and you had to look up at him to make sure he’d heard. The only reason you didn’t repeat the question was the pinched look on his face and the way he began by saying, “I won’t lie to you,”

You stopped short, your hands on your hips. He paused and turned. When you didn’t back down, he nodded as if he’d just remembered lying to you less than an hour ago.

“Not about this,” he explained, though you weren’t comforted in the slightest by his answer. He was obviously comfortable lying to you and seemed to have it in mind that he would need to. Obviously, as king, he wasn’t going to tell you most things, but you wondered what that meant for your fate and Nat’s.

You kept walking, not wanting to get distracted and make a big deal about something you couldn’t change. For now. You motioned for him to go on.

“The council isn’t going to like you,” he replied bluntly, “they’re all part of the generation that burned down the temples of the old gods and almost half supported the discoveries that led to the war on purity.”

You closed your eyes for a few steps and tried to ignore the sinking feeling in your chest. Several decades before Hayle inherited the throne, Dark Elf scholars from Alfhiem discovered that magic flowed through the Nine Realms like currents in a massive loop of energy. They had found that the each specific mutation that differentiated the races attracted certain currents of energy and allowed those mutation to interact with and manipulate the magic of the currents. Humans couldn’t interact with any.

Then, when Odin later took the throne, a human scholar named Brock Rumlow was found guilty of capturing and testing on as many of the other races as he could get his hands on to try and imitate the mutations to give himself more power. Odin had taken the opportunity to turn as many of the other realms as he could against humans, burning the temples the humans had built when they had believed the magic had come from the gods. They had set out to eradicate the ‘lesser race’ — humans who had no power and would inevitably try to steal everyone else’s. Anyone who had sided with Odin despised humans and were a threat to them, even hundreds of years after they had lost the war on purity.

You were in more danger here than you’d realized.

“Great,” you muttered. Then a terrifying thought occurred to you that he might actually agree with them, “if they’re part of your council, why haven’t you gotten rid of them?”

He looked down at me in surprise, “kill them?”

“Kick them off the council,” you snapped, “you were king for at least a little while. You could have changed that.”

You stopped yourself from saying that he should have changed it. The actions of one human should not have been enough to condemn the entire race for future generations and every other race that had sided with them. But you should have known when Asgard had abandoned everyone good in the war that they didn’t care for anyone other than themselves.

Loki remained silent as a beautiful Fey woman crossed you in the hallway and nodded politely as she walked past. Her eyes lingered on you and the space between you and Loki so you stepped a little closer to him as you walked, your shoulders practically touching. When you were certain she couldn’t see you anymore, you stepped away from him, afraid he could feel your anger radiating off you in waves.

“Their positions are for life,” he said with a shrug, “and unfortunately, that’s a long time.”

“Unfortunate,” you scoffed, then muttered, “maybe you should have considered the first option gave you.”

His steps faltered slightly, “I beg your pardon?”

You knew he’d heard with his Fey hearing.

“Nothing,” you chirped.

He looked at you warily before continuing, scanning your body from head to toe as if he was looking for the dagger you’d pulled on him the day before.

“Thankfully, the head of the court is impartial,” he finally said when he seemed satisfied you weren’t going to try anything, “and the ultimate decision is his. My advice to you is to ignore the rest of them and focus on making this convincing.”

You nodded. His plan made sense, but there was so much that wasn’t on your side simply because you were human. If this was a fight, you were starting it blindfolded and with a hand tied behind your back. You clenched your teeth, frustrated. He’d conveniently forgotten to mention how desolate our situation was before you’d agreed to it. Though you hadn’t really agreed to it. It would be a long time before you forgot the way he’d casually threatened your life and the pain he’d caused last night.  

“If you knew all this, then why in the Seven Hells did you drag me into this?” you snarled, unable to keep the emotion from your voice, “wouldn’t it have been easier to use someone who was Fey? I’m sure Valkyrie would have been available.”

You weren’t sure why you’d called out the seamstress, but now that you had, you wouldn’t mind him explaining some of the million secrets you knew they were both keeping from you.

He didn’t seemed fazed by your outburst, his face almost more impassive than it was before, “easier maybe, but it would have been too obvious. The fact that you’re so unexpected makes it the most believable.”

Your anger was dropped to a simmer for a moment when you wondered what he meant by ‘too obvious’. What kind of past was between them? Maybe something was still there and this whole situation was coming between them. Maybe your deal was ruining a perfectly decent relationship. You decided you didn’t care. You weren’t here to become invested in their lives. You had other — more important — things to worry about.

“This hallway leads to the council’s banquet hall,” he continued once he realized that you weren’t going to say anything else on the subject, “if ever I’m not here to escort you, this is the easiest way to get from our rooms to the hall.”

“There are other ways?” you asked, thinking that the better you knew the layout of the palace, the better your chances were of finding the Hand.

He glanced at you side-long, wary of your question. With reason, but you weren’t about to confirm that.

“I mean, what if I’m not coming from my room,” you supplied, hurrying along.

“You can always ask for help,” he said. His face took on a serious quality that you hadn’t seen on him before, “the walls have ears here. Unless you’re in your room, know that I’ll be able to hear you if you’d like help.”

You didn’t know what to think about that. You’d been talking pretty freely about your deal, even though it had been in hushed tones most of the time. But that meant that whatever you said could be overheard by anyone. You were going to have to be even more careful than you’d first thought.

He nodded as if he could read your mind and honestly, with the minute demonstrations of magic you’d seen so far, you weren’t sure he couldn’t. You didn’t know anything about Fey magic and because of it, you were even more at a disadvantage. If you were going to have to spend a few moons here then you were going to have to learn more about it. Maybe even put your pride aside and ask him about it.

“Do you think you can make it convincing in there, sweetheart?” he asked, pausing a few steps away from a set of double doors. You’d been so lost in thought that you hadn’t realized you were already at the banquet hall.

“YN,” you grumbled, “and I think I can manage.”

“Good. Then I think we should hold hands,” he said.

You rolled your eyes, though you were glad he’d had the decency to accept your terms and ask you first.

“How romantic. And original,” you laughed, though there was no humour in the sound, “did you come up with that all on your own, prince?”

“You did want a heads up,” he ran a hand through his hair, “and funny thing is sweetheart, love isn’t original. Or so I’ve heard.”

“Never been in love?” you couldn’t help but ask.

“No,” he kept his eyes on the door ahead, not giving anything away, his voice steady when he asked, “have you?”

A crazy kind of laughter bubbled in your chest at the irony and impossibility of your situation. Afraid it would turn into full blown panic, you managed to push it far enough down to say, “no. Looks like we’re perfect for this.”  

He rocked back on his heels, the corner of his mouth barely twitching upward, “I knew there was a reason I chose you.”

“I broke into your palace, I don’t think that counts,” you scoffed.

He offered his hand, “I let you.”

“Keep telling yourself that, prince,” you said, your frustration back as if it had never left. You tried to ignore that familiar itch blooming at your tailbone, “you people are so overconfident and arrogant that anyone with half a brain could break into this place.”

“And yet, here you are,” he pointed out, that infuriating smirk growing.

You crossed your arms, tucking your hands tightly against your body to hide your growing temper, “not because of your charm.”

He leaned in close, lips almost touching your ear when he whispered, “you’re no peach either, my queen.”

“At least I’m not a spoiled brat who coerces helpless humans into miserable bargains,” you whispered back, head snapping to face him and your composure slipping away faster than usual. We were so close now your noses were practically touching and you made sure to take a step away from him.

He shook his head and you felt a shimmer of magic surround you like a bubble. You looked around as if you could physically see it, but obviously nothing was there.  When you looked back at him, Loki’s eyes were ablaze.

“Like you’re helpless, YN. You obviously don’t like me and that’s fine, but don’t think for a second that I’m clueless. You can fool them, sweetheart, but not me.”

You let out another humourless laugh, easing the pressure in your chest slightly, “and there’s that overconfidence and arrogance I was just talking about.”

“Are there any other insights about me you would like to share?” he asked, that bored expression quickly replacing any sort of emotion you might have seen on his face.

“Not right now,” you snapped.

He huffed a sigh, “then we should go in.”

You took his hand. It was a rough, warrior’s, easily engulfing yours.

He smirked.

“Shut up,” you growled, tempted to rip your hand away, “this is a necessity.”

“I didn’t say anything,” he pointed out, though there was no doubt in your mind that he knew exactly what he’d done to get under your skin so easily. Just the thought infuriated you more.

“This is never going to work,” you muttered.

He paused, voice taunting when he said, “not with that attitude it won’t.”

It took all of your restraint not to punch him in the arm with your free hand. He was so cavalier about all of this that you had trouble believing he took any of it seriously. How were you supposed to get the book when this was over when his vanity seemed to take precedence over everything else? He raised your hands and placed a slow kiss on yours, his intense gaze never leaving you. You glared at him and could feel his lips twist into a smile on your skin. Before you could snap at him for being an arrogant prick, he pushed open the doors and was on the move again, tugging you along with him. You did your best to keep up with his long strides through the smaller hallway that led to fancy looking doors at the end. You didn’t know if you were late or it if it was you dreading the party, but it felt like he’d picked up the pace.

You kept repeating to yourself that the walls had ears and that you had a job to do. You had Nat’s face etched into your mind — the sheer panic, wide eyes and gaunt face of the day the two of you had gotten captured. You had to get her out. You had to. Which meant that you couldn’t go around hating the man you were supposed to love. At least, not blatantly you couldn’t.

“I couldn’t be happier than to be here with you in this moment, Loki,” you said as you approached the doors that looked even more impressive up close, “there’s no one else I’d ever want at my side.”

He stopped with his hand on the door and looked over at you with a curious, but slightly amused expression on his face. He leaned over so that his shoulder barely brushed up against yours and said, “commendable attempt, sweetheart, but you might want to remind your face of your intentions if you want anyone to believe it.”

Then he pulled you into the room with him before you could say anything else. You did your best to wipe the scowl from your face. It wasn’t easy to do when this was the last place you wanted to be, but every pair of eyes were on you so you had no choice. And there were a lot of them.

The banquet hall was filled with Fey in elegant evening wear, male and female alike, all dissecting you as if you’d intruded on their private event. The room was smaller than you thought it would be, though it still had high arched ceilings, wide stained glass windows and a long table set up in the back with an impressive spread of food. A quick scan of the crowd gave you the impression that there were almost fifty Fey here but not one friendly face among them. Your legs suddenly felt like jelly and you were surprised you were somehow still standing.

Loki looked down at you and raised a brow. It was a silent challenge as if he thought you were intimidated by his court — that you couldn’t keep up. The arrogant look reignited the furry that had been doused by the judging stares and brought you back to your senses fast enough that you didn’t stumble after Loki when he walked you toward the centre of the party. Because of course you were going to the centre of it. Where else would you go?

“Nice to see everyone,” he began, shooting them all courtly smiles, though he lingered slightly longer on the five men who stood a few steps apart from the others. Their tunics looked similar to most of the other men, but you could tell their designs were more carefully tailored for their bodies and the fabrics better suited for the cut of the shirt and pants they wore. These men exuded power and confidence, and you could only assume that they were the council members that you were supposed to impress.

But the council of stuffy old men that you’d been expecting was nowhere to be seen. Only two of them appeared to be over the age of fifty, all the other in their early thirties at most — though you didn’t doubt that most of them were at least a few generations of humans old. All were Fey, and objectively speaking, all of them were quite handsome. Their looks were sharp and angular, traditional of the Fey and alluring in the way that they were surrounded by an air of magic. But the moment you looked into their eyes you knew you didn’t want to be in the room with them any longer than you had to. These men might not have been cruel at the beginning of their lives, but any kindness that might have once lived within them was long gone. And judging by the way their lips puckered in disgust, Loki had undersold their hatred for humans. You didn’t know if Asgard had ever had a human queen before the war, but you’d been warned they weren’t keen on it now. You just hadn’t been ready for them to look at you with more disgust on their faces than most of the people in Odin’s realm did — that was, those who bothered to look at you at all.

“We didn’t realize you were back from your travels, prince Loki,” the Fey man in the middle sneered.

“I arrived yesterday, Tywin” Loki replied curtly, his face impassive as he ignored the jab, “my court was aware.”

You tried not to stare back and forth between the councilmen and Loki. You had assumed that the council and his court were interchangeable, but obviously if they had been, these men would have been aware of his return — his return from where though? And if he had arrived yesterday, then you’d gotten to Asgard not long after he had. Maybe if you’d gotten here sooner you wouldn’t be stuck in this mess…Regardless, you couldn’t help but wonder if your arrivals were a coincidence or if there was something more going on to this whole situation than just a fight for his crown? There had to be a million things he wasn’t telling you, but would any of those things affect your end of the bargain? There were too may questions you didn’t know the answers to and you had to keep your face neutral before your rising worry ruined your scheme and your chances of getting the Hand before it even started.

“And who is this human you’ve brought with you?” Tywin asked, never once giving you any of his attention. He spoke the word as if you were a shameful object Loki had brought with him to use to taunt the council rather than a living, breathing, conscious being.

Loki lolled his head to the side, shooting you a lazy look you took as a signal to answer the Fey’s questions.

You lifted your chin, staring them all down one by one, and spoke slowly, pronouncing each syllable clearly just to make sure they got it, “YN YLN.”

The man’s lip curled, but he didn’t get a chance to speak.

“She will be my queen,” Loki declared.

There was no hesitation or doubt in his voice. It didn’t matter that he needed their approval to take the throne or that they had clearly pointed out that the title no longer belonged to him, he was above these people. They answered to him. Even masked by the bored look on his face, the authority in his voice was so strong, you found yourself believing it. And judging by the frustration on their faces, they did too — even if it was begrudgingly.

“We’ll discuss the technical aspects later,” he decided, his tone suddenly flippant as if he hadn’t just commanded the whole room into silence, “tonight is not meant for business.

He cut through the middle of the crowd and led you to the banquet table at the back of the room, dismissing the rest of the council. The silence lingered and followed you to the table, but slowly, the chatter began again, taking on a life of its own. You let out a since once the music had started again and their gazes were no longer boring into your back. Loki let go of your hand and offered you drink.

You must have looked at the pale red liquid suspiciously because he said, “it’s safe for humans.”

You hated that he seemed to be able to read your expressions so easily.

You grabbed the flute form his hands, the liquid sloshing in the glass before you downed it in a few quick gulps. The taste was sharp and not overly sweet, and went down smoothly. Which meant you had to be careful. You were human. Although your abilities would inherently handle the liquor better than most humans, that was what you were at the moment. Human. One too many drinks and you might do something incredibly stupid.

“Don’t look too pleased to be here,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. You thought it looked like he wanted to tear his hair out, but the look flashed by so quickly you were pretty sure you’d imagined it. He shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels. The arrogance on his made you sure that you had.

He handed you another drink, “try not to spill this one.”

“I hate this place,” you whispered.

“Mingle,” he whispered back, “then you can leave.”

You blew him a kiss and stomped off. It was a pitiful attempt at love and you knew it. You needed to do a better job at pretending to be his queen, knowing that if you didn’t, you would never forgive yourself. But of course, the things you knew and the things you did rarely matched up. It was the reason you were a human stuck in this stupid mess in the first place.

Loki stared at you from across the room but didn’t approach. You tried to keep from rubbing your temples. You’d been in Asgard less than a day and you were already exhausted. You chalked it up to stress, not wanting to admit to yourself what the real was and rolled your shoulders back. You smiled at a passing Fey woman. She smiled back. There. That wasn’t so bad. You had a job to do. Loki wanted convincing? You were going to make it so damned convincing he was going to let you spend the whole day sleeping in tomorrow. You tried not to grind your teeth at the thought that you still needed someone to ‘let you’ do whatever you wanted. You down your drink, set it on the table and grabbed two more from a passing waiter. Once you got this done, you wouldn’t need anyone to let you do anything. You were going to be free again. Nat was going to be free. You could this. You spotted Loki across the room and off you went. You could do this.

Only you didn’t get far. A member of the council stopped you with a hand clamped around your arm. You flinched at the vice-grip. If the Fey man noticed your discomfort, it didn’t bother him enough to let go.

“You’re quite pretty for a human,” he leered, drawing you closer.

He was the youngest of the council members by far, looking about Loki’s age. His sand coloured hair was cut short and styled in a way that showcased his pointed ears and accentuated his ocean blue eyes. He was tall and square, holding himself like a warrior. You didn’t doubt he was one. Nothing about him was kind. Everything was rough looking. The humans had a myth that the other races were all carved from stone by the gods and brought to life through their immortal breath, but this Fey looked like they’d forgotten to polish him off, the lines around his eyes harsh and unfeeling.

It took all of your restraint not to shove him off, only the thought of Nat fending off jerks like this in Flaik keeping your anger in check. You were trained for this. That training might have been buried deep beneath hundreds of years of memories but it was there and it was time you dug it back up and used it.

You patted his arm, your cheeks forced into a smile, “interesting that a man such as yourself would say that.”

HIs lip curled in disgust as if he was insulted you hadn’t swooned over his pathetic excuse of an insult, “why’s that?”

“Because I thought the Fey were supposed to have perfect eyesight. Quite pretty doesn’t cut it for your future queen” you ripped your arm out of his grasp and strode off to where you’d last seen Loki, but he wasn’t there.

Great. Of course he’d left you to fend off these vultures yourself. One day you were going to punch him and you weren’t going to be sorry about it.

“Nicely done,” Loki whispered, standing so close you were practically touching.

You almost jumped out of your skin. You had no clue where he’d come from.

“Don’t patronize me,” you snapped, shoving one of the two glasses at him,  “I don’t need it.”

He peered down at you, but didn’t try and defend himself, “understandable, but you may want my advice. If you can avoid Helio, do. He might be the youngest on the council but that doesn’t mean he’s any better than the rest of them.”

You snorted, “nice court you’ve got here, prince.”

“It’s a lifetime position, remember?” he said, nodding politely to the guests as you walked along the fringes of the party.

You knew he’d told you that before, but this time you deflated, feeling like you’d agreed to a situation that kept getting far more hopeless that you’d realized. He stopped and gave you a little shrug like he knew exactly how you were feeling. For once, there was nothing condescending in his expression and he genuinely seemed to understand. Maybe he did. He needed this to work too. But then again, maybe he didn’t. He was only loosing a title and not the person he loved most in this world.

