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acciopietro · 1 year

Text

doctor pt. 3

pairing: namor x fem! reader

summary: you take an opportunity despite the repercussions. namor’s determination to protect his people blinds him.

part one part two part four

word count: 6,939

tw: lots and lots of death. forced suicide (because of the talokanil sirens). the typically stuff. lots of angsty and sadness

a/n: i was listening to happiness is a butterfly while writing so this took a turn for sure... it took a hot minute but i hope you enjoy nonetheless!! i’m nervous ab this so pls let me know your honest opinions...it kind of took a turn

part one part two

IT REALLY ONLY TOOK ONE email to make your heart drop. It was a phone call and a series of texts, too, but it was the email that did it for you. Arial, Size 12 font, formal greeting, body paragraph, half-hearted thank you, polite goodbye. Signed Doctor Reynolds, Ph.D., with the name of your team and company. Message subject: Wakanda.

You read it with vigilant eyes, still hands resting on the metal of your laptop, blue light from the screen casting a cool glow onto your tired skin. The music in your earbuds continued to play, but the sound of The Weeknd wasn’t helping calm the way your heart’s steady beat began to pick up. The words on the email flashed out at you as if they were bolded: Wakanda, harvesting, vibranium, testing, trip. Trip?

“Hi, Doctor Reynolds,” you spoke casually into your telephone, despite your palms sweating around the handle of it. Twisting the coiled cord of it with your index finger, you said, “Yeah, I just got the email. I just had some questions...”

Long story short, a team of marine scientists had ventured into the pacific, delving into the deep seas in search of the vibranium you had found a little over a year ago. You had abandoned that research per Namor’s (tacit) request (more like demand), however, you had known that it was bound to be looked at at some point. The issue was that ships were now apparently being hijacked, their tracking machines being destroyed under water as well as large groups of scientists somehow falling off ship and into the waters to their tragic death. No one knew why.

Reynolds believed Wakanda had something to do with it. He believed that since they were well known for being the sole producers and protectors of all the Earth’s vibranium, he was under the impression that they were trying to stop the United States scientists from harvesting it. Which, you had thought to yourself, would be plausible considering the United States was notorious for taking things that weren’t necessarily theirs.

“Why are we getting involved?” you asked Reynold, gripping your scalp anxiously as you listened to Reynolds explain the situation. “It’s not like if we take a boat out there, we, somehow, will miraculously end up okay. If boats are being hijacked, then... oh, I don’t know...”

Reynold went on and on.

“Wait... you mean to tell me that you already booked it?” you shrilled. “Please excuse me if I’m stepping out of line here, but it’s very likely that our boat will just get hijacked, too. And besides, why do we care so much about vibranium, again? It doesn’t harm any marine life or ecosystems...”

Reynolds spewed a bunch of nonsensical answers, beating around the bush and never quite landing on the reason you know was true: getting money and getting power. Often the root of many of Reynolds’s aspirations.

“You’re more than welcome to deny the job,” Reynold says. “But I’ve decided that I want you on that boat. You’re a useful member of this team. Whether you like it or not, this could be very big.”

You clenched your jaw. “I’ll think about it.”

“You’ve got a week.”

You had only been home from Yucatán for one month. You had a wonderful four months of being with your sister and her family in the days and sneaking off with your man from the sea at night. You couldn’t have gotten closer to Namor; well, unless he took off his shorts and... well, you wouldn’t let him do it, anyways. He had asked. A few times. More than a few times. But for some reason, you just couldn’t do it. For starters, you weren’t on the pill and you were sure there wasn’t contraception under the sea (you asked if he had a condom one time, and he asked you what language that word was in. For someone who is immortal, he sure didn’t know a lot).

You felt like sleeping with him for real for real would make things realer. It made him more of a commitment, gave him more power. And you told yourself you wouldn’t let it happen unless you were absolutely sure that he deserved it. It was really hard to say no sometimes, though. He sure knew how to persuade you.

Accepting the job and getting on the damn boat would for sure cause an issue if Namor found out. You didn’t want to search for vibranium, especially knowing the damage it would do to Wakanda if the United States got access to such a resource, and to Talokan if the States got knowledge of their existence. But... Reynolds personally invited you, and it could do wonders for your career if it went well.

“I don’t see why not,” your sister said when you told her of your predicament the next day. “I mean, I understand the hesitation, especially if boats are being hijacked. But who knows, maybe they’ll get an Avenger and put them on board with you to keep you safe. Hopefully it’s Captain America.”

“As much as I’d love to have Sam Wilson on a boat with me for two weeks, I’m still not sure,” you groaned, plopping down onto your couch and opening up your laptop, the blue light hitting your face as you held your phone against your ear with your shoulder. Scrolling through the news, you said, “It just feels like a thing just for money. And, like, yeah, it is, but I... wait a second...”

You stopped scrolling, eyes casting across the headline of the latest CNN article, your lips falling apart. Wakanda’s King T’Challah dead at 41.

“Oh my gosh,” you breathed. Your sister asked you what it was on the other side of the phone, and you hastily forwarded the article to hear. She cursed, and both of you fell silent as you read. “Jesus Christ. I can’t go on that boat.”

---

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU won’t get on the boat?” asked Reynolds the followed week when you went into office. You shook your head, clenching your jaw.

“King T’Challah just died,” you told him matter-of-factly. “And if there really is more vibranium out there, and the States gets access to it, that’ll do a lot of damage to Wakanda.”

“We are not giving the States access to it,” Reynolds furrowed his brow, the hair of his grey mustache fluttering as he spoke. “We’re just figuring out how much of its in the water. It’s not our job to start harvesting it, that’s up to Archeology.”

“It doesn’t matter who does what,” you said feverishly. “We’re still helping do something that will eventually lead to bad things for Wakanda. And I don’t feel comfortable doing that, especially after their king just passed away.”

Reynolds narrowed his eyes at you, and said nothing before circling around to his desk and clicking the mouse of his computer. You blinked, watching him search around for something with a stern face. You waited a minute for him to speak, and when he didn’t, you cleared your throat.

“Sir..?”

“Look, L/N,” Reynolds looked at you from over his bifocals. “I understand where you stand on these more... well, political aspects of the job. But this is a big opportunity I’m offering you. If you decline, fine, but I’ll know that you’re not up to the task. I’ll give the job to Quade.”

You clenched your jaw, feeling something bubble in your stomach. Ugh, you thought. Quade. He was the worst. You knew it was wrong to take this job. Morally, it was wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong.

“Okay,” you sighed defeatedly. “I’ll... I’ll do it.”

“Good,” Reynolds gave you a nod and stopped typing. He pressed the delete button and held it down. “I can get rid of this email to Quade then. We leave Friday. Back your bags and tell your family you love ‘em.”

---

UNDER THE THRASHING WAVES OF the Gulf of Mexico sat a king on his throne, his forearms resting on his strong, tensed thighs as he read a piece of torn paper. He had to put the paper under pieces of surface-dweller plastic so the pages didn’t fall apart under the water, but even still, the ink had smeared a bit. Nonetheless, Namor sat, his jaw clenched, and he read.

Namor, the letter read.

Hopefully this letter got to you all right-- my niece isn’t always too reliable. I’m writing to you in an attempt to explain myself so you don’t find out from other sources. Some people from my team will be sailing out into the Gulf with another team that’s mining for vibranium. I wanted to deny the job, but I need to take whatever opportunities they throw my way if I want to keep my head above water. I’m going to do my best to protect you and your people, but there’s only so much I can do. I’m sorry. Really, I am. If there’s anything I can do that you can think of (without totally tarnishing my reputation and/or getting fired), find a way to let me know, and I’ll do it. Again, I’m really sorry. I hope you can forgive me. Hopefully I’ll see you soon.

Sincerely Apologetically Love

From, Y/N

Namor gripped the paper tight between his calloused, jewelry covered hands. Lifting his head, he glanced up at his people, the civilization they had built together, the vibranium everyone wore. He glanced at the chest plate he wore, the cuffs around his arms, at the vibranium he wore. It was everything.

He clenched his jaw, bowing his head and pinching the bridge of his nose. He laid the paper down on his lap, squeezing his eyes shut to think.

“Namora!” he called out hastily, and after a little over a minute, the woman emerged into the space and walked up to him, standing before his throne. She knelt, opening up her palms to him in a greeting before standing up. “K'abéet in actualizaciones yóok'ol le láak' rastreador. Yaan in biin ta wéetel (I need updates on the next tracker. I’ll be going with you).”

---

THE DRIVE TO THE PORT was peaceful, palm trees swaying in the breeze and reminding you that, although it wasn’t Mexico, you were appreciative for the beauty and pleasantries of the place you lived in. Florida, with all of its ups and downs-- and you meant all of them-- was nice. The giant boat was astonishing once your Uber pulled up. People were hustling and bustling about the port, and you simply stared up at the giant ship, clutching the strap of your bag and admiring its beauty.

“Ah, Doctor L/N, good to see you. All packed?” asked Doctor Mishra, one of the men of the group who you actually liked to be around. You were thankful he was on the trip. “Boat’s giant, no?”

“Oh, yeah,” you whistled. “Y’know, I’ve never been on a boat like this.”

“I’ve been on a couple of cruises,” Doctor Mishra told you. “Wonderful vacations. However, we will not be waited on on this boat.”

“Fine with me,” you shrugged. “Do we just... go inside, or what?”

“Not sure,” he said. Smiling, he heaved his duffel bag over his shoulder and said, “Let’s find out!

Everything went smoothly for the first week and three days. All the men had to share rooms with at least one other person, and you were lucky enough that everyone agreed that you should have the single room. Your research seemed to be going fairly, however, you never caught a glimpse of the research of the others aside from Doctor Mishra, who you were doing a lot of your work with these days.

One evening, after a nice warm shower, you ventured out onto the deck of the ship, letting the ocean breeze cool your warm cheeks. You caught a glimpse, however, of Dr. Reynolds and Bernstein exchanging words on the deck, standing quite close and speaking under their breaths. You crept closer around the corner, trying to eavesdrop.

“We found it around thirty-five miles from the west tip of Cuba, so we’re thinking if we move closer towards Cancún and Yucatán and all that, we’ll find more,” Bernstein said quietly but firmly. Reynolds nodded his head in understanding.

“But what of the machines?” he asked. “The last one was destroyed, you said, signal lost?”

“Something’s hungry down there,” Bernstein shrugged. “Or however far down the vibranium is, it’s too deep for our computers. We need higher tech to harvest it.”

Your stomach turned. The team wasn’t supposed to be thinking about harvesting vibranium. Reynolds had told you that was up to Archaeology. You gulped and kept listening, fighting the urge to jump out and ask a million questions.

"I’m in contact with some people up north who’ve got new stuff that could work,” Reynolds scratched his white beard pensively. “They’ve had limited success too, but it could be helpful.”

“Us getting this vibranium could change the game,” Bernstein said emphatically. “I mean, can you imagine if the government realized we had this stuff? They’d pay us a lot of money to take it off our hands.”

“This is more than just money, Bernstein,” Reynolds said lowly. “If Wakanda found out that the States got hold of the one thing they’ve got on us? We’re back on top.”

“Holy shit,” Bernstein ran a hand through his oily blonde hair and grinned. “I went into the right profession, that’s for damn sure!”

“Yes, well, let’s just see what the other men have gathered in the past week and compare,” Reynolds told him. “Maybe there’s something right under our noses that we haven’t noticed.”

You clenched your jaw and stepped out from behind the corner. You squeezed a fist in one hand to prevent yourself from lashing out, and it wasn’t until you cleared your throat that the two men noticed you.

“Oh, L/N!” Reynolds gave a gasp of surprise and then a chuckle. “Wasn’t expecting you to be out so late. Isn’t it past your bedtime?”

“I don’t have a bedtime, sir, I’m a grown woman,” you said firmly. “But you’ve got about twenty years on me, so I’m confused as to why you’re not in bed either.”

Bernstein and Reynolds shared a glance.

“I’m also confused about all this I’m hearing about harvesting vibranium,” you said, not saying anything for a heartbeat to give them room to defend themselves. “I didn’t think that was what we were doing here. I also thought that as a team we were supposed to be, I don’t know, working together?”

“Look, L/N, you’ve got your own research, and so do we. We chose not to include you because you, for some reason, seemed very against delving deeper into this vibranium business,” Reynolds explained in a slow and calm voice as if he were speaking to a child. “This could be very lucrative for us and helpful for American forces.”

“You’re hiding shit from everyone,” you spat.

“No, I’m not,” Reynolds sneered. “Just from you.”

As if someone had pressed a button, all of a sudden Reynolds and Bernstein stood upright, their faces blank, eyes fogged over. You furrowed your brow and snapped in front of the former's face. A song began to echo the ship, as if someone was playing it on the loudspeakers, and you glanced around as if to see if someone else noticed it.

You glanced up to the top deck, where a man stood next to a large scope. He was walking very uniformly, his face blank as well, and you watched as he continued to walk and walk and walk until--

You screamed bloody murder. The man walked until he reached the railing, where he hopped over it and simply threw himself off the ledge and into the depths of the ocean below. Breathing heavily, you whipped yourself around and watched as Reynolds, mesmerized by the song, began to walk towards the railing, Bernstein at his heels.

“No!” you cried, grabbing ahold of Reynolds’s arm to hold him back; he thrashed himself out of your grasp and climbed over the railing. You grappled at the back of his shirt, trying to tug him back, but he too, like a rag doll, plummeted into the crashing waves below. Bernstein was looming closer to the railing, and you wrapped your arms around his torso to hold him back.

