#as children we are told that the man approaches the woman and that HE should always take the first step. so for many of us it is very

[suuuupernovaaa]

kame

kame [ˈk·a.m·ɛ] vtr. see, see into, understand, know (spiritual sense)

Anonymous Request: Could we have something where Metkayina Reader is the chief's daughter, becomes good friends with Neteyam, and is in love with him but doesn't think he finds Metkayina women attractive because he doesn't seem interested in any of the girls, so she asks Lo'ak if he thinks she's pretty because he's also her friend but Neteyam overhears and gets upsets cause he misunderstands why she's asking? Pretty pretty please with a sweet sappy ending.

Feeling insecure about your crush on Neteyam, you ask his younger brother if he thinks Metkayina woman are attractive. Neteyam overhears and misunderstands.

1,978 words

Lo'ak and I had been sitting quietly on the beach for quite a while, watching the children play nearby as the clouds rolled in, promising rain.

As if reading my mind, Lo'ak pointed up. "Looks like rain."

I nodded. Talk of weather was nice, but what I really wanted to talk about was Lo'ak's older brother.

In the months since they'd arrived, I was unable to get Neteyam off of my mind - but I couldn't read him for the life of me. He was reserved, the oldest Sully brother, not like Lo'ak. Lo'ak wore his heart on his sleeve, lucky for my sister, who was equally enamored with the younger Sully brother.

Neteyam did not seem interested in any of the Metkayina women, and I wondered if our physical differences were unappealing to him. Was my hair too coarse, my tail too wide, my eyes too large?

It wasn't that Neteyam wasn't nice to me, I would even have considered us friends, but the possibility of more than that just didn't seem to be there.

"Lo'ak, do you find me attractive?" I asked finally.

Lo'ak turned to me sharply. "What?"

"I mean, Metkayina women. Do you think they're as pretty as your forest women? Your mother is breathtaking."

He wrinkled his nose at the statement, and then smiled.

"Yes. I think you're attractive," he replied. His reassurance should have comforted me, but it only made me more confused. If Lo'ak could find me attractive, why couldn't his brother?

"Not as attractive as my sister, though, yes?" I leaned over, a teasing smile on my face, bumping my shoulder into his.

Lo'ak sighed, the sound of a man in love. "No one is as beautiful as her."

What I wouldn't give to have Neteyam feel that way about me.

--

"Yes, I think you're attractive," Neteyam's brother said to Y/N, the woman he had been pining after for months.

Neteyam was approaching the two, planning to join them on the beach, but the snippet of their conversation he'd caught was enough to make him turn on his heels and stalk back to his mauri pod.

He felt betrayed by Lo'ak, even though he hadn't said so much as a whisper of his feelings for Y/N - mostly he felt mad for Y/N's younger sister, whom he'd thought his brother was growing close to.

Was Lo'ak to betray her? Was her own sister to betray her? Maybe Y/N was not the woman he thought she was, after all.

--

It began raining soon, and Lo'ak and I stood to leave the beach.

"I gotta ask," Lo'ak said as we walked back towards our respective homes. "Why the question - uh, about you being pretty?"

A blush heated my cheeks.

"It's Neteyam, isn't it?" he said, trying not to smile too wide. "You like Neteyam?"

I shrugged. "He doesn't seem interested, in any of the women here. I thought maybe he found us unappealing."

Lo'ak shook his head. "He's just shy. Give him time."

I wasn't so sure. We parted ways with a friendly goodbye, and I returned to my family for the evening with much to think about.

--

The next morning, the clouds had cleared and the day was beautiful. I set out early with Tsireya at my mother's request - she was wary of Lo'ak, and wanted Tsireya supervised at all times.

"I think Lo'ak is a nice young man," I told her as we waded into the water. "We had a nice talk last night."

She smiled, ear to ear, her beautiful smile. I had always wished I had Tsireya's sunny disposition and kind heart - she was a joy to everyone who knew her.

"What did you talk about?"

I looked away, blushing a little. "Neteyam."

She gasped, reaching out to grab my arm. "You like Lo'ak's brother?" She giggled with excitement.

"I asked Lo'ak if the women here were appealing to him. Of course, I know you are beautiful to Lo'ak, but I wondered if Neteyam maybe... thought I was ugly."

Tsireya gasped. "Y/N, you must never speak like that again. You are exceedingly beautiful, as well as smart, skilled, our fastest swimmer-"

I cut her off before she could continue on. "Sister, please."

"Well, it's true!" she replied forcefully. "If Neteyam does not like you, he's a moron."

We giggled together. Talking with my sister always made me feel better, no matter the issue.

--

Later that day, I happened upon Neteyam alone - as I had been looking for him nearly all day. Tsireya had given me the confidence I needed to try and really talk to him.

"Neteyam!" I called when I found him, swimming just off shore as I stood on the beach.

He raised one hand and waved to me, and began his approach. I stood waiting, fidgeting nervously with my hands as he came towards me at what felt like a snail's pace.

He shook his hair when he exited the water, and as usual, I was overcome with his beauty.

"Hello," Neteyam nodded, somewhat formally.

"I need to talk to you," I said quickly.

He cocked his head to the side. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong. I just... need to tell you something, and I have the courage to tell you now, but I probably won't later."

Neteyam shook his head. "I already know."

I took a step back in surprise. "You do?"

Did Lo'ak tell him? He wouldn't do that to me - he was my friend.

"I do. I have to say, Y/N, I thought better of you."

That was... not the response I was expecting. In fact, it didn't make sense at all. Me having feelings for him made him think less of me?

"Neteyam, I... what?"

"I thought you cared for your sister, and you know how she feels about Lo'ak." He was angry, his teeth gritted, his eyes narrowed. He was angry at me.

"Neteyam, what are you talking about?"

He scoffed. "I heard you at Lo'ak last night, him telling you how beautiful you are. How could the two of you do that to Tsireya?"

I had never seen Neteyam so angry, certainly not at me. He had heard a part of our conversation last night and assumed the absolutely worst - that I would betray my most beloved sister.

Tears filled my eyes. "I can't believe you would think this of me." Before I could embarrass myself any further, I turned and ran back home to cry in my father's arms.

--

He had expected to feel better after confronting Y/N, but she hadn't reacted the way Neteyam expected. Instead of feeling self-righteous, Neteyam felt confused and guilty as he returned home.

He sat silently at dinner, and though his family asked what was wrong, he shrugged them off.

He couldn't quite explain it.

"I can't believe you would think this of me."

What did she mean by that? He had heard her and Lo'ak's conversation with his own ears.

Speaking of, just as the sun was setting less than an hour later, Lo'ak entered the tent - and he was angry.

"Neteyam, you fucking idiot!" he yelled, in front of the entire family.

"Whoa, whoa!" Jake stood up in an instant, followed by Neteyam, and placed himself between the boys to avoid escalation.

"You... you fucking idiot!" Lo'ak yelled again.

"Mad that I caught you?" Neteyam asked, spitting out the words like daggers.

"You know nothing! You broke her heart, do you know that?" Lo'ak yelled.

"Stop this, now!" their mother demanded. "Explain." She turned to Neteyam first.

"Everyone knows that Tsireya is in love with Lo'ak, but last night on the beach, he was telling her sister how beautiful she is. I heard it with my own years!"

Neteyri's eyes widened in shock, and she turned to her younger son.

"Lo'ak, is this true?"

"No!" Lo'ak shouted. "Well, yes, but that's not what happened."

"Lower your voice, and explain," Neytiri said calmly.

"She asked because she thought this idiot," he gestured to Neteyam, "didn't think Metkayina women were beautiful. She wasn't asking if I thought she was attractive - she was asking if we could find her, all the women here, as beautiful as the women from back home. Because she likes you, you idiot!"

"Stop calling your brother names," Jake demanded, stepping from in-between his sons, but that was where his advice ended - this seemed like a conversation for their mother.

"He went and accused her of betraying her sister, and she's been crying all night. Tsireya came to tell me, because you need to fix it."

Lo'ak's words were like a knife in Neteyam's chest. He could picture Y/N's face on the beach, how crushed she had been, and he had never felt more guilty or regretful in his life.

He couldn't believe the things he'd believed about her, and said directly to her. He put his face in his hands and sighed.

"Shit," he whispered.

"You must go apologize, now. She is the chief's daughter. You go make peace," his mother insisted, grabbing his arm. "Come. We go now."

"Mom!" Neteyam said, but there was no getting around it - his mother was going to march him over to apologize to the woman he loved.

--

After my embarrassing display of emotion early - which was very out of character for me - my father would not let me further than a foot away from him. We sat, eating together, with his arm around my shoulders.

Every so often he would mutter something like, "Idiot boy," or "hideous moron" and I had to admit, it helped.

He finally let me go to clean up after dinner, and Tsireya gave my arm a squeeze as she joined to help.

"I am sorry for the intrusion," someone said at the entrance to our mauri, and we all turned to look. Standing there was Neteyam, his mother holding his arm. "My son owes your daughter an apology."

"Oh no," I whispered under my breath, meeting eyes with Tsireya.

My parents locked eyes with each other. I could tell they both wanted to rip poor Neteyam's throat out, but after a moment, they nodded with each other.

"Hear the boy out," my mother said, bending down to grab my arm. "You will return soon."

"Yes, mother," I nodded, and followed Neteyam and his mother out of the tent.

Neytiri followed us down to the beach, but then broke away, leaving us completely alone in the moonlight.

We stood, staring out at the water for a long, awkward moment.

Finally, Neteyam spoke.

"Never in my life have I been such a fool, or hurt someone I care about so deeply. I was overtaken by jealousy when I heard you and my brother talking, and I assumed the worst. I know you may not be able to forgive me, but I will never stop being sorry."

Tears filled my eyes again, but I couldn't form a reply.

"You should know that I think you are the most beautiful creature I have ever laid eyes on. I have been mesmerized by you since the moment we arrived. You are all I think about, day and night. My biggest regret is that I did not tell you that, every single day. If I had, we would have avoided all this. I see you, Y/N. I see you."

Neteyam reached up, brushing a tear from my cheek, and I leaned my face into his palm.

He took a sharp breath in.

"I see you, and I forgive you, Neteyam," I said finally. Continuing to be angry at Neteyam, now that I knew how he felt, seemed like an impossible task. "And I would kiss you now, but I think both our mothers are watching."

A smile spread across his lips, and he bent down to hover his lips just above mine. "I do not care."

#neteyam #Neteyam x reader #avatar #avatar 2 #Neteyam fic

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Anonymous

Published: Oct 16, 2023

When my first son claimed he was trans, I eagerly ‘affirmed’ him. When his three-year-old brother decided he wanted to be trans, too, I realized I’d made a terrible mistake.

I was a social-justice organizer and facilitator before social justice took over the progressive world. I was at the nascent movement’s forefront, introducing the concept of intersectionality to organizations and asking people to share their pronouns.

My friends and I felt like we were the cool kids, on the vanguard of the revolutionary wave that would change the world. We were going to achieve what people in that milieu call “collective liberation.”

Within this context, I came out as a lesbian and identified as queer. I also fell in love, entered a committed relationship, and gave birth to a son. Two years later, my spouse gave birth to our second son.

Having children and experiencing the love and devotion I felt toward them, was a game changer for me. I began to experience internal tensions. My thinking was split between what I felt instinctively as a mother; and what I “should” be feeling and doing as a white anti-racist social-justice parent.

Because I’d felt victimized by my parents’ rejection of my sexuality, I wanted to make sure to honor my own children’s “authentic” selves. In particular, I was primed to look for any clues that might suggest they could be transgender.

My spouse and I raised our sons with gender-neutral clothes, toys, and language. While we used he/him pronouns, and others called them boys, we did not call them boys, or even tell them that they were boys.

In our everyday reading of books or descriptions of people in our lives, we did not say “man” or “woman”; we said “people.” We thought we were doing the right thing, both for them and for the world.

Even when our first son was still young, he already struck us as different from other boys—being both extremely gifted and unusually sensitive. By age three or so, he started to orient more toward the females in his life than the males. “I like the mamas,” he would say.

We started to attribute some of this difference to the possibility that he was transgender. Instead of orienting him toward the reality of his biological sex by telling him he was a boy, we wanted him to tell us if he felt he was a boy or a girl. As true believers, we thought that we should “follow his lead” to determine his true identity.

At the same time, I was taking a deep dive into the field of attachment and child development. This made me understand that attachment is hierarchical; and that parents, not children, are meant to be in the lead. This obviously conflicted with my insistence on letting my child decide his gender. Sadly, it was the latter impulse that won the day.

At around age four, my son began to ask me if he was a boy or a girl. I told him he could choose. I didn’t use those words—I imagined that I was taking a more sophisticated approach. I told him, “When babies are born with a penis, they are called boys, and when babies are born with a vagina, they are called girls. But some babies who are born with a penis can be girls, and some babies born with a vagina can be boys. It all depends on what you feel deep inside.”

He continued to ask me what he was, and I continued to repeat these lines. I’d resolved my inner conflict by “leading” my son with this framework. Or so I told myself.

His question, and my response to it, would come back to haunt me. In fact, I remain haunted to this day. To the extent I was “leading” my son anywhere, it was down a path of lies—an on-ramp to psychological damage and irreversible medical interventions. All in the name of love, acceptance, and liberation.

About six months later, he told my spouse that he was a girl and wanted to be called “sister” and “she/her.” I received a text message about this at work. On the way home that night, I resolved to put all my own feelings away and support my transgender child. And that is what I did.

We told him he could be a girl. He jumped up and down on the bed, happily saying, “I’m a girl, I’m a girl!” We—not our son—initiated changing his name. We socially transitioned him and enforced this transition with his younger brother, who was then only two years old and could barely pronounce his older brother’s real name.

When I look back at this, it is almost too much to write about. How could a mother do this to her child? To her children?

Once we made this decision, we received resounding praise and affirmation from most of our peers. One of my friends, who’d also socially transitioned her young child, assured me that this was a healthy, neutral way to allow children to “explore” their gender identity before puberty, when decisions would have to be made about puberty blockers and hormones.

We sought out support groups for parents of transgender children, so that we could find out if we’d done the “right thing.” It hadn’t escaped my notice that our son hadn’t exhibited any signs of actual gender dysphoria. Was he actually transgender?

At these support groups, we were told, again, what good parents we were. We were also told that kids on the autism spectrum (which our son likely is) are gender savants who simply know they are transgender earlier than other kids.

At one of the support groups we attended, we were also told that transgender identity takes a few years to develop in children. The gender therapist running things told us that during this period, it’s important to protect the child’s transgender self-conception—which meant eliminating all contact with family or friends who didn’t support the idea that our son was a girl. I believed her.

Looking back, I now see her comments in a shockingly different light: this was part of an intentional process of concretizing transgender identity in children who are much too young to know themselves in any definitive way. (One set of parents attending the group had a child who was just three years old.) When identity is “affirmed” in this manner, children will grow up believing they are actually the opposite sex.

The therapist endorsed the same approach that many adolescents use on their parents, who are urged to write letters to grandparents, aunts, and uncles to announce the child’s transgender identity. In these letters, the conditions of continued social engagement are made clear: Recipients must use the new name and new pronouns, and embrace the new identity, or they will be denied contact with the child.

After about a year of social transition for our older son, our younger son, who was by now only three years old, began to say he was a girl, too. This came as a complete shock to us. None of the things that made our older son “different” applied to our younger son. He was more of a stereotypical boy and didn’t show the same affinity for the feminine side of things that his older brother did.

The urge for “sameness” is a primal attachment drive in many family members. We felt that our younger son’s assertion of being a girl likely reflected his desire to be like his older sibling, in order to feel connected to him.

His claim to be a girl became more insistent when both brothers went to school part-time, because their program included pronoun sharing. Why could the older sibling be a “she” when the younger sibling couldn’t? Our younger son became more insistent, and we became more distressed.

We made an appointment to see the gender therapist whom we’d met at the support group. We truly believed that she would be able to help us sort out who, if anyone, was actually transgender.

To our shock, the therapist immediately began referring to our younger son as “she,” stating that whatever pronouns a young child wants to use are the pronouns that must be used.

She patronizingly assured us that it might take us more time to adjust, since parents have a hard time with this sort of thing. She added that it was transphobic to believe there was anything wrong with our younger son wanting to be like his older transgender sibling.

When I pushed back and asserted that I wasn’t yet convinced our younger son was in fact transgender, she told me that if I failed to change his pronouns and honor his newly announced identity, he could develop an attachment disorder.

We were unconvinced. But, again, we wanted to do what was right for our son and for the world. We decided to tell him he could be a girl. And that night at dinner, we told him that we would call him “she/her.”

Right after dinner, I went to play an imaginary game with him, and I wanted to be affirming. So I put a big, warm smile on my face and said, “Hi, my girl!”

At this, my younger son stopped, looked at me, and said, “No, mama. Don’t call me that.” His reaction pierced me to my core. I didn’t turn back after that.

For the next two years, my partner and I dug deeper, agonized, and then continued digging again. Everything we thought we knew or believed that had led us to socially transition our older son began to unravel.

I continued to study the attachment-based developmental approach to parenting and learned more about autism and hypersensitivity. We decided not to socially transition our younger son. Not only was he not transgender, we now realized, but our older son probably wasn’t either.

He was just a highly sensitive, likely autistic boy who saw a girl identity as a form of psychic protection. It also provided him a way of attaching to me through sameness.

My spouse and I decided that since we’d been the ones who’d led him down this path, we were the ones who needed to lead him off of it.

A year ago, just before our older son’s eighth birthday, we did just that. And while the initial change was hard—incredibly hard—the strongest emotion exhibited by our son turned out to be relief.

In the days following my first conversation with him about going back to his birth name and pronouns, during which I told him that males cannot be females and that we were wrong to tell him he could choose to be a girl, he got very mad at me, then sad. Then, the next day, I felt my son rest. I felt him release a burden, an adult burden that he, as a child, was never meant to carry.

Since that time, we’ve all been healing. My son is now happy and thriving. We’ve watched him come to a deeper peace with himself as a boy.  

Our younger son is also thriving. Once his older brother became his older brother again, he happily, and almost immediately, settled into his identity as a boy.

I feel like someone who’s escaped a cult—a cult whose belief system is supported by our mainstream culture, the Internet, and even the state.

I fear for the future—the future of sensitive, feminine, socially awkward boys. I fear what the world will tell them about who they are.

But no matter what the future holds, I will never ever stop fighting to protect my sons. I am no longer a true believer.

#gender ideology #queer theory #genderwang #gender cult #social transition #autism #social justice #critical social justice #affirmation model #gender affirming #gender affirmation #trans identity #gender identity #child psychology #religion is a mental illness

[kuroneko1815]

Monsters and Treasures in Dungeons Deep

This came from my short walk to the bus stop and written while on the bus. Huzzah to the almighty commute boredom.

Deep in a dark, dusty, and damp dungeon was a monster’s nest. Riddled with the bones of treasure seekers and hapless adventurers who thought to try their luck to find the legendary treasure within the very heart of the dungeon.

On most days, the only sounds that could be heard were the growls and grunts of the monsters, but not today. At this very moment a warrior fought off the monsters, panting through the effort.

“This treasure better be worth it.” The warrior muttered angrily. Robes dirty from the near constant fighting.

Finally the warrior made it to the dragon’s chambers and took a moment to prepare. The dragon was said to be fierce and tyrannical. When the warrior entered the chambers, instead of a treasure guarded by a dragon, there was a man.

She approached the sleeping man. And looked around as though she’d missed the treasure. But there was nothing there.

“What the? I fought through six levels of hell in a dungeon to face a dragon and to earn the most magnificent treasure in the world so where is it?!?” She yelled out loud, turquoise eyes blazing with the promise of death. “Where’s the dragon? Where’s the gold and rubies I was promised?!? Damn you Secretary Porter!!!”

And then she brought herself close to the man, too angry to care about his handsome face or his golden hair and bunched up his shirt as she pulled him up, ready to question him. She raised her other hand and slapped him hard, repeatedly, until he stirred.

“What? Who dares slap me?” The man grumbled as he opened his eyes revealing ruby coloured eyes. “Do you know who I am? I am the dragon prince, Callisto Regulus, crown prince of the Empire.” He said grumpily. “Though I must thank you for waking me up from that terrible sleeping curse my step mother put on me. It was supposed to be broken with true love’s kiss.”

“True love’s kiss who? I slapped the ever living fuck out of you. I guess a slap works just as well.” She said bitterly. “I demand a reward of gold and rubies.”

“How about an entire empire as my empress?” He offered.

“Does that come with a lot of money and fine food?” She asked.

“Yes.”

She didn’t even have to consider it. “Then let’s get married today. I’m Penelope by the way. You may as well know the name of the woman you’ll be trapped with for all eternity.”

“All eternity is it?” He asked with an elegant brow as he reached for the sword at his side and hopped off the gilded altar made into a luxurious bed. He looked at it in disgust.

“I went through all this trouble to get here on the promise of treasure. If you’re going to make me the empress and give me the entirety of the imperial treasures, that’s great. But I also intend to make sure that you don’t replace me with another and make me lose the treasure.”

He snorted as the two fought their way back up the six levels. “I think you and I will get along great. Though if you do take a lover, I’ll end him viciously in front of you.”

“Any concubines you have won’t make it past a fortnight, nor would they ever give you any children.” She vowed, magic setting the monsters in front of her ablaze.

They continued to talk to one another as they went through each level at which point she revealed herself to be the youngest child of the Duke of Eckhart, adopted of course. She made sure to specify that part.

“I need at least one child from you.” He told her absently as he pulled her away from the path of the arrows.

“We need to show the picture of marital bliss. No less than three nights in my room, even if we don’t do anything. I won’t have anyone talk that I’ve fallen out of favour with my husband.” She demanded.

“Right to refuse intimacy.” They both said at the same time.

And then they spoke of the wedding. “Three weeks from today. That should give me enough time to deal with my step mother and half brother, his faction, my father, and plan a wedding.”

“Talk to my father as well.”

“Any thoughts on flowers?”

“Something red, no roses though, or at most, just three or four roses in my bouquet but the rest should be some other flowers.”

“Will you have trouble procuring a dress?”

She looked at him with a wry smile. “I’m an Eckhart. Leave the dress to me.”

By the time they had left the dungeon to where Secretary Porter was waiting eagerly to see his liege, they had ironed out everything from the marriage agreement to the wedding, even to the policies they wished to implement within their first five years.

-

-

In the wake of the Imperial Wedding, Captain Leon Markham would lean in close to his friend, Sir Cedric Porter as he watched the newly risen Emperor wed his Empress and get crowned together. The Emperor’s half brother was put on house arrest after being found to be too dishonourable, his mother imprisoned, and his entire faction dissolved. The former Emperor was glad to be rid of both crown and wife and went merrily on his way to retirement.

“Did you really have to choose her?” The Captain asked incredulous. The new Empress’ reputation as an Iron Lady was well known, he worried that the Emperor might not survive the bedding if he did anything wrong.

“I had no choice.” The Emperor’s aide said, as he defended himself, silently lamenting his liege’s new wife who still held a grudge. “Every other woman that would’ve wanted to rescue him and become his wife and empress had died in the dungeons, and the rest were either afraid of him, or afraid of the dungeons itself.”

“I had to trick her into believing there was a magnificent treasure there.” He still flinched at the thought of the woman’s words.

“The Emperor is no treasure, unless you count his looks and title, but his personality leaves much to be desired.” Captain Markham noted. “In that they’re the same. But that being said, will the Emperor be alright with her?”

“He’ll survive.” The Captain said resolutely stubborn in his faith that his liege could survive anything.

True enough, he survived. In fact, he was never in danger from her. He never spent a day away from his wife’s bed and they went on to have no less than seven children. The Duke and the Empress’ brothers never quite got around to liking the Emperor though they doted on their nieces and nephew, her sister however, was their biggest supporter.

The adventurer/sleeping beauty curse in reverse. With Penelope as the money hungry saviour and Callisto as the damsel in distress/princess in need of saving, the treasure, and the dragon itself. Penelope isn’t pleased she’s been conned. But they still got their happily ever after.