He extended his hand. You tried to control the jittery feeling that was spreading through your limbs and through your body, making your breaths more and more shallow. Instead, you tried to focus on the fact that what you were doing wasn’t impossible. Improbable, yes, but not impossible. It would only become impossible if you didn’t take his hand and work with him. You didn’t have to like him. Seven hells, you didn’t even have to trust him. All you had to do was stop letting every little thing discourage you and do this with both feet in. You’d find a way to get the hand. You and Nat had gotten through worse. This time would’t be different. It couldn’t be.

You took his arm instead and stood a little closer for effect. The gesture put a little smile on his face. It was the perfect look to convince the council he was besotted and you knew you should do the same. Remembering the lessons from your childhood, you smoothed out the tension you knew must be on your face and told yourself that you hadn’t messed anything up yet. You were human in a Fey’s realm. It was only natural to be a little tense. You could play the part. You could lie just as well as he could.

“What’s the goal tonight?” you asked, voice low so that you wouldn’t attract any unwanted attention from the fey stealing glances at you.

His face was pleasant when he said, “I just need you to be seen.”

“With you?” you tried to clarify, a little put off by the way his tone didn’t match the look on his face.

“No. Just seen,” he brushed back your hair, leaning in so close that you shivered when his lips brushed against your ear, “I don’t trust any of them,” he whispered, “and neither should you.”

You wanted him to say more, but you understood enough to know that making sure you were seen by all the council was a failsafe to make sure nothing happened to you. If they all knew who you were and what you looked like, none of them could claim ignorance if you were kicked out of the palace — or worse. You tried to swallow the lump in your throat. Yesterday he had made your deal seem like a piece of cake. Now you were sure he’d lied. Only the worry that your life might be on the line kept you from lashing out in anger.

“If I die, you don’t get to be king,” you reminded him through clenched teeth.

Loki backed off slowly, his movements measured and controlled, “if you died, I couldn’t imagine ever being sane enough to properly rule a kingdom.”

His words were a subtle reminder that despite your distance and the noise in the room, everyone here had Fey hearing and could listen in if they really wanted to — and they probably did. You mentally slapped yourself. You were going to have to start thinking before you spoke.

“Your words are too sweet,” you said, shooting him a pointed look, “but you’re far too strong to lose your sanity over  a human, especially that our love will live on for far long than I will.”

He seemed to realize his mistake and pressed a kiss to your forehead. You narrowed your eyes at him and he shrugged with a little smirk.

“It is your everlasting love that will make me the best king I could possibly be,” he looked like he was enjoying himself far too much and you waited warily for his next words, “after all, sweetheart, I know you’d scale any building for me.”

You placed your hand on your heart for effect. It was better than punching his arm.

“And yet your love is so irresistible, it’s almost as if I didn’t have a choice in the matter,” you shot back.

He grinned.

“Aren’t you two sweet,” a male voice sneered.

You almost groaned. This had to be another councilman. Loki smirked and mouthed tell it to your face before he turned so that you were facing a man who resembled a boulder both in shape and wit. You were glad it wasn’t Helio again, but this one didn’t seem much better. Still, you managed somewhat a decent smile.

He didn’t wait for either of you to speak before continuing.

“I’d heard a rumour a few moons ago that we were going to have two kings instead of a king and a queen rule Asgard this time. But I don’t know where such a rumour could have come from, especially that you two have known each other for…” he was waiting for an answer, looking between you with a smug grin. You doubted he could have made it more obvious that he was hoping to catch you in a lie because these people didn’t believe you were in love. Whether that was because you were human or because you weren’t the right sex, you were no longer sure. You snuggled even closer to Loki and looked up at him with an expression on your face that you hoped showed nothing other than love.

Loki licked his lips, teeth scraping against his lower lip as he tried to hold back laughter. Your gaze inadvertently dropped to his mouth for too long before you looked back up into his bright eyes. Judging by the strange expression on his face, you weren’t doing a very good job at conveying love, which only made it harder not to scowl.

“Every day I learn something new about her,” Loki crooned, “it feels like we keep meeting over and over…like we just met yesterday.”

There was a victorious little glint in his eyes that you hoped the councilman interpreted as love. All you saw was a challenge to keep up.

You widened your grin, partly afraid it might look a little crazy but going with it anyways, “and yet, at the same time it feels like we’ve known each other for an eternity. I can’t remember what it was like not knowing him.”

You both turned back to face the Fey man and he narrowed his eyes, trying to see beneath the act. You tried to snuggle in a little closer, but with Loki’s hands in his pockets, there wasn’t much more you could do to get closer. He seemed to realize that in the way he stiffened slightly, but neither of you moved, afraid too much fidgeting would make the councilman see something he wouldn’t have otherwise found.

You were afraid the Fey could hear your heart pounding and you waited for him to say something. Finally, it was Loki who spoke instead.

“YN, I would like you to meet councilman Lucius Bonnefort. Lucius, meet your future queen.”  

Lucius grit his teeth. He hadn’t been given a command, but the order from his king was clear. He was to treat you with the respect of any other Fey here. Loki raised a brow, waiting. It looked like Lucius might turn his teeth to dust he was gritting them so hard.

“Pleasure,” was all he muttered before sulking off.

You looked up at Loki and found a frigid expression on his face. His council may have been challenging him but at least they still respected him. The harsh lines on Loki’s face didn’t soften. Maybe it wasn’t respect. Maybe it was fear. You’d gotten a glimpse of his power last night that you didn’t want to relive. Maybe they knew better than to cross their king.

You strolled and mingled with some of the other party guests, but none of the other council members came to see you. It was clear they wanted nothing to do with the two of you, and although Lucius seemed to have bought your answer, you weren’t convinced any of them bought your act. It wasn’t like they wanted to, so why would they? The two of you standing close together wasn’t going to change any of that.

You stopped yourself from rubbing your eyes, trying not to let show how discouraged you were becoming. You’d never been in love. You’d never even had a serious relationship or anything that lasted longer than a couple nights. If this was going to work, you had to think. You couldn’t rely on your own experiences to get you through this. You needed something big. Something that would convince them, without a shadow of a doubt, that you were at least a real couple.

You glanced around the room, looking at all the people who refused to make eye contact with you. As much as you hated it, you needed them to look at you. And you needed to make sure that you did something big when they did. An idea began to take shape in your mind. You didn’t like it, but you were pretty sure it would work.

“Mind if I break one of our rules?” you whispered as softly as you could, catching Loki’s attention.

He leaned back, an amused look on his face. The dip of his head was barely visible but enough to give you the go ahead. You took the drink from his hand and grabbed a knife off the table behind him. Loki observed every movement curiously, no longer seeming quite so bored with the event. You gently tapped the knife against the glass, the hollow ringing echoing throughout the room. It wasn’t hard to get everyone’s attention when more than half of them had been stealing glances at you all evening. You placed the knife gently on the table and you free hand fluttered up instinctively to the pendent resting under your shirt. The weight of it was a strangely comforting reminder that what you were about to do was for the right reasons.

“Hello everyone,” you cleared your throat, hating the way your voice trembled, “I know a toast is a bit of a human tradition, but I was hoping, since I intend to be your queen in a few short moons, that I could say hello with a little tradition of my own. I just wanted to say what a pleasure it has been meeting all of you and I hope to get to know you better in the future. I love Loki more than any of you can imagine, and I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life here!”

The speech was premature and overconfident at best, but it wasn’t only a statement to prove that you be queen, it was also a message to Loki. You might have gotten caught off guard when you’d broken into the palace, but you were going to walk away with the Hand. You could play these games better than anyone here. You had no choice to, and you had the skills to prove it.

The tentative clapping wasn’t even done when you turned around, placed your drink on the table, grabbed Loki by the face and pulled him in for a kiss. He stiffened under your touch, lips frozen in place. You panicked. What did you just do? You were about to pull away and try to come up with a credible excuse for what had just happened when finally, his hands slipped around your waist and he pulled you closer, kissing you back. You melted into his touch. His lips were soft and gentle, and he let you lead the kiss until you pulled away slowly. You stared into his eyes, not quite sure that you’d actually done that. Loki didn’t say anything, his body oddly stiff. You couldn’t read his expression so you stepped back, his hands lingering a little longer before he let go.  Unnerved by this strange version of Loki, you bopped him on the nose with the tip of your finger, surprising yourself with the gesture. His eyes narrowed but you only grinned, taking your little victories where you could get them.

“Enjoy the rest of your evening!” you announced, reaching around him for you glass and raising it.

You were met with a few wide eyes and bewildered looks, but thankfully, everyone raised their glasses and took a sip. You nodded and smiled, meeting a few eyes before turning back to face Loki. His courtly smile masked whatever he was feeling, and you had no idea whether he was furious or not. He extended an arm. You took it but you didn’t know what to think.

This time, as you walked through the party, you got a few smiles and a few nice to meet yous. You shot a winning smile to a fey man as you passed. Not sure what to do with it, he immediately looked away, flustered. The reaction eased some of the pressure on your chest, but you knew the party was far from over. And judging by the way Loki was deathly silent, you were also going to have to contend with him later. He pulled you into a dark alcove at the far end of the banquet hall, the sounds of the party falling away. Apparently he thought sooner was better than later.

“So that’s how we’re doing this?” he demanded.

You had to crane your neck to look up at him you were so close, your chests practically touching. His eyes were emeralds on fire, and with the ghost of that fake smile still on his lips, the effect was terrifying. Despite the number of the drinks you’d downed, you were aware enough to be wary of it.

“I warned you first,” you blurted out. Hating how defensive you sounded, you took a deep, steadying breath but the way it closed the distance between you did nothing to calm your nerves. If anything, it was almost as if your magics were creating an electric current between your bodies. You didn’t know if he could feel it so you ignored it, “I made the right call. Look at them.”

He learned over you to see around the corner, looking at the crowd who was still talking about your little toast. He smelled like mint and summer nights and you tried not to breathe in the pleasant scent.

He settled back into the alcove and raised a brow, “all for the greater good, right sweetheart?”

The words were spoken like a threat rather than an observation, dangerous and cunning. You swallowed, wondering what you’d just gotten yourself into. Actually, you knew what you’d gotten yourself into and you were doing a damned good job of it. If he thought he could intimidate you out of doing your job and securing the Hand then he was very well mistaken.

You jut your chin up, your faces inches away now, “exactly. Maybe you should keep up Prince Loki.”

He chuckled, his breath tickling your cheek. You mimicked his arrogant brow lift, waning for an answer. He said nothing, leaning in even closer. Your breath hitched and you wondered if he was going to kiss you just to spite you.

“If you’re going to make this a competition,” he whispered with a wolfish glint in his eyes, “then I’m willing to play, sweetheart.”

He pulled you out of the alcove before you had a chance to reply. You didn’t know if you’d just made things harder for yourself, but you’d definitely made them more interesting. Though you weren’t sure more interesting was what you needed.

The crowd parted for you as Loki cut across the room and you cursed your short legs for having so much trouble keeping up. He led you toward the only Fey here who actually looked like an old man. His sharp cheekbones and tight skin had gone soft and wrinkly, and the long hair cascading down past his shoulders was as white as his long beard, both of which resembled the frozen landscape of Niflheim. The fey looked thoughtfully between the two of you as you came to a stop in front of him, the corner of his eyes crinkling.

“You two are certainly something,” the fey said.

“That’s love,” you gushed, taking the lead on the situation.

Loki placed a quick kiss to your temple before making the introductions. The fey was Eamon Loveless, the head councilman and the one who would have the final say on your relationship. For some reason, probably to get back at you, Loki had brought you to the most important person in the room. You straightened. You could do this.

“Prince Loki,” Eamon was looking at you when he spoke, “I must say, when you told us you’d found your future queen, I hadn’t been expecting Miss YLN. You hadn’t quite painted a clear picture.”

You weren’t sure what Eamon was accusing him of, but Loki didn’t look worried. With his hands still in his pockets as if he couldn’t be bothered to take them out, he gave a little shrug.

“I didn’t want to influence your opinion before meeting her,” Loki explained, “but I imagine you could only have been pleasantly surprised.”

Eamon smiled, “I’m glad you’ve found someone else who makes you happy.”

Loki’s arms tightened at his side, squishing your arm in between his. Any more and it would hurt. You tried not to look up at him in surprise. There had been someone else? Who? When? Immediately, Valkyrie flashed through your mind.

“YN is magnificent,” he grit out, obviously affected by the comment.

Suddenly, the two of you were too stiff. Too awkward. You tried for a fond smile. Eamon’s expression never changed so you weren’t sure if you’d achieved it or not. You felt the panic begin to rise. Where was the Loki who had lied so easily to Valkyrie? Where was the king who’d commanded the room? Where was the prick who’s taunted you seconds ago? The silence was dragging on and you had to fight the urge to fill it with useless babbling. Instead, you lifted Loki’s hand from his pocket and interlaced your hands, giving yourself time to think.

“He’s too kind,” you finally said, addressing Eamon, “it was his kindness that first attracted me to him.”

“And how did you meet?” he asked.

Your heart flipped in your chest. You thought you had come up with something clever to fill the silence but really you’d just dug yourselves into an even deeper hole. You opened your mouth but nothing came out. Snapping it shut, you let out a sharp breath that you hoped he misconstrued for a laugh. If this was a competition, then both of you were failing miserably.

“Why don’t you tell the story?” you asked, looking up at Loki.

He looked down at you, eyes glazed over and you weren’t sure he even saw you. You dug your nails into his hand. Hard. The pain must have snapped him out of whatever thoughts he’d been sucked into because that smug little grin returned. You’d never thought you’d actually be glad to see it.

“It feels like it was yesterday,” his eyes were bright as if he found himself amusing, “I was in Midgard visiting King Earl and she was a maid.”

“So he thought,” you interrupted, doing your best not to glare at him. At least he was out of whatever that was, even if it meant he was back to annoying you, “I was actually a soldier in the king’s guard and I knocked Loki flat on his ass for his mistake.”

The fey’s eyes widened. Loki chuckled. He didn’t seemed bothered by your comment. If anything, it looked more like he was warming up to the idea of your little competition.

“That was only because I was stunned by her incredible beauty,” he explained.

“And my skill apparently.”

You thought he was going to offer another counterpoint, but instead he nodded, “it’s all true. Though I must say, normally we’re more evenly matched.”

Eamon nodded slowly, dark eyes taking in everything, “and what happened next?”

“I asked her to dinner,” Loki answered simply and you thought that was going to be that, but he wasn’t letting you off the hook that easily, “but she said no.”

“No?” Eamon asked, surprised.

By now your little story had gathered a small crowd and everyone was looking at you expectantly. The human who’d turned down the future king of Asgard. You couldn’t glare at Loki, fearing you’d give something away, but you knew he was grinning, watching you squirm. You’d told hm to keep up. You should’ve expected that a king would play to win.

You shrugged, “I didn’t think we’d have anything in common. And I was busy.”

The last comment earned a few chuckled from the crowd and you lifted your free hand, palm up, as if to say what could I do about it.

Loki took over, “the next time I went back to Midgard, she realized that maybe she’d been too hasty to turn me down, and she asked me to dinner instead.”

“When someone looks this good, how are you supposed to say no,” you laughed, lifting onto your toes and kissing him on the cheek, “and he was so eager, it was adorable. He said yes immediately.”

He turned and stared at you as if you were the only person in the room. You were caught off guard by the intensity of it and you couldn’t look away. It was a dangerous game you were playing. The corner of his mouth lifted slightly. You smirked.

“Eventually, we did go to dinner and got to know each other better,” he continued, turning to face the ever growing crowd, “turns out we had a lot more in common that she originally thought.”

The crowd laughed at his callback and you almost sighed with relief. The councilmen might not have bought the act yet, but at least the other nobles were beginning to seem convinced.

“It wasn’t love at first sight,” you murmured, knowing you didn’t have to speak loudly for them to hear, “but I think it’s something so much better than that,”

He tilted his head and looked at you with that half smirk and a glint in his eyes. If you didn’t know any better, you almost would have thought he was impressed. You grinned, hoping your smug look of victory came across as loving. You were good at this, and most importantly, now he knew it too. Just because he needed a queen, didn’t mean he couldn’t easily replace you if this wasn’t working out. You weren’t going to give him any reason to change his mind.

The councilman’s face was still silent and impassive. All you could hear was the heavy beat of your heart as you waited to see if he’d bought any of it.

A gentle smile softened Eamon’s expression and you almost squeed Loki’s hand with relief.

“You two seem to complement each other quite nicely,” Eamon said, “almost as if you were fated to meet.”

This time your smile was genuine. The orange moon was still far away, but at least you were headed in the right direction to get Nat out of Niflheim. Loki let go of your hand and wrapped an arm around your waist to pull you in closer. You tried not to be stiff, but it was hard when you were hyper aware of every place that your bodies connected. You’d never been affectionate, even with Nat, so you found yourself over analyzing your posture, wondering how credible you could really be. Loki on the other hand seemed completely at ease, fingers drawing little circles on your side.

“I’m positive you will like it here in Asgard, Miss YLN. Although I’m sure you must find our realm a little strange,” Eamon continued.

His words let you know you weren’t doing a very good job at masking your discomfort.

“I’m fine as long as Loki is here with me,” you tentatively rested your head on his shoulder. It seemed like the right thing to do.

“YN is fine no matter what,” Loki affirmed, “she’s the strongest person I know, fey and human alike.”

You wanted to scoff at such a lie, but it was cut short when you saw the admiration in everyone’s eyes, even the councilman. For some reason, Loki seemed to be able to sell love far better than you could and you looked up to see just what you were missing. His eyes were wide and filled with puppy-like innocence that didn’t at all suit the fey you’d met and spent time with. The crowd didn’t seem to agree. It was a good reminder of his skills as a liar and how little you could actually trust him.

“I must admit that I was worried when I saw that your future queen was human,” Eamon shot an apologetic smile your way, “but I must say that your confidence has inspired me, Prince Loki. I’m looking forward to seeing how both of you manage with your trials in the future.”

Loki tensed at your side, but you didn’t know why. Eamon’s words were a good thing. He wanted to see how you’d overcome obstacles in the future which meant that he wasn’t ready to kick you out of the palace just yet. That might have only made one council member, but you had to start somewhere.

“And we’ll do it with grace and dignity,” you beamed, your cheeks sore from all the fake smiling.

Eamon nodded and wished you a good rest of evening, and with that, the crowd seemed to disperse as well. You stepped out of Loki’s arms and walked off to the banquet table in search of food and a reason to stand facing the windows, desperate for a break in the whole act.

