#i want to prod at the soil my plants are in and not come away with a load of soil on my fingers

[saltofmercury]

The Garden

Pairing: König x reader

Authors note: this was based on this skin I saw on him I just picture this guy having a garden or being a bee keeper.

"The Garden"

It had started with poppies. Red, orange, and pink. As if it were a routine every Sunday morning he would come in, flowers behind his back, a coffee on the other hand, and kissed you deeply. He would then present his assortment from behind his back.

You gushed at the small bouquet, wrapped in the comic section from the newspaper, colors of the comic making the petals stand out more. It was small things like that, that made you wonder more about him. As secretive as he was about his job, bits and pieces of his true self came out too.

Then, his second attempt was to bring you flowers you’ve never seen before.

Pink orchids, perfect storm hibiscus, ranunculuses, in different shades you couldn’t believe. 

“It’s not my birthday…” you sighed, exhaling in adoration. Surprised by his generosity every time.

“It is for… just because” he smiled, seeing your eyes roam the petals, the smile on your face growing slowly, making his heart melt.

You wondered, what farmers market was he going to that you couldn’t find?

It wasn’t until one weekend that you over welcomed your stay that you uncovered his secret little hobby.

You had woken up, startled that his side of the bed was cold. You huffed, upset that he had gone to the gym. You stretched and slumped down the hallway to get started on breakfast.

Or so you thought.

You saw König through the window in his backyard holding a soil bag over his shoulder, his face covered by a towel, and a bucket hat.

He had been up at six in the morning, dressed in a white t-shirt, denim overalls, and green rain boots. What was he up to?

You walked over to the window, knocked on it. It was so cute seeing him turn around, his face a shade whiter because of the sunscreen cast, then a smile appearing on his face. You waved at him, and he dropped the soil bag, walking over to the door.

“Schatzi… you shouldn’t be up at this hour” 

“It’s 9:30 in the morning…”

“Exactly, it’s way too early for you.”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes.

“I didn’t know you.. tended a garden.”

It was his turn to roll his eyes.

“It’s nothing, I don’t like a messy backyard.”

“Yeah yeah,” you paused, he had taken out many tools, laid out in front of a gate.

“Since when does the military show you how to garden?”

He laughed at you, and swiped a finger on your nose.

“I’ll be done in one hour, and we can go to breakfast.”

You ignored his proposal, wanting to see more of him in action.

“No, let's stay home today, I can eat here, you finish gardening.”

He side eyed you, thankful for not disrupting his hobby, and shrugged.

“Okay schatzi I’ll be outside.” He turned back to his garden.

The entire morning you had watched him bent over, on his knees, poking, prodding, cutting, digging, pulling, planting, watering, and spraying his entire backyard. You sat by the window, sipping your third cup of coffee. He had finished by eleven in the morning, just in time for lunch.

He came in, drenched in sweat, stomping his way to the kitchen. He poured himself a huge glass of water, and proceeded to chug it down.

You had been preparing lunch, eyeing him from the window, waiting for the meat to cook. He had peeked open one of the lids on the stovetop.

“How come you never ask me to help you?”

He had choked on the water, coughing it up, and then regaining composure. 

“Schatz, jesus christ… Announce yourself!” 

He cleaned up the water from his chin, inhaled and exhaled, and came over.

“Help me in what? You mean outside?” He said it surprised, he never told you about the garden, thinking it would be “too feminine” as his father told him as a child. He looked at you nervously.

“Yes outside, I never knew you had a garden! I just knew about your jacuzzi from that one night.”

You weren’t sure if he was turning red or just red from outside, but he had taken the towel off his head, wiping away at his face.

“It’s just my hobby, but if you insist I'll show you.” He sort of had no choice, he was excited to show you this part of him, and for the safety of his garden being picked or prodded at by you, he extended his hand out and guided you outside.

*

You couldn’t keep a plant alive to save your life, you never understood “plant” people constantly buying plants to keep in their home. You remembered your mom having a vine type of plant hanging off the ceiling in your apartment, but that was the extent of your knowledge.

Flowers were about as close as you got to keeping something alive, but happily and greedily letting those die because they had no source of life connected to them.

Now you were walking to the extra plot of land König had saved in his backyard.

What seemed to be bushes of green surrounding the entrance, had mesmerized and lured you in.

There were rows of planter boxes on the ground, silver metal archways inside some of the boxes, vines connected to them. He had small fruit trees in one corner, in the other corner he had plants, actual green plants growing, blooming, and thriving in the sun. 

There was a place and order for his garden, just like his house.

You couldn’t keep a plant alive, but König could probably feed you two through the winter.

He excitedly pulled you around his garden, telling you what he was growing.

“You see, schatzi, this is where I grow my crops. I have some eggplant, tomatoes, broccoli, and small peppers.”

He had pointed to the small crops growing, their colors vibrant, his produce huge just like him. It was outstanding.

He tugged you to another planter box.

“This is where you have your leafy greens. I only do kale and sometimes lettuce here, but I am not a fan of salads.” 

You laughed, the bunches of kale growing a deep shade of green, their leaves crinkled and huge. Some of his lettuce heads had holes in them, probably from pesky critters.

He walked you down to some of the plants he was growing.

“My grandma always liked to grow new life, so this is her corner of the garden.”

Vines, sage bushes, and lavender, growing in one end of his garden, Colorful shades of green, purple, violet, and deep green growing and surrounding this area. The fragrance hit you, reminding you of your childhood. It felt nostalgic, smelling these plants.

He had quietly said,

“All things grow with love and patience.” he paused, “That’s what she used to tell me.” A small reminder that she used to tell him when he was worried next to her in the garden, his plants wouldn’t grow (like him) and they would die.

He brought you to the other corner where he pointed at a couple lifeless trees.

“I hope by December, this little guy will bloom pomegranates.”

“Pomegranates?”

“Yes schatzi, I’ve had so much trouble trying to grow this tree, I saw some improvement last fall, but had only produced maybe four small fruits.”

“They were only four, but they were a brilliant red, and so juicy!”

You heard his determination in his voice, how proud he felt that he grew and produced fruit. It was a side you never seen before, let alone heard. He had touched one of the branches drooping down toward him, he caressed the branch and its leaves, being ever so gentle, and then releasing it, making it wobble up and down.

“Over there are the grapes, they aren’t ready yet, but I promise you by July, we’ll have so many grapes we will be sick of them.”

A jungle of small green grapes had appeared by one of the silver archways he built, tangled in huge leaves and thick vines.

“Wow, you have grapes too?” was all you could say.

He turned his attention towards you, grabbed your hand again and led you to another corner.

He had got nervous, let go of your hand, began cracking his fingers, a nervous fidget he had grown accustomed to when it came to showing you things.

“This corner here… is uh.. Well you know what it is.”

You never thought of König as a romantic, but you think deep down, somewhere at the bottom of his heart is where he hides it, it’s where his love for you has blossomed, pouring love into this small corner of his garden.

The flowers that you never could find, that he always brought to you on Sunday mornings are grown here, in his backyard. This small little garden plot, he had dedicated to you, filled with almost every color imaginable, petals of different shapes, hues of orange, red, yellow, pink, purple, and even blues surrounding you, comforting you.

He peeks over to where you are, his face pooled with admiration and love, when he tells you “This is your corner of the garden.”

“You grew all this for me?”

“Yes.. I did”

He looked like a boy, innocently smiling super big, his hands in his pockets, watching you, take all the colors in.

“I never knew what I would grow for you, but I figured it would be flowers, who doesn’t like flowers.”

You had bit your bottom lip attempting to hide your smile.

“I’ll have sunflowers by summer too. I know you said something about Van Gogh, so I started early last month.”

You smiled, remembering that you were talking about the exhibition of Van Gogh, not the flowers. You turned to him, praising him.

“Thank you, I just, I don't know what to say.” And you didn’t, there wasn’t any grand gestures from him before. Especially in your relationship. Sure he had ordered hundreds of roses when you guys fought, but you think maybe this was his way of showing how much he really did care, giving you your own corner of love.

“So when can I help?”

König’s eyes widened, before peering down at you, bending over to kiss your nose.

“Whenever you want.”

*

Saturday morning you’re standing in his garden again, ready to help him.

He’s slathering on sunscreen, before putting a cool, damp towel on his head, secured by his bucket hat. He then comes to you, rubbing sunscreen on your nose, neck, and ears.

“Schatz I get you like the sun, but trust me, sunburns are painful.”

He knows, after being on a dangerous mission in the desert, taking no precautions how powerful the sun is.

He hands you a basket filled with tools you’ve never seen.

“Ready? It's a two hour work day.”

He leads you to one of the boxes, instructing you to pull the weeds out. 

“These are clovers, they’re good luck.”

“They will sprout white flowers, not good for this area.”

You begin to pull them out, kind of upset. You always liked clovers.

He turns to you again, seeing you pout.

“Come on schatz, clovers are weeds.”

You smiled at him, “but they looked so cute.”

“Did you know my grandma used to tell me stories about clovers?” he looked over at you.

“She used to tell me, ‘little clover bunches bring small creatures from the woods, they’re the ones who steal your crops.’ He looked up at you again, where he was finishing up his own side of the bed.

“And… when you see a circle of mushrooms it’s fairies, coming to keep you awake at night, which is why we must pick them out.”

You two had finished the bed, working on the other two, then watering the beds.

He looked so at peace here, tending to his garden. He looked like he had possibly been a farmer in Austria, with all the extensive knowledge he told you about soil, plants, which things to grow when, and how much water everything needed. He turned to face you,

“you just turned three different shades of red in the last 5 minutes… did you reapply?”

“No…”

“Go reapply and i’ll show you how to water your corner.”

You stomped to the porch again, slathering on sunscreen, then came back.

He pointed the hose at you, then showed you which dial to use on it.

“See, if you go to this one, it won't ruin your petals, just give it a nice mist.”

He modeled it for you, then gave you the hose. “Gentle schatz, these are your flowers.”

You sprayed lightly over the rainbow of flowers, hoping you weren’t going to drown them, or worst case scenario, kill them. Once finished, he asked you for help on the arch trellis.

“Arch trellis?”

“This arch right here.” He pointed to the silver metal arch you had seen last week.

“With this, I think I’ll be able to have the grapes hang over for easier access this summer”

You two worked, untangling and tangling the vines into the arch, being so careful because the grapes were still in their early season to mess with. Then let the small green grapes hang, cutting off a few big leaves.

You had enjoyed it, you didn’t expect to be left on a high helping pull out weeds, water some flowers, or untangle some vines. He picked up his equipment, held out his hand, and walked inside. 

The fatigue of being in the sun all morning weighed on you as soon as you entered the house. He placed his tools in the sink, then took off his clothes. He plopped himself on the couch, pulling you in.

“This can be our hobby, you know, I have many things to show you.”

You had been undressing yourself too, to just your underwear, then plopped right onto him. Both of you sticky from the sun.

Excitement filled your stomach, ready to help him with anything.

“Whenever you’re ready to start”

[shiningdesignersreflections]

Chapter 2: Wishing Upon a Star

Narrated by no one.

Narrator: Tess doesn't come out of the stone coffin until noon. When she does, she lights up a disc-shaped light in the corner.

Narrator: The light has blotches of dark, giving off gentle, white light... like a little moon.

Narrator: Holding the light in her hand, Tess says nothing. She seems deep in thought.

You: It's a beautiful light.

Tess: I think so, too... Yisu gave me this yesterday before she left.

Narrator: Wind resounded through the stone chamber as a black sandstorm made its way across the Hawk Hunting under preparation.

Narrator: When Tess had awoken, she found Yisu right beside her. Sounding worried, she asked Tess how her sleep was.

Tess: I slept just fine, but... I don't remember my dream, which is rare.

Narrator: Yisu was playing with a souvenir she'd brought back from Fanta... it was a Sola, a flower that shines in the dark.

Narrator: Knowing that Tess could use a change of mood, she put the flower's white petals in Tess' hand as she began telling her what she'd seen on her trip.

Yisu: The Bygone Tribe has an enormous forest with some really interesting plants.

Yisu: And rumor has it that there is a giant tree in the forest that can move, and its roots spread throughout the forest and keep all the children there safe.

Yisu: Trees are where life begins and ends. All the animals living in the forest rely on the forest, which makes them the forest's children.

Yisu: Animals and humans are equals, which is why we should take care of them all.

Tess: And that's why they aren't coming to the Hawk Hunting, no?

Yisu: People in the Lost Sand Tribe don't just believe in the legend about the Hawk Hunter... they have strong faith in their land, too.

Yisu: People from the Lost Sand Tribe believe that soil is able to purify the soul. You can see them spending a night out on the sand dunes when they need to find inner peace.

Yisu: And what's interesting is that neither the sand nor the animals have caused the locals any trouble when they're out on the sand.

Yisu: When the night wind comes through, it seems to carry away people's troubles and makes them brave again.

Tess: Gaming is your best friend when you want to get rid of worries.

Narrator: Yisu carried on talking, but Tess grew unresponsive. Then, Yisu stopped to look at Tess, feeling confused.

Narrator: With a deep breath, Tess withdrew herself from those romantic stories and locked her dark blue eyes with Yisu's.

Tess: Are you going to leave, Yisu?

Narrator: They both fell silent. Yisu looked surprised but continued with the conversation.

Yisu: The black sand is ominous.

Yisu: It might be dangerous, and I might be gone for quite a while, but I need to go.

Tess: I know. I checked your fortune when I saved you from the quicksand.

Tess: The god pointed to a fated moment, and that moment is now. He said the trip would be important to you, and that you'd find what you seek.

Yisu: You look worried.

Narrator: Her mind being read by Yisu, Tess chuckled.

Tess: Because the god also told me that I would fall out of touch with you.

Narrator: After spending a few moments thinking about Tess' words, Yisu takes a moon-shaped light out of her bag.

Narrator: Tess drew shallow gasps to the light. Prodded by Yisu, she turned on the light. The light cast white light to their hair and brightened up the chamber.

Yisu: You're God's representative.

Yisu: Don't worry. Trust yourself, and trust me, too.

Tess: Oh, and the dream.

Tess: It was a very beautiful dream... I saw stars everywhere in the sky. There was one that looked like a blue gem that caught my eye.

Tess: The blue of the star was calm and far from bright, but I felt safe and cozy looking at it.

Tess: The star was hanging far and high. It had a trail of its own, and it would return to its trail even if it had strayed.

Tess: And I can still see it... no matter what has happened, I could always feel myself showered in its cozy, warm light.

Tess: So, there is nothing to worry about.

Chapter 1

Chapter 3

[diorkittys]

a rock and their diamond ˚ ♡ ⋆｡ venture + [bimbo] reader {hcs}

synopsis : venture with a dumb, bimbo-ish, sexy gf… i mean c’mon it’s already canon

—TW : some nsfw hcs , slight exhibitionism , reader is very suggestively a girl , big tits (ahh boo!!!)

art credits : leesam_23

“oh cool! i had a friend obsessed with archeology back in high school; she told me i was a libra!”

“you mean astrology…?” dr. ziegler raised her brow.

“um… i don’t think it had anything to do with space.”

that was the moment sloane cameron knew you were the one.

you’re ditzy, beauty, sexy, (and tall)—quite the opposite to your venturous partner. and most could describe you two as the ‘beauty and brains’.

venture was enraptured the very second they laid their eyes on you. talk about the star of the show; everyone’s attention was focused on you the moment you walked into that dig site.

your tiny pink dress that hugged the curve of your waist so tight—barely covering your ass and most definitely straining against your tits (not that sloane was looking…). your long legs and plush thighs that made the archeologist gulp. tall, elegant heels which only put you on more of a pedestal. and if people weren’t already drooling over your body, your face definitely topped the cake. you were gorgeous through and through. a doll.

and, yet, through all sloane’s nervousness, they could tell you looked a tad lost.

“hi! sloane cameron. are you looking for something?” they reached a hand out which you gladly shook; venture noticing your pretty, pink acrylics.

“yes! my daddy works in the medical tent—any idea where i could find it? sure doesn’t look like a fun camping trip though.”

sloane shook the last comment off, saying they’d show you where the tent is. although the digger was dusty and smelled like minerals, you decided to follow close beside them.

that’s where they introduced you to dr ziegler. “are you a doctor too?” you’d ask. “oh, gosh, no. i’m one of the archeologists working here.” and there, the infamous moment took place.

౨ৎ

venture refers to you as various different gemstones, which you love. their go-to’s being ‘opal’, ‘angel’ (short for angelite), and, of course, diamond—your favorite.

^ “almost done w these soil samples. then omw home opal! xo” sloane would reply with to your needy texts.

^ “what’d you want f’dinner, angel?” they’d ask, wrapping scarred arms around you from behind.

^ “you look as stunning as always, diamond.” watching you give a twirl to showcase your outfit for tonight—something always a little teasing and small… not that venture had any complaints.

sloane worked late hours, fully devoted to their passion. you would usually find them hunched over at the table. slim fingers pressing circles into their shoulders, massaging away the tension. your partner would sigh, leaning back before taking your hand and guiding you into their lap. they’d explain their most recent endeavor and you would listen… even though the information went into one ear and out the other.

“ya’ know?” you, in fact, did not know, but gave a supportive nod anyways. sloane snorted, planting calloused hands on the plush of your hips as you straddled their waist. god, they wanted nothing more than to kiss that oblivious look off your face.

speaking of a suggestive kiss, does it come as a surprise that sloane just can’t get enough of you?

their hands are always on you, one way or another—how could they not? so much to grab, so much to play with.

they’d kneed your supple thighs, pinching the fat in awe. and they’d mewl as if it was their own flesh.

sometimes, venture would sit atop you in bed—spending time poking and prodding every part of you like a new toy… not caring about your excessive squirming, stifling little moans.

god, your breasts were the best part. sloane would do anything to be near them at all times. alone, the archeologist fondled your tits, squeezing your nipples between their middle and index and watching them harden. if you were a tease, sloane must be a sadist.

with you being eye candy, there was, of course, a lot of attention drawn to you. some would simply admire from afar, while others took a more brave approach.

venture isn’t a very jealous type… i mean, that’s what they’ve always believed about themselves. yet, seeing men flock to you like moths to a light—it was… irritating.

there was no such thing as ‘innocent’ conversations or ‘harmless’ touches when it came to you; everything anyone did was quite obviously intentional. and somehow, the cherry on the cake was always the follow up question, “did you come here alone?”

and as the men would compliment your hair, and subtly look at your finger for a ring, sloane would interject.

well… if you count standing a few feet away with a hot, red face staring daggers into the men’s eyes as interjection… then, yes, sloane interjected. but, the real problem solver was you, oblivious you. you, who knew you were pretty hot, but didn’t count anyone’s intentions as scandalous.

so, you’d see your partner in the distance and your eyes would immediately light up, waving your hand to call them over. maybe that’s all sloane needed, because as soon as they see that look of adoration in your face, all that anger would subside. you were theirs, after all.

don’t think those men would be off the hook, however. venture would most definitely slide an arm around your waist as you walk away… maybe slightly grabbing the round of your ass with a sly smirk on their face.

you loved to surprise your partner with visits at their job. you never minded dirt and grime and it mostly seemed like it avoided you all together.

venture would be in the middle of a log, wiping beads of sweat off their hairline after a long dig. “excavation log dash 2-3-3, this is sloane cameron speaking—my team and i just discovered a fascinating—“ “baby!!” you ran up to the archeologist, practically jumping on them as you curled your arms around their neck.

sloane would be startled before turning around and giving you an equally tight hug. others whisper about how lucky their coworker is since sloane’s face reached right between your tits. and to think your partner hated the height difference (not in the moment).

“okay, guys, hold that thought! i’ll be back!” your partner would wave.

speaking of surprises, you’d always come home with rocks for sloane. standing in front of your partner with hands behind your back, “guess.” you’d giggle. every night, the surprise was no different, but venture would entertain your enthusiasm.

“hmm… let’s see… is it… a flower?” “nope!” “candy?” “nuh uh.” “a perfectly preserved dilophosaurus spine fossil with all discs in tact?!” you looked around, “uh… i don’t think so?” venture would sigh.

you open your hands, revealing a smooth, brown rock about the size of your palm. “it’s a rock!” you smiled wide and sloane’s cheeks tinted red from how cute you could be. “thank you, diamond! i love it.” you’d sit next to them on the couch, holding onto their arm. “i found it on the sidewalk. what kind of fossil do you think it is? maybe a dinosaur one?”

sloane would pat your head, trying to refrain from explaining to you that most fossils are dinosaurs… and that you wouldn’t find one on the side walk. “angel, i think it’s just a rock—a cool rock nonetheless!” and that satisfied you enough.

honorable mention, but venture definitely buys packs of fossil dig kits for kids you could get at walmart. they keep them at their work station for when you visit because you love to be included in whatever sloane is doing.

sloane works on grid maps in their tent with you by their side, scraping down compacted sand to find your prize. “i did it!” you put down your tiny mallet. “good job, opal! what’d you get?” you pout your lips confusingly, “another rock?” venture, tiredly, rubs your shoulder, “it’s a fossil, opal…” you’re lucky, though, because this leads to a make out session.

when you do have your steamy moments in venture’s tent, it’s always the most passionate. maybe it’s the adrenaline of being caught, or the shameful thought of someone hearing you, either way, it’s exhilarating.

sloane would have you propped up on the table, pushing important papers to the ground. needy hands groping the plush flesh of your hips and your dress hitched up above your ass. your tongue grazing their chipped tooth and fingers tangling in brown hair.

of course, sloane would kiss down your neck reaching the cleavage of your breasts; their hands pushing them together, making the tops spill over the very tight fabric.

of course, you’d ask a dumb question about what if someone walks in. but, your partner is already pussy drunk and is looking up at you from between your thighs, shushing you and asking if you’d squeeze their head before going back down.

it’s very common to get odd looks when you’re both out in public. as previously mentioned, you two look complete opposites. you, in a matching pink track suit, tube top pushing against your tits, low rise sweatpants showing off the tramp stamp plastered on your lower back, g string imprinting on your hips with a cute navel piercing to go with it. you always have your makeup done, sunglasses atop your hair, and pink platform flip-flops… and venture!

venture with their hair a mess, tired eyebags from rarely sleeping, chipped tooth, a ‘we rock!’ oversized t shirt, baggy shorts that went to their knees, and old sneakers. two people you would never think you’d see together, yet holding hands and sloane pressing a kiss to your cheek whenever they could.

and, yes, it’s a little discouraging knowing no one thinks you would ever be with someone like sloane cameron. it’s an insecurity the archeologist keeps in the back of their head. but, without fail, you’ve always introduced them as yours… and that makes any doubts fade away—knowing you hold your relationship with pride.

of course, a few months into dating, venture would make sure you didn’t actually think archeology was astrology. “opal, you do know that zodiac signs are not archeology, right?” they’d raise a brow. “no, silly. i’m not dumb!” you’d giggle and sloane would sigh in relief.

