#he opened his mouth on judgment day [FENRIR]

[sinnhelmingr]

fen: if she looked the faintest bit ill -- like, ugh -- if she got winded on the stairs, it was "oh, you're too sick to go out today..." jori: there was a time... there was a time i thought hel secretly had whatever the kid from the secret garden has where it's like she can't go outside. because you'd be like "no, not our wee babe hel." fen: i thought she had like glass bones disease and she couldn't be outside or she'd be shattered! fen: we had to -- no joke -- jormungandr and i staged an intervention for our parents. jori: we had to talk to you guys about how easy... fen: like you're babying hel. jori: you're babying hel. you're still babying hel. loki: but here she is. jori: yeah, with her weak glass bones! loki: are you okay? do you need... you need something to drink or anything? hel: i could use some appy slices actually if you wouldn't mind. loki: with a little peanut butter to dip them in? hel: FUCKING OF COURSE I WANT PEANUT BUTTER LOKI.

[sinnhelmingrmoved]

canon: baby hel on all fours standing on the borders of wherever she’s living and making small wolf noises. howl. bark. woof. she wants to see how many friends she can attract at a time. her record is three.

mostly she just got fenrir.

who she told to move and that he was not a real wolf. because fenrir is a fake wolf. because he doesn’t even have wolf parents.

[chudleycanonficfest]

Rewrite the Stars

Day 7, Post #1 is by @adenei

Title: Rewrite the Stars

Author: adenei

Pairing: Ron/Hermione (Romione)

Prompt: Songfic

Rating: PG 

TW: Depiction of blood purity/discussion of prejudices against Muggleborns, Violence/Murder mentioned (but not graphic)

************

*This fic is inspired not only by the song, but also Anne and Philip's relationship in the movie The Greatest Showman.*

Summary: AU In a world where there’s no Voldemort, but blood purity is strictly enforced, Ron and Hermione must navigate their budding relationship, and all the trials and tribulations that come with it.

********************

“Are you sure this is alright?” Hermione asks as she smooths the front of her dress, checking for wrinkles for the fifth time in as many minutes.

  “Yes, it’s fine! You look beautiful,” Ron assures her.

  He places a warm, comforting hand on the small of her back as they enter the grandiose ballroom where the Auror department is hosting their annual dinner. A handful of Aurors are honored for their achievements, but over the years, it’s turned into an event for the upper classes and Purebloods.

  Hermione knows she doesn’t belong here, amongst the men and women whose wealth and social status put them leagues ahead of anyone else, and it’s rare to receive an invitation to such an event even as a Halfblood. But as a Muggleborn, Hermione braces herself for an onslaught of jeers and slurs. If Ron wasn’t being honored for his success on a case he’d worked six months to solve, she wouldn’t be here at all.

  Ron has always encouraged Hermione to follow her dreams, even during their Hogwarts days. Though they were sorted into different houses, the two shared many Prefect rounds together. Being named Head Boy and Girl also brought them closer together, where they began seeing each other in secret . Neither had intended to break things off upon graduation, but when Hermione received rejection after rejection for potential jobs within the Ministry, she pushed him away too. 

  There was a time years ago when she hoped to be working within the Magical Law Department with dreams of making the magical world a more accepting place for every witch and wizard, no matter their blood status. But those bright-eyed and bushy-tailed dreams have long since dissipated. The rules are archaic, and there’s no chance of overturning something so set in stone until there’s a new Minister of Magic who would be open to the possibility. 

  So, for now, Hermione tends to a job that gives her equal satisfaction. She teaches young Muggleborn students in a special school that she founded with the help of Professor McGonagall. Hermione earned her certification to teach the primary levels at University after graduating from Hogwarts, and now works with Professor McGonagall to teach those students between the ages of five and eleven how to prepare for the world they’ll enter when they’re old enough to go to Hogwarts. This is in addition to all of the regular courses that Muggle England expects them to study.

  The prep school is what reconnected the pair, when Ron was assigned to work the case of an eight-year-old that disappeared last year. It was determined that the child was abducted by Fenrir Greyback and turned into a werewolf. Ron found the boy’s body deep in the Forest of Dean, where it was determined that Fenrir became too bloodthirsty on that particular hunt. 

  Hermione was distraught over the outcome and took comfort in Ron, who was equally shaken by the case. As the weeks following the case progressed, Hermione found herself spending more and more time with Ron. Slowly but surely, they found their way back to each other and had only just rekindled their relationship a couple of months ago.

  Since their relationship still feels so new to Hermione, they’ve kept things quiet. But she knows how important tonight is for Ron, and she wants to be there for him. To support him the same way he supports her. Hermione knows he will be by her side through it all, and has assured  her that no one will make any comments. 

  Ron leads them around the room, exchanging pleasantries and mingling with people Hermione’s only heard stories about. Thus far, everyone she’s encountered has been polite. They are about to make their way to their table when a voice calls out to them.

  “Ron! There you are, dear! We’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

  Hermione turns to see a plump woman with hair the same shade of red as Ron’s. A man follows in her wake who peers at them through half-moon spectacles with the same cerulean eyes that she’s so familiar with, only they’re attached to a different face. They’re much colder than the warmth Ron’s eyes emit, and that’s when the dread begins to expand from the pit in her stomach.

  “Oh, I didn’t realize you were both attending tonight,” Ron attempts to hide the surprise as he greets his parents.

  “And miss the opportunity to see our son receive an award for his hard work? Don’t be silly,” his father responds with a wave of his hand.

  Hermione has yet to meet Ron’s parents. A chill crawls up her spine as they talk to their son as if he is standing by himself. Suddenly, all of Ron’s promises become emptier than the desk of her former student.

  “Er, right. Mum, Dad, I’d like you to meet someone.” Ron gestures toward Hermione.

  She can see his mouth moving, but no sound comes out, at least not that she hears. The blood drains from her ears, causing momentary deafness as she stands under the scrutinizing stares of his parents. Hermione holds her head high as his mother admonishes his choice of a date. There’s no empathy for them whatsoever.

  “...What will everyone think? You come from a certain class of people, and we need to uphold our status. At least go for a Halfblood, darling.”

  Years of following the mantra ‘hold your head high, don’t let it bother you, stay in your lane’ have still not prepared Hermione to endure this moment. She is a strong-willed woman, she fights for what is right, and she refuses to stand here and take this woman’s judgmental words all because of the family she was born into. 

  This is the exact reason why Hermione insisted on keeping their relationship private. Her feet move on their own accord as Hermione tears herself away from Ron’s side and weaves in and out of the clumps of people. She manages to find the visitor’s entrance and exits to the bustling streets of London. Refusing to cry, she rushes along the cobblestone sidewalk and down a deserted alleyway. 

  Hermione forces herself to forget the sound of Ron’s voice calling after her as she disapparates away from the Ministry of Magic. She finds herself in her classroom, staring at all the empty desks in front of her. Desks of students who would be forced to meet the same unfair limitations that she lives day to day. She feels so helpless, not knowing what to do in an effort to make their lives easier. 

  Looking down at the elegant maroon ball gown she’s still wearing, she feels dirty. This isn’t the life she’s meant for, no matter how many assurances Ron can give her. She doesn’t belong in his world. Thank goodness she keeps an extra outfit in her coat closet, which she rushes toward before shedding the expensive formalwear from her body. 

  Once she’s changed, Hermione sits down at her desk, staring at the piles of papers left to be graded. Ron insisted she leave them there so they could spend their weekend together. A heartbreaking realization enters her mind as she thinks of his name.

  We can’t be together. This is never going to work.

  It’s as if he knows that she’s thinking of him as the floo lights up and he stumbles out. Ron sheds his dress robes, leaving him in his starched white dress shirt and pressed black trousers. She refuses to look up even though she can feel his gaze boring into her as he stands at the head of her desk.

  “Hermione.”

  She says nothing because what is there to say?

  “They’re small-minded people. What do you care what they think?”*

  He reaches for her hand, but she tugs it away as she sits back in her chair.

  “It’s not just them, Ron. You haven’t lived this life. You don’t know what I’ve been up against. You’ll never know what it feels like to be looked at the way your parents looked at me tonight. The way they spoke down about me to my face. I can’t—I can’t be subjected to that. The way people will look at us because we’re together. I don’t deserve to feel that way.”

  Hermione stands up and exits the classroom, stepping into the abandoned hallway. She can’t do this anymore— it’s too painful. She’s learned to pick and choose her battles. It’s better to let people like the Weasleys think they’ve won while she keeps fighting on her own.

  You know I want you, it’s not a secret I try to hide.