“I think that went well,” you murmured when you felt Loki walk up beside you.

“Not bad,” he agreed, “you’re almost as good at this as I am, sweetheart.”

You snorted, “better, prince. Better.”

“We’ll have to see about that,” he promised, “get ready. Here’s another councilman. Three down, two to go.”

You sighed and popped a small berry that looked like a grape into your mouth. You rolled back your shoulders.

“Ready.”

You both turned around at the same time, wide smiles on your faces.

“So that’s it then?” you asked, leaning against the doorframe to the banquet hall.

Your legs could barely keep you standing and you could feel the soft pulses of a headache coming on. The party was dwindling, but all of the council members were still mingling with the remaining guests. When you’d asked, Loki had said that he’d wanted to stay until they had all gone. All you wanted to do was eat a real meal and go to bed. If you could, you wanted to try and find the Hand first, but really, there was nothing you wanted more than food and sleep. But none of that mattered. You were stuck here.

“You look tired,” Loki remarked, but when you opened your eyes, he was scanning the crowd thoughtfully.

“Human,” you answered and hoped it was enough of an explanation that he wouldn’t press for the real reason.

“True,” he hummed, “I forget sometimes by the way you stare down the council as if you’re ready to fight them all at once. It’s not wonder none of the other guests were brave enough to approach.”

You were about to retort but realized he had a point. And you were too tired to say anything. You let your head fall back on to the wall and closed your eyes.

“I’ll work on it,” you muttered.

He didn’t say anything. Only when you opened your eyes a few moments later thinking maybe he’d left you standing alone did he say, “why don’t we head out?”

You pushed off the doorway, “yes.”

He chuckled and offered you an arm, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this enthusiastic.”

“Well, you’ve never threatened me with a good time before,” you took his arm, surprised by how familiar the gesture had already become.

“And what do you think I’m offering you now?” he asked.

“A meal and a bed, hopefully.”

He raised a brow.

You smacked his arm, “not yours.”

“So yours then,” he smirked.

You smacked him again or good measure.

“We’re not saying goodbye?” you asked when you noticed you were headed away from the party.

“We can always turn back.”

You pulled him along, “don’t you dare.”

Loki slowed his stride and let YN set the pace. She looked exhausted and he felt bad for not having realized sooner the extent of what he’d asked of her. He should have warned her earlier about the councilmen or at least given her more information about what she was going to expect but he’d been too afraid she’d decide the Hand wasn’t worth it and leave him stranded. And despite all that, she’d done amazing in there. She’d even made a party with the council bearable, which was something he didn’t think he’d ever say. It didn’t matter that she’d made her stance on the whole situation very clear by glaring at him every chance she got, the crowd seemed to love her. Which was far more than he could saw of himself. As soon as Eamon had mentioned Cortese he’d frozen up, lost in memories. The only reason no one had questioned his behaviour was because YN had brought him back fast enough that it wasn’t too suspicious and the fact that he was king. Or used to be. If he didn’t start acting like he was in love, all the power in the world wouldn’t make him king of Asgard again. Hela had made sure of that.

Despite having a million other things to do tonight, he wanted nothing other than an early night and a peaceful sleep. But with Hela whispering in the council’s ear day and night, along with the imminent war Gamora had foreseen, Loki hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in moons.

He looked over at YN who’d been quiet since they’d left the hall. She’d done more than enough tonight. He didn’t have to drag her with him.

“YN?”

“Hmm?”

When he looked down at her, he realized her eyes were closed and that she was letting him guide her. Loki was only surprised for a moment before he remembered always seeing her with a glass in her hands. Obviously what she was feeling wasn’t trust.

“What do you want to do?” he asked.

Her brows furrowed but her eyes still didn’t open, “when?”

“Right now.”

That got her attention.

“Eat and sleep,” she replied without thought.

She didn’t say it aloud, but Loki knew she also wanted to be alone. He could see it on her face and the way she’d let out a small sigh when they’d first walked into the silent hallway. He understood the need more than she could imagine.

“I can have dinner sent up to your room…or we can do something else if you prefer?” he added quickly when her face pinched into a strange expression he couldn’t read.

“No,” she blurted out and then stated more calmly, the first option’s fine. Are you joining?”

He shook his head, “only if you’d like me too.”

She seemed to hesitate, looking at the walls as if they physically had ears.

He saved her from having to find a clever way to turn him down, “actually, I have things to take care of tonight and I have to return to the banquet hall. Do you know the way back to your room?”

She nodded so quickly Loki almost laughed. She was a terrible liar. He didn’t know where the performance in the council room had come from, but he had no doubts she was lying to him now. The prospect of being on her own seemed to have rejuvenated her. She straightened, cricking her neck from side to side and scratching over her shoulder. She obviously wanted to take a look around — without him around of course.

“Explore or don’t,” he said, truly meaning it, “the council knows who you are now, so no one will kick you out of the palace if they see you snooping around.”

“Who says I’ll be snooping?” she yawned for effect, “I was planning on getting an early night.”

This time he couldn’t help but laugh, “sure. Goodnight YN. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

Her face fell.

“Don’t worry, it’s only breakfast,” he reassured her, omitting the fact that they had a meeting after breakfast. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. It was no secret that she didn’t trust him. He didn’t blame her. He was lying and he didn’t trust her either.

“Only with you?” she clarified.

“Only with me,” he echoed.

That seemed to appease her and she was about to leave when something occurred to him. The words were out of his mouth before he could stop himself.

“Can I ask you a question?”

She paused, “only if I can ask you one.”

“Fair enough,” he amended, “would you spar with me some time?”

Loki had been surprised when she’d said that she was a soldier and he was more than a little curious to know how many of her lies had been based in truth. She’d shut down all his earlier attempts at getting to know her better and he was certain she’d do her best to keep it that way. So he figured he would have to be more clever about it.

He was surprised, and pleased, when she nodded.

“I would like that.”

“Good,” he murmured, afraid that if he said anything else she might change her mind, “your turn.”

“What Lucius said about…” she didn’t finished her sentence but she didn’t have to. He knew what she was talking about.

“He likes to speak out of turn,” Loki paused, choosing his words carefully. There was no one else in the hallway, but this was information that his future queen should have already known, “some of the council members haven’t always been supportive of the fact that there was an equal chance that there could have been two kings on the throne or a king and a queen. Even if fate decided to bring you into my life, those council members still seem bitter about my personal preferences..

She nodded slowly, taking the information in. There wasn’t much other than a thoughtful expression on her face and Loki was relieved. This whole thing would have been finished if she had reacted any other way.

“Has there ever been two kings or two queens in Asgard?” she asked.

“Not yet,” he smirked, “but love is love. And in Asgard, that’s the only requirement. There’s nothing they could say or do about it.”

Her face softened and she took his hand. The gesture surprised him, even more so when she gave it a little squeeze, “as it should be. Goodnight prince.”

And then she walked off in the wrong direction.

When he pointed that out, she looked back over her shoulder, an innocent smile on her face that didn’t match the mischief in her eyes, “just taking a little detour, don’t worry about it.”

He was probably going to worry about it later, but he watched her walk away. He’d promised himself that he’d give her as much freedom as was safe for her and his realm. There was no way she’d find the Hand on her own, so he had to trust that she wasn’t really and threat and that she’d be safe after what he was about to do.

When he couldn’t hear her steps anymore, he turned back to the council room. No one reacted when he walked in.

Hela had made her move less than a moon ago, but the council had taken that opportunity whole-heartedly to remind him that he was no longer king. He was only a prince temporarily in charge of the realm, but he wasn’t going to lose his position. He refused to let his people fall into Hela’s hands. Loki had never wanted the crown, but now that he’d had it, he was going to make damn well sure that he kept it. His brother had asked for that much.

“Listen closely.”

Loki didn’t need to shout. His voice carried throughout the room, his tone reminding them that he had once been their king. And with reason. He was far more powerful than everyone in this room, even some of them combined.

“No one touches YN,” he warned, his words slow and deliberate. He found every set of eyes in the room, making sure they all felt seen, “she will be your future queen. There is no doubt about it in my mind. And she might not have a long lifespan, but I have a long memory. You will treat her with the same respect as you did my mother. You’ve been warned.”

He didn’t give them a chance to answer and walked back out of the room. Loki didn’t think any of them would go outright and kill her, but he knew enough of them were power hungry bigots to do something stupid. Thankfully, the council was still wary of him even if he wasn’t their king any more. He could rest easier knowing they’d been warned and his own court was keeping an eye on YN most of the time. It wasn’t a foolproof plan, but he wasn’t going to lock her up or stop her from roaming the palace, even if it did cost him his title.  

He strode through the palace, not sure where he was heading and not sure what to do with himself. His whole body felt two sizes too small and he couldn’t shake the feeling. There were so many other things he had to do, but he couldn’t make himself decide on one. Only the thought of his bead was appealing, and even then, he was too restless to really consider it.

“I saw your queen,” Nebula said, falling into step beside him.

She was still dressed in her commanders uniform, dirt smudged over her eyebrow. She’d been sparring with the soldiers again. Not that he was surprised. She been so grumpy this morning that he pitied his army; though at least he knew they’d be prepared to face anything. There were very few things that were more terrifying than his commander when she was angry.

“Where was she?” he asked.

Nebula’s voice was clipped, her mood no better than it was this morning, “roaming the halls, looking incredibly suspicious.”

Loki threw up a magical sound bubble that would contain their voices. Knowing how suspicious it looked, he didn’t like to do it often, even if it was now the second time he’d done it today, but he knew she wasn’t about to let this go. Feeling the magic, she waited until it snapped into place.

“That doesn’t surprise me,” he said with a laugh, knowing that just because they couldn’t be heard didn’t mean they couldn’t be seen.

Nebula crossed her arms, keeping up with his long strides, “she wants the Hand, Loki.”

He waved away her worry, “it’s safe.”

“What makes you think she won’t get it?”

He shot her a look. They both knew who was guarding it. There was no way anyone was getting it — human or otherwise. His answer didn’t seem to satisfy her.

“Who says she’s not a spy?” she continued, her voice rising with irritation, “who says she’s not here for the book to give it to Hela? Who says we even have the right woman?”

Loki tried not to pinch the bridge of his nose. Nebula was right to be concerned; there was a reason he’d appointed her as commander. Still, he found himself saying with more confidence than he felt, “I wanted to know how to prevent Hela from winning over the crown and it gave me her name. She has to be the future queen.”

“Did you ever stop to consider that maybe we need to kill her and not work with her?” Nebula demanded.

The words were harsh, but valid. Yet Loki knew Nebula wouldn’t actually go through with it. As far as they knew, YN was innocent, despite wanting the Hand. And he was sure she was an ally, not an enemy. He couldn’t explain why he was so certain, but he’d decided it the moment he’d met her. However, it wasn’t like he could explain that to Nebula. She would need something far more concrete than a gut feeling.

“You’re being rash,” she continued.

He realized she was steering them toward the kitchen and his stomach growled in anticipation. He wasn’t sure how she did it, or if she was even aware she was doing it, but Nebula had a way of knowing what was best for their court, even if her harsh demeanour didn’t always make it very evident.

“Says the woman who wants to kill the future queen,” he countered.

“She wouldn’t be the future queen if you had thought things through,” she growled, stopping him a hand to his chest, “we’re walking a thing line here, Loki.”

“I know that! But I needed to present my queen today and she showed up just in time. Don’t you think there’s something to that?” Loki’s voice was rising and his control was slipping. The bubble around them almost dropped in the burst of emotion.

She poked him in the chest, but she’d lost all bite at his outburst. They were both tired and running through this blind. Arguing wouldn’t help any of them see things clearer.

“We had a backup plan,” she murmured.

“You would have been miserable as queen,” he shot her a smile, “especially that you would have to admit that you find me incredibly attractive.”

She punched him on the arm, “I’m a good liar.”

“Very true,” he laughed, “but this is the best option, Nebula. Trust me.” Loki wasn’t sure that he trusted himself, but he had to believe he was doing the right thing. And if he wasn’t, at least he knew his court was there to help with his mistakes — and to make sure he never forgot them, “and I’ll stay on my guard with YN.”

She sighed reluctantly, but finally looked convinced, “okay.”

“Okay,” he changed the subject, “what have the citizens been saying?”

“They’ll fight if it comes to war again. I tried to reassure them that nothing was wrong and that we were just gathering information, but they know something’s coming. They can feel it,” Nebula shrugged, “Hela’s arrival’s made them all uneasy.”

He nodded slowly and sighed, “better they’re wary than oblivious.”

“They’d better be wary,” Nebula said with a printed look, “you have a human for a future queen and she was stupid enough to agree to the trials. You’d better hope you were right about what that thing meant when it gave you the word YN.”

Loki could only nod and let the magic bubble drop. He was about to follow her into the kitchen when he noticed movement out of the corner of his eye. The hallway was empty, but he could have sworn he’d seen something. He listened closely, waiting to see if whoever it was might give themselves away.

“Are you coming?” Nebula called from the kitchen.

He heard the banging of pots and decided he’d better go inside before she decided to start cooking and accidentally set the palace on fire. With one last look around, he walked into the kitchen.

#loki #Loki Laufeyson #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #loki x you #loki x reader #loki x female reader #loki x y/n #fan fiction #fanfic #marvel #reader insert

[juni-ravenhall]

reactions (mild spoilers!) on sso comic song of darkness

bc i read it before bed. this is a mix of random reactions + commentary/criticism. no pics sry! under cut bc spoilers, but i dont spoil the story itself, just some content -

- the pages at the intro with character information for some reason made me feel really nostalgic and happy, like, “wow this is a real comic” idk its hard to explain. it reminded me of reading stuff like W.I.T.C.H. as a kid (ive read a billion comics in my life but i compare to this bc its closer in general vibe) 

- anyway wow sso comics. on paper. wow (yeah i have clouds over silverglade but that was a while ago)

- hhehehehehhe south hoofers and raptor in the bg!!!!!! after this panel i kept looking at the bgs for other cameos kjhdsfg

- i can tell the swedish translation is... a bit... meh. like, yeah this is standard, especially today’s standard, but it could be smoother and more natural, which would make it more fun to read (and supportive of the language in the country where sso was made like? idk...)

- AVALON?? U HAVE A FACE??? he looks way more like evergray than i’d have thought though, youd have imagined he wouldnt want to style himself similar to him lol

- its a bit depressing how even tho this comic tries to express everyone’s personalities, lisa still barely feels like she has a personality. she can sing! ok... and... we’re wating... what else? (there are plenty of “boring” people irl, but in media you usually want to exaggerrate or simplify things a little bit) the current lisa seems like she could have more anxiety/depression in her narrative, the old lisa looked like she was tough in a different way than alex, both of those are things that could be pushed. or anything else. 

- my only like, “art related criticism”, also relates to the above - i think more work could be done in using individually unique expressions. im generally not a person who agrees with the idea of “same face syndrome” (often its a stylistic choice which is fair) but i think here it could be a good idea to work a bit more with various expressions - you can have charas who would almost never make huge shocked eyes for personality reasons, charas who always have a very obvious expression (alex does have this a lot in this comic!), charas who always look annoyed or frustrated or scared alongside whatever new emotion they get, etc. just very simplified description bc im already rambling. but basically, letting all charas emote in a similar way also removes layers of personality expression. 

- it’s cool that kora is in here!! love to see many known charas!! not rly interested in random new charas since sso already has a ton to work with 

- was a bit surprised when they said “mistfall, so youre a long way from home?” to kora when they.. were riding to firgrove from valedale? i could have understood this if they were in like epona or golden hills.. but firgrove?? shes specifically not a long way from home? confused

- i do like that the horses’ personalities get expressed, altho it does feel a bit shoved in, it’s still nice to see them. many of us are here bc of loving horses after all, and this comic delivers in featuring them a lot, even if they dont talk. i get that theres a level of “explaining everything to newbies” in this whole comic, even though i could wish that wouldve been done less blatantly. (kids arent dumb!) 

- i do kinda wish the overall story hadn’t been a standalone random thing but something more tied to what we have, exploring parts of the story & charas in sso in more detail, BUT, i think thats a valid direction to go with comics and its more just a personal preference for me. i would anytime take more sso comics that are standalone random stuff than to not have sso comics at all. 

- it seems like the reason concorde is an alive adult in this comic, is bc its an AU where concorde “almost died” but didnt, if i understood it right (they just said “she almost lost concorde”). i think thats a bit weird BUT valid, its ok to have differences in canon between different media of the same story, it tends to be like that between books and movies for example. however personally i wouldve preferred to see comics that explore, for example, the 2 years (?) between SSL and SSO, or each soul rider’s life history in general until now, or exploring in more depth events that happen in the main storyline (in sso or ssl which counts as backstory to sso)

- there were times i committed small giggle during this comic even as an adult man, tho arguably a childish adult man, but just to say that it was enjoyable, and overall i thought it was really exciting and fun to read a full sso comic book, and i hope to see a lot more (even if i’d prefer stuff like what i described - more exploration of existing story/charas). like i said at the beginning, i also got good nostalgic feels etc. i feel a bit sad now that its “over”, i wish i could have a whole pile of volumes to read for the rest of the summer. 

(when i criticise something, it means i care enough about it to criticise it! i tend to criticise stuff i love - aka sso - way more than stuff i have no interest in or dislike, which i just dont talk about much bc that would be a waste of time.) 

#sso #spoilers #mörkrets sång #song of darkness

[theravencawsatmidnight]

Pretty Blue Bird pt 7.

Ending

Summary. A villain is forcing quirks on regular people with plans to sell them to villains as weapons. Reader is forced to accept a quirk that resembles Hawks and he finds her and saves her. He helps her with the quirk while trying to ignore his bird instincts

Hawks had been captured by All For One while on his pursuit for the villain forcing quirks onto civilians. All For One was ripping his feathers out one by one , crumbling them in his hands till they were nothing. The villain crouched down by Hawks face tapping his forehead till Hawks eyes fluttered open. He had a massive headache and his back hurt. He could see the crumbled red feathers by his face. The villain tapped his forehead again till Hawks gave him his attention.

“I suppose i should tell you who i am. I'm The Gift Giver. I bless people with quirks. “

“It's not.. a blessing.” Hawks choked out . Slowly he raised his arms to fold them , pressing a button on his watch. “Its a curse.. if anything. You are selling them for weapons.”

