#i was trying to fill in the “respite prompt” and this happened!

[orbital-inclination]

somewhere beyond the moat

Prompt: ??? Wc: 584 Summary: The boys goof off just before a heist. Rem tolerates, Molt observes, and Horror thinks he's punny.

----------

The shuffle of feet. Followed by a manic, hitching laugh-- Killer. Molt thinks, canting his skull just so to listen to his brother’s second in command break off in that thrill-danger-happy peal. Movement then, someone stumbles. Small stones crackle, grinding under someone's slippers. There’s a ditch on the side of the road. He discovered this himself a few minutes ago. This time, the low chortle came from Horror; a huff through his teeth that sounds as raspy as it does warm. 

Mild exasperation spills from his brother. “Enough,” he says, without real heat, but with enough bite that both Killer and Horror immediately try to restrain themselves. “Did I not emphasize the necessity for stealth?“

“You should’ve sent me and Dust on ahead,” Molt tells him. Looping lazily and low to the ground, one of his tendrils flick. 

“Aw, c’mon Chief! That’s not fair.” Killer whines. 

There’s a definite No, in Rem’s brief flash of irritation-not-irritation. Not directed at him, but circumstances. “Unfortunately,” he begins, voice desert dry. “I need the four of you here to pull off this heist.”

“Hey… what did… what did King Asgore call his sneakiest Knight?” Horror rasps. 

Rem bites back a groan. “What did Asgore call this Knight?”

Horror snickers, struggling to get his words in words in order between huffs of laughter. “… Sir… Valence.”

Twin barks of laughter. Amusement even trickles from Dust. And like with his brother, Molt does not need to see it to hear the eye-roll.

Killer hums. A sharp sound. Molt imagines him tapping the blade of his knife to his smile. “Poor blueberry. He’s missing out on a chance to test his mettle against the Royal Guard. He must be sooo disappointed.”

“… and Cross,” Molt adds, quietly. He feels the sting of disappointment himself.

“Cross is where he needs to be,” Rem says. There’s an undercurrent of defensiveness to him, responding to the subtle bite Molt hadn’t meant to let slip. He understands why his brother made this decision. They need someone on the outside in case something goes wrong. (and something almost always goes wrong.)

But Cross doesn’t see it that way. He thinks Rem is excluding him for a different reason. But he doesn’t say that. They’re too close to the Castle to get into an argument right now.

His brother makes a soft noise, a grunt, and the two are close enough that an image flashes across his mind’s eye: Killer throwing his arm over Rem’s shoulders. Annoyance sparks like pop rocks and embers from a bonfire. But his brother is not genuinely annoyed enough to throw Killer off, and tolerates him with limited, finite patience. 

Killer cackles. He says something Molt doesn’t quite catch, it’s spoken too softly but it prompts Rem to respond with a snort and a dry: “Try not to kill anyone. We were never here. Get the book, get out and we’re gone.”

“You got it, Boss.”

“It’s bad enough that this world is an interdimensional hotspot. Keep in mind we might see familiar faces. Don’t let that distract you.”

Dust, who’d been quiet until that point, made a non-commital noise. A chorus of chuckles sound at the twice layered inside joke. Then the group falls silent. Anticipation and eagerness thrums in their bones.

He guesses they must be able to see the Castle now.

“Let’s get this done.” Rem commands. And they do.

[foleys-help-blog]

Tips for handling a daydream block

It happens to all of us at some point, and it sucks. here are some tips on how to deal with it from my experience.

There can be different or causes to it. First, you have too many thoughts. Whether it's because you have a lot on your mind, because you're stressed, or whatever other reason, if your brain is too full, it can be hard to daydream. Second possibility: your brain feels exhausted, empty. You're tired and it's hard to think, period. Third, you're just out of ideas!

✦ If you can and like to meditate, meditation is one of the best ways to calm down your thoughts and give your brain some respite.

✦ Napping can help rest too! Depending on the person, this might not help if you're in the first case though - I know it doesn't for me for example.

✦ If you lack ideas, look up some prompts, or maybe get into a new series or book! You need to feed your creativity, along with letting it rest.

✦ Do something else! Go for a walk, do some coloring, try a new art form, change up your habits! This can both help you get inspired and rest your creative muscles.

✦ Chat with other daydreamers! Whether it's gushing or venting, not feeling alone is a great help in feeling better

Now, while those are great to help getting out of a slump, sometimes only time will truly get rid of the block. In the meantime, there are ways you can stay connected to your paras and paracosms!

✦Make playlists your paras would listen to ✦Make moodboards ✦If you've written or drawn things related to your daydreamns, look at those ✦Make your paras a list of books they've read, would like to read, would dislike, etc! This can work with hobbies, movies, cartoons, food,… ✦Create a timetable of a typical work/school day of your para if it applies ✦Make jewelry for your paras; you can wear it to feel like they are with you or to think of them. ✦Make collages or art inspired by your paras, paracosms and daydreams! It can be super abstract! ✦Create outfit boards for your paras ✦Make memes about your paracosm ✦Try a meal or snack your paras would like! ✦Fill in personality quizzes as if you were your paras

Rest well, and happy daydreaming friends! 🪁🌟🫧

[hozierandrew]

well a few weeks back i reblogged a prompt post from @novelbear & offered to write a keero drabble for anyone who wanted it! @lighttailoring requested one w the prompt "one leaning their head onto the other's shoulder suddenly and they just freeze" and i tried my best. the context is that dedra finds out about the existence of the death star and shows up late to dinner at syril's apartment; i've only seen andor the one time a few months back so i hope this isn't totally ooc and that my writing is half coherent. thanks again @lighttailoring for the request!