#death is the only ending for a villainess #villains are destined to die #vadd #callisto regulus #death is the only ending for the villainess #fanfic #death is the only ending for the villain #cedric porter #penelope eckart x callisto regulus #penelope x callisto #penelope eckhart #penelope eckart

[paracosmic-murdock]

Tell me what are my words worth ; Benedict Bridgerton x Reader

Chapter 6: "Embrasse-le et épouse-la"

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: While the other ladies have grown with the mindset of marrying and having children, you, as the daughter of a man who wanted a son, grew up being both. You learnt how to embroider, play the pianoforte, fence and manage the estate. However, there were some things that not even the Duke of Burgundy could do, so after he passed and you thought there was nothing left for you, you decided to move to London for a while and go to the Royal Academy of Art.

Nothing was going to keep you from what you wanted, and you would do whatever it takes: you would lie to everyone, you would live to death, you would pretend to be a man. You had a plan and it would be a piece of cake for you. But again, when has something that she wants and should not do easy for a woman? Especially when a man like Benedict Bridgerton gets in the way in more ways than one.

Warnings/tags: idiots in love, eventual smut, love triangles (but not really), lgbtq+ themes, bisexual benedict bridgerton, feminist themes, historical inaccuracy (for the sake of the plot), inspired by mulan (1998), song: the lakes (taylor swift), other tags to be added

Chapter summary: You received the first letter addressed to you from France since you left, showing what a necessity your return was; and the night at Lawrence House, just like mostly every other you should not be at, lead to another incident. Once again, one starred by Antoine and Benedict.

Word count: 2.1K

❁ Series masterlist

❁ mila's paracosm (main masterlist)

Dearest Lady Y/N,

Here in Burgundy we all hope and pray you are perfectly fine.

Your escape has been a scandal known from Corsica to Brittany, and it has awakened many more rumors than one can believe. The most resounding states that you ran away with a lover, and even His Majesty the King came to the Palace to question everything.

There are many novelties, and I am afraid that your presence is required to solve them.

Firstly, the renovation of the Palace of Versailles is finally finished, and it is important that you go and make sure everything is in order and the way you want it. It will be available for you to stay by next Thursday.

Secondly, along with the latest shipment of jewelry, your Grandfather and Cousin David unexpectedly arrived earlier today. They are considering seeing you in London, but I insisted on waiting for your reply to this letter to know if you would return to meet them or receive them there. From what I have heard, they are here to take you to the Americas with them, for it seems like they are interested in the diamond business and want you to invest. Just as your Grandfather was approaching Claude, I notified him of your father's wishes to keep you in charge of the businesses and the estate until your heir takes his rightful place and he is more than pleased with the idea. He suggested David to take the spot of the Duke as it is needed so that way you can perform ducal duties without anyone's opinion interfering, understanding that there is no one who can fit the job better than you.

Thirdly, Claude consulted me with the idea of increasing the taxes. I told him we must have everything in order first, as I am sure you do not agree with his reasoning. While I am well aware that you do not wish for him to have access to the profits of the businesses, he is realizing that it does not make much sense for you to spend so much solely covering it by the scarce money received from the people. For that, he believes you are in great debt and that there is no other choice but to do so. It is best if you resolve this matter by yourself here in Burgundy.

I simply suggest, Lady Y/N, that you return to France before it is known in England that you escaped from your home. Or even worse, before your motives get exposed.

Best wishes,

Cartier

Dear Seigneur Cartier,

I am pleased to have received your letter and grateful to you for keeping me informed.

I understand the scandal my departure must have caused in France, and I assure you that once I return, I will make sure everything gets sorted out.

After speaking to the Carringtons, they would be honored to receive my Grandfather and David, but I would rather they wait for me to get back to Burgundy. Tell them I would adore to join them in America, though I will need someone to supervise Cousin Claude on his every movement in the house after I was absent for so long.

Do not let him increase the taxes, tell him it is best to wait for the end of the year. I will have gotten married by then and he is not going to be in our home any longer after that. If I am not successful in finding a husband here in London, I believe there are enough nations in Europe and a hundred times as many gentlemen left for me to meet and, therefore, find the one to marry.

If we must keep him occupied, put him in charge of selling l'Hôtel de Bourgogne for as much as he can get from it. The money will go to the investment in the diamond mines, though he mustn't know that.

Unless there is any novelty, I will be back in France in three weeks at most. I hope to meet you and my grandfather at the Palace of Versailles for my arrival.

Before saying goodbye, I wanted to ask you to please send to London a few bottles of our finest wine.

Looking forward to your answer,

Lady Y/N of Burgundy.

[Translated from French]

"Alright, I sent the letter." you told Antoinette.

"When will we finally be back in France?" she asked anxiously.

You clicked your tongue, walking before her on your way to the carriage. "In two weeks, after the Featherington Ball."

"Do we really have to wait until then?"

"Yes," you answered. "The Carrington Ball is tomorrow, in four days we are leaving for Aubrey Hall and five days after that is the Featherington Ball. It's not too much time."

"Will you return, my Lady?"

"I don't think I will."

She nodded. "To Lawrence House?"

"Yes."

You soon arrived at Grant's home, being received with your friends' cheers and their joy to see you attend another gathering after many refusals.

"Does your sister like jewelry? We will send her a gift for letting you come," Santiago said. "I am not joking, Antoine, we are all thankful."

You laughed. "I know you cannot live without me, but you mustn't give my sister any emeralds to show that."

"Ha! My mother just received some jewelry from France, I am certain there must be something worthy of your sister." Mr. Turner commented. You were almost sure it was jewelry from your family's mines, but did not say a word.

"I can guarantee you all that she has enough jewelry to give a very thoughtful present to every woman in England," you added, knowing it was a thing a brother would say about his sister. "Save them for the ladies you are courting."

Cortez stood up. "How much for the most expensive one? My dearest Lady Y/N of Burgundy will adore it."

"Are you courting her?" Lord Connor questioned, and he nodded. "Nice! How is it going with her? I have heard she is a rare jewel!"

"Unlike any other lady I have seen," Santiago said. "In a sense that she wasn't trying to impress me, but did it still. I will marry her, gentlemen, I bet my soul on it!"

"Women like confident men, keep it up with the good work!" you yelled, taking the glass of brandy Lawrence offered you. "There is a fine line between confidence and arrogance you must be careful not to cross. Women like her would throw you away like a used napkin if you do."

"If it isn't our expert in women speaking!"

"I am quite the expert," you replied. "But I have my very own lady waiting for me in France. You all wouldn't stand a chance against me if I didn't."

"You just crossed the line." Lawrence noted.

"Not in front of a lady, I did not."

They laughed, and you all kept drinking and talking. Some friends joined later, including Benedict.

You did not interact much with him, and there were nothing but sneaky glances and spaces between you.

But you were drunk and hopelessly in love with him, regardless of how little you knew each other. Still, you were conscious enough to leave the room before he considered approaching you.

What you did not count on, was that he would follow you to Grant's studio a while after you had left the room everyone was in.

When Benedict entered the studio, he saw you: only a few candles and the moonlight helped you see around, your hair was tied up in a bun, the sleeves of the linen shirt were rolled up to your elbows, the burgundy waistcoat that reminded you of home gave color to the setting in all hues around amber. The painting developing on the canvas in front of you resembled the landscape of the outsides of the villa. The moon seemed to be the theme of the piece, and your focus that ignored his presence only made Benedict smile.

"There is something valuable in the simplest landscapes one can paint," you mentioned as soon as you noticed his reflection on the window. "I have painted ancient ruins… Roman and Greek, the Pyramids in Egypt, the coldest night sky seen from the great dunes of the Sahara desert, flawless Northern Lights from Norway, the most ravishing lakes worthy of dead poets when the sun rises in the North of the Americas, the mountains and forests found in the mystical South; as many portraits as the cities I've been to, every sort of complex technique you could think of. Still, there is something magical about the colors of the heavens when the sun sets in the vineyards, the view of it from the Château du Clos de Vougeot is priceless… Paintings from dusk until dawn of the gardens of the Palace of the Dukes. It is the sense of familiarity of it all, I assume."

"I would not know until I paint anything outside of England."

You smiled, looking around the room as you spotted dozens of portraits of people. "No offense to our fellow artists at all, but I find it delightful to portrait the beauty of nature rather than the wrinkles in those empty faces. Unless, of course, there is someone you love being the subject of one's art."

"Well, not everyone has had the fortune of traveling the world, Antoine."

"But everyone can appreciate those twilight moments outside their homes, can they not?"

Benedict nodded with a smile. "Touché."

"Take a look at the moon," you invited him, and he approached you right away. "The greatest wonders in the world are right here in plain sight, and some are blind to them, even with seeing eyes."

"Where are your paintings?"

"Some at the Palace of the Dukes," you answered. "Others in Versailles, some others were sold."

"I wish I could see them someday."

"Whenever you're in France make sure to address a letter to my sister. She organized an exhibition with our art."

"She is not like the regulars, is she?" Benedict laughed. "I assume no one says no to her."

You smiled. "A mind like hers knows no limits and her spirit cannot be stopped. Whoever says no to her will regret it, I'm sure."

"Is she that dreadful?" Benedict joked.

"Not at all," You chuckled. "She loves like no other."

"I spent only a couple afternoons with her, and I could tell how enchanting she is."

Blood rushed into your cheeks at his words, so your attention returned to the painting. "Any man that marries her will be the most fortunate one."

Benedict could have said that despite what happened between him and Antoine, yours was always the face he saw when he closed his eyes. It was your face instead of the women's he went to bed with often: no matter that they shared your skin tone, the particular length of your hair or the skilled hands yours have proved to be through your melodies. It was your voice calling out his name and your touch burning him alive rather than theirs. Instead, he said that: "A woman whose company is as delightful as hers is, is worthy of keeping."

"I'm sure."

Then there was silence, but it wasn't uncomfortable. The slowly building tension was easy to outlive unless one of you decided to act upon it, and you knew that would not happen.

You do not often admit when you are not right in something. Right now, you couldn't even hide how wrong you were because when you least expected it, Benedict was so close to you.

This time you looked at each other in the eyes for a while, and this time it was you who kissed him. And Benedict didn't pull away, he wouldn't even if his life depended on it.

Neither of you opened your eyes when the kiss ended, neither of you said a word.

"I- I think I… I think I love her."

Your heart fluttered at his confession, and while his kisses belonged to another, his affections were yours. "That is fantastic."

Benedict chuckled and kissed you again. "I do not know what to do."

"You love her? Utterly and truthfully, you do?" you questioned him.

"I've just met her twice."

You bit your lip. "So have we."

"Yes, so have we."

"Benedict, you and I, we are men, we cannot do this."

He kissed you again. "I know."

You must return to France with at least a serious suitor, engaged if you could.

You couldn't risk that the incident with your cousin happens again, and if you had to return betrothed, it was best if the man you were to marry was Benedict. Whatever that was happening between you and him and Antoine- you… You did not know what it was, you could not make sense of any of it, but you could not return to France by yourself.

Whatever it takes.

"Marry her, then."

#benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton

[absurdthirst]

The Election {Max Lord x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 10k

Warnings: People being assholes, comments about physical appearance, politicians, public sex, protected sex, public scandal

Comments: Meeting Senator Max Lord in the diner where you work one night leads to a very unusual arrangement. Sex behind the building. Changing both of your lives in a very real way. 

A/N: Thot based off this filthy gif but is no way representative of the reader. 

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers​

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

You sigh, wiping down the table after the teenagers had effectively thrown every single fry on the floor and squirted ketchup all over the table. You had told them to stop but they just laughed at you before they left. They didn’t leave a tip. You toss the dirty rag into the bowl in the kitchen, leaning against the counter just beside the window that looks out into the diner. “You’ll never guess who just sat down in your section.” Sally says, appearing through the swinging door, and you frown, turning your head to look into your section. 

“Who’s that?” You frown. 

“Senator Maxwell Lord. He’s running for re-election.” Sally declares and you scoff, adjusting your apron. 

“I don’t follow politics.” 

Sally sighs, “you should. He really is dreamy. Single dad too. It’s hot. A powerful man.” 

You snort, “sounds like you should go serve him.” 

Sally shakes her head, “no. Hopefully he tips well. You need it more than me. Go.” She orders and you push on the door to make your way over to your section, approaching the Senator sitting at the table.

Max sighs and looks down at the menu, the selection here a lot better than the greasy spoons he has been visiting while he’s been on the campaign trail. Bypassing the burgers because he didn’t want to have anyone, mainly the man sitting opposite him, commenting about the cholesterol or how unhealthy he was eating. The California grilled chicken sandwich looks good but he damn sure is going to get the fries. “Now we have a campaign stop tomorrow morning and we need to make sure that you make an appearance at the children’s hospital. Kiss a few sick kids, make a donation that is in full view of the cameras.” 

Max rolls his eyes at his campaign manager, shaking his head at how callous he sounds, visiting sick kids for political visibility. “No.” He tells him. “I will donate privately and you can photograph me going into the hospital but if the parents don’t want their kids photos taken, that’s it.” He warns the overeager man. “No persuading them. Those kids are sick and shouldn’t be exploited for votes.” 

You walk over, brushing down your apron, and you pull your notepad out, grabbing the pen from behind your ear. “Good afternoon.” You tell the two men your name before asking what they want to drink. “Diet Coke.” Both men say and you nod, “no problem. I’ll be right back with those and then I’ll take your order.” The dark eyes of the senator focus on you and you find it a little hard to breathe with how handsome he is. Clearly well groomed with his expensive suit and watch that costs more than your car to appear in charge and ready to lead. A true politician.

Watching you walk away, Max ignores the assessing hum of the other man as he admires the curve of your ass. It’s been a long time since he’s really noticed a woman. First he was going through his divorce and then it was lack of availability. Anyone around him was off limits, he wasn’t going to be that kind of politician. No matter what, he didn’t want a sex scandal undermining the kind of change he was trying to bring about.

You bring the drinks back, setting them down and ignoring the appraising look from the man in the blue suit. The kind brown eyes are deceptive considering his career in politics. “What can I get you to eat?” You ask. 

“Are you on the menu?” The blue suit man winks and you offer him a tight smile. 

“No. I am not. Only food available in a diner. I can tell you the specials though.”

He’s already decided what he wants but he smiles at you, the charming one that he uses on the campaign trail set aside for one that is grateful and almost hesitant. “Please.” He just wants to hear you talk, enjoying the way your voice sounds. “Your specials. What you would eat here.”

You are a little taken back, “oh, okay. Um, the specials are a double cheeseburger with bacon and a fried egg served with fries. We also have a meatloaf with mashed potatoes and a red wine jus. I could go with the burger.” You tell the senator with a wink.

He gives you a slow smile, enjoying the butterflies that erupt in his stomach at your playful wink. “Then I’ll have the burger, no mayo please.” He asks, “but I wouldn’t mind extra ketchup.” He winks back at you just as playfully. 

You offer him a soft smile, sensing how charismatic he is, and you write down his order just as his companion says, “I’ll have the grilled chicken salad. Maxwell. You shouldn’t have the burger. You need to watch your weight. Maybe the waitress should too.” His blue eyes look at you, and your jaw drops. 

“Excuse me?” You balk. 

“Just sayin’ you might want to cut out the burgers and maybe get a boob job. Might get you out of this shithole diner.” He shrugs. 

You scoff, “I’ll put your order in and maybe I can find the number of a dick extension doctor. You seem like you need one.” You snort, spinning on your heel to head into the kitchen, absolutely fuming at the audacity of the man.

“Jackson.” Max shakes his head at his campaign manager and frowns. “What the hell are you doing?” He huffs. “That was completely uncalled for, you- you know what?” He leans back and stares at the man. “Go back to the bus and make sure my speech is ready for tomorrow. I’ll get your food to go and bring it back to you.” Jackson huffs and argues with him for a few minutes but Max is adamant and the other man shuffles out of the restaurant. 

You come back with the plates, still annoyed at the prick in the suit. “Where’s your friend? In the bathroom looking at himself in the mirror?” You ask, setting the senator’s burger down in front of him before you slam the chicken salad down on the table.

“He’s - he’s not my friend.” Max shuffles slightly and bites his lip. “I want to apologize for him, he’s my campaign manager and was completely out of line.” He apologizes. “What he said was wrong, you don’t need to lose weight, or a boob job.” He flushes when he realizes what he said and flusters. “I- I mean…You are perfect - perfectly fine just the way you are.” 

You fluster at his words, his dark eyes are kind and you know you’re going to look him up when your shift ends. “Uh, thank you. Ketchup is over there.” You point at the bottle, “and I can pack up the salad for your…campaign manager. I just - I hope you don’t have the same morals as him. Especially if you’re gonna be representing this state.” You tilt your head.

“Well, I’ve already been representing the state, but I hope to continue to do so.” He admits. “But no, I don’t have the same morals as he does. I want to be honest and transparent with what I can do for my constituents and what I hope to accomplish for our state.”

You bite your lip, “I- I don’t really follow politics. I didn’t - I didn’t know who you were until my coworker told me.” Your confession has you glancing around the diner. “I’m just saying you might want a new campaign manager. One who isn’t an asshole.”

Max chuckles and leans back in the booth, throwing his arm along the back as he appraises you, enjoying how you speak your mind. “You know any good ones?” He asks, actually delighted you didn’t know who he was or have ten thousand questions that he needed to carefully answer so he wasn’t misquoted. “I wish we could just skip all the b.s. and just run off our principles.” 

You chuckle, “unfortunately my Rolodex of campaign managers is empty. Surely the world would be a better place if politicians just told the truth? Although I doubt the population wants to hear it. I just don’t get involved in politics, I have too much of my own b.s going on to care.” You tell him honestly, “I’ll let you eat your meal.” You realize he hasn’t touched his burger.

“Again, I’m sorry he was an ass.” He tells you as he reaches for the bottle of ketchup. “The burger looks delicious and I’m sure you are busy enough without taking up more of your time.” He knows you have other tables, he actually enjoys that he isn’t special. Right now he is just a patron eating a burger. 

You nod, walking away from him and you can feel his eyes on you. “Sooo how is the senator? Think he’s gonna leave a big tip?” Sally asks, and you chuckle. 

“No. I- he’s…sweet. Not what I expected. His campaign manager is a dick but he’s nice. He seems like he actually wants to do some good.” You say as you lean against the counter and Sally raises her eyebrows. 

“A politician who seems nice? Alert the media.” She jokes.

It’s rare that he isn’t wolfing down his food or having a working dinner. So it’s honestly a treat to be able to take his time and eat. He can’t help but watch you though. His eyes find you around the diner as he watches you go about your tasks, refilling drinks and serving customers. You are graceful and quite frankly beautiful. It’s been a long time since he’s met a woman so pretty and he’s honestly finding it hard to look away from you. 

You eventually come back around to grab Max’s plate, taking it before you look down at him. “Looks like you enjoyed it.” You tease, glancing at the empty plate. He blushes a little and you think it’s cute. He’s cute. Sally said his wife had divorced him, too focused on her own career to go on the road with him.

“I did.” He nods and looks around. “I will have to bring Alistair here. My son.” He clarifies with a small smile as he thinks about the boy. “He loves a good cheeseburger and I spotted milkshakes on the menu.” He chuckles. “He would want a double chocolate.” 

You smile, “you’ll have to bring him by. Cheeseburger and chocolate shake.” You tap your head, “I’ll try and remember in case you come back. Here’s your check.” You tell him, setting it down. “There’s no rush. Your…campaign managers salad has been wrapped up. I’ll give it to you when you leave.”

The bill is reasonable, and he wants to make sure that he leaves a good tip, especially because you had to deal with Jackson’s bullshit. Max digs out his wallet and slides the bills under the check and stands. Catching your attention with a smile. “I’ll take that box for him, even if he deserves to starve.” He jokes and gives you a tiny wink.

You nod, grabbing the takeout box with the salad from the counter. “Hope he doesn’t choke on the lettuce.” You snort flippantly. 

Max offers you a wry smile, “knowing him he won’t eat it and will have a cigarette instead.” 

You roll your eyes, “of course. Well…good luck Senator Lord.” You offer him a smile and he nods, “thank you.” You watch him leave, biting your lip as you realize how broad he is, and you wonder if he will be back. Shaking your head, you make your way over to the table, grabbing the check and when you cash it out, your eyes widen when you see the fifty dollar tip. “Holy shit.” You curse, eying the money before you put it in your apron, torn on whether to accept it or not. You know he’s gone so you won’t be able to return it. Maybe you can donate it. You need the money but this is a lot. Deciding to figure it out later, you get back to work.

Max thinks about that burger all day, deciding that he’s going to order them back to the diner from yesterday, he walks over to the driver. “I want to go back to the restaurant from last night.” He tells him. “Just me and one of the security guards.”

You look up as the bell rings above the door, your eyes widening slightly when you see Senator Lord walk in with a buff looking man wearing a suit - his security you’re assuming. “Hey. Table for two?” You ask, grabbing a couple of menus.

Shaking his head, Max gives you a smile. “No, Gunther doesn’t like sitting with me.” He tells you. “He’ll sit at the bar and order nothing, just to make himself seem more intimidating.” He jokes, knowing the man will at least order a coffee. But he doesn’t eat while he is out with Max so he can be alert. “I had to come back for another burger.”

You chuckle, setting one menu down before you guide Max to a booth in your section. “Diet Coke?” You ask, and he nods, smiling at you. You love how he blushes a little when you take his menu, his fingers brushing yours. “So you left me way too much money last time.” You say as you set his drink down after submitting his order to the kitchen. You take the money out of your apron and set it down on the table.

Max frowns and looks down at the money before he shakes his head and pushes it back towards you. “I know how much I left. You deserve it.” He murmurs, nodding towards it. “You were a lot more graceful than you should have been to my campaign manager and I know you work hard - like everyone in the service industry.”

Your jaw drops slightly, taken back by his genuine response. You know that most politicians would pull the same act to try and win over another voter but the gesture seems genuine. You pick up the money and tuck it into your apron, tilting your head at him. “You don’t seem like most politicians. You seem…real. Is that genuine or are you just that good an actor?” You ask, deciding to call him out on it.

Laughing at your brazen question, he shakes his head. “Not an actor.” He promises, giving a small shrug. “I grew up poor, very poor. I just know how the little people struggle while everyone else overlooks them.” He explains. “My mother cleaned houses and would cry if her clients would even leave an extra five dollars to tip her. It meant she could eat lunch that week too.”

You are taken back by his answer, figuring he’d been born with a silver spoon in his mouth. You smile at him, “not what I expected but I’m glad to hear you are not one of those upper class assholes looking to make money while pretending to work for his constituency.” He chuckles and you smile again, “I’ll go get your burger when it’s ready.”

Max looks around then diner again, watching a family have their meal while they interact with their two kids. That’s what he wants to work for, a family. The average people who just want to live a good life and raise their kids in a safe world. His own son counted amongst them.

You come back over with his burger, grateful your shift is nearly over with how bad your feet are aching, and you set it down along with the bottle of ketchup, remembering what he said about wanting extra. You look at him for a moment before you fluster, a little lost in his dark gaze, before you walk off to get him another refill on his soda.

When you bring the soda back Max motions to the seat across from him. “Sit down?” He asks, slightly shy but wanting to have you sit with him for a bit. “The diner isn’t very busy and I’m enjoying our banter.” If you say no, he will respect that, but he hopes you don’t. 

You glance around the diner, seeing it’s quiet and your shift is nearly over, so you nod and take a seat. “So…must be lonely on your campaign bus, going from city to city.” You observe, noticing the dark circles under his eyes.

Max nods. “Living in hotels or on the bus for weeks at a time isn’t as glamorous as you would think.” He admits. “I miss the simplicity of just sleeping in the same bed every night.” He chuckles. “It actually makes me miss D.C. when we are in session.” He jokes.

You chuckle, “wow. Must be bad. Guess it’s worse when you don’t have someone traveling with you to share your bed at night.” You are a little forward but you think he’s cute and honestly? It’s been a while for you. Not since your asshole of an ex cheated on you.