“he’s that murderer—that’s true crime!”

and for sloane, their heart skipped a beat…

yeah, you’re the one.

[insomniacaesthetic]

| 𝐌𝐲 𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥 | Snape x Reader

Requested anonymously

Summary: I would love to request a story where snape and a graduated student (muggleborn, who left Hogwarts like one of two years prior) live between his Hogwarts Chambers and spinner's end and they have a very fluffy and domestic life (as in character as you can do ahah) and everything seems finally peaceful for him so he decides to propose? thank you in advance

Warnings/Contents: Heavy petting, marriage, reader is a former student of his (if that icks you out), love bombs, etc.

Category: Fluff but contains implied sex

Song: Only You by The platters

A/N: So I didn’t want to write about Severus’ life at Spinner’s end as I imagine he would never bring someone he loves there. So just pretend he sold his home and he and reader live together in a cottage somewhere in England.

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

It was a beautiful summers day. The sun was out in full force, something that was quite rare in England. Usually the skies were overcast and gloomy. Severus was up early, taking advantage of the good weather to tend to the plants in his greenhouse.

You strolled out from the house with a pitcher of lemonade, barefoot and wearing a flowy summer dress. When you arrived at the greenhouse you saw Severus hunched over the flower beds pruning and prodding at his plants. His sleeves bunched up at his forearms as his fingers were buried in the soil. His black hair was pulled into a messy ponytail, a few stray pieces framing his face.

“Sev? Want some lemonade?” You asked after pushing open the door.

“Sure thing. Let me just finish pulling these damn pesky weeds.” He sighed as he pulled a series of scraggly looking plants from the dirt and tossed them onto the ground.

“My mom usually uses weed killer on those. They sell some at the muggle shop down the road you know? I can go get you some.” He stared at you dumbfounded by your suggestion.

“Absolutely not. I’ll just brew some herbicide.” He pulled his hands from the ground and dusted them off. You set down the pitcher of lemonade after pouring a cup for him.

“Same thing babe.” You chucked and passed the glass of lemonade into his outstretched hand.

“Not at all.” He grumbled and lifted the glass to his lips. You rolled your eyes and brushed past him to inspect the flowers planted at the back of the greenhouse. He planted them for you, and he came out every single day to tend to them. Sometimes he would pluck one of the flowers and leave it on your nightstand along with a handwritten note. It was his favorite way of showing how much he loved you. He found that it was much easier for him to express his feelings in writing rather than words.

You jumped slightly when Severus came behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist. He pressed a kiss to your cheek before resting his chin on your shoulders. The loose strands sticking out from his ponytail tickled your ear. “What’s on your mind?” As he spoke, his chest rumbled against your back.

“Honestly? I’m trying to think about what to make for dinner.”

“I’m feeling pasta. You make great pasta.” He hummed and kissed you on your cheek again after releasing his hold on you. When you turned around he was bent over collecting the weeds he had thrown.

“Fine I’ll make pasta tonight. But before I do anything, you need to come clean up your office it’s a mess.” You went to leave but he grabbed your wrist before you could push open the door.

“I wonder why that is.” He raised his eyebrows suggestively and your cheeks flushed crimson. He was clearly hinting at last night when you strode into his office in a sheer nightgown. Trying your hardest to tempt him away from his work.

He didn’t crack until after you sat atop his desk and swung your feet back and forth, in turn kicking him gently over and over. When he turned away from his work to glare at you, all you did was part your legs to reveal the brand new thong you were wearing. He immediately got to his feet and picked you up. With a swipe of his arm, he threw everything off his desk and onto the floor. Then he turned you around and fucked you hard while bent over his desk.

“That’s not relevant!”

He smirked and kissed your knuckles then released his hold on your wrist. You snapped your hand back to your chest and rushed out of the greenhouse before he could make any more suggestive comments. A small laugh escaped from him as the door closed behind you.

A few hours later, you were in the kitchen chopping vegetables and grinding spices while your boyfriend was cleaning the rest of the house. Sometimes you would catch him peaking his head in the room just to check on you. Once the tomato sauce was simmering, you lowered the heat and left the kitchen to check on Severus.

You eventually found him in your shared bedroom. He was pulling a new pair of sheets on the bed. He didn’t hear you come in, so you just leaned against the door frame and watched him struggle with the sheet. When he tucked it into the final corner, it popped off the opposite end. He groaned and threw his head against the mattress in frustration. You unsuccessfully tried to hide your laugh.

“Having trouble there Sevy?” You teased. He didn’t share your humor and instead pulled his wand from the bedside table. “Oh come on you can do this without magic. It’s easy.”

You pushed yourself from the door frame and headed over to the bed. With ease, you replaced the sheets without it slipping off. When you turned around to give Severus a smug smile, you jumped at how close he was behind you. “See? Just like that.”

He raised a brow and then lightly shoved you so you fell back against the bed. He climbed over top of you. His head hovering over yours so his hair dangled in the space between you. He leaned down and pecked your nose. You pulled him down by his shirt to connect your lips to his.

Severus ran one his hands up your thigh, hiking up the material of your dress in the process. His touch left goosebumps in their wake. He nibbled at the skin on your neck as his hands roamed your body. When his fingers reached the waistband of your underwear, you raised a hand to his chest to push him away.

“We can’t.” You whispered. His lips left your neck, but his hands stayed unmoving on from their place on your skin. A look of disappointment on his face. He wanted you desperately but knew better than to press.

“I’m in the middle of cooking dinner. Later I promise.” You slid from his grasp and stood up to readjust your dress. He merely rolled over onto his back and stared at the ceiling. But as he did this, the fitted sheet popped off the corners of the bed again and encased him. You left the room in a fit of giggles as he threw out a series of swears at the bed covers

The rest of dinner was easy to prepare once your tomato sauce was finished simmering. All you had to do was boil the pasta and toast some bread. While you waited for the water to come to a boil, you started tackling the dishes. Scrubbing pots and some plates while you hummed along to the current song that was playing.

Severus was reorganizing some knickknacks on his shelf when he heard the music start. He rushed out of his study and propped himself up against a wall and watched you. Your hips swayed in time with the music, and you sang the lyrics to the song under your breath. He couldn’t hide the smile that broke out on his face. He never smiled like this in front of anyone, but with you it was a different story.

It took him months to open up to you. The first thing he said to you that wasn’t a little dig or meaningless small talk came three months after bumping into him at Hogsmeade. He had been restocking supplies for after the Christmas holidays and you worked in one of the nearby shops. At first he only saw you as a former student, but as he spent more and more time around you, it grew more into a sort of odd friendship. More often than not, Severus would find himself heading down to the village just to bother you at work.

When you called him out on it, he used the excuse that it was because his dunderhead students ran through his ingredients and equipment during their mess ups, so he frequently needed to restock. Although he would never admit it, he often volunteered to go down to Hogsmeade for anyone who needed anything just so he had a reason to stop by and see you. He thoroughly enjoyed the conversations you shared. Over time he found himself growing closer to you.

The first date you went on together was such an uncomfortable experience for Severus. You had spent most of the night talking while he tried his best to remain calm. The first time you kissed him, he couldn’t believe it had happened. He was so shocked he didn’t move. After you kissed him a few more times though he realized it wasn’t a dream and snapped out of it and was able to move his lips passionately against your own. After several months of dating, you moved in together at his request.

Severus smirked as he watched you dance. He loved everything about you and was reminded of how much he cared for you on days like this. Days where it was just you and him doing ordinary things like cooking and cleaning, and yet even mundane tasks felt extraordinary when you were there with him. A sense of peace fell over him unlike any other. He had never felt quite so happy before.

You turned off the tap and dried your hands on a tea-towel. Just as you were finishing straining the pasta, a pair of arms snaked around your waist. Severus planted a loving kiss to your cheek and pulled your back flush against his chest.

While holding you in his arms, he started swaying just as you had done earlier. You laughed at the uncharacteristic show of romance from your lovely boyfriend. You leaned your head back on him and looked up to see him smiling down at you. He threaded his fingers through yours to turn you around so you could face him while you both danced.

Neither of you were very good dancers. Your movements were not on beat at all, but it didn’t matter. As you swayed back and forth, Severus pressed kisses to your knuckles of the hand he was holding, the other resting on the small of your back. Just as you thought the moment couldn’t get any better, he pulled away and ungracefully twirled you around. You broke out into a fit of giggles.

“Sorry I’m not much of a dancer.” He laughed and pulled you back towards him.

“I wasn’t laughing at you. I was laughing at my bad spin.”

“Hmmm well then let’s try that again, shall we?.” He held your hand and spun you around again. But this time when he pulled you back to him you tripped over a bunched-up floor mat and crashed into him. You both fell to the floor with you landing on top of him.

“I’m so sorry!” You sat up into a more comfortable position. Taking the weight off his body and instead choosing to straddle him. “Are you alright Sev?”

Worry filled you. You both had hit the ground pretty hard. Plus, you had landed right on top of him. Was he injured? Had you just ruined the perfect moment?

His answer was a laugh. One you had never heard before. A genuine unrestrained laugh. It was contagious and you found yourself joining him. After several seconds of laughing together you asked, “I’ll take that as a yes then?”

He nodded and ran his hands along your upper thighs. His touch trailed along your body until he reached your face. He cupped your cheek and stroked it gingerly. Severus’ black eyes stared into your E/C ones with such love and desire that you nearly lost your breath. Your eyes fluttered closed, and you leaned into his touch.

Unbeknownst to you, Severus was working through the biggest insecurity and fear of his life. The fear of rejection from you. It had always been there throughout the entire course of your relationship. You always reassured him, but he still sometimes found himself dealing with poor self-confidence, especially when intimate. Severus found it hard to leave his mind and focus on the pleasure rather than the doubts in his head. But as he stared at you overtop of him, all doubt and fear melted away. He loved you terribly and no one had ever made him feel so safe.

“Marry me Y/N” He breathed out. He had been considering asking you for weeks now but always shied away at the last moment. He didn’t plan on asking you to become his wife while you were both laying on the floor of the kitchen, but the moment felt so perfect it just sort of slipped out. Though he couldn’t deny now that he had finally asked you, a great weight had lifted from his shoulders.

Your eyes flew open. Did you hear him correctly?

“W-What?” You gasped. He sat up straight. Pulled you closer to him on his lap and tilted your chin up so you had no choice but to engage in intense eye-contact.

“Will you do me the honor of marrying me? I want you to be mine entirely Y/N. Forever and always.” He punctuated his words with a delicate kiss. As the realization of his words sunk in, a flood of emotions washed over you. Without a second thought, you nodded violently.

“Yes Severus! Of course I’ll marry you. I love you” You grabbed him by his cheeks and pulled him down to kiss you again. The kisses became more heated. His tongue swiped your bottom lip and you instantly granted him access to explore your mouth. The hand resting on your thigh squeezing it every so often. His lips trailed all over your face. Whispered “I love you’s” in between each one.

Severus was in the middle of leaving love bites on a tender spot on your neck when the smell hit you. He didn’t seem to notice and continued his mission to mark you as much as possible. “Sev. Stop. Something’s burning.”

You pushed him away slightly and he groaned. “What’s wrong?”

“Something’s burning!” You scrambled to your feet and over to the stove. When you yanked open the door, you were met with the sight of several smoking charcoal looking slices of bread. “Lovely.” You groaned.

Severus got to his feet and joined you in staring at the burnt bits of bread. “What a pity.” He said sarcastically. Then he kicked the oven door close with his foot and spun you around to face him. He smirked and lifted you up onto the counter, tugging your dress up and parting your legs to expose your underwear to him.

He got to his knees and positioned himself in-between your legs. As he tugged down your underwear he stared at you in your lust-filled eyes and said, “Guess I'll just go straight to dessert. That okay with you Mrs. Snape?”

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁

Click here for the prequel to My Dream Girl. (How Sev and Reader met)

[lcksndkys]

Title: Official

Pairing:  Namjoon x reader

Rating: 18+, smut, fluff

Genre: secret dating au

Word count: 1,467

Summary:  You can only hide your new relationship from your friends for so long.

Warnings: oral (m. receiving) + a ruined shirt RIP

A/N: This lil smutty piece was written for the ghostie drabble marathon. Song lyrics:  “Because all of this is not coincidence.” (DNA). Inspired by @jinpanman ​ ‘s post about "Namjoon fixing his zipper in the middle of the performance”. Also, by law, tagging @sahmfanficbts <3

You grunt quietly as Namjoon presses you against the wall, mouth sealed tight against yours as he kisses you deeply between racks of clothing.

Hand pressing against his chest, you push his heaving body off yours.

“You have to go on in like,” you look down to check you watch, “15 minutes.”

“Mmm, that’s ok, plenty of time,” comes his low rasp as he continues to lick into your mouth, grinding his hips into yours.

You let him kiss you languidly for another minute, basking in the pre-show privacy. No hiding from curious friends or judgemental peers. Just you and Namjoon for these precious, fleeting moments.

Namjoon had begrudgingly agreed to keeping your relationship private upon your request. What had started as a drunken hookup months ago had evolved into under-the-table hand holding, sneaky kisses, falling asleep on nightly phone calls. 

“Ah, Joon, you- they’re gonna come lookin for you,” you pull back, panting and trying to reason with him.

Instead of replying, he ducks his head burying face first into your neck where he suckles at the soft skin he adores so much.

Whimpering, you claw your fingertips up and down his sides, feeling the silky material of his top. You pull his shirt free from his pants and send your hands underneath to feel his bare skin. 

“Fuck,” you whine. “No marks, Joon” you gasp, feeling the sudden increase in suction against your pulse point, losing himself to the taste of your skin.

You feel the rumble of displeasure in his chest as he yields to your command. 

He knew you were exclusively dating him, but when no one else was privy to that information, it almost seemed negligible. He was tired of biting back his frustrations when your mutual friends would try to set you up on dates. (Not that you would ever agree to any.) He was tired of pretending the two of you weren’t more. He was ready for the world to know about your relationship, but he knew you were still hesitant. 

Namjoon detaches his warm lips from your neck to peck lovingly at your forehead.

Pressed against the length of him, you feel the evidence of his excitement prodding against your abdomen.

“And how exactly do you plan to hide that?” you giggle, cocking an amused brow at him.

He brushes your hair aside and lets his large hand rest against your throat. Possessive, yet gentle.

“Mmm, it’ll go down,” he mumbles as he reattaches his lips to yours. 

Kissing across his mouth and planting a few along his jaw, you make your way to his ear.

“Or I could help you,” you whisper seductively, cupping his clothed erection.

You smirk when you feel Namjoon shiver at your gentle fondling. His body is like a live wire, crackling and exposed at your electric touch.

“Oh shit, I- I can’t return the favor though,” he pants.

“Take care of me after the show,” you purr, hands unbuckling his belt and reaching for the zipper. “You want this?” you ask one last time to which he nods vigorously. 

Impatient, he pushes your hands away to free himself from the confines of his pants. 

You wrap an eager hand around his length and swirl a thumb around his flushed tip. You gather the moisture there and spread it in slow circles around the rim of the head making Namjoon groan deep in his chest. 

You spit generously into your hand to avoid chafing him.

Skin smooth and soft, you pump him quickly to jerk him to his full potential. 

Thunk. Namjoon’s head falls back against the wall, eyes closed in bliss, as you tighten your grip around him.

“Eyes on me, big boy” you whisper, sinking down to your knees for your man.

His gaze follows you all the way down until you settle comfortably between his parted thighs. 

Your hand continues jerking his cock as you pepper open mouthed kisses to his groin and lower stomach. Your otherwise unoccupied hand pins his hips against the wall.

“Love these,” you muse.

Caressing the supple skin of his powerful thighs, you feel him throb wantonly in your hand.

You sink your teeth into the muscle. All pressure, no pain. 

There’s a garbled groan from above you.

“Baby, please,” Namjoon pants, “We don’t have much time”

You inspect his cock as it pulses in your grasp. “Oh, I think you’re only gonna need a few minutes,” you cackle.

An endearing flush spreads across his cheeks, dimples flashing as he chuckles along goodnaturedly. “Well, my girlfriend is very hot,” he argues.

You gulp, trying not to go rigid while holding his length in your hand. Neither of you had explicitly labeled your relationship, opting to silently agree that you were exclusively seeing each other.

Rather than stutter out a response, you stuff his cock deep into the wet heat of your mouth, wrapping your lips around him the way he likes. 

Namjoon’s hands immediately push your hair back and hold it in a makeshift ponytail as you sink down his length. He’s not about to miss the visual of you blowing him.

Holding him by the base, you bob up and down, gagging lightly as he slides down the back of your throat. You try to relax, inviting him into the depths of your mouth and coating him in a sheen of saliva.

“Fuck,” he moans, feeling you increase the suction around his shaft.

Your hand begins pumping what won’t fit in your mouth, suckling around the crown and urging him towards his climax.

“Baby, look at me, eyes up” he pants over you, unraveling quickly with your enthusiastic servicing of his cock.

You lift your heady gaze up to meet his desperate eyes. Brows pinched with his lower lip held hostage between his teeth. He’s so close.

Your mouth focuses on his sensitive tip, hand furiously working his shaft. His legs quake with his impending release.

With an obscene groan, Namjoon cums, erupting in your mouth. You continue to suckle at him, hand slowing down but pumping leisurely to help him ride out his high.

You do your best to hold his load without immediately swallowing the unsavory fluid.

“You know what I wanna see,” he whines, encouraging you to open wide.

Namjoon moans in appreciation, seeing his seed fill your mouth as you swipe your tongue through his cum to lick at your lips. You swallow most of it and let the rest dribble down your chin and onto your chest.

Knock, knock, knock.

“Namjoon-ah! Are you still changing?” comes the tinkling of Jin’s voice.

Fuck. 

You urgently flip through the rack of Namjoon’s clothing to find something to clean up with. Pulling a semi-plain shirt from its hanger, you wipe down his wilting cock and leave him to tuck himself back into his briefs as he pulls up his pants.

Cleaning off your mouth and chin and the residual cum off your chest, you haphazardly replace the top on its hanger and try to shake feeling back into your feet.

You check your watch again. Six minutes to show time. You smirk.

“Break a leg, bubs” you smile up at him and push him toward the door with a parting good-luck-kiss.

You watch happily from backstage as the group performs another stellar show. The crowd cheers when Namjoon makes a joke about his opened fly. Choreography and vocals all flow smoothly as the night unfolds, leading up to the final few songs.

The seven men pile into the dressing room for a final change for the encore when there’s a ghastly shriek.

“What the actual fuck,” Jin hollers. 

Several pairs of eyes look over to Jin as he gingerly inspects an article of clothing.

Oh no.

No, no, no.

Jin looks from his soiled shirt, to you, and back down to the shirt he’s supposed to change into.

You had forgotten you had worn lipstick tonight. And it was smeared all over Jin’s top along with residual ejaculate and spit that had begun to flake as it dried.

Incriminating at best, evidence at worst.

“What’s your lipstick and whateverthefuckthisis doing on my shirt? Why was Namjoon’s zipper down all through the first half of the show? And why did Namjoon-ah get all pissy when I tried to set you up with Sejin-hyung last week?” he fires off suspiciously, eyes darting back and forth between the two of you.

The room falls dead silent and all you hear is the pounding of blood between your ears.

“Because all of this is not coincidence,” Jin continues, gesturing wildly.

“I'm with Namjoon,” you confess quietly. 

The room erupts in hoots and hollers, I told you’s, and all you see is Namjoon beaming at your admission, happy to finally love you officially and publicly.

[thehuntiswhatdefinesus]

I love the wolf’s and Cassandra’s bickering so much.

Why does it feel like they would use the ‘your mom’ jokes on each other 😭

(Sorry for the long wait! I saw this ask the day it was sent, but I just had this urge to write a little text in reply and I couldn't come up with an idea until today, haha.) They absolutely would use 'your mom' jokes! They might also definitely resort to using 'your mom' as insults in an argument! And the werewolf would immediately fuck up by using a 'your mom' insult in a place where Alcina can hear her. Like, imagine this scenario…

The werewolf shook her head, sending little droplets of water splashing. It had been raining all morning and noon but that sure hadn’t stopped her from heading outside, hoping to hunt. The urge had been prodding her for some time, had made falling asleep as much of a difficult task as staying asleep. More often than not it had even startled her awake with blood-soaked dreams and a gnawing hunger.

