#and yet here i am 4k words over that limit

[alien-girl-21]

Pure of heart, dumb of ass

A fic inspired by this post by @kaarijatits

One thing people always admired of Jere was his wit and intuition. His ability to redirect the energy of a room or conversation was somewhat of an art, making the right joke at the right time, making the right comment to start or end a necessary conversation. He wouldn't say he was an expert at it, but he did pride himself in saving his ass so many times from uncomfortable situations with it.

But for some reason this all went out the door when it came to love.

-

Jere is a little clueless and Bojan is a little too obvious.

[cameliawrites]

Kanej Fic Recs: The "Figuring Out Intimacy" Trope

If you're anything like me, you're a glutton for very specific fic tropes applied to your very favorite OTPs (and we all know my OTP of OTPs is kanej). To this end, ao3 tags are your best friend. When you see that delicious combination of tags like "emotional hurt/comfort" and "healing" and "pining" with some sort of moody, vaguely poetic title, that's the good shit right there. That is a MEAL, and you are about to feast.

Anyways. I'm getting off track.

I come to you today with more than just an offering to the potluck; I am here to open up the doors to the whole damn buffet. That's right - FIC RECS. Specifically, fic recs that scratch the particular itch for "post-canon fics where Kaz and Inej figure out how to touch each other, but really the Physical Armor is always symbolic of the Emotional Armor that they have to learn to lower if they hope to ever really Be Together." Do you know what I'm talking about? If you know, you know. It's kanej figuring out intimacy. It's touch, but it's about the way they touch each other's souls. It's a fandom-classic fic trope. FEAST AWAY. (And feel free to reblog and add any of your own favorites! This is certainly not an exhaustive list, just some favorites of mine that fit the bill.)

They're all complete, they're all canon compliant (I had to set some limitations because my list was getting out of hand lol), and they're listed in order of rating (T, M, etc.), but otherwise they're in no particular order, and the summaries and/or most of the excerpts are those provided by the authors on ao3!

Can We Stop? by thegoldenkneazle (Rated G, 220 words, drabble)

Excerpt:

Kaz immediately drew back, rolling over onto his side of the creaky bed to create space between them. “Are you okay?” he asked, dark eyebrows drawing together.

Every Time We Touch by Pokemon67 (Rated G, 1k words, oneshot)

Summary: "Inej hadn't been exaggerating. It wasn’t easy for her either."

Excerpt:

She couldn’t quite recall how they’d ended up here, in Kaz’s room, on his bed. She was perched on his legs, right in front of him, and if she raised her head she could look into his eyes count the little flecks of gold the light always teased to her were there. 

Uncharted Waters by insignificant457 (Rated T, 5k words, oneshot)

Summary: "One step on the long and winding road to intimacy."

Excerpt:

Perhaps Inej should be insulted that she’s been penciled into Kaz’s schedule, fit snugly in between a Crow Club shareholders’ meeting and a parley with the Liddies, but when it comes to taking steps forward in their relationship, romantic spontaneity is not exactly something they can afford.

Council of the Tides by blacktag189 (Rated T, 15k words, multichap)

Excerpt:

With each tiny step forward they made, the urgency to be pulled out to sea still built. She couldn't ignore the brutal truth in that - that no matter how much he gave her here...one day everything would align just right and she would leave. But today wasn't that day.

Discover the Rest by Silver_89 (Rated T, 4k words, oneshot) (note: restricted to ao3 account holders)

Summary: "Post Crooked Kingdom fic where Kaz and Inej have made some progress with touch but touch is not the only progress Inej wants to see from him. She wants to know him too."

Excerpt:

Inej didn’t share much about her time at the Menagerie...And yet she had shared that she struggled with touch too. He understood why. But she didn’t know why he was the same. I will have you without armor, Kaz Brekker. Or I will not have you at all. It was time he tried taking it off.

All Flowers in Time (Bend Towards the Sun) by laurie_ipsum (Rated M, 10k words, multichap)

Summary: "Does this fandom need yet another Kaz and Inej figure out intimacy fic? Probably not, but I did it anyway."

Excerpt:

Kaz wants all his firsts. It’s written in his eyes, on his face, in every line of his body. She can tell it terrifies him. It terrifies her, too.

One Thousand and One Nights by Trogdor19 (Rated M, 11k words, multichap)

Summary: "One new touch, every night…"

Excerpt:

He dips his head, his cheekbone brushing against hers so quietly it’s like the way she moves. So silkily between shadows no one’s ever quite sure it happened. 'Wait for me,' he breathes. The letters barely given enough air to shape them.

The Trouble With Wanting by A_nonnie_mouse (Rated M, 6k words, oneshot, part of a series)

Summary: "Inej begins to reckon with her own armor so she can have what, and who, she wants."

Excerpt:

“Kaz.” She was frustrated at his self-deprecation. “Please understand. My mind wants you. My heart longs for you. My body…” She struggled for words, the shame rising again, threatening her eyes with tears. “My body isn’t entirely convinced something horrible isn’t going to happen again. This wasn’t because of you. You understand that, don’t you?” 

show me where my armor ends (show me where my skin begins) by kingsandqueensofthebarrel (Rated M, 25k words, oneshot)

Excerpt:

“You’re something I want, Wraith,” he says, his tone all business like. “And I don’t stop until I have what I want.” “That could have sounded romantic.” “It’s a fact.” She hums and squeezes his hand.

collision course by cameliawrites (Rated M, 10k words, oneshot) (shameless self-promotion)

Excerpt:

Inej adjusts to Kaz the way that winter adjusts to spring: she thaws, and thaws, and thaws—and then she utterly melts.

you're a bandit like me, eyes full of stars by sarathedreamer (Rated M, 54k words, multichap, part of a series)

Summary: "Kaz and Inej learning to be with one another after Crooked Kingdom (events in Rule of Wolves might be mentioned in later chapters but you'll be warned!) Basically a slow burn filled with angst and fluff, and little plot :)"

Excerpt:

She blushed and felt a smile tug at her lips, so she looked down at his hand, held up in front of her like an invitation. His fingers were barely shaking. Inej looked back up at his eyes, asking a silent question once more, and Kaz nodded after a short hesitation. She gently cupped his hand in hers, fascinated by the softness of it, by the way two of hers were not quite enough to hold one of his. No one but she could know how graceful Dirtyhands’ weapons were under his gloves, and that was another one of his secrets she would gladly keep close to her chest.

Things We Can Never Do by rainstormdragon (Rated E, 3k words, oneshot, part of a series)

Excerpt:

They had done this before more than once. First words, then their hands on their own bodies. Gasped encouragement and shared fantasies. “Tell me what you’d want to do,” he urged her, not moving even a hair’s breadth toward her, giving her the safety of the space between them. “Tell me what you’d want me to do.”

Closer by lilieswho (Rated E, 7k words, oneshot)

Excerpt:

There is a deep desire crawling under Inej’s skin. It’s a feeling she’s begun to grow used to by now — the feeling of wanting someone, wishing for their touch and hoping they wish for hers back. Not someone’s, no. Kaz’s.

If you've made it all the way to the end of this rec list (hi!! thanks!), you should absolutely reply to or reblog this post with your favorite "kanej figure out intimacy" fic, whether it's on this list or something else! :) Support your local organic pasture-raised fic authors, etc. etc.

[enderwoah]

WRITING COMMISSIONS!!

It’s been a long time coming and rather heavily requested, so I finally (finally!) took the time to open up a Kofi and throw my hat into the ring of writing commissions.

If you don’t know me, hi! I’m Ender. I’m a fanfiction (mostly oneshots) writer for the MCYT community, primarily focused on content regarding the Life Series/Hermitcraft/Empires members. Some of my best works (as deemed by readers) include:

this limited life bad boys oneshot (hurt/comfort, jimmy + grian-centric, 4.2k)

this DSMP crimeboys oneshot (hurt/comfort, tommy-centric, 3k)

this empires s2/hermitcraft s9 ranchers oneshot (hurt/comfort, jimmy + tango-centric, 17k)

this fae AU mumbo-centric fic (mumbo-centric, 25k, 4 chapters, incomplete but now updating again)

…along with my longest and most popular fic, to write is human (c!tommy goes to hermitcraft, tommy + grian-centric, 125.5k, 22 chapters, incomplete).

If any of that stuff interests you, maybe check out my commissions! As I am an MCYT blog, all commissions will be MCYT for the foreseeable future. :D

SERVERS I WILL WRITE FOR:

Life Series (3rd Life, Last Life, Double Life, Limited Life, Secret Life, Real Life)

Jimmy and Grian focused works are my strong suit, but I can do just about anything when it comes to AUs.

Hermitcraft (Seasons 8, 9, 10)

Grian focused works are my strong suit, along with s10!Joel.

Dream SMP

Tommy, Tubbo, Ranboo, c!Wilbur, Techno, and Philza focused works are my strong suit.

QSMP (events/characters up until the end of the first Purgatory event)

Outsiders SMP (c!Owen focused)

Empires SMP S1 (e!Scott focused)

Empires SMP S2 (e!Scott, e!Jimmy, e!Pix, e!Shubble focused)

This list is subject to updates! New servers come out all the time, and some might fall out of favour. I'm also willing to write about any characters not listed, just ask!!

WHAT I WILL WRITE:

Platonic relationships

Familial relationships

Canon divergence (“This person dies instead of this person,” “this event doesn’t happen,” etc)

AUs (modern, college, coffee shop, mermaids, fantasy, etc)

Fluff

Hurt/Comfort

Angst

Whump

Horror (I’ll try my best o7)

WHAT I WON’T WRITE:

NSFW ANYTHING

Detailed gore

Torture

Romance (sorry, not yet)

Anything that I deem uncomfortable in the moment!! I reserve the right to refuse a commission if I so please.

PRICES:

1k Words or Less - $10

1k - 2k Words - $20

2k - 3k Words - $25

3k - 4k Words - $30

4k - 5k Words - $35

I’m capping it out at 5k for my own sake. It might increase once I have more consistent writing habits, but, for now, that is the absolute limit. If I end up going over the words you commissioned, I will not charge more (because that would be unfair). I’m also only having five slots open at a time so I can actually complete things in a timely fashion.

Payments must be made directly through Kofi! When requesting, please give as specific of a description as you need for the fic. If you just want something set in an AU or something general (“ranchers domestic fluff,” “monoduo bonding,” “Bolas Rojas fantasy AU,” etc), that’s perfectly fine, but expect it to take longer since I’ve got to come up with the idea from scratch!

Given that I am in college, it may take a while for your commission to be completed. If a month has passed and your commission isn’t at least 2/3rds of the way done, you’ll receive a full refund.

And here's the link (again)! Thank you for supporting me! :D

[that-creature-thing]

Hi! Just rambling! I want to be more active on here!

I have finished pieces for an upcoming zine that I can't wait to share! With that obligation out of the way, I really want to focus on personal projects.

I am trying to be better about managing my schedule and setting aside time for house chores with my partner. I've really been wanting to get back into writing! I have sooooo many fic ideas and dammit I am going to push myself to get a move on!

So I am going to try and limit how much time spent playing games and use more of my free time to write/draw. I am a very slow writer, but maybe I could try a minimum word count per day kinda thing? Maybe 300? I have a preference for big chapters, preferably around 4k per chapter. So that could mean chapter updates every 2 weeks give or take...

I HAVE started on one of my fics, as of yesterday lol It's a Jazz/Prowl fic where Jazz is a new graduate from the enforcer academy. He gets to shadow Prowl. Prowl is... A guy. With issues. So many issues... Jazz will quickly find out the real reason he was selected for this precinct is to basically become Prowl's handler. Prowl is dangerous when the wrong buttons are pushed, but really fragging good at his job. He's extremely difficult to work with but Jazz's profile indicates he's really flexible and shows an ability to work with anyone. Jazz will over time, learn why Prowl is the way he is and gain Prowl's very hard-earned trust! Unbeknownst to Prowl, the source of his issues is still lurking in the dark. Frequent side characters will include Pharma, as the precinct's primary physician on staff (and close friend of Prowl), Smokescreen, the resident therapist, Ironhide, Ultra Magnus, Barricade, Ratchet, Idk who else yet lol

I am excited to make progress on this fic, as it's been something I have been brainstorming off and on for about a year lol

I am also planning on doing something for Kinktober lol I have a few self-indulgent ideas that would be perfect for one-shots :D

[hardlyinteresting]

Risks Worth Taking 1/2

Professor!Zemo x Student reader Part 2 here The reader takes Zemo's philosophy class focusing on Machiavelli. Slow burn. Will be posted in 2 parts because it exceeds the text block limit. Apx. 4k words. Massive thank you to @scuttle-buttle and @exit-goat for helping beta this <3

Warnings: student-teacher relationship (reader is of age, no real focus on power imbalance), implied age gap, D*vil's advocate student says some pretty misogynistic things (his comments are not tolerated) That's everything I think, let me know if you want me to add something!!

It is far safer to be feared than loved if you cannot be both is what the chalkboard at the front of the lecture hall reads. She sits at the front of the class reading the words repeatedly, mulling them over before the lecture has even begun. Why can one not be both? Why should anyone be feared at all, should we not all just strive to be loved? Questions and disagreements on the topic rattle around her head. Perhaps the professor is trying to strike fear in his students, she thinks.

She’s heard of the professor around campus, heard tales of his unforgiving marking strategies and brooding persona. But, he doesn’t look anything like she had expected. Not old and round and worn out like all the other professors she’s had. He’s at his desk reading through a notebook, brows furrowed in concentration, looking between the pages and the screen of his laptop, he doesn’t acknowledge any of the students as they file in. At exactly 5:00 pm he stands and dims the lights in the hall, leaving only the light at the front of the room where he stands.

“Good evening, I am professor Helmut Zemo. This is Intro to European Philosophy: The Birth of Machiavellianism. From experience I’ll assume none of you have done the readings yet, so we’ll begin this class summarizing--” he continues on but she loses focus instead interested in trying to place his accent.

“It is important that you pay attention,” his voice fades back in and she finds herself sitting up straighter her face warming feeling as though he might be talking to her. “A large majority of what you learn in this class will not be from readings, or from my opinions, but rather from the way you learn to debate and converse with your peers and myself”.

It’s at this point she realizes she’s the only person sitting in the front row, dear god, she thinks, I guess the rest of the class actually heeded the warnings they were given.

With another push of a button behind his desk, the projector screen is rolled down, the last light in the room dimmed too, the course outline now displayed in large Times New Roman.

Week 1: Introduction to “The Prince” Week 2: Chapters 1-5 Conquered free states, with their own laws and orders Week 3: Chapter 6-9 Totally new states Week 4: Chapters 10-13 Strength and Defense Week 5: Chapters 14-15 Reputation of a Prince Mid-term paper due Winter break Week 6: Chapters 16-19 Perception of a Prince Week 7: chapters 20-25 Prudence Week 8: The influence of Machiavellianism through history Spring Break Week 9: Modern applications and interpretations Final Exam

“A more detailed breakdown of the course including due dates for quizzes and essays will be posted on your online learning platform. I will also post the slides for each class the night before, though I do expect you still attend each lecture. My generosity is a courtesy, not a given”.

At least he’s honest she thinks.

“Now, by a show of hands, how many of you are familiar with the prince?” and class begins.

***

It’s the second week of class and she’s 20 minutes early. No one is in the lecture hall so she takes her seat, the same as last week. Professor Zemo wasn’t that scary after all, and besides it’s easier to make notes near the front closer to the light reflecting off the projector. She takes off her coat and settles in, organizing her notebooks and going over the passages of the book she highlighted during her reading again.

“You’re early,” his voice startles her from her thoughts.

“Sorry, I thought it would be okay-- no one was in here so I--” “It’s quite alright,” he interrupts her rambling apologies, “There’s still another fifteen minutes before class starts, you’re welcome to go get coffee like the rest of your classmates”. “No, thank you. If it’s alright, I’m just reviewing my notes”.

He nods. “Any questions?” “Many,” she responds.

He smirks, “good”. And with that, he makes his way to his desk unpacking his shoulder bag.

“If a prince does not destroy a city he may expect to be destroyed by it,” she mumbles beneath her breath as she transcribes her highlighted passages to notes. Her voice is quiet but in the silent room, he hears it clearly.

“You’ve done your reading I see.”

She only nods returning to her work.

“Despite Machiavelli’s beliefs, sometimes, being destroyed isn’t the worst option-- especially if one is expecting it,” he replies.

She considers his point. Maybe it’s the anticipation of destruction rather than the destruction itself that we fear. She’s unable to make her comment before other students start filing in, coffees in hand.

“ Machiavelli said, ‘if an injury is to be done to a man, it should be so severe that the prince is not in fear of revenge’. A bold statement, and perhaps one of his most famous principles that came out of the prince. I’d like to hear your thoughts,” he addresses the class, his accent Sokovian, she’s finally able to place it. She remembers hearing the accent a lot on the news a couple of years back when the country collapsed. “Yes, back row there,” the professor selects a student to share.

“I’d like to play devil's advocate for a second,” the man at the back of the class speaks up, and she can feel her eyes roll, it takes almost everything in her to not comment on it.

“I think he’s right -- Machiavelli. Sometimes to succeed you need to step on some other people on the way up”.

��A common opinion, yes. But must one do so in a way that the other person has no opportunity to succeed themselves?”

“Of course!” the guy at the back of the class laughs, “Some people are meant to succeed, some are meant to fail. Some men are just weak. Is that not just the way life works?”

She bites her tongue, her irritation at the other student growing.

The professor chuckles to himself, leaning on the edge of his desk, arms crossed as he thinks, “I don’t know. Is it?” He looks back over the lecture hall looking for any new hands that may have been raised.

She makes a note Machiavelli was a coward.

“It is true that throughout history many a man has taken it upon himself to cause harm in order to better himself. But, might it be possible that there are more reasonable and more fair ways to succeed? Does it not say more about the weakness of a man who chooses to inflict pain than it does about the people who are subjected to it?” Zemo continues, hoping to raise more discussion.

Another student raises their hand. The professor calls on them. But, she looks up from her notebook to see Zemo looking at her while he listens to the other student’s point. She returns to making her notes.

Machiavelli was a coward.

Is there not much more substance to a person who can succeed without harming their “competition”

If one is so brave, why would they be frightened of the revenge of the person they hurt.

Why act if you are unwilling to face repercussions?

She puts her pen down only for it to roll off the desk. Fuck, that was my favourite pen, she thinks.

Rummaging through her bag she attempts to find another pen. She catches the shadow of his figure out the corner of her eye, the professor placing the dropped pen carefully on top of her open notes.

“Thank you,” she mumbles nearly silently, the other student still speaking. The professor offers a nod and a tight-lipped smile before returning to his desk once more.

After some more mundane commentary from her peers completely misunderstanding the reading, and Professor Zemo trying his best to steer the conversation towards deeper and more productive dialogue, the class comes to an end. She’s finishing putting her coat on again and the professor is putting his things back in his shoulder bag. Her peers have filed out of the room muttering between themselves about how the class is so boring. His voice stops her on the way out of the room,

“You make interesting notes. It would be to the advantage of myself and your peers to hear your intelligent appraisals”.

“You speak as if my peers have an interest in understanding views beyond their own”.

He laughs, slinging the strap of his bag over his shoulder, he makes his way towards the door, the two of them standing in the doorway. “Perhaps not; another astute observation. But, still, should you wish to contribute, your opinions are gladly welcomed ” he smiles, “goodnight”.

Week three; she’s late for class. Her class on the other side of campus ran late, and just her luck it began pouring rain the second she stepped foot outside. She slipped and fell in a puddle, her jeans stained by mud. With 10 minutes left before the start of class, she thought she’d have enough time to clean herself up in the washroom, but the one closest to the lecture hall was closed for cleaning and she was forced to use the one on the second floor. It takes longer than she’d like to try to scrub the dirt on her pants with wet paper towels and even longer to try to dry them off even a little bit under the soft blowing of the hand dryer. When she makes it to class, the professor has already started his slides. She chooses to sit in one of the seats closer to the door rather than front and centre in her usual seat, as not to disrupt the class. The snickers of the idiot boys in the back row don’t go unnoticed by her as she sits down.

She takes a moment to compose herself, focusing on the slide on the projector.

Of Those Who Have Obtained a Principality Through Crimes.

It seems useless to take out her notebook today, the pages probably soaked through with rain. Instead, she finds herself content just listening to Zemo’s summary of the chapter.

“Machiavelli calls upon potential princes to be ruthless in their pursuit for power if they chose to obtain a principality by wickedness. But he focuses on the need for strategizing to strike all at once, rather than hesitate. He speaks of the potential subjects as if they are-- wild animals, as if they are prey,” the professor speaks, “He says that people will forgive cruelty if it is swift and strategic, that a prince may slowly gain favour once the deed is done, but a prince who hesitates must remain vigilant as people will see his weakness. I am curious about your opinions of a man who speaks in such a way”.

The devil’s advocate strikes again raising his hand, and it takes almost everything in her to not smack her head off the desk in front of her.

“A man who has not asserted dominance will not gain respect, but a man who acknowledges his power and uses it to his advantage--strategically, of course, will succeed. Some people are born to be controlled and will give in to a man who is dominant enough to get it. There’s a natural order to things like this. Take women for example; were things not better when women knew it was the men who were in charge?”

“Are you kidding me right now?” her own outburst startles her, but she doesn’t stop, “Machiavelli was a paranoid man who raved about power and never truly had any in any meaningful way. You idolize a coward who advocates for spending time strategizing how to cause harm. His advice goes to extremes to justify acts that prevent facing consequences of any kind. He speaks of manipulation and domineering, cunningness for one's own gain-- there’s a reason Machiavellianism is part of the dark triad in psychology. The glorification of extreme self-interest and lack of morality is disgusting”.

The boy stares back at her in shock, and she realizes that she stood and turned to face him at the back of the room at some point. Her heart races and she can hear her blood rushing in her ears, her rage far from gone. Without a second thought, she’s grabbing her bag and rushing from the lecture hall.

There’s a moment as she’s storming through the campus hallways that she feels embarrassed; unable to believe her own ebullition. No, she thinks to herself taking a deep breath and slowing her walking speed, she focuses on relaxing her shoulders and unclenching her jaw, I’m not the one in the wrong here.

It’s week four. Twenty-five minutes into his lecture and her seat is still vacant. He finds himself feeling worried, which he wouldn’t have expected. An hour into his lecture he has accepted that it is unlikely she will be coming today. He finds himself now concerned.

There’s chatter at the back of the room, and while usually, he would ignore it making a mental note to make the questions on the mid-term more difficult, today he chooses to say something.

“I thought because you were on academic probation you might have a little more interest in the course material-- attempt to actually understand the content,” he addresses the boy at the back of the room,

“Stop your talking and pay attention, or kindly leave the room and request your withdrawal from my class”.

The room is silent, and he can feel the eyes of all the students on him, their attention pulled away from their cellphones and laptops and private conversations.

“Am I understood?” the professor asks.

The class stays silent, but their attention turns to the student Zemo addresses, waiting anxiously to hear his response. Cocky as ever the guy shakes his head laughing under his breath as he grabs his things, storming down the stairs to the front of the hall and out the room. “Anyone else?” the professor asks, eyebrow raised, “Wonderful. Now, as I was saying; you have an essay due week five. It should be on my desk at the beginning of class. Your essay topics have been posted on the online learning portal”.

She lies in bed a small pile of tissues growing on her nightstand, laptop balanced on her chest and she reads through the slides from Professor Zemo’s class. A sudden coughing fit interrupts her reading and she decides that she’ll finish tomorrow before she starts her essay. She needs sleep, after being ill for nearly a week after that rainstorm while taking the time to get better has been necessary, she can’t help but feel sad that she’s missing her favourite class today. And even worse, she realizes there was a quiz today. Damn it.

The next morning she drags herself out of bed. Her head is still pounding, but it’s no longer blinding pain. She still has the sniffles too, but her cough is much better than it had been, and she finds she’s able to speak without feeling like she’s swallowed glass. She checks her school email hoping that the professor has responded to her email enquiry about what to do since she missed the quiz. No such luck; instead the school’s network is down. Double damn it.

Bundled in her cosiest sweater and leggings she owns, she manages to make herself look half presentable, grabbing her bag and laptop and heading out the door. Professors Zemo’s office hours are 10 am -2 pm today, she checks her phone to find that it’s nearly 1:30 already. The day just keeps getting better and better.

He’s trying to think about what he actually has in the fridge to eat when he gets home, and settles on the reality that he’s probably going to end up ordering in again tonight. Slipping out of his office, his bag slung over one shoulder he’s about to lock the door when,

“Fuck!” her exclamation echos around the empty hallway. He chuckles to himself, turning to look at the owner of the voice. “Sorry--I didn’t think--It wasn’t supposed to be that loud. Sorry,” she rambles.

“It’s fine. I too have found, no matter how many languages I learn, sometimes the only appropriate word at the moment is ‘fuck’. It gets right to the point,” his statement and small smile help to quell her embarrassment. He reopens the door to his office holding it open, “Here, come in”.

“Are you sure? You were on your way out-- I don’t want to keep you from your plans”.

“I have no plans. Besides, you’re the only student I’ve had in a long time who has actually bothered to come and see me after they missed a test. I owe you the courtesy”.

She bites the inside of her lip before nodding and making her way into the office. She sits in one of the leather armchairs in front of his desk peering around the room at the walls of books and maps; stacks of papers on the intricately carved oak desk.

“You didn’t miss much,” he tells her putting his bag down and shrugging off his coat, “and I’m happy to let you do the test now if you chose, I haven’t finished marking the rest of your classes yet”. “Thank you”.

“Not a problem,” he begins digging through one of his drawers, he slides a 3 page collated test across to her and sets another stack of papers on the desk, “Actually, I confess I’ve been procrastinating doing this marking, so I should be thanking you”.

“I don’t imagine it’s easy reading other people’s opinions all day”. “On the contrary-- I love reading other people’s opinions, it’s the lack of opinions that I dread”.

She nods. “Do you have a pen I could borrow?” He motions to the cup on his desk stuffed full of pens and pencils, taking one for himself.

She reads through the quiz setting to work, not finding the questions too difficult. “Sorry-- Professor, do you have a copy of the book I can borrow?”

“You apologise a lot,” he tilts his head looking at her for a moment and she feels like he’s staring straight through her, “there’s a copy on the shelf over there...should be the fourth shelf from the bottom right-hand side”.

She makes her way to the shelf fingers tracing the spines of each book; Bronte, Tolstoy, Hemingway, Freud, Jung, Fitzgerald, Woolf, Orwell, Poe, Plato, Aristotle; the panoply of books and authors go on and on, each cover more worn than the last, paperbacks well-loved with cracked spines and flaking covers, leather-bound first editions. She finds The Prince, as read as the others red leather and gold leaf. She almost feels bad taking it off the shelf, she realizes it’s most definitely his personal copy.

“Did you find it?” his voice startles her from her thoughts.

“Yeah, thank you. It’s a beautiful copy”.

He nods, turning back to his marking.

She’s just starting on the second page of the test when her stomach rumbles. It’s silent this time, but she can feel it and she knows that it’s only a matter of time before it happens again and probably louder. Being sick she hasn’t been hungry for a while, but it dawns on her that she hasn’t had anything to eat all day. She writes faster hoping to finish her test before her growling stomach becomes noticeable. Of course, no such luck. It’s only a few minutes later when it happens again, and just as predicted it’s louder. If he hears it he doesn’t say anything.

He does hear it. But he ignores it, grading his way through mindless ramblings from students who haven’t bothered to read the chapters at all, most of them coming nowhere close to answering the test questions in an intelligent form. He’s used to it though, after teaching the class for three years, it’s what he’s come to expect. Her stomach rumbles again and he looks up to see her clutching her belly and staring down as if to tell her body to shut up. It reminds him that he should eat something himself.

Before thinking it through too much he says,

“I was thinking of ordering some Chinese food. Do you want some?”

“No, I couldn’t--I don’t want to intrude”. “Please--I won’t say I insist, but we’re both hungry and I’m ordering for myself”.

“Okay. But only because I’m still working on this test, and I’m worried I’ll parish before I do”. He laughs, “I apologise, my tests do tend to run on the long side”.

She smiles.

It’s much later when tests have been put aside in favour of boxes of Chow Mein, Spring Rolls and Sweet and Sour chicken. Casual conversation flows; the stiff shroud of academia dropped if only for a moment.

“So, you’re not a philosophy major. I realize I’ve never had you in any of my other classes. I teach first-year ‘introduction to’, as well”.

She nods, “I’m not. I’m working on my masters now. Your class just seemed like the most interesting breadth elective”.

“And is it?” He smirks, taking another bite of his food.

“I was honestly hoping for some more intelligent discord, but most of the class has proved to be insufferable”.

“I am afraid I’d be a poor professor if I agreed with you--but I will not argue” he laughs.

He has a good laugh. A laugh that feels like genuine joy. It feels special coming from a man who rarely even cracks a smile. She allows herself to feel something akin to pride.

“I can only imagine how some of the other students answered these questions,” she sighs putting down her container of rice to pick up her own test, she flips through it rereading her answers, “I think I’m done by the way,” she says sliding the papers across the desk to him.

“I look forward to reading your responses”.

She tries to ignore the feeling of warmth that spreads up the back of her neck and across her cheeks.

“Do you miss it?”

“Miss what?” he tilts his head.

“Sorry--never mind”.

“No, please-- go ahead. Ask”. “Sokovia”. He smiles softly, “No one ever asks”.

“I’m sorry—I don’t mean to—“

“It’s alright. But yes, I do miss it. Very much”.

She nods, “I’m sorry it’s gone”.

“So am I,” he smiles sadly.

------

She checks her phone, 9:05pm.

“I should get going,” she sighs collecting her things.

Their conversation had shifted from his class to his home, to her major and her interests. They spent time talking about politics, art, religion. The conversation flowed easily; Two minds equally matched. But glancing out the window, the sun has set and she doesn't look forward to the walk to the bus stop in the dark.

“Did you drive here?” He asks collecting his own things, “did you want me to walk you to your car?”

“No, I took transit actually”.

“Does it run at this time?”

She nods, “it's not so bad. It's walking across campus that makes me nervous”

He nods, “I don't mean to be forward--but would you like a ride home?”

“Oh--I couldn't. I don't want to be a bother”

“Not a bother. I assure you. I must admit I'm not sure I'd be able to sleep very well not knowing if you got home safe after leaving here--” he stutters for a moment, “what I mean to say is, I know the campus isn't the best place to be at night. It's not an inconvenience to make sure you get home okay”.