“Don’t I know it.” Max groans before he stops himself. He clears his throat and blushes slightly and looks away. “I just- there aren’t a lot of opportunities to meet someone new and I refuse to be another senator to has a fucking sex scandal to take away from the real issues.” He explains, hoping you don’t mind the language that slips out.

You hum in agreement, taking note of his broad shoulders. “What if - what if you were guaranteed that no one would know?” You ask cautiously, waiting for his reaction while you lean forward, offering him a glimpse down your button down dress the owner wants you to wear.

Max’s eyes drift down to your cleavage and then back up to your face. “I’m a red blooded man.” His voice is raspy, thicker than it had been before. “I’m not opposed to sex, but I wasn’t going to take advantage of the women that work on my campaign or my staff.” He clarifies. “I meet a beautiful woman and sex happens…well, hopefully she enjoys herself.”

“And if I say that my shift ends in ten minutes which seems to be enough time for you to eat and perhaps, you could come find me outside after you’ve paid your check?” You ask casually, tilting your head at him. He’s hot, the raspy tone in his voice has your thighs pressed together, and you can’t deny the thrill of fucking him without anyone knowing except the two of you is exhilarating.

Max blows out a breath, cock twitching and he watches your eyes to make sure your offer is genuine. “I would say that I will see you outside in 9 and a half minutes.” He promises, looking down at his food with a grin. “Maybe even nine minutes.”

You grin, “see you in nine minutes Senator.” You wink and stand up, swaying your hips as you walk away from his table without looking back. The next nine minutes drags by and you watch the seconds tick down as he scoffs his burger, eagerly slapping down some cash when he pays. You giggle, walking over to him to grab the bill. “Meet me outside in the alley.” You whisper, leaning closer as you pick up the cash. “Change?” You ask breathlessly. He shakes his head, barely able to breathe, and you smirk as you carry the check over to close it out before you clock out.

Max walks over to his guard and murmurs in his ear. All of the team that surrounds him have NDAs so he doesn’t have to worry about the man talking. The worst he could say was the the senator had sex with a woman in an alley. All consensual, but in public. Still, he needs to be aware of where Max is going. He nods, telling Max that he will be in the car. Swallowing, Max exits the diner and walks around the back, already starting to harden at the mere prospect of touching you.

You shove your apron in your locker and grab your purse, shouting a goodbye to your coworkers before you make your way outside to the alley where Maxwell is waiting. It’s dark outside now, the moon in the sky and it gives an intimate atmosphere to your rendezvous despite being by the dumpsters.

Max looks up from where he was staring at the condom in his hands, watching you walk up to him. “Lucky I had one of these.” He jokes, holding it up and biting his lip as you walk closer. “Fuck, you look pretty.” He groans. “Thought so from the very beginning.”

You stride towards him, loving how sweet he is and the fact that he has a condom in his wallet is endearing. He probably had to check it wasn't expired.  You grip the back of his neck, dragging him towards you. "You're too fucking cute. Want you to fuck me, use me for your frustrations." You order before pressing your lips to his.

Max groans, quickly kissing you back and reaching up to cup the back of your neck to press into you. It’s been years since he’s had sex, as shameful as that is. His ex was the last woman he was with, concentrating on his career and Alistair when he has him. However, his body definitely remembers what to do, quickly pressing you against the wall of the diner and kissing down your throat, his hands sliding under your dress.

You gasp when he nips on the skin between your neck and your shoulder. “Fuck, Max.” You moan, snaking your hand between you to cup his hard cock through his expensive slacks. You whimper when his hands squeeze your ass, pulling you against him. “Want- want your fingers.” You confess, grinding against him.

His fingers dip under the band of your panties, practical cotton, but to him they are sexy. Parting your curls, his thick digits slide through your folds and he moans when he finds your clit and starts rubbing as he kisses down your chest and his teeth graze the top of your cleavage. “God.” He breathes out. “So fucking pretty.” 

Moaning, you grind down onto his fingers, and you unbuckle his fancy belt, flicking the button his pants before you can reach in to grip his cock. “Fuck. You’re so thick.” You moan, pulling him out of his pants. His fingers work your clit and you are breathless at how good it feels already.

Groaning at your hand on his cock, he throbs for you. “Shit.” He hisses. Quickly twisting his wrist so he can sink two fingers into your thankfully wet cunt, he licks the top of your bra, wetting the white material and your skin underneath it.

“Oh God. Max, that- that feels good. Gonna make me cum.” You whine, grinding down onto his fingers and your grip on his cock slackens. It’s been so long since you had something other than your own fingers. “Fuck. Oh shit.” You hiss, trying to keep quiet as you clamp down on his thick digits.

He smothers his own whine against your skin, keeping his fingers pumping and moving in your gasping cunt. “That’s it. That’s it.” He croons quietly. Marveling at how tight you were squeezing them and soaking them with your pleasures. Your top finally opens and he bites down on your nipple over the material of your bra and sucks harshly with a groan as he works you through it.

You squeeze his cock, ready for you and you are now ready for him. “Come on baby. Want you inside of me.” You beg, gently pushing him back before you reach into his jacket pocket for the condom. Ripping it open before you roll it down his length.

Max groans and pushes you back against the wall. He reaches down and grips your leg and lifts it up over his hip. “You want me inside you, baby?” He asks, grasping his cock and starting to guide himself towards your cunt as you move your panties to the side.

You keep your panties to the side, gasping when he pushes into you. “Oh. Oh. Oh fuck.” You hiss, tilting your head back as he fills you up, stretching your walls. “Max. Max, baby. Fuck me.” You plead, gripping his neck.

Shuddering at the feel of your nails digging into the back of his neck. Making him hiss and drag his hips back to snap them forward again, burying his cock back in your heat. “Fuck.” Growling, he leans and presses his lips to yours while starting to thrust in and out of your cunt.

You cling to him, pressed against the wall as he thrusts into you with a hiss. “So good Max. Feel so damn good. I- I want - I want more.” You murmur against his lips. Rocking up onto your tip toes so he can thrust deeper into you with a moan. “God yes. Yes. Right there.” You groan when he hits deep to find a delicious spot inside of you.

One hand holding your legs, the other braced on the wall, Max tries to keep hitting that spot with every jolt of his hips. Moaning and grunting at how you tighten around him. He’s not done anything like this in forever and it feels like fucking Heaven. “Jesus, fuck.” He pants, leaning his forehead against yours while you take his cock again and again.

You reach up to cup his cheeks, bringing his mouth back to yours as you get closer and closer to your orgasm. “Fuck. Fuck. I’m gonna- Max. Maxxxx.” You squeal against his mouth, clamping down on his cock as you cum.

Max pants out your name, nearly whining it as he continues to rock into you, working you through your high. The loud sounds of your fucking practically echoes around the small area you are tucked into. “Shit.” His hips stutter and he can’t only give another four or five thrusts before he is burying himself deep and filling the condom with his seed with a moan of your name.

You caress his neck, loving the way his jaw clenches as he rocks his way through his high before he stills inside of you. "God, that was good." You sigh, kissing his nose, unable to help yourself when you've imagined it far too many times.

“Yes it was.” Max’s breathing starts to slow down as he enjoys the last moments of closeness before he carefully grips the base of the condom and pulls out of you. Putting your leg down and taking it off to tie a knot in it before throwing it in the dumpster. “Going to sleep like a baby tonight.”

You chuckle, "I bet you are. I'm happy to serve the state." You wink at him and reach out to pull him close one last time, pressing your lips to his. "So...uh, I guess you gotta get back?" You murmur, shifting from one foot to the other. It's a little awkward now the lust has been satiated.

Max nods, hating it, but he does have to strategize and call Alistair in the morning before school. “Do you need a ride home?” He asks, wanting to spend a few more minutes with you if he could.

You shake your head, "no. I can get the bus. I'll be fine." You tell him, picking your purse up from the floor and you turn to look at him. 

"You aren't taking the bus." He insists and you shake your head. 

"I- I don't have a car. I can't afford a car." You tell him, biting your lip.

“Then let me take you home.” Max implores. “Please.” He wants to make sure you get home safely and he knows that the public transportation can take forever to get you where you need to go. “Get you home quickly and into a bath with a glass of wine before you would normally be home.” He adds, trying to sweeten the offer.

You stare at him for a moment, unsure if you should accept the ride home and make more of this than it really is: a hook up. You smile and nod, “that sounds wonderful. Yes, I’d like a ride home.” You lean closer to kiss his cheek.

“Good.” Max smiles and puts his hand on your back as the two of you walk down the alley. If Gunther is surprised to see you with Max, he doesn’t show it. Opening the door, Max motions for you to climb into the back seat of the SUV before he climbs in beside you. “I’m glad you let us take you home, it’s getting late.”

You glance out the window before you look back at Maxwell. “I’m used to taking the bus. I- my car broke down and I couldn’t afford to fix it so I had to change to taking the bus. If I end up doing a night shift, I usually just walk home because the bus isn’t running.” You confess, knowing it’s not safe but you don’t have any other options. You tell the driver where to go.

“Jesus.” Max shakes his head, knowing that if he hadn’t insisted on taking you home that you would be walking home. “I- my schedule is tight but I can send the man who works on my cars over to look at it?” He offers, wanting to help however he could. “Otherwise, I would look at it myself.” You give him a startled look and he chuckles. “I worked my way through college working in a mechanics shop.”

You tilt your head, “you did? Wow. You are way more than you appear, Maxwell Lord.” You reach over to take his hand in yours. “Thank you. I- I would really appreciate you doing that. I- I need my car back. Pepper spray only goes so far.” You chuckle awkwardly and squeeze his hand.

Max squeezes your hand back, proud of being able to help you. It’s a good feeling almost as good as the first time he had signed a bill that became law. “We’ll make sure you don’t have to worry about that from now on.” He promises. “He’s a miracle worker with cars.”

You kiss the back of his hand after lifting it to your mouth. “You’re a good man. You’ve got my vote.” You joke, offering him a wink before you give the driver another direction to turn onto your street. Thankfully you didn’t live too far away from the diner.

Max honestly wishes you lived farther away so he could spend more time with you. Instead he feels the car pull to a stop, turning to see the older apartment building. He could tell that it wasn’t newer but hopefully the owners kept up with maintenance. “Well, I take it you are home. I hope you have a good night.” He offers softly.

“You too. I’ll see you around Senator Lord.” You offer him one last wink before his driver opens the door to let you out and you make your way into your builder. 

Gunther meets Max’s eyes in the rear view mirror after the car is rolling down the street. “You know Jackson is gonna kill you for this.” Gunther warns his boss.

Max gives a small shrug, a smile playing on his lips. “Let him try.” He murmurs. “She is exactly what I needed tonight and Jackson needs to remember he works for me, not the other way around.” He looks back towards your building behind him and huffs. “Might be my new favorite place to eat.”

“The diner or the lady?” Gunter jokes, making Max blush and look out the window. He knows he will be back, it’s just a question of when. 

****

It’s been three weeks since you saw Max and you can’t help but think he got what he wanted and now he’s never coming back. You ignore the questions from your coworkers, all of them guessing he kissed you, none of them daring to assume he fucked you in the alleyway.

You don’t divulge the dirty details, wanting to keep your secret romp with Max just that to preserve his integrity and yours. However, with each day that passes, you can’t help but want to talk to someone about it to get some advice. You don’t have the man’s phone number and even if you did, he’s on the road so much you’d probably go straight to the answer machine.

Max sighs, tired after three weeks on the road. He has been to several diners that reminded him of yours, but his spirits lift when he sees the sign for the little greasy spoon he has come to dream about. More specifically the alleyway behind it and the sexy yet sweet waitress. 

Smiling when the bell rings out when he opens the door, the woman closest to him turns to greet him. “Can I sit in her section?” He asks, nodding to where you are bringing out plates to a table of what looked like truckers. “Please.”

You turn your head to see Max walking towards you and you can't stop the silly smile that appears on your face. You might've been scouring the tv guide and local news for any interviews with him and you had thought about him every time your hand was between your thighs. "Here you go fellas." You tell the truckers, setting their meals down before you walk over to the table Max sat down at. "Hey stranger." You smile, "Diet Coke and a burger?" You guess.

Max’s grin is answering your own, but there is a devilish twinkle in his eyes. He nods, leaning in. “It will have to do for now, since what I want isn’t exactly on the menu.” He murmurs where no one else can hear him. He has been thinking about you probably every day, definitely every time he had his hand wrapped around his cock. “So I guess I will have to stick with the food.” He winks at you playfully. “How have you been?”

Your stomach twists in anticipation about what he really wants and you bite your lip. "Not too bad. Busy with work as always. Been thinking about this senator...he does this amazing thing with his hips." You whisper with a smirk, writing down his order. "I'll be right back with your soda." You wink, walking away and swaying your hips until you feel his gaze burning into you.

Gunther is at the bar again, sitting there as Max admires your figure. He had immediately told the guard that he wanted to come to the diner over the objections of his campaign manager, but he had just ignored that. He was free from any meet and greets, town hall meetings or campaign trail stops for the next week and he had wanted to see you before he did anything else. Hoping that you weren’t too upset that he hasn’t been in. He had forgotten to give you a number to reach him at. When you bring the Diet Coke back he notices that you don’t seem as tired. “So I heard that my guy was able to get your car back on the road for you.”

You hover near his table, nodding and offering him a smile. "Yes. Yes. He was great. It's so nice to have my car back. I wanted to reach out to you to thank you but I didn't have a number for you." You confess, shifting from one foot to the other and you look into those dark eyes that have haunted you. "Thank you. Really, you - you have no idea how much easier my life is now I don't have to take the bus or walk."

“I should have given you my number.” He’s happy you don’t have to worry about getting home from work now. He had not been thrilled about you walking home alone at night, and it was something he had told his guy when he sent him over there. Get your car on the road no matter what it costs. You didn’t have to worry about the bill, he would have paid it, but luckily it was just a spark plug. Although he had gone through the car to check more than that and did a tune up on it for you. He reaches into his jacket and pulls out a card. “Personal number’s on the back.”

You carefully take the card from him, admiring the gold, and you bite your lip. “I’ve never had the personal number of a senator before.” You tease, tucking the card into your apron. The truckers call you over, asking for more coffee, and you glance back at Max before you go to grab the pot. After satisfying the truckers, you grab Max’s burger and set it down in front of him. “How’s your son?” You ask, wanting to extend your time together.

He grins, thinking about his son. Despite the divorce and his ambitions, he wanted to be a good father to Alistair. He chuckles. “I’m going to go pick him up tonight. Have him spend the night and take him to school tomorrow.” The campaign trail was hard because he spent a lot of time away from him, not wanting to drag him away from his routine, despite what Jackson wanted. His son wasn’t going to be a pawn to get votes. “Pizza and the newest movie he wants to watch is on the menu.”

You grin, “membership card to Blockbuster, huh?” You snort, imagining Max in his pristine suit picking out a movie with his son. “I like that you put your son first. Not many fathers would do what you do and still try to be present for their child. I, uh, I like you. A lot.” You confess, biting your lip as you look towards the table of truckers who are leaving after paying their checks.

“I like you too.” Max answers easily. “A lot.” He sees the money on the table and jerks his chin over to it. “Go pocket your tip.” He urges you. “I’ll be here when you get done. Until you have a break even.” He tells you, voice slipping a bit lower and rougher. He wanted to see you mostly, but now that he’s seen you, he wants to touch you again. 

You shiver at the roughness in his tone, nodding before you make your way over to the now empty table, pocketing your tip before you clean up the plates. Once you’ve finished wiping down the table it’s time for your break and you see Max has finished eating. “Come on baby. Meet me in the alleyway.” You whisper as you walk past, waiting for him to follow you.

Max gets up, making like he is going to go down the hallway and use the bathroom. Gunther sees him of course, smirking to himself and the senator as he walks by. But Max doesn’t pay him any attention, eager to meet you in the alleyway despite it being broad daylight.

You giggle when Max slams the door open and grabs you, pressing you up against the wall, his lips immediately finding yours. You moan into his mouth, gripping the lapels of his expensive jacket, his tongue sliding into your mouth when you gasp. The door to the alleyway swings open and you push Max away when his security guard appears. Maxwell turns his head to look as Gunther lights a cigarette. “Just want to make sure no one watches. Carry on. I am gonna have a smoke.” He says, turning his back.

He waits for you to protest, to tell you that there is no way that you can have sex with him while his security is here. When he doesn’t hear a sound of protest, Max chuckles and leans in to kiss you again. “Thought about you for three weeks.” He groans, biting down your throat again. He has a condom in his pocket again and he presses his hard cock against your hip. “Tell me I can fuck you? Tell me that you’ve been thinking about it.” He begs quietly.

You whine, “yes. Yes, please. You’re all I’ve thought about. I’m wet just thinking about how you felt inside of me.” You confess, reaching down to grab his hand. You slide it under your dress to your panties, showing him how wet you already are.

Max groans, pushing the fabric aside so he can slide his fingers through your slick folds. “Fuck.” He pushes a finger inside you. “You want me to fuck you right here again?” He asks. “Make sure you come back to work feeling good from cumming?”

“Yes. Yes. Want- want you to fuck me. You- you felt so good last time.” You pant, pushing his hand out of your panties so you can push them down, turning around after pulling your dress up. You look over your shoulder at him, “please Max. Fuck me.”

“Fuck.” Max hisses and pulls the condom out of his pocket to put between his teeth, tearing at his belt. His cock is already aching to be buried inside you. A quick glance at Gunther’s back ensures the man is watching for the two of you as he rips open the foil wrapper and quickly rolls the rubber down his length.

You gasp when the head of his cock nudges your clit before he notches the head at your entrance, pushing into you in one thrust. “Fuck. Oh fuck Max. Feels so good. Already. Feels so fucking good.” You moan, trying to grind back onto him as your forearms are scratched by the brick wall.

Gripping your hip, Max moans his agreement. “Fuck.” He hisses, pulling back to surge into you again. “Jerked off thinking about this, about you.” He confesses, grinding deep and loving the way that you clench around him. Your panting moans make him want to cum right now but he wants to make sure you cum before he does.

“Never felt like this before. Always - always faked it but with you - it’s real. You make me feel so good. Fuck my pussy so good.” You lean forward to rest your forehead against the cool brick, spreading your legs a little wider so he can fuck into you. “Yes baby. Yes. Harder. Need more.” You beg and reach back to grip onto his hand on your hip.

Pride rises in his chest, making him give you his cock exactly how you want it. Hard and deep thrusts into your cunt, pushing you into the wall make him start panting. “Y-you feel f-fucking incredible.” He gasps out. “So so tight, h-hot.”

Your cheek scratches against the brick but you don’t care, too obsessed with the way he is grinding into you, fucking you into next week. The sound of his hips hitting your ass echoes in the alleyway but Gunther just continues smoking his cigarette as he keeps watch.

“Fuck.” He hisses, one hand sliding under the bunched up fabric of your dress to reach around you to start rubbing your clit. The audaciousness of it, a senator fucking his waitress in broad daylight in an alley, but he fucking loves it. Loves the way that you are so eager for it, the way that you want him. “Cum for me.” He groans into your ear, nibbling on the shell.

You let out a strangled groan when his fingers rub your clit, making you cry out in pleasure when you clamp down on his cock. He actually makes you cum - something your other lovers couldn’t claim. “Yes yes yes. Max. Oh shit!” You shriek, legs shaking as you soak him.

He pants raggedly in your ear, the hold your body has on him makes his teeth grit. Moaning with you as he rocks into you. Now that he has made you cum, he can cum himself. “Good.” He rasps out. “S-so fucking good.”

When he cums, he bites down on your neck and you love it. Reaching behind you to tangle your fingers in his styled hair, messing it up delights you. "Cum for me Max. Cum." You plead, squeezing his cock.

Max whimpers, letting go of the thin control he has and with one more thrust he bites down on your neck, aware that your co-workers might see the imprint of his teeth and not caring. Grunting and grinding into you as he pushes his release into the condom until he finally stops moving and kisses the spot on your neck while he tries to catch his breath.

You sag against the wall, closing your eyes as the pleasure continues to wash over you. “So damn good. Every time.” You sigh, shifting so his cock slides out of you and you turn to wrap your arms around his neck, pressing your lips to his.  “How about a milkshake to go?” You ask, “for Alistair?”

“That would be perfect.” Max kisses you again. “Thank you.” He murmurs softly, smiling at you before he starts to tuck himself away.

You dispose of the condom and adjust your dress, stepping away from him before you turn towards the back door of the diner. Gunther is still standing with his back to you until Max tells him to turn around. You head back inside, unaware of his teeth marks in your neck until your coworker mentions it. “Just making out with the Senator.” You joke, working on making Alistair’s chocolate milkshake.

Max walks over to pick up the bill and walks over to hand you some money when you turn back and have the milkshake ready. He’s paying you far more than necessary but he wants you to make sure you have a good day today. “Thank you.”

You offer him a wink and a smile, “you’re welcome Senator Lord.” You take the money, eyes widening slightly at how much extra cash he’s given you. Sally eyes the money, glancing between you and Max before he nods and walks out with the milkshake. “Seems like you have an admirer.” Sally comments and you shrug, “he’s just being nice.”

****

It’s  been nearly two weeks, and Max is practically obsessed with seeing you. He has been to see you every day you work and the two of you always end up behind the diner, wrapped up in each other. The only time he hasn’t had sex with you was the night that he brought Alistair for dinner, promising the boy he would take him to where he got the delicious milkshake from. He had loved how you had interacted with him; making him even more sure that you were someone he wanted in his life. Walking through the door, he nods to the other waitress and moves over to your section to sit down. 

Sally calls out your name, “Senator Lord is here.” She tells you and you can’t help but look in the mirror in the hallway, checking your hair and you stride into the diner, smiling when you see Max sitting in his section. “Hey stranger.” You coo, sliding in to sit opposite him. “Burger?” You ask and he nods. “How’s Alistair?” You inquire, scribbling down his order.

“He’s good. He aced his math test.” Max crows, a proud papa of his son. “My son is bright, already learned the next section of the class, the teacher thinks he needs to be put in an advanced class.” He looks you over with a soft smile, imagining you helping him with homework. “How are you? Anything new going on with your neighbor?”

You shake your head, “no. No. He’s still got the television blaring at all hours of the day despite me telling him to turn it the fuck down. I’m sick of hearing the buzzing noise when the channel goes off air.” You roll your eyes as you reach out to brush your leg against his. “I, uh, I applied to go back to school. Finish up my classes…finally.” You fluster, biting your lip. You’ve saved the money Max gave you, deciding to put it towards something that will get you out of the diner.

“That’s great!” Max grins, proud of you for deciding to do something for you. From the time he has spent with you, learning about you, he’s come to find that it’s rare for you to do something that benefits just you. “Let me know if I can help in any way, you let me know.” He offers, meaning every word of it.

You want to reach for his hand but you can’t. You’ve never really discussed what you are or what it is that you’re doing. All you know is he comes to have a burger and then he fucks you. Probably an amazing deal for most men. You can’t help but want more. A proper date to dress up and eat with him instead of rushing off to get another person’s meal. “Thank you.” You tell him, meaning every word. It’s unusual for you to ever have support like this…not since your mom died. “So…I’ll go put your order in.” You tell him, not noticing the giggles coming from the women on the next table over from Max, the morning newspaper on the table.

Max frowns when the giggling and whispering continues, but he doesn’t pay much attention. Too busy watching you as you check on your customers. You are so sweet and kind to people, even when they are rude. He plans to try to come up with the nerve to ask you out. It’s laughable, he’s able to fuck you, but he can’t ask you out.

You grab the sodas for the table of women after putting in Max’s order, and that’s when you see it. A photo of you and Max in the alleyway. Clearly having sex, your mouth open as he pressed you against the wall with Gunter standing in the background. You squeak, grabbing the paper, and the women look up at you. “Who knew we had the Senator’s whore serving us?” One of them says and you stare at the photos.