So, out she went, weather be damned.

Her hope had been that a certain huntress would join in, accompany her, but the weather made it difficult, what with the temperature of the rain and the moisture in the air making it hard for the daughters to take on the shape of a swarm.

So, alone she went.

And alone, she returned.

Soaked and with nothing to show but wet soil on her pants and twigs in her wet hair.

“Enjoyed your little hunt, pup?”

The werewolf’s eyes darted across the hallway, where Cassandra stood leaning against the wall, her arms crossed over her chest with a playful little grin on her lips. She could feel the huntress judging her appearance and the werewolf huffed in return.

“I did.”

“Where’s your prey?”

The two stared each other down and with each second of silence that passed, Cassandra’s grin grew a little wider.

“… it escaped,” the werewolf begrudgingly admitted, shifting her weight from one mud-covered boot to the other.

“Did it now? I wonder how that happened? Wait, no, let me… guess,” Cassandra whispered, pulling away from the wall and stalking towards the werewolf. “Mud on your boots… and you leave tracks without an impression of the shape of your sole… mud on your knees and sleeves… hmm. Alright, here’s what happened. You lost traction and slipped on the wet soil.”

The werewolf grit her teeth. Caught. That’s exactly what had happened. A turn that was a little too tight, a slip and… the buck ran and she just barely managed to catch herself and avoid face-planting into the mud.

“So?”

“You didn’t shape-shift?”

One eyebrow raised, the huntress approached the werewolf, circling around her with a curious expression and a little tilt of her head.

“And return to the castle with my fur soaking wet and covered in mud and twigs?” the werewolf grunted, half-serious, half-amused. As if Lady Dimitrescu would forgive her for shaking the excess water off in the main hall…… again. It was bad enough that she left tracks of mud in her wake.

“Oh, you know Daniela would bathe you, if you did,” Cassandra teased. Her fingers touched the smaller woman’s shoulders, walking alongside from one shoulder to the other as she circled.

“Maybe that’s the problem.”

“Sounds like you’re a water-shy little puppy.”

“Says the one that didn’t want to accompany me for fear of getting wet,” the werewolf took a step forward, blocking Cassandra’s path, leaning into her vision. An amused chuckle was all she got in return, with the huntress giving her a little shove, forcing a separation.

“You know there’s a very valid reason for me to avoid getting wet,” she said, but remained in place, eyes now focused on the werewolf. “Hmm. Maybe you just want to see this white shirt soaked and see-through, don’t you, pup?”

As if for emphasis, she brushed down the front of her own shirt, up to where the bodice started.

“You wish,” the werewolf snapped, glaring at the woman before her.

If only her reply didn’t sound so half-hearted and rushed.

Cassandra chuckled.

“Maybe I do. But not in the main hall,” she murmured, raising one hand to caress the werewolf’s jawline, drawing her in closer, the beckoning eagerly followed. From nearby, she could hear footsteps, slow, purposeful, but heavy. It could only be the lady’s.

“What, scared someone is going to see?” This time, it was the werewolf that couldn’t stop the grin on her lips. “Didn’t expect you to be so shy.”

“Ha! That’s a lot of bark for someone with no bite,” Cassandra withdrew her hand and the werewolf had to hold back a whine at the loss of contact. “You’re the one that would panic if someone were to walk in on me bending you over that vanity and making you cum at the mere touch of my fingers. All flustered and shy.”

The werewolf struggled to stop her mind from derailing into inappropriate thoughts while she was still very much soaked to the bone and half covered in dirt. She took a breath, furrowing her brows. Focus. Don’t let Cassandra get the upper hand.

Do something. Say something.

“Your mom is all flustered and shy.”

Silence.

The slow steps had stopped.

Both of Cassandra’s eyebrows shot up. In disbelief, perhaps? Maybe she didn’t expect the werewolf to resort to this level of petty? Then her eyes followed the movement, darting up, fixating on something behind the werewolf, something very tall.

“I beg your pardon, mutt?”

The werewolf’s breath caught in her throat, heart leaping in her chest and stomach plummeting all at once. She didn’t dare turn her head, didn’t dare face who was very much the lady of the castle, who had literally just overheard her.

“I-”

Something grabbed her by the coat, slowly, slowly lifting her off the ground and turning her until she was face to face, eye to eye with Lady Dimitrescu. How had she gotten this close, this fast?! Without the werewolf’s ears picking up the noise?!

“S-sorry?” the werewolf spluttered, hanging limp in mid-air, trying not to let out an excessive amount of little canine whines and whimpers. The lady fixated on her for an awfully long time – five seconds? Ten?

Finally, mercifully, the lady seemed to have decided that today was not the day that the mutt would be kicked out of the castle for being a nuisance.

“You are lucky, I am aware of the increased use of this specific vernacular in the past decades,” Lady Dimitrescu said and lowered the smaller woman back down. The werewolf’s feet touched the ground but she didn’t dare make a move yet, still staring up in fear. “However, my patience only lasts so long and the current state of the main hall is rapidly draining it. If this floor is not clean within the next twenty minutes, we will be having words, mutt.”

[fandomfiish]

Thominho || End of the World Song recommendation: As the world caves in x cancer by clem turner @its-tea-time-darling @thominho-incorrectquotes @graeae hehe~ ░░▓░░░░▓░░░░▓░░░░▓░░░▓░░ mournful cries for something that was not yet lost had dulled.

minho could still spot crowds below the hill, he imagined the silent wonder as they stare at the sky, waiting, huddling with strangers. striking conversations that would soon not even remain a memory. drinking up everything they could ever take, everything undiscovered. he would've remained somewhere else if it weren't for thomas. he remembers watching it from the news, it didn't even feel real at that time, even when that panic start rising up his throat.

"when it happens,"

thomas static voice mumbled over the phone.

"will you be with me?"

they never knew when it will happen, no time frame was given. just soon. all everyone could hope was that soon was enough to say their goodbyes, that soon enough to be able to be content of their own lives, that soon enough to cope. he watched in the first few minutes, the chaos unraveling right outside his window. his feet planted in his recently cleaned room, resisting the urge to go outside and run, to do something he once loved to do in his final moments, to run and exhaust himself waiting for death itself to envelop him to eternal rest. but he couldn't. there were notations and notes scattered in his head. quiet questions, head-shakes, and I told you so’s. all the things he’d said he would do when the time was right.

he glanced at the unopened box the size of his palm, the what if's surrounding the said item disappearing as the news reached his ears.

all of it morphed into black nothingness. until minho saw him. looking out of a window too from the complex across, watching it all fall to shit right outside, there was a glimpse of hope, of innocence, of endlessness. if only a little. he realized that, even in a dark and inevitable moment like this, he can want. that it’s possible for him to love while everything he once knew crumbled.

minho with a blanket on his arms headed to their meeting place. he had called a few people, the important ones anyway.

"we're heading to the park, said they were holding an event there. newt explained

"who's coming?" the line went silent for a few seconds, as the only thing he heard were footsteps.

"me, gally, ben, frypan, winston, clint, hell even teresa and brenda are here." minho couldn't help the smile appearing his lips as he heard their names.

"how is chuck handling it?" the line went silent again, longer than the first one.

"as great as a bloody kid could handle it, though he was happy that he could join us this time" a cheer sounded from Newts side of the call.

"what about you?"

minho arrived on the top of the hill, surprisingly there we no one else there, the others must've preferred being below the hill.

"i'm meeting with thomas."

"of course you bloody are." newt said, mimicking their normal bickering.

then it was silent, just the sound of footsteps and the wind, many unspoken words treading on them. "this is really it, huh?" newt whispered.

"this is it."

minho could feel something creeping up his throat, it would take his breath if he lets it free. "thank you, minho."

they could pry, open up but ... this was enough.

"thank you."

and the call ended.

minho finally arrived at their meeting place, and he let himself stare at the road below, it was packed although there was no movement. they must've gave up and abandoned their cars and sit on the sidewalks with the rest. what-ifs lingering in the air. it was a beautiful sight, even with the context of why.

"minho, over here!"

the sun was setting, an orange glow radiated from thomas like he was otherwordly. he was crouched next to a lone oak tree, dirt staining his knees as he dragged a finger across a leaf. "surprised you didn't run to get here." thomas said.

"nah, don't wanna run right now"

thomas nodded, his hugging his knees closer. "do you think flowers will grow under this tree?"

every time they meet here, thomas never fails to ask that question.

minho reply was always the same 'who knows, only time will tell.' but right now it's different.

his friend's eyes fluttered on the ground as he shrugged, "i dunno, it's doesn't matter much now, does it?"

thomas forced himself to grin, "maybe, but he might like the company anyway"

"minho?" thomas asked suddenly, "are you alright?"

it felt odd, talking to thomas like this. they were always playful and it was rare for one them to leave an opening for something deeper. the question couldn't be brushed away easily this time. it seemed the tears had come, washed over his eyes and gathered on the soil below. "not really." his voice shook.

thomas patted the ground next to him. minho sat down, ruining his new blue jeans in the process, the blanket in his bag long forgotten. "i guess i thought this wasn't a situation i needed to plan around ... i thought i had time but i wasted it all."

it was silent for a second before thomas spoke up, "you know what i've been thinking? in retrospect, everything i've done is lackluster and once i'm gone, it goes with me. but i think that's the point, the experience. even though compared to others i didn't achieve much, there were people that made it special. something had to lead up to it all, didn't it?"

he turned to minho before continuing, "for example, you ... i know i don't show it often but ... you are a pretty incredible instance in my world." he concluded.

"is that what you were telling the tree?" he joked as thomas slapped his arm.

"you know i'm not good at these things! ... i had to practice."

after the laughter died down, they bathed in the earthly slumber their city below resembled. the seconds before sleep where you let the unknown beckon you into the darkness. no more shouting, no more car horns blaring, just the rise and fall of chests. trees swayed slowly in the breeze as sunlight began to wane till it gave way to the moon.

then there was a hum, it started as weightless as the wind, until it picked up into a chorus of people singing. the corners of thomas’s mouth flicked up. minho couldn't help but follow the action. it was hard to clearly make out the words but it was a melody anyone would recognize. thomas began to sing along, minho let himself have this moment. glancing at him. all of the voices coming as one, it had him thinking, maybe the world wasn't as far apart as he'd once thought. "you should sing too." thomas suggested, beaming.

"you know i can't." minho shook his head.

"wow, you're going to lie even when a black hole is waiting to swallow us up."

minho opened his mouth to respond but thomas was quick to interject, "no excuses, there are no consequences for being prideful now."

that was ... true. but he still didn't do it. stubborn until the end of time, he used to proudly proclaim. thomas rolled his eyes and rose to his feet. "fine, let's do something else then." he said as he held out his hand for the other to take.

he took it, curious as to what he had planned. thomas guided him to the wide path and curled his arms around minho’s neck. minho stared back, not understanding. "put your hands on my waist, you dork."

minho hands fumbled to their place. "dancing? without music?"

thomas’s eyes softened as he tilted his head towards the lights, "we have the whole city singing for us."

"but i don't know what to do."

thomas brushed the hair out of minho’s face, "honestly, do what feels right."

they swayed while minho’s fingers wove through thomas’s hair. it was relaxing. they would occasionally stumble over nothing and blush when they made eye-contact for too long. it felt right. it didn't feel in the least bit juvenile or comical and soon they had become in sync. it was a song that he had on a worn-out record but minho swore he discovered something new to it. "the big finale?" thomas prodded, leading minho to cast him away from his body.

thomas spun out, the wind playing with his brown hair as quiet giggles surrounded him. he was rolled back into minho’s arms who held him tightly. thomas’s back was against his chest, the weight felt grounding in a way. "i think ... i need to tell you this." minho hesitated, letting thomas go.

"what is it?" thomas’s voice was timid, minho was used to hearing that tone from him but this felt different.

the gaze from the boy was disarming, almost as if he was as nervous as minho. the thoughts had crept up on restless evenings and left him tired from envisioning every outcome. it was terrifying and it was the reason minho was just now learning to acknowledge it. he tried to get his head clear, as his lips worked for the right words. "even if it's over, even when we turn to nothing, even if this moment is insignificant in the grand scheme of things, i want you to know that this is exactly where i want to be."

there were worse things than unrequited feelings, he knew that more than ever now. despite this, thomas looked at him with an expression that begged for minho to explain further. three concrete words on the tip of his tongue yet it never left its place. "i'm glad it's with you."

as those words fell into thomas’s ear, minho noticed the briefest flicker of fear and uncertainty. it disappeared though before minho even realized it had come. he felt something settle in his heart when thomas closed the space between them. "can i?"

the answer was simple. "yes."

thomas’s arms laid around minho’s neck, with the determination to never let him go again. his hands falling between a grip and a brush of fingers. when their lips met, euphoria spread out like a venomous bloom in his chest. it hurt like nothing he'd ever experienced before but it was beautiful. that moment could've been his end. the close of another abandoned storybook. thomas would've been every one of his moments if he had the option. in a trance, he'd almost neglected to breathe until the other boy moved, a tear dropping onto minho’s lap before he got away. but he wouldn't bring it up. he knew.

the stars shone brightly that night like they were giving them one last beautiful show. but even if the stars had long disappeared, minho had someone beside him who was much more captivating. his own cosmic mission.

thomas had his head rested on his’s shoulder, fabric softener clouding around him, the lavender scent had become home without even realizing it. he found himself ... content, lost in the peace, forgetting where he was, and what was looming. "if there is an afterlife, how long before i can have a moment like this again?" he thought out loud.

"you can wait. you can wait, my love." minho smiled, softly patting his head.

thomas leaned into the touch, happy to have seen him in this way. gentle, loving. "i like that, can you say it again?"

far off, the forest seemed to grow, the city lights and their glow blurring into thin lines. he felt himself finally relax. "my love."

then time dwindled, split, stretched until all of normality that remained was a silent, wispy breath.

[ghost-at-the-masquerade]

The Little Things

Rating: PG, for talk of preparing an animal carcass

Count: 1856

Summary: Link has dinner with a stranger out on the road

A/N: Yes, I’m going to make Link use they/them pronouns, no I don’t take criticism on this, don’t @ me

----------------

The smell of blood still wafted toward the camp, from where they had let the deer drain. They started at the collarbone, slicing all the way down to the groin, then up the inside of each of the legs. Someone could always use more leather, so they wanted to keep the hide well intact.

Sitting across from Link on a tree downed long ago, Stemm - a traveling chef, by his own description - started to peel carrots and potatoes. The skins he let fall among the grass, the clean vegetables he dropped into a large stockpot to wait. It was much too soon, but he needed something to do.

When Link went to wipe the sweat from their forehead with the back of their arm, they left a little smear of blood that caught a lock of hair and matted it to their eyebrow. The sight of it had Stemm’s face twisting into the most polite agony he could manage.

The time came to split open its belly and he excused himself to stoke and adjust the fires - meat and organs did better in different temperatures at different times, he said.

Link twisted around to grab another, larger pot to drop the more palatable organs in, and the rest were given back to the earth, that Farore may put them to better use.

Their boots were soiled as they worked to separate the carcass into manageable cuts, the better part of an hour drifting by them as they were engrossed in the work. Every now and again their gaze flicked over to Stemm, tutting around the camp proper. Always seeming to produce more cookware and utensils and little bottles of spices from his pack. He had a rather fine set of glass bottles he kept water in, too - as well as some spirit that stank all to hell. Highly impractical for travel compared to a waterskin, but lovely nonetheless. A pair of the ones filled with water were sitting in a half-rotted bucket with a pilfered ice rod.

They piled the meat onto a spare sheet of leather they had so they could haul it all the few feet to the fire, hefting it over the log with a grunt.

Stemm spared them a smile for all of their work. “Thank you, yes, it’ll be fine there.”

He took the opportunity to go on while they paused to take a breath, “It makes me feel like such a fraud, not doing all my own prep, but butchering is just… such ugly work.”

Link couldn’t help but cock the bloody eyebrow at him. The lock of hair came loose with the movement.

“Don’t look at me like that - it’s not that I had some… pampered upbringing, my parents did their own hunting when I was young. We just moved to a bigger town before it was my time to learn. And if someone has already prepared the meat for you, well…”

They wondered, at times, if people in their previous life had spilled their guts to them like this. Their silence left a lot of room for it.

“I suppose I was so excited to travel and to do it all myself that I didn’t think about what ‘doing it all myself’ would entail.”

Link’s expression softened some. They could sympathize with being in over one’s head.

“… What are you waiting around for? I can handle this part, you wash up.” He shooed them with one hand, pulling the meat toward himself with the other.

They huffed through their nose at his tone, but they didn’t need to be told twice.

-

Twilight’s somber blanket settled over the grass, made the soft sands twinkle as Link stepped into the shallow waters. Going in almost up to their knees, they found a rock to settle on, dipping their arms into the cool river flow and scrubbing the deer’s blood free from their arms and boots. Blood dried on skin is rather like the first layer of paint on raw wood, thin and clinging seamlessly.

Pulling back, droplets on their skin became flecks of gold in the dying light. They reached into a pouch at their hip for a bar of soap and comb. The bar was only about the length of their palm and a third of the width, off-white in color - not unlike honey diluted in milk. They rubbed a conservative lather into their palm; it would be some time before they returned to Hateno for more, but they wanted the copper smell off their hands. They only just remembered the smear on their face before rinsing off.

The comb was simple, a chunk of birch wood carved and left unfinished, but with much thicker teeth than their last one. Hair tie held between their lips, they dipped the comb into the river, closed their eyes and began to run it through their hair. Their ears twitched with every rustle of the trees behind them.

Clean and calmed, they took a deep breath and rose to return to camp.

-

Stemm greeted them heartily, in much higher spirits now that he was in his element. He already had several pounds of meat salted and packed into leather satchels, while another had been cubed for their supper.

Link took their seat at an angle to him, not quite next to him. Stemm was proving to be quite the multi-tasker around the cook pot, moving seamlessly between preserving the meat and prodding the chunk of fat he had rendering out in the bottom of the pot. It had been strung up by a chain, held aloft by three metal rods - an incredibly handy contraption, Link would have to see about finding one.

At each step, Stemm explained how staggering each ingredient’s addition would change their texture and flavor. Link sipped their chilled water and decided to keep their disagreements about what the texture should be to themself; they could deal with mushy onions in their stew for one night.

With everything coming together, he whipped out a smaller wooden spoon, took a taste and pursed his lips, looking up to the sky. “I wish I had a little sweetness to take that edge off, but I’ve just run out…”

Link’s ear twitched with a thought, and they dipped their fingers into another one of their hip pouches. From it they drew a flower, not unlike the Silent Princess, but half the size and without its luminescent qualities. They held it up as a suggestion, “Maybe this?”

“That?” Stemm leaned close to scrutinize the flower, “No, I’m afraid those are quite bitter.”

They shook their head and insisted, “Cousin of the star flower. Breeding out the glow takes out the bitterness.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Usually, yes, but they’ve been moving back that way for a while. Have you been under a rock?”

Rather than argue the point further, they popped the flower in their mouth - only to immediately stick out their tongue and let the mushed petals fall off.

Stemm laughed victoriously. “I told you!”

With their eyes unfocused on the grass, something deep within them wavered, but only momentarily. It was too silly a thing to unsettle them. Even if it was one of the few things they thought they remembered.

“The one thing I was prepared for was finding tasty plants!” He glanced again toward the dying light while digging something out of his bag.

“Don’t know how much you can do by firelight, but here-” He held out a small, leather-bound notebook, “You can copy this.”

It was soft in their hands, telling of its relative youth. The cover crackled quietly as they opened it. The pages detailed a number of edible wild plants native to central Hyrule and Necluda, including flavor profiles and notable lookalikes.

Link set it on their knee so they could sign, “Thank you, but, I don’t have anything to copy to.”

For a moment he seemed surprised. Then he shrugged, a relaxed smile crossing his face. “Keep that one, then. I can make another.”

Their mouth worked and they struggled to make the sign feel sincere enough, “Thank you.”

“Think nothing of it. It won’t do me much good when I head out to Akkala, anyway.”

With that reassurance they relaxed some, settling in to skim the notes while he finished.

The sun ducked away behind the far trees and its last light vanished, turning the camp into a bright bubble in a dark ocean.

Turned out Stemm was right about it needing a bit of sweet, but it was far from inedible. Link was more than glad to take a second helping. Simple, but warm and filling. He was definitely still wrong about onions, but the potato was good.

Stemm had no stories to tell and his sign wasn’t strong enough to keep up with Link’s, so the night air was left to the crickets, crackling of fire and the tittering of breeze through the grass and leaves. In time, they agreed to part in sleep.

Link settled down into the embrace of a nearby elm. Stemm stayed closer to the fire, with his sizable pack to prop him up. Firelight faded, gave way to the silver grace of the moon, orange glowing embers not unlike the shrines waiting for them in the distance.

——

Link woke at first light. Hummed deep in their throat and stretched, scratched their shoulder against the bark before even bothering to open their eyes. They could already feel the knot that had formed in their hair.

Sitting up, they saw Stemm still asleep, his mouth dangerously open to the sky. They shook their head, starting to fix their hair when they noticed a small line of leaves laid parallel on their thigh - korok mischief. A little smile tugged at the corner of their mouth. They carefully stacked the leaves and tucked them away in a pocket.

It was time to go - their deal was done and a number of important tasks awaited them. Link stood and took a final stretch. But still, they looked over to their companion. He had done them an extra kindness.

Stemm’s rig was still set up - perhaps they could make use of it. Link knelt with a bit of bounce, considering the remnants of the fire.