Weighing her options she nods, “okay, I appreciate it”.

The walk to the car is silent and mildly awkward. Neither entirely sure what to say. Outside the air is chilly now that the sun has gone down, a shiver runs up her spine and she’s reminded that she has not fully recovered from her sickness yet.

He notices her shivers and makes a mental note to make sure he puts the heat on in the car.

She’s not shocked when he guides her towards the Mercedes Benz. Inside, leather seats, illuminated dashboard, wool carpets. She withholds a smirk as she buckles herself in. Of course, he has an expensive car.

“I didn’t know professors were paid this well,” she comments. She mentally scolds herself, what a stupid thing to say.

He laughs though, “some do. I personally am fortunate via family inheritance, however”.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry--”.

“It’s alright,” he assures her buckling his own belt and starting the car, “Your wit and curiosity are welcomed wholeheartedly”. He adjusts the heat turning it up before pulling out of the parking lot.

“You’ll have to tell me where I am going, I’m afraid I have not yet truly learned my way around this city”.

“In that case, I’ll also point out all the good coffee spots,” she smiles.

When they arrive in front of her apartment she sighs, “thank you again. You really didn’t have to”. “Please,” he stops her, “It was my pleasure. I needed a new place to get my coffee”.

“Have a goodnight Professor,” she smiles grabbing her bag. “Please, call me Helmut”.

She nods opening the door and stepping out, “goodnight Helmut”.

He smiles as she turns to shut the door behind her, “Remember you have a paper due next class”.

“I’ll try not to disappoint,” she laughs.

He makes sure she gets inside alright before driving off. As he makes his way home there’s a nagging feeling settling in his chest. A tugging at his heart like a loose thread on a sweater sleeve. He tries his best to ignore it. Part 2 here

[sly-merlin]

KILLING ME- 14

pairing : law student!reader + yuta

genre : (fluff)  angst , mafia au/ arranged marriage au.

warnings of this chapter : cursing, mention of drugs, character death.

words : ~4k

summary :

“life’s never fair y/n. realise it as soon as you can . it is the only secret for living a regretless life.”                                  

or            

“ curiousity got the cat hitched”

K.M masterlist

K.M 13

TAGLIST : @kpop-choco @moon-yuta @kawaiiayasan @btm-taeyong @exfolitae @lanadreamie @cheersskznct ​​ @hyuckiesgf ​​ @theworld-accordingtocasey ​​@simplybree

@yiyi4657 @sorrywonwoo @sillywinnergladiator   @minejungwoo @leesalts @mal-nakamoto23 @ro2424 @itlittlefangirl @nctzens-world @bl–ankhaeji @jeaneteflo @nuoyii @bralessmermaid @minhoseyeliner @tyongpoetry @swimmingkpopblog @jkjkseo @orphicmoon @floralescapes

A/N : this chapter marks the celebration of this blog surpassing 600 followers! thank you so much for all the support! also for minor readers, the sfw versions of nsfw chapters are given at the end of the masterlist so check those properly before reading.

•••••••••••••

y/n! Are you sleeping?”

Registering his words, you replied in a groggy voice,“What the fuck do you want?”

“Your phone. I left mine in the medical room. I need to call Mark right now.” with some authority, he spoke.

Whining loudly, you fell back on the bed. It was only due but flailing your arms and legs like a kid in a toy store, you let out a screech full of annoyance, cursing your fate.

Were you really going to babysit him now?

"Have you suddenly lost your hearing? Stop with this sick attitude and open the door."

A puff of air left your nose, your chest moved rhythmically with your stomach and you relaxed your arms beneath your head, eyes fixed at the fan above and ears ringing with his voice. He kept calling you and after a number of shouts, you started humming to distract yourself, afraid that you'd end up helping him otherwise. That was something, naturally, you were not interested in. Last time he had ignored your voice and now nature had presented you with an opportunity to return the favour. Just with a bit less flavour.

"Are you dead?"

"Hmmm. To you, yes I am." Mumbling, you yawned and pushed yourself up to reach your side table and fishing out your earphones from the bottom drawer, you untangled them and fixed them comfortably in your ear, hiding yourself underneath the sheets.

Sonata no.14 instantly transported you away from the noise and the stress that was your unwanted husband, yuta. The smile playing on your lips widened as you realised that you were his only mode of communication at the moment.

But You were going for a nap. Until then, he could wait. And thrash. And cry. Or die.

Rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you rotated the handle of the door to walk outside but your little trip was interrupted when your body collided straight into a wall. No. The obstruction was too soft for a wall.

Opening your eyes properly, you saw yuta standing stiff. Surprised at the sudden appearance, you immediately stumbled back and in hurry, hit your spine on the wooden door. The glare of his eyes, that always spoke more than you could comprehend, coupled with a clenched jaw, was not a very pleasant sight for sure yet you found it harder to dart your own eyes away from him.

"Your phone" he seethed, breathing deeply.

"Huh?" You croaked out.

He raised his brow and in an instant, the previous scenario played like a short movie in your head. Snapping your head down, you regarded his leg with pity. He obviously noticed it immediately but seemed to ignore it and refrained from saying anything. Good for you, you thought.

"Are you deaf?"

Your furrowed brows met his eyes and with a roll of his own, he picked up his finger to force his demand but you managed to walk back inside your room before he could've done that.

Your back faced him as you contemplated your options while slowly stretching your arm to reach for your phone on the other side of the bed.

should you even be giving him your phone?

You had more trust in Taeyong than the man you shared a roof with so there was no way you were doing that.

Unbeknownst to you, yuta was watching your movements intently and the way you bobbed your head, he knew you were scheming something so he decided to be polite for a moment. Only until you were needed. Or your phone was needed.

Once the phone was in your hand, another thought crossed your mind.

"Wait. Where is the house phone?" Crossing your arms, you asked him slyly, already knowing the answer

"You fucking never got it installed. It's still in its stupid package" he seemed rather impatient.

"And you could've called reception through the door telecom. He would have phoned Mark for you. These rich apartments certainly have more hospitality tha-

"I CAN'T GO AROUND DISTRIBUTING AN UNDERGROUND CRIMINAL'S CONTACT NUMBER TO EVERYONE"

He inhaled and exhaled and you just watched until he opened his eyes again, hand reaching out to you.

"Chill. I've every right to be sceptic especially when you are the one asking for it."

Finding Mark's number on your phone, you called him.

Yuta's hand threaded through his rough hair as he noticed what you were trying to do.

"Hey mark!" Your chirpy voice resounded in the room and yuta was sure this was some different spirit speaking. You sounded too bubbly for the way you were investigating him just a second ago.

"Yes yes. His phone exactly.i don't trust him enough to hand over my phone so that's why I'm calling you myself. Just hurry up if you can or you might have to clean up a dead body in the next few hours."

With that you cut the phone. Without meeting yuta's gaze and resting your hand on the handle, you mumbled,

"He'll be here in an hour."

You were about to close the door when he stopped it with the palm of his hand, alerting you with the force.

"Tell him to get some food too."

And limping, he retired back, to the couches.

Sighing, you messaged mark. Had it been for something else, you'd have ignored but your own stomach had signalled you that it needed some good food so you chose not to fight against your own body.

Now, only the taste of the food could decide how many days you were going to tolerate that barbaric human.

"Are you still going to that stupid internship?" Johnny hesitantly murmured from your desk chair while taking big bites from the plate.

"It's not stupid please! I’m just waiting for them to actually pay attention to my awesome capabilities so they can transfer me to the main branch. This is not bad either but”, you stopped to lick your forefinger and tasting the sauce, continued, “but I really wanna go into the criminal unit. That’s where the actual fun is. As long as i’m being paid decently, i’ll suffer with the stupid research work here.”

“With the tongue as sharp as yours, I think you should be getting ready for a demotion instead” he laughed, showing you his fake bunny teeth in the most annoying and childish way.

“Ha ha ha ha. Some well wisher you are! Thank you so much for looking out for me but I'll be fine. Who knows the gatekeeper’s pay package is more than me. So it’d be a win-win in that case too I guess?” when you did a drum roll with your chopsticks to stress upon your point, he laughed harder.

"So being broke is the new black?" Rolling his eyes, he dragged out, "I swear you kids don't know how this world works."

"And you, grandpa of the century, knows?"

"I'm aware of what I need for my survival and from what I've learnt, you can either take risks or look for job security. In your case, " he fake coughed, "where the proportions of risk taking have already exceeded the acceptable limit, a job security is the best and safest option to choose."

"And that would justify my greed and desire to work for the biggest company of this city."

"Kun. The security you need and the independence you seek would be given by kun. Chois are hmm how to say? Cheap? Yeh cheap. They have no work ethics. "

"Have you worked with them, johnny?"

"No. I'm ju-

"Then was your ex a choi?" You saw his eyes comically and cutely widening at your remark.

"No. My ex wasn't a choi and that's not what I'm saying and you know that."

"Oh. So your ex wasn't a choi. Then a lee? Kim? Im? Oh my god! Look at your cheeks seo!" You dragged out. He shook his head as you kept wiggling your brows at him.

"She was a kim but that doesn't mean I would hate all kims dude. That's baseless and stop ignoring the topic. I want you to apply in Kuns. It's the best option. Do it as soon as you-

"Yeah yeah we'll see about that. First take that bitch back. I can't even nap in his presence. "

"Umm. Yeah. You gotta tolerate him. And besides he's injured. Injured yuta is like a gun without a bullet. He's gonna shout for a day or two and then peace out. He'll be sleeping and reading in his room and you won't even know if he's alive or not."

"Now that's bullshit. What is he going to do here anyway? I hope he can hop himself on one leg because even if the sun rises from the north, I am not going to do a single task for him. He can die hungry , for all I care.”

“Do you think you can endure him for some tasty dinners?”

Clicking your tongue, you quipped, “Do you really think you can buy me with a few homemade meals?”

Day 1

Yes. you were sold. The moment the tasty noodles had melted in your mouth, you knew you had no dignity. And you were indeed ashamed of yourself.

Earlier, Renjun had called you to inform you that he had delivered the food and medicines for yuta and had left your dinner box but he had failed to mention the special and endearing note that was pasted on the glass box. In the curvy letters, it read bitchy piglet and you swore the only person you’d be killing before yuta would be jaehyun. But you were going to use jaehyun to build up your tolerance instead.

When you went out to clean your dishes, he was playing some game on his phone, excitement evident from the way he was laughing every other second. Maybe if he remained occupied, he would not be so insufferable.

Day 3

"Oyii! Oyii!"

No. You were wrong. He was very very much insufferable.

At midnight, his voice echoed, disturbing your sleep. You cursed at the cool atmosphere that had prevented you from using the air con which otherwise would have blocked his annoying screeches. But it seemed like bad luck wanted to change its name to y/n instead. With your name being called like a broken record, it was a fight between you and him that you were not going to lose. Shuffling to your side, you covered your ears with the other pillow and tried to drown out the annoyingly demanding and hoarse voice. There was no way you were giving him the satisfaction of having any power over you. He could cry for all he liked!

“What the fuck do you want at this hour?”

Attempting a glare at him through sleepy lids, you spewed with irritation. Unlike you, he was very much awake, breathing with the sole purpose of making you question your whole existence.

“Pillow” scratching his non-existent beard, he mumbled.

Your nostrils flared and jaw clenched at such inconvenient command.

“You summoned me for a pillow? A pillow that can normally be found on a person’s bed? Can you please rectify your demand or did I just simply hear something wrong?”

The opened curtains and the moonlight that drenched the room was the only source that illuminated his face for you and even with drooping eyes, you could see how serious he was and yet you couldn't hold your tongue back because he simply deserved every shit you bestowed him with.

“Turn the lights on and count the pillows on my bed! And when you are done, get me some pillows from your room.” he simply stated.

“Why should i give you my pillow? I need them!”

“Because I don't use a pillow and I need it asap!”

“Then why do you suddenly need one? To disturb my sleep? Oh that makes sense.” and suddenly, your eyes had synced with your body to side with your fight mode.

“I need them for elevating my leg. The bandage is too tight and it’s not comfortable.”

“Then why don't you walk out of the room and get some cushions for yourself!” you raised your volume.

“Because my leg is in pain and i’m unable to get up? What makes you think I'm dying to see your ugly face at this time of the night. I dont wanna have nightmares of you as well but i can't help it ok!”

“you should have kept them near you. And who are you calling ugly hmm? You poop fac-

“Okay scream for all you want! But get me a pillow when your battery dies down!”

“What the fuck d- are you covering your ears? Wow ways to be generous!”

Stomping your foot, you left the room to get the hardest cushion on the couch.

“Here! Next time call Mark if you want anything. Don’t raise your voice ever again to call me because unlike you, i have work in the morning and hence I need some sleep..”

Just when you were about to leave after shoving the cushion in his hand, he spoke up again,

“This is damn hard! I asked for your pillow specifically and not th- AHH!”

A scream left him as you harshly removed the support , leaving his leg to painfully meet the mattress.

“How about you fix your attitude before fixing your leg?” suggesting, you dropped the cushion on the floor and left.

He didn't call you after that. Nor that you cared. However, the sleep in your eyes somehow vanished. Dancing on your sides didn’t help. Neither did drinking a glass of water. So, with a groan, you listened to your conscience and picked up your extra pillow that was sadly too perfect for your enemy.

Padding to his room, you tried your best to scrutinise and hearing his heavy snores, you placed the pillow right under his thigh and the cushion under his calf. Scoffing at his sleeping figure, you internally groaned to remind yourself that you hadn't done it for him. It was just a debt. For the blanket he had once covered you with. Nothing more and nothing less.

Day 5

You just wanted him out of your hair. He was just being a load on your head. At first, only the work was kicking your ass, then jungwoo was kicking you like a punching bag for an hour straight and adding to your distress was yuta.

"I'm not your maid! Stop piling up the dishes for me. I've had enough mercy on you. From today onwards, get a cleaner for yourself or buy disposable cutlery. I'm not going to clean after you!"

With a roll of his eyes, he had ignored you.

And so did you. Pasting a warning note on the sink tap, you had left for the library with a dying hope that maybe the kitchen would be spotless on your arrival or you'd be dialing some numbers in the evening.

For someone who despised the solemn atmosphere of libraries, you had successfully spent 11 hours in the said hellish room. It was 11 p.m and you wanted to sleep, more than anything but here you were, waiting for yugyeom so he'd just pick you up for a good drinking session that you were dying to have.

Fortunately, you weren't the only one who had missed living these past days. Everyone, for different reasons, was suffering so you felt a little less bad for yourself even though you knew your troubles were far more grave than their academic burdens.

"Wake up shorts" someone whispered in your ear. Squirming on your seat, you whipped your head in your sleepy state and found jungkook caressing your head, goofily smiling at you.

"I thought you wanted to hang out till the next morning" air quoting the last words, he picked up your bag.

"Yeah. Let's go. I'm all ready for a night full of vodkas." You yawned out.

"Definitely. No. You are going home. We can have a small get together me and yuggy are done with our final project." He dragged you out into the parking lot.

" I feel like it's been years since we got drunk together. You are never here anymore!" You whined at him, complaining your heart out.

"I will be. Soon. Then we can celebrate your little choi job as well."

"Oh please. Don't even mention it. If I had penny for every time they rolled their eyes at me, I'd be richer than your parents kook." You huffed out and as his gentle laugh surrounded you, you closed your eyes resting your back against the seat, expecting to be up by the time he'd park.

But the next day, you woke up tangled in the sheets of your bed, unaware of the events of the previous night.

When you had warned yuta about the dirty dishes, you hadn't expected him to fill the corners of the kitchen with disposable containers. It looked like you had missed a whole drama while sleeping in the library. The kitchen was shining except for the new utensils. But as long as you were not babysitting him, you were fine with anything. You didn't want to jinx your relief, however, you were glad you would be able to get some work done. finally.

You had spoken too early for your own good. Just when you sat down to write your paper, passionate and enthusiastic howls of that man pierced through your earphones and once again, you opened the window and hopped outside, in the balcony, ready to drown him out. Sipping on your lemonade, you gaped at the scenery the not so distant traffic provided you with and somehow, your thoughts wandered to the only person these horns reminded you of. Johnny.

What are you doing? Your fingers hovered over the text but once again, you deleted the message, declaring it to be too childish for someone as mature as him. Maybe you were just being silly. Maybe you were not. But who was going to put a stamp on your maybe?

Tears pricked your eyes as the harsh words of your senior thundered in the room. He kept shouting and you had no option than to consume each and every word he directed at you. Even if you were being insulted in front of your twenty other co-workers, staying quiet was the best option, you ascertained. so along with your saliva, you gulped your explanations down your throat.

Howsoever unconscious, you were still in the wrong. There was no excuse as to why you had mailed the wrong bills, apart from the headache that was caused by the person possibly lying on the sofa and watching t.v back home. No matter how much you tried to run away from his existence, he had somehow managed to let himself inside your head.

Glaring at the kid who asked for his turn on the park swing, you pushed yourself a little higher, letting the wind greet your stinging eyes as it hit your face in waves. Your phone buzzed in your pocket and you chose to ignore jungwoo for a day as it was the time, you decided, to let all the lessons that the past few months had taught you sink into your mind, to bleed into your soul so you won’t ever be able to deviate from them. Ever.

Only if that was so easy. You knew blaming others for your problems was no solution but trivialising them by not paying heed wasn't a smart move either.

When you reached home, your frustrations had died down. So when yuta simpered and pointed towards your empty container, telling you how he had already finished your supposed dinner, you simply rolled your eyes at him, robbing him of whatever he wanted to achieve by riling you up. Heating up the water, you were about to open the noodles packet when yeong called you.

You stared at the shattered phone screen in disbelief as the endless tears ran down your cheeks. As you verbalised the words to yourself again, your body met the floor with a thud.

Jungkook. Drugs. No more.

Three words had silenced the screeches in your head and your mind busied itself in rejecting what you had heard for it had to be a lie. But what how were you going to ignore the heart wrenching screams that yeong had let out. How were you going to dismiss the truth.

How were you all going to accept it?

••••••••••••••••

next update: Some day between 5-7 June.

[dodo-begone]

It's Tough to be Mortal

Pairing: God!Reader x Hermitcraft

Request: DODO MY BELOVED DO YOU REMEMBER THE CONVO WE HAD ABOUT GOD READER. WOULD YOU BE COOL WRITING THAT BESTIE?

Word count: 4k

Grian was standing in front of his mansion, debating on what needed revamping. Sure it was already enormous but there was something missing about it. It’s been bothering him for ages. An answer that always seemed to appear was something others would call outlandish. Something more than unnecessary.

His mansion needed to be taller.

Did his mansion already tower over the rainforest that lay before of it? Yes. Did it also go pretty far below ground level? Also yes. A grand mansion like this must have something to separate it from the surrounding area. The moat-like feature couldn’t be small either. No, that’d be an injustice to the mansion. What he needed was something to-scale for it. Though it’d be nice if his nether portals would actually fit in the little arches he dug out…

“Hey Grian!” a voice suddenly appeared. It’s unexpected entrance made it seem like a bellow and it was absolutely terrifying to hear.

Grian shrieked, jumping around to see who disturbed him from his thoughts. There, behind him, was little ole you. If he weren’t so spooked, he would’ve found your expression rather hilarious.

Your face was a gorgeous combination of joy with a hint of confusion. The expression was similar to one Grian wore often. He mostly wore it when he was found pranking the other hermits. Although you did many pranks alongside him, it didn’t seem like you were trying to pull on now. “Seem” being the key word. Appearances can be deceiving after all.

“Why hello there,” Grian was grateful for your sudden appearance. Another set of eyes to help decide what was missing. It was like the gods just knew of his plight. “Why’d you come visit?”

“Oh I just wanted to chit-chat,” You reply, your eyes wandering to Grian’s most recent muse. “But you seem somewhat busy at the moment. I’ll come by another time.”

“Wait,” Grian still desperately needed an outsider’s opinion. “We can talk right now. I’m just trying to figure out what my mansion is missing.”

“Are you sure,” you prod. Talking to Grian after you interrupted him felt wrong. He was obviously busy and you disturbed him more than you should’ve. The creative process could be rather elusive once you have it, easily escaping the moment you stop thinking of it.

“Positive.”

“Well, if you insist,” you give in rather easily. How you craved interaction. And it was so readily available here as well. “I mostly came over to thank you.”

“Thank me for what,” Grian was beyond confused. First off you could be thankful for anything. Second off you didn’t need to thank him for anything. Third off he can’t think of anything he’d done for you that you hadn’t thank him for already. “You don’t have to thank me for anything, you know. Everything was a pleasure to do.”

“But i still feel like making you aware,” you reply so nonchalantly to him. In a way it seemed like you didn’t care what he had to say in reply. He knew you did care, you’ve shown you cared in the past. But now it seems to be the opposite. It must’ve been like one of those cases where you don’t listen to a friend when you help them because they think they’re a problem. That’s what it feels like anyways.

“You and the hermits made me realize so many things about life I had either long forgotten or never realized,” your words were spoken in such a soft manner, like you were dreamily reliving whatever you were referring to.

“Again, it wasn’t a problem at all,” Grian reiterated himself. He didn’t want to seem rude but at the same time it honestly wasn’t something that bothered or irked him. Although he may not have realized he was helping you with that, it was nice to know you felt great about your interactions together.

You looked like you were far from finished talking though. So Grian decided to listen to your words. Maybe look at what needed fixing with his mansion. No, that’d be rather rude.

“With our interactions together,” you were restarting whatever you were saying. Oh boy. “the small joys of life have been revealed to me. For example, I never knew those loud boxes of yours had any significance besides just making a loud noise. Well they are made to make noise, but I was unaware of the significance besides that. Now, through you, I have found the sounds rather joyful. I never knew you could trap music in a box until now.”

Grian had been beyond confused with your description. It felt odd and awkward. He only figured out what you meant when you said “music in a box”. Either you meant a music box or a jukebox. Everyone knew what a music box was; everyone had interacted with one in their lifetime whether they remembered it or not. Jukeboxes were also a well known item. Your experience with them felt odd to hear. Very alien. Who doesn’t know what a juke box is?

“Oh don’t even get me started on those little slimy critters,” you excitement seemed to grow exponentially. If he weren’t there to see it, he would have a hard time picturing what that description would entail. “The slimy ones are slugs, right? I think they’re slugs. Not those square ones, no i know those are Slimes. But the cylindrical ones, i think that’s what you call that shape, that most people find rather unpleasant. They live in gardens. Yes, those. I never got to experience them up close until recently. Also the little slugs with shells.” You pause, a look of deep concentration covers your face. A few times you try to restart your description with the name but come up empty.

The pause is long enough to give away that you most likely didn’t remember the name of what you described at all. It was rather cute because you were so deep in thought about it. You looked around too, like anything could give you a clue as to your mystery animal.

“Do you mean snail,” Grian prompted. He was giving you a stick to latch onto. Watching you flail for an answer any longer would be cruel.

“Yes,” you reply gleefully,” those things. Snails and slugs are so sweet. I can’t believe people can dislike them so much. They regard them as pests but they’re just little wonders. It’s so hard to see why people dislike them. Is it because they’re slimy, like blood?”

That description felt like a record scratching or stopping; it felt like the mood got changed completely. “Excuse me,” Grian laughed nervously. He simply must’ve misheard. “Could you repeat that?”

“I absolutely can- wait, which part do you need,” your confusion was rather evident. Did you really have no clue where the problem lay?

“The snail and slug part. Where you were wondering why people didn’t like them. What was the reasoning you gave?”

“Oh that! I said, ‘is it because they’re slimy, like blood’” You reply so helpfully. A child-like glee seemed to emanate from you.

“I don’t think that’s exactly why people dislike them,” Grian began. He didn’t know how to bring it up to you that your description wasn’t wrong but also wasn’t right. “Some people dislike them because they eat, destroy or kill their plants. Or they have a plethora of them where they’re unwanted.”

“Oh,” somehow his answer saddened you. “So they treat them like unwanted kittens?”

Again, you weren’t wrong nor were you exactly right. It just didn’t exactly sit right with him. Because yes, they could be treated like unwanted kittens.

“Sure,” It was simpler to just go along with it. After all, the general idea wasn’t wrong. Anything unwanted was a pest in someone’s eyes and therefore treated like one.

“Oh the poor things,” you start to tear up. “Why do people treat them like that?” You’re tearing up over snails and slugs? This is going to be a long explanation as to why they’re treated so horribly. He really didn’t want to have to break your heart further over the slugs and snails, but your pained yet curious eyes just begged for more information. It was going to be a long day.

______________________________________________________________

The clicking of redstone echoed around the cavern. After a long chain of clicks, lights flickered and moved. It was like the sun, although the appearance was shoddy and limited considering what it was made of.

It’s creation was for one purpose; to replicate the sun but underground. A quirky clock. Very large and eye catching. Much more eye catching than a regular clock anyways. The ceiling was partially ripped out, revealing the dazzling rays of sunlight that peaked over the horizon.

Zedaph, the creator of this magnificent creation, stood below it. Both looking at it in awe and scrupulously. He was only at the beginning stages but this played a key part in showing the progress. Was he actually doing everything right? It already moved once but it did that last time. Oh it’s getting close to changing now, or should be. “Zedaph,” you flung yourself at him, hanging onto him as you two went down. Although not the most pleasant entrance, it was rather endearing. “Oh sorry about that! Looks like I got a wee bit over excited.”

“It’s alright,” you two got off the ground, you much more gracefully than him. “It didn’t hurt too much.”

“Oh my gosh I hurt you,” you frantically search Zedaph over, looking for any sign of damage you might have caused. “Oh i am so so sorry I didn’t mean for any of that to happen I just-” “I said it’s alright,” Zedaph reiterates, gently pushing you away. “I’m perfectly fine. See?” He even does a little twirl for you.

You don’t seem convinced, not in the slightest. But your second attempt to search him gets declined and you’re forced to believe him. At least somewhat.

“So what brings you around here,” Zedaph inquires. “I know my indoor sun-clock system is pretty awesome, but it’s far from complete. And there isn’t really anything else in the cave of contraptions either.”

“I’m well aware of that,” your reply is odd, but easily overlooked. All of the other hermits have their quirks, after all. This is no different. “But I came over for other reasons.”

“Other reasons?” “Well not reasons,” you correct yourself. “What I actually mean is reason. I don’t know why I said reasons. Why did I say- anyways I just wanted to talk with you.”

“Some good ole talking with me,” Zedaph had to clear any doubt, even though there really shouldn’t have been any. “Well I’m quite honored to have you over to talk. What did you want to talk about?”

“Oh I simply wanted to discuss the differences between Hermitcraft and other servers. I knew Hermitcraft was different but I couldn’t put a finger on what it was. That was until recently. That “eureka” moment hit me and I just had to share with someone.” Your self satisfaction was undeniable and honestly somewhat charming in the way you were so pleased and proud by your actions.

“How so,” Zedaph inquires. He wants to listen to you, he really does. But redstone is just calling his name and how can he deny it. So he starts to fiddle with some redstone. Find a way to do the decline of the sun for his clock. He could easily listen to what you were saying and figure this out, right? It couldn’t be that hard.

“So I noticed how everything is so nice and peaceful here,” you remark, slowly following him. “It’s like one of those fairytales you share to your children. So absolutely perfect. Then there are others where chaos reigns like there’s no god but itself. You know what I’m saying.”

“Uh-huh,” Zedaph mindlessly agrees with whatever you just said. “Fairytales are like that.”

“Excellent,” you quietly cheer in joy at his supposed “understanding”. “So anyways this place is so much less malevolently chaotic and more playfully chaotic. And I recently realized something. Something that you guys don’t do that many other servers do. Are you aware of what that is?”

“Yea sure,” Zedaph started to fiddle around with the placement of droppers and redstone. “Go right on ahead.”

“Okay! So what you guys don’t do is something many other servers do- oh I just mentioned that. But anyways! There’s so little violence, it’s truly wonderful, don’t get me wrong. I must inquire though, do you expect there to be any violence? Anytime soon for that matter?”

Zedaph gives a simple “no” before his mind and hands are back onto the redstone before him.

“Well that’s great yet terrible,” you sigh in disappointment. “A true tragedy. Guess I need to go to another server again.”

Those words caught Zedaph’s attention rather quickly. He’d only half listened before but you now had his entire attention.

His mouth spoke faster than he could think. “Why would you go somewhere else? Especially for violence?”

He turns to you and is greeted with your confusion. Perplexion shows itself well on your face, accentuated by a small head tilt. It was a silent way of asking “are you really asking this” or a simple curiosity. Either or really. Yet this didn’t clear his confusion at all. If anything, it made everything just that more muddled. Why are you acting like he should know the answer?

“No I genuinely don’t understand. Can you please explain?” Zedaph hoped you could actually clear his confusion rather than make it worse. You had to. After all, people usually start to clear up what they said after you ask at least once or twice.

“Well you guys have no violence,” You reply so matter of factly. This still doesn’t help. Zedaph’s mild fear and confusion must’ve been evident as you continued with your explanation. “It’s rather simple really. I feed off of violence, in a crude description of it. And I could spark some conflict here rather easily, get my fill without having to leave. But I like you guys too much to just make you suffer so. That’s why I asked. Because if I did it, the conflict would be so much worse than what you guys would create.”

Zedaph was baffled and stumped. Okay that made sense yet didn’t all at the same time. Like yeah some people thrive off of drama, so violence could be similar-ish. He was just making excuses at this point. He really didn’t understand any of that.

“And you guys rarely make sacrifices as well,” you muse, not taking into account that you lost Zedaph literally ages ago.

“Excuse me did you say “sacrifices” because I must’ve heard wrong. Nobody really makes sacrifices in this day and age.” Zedaph was getting more unnerved with each new thing you mention. It’s like the more you talk, the worse everything gets.

“Yeah I said sacrifices. Gosh you’re so silly,” you giggle at his “ignorance”. “People still make sacrifices! You just aren’t in the right crowd when it happens, that’s all.”

“Okay and uuh,” his confusion blurs everything ever more. How could he nicely and politely state this? Is there a nice way to state or ask what in God’s name was going on? “What do they sacrifice, exactly?”

“You know, the usual things,” another answered in a manner that just screamed “you should know this man”. Like a teenager with their fads. “Like items and that jazz. Things that are deemed “important” or whatever. You know, the usual sacrifice stuff.”