I know you want me, so don’t keep saying our hands are tied.

You claim it’s not in the cards, that fate is pulling you miles away and out of reach from me,

But you’re here in my heart, so who can stop me if I decide that you’re my destiny?

  “Hermione, don’t do this. Please. I don’t care what they think. I want you, and nothing else matters.”

  She stops and only turns her head slightly to see him leaning out of the doorway, his hand gripping the door jamb as he calls after her.

  What if we rewrite the stars, say you were made to be mine

Nothing could keep us apart, you’d be the one I was meant to find.

It’s up to you, it’s up to me, no one can say what we get to be

So why don’t we rewrite the stars, maybe the world could be ours tonight.

  “Please, love, don’t let them dictate what our life looks like.”

  The desperation in Ron’s voice is what makes Hermione turn all the way around to face him. She begins to walk a few paces toward him before the voices in her head get a hold of her. He’d become an outcast if she stayed with him. She can’t let him risk everything he’s gained by choosing her.

  You think it’s easy? You think I don’t want to run to you?

But there are mountains, and there are doors that we can’t walk through.

I know you’re wondering why because we’re able to be just you and me within these walls

But when we go outside you’re gonna wake up and see that it was hopeless after all.

  “You know it’s not that easy. We can’t just run away from everything so we can be happy. Your family would never forgive you, or me for that matter! Everyone will do everything in their power to tear us apart. It’s not worth it.”

  “So, what? You’re saying we’re not worth it?”

  No one can rewrite the stars. How can you say you’ll be mine?

Everything keeps us apart, and I’m not the one you were meant to find.

It’s not up to you, it’s not up to me, when everyone tells us what we can be.

How can we rewrite the stars? Say that the world can be ours tonight.

  Hermione reaches out and clasps his hands with her own. “No, you’re not listening to me. You’re worth so much to me that I have to let you go.”

  “But what if I don’t want to let go?”

  All I want is to fly with you. 

All I want is to fall with you. 

So just give me all of you.

It feels impossible (It’s not impossible). 

Is it impossible? (Say that it’s possible.)

  “I don’t want to let go, either, Ron, but I have to. You mean too much to me.” 

  She knows it’s better to be hurt on her own terms than to let someone else hurt her instead. Ron will see reason eventually. He has to. Hermione wraps her arms around him, tighter than ever before, putting all her feelings into one single embrace, hoping that he can understand. 

  How do we rewrite the stars? Say you were made to be mine?

Nothing can keep us apart, cause you are the one I was meant to find.

It’s up to you and it’s up to me, no one can say what we get to be

And why don’t we rewrite the stars, changing the world to be ours… 

  There are many things she can change, but her blood status isn’t one. Above all else, she’s proud of being a Muggleborn, and she’ll keep teaching her students to be proud of their roots as well. She’ll keep her memories of Ron and how wonderful he is locked up tight as she finds a way to navigate this world without him. Hermione has made her decision as she kisses his cheek and lets go. Perhaps in another lifetime, they’ll be able to be together with nothing standing in their way.

  You know I want you.

It’s not a secret I try to hide.

But I can’t have you.

We’re bound to break and our hands are tied.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Her voice leaves the faintest echo among the abandoned halls. Before she loses her nerve, she turns on the spot and apparates away, leaving the hurt look that is etched on Ron’s face burned into her mind as she leaves him alone.

[marauders-venting]

Late Nights

pairing: wolfstar (sirius x remus)

genre: fluff

warnings: hints at sex

words: 2015

summary: sleeping in the same bed as sirius has always seemed natural to remus, helping each other out with nightmares like friends do. But this year something has changed for Remus and it makes the current sleeping situation both unbearable and necessary for Remus’ continued existence.

note: inspired by the song ‘Sleepover’ by Hayley Kiyoko (i know this is a very popular headcanon but i never thought of writing it until i heard this song and decided that i absolutely have to)

Remus was nearly asleep. Nearly but not quite. He could feel Sirius’ arm pressed against his, their hands just barely touching. That alone was enough to keep Remus awake. But Sirius was fast asleep, not bothered at all by the fact that Remus was lying right beside him. Of course he’s not bothered, Remus thought, why should he be? We’ve been sharing a bed for years.

Remus still remembers the first time he and Sirius slept in the same bed. Remus had woken up shaking from his usual nightmare: when he had been bitten by Fenrir Greyback when he was five years old. He had gone to get a cup of tea from the common room, to try and calm down. When he came back upstairs, he heard a stifled sob coming from the direction of Sirius’ bed.

“Sirius?” Remus whispered. Sirius whipped around in his bed to look at Remus. Remus couldn’t quite see in the dark but he was sure that Sirius’ cheeks were tear-stained.

“Yeah?” Sirius said. If Remus hadn’t been an expert at pretending that you’re not crying when you are, he wouldn’t have been able to hear the tremble in Sirius’ voice.

“Are you ok?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Remus knew that Sirius was lying. He had given that response himself countless times and not once had he been telling the truth.

“Did you have a nightmare?” Remus asked.

“It’s no big deal,” Sirius said, but Remus could hear his voice shaking.

Remus grabbed a cup from the table in the room, poured half of his tea into it and brought the cup to Sirius, who sat up in his bed.

“Thanks,” Sirius said after Remus had handed him the tea. “You can sit down if you like,” he added, gesturing to his bed. Remus did. Then he cast a silencing charm over the bed.

“What was that spell?” Sirius asked, still whispering.

“Silencing charm,” Remus replied.

“How do you know how to do those?” Sirius asked in awe. Remus shrugged.

“It’s a useful spell,” he said. They sat in silence for a few minutes, drinking their tea.

“I woke up from a nightmare too,” Remus said, eventually. He hadn’t wanted to share this; he hadn’t been planning on telling anybody. But he wanted to help Sirius. And this seemed like the best way to do that.

“Are you ok?” Sirius asked him.

“Yeah,” Remus said. “You?” Sirius nodded.

“Do you want…” Sirius started, “never mind.”

“What?” Remus asked.

“Nah, it’s stupid.”

“What is it?”

“It’s just…” Sirius started hesitantly. “Back home, whenever my brother, Reg, or I had a nightmare, we would sleep in the same bed to help us feel better. So I wanted to ask if you wanted to try that. It’s stupid, I know.”

“It’s not stupid,” Remus said. “It’s actually really smart. I wish I had a brother that I could do that with.” Sirius looked surprised for a minute before he spoke.

“Well, now you have me,” he said. Remus smiled at him. So they crawled into the same bed and fell asleep to the sound of the other’s breaths evening out as they drifted off.

But something had changed this year. The sound of Sirius’ deep, sleepy breaths no longer rocked Remus to sleep; it kept him awake. Suddenly, Remus found himself unable to sleep at night, his heart thumping in his ears, his breath catching every time Sirius’ bare skin brushed against his under the sheets. Remus had gone and fucked things up. He’d fallen in love with Sirius. And now Remus was afraid to cross a boundary. Everything he did seemed wrong. Remus didn’t want to make Sirius uncomfortable. One wrong move and Sirius might decide that this sleeping arrangement didn’t work for him anymore, that he didn’t need Remus anymore. Remus didn’t think he could bear that. He didn’t know which would be worse: being this close to Sirius but not being allowed to touch him, to kiss him or pining for Sirius from far away, starved of any contact at all. Well, not at all. He supposed that he could still hug Sirius. He hugged James sometimes, after all. But how many excuses to hug Sirius could he possibly have? Not enough. Not nearly enough.

Remus didn’t want to lose these moments with Sirius. He didn’t want to lose the brief contact of their hands and legs beneath the blanket but it was becoming increasingly harder to just leave it at that, to restrain from making the fleeting moment turn into something more, something that could satisfy Remus’ thirst.

Suddenly, Remus feels Sirius turning over in his sleep. Remus doesn’t open his eyes. Sometimes, he’ll watch Sirius sleep, just for a little while. Staring at Sirius while he’s asleep is far easier and far less frightening than staring at him during the day when he could look over and catch Remus at any moment. So Remus made the most of it. But he didn’t feel like torturing himself tonight so he keeps trying to sleep. But then Sirius speaks.

“You’re my best friend,” Sirius whispers. “My soulmate.” Remus’ heart skips several beats. Is Sirius talking to… him? He opens his eyes and finds Sirius looking right at him.

“And you’re mine,” Remus whispers back. And then Sirius honest-to-god falls out of the bed. “Holy fuck, Sirius, are you ok?” Remus asks, concerned but also trying to contain his laughter.

“Remus,” Sirius says, standing up. “I thought you were asleep.” Remus shook his head.