They reached into the depths of a pouch and grasped the handle of a short sword - though not short enough to keep them from having to bend over at a funny angle to get it out, falling onto their hip. Exposed to the open air, the blade flared to life with eerily silent fire. A bit of tinder, another log and the tip of the blade was all that was needed. A little extra kindness, then they would go.

Three eggs scrambled into fine curds, peppered with fresh herbs and salt flakes, gently folded over on itself with a wooden spoon. A hopefully respectable omelet they set nearby under a korok leaf.

Link put their hands on their hips and regarded a man they would likely not see again, one more time. The Dueling Peaks loomed. The sun crept higher. And strangers parted.

[missingjackklinehours]

run alone (until i bring you home)

Out of each pleasant memory of Gabriel trying and ultimately succeeding in graciously brightening his mood, Raphael holds a certain memory close to his heart.

Rating: Gen

No warnings apply.

Fic & Playlist available on AO3! (however, feel free to read under the cut.)

@spnarchangelweek <3

Asters indubitably remind Raphael of Heaven's Messenger; his younger brother, Gabriel.

Bold yet delicate petals that sway amiably in the breeze. Gabriel, the animated fledgling who would joyously dance when he was feeling down, carefree giggles falling from his flushed lips when he stumbled. Father forbid if one of Gabriel's elder brothers had a mere smudge of gloom present in their actions—The jubilant fledgling would've been dead set on a clear-cut mission: doing absolutely anything in his power to cheer up his brothers. Gabriel had always been his brothers' little ball of sunshine, much like the vibrant citrine center of an aster flower.

Out of each pleasant memory of Gabriel trying and ultimately succeeding in graciously brightening his mood, Raphael holds a certain memory close to his heart. He wouldn't forget it, even if his mind permitted so.

.•° ✿ °•.

Morning skies were always Raphael's favorite. The dawn of a new day, the faint ghost of the moon stuck stubbornly to the yellow skies like a splendid dream with far too much detail. He would spend countless hours just watching the stars fade.

This particular morning was radically different.

Raphael had just lost his childhood friend, the kind black swallowtail butterfly that had captivated him with her bulging eyes as a meek fledgling. She always met Raphael in his garden, sucking away at the supple nectar within the flushed milkweed flowers he'd grown specifically for her. However, it had been a few days since she'd returned from her lengthy adventure to find a mate, and Raphael was growing increasingly worried.

The dawn skies echoed glum without her fragile wings fluttering across them. The milkweeds looked to weep.

Raphael had never been an expressive angel, quite the contrary. It was all about subtlety with him, something only his closest brothers—archangelic—had knowledge of. He himself hadn't even noticed his mistake: He'd forgotten his watering can before he'd embarked on the short trip to his garden.

It was such a trivial feat that Raphael hadn't cared enough to realize it was missing, until he'd long since reached his garden and after he checked if his swallowtail friend had reappeared; She hadn't. It was like the cherry on top of his sick discontentment—He would have to trudge back to the familial archangel nest with a heavy heart and convoluted thoughts.

At least, he thought he would. A too-familiar presence had abruptly stumbled upon him, and Raphael slightly turned in a befuddled daze towards the nearing sensation of Gabriel's easily-recognizable grace.

Gabriel was supposed to be in combat training with Michael that day. There was no particular reason the youngest archangel should have been approaching Raphael's garden. Raphael blankly watched Gabriel land with a small crash—Gabriel hadn't mastered flight at that point in time.

Raphael couldn't help the nearly-imperceptible upward tug of his lips at the sight of his youngest brother now covered in soil and scrambling to stand up, trying to smoothly act as if he hadn't almost knocked himself out. In his jittery hands glimmered Raphael's steel watering can. Raphael peered at it with interest, his stare flicking up to his brother. Gabriel, after briefly maneuvering his head to the side to spit stray grains of dirt out of his mouth, wiped his lips with his arm before flashing a toothy beam at his older brother.

"You still have soil in your teeth," Raphael had remarked.

He observed Gabriel's expression switch from gaiety to dismayed surprise. The younger angel's hand shot up to scrub frantically at his teeth. Raphael's attention reverted to the spot behind Gabriel, the spot where his brother had crash-landed, and he softly sighed in dissatisfaction when his eyes scanned over the healthy aster bush his brother had crushed.

"... And, you ruined my flowers."

Gabriel's scrubbing stopped in an instant to offer Raphael an apologetic look.

"Sorry, dude," Gabriel once again displayed his bright beam, continuing to speak through his smile with a muffled tone, "Did I get it all?"

Raphael transiently paused his assessment of his brother's accidental floral destruction to sweep his sight over Gabriel's smiling teeth—Nothing but pearly whites. A chaste nod followed, and Gabriel's simper dimmed to a close-mouthed one. Raphael continued to eye the watering can curiously, prompting Gabriel to brighten, as if he'd completely forgotten what he'd come for in the first place. The youngest archangel tilted his head sweetly as he merrily extended his hands, presenting the steel watering can in all its glory. Raphael concisely inspected it, his gaze jumping back to Gabriel's face with slight suspicion.

"Aren't you supposed to be with Michael today?" Raphael hesitantly took his watering can from Gabriel's hands. His younger brother pulled his arms back, the grin on his face morphing into the signature pout that Raphael's mind always regressed to when thinking of Gabriel.

"Exactly right! I'm supposed to." Gabriel shuffled in place, his rascal pout never budging. "Let's just say this is a detour, okie dokie?"

Raphael's prodding eyes slanted in both incredulity and curiosity. Gabriel passively considered his brother's expression before swiveling on his heel, facing the aster bush he'd indirectly demolished. Raphael studied him silently, off-put by the lack of mischief that always seemed to follow his youngest archangelic brother.

"I can help replant these!'' Gabriel's voice was jam-packed with genuine enthusiasm. Raphael's suspicion has reached its peak, and he dubiously stepped forward to stand next to his younger brother. Side-by-side, the pair of archangels skimmed over the crumpled mess of lavender petals and evergreen leaves.

"Firstly, you're terrible at gardening," Raphael calmly stated, and Gabriel cocked his head to peer at Raphael with what was probably slight offense prominent on his face. Raphael ignored him as he spoke. "And secondly, why are you really here?"

Raphael marginally pivoted to watch his brother's expression. Gabriel's features didn't take long to fall, and Raphael's entire being peaked in both interest and concern. The Messenger briskly looked away with a hint of timidity, his eyes of sky falling back to the flattened plant before them.

"You forgot your watering can," He said meekly, as if afraid to speak its silly truth. He added even softer, "You never do that."

Raphael's stare simply bore more intensely into his brother, utterly bewildered. Gabriel continued, an anxiety-prompted ramble.

"And you came home late yesterday. I'm worried, Raph," The youngest archangel admitted, releasing a massive sigh as he did so. Gabriel seemed relieved, like the thought had been plaguing his mind significantly. Raphael immediately softened, quick to soothe his brother. His lips moved on their own, and a blatant white lie tumbled out.

"There's no reason to worry, Gabriel," Raphael delusively assured, and he slightly jumped when the Messenger's head snapped back up; Raphael could now physically see the uneasiness present on his brother's face.

"Y'know, you could at least try to sell it a little better," Gabriel whined with a tenuous smile, and Raphael offered an apologetic look in response. A couple beats of silence enveloped the pair, with neither one of the angels bearing the right words to say. Gabriel's abstracted gaze gingerly drifted elsewhere.

Raphael attentively followed his brother's now-fixated stare. The older angel's being subtly slumped purely out of sheer impulse when his eyes lay on the faded coral color of milkweeds—They seemed terribly empty without a familiar pair of miniature black and blue butterfly wings atop them. A flit of acquainted worry spread like a consuming disease over his grace, a halfhearted wash of paltry waves over a burning embodiment of celestial light.

A physically inaudible hum of lamented harmony buzzed from the grace beside him, and a gentle touch brushed against his shoulder. The sudden sorrow within Raphael fleeted away as quickly as it had birthed when the warmth was perceived. With a meager twist of his head, Raphael’s pale eyes once again met the now-sympathetic azure irises of his brother. Gabriel wore a modest frown, his face contorted in enhanced concern.

"Does it have something to do with Basil?" Gabriel's expression grew more worried when the words left him, and hearing it aloud somehow made it more real to both of them. "Is she okay?"

Raphael's movements delayed, and his own uncertainty seemed to float rapidly to the surface at the sight of Gabriel's shared fear. Gabriel had met Basil, Raphael's befriended swallowtail butterfly, a couple years after Raphael had become close with her; Gabriel had happily insisted that he wanted to introduce himself to his big brother's childhood friend.

Raphael's face remained stone as he hesitantly nodded. Gabriel's concern transformed into what looked to be frightened grief.

"Is she…"

"I'm not sure. She hasn't returned from her journey to find a mate." Raphael stated weakly, briefly glancing back at the milkweeds that lowly drooped in melancholy without the swallowtail. The wind drifted through their petals, calling out to her.

At this, Gabriel looked to be a bit relieved. The youngest archangel's face broke into a soft smile after a couple of seconds, and Raphael's eyes ever-so-slightly slanted in inquisition. Gabriel's simper never faltered as he kneeled down in front of the destroyed aster bush.

Raphael watched curiously as his brother began to speak in an upbeat, sing-song tone that was so… Gabriel. He simply turned towards Raphael again with a blinding flash of happily smiling teeth.

"If you say I'm that bad at gardening… then help me replant these! Let's surprise Basil with them when she comes back from her trip!"

A stunned pause ensued on Raphael's end, but never on Gabriel's; His younger brother's essence remained in a harmonizing melody, a sweet positivity radiating from his grace like comfortable currents of summery morning light.

Always so bright. Always so cheerful.

Raphael returned Gabriel's smile.

°•. ✿ .•°

It's silent without Gabriel.

Still. Empty. Void. Overpowering, almost.

And within that silence, thousands of words still seem to be spoken. Shrieked. Wailed. Raphael blindly listens, unaware it's merely a cold reflection of Heaven—of himself.

A muted cry of fear, a tremble of loneliness echoed across space and time. Velvet petals of lull lilac petals mirror the agonized harmony in pity. The aster bush he and Gabriel planted together distantly watches Raphael mourn.

Asters indubitably remind Raphael of Heaven's Messenger—his younger brother, Gabriel. And within the stillness, they remind him of Gabriel's absence.

Lavender beauty blooms quick, and wilts quicker. Raphael replants them every year.

He's counting.

It's as if the flowers hold a piece of Gabriel that Raphael refuses to let go of ever since his baby brother left Heaven. A pout perhaps, or a cheery bliss. A crack of golden morning light within their stamens, a careless dance in the wind. It's all so… Gabriel.

Raphael smiles in their presence, he can't help it.

In Heaven's soil, he plants aster flowers each day in hopes for his brother Gabriel's return.

[sohotthateveryonedied]

I’ve Never Felt So Helpless

Read here on AO3!

Summary:

“Tim.”

“In fact, I think we’ve both earned a quiet night in with food and shitty movies and snuggles and—”

“Tim!”

“What?”

“You’re bleeding.”

Tim looks down where she points at a spot on his neck, and—was that stinging sensation always there? He touches the part of his cowl that covers his neck. His glove comes away covered in blood. “Oh.” Now that he’s aware of it, he can feel the blood rushing from the wound at a speed that he’s fairly certain wounds aren’t supposed to bleed at. “That’s not good.”

Tim is a simple man, no matter what anyone else says. Does he fight crime in tights? Yes, and proudly. Does he guiltily watch the occasional Riverdale episode because he had a crush on Cole Sprouse growing up and owes this to his prepubescent self? Obviously. Would he like to enjoy a relaxing night every once in a while, devoid of supervillains and near-death experiences? One hundred percent. Tim has stated this precise case upwards of a dozen times tonight, yet here he is, exhausted and covered in plant matter from a fight with Poison Ivy. All because Steph wanted to handle Ivy’s escape from Arkham themselves despite the fact that she and Tim specifically asked for tonight off so they could have some alone time for the first time in weeks. Tim bought sparkling cider, dammit. “You are way too hung up on this,” Stephanie says, wringing out her hair from when Ivy chucked her into a pond. They stand together on a rooftop, watching the final squad car pull away from the scene. It is not nearly as satisfying as it should be. “I wanted one night. One.” “There will be other nights, Tim. Besides, we caught Ivy before she could do any major damage. I call that a job well done.” “At the cost of our date night!” “Oh, like you’ve never canceled plans to fight crime. You’ve blown me off for supervillains plenty of times. So have I. But this time, we got to do it together, which I think counts as a date night.” “It doesn’t, actually. Normal people do things like going out to dinner, catching a movie, taking romantic walks on the beach. I want to be like that.” Steph turns to face him. She plants her hands on her hips. “Tim.” “And, you know, I can’t remember the last time we got to have a date night that didn’t involve punching someone. Do you know how insane that is?” “Tim.” “In fact, I think we’ve both earned a quiet night in with food and shitty movies and snuggles and—” “Tim!” “What?” “You’re bleeding.”

Tim looks down where she points at a spot on his neck, and—was that stinging sensation always there? He touches the part of his cowl that covers his neck. His glove comes away covered in blood. “Oh.” Now that he’s aware of it, he can feel the blood rushing from the wound at a speed that he’s fairly certain wounds aren’t supposed to bleed at. “That’s not good.” Steph is in front of him in an instant, one hand pressed against his neck and making him hiss. “How does the world’s greatest detective not realize he’s got a giant gash in his neck?” Should Tim be feeling this woozy already? It must be the adrenaline rushing out, leaving him a puppet without strings. “There was a razor vine, but I thought it missed me.” His legs shake, dangerously close to giving out. Steph takes notice and helps lower him to the ground so they’re on their knees, facing each other. “Clearly, it didn’t. Take your cowl down, let me see.” Tim obeys. Steph has to let go of the wound for a moment so he can loosen the cape from around his neck. It’s only a second, but Tim already feels warm blood seeping down his collar, soaking into the fabric of his uniform. “Shit,” Steph hisses when she gets a good look. Her hands fly back to press against the wound. “How bad is it?” “Bad.” She fumbles in her belt for a pad of gauze. She pins it to his throat, trying to keep the blood inside of him where it belongs. “It didn’t hit an artery, did it?” That would...well, it would be pretty damn bad. Life-threatening, if it isn’t already. “I don’t think so. The gash is too low.” She presses harder when blood leaks from a gap in her fingers. “It shouldn’t be bleeding this much, should it? The wound isn’t even that big. I don’t think your blood is clotting like it should.” Tim goes even paler than he already is. “Oh.” “Oh?” “Ivy. She sprayed me with something.” He winces as the wound throbs. “During the fight.” “Are you kidding me? You couldn’t have mentioned that earlier?” “I was busy! And I felt fine, so I figured I would run a blood test when we got back to the cave. I didn’t think she would do something to my blood.” “Damn it. Okay.” Steph closes her eyes, thinking. “Can you reach your communicator?” “Yeah, I think so.” Tim reaches for his utility belt, tilting his head to see better. That small motion causes Steph’s hand to slip, allowing another gush of blood to spurt from his neck. “Shit, shit, shit.” She repositions, gets a better grip on the wound. “Don’t move your head.” Tim swallows nervously. “We good now?” “I think so. Just...be careful, okay? Small movements. You’ve already lost too much blood, so I want to keep you as plugged up as possible.” “Kinky.” “Shut up.” Tim manages to locate the communicator and turn it on. Just in time, too. It’s getting harder and harder to focus, the blood drying on his neck and sticking to his skin. If he wasn’t anemic before, he certainly is now. The communicator crackles. “You’ve got Oracle. I thought you and Batgirl were off duty tonight.” “We are,” Steph says. “Listen, can you patch me through to whoever can hypothetically get me and Red Robin to the cave as fast as humanly possible?” “What happened?” “We had a run-in with Ivy. She’s taken care of, but she did something to Red. Something to keep his blood from clotting. He’s got a laceration on his throat and I’m trying to stop the bleeding, but I don’t know how much longer we have.” “Sending an ambulance to your location.” “Negative. His face is uncovered, so a regular hospital is off the table. It needs to be the Batcave.” “Got it, I’ll transfer you to Batman. He can take you in the Batmobile. I’ll call Leslie Thompkins and have her meet you guys there.” “Tell her to hurry.” Steph’s voice wavers, anxious. Tim wants to reassure her that he’ll be fine, but it’s getting more and more difficult to concentrate, like he��s a radio trying to tune to the right station. He tips forward and presses his forehead against Steph’s shoulder, his body sagging. She keeps him upright, careful not to loosen her grip on the gauze. Finally, the communicator beeps. “Batman here. What is it?” Steph runs through their situation again, leaving Tim free to drift as he pleases. Steph is warm against him, like a fresh latte. There’s blood in her hair. Tim runs his fingers through the bloody patches, trying to separate the clumps. Something prods his shoulder. “Hm?” “I asked how you’re doing.” Bruce doesn’t sound nervous—he never does. But Tim knows him better than most. He can tell when he’s worried. “I’m hanging in,” Tim manages. “How long ‘til you get here?” “I’m ten minutes out. You think you can hold on until then?” “Mm-hm.” Honestly, Tim isn’t sure if he can. But at least Bruce won’t worry as much if he thinks Tim is going to be okay. “Batgirl, do either of you have an Ivy antidote on you?” “I have a couple for her general toxins, but I don’t know how they’d do with this one. Should I give it a shot anyway?” “No, it might make things worse. Keep me updated on his condition. I’ll be there as fast as I can. Batman, out.” A click. Tim tosses aside the communicator, uncaring of whether he turned it off properly or not. The ground rocks beneath him, like the rooftop is floating on a roiling ocean. Steph’s free hand runs through his hair, soothing on his scalp. “Sweetie, are you still with me?” “Mm.” “Stay awake, okay? Just for a little longer.” Tim nods against her shoulder. Steph releases a breath. “Good. Now, do you think you can reach into my belt and get some more gauze? This one is soaked through.” Already? That’s a bad sign. Tim doesn’t move his head from her shoulder. “Which pocket?” “Uh...second one on the left of my right hip, I think? I usually go by muscle memory.” Tim checks the pocket and finds no gauze, but there is a stick of gum and a few rubber bands. “Next to that one, maybe?” Still nothing. “Steph, do you actually know what you’re doing?” “Look, it’s easier when I can see it, okay? Here, bunch up your cape. I can use that for now until Bruce gets here.” It takes some careful maneuvering for Tim to reach his cape without moving his head or neck, but he manages to fold it the best he can. He hands it to Steph, so brings it close to the wound. “Okay,” she says. “I’m going to switch off now. Ready?” Tim nods. “Do it.” She’s quick about it. She yanks away the soiled gauze and replaces it with the cape in seconds, but blood eagerly spills out as soon as it’s free. Tim’s vision goes blotchy, the darkness behind his eyelids sprinkled with stars. He hisses when Steph crams the fabric against the wound hard enough to make him want to jerk away. He doesn’t, though, just digs his fingers into her shoulder and takes deep breaths through his teeth. “Sorry, sorry,” she murmurs. “It’ll stop hurting in a bit.” She presses a kiss to his hair. “I’ve got the bleeding under control, I think.” “You think or you know?” “I think.” That’s not at all reassuring. Even so, Tim finds that he doesn’t mind as long as it’s Steph with him. He would gladly put his life in her hands, and now that he’s here, he’s content. He trusts her. “Tim?” “Hm?” “I changed my mind.” “On what?” “We should have done a date night instead.” Tim snorts, but it’s weak. More a huff than anything. “This isn't so bad. ‘Least we’re together.” “Yeah, covered in blood on a freezing rooftop. Very romantic.” Tim hums, presses his nose to her neck and closes his eyes. She smells like lavender. “You’re pretty.” “Stop that.” “Stop what?” “Stop talking like you’re dying.” “‘m just making an observation. You’re pretty.” There is blood covering both of their uniforms, smeared across the bat symbol on Steph’s chest. Her face glistens with sweat from the fight, and there’s a bruise on the side of her jaw. She’s still gorgeous. “You’re a dork.” Tim hums. His stomach rolls and his heart picks up until he can feel it throbbing in his skin, like his pulse is racing to get out. He closes his eyes. “I don’t feel good.” “Bruce is going to be here in a few minutes. Hang in there, alright?” How much blood has he lost by now? Two pints? Three? How much longer does he have before the point of no return? Even as Steph keeps pressure against the wound, he can feel rivulets running down his neck. She can’t keep the bleeding at bay forever. “I love you...y’know that?” “Don’t say that. I’m not kidding.” “Someone should...should feed m’cat. Ruby’s tiny, but she eats a lot.” “Bruce is on his way, Tim. You’re gonna be fine. Don’t fall asleep yet.” “I’m losing blood,” he mumbles against her shoulder. “Humans...need blood to survive. ‘m gonna go into hypovolemic shock soon, and then it’s over.” He can barely lift his head now. There are weights attached to his eyelids. “Stay awake, Tim. You hear me?” Steph’s voice trembles, and Tim feels awful for putting her through this. She deserves better. “You’re not dying. I won’t let that happen.” Tim wants to reassure her, to tell her she’s right, if only to keep her from making those shaky crying noises. There are tears dripping on his shoulder. He wants to stick around, keep Stephanie from feeling the hurt that’s about to come, but his pulse is racing too quickly to keep up with blood it can’t circulate. He hears Steph’s voice somewhere above, calling his name, but she’s too far away. Tim lets himself sink into the darkness.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Steph hasn’t changed out of her uniform yet. She knows she should. She’s sticky, covered in blood that dries on her suit in rusty red flakes. The blood is thick in her hair, on her hands, soaked into the fabric over her knees. Tim’s blood.