Max hears the comment, immediately jumping out of his booth to confront them. He doesn’t understand why they would say that but he quickly understands when he sees the paper in your hands. Striding over to see the picture that has you frozen in horror, he closes his eyes and hisses a curse. “Shit.” He opens his eyes and glares at the women. “Calling a woman a whore isn’t very feminist of you.” He scolds, gently taking your shoulder. “Come on, we need to talk.”

You nod, heart pounding in your chest, and you are worried about what he is going to say, wondering if he is going to  blame you or throw you under the bus. "Max. I-" You choke when you are in the alleyway once more. The paper seems to be burning in your hands from where you still hold it. "I'm - I'm so sorry."

Max shakes his head, hating how mortified you seem. “I am sorry.” He murmurs, taking the paper from you and sighing as he cups your cheek. “This is my fault. I should have known this could happen.” He’s ashamed of how he had never even gotten a hotel room for the two of you or taken you out to dinner. “I’ll protect you from the media as best I can.” He promises.

You shake your head, "no Max. You can't. It will destroy your career. You need to blame this on me. Tell the media I offered myself up. Tell them I - I came onto you and you, being a man, couldn't resist. You'll be the hero. I- I will be branded a slut but they will forget about me. I'll be forgotten after the next scandal comes out. You need to win this re-election for you and for Alistair. Blame it on me." You plead, cupping his cheeks.

“No.” Max is adamant about that. There is no way that he is going to blame this on you. “I should have-“ he breaks off and shakes his head. “I should have done things right. Taken you out on a date or at least gotten a fucking hotel for this.” He gives you a sorrowful work. “I didn’t even have sex with you in bed.”

You chuckle, shaking your head, “no. No. It was - fuck. It was perfect. It was clumsy and messy and just - it was us. No expectations or drama. I liked it. I loved it because…fuck Max. I - I think I’m in love with you.” You finish with a whisper, stomach twisting with nerves.

Max stares at you for a moment, amazed that you aren’t screaming at him for getting splashed across the front page of the paper. Instead you are confessing your feelings for him. “I had planned to ask you out today.” He confesses. “Want to take you out. Have someone wait on you for a change. Would you still want to maybe do that with me?”

You bite your lip, “do you want - you want to be seen with me after that?” You ask, gesturing to the newspaper. “It’s not gonna be easy Max. Are you sure you don’t want to just…blame it on me and say it’s all me? It would be a hell of a lot easier for you.” You sigh, crossing your arms.

Max shakes his head. “I wouldn’t do that. I- Jackson might be pissed but I’m just going to admit that I should not have been in a public setting, but that it was an intimate interlude with the woman I love.” He tells you, stroking your cheek with his thumb.

You inhale sharply at his confession, a silly smile on your lips as you look at him. “Then let’s go to dinner.” You surge forward to press your lips to his, hearing the photographers approaching when they are shouting your way and suddenly you’re engulfed by cameras. “Max?” You choke, clinging to him.

“Shit.” Max wraps his arm around you and curls you towards him, holding up his hand towards the throng of reporters. 

“Senator Lord! You’ve been adamant that you run a clean house, what do you have to say about this scandal? Sex in public.” 

Max shakes his head. “No comment.” More questions are hurled towards the two of you as he shuffles the two of you towards Gunther, who is pushing his way through the cameras and bodies. “No comment at this time.”

You press yourself against Max as Gunther guides you to Max's car through the throng of vultures and you exhale shakily when you are inside the back of his town car. "I- shit." You choke, trying to ignore the way they are banging on the windows as the driver pulls away. "Shit. My purse is in my locker. I haven't finished my shift." You tell Max despite your hands shaking.

“I think your boss will understand.” Max murmurs, hugging you to him and rubbing your arms to calm you down. You are trembling and he hates it. “We will go back to my house. I’m sure Jackson is there, ready to berate me, but I don’t care.” He promises. “I’ll call your boss when we get there, make sure they understand.”

You nod, leaning into him to breathe in his expensive cologne. You close your eyes until you are arriving at Maxwell's house. Somewhere you have never been before. It's big and fancy - not that you expected anything less- and it's overwhelming when you walk inside to see the marble floors and gilded gold. It's a far cry from your shabby little apartment. "Your home is beautiful." You whisper, lost in the extravagant decor.

“Thank you.” Max keeps you close, his hold on you tightening slightly. This wasn’t the way he wanted to bring you over, but there was no changing what happened now. 

“Max!” He frowns and turns his head towards the study door where Jackson is rushing out, his campaign manager obviously aware of what the papers posted by the look on his face.

Jackson looks at you and you prepare for the onslaught of thinly veiled insults. "You - you are fucking fantastic." He tells you, "you are - our poll numbers are through the roof. You wouldn't believe - they love that Max is with a working class woman. They love that he seems...normal. You are a fucking saving grace." Jackson says, holding his hands up towards you.

Max huffs, completely thrown off by this. He had been expecting Jackson to hit the roof, not look at you like the golden goose. “Right.” He chuckles, rolling his eyes and leaning into you. “Of course you are happy with polling numbers.” He clears his throat. “I want the paper to issue an apology for publishing her name though.” He tells Jackson. “They were wrong to do that.”

“I agree, but there’s no such thing as bad news Maxwell. It’s fucking - we will ask for an apology but then you gotta take her out on a proper date, show them you can be a gentleman and it will be a proper Cinderella story. We will make sure that she is all dolled up - designer of course - to show the public she’s more than a quick fuck. She is more than a quick fuck, right?” Jackson asks Max.

He purses his lips, not liking the term ‘Cinderella story’ because he never viewed you like that. “Yes, she’s more than a quick fuck.” He assures his manager. “But I don’t want to doll her up in designer anything unless she wants it.” He turns to you to explain. “I don’t want you to think you aren’t good enough exactly as you are.”

You shake your head, “no. I, uh, I don’t want to be seen as a gold digger. I’ve never asked Max for any money. I’ve always worked hard for what I have and that’s not going to change. I want to go back to school. Get my degree and be on my own two feet.”

Jackson groans with pleasure and shakes his head. “I told you- I told you she was perfect when we met her!” He crows over your answer and completely ignores the fact that he has said quite the opposite. “Just make sure you say it just like that when you sit down with the reporter we are going to get to do a story on you and Max.” He grins. “This is going to be good!” His eyes widened in happiness. “I need to start making calls! Max is going to get re-elected thanks to you!”

****

“Please welcome Senator Lord and his beautiful new wife.” You squeeze Max’s hand, unable to believe you are at his election party. You had gotten married just before the election, unable to wait since you were impatient to be his wife. You’ve gone back to school, working on finishing your degree and you are an excellent stepmother to Alistair, growing close to him after you and his father were official. 

You have been the talk of the election cycle, giving interviews and photoshoots with Max. It’s been exhausting but after leaving the diner, you are able to focus on what works best for you and Max. You enter the room, loving the cheers of his supporters, and he guides you to the dance floor. 

“Can I have this dance?” He asks softly. 

“Always.” You answer, letting him pull you close. 

“Max. I have something to tell you.” You murmur after he sways you to the music. 

“What hermosa?” He asks. 

“I’m pregnant.” You whisper, a smile on your face.

Max gulps, his face breaking out in a wide smile and he lunges forward to press his lips to yours, much to the delight of his followers and the people who had worked tirelessly to get him elected. 

“I love you.” He promises against your lips. “I love you so much, Mrs. Lord.” 

He can’t help but be absolutely amazed. Stopping in a diner for dinner one night has led to this moment. He’s remarried to a woman that loves him and adores his son. He’s been re-elected to serve his constituents and try to make the world a better place for everyone, including the new baby you are going to gift him with. Life couldn’t be better.

MasterList

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#pedro pascal #max lord #maxwell lord #max lord x reader #max lord x f!reader #max lord x you #max lord imagine #max lord smut #max lord fanfic #maxwell lord x reader #maxwell lord x f!reader #maxwell lord x you #maxwell lord smut #maxwell lord imagine #maxwell lord fanfic #maxwell lord wonder woman 84

[dahvampire]

I'll start this thing with the premise that I've only seen BNHA's anime, so I'm at the end of the events of season 6 and I don't know anything else from the manga. So, that's also a spoiler alert for anyone who isn't at my same point.

God I really, really despise Enji Todoroki.

Endeavor is a great hero, don't get me wrong: always on point, efficient with criminals, saves people and yada yada yada. Public interactions aren't his forte but anyone has his weaknesses, so it's fine.

But boy, boy if he's shitty. A shitty father, a shitty husband, a shitty person in general.

How can you beat your six year old son to the point of making him sick just because you're salty you're not at the same level of someone else? How can you try to erase your first son's suicide attempt that he did because you first indoctrinated him about being the n°1 hero since he was four and then discarded him at eleven because he couldn't keep up with your expectations? Enji told Touya his life was defined only by being a hero, and then he snutched the dream he put in his son's head from him when he was still a child. No wonders Touya didn't exactly take it well, his father just said he's actually worthless because of something Touya can't even control - the affinity that his body has for cold temperature.

And okay, maybe Enji wanted to keep him safe avoiding him to train, but the adult approached the situation wrongly from the start, since Touya's birth, for fuck's sake.

When Touya became useless, Enji focused his fixation on Shouto, feeding sibling rivalry to Touya and making him easily jealous of him because his younger brother became their father's focus of attention - and love, in his mind - .

Let's put the kids beside for a second.

Enji married Rei for her quirk, that's common knowledge, he even admitted it. After he finished using her for his convenience and after probably treating her just like he treated Shouto and Touya, he pushed her 'til the breaking point and then accused her of being unstable while the only reason for her unstableness has always been his presence in her life. We had a snippet of Rei before she married Enji, and she was a perfectly fine woman. Maybe reserved, but fine.

Then, Enji happened. She lost her rights on her body, the man married her just to breed a valuable heir after all. She lost her rights as a mother, because I think Enji hasn't ever allowed her to interfere with Touya and Shouto's education and lives in general, just think about how Touya treated her when she found out he was still training in secret. She lost her connections with the world, too, I guess, because I don't think she would be free to go and come at her will, considering how Enji thinks about his family members as his properties.

Then, she slowly started to lose her mind to the point of disfiguring her own child because his eye reminded her too much of the man she was forced to live with even though she clearly dreaded him, and she lost it. She crumbled under the pressure of what Enji did to her and to her children - that I guess she never actively tried to protect, maybe to save herself from the man's wrath, maybe because scared of aggravating things - and Enji took her out of the picture without even try to comprehend why she did what she did.

I'm not saying that she isn't guilty about the whole situation, I'm saying I can see her redemption arc. I can understand it. Now she's free of the shackles that held her down the whole time she was with Enji, and she wants to try and do something to make amends. I can see it, I can understand it.

What I cannot understand is the thing they're trying to do with Enji's redemption arc.

Like, are you kidding me?

He's an abuser, a manipulative man who hides himself behind a façade of ideals and stoicism, a person who looked his own kid in the eye at the age of eleven and told him he was not enough for his father and should get lost with his other two siblings, casted aside since birth because they too didn't meet his expectations.

Fuyumi is still hanging by the threads of hope that someday they will be an happy and functional family, but those threads started strangling her a long time ago, and I think she didn't even realized it yet.

And Touya.

God, Touya. He attempted suicide by the age of fourteen, being it consciously or not. Maybe he actually did it on purpose, maybe his emotions took the upper hand on him, but his mind couldn't accept the fact that his father's love was so conditional. Touya tried his best to satisfy the man, and Enji never acknowledged him beside to berate him for training without his permission. And Touya still tried, tried, tried to be seen by the man that put himself at the center of his child's universe since Touya was young enough to comprehend what heroes were.

No wonders Touya broke that night on Sekoto Peak, no wonder he died.

No wonder Dabi was born.

He's the incarnation of Touya's resentment after all, of the hate he feels towards Enji, towards the society that idolatries the hero without looking at the man, without understand that the monsters people fear aren't always the criminals and the villains on the streets, but hide themselves in plain sight, under a spotlight.

Touya was fourteen, he had all his life in front of him, and he still chose to trust the man he called father to care for him even without the incentive of his quirk, and his trust, his prayers fell on deaf ears.

I don't know yet what happened after Sekoto Peak, I guess what remained of Touya was find by someone - maybe Shigaraki's doctor himself -, put back together and brought back from the dead. And Touya didn't know what to do with the time that someone else borrowed him, so he set himself on the path of revenge to find some sort of justice for himself.

I'm not saying that Dabi's modus operandi is right. He's a murderer and his ways are almost always extreme, and his mind clearly isn't in the right place, but I can still understand him, his motives.

An hypothetical reception arc.

Before everything else he's a victim, after all, just like Rei.

Dabi wants to avenge what's remaining of Touya, of his inner child, and the only way he finds fitting is to take Enji's life to compensate the life Enji took from him.

Enji, on the other hand, doesn't deserve it.

He has seen that his ways were wrong only when everything came crushing down on him, and he cried on his hospital bed about being a terrible person after all the years he spent without questioning even one single time his actions.

How many times he made Touya cry? And Shouto? And Rei, Natsuo, Fuyumi? And his own fans, for God's sake? How many people he deluded without realising it, without even thinking it was an actual chance of him doing wrong?

Nope. Sorry, nope, I'm not fine with that. I don't think he deserves the pardon of all the victims of his actions, or surely he doesn't deserve to be forgiven so fast.

I don't approve the death of characters only because I don't like them, I know that's not how it works and it's simply stupid wanting someone dead just because, but fuck if i want him dead. Like, actually dead. Maybe it's because what he represents hit a little too close to home, maybe it's because I can't see a possible way to actually redeem him without stomping again on everyone he hurt, maybe I just can't stand him, I don't know.

I don't even know if I actually want Dabi to be still alive, at this point. I really like him, his character, his dramatics, but he's a dead man walking, literally. Maybe death would put an end to his suffering, maybe confronting Enji would be so cathartic to actually help him to recover the parts of his mind that he lost in the flames, in the walls of the house he grew up in, among the discouragements and the conditioned love he almost drown into.

The only thing I know is that I really hope Dabi lives long enough to see Enji's ashes scattering to the ground, being them the ashes of Endeavor's legacy or the ashes of his own body, cremated by Dabi himself.

#boku no hero acedamia #my hero academia #dabi #endeavor #anime #character analysis #bnha

[rainbowsprinkledpirate]

Sincerely, Yours 💌

AN: Okay so here's the thing. I'm a sucker for soulmate au ideas. I always have been. So, I decided to try writing one myself. Check out more soulmate au ideas from @ausforsoulmates (p.s. this is where I got the soulmate au from, the Now or Never AU).

Pairing: The Mandalorian/Din Djarin x Male!Reader

Summary: You received your soulmate letter over 20 years ago. The vaugeness of it kept you on a wild goose chase around the galaxy for years. After so many failed leads you return home. Only to find a small green child being watched by a Mandalorian.

"It's you." You whisper the moment you see the child.

Child of green shows he's not mean.

A line from the piece of paper that sat closest to your heart.

Honestly, the first time you had read over the paper, you grimaced.

Vaguely written was an understatement when it came to your soulmate letter. The thing looked as if it had attempted to make itself rhyme alongside being vague. And only that single line stood out to you the most.

Well, it had at one point. Until you realized the galaxy had a multitude of green children.

The part you never focused on was the shows he's not mean one. Which you most likely should have until now.

But it didn't matter anymore because you understood.

A Mandalorian, for Maker's sake, stood close to the child. One of the fiercest known warriors in the galaxy.

Shows he's not mean.

Right...

He was listening to a woman you faintly recognize, yet you couldn't put a name to her face. She looked as fierce as the Mandalorian even without the beskar armor.

They both seemed relaxed for the most part.

Something that was bound to change now that you were there.

"Uncle, you're back!" The bright cry of Winta tore you from your thoughts as the little girl jumped into your arms. Warmth flooded your chest when she nuzzles into your shoulder. It felt like ages since you had last seen your niece.

"Ah, starflower. Look how much you've grown."

Pride was an understatement when you looked at her. She was growing into those rich eyes of hers and the too-big ears.

A chuckle rumbles from your chest as you ruffle her hair.

"Uncle, look, look! A nice man saved the village. And look at the monster he helped us beat." She motions towards the Mandalorian before bouncing in your arms and pointing at the AT-ST.

It was the soft tug at your pants that drags your attention down from trying to follow Winta's wild gestures.

The small green child peers up at you. His tiny three-clawed hands grasp your right leg. The trust he held in his deep galaxy eyes made your heart ache.

So, it begins. You couldn't help thinking as you hum.

"Well, what do we have here?" You knelt down by the child as Winta giggles at the movement. "Who is this little tooka kit?"

Winta tugs on your sleeve, saying, "It's the nice man's son. Isn't he cute?" She continues babbling about the child as your sister approached.

Omera was as beautiful as you remember her being. Elegant, yet simple as always.

It seems the ache of her husband's death still haunted her. You could tell from the relief that swam in her eyes at seeing you. A relief that only one who experienced tremendous loss could have.

"You're home." You settle Winta on the ground next to the child before straightening up.

It didn't take long for Omera to step forward to wrap her arms tightly around you, crushing you in her embrace. For such a delicate-looking woman, she was unbelievably strong.

"Thank the stars..." She murmurs before relaxing her hold on you. "So much has changed since you left."

Your eyes flick to the Mandalorian as he starts making his way over.

"I see," You raise a hand in greeting when the warrior got close enough. "You have my thanks, Warrior. Winta told me you helped our village."

The Mandalorian tips his helmet down enough for you to see before Omera hums, "Come, sit. I'm sure you're tired. And there's much to tell you."

You made your way over to a small bonfire, letting the familiar smells of your homeworld soothe you.

The rich fish-like scent from the krill ponds wasn't particularly one you missed, but the earthy mesh of the forest surrounding the small village was. Especially the hint of native flowers.

Once you settle down, Omera began to explain the events of how the Mandalorian and Cara Dune trained the people enough to fight back. Their plan went surprisingly well for what little time they had to initiate it.

"It seems what you taught me finally came in handy." Omera's tone was warm as she smiles sweetly.

The Mandalorian, who sat across from the both of you with the child sitting between his boots, cocks his head.

"You taught her how to handle a blaster?" His timbre reachs you even through the vocoder. The smoothness of it sent pleasant shivers down your spine.

"I did. It was something I picked up along the way with my travels. Searches, really." For him.

But you wouldn't admit that out loud.

"I'm sure you know how inhospitable the outer rim planets are, Warrior." A sad smile spreads across your lips when you meet his T visor. "I had to learn how to fight to survive."

You weren't the best at fighting or shooting, really. If the scars you bore were anything to go off of. You knew you had a lot to learn about fighting and shooting. And you hope your soulmate would teach you, when the time came.

Something about how his T visor bore into you urges you to speak more. You felt as if he deserved to know he wasn't alone in these dangerous travels.

"But I am glad at least." The Mandalorian leans forward a bit, almost as if he were curious to hear what you had to say. "Learning how to fight seems to have helped my sister protect the village alongside help from you and Ms. Dune."

Cara laughs a deep boisterous laugh as she relaxes against one of the logs further to your right.

"Please, just Cara is fine." You send her a smile and nod before looking back at the child who had managed to make his way towards you.

Just as he reached your boots you see a small red dot appear on his back.

It was small enough not to go noticed by many. But you had seen it enough times to know what it was by now.

You move faster than you ever have in your life to grab the child and twist to the side as a loud bang echoes through the once silent forest. Cara takes off in the direction the shot came from as the Mandalorian moves to shield your body with his own.

Your heart thunders in your ears as you stare down at the child. Shaky gasps leave you when his wide eyes peer back up at you and he cooes.

You scan him for injuries, thinking that maybe he still got hurt and you didn't move fast enough. Yet when you see that he is fine, you heave a sigh. The kid was more amused by the sudden roll than anything.

Warm hands tug you up as the Mandalorian takes the child from you. Giving him a good look over himself before turning his attention to you.

"You're hurt," The Mandalorian sets the child back down before kneeling beside you. "Let me see."

He firmly yet gently grips you right shoulder as you start to notice the white hot agony in your left. A yelp of pain escapes when the Mandalorian grazes his gloved finger over the blaster burn. He retracts his hand immediately murmuring an apology.

Omera is by your other side tightly gripping your hand as she weakly asks if you're alright. You can see her starting to panic.

Her husband had died due to a blaster shot. If she were to loose you too, it would definitely break her heart and Winta's.

"I'm fine sister," You squeeze her hand back gently. "This is not the worst wound I've had before."

The Mandalorian had started moving as you reassured Omera. He held the child lightly in one arm as he stalked to the small barn your sister had set him up in. You watch him go feeling a dull ache appear in your chest.

Focusing back on Omera you see how she seems to put the pieces together. Her earlier panic having faded. Eyes widening a fraction she looks up at you.

"He's your soulmate." The moment the words are spoken to the still air you close your eyes. The truth settles on your shoulders like a warm blanket on a cold night. Soothing the ache and numbing the pain in your shoulder a tad.

You say nothing to Omera as the Mandalorian reappears carrying a small box in his hands. He kneels next to you again and rifles through the box pulling out a bacta spray. Meeting his T visor you hum.

"Is the child okay?" He nods as Omera stands up stating she was going to get you a new shirt. Since the shot burned a hole in the shirt you currently wore.

Cara appears from the woods a frown hardening her features as she approaches you and the Mandalorian.

Unease trickles down your spine as she mutters, "It looks like it's time for you to go, Mando." She holds up a crushed tracker before tossing it next to his knee.

You glance at it before looking over to the barn the child was in. He was in danger here. Because if one bounty hunter knew he was here then many others did as well.

"Do you have a ship?" The Mandalorian turns to look at you just as you're tugging off your shirt to have better access to your shoulder. Heat crawls up your neck as you ball the shirt in your hands.

You had at one point had a ship, but sold it due to not having enough credits for fuel to make it back home. You ended up bumming a ride from a small freighter just to return to Sorgan.

When you shake your head the Mandalorian moves back to clean your wound and spray bacta on it.

Little did you know you earned his trust quite quickly. There was something about you protecting the kid even when you just met and the burning of his own soulmate letter near his heart that made him ask.

"Well, how do you feel about coming with me? I can help you find what you're looking for. It's the least I can do since you saved my Foundling."

The moment he asked that single question in his low baritone voice your fate was sealed. Because he had already helped you find what you were looking for.

Him.

"I'd be honored, Warrior."

Closer than what's been told. Heart of gold buried beneath cold. Child of green shows he's not mean. Austerely endures sincerely, yours

AN: I know it's pretty bad but I thought some of it made sense. 🤷 I'm not good at rhyming.

Star Wars Masterlist

#x male reader #mando x male reader #din x male reader #mando x reader #the mandalorian x reader #din x you #mando x you #male reader #soulmate au #au #soulmates #the mandalorian #grogu djarin #his name is grogu #omera #winta #sorgan #there be krill in dem ponds #im sorry #criticism welcome

[moral-terpitude]

The Devil Wears a Suit and Tie

Word Count: 611

Summary: Tommy Shelby is the Devil, but has he always been?

Warnings: None

A/N: I couldn't get over that Colter Wall song, so, here's a spooky fic as we come up on Spooky Season because this is basically what I pictured each time I've listened to it. Lyrics from the song are in italics.

The silhouette of the child off in the distance, shadow dancing between tall, dead, and withering trees caught the man's attention.

His long strides easily allowed him to keep pace with the running boy, the jog not one of fearing pursuit, but of childhood play. One that when accompanied by other children would have been filled with laughter.

He himself had been so full of laughter. Before. Then.

Neither of them were sure that the other was real, the only things that could ever be told the truth about the situation would be the black car idling by the road for some time, and the glowing ember of the man's cigarette burning brightly in the dark as it hung from his lips.

Tripping over some of the growth in the underbrush the boy faltered, coming to a halt amongst the dead leaves, barefoot and splayed out in mended clothes on the dirty ground.

Identical blue eyes grew wide in the light of the full moon, the boy looking up in horror as the man approached him, bending down before offering him a hand.

“I know you.” The words were a gentle  “I know you, young man.”