You kept seeing men out of the corner of your eyes walk over the edge and throw themselves into the sea. You hadn’t realized it, but tears were pricking out of the corners of your eyes as you mustered up all your strength to try and hold Bernstein back from the edge.

“Snap-- out-- of-- it!” you cried, and brought one of your hands to slap him clean across the face. To no avail. Balling up a fist, you let go of him and stood between him and the railing; you wound up your arm and socked him clean across the face, to which he toppled onto his back. Blood was now seeping from his nose, but at least he wasn’t walking to his death.

You squinted out into the sea, to try and figure out the source of the sound, but all you saw was the water and the midnight blue horizon. A groan from behind you alerted your attention; you dropped to your knees, shaking Bernstein awake.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” you cried. He wiped his nose, the blood staining the sleeve of his white shirt.

“You fuckin’ punched me!” Bernstein muffled, sitting upright and punching you straight across the face, hard enough for you to topple back onto the deck. He got to his feet, and as if nothing had happened, his face became blank again. You groaned, sitting upright and clutching your bleeding nose as he walked towards the railing again.

“No, no-- stop!” you called out, getting to your feet, but it was too late; Bernstein climbed over the railing and fell face first into the ocean. You saw the tail of a dolphin in the distance as his body disappeared, and you squeezed your eyes shut, covering your face with your hands, blood from your nose seeping through your fingers. “Jesus christ, what the fuck? What the actual fuck? What the fuck is happening?”

SPLASH! You drew your hands away from your face, and to your horror, saw the fins of sharks circling around the boat, the occasional tale of a dolphin, or the splashes of other marine life you couldn’t identify from so far away. The beating of your heart was so fast that at this rate you were sure you could die of a heart attack. Unable to take your eyes away from the sea of troubles below you, you were terrified to see the body of a whale rise close enough to the surface for you to see, and what shocked you the most was the outline of a person riding on its back. Your jaw dropped.

Without a second thought, you sprinted towards the hatch that led to the inside of the ship. You ran at top speed across the creaky wooden floor until you reached your room, grabbing your bag that held your journal, your phone, your laptop, and your camera. A knock at your door made you jump and almost yelp.

“It’s just me,” it was Doctor Mishra, his hair disheveled and his eyes wild. He had on a large pair of earmuffs. “Are you okay? Your nose is bleeding!”

“No!” you practically screeched. “I just fucking watched the entire crew kill themselves!”

“Everyone?”

“Well, I don’t know about everyone,” you stammered, shoving anything and everything important to you into your bag. You grabbed the printed map of the gulf, with annotations and drawings and other kinds of markings, and rolled it quickly before shoving it into your bag. Picking up your taser, you blinked at it before shoving it into your bag, too. “Bernstein and Reynolds are gone, same with the rest of the crew on the deck, and the man from the mast, and the--”

“Slow down,” Mishra said to you, squatting down next to you and handing you his handkerchief for your nose. “There’s almost no signal, and the only ways we can send out an S.O.S. are either from the red flare device on the mast, or by the radio in the control room.”

“Okay,” you breathed, putting the straps of your bag over your shoulders and tightening it so it wouldn’t fall off, wiping your nose despite it continuing to bleed. “But... what if we get all weird too and try and walk off?”

“Here,” Mishra fumbled with something in his pocket: wired earbuds. “Plug them into your phone and blast some music. Should do the trick. My earmuffs worked pretty well.”

You grabbed the earbuds from him, untangling them before plugging them into your ears. Grabbing your phone, you shuffled a playlist and turned up the volume. Mishra beckoned you to follow him out the door, to which you complied, Tyler, the Creator’s “ARE WE STILL FRIENDS?” blaring from the earbuds. Not the time, you thought, but you couldn’t afford to stand there a pick a good song for the occasion.

“I’ll head up to the mast,” you offered. “The control room is safer for you since it’s pretty contained.”

“Are you sure?” he asked. “The mast is insanely high, you could get hurt.”

You clenched your jaw. “It’s fine. I’ll send out the flares. Good luck, okay?”

“Take care of yourself,” Mishra told you firmly. “Meet back on the deck in ten minutes or so.”

You nodded and turned, sprinting back up onto the deck and opening the hatch. There were people on the deck, with beautiful feathered headdresses and jaded armor. You stared at them for a moment, but before they could see you, you ran behind one of the poles, trying to focus on getting up to the mast. The ladder was on the other side of the deck, leading you to inch your way around the center portion until you could find the ladder with your eyes.

There were tons of the soldiers across the deck, running around, whispering to one another. They all held massive, sharp spears, the jade and gold glinting under the pale moonlight. It reminded you of Namor, you thought, until you realized it was possible they were his people. As much as you trusted him, you didn’t trust the spears; you weren’t about to risk your life, and even Doctor Mishra’s life, just to reunite with the man from the sea.

You bolted towards the ladder, grabbing the bars and climbing up it with no hesitation. Someone from below shouted something. You didn’t look down, moving at a speed you were sure you had never moved at before, until you reached the top level where the light machine and the red flare device were located. You practically threw yourself onto the bright red button, pressing it over and over again so tens of red flares shot up into the night sky.

Your earbuds were playing Childish Gambino, now, and despite it being one of your favorite songs of all time, you couldn’t find it in you to enjoy it. You kept pressing the button, red flare after red flare firing into the sky. People were shouting from below you, in a language you couldn’t decipher, especially with “Me and Your Mama” blasting into your ears.

You took a brief moment to glance at the deck, peering over the railing. Someone was climbing up the mast, the gold of their armor glinting under the light of the mast. You panicked, unzipped your bag and grabbed your taser. You ran to the other side of the table-like desk in the center of the platform and crouched behind it.

Feet adorned in golden-plated sandals planted onto the platform. You swallowed your breath, holding out your taser for when they rounded the desk. You cursed your earbuds; you were sure they could hear the Childish Gambino blasting from them. When they rounded the corner, you shot up and stuck out the taster onto their stomach, to which they convulsed and stumbled backwards. You pressed the red button a handful more times, but before you could act again, you felt a hand grab you by the neck and heard the cling of a blade being unsheathed.

“Suelta a arma (Drop your weapon),” the person holding you said firmly, to which you shakily dropped your taster. It clattered onto the wooden platform. The soldier let you go, your back towards the ladder, and with the shear pointed right at you, commanded, “Péeksik (Move).”

You couldn’t understand them, but you had enough context clues to understand what the soldier wanted. You caught a long enough glimpse at them to see a strange mask over their mouth and nose, water splashing around inside of it. You wanted to look for longer, but they nudged you with the butt of their spear, so without protest, you climbed down the ladder.

By the time you reached the floor of the deck, you barely had a moment of freedom before the soldier grabbed you again, holding you by the shoulders with their spear at your neck. They spoke to another soldier, the blade of the spear dangerously close to your skin.

One of the soldiers wore a tall, orange-feathered headdress, with the same feathers donned around the necklace she wore that looked like it was made out of something woven. The soldier holding you shoved you forward, hard enough that you stumbled over your feet and almost fell flat on your face. As soon as you were released, the other soldiers circled you, spears pointed.

“Vacíe u póoj (Empty your bag),” she commanded. You blinked, not understand. At your silence, one of the soldiers poked your bag with their spear, nudging it off. You reluctantly shook it off of your shoulders, letting it fall onto the deck. “Je'e le! (Open it!)”

Another soldier poked it with your spear before another nudged you forwards. Lowering to your knees, you grabbed the back and opened the zipper pocket so the contents of your bag was visible. One of the soldiers snatched it from you, turning it upside down and shaking it so everything fell out; your map tumbled to the ground, along with your computer, camera, and journal. Cringing at the sound of your computer and camera dropping onto the deck, you made a move to stand, but the feeling of a spear pressed against the back of your neck kept you down.

The woman in the headdress, who you assumed was in charge, bent down and picked up the map, unrolling it. She ran her finger where you had outlined the hypoxic zone in red pen, the notes near the southern border of the United States, as well as the circle around your sister’s town in Yucatán.

“Talokan ma' u dibujado (Talokan is not drawn),” she said. In broken English, she read the notes and pronounced. “Hi-gh con-cen-tra-ti-on.”

You gulped, watching them interact with one another. The one behind you holding the spear to your neck said, “Ba'ax le kíins wa ma'? (Do we kill her, or not?)”

“Le ajawo' tu ya'alaj ma' u testigos (The king said no witnesses),” another soldier proclaimed. “Kíisa (Kill her).”

“Pa'atik! (Wait!)” one exclaimed, leaning down and grabbing your wrist. “Ilawil u x-oron (Look at her wrist).”

“Lelo' u Talokan (That is from Talokan),” another said, to which gasps and murmurs spun around the circle of soldiers. You squeezed your eyes shut for a moment; the word Talokan was circling your brain. Namor. These were his people. Where was he? Why were they on your ship, killing your team? About to kill you?

“K'aaba' ti' le ajawo' (Call the king),” the woman said, to which one of the soldiers held up a large conch shell. After a beat of silence, the soldier brought it up to their lips and blew through it, a loud clarion call resounding through the air. After the call ended, the woman announced to the soldiers, “Leti' jach le ts'ook viva (She is the last alive).”

“Le ajawo' yéetel complacido (The king will be pleased),” a soldier said.

“Y/N!” came someone's voice from above. Your heart lurched when you saw Doctor Mishra from atop one of the platforms where the radio room was. You internally cursed him for revealing his presence to the soldiers. The soldiers shouted something, and one moved to go after Mishra, but before he could, a figure shot through the air towards where the doctor was.

The figure landed on the platform next to Mishra, who, before he could run away, was struck in the head with the butt of a spear; Mishra fell to the floor, alive, but unconscious. The figure flew up into the air, circled the mast, before soaring towards where you and the soldiers were, landing with a hand on the deck.

The soldiers knelt, joining their hands at the wrists and opening their palms to him. The figure moved, the wings at his angles fluttering as he stood up. Your breath caught in your throat when he set eyes on you, breaking through the circle of soldiers to stand before your kneeling figure.

“You,” was all you could breathe when Namor stared down at you, his spear gripped in his hand. His hair was slicked back with the water of the ocean, his eyes narrowed in one of the deadliest glares you had ever witnessed. A chill went up your spine.

“I gave you that because I trusted you,” Namor poked the bracelet on your wrist with the tip of his spear. Your hands were shaking now, tears pearling at the corners of your eyes. “And here you are... harvesting vibranium. Just as you promised me you would not do.”

“I... you didn’t read my letter?” you stammered out. He was scaring you. There were drops of saltwater on his eyelashes, those ebony eyes of his making you simultaneously melt with adoration and freeze with fear. “I thought... they... they lied to me, they said we were just finding the concentration, I didn’t know they were harvesting it here--”

“You lied to me,” Namor said slowly with composure. His jaw clenched. Something in his eyes changed. “You tricked me.”

“I didn’t,” you were crying now. “I didn’t. I promise, K’uk’ulkan--”

“You do not deserve to call me that,” he gave a dry scoff. He gulped. He wasn’t just angry, you saw; he was upset. Devastated. “You are now an enemy.”

“Look at the map!” you urged him, scrambling to find it. “Look at my notes! I didn’t-- it’s not even near Yucatán, it’s-- it’s just where the concentration was higher, I swear--”

“High Concentration,” the woman from before said, handing the map to Namor. He took it, unrolling it and eyeing the area you had outlined.

“What is this?” Namor asked you, not meeting your eyes. You sniffed, swallowing the frog in your throat.

“It’s-- it’s just where I found the high concentration of vibranium in the first place. I thought we were just supposed to go back to that area, in the northern Gulf, to test the concentration, and that’s what I thought we were researching! That’s what my-- that’s my project. My work.”

“Your project,” Namor repeated.

“Remember?” you practically begged. “Remember how I spent all that time working and you stopped me from getting data? That’s what I was researching! That’s what I’m doing here! I didn’t know that fucking Bernstein and Reynolds were trying to harvest vibranium! I had no idea!”

“How am I supposed to believe you?”

You could barely catch your breath. “I-- I don’t know. My map, my computer, my journal, my goddamn phone, everything’s in there. Take it all, I don’t care. Read everything I’ve ever written, you’ll see!”

Namor bent down and picked up your journal, flipping open to the first page and starting to read. Your knees were starting to hurt from how long you’ve been sitting on them. The silence was deafening, watching him flip through the journal. He read every single word, and you tried to calm your breathing as you watched his face change as he continued to flip.

When he reached the last page, he closed the journal and held it by his side. His glare was gone; he was frowning now, refusing to look at your face. Glancing up at the soldiers, he lifted a hand, to which they lowered their spears away from you and backed up. Namor extended a hand to you as if to help you to your feet. You eyed it hesitantly, but seeing the grimace on his face, you took it and stood.

He didn’t say anything. It was like he couldn’t. He avoided your eyes, and without a word, he turned around towards the railing, resting his forearms on it with a sigh. You were still shaking, but as your fear subsided, you felt the anger bubbling up in your stomach. A drop of blood fell from your nose, touching your top lip.

“You killed everyone,” you muttered, wiping the blood off of your lip. He turned his head and said nothing. “Your people almost killed me.”

“I will do anything for my people,” he told you carefully. His voice was wavering. “If they are threatened, I do not care what it takes. I will protect them.”

You weren’t sure what to say. You walked up beside him, resting your arms on the railing, too. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see his chest rising and falling with a quick cadence, and despite not being able to hear his fast breathing, you could see he was becoming flustered.