She can still feel it—feel Tim’s fluttering pulse under her fingertips, growing weaker and weaker with every passing second. The weight of him against her shoulder, slumped as if he was already dead. And then the agonizing moment where she felt him let go, sagging against her like a corpse. She wants to forget it. To forget this entire night, wipe it clean from her memory. Pretend that everything is still okay, even when it isn’t. “How are you doing?” Steph looks up at Bruce. She didn’t even hear him come in. He hands her a cup of coffee, which she takes in cold hands. “I’m fine.” Her voice suggests otherwise. “He’s going to be okay.” Steph looks back at Tim asleep on the medical cot, his skin as pale as a cadaver's. A bag of O-negative hands beside the bed, pumping blood into his body through an IV. Another IV pricks his other arm, delivering the antitoxin. He looks dead. He was unconscious for a full three minutes before Bruce arrived on that rooftop, lifeless in Steph’s arms. It was the most terrifying three minutes of her life. “Stephanie.” Bruce’s face is stern but sympathetic, his eyes gazing into her own. “You did good tonight.” “He nearly died.” “But he didn’t. You saved his life. And for what it’s worth, I’m proud of you.” Steph can count on one hand the number of times Bruce has said that to her. He puts a hand on her shoulder. “Alfred prepared a room for you upstairs. You look like you could use some sleep.” Steph shakes her head. “I think I’ll stay here for a while. Just until he wakes up.” Bruce nods and leaves, his footsteps echoing off the cave walls. Steph reaches out and grasps one of Tim’s cold hands in her own. His fingertips were pale before, almost blue, but they are slowly returning to their rightful shade. She sighs. Fuck it. She leaves the coffee on her chair and climbs into the bed beside Tim, pulling herself close and resting her head on his chest. She can hear his heartbeat under her ear, steady and unfaltering. She closes her eyes. “Don’t do that again, okay?” she whispers. “Or I’ll resurrect you just to kill you myself.”

[thepaintedlady00]

A Sheep In Wolves Clothes chapter 1 title & beginning preview

In the Eye of the Storm

Damp earth molded beneath my fingers as I pressed the pliant soil around the short stem of the newly moved plant. The sun was, at last, shining after four days of constant clouds and dreary rain. At least it's good for the plants, I thought to myself wiping my hands on the apron covering my simple shirt and pants. Feeling the mild heat of the sun on my face always lifted my spirits a little, and that paired with the cool spring breeze made certain I was in a particularly lifted mood today.

Though the sun was high and the skies clear, a cold lingered. It was most noticeable in the village, but it could still be felt all the way out here on the outskirts. Boian, the man that had taken me in all those years ago, said it was a curse that kept the land shrouded in death's breath, a mere blow away from total demise. Even in the hottest summers there was a chill that settled in the bones and lingered. The native villagers didn't seem to notice it, or perhaps they simply didn't care. 

"None of the villagers have more than half a brain not rotting out their ears with prayers and worship for Mother Miranda," Boian had told me when I asked. He was never one to mince his words, especially not when the topic of the village and their unorthodox religion came into conversation. I couldn't say I blamed him, he'd suffered through a lot at the hands of the villagers before settling in his recluse plot of land. He'd told me more than once finding me helped him more than I could ever know. I almost asked him once, to tell me what had happened that resulted in his hostility, but I knew better than prod at a still open wound.

The earth quaked slightly beneath my knees and a faint echo of straining, screeching metal filled the air. I lifted my eyes to the sky and watched the plumes of dark smoke billow violently into the wind, swirling over the area like dark storm clouds. Part of me was curious about all the ruckus and smoke that came from the old factory a few miles up the hill. The other part knew to leave well enough alone. Our small cabin was the furthest away from the village - just as Boian wanted - and the closest to the factory belonging to Lord Heisenberg.

Boian rarely spoke of his time within the village cult, but I'd seen the portraits and totems in my comings and goings. From what little he did say of it was that Mother Miranda gave life to four powerful children. The first was Lord Dimitrescu that dwelled in the grand castle closest to the village. The second Lord Moreau who inhabited the large reservoir. The third, Lord Beneveinto whose residence was deep in the woods on the cliff side. And the fourth, Lord Heisenberg, whose factory lay a few mere miles up the hill from our home. Boian said the idea behind it was the lords were to bring prosperity to the village as well as order. Though since I'd arrived the village hadn't seen such in years, nor did it in any of the years that followed.

"It's all just another crock of shit." Was Boians opinion, and I couldn't disagree. The whole concept sounded insane and after the small dealings I had with the villagers it looked no better. I'd never personally seen the famed Mother Miranda or any of her lordly children, though I'd come close once as a child. I had slipped away during one of Boians meetings with the local merchant and wandered right into one of their holy parades through the village. I was minutes away from being front and center for all of their sacred prying eyes, but Boian had been quick to drag me onto another street and then straight back to the farm. The fear in his eyes and the low, sad tone of his voice was enough to dissuade me from ever attempting it again. And after years of living here I knew staying out of the limelight was the only course of action.

Boian and I had a quiet and simple life. We tended the gardens, hunted small game and read books inside during the cold winters and the downpour of rain. It was something I'd come to both love and hate. Curiosity is a strong thing, and when presented with a village full of secrets and mysteries it was often difficult to just keep my head down and walk away. I watched the smoke fill the sky and felt the tremors lessen. My mind spun with hundreds of possibilities for what went on in that rusted old factory on the hill, though something told me even my wildest ideas would pale in comparison to the truth and that much was enough to dissuade me from venturing closer than I had to. The plethora of foul rumors surrounding Lord Heisenberg were also a rather good deterrent.

"Amelia!" Boians loud voice made me jump out of my thoughts and onto my feet. I dusted myself off and rushed to help him down the rickety porch stairs. He waved my hands off and stubbornly limped down each step himself muttering all about how he could do it himself.

The old man was nearing his seventies and looked it. His skin was wrinkled and dotted with marks of old age. Scars littered his hands and arms and it seemed his eyesight worsened every day. His silver hair was cut short and slightly uneven as he insisted on doing it himself and his tattered clothes that were patched in various spots hung on him very loosely.

His eyes squinted in the light and roamed over the small raised garden beds, examining my work as he always did. He gestured to the now empty pots beside the porch. "Moved the overgrown ones already?" 

"Yeah, I know you said another week, but it didn't look like the roots could wait that long so I just decided to do it now." I replied.

"The work looks good," he complimented as he lowered himself onto the porch steps and pulled an empty pot over from the side and gestured towards the stack of imported plants and seeds on the other side of the porch.

I moved everything he needed so they were within his reach and silently watched him jump into working. I watched for a while before speaking, "I can do this, you know. You could sit inside and finish your book while I got these planted."

He chuckled. "Fetita, I've been potting plants and tilling soil long before you and I've no intention to stop now. Leave an old man to his work."

"And what should I do while you are left with the work?"

"You could head into the village and pick up our goods from the Duke. His coins and produce are all packed up on the counter."

"You don't want to come with me?" I teased, stripping myself of the apron.

Boians face scrunched up in disgust. "I'll not set foot in that hell hole again if I can help it."

I gave him a pat on the shoulder as I moved up the steps. "That's what you have for me, old man."

"Exactly!" He agreed with a laugh.

Our cabin was small, but had enough room for the two of us. Upon opening the door I hung my dirty apron on the coat hanger and kicked the dirt off my shoes before moving off the rug. The kitchen/living room was the largest area in the place, set up with all the appliances, save a microwave, and a small table on the right side and a small sofa, old radio and armchair off to the left. The door to Boians small room was right next to the couch. It was barely large enough for his bed and one small dresser but he insisted it was more comfortable that way. To the right of the kitchen was my room, tucked slightly behind the front door was my room, larger than Boians by a tiny bit.

The whole house was scarcely decorated with a few colorful woven rugs, some old paintings, and one or two little wooden animal figures that Boian had carved over the years. He was a man of simple tastes, firmly believing that things were just that and that anything of true importance should be kept close. I knew it was most likely a mindset brought into being by his sudden and violent separation from the village, but I didn't really want to bring it up. He'd told me all that he was comfortable with and pushing it would only result in unearthing the pain he'd long since buried and spent every waking moment since trying to keep it that way.

On the counter sat the Dukes basket filled with a few apples and peaches from our trees outside and an assortment of vegetables from the garden and of course the small purse of lei. I wrapped a rag over the top and threw on my slightly oversized shawl, making sure to pull the hood up. I used the small mirror on the wall beside my door to tuck the loose strands of hair into the hood before grabbing the basket and ducking out of the door. Boian had potted three plants already as I carefully stepped around him and his work. "Anything else you want me to pick up while I'm there?"

"Pick up? Nah. But shove a few of the villagers for me yeah?"

I chuckled and rolled my eyes. "I'm not going to shove anyone."

"You're no fun, Fetita!" He whined with a smirk.

"I'll be back before dark, you sadist! Try not to overdo it with the plants! Last thing I wanna do when I get back is drag your ass back inside!" I hollered as I made my way through the rickety gate and onto the main path. 

Though the road to the village was long and winding I didn't find it all that horrible, especially with today's warm spring weather. Coming to the fork in the path I pause for a fraction of a second, eyes glancing down the right path where smoke still swirled into the sky before shaking my head slightly and heading down the left. Left led down into the village while right led up to the factory. I kept my eyes peeled for any lycans or other beasts that might be lurking in the thickets of tall grass and trees. I had no first hand experience with the beasts other than tossing rocks to scare them away from some of our meat, but I'd seen the damage they could inflict and I quite liked having functioning limbs.

After twenty minutes of vigilant walking the castle came into view and just below it the village. From afar the forest, the winding paths, the castle, even the village looked quaint and peaceful. From afar it was understandable that lost travelers would wander in looking for the hospitality the outer appearance seemed to promise. They'd find none of that here, at least not with the masses. I'd learned long ago that not all the villagers were unkind, a handful of them were actually quite nice and willing to lend a helping hand. They were, however, more often than not overshadowed by their less than kind counterparts, and their kindness towards outsiders, me in particular, ever went completely unpunished.

The full chapter will be posted next Saturday! 😁 This week I'll be focusing on the 2 mini-series from request week! 🥰

[oh-for-fic-sake]

Grandma Knows Best

Masterlist

Summary: Three months and you were still on edge ready to run at a moments notice and Clark is beside himself with worry, it was time Martha nipped this in the but once and for all. Grandma always knows best.

Warning: Angst, Swearing, Past Trauma,  Panic attacks

A/N: so this one is very angsty the next chapter should be happier and a little humor but I wanted to have this final 'melt down' I hope you enjoy it xxx

Taglist: @sofiebstar​ @thefangirlsblog​ @gooseyhouse​ @charliestufff​ @harrysthiccthighss​ @loserrlauraa​  @cheeseman​

The potting shed was old and rickety, Clark and Konner were going to fix it up over the weekend well fix it up; they were going to knock out all the panels and put perspex glass over it making a humongous diy green house,  they were going to home depo to order the glass tomorrow, but for now it was perfect shelter for the older plants. Around six weeks ago Martha had dragged you in here to plant your first ever plants. It had been fun, poking tiny holes and planting the seeds you were out here everyday watching,waiting for a shoot! But after a week you had gotten bored and stopped looking until she had told you of the first few leaves of spinach had popped through...It seemed within days of that all your plants had sprouted, none had died and to say you were proud was an understatement. You loved watching them grow something about caring for the fragile plants watering and feeding them pellets and tending them was soothing in a way. Whenever you got to overwhelmed you'd come out to the shed and take care of them, it was a place you could escape all...Except grandma. Martha had all but exiled the boys when she noticed Clark pestering you inside. she could see that gardening was becoming a solace for you, something you did without a care and she was pleased. You moved slowly behind Martha as she showed you how to dead head some of the plants and curb the tomato's so that you got less leaves and more fruit. You watched fascinated as she made quick work of the tall tomato plants plucking the new budding stems that would only produce leaves that would shade the fruit so it couldn't ripen. She turned looking to you concerned today she planned to air out a few things with you it was high time you had a little heart to heart.Three months. Three long months and still you held back Martha was worried, you hadn't settled, well you had but you were still skittish ready to run at a moments notice. They hoped you'd be more relaxed but it would seem you were the opposite more guarded and secretive and not once had you referred to them as family. It saddened her, konner had let slip that you were frightened of hurting someone...Namely her. But the woman trusted you. Clark was beside himself he didn't understand what he needed to do he was a father...Your father and he hadn't a fucking clue! Martha had decided it was time to nip these silly fears in the butt herself something tells her you needed a female touch. Clark had come to her a few days ago in floods of tears he had tried to take you shopping for clothes and you'd refused so then he offered to get a meal and when you turned that down it was coffee even though he didn't even let you drink it...He just wanted some one on one time with you he had been so excited for you to come home, he wanted a daughter...But you didn't seem to want a dad? He couldn't understand it he was lost and confused he desperately wanted you to open up to him, wanted to wrap you up in his arms and fight off all your doubts but...He didn't want to rush things, Bruce had called him out for being overbaring at first and said things take time but still he was impatient. What if you thought he didn't care because he was now giving you space? He hated the idea of you fearing being abandoned and alone again. You seemed happy on the face of it but when no one was looking your face was blank a mask hiding everything below. The longer you stayed here the more he could see you pull back you were fighting it, fighting being safe secure and happy. He couldnt get through to help neither could konner he had been trying to hard and you'd shut yourself off from him, Clark didn't want that to happen with him. It crushed him knowing you were still frightened and had decided that it would be an idea to just stay at the farm. He wanted to give you stability but he wanted you to come to him to open up and talk or or at least treat him like a father even if you didn't call him dad.

Martha moved slowly around you discreetly positioning herself between you and the door. She knew you'd try to avoid this and if you had the chance you'd run off and hide and that was not happening...Not again last time you'd been gone for a whole twenty-four hours the Clark had found you sleeping at a bus stop at two in the morning scaring the daylights out of everyone. She turned to face you a small smile was on your face as you prodded the leaves on your prized cucumber plant the first cucumbers just starting to form. "You know your dad was thinking of helping you design your room... I got a few catalogues of wallpaper and stuff...Ideas for designs from the home depot" You looked up at her blinking with a soft smile then moved slowly stepping up beside her placing your hands on the wooden Table in front of you. "He shouldn't...No point we're moving to the city again so...Yeah" Martha tilted her head letting out a breath placing the ant powder over your the cucumber plant to keep away the earwigs. "Well that was the plan...But your dad thinks it might be best to keep you and konner away from it... So your all staying here its not like he has to worry about getting to work~" she gave a sly smile and nudged you softly then frowned at your sour expression. "I didn't realize" Martha eyed you cautiously and stopped tending to the veg and turned. Then dipped down to your level you met her eyes for a second. What she saw broke her heart you were hurting and unsure still so lost. "Well now you do...So tell me what do you think you'll do to your room...I'm sure it won't be pink!" You took another deep breath poking a finger in the soil drawing a line in it. And shrugged. Its not something you thought about kids in the system didn't decorate, everything is temporary. "Don't know....Shouldn't bother...Only two years" Martha turned a placed a hand on he hip unimpressed. But you couldn't help feel she already knew that'd be your answer. "Now what the hell makes you say that? You think were gonna what? Kick you out at eighteen? Honey no that’s all behind you now...I mean christ Clarks still here and he's what thirty seven? Thirty eight" You flicked your gaze to her then back down to the spinach shoots in front of you moving the spritz them with a mix of water and dish soap helping keep away bugs. You arched over to the small container that held a mix of rock salt and crushed egg shells it helped keep away the slugs and snails. "I...Its hard I forgot what its meant to be like...In the system you just get thrown out...Go to the streets....Always weed to run or something or you can go to the sewers" Martha frowned at that "So that was your plan? You were going to be a drug runner? Or go Live in the sewers?" She asked none to impressed you felt scolded and skittish under her gaze and you didn't even see it. A mothers; in this case grandmother's disapproving gaze was felt. "I...I was a drug runner on and off...Then well I made a delivery to the Joker...He was...Frightening and I called it quits after that...Didn't want to be near the big leagues...Big people let their little people die" Martha crossed her arms this was new you never really spoke about how you survived normally brushed them off. "You ever try these drugs?" The question was meant to be casual but didn't quite hit the mark, you shook your head truthfully. "Couldn't risk it...If I reacted bad I could of...Well killed people so it just didn't seem like a good idea" she eyed you carefully and nodded she believed you. "Right well don't let you dad find out... But seriously you should think about what you want to do with your room everyone needs their own personal space" you heaved a deep breath smoothing out the layer of eggshells on the dirt covering the pot. Martha said dusting her hands off leaning on hand on her hip the other palm was flat on the table next to you.

"Okay right out with it...Come on whats going on in that mind of yours?" Her voice wasn't irritated she seemed more worried, wanting to know what was going on so she could fix it rather than to berate you for it. You swallowed moving our arms shrugging at her with a heavy sigh. "Just...I- it only been a few months not that long- things are going well now...But they might not be-I'm still dangerous my power can react at anything at anytime-" you were cut off by a clump of moist dirt hitting your cheek splatting across your lips making you spit and retch. Ew. You growled looking at her with a scowl. "Hey-what the fuck?-ugh ew no stop it!" Martha scoffed and flicked another small clump of mud at your face making you splutter spitting out the small flecks of dirt in your mouth. You looked up appalled at her wiping your tongue and she just hummed chuckling nodding a playful smile. "Yes I see it has incredible reflexes, nothing gets passed it~" you glared at her as she chuckled louder then flashed your eyes playfully and pulled at the water in the watering can urging it up the spout sending a large slosh of water over her croc covered feet she jumped back giggling lightly but stepped back to the table moving the pots back turning around leaning back on the table patting it. "Up you go darling time for a little chit chat" you frowned Your laughter dieing...This was it, they'd grown bored of you...You bit your lip preparing for the inevitable still wiping your face wanting the dirt off but obeyed sitting on the table looking down. She didn't let you for long stepping in front of you tilting your face up and pushed away a few locks of hair. "You always hide behind these curls...I wish you'd pull them out of your face and let me see my beautiful little granddaughter..." Martha spotted the eye roll and pinched you chin making you look at her. "I'm not your grand-" she frowned moving the hair to stay behind your ears then smiled. "Hush....Ah and there it is..." you frowned not following her trying to avoid her all seeing gaze "There’s what?" You bit out still expecting to be told to pack up and leave. These types of talks are never good, your being shipped off. Back to the tower not that you'd stay fuck them you never needed them. You don’t need anyone! "The doubt of a scared little girl, you hide it or you try to...But its there your eyes are a window we all see it...You think your poker face is perfect but...You Y/n L/n Kent are an open book...Clark sees it to he wants to help he loves you, I love you and so does konner" You furrowed you brows and tried shaking your head wanting to look anywhere other than her. You couldn't look her in the eye with whats coming, they stutter when you do makes it harder for them to be rid of you. "I-I don’t know what- Look I don’t need an excuse just say what you need to say!" she shook her head tutting and continued butting in before you could talk yourself into a panic. "Don’t give me that crap...You still think we're just gonna dump you off somewhere eventually...Well you better think again missy...You are my granddaughter, Clarks daughter and Konners sister and that is the end of it we love you! And nothing is going to change that y/n..." "W-What? Your...your not getting rid of me? But that’s what they do...When they want to talk" you asked heart clenching but Martha gasp seeing you trying to bottle up your devastation and anger. She turned cupping both sides of your face shaking her head looking mortified you'd think such a thing. It was then she truly saw just how much damage was there. You thought you were disposable and could be thrown away at anypoint. "No! No no of course not...Oh god sweety no listen I just-This is exactly why we need to talk my love...We are never ever abandoning you...My god your ours! And you are never going anywhere! We love you but we...We don't really know what you need you never ask for anything love...But your here and that's it you belong here with us" you blinked rapidly you couldn't help but buy it, believe maybe foolishly that this time it was the real deal. You whimpered trying to save face wiping away the tears before they shed. "B-but my power-" you started to argue but was quickly shushed as she held a finger to your lips and rolled her eyes with a light hearty chuckle. "Makes you no more dangerous then Clark or Konner now enough...I don't care, and I don't want to hear it anymore...You hear me? You are not going to attack me at all we all know that by now...Your breaking your fathers heart, he knows you still feel unsafe here and your just waiting to be abandoned again and its not happening...Now this afternoon you and your dad are gonna sit down and look at some ideas for you room which you are both going to redecorate together over the weekend. A few days bonding with him will do the world of good and might make you finally accept that you are going no where" you looked down with a deep sigh and picked at the loose splinters of wood on the table pulling thin strands of the wood.