“No, I have no clue why,” his irritation was becoming very apparent. “That’s why I was asking.”

“Oh well I’m no good at explaining this type of stuff,” you mutter, going deep into your thoughts. “You know what? I should get going. I don’t want to bother you much more.”

Zedaph sees you walk out a door and tries to stop you, yet you’re gone before he knows it. You just magically poof away the moment you’re out of sight. Wow you are just so darn fast. The awkward energy became too much? Or was it the explanation that chased you away? Did he pressure you too much?

Questions ran rampant in his mind after your interaction. He wanted answers for them, but he’d have to wait until he saw you again to ask.

______________________________________________________________

Many other odd events go on across the server. Each having one thing in common: you. You were in every interaction where something odd was mentioned or happened. After stories were traded about your interaction with each of them, it finally became too much to ignore. Yes, all of them had little quirks or be quirky in general, but this was excessive. Maybe it was just the style you did things, but they needed confirmation.

So they called together a meeting. One where everyone could hear what you had been up to and these anomalous events.

Around their little circle they went, each recounting your actions and the events that happened afterwards. With each person you became more peculiar, more of a figure to be gawked at. There were so many things and all so incredible.

Doc recounted how you were helping him with his redstone and in turn trying to learn the redstone Doc was doing. It was supposed to be a day-long-ish lesson for you two. Everything had gone well, quite normal, in fact.

You were rather studious, watching his actions slowly and taking all he did into memory. A few questions were brought up, which was also a normal thing. Redstone was a rather confusing subject. But then an odd question came out of practically nowhere. Nothing prompted it, as far as Doc was aware. Well, one thing could’ve but even then it was farfetched.

He had mentioned how he was a block or two short on what he needed. A block that’d fit the color scheme of the farm he had been working on. And you simply asked if he needed a block because you had one on you. He replied with a simple yes and that should’ve been the end of the interaction, besides the transition of said item.

Dropped into his unsuspecting hands was a block of bedrock. It was black and grey. Something that went with what he was building with. So he placed it down without much of a second thought. But when he tried to move it later on, he realized what had happened. Though how it all exactly happened was a mystery. How could you have gotten some bedrock?

When everybody at the meeting had shared what was going on, it was clear. Clear but not clear. It was like you had some powers. Admin powers, to be exact. But you weren’t an admin. Far from it. You had only recently joined the server. So that begged the question; how did you obtain those items and why were you reacting the way you were?

Your actions seemed to hold little to no regard for those you found “unimportant” but hyperfocused on those you did. Aloof was another way to describe your demeanor. An aloof person that held a regal air around them. Like nothing could touch them.

Their chatter was growing in volume the longer they were together. Arguing ensued over what could be going on. Was some mythical force at work? Were you some type of hybrid? A hybrid with powers they were unaware of? Were you a hacker? The possibilities were nearly endless but one thing was certain; you were not a normal hermit.

A loud cough broke through the cacophony of voices, effectively silencing them. Confusion soon took hold of the group. Wait, everyone was here though. And nobody in the circle did it. Right? It didn’t sound like any of them, at least. Another cough was released and almost every head in that circle whipped toward the direction the cough originated from. Their answer stood behind them, at the entrance.

You stood there, a confused look adorned your face along with a little head tilt. Why were you here? Did anybody invite you? They didn’t remember inviting you. At least the majority of them didn’t.

Scar quickly got out of his chair, walking over for a hug and some greetings. He thanked you for coming and gave you the unfortunate news that the meeting was coming to a close. Man he really told you the wrong time, huh? That was his bad.

You simper, shifting your view over to the remaining hermits. Grin widening, you give them a squinted smile and a little hand wave.

It was obvious now, didn’t need to be said. But it seemed Scar had invited you along as well. They really should have specified who needed to come to the meeting instead of “everyone” because- well this could work in their favor.

“So what’d I miss,” you ask, making your way over the hermits with Scar by your side. “Scar didn’t exactly tell me what this was all about. But he didn’t know either. Did you all miss some information when you were inviting people?”

They look between each other, trying to find someone with the courage to break the question to you. One of them had to do it, but which one of them would?

Finally a brave soul spoke up. It was their admin, Xisuma. Grateful couldn’t even describe how they felt when he started to talk to you.

“We’ve actually been meaning to ask you something,” Xisuma speaks in a measured and steady tone. One that gave away no weakness he might’ve been experiencing. Like anxiety or how awkward it was to even ask someone something about themselves. Something that would, in usual cases, be seen as an insult or something akin to that. A negative thing.

“Oh,” you play his game, humoring him and going along with the unspoken script. “What do you want to know?”

“It’s actually quite simple really,” Xisuma starts, but soon pauses again. A few false starts later and he’s back on his feet, metaphorically anyways. “This is going to sound very odd and quite possibly rude. But are you, um, are you a god, by chance?”

Silence came to suffocate the room after his question came out into the open. The air was tense with anxiety.

“Oh yea that,” you giggle. “Yea I am. So what?”

“I’m sorry, but did you say “so what”?” Xisuma wanted clarification because there was no way you just answered with that. “So what”? That was definitely an unexpected answer. Honestly they weren’t expecting too much or too much. It was hard to tell.

“Yes I did,” you speak your words slowly and methodically, checking the reactions of everyone in the room. Like a switch your words flow from a molasses like pace to water. “Look I’d absolutely love to get into this and talk with you all about this in depth, but it really isn’t a good idea. I haven’t had the best experiences with explaining this type of stuff with… well with beings like you.”

Everyone was giving each other looks, silently asking each other “is this really going on” or “Excuse me, what now”. Silence settles over the group again. You leave them some time to ponder over the news, but not enough for it to cause any trouble. At least that’s what you think.

You clap your hands and it echoes around the room, once again catching everyone’s attention. “Look like I said, I’d love to explain this all to you. This isn’t the best time though. So why don’t we just chill out? Talk to each other like the friends we are! You guys have cookies, right? Scar said you guys would have cookies.”

[maladaptive-ninja-returns]

It’s The Avengers (03x16)

Loki x Reader Avengers The Office AU (Slowwwwww Burn)

Season 3 Episode 16: You Picked the Wrong Weakness

Series Summary: Living in the Avengers facility post-apocalypse in a better timeline   Tony Stark has decided to capture every moment by pulling The Office on the Avengers. All of housemates are pretty used to the idea except for you, who had just come here to finish her degree, and the newest member- Loki.

Warnings: did someone just go and tell the otp about the otp?

Word Count: you know that feeling when you have had a bad experience on some project or assignment or homework before. And you know that thing is going to come around again next month or something like that. And you just age yourself by giving yourself anxiety by thinking everything that could go worse in that area. Yeah. So, I kinda shut that off for a few hours and wrote this.

MASTERLIST in bio, darlings. Tags are open (check bio)

The Interview Room The camera is recording empty seats as a pair of voices grow louder with every second. "...it's like they don't even care about what the other person wants!" "...no, why would they. These rich daddies and their rich egos think they are the only ones thinking about the world." The camera swivels a bit to watch Peter and Scott enter with a new guest following them with a Caprisun in their hand. Peter: And why did you have to go ahead and help them? Shuri: *sits between Scott and Peter* *takes a long sip of her 'sun* What. I'm not going to give up any opportunity that involves space and weird energy boxes. Peter: Why did your brother even agree to it?? Shuri: *shrugs* all your sugar daddy had to say was 'what if it was Shuri'. And my thicc-head of a brother lost it like a rhino in a mating challenge. Peter: *scrunches his nose at the example* Scott: Great *sigh* now we'll never get to see them together. With your brains, those dads are probably already in space now. Shuri: Not so fast! They don't have the codes to neutralise the pandora's box yet. Peter and Scott: *look at each other*  Shuri: So teleportation might be delayed as long as I am kept happy?  Peter: *takes out a notebook* Scott: *takes out his phone and a card labelled Avengers Black Card* The camera pans in on a smirking Shuri sipping on her Capri sun.

Inside a Spaceship: Destination Unknown You and Loki were captured by the little drone flying at the same speed as the spaceship (which clearly had seen some remodelling, thanks to your rainbow buddies). Both of you were staring at something in front of you that lids by your waist level- something the outside drone was not able to capture because of the limited view in the spaceship window. The expressions on your face were serious. So was the arms-crossed stance. "Are you sure it wasn't just a noise?" Loki now had a finger on his lips in deep thought as he heard your words. "I am pretty sure of what I heard," he acknowledged without missing a beat. "So-" your voice faded as your fingers twirled in the air with a mind of their own- "that means he has...another..." "You really can't say it?" Loki looked at you with a questioning brow going up quite smoothly. You tsked. "It's my baby," you mentioned while Javier's camera watched you point down at slumbering Lulu. "I cannot just casually say he might have another hole and I think he farted through it. I cannot hurt my baby's feelings!" Loki scoffed. "Your baby's sleeping." "He still has ears." "You think he understands what a fart means?" "What do you think I've been teaching him when you, me or Javi pass the gas?" Loki's casual demeanour suddenly changed to an offended one. "I beg your pardon?" You were quick on your feet, already walking towards the front of the ship. "So, where exactly are we heading now? Aellae's next of kin? Though I find it hard to imagine she would have left your essence with anyone other than herself." Loki came and sat next to you, still pissed at that comment in those narrowed eyes. "I am going to circle back to your words-" he inhaled while you acted all innocent- "and no. We are not looking for anyone related to that witch." "Then are we looking for another one of your exes?" "No, we are n-" Loki stopped short, his lips right in a thin line as he stared at you. "Why are you so interested my exes?" You simply shrugged and raised your brows. "On the contrary, it seems your exes are still pretty interested in you." That casual expression turned into a familiar judgment as your head turned to look at him. "Though I wonder what did they find so-" you hands moved haphazardly- "interesting about you." Loki swivelled his captain seat towards you, locking your legs between his while grounding your armrests with his hands. Clicking the control button on your armrest, he moved your chair a bit closer to him, his face in close proximity to yours. Javier's camera panned in on the gulp moving down your throat while your eyelids did a flutter at this uncalled movement. The 4K caught those goosebumps rising right where his arm barely grazed yours and in the background, Lulu played an arousing violin piece. "Something you can only dream about, darling," he whispered. The violin picked up the charge in the air within its quick clean high notes. The only noise leaving you was the escape of the air stuck in your throat, shivering on its way out. "Of c-" you cleared your throat. trying to sit back up in your seat- "of course I can only fantasize. The reality makes me want to puck. Ugh!"

Loki: Y/N thinks space is all fun and games. What she does not realise is that just like earth, this universe too has an underworld. Ten times in size and twenty times as brutal. And Aellae was just the tip of the filthy iceberg. *camera zooms in on his tensed features* looks into the distance* Wonder who else she told about her. *looks back* *blinks* I'm taking her somewhere we can lie low for now. *rolls eyes* that is if she understands what lying low means. *sighs* 

You: *eating bread like a peasant famished for days* Hm? What? No *shakes head* 'm nod nerbous. *takes another bite* debinidly nod becoz o doki. He wash jus playing wee me. *viciously bites into the bread* *growls and buries head in your lap* 

"I am still telling you to ask for their help. It's not too late," you suggested in a composed manner, sitting in the co-pilot seat. "I am not calling seven alien boys just because you have a fetish for Korean pop bands." You thwacked his leg with yours. "I do not! And don't you dare talk shit about k-pop." Loki chuckled. "Why? What are going to do?" "I won't. But you know what k-pop fans are like, don't you?" The smile on Loki's face suddenly started to flicker away as he looked at the camera. "Remember that Vegas trip?" Clearing his throat, he adjusted himself on his seat, while you shared a devilish smirk with the camera. "We're going somewhere safe. Where I have a chance of getting my powers back and hopefully a gateway back to earth." You sat up. "Why didn't we go there in the first place?" Loki blinked, not really answering. You and the camera noticed the tension in his jaw. "It's not a place I like to talk about." The asteroid belt cleared in front of the spaceship to show the part of a planet covered in grey clouds shadowing frozen blue mountains and dark valleys. "Jotunheim," you whispered to yourself, letting the gloomy yet majestic scenery of the place reflect in your eyes. “Loki,” all humour in your voice seemed to dilute as you looked back at home, “we don’t have to go there. We-uh...we could go to one of Peter’s hideouts? Or maybe we could call the Boys and ask them to direct us to one of their safe places? You know, till we find a lead on your essence.” A smirk built upon the God's lips. "Is that concern I hear in your voice?" Those worry-laden brows suddenly dispersed all emotion to make way for anger. A slap made way from your hand to his right side of the back. The thwack was loud enough to wake Lulu and force a sincere 'ow' from the God's throat. "This concern is for me and my babies you awful animal," you growled, your voice considerably higher, "you think they'll survive there?"

Jotunheim If the mountains seemed to carry an eerie aura about them, the valleys were a straight suggestion of being pits straight to hell. To add to the effects of arriving at the gates of hell, the snow falling was harsh, to say the least. As soon as the door to the ship opened to let all the passengers feel the heat, the drone travelling outside took in travellers covered in thick fur. Javier carried Lulu on his front, both of them visible just with their faces- not to mention the former's blue eyes standing out over everything else in his surroundings. Loki too embraced the thick skin, looking quite the part of a Jotun till he picked up the hood of your coat to put it over your head without saying much; only smiling when you looked like a fluffed up birb in that Viking overcoat.

Loki: *smiling sheepishly**looks at you standing next to him* Angry birb *looks back at Javier's camera* Sam taught me that one. *camera pans at you simmering under that fur*

Lulu had already picked the background music for his pack's entrance. The Viking beat had just the right amount of weight and horror of the unknown in it as this place did. Just ahead of the pass lay the structure carved in the mountain itself. It could be called a palace or a temple. But that was not what sought your attention.  Eyes. The camera caught eyes in the dark staring at the unwanted guests. Blue. Piercing. Murderous. And more than one pair. The drone panned in on that one subconscious movement of your fingers gripping the fur of the coat on Loki's back as the God walked gallantly- as if he owned the planet. But your eyes did not stop to observe the alien movement around you. "Remember-" Loki's whisper brought you out of the daze your own thumping heart was creating for you- "do not show them your fear. Show them that you are to be feared." It may have been his words or just his voice that started to melt the fear visible on your features, lasting for five seconds before a loud thump vibrated the land beneath your feet, making you all come to a stop. And when that was not enough, the audience saw the feet first, then the legs and then the whole length of a Jotun appearing before them. Some necks were really going to feel it tonight.

"Who dares enter the land of Jotunheim?" came the thundering and low growl from the Jotun that stood towering over you all. "The one who is alive and stands on this land," Loki announced, "with the blood of Laufey in my veins, I have come to claim what is mine." There was nothing but an uninviting smirk on the Jotun's face. "I am Loki, son of Laufey, son of Odin, ruler of Asgard and your King," he commanded with ice in his voice, "and you...need to bow...before your King." The dead silence proceeding his threat of a speech was enough for you nearly bury you inside your own overcoat. And when that did not seem enough, your body- on its own- moved a step closer to Loki's side. "Oooooh Gooood," you whispered with quite the shudder while your face was plastered with a no-fucks-given wave, "we're gonna die." On the contrary, the silence was followed by many Jotuns coming out of the shadows to surround your group one by one before bowing down. Even the ones who looked quite young did the same. All of them except for the one Jotun who had greeted you first. "Allir fagna konungi!" they chanted in unison. "All hail the king," Javier translated it for you. "Didn't know you were into Nords," you quipped, "the language, I mean." "Honey, I am all into Nords," he signed before looking around with a smile, finding a buff Jotun that caught his eye. He did not take another second to blink at him and leave that giant a bit confused and flustered at the same time.

Inside the Palace The throne was sculpted out of ice that seemed as old as the mountain. Alongside it had been made seating arrangements for the family, running parallel till the doors of the throne room, all greyish blue stones marked with Jotun carvings. You and Javier believed they might be names of dignitaries. Lulu thought they are just doodles by other babies and proceeded to contribute to the stone they were standing next to. A little female giant sat down and looked at Lulu's doodles with curious wide eyes. Loki stood rightfully in front of his throne, admiring it before turning to his subjects, most of them adults who were exceptionally taller and blue-er than him. The drone captured the magnificence of the throne room that had fire pits next to the seats at intervals right alongside the stone pillars and right in the middle, a few feet in front of the king. But none of them were lit. And the giants were visibly annoyed by the drone while the kids wanted to catch it and play with it. "An Asgardian announces himself as our King," the one giant growled as he stood at the steps of the throne, "why would we believe you to be our King, son of Odin." He nearly spat the last part. The drone captured that bit of concern breaking out on your composed features but Loki just smirked. Pulling his overcoat to the side- as magnificently as he believed himself to be- he sat down as if he has done it ever since he was born. The authority exuding from his presence certainly put the murmurs going around the hall to a standstill. "At ease, Helblindi," he stressed to the giant with a purr and directed the rest of the audience to take their place. "Not you." Everyone stopped short to looked at their king. And he was clearly looking at you. You pointed a finger at yourself in question. "Don't you know your place....pet?" he commanded ever so slyly, discreetly pointing his finger at the stone next to his throne.

You: *look around to make sure no one's looking at you* *anger about to explode through your eyes* *whispering* Pet?? PET?? I swear gonna just *gestures to grab the air* grab his throat and *punches the said air repeatedly in her palm*  *camera pans out to focus on three baby giants looking at you in pure horror before their mother carries them away murmuring something* *camera swivels to show Javier looking disappointed* Javier: *signs* she said 'stay away from the crazy human'. *sighs* *shakes his head*

“Come-“ Loki’s fingers gestured at you to come over to that stone couch of a thing next to him- “sit.” Taking a breath to compose your usual embers of rage at that comment, you smiled and walked up the stairs to stand next to him. The camera recorded the little gracious bow you gave the God but not before your back was to the spectators and you signalled an insult with your middle towards him, nearly making him chuckle. And with one heavy inhale, you sat down next to him, clearly not at the same level as him. “Is this what Lulu feels like?” “I would’ve made Lulu sit in my lap,” Loki acknowledged with a smirk. “You’re welcome to join me anytime but for now-“ he adjusted himself on his seat and raised his voice to address the court- “let us have a feast tonight and raise our mugs in union of the Jotun king and his subjects.” Helblindi scoffed and spat on the floor. Loki did not look but he was surely observing his every move. “In union of an excuse of a giant who does not even resemble-“ “I would like you to stop there my brother-“ Loki announced as he got up, letting the whole room take one united gasp at the scene- “before you start regretting your own words.” You blinked at the reactions to turn and look at Loki. Now the lights from the ceiling did a stupendous job of catching the widening of your eyes while your pupils were dilated in an emotion only known to you when you witnessed- for the first time in your life- Loki's skin change its shade and features. The flawless paleness gave way to a blue so deep over those arms he rarely displayed in public. The colour ran up his neck as well, covering him all the way. And along with this shade came ridges on his skin which apparently every Jotun had; running up his face and down his limbs. Those smaragdines and whites around them were now replaced with red. “This Jotun-“ his voice was low, but with enough weight that it echoed to the last corner of the room- “has seen enough lives to know what is hatred and what is fear. So next time you try to question my right, Helblindi, know that I have no qualms in exploiting them in a way which seems necessary for me.” Helbindi did not seem to stand his ground much now. Not after a few Jotuns who stood up to speak against the giant who had been torturing them for a while with his reckless and greed-ridden laws. Javier's camera was stuck on your reaction in the middle of this mild chaos. Your parted lips, wide eyes, stare lingering all over the God's body, your throat feeling the urge to swallow the dryness; it really was a sight, an emotion that many fanfiction artists would want to take inspiration from. Loki- who was smirking at the warm welcome he was receiving through the roar against his brother- turned around to look at you. His smirk disappeared and his usually focused gaze was interrupted with those unsure blinks at your features. Before he could explain himself, one giantess blocked his way to you with a bow. "We have prepared the Bath for you and your companions, your grace," she announced, still with her head held low. His gaze was running between you and her. To make it easier for him, you got up from your seat and walked down to the giantess who wanted to show you, Javier and Lulu to the Bath. "Nandi," Loki finally looked at the giantess. "Yes, your grace." "I need you to choose four of your most loyal companions to guard them." "They are all ready to escort your companions where you please." Loki smiled at Nandi. "I owe it to your mother to protect you, your Grace, like she protected me and my children." "My mother had a loyal friend in you," the God appreciated before walking down the throne and away from the crowd. The drone followed him.  The graceful composure of the God crumbled like a dry sand castle as soon as the doors closed behind him and he was alone in the icy corridors. His pace got faster by the second, his eyes searching everywhere. "This isn't fair, you know." Loki stopped at the echo of your voice. The pause of one breath, and he knew where to turn to find you standing in the shadows. Javier stood by the pillar next to you two with his camera, capturing this strange tick on Loki's features. You stepped out of the shadows, your gaze uninterrupted, looking right at those red eyes. "Do you know the amount of chaos it would create on earth if people knew that you look like..." "Like what? A monster?" Loki's voice was heavy. "Nah don't say i-dammit! Now I cannot stop imagining the term monsterfuckers." Loki blinked. His brows furrowed at you ever so slightly. "I mean-" you sighed with frustration- "was it not enough that you looked like a literal God in a human form that you had to now go and reveal that you are one buffed up alien? Look at you? You are one breath away from starting a cult of monsterfuckers! Do you realise that? Look at-" you grabbed that one barely naked blue arm and tried to squeeze it- "this firm, cold, arm that is people are going think about in-" you tried to breathe, your gaze still stuck on his shoulder- "their bed at night. God, why do have to be so-" you pointed at all of him with a frustration-filled, longing look of...disgust- "you." By now Loki was raising his brows in question and shifting his gaze between himself and you, clearly confused by your reaction. It even seemed he was a bit flustered at one point. You winced, looking at his body again. Your eyes followed the ridges on his face to his neck, plunging down his v neck t-shirt. With a frown you turned hastily, flinging your body involuntarily in the direction of the bath. "I bet they go all the way down," you whispered to yourself in between your sobs and walked away.

Loki: *still stands there* *blinks* *looks at the camera* what...*looks in her direction* *looks back* *does this two more times* what just happened?

The Resting Chambers: Next Day One of Javier's drones followed you from the balcony you were standing in to witness the first light of the nearest star in this frozen land. The snow-clad mountains were a majestic sight in their own stature. Even the smile emanating under the warmth of the star could not deny that. The giggles coming from inside the room broke the sweet hum of sync you were having with the weather, walking back in to find Skandi and Kolga, Nandi's daughters setting up the table with Jotunheim's specialities- snowberries, Kruweed- fresh seaweed from the frozen lake- and Lulu's favourite, spiked abalones. "What are you girls snickering about?" Lulu was already jumping on the table to sniff everything placed for his liking. Once he had inspected every single item, he went over to his bowl of abalones.

"Nothing," Skandi cooed, "just discussing how Loki-" Kolga elbowed her sister to correct herself- "how his Grace, keeps looking at you." Your hands paused for a fraction of a second near your mouth before the snowberry found its way in your mouth. "Look at me how?" "He looks at you as if you might vanish any second if he does not keep his eye on you," Kolga added, sitting down next to you. Her face had gentle tones all over it. Her eyes seemed to sparkle whenever she talked to you. "Are you being punished for something?" It took you some time to realise she was genuinely curious. "What. No. Why would you think that?" "Because his grace keeps you under guard. I thought pets were kept in cages in Midgard." Skandi turned to Kolga with a gasp. "He caged her last night then?!" The camera captured your furrowed brows sitting there confused in between the sisters. You opened your mouth to speak but lost to Kolga. "You mean when he told off Helbindi that she will be sleeping in his quarters." Skandi nodded vigorously. "He could not have kept her in a real cage." "Maybe he chained her to the bed." "Ah. So he could keep an eye on her at night." "Is that what happened, y/n?" You hid your face behind the mug of tea that did not seem to leave your lips while your free hand seemed to check your cheeks for their temperature. "This tea is good," your burned throat appreciated the drink. "He seems quite...what is the word... possessive of her," Skandi commented. You shared a look with the drone- your face devoid of any emotions. Kolga hummed in agreement, popping a snowberry in her mouth. "I thought Kruge would die last night by his hands." Now that seemed to catch your attention. "Kruge who?" "Helbindi's guard. The one who nearly pushed you into the wall last night." "When you went inside," Kolga continued, "his Grace took Kruge's staff and struck him in his limbs and threatened him to never touch you again if he wanted to stay alive." "Kruge should be glad he did not use his powers on him lest he would be a part of the dark pit's icicles by now." Kolga and Skandi stopped talked to watch you lost in deep thought while your hands scratched Lulu's back on their own, making the floof purr quite loud. "Is she making this little creature vibrate?" Skandi asked her sister in a whisper. "It looks like it," her sister whispered back in awe.

You: *whispering at Javier* What? No, it's okay. We can record here. No one can say anything. *sits on the stone seat in the gallery that seems empty to the camera* *adjusts hair* is it recording? Of course. It's always recording. *clears throat* *at normal tone* So, clearly...*inhales* *raises brows* things are barely standing still right now. And it is clearly not helping that Loki is having sudden urges to pick a fight with whoever bullies me. *Javier's drone catches him discreetly signing at you to lower your voice a bit* You: *irritated* I mean does he want me to get bullied more? Bullies are always going to pick on the weak one in the group for fuck's sake! And evidently, I am the weaker sex. *the camera catches a movement behind you, turning to focus on the source* You: and his highness does not seem to realise that it will be too easy for these giants to torture his weaknesses out of me. Does he not see that? *squints at Javier* what? The drone is recording Javier aggressively telling you to cut it out while looking pale as his gaze goes far behind you. You turn to look where his gaze is going. Javier's camera automatically focuses on Kruge standing next to the last pillar, throwing daggers in your direction through his bloody eyes for a moment before disappearing somewhere. You: *turn around with a shade lighter yourself* *the camera is panning over your face now as you look at it* *whispers* Fuck!

Five Minutes Later One of the drones buzzed against the ice that separated the balcony and the bedroom, tapping itself repeatedly on the transparent frost till the door to the room opened. It turned around to record you and Javier rush inside- the latter placing his camera in his bag and packing his stuff. "Okay, relax, relax!" you stressed to the hyperventilating boy. "We need to get out of here," he signed. "Javi, take three deep breaths? Yes? One? Two? Good. Three. Now think about it. As long as we are with Loki, no one will dare harm us. Okay? Not to mention he has allotted us our personal security team." Javier was on the verge of sobbing. "What about when Loki is not around. What will we do then?" "Javi, don't think like that," you nearly fumed at him. "Loki is in the throne room right now. You take the guards with you and go to him and when you find a window let him know what happened, okay?" Javier was still taking deep breaths while sweating through his fur coat. He nodded. "What about you?" "I...have Lulu." You pointed at the floof sleeping with his belly bared and his paws out. "I won't leave the room, don't worry." Once convinced you'll be fine, Javier hurried outside, leaving you in a silence only filled by light snores of your baby. The drone recorded you biting your lip and tying your hair up in a bun. "Okay," you whispered to yourself, "now we wait." It also recorded the sudden change in the shade of one section of the wall opposite to your back. With the focus still on you, the section of the wall appeared to open out, revealing the pitch blackness lit by a pair of red eyes. The next thing you knew, the drone was lying on the floor, its barely working lens recording your muffled screams and boots struggling to find the ground as a pair of blue feet walked past the lens before it went black.

One Hour Later The camera sat on the stone seat, recording the periodic tapping of Javier's foot from outside the frame. Loki still had audience. The Jotuns discussed every aspect of Jotunheim with the king. Loki sat patiently, listening to every word before advising them necessary steps. The majority was satisfied with the King's suggestions. Many were even in awe. There were a few who were dissatisfied no matter what the God mentioned. "Well-" Loki sat straight, addressing the whole court- "this concludes our day then." "Your grace," one giant bowed at the steps, "there are a few more issues that need your kind attention." Loki sighed, his hand resting on the armrest, his fingers running over his lips in thought. Not sure about Loki, but the camera recorded the patient that ran out of Javier. He got up from his seat, immediately catching the God's eye, who was quick to raise his fingers just for the boy to stop taking any further steps towards him.  "You have stalled me enough," the God acknowledged, catching the giant off guard. "Helbindi should know it better than anyone that a coup against me would be a futile attempt." Loki did not budge where he sat, just his finger drumming on the arm rest. "And I am in no mood for a mutiny."

.

The one drone who had been playing with the Jotun kids picked up the damage to a drone in the resting chambers. It buzzed through the halls, trying to pick up your trail, finding corridors and corners to fly through, walking down dark pathways with no windows and steep stairs spiraling deep into the mountains. On its way it found Lulu howling and meowing in a frantic daze, walking down the same path where he found your scent. And it seemed like he found you through the same dark pathway that ultimately reached an opening.  There was nothing but ice all around and in every form. A section of the mountain that opened to the outside with a catch. There were cells cut into this ice for prisoners. Shackles of cold metal rested in every cell. Each of them had metals bars to keep the captives in and an opening in the ice to keep any grain of warmth out. And to add to it all, this entire prison cell rested on a frost chunk hanging at the edge of the mountain. "Stop, please, you cannot do this!" Your voice and footsteps could be heard echoing through this section. The drone buzzed and landed on the wall to record the Kruge stripping you of your fur coat with a maniacal grin on his face. "Hey! HEY!! Give me back my coat!" Kruge stopped you from going for your coat by his hand coming for your throat. His grip made it hard for you to breathe as you struggled to get out of the hold, your nails trying their best to dig into that stubborn cold skin of his. Lulu ran and growled at the giant, scratching at his ankles till the latter kicked him away. "What do you want?" you barely managed to get out of your mouth. "We want Loki out of Jotunheim," he growled in your face, smacking your back in the ice wall behind you before letting go of your throat. You fell down with a thud and a groan, taking in as much air as your windpipe allowed. "Okay," you wheezed, "okay. You let me talk to Loki and I will convince him to leave Jotunheim. I promise. I pinky promise." You even raised your pinky. But Kruge was already closing the bars on you. Lulu ran and jumped through the bars to stop by your side, sniffing and crying, wanting to make sure you were okay. "No no no no," you crawled to the bars, trying to wrap your fingers around them but failing once your skin felt the vicious cold personally, "please don't do this. You have to stop. Now." "You said you know Loki's weakness," a voice boomed from the shadows where you had been dragged from. A very familiar and ominous voice. The drone turned to capture Helbindi stepping into the ice prison with a stature fit for kings. "His essence is lost. It is a secret no more, you quim." You looked at Lulu in confused defeat. "Why does it feel like he called me a whore?" you whispered. Lulu threw his own curses at the giant. "Listen, sir, Mr Helbindi," you began, "you want the throne, right? And I want to get out of here alive. How about I take Loki with me? You get back your kingly rights, I get my friends back and we go our separate ways. Everybody wins!" Helbindi came down on his knees in front of you. A smile rested on those cracked lips of his. His hand went past the bars- to your surprise- and landed on your cheeks. Your gaze kept shifting between his eyes and his hand while your body tried to move away from his hold. But he was one stubborn bastard. "He must have kept you alive for a reason." Helbindi was talking to himself now. His thumb rubbed against your skin, something that was visibly making you uncomfortable. "Ah...he keeps you to satisfy his nightly needs." You pushed yourself away from Helbindi, only to be forced into the bars by his hold around your skull; his chuckle resonating through the prison. "Do not worry my little whore," he whispered right in your ear while his icy breath ran over your skin, "you will be my pet soon. And unlike Loki-" he licked your cheek with his tongue, driving you mad with disgust- "I prefer violence even in my chambers." Your breaths were shallow. A single tear falling from your eyes as you did you best to maintain your features. "You are making a grave mistake," you whispered through your teeth. Lulu tried to claw at Helbindi too but Kruge was already kicking him away, earning a death stare from you. The giant struck his nail in your throat, driving it deep till there was blood. "The only mistake that was made was by you coming into my land. And you all will pay for it." Dropping you back into the snow, Helbindi got up and walked back into the darkness.