“I’d know you by the state of your hands,” the little calloused fingers fell into the middle of a worse worn palm, hefted to his feet, the young boy took in the man’s features, the two of them eye to eye in the darkness.

Hands that would later have knuckles swatted with wooden rulers for misbehaving.

The boy felt that it was someone he knew. Someone he should know. Someone he always would remember.

Maybe they were one in the same.

No words were exchanged, but the boy knew that there were things this man could tell him that would change him, change his life, too young to realize the cost, that it was a trade with a debt that would never be repaid.

My sweet soul everlasting.

This man must be the Devil, the boy thought. Dark hair and dark suit, the shine of his shoes able reflect the full moon in the dark.

My very own eternal light.

Just as soon as he appeared, the man was gone, leaving the boy to haul himself back to his family's encampment, a group of them all traveling together, low lit caravans in the middle of the woods, out of the way and a bother to no one.

The embers still were alight from the fire, new wood needing to be added. Their father presumably too drunk to wake and help fend off the cold.

His mother was sat on the steps, knitwork held between her hands, as he approached.

His pallor was white as cotton as her son approached, the look of him, had her reaching out to him before he was close enough.

“What have you seen, Tommy?” She whispered, setting down the knitwork as he tucked himself against her chest.

She repeated the words a few more times before the sound of his mother’s voice pulled him from his dazed state to recount the tale.

In a worried rush she left him by the dying embers, staring into the flames that felt as if they were licking his insides. 

“Take Thomas,” she shook her husband, still groggy with sleep and drink, “take him to town to your sister. She’ll take him to the church. To talk to–”

“Woman, hush.” He swung in an attempt to stop her jostling him, but it only heightened the worry in her voice.

“Tommy claims he’s seen the devil.” Her voice broke, trying to whisper in the dark and not wake the other children, “Claims that’s him when he’s grown.”

#tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby imagine #thomas shelby #thomas shelby fanfic #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinder fanfic #tommy shelby fanfiction #the devil wears a suit and tie #i just want to write folk stories #fanfic #fanfiction #spooky stories

[sjsmith56]

All This Time, Chapter 13 - Eyes of the Father

Summary: Bucky’s successful treatment permits him to live in a Wakandan village for several months. Then King T’Challa arrives with his prosthetic arm and Bucky accepts the necessity of returning to war.

Length: 4.4 K

Characters: Bucky, Shuri, Lacey, T’Challa, Steve

Warnings: Bucky and Lacey have a serious argument. Bucky feels increasingly anxious over a feeling of doom. Thanos.

Author notes: A significant part of this chapter summarizes events of The Avengers: Infinity War.

<<Chapter 12

🛖 🦾

Wakanda

He heard the giggling before he opened his eyes.  It was bad enough they didn't respect the privacy of his home but to wake him up early as well on his rest day was irritating at best.  He opened his eyes and they scattered, running out of his hut while calling him White Wolf.  He sat up and heard Shuri's voice outside gently chastising the three boys.  Quietly he rose from the bed and smoothed the red robe he was wearing before bending his head to exit the hut.  He looked around and felt the peacefulness of the village before he approached Shuri.  She greeted him cheerfully, calling him Sergeant Barnes.  He insisted she call him Bucky and she bowed her head in acknowledgement.  When she asked him how he was feeling he replied that he felt good, then he fixed his gaze intently on her.

"Thank you for everything you've done for me," he said quietly.

She smiled then told him they still had much to learn.  He gazed at the serenity of the lake near his hut for a moment then turned away from it and followed her.  In the five and a half months he had been there he had worked as a goat farmer, learned to make goat cheese, had helped with the harvesting of crops, all while still having sessions with Shuri on modern history and technology.  In many ways it had been a surreal existence, balancing the old ways of living with the realities of modern society.  But it had been peaceful and calm.  The villagers accepted him and every once in a while he would play with the children, especially when they brought a soccer ball out, as he didn't need both of his arms for that.  They went to a modern structure in the heart of the village where a computer terminal was set up.  Bucky sat before it, with Shuri at his side.

"Before we start I have a question," he said calmly.  "How exactly did you undo the HYDRA programming?  Unlike the other treatments I have no memories of you trying anything.  Which means either you took a big chance and did it in one try or you tried it on someone else first.  Which was it?"

"Neither, really, Sergeant Barnes," replied the young woman.  "If you must know I recreated your brain in a digital format.  I copied every aspect of it and created a holographic version of it.  Then I created an algorithm to feed into your recreated brain that would remove the trigger words and render them incapable of affecting you.  I would enter the calculations and then enter the trigger words and see what the digital copy of your brain did in response.  I wanted to remove the effect of the words but not remove the core of your own personality, the good man that was still in you, the protector."

"How many times did you have to adjust the algorithm to achieve success?" he asked.  "As brilliant as you are I can't believe it worked the first time."

"It didn't," she admitted.  "It took many tries."  She hesitated for a moment wondering if she should tell him then remembered her promise to be truthful to him.  "There were 387 attempts over the 4 months, 2 weeks and 6 days you stayed in full cryostasis.  We were close several times and almost decided to apply the algorithm to your brain but not all problems were evident at first.  Some problems took days to become known and we had to start from the beginning again."

"So the final treatment on me, on my brain, was a one shot attempt," he stated.  "Even though you tested it on the holographic version of my brain you didn't really know for sure it would work on the real brain, the physical one."

He looked steadily at her, with no judgement or emotion evident on his handsome face.  "I wouldn't have tried it if I wasn't 100% sure it would work," she replied confidently.  "There were no short cuts taken, no long shot theories; everything was tested and retested multiple times before we were confident that it would work.  May I ask why you are asking this now, and not five and a half months ago when you came out of cryostasis for the last time?"

"I didn't think of it then," smiled Bucky.  "But here, in this village, I have more time and inclination to think and reflect.  Remembering what I do of the scientific process it struck me that you needed a way to test your treatment without the possibility of damaging this broken white boy any further."

Shuri grimaced and coloured slightly.  "I apologize for using that term," she said.  "It was flippantly said as I was attempting to save the life of another American when you were here."

"But I was a broken white boy," insisted Bucky.  "Did you know Lacey's first book was called Confessions of a Broken White Girl?  It seemed fitting that you thought I was broken.  I felt like Humpty Dumpty when I first came here, unsure if all the King's horses and all the King's men could ever put me back together again."

"It was a challenge," stated Shuri.  "Never had I or any of our scientists faced such a task before.  Which made it all the more imperative that we get it right.  The stakes of your recovery are high, Sergeant Barnes."

"How so?" he asked, puzzled.

"What do you know of child soldiers?" she asked.  "You may have come across the term in your studies."

"Children kidnapped, drugged and forced to be foot soldiers in a conflict," he replied.  "You mean they are brainwashed?"

"Not in the same way as you but yes," she said.  "Treated with violence and cruelty then injected with all manner of drugs they learn only to kill and abuse others.  For many, when they are finally rescued they remember nothing else and struggle to return to a normal life, even if they are reunited with family.  It was hoped that what we developed to treat you could be used to treat them; to remove the violent memories and restore the good memories they had before they were kidnapped.  So far, the results have been promising."

Bucky let out a long slow breath and looked at Shuri.  "So what you are learning about me is helping children?" he asked.

"Most definitely," she said firmly.  "Is there anything else you would like to ask me or discuss?"

"What about the nightmares?" he asked.  "I still have them."

"Yes, I know," she replied sadly.  "Unfortunately there was little we could do to mitigate all of them.  They originate mostly in the amygdala and are connected to PTSD, which you do suffer from.  I personally suspect it is your own conscience that generates the nightmares as you still haven't forgiven yourself for what the Winter Soldier did.  Even though Bucky Barnes was helpless to stop the soldier you still feel guilt for his actions."

He looked away for a moment considering her words then nodded and turned to the computer.  "What am I learning about today?" he asked.

"American history, from 2000 to the present year," she said.  "Shall we begin?"

She sat with him directing him to online resources on 21st century history.  As he looked at the various entries he remembered some of them from the perspective of the Winter Soldier, for he had been the Fist of HYDRA, shaping history to their benefit.  It distressed him at times, especially when there was a loss of life involved but before he could return to normal life he needed to know what had happened in the world.  After several hours of it Shuri touched his arm.

"I think that is enough for today, Sergeant Barnes," she said.  "Perhaps it is time for you to do something more enjoyable, like call Miss Williams and your son.  It has been several days since you last spoke with them.  Is everything alright?"

"Yes ... and no," he said, frowning slightly.  "I've had an increasing fear that we will never be able to see each other.  We both talk about it when we are together and look forward to it but there is a sense of inevitability that seems to foreshadow that it will never come to pass.  It troubles me and I'm having a hard time keeping positive on the calls."

"How long have you felt this way?" asked Shuri, concerned.

"I first noticed it a couple of weeks ago and it keeps getting stronger and stronger," he answered.  "You don't think the treatment has stopped working, do you?  I'm not regressing?"

"I don't think so," she said.  "Are your nightmares related to it?"

"They're my usual HYDRA nightmares," he replied.  "Nothing out of the ordinary.  When I'm working here I don't feel it.  It's usually when I talk to Lacey."

"Would you object to me observing a video call with Miss Williams?" asked Shuri.  "I will have a kimoyo bead monitoring your brain activity to see if it shows up."

He nodded his assent and they went back to his hut to retrieve the tablet.  He sat on the bench outside and Shuri activated one of her kimoyo beads to monitor Bucky while he made the call.  Lacey answered quickly and she smiled.

"Hi, Bucky," she said warmly.  "It's been a few days.  Everything okay?"

"Just been really busy," he replied.  "I have a few new baby goats that are taking up my time.  I've been studying more with Shuri.  How are you and Tommy?"

She called to Tommy and while she waited she smiled.  "Really good," she said.  "I've started on my third book ... the writing part finally." 

Tommy's face appeared in the screen.  "Hi Dad!" he said.  "Guess what?  I lifted a straw bale today."

"The whole bale?" asked Bucky.

"No, just one end of it," explained Lacey.  "Only about six inches and he put it down right away.  Clint got straw bales in today and Tommy thought he would help.  As soon as Clint saw him he told him to drop it."

Bucky shifted, unsettled by this development.  "Tommy, have you been lifting other heavy things?" he asked, frowning slightly.

He looked at his mother and she tilted her head.  "Yeah," admitted the boy.  "I picked a dead tree up and I rolled some big rocks."

"That's too dangerous," replied Bucky.  "Lacey, you need to watch him better."

"Excuse me?" asked Lacey.  "I'm watching him all the time but he's almost three and there are times when I have to do other things.  He hasn't tried to do anything overtly dangerous."

Bucky gave out a sharp breath.  "All it takes is one slip and he could be trapped," snapped Bucky.  "Then who would get him out of trouble?  You?"

"Yeah, me," replied Lacey, her voice rising.  "I'm the parent who's raising him!  My whole life is watching over him, keeping him safe.  You're sitting in the cheap seats and telling me how to raise my son?"

Bucky was stunned and his face became red.  "You're right," he said angrily.  "I'm not there.  I'm aware of that every moment that I'm here and you're there.  It eats me up inside that I haven't been there for you and Tommy.  All I've been is the sperm donor and that doesn't give me much right to criticize does it?   I'll make it easy for you.  You won't have to put up with me interfering any more.  Goodbye."

He broke the connection, dropped the tablet, looked at Shuri then ran.  "Sergeant Barnes ... Bucky," she called but he was already gone into the distance.

Sitting back Shuri looked at her kimoyo bead that had been monitoring Bucky's functions.  There was something going on and it had affected him emotionally to the point where he turned away from Lacey and Tommy.   She brought up Lacey on her communication bead and saw she was crying.

"Shuri, what's wrong with Bucky?" asked Lacey.  "We just had a fight over the video call and I think he just broke up with me."

"I was here, monitoring him," admitted Shuri.  "He told me he has been troubled by fears that your relationship will never go past these video calls.  After the call he ran away.  Whatever it is, it's real and it has affected him emotionally."

"It's not a failure of the treatment, is it?" she asked.

"No, there was no indication of that," replied Shuri.  "Let me do some more investigating on this end and I will contact you when I find out something.  It will be okay."

Shuri ended the call and then brought up monitoring software asking it where Sergeant Barnes was.  It reported that he was approximately five miles away and was stationary at the moment.  She debated about whether to take a flyer to him or to wait and chose to wait, spending the time analyzing the readings she had taken.  An hour later she saw him approaching from a pathway and stood up.  He hesitated briefly then kept walking towards her.

"I thought you would be gone," he said quietly.  "I messed that up, didn't I?"

"She was crying when I spoke to her after," said Shuri.  "Was it your intention to end the relationship?"

"No, but she's probably better off without me," he answered.  "What good have I been if I can't be with her?"

"You believe that, don't you?" asked Shuri.  "You truly believe that you will never see her in person again.  Never know your son or be there for him."  She looked intently at him then brought up the data of his video call.  "This fear that you feel is coming from the same place as your nightmares but it is deeper than I believed.  It's almost as if you are reacting to stimuli that isn't there, at least not there in a measurable sense."

"So, I'm imagining it," he stated.

"No, I don't think you are," replied Shuri.  "Your senses were greatly increased by the super soldier treatment that you underwent.  Not just the physical senses but your intuitive ones as well.  They are so sensitive that they register that something will happen well before it does.  I think you're experiencing premonitions of a coming event but just the feeling of it, not the event itself."

"Something that will keep me from Lacey and Tommy?" he asked.  "Only death will do that.  Do you think I've been experiencing premonitions of my death, my actual death?"

Shuri took a deep breath and spread her hands in surrender.  "I don't know," she replied.  "Perhaps if you think on it with this perspective you may find some answers.  Whatever it is, it has caused you to fear it."

She took her leave of him and he watched her walk away for some time before he picked up the tablet and entered his hut.  He considered calling Lacey back but decided against it, wanting to wrestle with and control the fear first.   The following day Lacey called him.   After the third pulse of the incoming video call he answered it and felt ashamed when he saw the misery on her face.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.  "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"What's going on?" she asked.  "Something has you on edge.  That wasn't you that was speaking to me that way."

"I've been experiencing an impending sense of doom," said Bucky.  "I don't know how else to explain it.  Shuri thinks my intuitive senses are on high alert from something that hasn't happened yet.  Whatever it is it's made me afraid, mostly that I'll never be with you and Tommy."

"Can it be treated?  I still believe we'll be together someday, for what it's worth."

He smiled slightly.  "It's something I have to work out on my own," he replied.  "It means a lot that you still want me, especially after what I said yesterday.  Don't give up on me, please."

"Never," said Lacey.  "You're stuck with me.  I love you, Bucky."

"I love you, too," he smiled.  "Give Tommy a hug for me.  Tell him I love him."

"I will," said Lacey.

They spoke of other things for several more minutes then ended the conversation.  Bucky slept better that night and on the following morning he got up with a purpose.  There were bags of animal feed that were arriving at the goat paddock.  He would load them onto the cart for transport to the village.  He put his singlet on, then one of his work shirts, buttoning it up with his right hand.  Pulling on his work pants he tucked his shirt in then zipped his pants up.  Then he covered his shoulder unit up with the shawl.  He ate some breakfast then made the mile walk to the paddock.  A couple of the village boys were already there and as he began loading the feed onto the cart they asked him questions.  He answered them as best he could while he tossed the bags into the cart with his one arm. 

"Ukumkani," said one of them, jumping down from the tree where he had been perched.

Bucky looked in the direction the boy pointed and saw King T'Challa, General Okoye and two of the King's Guard, one of them carrying a case.  He watched as they approached him and the man with the case put it on top of the feed bags on the cart, opened it and stepped back.  Bucky approached it and saw a prosthetic arm, gunmetal black with a gold design on it.  T'Challa watched, his demeanour apologetic and Bucky knew that he was being asked to defend Wakanda.  When he asked where the fight was the King said it was on it's way.  Bucky nodded and pulled the shawl off exposing the shoulder insert.  T'Challa picked up the arm, approached him, and Bucky watched as the socket portion of the insert opened in readiness for the attachment of the arm.  It clasped on firmly and instantly he could feel it's presence.  Looking at the hand he flexed it open then closed it into a fist.  He looked at the King impassively.

"Let's go," he said and began walking away from the paddock.

"Is there anything you need from your hut?" asked T'Challa.

At first he was going to say no then he hesitated.  "My tablet," he replied.  "My clothes, although they aren't suitable for fighting."

"We have a uniform for you," said T'Challa.  "Something to honour your past."  Bucky gave him a look of alarm.  "Your good past."

After picking up Bucky's things he accompanied T'Challa and Okoye back to the capital.  On the way T'Challa told him what he knew.

"An extraterrestrial attacked New York," he said.  "Iron Man and a sorcerer with an infinity stone were taken into space and haven't been heard from since.  Shortly after another extraterrestrial attacked a being called Vision, who carries the Mind Stone.  He was injured but was rescued by your friends Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, and Natasha Romanoff.  They are on their way here for Shuri to find a way to remove and destroy the Mind Stone so that it cannot be used by the being who wishes to have its power, Thanos.  We expect him to attack us to prevent the Mind Stone from being destroyed."

Bucky smirked.  "End of the world stuff," he said.  "At least it's a fight worth fighting."

"That's the spirit," said T'Challa.  "Thank you for answering the call."

"If we don't succeed?" asked Bucky.

"Thanos will kill half of all beings in existence according to someone who had an encounter with him in space," said T'Challa, looking grimly at him.  "High stakes."

They arrived at the palace and Bucky was shown to his previous quarters where a uniform was laid on the bed.  It was modern but he saw it had the colours of his Howling Commandos sniper uniform, a navy jacket with the left arm cut out, black pants and boots.  As he took his work clothes off and began to dress in the uniform he realized he was using the prosthetic arm without even thinking of it.  He looked at it again and the part of him that was interested in technology was impressed.  It was much lighter than the HYDRA arm and although it was distinctive in appearance he found himself liking it much more than he expected.  A knock on the door drew his attention and he opened it to Ayo.

"Sergeant Barnes," she said crisply.  "Our visitors have just landed."

He followed her outside to where T'Challa was greeting Steve and several others.  The blond woman who he recognized as Natasha had just asked how they were looking.  The young King was describing his force then glanced back to see Bucky coming and gestured towards him.  He smiled broadly at Steve, truly happy to see him and they hugged each other.  While Steve, Bruce, Wanda, Natasha, and T'Challa went to the medical centre to find out what Shuri could do with Vision, Bucky stayed outside with the others.  He nodded at Sam, who nodded back then a man in a metal flying suit looked at him.

"Colonel James Rhodes," he said.  "Also known as War Machine."

"Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes," replied Bucky.  "Call me Bucky.  You were on the other side in Leipzig."

"Well, time has a way of changing a man's mind," said Rhodes.  "You're no longer the Winter Soldier?"

"No, I'll never kill another human," said Bucky.  "These guys that are coming?  I won't hesitate."

"Glad to hear it," said Rhodes.

Sam pointed up to the sky and they watched a series of glowing lights approach.   He signalled to Steve that something was coming.  The glowing light hit the protective shield over the city and exploded, preventing whatever it was from landing.  They watched as many more spacecraft burned through the atmosphere to land outside the dome protecting the city.  Within minutes they were on their way to the edge of the dome where thousands of Wakandan warriors had already assembled.  As their group joined them Bucky watched as T'Challa, Steve, and Natasha approached two aliens standing outside the crackling protective shield.  They saw one of the aliens give a signal and the spacecraft expanded.  When Steve returned to his side Bucky asked if the other side had surrendered.  Steve replied cryptically but Bucky got the gist of it.

Thousands of creatures jumped from the spacecraft and ran towards the shield.  No one had ever seen their like before and they watched with uneasy fascination as the creatures threw themselves at the shield.  Many of the monstrous beings died trying to get through the shield before several were successful.  The successful multi-armed creatures with mouths of jagged teeth roared their pleasure at breaking through and began charging the assembled forces.  Bucky took short bursts with his machine gun before grimacing and opening fire completely.  It was noticed that more creatures were circling around the perimeter and T'Challa made the decision to open the barrier to keep them from getting to where Vision was being treated.  As the creatures poured in everyone was surrounded by the nightmare beings, fighting desperately to keep from being overrun.  Bucky's machine gun was knocked from his hands just as he was knocked to the ground.  Grabbing a knife from his thigh sheath he stabbed the creature sending it flying backwards.  Everyone was swarmed by the terrifying beings, overwhelmed by the sheer numbers.  Suddenly a beam of energy broke from the sky sending the creatures tumbling away.  An axe trailing lightning broke from the beam and sliced through the creatures freeing many of the Wakandan force.  When the energy beam cleared the axe returned to the hand of Thor who was accompanied by a walking raccoon and a walking tree creature.

The god roared for Thanos and ran towards the opening in the dome, levitating up into the air and gathering the power of lightning in his axe before redirecting it down into the ground, destroying hundreds of the alien beings in an instant.  Still, they kept coming through the hole in the barrier.  The raccoon creature yelled as he fired his weapon at them.  His roars attracted Bucky's attention as he noticed several of the larger creatures bearing down on the much smaller raccoon.  Picking him up by the collar he turned in a circle, firing his weapon as the raccoon fired his.  When they had both killed their fill Bucky dropped him and the raccoon looked up at him, asking how much the gun was but Bucky replied it wasn't for sale.  Then he asked about the arm and Bucky stared him down before moving on.

From outside the dome another disturbance was tearing through the forest beyond.  Great wheeled machines dove into the ground, undercutting the dome and entering inside.  So devastating were they that the only one who could handle them was Wanda who had left the medical centre to join the fight.  Once she was there an attack was made on Vision inside the medical centre and he came out fighting as best he could.  For a few moments everyone thought they had a chance then Cap called everyone to his position as they all noticed a change in the wind.  Bucky, who was far out on the field began running towards the trees and fired his weapon at a giant of a man who must have been Thanos.   He just pushed Bucky aside as if he was nothing.  He watched painfully from the ground as everyone tried to stop Thanos and failed.  When Thanos plucked the Mind Stone from Vision's head and felt its power rush through him Bucky tried once more to get up but he couldn't.  Thor's axe suddenly came through the air and pierced Thanos' heart but it didn't stop him from snapping his fingers before disappearing into a portal.  Only then could Bucky rise, along with the others.  He felt strange and called out to Steve before seeing his prosthetic arm turn to dust, the processing moving up towards the rest of his body.  His last thought was "It's happening," then he was no more.

Chapter 14>>

Series Masterlist

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#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #buckybarnes original female character #bucky in wakanda #bucky in love #thanos #infinity war

[tact-and-impulse]

Based on this ask, it’s the childhood friends AU that’s grabbed me by the throat! @shepherds-of-haven, I’ve been waiting to drop this. Below the cut and on AO3 as well!

simple charm

The village was nothing like home. The land was flat and unchanging as it stretched towards the horizon. Rope cordons were tied around the fields of barley and vegetables, struggling to remain green under the summer heat. The dusty wooden houses, clustered together, were giving a standoffish air. People had noticed their arrival, withdrawing into their doors and suspiciously eyeing their elk mounts. Only a slight majority of the locals had white hair; others sported lighter shades or multicolored locks indicating mixed blood. A very different welcome than usual.

“This is Maj?” Halek muttered. His father had told him and Naolin that this was a good opportunity to journey out of Uth Baryd, with a few elite fighters for protection on the road. Father was leading a diplomatic mission, to make contact with a gathering of refugees and reunite with their lost kin. For the future sol and sola, it was meant to be practice for leadership and negotiation.

Halek had taken it in stride, but Naolin was obviously unsettled, knuckles gripping their elk’s reins. They’d never left the Reach before, and Maj was in such stark contrast. Nakedly vulnerable, no defenses against demons, and shabbily built. But the villagers were surviving on their own means. Halek respected that.

From the front, their father called out in Uth, before announcing their small party. In response, one of the older folks indicated to a house, a little apart from the rest. Lothar and Hecathe lived there with their daughter, and they would speak for everyone in Maj.