"He loves you, you silly girl we all do...I know you still have your original bag packed stuffed between the desk and wall, it's how we found you last time" you snapped your head up to her what? Your bag gave you away? She shrugged to you with a cheeky grin. "Oh what you think that phone's been magically charging itself for three months? I've been charging it and your uncle Bruce may have tracked it for us to find you quicker...Having your dad flying all over smallville in the state he was when you went missing wouldn't have been very subtle...He'd have ripped the place to shreds and terrified the locals" you blinked at her. He was actually worried?  You thought it'd been an act. you flushed heart tingling and warming when the thought of someone caring enough about you to worry when you vanished. "I hope that soon you will unpack it...Clark is...He is at a loss he wants to get to know you but doesn't want to push he is frightened he would chase you off...Just please talk...Whatever it is we can help we just want you to be happy and safe" you looked down sadly unsure how to express yourself. The Kents had been brilliant but you just...Something made it hard for you to let go of the past. Your Mum and Dad the ones you couldn't save who died whilst screaming...They had called out for you! for you to save them but you couldn't you were weak...Defenseless even with this gift you couldn't protect them...A life time of guilt a life time of being alone, telling yourself that you can't lose people if you don't have them around you. How could you explain that? how did you explain it wasn't what you'd do necessarily it was also what if you couldn't help? couldn't save them? tears welled in your eyes at the thoughts and you sighed shuddering a breath. Martha moved closer standing between your knees and hugged you pulling you to her shoulder holding you tight rubbing your back hushing you and suddenly for the first time you cried. You sobbed gut wrenching cries into her. Until then the only other person to hold you had been Clark and that had been to prove a point. You moved trying to pull back apologizing for snotting all over her but she was having none of it she held tighter petting your hair softly kissing your head. "Hey?...Its okay...I got you baby we got you...You don't have to be frightened anymore...Or alone we are here for you...We are my love I promise" you shook your head still weeping into her the flood gates opened and you let loose. Martha was happy and gutted, she knew you needed to get this out but at the same time it was difficult to hear you shatter like this. A normally stoic sarcastic unshakeable and frankly stressed out teen finally cracking masks dropping and finally opening up, showing the true terrified little girl she really was. "But its bad!...I shouldn't-youll just!? and like the rest I cant-I wont!!" You fought to maintain an even voice but failed miserably spitting out the words rushing them with broken sobs. Martha was quick to ask she needed to know whats going on, needed to reassure you to fix the issues if she could. "Whats bad pumpkin? What's wrong sweety?" Her voice was calm a gentle lull that aimed to sooth you and draw the truth from you. "...M-My parents they-they died!...I tri-ed they y-yelled for help-to me THEY CALLED OUT TO ME! and I didn't...I couldn't and on the beach...It was my fault! mine...If I'd held on they could have made it!! and-and now with you guys! I wont be able to...I can't.? Youll die! And itll be my fault! Its always my fault...And then its- I don't want to replace them-my real parents" You shook your head no. you tried pulling back again this time Martha let you and moved holding either side of your face as fat tears still streamed down your face. You cried harder coughing and hyperventilating choking on your own sobs panicked looking for a way out. She held steady holding both hands firmly on your face well aware of the earth beneath her feet moving sifting like sand but she ignored it, her grandbaby needed her and so she began talking you through the attack.

"shh shh calm yourself down...Thats it its okay...Your alright I've got you...I've got you baby... Good girl see thats it a little more...Deeper breaths in then out...Good" Martha held her breath as you coughed a few more times your breathing was fast but you were calmer your tears still flowing freely but it was a soft quiet crying as opposed to the borderline hysterical sobs moments ago. That was it the final piece to the puzzle, you didn't want to disrespect your real parents by accepting new ones- or in this case a new father. And you felt responsible for there deaths carrying that type of guilt wasn't healthy for anyone. "...Okay...Okay baby...Grandma understands now...It wasn't your fault...None of this was your fault and don't you think otherwise ever...Your parents loved you and were probably yelling for you to hide and stay still...And the beach that wasn't your fault the atlanteans did that...They tried to declare war honey...If you wanted to I'm sure your uncle Arthur would talk to you about it...He felt guilty when he found out" you gasped and shook your head panicked at her.

"No! It wasn't his fault" she smiled at that he'd be happy to know according to Clark the man was beating himself up over it. She'd have to mention something to Clark to get the message across. "Or yours love...You couldn't have known what was going to happen...No one did we didn't-Clark didn't" You sucked in a deep breath and shook your head and opened your mouth to argue that you should have been stronger. "No no...I'm not done love...Do you think your mum and dad would want you to be alone?...Isolate yourself and refuse to live with a new family? That they want you to be unhappy?..I'm not asking you to forget them but its been a long time and maybe its time to accept that another family wants to be yours to protect you and guide and love you in your parents stead" you frowned wiping your face in vain as the tears still poured. "B-But what about you?- what if I can't save you? or Konner or-or" Martha shook her head at you chuckling raking her hands through your hair over and over in a soothing motion. "You don't have to...You don't have to save us love...Your dad is superman there isn't a lot he can't over come and konner is just behind him...And if anything ever happens here I'll have all three of you...Please don't make yourself unhappy in fear of loosing us, we aren't going anywhere" you blinked at her but gave a small smile Martha relaxed and hugged you again giving you one last kiss on your forehead. "Really? I'm- I don't need to....I wont be alone?" she shook her head at you somehow getting this off your chest made you fell lighter, it was freeing. You nodded thoughts still racing, no one ever took the time to really listen but it- Martha made sense your parents wouldnt want you to be alone would they? even if it was your fault which you still belived it was...They probably were crying out for you to hide, they must have known what was happening and only managed your name befor everything collapsed...The beach, well that was...It was war or the start of one. Seeing that she had gave you a lot to think about she patted your shoulders and nodded to the house. "Go have a shower and relax, we can plant these in the garden tomorrow...Just chill for today okay?" you gulped and slipped off the table to the floor slowly and turned timidly to hug her taking her by surprize you moved up on tip toes kissing her cheek and pulled away. "Thank you Grandma...That-You made sense" and with that you ran off letting the door slam behind you on your way out sprinting to your room. 

It took a while but after a few days of deliberation you finally come to terms with everything. Nothing else had been mentioned about it over the past few days, well things had been pretty normal but you'd been thinking alot. Martha made a lot of sense it wasn't a eurica moment but it had switched you on. Maybe it was time to move on...You'd never forget your parents you'd never stop loving them but maybe...Maybe you could love your new family to. That’s what they were...What they were trying to be a family it was just you that was the problem, to cut off and dare you say 'emotional stunted'. No one had ever just let you unload onto them like that before, by the time you were due to start therapy you were already in the hospital being sedated under the mental health act. You never had anyone to talk to and by the end of that ordeal you'd found a way to deal with it, reasoned with your own guilt and had your own take on what happened. Maybe this could be a new start...Its never to late right? Maybe you should just start interacting instead of avoiding them, you and konner got on you were friends but Clark and Martha...You'd tried not to be around them much. No point getting under their feet besides you didn't need to many attachments if you were completely honest talking to konner was just so you didn't go mad, you needed atleast one person to talk to. It was late on friday morning when Martha and Konner had left to go shopping. You woke up to Martha placing some more design magazines on your desk by the door. Grandma you mentally corrected yourself had said she was going out and would be back around dinner time with take out. She must have brought them up to try and sway you, wanting you to make the first move with..Dad. You hadn't approached him yet still nervous and every time you did get a bit of spine Konner was there to you didn't want to make a fool of yourself. She winked at you and nodded, it will be fine. Once she left you sat up skimming through the book's quickly then looked about the room you were in, it was spacious and at the back of the house...You hadn't the foggiest idea what to do with it at all, you’d never done this sort of thing before. You felt silly but it was kind of a big thing for you...The finality of making your mark on the house. It was daunting. You held the catalogues in your lap for a moment looking around...You should probably paint it your favorite color right? but what was your favorite color?...It had been so long since you thought about stuff like that you were stumped. You moved slowly to the door magazines in hand, it was time to start trying. You padded down the stairs timidly and peeked through the banister, Clark was in the kitchen sitting at the table. You sat on the step for a few seconds taking deep breaths watching him from between the wooden spokes in the banister then nodded you moved and hovered by the door. He looked tired reading the paper before him drinking his coffee. He must be tired there was an incident in india last night..Landslide he was there for a few hours digging out survivors and that says alot considering who he was. You crept up behind him and stood awkwardly curling your toes.

"Err clar-Dad?" He froze shoulders going rigid and turned slowly blinking a few times, he was shocked but happy? A grin spread across his face making his eyes practically glow. He swallowed placing down the paper he was reading. "Y-yes? Whats up?" You could see a slight tremble as he was trying to contain himself. You moved and sat next to him and placed the magazines on the table. "I err...well Grandma said that I can decorate my room...She got me these but, I've never done it and don't...I don't know what I can do or what to do...I can you help me?" He nodded quickly clearing the table he was vibrating with excitement, happy that his mother got through to you. You smiled and spread out the books. "So what do you like? Have you thought about any colors or themes" you blinked a little and flicked through the first magazine. "I like the sea" you said in a small voice sounding weird you'd never really spoke about your likes and dislikes before it was kind of irrelevant. You suddenly perked up drawing Clarks attention as you gasped seeing a few images of murals. "I...That’s cool I like the second photo...With the big mural its cool..." Clark looked over your shoulder smiling nodding it was very light and airy the room was three walls of faux white brick the final wall was a huge mural of the suspension bridge separating Gotham and Metropolis. "It is different you could have the mural on the wall across from your bed" you thought about it and smiled sheepishly nodding. "You think they have a beach one...Not like white sand and clear water...But like rocky? With forrest and stuff that sort of seaside raw and rugged..."  Clark smiled as you muttered away listing off ideas. Finally you were showing your true colours a bright and happy young girl slowly peeking out from behind her curtain of curls. "Well they should if not we can always go and take our own pictures" you gasped looking up at him shaking your head. "No no we don't...You don't have to do that..." you mumbled quickly avoiding his gaze. "Its no hassle...I do work for the daily planet I have access to some of the best cameras around...Ixm sure we could get a panoramic shot..We can fly out and find you a perfect spot it won't be that hard to scale it up and have one printed" he shrugged closing his own magazine waiting for you to answer. You twiddled your fingers it did sound fun...You'd never been anywhere before by plane the idea of going somewhere even quieter then this was very tempting you could just imagine the waves. "You can't book a holiday just so I can decorate...I'll just find one online" he chuckled at you shaking his head trying to hold back his amusement, he didn't want you to think he was laughing at you. "Oh no sweetheart I meant I will fly us out somewhere...It'll take a few minuets but there’s a great couple of island's near Vancouver extremely beautiful and lush there should be some good places there " you faltered then flushed. Oh yeah he can fly...Over the past few months you kind of forgot he was superman he was just Clark to you...Now dad. You took a breath. It was weird saying dad again. But you didn't feel bad about it just uneasy, what if he was doing this just to make sure you don't loose your mind and turn on them...Was that it? There must be a reason.

"Hey honey whats wrong? Gone all quiet all of a sudden, if you don't want to I can always ask your uncle Arthur to take a photo for us...Hell he might even have a few of his buddies photo bomb for you" Clark added trying to lighten the mood but secretly he was worried. Your happy dispositions had gone and you looked ready to run off and hide again. He was a little disappointed at the prospect of not being able to fly you off and spend a father daughter day at the beach, but these things would take time. "No no we can go! I want to go! it's just...I err forgot you were...That you could...Your just normal around here and just feel a little silly...I've also never been flying like at all and its just a little daunting" Clark grinned placing a hand on your shoulder squeezing it lightly. He was relieved you did want to spend time with him you were shy that was all. "That’s not silly at all and I promise flying with me is the safest way, I wont drop you, I'll never drop you, you can count on it...How about we go tomorrow afternoon? I can go borrow a camera from the office in the morning" you smiled into your lap twisting your t-shirt in your fingers nodding quickly trying to keep your nerves at bay. "Really? That's err fast and what about konner and grandma? Won't they want to come?" Clark's heart melted and burst all in one hearing you worry over your brother and grandmother. He was finally at ease. This wasn't a ruse you did think of them as family you did already love them. He'd ask his Ma about what was said but he doubts she'll tell him. But even if she didn't he's forever grateful to her because what ever was said has finally worked and for the first time he can truly say he felt like you'd accepted him as your new father and that meant the world to him. "Well they might but I have it on good authority that whilst we are having our father daughter weekend. Ma and konner are going to have fun of there own and spend the weekend in the city 'living it up' I have no doubt in my mind that they will be making good use of my savings...I have a feeling konner is going to wrangle himself a new xbox..." you looked down nervously the whole weekend? Alone with him. He moved his hand to ruffle your hair. "Hey...Its okay like I said we don't have to go flying, we do have to go to home depo tho ma still wants her makeshift greenhouse." You frowned he sounded defeated you turned facing him eye steely determined not to chicken out. This had to work, this was your home and you had to try harder. "I want to though...A-and like you said...You wont drop me I'd rather go flying for the first time with you rather then konner...He'd drop me just to catch me again and I'd probably piss myself" you muttered akwardly. "Then its settled! Tomorrow we go to the beach and take photos for your bedroom! Do you have a swimsuit? And some summer clothes it might be hot there and pack some suncream I wont have you burning! If you forget it your staying in the shade~" you smiled meekly at him nodding you did have a few summer clothes, some cotton shorts and a vest top should be fine. "Good you can pack a bag in the morning" he added grinning ear to ear finally feeling as though he had a chance to step in. You had opened the door and it was his job to make it stay that way. You crouched over the books with him feeling more and more confident as you began pointing out things in the books that you liked with him finally relaxing with him. Then it hit you like a truck. This really was it! Your very own room, your own home and a proper family.

You felt yourself getting choked up windpipe closing tightly only managing a few small hums in agreement as he pointed out different things colors and diy ideas. You took a deep breath trying to swallow the lump away from your throat. It was when tears blurred your vision and you sniffled trying to hold it back that Clark made his move wrapping you up in his arms all but dragging you out of your chair onto his lap. You wriggled trying to be released more out of habit then actually wanting to get away but he held firm tucking your head into his shoulder shushing you. "Your alright...I've got you I promise" he didn't speak after those words letting them sink in, he didn't need to say more then that his message was clear. You'd been accepted the fear and anxiety was melting away in one huge mass of relief as he just held you close one arm pinning you to him the other moving grabbing the pen that lived on the kitchen table and a small note pad used for shopping lists. He bit the lid off the pen and began writing a small list of what you'd need to get for your room. You tucked your face into him whining pitifully for the first time in years feeling truly safe and secure.

[imagine-loki]

I signed up for this

TITLE: I signed up for this.

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: One shot

AUTHOR: fanfictrashdump

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: After the Chitauri attack on New York, imagine Loki being sentenced to public service on Earth, specifically in aiding people who got hurt during the attack. His magic has been limited to only be enough to aid keeping Odin’s spell in place so he wouldn’t turn blue. His task is to help people with special needs, to do house chores, help them get around, do their grocery and keep them company while they recover. He is assigned to a girl who ended up blind after one of the Chitauri shot at her.

RATING: T

NOTES/WARNINGS: Decided to challenge myself to a speed run. Wrote this in under an hour. So, be weary of any issues with continuity. I hope you enjoy it, anyway!

Based on an Imagine by @imagine-loki.

=

Loki let out a weary sigh as he fell backwards onto the creaky, uncomfortable single bed. His feet peeked more than a few inches off the bottom, though his head was nearly flush to the headboard. In another life, he would have grumbled about the furnishings not being lush enough, the bed not cradling him in near weightlessness. Right now, he was just happy it was supporting his weight after that hasty repair last week.

It was no matter; he slept in a ball anyway. If he slept.

“I actually might tonight,” he muttered to himself.

The more he rested, the more he became aware of the ache in his fingers and the sting of his raw knuckles. Though years ago those injuries might have befallen him from battle, or a spar, today his pains came from scrubbing a floor clean on his hands and knees. Loki was no longer that god burdened with glorious purpose. He was just another mortal with a couple of thousand years head-start on life. After Odin’s swift (but not entirely merciful) judgement following the disaster in New York, he had been stripped of nearly every morsel of magic in his veins and hand-delivered to Neighborhood Pals, an organization designed to do tasks for those in need.

Carl had been his first assignee, helping him around the rec room of the community center. The man, bent in his old age had not been much of a fuss. In fact, Loki found that he liked talking to old codger, as irritatingly perceptive as he was.

Which was why when he went to drop off some groceries after not seeing him in the community center for a few days, and seen the lived-in grime of the floors, rotten food in the pantry and soiled linens stacked high, Loki had nearly snapped. He demanded to know why his family was not taking care of him better. Carl said that his daughter used to take care of him, but trailed off before he had relayed a full explanation. It had not taken Loki more a minute to piece it together. His daughter was dead and it was his fault. And so, he took his frustration and rage on every square inch of the property until it gleamed.

The trilling mobile in his pocket made Loki groaned. Fishing through the pocket of his trousers, he pulled the damn thing out and answered without glancing at the ID. Only one person ever called him.

“Yes?”

“Hello to you, too, Sourpuss.”

Loki groaned once more. Having Stark as liaison between Odin and the tasks he was assigned was hell. He supposed it was even more irritating because Stark had not even had the decency to be short with him this entire time and that annoyed Loki to no end. It was hard to find hatred when you were given nothing to work with. Loki sighed, sitting up and running his free hand over his shortened locks–a parting gift from some Asgardian guards that Frigga had to fix, later. The little tuft of hair at the top was reminiscent of when he was much younger.

“I was just going to inform you that Carl left a really nice review on your work today. What did you do, take him to see the hot babes?”

“Got him drunk and high. I’m surprised he didn’t die of an overdose,” he replied after a long while. Tony guffawed down the line. Loki nowadays was all bark and no bite, he would say.

“Well, I have your schedule for tomorrow. I’m going to send you an address and you will be there at 9 am, sharp.”

“And after?”

“Nope, she’s your whole day. Name’s Charlie and she is blind, so be extra careful with sudden movements.” Loki hummed his assent and hung up. Sometime later, sleep overtook him.

…

It was 8:59a when he rapped on the door. “Neighborhood pal.” He felt ridiculous every time he announced his presence that way, but it was required of him, per Tony’s rules. A lot of the time people were convalescent, and couldn’t physically get the doors themselves  They needed a warning before Loki simply let himself inside.

Just beyond the door, there was movement and quiet muttering. Loki waited with bated breath for the sounds to come nearer, and instead was rewarded by a large crash and a muffled goddammit. Loki tried the doorknob to find it unlocked, and he pushed the door in, immediately gasping.

On the floor, surrounded by glass was a woman, on her knees. She was wearing mismatching purple jeans with an orange top that seemed to be inside out. Her feet were bare and it looked like she attempted a plait on her long brown hair and grew frustrated, halfway through. Next to her was an overturned coffee table from where the glass had come from and she tried to find purchase for her hands on the floor to leverage herself up and succeeding only in getting shards stuck in her palms.

“Stop!” Loki’s voice barely traveled over the sound of her gasping sobs. “Stop, I’ll help you up.” He stepped over some larger pieces of what he thought was a vase and put his hand on her shoulder, where she immediately flinched away.

“Get off me!”

Loki fought the urge to step backwards. He wanted to leave, somehow convince himself that it was in everyone’s best interest… but there was glass all around and she looked small and helpless.

“Sorry. Sorry. Should’ve warned you. I’m going to pull you up. Do not plant your feet.” Loki wrapped an arm around her torso and plucked her straight off the ground. His strength came in handy sometimes, and with a few short steps, he had deposited her on a soft grey sofa. “Don’t touch your face. You have glass in your hands. Let me clean this up and I’ll pull it out in a moment.”

He noticed she was struggling to stop her empty gaze on where she thought he might be. They were a beautiful shade of hazel, he also noted, that wouldn’t see another single sunset because of him. Tears ran tracks down her tanned skin, though she had stopped sobbing. Now, she only looked irritated? Disgusted? Angry?

“Do all monsters have such soft voices?”

Loki’s breath hitched. Definitely angry. And so skilled at finding the wound and prodding. “I’ll be back to pull the glass, Charlie.”

Wordlessly, he retreated. After a little digging, he found a broom and swept up the broken glass, righted the coffee table and tidied up the area, every so often glancing over his shoulder to look at Charlie. She seemed uncertain about moving from the spot he dropped her in, fearing another accident if she ventured further. She did, however, fiddle with her hands, grasping bits of crystal and pulling them from her skin.

“I found the Aiding kit,” he announced quietly, coming to kneel before her. “You shouldn’t pick at your hands. You’ll hurt yourself.”

Charlie scoffed. “What? Will I put my eye out? Will I be reduced to a whimpering child who can’t remember where her coffee table is anymore? Will I be forced to live off of Tony Stark’s charity because I can’t work anymore? Stop me when you hear the right reason, by the way.”

He stuttered dumbly before he found his words. “I-I am sorry.”

“Oh my gosh, I’m magically cured!” She gestured her surroundings. “All I needed was the most insincere apology on Earth from the vilest creature to have ever roamed it. Now I’m all good!”

The words and her tone stung, he had to admit. Most people avoided talking to Loki about the attack–it seemed to be human nature to avoid the pain of conflict. One or two people were angry and gave Loki an earful before he was allowed to do his work, but Charlie had been the first to actually hurt him. He was a monster. This wasn’t enough. He didn’t know how to fix it.

Loki thanked his lucky stars for one small miracle: her lack of vision meant she couldn’t see the tears that beaded onto his eyelashes. He cleared his throat, reaching for her hands. To her credit, she didn’t even flinch and he turned them palm-side up on her lap to pull jagged pieces of transparent glass out of the shallow scratches with a pair of tweezers. Her eyes had finally (though possibly not on purpose) fallen onto him and her blank gaze stayed unerringly glued to his form as if she were cataloguing him. He felt strangely pinned down by her stare.

After wiping down her palms with an antiseptic wipe, he allowed Charlie pull her hands away from his grip. The barest corner of her mouth curled in a half-snarl, clearly annoyed about having had to rely on her own personal demon for help.

“I apologize for the rough introduction–”

“Rough introduction was when you soared over the city in a battle cruiser with the hopes to enslave us. I don’t think a smile and good customer service would do much to change that, Loki.” Loki opened his mouth to interject a defense, but was cut off before any words formed. “I had a life and a job and a boyfriend. I could fucking see! You are only here because Stark insisted I do this, but how you can think that doing a few chores will ever amount to the damage you did is beyond me! Save your goddamn apologies. I don’t want them.”