The Gift Giver stood up to pluck out a red feather and inspect it . “So red, so fierce I bet they are.. sharp.” He grabbed Hawks arm holding the feather to his wrist but nothing happened.

“They can be. But I need to make it that way, sorry mate. “

All For One dropped Hawks kicking him to the wall . “Wheres the blue one. We need her.”

The Hero choked out some blood as he tried to steady himself on his shaking knees. “Why would i tell you? Im Hawks. Im all you need.” Feathers shot out at both villains and Hawks grabbed one turning it into a long sharp feather sword.

•••

Meanwhile you were in such a sad state that your feathers were falling out and drifting around the house. They could always return to you but instead you let them wander Hawks home.

Tokoyami had gotten you out of the nest and got you to join him in the living room and that's when your feathers started to wander. You only ate a little bit and still enjoyed Tokoyamis reading about birds and his stories of UA but you missed Hawks, you brought his glove everywhere with you. You were worried sick. At some point you sang a sad song that brought Tokoyami to tears. He had to turn away of course , but Dark Shadow hugged you , crying big wet tears into your hair. He held you for as long as you needed. He even gathered up your feathers to bring you them and you thanked him warmly.

Tokoyami was worried about his mentor. Sure he had a laid back personality and never got scared but he was still human. Damn bird . Where are- hit watch buzzed and in a flash Tokoyami looked at it to see a red dot on a map. “Dark Shadow.” He said getting up. Dark Shadow wiggled over to Tokoyami . “Yes? Did you find him?” Tokoyami turned to you to see you curled up hugging the glove . He put a blanket on you talking low. “I'm going to go get Hawks. Do not leave this house. Im trusting you to stay here.” You nodded pulling the blanket over your head, your feathers crept to you too going behind you and under the blanket. ”please bring him home..”

Tokoyami left in a flash , leaving you to hug the glove close, singing quietly.

••

You did as Tokoyami said , you had no reason to leave the house anyway. The world scared you now, quirks confused you, villains terrified you. Trust was all jumbled up and a mess for you now. But despite all of that , your life being forced to change without your consent. There was good. The darkness that surrounded you had a bright light in the center, and you grabbed it, with no plans to let go.

At some point during the night you heard fussing outside the door and weak laughter following what sounded like a lecture. The door opened and a scet caught your nose. His scent.

•••

It did not take long for Tokoyami to find the location on his gps. Hawks had also left a trail of feathers for Tokoyami to find that led right to the building. Dark Shadow stretched getting big and scaled the building with Tokoyami close by climbing just as fast. They both slipped through the window to see Hawks in The Gift Givers grip pressed against the wall with his hand on his throat. Tokoyami went for the Gift Giver, grabbing him and sending him flying into All For One. Both men fell to the ground and Dark Shadow grabbed Hawks while Tokoyami tied up both men. All For One laughed burning the rope and the two vanished. “We will be back..”

Tokoyami sat down groaning and Dark Shadow put Hawks down. He stumbled over to his sidekick after petting Dark Shadow . “What would i do without you Toko?” The man rolled his eyes crossing his arms. “Die, you would die. Sometimes i just don't know about you.” The Number 2 Hero chuckled sitting down with his friend putting his bloody arm around Tokoyami and Dark Shadow wiggled over hugging them both.

••

“You smell, awful.”

“I dont think blood is supposed to smell good Toko. Cmon i can barely walk”

“Whos fault is that? If you would have just followed my advice and actually cared when you are fighting you would not have a cut in your leg.”

“Dark Shadow hes so mean to me.”

“Fumi!! Be nice to Hawks!!!”

Tokoyami rolled his eyes and Hawks laughed leaning into his door. He could already smell your stressed out scent. “Thank you, both. For everything.”

Tokoyami folded his arms with a ‘hmph’ sound and Dark Shadow hugged the winged hero happily.

••

Hawks opened the door getting hit with your scent . He frowned, closing the door behind him and saw you on the couch with your wings around you. He sang softly limping over to you petting your wing. “Pretty blue bird….”

You peaked through your feathers to see him. He smiled picking you up, trying his best not to drop you. Your wings fell to your back and Hawks rubbed his nose on yours as he slowly limped down the hall.

“You are hurt.. let me fix it.” You said crying into his torn shirt. Hawks slumped on the wall still limping till he got to his room. “Blue Bird, i've missed you. It can wait. I should probably patch my leg up though .. but while i do that. ..” he nudged his door shut. “Let me tell you what that song you sang means. And let me show you, too.”

@loxbbg @marydragneell

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

BONUS PREVIEW FOR FULL NEST CHAPTER TWO

It had been a couple months since Hawks returned. He was given a few weeks off after encountering The Gift Giver to tend to his wounds and spend time with you of course. When he did return to his Agency the first thing he did was go to Tokoyami with a silly grin on his face explaining his new situation. Dark Shadow had extended himself to almost the ceiling screeching happy noises while Tokoyami was trying his best to calm the damn shadow down. Hawks watched happily. Hands in his pockets and his wings spread out.

He didint just need a bigger nest. He needed two.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

A/n. Biggest thank you to Blue Bird Anon for requesting me this idea. Im so happy you are enjoying it and like the way ive written it., also big thank you to everyone who also has enjoyed it with me😭But its not over!!! Stick around for Full Nest !!! ;))))

#prettybluebird #hawks #hawks x reader #keigo x reader #keigo takami #my hero academia fan fiction #my hero academia

[searchingforenadi]

bleeding on the floor is a safety hazard

can i interest you in a secondPOV!OC, KHR fic in these trying times?

i woke up in the middle of the night and vomited this out - i have never been so terrified of my own lack of brain cells. 

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

a brief summary: Your customers won’t stop bleeding in your shop. You realize this might be a problem. (second person!OC, TYL).

i. 

You try your best not to stare at the knife in the man’s side.

“Um,” you say, passing over the packaged box of cake. “Here you go.”

He smiles brightly and hands you several bills. There is a sword strapped to his back and you are terrified to even allow the thought that he might be foreign. “Thanks! Keep the change.”

You nod minutely. Then, the actual number of those bills catches up to you like a freight train off the rails. “Wait - ”

But it’s too late - the man, the cake, and his accompanying knife are gone. You look down to find that he’s left behind a puddle of blood.

You breathe in deeply, count to ten, count backwards from ten, and march back to the kitchens to grab some towels and soap. 

The cake had been paid twice over - you’ll take a little bit of blood for that any day. 

ii. 

It’s hard to imagine that something as exciting as a bleeding man would eventually fade into your memories, but that’s exactly what happens. 

A week goes by and you’re hauling over a new delivery of flour. It’s tough work but you’ve done this for years - eventually, the shop’s ready for another day.

You reach the front entrance. And stop.

The same man from last week, Knife Man, waves through the glass door. He has a new companion - not a knife - who scowls under a crown of silver hair.

You consider taking the day off. 

But no, your bills won’t pay themselves, and if they pay as well as last time, you might even be able to buy a new electric mixer.

Decision made, you flip over the sign and open the door.

“Hi again,” Knife Man says, a smile still on his face. “Sorry about last time.”

“That’s okay,” you say politely, because returning customers are golden. Your regulars are your saving grace. “Nice to see you again.”

“Same to you,” he says, tugging his friend over to the counter. His fingers trail eagerly over the sweets on display as he turns to the man. “Come on, pick one!”

You move behind the register and wait patiently. 

“I don’t like sweets!” Knife Man’s friend snaps. “I can’t believe I’m stuck with you today.”

Ever the business owner, you pipe in, “We also have drinks, if that’s more to your taste.”

That gets the man’s attention. 

“I’ll just have a coffee then,” he grumbles, fishing out his wallet. 

Knife Man joins his friend and grins. “Then I’ll have a slice of tiramisu.” 

“This early in the morning?” Knife Man’s friend hisses. 

Pointedly avoiding any conversational traps, you say, “Coffee and tiramisu. Together?”

The friend huffs. “Sure, fine. Here, keep the change. For the idiot’s blood.”

You blink at the money shoved into your face. If you had been any other person, you might protest at the clear extortion - it’s just blood. 

But you had been raised pragmatically and so, with a smile, you accept the bills. 

“Please wait a moment,” you tell them, and get started on the coffee. 

In a few minutes, you pack the cake neatly into a little box and hand it over with a cup of espresso.

“Thanks,” Knife Man’s friend grumbles, taking a sip of his drink before glancing back down at the cup. “Huh.”

You don’t challenge any strange noises made over your products, you remind yourself, and smile pleasantly instead. 

They leave quickly after, with Knife Man waving once again, and you release a sigh.

“Electric mixer, electric mixer,” you hum, sweeping the floor with a broom. “So very soon, electric mixer - ”

iii. 

A few days later, the front door opens and, lo and behold, it’s Knife Man’s friend, silver hair tied behind his head. 

You smile in greeting and ponder the possibility that you just might be cursed. 

“Two coffees,” he says, with nary a greeting. 

You’ve met worse, so you take the money handed to you and make quick work of the order.

It’s clear he’s not interested in making any small talk and, if you’re honest, you’re not really eager to start any yourself.

Soon enough, you hand over two steaming cups over the counter. 

“Thanks,” the man says, proving that he’s not yet a lost cause. Under his breath, he mutters, “That damn machine better be fixed by now.”

Technological difficulties - you can sympathize. You wave off the man and get started on your next order.

iv.

You don’t encounter any issues involving blood until a month later, after several more visits from your strangest regulars. 

“The usual,” Knife Man says brightly, seemingly oblivious to the cut above his eye and the blood trickling down his face. 

Knife Man’s friend casually tucks his clearly burned fingers into his sleeves. “The same for me.”

There is a moment of silence. 

How, you wonder, is he going to carry his coffee with burned fingers? You know how that feels. Intimately, in fact - you’re a baker. 

But that’s none of your business and so, very politely, you accept the money - stained with suspicious black dots - before getting started on the order. 

You hand over the food and coffee and say, “Here you are.”

“Thank you,” Knife Man says, gingerly accepting both the cake and coffee. He stops for a moment before studying you curiously. He smiles broadly. “I’m Yamamoto, by the way. And this is Gokudera!”

Japanese names, you note, even as the newly named Gokudera barks at the man.

“ - the hell are you thinking, you idiot?”

Yamamoto shrugs, somehow unhindered by the food, coffee, sword and blood on his face. “I think we’ve been here often enough.”

You very clearly ignore the incredibly suspicious conversation continuing on before you. 

“Good to know,” you say instead, because as nice as it is, having bleeding customers is not the best reputation for any business. “I’ll see you next time, Yamamoto, Gokudera.”

“Same here,” Yamamoto says - his Italian is impeccable, you notice.

Gokudera grunts, eyes boring into you suspiciously. 

“You say our names very naturally,” he says slowly, eyes narrowing.

You can’t tell if that’s a compliment or a threat.

“I’m half?” you offer, not sure why it should matter. “I’m not fluent though.”

Yamamoto looks incredibly pleased. “Wow! That makes a lot of sense.”

You… still can’t tell if that’s a compliment or a threat.

“Thanks,” you say, because what else can you say? Your mom’s genes are strong in your veins, so it’s not really surprising. 

They leave not long after, Yamamoto calling out goodbye and Gokudera squinting right at you. 

You lean over the counter and check the floor, just in case. It’s nearly safe, until you notice several specks of blood all over the counter itself.

“... damn.”

v.

One morning, Yamamato enters the shop with a new companion. 

“Hey!” he greets, the early hour not bothering him in the slightest.

It’s suspicious because at this point, you are very aware that Yamamoto does not drink any sort of caffeine. 

Very suspicious, you think, staring almost enviously at his non-existent dark circles. 

His friend, however, seems appropriately more miserable. 

“One cappuccino, please,” the man says, chestnut hair all over the place. His hazel eyes droop slightly. 

You smile in sympathy. “Got it.”

“Oh, also,” Yamamoto pipes in, leaning onto the counter. “We’ll be staying here for a while - that okay?”

You blink at the change.

“Sure,” you say, gesturing to the few seating arrangements you have. “Make yourselves comfortable.”

You cut up a larger slice of tiramisu and set it on a plate. As the milk boils, you wonder what’s so different now - Yamamoto always orders to-go. 

Pouring the foam over a cup of espresso, you decide it’s none of your business. You didn’t build up your customer base by being nosy.

“Here,” you say, sliding over the cake first. Yamamoto grins in thanks. “And the cappuccino…?”

You watch as Yamamoto’s friend stares blankly into the distance.

“Um,” You say. You look back at Yamamoto. “Is he okay?”

Yamamoto lets out a long laugh. 

“He’s fine,” he says, waving a hand. “We just had a long night. Hey, Tsuna. Tsuna!”

The aforementioned Tsuna startles, dark eyes blinking rapidly. “Wha - ?”

You wait patiently as he looks blearily up at you. Raising the drink in your hands, you try again. “Your cappuccino?”

Face flushing slightly, Tsuna moves to grab the drink. “Right! Sorry about that.”

“That’s okay,” you start to say, about to let the cup go, but something slips along Tsuna’s grip. 

You catch the cup right as it's about to tilt.

“Careful there,” you say wryly, deciding to skip the dangerous part and setting down the cup on the table. Patiently, you tell him, “It’s hot.”

For some reason, Tsuna’s face darkens even further. “O-Okay, sorry.”

“Not a problem,” you say, shrugging because a missed accident is as good as no accident. “Enjoy your stay.”

They stay for another half hour before departing, and you wave back when Yamamoto says goodbye. Appearing more awake than before, Tsuna gives a half-hearted wave as well. 

All in a day’s work, you think, cleaning down their table and moving on to help another customer.

vi.

Two weeks later, Yamamoto’s friend, Tsuna, walks in with the look of someone ready to jump the bridge at any moment’s notice.

Yikes, you think, and put on your best customer smile. “Can I help you?”

The frazzled look in his eyes does not go away.

“I need a drink?” he asks, which is not the strangest way someone has ordered from your shop, but it’s still pretty up there. Rubbing his eyes, he tries again. “Sorry - usually Hayato’s the one to grab them. He never told me the name.”

“Hayato?” you ask, already filing through the people Tsuna might know (it’s a short list, you only have two regulars that dress in suits like those). 

Tsuna groans into his hands. “Right. His last name is Gokudera?”

“Ah,” you say, already getting started on the coffee. You try to offer some help. “It’s usually just coffee. Nothing special.”

And just like that, Tsuna’s face transforms from someone wanting to die into someone wanting to die. 

It’s not polite to laugh at your customers, you remind yourself, turning back to the coffee. You swallow the bark of laughter in your throat.

By the time you face him again, your face is at its most polite. 

“Just one, right?” you ask, ever the professional. Remembering last time, you very carefully pass over the drink.

Tsuna nods silently and slides over some cash.

“Thanks,” he says, before practically flying out the shop. 

The moment the door closes shut, you crouch down and let out a loud ha! 

Then, you stand up, features settled back to normal, and pocket the cash into the register.

-o-o-o-o-o-

the terrifying part is that there is more to this and it’s not stopping. i imagine MC can be any gender you see them as for now, with a nice amount of respect for local authorities and common sense, and perhaps a dash of great customer service. 

this began as an attempt to write some sort of romantic Tsuna/OC fic - which is as big of a joke as I am, because it’s clear MC is too pragmatic for anything like that. at this point, anything is up for grabs.

#why do i even bother #i am so bad at outright romance #when will the day come #katekyo hitman reborn #sawada tsunayoshi #yamamoto takeshi #gokudera hayato #tsuna #fanfic #searchingforenadi #enjoy this subpar late night fic

[waitimcomingtoo]

The Cup

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Synopsis: a monogrammed mug might be the thing that exposes your relationship with Peter to the Avengers when there’s a strict “no dating” rule being enforced

Warnings: I’m sorry if your first, middle, or last name begins with a “p”. Also this gif is a total spoiler with no context for this story

Masterlist

There was a rule in the Avengers tower: Avengers were absolutely not allowed to date each other. It was a stupid but reasonable rule, considering Nat and Bruce’s relationship had caused fights, tears, and chaos until dating among Avengers was inevitably banned, exactly three years before you and Peter joined the team.

Peter had been an Avenger for eight months before you came along. In that time, he'd become good friends with the other Avengers, or at least that’s what he told Ned. Peter was regarded as more of a son among the Avengers, never really seen as an equal. Before you, Peter was teased daily for his intelligence and bad habit of spewing out scientific facts no body asked for. Whenever he started going off on the theory of momentum or how a star was formed, a collective groan could be heard from Earths mightiest heroes. He would laugh it off and stop telling his fact, but it stung a little more each time it happened. But keep in mind, that was before you. 

You took a breath and entered the elevator. You smoothed your shirt with your hands and folded your lips into your mouth. You were surprisingly nervous, expecting the other Avengers to look down on you for being younger. Just as the elevator doors were about to close, you heard a voice call out.

"Hold the door please." The voice said. They sounded frantic so you quickly stuck your hand in the door so it wouldn't close. To your surprise, a dark haired boy around your age got onto the elevator with you. He was slightly out of breath from running and his curls were going in every direction. You could feel your face heat up and smiled shyly at him. He smiled back.

"Thanks for holding the door." He said once the elevator started going up.

"No problem." You answered. You already had butterflies in your tummy from your new job, and the adorable guy riding in the elevator with you didn't help.

"How come I've never seen you before?" He asked. You were pleasantly surprised that he had kept the conversation going.

"Today's my first day. I'm the newest Avenger.” You explained and he nodded.

"Well it's nice to meet you, newest Avenger." The boy said, extending his hand for you to shake. You prayed your palms weren't sweaty and firmly shook his hand.

"Thanks. And it's Y/n.” You told him. He smiled upon hearing your name as he realized it’s was his new favorite name.

“I’m Peter.” Peter told you. “I’m really glad to see you joining the Avengers. You have no idea how desperately we need more girls on the team. Last week, Nat wasn’t here and Bucky and Sam got tied in a knot. No one could pull them apart until she got back.” Peter blew out a breath as he remembered the incident. “Plus, it’s nice to have someone my age.” He added shyly.

From then on, you loved Peter.

“I’m actually really glad to see you too. I thought all the Avengers were gonna be older than me.” You said with relief. “I’m glad I got to talk to you, Peter. It's nice to have a friend on my first day." You said as you walked out of the elevator together.

"Yeah. Friends." Peter smiled widely.

You did not stay friends long.