.

Loki watched the doors open to let Helbindi in, his gait ever so dominating as he walked past the judgmental eyes of every other giant in the court with his own little battalion following him, carrying weapons of all sorts. "A king with no powers has no right to sit on the throne, Laufeyson," Helbindi roared, ground his staff a few feet away from the stairs to the throne, creating a crack in the ground. "And a Jotun with Asgard in his blood has no right to stay alive in Jotunheim." Weapons were drawn at anyone who was not on Helbindi's side. Javier was already on his feet, running by Loki's side with his camera. Loki still had his mouth covered with his hand, as if in a tired trance. "Everybody out," he commanded ever so smoothly to his audience- who was hesitant at first, but left as soon as the God's eyes pierced through every last one of them. Left alone with his brother's radical followers, he sighed out loud, his fingers still drumming. Javier felt a buzz in his pocket, making him take out the little tablet he used to control his cameras. "Your actions with every passing moment make me more sure of your inability to rule over the subjects, brother mine," the God simply commented. The seriousness on Javier's face was turning into a field of fear. "Oh, I am not asking, brother mine," Helbindi snared at Loki, "I am taking what is mine." "And why would I give you anything you want." "Ask your little plaything," Helbindi smirked. The drumming of those pale fingers stopped. Silence eroded in the throne room. And slowly a shallow panting was audible from the God's side. The camera suddenly lost its balance and fell down on the armrest before toppling on the throne behind Loki, his back still in the frame. Light reflected through Javier's eyes, more precisely through his tears, as he moved the tablet towards Loki. "Stop, please, you cannot do this!" your voice echoed through the tablet, and all the lines on Loki's face disappeared. His body got up from the throne, his eyes still stuck on the device, looking at the aftermath of Helbindi's actions. There was no emotion on the God's face while he witnessed everything recorded on the drone. He did not even budge till the recording finished. Once the screen blacked out, he swerved the tablet for Javier to take back. His gaze was apparently still stuck on the black stones on the floor, his jaw threateningly sharp in whatever light coming from the nearest star. "If you want to see her alive again, go back to your ship before the star drops fro-," "You touched her." His voice was just a decibel higher than a whisper; his shoulders stiff. The silver bracelets were visible on his wrists, more so with the light reflecting from them. His pale fingers now turned into fists. "You hurt her."  Nothing but the resonating crack of a metal reverberated through the hall and everything went black.

.

The drone sat over the bars, recording the visible shivering breaths coming out of you while your skin turned pale, your fingers blue and your hairs were already collecting frost over them, despite moving your legs as close as you possibly could to your body. "P-plea-hease," your voice shuddered, "s-s-stop hi-im. T-there is-s-s st-i-ill time." "Your master is quite possibly begging on his knees by now," Kruge cackled, gulping down the mead and pouring more from the barrel next to him. Lulu was trying his best to keep your warm with his little body, wrapping himself around your neck while whimpering for you. Kruge was about to finish another mug when his ears caught a snicker that slowly turned into a weak laughter. The drone recorded you chuckling through the pain of the blight. "What is so comedic," Kruge snarled at you. "You thought I was telling you to stop for Loki's sake?" you laughed a little more, making the Jotun simmer with building rage. "I was telling you to stop your master before it's too late, you sewage rat's tick." The lens panned in on your features, all those helpless tears replaced by a smirk that could put the devil to shame. "You master thinks I am Loki's weakness." Your eyes glistened with a tint of some hidden darkness inside them in contrast to all the white around you. "Because I made him think that, you buffoon." "He is nothing without his essen-" "Count your peaceful breaths, you son of a bitch," you stressed, never batting your eyelids, "because you are not going to die an easy death today." You smiled turned into a chuckle before your eyes turned heavy and you fell down. The drone- in its last few minutes- went dark, but not before recording Lulu's cried, mewls, howls that slowly turned into a blood curdling roar echoing till the end.

[smaidjor]

and i pay for my place by the ring (Chapter 2)

This chapter took me so fucking long but after much struggle I have completed it!

It was supposed to be 3-4k words. It was exactly 6069 pre-editing according to google docs.

You're welcome.

Chapter Title: with your blessing i will go

Chapter Wordcount: 6073

Content warnings: suicidal thoughts, self-esteem issues, discussion of death, non-graphic injury.

AO3

Chapter 1

i know they're losing (companion fic)

Actual fic under the cut:

The next few weeks are miserable, and if Scott tried to claim anything else, he would absolutely be lying to himself. Not that he doesn’t already do that, but he’s not too proud to admit that not seeing Jimmy is torturous. He knows he can’t, he’s firmly placed Jimmy on the off-limits list, but that doesn’t make the self-imposed rule any easier to follow. There’s still a part of him that wants to go running back to Jimmy’s arms, to beg for forgiveness and pray that Jimmy’s warmth is enough to curb the chill in his bones.

Scott shoves that part of him down firmly. He has no time to hesitate or regret, and he will not spend his days pining and sighing over a human. (Or so he tells himself.) He will be the perfect model of an elven king if that’s what it takes to gain his people’s respect, and he will make his parents proud, not that they’re around to see it. He will . Because Scott may not care about what the Council of Elders thinks of him- he hasn’t for twenty years now- but he does care that the people of Rivendell get a leader who cares for their wellbeing. It’s the least he can do, really.

So he takes on the meetings and the paperwork and the aching, gaping hole in his chest with grim determination, ignoring the way his hands always seem to shake a little and he can never quite get warm. It’s fine. Scott is fine. He’s not going to think about golden smiles or warm brown eyes or the look on Jimmy’s face when Scott told him it was over. He’s fine .

Flipping through the stack of official mail he’s received, Scott’s startled when his hand falls on an elegant cream envelope stamped with the crest of the Ocean Empire. How long has this been here? He hurries to get it open, nearly slicing himself on the letter opener in the process.

Out slides an official invitation in neat cursive.

To High King Scott Dangthatsalongname Smajor, Lord King of the Rivendell Empire,

You are cordially invited to a royal ball to be held at the palace of Ocean Queen Lizzie Ldshadowlady, Queen of the Northern Waves and Reefs, at 8 pm on the fifth of August.

Formal attire is required.

RSVP as soon as possible.

At the bottom of it, there’s a note in slightly more rushed handwriting.

Smajor- elvenking or not, I will not appreciate it if you mess with Jimmy in any way, shape or form. This ball is to be a peaceful affair, and I will not hesitate to intervene should anything occur.

Lizzie

Scott winces. He...can’t say he doesn’t deserve the warning, any more than he can say that it doesn’t hurt to be warned away from his own husband. Ex-husband, he quickly reminds himself, reaching for stationary to pen a response.

Dear Ocean Queen Lizzie Ldshadowlady, Queen of the Northern Waves and Reefs,

He stops, giving it a bit of thought. Would avoiding Jimmy be worth the political consequences of refusing an invitation like this? No, he concedes reluctantly, it wouldn’t. He can always just avoid Jimmy at the ball- Lizzie would probably be happy for it, honestly. She’s been protective over him from the start. Scott puts the pen back to paper.

Luckily, I will be able to attend the ball. It sounds like a wonderful event and I eagerly anticipate it. As for your note, I will avoid antagonizing Jimmy as much as possible. I would hate to sacrifice diplomatic relations between our kingdoms for a petty squabble. Will that be satisfactory?

Sincerely,

High King Scott Dangthatsalongname Smajor

What’s going on between him and Jimmy is far more than a petty squabble, but Lizzie doesn’t need to know that. It’s fine. It’s not like he’s going to run into Jimmy anyways, right?

The day of the ball arrives, and Scott spends far too long choosing an outfit. He’s not vain, not usually, but...Jimmy will be there. You’re not supposed to want to impress him , Scott scolds himself, but that doesn’t stop him from wearing his nicest golden jewelry. The rest of his outfit is far more strategically planned- long skirts to hide how terrible his balance is when he’s near-constantly struggling to get a full breath into his lungs, gloves to keep his dance partners from questioning his cold hands.

The ball is already in full swing by the time he arrives, the trip from Rivendell taking longer than he thought it would. He’s still greeted by the Ocean Queen herself, though, gliding over in her stunning ballgown of blue and green.

“Welcome!” Her smile is bright, warm in a way he almost envies.

Scott dips his head just enough to be respectful but not so much as to truly defer to her. He thinks that’s right, anyways; he hasn’t had to think about that particular part of etiquette lessons in some twenty years. “Thank you, Queen Lizzie. I apologize for my lateness, the trip was a bit harrowing.”

“No problem at all, I just hope you enjoy the ball!” Lizzie’s smile gains a sharper edge. “I appreciated your letter, by the way. Thank you for your promise to keep it civil, King Smajor. Now we just all have to follow through on our words!” She accompanies that bit with a little laugh, but Scott’s not a fool enough to take it as anything but a warning. She doesn’t want trouble at her ball, and who would, really?

“Hopefully we can manage at least that,” he offers wryly, earning another laugh and a bright “Hopefully!”

Scott doesn’t mean to cause trouble at the ball, he really doesn’t. But before he has a chance to even get a look around, Jimmy’s standing in front of him. And oh, this really isn’t how he hoped it’d go.

“Lord Codfather,” Scott greets, swallowing the lump in his throat. Jimmy cleans up nicely- really nicely- but Scott’s eyes keep going to the scar on his throat, the permanent reminder of how fragile and mortal Jimmy really is.

“Elvenking,” Jimmy says. The formality sounds awkward in his bright voice, and Scott wants to kiss the uncertainty right off his face. “Care for a dance?”

He can’t- he should, Scott knows. There would be value to an alliance with Jimmy, and he has no good reason to turn him down. That’s not why he says yes, though. It’s that look in Jimmy’s eyes, the hope poorly disguised by indifference. He’s so optimistic. Scott shouldn't encourage it, but he can’t find it in himself to break that fragile hope just yet.

“I suppose I wouldn’t mind,” Scott says finally. He takes Jimmy’s outstretched hand in his own gloved one; Vilya rests on Jimmy’s finger, still, and it’s a battle to keep the memories of giving Jimmy that ring at bay. He wins that battle, though, letting Jimmy put a hand on his waist as they start into a simple waltz.

Jimmy is a terrible dancer, and Scott knows it. He steps on Scott’s feet, he gets off-rhythm- he’s frankly not made for dancing, much as the way he hums along to the tune is adorable. His hair, which was probably once nicely styled, has already fallen out of place, and his tunic is a little wrinkled. His hands are rough, tough from all the work he does with them, and his face has a tiny bit of mud on it that he must have missed when getting ready. He looks very much like a sweet little swamp boy, out of place in the midst of all the more elegant and powerful rulers.

He’s the most beautiful thing Scott’s ever seen.

Unlike the last time they danced, back in 3rd life where Jimmy leaned on Scott for balance as he tried to learn the complicated steps, this time it’s Scott clinging to Jimmy for stability. He feels bad about how harsh his grip gets, but he can’t afford to show weakness. He has to stay on his feet.

Scott’s silently thankful when the dance ends and he can lead them off the dance floor. He’s exhausted and shaky, and he’s not sure how much longer he can be around Jimmy without breaking down or doing something very stupid.

“Thank you for the dance, Codfather,” Scott says. He takes a step back, banishing the lingering emotion of their dance.

A beat of silence, and then.

“Can we please stop acting like we don’t know each other?” Jimmy demands, earning a ripple of gasps from nearby guests.

“What else do you want from me?” Scott snaps back, anger rising to fill the gap in his chest.

“I- something! Anything! Just acknowledge that I exist, won’t you?”

Scott swallows down the lump in his throat. “Acknowledging you exist doesn’t mean I can still be in love with you, you know.”

“I know,” Jimmy says. He sounds so bitter, so tired. “I know , trust me. I just want you to stop- to stop hurting yourself to try and avoid pain!”

“That’s not what I’m do-”

Jimmy cuts him off, a rare occurrence. “Then what are you doing? Enlighten me, o wise elf! You told me it would destroy you to lose me, but you’re losing me now by pushing me away!”

His chest tightens, and he can barely force the words out. “I’m trying to do what’s best for the both of us, Jimmy.”

“No you’re-”

It’s Scott’s turn to cut him off. “I am an elf, and I cannot love a mortal. Humans are quick flames, burning and changing quickly. You’ll fall in love again, and you’ll forget me.” It hurts, but it’s true. There will be a mortal who loves you- I’m sure there are many already.” Jimmy’s so wonderful, there are bound to be others who see it.

“But I don’t want a mortal,” Jimmy says. It’s almost childish, but his next words still break Scott’s heart. “I want you. ”

“You can’t have me.” Scott is vividly aware of the fact that there are eyes on him, that their little spat has attracted the attention of the rest of the ballroom.

“But why? Why, Scott?” Jimmy’s voice breaks, and the crack in it is damn near enough to make Scott lose his tiny bit of remaining self-control. “You said you loved me, you promised me all the time we’d be able to- to carve out, to steal from the universe.” It sounds like an accusation, and maybe it is. Scott did promise him that, after all, and then he went back on it.

It wasn’t for no reason, though. He needs Jimmy to understand that it was for a reason. “I can’t give you that!” He snaps back, and his hands tremble when they try to form fists by his side. “You’ll live sixty more years, maybe, a fraction of my life, a blink of an eye to an elf, and I can’t even give you that long! Not when I have to be the elvenking before anything else. Nothing I can do will ever be enough for you.” It’s bitter, but it’s true. Scott can’t be enough for anyone, in the end.

“Enough for me? For ME?”Jimmy’s voice rises in outrage. “All I want is for you not to die to your own dumb plan and acknowledge my existence once in a while!”

Scott’s voice rises in response. “And all I want is for you to realize I can’t love you again!”

“Why can’t you care about me?”

“Why can’t you move on?”

“You’re not moving on, you’re just trying to forget!” Jimmy shouts.

Scott falls silent, breathing hard as the ballroom goes quiet around them. He spots Lizzie sweeping through the crowd, coming to a stop next to Jimmy.

“Is everything alright, boys?” She’s smiling, but it’s strained, and her eyes promise death if this quarrel was Scott’s fault.

“My apologies, Ocean Queen,” he says, and he tries to gather his composure as he dips his head to her. “Everything is alright, but I am afraid I will have to leave early.” He doesn’t look at Jimmy.

She smiles again, dangerous this time. “No need to worry, Lord Smajor. Do try to avoid picking fights with my allies, next time, though.”

“It won’t happen again,” he promises, and he only nearly stumbles when he turns to leave.

Distantly, he can hear Jimmy shout after him. “Coward!” The word is harsh, but there’s hurt beneath it. “You’re a coward, Scott!”

Scott stumbles away all the quicker.

He keeps composed all the way out the doors and most of the way down the stairs until he’s sure no one can see him from the ballroom. It’s only then that he breaks into a run, lifting up his stupid skirts so he doesn’t fall. One shoe falls off, a twisted parody of a children’s fairy tale, and he doesn’t bother to retrieve it. The prismarine stabs at his exposed foot, but Scott doesn’t have the energy to care. Instead, he beats his wings, trying to get enough momentum for a good takeoff.

For a few precious moments, he gets off the ground, and then he remembers Jimmy’s face as he left, wingbeats stuttering with the sudden emotion, and tumbles back to the rough prismarine path. It hurts , it does, but it’s nothing on the pain in his chest. Nothing on the words still echoing in his head. Coward! You’re a coward, Scott!

Scott lays there for a moment, half-wondering if anyone’s coming after him. It’s unlikely, he knows, given how badly he messed things up. He tells himself that that’s a good thing, that he doesn’t want anyone to come looking. He doesn’t need them. He should be strong.

Before anyone has time to notice or be concerned, he’s forced himself back to his feet, starting the takeoff sequence all over again.

This time, he gets in the air with little difficulty, though he lists to the side as he favors his right wing, which took the brunt of the fall. It’s fine. He’s fine, he doesn’t need help.

If Scott believed in the elven gods anymore, he would thank them for the fact that he gets back to Rivendell at all. There are tears blurring his vision, and every part of his body aches, his chest most of all. His flight is shaky at best, outright dangerous at worst, crashing into trees and rocks and the ground multiple times. Each time, he barely picks himself back up before mobs arrive. Sometimes, he questions if he should at all. He’s as good as dead anyways. And yet, the tiny stubborn part of him that got him through 3rd life won’t let him just lay down and die. For some reason, even though he’s slept enough recently (he thinks, anyways), there are phantoms on him. They sense when their prey is sleep-deprived, Scott knows, and wonders if he’s just weak enough to seem that way to them.

By the time he crash-lands on the mountainside, it’s pushing two in the morning, and Scott is more dead than alive. Not that he hasn’t been for a while now, he thinks, and laughs aloud to himself, bitter.

The night watch give him strange looks, but both elves on guard duty obligingly dip their heads when he stumbles by. He barely musters the energy to nod back.

Finally he makes it back to his house, slamming his door behind him and burying his face in his hands. This is the right thing to do, why does it hurt so much? He already lost Jimmy once, why does it feel like he’s losing him all over again when he never really got him back in the first place?

Someone coughs lightly, breaking through his thoughts. The voice is familiar when they speak- one of his advisors. “Lord Smajor? Any major events we should know of at the ball?”

Cold. Calm. Scott knows this is the way of the elves- their royalty cannot dare be human. “The Codfather’s our enemy and the Ocean Queen probably hates us too.” He doesn’t bother trying to make himself sound calm and collected, pushing off the wall and stalking towards the stairs.

“What?” The advisor’s voice pitches up in shock. “What did you do?”

“None of your business.”

“You cannot have embarrassed the elven realm at the largest event of the year-”

“It wasn’t like I was fucking trying to,” He snaps.

A gasp. “Language.”

“Fuck off.”

They hurry after him, making to follow him up the stairs. “Lord Smajor-”

Scott turns to face them, taking in the shock and rage painted across their ancient face. “Leave me be.”

“Do not disrespect your elders,” the advisor scolds. “I remember when you were a child, you always were reckless, but this is a new level of disrespect! Why, Xornoth would never-”

“ Enough ,” he hisses. “Do not talk about my sibling.”

They freeze, a bit of genuine fear creeping onto their face. “My lord-”

“Get out of my house,” Scott snarls.

They wisely obey. Scott slumps against the banister as the surge of adrenaline abates, suddenly exhausted. He’s freezing, he realizes, a bone-deep chill that he doesn’t bother to pretend is from his trip home. Scott’s done lying to himself- he’s in pain, and he’s in love, but then again, those equate to roughly the same thing when all’s said and done. You can’t have heartbreak without love or love without heartbreak. (But oh how he wishes he could.)

Scott doesn’t get out of bed the next day, and no one dares try to force him. Varying members of Rivendell’s Council of Elders make a decent shot at trying to convince him, but all it takes is him fixing them with his dead-eyed stare to make them leave. The people of Rivendell are used to their ruler’s odd sleep schedule by now, brushing it off easily, and the empire itself is mostly functional without him. So instead of getting up and dealing with the corruption or making sure Rivendell’s stores are prepared for winter or any of the things he should be doing, Scott lays there in his own misery and thinks about Jimmy screaming that he’s a coward.

He’s right, that’s the worst part. Scott is a coward. He’s scared of Xornoth and the corruption and never, ever being enough, he’s scared of responsibility and his own mind, he’s scared of fading and dying alone, and- most of all- he’s absolutely terrified of how much he loves Jimmy.

His father warned him about fading, once, back before Scott was expected to carry a crown on his brow and the weight of a nation on his shoulders. He bounced Scott on his knee and told him that elven hearts are fragile, too fragile for how strongly they love. “Don’t fall too deep in love, son,” he said, and the words carried the weight of years of grief. “Don’t care too much about any one person, not if you want to live to be a legend of the ages. Doesn’t matter what kind of love it is, love can be lethal.”

Scott didn’t listen, of course- reckless, rebellious Scott, who never once listened to his elders, went and did the most dangerous thing an elf could do. He fell in love with a human.

And now he’s dying. Surely that gives him a pass to wallow in his own misery for a day or two. He’s been brave for so long, can’t he just rest a few moments? Just...just a few. He’ll just lay here a bit longer.

At that moment, the front door creaks open somewhere below him.

“My lord? Can I come up?” Someone calls from below. Their voice is also familiar- Gilnar. Gilnar’s a good captain of the guard. Dutiful, clever, and far more willing to respect him than most of Rivendell’s high ranking elves.

“If you’ve come to convince me to get up, it won’t work,” Scott calls back.

Gilnar’s head peeks over the railing a moment later. “Nope, not here for that. Just thought I’d check in, y’know?” The Sindarin words sound almost musical in their accent, rolling up and down with a unique sort of rhythm.

“Alright.”

“Are you okay, my lord?”

“No.” He’s done lying. “Leave me be.”

Gilnar shakes their head. “Sorry, my lord, can’t do that.”

“If you’re going to tell me my people need me, don’t waste your breath. I know .” Scott’s voice cracks on the last word, just a little.

“Not that either. But with all due respect, seems a little like you’re givin’ up on yourself just a bit, my lord.” They lean against the railing.

“What do you mean by that?”

They cough, a little awkwardly. “The soul-sickness. The fading.”

Scott’s mouth opens and closes, and he sputters. “How-”

“Trainin’ with the royal guard a few weeks back, your hands were freezin’ and your balance was off. You haven’t gotten up at a reasonable hour in weeks, and, well, with all due respect- I know what heartbreak looks like.”

He’s silent for a moment, utterly floored. “What do you mean by giving up?”

“Well, Lauriel and I were talkin’, and….your love’s still alive, isn’t he? The Codfather?”

“How did you-”

Gilnar flashes him a tiny grin. “He’s not subtle, and neither are you. Plus, he has Vilya.”

Deciding to shove that to the back of his mind for now, Scott sighs. “He’s a mortal, Gilnar. I’m not giving up anything that I won’t already lose in sixty years or so.”

“Luthien loved Beren, didn’t she?”

“I am not Luthien. I cannot sing so well that the gods grant me pardon.”

“And Idril loved Tuor.”

“I am not Idril. I cannot bring Jimmy to the Undying Lands.”

“Arwen still loved Aragorn.”

“I am not Arwen. I do not have the choice to give up my immortal life.”

Gilnar’s smile turns sad. “Caranthir still loved Haleth. And Celebrimbor loved Narvi just the same, didn’t he? The doomed love all the more fiercely, my lord.”

“The rest of the elves won’t be happy with me,” Scott points out.

“You think Thingol and Turgon and Elrond were happy when their daughters loved mortals? You think Luthien’s people didn’t scorn Beren at first?”

Scott doesn’t have any retort to that, and Gilnar hops up from their seat on the banister. “Well, I need to get back to my duties, my lord. Good luck with your swamp boy!”

They’re gone as soon as they arrive, and Scott stares up at the ceiling, his thoughts dragging him along a spiral of emotion.

“Coward! You’re a coward, Scott!”

Scott is a coward. He’s a liar and a coward. Nothing he does will ever be right.

“Don’t fall too deep in love, son.”

Scott did, though. Like the idiot he is, he fell in love with someone the universe didn’t want him to have.

“Caranthir still loved Haleth.”

He did. And he paid for it. Does it matter? Scott thinks that losing Jimmy might be a price worth paying for the joy of loving him.

“You cannot have embarrassed the elven realm at the largest event of the year-”

Scott didn’t mean to, but he still messed up and shouted at Jimmy. He’s a failure. Jimmy could do better. He deserves better.

“I don’t want a mortal. I want you .”

Jimmy’s so stupid. Stupid Codfather with his stupid bright eyes and stupid, stupid insistence on not giving up on someone he should never have loved to begin with. Scott loves him so much more than he could ever put into words.

“With all due respect, seems a little like you’re givin’ up on yourself just a bit, my lord.”

Jimmy deserves an apology. Scott won’t give up.

(Not on Jimmy, anyways.)

It takes him nearly a month of furious work to make the precious mithril bracelet, refining it over and over again. He picks the flowers and their meanings carefully- love, hope, protection- and the crystals too. Amethysts for protection, carefully traded for filled with any bit of magic he can spare for them. The lettering carved into the underside is yet another layer of blessings and meaning; he does it in Quenya, the Tengwar script, which Scott knows Jimmy can’t read. He has to look up how to write in it after so many years of never so much as looking at elven script, pouring over old books by candlelight. By day, he rules an empire, relying on the rush of adrenaline and motivation to carry him through even on the days when he’s swaying on his feet by the end. By night, he works on a courtship project like none he’s made before until at last, at nearly three in the morning one night, it’s finished.

It’s not the most beautiful it could have been. Scott isn’t one of the great Noldor smiths of old, he’s just an elf in love. His hands are perpetually shaky nowadays, and he has limited time to work on it between every other responsibility in his life. But every centimeter of it is handmade with all the care he could muster, and that has to count for something.

Scott hardly wants to wait to give it to Jimmy, but he forces himself to try and wait for morning. His anxiety doesn’t let him sleep much, exhausted as he is, but he curls up under the covers and stares at the bracelet on his nightstand. He doesn’t want to take his eyes off it, half-convinced it will vanish if he does. Eventually, his eyes slide shut of their own will, carrying him into an uneasy sleep.

He wakes up long after the sun's risen, staggering out of bed and throwing on a cloak for the journey to Jimmy’s. The cold that he’s been banishing with the warmth of a forge has returned tenfold, and he’s shivering despite elves normally being resistant to chills. When he takes a glance at himself in the mirror, he finds that his hair is out of place, there’s a streak of ink across his cheek, and the dark circles under his eyes look like bruises. He looks a mess, and he doesn’t care. Jimmy is all that matters now.

The journey’s both long and rough, and his landing in the swamp is more like a frantic swan dive out of the sky. Luckily, though, the ground is soft here, and Scott’s able to pick himself up and hurry for Jimmy’s house, ignoring the stares of a few Codland citizens. He knocks, heart in his throat as he waits for the door to open.

The hinges squeak, and suddenly Jimmy’s standing there, a mix of emotions that Scott doesn’t even want to try and comprehend scattered across his face. He looks a little sleepy despite the fact that it must be near noon, and so very sweet with his hair falling in his face. The sight of him knocks the air right out of Scott’s lungs, and he has to struggle to remember why he’s here again for a long moment as they stare at each other.

“Hi,” Scott says weakly.

“Scott? What- why are you here?” Jimmy sounds outraged, and Scott can’t blame him.

Scott swallows hard. “I came to apologize.” His tired brain scrambles for words, something, anything to convey how truly sorry he is. “I was scared- I am scared. I’m terrified to lose you again. But I shouldn’t have pushed you away and hurt you.”

“No, you shouldn’t have!” Jimmy snaps.

“I know.” God, he didn’t expect it to hurt this much to hear the rage in Jimmy’s voice. “I- uh- fuck.” Scott fumbles to get the box he put the bracelet in, holding it out. “I brought a gift as an apology.”

Jimmy’s silent for a long moment, examining the bracelet. Scott barely dares breathe as he turns it over and over in his hands, tracing the flower designs with his fingertips. “Did you make this yourself?”

“Mhm. I did my best, but it’s not as nice as I’d like.” And, well, isn’t that just the story of his life?

“It’s pretty,” Jimmy says. He sounds genuine.

Scott lets out a breath, letting some of the tension go. “It’s spelled, too. Protection, good fortune, that sort of thing.”

“Do the flowers mean something?”

“They do.”

Jimmy doesn’t press for details.

“I-” Scott starts, and then pauses. What does he say? An apology would be a start, maybe. “I’m sorry, Jimmy, I really am. I won’t ask you to forgive me, but I needed to apologize before my time ran out.” It’s the truth, as wholly as he can bear to give it.

“Is it that- that dire?” Jimmy’s voice shakes a little, and Scott gives a tiny nod.

“This is what I chose to do with it. Making that, coming here. You deserved an apology.”

Jimmy goes quiet again. His eyes are still on the bracelet, and Scott can hardly breathe again.

Finally, he can’t take the tension. “It wouldn’t be fair of me to ask you to love me. I can’t promise you eternity. I can’t promise you happiness. I can’t promise you that I won’t have to be the elvenking first and a husband second. But I am still yours-” he’s always been, really- “if you’ll have me.”

The silence that falls after that is even more stifling than the previous two. Scott doesn’t expect Jimmy to want him back- far from it. He’s putting his heart in Jimmy’s hands, but he doesn’t expect anything other than it shattering on the floor. Maybe Jimmy will be kind enough to let him down gently, but Scott’s fragile enough that it would only take a tiny nudge to break him. And yet he can’t stop the tiny bit of hope that blooms, though it dwindles minute by minute as Jimmy stares and stares. Finally, he opens his mouth to make his apologies again and leave to his frozen, icy empire-

And then there are hands in his hair and lips on his, warm and sudden and bold. Scott gives a little startled gasp, which is swallowed up by Jimmy’s kiss. Their noses knock together and Jimmy’s teeth click against his just a little in their haste, but Scott’s far too overwhelmed by the sudden rush of warmth to care.