The muscles on the back on his thighs were screaming from being kept in that squatting position for so long. Loki, however, found he could not move; scared stiff, as it were. The only thing he could do was stare helplessly into the wide-eyed anger before him, taking care not to distract himself on the freckles over her nose, and blink away the fresh wave of tears brewing at the corners of his eyes. Loki sniffed and her brow furrowed into a deep frown.

“Are you crying?” Charlie’s tone was halfway between irritation and disbelief.

“No, of course not.”

Her fingers jabbed him indelicately on his cheekbone. A little more traveling and they were skimming his closed eyes. He sighed as she drew them away, dampened in tears. “Oh, it has feelings.”

“Yes, it has been a surprise to everyone, including myself,” he riposted somewhat sarcastically, shoving the gnawing guilt to the back of his mind. Charlie chuckled under her breath despite herself. “Let me help you.” His voice had dropped to barely above a whisper. Order the monster around.“ She seemed hesitant at his turn of phrase, though it had been her who had used the name, in the first place. "Have you eaten yet? How about we start there?”

Without waiting for an answer, he stood and made for the kitchen. It was organized, though showed signs of misuse, as well as a small scorch mark on one of the counters. Apparently Charlie had tried to cook before giving up on the endeavor all together. Loki put some coffee on, and bread in the toaster, before fetching butter and jam from the refrigerator. He made a face at the contents–he would need to clean it out and buy new groceries before the day was out; something she could quickly consume.

Charlie shuffling off the couch pulled his attention. He watched as she stumbled around the coffee table again. That would need a new place to live. She seemed unsure of her steps, but was doing well to keeping to the clear space of the living room and kitchen. A growl sprang forth from her lips as she pawed the air, likely looking for the kitchen island just ahead.

“Three steps forward, two steps left,” Loki supplied, not wanting to interfere. If she was going to live on her own, she was going to have to learn the lay of the land. “Mind your feet, there’ll be a barstool right when you reach the countertop.”

“This is exhausting.”

“I think we just need to clear out some of the hurdles. You’ve got lovely knickknacks, but you need open space where you’re not afraid to run into anything.” He buttered the perfectly toasted bread and smeared a thin layer of raspberry jam atop. He lay the slices on a plate and slid it in front of Charlie while he poured coffee. “Arms’ reach. How do you take your coffee?”

“Black,” she replied, distractedly. Charlie placed her hands on the counter and slid them gently over the surface until they bumped against the plate. When she held the toast and took a bite, she made a sound like she was starving. It took the noise for Loki to see the slightly sunken quality of her face.

“Charlie, when’s the last time you ate?”

She slowed down her chewing, jaw tensing at the question. “I’m doing fine on my own.”

“That wasn’t what I asked.” There was no response from across the counter, and so Loki dug his hand into his trouser pocket to find his mobile. The other end of the line picked up immediately. “Stark, I need a favor.” He covered the mouthpiece on his phone and leaned forward. “I’ll be right back. Mind the coffee, it is still very hot.”

…

“Charlotte Camden, what the ever-living fuck!?” Tony had just burst in through the front door of Charlie’s apartment. Loki had just finished putting away a boatload of glass and porcelain decorations into a box in Charlie’s closet. He had pushed furniture to the sides and organized her closet by colors, to avoid being mismatched.

Charlie, who had been sitting on the floor “supervising”, turned towards Loki with eerie precision and glared. “You snitched on me?”

“This isn’t about Reindeer Games, Charlie. Have you or have you not refused the last three food deliveries sent to you?”

“Tony–”

“Have you or have you not? It’s a yes or no question.”

Her fists opened and closed with restraint. It was clear she wanted the option to storm out, but lacked the ability. “I didn’t want to do this stupid program in the first place!”

Tony scoffed. “Great! So what was the plan? Starve to death? Get hit by a car trying to get to the corner bodega?”

“Yes!” Tony instinctively stepped backwards at the roar. “I don’t want to live like this, Stark. How would having him here be of any help?”

Loki felt his skin crawl as Tony turned his attentive eyes towards him. His own jade orbs were fixated on a spot on the hardwood that was slightly discolored compared to the rest. The same thoughts echoed in his head. He was a monster. This wasn’t enough. He didn’t know how to fix it.

“Tony, he’s a monster." He was a monster. "This will never be enough." This wasn’t enough. "There’s no way to fix this." He didn’t know how to fix it.

"Come on, Charlie. He’s trying his best here,” Tony whispered, taking a knee in front of her. “He’s been working really hard to try to make up for what he’s done.” Charlie rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest with a pout. “Let me call Ben. Maybe he can reason with you.”

“Ben left, Tony.” There was something broken about the way she said those three words.

“What do you mean? When?”

“Three weeks ago. It’s OK. He left a note. Because I can read that, right?” Her head turned towards Loki’s general vicinity. “It’s on my bedside table, if you’re curious.”

Slipping quietly backward, he went into Charlie’s bedroom. On the bedside table a piece of paper looked as if it had been folded and unfolded several dozen times. It was crinkled and smudged, as if constantly stroked. His fingers snatched it off the table and he brought it up to his eyes.

Charlie,

I don’t know how you do this. I don’t know how, after everything that’s happened, you can even think of taking his side. Loki is a monster and he doesn’t deserve a single iota of kindness or consideration you’ve shown him. You should have demanded his death, not his rehabilitation. He’s ruined yours and countless others’ lives and you just walk around with your “we don’t know the whole story”.

Well, I know my story. And I love you, but this life wasn’t what I signed up for. We had plans and they’ve all gone up in smoke. I can’t do this anymore.

Goodbye.

Ben

Rage roiled in the pit of his stomach, equal measures for this Ben person as it was for himself. He had well and truly fucked this woman’s life. And she had defended him. And it cost her everything.

Loki caught his breath, though he hadn’t noticed when he started panting. Forcing himself back into the living room, he watched Stark glance up in his direction before scowling. The man had patted Charlie on the shoulder and got to his feet, intent on meeting Loki in the middle. Instead, Loki shoved the note into Stark’s chest and continued over to where Charlie sat.

Sensing his presence, she raised her face to him, eyes struggling for a place to focus upon. His hands rested on her shoulders and she tensed, fists clenching. When he pulled her into his chest, her hands occupied themselves with beating at his chest, his stomach, his arms–anywhere she could reach. He remained still, teeth clenched against the pain. He welcomed the sting and the bruises that would inevitably follow. Anything if it took away her pain.

“Keep going. I know you have more in you,” he whispered. Charlie hesitated, tears starting to leak out of the corner of her clenched eyes before punching him again. “Go on. I signed up for this.” A breathless sob jarred her chest and echoed into his own. Her arms, tired and aching, twined around his middle and squeezed for all she was worth. “I promise you, I signed up for this.”

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Speak No Evil (Part 22)

She was just hoping to see TyLee before they departed. She isn’t sure why she was so certain that she would. Mai had mentioned that she has only seen TyLee once since the huge fallout. And yet Azula lingered on the palace staircase waiting for the girl to flounce up the stairs full of stories and life like she always used to.

“Come on, lets go inside.” Zuko suggests gently.

Azula looks towards the sun, it is now hanging at its zenith. She nods and gets to her feet. There is no sense waiting for something that won’t come.

“Come on, we gotta get packed up, we’re going on a hike remember?” Seicho calls from the top of the stairs.

Azula wonders if she should tell the woman that she actually hadn’t wandered that far into the jungle. That, likely, all it would take to have the spirit emerge again would be her setting a couple of trees and plants on fire. They already hate her, she only needs to draw their attention. Though she doesn’t want them angry this time around, so perhaps it will be a longer journey after all. At any rate, she should start packing. She casts one last look towards the city and follows Zuko up the steps. She wonders if she will see TyLee again or if their last encounter--their last memory will be a miserable one.

When she reaches the top of the stairs, Seicho takes her hand. Azula finds herself staring at their interlaced hands as the woman pulls her along. She finds herself thinking about TyLee again; TyLee is the only person who has held her hand like this--tightly, warmly...lovingly. She isn’t sure if Seicho loves her. She can’t imagine why she would. But she holds her hand and she holds it a lot.

She holds it until Azula thinks that maybe her hand is worth holding. She hasn’t felt such a way in a very long time. Absently she tightens her hold on Seicho’s hand. The woman only lets go to help Azula gather up her things.

.oOo.

It is daunting to be back in the jungle. The hum of spirit energy hangs like a bolt of lightning poised to strike her down. They remember her. She knows that they do. Because they watch her. They watch her and they resent her. They watch her because they resent her.

She sees them everywhere, some from the corner of her eyes and some openly wave themselves in front of her. There are eel-like spirits, they drift down from trees and flash their own unique brand of phosphorescence with a flick of their tails. There are spirits like humans, but they don’t have particular forms that they adhere to. These ones make themselves known with brilliant flashes. There are spirits like trees that reach out for her and brush her back if she gets too close. And there are wholly shapeless smokey ones as well, she hates them the most; the way that they curl around things and engulf them. She dreads that they will find a thrill in wrapping around her.  They aren’t afraid of her. They want her to know that they aren’t. They want her to know that she isn’t welcome back.

And the closer they lurk the more she wonders if they will lash out. If they will steal her sight from her or her sense of smell or taste or touch. If they will leave her with nothing. Nothing but a broken mind imprisoned in a body that is twice as shattered.

She dreads the night when they become more openly hostile. They have only been wandering for two days and she already feels as though such a night will come upon her soon. She finds herself sticking very closely to Seicho and Zuko. For it, she feels like a dependent child.

“This looks like a good spot.” Zhang-Zin declares.

Azula shakes her head. It is teeming with spirits.

“It has a waterhole.” Zuko points out.

Azula nods. That is precisely the problem. The spirits enjoy the waterholes as well as she and her entourage do. And there are too many of them this time. She gestures to all of them. They float around the trees, weave in between the branches.

“They aren’t going to bother you.” Zuko tires.

But they already are, and in the most subtle ways; they poke at and prod her as she is trying to sleep. They tug on her hair and soil her food if she leaves it unattended. It is all so petty but it leaves her with ample room to speculate what they might do to her if she steps even slightly out of line.

‘Pick a different spot.’ She writes simply.

“This is a good spot.” Mai frowns.

Azula shakes her head, ‘I want to get some sleep tonight.’

“They sleep.”

‘Can’t.’ She points at the nearest tree. Its trunk shimmers with spirits.

“Do they bother you that much?” Zuko sighs.

She nods. ‘They don’t let me sleep.’

“What did you do to them?” Zhang-Zin askes. She supposes that it is a fair question.

Truthfully she doesn’t quite remember. Most of that night is fuzzy in her mind--likely a last attempt to keep her from losing her delicate sense of stability. ‘I remember saying a lot of...disagreeable things.’

“So you disrespected them.” Mai quirks a brow.

Azula gives a slight grimace before nodding.

“That doesn’t change that this is an ideal spot to stop for the night.”

Azula’s stomach sinks. She is making a burden of herself, an inconvenience…

“It’s alright, we can find another spot.” Seicho smiles.

“I was really hoping to go for a dip in the waterhole.” Zhang-Zin rubs the back of his head.

“How about this?” Seicho offers. “You guys can stop here, Azula and I will go ahead a little ways and we can wait for you to catch up?”

Zuko, Mai, and Zhang-Zin exchange glances. With a shrug from Mai and a nod from Zhang-Zin, Zuko declares, “just don’t go too far, okay?”

‘Ok.’ She is too tired to go much further anyways.

.oOo.

“Is here good?” Seicho asks. There are still several spirits gathered but they seem to keep their distance, mostly watching from the branches or lounging in the fading sunlight.

‘It’s fine’. Azula spreads her sleeping bag out.

“Should I get some firewood?”

Azula shakes her head and holds out a satchel of nuts, berries, and small fruits. Apparently they would be snacking for dinner. ‘They don’t like it when I use my fire. It draws them in.’

Seicho sighs, firebending is important to the princess. She waits for her to get comfortable before finding a spot behind her and giving the woman’s shoulders a soft massage. She is always so very tense.

“Are you going to be okay?”

Azula turns around and nods.

Seicho relaxes some, there is a sense of sincerity that eases her mind. She has to admit that it helps to know that there aren’t any active volcanoes nearby and that the princess seems fully averted to bodies of water.  

She has herself a share of berries and nuts and watches Azula snuggle up in her sleeping bag. Several hours into the night she wakes to the woman stirring. She follows her gaze to the branches where one large owl-like spirit perches. It glowers at her with one eye that has the force of many. The princess seems to visibly shudder.

There are other spirits, smaller ones, skittering about the ground. A few are at Azula’s feet but she doesn’t kick them away. Seicho thinks to scoop them up and carry them away; admittedly she is afraid. She doesn’t want to be on the receiving end of such treatment. Instead, she mumbles, “you have room in your sleeping bag. Reluctantly, Azula unzips it and Seicho snuggles up next to her.

She supposes that she can deal with the spirits nibbling on her toes for one night. She wiggles closer to Azula. The princess nuzzles her head under her chin and against her neck and Seicho drapes an arm around her. It isn’t dissimilar to their first hike; the princess seems to sleep better when she has kind contact, when she is near someone.

[sithsecrets]

A Matter of Expediency - Part X

After being married off to Kylo Ren in the name of securing an heir to the First Order’s throne, a princess tries to navigate the ins and outs of married life. As she grows closer to her new husband, the princess also carves out a place for herself in the Order, assuming control over her life when she thought she would have none.

---

Part 10

4.8k words

Mentions: graphic depictions of sex, mild gore, blood, swearing

---

The Chairwoman doesn’t deign to insult you for the remainder of the week, and even her cruelty towards others is dulled quite a bit when she’s simply in your presence. You would revel in your victory a bit more if you weren’t so busy, suddenly slammed with a new influx of proposal and funding requests from a planet named Palgodu. This just so happens to be where Kylo and his Knights have been out “scouting,” and you’re sure that the two things are closely related. You don’t have much time to muse on it, though, bogged down in files and appeal letters.

You work alone, mostly, cloistered in a private office that Hux offered you several weeks ago. It’s a relatively small space, plain in furnishing and decoration, but you like it that way. There are no distractions there, no prying eyes, no board members or diplomats to perform for— you get real work done at your desk, work that matters. Some of it is tedious, but you’re happy to be busy.

On Kylo’s fourth day away, two stormtroopers come to collect you, saying that your husband is back and requesting that you meet his party in hangar five. You drop everything upon hearing this news, rushing off at once to meet his husband and his party. Nervous energy buzzes all throughout your body, composed of equal parts fear and excitement; on one hand, you’re elated that Kylo’s returned, but you’re also terrified to see what sort of condition he’s come home in.

Just as you suspected, the lot of them look absolutely awful. The smell of blood and death and earth hangs heavy in the air around your husband and his companions, nearly making you gag as draw nearer to their vessel. They are caked in dirt, crusted in the very lifeforce of their slain enemies, but it’s the slashes and tears in their clothes that make your breath really catch in your throat. Kylo is not uninjured either, sporting a gash on his left arm and right side. He’s standing, thank the stars, lucid and calm— all of the Knights are that way too, long accustomed to violence and pain.

Kylo is your primary concern, of course, and you fuss over him openly, the spectators be damned. “What happened?” you demand. “Who attacked you?”

Your husband’s skin is grimy under your fingers, sweat and dirt soiling the cuffs of your sleeves as you press your palms against his face, making quick study of a scrape on his jaw.

“An insurgent faction,” Kylo replies, answering your question as if you just asked him what he had for breakfast.

The cuts on his arm and side draw your attention next, and you’re only half paying attention as he goes on to say that Palgodu’s leader requested the Order’s help in crushing an uprising that was ripping the planet apart. Kylo doesn’t even wince as you press a hand against the wound on his ribs, though you’re horrified to see your fingers come back slick with blood.

Kylo insists that he’s fine, unflinching as you beg him to go to the medbay. He says that the two of you must speak at once and that he wants to do so in your quarters away from prying eyes and ears. But you stand your ground, only cutting him the slightest bit of slack. Finally, Kylo capitulates to your demands, saying that he’ll be seen by a medical droid in your rooms if you go away with him now.

Your husband begins stripping down the second he gets into the ‘fresher, only stopping to set aside his helmet and lightsaber before he begins pulling apart his outfit. You try to help, his filthy clothes soiling your dress as you get him out of his pants, his undershirt. Kylo’s pained grunts are distressing to say the least, and you can’t even look at the purple-red patchwork of bruises that cover his body. The fact that your husband’s even standing right now is a miracle to you, given the beating he’s taken.

Though he declines your offer to help him bathe, Kylo does ask you to send for a hot meal. You do as he says without question, ordering dinner for yourself as well even though you’re too sick to eat at the moment. The medbay says that they’ll send a droid immediately after you contact them, and then you’re out of tasks to complete, left to anxiously chew on your nails as Kylo finishes washing the grime off his body.

When Kylo hobbles out of the ‘fresher, you insist on helping him dress, too frenzied to sit idle as he struggles to pull on a set of his night clothes. The medical droid chooses to appear just as your finishing up, rolling into the room almost on cue. Wordlessly, the little machine applies bacta and bandages to your husband’s worst injuries, leaving as quietly as it came. Another droid arrives almost immediately with your meals, and only when you’ve got Kylo settled at the dining room table do you feel like you’re ready to receive and understand information again.

“What happened on Palgodu?” you ask, only vaguely remembering what Kylo said earlier about civil war and the like.

Your husband eats ravenously, answering your question through a mouthful of food. “The King of Palgodu has been battling a faction of his own people that want to overthrow him. He contacted the Order and asked us to help him crush this insurgency, and myself and the Knights agreed to do so on the grounds that Palgodu come under the Order’s control.”

Your brow draws together, questioning. “What do they have to offer us in return?”

Kylo shakes his head a bit, already scraping his plate clean. “It’s not so much what the king has to offer as it is how we benefit from destroying the rebels on his planet. They meant to wage war with two other planets in the same solar system, but the king refused to offer his support. Stopping them or negotiating peace treaty would have been a much more taxing than simply snuffing out the warmongering at its source.”

You remember the bruises on Kylo’s body, the way his gash in his side wept blood until the medical droid attended to it. Your apprehension about Kylo’s choices and ideas must show on your face, too, because he moves to explain himself further.

“Palgodu’s current king is a fair, peaceful man loved by the majority of his subjects. The rebels were power-hungry and thirsty for blood. The plants they had their sights on are weak, impoverished places with little in the way of a military. We intercepted intel that said the insurgents were planning to use the inhabitants as slaves.”

“That sounds more like a conquest than a war,” you say then, horrified by the notion of such a plan. You had been afraid at first that Kylo and his Knights ran off for something trivial, but now that you know the truth, you’re relieved that they acted so quickly. Still, something nags at you. “Why didn’t you just tell me all of that? Why lie about the scouting mission?”

Kylo nods, becoming a bit more reserved as he regards you now. “I… I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to worry.”

“Yes,” you say sarcastically, “it’s only a bit of combat.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Kylo insists, and you could just about slap him if you weren’t so relieved to have in safe in front of you.

“The wounds and bruises on your body beg to differ, Supreme Leader. I would have liked to know that you were in danger.”

You do that sometimes, poke fun at Kylo with his title. He’s used to it by now, huffing out a sigh as he apologizes. “Next time I’ll be more transparent,” he promises.

“Good,” you affirm, nodding as you sit back in your chair.

Kylo eyes your dinner, the meal virtually untouched in front of you. He digs in hungrily after you push the plate his way, scarfing it down as if he didn’t just finish eating ten minutes ago.

“When was the last time you ate?” you ask softly, heart clenching in your chest. This is exactly the sort of thing you’d been worried about, your husband being hungry, or cold, or hurt. Kylo’s indifferent shrug only serves to make you sadder, and you find yourself almost in tears as take in the bruises on his knuckles, the scrapes on his face.

You want to tell your husband everything in that moment. You want to tell him how you feel, how you missed him while he was gone, how you wanted to throw your arms around him right there in front of everybody in the hangar. But you don’t want to ruin anything, don’t want to be too sickly sweet, so you opt to say nothing at all.

Done with his second dinner now, Kylo pushes the plate and silverware away from him. The look in his eyes is softer now, gentler, and he beckons you over. “Come here,” he says, “come closer to me.”

You do as Kylo asks, coming to stand beside his chair. He shifts a bit, turning to face you completely. “I ruined your dress,” your husband states, eyes flitting down to the stains all over your sleeves and bodice.

You make a flippant gesture, unbothered. “I have others.”

“Still, I apologize.” He reaches for your hands, clasping them gently in his own. “Will you come take a bath with me?”

Though you’re more than willing to soak in the tub with your husband, you can’t help but remind him that he did just take a shower.

“My body hurts,” Kylo explains, and it’s only then that you notice how exhausted he truly is.

Kylo helps you unlace your dirty dress as the tap runs, filling the bathtub with hot water. It’s a large fixture, wide enough to accommodate both you and your husband as the you step in. Steam wafts about the two of you, fogging up every mirror in the room and sticking little tendrils of hair to your face and neck. Afraid you’ll prod one of his bruises, you’re reluctant to crawl into Kylo’s lap the way he wants you to.

“You couldn’t possibly hurt me right now,” he insists, settling you so that you’re straddled across the width of his thighs. You half expect him to grope you then, to husk in your ear that he’d like to fuck you if you’d let him the way Kylo so often does when he gets you in this position. So it’s quite a pleasant surprise when your husband tucks your head under his chin instead, wrapping you up in his arms rather gently.