The day you joined the team, the Avengers were getting ready to go on a mission involving a creature who liked to hop between earths and cause chaos. You sat quietly in the corner of the quintet and watched everyone interact. You didn’t add anything to the conversation, but laughed and smiled where necessary. You felt pretty invisible but you were okay with that for the time being. It was your first day and you didn’t want to step on anyone’s toes. You were perfectly content with staying silent until Peter started going on about a multiverse.

“I can’t believe there’s actually a multiverse. Ive always read about them, but I never imagined it being real. This means there’s a universe out there where I’m stronger than Captain America.” Peter said excitedly.

“Doubtful.” Steve cut in.

“I mean, can you guys believe this? This creature can just hop to different universes as it pleases.” Peter went on. “I thought that was just theoretical. I mean, that completely changes how we understand the initial singularity. We’re talking about an eternal inflation system. And how does that even work-“

“Peter, you’re doing it again.” Sam sighed.

“Sorry.” Peter shrunk down in his seat, a look of hurt appearing on his face when he noticed the annoyed look on the Avengers faces. You noticed the look too and frowned.

“He does this a lot. You’ll learn to tune it out.” Bucky said to you.

“It’s just really cool. We’re talking about an eternal inflation system. And how does that even work-“ Peter said sheepishly before Sam cut him off.

“Peter! I’m sorry, he’s-“ Sam began the explain.

“Wait.” You cut him off and looked at Peter. “Let him finish.”

“What?” Sam asked.

“What?” Peter asked in confusion, as no one had ever taken interest in him before.

“I want to hear the rest.” You said seriously. “What were you saying Peter?”

“I was just wondering how the multiverse worked with all the quantum realms. This has got to affect the space-time continuum in some way. That’s all.”

“That’s really cool, Peter. You’re really smart.” You said sincerely. You didn’t like the way his intelligence was treated as a nuisance with the other Avengers. You definitely isn’t like the sad look that crossed his face when they told him to stop. You just wanted to make him feel good.

“Thank you.” Peter said, in a little disbelief that you actually cared.

“No problem, Peter.” You smiled.

You ignored the shocked looks from the rest of the Avengers, or maybe you just didn’t see them. You and Peter looked at each other from across the jet and you winked at him.

You found Peter the next day sparing with a hologram. The hologram was much larger than Peter, but Peter was clearly winning the fight. You noticed Peters eyes darting around as he looked like he was figuring something out in his head. You didn’t want to interrupt, but you were too curious not to ask.

“What are you doing, Peter?” You asked him.

“I’m figuring out the momentum of his swings so I can match his force and overpower him even though he’s bigger than me. My mask usually does it but I’m practicing doing it myself incase my mask breaks during a battle.” Peter explained as he continued fighting.

“So you’re doing all that math in your head?” You asked in admiration.

“Yeah. It’s not that hard once you get the hang of it.” Peter shrugged, watching you carefully to see if you were actually interested or just teasing him. “But sometimes I forget to carry the one.”

“And all the Avengers just watch you do this and see it as normal? No one says “wow Peter, that’s the coolest thing I’ve ever seen” or anything?” You wondered.

“Uh, no. Not really.” Peter said.

“Well, Peter.” You laughed. “That’s the coolest thing I’ve ever seen.”

From then on, Peter loved you.

Three weeks later, Peter kissed you in the training room when no one else was around. He tasted like Gatorade and mint and heaven.

Six months later, you were in love. You were spending every waking moment together, and by default, loving every waking moment together. There was never a time when he was more than 10 feet away, and that was how you liked it. From sparring to movie dates in Mr. Starks home theater to making burnt cookies for the rest of the Avengers, you were inseparable. The only problem was, you couldn't tell anyone that they were together.

The rule still stood and you worried if anyone found out, you’d be kicked off the team. This lead to secret hand holding under the table and quick kisses when no one was looking. It was an okay system, but it wasn’t great. Peter was dying to tell the other Avengers that he was dating you. All the men on the team had taken quite a liking to you. They were never disrespectful, but your beauty and abilities often came up when you weren’t around and the telling smiles that crossed their faces made Peter a little angry. He knew it wasn't their fault, but he couldn’t shake the jealousy. You were stunning and they had no idea you were taken. If the guys knew you were his girlfriend, they'd back off immediately. But, no one was allowed to know.

One hectic morning, your alarm didn't wake you up. You’d never actually set your alarm, because you’d fallen asleep in Peters bed while watching a movie together. You were still at his apartment at 7:13 when you had to be at the tower at 7:30 for a meeting. Peter was nowhere to be found, and you assumed he let you sleep because he thought your alarm was set. You rushed to get ready, grabbing whatever shirt you could find, which happened to be one of Peters button downs, and threw on some pants. Rushing into the kitchen, you found Peter with two cups of coffee already made and a small smile on his face. You sighed in relief that he was all ready to go and gave him a kiss, longer than you were accustomed too since no one was around. You grabbed your cup of coffee and headed out.

Once in the tower, you sat at the conference table and took a deep breath. You had gotten to the meeting on time, walking in a few minutes after each other so it wouldn't be suspicious. You took a big sip of your coffee when something caught your eye. Specifically, the giant red "P” on the front on the cup.

Luckily, Peter was sitting directly across from you. You snapped your fingers harshly to get his attention. Peter looked up at you and smiled, his smile quickly fading when he saw your angry expression.

"What's wrong?" He asked. You said nothing, instead, just held up your cup. Peter grimaced when he realized his mistake.

“Oops. Just trade cups with me. It's fine." He assured you. You quickly switched cups and you relaxed as the other Avengers walked in.

"Did you hear from Bruce? I think he said he was gonna be late.” Peter asked you to look like you were having a normal, platonic, conversation.

"I don’t think so. I’ll check if he texted- Oh God you freaking idiot." You deadpanned the last part as you stared at your cup.

"What? What's wrong now?" Peter asked, confused by your seemingly uncalled for insult. You again said nothing, but just held up your cup. This time, there was an even bigger, purple "P” on the front. Peter bit his lip.

"Oops." He repeated. “Nice shirt, by the way.” He smirked. You looked down and realized you were wearing his shirt in addition to drinking from his cup. Your day could not get any worse.

"Oops? Is that all you have to say?" You asked in a harsh whisper.

“Y/n, its fine. No ones gonna notice." Peter said calmly.

"You think they won't notice the giant purple "P” on my cup? My name is Y/n L/n. There's no "P” in that!" You exclaimed. You continuously checked to see if anyone was listening as you scolded Peter.

"You can say the “P” is for your middle name." Peter suggested as he took a sip of his coffee from your matching cups.

"My middle name is Y/m/n.” You whined, knowing his plan wouldn’t work.

"Really? That's so pretty." Peter said with delighted surprise.

"That's not the point, Peter.” You groaned. “The point is, if I'm caught drinking from a cup that has an initial other than my own, namely your initial, people are gonna get suspicious."

“Or, consider this. Close your eyes, manifest with me.” Peter said as he shut his eyes. “No one will care."

"I'm already wearing your shirt, which means I smell like your cologne. Now, I have a cup with your initial on it. Someone is gonna put two and two together." You panicked.

"Or, consider this, really manifest with me this time. I didn’t see you manifest before, no one will care." He said again with an innocent smile.

"Why couldn't you given me any other cup? And why do you own so many monogrammed cups?" You inquired.

"You're blowing this out of proportion. It's no big deal. No one will even notice." Peter repeated. You wondered how he was so calm when your jobs were at stake.

"Hey, Y/n. What's that “P” stand for on your cup?" Tony asked as soon as he entered the room. You shot Peter a look that made him shrink into his seat.

"Who cares? No one will notice! It’s just a cup! No need to get jazzed up about it.” You said sarcastically, catching the attention of the other Avengers.

"Oh, I'm the one who's jazzed? You're freaking out over a cup." Peter retorted, in full volume now.

"Speaking of the cup, why is there a “P” on it?" Sam asked, pointing the cup out so everyone could see it. You couldn’t help the loud groan that escaped your mouth.

"It stands for panda.” Peter blurted. “Y/n loves pandas.” You looked at Peter with a lethal glare.

"Why wouldn't you just buy a cup with a panda on it?” Bucky chimed in. You shrugged and looked at Peter.

"That's a great question, James. Peter, why don't you answer?" You said with a fake smile.

"Because Y/n likes to be unique." Peter explained meekly.

"Does the "P” on your cup also stand for panda?” Sam asked Peter. Peter looked down at his cup and sighed.

"It sure does". He said weakly.

"Interesting. I would've guessed the "P” stood for “Peter” or “Parker”, since you two are clearly dating. But I guess I was wrong." Sam shrugged casually as you and Peter froze.

"You know that we're dating?" You asked in shock.

"The whole team knows.” Steve cut in as if it were obvious. You looked around the room and everyone just shrugged as of to confirm Steve’s words.

"But what about the rule?" Peter asked, dumbfounded.

"That rule hasn't been effective for months. I stopped enforcing it last January.” Tony laughed as he took his seat at the head of the table.

"What? How come no one told us?" You asked.

"Because if you knew, there'd be non-stop PDA and none of us wanted that." Nat answered.

“So you let us think we were keeping it a secret for six months?” Peter demanded.

“Secret? Did you think none of us noticed that Peter became left handed six months ago so he could hold your hand with his right one under the table?” Tony pointed out.

“We all knew, we just didn’t care. We’re happy for you guys.” Steve smiled again you.

“Oh.” You said. “Thanks guys.”

“You’re welcome.” Tony answered. “Just keep the PDA to a minimum. I don’t want any spider babies around running here.”

Seven years later, you and Peter were married just a few miles from the Avengers tower.

After the ceremony, you sat in the kitchen while Peter finished bringing in the wedding gifts.

“I have one last gift for you, Mrs. Parker.” Peter came from behind you and kissed your cheek, setting a small gift box down on the table in front of you. You opened it up, finding a mug with a script “P” on the front. You laughed at the sight, remembering the incident in the conference room all those years ago.

“There. Now you do have a “P” initial. You can use this with no questions asked.” Peter said with pride.

“I love it.” You told him honestly. You smiled and made some coffee, just so you could use your new cup.

Tag List 🏷

@maybemona​ @foreverxholland​ @writing-for-hours-on-end​ @lavender-writer​ @captainmandeestudent17​ @whatareyouhidingpeter​ @takenbyheartstrings​ @ultrunning​ @imyourliquor-youremypoison​ @theolwebshooter​ @andreasworlsboring101​ @guksmyfav​ @waiting-to-be-myself​ @letsloveimagines​  @peterparkoure​ @a-villain-vying-for-attention​ @justcallmehitgirl​ @averyfosterthoughts​ @jackiehollanderr​ @tiny-friggin-human​ @celestial-skylines​ @loveat2am​ @mara-twins​ @iamaunicorn4704​ @delicately-important-trash​ @mjspxrker @spideygirl2003​ @the-crazy-fanfictionist​ @kii-mii​ @maryjanee23​ @spacebitch2​ @vgiselle​ @geeksareunique​

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #peter parker fanfiction #tom holland x y/n #peter parker imagine #tom holland fluff #iron man #peter parker x avenger!reader #avengers x you #avengers x reader

[lady-plantagenet]

What hasn’t already been said: The Spanish Princess 2

Episode 2: SOdden (or Sod ‘Em depending on your persuasion)

(Dont know how long I’ll be able to keep these puns up)

Catherine, like this woman, does not really fit into this era. But while this woman seems dropdead cool and at least looks the part, Catherine just...

To all those of you keen enough to have come back for another segment of ‘what hasn’t already been said: TSP’, as opposed to have just been scrolling when you see this - welcome back! (Scrollers you too <3)

To anyone who’s seeing this for the first time: what this is a list of observations, jokes, reactions and criticism which occur to me upon a rewatch. I wait every week until Saturday to do this so that I have had my fill of scrolling through the tag and aggregating what has already been said. I tried doing a whole spoof (here where I gave up 10% in) but tbh a) I don’t know the history well enough b) it’s more time consuming than I thought and c) this series is just not as funny or as crazy as TWQ, so it’s untenable. Having said that: This is not a hatepost. I’m not hatewatching this series and nitpicking on purpose but expressing my honest views and trying to find the good in it as well as the bad.

Without further ado...

First Scenes:

The baby cloth lifting into the ceiling of the chapel had nice ‘myth of the demon countess of Anjou (ancestress of the Plantagenets)’ vibes. I am 100% that was unintentional. I get this impression by the cringiness of the baby’s screams (what’s up with those sound effects? It sounded like a zipper).

Henry gives me such softboi vibes? It’s pleasing to me because it’s making me attracted to him as a viewer, but no good in convincing me this is Henry VIII.

I think Catherine’s exposition about how she feels is pretty ok actually, it’s fitting that she would feel anger.

CHARLES’ FATHER IS NOT MAXIMILIAN, IT’S PHILIP (or rather it was). ~~ A quick wiki search guyz, a quick wiki search. Ughh

Again with the whole everyone acting like Catherine is Queen. Can they cut it out? Also while we’re at it, what was Catherine’s attendance in councils even like?

The music was nice

Post Child announcement phase:

Oof I hate to say it but I lowkey wanted de la Pole back in this mother. Mainly because it would mean more Margaret Pole and by this point I am scared her storyline will fade in prominence now that there’s no longer a Yorkist subplot (showhorned as it was, it was the crowning glory of last season tied with Arthur x Catherine).

More x Maggie Pole and all of it over Seneca and learning :’). I already know this will be the best part of the episode.

‘We certainly know stoicism in our family’ ~ I guess she’s referring to Reggie? Because our boi Clarence was no poster boy for stoicism. Though could she be making an ironic reference to her father~?

Edmund de la Pole Debacle:

Well this convo at least passed the bechdel test.

Maggie and Edmund’s interactions here are touching. I know this plotline was rushed but I think it was just right to bring us back here for 5 min as a mournful throwback to the bygone era to which Maggie Pope belongs to and now continues to do so alone. It is emotionless and you can just feel how the York cause was hanging on by a tired old threat by that point.

Maggie Pole is becoming matronly now and I like this transition.

What bothers me about a lot of fans of Margaret Pole is that what they don’t realise is that she wasn’t all like ‘I want nothing to do with my family I’ll stay low and obscure’. While far more cautious than the likes of her ancestors, she did engage in land disputes with Henry VIII and was an outspoken supporter of Catherine and Catholic. Having her be a woman woth dubious loyalties towards the Tudors is accurate.

Scotland with Meg and Jammes:

LMFAO it’s like they read my mind when I spoke of how much I laughed when Meg was like ‘Alexander Steward you pig!1!!’ last episode.

Nice reference to Aulde Alliance

I like James.

Henry and Catherine on the balcony:

Was she commander of the forces? Was Howard appointed that? Regent she was, ok.

Charlotte Hope’s new hairstyles really suit her!

‘Will you please stop cursing’ agahsjdk ahah

No offence to women (of which I am one) but this comparison between childbirth and war is just... wrong. I know Starz think they are being smart but childbirth is far less impressive than winning or surviving a battle - comparing the two diminishes the bravery of soldiers. YET ,having said that, childbirth is necessary for our society whereas war is almost always futile and by comparing them, it wrongly represents violence as something inherently as natural to us as birth and continuing of civilisation. overall not a smart, respectful or accurate parrallel to make.

Meg and prep for invasion + Catherine in her weird armour:

So Margaret dreams that her husband is dead and bloody in her bed. Ughh show you neeed to get more creative. But I did like the whole ‘dreams are how our ancestors talk to us’ line from Angus Douglas.

Re: Meg in her beret... Why is Meg dressed like me going to the London shops in October? Digging the aesthetic but not sure about the accuracy.

Rich of Catherine to bring up Edmund.

Why is Ursula Pole crying??? What is all this to her really?

Did Howard just call the guard... sonny?? Is this some WW2 crossover?

Catherine - James and the tent parlay:

Did Catherine just insult Meg’s intelligence??

Also lmao I’m going to miss James.

Re: Howard saying ‘I’m not going to get insulted by a man wearing a dress’ .. UMMM Starz, you do know that just thirty years ago men were prancing about in dresses and leggings (essentially). From around the middle of the 14th century to the beggining of 16th century (if not earlier), Englishmen were also essentially prancing about in ‘skirts’.

Am I getting a weird cooperation-partnership vibe between Meg and James?

The Battle:

Charlotte Hope looks so good with the helmet, she’d really suit an english hood! Such a shame they won’t give her one!

Ewwww he’s eating mud, why?

Just standard battle scene. They are all the same to me no matter which movie.

Aftermath:

Jesus, I find the whole Meg crying over James IV so heartfelt ‘you arrogant bastard’ for some reason just came out so full of emotion. Can someone please explain why the hell I ship them more than Henry x Catherine?? Like how ??

Awwww Linna is sooooo adorable ughhh. Also this whole Catherine going into armour among all the women crooning over the children gives this adorable sense of Catherine boyish and bloodying herself out to protect their peace, idk. All I have to say is that these series is less eager to pitt women against each other than the previous. I think that’s a step forwards.

Also, good to see Catherine being modest about her victory so Henry can save face. Finally starting to seem like the real Catherine.

‘Go on you dog’ arghh ahah he sounds like some public school rugby lad egging his mate on.

Re: Wolsey cock-blocker; the real Catherine would know it was uncatholic to have sex when you were pregnant. Also Catherine is not technically speaking in confinement if she’s wandering about.

It’s nice to see Catherine sticking up for Howard, she at least learned to respect him during the battle.

I foresee Oviedo having enough of this Christian stuff and wanting to return to the berber domains (I suppose Spain is out of the question)

Knighting Ceremony:

Apparently Margaret Pole herself was made Countess of Salisbury during this same ceremony... right? @houseofclarence

Also Maggie Pole being like: “being a rebel is in my blood, or so they tell me”... gahhh what’s with these shows and the Clarence erasure? Can’t they make one bloody reference to her dad or grandad Warwick? Ugh. Especially with lines like this. Actually? You know what? Ignore my previous comment about the stoic remark and it being an ironic reference to Clarence. I put such subtlety above this show’s writers.

Catherine has a habit of going to the coldest places possible to lose her children...

Haha @ Henry asking Bessie Blount (of all people) where Catherine is.

Conclusion:

6/10

What I’m happiest about is that Flodden got dealt with in one episode because warrior xena Catherine is not what interests me most about this show. Having said that, it was a true shame that James IV died because his were some of the best scenes. This whole show is starting to feel so historical fantasy-ish because the aesthetics are so confused. Granted it’s still pretty (not eyesore like Reign) but it doesn’t penetrate.