“I was trying to sleep,” he says.

“Sorry,” Sirius says.

“It’s not your fault,” Remus replies. But it is. Sirius is definitely to blame for Remus’ insomnia. Because how the fuck is he supposed to sleep when Sirius Black is lying right there next to him, his lips soft and full and utterly kissable; his jawline sharp and incredibly sexy; his hair still somehow looking flawless, despite tumbling out of the bed seconds ago. Just Sirius. Everything about him consumed Remus’ mind, making his heart beat in his ears, driving away sleep. But Sirius can’t know this. Not now, not ever.

“Then why can’t you sleep?” Sirius asks. Remus just shrugs. “Is it the moon?”

“No, no,” Remus assures him. “I’m fine. I just… couldn’t fall asleep. What about you? Is everything ok?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Sirius says. “We should probably try and get some sleep.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Remus says. Sirius climbs back into the bed and they lie there for a while. But Remus can’t fall asleep and he can feel Sirius tossing and turning beside him. After what feels like half an hour (although they have no real way of knowing) Remus turns towards Sirius, making what is probably the dumbest decision he will ever make. Remus already knows that he will regret this. But he’s made up his mind now; he’s going to do this.

“Sirius?” Remus whispers.

“Yeah?” Sirius says, turning his head towards Remus but remaining flat on his back.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” Sirius says. “Hold on.” He turns to where James and Peter are fast asleep, snoring like logs, and casts a silencing charm around the bed. “Ok. Now we can talk normally. So what’s up?”

“It’s… I have a problem and I need some advice.”

“Ok,” Sirius nods. “What kind of advice?”

Remus swallows hard.

“Dating advice,” he says.

“Oh,” Sirius says; Remus can’t discern his tone. “Ok, what do you need?” You. I need you.

“I… I like someone.”

“Ok,” Sirius says. “What’s she like?” Remus swallows again. There’s no turning back now.

“He,” he whispers. Sirius looks at him in surprise but there’s no judgment or disgust in his expression.

“Ok, what’s he like?”

“He’s… incredible,” Remus says. “He’s smart and he’s kind and he’s funny and… he’s really, really gorgeous.” Remus feels himself blush.

“Ok,” Sirius says. “Do you know if he’s into guys?”

“Yeah,” Remus nods, “he is.”

“Ok,” Sirius says again. He turns on his side so he’s facing Remus. “I’m not seeing the problem here.”

“The problem is… he’s my friend. And there’s no way he likes me back.”

“Why not?” Sirius asks. Remus snorts. Sirius grabs Remus’ arm. “Remus. Why the fuck not?”

“Because he’s just… he’s way out of my league. And besides, he would never look at me like that.”

“And you really like him?” Sirius asks.

“So much,” Remus says, closing his eyes. “I like him so much. And every time I see him it’s just… I die all over again.”

“Have you told him how you feel?” Sirius asks. Remus shakes his head, opening his eyes.

“I don’t want to fuck everything up.”

“Remus, you have to talk to him,” Sirius says. Remus just shakes his head. “Yes, Remus, yes you do. You need to talk to him and find out how he feels.”

“Sirius, I told you, I haven’t got a chance with him,” Remus says. “Telling him, it would… it wouldn’t do anybody any good. He’d just be weirded out.”

“Remus, if he really is your friend then he wouldn’t want you to be in this much pain. Just talk to him. Tell him how you feel. Think about what’ll happen if he feels the same way; you can be happy.”

“And if he doesn’t?” Remus asks.

“If he doesn’t…” Sirius hesitates. “If he doesn’t then you can start to get over him. And I’ll be here for you. The whole time.” Sirius puts his arm around Remus. Remus closes his eyes for a moment and breathes.

“Is that what you would do?” Remus asks. “If you were me, would you do this?”

“Yeah,” Sirius said, “that’s what I would do.” It takes Remus several moments to collect himself. He’s not ready for this but he won’t ever be more ready, so he might as well. Remus turns to face Sirius. Their faces are just inches from each other.

“Sirius,” he says slowly. He looks deep into Sirius' eyes. Their penetrating grey stares straight back. Sirius’ mouth falls open as he realizes what Remus is telling him. Remus reaches out and caresses Sirius’ cheek, brushing his lip with his thumb, determined to do it once before Sirius pushes him away and starts hating him for fucking everything up.

“It’s… me?” Sirius asks. Remus feels the tears well in his eyes as he nods, but he doesn’t let them out.

“I’m so sorry, Sirius, I didn’t mean to—” But then Sirius kisses him, swallowing the end of his sentence.

“Shh,” Sirius whispers, as they break apart, lips still close together. “Don’t apologize. Don’t apologize for anything. You’re so stupid. You’re so fucking stupid, you bitch. How could you think for a second that I don’t want you?” Sirius ran his fingers through Remus’ hair and Remus leaned into the touch, closing his eyes. “You’re so perfect. And I love you, Remus. I’m so in love with you. And every second you were talking about that guy you liked I wanted to scream with agony.”

“I’m sor—”

“Shh,” Sirius says, putting a finger to Remus’ lips. “You have nothing to apologize for.” Remus smiles and rests his forehead against Sirius’.

“I love you too, Sirius,” he says. He takes Sirius’ hand and their fingers intertwined together. Remus’ tilts his head so his lips flutter over Sirius’. Then he turns his head and does something he’s been thinking about for months, imagining what it would be like. He kisses Sirius’ jaw. He starts below his earlobe, kissing his way down that perfect jawline.

“Remus,” Sirius moans. Hearing Sirius say his name like that makes Remus’ heart pound faster than he thought was humanly possible and this time he kisses Sirius’ lips. He lets out a moan and pulls Sirius in, closer, closer, but Remus doesn’t need to make an effort because Sirius is pressing his body into Remus’. They’re so close, Remus can feel Sirius’ pulse beneath his fingers. It’s fast. Remus kisses Sirius harder. And finally, finally, Remus can do what he’d been longing to do with Sirius in this bed all year. And maybe after that, if there’s any time left, Remus could get some sleep at last.

[maladaptive-ninja-returns]

Kira Vol 2 (1)

The Mistress

CHAPTER 1: Where The Heart Heals

Loki x fem!Reader (Kira)

Series: A new chapter begins in Kira’s life. Old secrets, new confessions, surprising allies and unexpected meetings. All of them have one name in common. Loki.

Chapter content: soft feels

Warnings: none

Word count: Okay. I’m putting it out there. I wrote this for myself. And that’s what I am trying to do right now. I don’t know how regular I will be with this but I will be writing when I feel it.

MASTERLIST & Taglist in bio, my love

If I could feel this again... The heaviness of your eyes feels like a blessing even when the warmth of the sun is gently stroking your forehead, delicately whispering sweet nothings to wake you up. You know your mother has already woken up for she is the reason the door is open and that chilled winter air is nudging the sun rays to get as much of the playfield over your exposed skin as it can. The teasing play going between the two forces becomes a soothing episode for your nerves, enjoying the lazy winter morning with the sparrows chirping on that one malacca tree still standing in your front yard. The chill draft that swirls to lands on your unaware fingertips, brings with it the familiar dissatisfied woof and one rage-filled yelp, making you smile even with your eyes closed. You can even hear the disgruntled remarks of some boomers out on their morning stroll cursing your poor babies for growing so big and healthy and barking at any stranger that was not welcome in their territory. If I could feel this every single day...