“The King Palgodu has decided to take those two little planets under his wing,” he says, apropos of nothing. “He and his wife would like to host a benefit with the Order’s help in order to raise funding for new schools.”

You look up at Kylo then, smiling a bit. “I’ve always wanted to plan a party,” you say softly.

“I figured as much,” Kylo replies, reaching up to brush some of your hair out of your face with wet fingers. He’s smiling, actually smiling for once, and the very sight of him makes your heart sing.

Curling back up against your husband’s chest once more, you card your fingers through his hair idly. Even injured and exhausted, he is still so solid beneath you, so unyielding. It’s so lovely to be held like this, to be cradled in Kylo’s arms. You are safe here with him, safe in this moment of peace.

“I missed you,” you whisper, finally feeling as though it’s okay to admit how you feel.

Your husband’s hand is warm on your back, palm making long, gentle strokes up and down your spine. “I thought of you each day,” he murmurs, drawing you even closer to his body.

Something goes unspoken between the two of you then, the message translated through touch instead of words. Kylo tilts your face up gently, kissing you the way you’ve been dying to be kissed for days. He’s far too tired to have sex, he tells you as much himself, but the two of you make out anyway, tongues sliding together as your hands roam without purpose or intent. It’s bliss, letting your lover lick into your mouth as you revel in the fact that he’s safe beneath you, safe safe safe.

The two of you are pruny and drowsy when you finally dry off and stumble to bed, snuggling up like puppies together under the comforter. Kylo passes out almost immediately as if he’s never slept before in his life, and you aren’t far behind him.

For the first time in days, the two of you rest.

---

It’s a wonder what a good night’s sleep can do! you think as you breeze into the Board’s usual meeting room, entering in a swirl of crimson gown with a smile gracing your face. Despite your pleasant demeanor, the Chairwoman and her lapdogs still track your movements with caution, poised to defend themselves should you choose to strike in any manner. You’ve been an absolute menace towards the lot of them these past few days, mood soured by lack of sleep and Kylo’s absence. You don’t intend to be any nicer to them now that he’s back, of course, but you still think it appropriate to internally acknowledge your own behavior.

“Good morning!” you sing-song, sliding into your chair happily as you regard the table. Hux smiles one of his reserved smiles, and some of your other friends on the Board do the same. Evan, though, she remains timid and complacent, not saying a word. She’s been like this since you threatened to make her a mute, lacking in smart comments and little quips meant to upset you (or anyone else for that matter)— you simply wouldn’t have her any other way.

Planning for the Palgodu benefit gets underway quickly, everyone diligent in their work as the lot of you field ideas for a guest list, potential donors, locations, and the like. Several of your most dependable Board members feel confident that they can garner interest in the Palgodu cause from planets in the Major Possessions, and Hux speaks highly of several wealthy Order loyalists.

You’re pleased with the group’s progress, though you will be doing some planning of your own in your office this afternoon. There’s catering to think about, and press coverage, and you of course you have to doublecheck that the Palgoduan team approves of your choices thus far. Still, you dismiss the Board before your regular lunchtime, satisfied for now.

However, there’s one last thing you need from a particularly prominent member of your posse.

“Chairwoman,” you call, stopping the woman in question before she can slip out of your field of vision.

Halting at the call of her title, Evan comes to stand before you, still on her best behavior. “Yes, Empress?”

“I know you have connections to several mineral magnates,” you say, cutting the Chairwoman off when she moves to speak. “Please, don’t dispute the truth.”

Your foe’s mouth presses into a thin line at this, but no words leave her lips. She’s fuming, absolutely seething with rage at the fact that you’re about to exploit one of her little not-secrets. The Chairwoman thinks she’s so slick, running around behind closed door with these wealthy men and even their sons. It’s the kind of thing that won’t ruin her, should it ever come into the light, but you just know that she would sooner die than have everyone know her business.

Luckily, this particular weakness works in your favor.

“Yes,” Evan admits evenly, “I know several barons on Valdera and other such planets.”

You quirk one eyebrow, nodding in satisfaction. “Excellent,” you declare. “I want you to convince them all to donate a ridiculous amount of money to this cause. They certainly have the credits to spare, and I think it’s about time the big boys shared a bit with the little guys.”

The Chairwoman swallows heavily, cutting her eyes to the side. “Empress, I don’t know—”

“Nonsense!” you exclaim, mock confident as you rise from your chair. “You’re a resourceful woman, Evan! I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

You place a pat on her arm, satisfied when the Chairwoman flinches away from you just the slightest bit. She’s fifteen seconds from flying into a fit it would seem, her emotions bubbling and boiling just beneath the surface as she curtsies and wishes you a good day. But still, Evan leaves you without another word, stomping out of the room to go whatever it is she does in her free time.

Lunch is a hurried affair, just you and Hux scarfing down something easy before you go your separate ways. Full and refreshed, you practically barricade yourself in your office, sending coms and poring over data lists as you try to work out the finer details for the benefit ball. A date is set, one that will come up on your fast if you let it, and you’re only further motivated to get all of their other details fleshed out once messages of approval start flooding in from the Palgodu team. Over and over, they tell you how grateful they are for your help, and it pleases you to know that you’ve secured more positive connections for the Order.

Time gets away from you, the hours passing in flurries of paperwork and research. The sound of a knock at your door disorients you, the jolt of your body nearly sending you to the floor. Abandoning your desk, you go to the portal to see who’s there, the muscles in your legs straining from lack of use.

Kylo’s is the last face you were expecting to see on the other side, but he’s a pleasant surprise nonetheless.

“So this is where you’ve been,” your husband says in lieu of a greeting, peering at your little office over your shoulder.

“What do you—?”

One glance at the chronometer on the wall shows you that it’s late, later than you’ve ever worked before. You turn back to Kylo at once, flooded with embarrassment and remorse.

“Oh stars,” you breathe. “I missed dinner! I’m so sorry, Kylo, I was just working and—”

Your husband cuts you off, crowding into your space to steal a kiss from your rambling lips. “Mm, don’t worry about it,” he mumbles, still trying to press his mouth against yours even as you fight to apologize again. “The Chancellor told me that you were doing important work. I just came to check on you.”

You blush at that, happy to kiss Kylo back now that you know his feelings aren’t hurt. His affection and concern for you is intoxicating and just the slightest bit jarring, for he never behaves this way outside the bedroom. You can’t help but think of last night, of what was said in the bathtub, and you even allow yourself to get your hopes up a bit. Maybe your husband’s finally opening up…

“I can leave you alone now if you want to continue working,” Kyle declares, arms laced around your middle. “I just wanted to make sure you hadn’t died in here.”

It’s his version of a joke, and the sentiment does make you giggle.

“I should probably be done for the day,” you concede, suddenly tired. Your stomach rumbles beneath your bodice, lunch but a distant memory now.

“Please, don’t let me stop you,” your husband insists, brushing a lock of hair away from your face. You let him, shaking your head.

“No, no. I’m starving, and I really was looking forward to spending the evening with you.”

Your voice is soft, husky even, as you tell Kylo that last part. You missed him very much while he was gone, that’s for sure, and in more than one way… To say that you’d like for him to take you to bed now would be an understatement.

Luckily, your husband seems to understand what you mean. He presses your body more firmly against his, hands settling low on your hips. “What did you have in mind?”

Kylo’s eyes are dark, and his mouth quirks into a smirk as you scoff. “You know,” you say, giving him a playful bat on the chest. But then you remember his wounds, the bruises and the scrapes, and you feel selfish. “If you’re still in pain, though, we don’t—”

“Oh, my love,” Kylo chides, and stars does the pet name make your face hot, “I had every intention of fucking you senseless tonight as it was. I’m just glad to hear that you’re similarly inclined.”

---

You’re on Kylo from the minute you both get back to your quarters, kissing him and biting him and fumbling with all of the buttons and stays keeping him trapped in his clothes. He’s just as hungry for you, his desperation showing in the slide of his mouth and hands, but it would seem that he has a particular set of ideas about how he wants tonight to go.

“Slow down,” your husband commands, gently pushing you off of him. The noise you let out as you land on the foot of the bed is pathetic and so, so very discontent, your kiss-bitten mouth molding into a pout. Kylo shakes his head at you, lips quirking up into a smirk. “We have all night, darling. Don’t look so upset, you’ll get what you want.”

“But I want you now,” you whine, pulling at your husband’s belt, palming him through the front of his pants. It’s a cheap trick and you know it, but still, you hope it works anyway.

Kylo’s not swayed in the slightest, however, catching your wrist. “And you’ll get me,” he promises, slowly sinking to his knees before you. His eyes are so very dark as he reaches out, grasping your bare foot delicately in his hand. “Just be patient, please.”

It’s not every day that you hear the Supreme Leader say “please,” and though you want nothing more than to feel his cock in your body, you decide to indulge your husband in this little game.  And really, how could you complain when his lips are so soft on the top of your foot, on your ankle, on your calf. Even the way Kylo shoves your dress up your leg is sweet and deliberate, and all you can do is sigh and suck in deep breathes as he presses kisses all along your flesh.

“Tell me what you want,” your husband mumbles, speaking against the side of your knee. He cuts his eyes your way, nipping you so suddenly that your whole body jolts in shock.

“I… I want you,” you breathe, chest heaving. You shouldn’t be this affected after just a few chaste kisses, but Kylo is such a tease, he knows just how to make you squirm.

Another kiss, this time further up your leg, and then, “Oh darling, I know that. But what do you want me to do to you?”

He’s a cruel man, your husband, a real sadist. He knows very well that you’re awful at this part, that you stutter and stammer whenever you try to make the smallest of demands. You took to riding Kylo and sucking his cock without much difficulty, you could (and have) let him fuck you for hours without complaint, but talking dirty and saying what you want has never been easy for you.

You’re really flustered now, pulse pounding so hard that you think you can hear it in your ears. “Kylo, please, I…”

“You’re the Empress,” he reminds you. The callouses on his palm are maddening, the sensation of them scraping against your skin making your cunt twitch. You don’t even want to think about how wet you are right now, how you’re probably staining your dress. “You can have whatever you want if you simply ask for it.”

Stars do you want this man, you want him to fucking ruin you.

Kylo turns his focus back on your flesh, kissing across your thigh until you can feel his nose almost in the crease of your leg. He’s so close to your cunt, all he would have to do is turn his head and he could suck right on your swollen clit, but he doesn’t, the infuriating little fucker. The tease of it all is enough to make you feral, to almost unhinge you completely. For two seconds, you consider just jerking Kylo around by his hair, consider making him put his mouth on you, some previously unknown part of your mind arresting your thoughts for just a moment until Kylo speaks.

“I am your husband,” he tells you, suddenly more solemn than flirty. “You can say anything to me. I want to hear it.”

You hesitate for just one second more, finally cracking when Kylo’s tongue darts out across your skin.

“I want you to fuck me,” you say slowly, your own words making your cheeks burn in embarrassment. “I… From behind. I want you to fuck me from behind, but I want to finish on my back.”

Your husband stares up at you, eyes so dark with lust as he nods. He looks so pleased, so happy. “Where do you want me to cum?” he asks, finally pushing your dress all the way up now. You’re already pulling at your underwear, cunt drooling from the anticipation of what’s to come.

“Inside me,” you answer promptly, palms sweating as you remember how hot hot hot you feel whenever Kylo paints your insides.

He must finally be satisfied, because Kylo says nothing after that, finally burying his face between your thighs. You nearly burst into tears, so utterly relieved as he laps at your clit, shrugging out of his outer layers as he does it.

The two of you are wild that night, fucking like animals for what feels like hours. Kylo listens to you, he keeps all of his promises, pulling your hips against his harshly as you press your face into the comforter. But he puts you on your back before he cums, of course, dutiful in following your directions. Your husband is so good to you, thumbing at your clit until you cum for the second time that night before he lets go himself, biting down hard on his lip as he watches you writhe. Only when you’re panting and trying to come back to reality does Kylo spill his seed inside of you, flooding your body as he grunts and holds you in place hard enough to leave bruises. You clutch onto Kylo as soon as he hits the bed beside you, carding your fingers through his hair. Both of you need a shower, or least a onceover with a wet washcloth, and the bed is absolutely destroyed— but stars are you happy, happy and satiated and too tired to move from this spot.

Finally, though, you do get out of bed, stumbling into the ‘fresher with your husband at your side. Kylo makes you drink a whole glass of water, gulping one down himself while the shower gets hot. Neither one of you is in the mood to linger beneath the spray, but you do help each other bathe, soapy hands sliding over skin as you take note of new love bites and bruises.

As per usual, the bed is clean when you and Kylo emerge, the sheets fresh and the comforter set back in place. You and Kylo fall into it together again, dressed in loose comfortable clothes as you revel in the aftermath of your lovemaking. Kylo lets your slump across his chest, petting your hair languidly. Neither of you says anything for a while, content to lie together in silence.

The large window in your quarters draws your attention, and you stare out at the glittering expanse of space all around the Supremacy. Even after all these weeks, you haven’t gotten used to this, drifting amongst and the planets and moons and stars of the galaxy. You find yourself missing sunshine often, tired of artificial light. And weather, too— your heart aches for rain.

Outside the wide, tall pane of transperisteel, two patrol vessels zip past, making their usual rounds around the Supremacy’s massive body. The image of this sparks a memory, reminds you of something Hux told you in passing days ago.

“Don’t you fly?” you ask suddenly, addressing your husband. Kylo’s hand stills in your hair, and he tilts his face down to look at you.

“Yes,” he affirms, “since I was a teenager.”

You snuggle against Kylo’s chest, still staring out at the blackness. “You should take me out one day.”

Kylo settles in bed a bit, now looking out the window himself. “Would you like to go now?”

[hollywoodx4]

Our Garden

I haven’t written in a long time so I thought I’d sit and try and wow I’m sorry.

----

She’d been having nightmares again; rampant and burning, causing a turn that brought their well-loved bedsheets between her legs and flung them off the bed-nightmares that woke him up every time she began to stir beside him. Orpheus was well-practiced in the art of patience, although it wore his heart down to its most brittle state to watch her, helpless, as the sleep-dazed mutterings broke through. It was still in that half-sleep stage, the cracked version of her voice, but it didn’t project the same enamoring power as it does when she looks at him through half-opened eyes, yawning as he shifts to brush a kiss over her ear, then her nose and lips as she wakes. This version…the broken, the scratched, the harrowed helpless cries…Orpheus could only watch, shaken in these moments where his lover was in pain.

              He’d start with a gentle hand on her; her back, her shoulder, her hair, anywhere he could find and settle the gentle breath of his weight. Not enough to rest his hand, not enough to apply more than a feather-light pressure. If she didn’t kick, or writhe, then he could say her name. He’d start soft, then crescendo as her shifting stopped or quickened or changed in any way (sure, he was practiced, but Orpheus still found heart-pounding fright and immense guilt in letting her stay in this nightmare-land too long).

              There were times-most of them right after their return from Hadestown-where she wouldn’t say anything at all. “I don’t want to talk about it.” She’d say, “You’re here. I’m here. Everything else can stay in the past where it belongs.” Orpheus chose not to push her-would never dream of pulling her into the place that made her sit by the window facing the garden, eyes glazed to the world. But she’d go there often, to that place, and it worried him.

              So Orpheus sat. He’d have something to do-a song to strum, a hem to butcher (she’d fix it later, laugh her soft, songbird laugh and kiss the tip of his nose and tell him he’d done a good job trying anyway). He’d occupy himself in the space around her while she sat looking at nothing in particular, her lips drawn to a slightly hardened line.

              “I think my grandfather used to garden.”

              One morning, before the sun had come up, she’d found herself weeding the rows of seeds they had planted just as the frost had ended in the beginning days of the first spring they’d been able to prepare for. She’d climbed out of bed long before then, putting the kettle on and taking a steaming cup out to the bramble-filled yard they’d had yet to clear. The ground was sodden with dew, her boots covered in the mud of the morning. Her fingers chapped with the brisk air, and the straw hat they’d been gifted from a shop keeper in the market did nothing to keep the flyaway hairs from her face. But she’d sipped her tea, let it warm her insides, and began tending the moist soil that held the saplings of food they would have at their disposal after weeks of care.

              “I think-I remember the smell of the soil. When I’m out here, when I’m working, it just…it hits me.” She stops, sits on the stump of a small tree that winter had taken to the ground. He’s holding the mug that she’d left for him and a scarf he wraps gently around her neck and hair, protecting her wind-reddened ears. Orpheus does not speak but stands beside her, watching her eyes scan the rows of soil tilled from the barely warmed earth. Her breath comes from her in hazy waves of fog, and then she makes a noise of resolve. “You know, I’m pretty sure he was the only man in town that let a woman into his field-a girl, I mean. I was so young back then. And he taught me everything he knew, even though I wasn’t supposed to be out there. They didn’t care-my parents-I don’t even think they knew where I was half the time.”

              Her fingers trace the rim of her cup and her eyes go to that faraway place-he can almost see the transition, the way her body falls slightly and the softened alto of her voice dips into a slow, lowered tone. He sits on an empty sliver of stump-just enough for half of his body to hang on, one gangly leg kicked out to the side and an arm propped in the space behind her. There’s a pause-she’s thinking, gathering and sorting and deciding, and he waits. Then, her lips curve slightly.

              “The things he’d told me-about Persephone, about the gods…I believed in them like they were fairy tales. Everything was magical in that garden. I could go there at any time of the day and there he was, plucking away at some little weed that only he could see. And then one day, he was gone. And then the magic was gone, too. Someone from the next town over had his house, had my garden. And I had…well, I had nothing. Staying where my parents were. Stuck. I don’t think I realized how bad things were until I couldn’t escape anymore. So I left.”

              She goes to the garden a lot that spring, when Persephone finds them again and showers them with affection. When summer comes and she and Orpheus marry in their backyard, with hefty stalks of vegetables grown all around them and the oat-white lace of a long, slim gown dragging in the thick green grass. They often tend to the earth together, her smaller fingers working to pluck the weeds while he wrapped twine around the taller stalks, tethered them to old wooden rods hoping they would continue to grow to the sky. Each morning, as the sun kissed the sky, they would kiss each other over the rows and rows of their labor before setting out to start their days. At dusk they would come home, always stopping to walk among the plants. Eurydice thanked them, touched their vibrant leaves and grinned.

“I’ve still got it.” She’d whisper, and with the sun and the abundance of their crops, the faraway place seems to disappear. Eurydice laughs fully and freely. They indulge in Persephone’s ambrosia-a wedding gift they sip sparingly-and she cups his cheeks with her hands and pulls him to her to dance. In the garden in their bare feet on their wedding night, they dance under a full sky of stars with the light of candles in their window serving as an ambient glow. She thanks Persephone for her gifts, thanks her for being more than a figment of magic she’d loved once long ago. They send their regards to Hades, thank him for the chance to have this life-the chance to bring another life into this newly reformed world. Eurydice laughs as the gathering of people at the train station-their chosen family-place work-hardened hands on her stomach and bless the new little life that’s barely changed her figure. She feels new. Orpheus wakes not to her nightmares, but to her prodding him to feel the kicking and rustling in her stomach. They’re happy.

 When winter comes, she wakes to a dark sky and stumbles to the snow-covered ground, haphazardly wrapped in her old woolen jacket, and lets the snow soak into her skin as she mourns the loss of their child. She’s somewhere between where the cabbage had been; she’s sure of the ground they’d walked all summer, knows the land like the back of her hand and the body that had taken her happiness once again. He finds her this way, not much later. He hasn’t been sleeping either. They find their way back to the kitchen. He puts a kettle on the stove. They cry. She finds that faraway place again.   But this time, she lets him in.

When spring shows its first small signs of its return-the snow melts, the birds return to their chirping, the sun stays out longer-Orpheus and Eurydice sit on the stump seat that last year had created and sip their tea. They watch the steam mix with the brisk air. He kisses her head, brushes back her hair, kisses her ear. She rests her weary body on his as they count the rows of their garden, newly revealed by the sun melting its cover. They talk of what they missed-what they can plant to utilize their space. Neither moves to till the earth. Persephone comes to find them in that faraway place, Eurydice not any rounder than she left. She sits on the ground beside them and doesn’t say a word.

“We couldn’t stop it. We couldn’t change it.” Eurydice’s voice is cracked from hours without using it, the sun in full bloom through their window. They’ve lain in bed most of the day, flipping between fitful sleep and soft whispering and kisses on foreheads. Spring has come fully now, Persephone setting up residence in town, the people rejoicing upon her second return. Orpheus waits-he’s waited so long to see her return from that faraway place they’d both resided in together through the tumultuous winter. There’s a flash of something within the deepness of her eyes; resolve. Determination. He feels his heart swell with the love of a man unhinged, who has been able to do nothing else in the season that’s passed but to love his wife and feel her love in return.

“We couldn’t.”

“I used to think that these things were handed to us as an unfair gesture-that fate threw me the last end of the stick as some kind of joke. But Orpheus, life gave you to me. Fate gave us a second chance up here. All of this-our house, and our garden, and you sitting next to me and us loving each other? This is somewhere I thought I’d never be. This is the magic land.

In the spring, they tend their garden. In the summer, they hold each other and dance in the long grass. In the fall they harvest. They prepare. And in the winter, Orpheus and Eurydice build fires. They sing songs, have friends over. They laugh over bowls of hearty winter soup and kick the sheets from their bed as they love each other. And when the spring comes back around for the third time in this new schedule of life, they sit on their tree stump and smell the freshly tilled soil, talking of what’s to come.