“I pray you can find it in you to understand my motives,” he continued. You, again, said nothing. You could barely form words, your mouth dry. There was something warm on the back of your neck; you brought your hand up to touch it, only to find fresh blood on the pads of your fingers. The spears had cut you. Namor glanced over at your bloodied hand, brows twitching. He reached towards you, “Allow me to--”

You flinched back. You couldn’t look at him. He dropped his hands and bowed his head, staring at the waters below. They were calm, now, the sharks and dolphins no longer splashing about. That whale you had seen had gone, too. You willed your rapid beating heart to cease, wishing your chest would stop twisting and turning.

“I get it,” you murmured, using the collar of your shirt to wipe the last bit of blood from your nose. Namor’s head twitched up, eyes on you in less than a second. “Gotta protect your people, just like you were when you wouldn’t let me take those samples. But this... this is... what I saw...”

“If I had known you weren’t apart of it, I would never have let--”

“I wish you had trusted me,” you sniffled, finally looking at him. His ebony eyes were wider than you had ever seen them, brown brows tilted upwards in a form of desperation you would have never picture them having. He was beautiful. “My letter, I thought... I thought I explained it.”

“You did,” Now that Namor had caught your eyes, he didn’t dare look away in fear of losing them again. “You did, I... jumped to conclusions.”

“You jumped to conclusions,” you repeated, breaking the eye contact. You clenched your jaw. “So you killed my entire team.”

Namor’s mouth opened and closed like a fish for a second, unable to find proper words. “You have to understand where I’m coming from, here. These ships harvesting our vibranium-- Talokan’s vibranium-- would put us at risk. It could lead to the end of my people.”

“I know,” you sighed, closing your eyes and putting your head on your hands where they rested against the railing. The ocean’s breeze struck at your forehead, cooling your skin and blowing your hair off your face. Namor didn’t say anything, but you could feel him looming closer. You hid your face from him.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice so soft you almost didn’t hear him over the breeze. “Please look at me.”

After a prolonged second, you lifted your head from your arms, the breeze chilling the tears that had rolled down your cheeks. You couldn’t meet his eyes. You couldn’t bear it.

“Take me home,” you said quietly. He blinked. “Please.”

“To... to Yucatán?” he inquired, a layer of hope underneath his words.

“No,” something was twisting in your chest. “To Miami.”

“...right now?”

“Yes.”

Namor didn’t move, just staring at you with those puppy dog eyes that made you want to wrap your arms around him and pull him into you.

“Are you sure?” he asked. “Please, Y/N, we have to--”

“Yes, I am sure,” you said pointedly, despite the wobbling of your voice. “It’s not like there’s anything for me to do here, anyways. Everyone’s dead.”

Namor raised an arm, and the female Talokanil soldier from earlier came to his side. He muttered something to her in his native language; you hadn’t bothered to listen, for one because you didn’t speak a word, but for two because for some reason, hearing his voice was making it difficult to hold your ground.

“Come,” he said to you, holding his hand out. You glanced over at him; he began to rise from the ground, wings on his ankles keeping him suspended in the air. You glanced at his hand. “Do you trust me?”

You felt your lower lip tremble.

“I don’t know,” you said, grabbing his hand anyways. He frowned, his eyes more glassy than ever. You wondered if he would cry. He pulled you up, gently wrapping an arm around your waist and holding you tight on his side, his other arm holding his spear.

In a flash, you were soaring towards the horizon, the cold, salty air whipping you in the face as he flew. His skin was cold against yours, and despite your anger, you pushed yourself against him, wondering when the next time you’d feel him would be.

The gold of his jewelry pressed against your skin, and you stared at the way in glinted under the pale moonlight. You stared at him, the jade in his septum, the point of his ears, the bronze of his skin. There were tears prickling at the corners of his eyes, prevented from rolling down his face and simply flying away from the force of the wind.

You hadn’t realized how quickly you were flying. The shore was near, you could see the lights of the city as you approached it. You slowed, your hair relaxing from the absence of the harsh wind. Scrunching your nose to get some feeling back in it, your feet skimmed the top layer of the ocean as he brought you to the sand and let you go.

You dusted your self off, fixing your head and allowing yourself to adjust to being back on the ground. You had gotten dizzy from the flight, but came to it in less than a minute. You glanced at where his hand still held his spear. When he saw you look at it, he lowered it without hesitation. You finally laid eyes on Namor. The tears from earlier had fallen onto his cheek.

“Do you fear me?” he asked.

“I fear what you’re capable of,” you muttered. “Because I don’t think you’ll ever trust me.”

“I trust you,” he breathed. You frowned. “I trust you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I do,” he insisted, falling to his knees in front of you. His ebony hair was partially covering his eyes, but the wind suddenly pushed it back so you could see his face. Your eyes widened, gaze lowering to where he sat. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I trust you. Fully.”

You could barely believe the sight before you; Namor, on his knees. You were cruel, you thought. You were still crying.

“I just need some time,” you said, feeling your heart change at the sight of him. His eyes kept flickered around your face, to one eye, to your nose, to your lips, to the other eye, back to your lips. “Okay?”

“Time?” he repeated, nodding, knees digging into the sand, wings on his ankles fluttering a bit. “Yes, that’s-- as much time as you want.”

“Okay,” you sighed. Namor slowly rose to his feet, reminding you of the way he towered over you. He didn’t let his eyes leave yours, as if he were trying to tell you something tacitly. He looked at your lips.

He lifted his hands towards your face, and when you didn’t flinch away, he cupped both of your cheeks with his palms. You closed your eyes, heart thumping.

“Whenever you are ready,” he began, his thumb rubbing over your cheekbone. “I’ll be here. All right?”

“Mm-hm,” you said, letting yourself look at him. He nodded, biting the inside of his cheek.

“Good-bye,” he said. He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your hairline so tenderly you thought you might start sobbing right then and there. Before you could say anything more, he soared up into the air, flying away and disappearing into the midnight sky. You wiped at your cheeks, ridding the tears, and with a sigh, you turned around and made for your apartment.

---

taglist:

@childishnewt @criesinlies @fairydxll @cassiestars777 @mcximvffs @kaqua @xlucyintheskywithdiamondsx @eichenhouseproperty @aliyahsomerhalder @lovenewfandoms @justkay2 @only-his3 @deadlydahlias @nellycanwrite @vlamley @seraphimcollections @kingtwhiddleston @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @doimakeyounervous @blue-chup @myotakureprieve @lulu-83 @seraphimcollections @kingtwhiddleston @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @atabeyguabancex @doimakeyounervous @chaoticevilbakugo @theamericanjewitch @tian-monique @kentucky-criedfricken @takeyour-pants-off

a/n: please remember to update your privacy settings so i can tag you!! so many people asked to be on the taglist but then i can’t tag them for some reason... please make sure you update it! thanks everyone <3

#namor #namor fanfic #namor fanfiction #namor x reader #namor mcu #namor x you #namor fic #tenoch huerta #wakanda forever #k'uk'ulkan of talokan #vibranium #namor of talokan #k'uk'ulkan x reader #k'uk'ulkan #mcu #Black Panther 2 #con la brisa #angst #tenoch

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my-mt-heart · 2 months

Text

Thoughts on The Book of Carol Teaser and Sneak Peek.

Melissa McBride is the highlight of this show. Period. Her performances in both the new teaser and sneak peek establish a clear drive for Carol, which is to find the man who means the world to her. Though I assume the separation will span most of the season, I think Carol's arc will attempt to keep the special bond between her and Daryl alive through conversations with other characters and gimmicks like the crossbow and the bike. I'm all for that. However...

I'm worried lazy writing choices are going to drag her down. For example, I loved the vulnerability in Carol's V.O. where she says "Daryl's the only family I have left," but that line is weird. I believe Daryl is the most important person in her life. I believe he means everything to Carol. I believe she feels very lonely without him. Why not phrase it that way? Why say that Daryl is her "only " family? What happened to everyone at the CW? To Lydia? These are rhetorical questions because I know Zabel can't be bothered to do his homework and yet I'm still floored every time he shows a deep misunderstanding of these characters.

Melissa and Carol aside, the promo and sneak peak are confirming my biggest fear that the story is going to be totally lopsided, like Melissa is doing everything to honor Caryl, which goes hand in hand with honoring Carol's individual arc, but no one else is meeting her halfway. If this is "The Book of Carol," if we're supposed to be excited about a Caryl show, then why is the very first image one of Daryl and a character who isn't Carol? Why is there such a big focus on that family unit (Daryl, Isabelle, and Laurent) and not Caryl? Why does the sneak peek start with an entire Daryl sequence before jumping to Carol? The positioning is all wrong.

It makes me feel really sad for Carol because she's so broken up by the thought of losing Daryl, but there's no indication of how he's feeling about her unless we reexamine his microexpressions in a scene about pigeons. There's delivering angst and then there's being reckless with the characters, causing them and their fans pain without any concern for relieving it. It's so devastating to me that such beautifully-developed characters, characters I relied on for comfort for many years had to fall into the worst hands possible.

I said I needed to wait until the promo circuit kicked off before I could get a sense of what we're in for and now I think it's pretty clear that Daryl's arc will continue to relentlessly shipbait and minimize Carol's importance and that's not what I signed up for. Settling for Caryl crumbs in what's supposed to be a Caryl show is not what I signed up for. Gaslighting and abuse from the misogynists and ageists at AMC and in TWDU are not what I signed up for. I love Carol and I want to support Melissa after the shitstorm she's been through, but I can't turn off my emotional investment in Daryl while I do that. As I've said before, his story resonates with me on a deeply personal level as much as Carol's does. I didn't have any male role models growing up. Daryl was it. And since I can't focus my excitement on one half of my favorite pairing while shutting out my dread for the other, how do I watch this show? How do I invest my time and money in a story EPs and AMC have repeatedly shown me I'm not welcome to? Those aren't rhetorical. I'm really at a loss.

AMC, you couldn't even let us hold onto the "To Find Home is to Find Each Other" tagline? Really, nothing?

#caryl #carol peletier #melissa mcbride #daryl dixon #norman reedus #the book of carol #twd caryl

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thekatebridgerton · 1 month

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For the reverse tropes ask: reverse fake dating for Philoise

Okay so I made it a Reverse fake dating S3 Philoise au

Anthony sighed looking over at his family as he reviewed the guests for their next dinner " Baron Honeywell, Lady Astley, Madame Olsen, oh and for tonight's dinner the man who Eloise paid off to pretend to court her, will also be showing up so I want you all to be perfectly polite"

" I've said it before he's actually courting me !" Eloise snapped

"Of course he is" Daphne patted her shoulder

" We're just wondering how much you paid him to promenade with you" Hyacinth added " Sir Phillip doesn't look like he's strapped for money "

"I didn't pay him off! He asked me to promenade, it was his idea to dance with me at the Cowper ball" Eloise huffed

" We believe you sister, he also brought you flowers voluntarily" Benedict hummed "And whatever blackmail you have over him will never leave this room "

" Fine, Eloise didn't pay him off, I make a correction " Anthony rolled his eyes, but before his sister could thank him for defending her he continued "the man Eloise blackmailed into faking a courtship" The rest of the family made various humms of understanding

Eloise eye twitched, looking dangerously like she was about to punch someone " is it really so hard to believe that we actually like each other?"

Her siblings looked at each other and shrugged "Yes"

" You have to admit El, Sir Phillip is so normal and you are so.... You" Colin said gesturing to all of her being

"Hey what's that supposed to mean?!!"

"We don't mean to offend sister, it's just that you do tend swear off marriage in front of every man you meet" Francesca tried to explain gently " And Sir Phillip has two young children, that's not exactly a spring bachelor"

" He also likes gardening, medicinal tea brewing and estate management" Kate piped up ticking off her fingers " And you... The last time you picked up a flower arrangement pamphlet you used it as a cover to attend a political rally "

" He's a good boxer, and a good marksman but dislikes practicing both" Simon pointed out, seemingly being the only one who had actually spent time with Sir Phillip "You on the other hand almost got yourself shot chasing leads of lady Whistledown"

" You're fresh off a scandal, he's fresh off a failed marriage, admit it Eloise, there's no way you're actually courting" Colin pointed out cynically

" But we are! And I see that we don't have a lot in common but I do like him, I like him a whole lot, and I like his children" Eloise protested " why won't you believe me? he's been trying really hard to win you all over because he also likes me"

"Of course he does and just in time to make people forget about the political rally business" Violet Bridgerton announced entering the drawing room giving Eloise a wink " Sir Phillip has been the picture of the perfectly devoted suitor, whatever threat you have him under, it's certainly working" she said giving Eloise a proud pat in her shoulder

Eloise sighed, how could she convince her family that her relationship with Sir Phillip was real without revealing that they've been bonding over the loss of their loved ones and a secret love of banned books, in fact most of the things Eloise talked with Sir Phillip would either land her in scandal sheets again or in jail. But he was an avid listener and answered all her questions, no matter how impertinent or illegal. She was teaching Sir Phillip the finer points of social interaction because he seemed to be worse off than her when it came to facing crowds, while he taught her about the things he'd learned in University, Eloise didn't think they were that badly suited and welcome his courtship openly.

The problem lay in the fact that nobody believed they were actually courting! By this rate Phillip would propose and everyone would still think it was a ruse. God help her

An: I had so much fun writing this one

#bridgerton #s3 au #philoise #sir phillip crane #eloise bridgerton #sir Phillip x Eloise

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cleromancy · 7 months

Text

while from the doylist perspective the stories are specifically propping tim up compared to jason by doing this... i am obviously still very interested in, and compelled by, jason canonically having a pretty high opinion of tim going all the way back to their first meeting.