When Jimmy finally pulls away, Scott’s left breathless, cheeks warm in a way no part of him has been since Jimmy died in 3rd life.

He barely pulls himself together enough to manage a wry little “So, I’ll take that as you want to stay married?”

“Of course I do! You absolute idiot!”

Jimmy sounds so startled and offended at the idea that he wouldn’t , Scott’s not sure whether to laugh or cry. “Just checking.”

Jimmy kisses him again in response, and who’s Scott to protest? No, he’s more than happy to let Jimmy pull him close and kiss away the lingering sorrow. When Jimmy pulls away this time, he’s left dizzy, half caught up in the euphoria of being loved, half terrified that this is only a cruel dream.

By the time Scott collects himself again, Jimmy’s holding out the bracelet to him. “Can you help me put this on?”

Scott can only nod, fumbling with the clasp a little. It’s not complicated, but his hands aren’t steady, and it takes him a moment to get it. Jimmy grabs his hands when he lets go, and he’s so warm that Scott can’t muster the energy to even question why.

“Come in and catch up with me?” Jimmy offers.

Scott nods again, and he can’t bear to let go of Jimmy’s hand when Jimmy turns to go inside.

They talk a lot, Jimmy more than Scott. Scott learns that Jimmy’s been picked on by other rulers (no surprise, but his blood still boils at the thought), and he shares minimal details about what he’s been up to. Jimmy doesn’t need to hear about Scott’s issues, he’s already dealing with enough.

Eventually, though, the sun is starting to set.

“I need to get home,” Scott says, though he has to force himself to. “You need sleep, not to stay up all night talking.” He goes to get up, and Jimmy immediately lunges, catching his sleeve.

“Don’t go! Please.” Jimmy sounds almost afraid, which instantly sets off alarm bells.

“Jimmy, darling, we both need to sleep,” Scott tells him, very patiently.

“We can sleep! I just….nevermind.”

Now the alarm bells are really going off in Scott’s head. He knows when his husband is hiding something serious, and Jimmy’s frantic tone isn’t helping his worry. “No, no. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Jimmy claims.

Scott frowns at him lightly. “ Jimmy .”

That’s all it takes. “I don’t want to be alone!” Jimmy blurts. He’s blushing a little. “It’s just, I’ve been alone for a long time, and there’s this demon thing that keeps showing up, and I’ve only just got you back, I’m not ready to let you go, and-”

Oh, Jimmy . Scott holds up a hand in a ‘stop’ gesture. “Hold on. What was that about a demon?”

“There’s this demon creature that I keep seeing, and it’s really messing with me. It sounds like you, sometimes, but all distorted, and I can’t handle it! You know me, I’m not brave or smart or anything, I’m just Jimmy!” Jimmy’s voice pitches up with distress, and Scott’s heart aches for him.

“Alright,” he says, as gently as he can manage. “How about you come to Rivendell for the night, then? I can protect us both easier there.” More like, Aeor can protect them. Scott’s useless, even with Vilya.

Jimmy nods and takes Scott’s hand with a tiny little “Thank you.”

“Always,” Scott murmurs. It comes out softer than he means it to, though it’s the truth. He’ll always do whatever he can to protect Jimmy, which is why he asks “Do you still have the ring I gave you?”

“I do, I just… give me a moment to remember where I put it.”

“Good. It’s important.” Vilya is one of the most important parts of his heritage, actually, and his advisors would pitch a fit if they knew he had given it to a mortal. For once, he can’t bring himself to care what his advisors would think, though. Jimmy is important, more important than any piece of jewelry.

Jimmy follows Scott to Rivendell, and Scott can’t resist a proud smile when Jimmy praises the buildings. He takes Jimmy inside, lets him curl up under the warm covers, his head tucked against Scott’s chest, and it’s only once Jimmy’s asleep that Scott lets himself break. He’s so tired , so utterly exhausted from being brave for so long. Even now that his husband is curled up next to him, warm and solid and real, he can hardly believe that Jimmy actually wanted him back- wanted him at all, really. Scott doesn’t want to move for fear of waking up Jimmy, but luckily for him, he’s good at crying silently. That’s what he does, tears slipping down his face to wet the pillow below. Only the faintest whimper escapes his lips, a tiny broken noise that he’s embarrassed of even in this emotional state. And when another slips out, he buries his face in Jimmy’s hair and forces himself back into silence. He’s not going to cry over the best thing that’s ever happened to him, he isn’t , but he’s just so tired of being alone that being with someone else is almost painful in contrast; he’s so cold that the slightest touch of warmth feels burning.

Jimmy shifts in his sleep, mumbling something that sounds vaguely affectionate and pulling Scott closer, and Scott nearly chokes from the effort of restraining a sob. Gods, Jimmy . He could die like this, tucked in his husband’s arms, and he doesn’t think he’d regret it.

“I love you,” he whispers into the night. It comes out choked. “I love you so much. I’m so sorry, Jimmy, I’m so sorry.”

Jimmy mumbles something that sounds a lot like “I love you too”, and that’s what really breaks Scott. It’s a miracle Jimmy doesn’t wake up, really, with Scott’s quiet sobs shaking the mattress. He cries until he’s all out of tears, as silently as he can manage, and only then does he slip into a sound sleep.

[avversiera-writes]

touch your heart [senju tobirama/you] - chapter 6

Summary: Hashirama might go down as the worst matchmaker in history, but he thinks he might be on to something. Tobirama sees through his brother's schemes and is determined not to fall for it. Or fall for you.

Word Count: about 4k

AO3 LINK TO TOUCH YOUR HEART

AOR SERIES LINK TO ‘TIL DEATH DO US PART

[<<<CHAPTER ONE] [CHAPTER TWO] [CHAPTER THREE] [CHAPTER FOUR] [CHAPTER FIVE]

After the fiasco the other day with you, Tobirama tries his best to avoid you, despite the fact that his brother invited you to their home for dinner tomorrow. It’s not that he hates you or anything, it’s just that his mind is currently preoccupied with a new jutsu idea that he has been working on non-stop. He knows how impossible he can get when he is busy like this, and the more he spirals, the more he becomes reclusive and irate. He is aware of this and he does not want you to see this side of him. 

 Honestly, he does not want to give you any more edge to see through him. 

 He also does not want to hear you ask him if he’s okay. 

 He’s okay, damn it. This happens every now and then. 

 It will pass. 

Yes, he still thinks that you may be up to something, but at the end of the day, you are a person and he knows that you do not deserve this from him. 

 He tries to get through work as quickly and as efficiently as possible, and he exercises his patience more than usual because he knows decency .

 He notices the little things about you, like the bags under your eyes and the sharp lines of your cheekbones. You look more gaunt these days, and your worn-out clothes look larger than you. Speaking of your clothes, he figures out that you have at least five articles of clothing, and your sandals look like they are about to fall apart in your next step. However, he notices most of all that your weapons are some of the highest quality of weapons he has ever seen. 

 The way you wield them is also one of the best swordsmanship he has ever encountered, maybe, maybe , even second to him, but that is kind of overestimating you because he does not know your limits. You hold it specifically, with a very practiced and calm air, each arc and swing you make is calculated and dangerous. Your footwork is superb, and your instincts are great, as if you have spent all your life hunting and thinking on your feet. Despite not having any special chakra, he is secretly impressed with the abilities you have shown him. 

 You are also a good teacher, something he will not admit, and the only improvement he can suggest later on (when he is of sound mind) is that you can tone down your sarcasm because sometimes, kids are impressionable and they cannot read that clearly. 

 Another thing that bugs him is your relationship with Madara. 

 For all of his life, he has never pegged Madara to take someone under his wing, especially when that someone is a stranger and could possibly be a dangerous person. What did you do to make Madara take you in like you are one of his own? What did Madara do to make you so grateful to him that you follow him everywhere? Are you two planning something? 

 Those are some questions that he racks his brain over when he has the time, and he can keep asking himself and keep knocking that wall but he never gets anywhere. It’s not like he would willingly interrogate Madara over that too, though that is something he may have no choice but to do later on. 

Tobirama sighs, and he glances at you. 

He also finds that you are a very determined person, and he delights seeing that his teaching is working. Not that he would admit to that, either. No, he does not hate you, he finally decides that, but you make him face so many things that he’d rather not think about. 

 He thinks about the irony in that. Here he is, designing the rules that the shinobi should follow about setting your emotions aside for the mission, but he is falling a little short trying to stick to his rules. Aside from feeling disdain towards you, he thinks–and his mind has never failed him because for all the gods’ sake he is logical –that you are a pretty good person. 

He hears you leave quietly, and when you are gone, he lets out a breath he has been holding. 

 He just needs to be more patient, and this will all be finished. It won’t be long until he does not have to deal with you anymore. 

He tries to ignore a sinking feeling in his chest with that thought. 

//

You make it halfway through the river when your chakra flow gives up on you and you sink underneath the water again. 

 You stay under until you can no longer hold your breath, and you break through the surface with a gasp. You ride with the current until you notice your body getting more tired and heavy, so you make a break towards the bank and haul yourself up. 

 You think that was some good progress. 

You shiver from the cold, but you are also too tired to move and even make it home. You crawl towards your things and grab your coat and wrap yourself with it. You lean your back on a tree and you stare at the open scroll in front of you. Under the moonlight, you stare at the silhouette of Tobirama’s handwriting on the side of the paper. Compared to his older handwriting, his recent ones look deranged, like he has been writing quickly without looking where he is writing. You do not want to ask him to clarify what he wrote because he may think that you are making fun of him again. 

 You shake your head and you stare towards the river, listening to the sound of its flow. It lulls you to sleep, your thoughts going to Tobirama and your tiny discoveries about him, and for once, you have a dreamless sleep. The most peaceful one yet. 

//

When you come to, a face appears in your blurry vision. 

 You start and you hit your head at the bark of the tree. At the same time, your hand grabs at your wakizashi. 

Your vision clears and you see Tobirama staring at you curiously. 

“What is wrong with you?” You snap, and you rub the sleep off of your eyes. 

 Tobirama blinks, and he peers at you closer with wonder. 

You lean away from him. “Okay?” You frown in confusion and you study him. 

Tobirama is way too calm, and his eyes are relaxed. There is no malice in his gaze, and there are no wrinkles on his forehead. Is he drunk? 

You unsheath your blade, thinking that maybe, just maybe , this is a test of sorts. This is some clone of his and he is spying on you. You know that he is on to you, despite keeping a pretty clean record in Konoha so far. 

Tobirama’s eyes widen at the blade and he grabs your wrist and throws you to the side. 

You yelp, and you accidentally let go of your blade. You glare at Tobirama and you charge at him and tackle him to the ground. 

 Tobirama fights back, but there is a look of confusion and wariness on his face. You flatten him to the ground and pin him down, but he is a lot stronger than you and he manages to flip you over on your back. He presses his big, callused hands on your wrists, pinning them to the sides of your head. 

“Who are you?” Tobirama demands. 

 You stare at him in confusion. “What?!” 

 Tobirama’s eyes darken, and you sense that he really does not know you . What is going on? Is this a dream? 

You clash your head to his face, hitting his nose, and this is enough for you to bring your knees up and shake Tobirama’s weight off of you. You straddle him again, and this time, you reach for a knife strapped to your leg and point it towards his neck. 

“How dare you?” You drawl. 

 Tobirama’s eyes narrow. “Where am I?” 

 “Stop playing around,” you lean forward to press your arm against his neck, the tip of your knife pointing to his side, where his artery is located. 

“You attacked me first,” Tobirama says. 

 “Why are you acting like this?” You yell. 

Tobirama frowns in confusion. “I do not know,” he says in a daze. “Do I know you?” 

“Tobirama,” you utter under your breath, and dread washes over you. 

 “Is that my name?” 

You release your hold on him and you help him up. “Yes. You are Senju Tobirama. Are you fucking drunk?” 

 Tobirama tilts his head with curiosity. “Do you normally talk like that?” 

 You roll your eyes. “Haha, very funny. You got me. This is the best prank of the year, now stop.” 

 “I’m not kidding,” Tobirama frowns, and he seems upset. 

You stare at him with disbelief. You massage your forehead and you look to the ground. 

 “May I know where I am?” 

 “What? Shouldn’t you know? You founded this village!” 

 Tobirama frowns. “I did?” 

 You scowl. It is too early for this. “Yes. You and your elder brother, Senju Hashirama.”

 Tobirama nods, seeming to analyze this information. 

 “Do you know what today is?” You ask. 

 “Today?”

 “Today is Friday.” 

 “I see.” 

 You step closer to him, meaning to examine his head for any injuries, but Tobirama throws a punch towards you and you block it and grab his arm, then you aim a kick to his cheek to throw him down. 

“Why are you attacking me?” You shout, and you step on Tobirama’s chest. 

 “You were going to attack me again!” 

 “I was going to check if you have any injuries to the head, you bastard!” 

Tobirama stops fighting you and he sits up. “Well, now I will, because of you,” he taunts sarcastically. 

You huff in annoyance. “Damn it, you make my life harder.” 

 Tobirama raises a questioning eyebrow. "Really?" 

 You roll your eyes. "Whatever this is, I'd rather we find the solution as soon as possible." 

 Tobirama nods, his expression inquisitive. "It seems that I may be suffering from some kind of memory loss. A normal person wouldn't forget their name easily right?" 

You stare at Tobirama and sigh. "You aren't exactly the most normal person," you murmur. 

Tobirama peers at you. "Do we know each other?" 

 You roll your eyes, but then an idea pops into your head. "So you really do not know me?" 

 Tobirama puts his hand under his chin, thinking. "Naturally, I am starting to think that we are enemies."

 You guffaw. "How come?" 

 "Your first reaction towards me is to stab me." 

 " You were staring at me while sleeping, anyone would be surprised."

 "Your instinct tells you to stab someone when they look at you?" 

 You hum. "Sometimes. You do what you have to do to live." 

Tobirama stares at you, this time with an openness you have never seen him show. "You've had it hard, haven't you?" 

 You stare back at him, realizing that something must have really happened to this man. He has no memory, and there is a curious youthfulness in his demeanor. It's like he's free from all what plagues him as the Hokage's younger brother, as the smartest and most innovative mind of this generation. 

 You figure telling him a little more about yourself wouldn't hurt. 

You approach him and run your fingers on the sides and on the back of his head, searching for any bumps, bleeding, or cracks of any kind. 

 "Yeah, I kind of did. I came from a family who quitted being shinobi because of war, and as a result, I had to run from them…" 

 "Why?" Tobirama asks this question without his usual roughness and judging tone. 

 You smile bitterly. "Because in my family,  to keep women and children out of war, you either have to die or you die trying to run from them."

Tobirama grows silent. You find no injury to his head. 

 "I am sorry," Tobirama finally says. 

 You shrug, a little amused that it takes Tobirama's memories getting erased to make him apologize to you. 

"Never heard that before," you joke. 

 Tobirama frowns. 

"Okay, well, let's wander around and search for anything to get clues on how you ended up this way."

 Tobirama nods and he follows you as you begin to walk around aimlessly. You search for any disturbance on the ground to trace where Tobirama has walked, and finally, you find it, snapped sticks, smashed leaves and vague lines of a footprint. 

"Tobirama, you're either the worst drunk in history, or someone got you good." 

Tobirama looks around, and he looks to the branches above him. 

 "Which I find impossible since you claim to be the strongest shinobi, second to your brother of course."

 "I sound like a pompous jerk, is what you're saying." 

 "Hey, you're own words, not mine!" 

Tobirama smirks. "So tell me more about myself, it may ring a bell." 

 You ponder this. While it is fun to lead him on the wrong way, it is also dangerous. If he has been wandering around in this state, he is lucky if he has not run into anyone who would want to kill him. 

 "Stay close," you tell Tobirama. 

You find Tobirama’s things in the same path, and you bend down to examine them. There are no signs that he struggled, in fact, his things are neatly arranged like he had planned for this. 

You frown and you open his knapsack to go through it. You find his notes, hoping that he keeps some kind of record of his days. You skim through them, and then, his handwriting increasingly gets messier. 

 You take a deep breath, hoping that it is not as bad as you are thinking. 

 You read through his research notes, and while some of the information on it is advanced, you can now understand it due to the books Tobirama has made you read. You skim through it faster, realizing that Tobirama is in the process of creating a jutsu: he aims to make a jutsu that can wipe out memories. Your heart sinks as you read his last thought on paper.

  Since there are no immediate test subjects, I will have to test this on myself and hope that Elder Brother will notice my absence. If it works, that is.

"Oh, it worked well alright," you mutter tersely. 

Your head snaps up and you realize that Tobirama is not near you.

 "That bastard," you swear.

 You jump to your feet and you search for his familiar white head, when you notice him a few feet away, crouching down near a bush. 

 "What are you doing?" You ask as you step near him. 

 "Watching a snake eat a frog," Tobirama deadpans. "It’s something else." 

You watch Tobirama for a few more seconds, and then you walk over to grab his arm. “Come on, we have to go see your brother.” 

 “Ah, to find more information, I reckon?” 

 You purse your lips. “That, and to fix what you did to yourself.”

 Tobirama watches you curiously. “What do you mean?” 

“Are you insane?” You cannot help but scold him. “Why would you erase your own memories?” 

 Tobirama raises an eyebrow at you. You press his notes to his chest and he brings a hand up to get them. He flips through them, his eyes lighting up in delight. He nods in amazement as his eyes move right to left to read his own handwriting. 

“I seem to have a gift for experimentation.” 

 “You think?” 

 “According to myself, this is important work.” 

 “What?” You snap scathingly. “What part of important work is putting yourself in danger?” 

 He leans forward until he is only a breath apart from you. “If I did not know any better, I would think you care about me.” 

You look down to his nose to avoid his gaze. 

"What are we? Is there something between us?" Tobirama asks, genuinely curious. He raises an eyebrow, and he looks almost smug. 

 You cannot stand this Tobirama and even though you are going to regret it, you miss the grumpy one. 

 "Are you mad? You hate me," you snap. 

 Tobirama gives you a scowl. "If you claim that I hate you, then why were you the first person to be near me? I don't seem like the kind of person to just let anyone accompany me." He crosses his arms. "Even a blind person can see through your lies." 

 "Because you're mad, that's why." Your heart climbs up to your throat, making it hard to swallow.

 Tobirama starts to walk away, but he is heading in the wrong direction. 

 You follow him, and try to tug him the other way, but Tobirama is stubborn and he is curious about every little thing. You need to get Tobirama to his brother as soon as possible, or the two of you may run into trouble. 

“Okay, hey,” you start. “I promise that you’ll get more information if we just go back to your brother.” 

 Tobirama narrows his eyes distrustfully. “Nice try.”

 “I am not lying,” you hissed. You step in front of him to halt his steps, and you put your hands on his shoulders. “Use your chakra to check.” 

Tobirama glances down at you, and he tilts his head, thinking. Then he takes a deep breath. 

 “You can trust me,” you promise him. 

 Tobirama frowns, but you see that he believes you.

 “Let’s go, please,” you plead with him. 

//

Hashirama is not surprised that his brother decided to pull something like this. He had his brother sit on a chair and you watch as Hashirama puts his hands on the sides of Tobirama’s head and he begins to fix whatever Tobirama did to himself. 

 “When he was just a little boy, Tobirama was naturally like this, curious, a little rude, but he’s quiet most of the time,” Hashirama murmurs. 

 You smile at the thought of a young Tobirama, spending hours poring over a book and going on adventures to make discoveries about nature. 

 It takes a while, and when Tobirama has come to, Hashirama wastes no time to scold his brother. 

 The two are yelling in Hashirama’s office, and you try to make yourself invisible by making sure you do not make any sudden movements or noise. You slowly inch towards the door, but Tobirama’s eyes land on you and you freeze. 

“What is she doing here?” Tobirama snaps. “This is none of her business!” 

 Hashirama takes a deep breath, and he glares at his brother. “Stop treating her like that, Tobirama. If it wasn’t for her, you would have probably killed yourself in some way.” 

Tobirama scoffs, rolls his eyes and crosses his arms across his chest. “Oh, please.” 

 “I am going to leave now,” you tell them. 

 “No, stay,” Hashirama commands. 

 “Lord Hashirama,” you protest.

 “Elder brother,” Tobirama says at the same time. 

Tobirama narrows his eyes at you, the man you have met earlier gone. “She is not needed here.” 

 You roll your eyes. “Lord Hashirama, I really do not want to cause any more trouble.” 

There is a minuscule change in Tobirama’s expression, but luckily for you, you are able to catch it. It looks like a hint of embarrassment. Even though he is glaring at you, he can’t quite meet your eyes. 

“Yeah, you’ve done enough,” Tobirama starts. 

 Your mouth slightly drops open in shock. “Excuse me? Who was the one staring at me while I was sleeping like some creep?” 

 “You tried to stab me!” 

 “I was half-awake!” 

 “Yeah? Well it seems like your senses are not sharp enough to recognize me!” 

 “Who got themself in this mess anyways?”

 “My memory was wiped!” 

 “Because you’re insane!” You shout. “Who in their right mind would do that to themself?” 

 “It was for science and for the shinobi world!”

 “What a misguided argument.” 

 Tobirama opens his mouth, his eyes purely made from fire. 

“Enough! Sit,” Hashirama commands, no longer entertaining the two of them. “You on the other side, and Tobirama on the other.”

 “Elder brother, we are not children,” Tobirama says tersely, but he is currently moving towards his designated seat. 

 “Oh yeah?” Hashirama challenges. “Then quit acting like one, especially you, Tobirama.” 

You stifle a snicker as you lower yourself in your seat. 

Tobirama’s jaw sharpens, and his neck is starting to grow pink. Of all people to witness him getting scolded by his brother, it has to be you. Just his luck. 

 “No talking,” Hashirama says firmly and passes the two of you a stack of documents to read through. “And we leave together for dinner.” 

Tobirama’s expression withers, and reluctantly opens the document to start. 

 You catch Hashirama’s apologetic look towards you and you shrug, not really taking this personally. You find it hilarious that Tobirama truly acts like a little brother. You have never seen him more triggered and animated except with his elder brother. 

Another day means another interesting adventure with Tobirama. 

 You are not one to complain. 

  //

Tobirama’s face is stormy during the walk all the way to Hashirama’s household. There is a pout on his lips that would not go away and his glare is so severe that it wards off anyone who tries to greet them nicely. 

 Essentially, the walk was pretty peaceful, thanks to him. 

 You also stay quiet, your mind wandering to today’s events. 

 The only one talking your ears off is Hashirama, and you vaguely remember him bragging about his sons. 

Tobirama does not say anything to interrupt his brother, and as he hears more about his nephews, his face begins to soften and you observe this and try not to make it obvious that you are studying him. Hashirama notices this and gives you a funny look, but he does not comment on it and instead continues to chat, and tries his best to include the two of you in his one-sided conversation. 

 When you arrive into Hashirama’s house, you are immediately greeted with warm light and five boys screaming and hurtling towards their father and uncle. Tobirama picks up the youngest one without fuss who is barely able to keep up with his older brothers, who are tackling their father with their best. The eldest greets his father and uncle calmly but cheerfully, and he leads the chaos towards the kitchen. 

 You begin to grow shy as the boys peer at you curiously, and you give them a small wave. 

One of them gasps. “Is this uncle’s girlfriend?!” 

 You start, and Tobirama almost trips in on himself and almost drops his baby nephew. He looks to be around four years old. 

Hashirama cackles, the sound booming throughout the house. 

“Is she? Uncle always tells us about you!” 

 “No, I do not,” Tobirama cuts in. 

 You chuckle nervously. “No, I am not his girlfriend.” 

 His nephews let out a few sounds of disappointment. 

 “But she’s so pretty!” 

You blush and you pat the boy who gave you the compliment on the head. “Thank you, I am glad you think so. Your uncle, however, begs to differ.” 

 Another gasps at this. “He’s blind!” 

 “He says you’re annoying,” the youngest in Tobirama’s arms says, and he lays his head on Tobirama’s shoulder. He seems mellow and paler compared to his energetic brothers. 

 “Ah, so he complains about me, not talks about me,” you joke. 

Hashirama chuckles as he pushes his sons forward to keep them from crowding the hallway. 

 Tobirama puts a hand on his nephew’s forehead and he frowns. He whispers something to him, but his nephew shakes his head. It does not alleviate the frown on Tobirama’s face though. 

“Ah, here we are,” Hashirama announces. “Someone tell your mother that we are here.” 

 “I got it,” the eldest says and he disappears out in the hallway. 

With no room to sit except beside you, Tobirama sits his nephew next to you, and then sits beside him. 

The two of you stay quiet, barely exchanging any words with each other. Tobirama passes you a glass of water in silence, while Hashirama and his sons fill in the silence. 

 After a few minutes of waiting, Mito arrives and she is followed by her son and her maids, all carrying food in their trays and vases for drinks. Mito sits beside her husband and greets you, and you greet her back with your best polite voice. 

 Tobirama has told you once that you sound sarcastic even though you are being friendly. 

“How was Lady Anzu?” Mito directs the question to Tobirama, who glances towards you. “I received complaints that you left her behind in the street the other day in favor of another girl, who you apparently pushed down to the ground. I know you are a busy man, but please be courteous next time, Tobirama, I can only try to match you with so few ladies in Konoha and in the nearby lands. Try not to forget etiquette and send her a letter of apology.” 

 Tobirama gulps, and you give him a side-glance. 

 “I will,” Tobirama promises. 

You try not to cover your face from shame. 

An argument breaks out between Hashirama’s sons, but it is admonished through one strict look from their mother. 

 “We have a visitor, please behave accordingly,” Mito says. Her children obey her, and she directs her gaze towards you. “I hope that working with Tobirama has been fruitful.” 

 You nod. “It has, my lady.” 

 Mito gives you a funny look. “Mito is fine.” 

Everyone directs their gaze to Hashirama, and he starts dinner as the head of the family. He takes the first bite, and then signals for everyone to also take their fill. 

You help Tobirama’s nephew beside you, quietly handing him his utensils and wiping his mouth when he gets messy. 

 You notice Tobirama’s gaze on you, but you ignore it, just in case you accidentally meet his eyes and the events with Lady Anzu are revealed through your shared experience with him. 

The boy sneezes beside you and you chuckle lightly, immediately putting a napkin to his nose so that he can blow his nose. 

“Your sons are adorable, Lord Hashirama,” you comment. 

 Hashirama chuckles, his face lighting with pride. “Of course!” 

Tobirama’s nephew begins to lean on you after a while, and you notice that he is getting sleepy. You pat his head, and you frown as you notice that he is very feverish. 

“Hey, is he okay?” You whisper to Tobirama, not wanting to alarm his parents. 

 “He says he’s not feeling too well,” Tobirama replies, taking notice of the way the boy is leaning towards you. “I will get him settled in bed, then.” 

You surround your arm around the kid to help him towards Tobirama, and you also touch his hand, finding it cold. 

“Is something wrong?” Hashirama asks. 

 “He seems to have a fever,” Tobirama tries to take the boy into his arms, but a cry escapes his lips. 

“Shh, it’s okay,” Tobirama soothes the boy. “I got him.” 

Hashirama nods worriedly. 

“I will have to go then, I wouldn’t want to extend my welcome,” you say. 

 Hashirama and Mito thank you for eating with them, and you get up with Tobirama and follow him out of the kitchen and into the hallway.

 “You need help with him?” You offer, feeling like you should help Tobirama a little bit. You follow your instinct. 

Tobirama looks at you doubtfully. “Fine.” 

You walk behind him as he leads you to the boy’s room, and he kicks away the toys loitering the floor. 

“I will be back,” Tobirama hands you the child and leaves the room. 

You rock the child in your arms to comfort him, and you resist the tiredness settling in your arms. You are not used to carrying children. 

Tobirama comes back with towels and a basin, and he directs you to lie his nephew down on his futon. In silence, the two of you coordinate to wipe the child and dress him into clean clothes, and tuck him into his futon. Tobirama presses a smaller towel on the child’s forehead, and studies him. 

 After a moment, his hand comes away. 

 “Well, the great thing about having Hashirama as your father is that you’ll be fine and dandy tomorrow,” he tells his nephew. “There is nothing your father cannot cure.” 

You gaze at Tobirama, watching how gentle and kind he is towards his family. He is very attentive to the way he takes care of his nephew, and you are not going to lie, the sight is making your heart soft. 

 “Is it serious?” You ask. 

 Tobirama shakes his head. “No. Like I said, he’ll be okay tomorrow once Hashirama checks in on his son.” 

You chuckle lightly. 

 The two of you lock gazes, and a calm washes over you, something that has not happened to you in a while. You are always moving about, running and defending yourself. At this moment, Tobirama makes you feel safe. He might be callous at times, but he has never given you any reason to fear him. 

 For that, you are grateful. 

“I should go,” you break the silence. 

 Tobirama clears his throat. “I will walk you out.” 

You want to decline his offer, but nothing comes out of your mouth as he is following you out. 

 Before you exit the gate of the household, you turn to Tobirama. 

“I hope you do not do that again,” you tell him in a hushed tone and you are suddenly unable to meet his eyes. “That fucking terrified me. If you are going to go put yourself in danger, at least, include me. I won’t let anything happen to you.” 

Tobirama stares at you, his dark red eyes swimming like blood pools, and a sigh leaves his body. “I will keep your words in mind.” 

 “You can trust me, you know,” you insist. “I hope we can work towards that.” 

 You had half a mind to ask him about what he remembers during the hours that he forgot himself, but you decide to leave it alone. 

Before Tobirama can say anything else, you quickly walk away, and if he has reached for the back of your arm, you do not notice it because you do not even spare him a glance.

.

.

.

[CHAPTER SEVEN >>>] 

[darling-dummy-blogs]

A Broken Promise- Victor Li

Summary: It's the day Cassandra has been waiting for her entire life. Her and Victor's wedding day. However.. Victor doesn't show up to the wedding…

Paring: Victor Li X OC (Mentions of Victor Li x F!MC [Mia])

Genre: Angst, Fluffy Ending (And a bit of an Angst Ending as well..)

Warnings: None!

Fandom: Mr. Love Queen’s Choice

Word Count: 4k

Notes: In spirit of the re-run of the wedding event in MLQC I had written this piece a while back with the help of my dear friend @silv3rrin! (Thank you so much for your help with this!) This had also been written on the idea of my own experience of the wedding event haha (so enjoy my pain lol.) Based off the prompt below:

“Don’t promise me you won’t leave. Just don’t leave. I don’t think I can handle another promise right now.”