I am as always invested in the Poles (and More) but am also starting to get attached to Princess Mary whose actress exudes plenty of charm. This show remains confused with its feminist message because while it shows women being proactive there is so much emphasis on babies that what remains with the mind after watching is this womanish birthdrama, as opposed to a show about struggles which affect both genders.

You might tut at me and say I’m being ridiculous and that it is historically accurate to put so much emphasis on women’s babies and I say that’s swell. I would happily watch a show where that element is strong (most pre 1995 historical dramas are like that with traditionally feminine characters and I gulp them up like sustenance), but if a show promises feminism and women-men being partners I want it to deliver that properly. As I said in my previous post, why do we keep trying to make women engage in acts like war as if such an abhorrent act is the only way to take them seriously? I await the day where cunning, rationality and cool-headedness will be the traits portrayed as feminist ones.

There is nothing else to really comment on... the only potentially deeper message in this is the gender discourse. I am unsure about the accuracy so I can’t speak of the historical value of the interpretation. But what I will say is that though I remain excited for each new episode... I’m just not as invested as I was in TWQ (rewatch every year dont @ me) or TWP despite their many flaws. Some characters pull me in eg Maggie Pole (Carmichael is a bae), Thomas More etc but not the whole cast like TWQ. Anyway... would be interesting to see if anything happens with Lina and Oviedo tommorow as their storyline is conspicuously slow.

#the spanish princess #the spanish princess 2 #fool if you thought I wouldn't jump on the whole 'being a rebel is in my blood' opportunity to bring up Clarence #I was delighted last time when people left comments and stuff #rofl #so yeah #Please please I love discussions and do not think twice before sending me an ask or commenting ! #lady plantagenet's series reviews #the dialogue remains a bit trite #the sugared grape counterpart for this episode was edmund's death and the whole ironic reference to Senenca and stoicism #not because the dialogue around edmund's death was particularly poignant but how conspicuously quiet and swift the whole affair was as #...as compared to previous york pretender plotlines left a mournful note #basically I feel like I keep focusing on stuff the show doesn't want me to focus on #and am projecting therefore

[hobbitkiller]

She-Ra, Supergirl, and Tangled: A Tale of Three Female Relationships: Part 2

*SPOILER WARNING FOR SHE-RA, SUPERGIRL, AND TANGLED: THE SERIES*

For those of you just tuning in, I’m taking a deep dive into 3 female relationships in 3 of my favorite tv shows that all turned into toxic messes at some point. The point of this series of posts is to exam these relationships, where things went wrong, whether there’s a chance for redemption, and what conclusions, if any, we can draw from these relationships about media’s representation of female characters and female relationships.

Oh, and shipping, ‘cause this is tumblr after all...

So, in Part 1 I gave a summary of the female relationships in question in these three shows (Adora and Catra, Kara and Lena, Rapunzel and Cassandra). I also summarized how these relationships began and when they started to go wrong. If you already know that stuff because you love these shows too, you don’t necessarily have to go back and read it, but doing so is always encouraged.

In this installment, I will be exploring 3 themes related to the festering resentment within these relationships: Mother Knows Best, Chosen Ones, and Itty Bitty Boxes. Follow the jump to get started!

PART III: MOTHER KNOWS BEST

I’ve heard a few people claim that Mother Gothel is not a top tier Disney villain. She doesn’t have the following that characters like Scar or Maleficent have. However, at the same time, I’ve heard many people saying something along the lines of “This is my mother.” There’s something uncomfortably familiar about Mother Gothel in Tangled. I recognized the same putdowns and microaggressions that I used to get from my stepmom in Gothel’s targeted jabs at Rapunzel’s confidence throughout the movie...all done with a smile and “It’s for your own good” attitude.

A lot of media focuses on the relationship between fathers and sons. Mothers in Disney have historically been silent or dead. (Except Perdita. That bitch was awesome). 

This, of course, makes it interesting that 5/6 of these characters have verbally (and in some cases physically) abusive, manipulative mother figures. And for Adora and Catra and Rapunzel and Cassandra, that mother figure is the same.

Here are our three abusive mothers:

Shadow Weaver who raised Adora and Catra:

Lillian Luthor who is Lena Luthor’s adoptive mother (and played by the absolute joy to watch that is Brenda Strong):

And, of course, Mother Gothel who kidnapped and raised Rapunzel for most of her life and is the SPOILER biological mother of Cassandra:

There are, of course, good mothers sprinkled in. Rapunzel’s biological mother, Queen Arianna is great once she actually gets lines in the TV show. Lena’s birth mother was also, by all accounts, a very kind and loving person. Kara has two moms, and while both have flaws, both are inherently good people (particularly Eliza Danvers, her adoptive mother).

However, in spite of the presence of some positive examples of motherhood, the relationships between all three of these pairs is heavily influenced by the three narcissistic women above.

All three of these women are dishonest, withhold affection only to give it away as a special treat, and actively manipulate their children. Yet, at the same time, the children can’t help but seek approval. Adora and Catra both feared and desperately sought approval and affection from Shadow Weaver. Lena tries to cut ties with her family, but keeps being drawn back in when Lillian admits pride at her accomplishments or that she does, in fact, care about her. Rapunzel sought affection from Gothel growing up because she was her one human contact, and, when Cassandra learned the truth of who her mother was, Cassandra desperately wanted some validation that the mother who abandoned her loved her on some level.

These mother/daughter relationships scarred 5/6 of our characters (Kara has her own hangups about her mother, but not on the deeply psychologically scarred level as the other five.) 

Adora is mockingly called paranoid by Shadow Weaver for understandably thinking the woman who lied to and manipulated her her entire life was up to something. Catra pushes everyone in her life away emotionally for fear of being hurt (only to create a self-fulfilling prophecy when they leave due to her behavior). Lena is constantly scared of being “betrayed” and manipulated. When she’s hurt by Supergirl asking Lena’s boyfriend to snoop on her, she says it was “something my mother would do.” When she and Kara first became friends, Lena was reluctant to do so because of the trust issues from her family (Lex Luthor is obviously also a manipulative, abusive jerk). Even Rapunzel, the embodiment of sunshine, has lingering trust issues. In the Season Three episode “Beginnings” she explains to Eugene that one of the reasons she likes Cassandra is because Rapunzel spent 18 years with someone who lied to her, whereas Cassandra was forthright and said what she was thinking.

Cassandra’s mother issues are a little more complicated. When she was four, Gothel abandoned her in order to kidnap Rapunzel and Cass was adopted by the captain of the guard. Cassandra has deeply repressed this memory by the time we meet her when she’s 22/23. Then, she’s given a glimpse of what life was like with Gothel:

Early in the series, Cass talks about how her father instilled in her the value of “earning my keep.” It’s clear here, though, that love as a transactional relationship had been instilled in Cassandra early in life: “And when it (love/affection) came, it came with strings.” 

This transactional view of relationships is something shared by all 5 members of our “bad moms” squad on at least some level. Adora constantly feels the need to fix things and be useful to her friends. Catra thinks if she just wins enough or is good enough, maybe Shadow Weaver will finally love her. Lena’s approach to relationships largely revolves around buying things for them and trying to unilaterally solve their problems for them without their input. Rapunzel has to go through an entire episode to learn that you can’t buy friendship through doing nice things, and that she doesn’t have to. Cass ties her self-worth deeply to her usefulness to others. They all struggle to find internal validation at times.

The other way mothers play a part in the downfalls of these relationships is the element of competitiveness. This is an issue with Adora and Catra and Rapunzel and Cassandra. As previously stated, both of these couples share a mother figure. And, in both of these couples, there is a deep resentment on the part of the non-golden haired child toward the other. Shadow Weaver did not hide that Adora was her favorite. She frequently praised Adora while berating and abusing Catra even when both had done equally well. Even when Adora abandoned Shadow Weaver and Catra for the rebellion, SW was more concerned with getting Adora back than appreciating the loyalty and accomplishments of Catra. 

Mother Gothel literally gave up Cassandra to take Rapunzel.

Both Catra and Cassandra feel completely overshadowed by the blonde in their lives, and part of them can’t help but think that, if only Adora or Rapunzel were out of the way, or had never existed, maybe they would have been chosen as the favored one.

This, of course, brings us to our next topic:

PART IV: CHOSEN ONES

I’ve never been a big fan of Ron Weasley. I didn’t read the Harry Potter books until I was in my twenties (yes, compared to many of my readers, I’m old), and I think this lead to me being less charmed by his humor or bullying of Hermione than I otherwise might have been. I found his temper aggravating and he is just...the worst...in the sixth book. Like, he purposely starts dating someone to punish Hermione who had already asked him to Slughorn’s party because Ginny pointed out that Hermione had probably kissed the guy she was dating TWO YEARS AGO. No, seriously, read that book again. That’s what happened. Then the seventh book happens and it turns out Dumbledore KNEW Ron was going to ditch the team at some point...

That being said, as I sat down to write this novel-length meta, I found myself thinking about what it’s like to be the support team for the “chosen one.” In the seventh book, Ron could have stayed at home with his pureblood family. He would still be in some danger due to their involvement with the Order of the Phoenix, but it would have been a lot safer than traveling around with “Undesirable No 1.″ Yet, because he loves Harry, he chooses to go on this mission. 

In the three pieces of media we’re discussing, 2/3 have literal chosen ones--characters with specific destinies of supernatural origin: Adora and Rapunzel. Kara also largely fits into the trope as someone sent to earth from afar to “save us.” As I somewhat jokingly said in the first part, all three of these pieces of media feature a blond super-powered person who needs to save the world.

Can you imagine what it would be like to be the best friend or “sister” of the person who’s “burdened with glorious purpose”?

On the one hand, it’s constant fear over that person’s safety and wellbeing. On the other, there’s a bit that can’t help but feel resentful. Imagine having a friend that overshadows every accomplishment you’ve ever had seemingly by virtue of just who they are.

Now, of course we know that it’s no easy road being a chosen one. There’s a lot you have to sacrifice, and it usually involves injury, near death, and a boatload of trauma. And the support teams know this. For some, it’s never an issue. But for others...

In She-Ra and the Princesses of Power, Adora, to Catra, always had the presence in her life of a chosen one, even before she got the sword and became She-Ra. Shadow Weaver had sensed something powerful about Adora when she was a baby, and thus treated her as the “Golden Child” to Catra’s “Scapegoat.” 

This idea of the “Golden Child (GC)” versus the “Scapegoat (SG)” rolls a bit into this issue with “chosen ones.” In toxic, narcissistic families, parents often hold up one child as the great one while the other is the one to blame for their problems. Think Olga and Helga in Hey Arnold! (Is that reference too dated for some of you guys? Man, I’m old. Also, I remember finally being old enough to realize Helga’s mom was an alcoholic and it blew my mind.) This also usually entails encouraging a level of competitiveness between the siblings.

In some ways, it’s like a “chosen one” is the whole world’s golden child. Anyone who researches this dynamic knows it’s abusive to both the GC and the SG, which is clearly displayed in She-Ra when Adora is stressed by the pressure of expectations and the knowledge that her mistakes will most likely be taken out on Catra. That doesn’t change the fact that Catra resents the positive attention (the adoration if you will) Adora gets--that, no matter what Catra achieves, it will be nothing compared to Adora.  This resentment is a big part of what fuels the escalation of their personal conflict leading to one of the saddest pieces of animation since Fry’s dog died sad and alone on Futurama. In the Season 1 episode “Promise.” (This is, by far, the best episode of the series), Catra airs all of her feelings she’d been repressing about what it felt like living in Adora’s shadow--how it made her feel like a “side kick,” something Adora never consciously tried to do and is shocked to discover.

Cassandra on Tangled:The Series has similar feelings about her role in Rapunzel’s life. Not only is her best friend the one with the magic hair and great destiny, but she is also her boss and monarch. Aside from the two songs I included in my last post, “Waiting in the Wings” and “Crossing the Line,” this conflict is best demonstrated early in Season One in the episode “Challenge of the Brave.”

Cass didn’t suffer abuse in quite the same way Catra did (though Gothel was the worst mom for her first 4 years), but she does feel disrespected and overshadowed by Rapunzel even before learning about Gothel. In “Crossing the Line”--a song many likened to “Let it Go” when they first heard it, Cassandra lays out these feelings further:

There’s a line between the winners and the losers.

There’s a line between the chosen and the rest.

And I’ve done the best I could,

but i’ve always known just where we stood.

Me here with the luckless.

You there with the blessed.

Now, when this song first came out, there were negative reactions from some fans. How could Cassandra call someone who had been kidnapped and locked in a tower with the neglectful and verbally abusive Gothel for 18 years “blessed”? But, from Cassandra’s perspective, Rapunzel still gets everything, power, respect, etc., purely because she was born a princess while Cass has worked incredibly hard her entire life to achieve one goal, becoming a guard, and is constantly denied.

With Lena and Kara in Supergirl, the resentment, again, is mostly between Lena and Supergirl for most of their relationship. Multiple times during the show’s run, Lena has expressed concern about human’s relative helplessness in the face of aliens like Supergirl who have power. This is why Lena sees some of her shadier actions such as making Kryptonite or trying to give humans super powers as justified. She doesn’t go to the extreme levels of hatred that her brother Lex does, but that distrust in those who are naturally more powerful runs throughout the family as does the resentment that aliens have seemingly usurped the leadership role among humanity that should have belonged to the Luthors.

What makes this interesting is that, in most of her relationships, Lena, as a billionaire, is the more privileged and powerful one. This is really best demonstrated in her relationship with James Olsen, whom she orders around as his boss while buying him expensive gifts and going behind his back to fix his legal problems. And for much of their relationship, this is how Lena sees her relationship with Kara. It’s not a manipulative or cruel thing. Lena just sees Kara as her adorkable reporter friend who is hapless in the face of danger.

Then, all of these preconceived notions come crashing down when Lena learns that Kara is Supergirl. Suddenly, she learns that her hapless friend was actually playing her the whole time--that she was stringing Lena along and pretending to be only human. 

Lena’s resentment may not be as explicit in this case as Catra’s or Cassandra’s, but it is layered within all of the emotions Lena Luthor is pretending not to have.

This, of course, leads us to our final subject for today.

PART V: “ITTY BITTY BOXES”

I’ve mentioned a few times throughout this novel-length meta the word “repressed.” Catra, Lena, and Cassandra are not good at expressing their emotions in a healthy manner. Much of this can be blamed on the aforementioned mother figures and the trust and intimacy issues that having narcissistic, abusive parents can lead to. 

Narcissistic parents often place the burden of maintaining the emotional wellbeing of the family on the children. It is your job as the child to make sure they don’t get upset. It is you who has to keep the cool head and maintain the facade of positivity. Parents like Shadow Weaver, Lillian Luther, and Mother Gothel do not see it as their responsibility to help their children regulate emotion or address it. To them, “negative emotions” are character flaws.

Of course, anyone who’s watched Inside Out knows that emotions aren’t inherently good or bad and feeling, addressing, and understanding them are vital to good mental health.

Too bad Inside Out wasn’t there for Catra, Lena, or Cassandra growing up.

Instead, each of these characters has learned to bottle up and hide emotions like sadness, fear, hurt, and true, deep anger. Lena even outlines her approach to such feelings when helping Brainy, an alien who is basically like an organic computer, solve a problem:

I was not the only person that was reminded of this gem after that scene:

Putting emotions away in an imaginary box is a real technique for keeping yourself from becoming overwhelmed in a situation where you need to focus. However, “forgetting the box existed” is not the appropriate use of the boxes. They need to be opened, and the feelings addressed. 

Catra is interesting, because in some ways she’s very vocal about her frustration and anger. Yet, that surface level frustration manifests in yelling at her friends and subordinates over their job performance or just being a general jerk. It’s not an expression of her true, deep feelings. Catra doesn’t let anyone see the deep levels of hurt she feels when Shadow Weaver manipulates her to join Adora. Instead, she just almost destroys the world...as you do. Season 4 in particular features a Catra who is more mean to her friends than ever before, yet she is still repressing so much of her true feelings to the point of mental and emotional collapse.

Cassandra also struggles to express her feelings, particularly to Rapunzel. Part of it might be because Rapunzel is her princess, and it’s not Cassandra’s place, but it’s also something she struggles with in general:

The above line occurs in an episode where Rapunzel knows Cassandra is mad at her and keeps pushing her to share her feelings. As we can see, Cass is not a big fan of that. Even though they talk at the end of the episode, it’s clear that there are still some hurt feelings on Cassandra’s side that she doesn’t express until she has electric blue hair and is singing a rock ballad about “Crossing the Line.” This is also fascinating because, as previously stated, one of the reasons Rapunzel likes Cassandra is her honesty. But, like with Catra, Cassandra can be honest about surface level annoyances, but intensely represses anything deeper.

All three of these characters let their emotions fester until they become deadly infections that poison their relationships, not just with their best friends, but with everyone. Many of these relationships could have been diverted from their dark paths if there had been more honest and open communication both between the characters and internally. If Lena acknowledged the real reasons why she was hurt when learning Kara was Supergirl, if Catra had been honest about feeling overshadowed and pitied by Adora, if Cassandra had expressed the pain she was feeling in her relationship with Rapunzel, things could have been different. Instead, those feelings have turned toxic.

NEXT TIME IN THE NEVER-ENDING ANALYSIS:

Blond Bulldozers 

I Don’t Care (I ship it)

Just going to do 2, because 3 subjects were a bit much.

Hope to see you there.

#she ra #spop #adora #catradora #catra #shadow weaver #supergirl #supercorp #kara danvers #lena luthor #lillian luthor #tangled the series #rapunzel's tangled adventure #rapunzel #tts cassandra #cassunzel

[mrsbhandari]

Artsy as Fuck - Graphite

A/N: Hello!! its been a whole ass brick since I updated this but ive been writing a lot of anime shit and just couldn’t think of anything for this but then I got an idea!! so yeah I hope you like it!!

Word Count: 

Warnings: language, NSFW for the first few paragraphs but after that its kind of angsty?? a lil bit. idk how to write angst so idk if it even counts lmao

Summary: Colt and Roze refuse to confront feelings that arose after their...eventful morning. 