(for the record, absolutely nothing in-universe justifies jason having this opinion of tim up until tim springs him from prison imo. he beat the snot out of tim in tt29 and it wasn't even hard and yet for some fucking reason he still walks away thinking tim is a Better Robin than he was? like... ok. sure. more thoughts on this later in the post tho)

so the new earth (post-crisis pre-reboot) continuity tim-jason interactions we have, in order, are batman 617-618 (from batman: hush, this ones a retcon and barely counts, its just jason holding tim hostage with a batarang to his throat; and you might also get a glimpse of jay doing this in batman annual 25 lol but its in the other room so im not checking), tt29 (published in the middle of uth coming out, lol), tt47 (countdown tie-in), robin 177 and 182-183 (post-countdown, immediately after jason dumps his red robin costume and one of tims rogues fishes it out of the dumpster to wear, correctly intuiting *for some reason* that this will get to tim), and......... sigh. stupid battle for the stupid cowl.

(and, since were talking about jasons perspective, theres also the picture wall in lost days. i dont know what issue it is because to me lost days is not "made up" of "issues", it is one book i simply open to devour whole whilst weeping.)

i think tt 29 is the interaction i find the most frustrating because... we have an idea what tt29 would have been like if it were good. bc we have ga01 69-72. and granted Tim is such a cocky little shit (affectionate) that jason simply. Would probably not have been able to scare him no matter what, lol... but imagine if this fucking issue had been good.

ok cutting 4 length

the problem with johns. .......the FIRST problem with johns. is that he regularly has interesting ideas and his execution of them completely falls flat. the second problem with johns is that he can't write dialogue. the third problem with johns is that it was really really important to him that you understood what a Talented And Special Boy tim is but instead of showing you that he just forced other characters to. tell you. over and over. jason is not johns' only victim in this quest. (and johns was also not the only perpetrator, as we will see when i get to fuckin fabnic.)

but like i said i *am* actually interested in the potential here, because i do think there is potential.

and i also think that--at least when you read into it as deeply as i do--jason is sympathetic in this issue. (don't give me "hes beating up a child" crap here btw. jason's only 2-3 years older, tims a peer to him, they could easily have gone to high school together if jason hadnt fuckin died.) johns deliberately shows us Jason hoping raven gets a reprieve from the nightmares, and he certainly was *trying* to show us how much it would fucking suck to be remembered as the Bad Robin, forgotten except to be a cautionary tale, what kind of things that would do to a person emotionally. AND he makes a point of highlighting Jason's loneliness and isolation as robin, and. tbh i dont think the issue itself rly blames Jason for that. (you most certainly do not gotta hand it to him though. under no circumstances do you gotta hand it to johns for anything.)

and while jason tearing off his clothes to reveal his party city knockoff robin costume--the better to beat you with, my dear--was, erm. falling mostly on the wrong side of the line btwn camp and cringe... i do think jason writing his own name in blood on the wall was right on the money, *especially* because it was obviously not tims blood. like, tim wasnt bleeding anywhere near enough for that. it was either fake blood or jason prepped his own beforehand for them to DNA test--but also if they saw it before they saw tim, to make them fear for tims life, as a reminder of the risks theyre dealing with here.

oh but i was planning on talking specifically about like. what Jason might actually have seen in tim that left him with a positive impression. as-written? kinda nothing. lmao. or well the one thing imo is this

just kidding i couldn't find the panelz somehow despite posting them literally like yesterday and i ran into this lol:

>:| got distracted again. by this.

anyway i give up ill add the pics later. but its the exchange where jason has *decisively* won the fight, tims crumpled on the floor concussed and winded, and jason demands if tim *really* thinks he was good enough to tail bruce unnoticed for weeks.

and tim says "yes." hes beat up enough he can barely talk but there's still no hesitation whatsoever. and jason is *really* down on himself in this issue--he calls himself a failure, he feels like no one cared about his death, he feels unremembered. and jasons stated intentions here were to get the measure of tim but i also stand by the interpretation that he wanted to warn tim off of the sidekick gig, to remind him you uh. you have to be dick fucking grayson to survive it. (i dont believe either of them mentions him by name, but hey, dicks shadow is big enough for the both of them.)

i think what jason finds worthy of respect here--and, on top of that, intriguing enough that in robin 177 he entreats tim to join him--is the confidence, and also? at absolutely no point does tim believe jason is there to kill him. not a fuckin high bar, i know, but like i said i do think jason had *planned* to try and scare tim off (just also mega derailed himself by accident bc he got too in his feelings about the statue room 🥺), and... its not a bar he would have expected Tim to clear, is all im saying. particularly because while it is *possible* this took place in the middle of uth (tt 29 was released in november 05, between batman 646 and 647, which is the part where slade shows up bc black mask hired him to take jason out, so tt29 couldnt have happened in the middle of those two specific issues, but there are several other points at which jason could have taken a break in menacing gotham to fly to san Francisco), with Jason talking so negatively about himself i have to assume this is after the end of uth.

(you might be able to place this in the in-universe chronology by if/when teen titans mentions chemo dropping on bludhaven, which happens immediately before the bruce-jason-joker final showdown. however i dont feel like poking around for that or any other details to anchor tt29 to the other events happening at the time rn.)

i just also think so much of what jasons doing in this issue is like--he doesn't know *what* hes there to do. he had a plan and hes kinda fumbling it, not because tim is being especially resourceful but because jasons still licking his emotional wounds from uth, and titans tower is bringing up ones i dont think he ever realized hadnt healed. hes feeling everything at once. hes angry and hurt and full of self loathing but i think by the time tim simply says "yes," jason hits the stage of just being... burnt out. done lashing out, fucking tired, just wants to go home, if he can ever find it.

but i do think that "yes" would stick in his craw for a long time afterwards.

tt47: tim kicks jason in the nuts and pretty much declares them even for tt29 lolol. you may have seen my post about how jason only *sometimes* wears armor in countdown--hes drawn in the armored turtleneck and tac pants in tt47, but there are times in countdown hes out there fighting aliens and metas and shit in his jacket, a *t-shirt,* and *jeans.* just a squishy regular degular baseline human doing this and no one ever brings it up. but anyway. do i think tim would have seen jason wearing the equivalent of civvies plus a domino mask, narrow in on that, and immediately decide to kick him in the balls? i sure do. do i also think that this would make him rise in jasons estimation?

yeah. yeah, i really do. lol

anyway after this! after this is jasons briefish world-hopping stint as red robin saving the universe being a big damn hero and getting paid dust by everyone around him, in countdown; i think i mentioned before in this post that at the end he abandons the red robin suit in a dumpster, where it gets picked up by one of tims rogues. this storyline sucks and fabnic is a hack unfortunately. the rogue did it bc he wants tims attention or whatever. not important except for how irritating it is that fabnic fumbled a concept this juicy (tim inheriting and eventually purposely adopting The Bad Robin Mantle) which is also further fumbled by stupid battle for the stupid cowl, and the people who it falls to to salvage it are. johns again, in adventure comics 3, and yost, who is a better writer than johns or fabnic but not by like a huge margin.

and while i do think tim having a bad opinion of jason at this point was inevitable i find it so frustrating the way it was executed... like so often with Bad Tim Writing and also fuckin DC Editorial's Jason Slander Agenda shit it wasn't because in-universe thats how the characters would feel, the writer was using tim as a mouthpiece, and jasons competence and things he cares about arent taken seriously... BUT WHATEVER the point is that when Tim goes to stop Jason from his villainous scheme to reduce crime or whatevr jason has such a high opinion of him that he asks tim to join him:

and jasons loneliness, his desperation to be heard, is such a theme for him in the new earth/post crisis era and i wish it had been. Handled better lol are you noticig a theme here its that Jason has been written badly. (tim too, tbh.) and when tim says no jasons dejected but unsurprised acceptance breaks my heart. but to me the most interesting part of jasons appearance at the end of tims robin series is in 182, when tim--for absolutely no good reason--gives jason the means to break out of prison.

he says something about how its what Bruce would have wanted, but for. reasons i wont get too deeply into rn, that absolutely does not hold water.

anyway i just think there's no way jason doesn't start crushing on tim at least a little at this point. shrug.

bftc sucks and i dont want to look at it rn. but its also got examples of jasons high opinion of tim. and also im mad at it bc both countdown AND his appearances in robin feel like they could have been taking jason to a like. more of an antihero type of role and then we get bftc and morrison and its kind of. fucking hard to get jason anywhere near back on track after that for those of us who still like playibg in the post-crisis pre-reboot sandbox. and i wouldnt be mad about that if bftc had been good bc Jason absolutely does make an incredibly interesting and effective and tragic antagonist when handled well but well. he wasnt. and i have no idea what bftc would.have even been like if it was good bc it was so off the wall and dumb and assassinated actually *everyones* characters. so.

anyway

im just going to roll back to robin 183 now

jasons referring to the damage tim got when he got a little bit exploded in 180, this pretty nasty burn on the back of his head, which was actually why he wore jasons RR cowl for the first time (he was still robin). but what you do see here--aside from Tims narration which puts him *firmly* on the side of obnoxiously arrogant and judgmental instead of charmingly cocky in this issue, to my estimation, thanks for nothing fabnic--is the two of them on firmly cordial terms. jason still thinks more highly than tim does of him, but theyre asking each other about their injuries... tim caring about the wellbeing of people he doesn't even like is par for the course with him, ofc, but once again Jason doesn't really get that a whole lot. constantly haunted by this panel from countdown btw:

does he though!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

here is another jaytim preboot canon interactions post from a few months ago with some more thoughts, some repeated lol.

anyway. incoherent rambling complete for now. however. jaytim time is all the time 👍 i will revisit this.

#dc #text #jaytim again? no problem #jaytim #meta #jaytim text

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happilykrispypirate · 2 years

Text

Impossible (Ch. 3)

Pairings: Mattheo Riddle x fem!Soulmate!Potter!reader

Warnings: Swearing, some angst and my shitty writing.

Summary: Mattheo and the reader are made for each other, literally. In a world where soulmates are connected through physical and emotional pain and a tattoo on the back of their left wrist, Mattheo and the reader must struggle to find a way to cope with the fact that their soulmate is on the opposing team.

Taglist:

@abaker74

"Morning everyone," I greeted as I walked into the living area of the common room.

"Morning, Y/n," Pansy smiled, "You going to Hogsmeade today? I was thinking we sneak you away and you and Mattheo could have a nice evening?"

I smiled, "I would love that, but I'm afraid that I'm not going to Hogsmeade this weekend," I said.

"What why?" I turned around and saw Mattheo, he must've just woken up because his hair was sticking out in every direction. I smiled at how cute it looked.

"I hate the cold, I'd rather just stay in bed and read a book or something," I said and this time it was Mattheo who smiled.

He pulled me into his arms and gave me a loving kiss, "That's why they're soulmates," I heard Pansy say.

"I'm guessing you're not going either," I said as I ran my hands through Mattheo's hair trying to flatten it.

"Nope, I've never been," He said.

"That means we're going to be alone for the whole day," I said and pecked him on the lips.

Mattheo smiled and he was about to say something when Lorenzo cut us off by throwing something at us.

I let go of Mattheo and looked down and picked up the condom packet.

"Why do you have one on you? You're going to Hogsmeade," I said as I turned to him.

"You never know who might be in the mood," Lorenzo said and shrugged.

Later that morning at breakfast I sat at the Gryffindor table next to Harry. They were all talking about what they were going to buy at Hogsmeade.

I gave Hermione a bit of money to buy me a few sweaters and sweets.

"I don't understand why you're not coming today," Harry said.

"I don't want to, I've told you this already," I said.

"You just want to spend time with your Slytherin friends," Harry said and I frowned. What the fuck? Why is he like this?

"Harry, they're all going to Hogsmeade today, I'm staying here because I hate the cold and I want to read a bit," I said, "What's your problem?"

"You're my problem," He said causing me frown even more.

"What did I do to you?" I asked.

"You're lying to me. I heard you talking with Hermione and Ginny about your soulmate. I thought you would tell me," He said and my heart sunk a little bit.

He's right, I should tell him. I glanced over at Mattheo, he wasn't too far from where Harry and I sat so he probably heard the conversation. He nodded his head, urging me to continue.

"You're right, I'm sorry Harry," I said placing my hand on his arm, "I was just scared to tell you."

"You should never be scared to tell me anything," He said giving me a comforting smile, "Who is he?"

I glanced back at Mattheo again and once more he nodded.

"Mattheo Riddle," I said and that's when Harry exploded.

"You have got to be fucking kidding me!" He yelled gaining the attention fo everyone in the Great Hall.

"Mr Potter, watch your language," McGonagall scolded from the table up front.

"You can't be serious," Harry said loudly again, "You're fucking him?" He pointed at Mattheo. McGonagall didn't interject his time, too shocked by what had just said.

"Nobody said anything about that," I said, "And he's my soulmate, so if I were you I'd watch out about how you talk about him."

"I can't believe you, Y/n," He said, "His father is trying to kill us, he also murdered our parents."

"I didn't have much of a choice, Harry. And if I did I would still choose him. He is nothing like his father and he makes me happy," I said.

"How could you do this to me?"

"Are you so fucking self centred? Do you care more about your fucking reputation than your own sister?" Mattheo interjected. Harry stood up and turned to Mattheo making me stand up along with Ron, Dean, Theo and Lorenzo.

"You stay the fuck out of this," Harry said, "This has nothing to do with you."

"It has everything to do with me," Mattheo said.

Harry ignore Mattheo and turned to me, "You're ungrateful, after everything that I've done to keep our reputation up and you do this?"