The day had finally come. One that Cassandra had looked forward to since the day she got engaged to Victor.

Their wedding day. Her excitement and nervousness really got to her, making her feel extra bouncy and happy. The moment she woke up, she didn’t get to see her soon to be husband.

He had to do a few things at work so he had come in quite early in the morning to prepare for that.

Victor had left her some breakfast and the schedule for today. He had even let her know that he would be back at least an hour or two before the wedding to get himself ready.

Although just because Victor had to work, that didn’t mean she could slack off, she had to prepare and get herself ready for the wedding. Which luckily started later on in the afternoon. She did her usual morning routine.

She had to prepare herself for the arrival of her hairdresser and makeup artist. Once they had finished with her hair and makeup: Her hair had been curled and styled into an elegant bun, small strands of hair on the sides of her face along with her bangs, overall she loved how her hair had been styled.

She now has to get herself dressed. Her dress was stunning, it was off the shoulder, laced and fitted to her body, which showed off her curves in the best way, while at the bottom it had flowed out beautifully.

She loved how the dress had looked on her and with her hair and makeup done, it felt as though the dress complimented and completed her look. Now all she needed to do was to head to the church to make sure things were running smoothly.

When she got there, she could not believe how beautiful the scenery was.

Everything had been set to perfection. From the church that was beautifully decorated to their wedding reception.

Of course there was no limit to it, given Victor being the wealthy man he was. However he had wanted the day to go smoothly, and for it to be perfect just for her.

As the time grew closer to her getting married, she grew more and more nervous. But she tried to stay as calm as possible.

Only 2 more hours…

While the nervous bride had been trying to calm her oncoming nerves, Victor had been at LFG, finalizing a few things before leaving to prepare for the wedding.

However a sudden knock on his door had interrupted his train of focus, he looked towards the door, confused. Nobody would be bothering him considering he was leaving relatively soon for his own wedding. “Come in.” he called out.

The door opened, revealing Mia, who he was slightly surprised to see. Yet he kept his usual stoic expression

She smiled softly at him, "Hey Victor!"

“Mia, what are you doing here?” He asked, genuinely confused.

“Ah well.. I should be asking you that! Don’t you have a wedding to prepare for?” She walked over to his desk after shutting the door.

“Yes I do, I was just finishing up. But why are you here exactly? We don't have a meeting today and shouldn’t you get yourself prepared to come to the wedding?”

Of course, he had invited Mia to his wedding, even though he used to have feelings for her, they were still friends and Victor was still her boss. It was only polite of him to do so.

Mia had been more than happy to come, however, one of the main reasons as to why she came was because of the fact that she wanted to see him on his big day.

Her expression changed from happiness to one of nervousness. “W-well.. I came here to tell you something actually..”

He raised an eyebrow, his attention focused on her, “What is it..?” He hesitantly asked.

She gulped, taking a deep breath, “I know this isn’t ideal timing nor is it something I should be doing right now, on the day of yours and Cassie’s wedding but…” She took a pause, “I’ve been thinking about this for such a long time and it was bothering me to the point where I have to tell you.”

“..Go on…” He pressed, awaiting her answer.

A moment of silence had passed before she said, “I’m in love with you.”

His breath hitched in his throat. The words he wished to have heard a few years ago suddenly came out of her mouth.

“Why are you telling me this now?!” Victor’s voice boomed.

“...I-I don’t know.. I only just figured it out myself and.. I just wanted to tell you this. I know it's too late and I know you are with Cassie now but..” She looked down, growing quiet.

“I would never want to get in between you two because I care for both of you but you deserve to know how I feel.” She spoke firmly, as she looked at him, “I’m sorry...” She spoke with sincerity

“You saying this to me now is getting in between the both of us!” his voice was cold. “What do you gain from telling me now? Satisfaction that you could possibly ruin our relationship?”

“No! I don’t….I-I just... “ She balled up her hands into fists, stumbling on her words, “I just needed to tell you, if I didn’t then it would continue to eat at me for god knows how long..” A pause, her heart was pounding loudly within her chest, “I’m not trying to gain anything from it. Nor would I be trying to, I just had to tell you. You don’t have to respond or reciprocate my feelings.”

“If… if you told me earlier, then maybe, just maybe we could have been together instead… but it’s too late now.”

She didn’t know what else to say, she knew that there was no possible way that he would reciprocate her feelings now that he was marrying someone else. If only she could go back and realize earlier. “...I should have known sooner..” Tears welled up in her eyes

“I have tried to make it obvious though..” She muttered, tears sliding down her face. “But I guess since you were with her, you never noticed.” She sighed, wiping away her tears, as she shook her head.

“I shouldn’t have done this…” She couldn’t look him in the eye. “I’m sorry.. I shouldn’t have mentioned it..”

“You realized that now?”

“I really am an idiot for doing this..” Mia muttered, the doubt that she felt suddenly kicked in, she finally looked him in the eye, “I’m sorry… I am so sorry.. For doing this.. I-it was stupid and.. I shouldn’t even go to the wedding.. I ruined it..” She sniffled.

A part of Victor felt conflicted, he didn’t really know what else to do, and he didn’t like to see Mia like this, he let out a sigh, “Mia.. It’s not your fault. Don’t apologize.”

A moment of silence passed, “...I’m sorry.” Victor suddenly said, in a slightly gentle tone. Mia looked at him, shocked, however he continued, a look of sorrow had covered his features. “I’m sorry that I didn’t realize at the time, that you had feelings for me.”

“However, I don’t think you’ve realized that, before I met Cassie, I had feelings for you. And I was very obvious about it. Yet you didn’t notice.”

Mia’s eyes widened, she didn’t seem to realize that he had been in love with her before. How could she have known? She never took into consideration that he had even remotely liked her in such a way. After all, he was her boss.

“I never knew…” She trailed off.

‘And that’s not your fault. I should have been more clear at the time, but I wasn’t. That was my mistake.” He spoke earnestly, as he gazed at her.

“I’m so sorry again Victor.” She spoke up. “You don’t have to apologize, but I am sorry that I just don’t feel the same way anymore.”

“I understand.” She spoke, slightly dejected but she knew that there was no going back now. She has to move on.

Mia glanced at the time, her eyes widening, “U-Um..Victor… Y-Your wedding is going to start soon, shouldn’t you be leaving??”

Victor looked at the time. His eyes widening as he abruptly stood up, “Oh no..” He checked his phone, seeing several missed calls from Cassandra and many angry and anxious messages from her. How did his phone not go off?!

He grabbed his belongings as he rushed out the office.

He was in so much trouble now...

--

‘The wedding is going to start soon... why isn’t Victor here?’ Cassie thought to herself, she tried calling him and messaging him but she wasn’t getting any replies. Which stressed and worried her very much.

She was pacing back and forth in the hall of the church, still trying to call him. “Is his phone off or something???” She was growing frustrated and was getting anxious, suddenly her thoughts were getting to her.

‘What if he doesn’t want to marry me all of a sudden?’ She gulped, shaking her head as she tried to keep those kinds of thoughts from taking over her mind.

‘No, that’s just silly, he wouldn’t do that to me, he said that he would never hurt me like that..’ She thought to herself as she tried once again to get a hold of him. However to no avail, it would go straight to voicemail.

Her pacing didn’t slow down, it got to the point where her feet began to hurt due to her wearing heels. ‘For someone who doesn’t enjoy being late OR wasting time, he is very much late! To his own wedding especially.’ She groaned, as she peaked her head into the church where all their friends and family had sat, idly chatting with one another, waiting for the bride or groom to show up.

She looked at all the bridesmaids and groomsmen who had been standing at the end, and glanced over the spot where Victor would be standing, had he been there.

She whimpered quietly, ‘Come on Victor.. Where are you...’ She shut the door, the panic never really settling with her. It only seemed to continue to grow more and more as more time had passed. She was barely managing after the first few times she tried to reach him.

50 minutes. No Victor

40 minutes. Still no sign of Victor, she tried calling him yet again, no response.

30 minutes. Cassie kept checking the clock, still not a trace of Victor to be seen

20 minutes. She trembled, the anxiety building up again, she was beginning to feel as though he will never show up.

10 minutes. Tears appeared in her eyes, as she tried to not let them out, she couldn’t risk ruining her make-up now. He wasn’t coming. That was clear.

...2 hours late… She slowly opened the door, tears in her eyes as she slowly made her way to the front of the aisle, everyone gazed at her, worried and saddened as she kept her head low. Once she made her way to the front, she looked out at everyone, giving them her best yet weakest smile.

“..The wedding is cancelled. I am so sorry.. You all may go home.” She spoke, her voice wavering as she felt a sudden pang in her heart, which had split into two.

She watched as everyone got up, they felt sympathetic for her, wishing her better before saying their goodbyes. She was soon left alone, her whole body shook as she quietly stood there, the only sounds of her ragged breathing could be heard before she let out a loud sob and scream.

Which echoed throughout the entire church. She sat down on the edge of the step by the wedding arch. Sobbing as she gazed down at the engagement ring on her finger. The white diamond shone brightly in the church.

Cassandra then looked over at the rings that laid tied gently on a plush white pillow which was placed on a pillar next to the arch. She leaned forward, grabbing it and yanking off both the rings, staring at both of them, sniffling, her hands shaking as she couldn’t calm down her nerves.

Suddenly the door to the church had opened and in came a very panicked Victor. He looked around frantically, seeing that the church was empty, and had spotted Cassandra, sitting at the end by herself. His heart panged with guilt.

As she looked up, they made eye contact, tears staining her face as she glared at him. Pure anger and hurt evident on her face as she stood up, clenching both the wedding rings in her hands. Her hands balled up into tight fists.

Victor quickly walked over to her although halted as she suddenly spoke up, anger in her voice, “Don’t come anywhere near me.” She spat, her voice wavering with hurt.

“Cassie..” he spoke, his voice laced with despair.

“I can’t believe you.” She spoke, ignoring his sudden plea of her name, “You.. are 2 hours late, Victor. 2 HOURS!” She cried out. “You left me WAITING here for you! I have never felt so hurt and so embarrassed to have to come up here to both our friends and family BY MYSELF and CANCEL our wedding.”

“I-I’m sorry..” He spoke up again, he tried moving closer to her but she stepped back, shaking her head, she let out a bitter laugh, “You know.. You always say to never be late to anything and to not waste your time.. But yet, you were the one who was late.”

“I just got caught up with things,” he reasoned.

“Things that are more important than our wedding?!” she screamed. “Something we’ve been planning for months? You chose something trivial over our wedding?!”

“It was not trivial,” Victor defended Mia without a second thought.

"Oh? Well then tell me, WHAT exactly was it then?" She crossed her arms over her chest.

“I… I was talking with… with someone and I got caught up.”

"Who is this 'someone' Victor?" She inquired, impatiently

He let out a sigh, knowing what would come once he uttered that name but he couldn’t avoid it. “I was talking… with Mia…”

A moment of silence. She stared at him, unable to say anything. She knew of their history, she knew of his feelings for her.

Cassie didn't have anything against Mia. However, that didn't change the fact that she had fears and insecurities of Victor leaving her for Mia.

"...Alright." Was all she uttered. She looked down at the wedding rings in her right hand, she sniffled.

The only feeling she could feel was the numbing pain in her heart. Tears slid down her face even more, her makeup completely ruined.

She cleared her throat, "What exactly did you talk about with her?"

His lip tightened. He didn’t want to disclose anything to her, know that it would just continue to ruin what they have… well now it seems more like ‘had'.

“She… she needed to tell me something before our wedding… for some closure I suppose,” he tried to beat around the bush, hoping she wouldn’t push it any further.

"Victor… I am not an idiot, cut the crap and tell me the damn truth! I deserve to know after all that has happened today!" She screamed at him, glaring.

Guilt rose up in him. “It was her confessing to me that… she… loves me…” he didn’t want to say it but pushed himself to utter those words.

"..." Her eyes darkened, those words echoing throughout her head, she could faintly hear the cracking of her heart which went from being split into two, to shattering into itty bitty pieces.

"..What did you tell her?" She spat out, her voice void of any emotion.

“I… I asked her why… and if- if she had told me earlier… then maybe… we- we could have been…” he trailed off, afraid to hurt her further.

Just as he had said that, the door to the church had opened. Both Cassie and Victor looked over, seeing Mia walk in.

If this was a nightmare, Cassandra would definitely want to be awake now.

Cassie’s breathing pace quickened as she began shaking again. She wanted to let out a scream but she couldn't seem to move or let out a sound, she was silent.

Mia, locked eyes with both of them. She immediately made her way over to them. “H-hey guys..”

Cassie clenched her fists, she gave her a hard glare. She was the last person that Cassie had wanted to come into contact with. “What do you want?” She spat out, anger evident in her voice.

Victor tensed at her tone, ready to intervene.

Mia gulped, already knowing that Cassie did not want to see her. “I-I just came here.. To apologize. Specifically to you, Cassie.” She stepped closer but Cassandra didn’t move, nor did she want to hear what she had to tell her.

“Sorry, isn’t going to change the fact that because of your conversation with Victor, you made him late to our wedding.” She spoke in such a cold tone. One that she never uses, unless she was very much pissed off.

And in this case, she was.

Mia shrunk at the coldness of her words. She looked down fiddling with her fingers. “I-I know… I know I cannot change what I have done.. B-But you deserve to know that I am sorry. I didn’t mean for my feelings to take over and to make Victor late.. I-It’s just that… He needed to know how I felt about him before..-”

“Before what?” She spat out, anger only growing within her.

Mia looked up at them, looking at Cassie’s angered expression, then to Victor’s. She kept her gaze on him, as she spoke out these words:

“Before it was too late.”

“It was already too late when we got engaged.”

“Don’t invalidate her feelings, Cassandra. She wasn’t sure at the time until now,” Victor finally spoke, trying to diffuse the situation.

Cassie looked at Victor, a laugh escaped her, “You are already on thin ice, and you are defending her right now?!” She glared, there was no way that she would calm down.

Victor faced Mia before speaking. “Wait outside, We’ll talk later.”

Mia nodded, as she quickly turned onto her heel and left the church, leaving the two of them alone once again.

Cassandra watched her leave, her arms crossed over her chest. She then turned to Victor. “So. Care to explain what that was about?”

“I don’t want to deal with anymore fighting, and I don’t want to drag anyone else in our problem.”

“Kind of hard to do that when she caused this problem, Victor.”

She looked at him, staring into his eyes. Finally after a rather dreadful silence she asked a simple question:

"...Do you still have feelings for her?"

“I…” he hesitated. “I don’t… not anymore...”

"Why did you hesitate?"

Victor kept quiet. Even he didn’t know why he hesitated when the answer was so obvious. “SHE was the reason why you were late.”

“Maybe it’s because I don’t want to be married to you! Maybe it’s because Mia makes me happier than what you’ve done, these past years!” Victor snapped.

Cassie staggered back slightly from that. Her eyes watering as new tears began trailing down her face. Her heart now throbbed in aching pain at his words which only added salt to the wound.

Sudden anger welled up within her as she dropped the two wedding rings that were in her right hand to the floor as her hand made an impact with Victor’s face.

SMACK! Right across the face. The sound echoing across the grand hall loudly.

She let out a sob as she spoke, “How dare you?! IF YOU FELT THAT WAY, WHY DID YOU ASK ME TO MARRY YOU?! WHY DID YOU KEEP ME IN YOUR LIFE?! WHY BOTHER LOVING ME WHEN SHE MAKES YOU HAPPIER THAN I CAN?!” She screamed at him, her whole body growing numb with pain and sadness.

“Are you just toying with my feelings now?! Do you even love me!? DO YOU EVEN CARE ABOUT ME?! OR WAS EVERYTHING THAT WE HAVE GONE THROUGH TOGETHER A LIE!?” She sobbed, her heart unable to handle the unbearable pain. She let out a scream of pain.

She looked down, wrapping her arms around herself, she couldn’t even look him in the eyes, "Y-You told me…” Her voice ached as she swallowed, “You don't have feelings for her anymore the first time when we were dating. But I cannot help but wonder… Was that a lie too?"

Victor’s eyes widened in disbelief. There was a dull throb on his cheek as he brought his hand to it. The pain snapped him back to reality as he finally registered the unfiltered words that came out of his mouth.

“No, wait! I don’t mean anything I said just now! I promise that I don’t love her anymore! I love you! It’s always been you ever since! I promise I won’t leave! I don’t want to lose you… I can’t lose you…”

She shook her head, "..Don’t promise me you won’t leave. Just don’t leave. I don’t think I can handle another promise right now.”

“I- Then I won’t… but for now… just know that I won’t leave you again. I’m not making the same mistake twice.”

She wiped away her tears, as she looked at him, "I don’t know Victor, I really don’t know trust you again… It's going to take a while to fully forgive you for this… What you said, r-really hurt..."

"I know. I know that I messed up and it’s not easily reversible.... You shouldn't have to forgive me for what I've done." His voice filled with sorrow.

"I regret doing this to you. You don't deserve to be treated this way… Not when all you’ve been is understanding and loving. " Victor took a step forward, gently taking her hand, the one that held her engagement ring. He gazed at that ring for a long moment.

"There is one thing that I don't regret though.." His thumb swiped over the ring gently. The shimmering gem glistening back at him. "I don't regret proposing to you, nor do I regret loving you." His voice came out softer, as he looked at her.

Cassie didn't flinch. She watched his actions, sniffling lightly, she was met with a soft and loving gaze. One that he had always given her.

Victor continued, "Cassie, Everything I've ever told you is all genuine, I love you and only you. That will never change. No matter where you are, or whatever timeline we’re in, I will always find you." He brought his other hand to her cheek, wiping away stray tears that still shed from her eyes.

"I know words cannot make up for what I did, but I will show you that I am sorry. I didn't mean to ruin this day for the both of us." He frowned.

"I may have had a history with Mia, but you are my future. And you are the only person I can see myself spending my life with."

Cassandra was at a loss for words. He always knew how to make her feel soft and warm, with just words alone.

She felt more tears well up in her eyes, however they were less of sad tears and more of happy tears. She couldn't hide the big smile on her face.

Victor smiled upon seeing her beautiful smile, he loved seeing her happy. She looked beautiful whenever there was a smile on her face.

Although in this moment, she looked even more beautiful.

“You’ve made it really hard to stay upset at you.” She let out a giggle as blush dusted her cheeks lightly.

He chuckled slightly, “Dummy… You are just very easy to please.”

“Just shut up and let me kiss you.” She shook her head, as she moved to wrap her arms around his neck.

He shook his head, smiling as he leaned in, still cupping her cheeks in his hands, placing a loving kiss to her lips. One that she reciprocated happily.

---

He slowly approached Mia as he called out to her. She quickly turned before letting out a small, regretful smile.

“Mia, I don’t hold any feelings for you anymore. I wish for you to respect that. I want us to keep a professional relationship as boss and employee in the future,” he spoke in his typical stern and unapproachable tone.

Mia’s smile dropped for a second before another bigger but faker smile rested on her lips. “Of course Mr Li. I apologize for stepping out of line.”

Victor gave a quick nod before returning back to Cassie, leaving a broken Mia behind. Tears welled up in her eyes, as her body collapsed to the ground, knees and legs unable to keep her up.

She quietly sobbed as she watched him walk towards the love of his life before picking her up in his arms, his eyes filled with adoration and pure happiness. ~ (Lowkey remembering how we wrote this ending and Rin was just adding more angst even though it is initially supposed to have a happy ending. That was a fun time for both of us XD)

[youwerenevermeanttofeelalone]

Not Planned | Damian Wayne

Pairing: older!Damian Wayne x Plus Size Reader (she/her)

Word Count: 4k

Request(s): Can you do one where the reader used to have a crush on Dick? Like a child crush because she’s Damian’s age so when Dick gets married to Kori, Damian consoles her and things happen? & older damian wayne smut plz!!

Warnings: nsfw, mentions of alcohol, a little angst, unprotected sex (please don’t do this), oral sex (both receiving), vaginal sex, mentions of food, fluff, probably language.

❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎

Damian shook his head. The dress you had worn the prior night was carelessly laying on the living room’s floor. He remembered how long it took you to pick the color and length which only annoyed him more.

Placing the paper bag he had been carrying onto the kitchen counter, he turned the coffee machine on. The place was silent, almost deadly — he would’ve found it soothing if he didn’t know you so well.

As Damian pushed your bedroom door open, he took note of the mess near your bedside table. Curious, he stepped into the room in effortless silence. There were a few drawings on the floor, some of them were half-finished silhouettes but others were full heart patterns with his oldest brother's name in the center.

He remembered watching you do a few of the latter while babbling those crazy theories you would come up with about the way you would make Dick fall in love with you. Damian had imagined you were upset when you left the wedding early the night before yet he never considered it was affecting you that much. In fact, he had assumed you were partially over Dick years ago when you started dating around.

The wine bottles next to the bed didn’t go unnoticed by him. Damian picked them up and put them on the bedside table so you wouldn’t knock them and make a mess when you woke up. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, he stayed still for a few seconds to hear you breathing.

Your usual light sleep was gone. The softness in your features made him pause, wonder if waking you up was needed or worth it. Seeing you upset had never been easy, not even the first time he did. Damian wasn’t always nice, he knew he still needed to work on it but when he realized how upset you could get when he carelessly spoke something inside him switched.

Bruce had been shocked. Psychiatrists and psychologists had branded Damian as a nightmare to work with, they said he didn’t want to be helped. And Damian didn’t, there was nothing wrong with him.

You had never complained, but he could see some of his words got to you. Making you feel bad wasn’t his intention, other people didn’t matter but you did. It was hard not to care, so being nice became second nature around you. His brothers would only ask things from him when you were around, he had thousands of annoying memories where he had caught himself saying please and thank you to the people he had called nuisances on a daily basis before you arrived in his life.

Alfred said he was changing because he had needed a friend which in Damian’s mind made sense, but you would always tell him his nice persona had always been there — you believed that, you had seen it before he started showing it.

He shook his head again. Dwelling on things wasn’t good. Not to him. As softly as he was able to, he placed his hand on your arm and lightly shook you awake.

You covered your eyes with your forearm, whining. Damian scoffed. “I woke up early to buy bagels from your favorite bakery, the least you could do is eat them fresh.”

“Can I take a shower first?” you dragged your words, too sleepy to argue, certain Damian would win.

He hummed to then softly command, “be quick.”

You wouldn’t say breakfast was tense, but it was different than anything you had experienced in Damian’s presence. He watched you carefully throughout the meal as if expecting you to say something.

There were things you wished you could say, but words often fell short around him. Not many things surprised him, and the ones that did were never emotionally transcendental.

Making matters worse, unaware of the effect the chastising could have on you, Damian reminded you he had gifted you reusable handkerchiefs so you would stop using Kleenex.

You should’ve imagined he would visit in the morning, therefore you should’ve discarded the Kleenex before going to sleep. You had been drained, and dizzy after drinking wine past your limit.

“I forgot,” you mumbled, avoiding him by washing your plate and mug. As you dried the latter, you observed he wasn’t in the kitchen anymore.

Damian popped back in, with the empty bottles in his grasp. Silently, he handed them to you and disappeared back into your bedroom.

Leaving the bottles on the counter, you followed him. At first, he ignored you, roughly fluffing up your pillows.

“You don’t have to do that. Let me.”

Shaking his head, he gripped the pillow more tightly.

“Da—“

“Not now, please, not now.”

You lifted your arms in a surrendering gesture. Reading him had never been easy, but you had gotten better at it as time progressed and he allowed you to see more of his true self. Still, you weren’t as good as you wanted, or as he was with you. You were an open book in his eyes.

And his favorite one. You were that story he never wanted to like, the one he begrudgingly read only to end up becoming devoted to halfway through the first chapter.

He pulled your vanity’s chair out and sat down, looking down at the yellow spot on the rug. He had offered to buy you a new one after he ruined it with his oil paints, you asked for the painting he had done in exchange.

It was a beautiful piece. You had never been a big fan of paintings, preferring posters and photos, but the warm tones in that particular one made you feel safe in such a way you feared you’d never know peace again if you didn’t own it.

You kneeled on the opposite side of the room, picking the scattered papers and stacking them up to store them in their hiding place. You heard Damian shift on his sit.

“If you have other things to do, you can leave,” you assured him. The only instances when Damian was antsy were when he was in need of doing something else.

“I don’t.”

“Ah.”

He scoffed at your reaction. “You want me to leave?”

You carelessly threw the stack of papers into the drawer. “No, but you’re acting weird.”

As you stood up, he crossed his arms. Oh, God, not one of his challenges. Damian could get too competitive and although you enjoyed it 90% of the time, that day was part of the other 10%.

“I thought you were over him.”

His lack of tact while saying it would’ve hurt you mere months ago. You sat on your bed, nodding. “I am.”

“Right,” he condescendingly gritted.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You left early last night and got drunk looking at the dumb drawings you did of him, what is that supposed to mean?”

There was no mocking in his voice which made the question harder to answer.

“I—“ you breathed out a nervous laugh, “I miss those days.”

A part of your adolescence had evaporated the night before. Your innocent illusions of marrying Dick, of eventually having a happy home with a nice and caring man. You had understood it was a childish thing very quickly, and Dick himself had explained to you he was too old for you very early into your crush on him — yet you clung to it, such a romantic and beautiful dream couldn’t hurt you.

“I miss thinking everything was a fairytale.” You shrugged. “Dumb stuff like that.”

Your attempts to dismissing the depth of your words were ignored by Damian who shifted on the chair again. You looked down at your thighs.

“Is something wrong?”

“No,” you admitted, “it’s just a nostalgic bout.”

“Like those ones you get watching animated films?” he teased. Your only answer was a hum. Damian frowned for a millisecond. “Come here.”

Lifting your head, you lingered your gaze on him. He opened his arms, fixing his position on the chair. With wobbly legs, you walked toward him. You enjoyed the sensation you felt through your system by seeing him have to look up as you stood in front of him — something swirled in his eyes, a glint you had seen a few times yet had never deciphered.

Damian placed his hands on your lower back, pulling you closer. “Come on,” he encouraged you to sit on his lap.

“What for?” you inquired, not used to being so close to him. He lifted both eyebrows, prompting you to ease down onto his lap very slowly.

“I just want you to do it,” he answered, shifting his legs so you wouldn’t fall off his lap.

You focused on a spot on the wall behind him, wishing the earth would swallow you before you got any stupid ideas.

Damian whispered your name. You dragged your eyes toward his face, too abashed to look into his green ones.

“You do know I care about you, right?” His voice dropped.

You nodded with your attention on the tiny scar in his left cheek.

He confessed, tilting his head to find your eyes, “I hate seeing you sad. I feel useless.”

“It’s nothing, it’ll pass. You know how I am.”

“Pretty and angelic? Yes, I know.”

Rolling your eyes, you scoffed. “Now you’re flirting with me? Really?”

“I always flirt with you. This is just the first time you’ve seen it like that.”

You searched for his eyes. His curious gaze, endearing and bright, fixed on you. “Why?”

“Because I like you, why else?”

With elaborated breath, you caressed his soft skin by brushing his cheeks with your thumbs. “I didn’t know,” you mumbled. “You were never explicit. I thought you were just being nice.”

He traced your spine with two fingers, up and down. “You were obsessed with my brother.”

“You know why.”

He hummed in agreement. “But I didn’t know what to do.”

The two of you allowed a moment of silence to linger. You wished you could be surprised, but him liking you made all the sense in the world. Damian was more than a comfort in your life, he wasn’t the calm before the storm nor the storm itself — he was the rainbow, the security that things would eventually turn out okay and that if they didn’t it wasn’t the end of the world. A reality check and the assurance of not having to go through adversities alone.

As the seconds passed and everything sunk in, a question came to you. “Were you mad about... that... earlier?”

“Perhaps.” He lightheartedly scoffed when you glared at him. “I thought you had been crying over him,” Damian explained, trying his best to not grit his words. You breathed a nervous laugh out, taking your eyes off him. You could hear the smirk in his voice as he added, “but now I think you were crying over me.”

You failed to hide your amused smile. “You wish.”

“I would kill myself before making you cry.”

You felt him fully relax under you as he slid his arms around your plump hips. Damian rested his head on your shoulder, prompting your hands to slip — hugging him by the shoulders, you started playing with the small hairs on his nape.

Shuddering, he exhaled on your skin, “you always smell so good.”

“My mom always buys me that lotion for my birthday.”

He already knew that. Like most things about you. Your favorite color, the way you liked your tea, your sleep schedule, your clothing size, your least liked brand of sparkling water... he knew every twinge in your voice, the length of the scar you had on your upper back from when you fell off your bike as a child, he had long ago gotten every twitch of your face mapped into his brain, and for the same amount of time had longed for kissing every inch of it.

“Are you sure you’re comfortable?” you asked, remembering he must’ve been tired from patrolling the night before after the wedding.

Damian angled his face, nodding against your skin. His hot breath on your neck gave you goosebumps, prompting you to shift on his lap as you shuddered. Seeing the effect he was having on you, he boldly peppered a few kisses on your skin which earned him a whine.

Gripping his hair, you tugged on it to pull his head back. The wanton look in his face took your breath away, his eyes were glowing as they dilated. You kissed him, moaning when his hands dropped to your ass as he stood up.

Damian put you down onto the bed, sucking on your bottom lip as he trailed his hands down your soft stomach. You whispered his name, not sure as to why but desperate to do it. He hummed, manhandling your hips to fit himself between your legs.

Urgently, he rubbed your thighs as you explored his mouth with your tongue. You needed him, your breath catching in your throat burned like your still clothed skin was burning under his touch. Sliding a hand down his side, you stopped at his hips to then palm his crotch by spreading your fingers over his bulge. You felt immensely proud of yourself when he immediately moaned.

Damian gripped the edge of your top, dragging his mouth to your jaw. He breathily spoke on your skin, “can I take this off?”

“Please.”

It took you longer to answer than it took him to kneel between your legs. He pulled the material off your torso, licking his bottom lip at the sight before him. You reacted quickly too, seeing the opportunity to unbutton his shirt — he looked down at your hands as you painfully slowly undid the shirt, button by button. His breath hitched when your hands caressed his naked chest as they moved upward to his shoulders.

You pushed the shirt off his shoulders, letting it fall behind him. Damian pounced you, palming your breasts on top of your bra. Moaning, you arched up into his bare torso. Dragging your hands down his back, you brought them to the front, between your belly and his abs, to unbuckle his belt.