Your eyes finally open from a dreamless sleep, ready to bask in the lukewarm light directly hitting your eyes. The bliss is incomprehensible; to wake up to the sight of the green that is surviving the winter chill in the garden right outside your room. A few sparrows are looking for an early grub in the pots kept right outside your door, seeming to catch a glance or two in your direction when you stir and let your head rest on your hands to watch the life of winter make you grateful for this morning. More grateful when a familiar spotted figure jumps down from the neighbour's wall and passes by your door with the quietest yet graceful gait. "Kitty!" you exclaim without any voice escaping your hoarse throat, making you chuckle at your own failed display of excitement. A long stretch that cracks a few knots and makes you squirm while you squeeze your eyes shut; that is what it takes to finally convince you to get out of the cosiest quilt on this entire planet. It is a task to find your socks under the huge green buffed up fabric but you do not want to step down till you are sure your sensitive feet are secure. Once the pair is found after a round of tossing and turning the poor quilt, you are ready to open your door and step into the garden. And what a sight it is! The balmy morning sun is bringing life out into the streets. Children fresh out of school for their Christmas holidays are riding their colourful bikes around while their parents or guardians spew caution at them. Vendors are out with their carts and wagons, bringing about fresh produce while the riveting bark of the bike that brings the fresh milk for some households waits for the man of that particular house to bring out their vessels. The air has the perfect crispiness of winter twirling all around you. There is no doubt that the sun has colluded with the sweet-smelling chilly breeze to bring the blood to your cheeks and fingertips. The bliss that this simple day can be for an entire lifetime... A whine followed by a protest-filled howl catches your attention in the moment you are taking in this rare morning. Turning your head to look across the fence, you watch those familiar sharp blue eyes looking you with a sour expression. Right. This drama queen. The protest does not stop. "I'm coming," you groan, "I'm coming," you stress as you walk across the garden to open the gate and walk barely five steps across the narrow road to greet the fluffy boy pretending to be mad at you while vigorously wagging his tail. "We literally met last night, you dumb husky!" you coo through your teeth while scratching Ghost behind his ear. "You stoopid loving boi. My best floofy boi." You call out as many names as you can to the huge beast that wants to lick you clean but isn't getting the chance to. So, instead, he decides to take your wrist into his mouth, continuing to whine at the same time, wanting to keep you there till he loses interest in you. "I blame your mother for not training you to respect me, you dumb floof," you state as you make him look you in the eyes, "I fed you and bathed you and played with you when you hadn't even opened your eyes. And this is how you repay me? By giving me scratches and sticking drool all over my elbows?" Growing uncomfortable- and a double chin, the way you are holding his face- he huffs and jumps away from his fence to let you know he is done with you for the day. "Ungrateful bitch," you mutter in his direction while he looks for more leaves to chomp on, "I still love you." Ghost does not even side-eye you. He knows you stand there smiling at him while he goes about eating anything green in his sight, only bothered when he hears the rev of a car pass by. The attention span to that little distraction is short-lived too. "Okay," you sing in a way you think might get on his nerves, "I'm going back then. You won't get to see me till our late night walk." Any little hope that this dog with an attitude would actually look up at you is gone when the same car comes back. Let's see if that car can feed you pancakes. Still looking at the white-furred beast, you are hurt right in your feels to watch his huge paws go up on the fence again to judge whoever sits in the car that has stopped right by the side of your house, the panting paused to scrutinise the strangers in the SUV with tinted glasses. "Really," you nudge his lower jaw as you address him with a simmering gaze, "I get a howl and yank on my hand but some stranger gets a full minute of silence?" You nudge his jaw again, not really liking the point-blank stare he is giving to whosoever is getting out of the car behind you. You are about to nudge him the third time when a voice freezes your hand mid-air. "I guess he does not like my presence that much." The heaviness of the voice with a gravity of its own stops everything around it for an elongated moment. Even with the cold surrounding you, the warmth that engulfs your chest is far more evident over your skin once all the nerves light up at the thought of turning around and finding him standing there. So, you do. And the smile that escapes you is far brighter than this December sun. "Heimdall."

 It is heavenly to hear his name from you after what seems like months stretched into ages. What acts as a balm to his heart is watching your face with carrying the same perfection it did the first day he met you; maybe even lovelier. If he had a sister... "Kira," he sweetly announces into the air before wrapping his arms around you for a hug; something that you gladly welcome, and embrace him back. "I missed you," you squirm into his coat, smelling the mildly spicy cologne he is wearing. Heimdall chuckles. "Who's bothering you? Just point me and I'll take care of the rest." You giggle and draw yourself back to look at those warm honey eyes. "I missed you because I hadn't felt like someone was spying on me for the last two months. Almost felt weird." You shrug, pressing your lips to stop the smile from pouring out while Heimdall groans. "I'm never ever going to hear the end of, am I?" he closes his eyes and sighs. You shake your head before snickering. The pleasant meet-up makes you forget about the prying neighbourhood that has eyes everywhere, lurking behind every curtain to look at this strange, well-built man coming out the blue in an expensive vehicle to hug you- a single woman who should have been married by now instead of meeting strange men, according to them. From the rooftop to the eyes that are pretending to buy vegetables and groceries, everyone is centred on this tall dark and handsome man putting all their sons and husbands to shame. "So-" you poke him in his abdomen- still surprised it's hard as a rock- "what brings you here?" A knowing nod and a deep inhale is all Heimdall gives you for a moment, his habit making his eyes wander everywhere to look for anything unusual. "I...uhh...well-" he inhales through his teeth this time- "we wanted to check in on you. Wanted to see how you were doing. Because everyone misses you back home." "Oh." You feel your breath stuck in your throat. Your inner voice is already elbowing the corner of your nerves, wanting to hear you speak the name for yourself. But you just shove her back into the sleepy comfy corner for the moment. "Yeah," Heimdall smiles, "Zair misses you because he, and I quote, 'cannot even with this new temp some boomer hired in Kira's place'." You snicker. Typical Zair. "Yigrette misses you because it's mundane living with men in the house after a while." "Aww," you feel for your sweet keeper. "Fenrir misses you too, obviously. He has made your bedroom his bedroom. And it has been hard getting him to come out of there now." That floofly baby. I miss him too. Ghost hears that thought and the very next moment, his paw comes to tap on your shoulder and look at you with every ounce of judgment his blue eyes can hold towards you. "And Robert too, now that he is all healed and is ready to take more bullets." "Noooo," you groan into your palms. That idiot. You wait and watch Heimdall smile at you, standing there as your inner voice is wondering- with her face resting in her palms and legs in the air- if there is anyone else who is missing you. "Soooo...-" your voice trails away as you wipe your thoughts by rubbing your hands on your pyjamas- "everyone misses me, huh." Heimdall is about to nod before he stops and creases his brows, forcing you to furrow your own brows in return. "Mm...not everyone though." You can feel the little sinking feeling before your heart has even taken a dive from the board it currently stands on. "Hm?" is all you can bear to say. "Oh, it's Loki. I was talking about Loki. He doesn't miss you," Heimdall shakes his head. And your heart doesn't even do a routine; it just takes a sad plunge into whatever waits for it down in the pits of unwelcoming sadness. "Oh," you inhale the cold air to soothe your insides that are simmering now for some reason, "that's...good. That's good. He isn't missing on work. Or cursing me for not being there to do my work." And just like that, you are trailing into a long train of afterthoughts to console yourself. "That means he is doing pretty well in my absence...which is good...for uhh...for the company. Hmm." Heimdall cannot help but smile at the sorry look on your face to think that your boss does not care about your presence- or absence in this matter. Those y/e/c eyes are at the verge of questioning some major emotions as they let the Watcher's words sink in. It takes a lot more than a dig at lips by his perfect teeth to stop him from giving it away. "No," he finally blurts out, grabbing your attention while internally cursing himself to put you through that for a few seconds of entertainment, "you are thinking in the wrong direction." This time you look at him in confusion. "Heimdall, what are you tryin-" "He does not miss you," he continues, still looking at you when his arm extends by his side to open the door to the back seat of the SUV and relish the two-second delayed reaction, "because 'missing' would be an understatement."

 The last thing he remembers is the blur of the days that have gone by till he is once more standing at the single path of stone decorated with everything that he declares too delicate for this world. Deep inside he has nothing but love for them. Everything too pure for this universe resides in this little ecosystem at the edge of where his world begins. From the ferns and creepers to the fishes and flowers- every little cell has a story of surviving all those perils to come down the path of evolution as much more beautiful. He stands right there and stares straight down the path that leads to the corner that he had begun to cherish some time ago. He pauses his day there, before every break of dawn and every splay of dusk, waiting. What exactly he waits for, no one knows. Some onlookers think he has gone much more insane after the brawl he barely crawled out alive from. They wonder what he keeps looking at in that corner, watching the sun both rise and set there. Some feel empathy for him. Yigrette walks by the lounge every single day to witness this little ritual of her master. Her soft heart aches a little for she knows somewhere he feels the absence of the one little alum that settled all the dirt inside him till it was present in the murky waters. But she does not know the depth of that emotion, neither does she want to insult her master by trying to measure it somehow. And the last time she sees him, he walks towards that edge in the night. He remembers stepping barefoot on that cold stones carrying the chilly impression of the foggy weather outside that has shrouded the vastness of his estate into one quiet graveyard where even the lights of the city do not reach. The distance- thought not much- feels worth an eternity for him as his heart accelerates. The only thought riding the unstoppable train inside his mind is the ghost of a chance of seeing you there. The lights turn on once he enters the space- they turn on for him to stare at the empty space that was once thought of as a decent wing to match the rest of the house, not really knowing what weight it would hold in the future. And here he stands, contemplating whether this part of his house had ever felt so bland before. So...hollow. He is slowly killing himself on the inside to refrain himself from touching anything for the fear of diluting your essence- or whatever is left of it- and instead, he does what he has watched you do a hundred times over. The tiles are cooler than they were the last time he laid down on them. The only time he entered your abode. That time when he watched over you for endless nights till he has to be forced to sleep for his health and yours. But how could he? You were surrounded by wires and tubes, and beeping machines that scared him even at the slightest beep. He rose up to look at you for any movement of discomfort when he himself was experiencing pain that would have bedridden any other ordinary man. Not wanting to get away from your side, he laid himself down out in the lounge. And then he found out why you did this after a long day. It feels nice to let the cold floor take away all the unnecessary thoughts swinging inside his head. Little fears that crowd his mind dissolve and drain down into the ground. Then, for the first time in the past few weeks, he lets his conscience paint a picture of you drowning in happiness. Even as the fear erodes the edges of his heart- that you are happy somewhere other than here- he finds comfort in your smile that is still fresh in his mind. Even though the dark clouds loom on those waves- the thoughts that tell him you have forgotten him- he still lets your laughter roar through his existence. A delicate experience in the cold of December.