"I never asked you to do that," I said, "Harry, being the chosen one has clearly gone to your head. You forget that we're cursed and might actually die?"

"If we die it's going to be your fault, you're the one sleeping with the enemy," He said.

"Yeah well maybe you should try to kill me again like you did last time. Just make sure you go for the heart not the stomach, I heard it's more effective," I said before walking off.

#harry potter #mattheo riddle #mattheoxreader #mattheoriddle #mattheo #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle x fem reader #x reader #draco x reader #reader insert #x fem reader #draco malfoy x reader #lorenzo berkshire x reader #riddle #riddle x reader

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steventhusiast · 1 year

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snippet from a steddie as single dads fic i am writing! this part is heavily based on/inspired by the bluey episode cafe. Eddie’s daughter is called Arwen (duh) and Steve’s daughter is called Sam (short for Samantha). They’re both 6 years old and Steve and Eddie are in their late 20s.

“I’m Arwen. But all my friends call me Wenny so you should call me that! What’s your name?” The girl did a little twirl in her tutu as she spoke, and poked at the pile of wood chips Sam had collected.

“I’m Sam. Your name is so cool!” Sam went back to collecting wood chips after saying that, seeming unsatisfied with the small pile on the ledge.

“Daddy says it comes from a book he likes. What are you playing?”

“Cafe! Do you wanna work there with me?”

“Sure!”

“These can be the food. Cakes and pastries.”

Steve smiled at the ease at which Sam made friends. He missed that about being a child, especially since most of his earlier friendships at school fell through after the friends grew up to be total dickheads.

“Who’s gonna be our customer?” Arwen asked after a moment of the girls standing there, and they both looked equally stumped for an answer momentarily, until-

“Dad! Can you be our customer?” They both called out, smiling widely at the two men.

“Course, kiddo.” Steve said, and walked over to the small structure the girls pointed to as their table.

“Sure, Wenny.” The man smiled, closing his book and placing it down on the bench to join Steve.

They both sat awkwardly, legs bent right up to their chests from how low they were sitting, and waited for the two girls came over to them.

“Name’s Steve, by the way.” Steve said to fill the silence, and the other man smiled slightly at the slightly awkward tone of voice.

“Eddie.” The no-longer-mystery man responded. Steve opened his mouth to attempt to continue their slightly stilted conversation, curious about the patches sewn into Eddie’s denim vest, but was interrupted by Arwen and Sam running over to them.

“We work at a cafe, and you are our customers-” Sam started to explain, not seeming uncomfortable or scared of the new man at all.

“And you’re friends!” Arwen chimed in, and Steve and Eddie made eye contact for a second before shrugging.

“I’ll have one latte please.” Eddie requested with a smile, but Arwen frowned and leaned toward her dad.

“We only have cakes and pastries, so you have to order that.”

The man nodded seriously at her words, and pretended to think, flipping through an imaginary menu.

“Right, of course. I’ll get one chocolate cupcake then, please.” He looked at Steve after speaking, and leaned over slightly with a hand shielding his face to stage whisper to him, “You should get one too, they’re really good.”

“Ooh, okay. I’ll get a chocolate cupcake too.” Steve said, blinking harshly to shrug off the intensity of Eddie’s face being that close to his all of a sudden. The proximity had made him slightly nervous, but he couldn’t pinpoint why. Eddie was still basically a stranger, he supposed.

“That’ll be ten dollars.” Sam announced, and Steve reached into his pocket to find his imaginary money, only to be told, “Sorry, we don’t take air-coins here.”

“What?!” Steve gasped. He and Sam always used air-coins.

“It’s alright, man. I brought cash.” Eddie assured, and reached down to pick up a small pile of leaves to give to Sam.

“Your order will be out soon!”

And with that, the two girls ran off to go ‘make’ their food, and Steve and Eddie were left to sit there quietly.

“So-“ “We-“ Both men tried to talk at once after a few moments of silence, and then laughed as they spoke over each other.

“You go.” Steve offered.

“Was gonna ask if you folks were new to the neighbourhood. Me and Wen come here practically every morning and have never seen you.” Eddie said with a shrug, the question coming out like a statement.

“Yeah, had to move out of Loch Nora.” Steve admitted, and tapped his fingers on the table briefly.

“Loch Nora? Didn’t know I was dining with a king today!” Eddie gasped out the location name, bringing up a hand to his chest dramatically. Steve just rolled his eyes at the man.

“It’s hardly dining if the-“ He raised his voice to call toward the girls as they re-arranged their wood chip pile, “-staff don’t give us our order!”

#steddie #steddie drabble #steddie ficlet #steddie au #steve harrington #stranger things #eddie munson #st #mywriting #dad steve harrington #dad eddie munson #heavy bluey inspiration

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rand0mfangurlstuff · 1 month

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Sing Yourself to Sleep - Bucky x Y/N - Part Seven - Adore You

Something about this chapter was so so hard to write. I wanted them to have a beautful day together where they could be free to act like a real couple, because shit is going to hit the fan soon. Loosely inspired by Adore You by Harry Styles

'We're going to London Major, together.'

Bucky was certain someone had given him too much pain meds and he was hallucinating. Seeming to notice his confusion and shock she continued; 'I told Bertie I wanted to go to London to buy some new ingreedients for baking. Said that I could use some time away from the base. He wasnt sure about me going on my own but then I subtly reminded him that there were a few servicemen travelling to London this weekend and I'm sure they would be happy to escort me.' 'And I certaintly will.' he said, eyes beaming. It took all his self control not to kiss her right there.

Two days later they were boarding the train. It was just Y/N, Bucky and a young Lieutenant. Colonel Clarke had escorted them to the station. 'Now Egan, you are on leave for the weekend, but I trust that you will still do your gentlemanly duty and make sure my wife makes it to and from London safely.' the Colonel spoke while fetching Y/N's bags from the car. 'Of course sir, wouldn't want anything happening to my dancing partner.' he shot her a wink, which she tried to ignore. 'Yes, perhaps you might find a dance hall to attend some evening, if you don't have any other plans Egan?' Before Bucky could speak Y/N cut in 'Oh Bertie I'm sure the Major has other things he would rather be doing during his time off. Besides, I'll be tired after frequenting the wholesalers I told you about.' 'Well don't you go too crazy, only so much room in that kitchen.' he said with a laugh. He pulled out some money from his wallet, 'Here, get yourself something nice. You deserve it.' He kissed her on the cheek, which she resiprocated. 'Thank you Bertie.' The Colonel took one last look at his wife and said 'Enjoy your trip. I love you.' 'I love you too dear.' she said it, struggling to meet his eyes.

Bucky watched the interaction with a mixture of guilt and disgust. They never said I love you to eachother. He wasn't even sure if she felt that way about him. They quickly bundled into the train and Bucky felt a sigh of relief. Finally alone. The lieutenant, Connors, Bucky thinks, is quite a quiet fellow and shouldn't pose much of a disturbance. He guided Y/N into one of the carriages, they sat opposite eachother, Bucky leaning across the table. 'Finally, I have you all to myself.' He grinned, his foot sliding up her leg under the table. 'Easy tiger, we're not in London yet.' she giggled.

When they arrived in London, they made quick work of getting into their hotel and checking in. They had obviously been booked into seperate rooms, but luckily they were just across the hall from eachother. Y/N took some time to freshen up, but it wasn't long before Bucky was knocking at her door. As soon as she opened it she was attached with kisses from Bucky. He pushed her into the room, kissing her as he backed her towards the bed. In between passionate kisses he spoke; 'Thank..god... I can finally...kiss you...properly.' She kissed him back, giggling between kisses. He pushed her onto the bed. She laughed as her body hit the mattress. He climbed on top of her. 'I've thought about this endlessly.' He started kissing her neck, working his way to her chest. Before he could get to work on her clothes, she pushed him away. 'Bucky, we cant right now.'

Bucky was confused, if there was ever a moment he could undress her it was right now. She noticed his confusion. 'I have to go shopping remember? Stores will be closed tomorrow.' 'Shopping? You want to spend our weekend away shopping?' She brought me here to kill me, surely. 'Bucky I told Bertie the reason I was coming here was because I had to buy stuff for the kitchen. I can't arrive back to base empty handed...I'll go shopping, and then we can go for a nice dinner.' she said. Bucky liked the sound of that, a real date out in the open. 'Sounds good to me doll. I'll come shopping with you. Help you carry your bags. I don't want to waste a single moment of this weekend by not being with you.'

A few hours of blissfully walking through the streets of London and purchasing baking supplies went by in a flash. When they were on the way back to the hotel, Y/N saw a beautiful red dress in the window of a boutique. Albert did say to treat myself.. She knew it was wrong, using his money to buy a dress to impress another man, but nothing about what she was doing was right. So why stop now.

They parted ways for a few moments when they arrived back at the hotel, both wanting the opportunity to rest and freshen up. Bucky didnt have much freshening up to do, he just splashed some water on his face, fixed his hair and put on some more colonge. Y/N meanwhile fixed her hair, put on some more makeup and changed into her new dress. She felt beautiful. She felt like she was being taken out on a real date, like this was actually her real life and not some play pretend weekend. She felt guilty too, Albert always in the back of her mind. Her thoughts were shaken from her head when there was a knock on the door.

Bucky was speechless. She was always beautiful, the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. But in that dress, she was magnificent. 'Wow' was all he managed to say. Y/N's cheeks turned the same colour as her dress. 'You like it?' she asked. 'Like it? Wow doll... You're breath taking.' 'You're not so bad yourself Major.' she winked. He kissed her on the cheek, 'Oh you smell good.' she said to Bucky. He laughed 'Not for long doll, I'm probably starting to sweat. Looking at you in that dress is getting me hot under the collar.' She smacked his chest playfully as they walked down the hall.

He had found a quiet little restaurant for them to go to. They sat at a small table tucked away in the corner, just as he had asked. They drank wine, ate lovely food, listened to the band playing in the corner, and talked. That's one thing they didnt get to do often, was really talk. They talked about their childhoods, their lives back home, even simple things like favourite colours and movies. They talked and talked, almost forgetting about their food. When the restaurant was closing, the found a little pub with a band in full swing. Bucky took her out on the floor to dance, but soon after they were tucked away in a corner, his arm around her and her head on his shoulder as they talked about their hopes and dreams.

When the end of the night came, they went into her room. Standing in the middle of the hotel room, there wasnt much talking, they had said everything they needed to. He kissed her, slow and passionate, tasting every inch of her mouth. Her hands went from his chest to his tie, slowly undoing it. His arms roamed her body, appreciating every inch of her. He broke the kiss, looking down at her, she was beautiful in every way. 'Let me make love to you.' He whispered. He undid the buttons on her dress, letting it fall at her feet. She undid his shirt while he worked on her undergarments. Before long, he was just in his trousers and she was bare before him. He gently pushed her to lay back on the bed, for a moment he just looked at her. 'I adore you.' he said, so quiet she barely heard him.

He undid his trousers, released himself from his boxers and crawled on top of the bed. He kissed his way up her legs, his mustache tickling her skin. He reached the apex of her thighs, placing kisses on her hip bones. He placed his thumb between her folds, finding that bundle of nerves that would send her wild. She moaned out his name, making him even harder than he already was. It didn't take much for Bucky to have her shaking through her orgasm. When she settled from her high, he crawled up he body, kissing her the whole way until he got to her lips. 'You okay doll?' he asked while kissing her cheeks. 'Yes, I want you.' she said breathlessly. 'You have me, always.' And it was true, she would always have him, but he knew thats not what she meant. She grabed his hard member in her small hand, bucking her hips up to meet his tip. He moaned at the friction. 'I want you.' she said. With that he kissed her, a messy, breathless kiss of two people in the throws of passion. He positioned himself at her entrance, looking her in the eye as he thrust into her.

Their moans mingled together into a symphony of pleasure. He wanted to go slowly, savour every moment, but it was difficult when it felt so good and her walls were clenching around him. He was close, but trying to hold back untill she reached her climax. She was close too, enjoying the feeling of him inside her. 'Oh yes,...oh..oh John.' John. Hearing her moan his name, his real name, sent him over the edge. It was the most beautiful sound from the most beautiful woman. They met their climaxes together, and as they fell Bucky looked into her eyes 'I love you Y/N' he said. It was the first time he had ever said it. She looked at him, eyes wide, suprise written on her face. Then she smiled, 'I love you too John.'

#masters of the air #john bucky egan #callum turner #mota #masters of the air fan fiction #john egan #john egan x reader #masters of the air fanfic #adore you #harry styles

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hchollym · 1 year

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whats some ways you like percy being characterised?

like any specific hobbies or interests you feel he should have, how he acts when he’s alone vs when he’s around others, and little quirks or habits he has that he doesn’t even realise are habits

basically, what can someone who’s writing about Percy, do to make him seem more realistic and alive? (i think thats the word)

Well to start, there's actually a lot to go off in canon, if you're paying attention:

Percy is socially awkward around people. He doesn't pick up on social cues (particularly when people don't want to be around him).

He's outgoing. People tend to write him as quiet or shy, but we literally see the opposite of that in the books. He likes attention (which makes sense, given how little he gets at home), and he's constantly talking even when no one is listening.

He's willing to break rules when it suits him. It drives me crazy when people write Percy as obsessed with following every rule, because we know that he broke at least two rules in the books: 1. He made out with his girlfriend in abandoned classrooms, and 2. He betted on a Quidditch game. He's honestly more concerned about not getting caught than actually following the rules.