Tag list: 1530

@omgjasminesimone, @edgiestwinter, @bucketofsoup, @donutsgirl36, @desireepow-1986, @lovehugsandcandy, @troublemakerinspace, @client-327

Masterlist

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The steam of the shower was only adding to the clouding of his mind as his hands ran down Roze’s sides, making her shiver despite the heat of the water. 

“To be clear--oh--This means nothing,” she said, moaning as his lips attached to her neck and added to the hickeys there. Colt felt a twinge of sadness, but he didn’t know about what. She moved her hands up to his shoulders and he forgot completely.

“Mhmm.”

“Seriously, Colt, this is just to...relieve tension.”

“Mhmm.”

“Colt, pay atten--oh, yes.” Colt cut her off with a swift bite to the junction of her shoulder and her neck as well as a finger brushing her entrance, sufficiently lubricated from a combination of her own slick and the water. He easily slid two fingers into her, letting a gasp reverberate in the shower as he pressed against her sweet spot. Instantly, her grip tightened on his biceps, tough beneath her touch. Nails embedded themselves into his skin, sure to leave crescent bruises visible when he posed for her class in 20 minutes. 

Remembering his job, Colt quickened his fingers, relishing Roze’s loud gasps against his shoulder as they pressed their chests together. This may just be for ‘tension relieving,’ but damn was it good. Her orgasm hit her and his arm snaked around her waist, holding her up and against him while she moaned in his ear. She rode out her orgasm for a few more seconds before weakly grabbing his wrist and pulling his fingers out, catching her breath as the water cascaded down her back. Pulling away, she rested her hands on Colt’s shoulders, partially to hold herself up and partially to watch him as he raised his fingers to his lips, cleaning them with a long tongue while keeping eye contact with her.

“Delicious.”

“You’re so annoying,” she breathed out, cool facade broken by hitched breaths.

“At least I’m good at fucking, though, right?”

Her mouth barely quirked to a smile before falling back into her neutral pout. She stepped out of the shower without a word. 

“Right?!”

---------------------------------------------------------

It was not the right time to wear a tank top, yet it was all she had. She had thought about asking Colt to borrow one of his shirts, but that seemed too...intimate. For their situation. That’s what she told herself. Secretly, Roze cursed the hot LA weather as well as her expectation that she wasn’t going to do anything with Colt when she met up with him at the garage. 

In all honesty, she knew that sex with Colt was a game-changer--especially sex that good. With sex, there were so many emotions swirling around, ripe for the taking, that it seemed impossible not to fall for him. That stupid smile when he caught her staring, the way his eyes roll back when he came, the dark look in his eye when she got too lippy with him; they all added up to extend the emotions of that heavenly hour into a full-blown relationship, which is not what she needed. Especially with Colt. He agreed. It had been ten minutes since they left the garage, yet she was already thinking about the possibility of next time with him. Internally, she cursed herself again for saying that it meant nothing. But he agreed. 

She ignored the pang of disappointment that found its way into her heart despite her best efforts to separate her feelings from this little...predicament she found herself in. How am I supposed to fake date a person I keep feeling things for? Especially when he’s only using me to avoid a girl.

Said girl walked into the studio, giving Roze and her mosaic of bruises a major side-eye and eye roll. Ingrid’s eyes traveled to Colt, knowing that he should have marks as well, and scoffed at the deep red of the scratches along his shoulders, revealed by his wife beater and clean overalls that were folded over at the waist, much like how it was at the garage. Ingrid couldn’t deny that he looked like he should be June’s picture in a calendar, but she wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction of knowing she thought that. 

“Did you have to wear that here?” Roze playfully tugged on one of the sleeves tied around his waist. He was leaning over her easel, looking down at her from where his chin was resting on the wood. 

“Professor told me to wear something and layer it. I’m a mechanic, not a designer.” In reality, the comment about his clothes did hurt him a little, even if it wasn’t meant seriously. He didn’t look as stylish as most of the people in the class, and he definitely didn’t look cool or rich enough to be Roze’s boyfriend. She always looked fresh from an expensive magazine to him; he thought he looked like the search results for ‘mechanic’ at the Spirit Halloween website. He smiled a little at the thought and decided it was a problem to confront another day.

“Well, Kaneko, right now you’re a model.” Roze calling him by his last name only made the memories from an hour ago, already fresh, rush back into his mind. She sent him a smirk that let him know she knew what she made him think about. Their conversation was cut short by more students arriving for the class, prompting Colt to step up on the podium and strike a pose for the class, making sure to drape his clothing in a way they could draw to show the clothing. He felt a little bit more confident in himself with his girlfriend calling him a model, but he tried to keep his face neutral. 

He stood for hours on the podium, but he certainly couldn’t complain as he was standing directly in front of Roze who, in between actually drawing him, spent more of the time making silly faces to get him to laugh and break his resolve. His girlfriend was so cute. 

Except she’s not. The thought hit him like a bag of bricks. This is temporary. You fucked and she said it didn’t mean anything. And why should it? She’s a cool art student, going places. You’re stuck here with no direction. Better to get that through your head now rather than later. This is all fake. His face turned pensive as he stood there, ignoring her cross-eyes in her most recent attempt to make him break. She’s probably just acting to make this whole thing more believable, he reasoned, pushing all thoughts of a real relationship out of his head. Suddenly, all he wanted was for the class to be over. 

His wish was soon granted by the professor clapping his hands together and announcing the class’ end. Before he could leave, Roze gathered her stuff and approached him, wary of the watchful eye Ingrid was casting over them to catch any slip-ups that would indicate any reason to believe that something was amiss.

“Wanna go to lunch? My pick today.” She sent him a sweet smile that he couldn’t help but melt at the sight of. Fuck. Don’t think it means anything. He gave a curt nod and a tight smile in response, ignoring the concern that clouded her eyes. This means nothing.

---------------------------------------------------------

“I’ll pay.” Colt’s eyes flitted to hers across the fancy table as she handed a stack of bills to the waiter, telling him to keep the change as a tip. Colt didn’t want to say that he felt emasculated by Roze paying, because he was perfectly fine with that aspect of it. He did, however, feel poor. Here he was in this nice restaurant (cloth napkins and a mini chandelier for every table? Bougie.) in overalls, trying to brush off the pitying looks that kept getting sent Roze’s way as she sat with him and paid for him with cash. 

They must think it’s a gender-bent Pretty Woman situation. The demons in his head laughed at him, boiling his blood and stirring the pot of deprecating thoughts swirling around his mind. I’m not a charity case. Roze seemed to notice his sudden change in attitude but decided to say nothing about it. 

“How was your risotto?”

“Good.”

“And your chicken?”

“Fine. Little dry.”

“Oh, mine tasted great.”

“Congrats.”

“Ok, fuckwad.” She slammed her cutlery down on her plate and leaned forward, placing her elbows on the table to carry her head on her interlocked fingers. “What’s with you?”

He feigned disinterest. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You were fine this morning and through class, but then you just...shut down.”

“I don’t know why you would care. It’s not like we’re dating or anything.” Colt didn’t know what the fuck he was saying. 

“Are you always this angsty?” The comment surprised him and he looked over to find Roze with her head cocked and an amused shine in her eyes. The sight made one part of him sweat and the other scoff. 

“Why did you bring me here, Roze?”

“I like it here,” she answered without missing a beat. 

“Why?”

“Why are you asking?”

“I want to know.”

#colt kaneko #colt x mc #colt choices #colt rod #colt kaneko x mc #playchoices #playchoices rod #fanfic #fanfiction #n*sfw #ride or die #a bad boy romance #artsy as fuck

[slashhinginghasher]

Midnight Star - Chromeskull x OFC - Part 5: Gratitude

Summary: Marena meets some of the staff. No one gets a good first impression.

This work is on Ao3

It wasn’t the worst night Marena had endured - not by far - but it still sucked. A lot. At some point between the beginning and end of her bout of hysteria, she’d gone from sitting upright to lying sprawled across the concrete floor. Her throat felt raw, her face wet with blood or sweat or tears, or maybe all three, and her limbs didn’t even have the strength to tremble anymore. The room seemed to lurch and sway like the berth of a ship in some terrible storm, like the ship that had taken her away from...

Her stomach clenched violently. She tried to stand, but somehow found herself face down on the ground. Long past any semblance of dignity, she dragged herself in what she hoped was the general direction of the drain she’d seen in the corner. Her fingers brushed cold metal moments before her empty stomach revolted, retching up thin strings of spit and bile. This went on until it didn’t, and then her arms gave out, and she was curled up on her side, and her brains were probably leaking out through her eyes and nose.

She felt… split. Outside of herself. Like there were two of her, one limp on the floor and choking on occasional hiccups of laughter, the other suspended in air and looking dispassionately upon her wretched counterpart. An abyss was opening in the back of her skulls, filled with the fog and static of greyspace. Her heads throbbed, the gaping emptiness yawning wider and wider with each pulse.

The lights snapped on like a dagger to her eyes. She tried to flinch but couldn’t figure out which body to move. There was a sense of motion, of lifting. She swatted blindly at the hands grabbing at her with all the strength of a milk-drunk kitten, digging her nails in when they encountered soft skin. A sharp pinch in the crook of her elbow. Marena tasted blood and fell back into the grey.

***

Two black-haired girls stood face-to-face in a stark grey void, twin reflections like a mirror. The one on the left shivered in a threadbare linen shift.

“Please.” Her voice was barely a whisper. “Help me.”

The one on the right stood silent, stoic in her heavy hooded cloak.

“Then let me die,” the Left One pled.

The Right One pushed back her hood, letting the cloak fall to the floor. Her flesh was cracked like porcelain, meat and bone showing through the larger gaps. Black blood oozed slowly from the wounds like tar..

“This is nothing but what you deserve.” Blood dripped from her mouth and eyes.

The Left One shuddered as her skin began to crack in patterns mirroring the Right One’s. Orange firelight glowed in the fissures, burning brighter by the second. Black smoke seeped from the Left One’s wounds, poured from her mouth and nose. The Right One bled faster.

They reached for each other, and crumbled to dust the moment before their fingers touched.

***

She was handcuffed to a hospital bed. An IV was in her arm. And she was clean. She could feel, without opening her eyes, that someone had scrubbed away all the sweat and dirt, bandaged her cuts, even neatly combed her hair. And it was that, out of everything she’d been subjected to over the past few days, that almost broke her.

Marena was no stranger to abuse. She was deeply familiar with it, almost used to it, if one could ever get used to the kind of violence she’d survived. She knew how to switch herself off during a beating, how to hold back the pain until she could get to a safe (as if safety was something she’d ever known) place to lick her wounds. But the thought of having such tenderness inflicted upon her, especially while she was unconscious and vulnerable, made her want to rip her skin off. People were never gentle without ulterior motives, and she felt sick thinking about what those motives might be.

An impatient shifting drew her attention to the man sitting in the chair next to her bed. He was unfamiliar to her. Unlike SkullBitch, this one had a full head of hair, a wicked Glasgow grin across his pretty-boy face, and although he was sitting, Marena could tell he was a normal human height, unlike his freakish giant of an associate.

“Sleeping Beauty awakes at last!” One thing Marena had learned fairly early on was that Americans were obsessed with referencing fairytale princesses in daily conversation. It annoyed the shit out of her every single time. She fixed the man with a blankly impassive stare and waited. His smug grin shrank with each passing second of silence until he looked as irritated as she felt.

Good. No one gets to enjoy themselves, suka.

“You’re not his usual type,” he said, switching tactics. He dragged his gaze over her, but it felt impersonal, like a farmer at the meat market. “Not sure if that makes your chances better or worse.” His smile held a malicious edge this time as he leaned in conspiratorially. “You’re his new Veronica.”

Marena lunged at him, teeth snapped shut a scant inch from the tip of his nose as he jerked back. She hadn’t really been trying to get him; she just wanted him out of her face. The brief flash of panic in his eyes was a nice little bonus, though. He shot to his feet with a poisonous glare, trying to look menacing, but he was too much of an open book to be a real threat, even though Marena’s hands were literally tied.

“You little--”

“Preston!” The sharp voice startled both of them. A short brunette stood in the doorway, a lanky figure in scrubs hovering behind her. “You aren’t authorized to be in here. Leave. Now.” To Marena’s surprise, Preston, as he was apparently called, didn’t argue. He gave Marena one more murderous look, then stalked out of the room with his fists clenched at his sides. The small woman sighed once and smoothed a non-existent wrinkle from her slacks.

“Sorry about him. He’s a pain in the ass.” The woman strode forward with a placid smile that reminded Marena of Dr. Call Me Linda, the “let’s be friends even though you have at least five reasons to kill me” smile. She stopped next to Preston’s vacated chair and folded her hands behind her. “My name is Spann. How are you feeling?”

Of all the dumb fucking… Marena couldn’t have formulated a response to that if she’d wanted to. Unfazed by the lack of response, Spann continued.

“You had a nasty concussion, as well as--”

“Stop.”

“Excuse me?” To Spann’s credit, her courteous expression barely wavered.

“I don’t give a fuck what’s wrong with me. Just shut up.”

Spann was probably excellent at poker.

“I know this is a difficult situation for you, but after your little stunt in the basement, a little gratitude wouldn’t be out of place.”

This bitch is delusional.

“Gratitude.”

“Yes. Very few people have seen my employer’s face and lived, let alone been left in one piece.” Marena chewed on that for a moment, though she was mostly fixated on the “employer” bit. She briefly wondered if she’d fallen into the hands of the world’s most melodramatic bounty hunter, then decided that it was unlikely and also that she didn’t care. 

Spann appeared to be waiting for an answer.

“If he was on fire and I had a hose, I’d strangle him.”

Marena didn’t get to see the other woman’s composure slip, as Spann chose that moment to turn and gesture the person still lurking in the doorway forward. He was a lanky, nervous-looking man with glasses. He was carrying a metal tray, and when he set it down, Marena could see a syringe with an intimidatingly thick needle, and a black leather collar.

“The syringe has a microchip with a built-in tracker,” Spann explained. “The collar also has a tracker. Pick one.” Marena eyed the tray, a tense ache rising in her chest and throat.

“Is quick death an option?”

“No.” That infuriating smile had returned to Spann’s lips. The man in scrubs shifted on his feet. “I recommend you make up your mind quickly. None of the others were even given the option to choose.” Spann gave her a pointed look. Fucking gratitude again. The ache grew sharper.

“The fucking needle,” Marena spat between clenched teeth. Spann raised her eyebrows in mild surprise but said nothing as she gestured at the man again. Marena fixed her eyes on the ceiling and barely flinched as the needle slid home just above her collarbone. It was over in a heartbeat; the man dabbed a spot of blood away with a cotton pad, placed everything back on the tray, and left. Spann was halfway to the door when Marena couldn’t hold her silence any longer.

“How many?”

“Pardon?” Spann glanced back over her shoulder.

“How many other girls in the house?” Forcing the words out was like pushing boulders up a hill.

“None,” Spann said, seeming confused. “There’s only you.” Marena shut her eyes briefly and swallowed hard.

“And how often do I...” The question stuck in her dry throat, the threat of a revolving door of faceless men looming over her. She didn’t need to finish the sentence for comprehension to dawn on Spann’s face.

“Mr. Cromeans is not in the habit of sharing,” the brunette replied. “It’s just you and him.” She walked out, the door clicking shut behind her. Marena sagged back against her pillows and tried to focus her breathing.

She was not reassured.

#my writing #jesse cromeans #chromeskull #marena polunochnaya #laid to rest

[kabhi-haath-pakad-k-tu-mera]

A Path Of Ambition And Power

In all twenty years of her life, Bellatrix has only felt repressed. Now, with her inner self prompting her to take action and with Lord Voldemort as a Catalyst, she finally sets onto a path of Ambition and Power. Won Overall JP for IWSC Season 1 Round 3! Part 1 of The Black Sisters Series.

~~~~~~~

I.

In all twenty years of her life, Bellatrix Black has only ever felt repressed. Repressed and suffocated. She’s always had ambition, always had great plans for power except, as her mother tells her none-too-gently again, it would ruin their family's impression—put a damper on the Blacks’ power. It’s the twentieth century still, and they are, after all, the aristocrats of the Wizarding World. It wouldn't do for a daughter from the Black family to be seen working her way through the ministry, running for minister of magic. The Wizarding World would never let a woman run their ministry anyway. No, she’s to be married off into a respectable pure blood family and gain the Blacks another vote in the Wizengamot. Traded. As if she were a commodity. 

Bellatrix wants to scream out every rebellious thought inside her head and tell everyone exactly what she thinks of their ideas of how she is supposed to behave. Instead, she blankly looks her mother in her eyes, unwavering all through her admonishment, even as Druella's lips set into a thin line, which she knows not be a good sign. Druella only glares at her icily before leaving the room in a flurry of robes. Bella relaxes, but only just, waiting for Narcissa’s disapproving voice to cut the thick tension in the room as she knows it will.

“I don’t understand why you feel the need to upset Mother so. It’ll only take a turn for the worse, you know.” 

Bella doesn't need to turn to know that there is a dainty frown marring Narcissa’s features. 

She doesn't reply, afraid she’ll say things she’d regret. She stares at the brightly wallpapered wall instead, reciting to herself the names of all the heavenly bodies she knows, all that her family members are named after—Cygnus, Cassiopeia, Orion, Sirius, Andromeda … She stops and exhales sharply, anger and resentment bubbling in her throat.

 She would never forgive Andromeda for marrying a filthy Mudblood, but now she’s finally starting to understand why Andy had always been so desperate to get rid of her aristocratic status and ties to the Black family. If it weren't for her love for Narcissa, she herself would've run away too. They are twins after all, Andy and her, they share more than just their appearances.

~~~~~~~~~

II.

Bella doesn't think that her distaste for the curse that is patriarchy can expand any further, but she is proven wrong yet again as she smiles almost painfully at the numerous wizards her mother has introduced her to (all of whom are leering at her unabashedly), and hopes it doesn't look like a grimace. 

She finally manages to excuse herself from the gentlemen and starts weaving her way through the other guests, searching for Narcissa whom she had lost in the crowd when her mother had gotten hold of her.

She doesn't even understand what it is that has made her accompany her mother and father to this Christmas ball organised by the Malfoys in honour of a wizard who is nowadays said to be the greatest wizard to be born. He is said to be as powerful as Dumbledore—perhaps even more so—and set onto a path to reform the Wizarding World, purge it of Mudbloods, and overthrow the statue of secrecy. She quietens the little voice in the back of her head that tells her exactly why she is where she is.