Today sleep comes earlier than he anticipates. His eyes are heavier than they usually are. He wants to give in to the arms of slumber because the last time he slept like a baby was when you were healing. He wants to walk towards the lullaby of this pretty siren till he notices it is the first time he has felt such sleep take over him ever since you have been gone. Hold on a second... He opens his eyes- barely- and gets up on his elbow. "Yigrette," he wants to shout but the name is just a questionable statement as he feels his limbs get heavy. There is a silhouette of a figure patiently walking towards the lounge that is a hazy picture to his eyes. But his brain still works enough to realise he has been somehow made a victim of forced unconsciousness. Feeling his face touch the cold tile of the floor, he vows to take them by the throat- whoever spiked his drinks or meal and made the terrible decision of knocking him out cold. And everything goes dark. Dark...till he can hear a familiar giggle somewhere in the void. Along with a sweet aroma that brings to the surface memories that were feared lost. His heart wants him to reach out for that voice that is beginning to clear the fog inside the dense forest that is his mind. And so the heart does what he does best, it slows down too much to let the brain jerk him awake. The sun shines right over his face when a door opens somewhere, flooding his being with brightness through and through. He has to make an effort to open his eyes after a much-needed sleep, watching the rays hit his smaragdines till they are filtered and washed away by the one face he longs to see for the rest of his life. "Loki?" you call out with the softest emotion on your face as the sun rays reflecting inside the car lets your features shine for him. He blinks; still trying to figure out if it is a dream or if you do stand in front of him.  "....Kira?" That voice wants to give all its strength to call out your name, wanting to bring you into existence if you are a figment of his imagination- something that is his worst fear of all. And there you stand with a smile painting your lips for him, taking his first conscious breath in this new morning away. And all he wants is to pray to some force to not let this be a twisted nightmare. "It's good to see you...sir." And that full-toothed smile melts him- front, back and sideways- while the world watches from windows and roofs, questioning Fate and her strings, for better or worse.  If I could feel this again...I would want to feel it with you.

[theincompetentgenius]

Hey, I was wondering if I could get a dangerous fellows, ikemen vampire and ikemen revolution ship? I'm shy when you first meet me, but after I am quite roudy and loud, I have social anxiety which is a problem when I meet people. I'm strong emotionally and physically, I can take care of myself, and I am learning taekwondo. I'm not easy to connect with emotionally, I tend to have walls up and dont let people in. I'm very sarcastic and sassy, with a good sense of humour, I can make anyone smile.

Thanks for the request and I’m sorry for the delay!

Dangerous Fellows

I’d pair you with............... Zion!

So I was originally thinking about Harry for your matchup. He’d always be by your side during (especially when you first arrive), always treating you with the utmost kindness. He wants your wild side to be fun and amusing, bringing a breath of fresh air to his not-to-amazing days. Besides, if anyone was to break down your walls, it would be Harry with his honeysuckle smile. However, Zion wins out for a number of reasons.

Alright, so this might be a little difficult in the beginning because of your social anxiety. Zion isn’t the most approachable person in the group, but I do think your relationship with him would be great in the long run. Realistically, you’d probably spend more time with Harry, Judy, or Ethan at first. However, Zion spends a decent amount of time with them too, which causes you guys to socialize more often.

It is during these times where you slowly reveal more of your true self. And Zion is totally into it. He initially thought you were a timid little kid, but the more rowdy side appeals to him. You’re the only one in the group who knows how to have a good time (besides him of course).

Your sarcasm is a lifesaver for him. Finally, someone who can speak his language. The two of you go on-and-off, throwing sarcastic remarks at each other. Sometimes, the rest of the group gets concerned with how intense the comments can get. But the two of you know that it’s nothing more than harmless banter for some chuckles.

When he sees your taekwondo skills on the zombies, his mouth is wide open. How did you manage to land a punch on them without being bitten? He might scold you for putting yourself at such risk, but he thinks its incredibly hot at the same time. He might even ask you to teach him some moves when he’s got some free time.

Zion is also extremely stubborn himself, keeping his secrets to himself. But his growing relationship with you (along with the pressures of survival) would ultimately cause him to bring down his walls. He tries not to be sappy about it, but it feels nice to get all his thoughts off his chest.

Another Possibility: Harry

Ikemen Vampire

I’d pair you with............. Napolean Bonaparte!

I would be lying if I said that Arthur didn’t pop in my head a few times. I think the two of you would have an interesting dynamic: he’d constantly try to grab your attention while you flick him off with your sarcastic remarks. Everyone in the manor loves watching you put Arthur in his place, including Arthur himself! He finds you interesting, to say the least.

But my buddy Napolean has to take the cake here. Considering that Napolean is the only human (or demi-human) in the mansion, it’s natural that you’d gravitate towards him. Besides, he’s the least threatening out of all these blood-sucking vampires, so the former general is definitely your safest bet.

While Napolean isn’t pleased with looking after you, the two of you are forced to learn about another through all the time you spend together. It isn’t long before you start passing Napoleon while he tacks his infamous nickname on your back. The two of you become close within a short amount of time, ultimately leading to a relationship.

He’s impressed with your technique for combat. Since taekwondo wasn’t common during his time in France, Napolean is intrigued by your skills. He sees potential in your abilities and decides to help you out with some training. At times, the training is beneficial and you learn a lot of new moves. But more often than not, there’s a lot more intimacy than training.

Napolean is extremely charismatic. There’s something about the way he talks that makes it difficult for you to stay away. His words give you insight and clarity, often prompting you to open a little bit about yourself. Whether it's intentional or not, he always appreciates the rawness of it. There’s nothing better to him than an honest relationship.

Lastly, the general always finds himself smiling around you. He’s never met someone with such a good sense of humor, especially in the mansion. Every time he’s with you, he always laughs until his stomach hurts (even if you don’t always mean to be funny). And that’s his favorite thing about you.

Another Possibility: Arthur Conan Doyle

Ikemen Revolution:

I’d pair you with....... Fenrir Godspeed!

I was wrestling between the two best friends because both work really well with your personality! Ray absolutely loves your independent nature, supporting you in all your endeavors. Also, he finds your sharp tongue hilarious (especially when you tease Fenrir). You’re sugar and spice, which is amazing in his opinion.

But I’m going to have to give it to Fenrir on this one. I think he’d do a better job of getting to know you since he’s so loud and friendly. Fenrir would do a great job in making you feel at home in Cradle, showing you around in all the different shops and landscapes. If you don’t feel like talking, that’s fine. He’s got enough conversation for 15 people, so your quietness doesn’t bother him.

Once your louder side comes out, the two of you wreak absolute havoc in the Black Army. There’s not a day where Sirius doesn’t yell at you guys to shut up, only to hear thundering laughter from the both of you. Whether its a simple conversation or a playful argument, your voices can always be heard from a mile away. But that doesn’t bother either one of you because most of your conversations are idle talk.

Fenrir is probably the biggest victim of your sarcasm. It’s fun to tease him because he initially didn’t expect it (especially when it comes to ghosts). However, the Ace of Spades adjusts quickly and learns to tease you. Although he’s not sarcastic or sassy like you, his jabs are always fun to listen to. 

He also thinks you’re the best comedian in the Cradle. Sometimes your jokes are so funny that he finds tears in his eyes. I don’t think there’s anyone who made him laugh that hard before. Now he can’t help but wonder, do all people from the Land of Reason have an amazing sense of humor?