As they approached, the door opened. The man was a full-blooded Hunter though his age could’ve been anywhere from twenty-five to forty-five. A weary expression and years of labor had aged him, and he walked with a slight hunch. He stiffly greeted Yerom, glancing at everyone with skepticism through the formal introductions.

Halek’s attention began to drift and he yawned. He rolled his shoulders, working out the soreness from travel. An elbow jabbed into his belly, as Naolin hissed.

“You shouldn’t be rude, diru.”

“Rude? I’m just tired.”

“So am I, but I’m not yawning!”

“Hey, calm down.”

They looked up, to Yerom’s disapproving gaze. Lothar, however, gave a wan smile. “I suppose you’ve had a long journey.” He invited them inside, calling out to Hecathe. A white-haired woman rushed from downstairs, her hands in a worn apron. She wasn’t fazed by their group, huddling in the cozy living room, but occasionally, she glanced to the upper floor.

“I understand that you mean well.” Lothar said. “But we’ve lived here for years and this is our home, for better or worse.”

Yerom pressed his lips together. “There is safety in Uth Baryd, and you wouldn’t have to fear the Autarchy. You would be with kin.”

“And where was kin, when my father’s generation was nearly wiped out?” He bitterly countered. “Or when my grandfather’s parents were driven out of Haven? We aren’t the only refugees, and we’ve long accepted that we could only help ourselves.”

“It doesn’t need to be that way. Yes, aid should have been provided time and time again, but I swear that we are here to make things right.”

Lothar stared at their entourage. “You didn’t bring many with you. Is the grace dwindling with you as well?”

“We have enough to endure.”

“But it is, and if you’re trying to recruit people, there are none here.”

Yerom tensed. As much as he tried to speak around the subject, the other man had already figured out their real purpose. It was true that they had less exorcists with each century, and the art couldn’t be lost.

Hecathe softly spoke up. “None of us are properly trained and too old to learn. The children are young, but not all of them are full-blooded.”

“It would be good for them to learn about their Hunter heritage though, and anyone eligible can be trained. Your daughter included.”

Now, this brought an odd reaction from the couple. Their expressions shuttered, and Hecathe abruptly stood. Lothar grabbed her hand, squeezing tightly. “You know we have a daughter?”

“One of your townspeople mentioned who lived in this house.”

“Did they say anything else? Who was it?”

Then, Hecathe gasped, looking into the foyer. “Oh, we must have woken her.”

Footsteps pattered. A little girl, younger than Halek and Naolin, dove into Hecathe’s skirt. Unlike her parents’, her hair was raven, except for a pure white streak. She buried her face into her mother’s lap, before sparing a glance to the room. Bright violet eyes glowed with power.

Lothar reached down, to pat her arm. “This is what I meant. Our daughter’s a Mage.”

***

In the Reach, all of the children were naturally Hunters, so Halek was intrigued by the girl. Since the grown-ups were still talking, she was told to give the twins a tour around the farm. That seemed to perk her up, and she opened the back door, looking over her shoulder to make sure they followed. Behind the house, there were fenced enclosures and a handful of other buildings, before the parched land led to the dense evergreen forests of the Shield Peaks. And it was quiet.

Their guide kept moving forward, but her eyes constantly darted to them and unlike their peers at home, she wasn’t awed. She seemed to be figuring them out, with equal measures of curiosity and caution. Naolin awkwardly cleared his throat and even that seemed to put her on edge; she took a hurried step away.

“So, your mom said your name’s Kalmia?” Halek asked.

She nodded, a jerky motion. Then, she veered towards one of the enclosures, setting the boundaries for a group of unruly yellow chicks. She hoisted a sack closer, digging her hands in and cupping what looked like the birds’ food. The chicks began to scream, and she spared an inquiring look at the twins before proceeding to deposit the meal. Given the small amounts, it was probably going to take a while.

Halek drew closer, an armspan away. “They definitely look hungry. Can I help you?”

“...Okay. But you have to do it like this.” She scattered the feed, spreading it evenly. She offered the sack to him, and he took it.

“Thanks.” He tossed a handful, though some of it landed in feathers instead. “Sorry, if I hit them.”

“It’s okay. They eat off each other too. See, over there.” She pointed to a cluster, where the poor target was desperately trying to shake off its siblings.

Halek laughed. “Well, I’ll try not to do that.”

Kalmia peered up at him, before offering a little smile. Her violet eyes were brighter in the sunshine.

“Can my brother join us? He’s dying to, he just doesn’t want to ask.”

“Diru!”

But Kalmia nodded and stepped aside, watching them feed the chicks before she said they had enough. “You can’t give them too much. Thank you!”

“Thanks.” They replied simultaneously, and Kalmia let out a startled giggle.

“That was funny.”

Halek inclined his head towards her. “Yeah, that happens sometimes. We look the same, don’t we?”

“Almost.”

“That’s because we’re twins.” Naolin explained. “Wait, almost?”

She readily said. “Halek’s hair is flat, and Naolin’s hair sticks up.”

Immediately, his hand went to the flyaway strands, while Halek laughed. “She got you there.”

“Diru…”

“Why do you call him that?” Kalmia tilted her head.

“Because he’s the older one.”

“By eight minutes.” Halek clarified. “It just means I’m his big brother. Unfortunately.”

Naolin sighed, an exhale that slumped his whole body. “You’re only saying that because you’re the future sol.”

Kalmia watched them with interest. “Is it fun being brothers? All I have is Zori.” Her earlier shyness was beginning to fall away. “Zori’s my best friend.”

“We can be your friends too.” Halek said and ignored Naolin’s elbow nudging his ribs. Maj didn’t have a council that dictated their schedules, or families jostling their children to get closer to them. It would be nice for once, to actually have a friend separate from that stifling grip.

“Will you come back to visit?”

“I think so. Our father’s planning more visits. Naolin might be a crybaby and stay home, but I’ll go.”

“That’s mean.” Naolin complained.

But Kalmia gave a smile. “Next time, I’ll wake up earlier from my nap.”

“You really shouldn't.” Halek cracked a grin. “At your age, you should nap all you can.”

They talked for a while longer, meandering past the rows of root vegetables and vegetable patches. The barn housed a pair of cows and ten sheep, which Halek requested to see. Kalmia slid the door aside and headed in, with Halek immediately following. Naolin trailed behind, reluctant to pass the threshold.

It was smaller than the elk stables he was used to, but the interior was clean. The animals were resting in their pens, flicking their ears occasionally. Hay was piled about and scattered across the floorboards. Towards the back, there was a ladder leading to an alcove with a window. Halek surveyed everything, asking. “Did you name the cows and sheep?”

“Mama and Dad said I can’t name them. But…” She pointed to the cows in turn. “I think of her as Clover and her as Rosy. Because of their spots.”

“Oh, I get it. Clover has three on her side, and Rosy’s got one round patch on her forehead.”

“Yup! The big sheep I can’t tell apart, but we have one baby who was just born. Here he is.” She went to the edge of the pen, and Halek peered over to see the suckling lamb.

“Cute. Thanks for showing them off.”

“We have cats too, to keep out the mice. I’m not allowed to bring any inside.” She gave a longing look to the alcove.

Halek suppressed a laugh. “Well, we don’t have pets either, if it makes you feel better. Maybe, someday.”

“Maybe. The rest is storage, so we can go back.” When they arrived at the front, Kalmia pointed to the steps. “That’s where my parents found me.”

“So they adopted you?” Naolin mused. “But your birth parents must have been Mages. Do you know anything about them?”

“No.” The word rang with finality, and perhaps, a touch of discontent.

Then, a figure sprinted to them, a blur that leapt for Kalmia in a crushing hug. “Sun above, there you are!”

“Hi, Zori.”

Zori was about a year older than Kalmia, with pale hair pulled into a thin braid, and her dark eyes narrowed at the twins. “Who are you?” She loudly demanded, squeezing Kalmia tighter.

“Zori, you’re hurting me.”

“Oh, sorry!” She let go, but maintained her glare even as introductions were made. “So, how long are you staying?”

“We’ll have to ask our father, but not more than a week.” Naolin replied.

“Huh. Okay.” A dismissive sound escaped her, before she scowled. “Are you sleeping over at Kalmia’s house?”

“Why?” Halek boldly shot back. “Want to join us if we do?”

“I’m asking because you’re both huge! You’ll take up too much space!” 

At that, Naolin spluttered and Halek wheezed. Simultaneously, they said. “We’re probably camping.”

“But it’s not safe to sleep outside.” Kalmia seriously said, like she was repeating an adult’s warning. “Lots of people travel on the road, and it’s dangerous.”

“Yeah, and they came from the road, didn’t they? It’d be dangerous if they stayed at your house.” Zori countered.

“It’s okay, they’re nice.” The sentiment was warming.

“We’ll see about that.” Another evil eye was thrown in their direction. “Anyway, I wanted to ask if you’d pick berries with me. The blackberries are ripe now, and my mom said she’ll make pie.”

“I’ll get some for my mama too. Halek and Naolin, will you come with us?” Her violet gaze was expectant, while Zori made a scrunched face behind her.

“Yeah, sure.” Halek smiled back at Kalmia. “Let’s go.”

The girls grabbed woven baskets, handing one each to the twins, before darting ahead and having a rapid, high-pitched conversation. Naolin muttered in his ear. “Are you sure about tagging along? Zori’s kinda…hostile.”

“I think it’s funny, we’ve never been hated on sight before. Kalmia doesn’t care about whether we’re going to be sol and sola. I’m having fun, and besides, we’ve never gone berry picking before.” He spun the basket in his hands, starting to whistle.

They arrived at the base of a slope, the brambles overgrown and heavy with fruit. Zori and Kalmia immediately began plucking off the blackberries, dropping them into the baskets. Halek imitated them, trying to steer clear of the thorns. One large berry split between his fingers, and he popped it into his mouth. Warm from the sun, the tart sweet flesh easily melted in his mouth.

He wasn’t the only one either. In his periphery, Zori had just crammed a handful past her teeth, and Kalmia was quietly chewing as she filled her basket. The latter met his casual glance, a splotch of purple on one cheek. “Have you eaten blackberries before?”

“The ones that grow in the Reach are smaller, not even half the size. And these taste much better.” He indulged in another. “How else do you eat them?”

“Mama makes jam but I like eating them this way best.” 

It was true, there was something addictive about fresh berries. He could have spent the rest of the afternoon here.

“Ouch!” Naolin’s hiss drew his attention, and he turned to see his brother cradling his finger, blood welling up. Tears soon followed, along with a shriek from Zori, and that put an end to their little adventure. The Black Shield scrutinized the twins’ juice-stained hands, but Yerom was only concerned about the thorn prick. A bandage and salve from Hecathe sufficed, though Naolin’s eyes remained red and he held his hand at a delicate angle.

By now, the rest of Maj was accustomed to their presence, and dinner was held outdoors. Not a banquet by any means, but every household placed a dish among the variety of wooden tables. A bonfire was lit to keep away the biting summer insects, and as the stars peeked into view, friendly conversations rose. Laughter soared, and calls for dancing to journeying songs. There were games that the twins had never played, to Zori’s smug superiority, and she roundly declared she’d teach them. It was fun, but Halek preferred to try a bite of everything. Pastries stuffed with cheese, greens sprinkled with herbs, other entrees he’d never seen before and had to ask Kalmia what was in them. The pie, of course, was excellent. 

All of it was amazingly new. Celebrations at home were repetitive and predictable, but this…he’d remember this forever.

***

Returning home was awful. The Black Shield must have said something, because word quickly spread about the twins spending time with children who weren’t full-blooded. At the end of another boring meeting, the council scrutinized them; Naolin visibly squirmed but Halek glared back. The old people droned on and on, about how it wasn’t proper or whatever to associate with outsiders.

So what? Halek thought. Kalmia and Zori were more honest about wanting to play with them, instead of loitering and whispering and waiting for the future sol to choose them. 

And that was exactly why on their next trip to Maj, he steered the elk towards the Metella house. Late autumn had given the town some color, in fallen leaves and the remnants of harvest. It was in a pumpkin patch, that dark hair was starkly visible, and Halek abruptly pulled the reins taut to Naolin’s chagrin.

“Ugh, I feel sick. Did we have to go so fast?”

“Yup.” He replied, sliding off the saddle. “Hey, Kalmia.”

Cradling a gold and green striped pumpkin, she beamed. “Hi! Halek and Naolin, are you here to help us?”

“That was the idea.” Another diplomatic outing, to convince the people in migrating to Uth Baryd. Honestly, with winter approaching, it was a hard sell to Halek. But he wouldn’t complain. It was his only chance to feel like a ten-year-old boy, not a title with the crushing weight of prophecy. And happily, he rolled up his sleeves and joined a Mage girl in the sun-warmed soil.

Gourds were separated from vines, sorted by ripeness and size. Mostly, they did what they were told to by the adults. But Kalmia was pleased by their company, especially because Zori was with her large family. She reintroduced them to the farm animals, including the latest additions. The chickens, now grown, crowded around her legs in a heap of feathers. Hecathe appeared to shoo them away, before offering that they come inside and lend a hand in making dumplings. By the way Kalmia cheered, it was something enjoyable.

The next thing Halek knew, they were in the Metellas’ kitchen, under bundles of dried herbs and flowers. They sat at a wooden table, a large bowl of orange pumpkin innards and stacked circles of rolled dough between them. Hecathe demonstrated how much filling was enough, before saying she’d return soon. It was certainly an interesting task; they’d never cooked before. Naolin was struggling, the dough tearing in his fingers. Kalmia was working patiently, crimping the edges of a dumpling with intense focus. But Halek found a rhythm to the scooping and wrapping, and it was actually fun. He began to fold the sealed sides of his, in his own personal twist. Those were his creations. Strange, he felt prouder about a pile of little dumplings than any test about demon knowledge or marksmanship. But it was a good feeling.

“How are you doing this so fast?” Naolin was in disbelief.

“It’s easy once you get the hang of it. Should I fix yours?”

“No!”

Kalmia noticed, taking one of his dumplings and placing it in the palm of her floured hand. Her face brightened. “They’re so cute! I want to eat them later.”

“How do we cook them?” He was very curious now.

“With butter and greens, or mushroom sauce. Oh, toasty pine nuts too. And cheese! But you can pick.”

“Then, I want to try all of those.”

That made her laugh, and he found himself looking forward to the whole process. With his folding pattern, he tracked his dumplings, through the boiling, sizzling, and plating. Once they were ready, he kept going back for small dishes of different sauces and seasonings, though in the end, he really couldn’t decide on what he liked best. But the ones he made were extra delicious, regardless of what they were enveloped in. He glanced at the others, watching their content expressions as they ate. As soon as they were home, he would make a batch for his mother.

In hindsight, that was probably the beginning of his love for cooking.

***

Years passed, and the diplomatic trips continued. Sure, the council was getting restless that no one from Maj was emigrating to the Reach, but Father insisted this was the right course of action. And once Halek dryly backed him up, everyone’s ears perked at the prophesied savior’s words.

It only made him more eager for these visits. Of course, Naolin never shared in the same enthusiasm, always a little hesitant and looking back at their home in trepidation. But even his straightlaced nature loosened when Halek dragged him over to the girls. Usually, they were found together, in the midst of a small task or the occasional spar with wooden batons. Kalmia always noticed first, stopping to cheerfully bound their way, while Zori trailed after, her hostility congealed into grudging acceptance. 

And while the grownups chatted, they’d embark on an ‘adventure’, as Zori liked to call them. Past the edge of town, the trees found purchase amidst stone outcroppings and climbed the Shield Peaks. Rivulets of snowmelt wound between, like silvery threads. The air was clearer, and noise was absorbed by the dense underbrush. Occasionally, a flap of wings or a small bushy tail would rustle their surroundings, as they searched for just the right spot among the rocks and fallen branches. 

“Alright, let’s stop here.” Zori puffed out, before launching into the setting of whatever they were going to play. The Castigation, and they were rebels gathering a stockpile. Pioneers to the west, lost after a storm. Mythic heroes, fighting demons. To her credit, her imagination transformed the gray terrain into a more exciting scene, of foreboding danger and heightened shadows.

Naolin, unable to resist, pointed out the little inconsistencies with a slight frown. So-and-so wasn’t alive during this era, actual demons would be scarier, things that would earn a flying kick from an irked Zori and he’d flinch. For Halek, it was easier to go along with the idea, at least until it became too complicated. Then, he’d volunteer to be the sick one they were trying to find a cure for, or the injured one left behind at camp. Kalmia would pat his shoulder, telling him not to die in the meantime; he’d have to stifle his laughter.

But most of the time, it was fun. A recurrent theme was slaying wyverns, to coordinate attacks against wings, fangs, and toxic breath. They called out to each other, darting among the rocks and trees. The boys mentioned a Hunter maneuver, tossing their smaller companions at the enemy. Zori absolutely hated it, wrestling away from Naolin’s timid attempt, while Kalmia’s glowing eyes widened as Halek seized her arms. They whirled around, gaining momentum and she gave a stunned cry when her feet lifted from the ground. Of course, he didn’t really throw her, setting her down neatly, but she took the next step, somersaulting and aiming with her miniature shortbow. Then, she beamed and ran to Halek.

“Can we practice it again?”

“Sure.” This time, he grabbed her by the armpits, and she expected it, miming a draw of her absent quiver. Already, her instincts were good.

A measly distraction came in the form of a blow to his side. “Let her go, you huge monster!” Zori was obviously jealous.

“Betraying me at last?” He drawled.

“Alright, no hitting each other.” Naolin sighed, trying to be responsible, as usual. He was forced to parry Zori’s sudden strike. “Hey! Come on, stop!”

Then, it dissolved into a grand mess without a story, and they inevitably grew tired. They’d return from the mountains with smooth rocks or wildflower bouquets, spoils from their invisible battles. Halek pocketed these souvenirs; he’d never recall the rules of each little game but these were enough to remind him of the ringing laughs and shouts.

Throughout one weeklong stay, Zori became obsessed with a new kind of game. If they had a race or competition, the winner could boss around the loser out of the quartet. Typically, this ended up being Zori, who declared herself as their queen, with Naolin or Kalmia as her servants. The latter didn’t act like this was beyond their usual dynamic, tagging after the older girl without fuss, but Naolin complained.

“She’s such a tyrant, diru.” He sighed after another demand for shoulder massages. “Can’t you win one of these contests?”

“That means I have to try.”

It wasn’t until the next day that the reign of terror ended. They hadn’t left Kalmia’s backyard; a recent trade with Norms had gone poorly and tensions were high. A set of old scarecrows became their targets to stave off boredom, and Zori picked up a slingshot. 

“Whoever hits the farthest one gets to be our ruler.” She stuck her tongue out, a pebble pinched between her fingers. It flung wide, scraping the base of said scarecrow before skittering off.

Halek was next, falling short of the closest one. He passed the slingshot to Naolin who gave him a dirty look. His brother really did his best, the pebble cleanly rolling to a stop just in front of the desired target. The wind blew, the stitched face of the scarecrow wobbling. And then, Kalmia took her turn, her face determined. For a moment, it seemed like she’d miss too, but a faint thud and the puff of straw escaping threadbare cloth proved otherwise. A direct hit, right in the chest. She seemed stunned, dazedly accepting their round of congratulations.

“Now, Kalmia’s the Queen and Halek’s her servant.” Zori announced with a glint in her eyes. “So, you have to do whateeever she says for the whole day.”

“Fine by me.” He looked to her, folding his arms.

For a moment, she was stunned. Then, her lips pursed in deep consideration. “Um…can I ride the elk with you?”

“That’s a question, not an order. Your Highness.” He belatedly added, at Zori’s kick to his shin.

“I asked because I won’t be a mean queen.” Kalmia said. “And I still want you to play with me after today.”

Huh. How thoughtful of her. At least, power would never go to her head. “Wise words, Your Highness. Alright, your wish is my command.” He drawled and then lifted under her arms, setting her in the saddle. Ignoring her surprised gasp, he swung his body behind her, taking the reins. A click between his teeth, and they were off.

It was only a lap around the town, so he coaxed the elk into a canter. Kalmia’s wavy hair fluttered, and she tilted her head back to look at Halek. “He’s fast!”

“Too fast?”

She shook her head and gave a delighted laugh. In his periphery, he noted that some of the townsfolk were openly gawking at them. It was a relief to return to the Metella farm, and he dismounted, taking Kalmia with him. Despite her unsteadiness once she touched down, she smiled from ear to ear and he couldn’t help returning it in kind. Then, she asked if he could toss her, so she could actually somersault after her landing. After that fulfilled request, she would just look expectantly at him, and he’d oblige whatever she was indicating, making a show of dragging his feet. But then, her purple eyes would shine and he didn’t feel like it was a chore at all.

The last thing she wanted was a cup of fresh milk, but by the way she glanced towards her parents, it seemed like she didn’t want them to know. She didn’t drink it either, heading towards her room instead. Zori was occupied with the scarecrows, trying to improve her aim, while Naolin was being a good little boy and helping Father with packing. So, Halek shadowed Kalmia, his eyebrows raised.

“Are you hiding something?” He stopped at her threshold, peering inside. She had a neat bedroom, though her blanket was askew on her wooden bed. On the walls, dried laurel bouquets were strung on twine, and a subtle fragrance met his nose.

“It’s not bad. I think.” She lifted the blanket. From under her bed, she pulled out a trundle-like box, containing a heap of rags. A stirring movement, and the head of a gray kitten popped out.

“I should’ve guessed. Smuggled it into your room, huh?”

“She was the smallest one in her litter and she wasn’t eating enough. I thought I’d take care of her.” To her credit, the kitten didn’t look starved, eagerly lapping at the milk.

Halek knelt beside her. “You did a good job. Are you going to sneak her into the barn when she’s bigger?”

“Yeah, soon.” She fondly petted the gray fur. “Before, she was too weak to play, but she likes to cuddle now.”

“Sounds like you’re getting attached.” He teased.

With the milk gone, the kitten blinked sleepily and curled into a ball in Kalmia’s arm. She countered. “I don’t care.” She looked unusually unapologetic as she hugged the kitten.

He reached out to scratch the kitten’s head; it was softer than he expected. A vibration kicked under his touch, the purring startling both him and Kalmia before they exchanged grins. Humming under her breath, she tucked the kitten inside the makeshift bedding, and slid the box back. Then, they descended downstairs, about to return outside. Her gaze turned to him, suddenly wide and nervous. “You won’t tell my mama, will you?”

“Nope.” He ruffled her hair. The gesture surprised her, her own hands flying to the top of her head once he let go. Cute. “I can keep your secret.”

“Thank you!” And then, she sped off towards Zori.

On the way back home, Naolin pointed out. “I know you could’ve hit that scarecrow. Why’d you lose on purpose?”

“Maybe, I just wanted to see what it was like, doing things for other people instead. It’s nice.” It was also bitter, with the fact that such behavior would be discouraged in the future. In silent understanding, his brother nudged his shoulder against his.

***

The instructions had been clear. Venture into the Wastes, kill a demon, bring it back. The last step was currently evading him, but he was so tired. Fresh memories continued to taunt him. Bloody chains, crunching bone, that sinister voice. Half delirious, he picked a direction and kept going.

He didn’t even remember collapsing. He only registered feeling colder and colder, the urge to sleep becoming a heavy blanket. And then, something turned his face.

“Halek?”

Violet eyes stared down at him, as a gloved hand brushed the snow off his head. In a winter coat lined with rabbit fur and dark hair flying away from her hood, Kalmia gasped in disbelief. No, that wasn’t possible, she couldn’t be near the Wastes.

“I’ve got to be hallucinating.” He muttered.

“No, you’re not. Let me start a fire for you.” She shook his shoulder, and that kept him from nodding off until she lit a pile of dry kindling. Most likely, she used magic, but he was grateful, warmth returning to his tired body. She opened her pack, handing him a dry biscuit, which he scarfed down. Around them, the deep woods were eerily silent.

“What are you doing here?” His voice was rusty from disuse, and the uneven crack, growing frequent as the days passed, really wasn’t welcome in this moment.

“I want to ask you the same. Were you planning to visit us? We didn’t know.”

“This is near Maj?” Strange, his body must have gravitated to this place.