He is in tune with his emotions. There's literally no proof that he was emotionally constipated - this guy wrote love letters to his girlfriend all summer and kept a picture of her.

He is very private in his personal life (probably in part because of the twins), and it's clear that his behavior (in private and away from prying eyes) with people he's comfortable with (such as Penelope) is different than his behavior in public (i.e. he's more relaxed, is willing to break some rules, doesn't brag as much, etc.)

We know he enjoys watching (and possibly playing) Quidditch, likes to sing (at least in the shower), can't play chess well (so probably doesn't do it very often), likes Divination, and must at least somewhat like to write (since he focuses so much on love letters, reports, etc.). He was interested in Greek Mythology too, because he named his owl 'Hermes.'

We also know he likes animals (at least some of the tamer/gentler ones). He asked for an owl as his gift for becoming a prefect, and it's also telling that Percy was the one who essentially adopted Scabbers & took care of him for 9 years.

Plus, he had his own set of Gobstones, which was known as the "thinking wizard's Quidditch." It wasn't super popular, and most of the older students grew out of it, but it seems like Percy still enjoyed it, since he never handed his set down to a younger sibling.

Now, as for anything else? We can all make any headcanons we want, but here are some of mine:

Due to the fact that he likes Divination, I picture him being interested in astronomy and astrology as well.

Since he likes to sing, it's safe to assume that he likes some type of music, but what type that is could be anything, so it's fun to see what people interpret! I personally like the idea of Percy listening to angsty, emo music (because he's dramatic as hell in the books) but also to love songs (because he's a romantic at heart; see the post above about Divination), as well as classical music (because he finds it soothing and it helps him focus).

I think he loved learning languages/about cultures, and as a result, he also wanted to travel/go on vacations to experience these other places (if he had the money to do so).

I think he's clearly on the spectrum (hence his lack of awareness of social cues). This is why he seems to have no sense of humor (he does have one; it's just different from his siblings). It's also why he comes across as narcissistic because he talks about himself/his interests a lot. It's fairly common for autistic people to do this as their way of trying to relate to/connect with people. It's not actually egocentric (in fact, a lot of people on the spectrum have low self-esteem, which I think Percy does about certain things as well).

To continue that same idea, many people on the spectrum retreat to their own hobbies as a way to relax and calm down, so I think that's why Percy hides away in his room so often in the books. He needs some quiet time alone, and it's likely why he's much calmer/less talkative when he's in a low-stress environment with just 1 or 2 other people that he trusts (like Penelope).

Many autistic people also have a desire to fix things (in the world), which is what we see from Percy every time he talks about changes he'll make in the Ministry of Magic. Last point on this topic, but I think Percy notices that he's different, but he doesn't understand why, which leads to even more overthinking and self-doubt.

As a fun extra, I also headcanon that he likes fashionable clothes. He had to wear hand-me-downs his whole childhood, so when he finally started to make his own money, he bought nicer clothes (such as the fancy new dress robes he wore to the Yule Ball). Plus, you just know he wore suits to work, because he firmly believed that appearances matter & he took the saying to heart that 'you should dress for the job you want; not the job you have.'

There's so much you can do with this character, within canon and in addition to it. Keep in mind though that you can always just make up whatever hobbies or interests you want for him too, because that's the beauty of fanfiction and AUs! 🥰

Thanks for the ask! 😊

#This got long #Oops #Ask me #anon ask #percy weasley #percy weasley defense squad #Hp #Canon Percy #AU #my thoughts #my headcanons #my opinion #neurodivergent percy weasley

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dirtbag-linecook-kyloren · 8 months

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HANDS OFF OUTTAKE

this was originally going to be something to serve as a sequel, but now that I'm writing a sequel, it doesn't really fit in with where I'm going, so it just exists in a liminal space and i like it so I also don't want to waste it

Thus far, wedding planning continues to be the worst thing to ever happen to Hux. Every day he wakes up, curls into Ben’s arms, and then goes to work with a sense of dread about choosing napkins and booking their photographer. He’ll come to the restaurant after work and hole up in the booth he used to roll silverware, flip through his planner and let Ben shove some strange new menu item at him. Opinions about DJs and guest lists will be exchanged, and if Hux gets particularly lost in his machinations, he’ll end up at the restaurant until almost closing time.

Desperate for a break from thinking about cakes, Hux has been rolling silverware for Finn. In return, both Finn and Dameron are pretending to be actually interested in the issue Hux has run into while trying to nail down their date with the venue.

“Obviously it should be on a Tuesday,” Dameron says. “The restaurant’ll have to close, and Tuesday’s are always dead. Plus, everything will be cheaper with a mid-week wedding, and it’s not like many people are traveling in.”

For the first time ever, Hux admits that Dameron might have a good idea. The week he’s aiming for has an opening on Tuesday, and the photographer they want is booked that weekend but clear for the rest of that month, as of now. Half the line is going to be standing on Ben’s half of the altar and Phasma will be on his side, as will Mitaka and Sloane. Just the wedding party ties up enough staff that opening would be difficult, ignoring the fact it’s the owner’s wedding.

“How romantic,” Hux drawls, but the more he debates with himself, loathe to grant Dameron a victory, the better it all sounds.

“You’re not romantic, so it’s fitting.” Hux looks up at Ben, glaring for show. “You have to stop doing free labor. It would be incredibly awkward if you hurt yourself and had to sue me.”

Hux continues rolling silverware as an act of rebellion, not so he has something to keep his hands busy. Finn just polishes forks and hands them over. Rey sticks her head out of the office and calls from Dameron to bring the bar drawer, and in a few minutes, it’s just Hux, Ben, and Rey in the restaurant, all the hourly staff free for the evening.

“I still can’t believe you’re letting Lando be the officiant at your wedding,” Rey says while going over numbers with Ben. Hux is still rolling silver, but he pauses long enough to shrug.

“It was either that or hire somebody. Free was better than spending money.” Plus, Hux has been promised a copy of the remarks a month in advance for final approval. Obviously, Ben had mentioned at some point that Hux was worried about everything going smoothly. By the time he’s finished the silver, Rey is waving good night and Ben is putting the drop in the safe. Half the lights are already off, so Hux can’t read the expression on Ben’s face until he’s already sitting in the booth.

“You think you can live with a Tuesday wedding?” he asks, and Hux traces that soft smile with his thumb.

“More easily that I could live with a church one,” he assures Ben. “We should get home.”

Ben nods, but he also leans in to kiss Hux, which is sort of a mixed signal. Making out in a booth isn’t really conducive to arriving at their house. Still, Hux lets one of his hands rest on the nape of Ben’s neck as bites trail down the column of his throat.

“You better be the only one with access to the security cameras,” Hux mutters, letting himself get pushed into the corner of the booth. Ben just laughs, strong hands grabbing bony hips.

“Do you remember that first date?” Ben asks. “Not ours, but the one that stayed too late?”

Surprisingly, Hux does. Most of his memory from that evening is taken up by the parking lot, flood lights and stars and the soft press of a kiss to the corner of his lips.

“What about it?” His voice shakes with the question, and they’ve been together long enough that Hux is shameless about it. If anything, he lets the words hang, lets them fall slowly out of his mouth. It’s not a moan, but Ben holds his hips tight enough that Hux knows the effect is the same.

Then, Hux understands what Ben was hinting at.

“I’m not going to let you fuck me in this booth,” he says. The magic is slightly ruined, but that’s not what makes a good sex life, Hux has found. Magic is inconsistent, but blow jobs always deliver.

“What about the bathroom?”

There’s an earnest nature to the question that gives Hux pause. Has this been some long undelivered fantasy? What does it say about his morals, that Hux is even considering it?

“That still has to be a health code violation,” Hux says. “At the very least indecent exposure.” He sits with the suggestion for another moment, taking in the blown state of Ben’s pupils. “Only if it’s the women’s room. I need to be able to use the bathroom after this without coming to half mast.”

Just like that, Ben is dragging Hux the few meters from the booth to the bathrooms. They nearly falls through the door as Ben pushes him against it, pressing Hux against the wall with the force of his kiss. Normally, this is where clothes are peeled off piece by piece, where Hux pulls the elastic out of Ben’s hair and lets it fall around his shoulders. Instead, he keeps it in place, lets himself imagine they’re halfway through a long shift and so desperate for each other they couldn’t wait to clock out. Hux is working both hands underneath Ben’s chef’s coat when he starts to put the pieces together.

“You’ve thought about this before,” he huffs as Ben drops to his knees and unbuckles his belt, pulls his pants down. Hux lets himself be turned around, takes a step back and spreads his legs. “Watched me running food and taking orders and dreamed about having me all to yourself in here.”

They moan at the same time, Ben from the picture Hux is painting and Hux from hands on his ass, spreading him far enough to feel breath against his hole.

“Probably more times than you’re comfortable with,” Ben admits. Before Hux can reply, Ben leans in, running the flat of his tongue along his hole. One kiss, then another, and then that tongue is pressed into him. Hux settles his face on the tile of the wall, the chill of the surface a small relief against the heat of his skin.

“Don’t-“ Hux starts, breathless as he tries to collect himself, but Ben delves deeper. “Don’t you dare tease me.”

Ben laughs against his hole, a tickling puff of air, and then he’s pulling back. Hux arches his back to look over his shoulder, watching as Ben takes his on fingers into his mouth. They come away glistening in the low light, but there’s not much time to look at them before they sit, teasing, at his entrance. He’s being toyed with, gentle circles playing with that ring of muscle, but Hux let’s Ben have his fun, stops himself from pushing back and impale himself on the digit.

His patience is rewarded as Ben stands up, crowding Hux further into the wall and settling his face in the crook of Hux’s neck. He’s opened with slow, gentle hands, and Hux wants to turn around, wishes they were home and in bed so he could see Ben’s expression, but memory will have to be enough.

“Is this how it went in your fantasy?” Hux asks, proud his voice remains steady and Ben slides a second finger in. “You sure no one will notice you're missing?” Ben only moans in answer, but it’s enough to let Hux know he’s found the right thread to pull at. “That party could come in at any minute, and they’ll need you on the line.”

A bit of his restraint slipping, Ben shoves three fingers inside him. It’s dry, but tomorrow is Saturday; Ben may have to get up early to greet the day, but Hux can stay in bed and nurse any aches. He whines when Ben pulls out, only to hear the rustling of fabric as pants are pushed down and the pop off a cap.

Wait.

“Why did you have lube in your pocket?” Hux asks, turning around in Ben’s grasp. “There’s no way you bring that every day. Am I forgetting something?” It’s not their anniversary, Hux knows that much, and Ben’s birthday isn’t for another few weeks. He thinks back to this morning, how interested Ben was in his plans for after work, and how pleased he’d seemed that Hux was going to stop by. “You can just ask for things if you want them,” he says gently. “They don’t just have to be my idea.”

Ben doesn’t answers, kissing him instead, and Hux lets him, throws the hair elastic to the floor settles his hands into long hair and loses himself in the feeling of lips on lips. Gentle hands face him back towards the wall, and the artifice of the moment is gone, but the need remains and Ben pushes in, easing himself inch by inch. Any burn in his muscles is soothed by the hands holding him close and the whispers in his ear.

“I can’t believe I get to marry you,” Ben says in the middle of it all, as if it’s not Hux who’s the lucky one. He reaches down to grab Ben’s hand, threading their fingers together as Ben finds his rhythm. The absurdity of the situation catches up to him for a moment, from the tile under his cheek to the tinny edge of music through the speakers. They’ll need to remember to turn that off after they clean the bathroom, and-

As if sensing his focus has drifted, Ben lets his nails dig into Hux’s hips, grounding him in the act. His teeth tug at the thin skin of Hux's neck and he braces himself with one arm, pushing back into Ben's thrusts. Skin on skin is the only sound beyond their racing breaths, until Ben wraps a hand around Hux, thumb toying with the head. The noise he makes is half way between a moan and a gasp, a choked-off pull of air.

Hux is just on the edge and trying to find the right angle for his hips when Ben bites down on the junction where neck meets shoulder, the hand on Hux speeding up with his thrusts, and he comes, painting the wall as he leans against it to stay upright.

"Fuck." Ben's words are muffled against his skin, and Hux realizes he's stopped, dick sheathed in Hux.

"What's wrong?" he asks, doing his best to breath at a regular pace and almost managing it. He grinds back, pleased at the gasp he pulls from Ben. Seconds pass, and he's found enough muscle control to pick up where Ben left off in his rhythm, but the hand on his hip stops him. Lips trail up his neck, stopping to press kisses into his skin.

"Can't I just like being in you?" Ben says, but Hux ignores him. He can, of course, but things aren't always so simple, and the glare Hux sends over his shoulder conveys that well enough that Ben flushes.

“You can,” Hux grants. “But like it while you fuck me, please.” Ben laughs, breath tickling Hux’s lip, but his hands come to a bruising grip, grinding into him, and Hux decides not to take it personally.

“How often did you think about this?” Hux huffs, resting his head against the wall. “More than I’m comfortable with is the wrong answer. I need to know the first time, every time, I need-“ Ben adjusts his hips, and each thrust is starting to hurt, but he can tell Ben’s close, just a little longer, all he has to do is hold on.

“Since you decked me,” Ben says, face in Hux’s neck. “Knocked me on my ass. I literally fell for you.”

He can’t breathe deeply enough to laugh, chest rising and falling in a shallow, frantic rhythm, but one of his hands comes down to hold Ben’s, entwine their fingers over his hip.

“No repeat performances,” he forces out as Ben’s thrusts stutter, as his teeth dig into Hux’s shoulder, as he pushes in deep and comes, falling into Hux. His knees are still shaking, but somehow, he manages to keep them upright, manages not to let himself collapse on the floor with little care that it won’t get cleaned until the morning.