The two of you become partners-in-crime. Fenrir does all the far-range activities due to his judgment and precise aim. On the other end, your specialty lies in close-range stuff due to your strength. Whether its pranks, fights, or anything in between, the two of you make a pretty good team.

Another Possibility: Ray Blackwell

[sinnhelmingr]

What is Hel’s relationship like with her siblings? What does she miss most about them? What does she dislike? // @eynsavalow

For the most part I would say Hel’s relationship among her brothers is... good? Good. There’s no interpersonal problems, even if she does struggle with the circumstances surrounding her relationships with them. Hel is her own worst enemy, and the impediment between herself and bonding with others, after all.

Also for the sake of this ask I’m just covering the myth-canonical, usually panfandom brothers rather than any oc or setting-specific siblings. I adore all the fankids, ocs, and fandom-specific children of Loki, but I am also terrified of forgetting anyone and making people feel bad so I’m just covering the main squad of Sleipnir, Fenrir, Jormungandr, Vali, and Nar(v/f)i. Just assume Hel loves any siblings outside of these five even if she’s an awkward sort of reserved sibling at times.

(This is so long. This is so very long. Abandon hope all ye who click read more.)

In my lore, Hel is the youngest of Loki’s children with Angrboda, the baby of the bunch and only daughter. First was Fenrir, and then Jormungandr, and Hel grew up as their little tagalong and pestilence depending on the situation. 

Her relationship with Fenrir was always especially layered, fraught with sibling rivalry spiraling out of proud eldest son vs spoiled only daughter discord. They butted heads often once their personalities really took shape. They easily forgot how baby Hel had been rather attached to her oldest brother, and Fenrir in turn patient with ‘the baby,’ despite how she pulled his fur a little when toddling alongside him. Hel would spite Fenrir, or he would tease her, and within minutes their parents often had to pull the two apart before it turned into a brawl. The pair warmed to one another slightly upon moving to Asgard in their youth, united as outsiders against the majority, but still had a certain antagonism towards one another. Over time, the pair showed signs of getting over it and instead using their barbs more softly, evolving into a form of affection than actual meanness.

This development was blighted, however, upon their casting out and separation. Hel never knew what became of Fenrir until adulthood, and found him bound and mad. She’s not sought him out since, unable to face what he became. She’s long since learned to miss that however much her brother teased her, he was always looking out for her, always protecting her from others. She doesn’t, however, miss the antagonism they unleashed upon one another just for something to do, even if she laments never knowing how they might have gotten over it.

Jormungandr is the full sibling that Hel was closest to in her childhood, as both were more mild-mannered compared to the boisterous wolf cub.  Their relationship is encapsulated by the image of a young Hel sitting with a borrowed book, ‘Jori’ twining around her and following along as she sounded out the words for him. He was a constant companion, confidant, and best friend in her youth. The two especially came to rely upon one another in Asgard, where the two would find quiet places for cuddling and comfort. The thoughtful Jori often proved a voice of reason for his more rambunctious kid sister, and Hel in turn proved capable of calming the serpent during bouts of anxiety. The two were as close as siblings could be, and many of Hel’s happiest memories involve her older brother.

It’s facts like that which make Jormungandr’s loss cut Hel so deeply. Jormungandr was the first cast out, and Hel had to watch his final descent, unable to move or even react in the moment. Despite repeat attempts to call out to him, standing along coastlines and seeking some clue as to where she might find him in the depths, he appears either incapable or unwilling to have a reunion throughout most of history. She misses the easy affinity she had with him, how they simply clicked, and knows if they had maintained contact then their burdens might have been easier to bear. She’s reluctant to admit it, but she’s somewhat grateful she doesn’t have to be a personal heater half the year these days.

Now we get into the matter of her half-siblings: Sleipnir, an older brother, and Vali and Narvi, her younger brothers. Hel has regular contact with all of them, some more closely than others, but she still clings to them and would protect them from anything -- a task she already ‘failed at’ in her own mind in two cases.

Sleipnir was a later development of Hel’s youth. She always knew Loki had another child somewhere, but never had a chance to meet him until the move. As a horse girl and a baby sister, she was positively thrilled to meet her brother the horse. She would fritter away hours in the stables, chatting to the steed and tending to his hair, sneaking him snacks that he enjoyed while he offered affectionate nuzzles and a sympathetic ear. He was the first sibling she reunited with after her exile, and on her first return visit to Asgard found herself sobbing and clinging to his neck, ashamed at her own weakness but desperately needing to hold on to the one family she had left. While both are chained to Odin, they are both alive and able to traverse realms, which puts them in a better situation than their brothers. Hel often sneaks away from events in her uncle’s hall to spend time with Sleipnir, who does not mind the company and makes a perfect excuse to dip out of such events. He loves enabling these moments where his sister is more a person than a queen, to be honest.

Their relationship is great, and unburdened by Hel’s crushing sense of guilt about the rest of her family. They simply hang out from time to time and have maintained a healthy, mutual love and respect for one another. Hel admires Sleipnir’s resilience and mischievous streak, which has been apparent since the day she met him. She just wishes he wouldn’t still treat her like a delicate child now that she’s a grown woman, but he’s still just as tender and gentle as he was at the start.

Vali and Narvi probably have the most complicated dynamic with Hel, and that’s coming from her end rather than theirs. It’s very hard to talk about the two as anything but a single entity given Hel’s role in their lives and eventual afterlives. Hel had precious little opportunity (in my personal, non-partner driven lore) to meet the two growing up, and only knew of their existence through Odin’s manipulations. Her uncle presented it as Loki having moved on and had non-monstrous children with his second wife, a fact that Hel rejoiced in. If Sigyn’s sons were not monsters, she thought they could not be hurt as Angrboda’s children had been. 

She was wrong, of course, as the Aesir’s revenge against Loki proved. One brother died that day, and the agent of such tragedy followed soon after. Both boys passsed into Hel’s hall, dying vaingloriously or as a kinslayer respectively, and she mourned them. More than that, she has always considered it her fault the boys died, reasoning if she had put aside her own need for revenge and spared Baldr that Odin might have spared Loki’s sons in turn. Still, she took the pair in, made them princes of her realm, raised and loved them as she thought Sigyn might. Her relationship with them is somewhat detached given her own guilt, but they want for nothing and the boys know if they need her, Hel will always there for them. Even if she can’t understand it herself, they love her deeply, and she’s named them her heirs in the event anything should prevent her from ruling her realm. They are her brothers, true, but she’s brought them up as her own, seen them grow into fine men who are far better adjusted to their tragedy than Hel is with her own. In turn, they bring some brightness to her life, trying to win smiles from their dour, reserved sister.

[sinnhelmingrmoved]

Hot take: Hel completely spoils and also vents to Garmr because she needs somewhere to put all of her sisterly instincts in Fen's absence and he's like... Close enough

It’s a sound headcanon, and Hel does treat Garmr like her own family, specifically her baby.. But the ‘close enough’ is what really sells it. Because Garmr will plop his big old head into Hel’s lap, stare up at he with jet black eyes, and wag his long tail while softly blepping up at Mama and her problems.

Fen just would have given her a messy pawed noogie or walked off on her like ‘odin’s eye sis i don’t caaaaaare’ because big brothers and little sisters are simple the best kind of hot mess as kids. Garmr is a Fenrir that cares, although Fen did care in his own ways as a kid.

[sinnhelmingrmoved]

family tag dump

[maladaptive-ninja-returns]

Kira (14)

CHAPTER 14: Even The Devil Has A Heart 

Loki x fem!Reader (Kira)

Series: Will contain fluff, smut, bloodshed, violence, anxiety, tears and the cries of my wilted soul.

Chapter content: I said there will be everything in this series, didn’t I

Warnings: yeah...brace yourselves. Just don’t curse me ‘cause I’m already a little cursed on the inside

Word count: My brothers and sister have been keeping me busy these past few days. So it has been nice as well as exhausting. I have changed my office for a few days. It’s...cool. Yeah, I mean for now, yeah. And I really need a drink. Hopefully this weekend.

MASTERLIST & Taglist in bio, my love

Ygritte has laid out the table for dinner. Loki's favourites wait for him. All things light. Soups and salads fit for a king. A bowl of glass noodles rests in the centre of the table. That one has been made specifically for Kira. It hasn't been often that she has told Ygritte what she prefers but when she did not stop complimenting the ramen Ygritte had made for her once, she made sure to keep something pan-Asian for her favourite kid on the table. To go with the food, fresh beer and iced tea in three flavours wait in glass jugs, making the woman proud of her arrangements. Content with the table, she goes to Loki and Kira's rooms to ready them before they arrive, turning on the geysers and lighting up a scented candle to help them ease them into sleep after the long journey. Of course, it wouldn't be easy ever since the incident with Robert, but she has to do everything in her power to make sure they rest well and have enough energy the next day to go to war with that cursed creature that did this to her fine boy.