He sneaked his hand under your back, unclasping your bra with an easiness you wished you could do it. A whine escaped you as he latched his mouth on one of your breasts, sucking on it. Meanwhile, he kneaded your other breast, giving both your tits the same amount of attention by switching the order.

You bit into your bottom lip in attempts of muffling your sounds. Damian kissed down the valley of your breasts, mouthing your stomach as you struggled to pull his zipper down.

Damian circled your nipple with his tongue before speaking on the wet spot, his breath giving you goosebumps. “Let me hear you.”

He suddenly pulled away, rushing to take his shoes and pants off. You kicked your own shoes off, planting your feet on the bed in order to slide your pants down your legs. Damian’s eyes, full of lust, bored into yours as he placed his leg between yours while getting back into the bed.

You rut your wet core against his muscular thigh. Only your underwear was on the way and yet you felt as if you would explode. Damian was panting just by watching you, pushing his leg forward to prompt one of your sweet sounds to come out.

He gripped your hips, moving them up and down against his thigh. You moaned, placing your hands on his lower back. “Do something, Damian, please. Something else.”

“Tell me what you want,” he ordered with a sly smile on his face, you could hear the rumble of his words in his chest. “Use your words, beloved.”

Fuck. The look he gave you, raw and hungry, was so startling and enticing at once that you wondered why hadn’t you done this sooner. He lowered his hands and gripped your ass. Lust radiated off both you, so intense you had already broken into a sweat. Damian moved you closer to the edge of the bed, withdrawing his hands from your ass to pull your underwear down your thick legs.

“Words,” he reminded you, sniffing up as he once again licked his lips.

He was driving you completely crazy. “Anything,” you begged, “please.”

Damian kneeled, burying his head in your pussy with no warning, hungrily lapping and purring. You rolled your hips further against his mouth, squealing when his tongue flicked your clit while he dug his fingers into your soft legs.

“You taste so good,” he hummed on your pussy.

Kissing his way up to your hip, he rested his head on your lower belly as his fingers trailed up and down your slit. Your hips bucked up, covering his hand in slick. Damian circled your clit, pressing hard on it as he rubbed.

You whimpered, “just make me cum already, please.”

Grunting, he nodded. “You sound so hot when you beg.” Damian went back to your pussy, sucking on your clit harshly — the sounds of your slick and his mouth filled the room in the dirtiest way, then the howl you let out of his name joined. He overstimulated you while lapping at your slick as he cleaned you up, humming happily.

He popped up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. You licked your lips at the sight of his tight underwear. Sliding off the bed, you kneeled before him.

Damian placed a hand on the back of your head, softly, cursing when you nuzzled against his dickprint. You mouthed his length, licking the salty wet spot on the cotton material. “Shit,” he breathed out.

You smiled against him, pawing at his underwear to slide it off. The sight of his cock, standing proud a mere inch away from your lips made your mouth water. You had never seen a prettier cock, or a bigger one.

“Hurry up,” he urged you, pushing your face onto his cock.

You licked a line up his shaft, swirling your tongue over his tip smeared in precum. He hissed. You took him into your mouth, little by little as deeply as you could. Your hand came up to hold his base and so you comfortably loosened your jaw.

Sucking him down a little further, you felt him twitch on your cheek. Damian pulled you off him, growling, “on your back, now,” he pointed at the bed.

He beamed down at you as he made sure you were wet enough. Lining himself at your entrance, he plunged inside you in one swift motion. Your mouth fell open, not a sound was able to come out as you felt him bottom out. You moaned in unison then, him while holding your waist and you gripping his biceps.

You stretched around his size as he slammed back into you after having pulled out. You cried his name and that was all it took for him to start hammering into you with all his strength, so hard the bed rocked.

His soft lips bruised yours as he kissed you, teeth clicking a few times as he pounded into you, making you feel your eyes roll back into your head even while closed.

As he pulled away, he panted, “fuck, (Y/N).” Your name dropped from his lips in such a sinful way, so sensually as his bottom lip trembled.

You let yourself go wild, latching your mouth on his neck and shoulder blade. Damian grunted when you bit into his skin, leaving a trail of saliva behind.

Licking a line up his neck, you whispered into his ear, “Damian, I’m close.”

Damian started fucking you harder and faster, determined on making you come again. He brought you closer, making you wrap your legs around his hips as with his knees he rocked himself in order to plunge into you deeper.

Kissing you sloppily, leaving a string of saliva hanging between your mouths, he gasped. Your walls were tightly hugging his cock, making it pulse against them.

He rode out his high in quick and deep thrusts, hitting your spot as your legs trembled around him. You held yourself by gripping his shoulders, moaning and arching up as you looked into his eyes.

Feeling warm strings coat your walls, you jumped. A spasm broke through you as you came at the same time as Damian, crying out his name once again as he roared yours — both sounds vibrated in your chests and into the other’s.

He dropped his face into your neck, catching his breath as he inhaled your scent mixed with your sweat. His cock softened inside you as both of you calmed down, along with your arms and legs that fell limp onto the bed.

You moved your head to keep his hot breath away from your neck, slower than you had thought you would be able to move.

Damian huffed a teasing laugh. “Tired?”

Humming, you shimmed on the bed to lay on your side. Damian copied your movements once you were comfortable, giving you enough space to cool down.

“Do you want some water?”

“I want a shower,” you responded honestly, “you shouldn’t have made me shower earlier if you were going to fuck me like that.”

“I didn’t plan it,” Damian defended himself, rolling on the mattress to leave the bed. “How warm do you want the water?”

He didn’t give you a chance to answer, or to tell him you could do it yourself. You dragged yourself toward the bathroom, almost regretting having said anything.

The situation was surreal. You wouldn’t have let Damian watch you in underwear the day before, but there you were comfortably standing in front of him as he unabashedly stared at your naked body.

Entering the shower, you sighed as the water fell onto your head. The temperature was perfect. Damian closed the stall as he entered too, eyes not leaving your form. You made way for him to get under the water too, reaching behind him for the shampoo. There wasn’t much space to move, but you weren’t complaining and he wasn’t either.

You watched him from the couch, pouring coffee into a mug, only his boxers and with a frown on his pretty face. The sight of Damian in his underwear, walking around your apartment with such familiarity had to be what dreams were made of.

Placing the mug on the table after taking a gulp, he occupied the spot next to yours. You offered the remote to him, but he swatted a hand dismissively. Shrugging, you put the controller down and sprawled your legs comfortably.

He silently rested his head on your shoulder, ignoring the movie playing on the tv. He didn’t even know the title, and he was sure you had put it on just to have something in the background so asking was pointless.

“You’re like a cat,” you chuckled when he nuzzled onto your shirt, trailing your hand up to run your fingers through his hair.

Damian hummed, hugging you by the waist. “I’ll never speak to you again if you tell anyone,” he half-heartedly threatened.

“And risk someone else getting cuddles instead of me? No thanks.”

“This isn’t cuddling.” You bounced your shoulder, making him lift his head. Annoyed, he asked, “what?”

“What’s going on with you now?”

“Nothing.” Damian dropped his head back onto your shoulder

“Tell me. Is it something I d—“

He interrupted, tightening his arms around you and pulling you toward him, “I was trying to find the words to ask if this was only a one-time thing without sounding like an idiot, but you clearly ruined it.”

“Of course not.”

Resting your cheek on the top of his head, you went back to play with his hair. At first, you had assumed he would be against you touching his hair again — he surprised you by purring happily.

Damian hoped nothing would ruin the moment, his family was known to call at the worst time. He would do anything to not be forced to move, faking tiredness or an emergency wasn’t below him — not when it came to being around you and having your full attention.

[jgvfhl]

Number Lads!!

GUYS I hit 700 followers today?? Amazing. So, I worked extra hard to get this part up and finished for ya!

Part 2/??? Read Part 1 here :) Words: about 4k, no warnings

So I remembered the Battle of Kamino is a thing. And I had just put Sevenset in Rancor battalion. Whoops! But, if you know anything about me, you know nothing really bad happens.

CT-2222 = Do-si-do = Double Trouble

CT-3333 = Trees = Green Bean

CC-6666 = Sixes = DEATH

ARC-7777 = Sevenset = ARCBoiiiii

CT-8888 = Loops = Loopy

Reading the inventory lists from the datapad in his hands was increasingly difficult. Loops rubbed his eyes and shook his head roughly, trying to refocus, to put the overwhelming feeling of helplessness behind him. The whole Wolfpack felt similarly. Every announcement over the PA system made them jump. General Koon was using his limited free time to gather with groups of troopers to help ease their minds, and it was helping, but the general had chosen an uphill battle.

Kamino was under attack. The closest thing any clone had to a home, and the Separatists were trying to destroy it. The Wolfpack hadn’t been called to the front, as was their normal position. When the battle cleared, and the dust settled, they would be there to help pick up the pieces, until another assignment called them away.

So they waited.

Worse for Loops, he knew Sevenset was in the thick of things, following the ARC commanders at the helm of the defensive actions. He knew the ARCs were the best soldiers on Kamino, and he knew the 501st and 212th had boots on the ground as well, and Generals Ti, Skywalker, and Kenobi would be there with them. He knew this. But it barely helped ease his worries.

Technically, the next Numbers meeting wouldn’t be for another three weeks, but Do-si-do had commed everyone to ask if they wanted to move up the date because of the battle. Obviously, they hadn’t heard much from Sevenset. Or from Commander Sixes, but that wasn’t as much of a worry. He was a commander, he had a whole Star Fighter wing to lead into battle. Still, the radio silence only made Loops more uneasy. But Trees and Loops had agreed to meet with Do-si-do, at least, and that would start in about ten minutes.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Loops tried to put aside the gnawing worry in his mind to finish this inventory before the meeting. It wouldn’t be fair to hand over a half-finished inventory to the next guy on shift. So he slogged through it, walking around the denoted section of the Lightbolt’s cargo hold, reading the crates, scrolling through his datapad, until he was finally done. As he left the hold, he handed off the device to Tanner, one of the officers overseeing inventory at the moment.

“All set, sir.”

“Thanks, Loops. Get some rest.”

“Will do.”

He didn’t rest, not really. When he got to his bunk, he propped himself up against his pillow at the head of his bunk, waiting the last few minutes until Do-si-do sent the transmission to start the meeting.

“Hey, Loops.”

He looked up at the face looking upside down at him from the top bunk. “Hey, Racket.” Loops was always grateful his bunkmate never complained about some of the late-night Numbers Meetings.

“How you holding up?”

“Okay, I guess.”

“I know you’ve got a buddy in Rancor, just wanted to check in.”

The knot of worry in his gut tightened. “Yeah.” His voice felt hollow. “Thanks, Racket.”

“Haven’t heard anything yet, huh?”

Loops shook his head. “Two and Three and I are having a call soon to talk it out.”

“Ah,” Racket said, “I’ll give you some space.”

“Thanks,” Loops said, although his brother’s head had already retreated to his own bunk. Right on cue, his comm blinked its light. He hadn’t had the chance to get a holoprojector today. But he would be able to hear the others.

“Hey, Trees,” Do-di-do’s voice had a smile in it. “Loops?”

“Couldn’t get a projector today, sorry,” Loops said. “I can still hear you.”

“Oh, good.”

“Hi, Loops,” Trees said.

“Hey, Trees.”

“How’s the Pack?” Do-si-do asked.

Loops shrugged, before remembering they couldn’t see him. “It’s… well, you know. Everyone’s on edge. The general’s been helping though.”

Trees agreed. “Yeah, General Unduli and Commander Offee have been holding group mediations for the ones who want it.”

“I’ve heard General Windu’s working on that too, but…. He’s busy as all hell.”

“Yeah, High Generals usually are,” Loops said.

“Anyone else… find it kinda weird, though?” Do-si-do furthered.

“What do you mean?”

“Like… I dunno. I didn’t expect the Jedi to care this much.”

“Oh,” Trees said flatly.

“I mean--obviously, they care if Kamino is attacked,” he went on. “Because it’s producing the whole damn army, but I never thought they’d… do all this.”

It was a fair reaction. Most clones, upon encountering their generals, were a little unsettled at how… human they were. Loops had certainly had a learning curve when he’d joined the 104th. General Koon was… amazing. So, honestly, Loops hadn’t been surprised when he had offered to help his troopers through the stress of the Kamino attack. But, Do-si-do had always been a bit skeptical of the Jedi, even though, from what Loops had heard of General Windu, he would regularly go out of his way to defend his men.

“I’m not complaining,” Loops said.

There was a longer than normal pause afterwards. He eyed the blinking light on his wrist comm, wondering. It wasn’t uncommon for the signal to get interrupted by space travel.

“What are you boys gossiping about now?” Ah. Not space travel. Just Commander Sixes. His brain did a mental double take as that thought formed. Just Commander Sixes.

“Oh, uh…” Do-si-do searched for words. Trees was probably frozen again. “Just… thought some of us could use the conversation. With Kamino under attack. And all.”

There was a gruff, nonverbal reply from the commander.

“Don’t suppose you got any updates we laymen didn’t, sir?” Do-si-do asked cautiously. Loops couldn’t help leaning towards his comm. Even a little news would help…

“None any of you have clearance for.”

Loops rolled his eyes, falling back against his pillow. He should have expected it. But that didn’t make it any less disappointing.

“Sir, you know the point of this call was to ease stress, not make it worse?” Do-si-do replied.

“Armor up, shiny, we’re at war.”

_____

ARCBoiiiii: Guess who’s not dead!!!!

Loopy: kriff is it over???

ARCBoiiiii: Yep! Sent the clankers running and the Hairless Harpy and Evil Spider Legs too

Green Bean: did you just nickname… Grievous and Ventress?

ARCBoiiiii: what’s it to ya?

Loopy: are you okay sevens?

ARCBoiiii: aw loopy were you worried?

Loopy: get karked

Loopy: ...but yeah

ARCBoiiiii: where’s do-si-do?

Green Bean: dunno. might be on the wing.

Loopy: sevenset. are. you. okay.

ARCBoiiiii: ah okay. and yes! i am okay, loops. little sore, but i’m not hurt. Rancor’s casualties weren’t bad.

Double Trouble: SEVENSET YOU SONAUVA HUTT HOW ARE YOU

ARCBoiiiii: Do-si-do!!!!!! im okay :D

ARCBoiiiii: Cmdrs havoc + colt in medical tho… colt had a run-in with ventress i guess

Loopy: oh kriff--

DEATH: he’s alive after that?

DEATH: … really, boys? the name?

Double Trouble: Sevenset’s idea sir

ARCBoiiiii: Do-si-dos idea

ARCBoiiiii: kark dammit

Double Trouble: beat u haha

Loopy: lol

Green Bean: How ironic. He survives Kamino only to be reaped by Death later

DEATH: ha

Double Trouble: 0.0

ARCBoiiiii: i feel unsafe

Loopy: trees where has that biting wit been hiding my friend

ARCBoiiiii: WAIT I ALMOST FORGOT SOMETHING IMPORTANT!!!!!!!!!

Double Trouble: ??????

ARCBoiiiii: I FOUND NUMBER FIVE

Loopy: Yay!! He was the one in 501st right?

ARCBoiiiii: yeah! pretty damn good sniper too from what i heard. AND GUESS WHAT ELSE

Green Bean: There’s more?

ARCBoiiiii: He and his batcher got promoted to ARCs so THEY’RE STUCK WITH MEEEEE

DEATH: I almost pity them.

Green Bean: ha

Loopy: wait what’s his name??

ARCBoiiiii: fives

Double Trouble: oof unoriginal

DEATH: Oh really, Do-si-do?

Double Trouble: wait no

Loopy: do-si-do it’s been nice knowing you

Double Trouble: nO WAIT it’s hardly fair, you’ve got Death as a name too

DEATH: Sure thing. Anyway, Fives and his batcher are Rex’s freaks, and he always takes his ARCs with him. They’ll be gone after graduation.

ARCBoiiiii: aw shucks :(

Double Trouble: that’s still like… almost three months tho

ARCBoiiiii: yessssss i’ll drag em into the next couple holos

Green Bean: But… it’s just Fives that has the repeating number, right?

ARCBoiiiii: well yeah but they’re practically inseparable, i’d feel bad

DEATH: that’s pathetic

ARCBoiiiii: one of these days we’ll find a recruit you actually like

DEATH: No

Double Trouble: speaking of, did you find number nine? Isn’t he in the 212th?

ARCBoiiiii: no… I’ll ask around, the orangios are still planetside for a bit. and i’m still on the lookout for a cadet 1111!

Loopy: glad you’re alive

ARCBoiiiii: *mwah*

Loopy: aaaaand now I’m not

-----

For the second time in about two minutes, Fives once again lagged a step so he could reach back and tug Echo along by the sleeve. “Keep up, will you?”

“Fives--”

“I don’t want to hear it, Echo, I told you already.”

His batchmate wasn’t going quiet without debate. “But we’re supposed--”

“--to be doing something very boring, now quit complaining.”

“It’s ARC training, Fives,” Echo hissed, yanking his sleeve away, but keeping pace with him behind Sevenset. “It’s all important, even if it’s boring.”

Their leader turned around, walking backwards as he said, “Well… I mean, I’ll be honest, I’ve never used the desert field training once, so…” He shrugged.

“Yeah, because you live on an ocean planet,” Echo pointed out.

“Pays off,” the ARC trooper grinned.

“Doesn’t it get kinda boring, though?” Fives asked. “The same planet over and over?”

“Boring?” Sevenset turned briefly to avoid a squad of junior cadets being led by medic. “Nah, not boring. Maybe the scenery leaves something to be desired, but hey--so did Coruscant. But helping to train brothers like you two? Never boring.”

“I think Fives would have to try to be boring.”

“I’m boring when I sleep.”

Echo turned a skeptical look on him.

“What?”

“What do you mean ‘what?’ you snore like a rancor--”

Remembering who was walking with them, they both looked at Sevenset to add, “No offense.”

And then Fives cut right back in with a rebuttal. “Well maybe I wouldn’t snore if I didn’t have your entire weight on top of me?”

Echo waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, no no no, don’t you pull that argument--”

Fives scoffed. “I am absolutely pulling that argument--”

“You snored on Rishi, and we all used our own bunks.”

That was true. They hadn’t had a reason to share until after…. “Okay, but how do you know that wasn’t Cutup?”

“Cutup--!” Echo’s incredulous tone was somewhat marred by the smile creeping onto his face. Their arguments could never keep a serious face for too long. “You don’t snore in a kriffing accent, Fives!”

Fives could no longer keep the smile off his face either, and he gave Echo a gentle shove with his shoulder. “Okay, you got me.” The gesture was returned a little more violently. Then they noticed Sevenset had come to a stop by a door, and they pulled themselves together to face him.

“You guys were on Rishi Moon?” Sevenset asked, passing his vambrace in front of the control panel to open the door. He gestured them in.

It was a small meeting room--very small, from the others Fives had seen. The holotable jutting out from the far wall probably left room for about seven people. He and Echo stood to one side of the door, hands behind their backs. Fives decided against asking why Sevenset had access to to this place.

“Yessir, we were the last men stationed there.” Echo’s answer was curt, almost blunt, but kept carefully under the veneer of professionalism he managed so much better than Fives did. It had become their standard answer for Rishi questions.

Sevenset glanced over at them from where he was typing at the holotable. “Echo, buddy, I just commandeered you from under your CO’s nose. You can drop the ‘sir.’” He looked back to the blue holograms in front of him. “So were you the ones who blew up the all-clear signal? Saved us a hell of a lot of trouble around here, I’ll tell you that. Should be thanking you.”

“There’s… no need for that.” Echo’s voice shrank slightly, his eyes dropping towards the floor. Fives sighed as quietly as he could, silently bracing for the unpleasant exchange that was sure to follow that deflection.

“Really? I hope you got medals or something, though,” Sevenset replied. He finished typing and stepped back from the table, facing them. “How’d you do it, anyway? Not easy to blow a base like that.”

“No…” Fives agreed hollowly, hoping the ARC would eventually get the karking hint and change the subject. There were already a half dozen scenes of memory playing through the back of his mind as he did his best to pointedly ignore them.

“Liquid tibana.”

He turned to look at Echo, who caught the unasked question in his eyes.

“He asked,” his batchmate shrugged helplessly, now looking anywhere except at their faces.

Sevenset’s eyebrows rose, crinkling the tattoos on his scalp, and he nodded. “Yeah, I guess LT would do the trick, wouldn’t it?”

Nope. Not getting the hint. And Echo--Maker bless him--would keep answering his questions even if it gave him a panic attack. Maybe ARC training could help him kick that habit.

“Did they really send commando droids--”

Fives didn’t let him finish. “Look, Sevenset, we don’t really like talking about Rishi.” Next to him, he noticed some of the tension leave Echo’s shoulders. “Our whole batch was stationed there, and, aside from Commander Cody and Captain Rex, we’re the only ones who survived that attack.”

Sevenset blinked, realization hitting like a splash of cold water. “Oh. Yeah, of course,” he looked down, scuffing one of his boots on the floor without much enthusiasm. “Sorry about  that. Should’ve realized.”

Fives dipped his head, acknowledging the apology. He knew Sevenset hadn’t meant any harm by asking, but at least he’d apologized. The holotable made a noise, and Sevenset practically flew to answer the incoming transmission. Fives couldn’t blame him for wanting to dissipate the uncomfortable silence that had followed his apology. He nudged Echo with his elbow, and they moved closer, still shoulder-to-shoulder, as the first two holograms appeared.

The first clone they saw sat in what looked like a cockpit, although “sitting” was a generous term. More like lounging. His head was shaved on the right side, and the long curls left were bleached and dyed a cold white. His face lit up upon recognizing Sevenset.

“You are alive!”

“Of course I’m alive, Do-si-do,” the ARC replied, once again all smiles. “I am almost offended you thought my first fight with Rancor would finish me.”

The second clone--in recognizably 104th gear--gave a tiny smile. “Here I am surprised Do-si-do hasn’t gotten a surprise visit from Death after his remarks about originality in the chat.”

The pilot, Do-si-do, made a show of looking under and behind his seat. “Nope, all clear. Sorry to disappoint, Loopy.”

“My name’s not Loopy.” He turned to look at Fives and Echo. “My name’s not Loopy, it’s just Loops.” Kind of a fun name, really. Fives wondered what his number was. Eight, probably?

“And for once you beat Trees here,” Sevenset remarked. Another hologram appeared. “Ooh, but not by much.”

Trees, by the looks of his armor, was in the 41st. But, unlike the others, he looked downright regulation, like Echo. “Sorry, I got stuck behind a gonk droid in the hall.” Catching sight of Fives and Echo, he added, “Oh, are these the new guys?”

“Yep!” Sevenset looked to them.

Without warning, Echo’s hand appeared, grabbing Fives by the jaw and turning his head to the left. “And you’ll never guess which one of us is named Fives.”

Fives swatted his hand away, Echo ducking the half-hearted attempt to put him in a headlock. “I am going to kill you,” he growled at his batchmate’s stupidly smug expression. So he liked the number; he had a good reason to like the number!

“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with it, come on,” Sevenset smiled. “You and Loops can match.”

Loops turned his face so the tattoo on his right cheek was visible. An infinity symbol? Stylized number eight? “First thing I did when I got the chance.”

“How’s ARC training treating you two, then?” Do-si-do asked with a smile.

Fives glanced at Echo. “Not too bad,” he answered with a shrug.

“Yet,” Echo added.

Sevenset smirked and nodded knowingly. “Emphasis on ‘yet,’” he agreed. “Right about the three- or four-week mark, you’ll really start regretting some life choices.”

“You survived, though,” Trees pointed out. “Can’t be that bad if they managed to drag you over the finish line.”

“I do have more than one personality trait, you know.”

“Whaaat?” Do-si-do shook his head. “Can’t believe you’re more than your carefree facade. Actually upset now.”

Sevenset raised an eyebrow at him, but Do-si-do ignored the silent challenge and just blew him a kiss through the screen. Sevenset had mentioned he and “number two” had started this group, and now Fives could indeed understand they knew each other pretty well.

“Wait,” Loops spoke up. “What’s your name?” He gestured a little vaguely towards the two batchmates.

“Oh.” Echo straightened up a bit. “I’m Echo.”

Loops waved at him.

“Is this everyone?” Fives asked, looking to Sevenset. He had mentioned the group wasn’t “complete” yet, but he hadn’t expected it to be this small.

The other four shook their heads. Sevenset answered. “No, there’s still the commander, but we don’t pretend to know when or if he’s gonna show. The others--number one, number nine, number four, and zero--we haven’t found yet.”

“And Commander Fox wants nothing to do with us, thanks to Sevenset,” Do-si-do added.

“Also true.”

Echo’s confused expression matched the questions Fives had in mind. He didn’t know Commander Fox’s number off the top of his head. Echo probably did. He’d known the captain’s and Commander Cody’s like that. But… there was another commander? They turned to look at Sevenset together, although two different questions came out of their mouths.

“What commander?” Fives asked.

“You asked Commander Fox?” Echo said at the same time.

They didn’t get answers. Well. Not explicitly. A fourth hologram appeared beside Loops, Trees, and Do-si-do. The single pauldron denoted rank. The full kit of black armor, helmet included, didn’t give many other details. So. That commander. Whoever that commander was…

Next to him, Echo tensed, just barely, but Fives could read him too well to miss it. He looked over. Fives recalled his batchmate’s reaction to meeting the captain and Commander Cody for the first time. They had reputations, they had stories, and Fives had been right with him in that sense of awe--aside from the whole… being invaded by commando droids… thing that had been happening at the same time. And right now Echo kind of looked like that. But his expression had none of the subtle reverence Fives remembered. More… fear? Not quite. He’d seen Echo scared. Who was this guy? And why couldn’t Fives place him?

“Hey, Commander,” Do-si-do greeted, like there was nothing strange about a commander in all-black armor appearing on their holotable. None of them had even gone to attention. That was a little odd.

The commander folded his arms across his chest and grunting a nonverbal reply. His visor landed on Fives and Echo. Again, Fives saw Echo’s whole body stiffen in his periphery. “New guys?” the commander eventually asked, his voice sounding an awful lot like Alpha-17’s gruff speech.

“Yep,” Sevenset nodded, not even addressing him as sir. “This is Fives, that’s his batcher Echo, and you have magically chosen to appear right when they started asking questions about you.”

“These the inseparable ones?” This man had absolutely no variation in tone, and it was going to get creepy.

“Looks like it,” Loops replied.

The commander stared at them for a few more seconds, before giving another wordless huff and looking away. “No one’s inseparable.”

Fives did not like the chill that sent down his spine, despite the words having, as before, no discernible emotional tone. Behind his back, his hand tightened around the opposite wrist, the dull pain momentarily distracting his mind from the commander’s implication. Glancing to Echo, he saw his brother’s jaw clench, his mouth pressed into a line as he stared down the holograms. Fives shuffled closer until their shoulders and arms touched, feeling his brother lean into him.

Sevenset looked between them and the holotable before taking half a step sideways towards them. “Okay, Commander Dark and Angsty, maybe don’t scare away the new guys? Thanks.”

The commander’s helmet tilted up ever so slightly--probably rolling his eyes--but he stayed quiet.

“And that,” Sevenset went on, turning to Fives and Echo, “is Commander Sixes, AKA Commander Death, and yes, he is always like that.”

Finally, it clicked in Fives’ mind. He knew about Commander Death, he just hadn’t seen any images of him. Sithspit, no wonder Echo had reacted like that. The Death Wings were downright terrifying by word-of-mouth, and that--that was their commander.

And these guys were just… chatting with him. They chatted with him… regularly. Sevenset didn’t even call him sir. What in the nine hells…?

The commander’s visor went to Sevenset. “How are Colt and Havoc? Haven’t had a chance to comm them.”

“Mm? Oh. Commander Colt’s just got out of medical. Commander Havoc got out a couple rotations ago.” Sevenset shrugged. “That’s all I’ve got.”

Fives had seen Commander Havoc during training yesterday. He’d walked a little stiffly, but from what he’d heard about his injuries, walking at all was pretty damn good.

“Did you ever find number nine?” Loops asked. “In the two-twelfth?”

“Eh…” Sevenset held up a hand palm-down and tilted it back and forth. “Sort of. I got confirmation he is in with Commander Cody’s boys, and that his name is Nines, but that’s all. Never got eyes on him or a frequency, or I would’ve patched him in.”

Echo opened his mouth, then closed it. Fives nudged him to speak. He’d already drawn attention from Loops, Trees, and Do-si-do anyway. “Well, just--Torrent works with Commander Cody’s men more often than most. We could keep an eye out for him.”

“Once we’re back with the company,” Fives added.

“Oh yeah,” Sevenset nodded. “Totally. Thanks.”

“Any word on the others we’re looking for?” Trees asked.

Sevenset shook his head. “No luck with number one over here. Still haven’t found any cadet with that number.”

Do-si-do added, “The ninety-first has leave in three weeks. My company will be on Coruscant for about a ten-day. Anyone else?”

“I’ll check,” the commander said, reaching out of frame for something.

While he was silent, Loops put in, “Well, the Wolfpack won’t be off for another month and a bit.”

Trees nodded. “The forty-first is still on for another two months.”

“And obviously the three of us aren’t going anywhere,” Sevenset said, tilting his head towards Fives and Echo. “Gotta say, that is one thing I miss about being in the Guard. Can’t see everyone when they’re on leave.”

“The one-eighteenth has leave in about a month,” the commander finally reported. “Should overlap with the ninety-first for a few days. Maybe you can find zero in there. My fighters have a mission with the Nova Corps coming up, too. I’ll see if I can find number four.”

A smug smile appeared on Sevenset’s face. “I thought you once said you weren’t our recruiter, Commander.”

The commander stared at him for half a moment, then answered, “The Marines won’t have leave for another six months. You want to find number four? This is how you do it.”

The ARC nodded, his smile never changing. “Okay, alright, I get it. We won’t tell anyone you like us.”

The commander huffed quietly, then muttered, “I’m still surprised Alpha-17 didn’t beat that attitude out of you over there.”

Echo smirked. “Well, at least that means there’s hope for Fives.”

Fives shouldered him. “Hey, I haven’t done anything.”

“Yet.”

Sevenset grinned at Fives, who found himself returning a small smile. Trees pinched the bridge of his nose. “Maker help us, there’s two of them.”