 Because you wanted to know if it was true. 

She’s about to go out into the gardens to continue looking for her sister when she suddenly stops, and the door to her left opens with a bang and everyone is quiet. Lord Voldemort does make quite an entrance.

She knows of him from having heard her father speak of him during meals. Such a great wizard, such great ability, such great plans. 

“Lord Voldemort will cleanse the Wizarding World,” she's heard him say, and he says it with reverence. 

It is through him that she’d come to know of the followers he was gathering—Death Eaters—and he had declared that he would recruit anyone who was loyal, anyone whose blood was pure, anyone who had the same thirst for power and who wanted the Wizarding World to rise above the filthy Muggles, to get out of the hiding they had been forced into. Anyone. Even Witches. She hadn't had to pretend to be interested in the conversation that day. Lord Voldemort radiated power. You could feel his presence in your core—something strong, powerful, and cruel. And it is this power she is attracted towards.

She finds herself wandering towards him instead of looking for Narcissa like she had set off to, and finds herself standing a few feet off of a group of wizards that are quite apparently tripping over themselves to please their lord, to prove their worth. She stands for a moment and observes. Even if the Death Eaters were to stop behaving like overexcited puppies, it would be easy to mark him as a leader. She stands there for a few more minutes as she watches more wizards arrive to greet their leader, and her father is one of them, telling him that The Ancient and Most Noble House Of Black supports his endeavours wholeheartedly. 

She doesn't think her father has realized yet that it is not he who is playing the Dark Lord like a fiddle, and that their roles have been reversed, but then, he doesn't realize half the things he should. But he sees her standing and he has excused himself and crossed over to her with a frown, asking her why she wasn't with her mother or with Cissy flirting with some elite wizard.

 He herds her towards where she knows Druella is and also away from the Dark Lord. Bella can feel eyes boring into her back, though, and she cannot help but look over her shoulder to see who it is. Her eyes lock with the red ones of the Dark Lord's, but then her father is tugging her away again and she has to look away.

~~~~~~~~~

III.

Bella finds herself even more intrigued by the Dark Lord and his plans for revolutionizing the Wizarding World as the month progresses after the Christmas Ball, the weather turning from the usual December cold to a dreadful wet and rain filled winter not usually associated with January, filled with light drizzling here and there.

She’s now begun to actively search for any information about him and his band of Death Eaters she can get her hands on, and she’d be lying if she said she wasn't finding the lure of power tempting. Her parents would kill her if they ever found out just how tempting becoming a death eater is to her. But she isn't going to tell them of her plans to join them, of course—if she can. Her desire to throw caution to the wind and to just go through with it is heightened every time she finds mention of his deeds. It reaches its peak when she sees him in flesh again at the annual charity auction her parents organize to raise funds for St.Mungo’s.

His arrival there is unexpected—there are, after all, ministry employees present. But he seems to disregard this as trivial and drinks in with a sort of masked pleasure as his followers—the Death Eaters—trip over their robes while rushing to greet him. She finds herself watching the scene unfold for more than a few minutes from over the shoulder of a wizard who has been droning on and on about his views on the Goblins and Gringotts for far longer than should be legal. 

She gets quite a start when she finds herself looking into red eyes from across the room then, for the Dark Lord seems to be looking at her directly. She holds his gaze unwaveringly for a moment, then looks away, feeling, for some inexplicable reason, completely naked before him—as if he could read all of her thoughts, and she could hide nothing from him. She then begins to avoid looking in his direction at all, although her thoughts cannot help but wander towards the power he wields.

~~~~~~~~~~

IV.

She doesn't think she could ever understand why wizards we always so delusional, or why they would think she would like to engage in any sort of activities with them, but what nags her just a little as she makes her way outside is why she is so unnerved by it this time. The only thing that had stopped her from creating a scene inside had been Narcissa’s hand upon her own, guiding her away from that absolute lunatic who had thought that he could lay his hands on her. She knows that if she had stayed, she would have forgotten her mother’s strong words telling her to be nice and cursed him into oblivion in a fit of recklessness. Instead, she lets her impulsiveness guide her to goodness knows where.

She is rather startled, however, when she finds herself in one of the numerous Dungeons the Black Manor has. This in itself is not surprising—she has found herself here when she is troubled more times than she’d care to count. She is more astonished at the other occupant of the Dungeons, the Dark Lord, who seems to be looking for something amidst the forgotten mass of no doubt priceless objects in it. He turns around scowling before he notices her near the entrance to the chamber, and his lips curl into a smile which she by now has memorised. 

She thinks about the events of the evening for a moment—none of them pleasant—and about how much she hates living a life so subdued and fancies that her reckless streak has probably now reached its peak, if what she is about to do is any indication. She feels as if she is high on Liquid Luck when she further approaches the dark lord.

“I would like to join your cause, My Lord, if I am welcome.” her voice is controlled, and she tries to hide the hope in it, although he probably sees it anyway.

The Dark Lord is not surprised, not that she had expected him to be—she is sure he sees all of her, knows her intentions and all of her past, and she knows it to be true when his smile becomes larger. He studies her for a moment, and it she has to physically restrain herself from fidgeting under his scrutiny. His voice is quiet when he speaks, but  it carries over to her smoothly, 

“Our cause, Bella, welcomes anyone who wishes to cleanse the Wizarding World, anyone who wants to take from the infiltrators of our world what is rightfully ours.” he pauses slightly “And you, so young, so full of ambition and power… A true Slytherin, a worthy addition to our noble cause.”

Bella feels as if someone is gently guiding her left hand forward and slipping her sleeve backwards until the smooth skin of her left forearm is exposed, and then, suddenly there is pain so sharp she can barely think around it. It doesn't even occur to her to scream. And just as suddenly as it had started, the pain subsides and there is a black mark over the expanse of her inner forearm that depicts a snake protruding from a skull. She has been branded.

~~~~~~~~~~

V.

It probably would've done her some good to see if she were being followed, but Bella hadn't bothered to do so in her angered state and this fact is increasingly made clear by her mother’s scream—which is more terrified and outraged than she has ever heard it to be—and all too suddenly, it seems that Bella is finally coming down from her high streak and reality is finally starting to sink in again. 

She has gotten herself branded. Father would skin her alive. The Dark Lord merely looks vaguely amused and walks out of the Dungeons, saying something to her father who has just arrived at the scene and who is only half listening to whatever his wife or his master are saying to him, his eyes transfixed to the mark on her left arm.

The party is cut short after this, and Bella sees her mother collapse on the staircase which connects the Dungeons to the upper floors, pretty sure that by now, Parkinson and Greengrass would have already spread the word and all of the aristocratic wizarding families of Britain would know of her deed. She doesn't try to go talk to anyone, opting instead to sit down where she is, not caring about her expensive robes. She doesn't feel as horrified by her actions as everyone is making them out to be. In fact, as she sits there waiting for her parents to come punish her for what she had done—which she knows they will—she feels better than she has in a long time. She’s their own daughter and blood after all—pure blood. What is the worst that they'll do?

~~~~~~~~~

VI.

She finds out quickly enough that the worst that they can do is nothing to be laughed at, all without spilling a single drop of blood. Her family, including herself, all dabble in dark magic. What was she expecting, really? Her father fires a number of curses at her that she cannot name, all of which are undeniably all dark, and the pain she feels at this instant is like the pain she felt at the time of being branded, except ten times stronger. Probably powerful enough to cause serious damage to her body and mind. When it seems that her father is through with torturing her, she lies curled up on the floor, breathing heavily while trying to find the energy to stand and take herself to her bedroom.

It is because of this pause in her torture that when it first hits her, she is taken by complete shock, her body feeling like every part of it is on fire. She had been so preoccupied by the pain that she hadn't even heard the incantation, the Crucio her mother sends her way making her collapse and wither on the ground of the dungeon, reduced to begging for mercy. She thinks it is bad the first time, but her mother promises her it’s only a small portion of what is yet to come. She isn't lying. The second and the third and the fourth, and however many number of times Druella curses her daughter it feels as if a hundred, thousand knives are being used to cut her body, to stab it, and then as if those are all being twisted in for good measure. 

Bella thinks that by the time it ends, early in the morning, she might’ve been reduced to begging not only for mercy, but for her life. She still has all of her limbs attached—although moving them even slightly causes destructive amounts of pain—and all she does is lie on the floor of the chamber, hardly moving or making noise. 

All of this pain at the cost of one decision that she had taken for herself, but this is a decision that she refuses to regret, a decision that will feed her hunger for power and ambition for the rest of her life. She is a Death Eater now, and she is going to be following Lord Voldemort’s footsteps through a path of death and destruction. And now that she’s felt what it’s like to be on the receiving end of all those curses she has only before fired in her head at anyone who tried to patronize her, she knows that this is what she wants for all of who try to objectify her or trade her or try to use her to feel. 

She wants them to beg to her for mercy much the same way she had, every last one of them, and now that she’s seen in between bouts of pain how much pleasure it gives to the caster, she knows that she’ll feel this euphoria every time she casts these spells. 

One thing Bellatrix Black does decide while still lying on the ground of the Dungeon is that it is this euphoria she wants to know and feel every time, like she had felt about the feel of liquid luck running through her veins the previous night. And she will stop at nothing to satiate this bloodlust or to reach those much greater levels of power. She has carved out a path of Ambition and Power, and nothing could stop her from following it anymore.

#harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #bellatrix black #bellatrix lestrange #narcissa malfoy #narcissa black #black family #voldemort #druella black #cygnus black #the black sisters series #the black sisters #death eaters #dark mark #how bella gets marked #how she joins voldemort #my fanfiction #my writing #The Dark Enchantress Ruhi #hermioneaubreymiachase #hurt/comfort #angst #drama #family #tw torture #reposting because why not #aakhir queue?!!

[patrocool]

i.

It was early morning in Financial District. Commuters bustled around the siblings as they exited the subway station onto William Street. The pair stopped abruptly in front of the shop just outside of the station, much to the dismay of a woman behind them, who nearly ran into them with a curse.

Sarah Jacobs had worked hard to get to this point. And damn it, she was proud of herself. Sure, it didnt look like a lot right now- a tiny little hole in the wall right next to the entrance to the A and C train that was probably about the size of her bedroom in her tiny Manhattan apartment- but it was hers and she was proud to own the place.

Davey held up the key with a soft smile. "Planning on going in any time soon?" He asked lightly. She grinned as she took the key from his fingers and unlocked the door, stepping in. It was musty, dusty, dirty, and a bit stuffy, but none of that mattered. What mattered was what it was going to look tomorrow, and then the next day, and the day after that.

She clapped her hands together and set down her bag of cleaning supplies. "We've got a lot of work to do, Davey!"

ii.

Davey carefully placed the finishing touches on the flowers in stock, making them look nice in their holders. He stepped back, hands on his hips, and smiled. He turned to watch his sister as she carefully wrote the last few things on her chalkboard behind the counter.

The store looked perfect. Picturesque, to the point where Davey wouldnt be surprised if photographers came in looking for the perfect picture. Sarah set down her chalk and brushed her fingers off on her apron. She turned, nervously brushing stray hairs behind her ears, and straightening her light blue blouse. "Hows it look, David?"

He gave her two thumbs up. "It looks like a hipster's wet dream," he promised her teasingly.

She laughed and threw a rag at him. "You're such an ass, get out of my store with your gross face! You're gonna be late for class."

He snickered and leaned over the counter to grab his bag. "I'll turn on the open sign and unlock the door on my way out. If I dont, you probably never will."

As he left, he saw a young woman hesitating outside, looking curious. He held the door open. "Going in?" He asked.

She shook her head and hurried away down the street. He shrugged and headed to class. Sarah would have customers soon enough.

iii.

After the fourth day of trying to peek in the flower shop to and from class, Katherine Plumber finally gave in and slipped inside. A soft ring of the bell alerted the quiet shop, and she looked around in awe. Exposed brick on one wall, plants in baskets hung from the ceiling, fairy lights strung across the walls. Beautiful displays of potted plants and cut flowers alike. A chalkboard hung behind the counter listed prices and deals and specials, and then the most beautiful woman Katherine had ever laid eyes on came out of the back room, smiling brightly at the sight of a customer.

Dark hair in loose curls that reached her ribs, brown eyes that seemed to sparkle in the light, circle frame glasses perched on her nose. She wore a yellow turtleneck and high waisted mom jeans with scuffed converse, and a well worn apron. On her apron, someone stitched in the name "Sarah" with blue thread.

"Can I help you with anything?" The shopkeeper asked her cheerfully, and Katherine never felt more out of place.

"Just- just looking," she stammered awkwardly. She tugged at the sleeves of her leather jacket, glancing down at the pins and patches adorning it and hoping there wasnt anything that the sweet shopkeeper would take the wrong way. Usually, she didnt care if other people didnt like her opinions, but damn it, the girl was pretty as all get out, and her big ass "punch nazis in the face" patch on her back didnt really fit with the whole soft flower shop vibe.

She bit her lip, looking at the plants and trying not to stare at the girl. She focused on the many different colors of roses instead.

"'Fuck Cops'- now that's a sentiment I can get behind," the girl said, but she was so much closer this time, and Katherine jumped at the sudden noise.

Katherine blinked slowly. "Oh, uh. Yeah," she said, and laughed a little, internally cringing. God, she sounded like an idiot.

She giggled. "Sorry, I'm just excited to see a customer. I havent had a lot so far, I just opened a couple days ago."

"I know," Katherine said quickly, and quickly winced when the girl cocked a brow. "Sorry, no, I meant, I know you opened a couple days ago, I take the A train to school every day, so."

She snorted and nodded. "I see, a bit less creepy when you put it like that," she said teasingly. She held out a hand to shake. "I'm Sarah. Welcome to Newspaper Row Flowers."

"Katherine," she replied, shaking her hand. She smiled a bit. "You know Newspaper Row was actually over on Park Row, right? Next to City Hall?"

Sarah laughed, cheeks pink. "Oh, I know. It's because my great grandmother used to own a flower shop over next to the old Tribune building on Park Row, and that's what she called it. She lost her shop in the Depression though, and died when I was young, and it was my mom's dream to open a flower shop in her honor. She never managed to, and uh. Well, she died too, a couple years ago, so I did it."

Katherine's heart felt like it was melting in her chest. God, how could she already have so much affection for this girl she only just met? "I'm sorry for your loss. But you've really created something wonderful here, and I'm sure they would both be proud."

Sarah beamed, and Katherine would do anything to make her smile like that again.

iv.

"And so Davey's like 'what the fuck', and Les is like 'who is this guy' and Jack is straddling the windowsill, looking at us like he expects my dad to get a gun, and finally, Dad is like 'hes not Catholic, is he?' And poor Davey is like 'no, pa', and for some godforsaken reason, Mom assumes that means hes Jewish. And knowing he doesnt have a family, immediately invites- and by invites, I mean loosely intimidated- Jack to come celebrate all holidays with us. And so now, instead of breaking it to Mom that Jack isnt religious, Davey just let's them believe it. Cause I mean, they're pretty fine with the whole gay thing, but god forbid we be romantically involved with someone who isnt Jewish." Sarah finished explaining with a laugh and roll of her eyes. "So yeah, that's why Jack is here fucking around with a dreidel even though Hanukkah has passed. Hes convinced that theres a secret trick to it that he has to master by next year."

Jack looked up and pouted sourly in her direction. "We all know Davey cant be that good based on luck alone!" He said for the thousandth time.

Katherine laughed, elbows on the counter. Her red curls were pulled back in a ponytail and she had her signature leather jacket on. "Sounds like your family is a real fun bunch. Ironically, my dad is the exact opposite, he doesn't care if I dont marry into a Jewish family, but he very much cares if I marry a girl."

Sarah made a face. "Gross. He sounds like such an ass whenever you talk about him."

Katherine nodded. "Probably because he is," she said very seriously. And then the two erupted into giggles.

"Ew, go get a room," Jack complained.

"You're in my shop, Kelly!"

V.

"Sarah, I need your help with something." Katherine came in looking nervous, an expression Sarah rarely saw on her friend.

"Of course, anything, what do you need?" Sarah said immediately, abandoning the flowers she was making out of newspapers.

Katherine swallowed, pausing. Her fingers fidgeted with the necklace around her neck. "Um. Well. There's uh... there's this girl I really like. And she... she's just amazing, and I want to tell her that I really like her. And she loves flowers, so..."

Sarah smiled and cooed, even though her chest hurt an awful lot. "That's so-" heartbreaking? Disappointing? Sad? "-cute! Flowers are such a good way to express feelings. Do you want to do it through flower language or do you have specific flowers you want to do it with?"

Katherine bit her lip. "Well, I was hoping a bit of both, but I'm not sure what kind of flowers she likes, so I was hoping you'd help with that."

Sarah nodded. "Of course! Let's get to work, hm?"

In the end, the bouquet consisted of red carnations (admiration), gardenias ("you're lovely"), mistletoe ("kiss me"), and white violets ("let's take a chance on happiness"). Sarah very gently wrapped the stems in newspaper and tied it with some twine while Katherine wrote something on a card.

Katherine paid and took the bouquet from Sarah, carefully fixing the card in it. She stayed after the transaction, simply standing there and staring at the flowers in her arms.

"What are you waiting for? Go get your girl!" Sarah chastized with a laugh. She needed Katherine to leave so she could take an early lunch and cry a little.

"You're right," Katherine said. She took in a big breath and let it out slowly before jutting her arms out, offering the bouquet. "Here."

"What?" Sarah asked, eyebrows furrowed. "Did you change your mind or-"

"They're for you," Katherine said, staring at the wall. "Just- read the card?"

Sarah blinked slowly and took the bouquet carefully, and opened the card.

In it was written simply:

"I like you, Sarah. Have since I first came into your shop. And I'd like you even more if you went to dinner with me?"

Sarah very gently put the bouquet down on the counter. And then she kissed Katherine.

+1

A year and a half later, Sarah come home to find a bundle of myrtle at her place on the table. Instead of a string, there was a ring. Myrtle, the Hebrew emblem of marriage.

Katherine cleared her throat, smiling softly. "Your parents will have at least one kid who marries into a Jewish family. If-if you say yes, that is."

Sarah's eyes filled with tears. "How could I not?"

#newsies #newsbians #sarah jacobs #katherine plumber #katherine pulitzer #5 plus 1 #flower language #flower shop au #aesthetics #newsies fanfic