With every last bit done and dusted in both rooms, she finally moves out to the hall to hear the same scratching noise echo through that she heard two hours ago. All she can do is sigh and walk towards the front door to find Fenrir whining and carving new patterns in the wood of the door.

"Fenrir! Stop ruining the door. They'll be here when they're here."

Fenrir outrightly ignores every word Ygritte says, carrying on with his mission of wood destruction.

"Do you really want your father to put you in time out?"

Now that seems to catch the wolf's ears as he puts his paws down, looks at the door, looks up at Ygritte, looks back at the door, scoffs and walks towards the back to go to the lounge, stops midway as his ears catch a moment, comes back in two huge steps and skids to a halt just as the lights from the SUV light up the walls in the entrance.

The door barely opens when Fenrir is lunging towards Loki, catching him in his own style of hug, licking him clean.

"Yes, yes! I missed you too. Now get off before I throw you out," Loki declares, hugging his wolf and petting him.

"Welcome back, Master Loki."

"Thank you, Ygritte."

Ygritte looks behind him to watch Heimdall standing and judging the wolf, who clearly isn't happy to see the Watcher either.

"Master Loki, where's Miss Kira?"

"She's coming home with Kol."

Ygritte smiles in acknowledgement, stepping aside to let the men in, looking at the night outside. The skies have gathered thunder clouds in a matter of minutes and the wind chimes around the estate are going off at every strong gust teasing them, alerting the grounds of the storm that is about to come. Even though she trusts what Loki says, her heart seems to be feeling a nauseating feeling, forcing her to close the door till about three inches are left, letting the soft lights from the driveway form a straight beam into the entrance hall. Doing that, she walks away to carry on with her work.

Heimdall notices this. When their ancestors had gone through the biblical famines in old history, a group of men had sought to find anything their families could live on. The women and children were left in protected shelters, where the women took to intricate- and impressive- measures to protect them and their children from the cold and the predators. But in order to let their men know they were alive and it was safe to enter the shelter, they would keep the entrance open with the fire on- the fire having to be fed after considerate intervals. And so began a tradition. Later on in the wars, the men and women would leave at least one door open when their partner was out and it was truly unknown if they would return. Heimdall can feel the same patience and anxiousness in Ygritte's actions. When he watches her leave, he turns on the porch light and walks away to his observatory.

.

Too loud.

Your heartbeat is too loud for you to make out anything that is going on around you.

Breathe.

Breathe, Kira, breathe.

Deep long breaths help a little, calming those thumping beats enough to make sense of the sounds around you. The sounds outside the walls where you've been kept sound thin. Heavy vehicles seem to hum around the huge hollow building. The walls and floor are cold and it smells like the outskirts of the city- the pungent smell of sulphur in the air too familiar to be breathed in this long; the only relief being the periodic wind forcing its way through whatever hole that you cannot see, bringing with it four seconds of freshness and the smell of rain.

Where the fuck am I?

From what you can recall, after being literally clad in darkness, you were forced up into a vehicle and brought to the outskirts on quite the bumpy road. The henchmen surrounding you had been hard at work, ignoring your anxious muffled cries yet keeping you in place whenever you tried to struggle with the zip ties keeping your hands tied in front.

There had been too much commotion wherever the vehicle had stopped. Sounds of heavy metal being thrown on thick concrete, wooden crates being opened, cries of moving the 'packages' away in local languages. The black fabric was no help in letting you make out the figures under the orange lights walking around the premise. You, amongst all the noise, were forced by your arm inside a building, the door- or whatever ominous frame closes with a metallic clang- shut behind you.

So, here you are, after taking careful steps towards the wall in God-knows-what direction, sitting on the cold floor, your hands limp inside your lap, your body realising the tiredness after the rush, your brain going into a shutdown.

What did I do to deserve this? Your sore muscles and bleeding scratches ask you.

You fell for the wrong man, a voice inside your head whispers. You try not to ignore it but it's like a demon attached to your back whose presence is heavy even though it's invisible.

The solitary confinement does give you a minute to gather yourself, mentally. How long have I gone missing? Someone ought to look for me, right?

You feel your body slide down the wall a little more, the cold touch of the wall on your neck dissipating the hotness gathering there. And before you know it, the basic instincts take over, instantly putting you to sleep.

You don't know how long it's been when you jerk at the clang of the door opening- five minutes, ten, an hour, the concept of time is not even a question anymore- and the sounds of multiple footsteps proceeding towards you.

You think it's bad to not know who these people are that are approaching you while keeping you in complete darkness till the footsteps stop a few feet away and no amount of concentration can help you concur what exactly is going on in this situation. And the accelerated thumping of your veins does not help.

You do not notice when your knees came up and close to your chest to wrap you in an invisible protective shield against the strangers in the room. But just as that happens, a lone pair of footsteps walk towards you, their echo a prick inside your just woken up brain. A low grunt follows the touch of strong arms grasping onto yours and picking you up without much effort before nearly dragging you away from the corner to stop dead somewhere; not before you find yourself bumping into what seems like a table. The same set of hands that brought you here undo the complex clasp at the back to take away the black fabric from over your head to reveal the gentle hollow eyes of Billy Russo smiling at you three feet away.

.

"I owe you my sincerest apologies for the way over the top charades to get you here. Though I'm not really sure if you'd have come with me if I'd asked you to."

You rub the bruises on your wrists where the ties were a minute ago, flashing a judgmental look at Billy for the comment he makes.

"You shot Robert."

"Well, I wasn't planning to," Billy states with a simple shrug and tilts his head at you with the look of sympathy in his eyes that is inciting all the wrong emotions inside you.

"Oh, so, you wanted me dead." The sharpness of your voice seems to add weight to the betrayal you're feeling right now.

Billy narrows his eyes in contemplation. "No, not really. No. I just wanted to-" he takes one step closer to you, visibly surprised when you don't flinch even a bit- "let the fact graze past your boss that I could've taken your life if I wanted to. Really simple strategy. Don't blame me for Robert tryna' be a hero, sweetheart."

The disgust your belly feels at his addressal leaves a sour taste in your mouth. "His security is tighter than before. I really don't get how you plan on getting past that and for what reason. Just because he didn't a business deal with you, Russo?"

"Aw, we'd just started on the first name basis!" He exclaims, taking another step towards you- forcing you to move back and away from him and his deceiving face. "And come on! You're smarter than you show the world, Kira. You know how a sturdy castle can crumble with the right blow at the right spot. It just so happens that you are the right spot when it comes to Loki Odinson, the Messiah of the third world countries!"

The distance is closed again. You do not hesitate to step back. "I'm just his assis-"

"Enough." His voice is low but the tremble it sends through the hollow building makes you second guess that slight smear of courage inside your heart. "I'm tired of hearing it. How aren't you? Have you seen the way that orphan looks at you? Like someone looks at their precious pet. Admiring them, showcasing them to the world and feeling proud when others stand in awe of their cute little slave-"

"You're going too far-"

"Glaring at the people with the stare of most violent death to anyone who looks at their pet with an intention they deem inappropriate. I mean-" he steps towards you, forcing you into the wall at the back- "I know he's killed me at least ten times in his mind since I've met you."

The perfect white smile is ominous at best, chilling your insides. His dark eyes gazing you with a haunted lust add to the dread.

"He does not-" you graze away his fingers trying to play with your stray hair- "like me. If that's what you're implying."

"Mm-hmm," Billy hums, not at all fazed by your hands trying to keep his away from you, "then how do you explain him not signing the deal with me? Hmm? Last I heard he and Solaris were this close to closing it on my name. Why does. A man. With such a powerful sway. Let his assistant make decisions for him?"

"Wha-"

"I know it was you who stopped him from closing on Anvil Corp, Kira."

The words should not hit as hard as they do in your gut but the shade of malice swimming in Billy's eyes seems to take control, wanting to reduce you to nothing. "I know you were the one who swung the deal from the Adachis in your favour."

"I had nothing t-"

"You had everything to do with this, Kira!" He shouts, failing his hands as he does a frustrated three-sixty. "Everything!"

"You had to go and be all sweet to their daughter, be the nicest person on the planet with them. The bonus? You and Loki being all heart-eyes in each other's presence. Ugh!"