“Something wrong with that, Trees?” the ARC replied with mock severity. Fives would admit, he did like Sevenset. He liked seeing a higher ranking soldier maintain a lighter sense of humor. Most of the Teth survivors in Torrent had a dark streak--Coric might have it the worst, actually, and it was rubbing off on Kix.

“Nothing wrong, just means I’ll have to explain to my medics why my blood pressure’s so high.”

Do-si-do and Sevenset laughed, and Loops smiled. The commander just shook his head. Yeah, Fives could get used to this.

-----

Edit: I FORGOT TAGS @nl13 @darth-void @glubtheflyingfish (sorry i missed you in part 1) @blsmjoon @23-bears @theultimatesandwich @peacefulwizardfox @alamogirl80

[whereflowersbloom]

Nursery

The evening light looks orange enough to catch fire through the window. Its such a nice day to start working on the most important room of their home. It’s more than just a room actually, the nursery.  It’s a precious and tangible promise. A promise of a life that would be full of everything a child should have.  A promise of a childhood free of pain or worry or neglect, one that would know unconditional love and attention in abundance. There was a large ivory rug that covered half of the gray hardwood floors, to the white furniture, which consisted of the changing table and dresser. They already had the antique birch and oak crib that belonged to the Wayne family. Pennyworth insisted they kept it.

Inside these mint green walls, no joy would ever be denied to him. Damian would make certain of that. Everything his son desired, every need satisfied, every wish made true. His child would be cared for, tenderly nurtured and assuredly protected. By all means. He would make sure to set consistent rules and limits, keep in mind that conflicts are one way that children first learn about self-control, compromise and cooperation that’s what he had read. They had been expecting Malik for six months and twelve days now. Yes, he was definitely keeping track of the days. He prepared a pregnancy calendar board marked with the ultrasound appointments, prenatal classes, and other details in case of emergency. Reminders. Raven had commented several times he tried too hard, but Damian had this compulsive need to be in control of everything. They were creating their own family together, As a future father Damian wanted everything down to the littlest detail to be perfect.

Was his first son’s arrival anticipated with so much enthusiasm from both Kent and Wayne family, his heart swelled with a familiar warmth. Malik would be loved and probably spoiled by his siblings. Jason was already saying he would teach him shoot accurately without missing a single target, as soon he was able to hold a toy blaster, Dick kept mentioning Mar’i needed a playmate preferably Tamaranean-proof, Tim as usual didn’t show much excitement but the last time there had been a spark of interest in his dark blue eyes when they showed his family the 4K ultrasound video from the last obstetrician’s appointment. Stephanie hoped he liked waffles. Malik would have a very different life. Father...Bruce was still digesting the news of becoming a grandfather. Damian could swear for a second caught the glimpse of an emotional Alfred tearing up tears of joy, the British man promised to be around to help in any way the young couple requested. A new Wayne heir.

He can’t help wondering at times, even under different circumstances. Did someone personally build him a nursery? He knew the obvious answer no. Did his mother think to baby-proof the whole League of Assassins compound? He highly doubted it.

Perhaps this was what fatherhood was about: Staying up at night, thinking incessantly about his son’s life and future, worrying about which school he would attend, if he would practice a sport, maybe basketball like Dick, or take after him, take interest in martial arts and swordsmanship. There was no need to get worked up over numbers for a college fund. Eventually he would be in charge of Wayne Enterprises, thankfully Drake sticked around to manage the overall operations, assist the board meetings, whenever Damian was away from Gotham due to Titans or Batman’s business. Drake indeed proved to be quite clever and capable. His mind went back to his son. Will Malik feel loved? Have absolutely no doubts he was wanted. Damian would be by his side ensuring he did. Silently vowing.

Now if only he could finish assembling the convertible crib. He hasn't tried to throw any items of furniture yet, but he's fraying dangerously close to actually doing it. This fucking manual was useless. Damian was currently siting on the hardwood floor, eyes carefully scanning the sheet of instructions again for the fifth time.

“Don’t tell me you’re still in here.” Raven asked her husband with hands on hips as she entered the room. Her long hair in a loose braid, wearing an oversized shirt and comfortable shorts. His green eyes focused on her round belly. She looked so beautiful with a life growing inside her. Her beauty stabbed at his heart like a great knife The miracle of procreation. A new life. Damian had spend the last two hours in the baby’s nursery, claiming he didn’t need help doing a simple task as building a crib. Not Grayson or Jon. Specifically not Conner Kent.

“I’m not leaving this room until this damn crib is properly assembled!” Damian replied obviously annoyed and frustrated. She could perceive his increasing frustration miles away. A heavy sigh escaped her lips. Dealing with pregnancy hormones and an annoyed husband wasn’t easy.

“We could always ask Clark or Jon for help...” Raven suggested vaguely, violet eyes flickering around the room. It was unlikely that Batman had any experience when it comes to baby furniture. On second thought having two Kryptonians with superhuman strength, surrounded by fragile baby furniture...Idea dismissed.

“Over my dead body.” Damian muttered stubbornly, jaw set like the idea of asking for help is a personal insult.

Raven just shook her head and headed over the dresser and looked at several of the outfits that they already had for little Malik, who recently started kicking her with more force, at first it was just a tiny quiver, Raven admitted it was tremendously exciting when she felt it, like a flutter. Damian was there right next to her, wearing an amazed expression on his face, but then Malik began kicking more in the evening, recurrently, she noticed. He was also an early riser just like his father. She observed that some of the onesies were from some members of the Justice League. There’s was a Aquaman one, Flash, Superman, recalling it was a present from Clark and Jon. She smiled softly as she pulled out a black one with the Batman symbol on it with the words saying 'Future Batman' on it. She took it, turning around to show it to Damian with a raised eyebrow. “Whose ideas was this?”

“Don’t look at me. Grayson thought it would be an appropriate gift.” Damian muttered sulkily as he continued reading the manual of instructions for the crib he insisted assembling himself, studying it with knitted eyebrows. Was the manual in Swedish? What there anything this man couldn’t do? Except perhaps build this Swedish convertible crib which was clearly giving him a headache.

“Why am I not surprised?” She rolled her eyes as she caressed her swollen belly affectionately. She did it often, out of instinct. It felt so natural...yet strange. In less than three months she would become a mother.

Mother. She was about to be someone's mother. She had only ever pictured the idea in an abstract sort of way, never really picturing it clearly until Damian brought it up about four months after their engagement. Even after a Damian came into her life, she never imagined he would want to have a child with her, if she were being honest. She was not human. This child was not completely human and yet she was certain of risking her own life protecting from any harm. It’s the type of love that leaves you speechless at the end of the day. It’s a love so pure you almost think it can’t be real. Lois told her once all the forces on this planet will never beat that of a mother. Those words were probably a universal truth.

I am writing this oneshot but I’m not sure I can finish it. But here’s a fragment. I apologise if it isn’t that good but it’s 3am and I’m exhausted 😅😅😅

Malik belongs to @deep-in-mind67 💚💚💚💚

[reyescarlos]

both of us are losing || a tarlos fic

word count: 4k || read on ao3

I know sometimes It's gonna rain But baby, can we make up now 'Cause I can't sleep through the pain

Carlos has always prided himself on his ability to keep his cool. He likes to think it’s what makes him a good officer and a great friend to those close to him. He’s patient and analytical. He examines a situation from all conceivable angles before drawing conclusions.

But even he has limits. Even he is capable of thinking with his heart over his head and, as expected, it hasn’t led him anywhere good.

Getting into an all-out screaming match isn’t how he could have seen his night ending but as he stands on the opposite side of the kitchen from TK, he doesn’t see how else this could go.

The evening had been going well until this point, the two sharing a quiet night in at Carlos’ place for dinner. As always, being able to share in TK’s company after a long day at work was the perfect antidote to a stressful shift. There’s never a greater comfort for him than to spend time with TK. It hardly ever matters what they’re doing. It’s always just enough to be around him.

These last three months they’ve been together have been a real highlight for him. Given the complicated path they took to this point, all Carlos wants to do is wrap himself up in moments like this where it’s just the two of them simply existing in the same space together.

With their meal done, they two work alongside each other in the kitchen doing dishes with TK on washing and Carlos on drying duties. TK’s phone chimes on the counter with an incoming call, the jingle echoing over the rush of the water from the tap.

“Grab that for me, would you?” TK asks, his hands covered in suds. “It’s probably my dad.”

Carlos drapes the dish towel he’s been using to dry plates with over his shoulder as he turns to pick up TK’s phone. His heart sinks to the pit of his stomach at the name he sees flashing across the screen. He stays frozen in place, unsure of what to think.

“It’s not the captain,” he says, his voice grave.

TK shuts off the faucet and looks over at him. Carlos holds the phone up for him to see the screen as well. TK sighs and rolls his eyes.

“I told him to stop calling,” he hisses, shaking his hand to get some water off before taking the phone from Carlos and rejecting the call.

Carlos blinks, his brain slowly processing what TK has just said.

“Wait, you’ve been speaking to him?”

TK sighs, ripping off a sheet of paper towel and drying his hands.

“It’s not like that. He wanted to apologize and see how I was. He left this long voicemail...it was so ridiculous. But then he called again and I figured he would keep doing it until we actually spoke.”

“When the hell did this happen and why am I only now hearing about it?”

Carlos’ voice sounds so different to him now and it’s evident that TK feels the same way because his boyfriend looks up at him like he’s someone else entirely.

“Carlos,” he says slowly. “Just listen to me, okay? I don’t want you getting worked up over this. I handled it and there’s nothing to worry about.”

“Handled what exactly? TK, what is going on here?”

“Nothing! That’s just it. There’s literally nothing going on here. God,” he groans.

“How can you expect me to believe that? Your ex is calling you. Repeatedly, apparently. Obviously something is happening. Don’t give me that.”

TK shakes his head and sighs.

“How long have you been talking to him, TK?” Carlos asks.

TK hesitates for a moment, pursing his lips before answering. “He reached out to me last week.”

Carlos stands up straighter, jaw clenched. “So seven whole days have gone by and you couldn’t find so much as a minute within any of them to tell me that your ex-fiancé reached out to you?”

“Ex-boyfriend!” TK corrects, as if that makes much of a difference in Carlos’ eyes right now.

He scoffs and shakes his head, wringing the dish towel in his hands. For a moment it’s too easy to pretend it’s Alex’s neck.

“Oh, well, pardon me then. That makes all of this so much better.”

“There’s no need to be sarcastic here.”

“You’re kidding me, right? You must be joking. I don’t care what the label is. What this boils down to is the fact that you kept this from, TK. What else are you hiding from me?”

“That’s not fair. I didn’t do this on purpose, Carlos, and I’m not hiding anything. I just didn’t think anything of it.”

“And maybe that’s the real problem here. You actively chose not to tell me and you probably never would have if he didn’t call just now.”

“Do you honestly think Alex and I are getting back together or something? We haven’t been talking every day, catching up like we’re suddenly friends. I didn’t answer when he first tried.”

“But you obviously picked up at some point and didn’t think it was worth it to tell me.”

“Because it doesn’t matter. He just wanted to check in and say he was sorry for what happened back in New York. I told him that I was fine, that I moved on and that I’m happy so we can just drop the conversation. He’s nothing to me.”

“It does matter, TK. It matters so much and the fact that you can’t see that…,” he trails off, shaking his head.

TK pinches the bridge of his nose. “This is all coming out wrong.”

“Then explain it clearly because I’m not understanding how you could think I didn’t have a right to know. It’s about respect and transparency.”

“Carlos, there was never a threat here. Our relationship was never in danger. I love you so much. If nothing else, I need you to know that.”

Carlos’ vision swims for a moment, his eyes filling with tears born more so out of frustration than anything else. He’s always been an angry cryer.

“That’s not how you show someone you care about them. You don’t lie.”

TK runs a hand over his face. “I didn’t lie to you!”

“Omission isn't the truth either, TK. It amounts to the same. Screw technicalities.”

TK jerks back, blinking twice. Carlos struggles to stop his heart from racing, his chest from heaving. The silence that falls between them now is unbearable. Carlos’ ears ring with their exchange.

This divide between them seems so much larger than the counter that separates them. Carlos has been here before and the ghosts of his past relationships start to creep into the room, suffocating him.

Carlos bites back on his lower lip, swiping at his eye. He feels like a dam that’s ready to crack at any moment. There’s too much pressure building in his chest and if he’s not careful, he’ll explode in a way that may cause far too much damage.

What he needs is fresh air and time away. This isn’t where he needs to be, at least not in this moment.

“I just...I can’t. I can’t be around you right now.”

Carlos tosses the dish towel down on the counter and walks past TK out of the kitchen.

“Are you serious? Carlos, where are you going?”

“I’m going for a walk, okay? I need some air.”

“It’s getting late and you’re upset. You shouldn’t be outside.”

“Well I can’t stay here so I don’t have many options, now do I?” Carlos snaps, turning around to face TK.

His boyfriend stops dead in his tracks. His bottom lip crumbles a bit but Carlos looks away, stewing in the anger that has taken root in him. This feels wrong but this frustration has its claws in too deeply for him to apply reason to the situation.

Other people get to rant and rave. Carlos keeps far too much inside. Now that the lid has been lifted, the steam has to go somewhere.

Carlos turns back, snagging his keys off the coffee table as he hears TK draw nearer once more.

“Carlos. Carlos!” TK calls after him.

It’s the last thing he hears before slamming the front door shut behind him.

~*~*~

Alone with his thoughts proves itself to be an even worse place for him to be. Carlos has no idea how long he’s been walking around his neighborhood but it isn’t long enough for him to grow comfortable with the ugly thoughts swirling around in his head.

He pictures TK being pushed too far with this argument, seeking solace in something familiar, in Alex. Logically, he knows that would never happen. Alex broke something between the two of them that could never be repaired and yet that cruel, insidious voice in the back of his head whispers to him, conjuring up imaginary scenarios that feel far too vivid and real.

Had Carlos not traveled this same road before with partners in the past? He’s been burned so many times throughout the years that a part of him had been secretly holding its breath just waiting for the other shoe to drop with TK.

Carlos has long since learned how to live with that worry lingering in the recesses of his thoughts. Even when things were going well, life had a habit of proving to him why he should always remain cautious and vigilant.

Certainly he and TK had gotten off to a rocky, awkward start with each other. But once they managed to find their footing, things had been going extremely well. Perfectly, Carlos would venture to say.

But inevitably, the end would come in the form of a boyfriend finding some way to let him down. It was almost always when he’d invested so much of himself. Carlos was worried he’d wind up giving away so many pieces of himself that there would be nothing left.

He thinks of the look on TK’s face as he snapped at him just before leaving. It’s enough to make Carlos sick to his stomach. He knows his insecurity has just ripped the bit of fabric that’s been binding them together this whole time. All Carlos can do now is pray that isn’t something that can’t be salvaged.

Even though he felt justified in being upset over TK keeping the truth from him, Carlos knows his approach was all wrong. Being quick to give into anger wasn’t his usual speed but he slipped into it as easily as a hot bath.

Picking the night apart, Carlos realizes how much he felt ambushed by the sudden appearance of Alex in his life. The man was thousands of miles away and yet he had placed himself so prominently into the future Carlos was trying to work towards with TK. The past had a nasty habit of circling back, the old becoming new again.

What really troubled Carlos was the familiarity of tonight’s scenario. He’s been cheated on, dumped, ghosted. Just about every relationship ended in disaster but he’d been wrapping himself in the belief that this time around, things were finally different.

You’re a great guy but…

I think we’re better off as friends…

I’m sorry to do this to you…

He’s heard it all before and then some. Knowing that TK had been harboring a secret like this set something off within. He knows TK’s actions weren’t malicious. Now that he’s had time to replay it all and truly recount his boyfriend’s words, he knows TK was just trying in his own way to shield him.

Carlos’ head is a riot of thoughts but the most pressing one is that he needs to set things right with TK.

He rounds the corner to his block, slipping his phone out of his pocket as he ambles down the sidewalk. He wonders if TK will even be keen on answering him tonight. If his boyfriend still wants space, he’ll of course respect that but Carlos hates loose ends and this one is a gaping hole.

He pulls up TK’s name in his favorites and touches his thumb to the screen, pressing the phone against his ear as he walks up the short pathway to his door and unlocks it.

The phone rings as he steps inside and Carlos startles hearing the chime of a phone inside his home. He follows the sound to the living room where TK is sitting on the couch, eyes fixed to the door. His legs are pulled up to his chest, his arms folded on top of his knees. He looks so small, like a child that has just been reprimanded, the cuffs of his sweater pulled down over his hands.

TK’s eyes are rimmed pink, his face flushed. The man looks as if he’s aged a few years in the span of time Carlos had stepped away. It makes something in Carlos’ chest crack open.

He falters at the sight of him, ending the call. In the silence of the room now, he can only hear the ticking of the clock as it counts the seconds it takes for Carlos to find something to say.

“You’re still here.”

TK looks wounded at the statement. “Would you rather I not be?” TK asks quietly, chin propped up on his arms.

Carlos toys with his keys before dropping them into the dish on the coffee table.

“Of course not,” Carlos replies, walking around the table to sit on the couch as well.

He leaves a bit of space between them, still unsure of what footing they stand on with each other. It’s reassuring to see TK now, to know that he at least still wants to be around him and talk this whole thing out.

“I’m sorry about walking out like that. I just needed to clear my head.”

“I’m the one who should be apologizing. I’m the one that got us to that point.”

TK lets out a shaky breath and continues. “I’ve never seen you that upset before.”

Carlos shrugs. “I don’t usually get angry, especially not like that. I wasn’t myself and that wasn’t right.”

“You’re allowed to get mad, Carlos. If something bothers you, it’s only natural.”

Carlos shakes his head. “I don’t like giving into that.” He falls silent for a moment. “I’m glad you stayed.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I hate how this feels; this isn’t us. I don’t want you and I to end tonight on a bad note and have it spill over into tomorrow.”

TK stares at him for a moment and shakes his head as if to clear it.

“What?” Carlos prompts.

TK licks his lips and unfurls himself. “I’ve never been with anyone who thought like that. All my exes, our bad moods stayed with us for however long it took to fizzle out on its own.”

Carlos doesn’t like the sound of that at all.

“That’s not how I operate. Tomorrow is its own day. It shouldn’t inherit the troubles from today. I don’t like going to bed angry.”

It was an old adage his family swore by and Carlos had adopted the philosophy for himself as well. Harboring negative feelings was a disservice to everyone.

TK looks at him for a moment before lowering his gaze to his hands.

“I’m sorry I got defensive. I was totally in the wrong with this. I’ve been thinking it all over and seeing it from your perspective. I fucked up. Honestly, this whole time I knew I was messing up. You must hate me.”

“I could never hate you, T. You know that. I just needed some time to clear my head but I wasn’t walking out on us, I promise. I just needed to be alone and work some stuff out.”

TK sighs, letting out a relieved breath. Carlos feels guilty for making him worry.

“Did you find that peace of mind you were looking for?”

Carlos chuckles tersely. “Sort of. I realized the real reason why I blew up didn’t really have anything to do with you specifically. It was old insecurities rearing their heads and I caved. I thought I was past everything and all it took was one instance to show me that I’ve still got some things I need to work on.”

“Past what exactly? What kind of insecurities?”

Carlos sighs. He isn’t sure how to touch on his concerns now. It sounds so trivial and childish in his own head. He fears what TK will think if he brings himself to disclose what he’s been grappling with all evening.

“I know how much he means to you. Hell, you wanted to marry this guy, build a future with him. I’m not holding that against you, of course. It’s just...what you guys had clearly counted for a lot. If you had decided to continue talking to him or to even see him again, I couldn’t compete with that.”

TK’s brows furrow, reaching for his hand.

“Carlos, please listen to me. You win out each and every time in every possible way. Alex meant something to me. Past tense. As in used to but not anymore. I chose wrong with him but I know that I’ve got it right with you. That isn’t something I’ve ever doubted since meeting you.”

Carlos looks away, chewing on his lip. It isn’t like him to show his anxiousness like this and yet here he is, a ball of nerves.

“Talk to me, Los. What are you thinking?”

TK’s been so candid with him about his life back in New York, all the highs and lows of his battles with substances and depression. In Carlos’ eyes, those are real issues, true upsets that rank so much higher on a list than pesky confidence issues. But if he can’t be open with the man he’s in love with, Carlos realizes that there isn’t anyone else he can talk this out with. And besides, he reasons, his thoughts and feelings will always matter with TK.

“I’m not usually the first choice someone makes. Or...if I am, they always seem to inevitably look elsewhere. I never seem to be enough in the long run. Seeing that he called you, it scared me. I know that you love me and that we’re happy and good together. I know that we have something real and solid here. Rationally I know that you all ended on horrible terms. But even with all that in mind, I’m always so scared of losing you one day. I’ve had boyfriends run back to their exes before. I panicked thinking it could be the case here.”

“That’s never going to happen with me, Carlos. Never,” TK says quickly.

“You don’t know that.”

“Yeah, actually I do. I know it for a fact. I am so incredibly in love with you. I never thought I could ever be this happy with someone and yet, here you are. All mine. I’ll say it to you every day and you can bet I’ll make it my mission to show you too. I don’t ever want you to doubt your importance in my life. I don’t know what I’d be now if we never got together. Alex is barely a thought and on those extremely rare moments when he comes across my mind, all I can think is how goddamn lucky I was that I dodged a bullet there.”

TK laces their fingers, giving his hand a squeeze.

“I had no idea you’ve been through all of that in the past. Shit, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s dumb. That’s no reason to flip out like I did.”

“Of course it is; it makes total sense. I didn’t mean to add to that, to be another person on that list. But I swear to you, I will never make a mistake like this again. I wasn’t trying to hide anything or be sneaky going behind your back. I didn’t tell you because I honestly didn’t want you to feel like you had any reason to worry because you truly don’t. I feel nothing towards Alex or any other guy for that matter. But I see how not telling you was way worse. I should have been upfront from the second he called me.”

TK sighs and rakes a hand through his hair. “I’ve still got a lot of learning to do.”

“So do I,” Carlos says, searching TK’s eyes. “God, I was being so stupid and ridiculous.”

TK frowns and inches closer. “Shh, no, you weren’t. Your reaction was completely justified, a hundred percent. I didn’t mean to make you scared and I’m so sorry you were ever with anyone that made you feel less than. You’re the greatest part of my life, Carlos Reyes. The absolute best part. There hasn’t been a single day that I haven’t felt like the luckiest guy in the world for being loved by you. You’re so much more than I ever thought I’d have.”

Carlos smiles at the reassurance. All the same, he can’t help but to feel foolish.

“Still, I’m so embarrassed,” he chuckles, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“Why? You don’t ever have to be embarrassed around me.”

“I made something out of nothing and just showed you what a massive insecure mess I can be. Not exactly the finest quality.”

“If you say one more negative thing about my boyfriend I’ll...well, I don’t have an actual threat here. I’ll just be very upset.” TK kisses at his temple. “I love every part of you, even the messy bits. God knows I’m made mostly of parts like that and you still love me anyway. I don’t want you keeping up appearances or downplaying your emotions for me. Whatever you’re feeling or thinking, I want to know because it’s valid, Los.”

TK brings Carlos’ hand to his mouth, lips skimming along the back.

“You’re not a machine. It’s okay to feel things. And, to be fair, I went about this whole Alex thing totally wrong. I should’ve said something; I shouldn’t have kept that from you. This one’s on me. If an ex you were serious about did that, I’d want to know.”

“So you forgive me?” Carlos asks.

TK frowns, tracing the outline of Carlos’ jaw. “Babe, there’s nothing to forgive here. I’m not mad at you. I was upset with myself.”

“I snapped, walked out, and I made you cry. Those are criminal offenses in my book.”

TK laughs and shakes his head. “It’s nothing we can’t bounce back from, right?”

“Right. We’re okay. Better than that, even. We’re prepared if anymore exes decide to come out of the woodwork.”

TK laughs and nods in agreement. “Definitely. So, have we passed the ready-for-bed test now?”

Carlos hums in thought, standing up from the couch and tugging TK towards him.

“Not yet. There’s just one final step until we get the all clear,” he says.

TK smirks knowingly and tips his head up for Carlos to capture his lips. Carlos frames his boyfriend’s face in his hands, mouth moving over TK’s steadily. He kisses him deeply, casting out all the residual doubt and fear that’s knocking about, clearing it all like cobwebs from the darkest corners of his head.

He pulls back enough to stare into TK’s eyes, those gorgeous green irises teeming with so much love and affection. How Carlos allowed himself to give in to misgivings seems inconceivable now. No one has ever looked at him the way TK does.

“Okay, now we’re ready.”

Ready to put this whole argument behind them, ready to sleep, ready to tackle whatever obstacles may try to stand in their way.

As they walk hand in hand towards his bedroom now, Carlos feels as if he’s leaving so much behind. For all that he’s given away to people throughout the years, he’s struck by just how much the man holding on to him has given him back in return. And that, Carlos realizes, isn’t something anyone stands a chance of taking away.

[ceterisparibus116]

Hiiii! 5, 11, 14, 18, 25, 32, 46 please ♥️

AWWW! <3 The questions are: 5.  How much writing do you get done on an average day? 11.  Books and/or authors who influenced you the most. 14.  How do you deal with self-doubts? 18.  If you could collaborate with anyone, who would it be, and what would you write about? 25.  Favourite part of writing. 32.  Most difficult character to write. 46.  Do you reread your own stories?

5.     How much writing do you get done on an average day?

Depends, obviously, but I can reliably get an average of probably 1.5k a day. Except for the fic I’m currently most excited about (Trust: Handle With Care), I hit a point where I was average 4k a day. Yeah, I was blown away by that, but the story just took over.

 11.  Books and/or authors who influenced you the most.

PETER JACKSON FROM LORD OF THE RINGS. Not an author, technically, but I was obsessed with LOTR as a kid, and I devoured the behind-the-scenes content, and he had a segment where he talked about how he went about adapting from book-form to movie-form, and one thing he said that hit me like lightning was that he plotted out the various threads (Frodo and Sam, Merry and Pippin, Aragorn and Legolas and Gimli, etc.), and figured out how all those arcs needed to go—separately. Only once he’d nailed down those separate threads did he start thinking about the best way to interweave them to build tension.

So that’s what I try to do! I don’t necessarily have that many threads at once, but I do try to sketch out each separate thread ahead of time. Sometimes I’ll literally write an entire thread before really bothering about the others, sometimes I’ll just skip along my outline at random points, but I always try to keep those threads separate for…pretty much as long as possible. That makes it way easier to control pacing, and it also makes it more fun for me to write because I have a clearer sense of where everything is going.

The other thing he mentioned is that he found his central issue/theme early on, and used that as a gauge for what to cut when things inevitably had to be cut. Fanfiction, of course, is privileged in that no one’s hovering over your shoulder forcing you to stay under a certain word count, so you don’t HAVE to cut anything at all. But I do care about pacing, so I try to use my central as a theme as a guide when deciding what scenes to cut, or what scenes to “show” (vs tell) in the first place.

 14.  How do you deal with self-doubts?

Ooh, good question!

The first thing is to try to put words to my self-doubt. A nebulous feeling of inadequacy is almost impossible to combat, in my opinion. So I try to get as specific as possible. What, exactly, am I doubting?

For example, sometimes I’m doubting whether a certain scene works. That’s good to know; I can zero in on fixing that scene, and leave the rest of my confidence untouched.

Sometimes the doubt is broader, like whether I’m good at a certain style of writing, or whether an overall story is “working.” That’s tough. Sometimes I’m like, “Yep, this style is not my thing, and honestly I’m not interested in developing that skill.” Sometimes I’m like, “Okay, this style is not my thing, but I want to practice it and get better anyway,” which means reminding my doubts that I need to treat myself like I’d treat anyone else learning a brand new skill—the fact that I think I’m good at other parts of writing doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to be an amateur sometimes. As for doubts about overall stories, that’s really hard! Sometimes I have to chuck the story because it’s just not working. Or if I think it’s worth salvaging, I have to figure out where it went wrong and how to correct it.

Sometimes the doubt is really broad and personal. I don’t know about others on here, but I still occasionally struggle with the doubt that fanfiction is…worth it? As in, compared to trying to publish original works. I combat that by reminding myself why I write in the first place. It’s not for notoriety. It’s not to make a living. It’s to share what I love most with the world in a medium that I love. And that’s as true of fanfiction as it is of traditional publishing.

This is also where my faith really sustains me. I’m very outcome/achievement-oriented, so I can quickly get discouraged if I’m not putting enough out there or reaching various goals, like about stats or hits for fanfiction, or getting an agent, etc., in the publishing world. But the truth is, my identity is not in my ability as a writer. I can have those days (or weeks, or months) where writing is just not making me feel good, and that’s okay because my ultimate satisfaction and confidence and joy are all in God, not writing.

 18.  If you could collaborate with anyone, who would it be, and what would you write about?

In the fanfiction world, there’s my bestie @soulfireinc. We already help each other out with brainstorming and otherwise encouraging each other, so I know she’s great to work with. What would we write about? Whump and angst, of course, for whatever show we’re both invested in at the time.

  25.  Favourite part of writing.

CONNECTING DOTS. I freaking love connecting dots. Like, sure, creating things ex nihilo is fun too, but I’d much rather get all my pieces on the metaphorical board, and then go about figuring out how they can intersect, parallel each other, and otherwise compliment each other. That’s one reason I’m so drawn to fanfiction specifically: the pieces are already there; I just get to play with them.

Other favorite parts are: getting so lost in writing that it feels like I’m reading, interacting with readers, learning things about myself, having people tell me THEY’VE learned things about themselves through reading what I’m writing, and believing that, somehow, by writing, I’m making the world a better place.

 32.  Most difficult character to write.

Fisk and Vanessa, probably, for fanfiction. They way they talk is so intelligent, and yet neither character is limited to intelligence. I often find that dialogue for them can feel very stilted when the writer is so focused on Sounding Smart that they lose sight of what really drives these characters. I always re-read scenes with them a few extra times to try to notice if I’ve fallen into that trap.

 46.  Do you reread your own stories?

Absolutely! Sometimes it’s necessary, like when I’m writing a long story or a series and need to go back to remember what else has happened, or to get myself back in the “feel” of the story, so to speak. But I’ll occasionally re-read shorter stories, too, just for the fun of it. After all, I write what I want to read. ;) And if someone leaves a sweet comment, you can guarantee I’ll go back and re-read that story to try to figure out what they liked about it, and try to read it with their eyes.