“A little deeper in the mountains, but yes.”

“So what are you doing here?”

“I set out a few traps. We’re running low on food, since the traders stopped coming.” She hesitated, and then, she rubbed her coat sleeve over her face. Over the fresh tears dampening her cheeks.

“Kalmia, what’s wrong?”

“It’s the Gray Death. I don’t have it, neither does my dad, but…Mama got sick. And I want to find something that can help her too.”

In all this time, he had never seen her cry. The sight was unsettling, tying a knot under his sternum. He dug into his pocket, searching for whatever spare cloth he had, but the only scrap was spotted with dried blood. “Sorry, this is all I have.”

She gave a warped sound, between a choke and a laugh. “How did that happen? Are you hurt?”

“I was. A demon.” And then, he held his tongue; it was an awful tale, and he didn’t want to scare her. “Anyway, it’s dead now and since I forgot to get proof of the kill, I have to find another before going back to the Reach. If I want to.”

“If you want to?” She echoed, flashing him a concerned look. “Are the council elders that harsh?”

“It’s not just them, it’s everyone. They’re expecting me to bring a Cacophant or something that proves their future savior is destined to save the world, or whatever they believe. And afterwards, what else is there but the same? Just…more and more pressure, to make sure the prophecy is true.” He stared into the distance, the freshly fallen snow glittering in the morning. Shaking his head, he said. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter what I think, obviously. But I don’t have to go yet. Let’s find herbs for your mom.”

Hecathe had always been kind to him and Naolin, and courteous to their father. The Gray Death, however, spared no one, and despite the sinking feeling in his gut, he lifted his boots and began searching the underbrush. 

Kalmia trudged beside him, explaining. “She has a fever and she keeps throwing up. I tried cooking soup and that worked for a few days.”

Those words should have been coming from a town elder, not a slip of a girl with a bow half her size to protect herself. “You sound like a grandma.”

“And you sound like a cranky grandpa.” She protested but her voice was amused. Her hood had slipped off; her hair was longer, past her shoulders.

He gave a quick tousle, ignoring the futile scrape of her gloves, and used his stride to his advantage in escaping. He drawled. “Then, if I’m that old, you better catch up.” And he took off, boots crushing the frozen ground.

Her startled bright laugh followed, then her softer footsteps. “Halek, wait!”

And he did have a brief lead, exhaling a cloud of vapor into the cold air. Exhilaration flooded his veins, cleaner and lighter than the survival-based response he was running on for the past few days. Then, the bruised spots on his body flared, his gait slowing. An arm linked through his, Kalmia peering up at him.

“Where are we going?”

“As far as we can.”

They hurtled down the slope, and time slowed. They were aloft, suspended in the air between each step. Pale sunshine spilled into the powdery snow ahead, and their breaths wove around their heads as they gasped. Two kids, running away from their fears. It lasted until they arrived at the bottom, of what looked like an old riverbed, and their footprints stamped divots in the hard ground. 

He braced against a tree trunk, his sides aching, and that was why he noticed a hint of green amidst the rocks. He cleared the crust of snow, revealing a frosted cluster of serrated leaves. “Mint. It should help with your mom’s nausea.”

Her eyes sparkled in recognition, and she immediately knelt. “It will, thank you!”

One small leaf clung to his glove; he shoved it in his mouth, the cool burst welcome. As he chewed, he watched her finish gathering what she needed, then turn to search for other herbs. She must have found something because she straightened and worked on snapping the outer edges of a bush.

What if he never went home? What if he stayed here, content to live in Maj and explore the mountainsides with Kalmia? But inevitably, the elders would look for him, and the Black Shield knew about Maj. They’d sunder the village to recover their beloved savior, and the possibility weighed heavily on his heart.

Kalmia strode over, her pack full of mint and bark shavings. “This should be enough.” Then, she hesitated. “I’m going home; do you want to come along?”

“...I don’t think so. Glad you got what you were looking for, but I still have to kill a demon.”

To his surprise, she took his hand, pressing something within. “Here, this is for you.” The neatly folded cloth was better than what he had offered earlier.

“Thanks. I’ll see you later.” He promised.

She visibly relaxed, nodding. “Okay. Safe travels.” She spared a last glance at him before drawing her hood up and hurrying through the snowy trees.

Once she was out of sight, he opened the kerchief. A dented compass, clinging to its purpose. Wryly, he turned in the direction of the needle and headed north.

He did return to Uth Baryd, demon bounty in tow, and once he deposited it at the Mornhaven Gate, the first thing he asked was to send another diplomatic mission to Maj. To bring supplies or food, anything to help. The council argued back, a clamor of reedy voices, and the deep-set frowns didn’t waver. The city walls were barred, preventing even the merchants from entering. They were afraid. Think of the infection, they said, as if the village wasn’t living through it. Cowards and hypocrites. The roads froze over, and while the city seemed to exhale a private sigh of relief, Halek counted the days to spring.

However, the next letter from Maj came before the snow melted, and in smudged ink, Lothar’s handwriting flatly conveyed that Hecathe was dead.

***

Almost a year passed, after the old bats were replaced by slightly less old bats, when Yerom contacted Maj again. Halek noticed the flicker of surprise on his father’s face, at the response. But there was no argument, since they left by the end of the sennight.

The village was dustier and quieter, cloaked in twilight. At first, Halek wondered who the elderly man exiting the Metella house was, before he abruptly realized it was Lothar. The man was bowed under the weight of grief, shuffling with dull eyes. He swayed, looking at their procession without reacting. And then, the door opened, candlelight streaming around a silhouette.

Hurrying towards them, Kalmia carried a shawl. Her legs were longer, her skirt above her ankles, and her dark hair spilled past her shoulders, the white tress tucked behind her ear. She slowed to a stop, draping the fabric over Lothar before making the familiar Hunter greeting gesture. “Welcome.”

Then, Yerom spoke to Lothar, in the careful tone of their initial acquaintance while the Black Shield dispersed to give supplies. Halek gave the elk’s reins to Naolin, heading to Kalmia. She was standing rigidly, her head slightly bent. This formality was appropriate, she’d be like the daughter of a First Family according to his lessons, but he loathed it.

He closed the distance, ruffling her hair and grinning at the odd squeak in response. “Long time no see.”

And then, it was his turn to be surprised. She leaned in, clasping her hands behind his back in a full embrace. “Thank you for coming.” Just as swiftly, she let go and her face turned aside, before he could say anything more.

Slowly, the rest of the town became aware of their return. While the Black Shield was forced to answer the torrent of questions, Halek and Naolin retreated. At least, Zori didn’t care about why they were gone; she had undergone a growth spurt, her pale hair shorn on one side. Still, her love for adventure hadn’t wavered at all, and her first demand was a scavenger hunt. But Kalmia had changed. She didn’t look as aged as her adoptive father, but her eyes contained a new depth, piercing through the make believe scenarios.

After the events of his trial, Halek wondered if that was also reflected in his face. Demons and death had taken their childhood innocence. These small games felt…hollow. But Zori was determined to distract Kalmia in her own way, and she beckoned the twins; so they played anyway, clinging to what remained of sweeter memories.

Fortunately, Maj was open to future visits. Unfortunately for Halek, the council decided it was time for him to delve into preparing for his destined role. Naolin was assigned to conduct diplomacy instead, while Halek remained in the Reach to study and spar.

…If they could tell the difference. Just like when they were kids, Halek coaxed and prodded his brother into swapping places.

“The council will notice, won’t they?!” Naolin protested. “Come on…”

“I’m going to sacrifice the rest of my life to serving them, so just let me go.”

Ultimately, he had his way. He had to restrain himself from whistling, his brother didn’t, but he was thrilled by the successful deception. The whole way to Maj, the Black Shield soldiers didn’t realize they had the wrong twin. However, upon their arrival, violet eyes seared into Halek. During a quiet moment, she murmured to him.

“Did you skip your training to be sol?”

“What are you talking about? I’m Naolin, the younger and more obedient brother.”

“If you say so.” But she knowingly smiled. “Then, you can help me with sorting the vegetables. I’ll show you how to pickle them.” And happily, he followed in her wake.

The peace of mundane routine was a magnetic force, drawing him again every time the delegation left. Naolin complained that the elders were bound to catch on, though they never did, and it continued until the summer before Kalmia’s Flower Day. Kalmia was born in deep winter, about a month following the twins’ birthday. Not that Halek was anticipating that year’s grandiose celebration, with the impending betrothal.

“You’re getting married?” A flower slipped between her fingers, and she hastily picked it from her lap. It was an idle afternoon, the two of them enjoying the crisp mountain air and watching the drifting puffy clouds. “What do you know about her?”

“Not much.” He shrugged. “She’s from another clan, somewhere with a lot of powerful families. She’s a few years older. Supposedly beautiful.”

“Is she nice?”

“Who knows?” He sourly retorted. He wasn’t thrilled to be married off for the sake of producing more full-blooded Hunters, more bodies to fight demons. The future was a bleak image of sitting on a pedestal, looking down on opaque silhouettes like salt pillars, their hands blindly grabbing for a savior.

Something ruffled his hair, and he glanced upwards, to find the circle of elm and edelweiss. It was a simple charm, evenly made and sweetly fragrant. What were the meanings again? Elm was for warding, especially against demons. Edelweiss was for strength, or devotion? In the corner of his eye, Kalmia was somber, but when he turned to her, a shy smile was on her face.

“You’re always welcome in Maj, whenever you want.” Then, she resumed crafting another flower wreath, a pink blush flooding her cheeks. “As long as you send a letter first, we'll know to prepare your room!”

The village was nothing like home. He could place his hands on the dark soil, watch the green things grow ripe, and work as an ordinary person. He’d learn to cook dishes from across Blest, and share them in a cozy kitchen adorned with dried herbs and flowers. If only he was born here, if he wasn’t the future sol-  

All stupid and pointless, he berated himself. Out of reflex, he wanted to run away, to nip temptation in the bud. But the clouds shifted and sunlight beamed down as she perfunctorily crowned herself with violets. Staring at her happy face, he said instead. “I’ll bring you something for your birthday.”

She tilted her head, the blossoms catching. “Why though? You don’t have to. It’s enough if you’re at the party…and awake when the cake’s cut.”

“I might just take a nap under your table for that.” He tousled her hair, pulling away before her fingers futilely tried to stop him. While she hastily shook the petals out, he smirked. “Well, if it’s good cake, I’ll try to be there.”

Kalmia laughed and the image was burned into his memory. His hand still carried the aroma of violets when he left.

***

But a winter storm locked down the Reach, and when the sky was clear again, the messenger birds brought the terrible news. Demonkind had returned to Blest, rampant across the continent. Then, word came that it started in Maj. And it was completely massacred.

Halek ran.

He took only the essentials, a ration pack and his spear. He made for the stables and steered his elk on the familiar path. It was a hard ride, but he was numb to the bitter cold and winds. He was purely focused on the road to Maj.

And then, the destruction was laid bare in front of him.

He was dragged back to Uth Baryd without a struggle. He didn’t have the energy to fight off the Black Shield, and the elders’ chastisements washed over him. The first day of his confinement was hazy, as he cycled through horror, rage, and anguish.

Then, he opened the thick books of exorcisms and forced himself to read through the crackling pages. The mourning period had already begun, but he was allowed to attend the lighting of the pyre, a mass funeral in the name of Maj. He went through every name and face, and when a violet ribbon was tossed into the flames, his vision blurred.

“Diru.” Naolin pressed a handkerchief into his palm, but he ignored it, listening to Father’s words about the return of demonkind. The fallen would never be forgotten, as martyrs engraved in the annals of Hunter history. But it wouldn’t bring any of them back.

“I can’t promise anything.” He murmured, and he wasn’t even sure to whom. “But I’ll try not to let this happen again.”

Days turned to weeks, then to months and years. Their home expanded, with Hunter refugees and their families. The elders griped, but vacant houses were filled and there was no complaint regarding more fighters. Halek and Naolin came of age, and the engagement to Moonsilk was finalized, though any opportunity to delay the wedding was readily seized. He became sol, not the best one by any stretch, but he mustered the effort if there was an Endarkened. He owed that much, in the name of an obliterated town.

Sometimes, he looked out at the southern mountain peaks, until the shine of snow was too bright to endure. His attention would catch on the rare sight of purple fabric, but it was never the right shade. When the laurel bloomed, he’d take a flower and count how many days for the petals to brown, hating each time how short it was. 

And deep within his chest of drawers, a locked box protected a simple charm of elm and edelweiss.

#shepherds of haven #yes it's a downer ending only because it stops before the game #not for long though 👀 #the rest of the tags are my ranting/hinting so feel free to ignore #as i'm writing further along i realize this is the WORST au lmao #that shared past is just another dimension of angst and yearning #especially since she'll be drawn to familiarity given everything headed for her #kinda...makes him giving it all up more believable in a way...

[shegatsby]

The Last of Us

Warnings; Post apocalyptic world, violence.

Words; 1.159K

A/N; Hello everyone. Thank you for liking and sharing, sorry for any typos. Don't forget to let me know what you think. Enjoy! SMUT in future chapters, hang tight lol

TAG LIST IS OPEN!

Summary; Ever since childhood you had to survive, you were born before the disease so you kinda remembered what was it like, to have a hot shower, clean food etc. You didn’t know what happened to your parents because they were on a vacation and left you with your grandma who passed away during the chaos. You were 10 when it happened, a child who had to be a woman over night. What happens when you are a brink from killing yourself and find purpose again?

Chapter Three- New Beginning

As promised Tess was outside with this kid, Ellie. ‘’Why does the Firefly care about you?’’ Tess asked curiously, maybe she was the daughter of the FireFly’s  leader. ‘’I can’t say.’’ She replied shortly. Before Tess could ask anything else she turned to her left to see Joel and this girl, she had black jeans and a hoodie, her backpack seemed full. ‘’Finally.’’ She said, sounding bored. What surprised Tess and Joel was that when Ellie saw Y/N she immediately ran to give her a hug, ‘’Y/N!’’ she said in joy, smiling ear to ear, ‘’Ellie! Oh my God! I was worried for you. Where have you been?!’’ She knelt to give Ellie a big hug, Ellie was one of her students when Y/N came here 6 months ago, together they would play and read. Even though Y/N had no children and had no desire to have one, Ellie was like her daughter, there was a profound bound between them. ‘’Let me look at you.’’ Y/N said and caressed her cheeks, ‘’I’m glad you are safe.’’

Tess didn’t want to bother anyone but she cut in, ‘’Alright girls, we gotta keep moving.’’ Y/N stood up to meet Tess’s eyes, before she could say anything they were stopped by a FEDRA soldier.

‘’Everyone get on your knees!’’ the soldier screamed, ‘’Listen, I can get you more of the drugs and money, let us go.’’ Joel said bargaining, he never liked this soldier anyways but now their fate was in his hands. ‘’I told you man, don’t go out in the dark. Get on your knees. Right now!’’

Y/N looked at Joel for an answer, he shook his head slightly and they all turned their backs and knelt on the muddy ground. The soldier took his detecting machine to see if they were infected, Y/N, Tess and Joel were clean, just as expected but before the soldier could look at Ellie she pulled out her pocket knife and stabbed his leg. Y/N was shocked to see Ellie doing something like this, why would she do that?!

Joel immediately got up from the ground, the soldier was holding the gun at them and cursing in pain but before he could attack Joel took the liberty and tackled him like a hockey player. He was punching and punching the soldier that Y/N could see the blood spreading from the head, Joel’s knuckles were covered in bruises and blood, he turned to face them. His eyes were pleading, trying to explain why he did it but no words came out. In that brief silent moment Tess saw a red light coming from the tool which the soldier used it to check them if they were sick. Green meant the person wasn’t infected, red was… Tess yelled to get attention. ‘’No, I’m not sick!’’ Ellie begged, Y/N had to take a step back, was she really infected? Ellie showed them her arm, it looked like she was bitten but the scar was old.

‘’This is three weeks old! No one lasts more than a day, look!’’ Ellie said. Y/N approached to get a closer look, she was telling the truth. But how? How could she survived that? Tess grabbed Ellie by the arm, ‘’We gotta go Joel! Let’s go.’’ And together they began their journey.

They found a place to hide and sleep for the night, ‘’The kid should sleep few feet away from us.’’ Joel said, he still didn’t trust Ellie, ‘’She could turn and attack us while we’re sleeping so I’m taking the first watch.’’ Ellie rolled her eyes and ignored them. She placed her bag under her head and turned her back at them, clearly she was upset, Y/N knelt and gave her temple a kiss, ‘’Good night. I believe you.’’ She whispered which made Ellie smile.

Y/N didn’t feel like sleeping so she joined Joel and let Tess rest. All night neither of them spoke of what happened earlier, how Joel found her committing suicide or the situation with Ellie. When the day came with its shiny sunlight they made a plan, Ellie told them that there is a base camp of Firefly at west so that’s where they decided to take her even though Joel didn’t like the plan at first he needed a car battery so this was the plan which would take him to his brother.

Everything was working smoothly until the museum, the road was blocked so they had to go through the museum. This was the very first time she came face to face with a clicker, it was a chaos. Ellie was bit again but since she had some kind of immunity to it so Y/N used a white cloth on her arm.

It was afternoon when they reached their destination, Y/N and Elli were walking behind Joel and Tess, what really suspicious was that there were gears and military vehicles but insides were bloody. The smell of heavy iron hit her nostrils, she had to swallow to not throw up. When they walked inside the building all of the soldiers of FireFly were dead, it looked like a Mexican standoff. Tess started to curse and look around, there were guns and tanks of oil, ‘’Where Marleen was suppose to take you?!’’ she walked to Ellie, she was action as if she had no time. Something was off about her, ‘’Can you please calm down?’’ Y/N came between Ellie and Tess in a very protective way. ‘’Tess what’s wrong?’’ Joel asked with caution. There was a brief moment of silence, ‘’She is infected.’’ Ellie said, at first Y/N didn’t believe because she didn’t see that infected at the museum attack her but everything happened so fast. Tess showed them the bite on her throat which was spreading, everyone knew that there was no going back. Y/N could see the unbidden tears forming in the corners of her ocean blue eyes, even though she didn’t know Tess as a friend it looked like she lived hell and survived and obviously going out liked this made her frustrated, she approached to Joel and Y/N and when she saw Joel take a step back Y/N could vividly see that her soul died right there.

‘’This is your chance.’’ She looked at them deeply, ‘’Get her there. Keep her alive, and you set everything right.’’ Her voice broke at the end, Y/N couldn’t help but share the sad truth, Tess was bitten and she was going to sacrifice herself  for them, at the moment it seemed like she was saving them but this would have enormous impact on the bigger picture, for humanity. Finally the humanity had a chance after so long, ‘’Go!’’ she screamed at them as the infected were punching the closed doors of the building, Joel gave a last look at his long time friend, there were sadness coming to the surface in his brown eyes, he grabbed Y/n and Ellie’s arm and didn’t look back.

TAG LIST; @psychomanias

@stitchattacks

@anxiousbeech

@elmontsmile

Thank you for reading. :)

#ellie the last of us #hbo the last of us #the last of us hbo #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fan #fanfiction prompt #fanfic #fanfiction #ellie x joel #joel and ellie #joel tlou #tlou hbo #tlou series #ellie tlou #smut fanfiction #tlou show #pedrohub #pedrito

[drchenquill]

The soldier and the horseman~ part of chapter 2

We were not untrained in transporting people, but they were always dead. We, four men who faced death every day, now had to worry about the lives of four people. For the first time in my life, I almost laughed. "Humans…" whispered Sundew next to me, confused. His confusion was shared by all of us, but it was our mission, and we should treat it as such. The four humans stepped forward, followed by an armed man. I took a closer look at our goods. Two men, a woman and a… child. I tried not to change my expression. A tall man, scrawny with loose clothes. He wore a black mask that covered his mouth. Behind the thick red curls covering his neck were piercing dark eyes. The girl stood next to him. Eight years old. Long, almost platinum blonde hair tied in two ponytails. I recognized no fear in her watery blue eyes. She wore a pretty little pink dress with ruffles. She clung to the woman. Tall, slim, trembling slightly. Her short, bright blonde hair was tied in a half bun. She was wearing a large white sweater, which she played with the long sleeves as she scrutinized us. Underneath, she wore pants that reached to her knees and thick combat boots. My gaze wandered to the last man. Not very tall, a head shorter than me. A long black coat covered his body. I could only see an equally dark shirt. He wore black boots that reached over his ankles. His hair was hidden under a black hat. He had his head lowered, obscuring my view of his face. "Are you the transport?" asked the armed man behind them. "Yes." I replied briefly. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the last man raise his head. Our eyes met. Poison green. His eyes were poison green. He looked into my dark eyes and my breath hitched briefly. He didn't break our eye contact and all the noises around us fell silent. "ID." The man with the gun, unknown to me, snapped me out of my trance. I turned to him and raised an eyebrow. He repeated himself. "ID." I sighed. "Berserker, could you show our colleague our ID?" I heard Berserker laugh lightly as he approached the man. Without giving him time to react, he snatched his weapon from his hand and then held his dagger to his throat. "I hope it's readable." I heard him say. "I hope you now realize who you're dealing with," I warned him. He nodded hastily and Berserker withdrew. "The goods are yours." he said and the four people moved of their own accord, as if they had been told which van to get into. The man in the mask walked past bobcat who was grinning the entire time, and climbed into the back seat of the van. The woman walked anxiously towards Sundew, who held the door to his back seat open for her. The girl walked up to Berserker and looked up at him. He looked at her and then at me. "No… I'm not taking the kid." he said, almost warningly. "I can't do this with children, they're so… fragile." he said, moving away from her. "Berserker, the mission has priority. It was assigned to you, you take it." I said to him. "But…" he began, but my stern look silenced him. He scratched the back of his neck and looked at the girl. With a sigh, he went to the car and opened the back seat. She heaved herself in and Berserker closed the door. Suddenly I realized that if the three of them went to the others, that meant the man with the poison green eyes…. I turned to him, but he was no longer there. Startled, I looked inside my car and took a deep breath. He was sitting there, in the passenger seat. I saluted my colleagues one last time, got in and drove off.

(written then translated by me~)

#writeblr #writing #writers #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #wip

[favefandomimagines]

Lucky Charm 2 (b.b)

Summary: the first day of training proves that no one should underestimate Kimberly, especially Rooster

AN: Second installment is here!!! There is more angst in this one, we get the flashback of Kimberly and Rooster’s fall out AND Hangman being an okay human

Also, i am SO bad at writing anything action related so these flying scenes are gonna be the death of me so I’m sorry and these chapters won’t be out this late, i just got a late start adding the tags and what not

Part 1

Kimberly arrived at the base the next day after a very restless night’s sleep. The conversation with Rooster shook her up a bit and then guilt started to set in.

Was she too hard on him? He realized his mistake and wanted to fix things, should she have listened? Then she remembered the feeling she got after the harsh words he said and then the guilt went away.

When she walked into the hangar, she spotted everyone already seated. The only empty seats towards the front were next to Hangman and Rooster. Who is the lesser of the two evils? The man who thinks she doesn’t deserve her spot or the man who broke her heart?

She chose sitting in the very back by herself instead. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she stared straight ahead at the large American flag that was suspended from the ceiling.

Kimberly could feel three sets of eyes on her; Hangman, who was smirking like he won something, Phoenix, wanting to make sure her friend was okay and Rooster. Who was looking at Kimberly in a way she couldn’t discern.

Admiral Bates approached the podium at the front of the hangar and began speaking about why they were all there. But Kimberly was staring holes in the back of Rooster’s head.

It angered her that he believed he could fix all of the things that went wrong between the two of them.

Kimberly wasn’t expecting Bradley to show up at her parent’s house that evening. Her parents were having dinner and all her siblings were over with their children. She was outside playing with her niece before dinner.

She was confused when she saw Bradley’s Bronco speeding up the driveway and it startled her. “What the hell?” She muttered out loud. She saw Bradley get out of the car and she could tell he was seething.