He comes back to put his arms on the wall around you, trapping you in without so much as a window for a thought to escape. "You ruined our entire plan."

You want to be diffused into the wall for it sounds better than feeling the microscopic jolts of uneasiness from his stare lingering over your skin and hot breaths trying to tease your existence into withering away.

"And to think I nearly started questioning my motives in seducing you." His thumb grazes your jaw. His fingers plant themselves on your neck before you feel the force in his hand mercilessly turning your face to look at him while he presses himself against you. "I nearly started to think of you, Kira. I started to dream what it would be like to take you home. To wonder what it would be like to tie your hands and bend you on my table, ripping off your clothes one by one and fucking you till I made you cry. Ohhh...to force my cock in your mouth till you licked my orgasm clean. You really did a number on me, Kira."

The restraints are crumbling to the last bits when you feel his erection grinding against you. That's it. You cannot take it anymore.

"I'd rather die than let you fuck me," you hiss through your teeth.

Billy's eyes go wide. His face blank. Laughter roars through the room followed by his hand slapping the wall.

"Oh you never cease to amaze me, do you?"

Billy bites his lips through the smile still lingering on them. One hand goes away from the wall to gesture at the two men clad in black camo to walk away. And they do. Leaving you alone with this scum.

"You'd rather die than fuck me, hmm?" He whispers into your ear, inhaling the scent of fear coming out from you before kissing your forehead tenderly.

Your fists try to drive his chest away but his hand takes your wrists in them, letting his perfectly manicured nails dig into your skin to remind you of the dormant pain still lingering in there. The other hand has found its way into your trousers, fingers entering your folds to watching you grit your teeth and feel your muscles clench in rebellion at his touch.

"Ah!" He whispers, "let's see how you call upon death to get you out of this."

It is a split-second decision through the pain to find your knee making an impact with his balls, bringing him down groaning and pushing him back as his grip loosens on you. "You are a psychopath! No wonder your own mother hates you so much," your lungs shout.

The mention of his mother breaks something inside him; like a vial of toxins crushed under pressure to let them mingle in with the rest of the solution.

Even as you try in vain to run towards the door, he is catching you by the waist to throw you at the table.

All you can see is red in his eyes when you get up. All you see is the face of a mad man before his fist makes an impact with the side of your face.

.

"Aaah! It's so good to be back home!"

"Tell me about it."

"Friday! Put on something soothing, please. And get the fire started."

The hall livens up with soft jazz music as Pepper cocks her brow at the crackle of a fire in her fireplace before turning to Tony.

"Wow," she mentions, wetting her lips, "for someone who hosted a freaking convention, you seem not tired at all."

"No, you hosted the convention," Tony asserts as he fills two glass with champagne, "I just popped by to say hi to all the people I invited."

"Right," Pepper nods smirks, taking her glass from Tony and waiting for him to settle down next to her. Tony scooches as close to her as possible before putting his arm around the headrest of the couch and clinking his glass with hers.

"To Miss Potts and her work in making this expo the most successful thing yet." Tony smiles with his eyes.

"Why thank you, Mr Stark," Pepper mentions before raising her glass a little, "to Stark Industries. For having the most generous man running the company with the happiest employees."

Pepper rests her head on Tony's arm, making him smile his softest smile. He lets his arm embrace her, his fingers making patterns on her sleeve.

"So, Miss Potts," Tony coos into Pepper's ears, "are you dead tired or do you have enough energy for an entertaining shower?"

Pepper bites her lips to restrain the giggle. "Oh, I don't know Mr Stark. Are you really up for a round or do you plan on passing out midway to the bathroom like last time?"

"Ooh! Cocky much! You do have the energy."

Pepper giggles, giving Tony a long kiss on his lips.

"How about you turn on your favourite playlist while I warm up the water for you, Miss Potts."

"I'd like that very much, Mr Stark."

Giving another peck on his cheek, Pepper gets up to go towards the music system, undoing her hair bun on the way while Tony collects the champagne glasses to get up and walk towards the bathroom. 

"Fri-"

The words leave Pepper midway as she watches the screen in front of her, her eyes squinting in the gesture of finding out what exactly she was seeing. Two seconds later the very same blue eyes are going wide with a low gasp escaping her lungs.

"Oh, my G-TONY!"

.

The hot pressured water eases the muscles in Loki's back, lightly scarring the already decorated skin. Everything except his head gets this torture. The heat is turned off to be followed by the cold current that numbs his skull before disappearing at the turn of the handle. Towel wrapped around his waist, Loki walks out to the ring of his phone on the bed, his heartbeat quickening at the thought of watching your name on the screen, only to be disappointed to find the exact opposite energy calling him.

Loki accepts the call and puts it on the speaker at the very same moment Heimdall opens the door to his room.

"Stark," Loki greets the man, making Heimdall pause midway, preventing him from speaking.

"Where is she?"

Loki's heard Tony enough time to let his ears know which emotion Tony is pouring at that moment. And the amount of poisonous rage bubbling on speakerphone has been heard only once before- a time neither of them talks about. The voice carries rage and frustration. Not to mention a hidden pain that would drown thousands at any moment if Loki does not answer it correctly. The question, by this time, can only meant to be directed towards you. But how does Tony know about you so quickly? Has the news already been informed?

"Kira's fine. She's on her way home from her examina-"

"She is NOT fine, Loki!"

"Tony she's f-"

"Her heart rates' high, Loki! Her vitals are worse and her blood pressure is all kinds of abnormal!"

The confusion hits before the surprise. "What are you talking about?"

"YOU SON OF A-"

Loki can hear Pepper's voice trying to calm Tony down to retain an ounce of common sense to talk to him in a language that makes sense.

"Loki," Tony comes back, this time one breath cooler, "Kira is not fine right now. I just got an alert about her being in an emergency. So, tell me where she is."

The restraint in his voice is loud and clear. Loud enough to tell anyone listening that he would come out of the speakerphone and strangle someone right this very moment.

"Her phone's off. I can't locate her."

Loki turns around to find Heimdall looking down at his golden crystal balls and phone in either hand, suddenly clicking a switch inside Loki.

"The pendant I gave her," Tony calls out from the phone, "it has a beacon. But it'll take me two minutes to activate it. You guys better hurry because her vitals are not looking good."

"I'm on it," Heimdall states before turning to Loki, "you stay here in case-Loki? Loki?!"

All sounds feel like one streak of white noise being drowned out by shallow breaths increasing with every passing moment. The legs are on the edge of giving way any second while the neck burns like a firepit from hell, sweating and steaming away the stray water on the skin.

"Ygritte!" Heimdall shouts out for the woman before coming back to Loki, "Hey, hey, hey. It's okay. You're okay. She'll be fine. Hey. Hey! Look at me! Look. At. Me. Kira will be fine. I'll bring her back. Okay?"

Loki, breathless on the floor by this moment nods halfway, pushing away Heimdall's hands from his arms, gesturing him to be out of the room.

"Loki..."

Tony calls out for the man- no poison this time.

This voice, Loki doesn't like.

"Stark," Loki's trying to breathe through his airless aching lungs, "Stark lis-listen-"

"I'm not going anywhere till you find yourself. Breathe before you speak. I can't hear you through your wheezing anyway."

Loki hates the voice that reminds of the father he did not have.

.

The handkerchief cleans up the blood sticking over the lean fingers in multiple strokes, having to make a little extra effort to get the fabric to wipe away the piece of skin caught under the nails; not to mention the dried blood resting in between the foreskin and those recently manicured pieces of french art. It really is a task. How did he ever make it through those old army days without caring for the perfection that was him is really surprising for Billy. The handkerchief is folded to bring the clean side over and wipe off the blood dripping from wounds made down his throat. A curse leaves his lips to having found his flawless skin marred by a lowely woman.

"The car is ready, sir."

Billy looks up at the soldier he has hired for a few green bucks, scoffing and smirking at him before throwing the handkerchief. "Clear the area. Leave that trash."

The soldier walks away along with five other men, leaving Billy to turn to the unconscious figure lying on the ground in its own blood.

He sits down next to it, takes out a little wildflower from his jacket pocket and puts it beside the hand that flinches a little at the closeness of the man.

"It’s a shame really. You choosing death, I mean. We really could’ve had it all if you wanted, Kira."

He tilts his head and sighs before giving a farewell smile.

"Because death was still going to knock on your door later."

Getting up with one long look, etching his artwork in his mind, he walks away with a giddy tune being whistled on his lips, leaving you on the edge of eternal unconsciousness, the violent pain waiting to tip you over any moment.

.

Second-last chapter of Kira