“Fuck,” Ben mutters again. His arms have moved, wrapping around Hux’s waist and keeping him in place, keeping himself buried.

“I wasn’t kidding,” Hux says when he can breathe and think at the same time again. “I’m not going to punch you, even if you ask for it.” Ben laughs, and Hux winces as he pulls out, stays in place and listens to the paper towel dispenser, the faucet turning on and off, hisses in shock at the cool wipe of it over his hole.

“Not planning to ask,” Ben says. “Just tell you when this idea started.” Ever the gentlemen, Ben crouches down to pull his pants up, tucking Hux into his briefs, zipping the fly, closing the buckle on his belt. He slides his own pants back up, reties the draw string before turning Hux around and leaning back into him, their chests flush together and his hands at the small of Hux’s back.

“I cannot have been attractive that day,” Hux mutters, pressing kisses to Ben’s jaw, lips scratching against his stubble.

“You’re always attractive,” Ben shoots back, sliding a hand down to squeeze his ass.

“Factually incorrect,” he says, but now, all he wants to do is get home, crawl into bed, and fall asleep wrapped up just like this. There’s not time to continue this argument; they need to wipe his spend off the wall and lock up. “Come on, I’ve been up since five AM. Take pity on me, or at the very least, take me home.”

because it's gonna contradict the sequel I can't post it on ao3 so this is just for yall lol

#my fic: hands off

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xxgoblin-dumplingxx · 2 years

Note

First of all, love your writing, didn't really use tumblr (mostly if I was bored) untill I found your account, also could I possibly ask for something very angst (giving you lots of free reign) but maybe like serendipity!verse were we get more of the reader pov on the events whether it's them finding out dick left before the wedding or after the wedding or even them a month later trying to hold the pieces together of their crumbling world, but something really angsty... once again, I really do enjoy your writing and in the middle of exams, a quick read between studying is the best, so thank you for daily updates:)

Bruce stood at the door of your house. A cute little brownstone you'd restored and remodeled- and tried not to fidget.

The reporters that had been lurking had been paid off or scared off, he wasn't sure which. And he wasn't sure if you'd speak with him or not- part of him hoped that you wouldn't. Pictures of what Dick had been up to had started to surface and well. Hell hath no fury.

When the door opened and your housekeeper regarded him through coke bottle glasses, her thick brows sunk into an absolutely withering scowl, he couldn't help but feel guilty. "Maggie," Bruce said, trying his most charming smile, "Is Y/N at home?"

"No-"

"Maggie," you sigh from somewhere past the door, "Let him in before the ghoul squad resurfaces. The last fucking thing I want is stories about me revenge fucking Dick's dad."

The housekeeper gave him a look that could have frozen boiling water but she stepped back to allow him entry. "She's in the front room," Maggie sniffed.

"Thank you," Bruce said, trying not to wince when she slammed the door and stalked off to her kitchen. He wasn't sure if she was retreating to avoid him or retreating so she wouldn't lecture you but it hardly mattered. Bruce made a mental note to not drink anything she gave him, just in case as he made his way to your front room.

The double doors were open but the curtains were closed, making the usually welcoming space look like a cave. Boxes sat along one wall and there was a garbage can with broken picture frames and glass to the right of that. Photos that had been shredded into minute pieces. Paper; letters probably had met the same fate. And Bruce winced. It was normal, he supposed that you'd lose it once you were out of the public eye but that didn't mean it hadn't been terrifying when it happened.

"Out with it," you demand, "Is this about hush money or-"

"No," Bruce said quickly, holding out his hands, "I just- we thought someone should check on you."

"And you drew the short straw, huh?"

"No," he said again, watching you pull your cardigan closer to your body and light a cigarette.

You exhale a cloud of smoke and regard him impatiently, giving nothing away- a feat given that he could, like most of the family, read you like a book. "I haven't said and will continue to say nothing," you snort. "No worries on that front. I have a flight out tomorrow-"

"Where are you headed?"

"Away," you answer, taking another drag. "As far the fuck away from here as I can get."

Bruce nodded, "Understandable," he said. Trying to remember that his son just upended your entire world and now you had to pick up the pieces while he partied on the beach. "I uh- I paid all the vendors. And the venue. Wired your money back to you and uh- I wanted to know what you wanted to do with your dress?"

"I'm not sure but at some point between the bottle of vodka I started with and the tequila I twitched to I think I burnt it."

Years of training and he couldn't stop the wince.

"It's fine. It's probably bad luck to wear something someone got jilted in."

"Still," he said, frowning slightly. But when your only answer is a cloud of smoke and a shrug, he decides not to press his luck. You hadn't thrown anything. Or blamed anyone- aside from Dick and that... that was better than he thought he'd get. Even if he knew you just wanted him to go. Leave you to retreat and count your wounded.

"Is that all you wanted, or did you want to see the carnage for yourself? See if the paparazzi were exagerating?"

"I'll do what I can about that," he promised.

"Thanks," you snort. "Guess Dick is less interesting. You know. Since he's really out there just putting it all on his insta."

"What are you going to do?" he asked quietly. You were smart. Driven. Savvy. You knew how to make something from nothing- he hated the idea that you'd just give up. Not on Dick. Dick deserved you walking away from him after how he'd treated you. But on your life. He'd hate to see you wither up and spend the rest of your life hiding.

"Who knows?" you shrug, stubbing out your cigarette and taking a drink from your coffee mug. "All I know is that I'm not doing it here."

Bruce nodded, smiling a little, "Good Luck," he said sincerely. Turning to go, leaving you to light another cigarette and do... whatever you'd been doing before you were interrupted.

#Dick Grayson #Dick Grayson x reader #serendipity!verse #ask answered #minors dni

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madmaddoxfuryroad · 1 year

Text

getting in on the fun because i only have few days left to wear my clown make up with pride.

as much as i would love to see a full confirmed tedbecca endgame, i am not the most confident in that happening at this point. and even though i might be a little bummed, i would be okay with them not going there so long as they really take the time to acknowledge just how fundamentally important these two have been to one another and give their relationship the attention it deserves in this last episode.

with that being said, i believe it would truly be a disservice to these two characters if we did not get an “i love you”. and before you write me off as tedbecca trash (i mean, i am but not the point) HEAR ME OUT. i don't NEED it to be in a romantic context at all. in fact, the one thing i keep coming back to that gives me quite a bit of comfort is how 30 rock handled jack and liz.

if tedbecca really is nothing more than platonic soulmates, they still deserve no less than what jack and liz got in their finale. which was honestly a beautiful scene that paid respect to the relationship between these two characters. that acknowledged how indispensable they had been to one another. that made me cry. and if they can do that on a show like 30 rock, that never took itself too seriously and was often irreverent about so many things, surely a show as earnest as ted lasso would do AT LEAST this.

what might this scene look like you ask? oh don't worry. i got you covered.

to preface: i like to think of it as a sort of hybrid of the 30 rock jack/liz finale scene and the fantastic beasts newt/tina scene before he gets on the boat all wrapped up in an airport scene because of course it is.

i am operating on the popular assumption that ted told rebecca at the end of the last episode that he is moving back to the states. and as such, some of the finale episode is focused on ted trying to have dedicated moments with each character as a way to say goodbye (ie. crown & anchor one last time with beard).

so i would think that for rebecca it would be their last biscuits with the boss. but due to plot reasons (maybe rebecca is off helping bex with her divorce or whatever that storyline is going to be), they are unable to get the timing right and that last moment never happens.

ted, taking a page out of doctor sharon’s book, decides he will at the very least write her a goodbye letter. he pairs it with a fresh box of biscuits, along with the recipe, and leaves it all with higgins to give her.

rebecca, however, does not take this as an acceptable send off. when presented to her, her expression is unreadable, but almost looks angry. she snatches the letter from higgins and marches out.

~airport scene~

ted is in the airport with henry (yes i decided he comes to london to see the last match and if this does not happen, i blame michelle). they are walking toward their gate.

rebecca: (spotting ted & henry) THEODORE LASSO!

her tone carries across the terminal. she sounds angry. ted’s head snaps up. he sees her almost immediately. he looks confused. rebecca continues making her way toward them. once she is almost in front of the two, ted leans down to henry.

ted: hey bud, why don't you go buy us a pretzel and i’ll catch up to you in a sec?

as ted is saying this he is searching his pockets for money. at the same time rebecca is already in front of them. her expression softens a little toward henry. she pulls out cash from her pocket.

rebecca: (handing henry the money) it’s on me.

henry examines the bill.

henry: this is a hundred pounds.

rebecca: and keep the change. (&take that doctor jacob)

henry looks to his dad for permission. ted just shrugs. henry takes this as the green light to go get his pretzel. he runs off contentedly. ted turns his attention back to rebecca whose expression has returned to angry.

rebecca: (holding up the letter) what the fuck is this?

ted: (still looking confused) did you read it?

rebecca: no i didn’t fucking read it. what the fuck is this?

it’s subtle, but her tone shifts from pure anger to anger laced with hurt.

ted: yeah, i’m sorry about that. i wanted to say your goodbye in person, but you were busy all day and then before i knew it i had to make like a tree and leave (looks up, sees rebecca is unamused. this is not the time for folksy wordplay) ...for my flight.

rebecca is still holding up the letter. this did not answer her question. ted takes the hint and continues.

ted: but i didn't want to go without saying anything so i wrote that and left it with higgy for when you got back.

rebecca nods. taking in what he is saying. she folds the letter into quarters. creasing it a couple times, mulling over her next words.

rebecca: (much softer now. but the hurt is still audible) did it ever occur to you that you’re not the only one who needs to say goodbye, ted?

comprehension finally dawns on ted. a contrite look crosses his face, but he stays silent. he knows she is not done speaking.

rebecca: because i cannot fathom the idea of you back in kansas not knowing exactly how much you have meant to richmond. and to me.

she gives a soft smile. he meets her eyes, wordlessly telling her she can go on.

rebecca: (somewhat pulling back from the moment) i hope it’s something you already know. so perhaps me making the point of saying this is a terrible waste of your time. and now that i’m thinking about it this whole dramatic airport chase is starting to feel a bit foolish. i’m sorry. i shouldn’t’ve––

ted: oklahoma.

ted has not broken his gaze the whole time. rebecca meets his eyes again, a little surprised at how quickly he cut her off. she nods.

rebecca: right. then. i’ll just say it. because this is something you of all people deserves to not only know but to hear.

beat.

rebecca: and it’s the best way i can properly express how profoundly important to me you have grown.

beat.

rebecca: so i’m just going to say it now.

longer beat. rebecca is struggling to say what she wants to say. her eyes are starting to grow glassy, but not quite tear-filled.

rebecca: i don't know why this is so difficult. what i am trying to say...

rebecca closes her eyes, trying to recapture the confidence she had at the start of the conversation.

ted: it’s okay. you don't have to. (simply) i love you, too.

rebecca’s eyes dart back open to meet ted’s. her expression is blank for a moment then she quickly pulls him into a hug (very truth bomb #1), which he immediately reciprocates. she hugs him a little tighter.

rebecca: i love you.

still in the hug, ted cracks a smile.

ted: hey. there it is.

they break apart. ted is still grinning. rebecca is wiping away a tear, but smiling as well.

ted: now that wasn’t so bad.

rebecca lets out a tear-filled laugh and lightly shakes her head ‘no’. she smiles back at him.

she wipes her eyes again, happy with herself that she was able to say what she wanted to say.

rebecca: well, then. off you pop!

rebecca gives him a nod, letting him know he can go back to his son. ted turns back toward henry. about halfway he stops and looks back at rebecca, who is still standing in the same spot. she gives him an encouraging smile and a small wave, which he returns.

once she sees ted has rejoined henry, rebecca smiles to herself, turns on her heel, and starts to leave.

henry: rebecca!

rebecca turns back at the sound of her name and sees henry running toward her, pretzel in hand. ted is jogging behind him.

henry: i wanted to say thank you.

rebecca: oh no need to thank me. you’re very welcome for the pretzel.

henry looks down at his pretzel.

henry: oh not that! well, thank you for that too, but i meant thank you for everything you've done for my dad. it made it a lot easier being away from him knowing he has nice people like you who care about him over here.

rebecca: (looking at ted) well he certainly does. (turning to henry) it was my pleasure, henry.

rebecca extends her hand to henry. they shake.

ted puts his hand on henry’s shoulder.

ted: come on, bud, we should get over to the gate and let rebecca head home.

henry: okay. we’ll see you tomorrow?

rebecca: (deeply confused) sorry, what’s tomorrow?

henry: the first digital biscuits with the boss, karlie kloss!

rebecca shoots ted a look. ted raises his hands in surrender and points to henry.

ted: all his idea. and only if you’re up for it. but we figured we could facetime you. even if it’s just once a week or once a month and––

rebecca: that sounds wonderful.

rebecca beams at ted and henry.

ted: good. well, we best be going. say goodbye.

henry: (waving while already turning away) bye, rebecca!

rebecca: bye, henry!

ted takes a step toward rebecca. he reaches for the letter that has been clasped in her hand this whole time. he undoes the extra folds she had nervously made, until it resembles how it looked when higgins first gave it to her (save for the additional creases).

ted presents it back to her.

ted: goodbye, rebecca.

rebecca: (carefully taking the still unopened letter) goodbye, ted.

they hold each other’s gaze for one beat longer. and then he is back with henry walking toward the gate. they don't look back again.