“Um, Charlotte, go inside and wash up. Tell grandma I’ll be in soon.” Kimberly told her niece.

Bradley stormed up towards the young woman, and shamefully to say, Kimberly was scared of him in that moment.

“What’s going on?” She asked. “You knew, didn’t you? Of course you did, you’re the fucking admiral’s daughter.” Bradley sneered. “What the hell are you talking about?” Kimberly questioned.

“Maverick pulled my papers! Why didn’t you tell me? Or at least give me a heads up?” He yelled. “What do you mean Mav pulled your papers?” Kimberly scoffed.

“Don’t act all innocent and try to lie. Ice tells you everything.” He snapped. “You think I knew?” She asked, hurt flashing over her face.

“You know what, this is done. I want nothing to do with you if this is how you treat your best friend. Maybe everyone was right; you’re handed everything because of your dad.” Bradley finished, turning to walk away.

Kimberly stood there stunned, trying to process what just happened. Bradley really believed that she knew about Mav pulling his papers?

He didn’t even let her explain. And all of the things he said to her? Acting all innocent, lying, he doesn’t want anything to do with her, her dad being the reason for her current success.

It hurt hearing her best friend say those things about her. “Honey? Are you okay?” Kimberly’s mother’s voice alerted her. “I, uh, I don’t know.” She answered.

“Clover? Clover are you okay?” She heard someone say, knocking her out of her daydream. Looking up, she saw Maverick standing above her and everyone being dismissed for training.

“What? Yeah, I’m okay.” She lied. “You know you can talk to me. I may be your captain first but I’m still your uncle.” He said. “Thanks Mav.” Kimberly replied with a halfhearted smile.

Kimberly took a deep breath and went out on the tarmac for the training exercise. The goal was for Maverick to see and test the limits of the “best of the best.”

“Hey Clover!” She heard. Kimberly turned around and saw Hangman jogging towards her. “What do you want Hangman?” She asked. “What’s the deal with Bradshaw and Maverick?” He asked. “I don’t really see how that’s any of your business. And why does everyone assume I know everything?” Kimberly replied.

“Because you usually do. So what gives?” Hangman said. “It’s not my place to say and it’s definitely not your place to ask. You don’t even like Rooster.” The woman said.

“Seems I struck a nerve. You know, I’ve heard the stories about you and Rooster. Penny and Mav aren’t exactly quiet talkers.” Hangman rebutted.

Kimberly rolled her eyes, growing frustrated with the topic and she needed to focus. If she was going to prove she deserved to be there, she needed to be on her A game.

“Hey, hey wait,” He stopped her, grabbing her elbow gently. “I know I give you a hard time for being Kazansky’s daughter but Rooster was wrong. You haven’t been handed anything.” Hangman said.

Kimberly’s facial expression softened, slightly, giving him a nod. He let go of her elbow and she walked to her plane. Unbeknownst to the two of them, Rooster had seen the interaction.

It made Rooster’s blood boil, seeing Hangman’s hand on her arm. But he had no right to feel that way.

“Hey, uh, Kazansky.” Rooster called. He watched her shoulder’s deflate as she turned around. “Do you need something, Lieutenant?” She asked. “Just be careful. And try not to make all of us look bad up there.” He said.

Kimberly look at him, no expression or emotion in her face. “You too.” She replied before turning to get in her plane. ‘That’s a start.’ Rooster thought.

Kimberly was Omaha and Yale’s wingman during the training exercise and Fanboy had to go and make things interesting. He bet Maverick that loser has to do 200 push ups. She hated push ups so she’d be damned if she lost.

“Alright, Clover. We could use some of that legend shit.” Yale commented as they awaited Maverick’s entrance. “Watch and learn boys.” Kimberly replied. From inside the rec room, the rest of the aviators were listening on the radio.

Rooster smirked at the sound of Kimberly’s confidence.

The two planes were waiting with baited breath when Maverick flew in between the two planes. “Holy shit.” Kimberly cursed, regaining control of her plane.

“Where is he, Yale?” Omaha asked his RIO. “Right behind us.” Yale answered. “Help us out, Clover. He’s right on us.” Omaha said. “I got you, I’m coming.” Kimberly replied.

She came up above Maverick’s plane, trying to get a lock on him and get tones. Maverick wasn’t a legend for nothing so the task was harder than it would be in any other circumstance.

It was touch and go, all three pilots trying their best to gain an advantage on the other.

Finally, Kimberly got good tones and took her shot. Right at the same time Maverick took his.

“Yale, Omaha, you’re dead.” Maverick said. “Hate to break it to you Mav, but so are you.” Kimberly announced.

From inside his plane, Maverick let out an entertained laugh. He knew if anyone could shoot him down it would be Kimberly.

“No fucking way.” Hangman commented in the rec room. “She just shot down one of the most legendary pilots in the Navy.” Coyote added. “Who do you think helped teach her how to fly?” Rooster said. “Still think she doesn’t deserve to be here?” Phoenix spoke, not to anyone in particular.

Hangman walked out of the rec room, his turn to fly next. Phoenix and Rooster exchanged a glance before Rooster made his own exit.

By the end of training, Rooster was at what should be a maximum amount of pushups. And with the stunt he pulled, doing the cobra maneuver with Maverick, going below the hard deck, Kimberly was pissed.

The woman walked out on to the tarmac as Hondo was leaving. Rooster was still doing push ups when she approached.

“What the hell is the matter with you? Are you trying to get kicked out?” She yelled, lightly kicking his hands out from under him causing him to fall.

“I thought you didn’t care.” He rebutted, sitting down arms resting on his knees.

“You get kicked out, you leave them with me and Hangman. And we both know I’ll kill Hangman before the week is even over. I get it, you hate me, you hate Mav, but leave this shit on the ground or you’ll get someone killed.” Kimberly rambled.

“I don’t hate you.” Rooster said. “I told you I wanted to fix things. I wouldn’t do that if I hated you.” He added.

Kimberly knew she couldn’t avoid the conversation any longer or act like a bitch to put it off.

“I get that, Bradley, I do but you don’t understand what you did. This wasn’t like you forgot to pick me up or scared off my high school boyfriend. You were my best friend and I thought I was safe with you,” She started. Rooster winced at the word thought.

She thought she was safe with him, meaning she didn’t feel that way anymore. And that drove the figurative knife in even deeper.

“Then you just decided and assumed I knew something that would hurt you and I didn’t say anything. You didn’t let me explain, you just yelled at me and said some really hurtful things. You have no idea how that felt. So you can’t just say sorry and it’ll erase what you did. I’m allowed to be angry and hurt but I don’t let that effect my job. There are other people here, people I care about. So take my advice and do not bring these issues with you and Mav up there with you.” Kimberly spoke.

Rooster could see that he really did hurt her, broke a piece of her that he didn’t know if he could mend. The woman walked away and Rooster stuck his and in the inside pocket of his flight suit.

Pulling out a distressed Polaroid of Kimberly. He kept it with him even after their falling out. It was a candid photo he took of her after she graduated college.

He remembered that day like it was yesterday because it was the last happy memory he had with her. All before he ruined it.

The picture made him feel safe and hopeful. Something that showed that he had someone to get home too, even if she despised him. It made him feel lucky and he needed to get that back.

Taglist: @n3ssm0nique @glowingtree @mmkkzz @alanadetigy @letusbewildflowers @justanothermagicalsara @azure23x @luckyladycreator2 @barista-library @alana4610 @kyramaximoff @harperrbradshaw @katiemcrae @callalily2000 @mads-weasley @chaoticassidy

#imagine #imagines #top gun imagine #top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster bradshaw fic #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #jake hangman seresin #robert bob floyd

[superman-the-secret-third-thing]

Superman Tackles War Profiteering? Not Clickbait? Gone Right? (1938)

Action Comics #2 by Jerome Siegel and Joe Schuster

TL; DR: Superman terrifies a war profiteer into pacifism

We begin where the last one leaves off- with a corrupt lobbyist under the most well-sculpted armpit in DC canon, a continuity error, a frightening reminder of the absolute power of gravity - and the fact that it has no effect on Superman's immense thighs.

A governor is being bribed to support a war in [Unspecified European Country] and Superman's clever and suave interrogation tactics are put to the test when he threatens a man with violence. Big Blue discovers that the Man behind The Slaughter is a munitions manufacturer who wants the US to join the war to make a profit. The poor victim of this issue, by the name of Emil tries the fresh and sexy tactic of shooting superman in the face, only to get the usual and typical result. Ricochet and assault with a handsome man!

He's told firmly to get on a boat to [Unspecified European Country].

Clark and Lois are sent to report on the war, too. btw. Mysterious hot woman is involved, doing mysterious hot woman things (espionage).

Superman is assaulted by a buncha goons in round 2, who take a novel approach of just...pushing him into the water. This is seemingly effective as the goons laugh and clap each otha on da back for a job well-done- not noticing a piercing glare from the water.

Emil's intelligence is put to the test- should he pay a bunch of murderers for the job he hired them to do? DC 15. Nat 1. They attempt to open up a few new pockets to check his blood for cash, only for Round Three to occur with their asses in the water.

Emil Scringe, tormented by the Ghost of War Future, decides to enlist in the army to escape the demon... only to turn to 90 degrees to his left and understand that there is no escape from the Technicolor Samson.

Superman's power of raw, unadulterated harassment carries onto the battlefield, where he continually attempts to teach poor Emil the true meaning of Christmas.

Oh yeah, and Lois gets framed for espionage and sentenced to death by state-sponsored, rapid, non-consensual colanderization. God forbid women do anything.

Superman discovers this and rescues her from the beige brigade.

He locates a torturer on his way out, gives him the old dicky twister and kindly sends him to hell.

Superman fistfights an airplane for the first time of many- and continually interferes with international politics, in a fun way that is easily digestible for children (I am twenty three years old)

Emil finally surrenders, shitting his pants in fear of the be-nippled Crusader. He swears never to make weapons again, and instead manufacture the number one cause of burns in children.

Superman realizes that his harassment technique worked flawlessly kidnaps the leaders of both armies to fistfight each other if they want war so badly.

They realize the true meaning of Christmas- Exploitation by the ruling class and decide to shake hands and make out a little bit, sloppy style.

You'll notice a pattern of using comics to criticize current societal issues. This will continue.

Next Time On The Third, Secret Thing- Superman Enforces The Will of OSHA aka Action Comics #3 (1938)

#superman #clark kent #lois lane #dc comics #dcu #dc universe #1930s #comics

[gatheringfiki]

The following ficlet was written by @miaulady​ based on the this photoset.

Fili/Kili, Rating TBC.

You might also be able to read this story on AO3.

If you’ve enjoyed this story, please leave a comment either in replies or on AO3. :)

A Christmas Curiosity

—

Kili could not believe that this has happened. He had told Ama to stay by his side, hold his hand and still they had been separated in the masses of people.

He had lost his daughter. Oh god. It was his worst nightmare.

“I am sorry, have you seen a little girl?” he asked yet another stall owner. “She is six and this tall, short brown hair and she is wearing a dark blue scarf.”

The owner shook their head and Kili sighed. Where could she have gone?

If he was a six year old, who lost their parent in this crowd, where would he go?

Somewhere fun and warm. Maybe with food. And stay put there until found.

But would Ama do that?

Only one way to find out and hope that his nightmare did not became reality.

——-

Fili heard the bell over the door ringing, telling him that someone entered the shop.

If it was a customer was still questionable. During Winter it was always a gamble if people came in to warm up or actually find something.

But when he turned the corner of one the shelfs he was looking at a small girl, with no parent in sight.

He could feel himself going soft inside. Children were his weak spot in any situation.

“Welcome to the Cabinet of Curiosities,” he smiled at her. “Can I help you, Miss?”

She giggled and offered him her hand.

“I am Ama. It is nice to meet you.”Oh god, she had a lisp. Fili could feel his heart melt in even more. How cute!

“I am Fili, it is a pleasure,” he took her small hand. Something in the back of his mind was ringing, she looked awfully familiar. Maybe he knew her parents?

“I lost my Dad on the market and I thought I could stay here? It is warm and looks super fun!”

“Of course,” he gestured around. “Feel free to poke around and if you want some information, just ask me.”

“Really? How much do you know of all these things?”

“We sell them, so I at least know what they are called and what they do.”

“That is so cool!” Her eyes were gazing up at him in wonder and amazement.

“Thank you.”

——

Kili went from feeling anxious to being awfully close to calling the police.

Hours had passed and most of the stalls were closing. And still no sign of Ama anywhere.

He had asked around and some people even helped out with looking around. But nothing.

Clearly his approach had been wrong. Going from food stall to food stall had been unsuccessful.

He tried to calm down and think of where else Ama would go. Somewhere fun, but all the attractions would not let a child in without supervision of an adult. So that was out of the question.

His eyes wandered around, the lights were dimmer and it was clear that everything was closing down. The clock did show it was way after nine. Ama should be in bed by now.

“Excuse me, young man?”

He turned to the left and saw an old lady holding her full bag close.

“Yes, can I help you?” he smiled at her and still his eyes went to the sides, hoping to maybe spot Ama by pure luck. He really didn’t have the time to help an old lady out.

“Are you the one looking for his little daughter? Short brown hair and blue scarf”

“Yes! Yes, that is her,” he felt hope rise in his chest.

“I think, I met her. She was in… oh, where was it?” The old woman frowned slightly. “It was an old shop, yes. And she helped me find some wonderful things for my husband. What a lovely girl.”

“Do you remember the name of the shop?” Kili fidgeted with his hands. He had a clue, a start.

“It was odd. And fully packed with all sort of odd things,” she shook her head. “Curiosities or something along those lines. The man running the shop told me, that if I found someone looking for her I was to direct them to the shop, he would keep her there.”

“Oh god, thank you!” Kili wanted to hug the woman but refrained from doing so. They didn’t know each other. “Can you give me a direction on where that shop is?”

“I am so sorry, I can’t,” she looked guilty at him. “If the market wasn’t there I probably could pinpoint it. But like this, my mind just can’t keep up with all the twists and turns.”

“It is alright. I am young and have the energy to run around until I find it. Thank you so much again!”

——–

Fili smiled down at the small girl.

She had been a delight and a big help in selling several things. One old lady had bought three items, a chess game, a candle holder and a silver plate, even so she only had wanted to warm up.

“Savy little business woman,” he grinned and pulled the blanket over her.

She had fallen asleep on the sitting area that Bilbo had insisted on having in the back room.

Well, sitting area… It was a bed, that was just used for breaks, naps and avoiding customers. Especially for Bilbo to avoid customers and for Fili to take a nap.

That it was surrounded by books that Bilbo was unwilling to part with and other items that Fili was unwilling to sell or figured no one would buy because they were broken.

There was an old map of the world hanging on the wall. A broken compass. An ink well. A book about plants growing on the alps.

The bed had transformed over the years from just white cushions to a colour explosion of comfyness.

The comforter had been a project of Bilbo’s years ago, to keep busy when hiding- taking a break.

Fili had brought the pillows along one time because he refused to get a neck cramp. And somehow old pillowcases had been put over them with old victorian stitches.

Then there was the current project of Bilbo’s, the painting of the wooden frame with small flowers and snowflakes, whatever he felt like in the moment.

It was a fun corner where they relaxed.

Now Ama was sleeping on it, curled under the comforter blanket, a pillow snug under her head and an old book next to her.

Fili took it and looked at it.

“A Christmas Carol,” he mumbled. “Six years and she is reading Chalres Dickens, what a girl.”

The bell rang and Fili frowned.

They were closed already and the only reason why the light was still up and he still here, was because of Ama. She had said her Dad would find her and Fili had told a lot of people who had come into the shop to help out with finding that parent.

He could only imagine how anxious he would be if Ama was his daughter and he lost on the Christmas market.

He left the backroom to check if it was the father or just a lost person.

“Hello, can I help you?” he asked and was glad that he did not look before saying that. Because he did not expect to see Kili there. An old classmate, his best friend back in time. But they had lost contact when Kili had found a girlfriend and moved to her. It had been a slow and painful process of less and less contact until Fili had finally accepted to let go of his best friend and the person he fell in love with.

“Fili?”

He nodded, unsure of what to say. It felt like he had lost the ground under his feet. Back in school Kili had been cute. Now he had clearly changed and turned into a handsome man.

“I- Long time no see,” Kili was smiling at him.

“Yes, how- how have you been?”

“Good, mostly. You?”

“The same.”

Awkward silence started to fill the room.

Fili cleared his throat, it felt as if a sticky frog was clogging it. “What brings you here?”

He did not want that to come out so harsh as if he wanted Kili to leave right away.

“Right. I - an old Lady told me that my daughter might be here?”

Daughter. Fuck. Right, Kili was taken.

“Ama?” Fili asked and Kili nodded, smiling in relieve.

“She is here then?”

“Sleeping in the back room,” Fili gestured to the curtain he had walked through. “She prowled the shop and made me a lot of sells. Do you think she would take a summer job here?” he tried to joke, overplaying the pain in his heart. It had been years and still he was not over Kili. Would he ever be? Probably not.

“I am pretty sure she would make a ruckus if she wasn’t allowed to come back,” Kili was looking around. “This is like her dream house. Full of strange and new things.”

“Thank you, we try our best to carter to the unusual.”

“I can see that. Interesting beard.”

“Hey, Ama said I look very magical with it and like I belong here.”

“A high compliment,” Kili nodded. “But it truly does suit you.”

Fili could feel a blush starting to form.

“Thanks,” he smiled and tried to stop his heart from leaping out of his chest. “Well, you can call your wife and I will get Ama up.”

“Oh, there is no wife.” Now it was Kili’s turn to blush. “Rika found she didn’t want a child and left me and Ama. So it is just us two against the world.”

“I am sorry,” Fili grimaced. Of course he blundered it.

“Don’t be,” Kili stepped closer and leaned on the counter. “You did tell me that you didn’t think Rika was someone who would settle down.”

Fili looked at the ceiling and pursed his lips. Yes, he had told Kili rather bluntly what he had thought of Rika. Nothing it of it had been really good. He hadn’t slandered her, or so he thought.

“I did, but I am still sorry it happened.” He looked at Kili again. “You didn’t deserve that to happen to you. Neither did Ama.”

Kili sighed softly, “I try my best. But people aren’t kidding when they say that single parenting is hard.”

“You are doing amazing with her.”

“I lost her today for three hours, Fili,” he said in a dead-pan voice. “I was close to calling the police and that would have gotten to my uncle. You can imagine what I would hear about it from him.”

Fili nodded. He knew Kili’s uncle well and how strict he was with not only himself but Kili as well. Fili had only been Kili’s long time friend and he heard the uncle telling Kili to pick up slack and be more like Fili. It had always made him uncomfortable and he made sure to tell Kili that he thought Kili was amazing.

“Fili,” the door rang behind Kili and they both pulled back from each other. “I just got a call from the- Oh, hello. I am sorry, but we are closed.” Bilbo had entered the shop and was looking at Kili.

“It is alright, Bilbo. Kili is a friend. And he is picking up his daughter,” Fili walked around the counter to take a box from Bilbo’s hands. He glared at Bilbo when he noticed the weight. “Did you buy another set of books?”

“And what of it?”

“The backroom is full with them already and you refuse to sell them.”

“That is not true,” Bilbo scoffed. “Last month we sold a book!” His voice clealry showed that he was still upset about that.

“Because you accidentally bought it twice and I had to fight you so I could sell it.”

“Well, what about your stuff you refuse to sell, mh?”

“That is different!” Fili exclaimed. “The compass is broken. Who would want that?”

“You, apparently.”

He had nothing to say against that argument and so he gave up, walking into the back room. Kili followed him and cooed when he saw Ama.

“Thank you for looking after her.”

“Of course, it was no problem,” Fili placed the box down and pushed Ama’s shoulder. “Wakey, wakey, Employee of the year. Your ride home is here.”

Ama yawned and rolled over, right into Kili’s arms.“Hey, darling.”“Dad!” Her arms slung around his neck and she yawned again. “You found me.”

“Yeah. Next time we will make sure we have a base we both return to when we lose each other, alright?”“Can it be here? I like it here,” she mumbled and before Kili could answer her eyes fell shut again.

“She read ‘A Christmas Carol’ and fell asleep,” Fili picked the book up and placed it back into the shelf. “So expect a few questions in the next days.”

“That is my mother’s fault,” Kili laughed. “She read it to her when she was younger and I am sure she can quote it already.”

Fili brought Kili back out and he knew that if he wanted to do something, to change something, he had to do it now. Offer his number or to meet up again soon. Something. But he somehow forgot how to open his mouth.

“Can I take you out?” Kili blurted out. “I mean,” he added quickly. “Like, as a thank you for babysitting while at work.”

“Like a date?” Bilbo chimed in from the counter.

Everything in Fili’s brain screached to a stop. He had to make it look like a joke, make clear that he was okay with a friendship and just catching up with each other.

“I would love that,” Kili grinned. “Ama is with her grandma next friday until Saturday afternoon. Big Girl Sleepover. So we can meet up after your work?”Fili felt like his heart just skipped a beat and he changed into a different universe.

“We close at six,” Bilbo answered. “So you can take Fili out for dinner. There is a nice restaurant around the corner and they should still have table free.”

“Bilbo,” hissed Fili and stared at him.

“What?” Bilbo asked and rearranged the decoration on the counter, looking as if he didn’t just arrange the whole thing.

“Thank you,” Kili smiled and turned to Fili. “I will check. So Friday?”

“Friday,” Fili nodded and his mind started spiraling as soon as the door closed with a cheerful ring of the bell behind Kili. If it really was a date or if that was now an on going joke and he was overreacting. What had he gotten himself into?

“You are welcome, by the way,” sniffed Bilbo and closed the registry with a loud clack.

——— A year later:

Fili placed the popcorn on the table and glared at the foot blocking his spot until it guiltily moved out of the way.

“How was work?”

“Bilbo bought books. Again.”

“Oh, yeay!” Ama came into the room, squeezing right between Fili and Kili, pressing her sharp elbows into their stomachs without a care. “Any new ones I haven’t read yet?”

“Don’t know. I can’t tell anymore with how full the backroom is,” Fili groaned. “If you even can call it a back room anymore. By now it is just a pile of books.”

“The bed is still free,” Kili pointed out.

“That is because I push the books off of it!”

“Good worker,” Kili patted is check, unable to reach him for an actual kiss. “What would Bilbo do without you?”

“Become an even worse hoarder,” Fili grunted.

“I like Bilbo and I like the shop,” Ama smiled. “I found Fili there.”

“I knew Fili before I knew you,” Kili ruffled her hair fondly.

“Yeah, but because I found him again, you two are together. So there. I am the genius.”

“Can’t argue with facts, Kee,” Fili smiled. “She is the reason we got together again.”

“Can we watch ‘A Christmas Carol’ now?” she looked at both of them. “Before Grandma calls? Again.”

“Muppet Version,” Kili said firmly. “I am not watching that old black and white version.”

“Aw,” Fili nudged Ama’s shoulder. “But she found it in the shop.”

“Muppets or I am rebelling,” Kili grabbed the remote.

“What is the threat?” Ama asked suspiciously. “Becaue I think I found a mistake in the black and white film and wanted to check that.”

“You can do that tomorrow. On your own, without me. Muppets or, or-”

“Or what?”“Or I will call Grandma!”

“Dang,” Fili laughed. “That is a threat to take seriously.”

“Muppets!” Ama called out. “Muppets it is! Good Movie, the Muppet Movie.”

Fili smiled over Ama’s head at Kili, who smiled back and pressed play.

Their own little family.

Five minutes into the movie, Ama was cuddled up against Kili and the phone rang. Fili grabbed it and quietly told Kili’s mother that they had just started the movie and he would call her back as soon as it was over.

A year ago a girl had wandered into the Cabinet of Curiousities and now she had brought several of those into her home. Her father only had taken one Curiosity with him.

The Curiosity was called Fili. In the past, his best friend. In the present, his boyfriend. In the future? Hopefully his husband and father to Ama.

#submission #Gathering 12 Days 2023 #Fili/Kili #FiKi #Durincest #the Hobbit