~cut to~ rebecca in the back of her car leaving the airport.

she is looking out the window, but redirects her gaze to the letter still in her hand. rebecca finally gives in and opens the letter.

she pulls out a piece of paper with a single sentence written on it. she rereads it a couple times over, smiling to herself: i think i’ll miss you most of all.

i was going to end it at off you pop. but i couldn’t resist giving henry the chance to interact with rebecca since we were robbed of this dynamic. i think i got a little off message along the way. well i hope you enjoyed this chaos anyway.

**bonus details for the shippers I left out of the scene: -when ted is searching his pockets for cash, he pulls out the green matchbook again -part of the reason this interaction can take place at all is because the flight had been delayed. due to weather. thunder and lightning. -and as part of his thank you to rebecca, henry gives her another army man, so hers doesn’t get lonely. and he mistakenly calls it a green matchbook army man (ted politely corrects him, it is a matchbox army man, but the damage is done)

#ted lasso #rebecca welton #ted x rebecca #tedbecca #ted lasso speculation #dont mind me and my clown make up #i believe in believe

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yoongisleftearring · 2 years

Text

part twenty-four: you can't run from fate

B L O O D & W A T E R

pairing: witch!Leeknow x reader

-> in which you are thrown into the magical world of Creon alone, without knowing that you could be the one to tear it apart.

word count: 2.6k

a/n: writing action is not my forte and is struggled a lot so it better be worth it !!!

; violence, blood, cursing, bad people

previous < masterlist > next

Taglist: @channieboyo @wolfebang @yellowroseskolchek @a-lil-bit-nuts @wondering-out-loud @hyunee1 @wandathescarletbitch @captivq @mits-vi @yunapixie @autumn-lv @midnightfury71 @indelicate-macalino @qnjayn@inniesmenu@soobin-chois @mingyu1pup @ellientaste @breathingwastaken @smhlino

====================================

"Are you okay?" Minho whispers as he grabs hold of your hand, you nod and allow him to pull you to your feet. You look past the witch in front of you to the group of students that stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, staring at the two of you. You send Minho a small smile and lead him towards the large group, still gripping his hand. He noticed that you were still shaking slightly, felt it in the way your fingers trembled between his and he hoped that the warmth of his hand would somehow soothe your worries.

"Y/n, thank god you're okay," Yuqi sighed as she reached a hand forward to rest on your shoulder. "What was that?" she continued, motioning to the rain which had calmed down substantially.

"You were losing control," Hyunjin frowns, worry creasing his forehead.

"Look, there's a lot we haven't told you-" Chan begins but you cut him off.

"The prophecy? Oh yeah, I heard plenty from our lovely headmaster. It's why they brought me here," you sighed, remembering the woman's harsh words.

"But why?" Seungmin questioned.

"They wanted to use me for something," you said, staring down at the floor. "They said I had something that nobody else has, something they want." Minho frowned at your words and the expressions of each person in the room darkened in worry.

"Where is she?" you asked as you looked around the room, and only now did you see the mess that the room was in, there were books littering the floor, loose pages scattered, and broken vases that looked to be from some dynasty and were probably worth more money than you had ever even seen. But, there was no sign of the headmaster.

"She ran, but I think I know where," Seungmin spoke and suddenly all eyes were on him, the boy blushed at the sudden attention but continued nonetheless. "There's this place, the faculty always go there. It's far away and hidden, a good place to hide from a god and her group of misfits."

"I am not a misfit, Kim," Jisung scoffed, earning nothing but a sympathetic pat on the back from Changbin.

"And, I am not a god," you laugh.

"Well, the closest thing we have," Seungmin shrugged his shoulders, a comfortable smile on his lips.

"Okay," Chan interrupted. "Do we have a game plan or are we gonna just storm in there again?"

"Worked out okay for us last time," Felix smiled. Chan sighed.

"We can't let them run, we need barriers around the area stopping them from portalling out," you nod in Chan's direction and he seems pleased with some semblance of a plan beginning to form.

"I can take care of that," Minho replies.

"Okay, then we'll have to split up, we don't know how many members of the school faculty will be there."

"So we can split up into good and bad and work from there," Yuqi nods.

"No. Opposites should be together, that way we have more options when it comes to attacks." The group seems to be slightly stunned by your words. It's not like it didn't make sense but it was unheard of, their powers weren't meant to aid each other. Minho looks at you thoughtfully for a moment, shooting you a knowing smile.

"She's right, you mightn't like it but we don't really have a choice here," Minho speaks clearly, his tone definite, leaving no room for anyone else to argue.

"And I'm going for the headmaster," you muttered.

---

"We can't give up on this, not when we've gotten so far," a voice spoke.

"You didn't see it, I wouldn't be surprised if she took the whole school with her," the headmaster sneered.

"But our plans-"

"Forget it, we failed. We'll have to find another way," she cut the man off.

"Those meddling children, what are we supposed to do with them now?" another voice asked.

"We take care of them quietly, accuse them of crimes against the state. It won't be a problem," the woman laughed.

"The poor boy will end up just like his mother," another woman voiced, although you couldn't detect any sorrow despite her words. It was then that you heard a shout, a flash of light hurtling towards the woman who had just spoken. The dark-haired woman's eyes widened in surprise but she had no time to retaliate, the energy hitting her square in the chest, sending her to the floor. Minho removed the invisibility charm from the two of you and you stood face-to-face with the woman who had begun this whole thing. All eyes were on you.

Then came the loud sound of glass shattering. The tiny windows of the small hut splintered and fell to the ground and you could faintly hear the hushed laughs of Chan and Felix.

"What are you waiting for? Get them!" the headmaster boomed at the members of the faculty that gaped at her. Five of them scrambled out of the room, and you were thankful for the distraction your friends provided. Now, there were only two left in the dimly lit room. Minho kept the woman who had yet to pick herself up from the floor occupied while you charged at the headmaster.

Minho glowered down at the middle-aged woman who held a sour smile on her lips as she stared up at him.

"Ah, Lee Minho. What? Did I say something wrong?" she snickered as she stood up from the cold floor.

"You know nothing about me," he scoffed, fury lighting up his eyes.

"Oh? Of course I do, it was me that took you away from that insane hag. You should be thanking me really," she laughed. Minho's eyes widened a the woman's words but he didn't make a move yet.

"You did this, you all did this."

"What are you going to do? I've heard that you're following in your mommy's footsteps. Dark magic? Really?"

"You'll never understand so I won't entertain it," Minho hissed. "But, I will find out exactly what happened to my mother and you will all pay for your crimes." The woman's smile faded slightly at Minho's words.

"You w-" she tried but was interrupted by the flick of Minho's finger, she tried to speak again but found only muted mumbles to come out of her, her eyes widened like saucers as she lifted her fingers to her lips, or what should have been her lips but was now nothing but more skin. Her eyes narrowed as she hovered her hand over her mouth, undoing the witch's spell.

The two cast spell after spell at each other until it seemed like they were at a crossroads, their almost equal power making it extremely difficult for one person to get the upper hand over another.

"Lee!" he heard a voice boom from the opposite side of the room. Changbin stood, chest heaving and eyes dark as threw a ball of flames in their direction, Minho guided the burning magic toward the woman and she ducked, managing to dodge the attack but she didn't manage to dodge Changbin who had managed to run to her and wrap a metal band around her wrist. The woman looked down at the metal in confusion but shook her head, raising her hands to cast a spell in the fairy's direction but much to her dismay, nothing happened. Changbin let out a giggle as he watched her utter confusion. She let out a scream and lunged for Changbin but Minho managed to halt her movements before she could wrap her hands around the man's neck.

"Nice work man," Changbin smiled as he looked at the woman who stood still, unable to move anymore and completely powerless thanks to the metal band Seungmin had designed.

"Yeah, you too," Minho smirked at him, trying to hide his shock at the man who had helped him take the wicked woman down.

---

"You slimy little girl, must you always create problems for me?" the headmaster asked, her red-painted lips pursing in annoyance as her eyes narrowed at your form.

"You-" you spat as you lunged for her, grabbing her by the collar of her pink frilly shirt. "You did this to yourself. You did this to me," you breathed. Her expression never wavered. Your eyes were so focused on hers that you failed to notice her rising palm, only realising once she had struck you across the cheek, hard. It stung and you were sure the sheer force of the blow had drawn blood.

"Silly girl, you know nothing. Sometimes the cause is greater than its victim," the woman chided.

"Cause? What cause?" you fumed. The woman simply raised her hand to your cheek, running her finger slowly down the smooth skin. Then you felt her apply more pressure, digging her nail into the skin, drawing a scream from you as you felt her nail pierce your skin as she dragged it down the length of your cheek.

"This," she spoke as she took her hand away from your cheek and admired the ruby substance that stained it. "This is what makes you so useful. I spent my whole life looking for this." Your eyebrows furrowed at her words.

"My healing?"

"Not so dim after all, are we?" the woman mocked. "This has the power to prolong life for, well, forever," she laughed.

"You did all this so you could be immortal?" you growled.

"Not just me," she chuckled. "The whole committee, that way we can outlive those elders who think they can dictate our lives."

"So you don't want just immortality, but also power," you pondered. The headmaster smiled at your words.

"You get it."

You grabbed the woman's shirt again, this time using it to throw her against the wall. The force of the impact caused the wall to crack beneath her weight and she fell to the ground. You could hear the cracking of bones when she stood again, rolling her shoulders back as she sneered in your direction. She pounced and you couldn't react in time. She sent you tumbling to the floor while she straddled you, clawing at your arms that attempted to protect your face. The attack seemed so familiar and though much less violent you couldn't help but think back to Chan and his training sessions. And so, like you had so many times before, you kicked your knee up, hitting the woman in the ribcage and you could have sworn you heard multiple bones cracking. The woman fell to your side and you pushed yourself up, towering over the woman who lay on the wooden floor.

"Enough," you roared, a bolt of lightning shooting through the roof of the hut and striking beside the head of the headmaster, debris falling from the large hole in the roof that it created in its path. You crouched down over the woman's quivering body, sending punch after punch in her direction. "I was trying to run," you cried. "Everything would have been okay if I had kept running." With another blow, you noticed that the woman below you was barely responsive, her face unrecognisable underneath the intense swelling and the gaping cuts that covered it.

"It wouldn't matter, you can't run from fate," she struggled to whisper. Rage and frustration consumed your body as you raised your fist again, ready to strike.

"Don't." His voice made you falter, you ripped your gaze from the headmaster beneath you to Minho, his eyes sympathetic. "You don't need to do this."

"Why?" you sobbed. "Look what she did to me, what she's going to do."

"I know," he exhaled, moving slightly closer to you, now only a couple of feet apart. "It's your decision Y/n. But I need you to think carefully about the choice you're about to make. And think about what I told you." You blinked at the man, tears rolling down your cheeks as you processed his words.

You looked at the woman. The woman who you had refused at first, happy with how your life was. Well, maybe not happy but the person you loved the most was safe. From you. That was what mattered most. But she forced you to come here, promised you that you wouldn't hurt anyone. But, all along she was using you. And as you sat over the bloody and beaten woman you realised that you were becoming the very thing you had been running from in the first place. Was that what she mean by not being able to run from fate? Was it true? You had been told so many things in the past few hours and your brain felt like a scrambled mess. 'I believe in you', Minho's words echo in your mind and you realised that this was it. People were asking you to make a choice for so long, wanting you to finally choose which side you fell on and this was the moment that choice had to be made. The whole point of being here was to run from the power you didn't understand. Now, you were beginning to understand that power. And maybe, bad wasn't the only thing that came from them. You weren't sure if it could be possible, maybe fate really is just a bitch but you wanted to at least try. You were dangerous, they were right, but you are also extremely powerful and you hoped that you could learn to be like the witch that had questioned what really was good and bad. You stood from the woman's body, dusting yourself off before walking to where Minho stood, he had a sweet smile on his face as he reached for your bloodied palm, intertwining his fingers with yours.

"We should probably clean this up," he chuckled as he looked at the destruction around you.

---

Hyunjin entered, an arm wrapped around an injured Yuqi. He guided her into the room where the rest of you stood. She had a slight limp and you would have thought she would be fine walking on her own but when you saw her looking up at the siren with a smile on her face and blush on her cheeks you thought better of mentioning it. Though you definitely would tease the fairy later.

"Everyone okay?" Minho asked, scanning over each person to check their state.

"Barely, I had to save Han Jisung's ass so many times I literally lost count," Jeongin remarked earning a gasp from the aforementioned man.

"I'll have you know that I could have handled them on my own you just acted too fast, I would call it a premature rescue," Jisung muttered, the group collectively laughed at the man and he let a small chuckle escape his lips in response.

"So, what should we do with them?" Chan motioned to the group of faculty members, each one donning one of those bracelets Seunmin had made and tied up back to back in a circle in the middle of the room.

"We need evidence," Jisung smiled gleefully as he swiftly took his phone from his pocket and opened the camera app, pressing record. He walked over to the group with a wide smile on his face that most would label as unsettling. "Who's been a bad teacher? You! You've been a bad teacher," he pouted as he shoved the phone in one of the teacher's faces. "Bad people, very bad people, I'll make sure you're on page one of all the newspapers for everyone to see," he laughed. "And you!" he said as he reached the headmaster. "You've been extra bad! Don't you know trying to murder students so you could harvest their essence to give yourself everlasting life is not allowed?"

"Jisung, I think they get the point," Jeongin grumbled walking up to the man and ripping his phone from his grasp, stopping the recording and placing the phone back in the palm of the stunned man who looked at the young wolf like he had just murdered his dog.

"Right, now let's go see the elders."

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