The soft tapping on the datapad slowed to a halt as Syril reviewed the order he had placed. If he had his way, he would prepare Dedra a proper meal, to serve as a respite from her responsibilities. Not that she would make enough time to appreciate it, he thought bitterly. The food would go to waste. He sighed, leaning back in his chair.

Like Dedra always says, the Empire comes first. I can’t fault her for that.

His gaze wandered over to the window, the Coruscant night twinkling outside. Dedra had messaged him as soon as he arrived home, Start without me. Meeting running long. 

He had no idea how much time that bought him but decided to pull up a report he was working on. Joining the ISB resulted in difficult, sometimes grueling, work but he embraced it. Syril welcomed the distraction from his thoughts, which had run rampant at the Bureau of Standards. Too much time to wallow and self-reflect. He wanted to contribute to something worthwhile and Dedra, of all people, enabled him to.

After the Ferrix riot, she couldn't deny his tenacity and recommended him for a position. Of course, he was thankful and of course he was as vigilant as ever in his work, but he was still no closer to Andor. Or Axis for that matter. His reports filled page after page with petty offenses and minute matters. Matters so small as to be completely inconsequential. Sharing meals like this with Dedra broke up the monotony of his days, as lucky as he knew he was to have them.

As Syril continued tapping on his datapad, he heard a chime at the door, and stopped. Dedra.

He placed his datapad down and strode to the door, opening it at once.

Syril hardly had time to recognize the figure in front of him as Dedra as she swept past him in one swift movement. He closed the door behind him and tailed after her. 

She was a few feet away, removing her belt and opening his closet door, searching for a hanger. "How was your meeting?"Syril asked, coming to a stop behind her. Finding a hanger, she threw the belt on it, then moved to remove her coat.

Met with silence, he attempted a different angle. "I wasn't sure what you wanted so I got you noodles again. Unfortunately it hasn't arrived yet. Can I get you something to drink?" He watched as Dedra added her coat to the hanger and jammed it onto the rack.

As she peeled her outer tunic off, still without comment, Syril decided she was better left alone. "Let me know if you need anything," he muttered, before retreating back to his sitting room.

He picked up his datapad and stared at his report, trying not to think about what happened to Dedra. Was she fired? No, that couldn't be, she still had her uniform on when she came in. Her rank remained the same, so she couldn't have been demoted either. Perhaps Partagaz had been in a mood that day and decided to reprimand her for something minor. His mind wandered from what had happened to how he could get Dedra to tell him about it. She was in no mood to talk. He wondered why she even bothered to show up tonight.

Soon enough, Syril heard his closet door close and the sounds of boots thumping across the floor. He saw Dedra round the corner, a scowl still on her face, her hands behind her back. She walked right past him to the window and stared out at the lights. Syril stared at her back for several moments, at a loss for what to say. Telling her to leave might be too direct, but offering her his room for the night might be too suggestive. Neither were preferable.

Finally, he decided to leave her be, turning back to his datapad and continuing on with his report. As he found his rhythm once more, he heard Dedra walking back from the window. Giving her space, he decided not to look up and instead he felt her sit next to him on the couch. After a slight pause, he felt her lean her head on his shoulder. Syril froze, his focus immediately drawn to the warm pressure of Dedra's weight on him. Tonight couldn't get any stranger, he thought as he stared down at his datapad, not daring to move his head.

Dedra, noticing that he had stopped, finally spoke. "I apologize for coming late, but it was unavoidable. Partagaz informed us the Empire is developing something. Something that will give us leverage over the rebels, not in the short-term, but for the foreseeable future. This could be our chance to maintain order across the galaxy once and for all."

As Syril absorbed the magnitude of her words, he placed his datapad on a side table. He took a hand in hers, emboldened by her actions and her words. At the moment, he didn't care that Dedra was keeping a secret from him. He cared about how this secret affected her.

"You don't sound particularly thrilled about this revelation," Syril noted.

"Thrilled definitely isn't the right word," Dedra replied. "Apprehensive, I suppose. The Empire has mishandled several opportunities since I started work with the ISB. I want to know more about what they're planning to do with what they've developed. We cannot plan a show of force unless every one of us is prepared for the consequences."

Thinking of the amount of stress she was under caused Syril to regret his earlier anger towards her. He tightened his grip on her hand and moved away from her, so he could see her face. In the dim light, he could see her bun had loosened and lines under her eyes had started to form. She tried her best to maintain appearances but her efforts had dwindled in the late hours of the night.

Taking in her gaunt appearance, Syril tentatively asked, "Why did you decide to come here instead of going straight home? You look exhausted. I would've understood. Duty always comes first."

Dedra took a moment to respond, her eyes flickering down to look at their interlinked hands. Slowly, she began, "Ever since Ferrix, a part of me has questioned my competency as an officer. I've been pushing myself to make up for my shortcomings ever since. I've stayed up all night reviewing reports, I've taken remedial physical defense classes. I've even had Heert and Partagaz give me separate performance reviews so I could improve."

She met Syril's gaze again as she said, "And yet what makes me feel the most competent is when I come to see you."

Syril gulped, his heart rate increasing, as he considered that last statement. As far as he could tell, Dedra could barely tolerate him some nights. To hear that he had been an anchor for her all these months...

"How is that possible," Syril asked, bewildered. "What could I do for you that would be an improvement over what the ISB could do?"

"When I'm at work," she replied, "there are several other officers with the same rank as me, the same assignments as me. I feel like I'm part of a cog in this wheel that will keep turning regardless if I'm there to help it along. But when I'm with you, I know my input matters. The way you look at me, the way you respond to me, it makes me feel powerful. I don't need to prove myself because you already know what I'm capable of."

Syril started to smile, a glimmer in his eye, "I've been trying to get you to see that, Dedra. Almost as long as I've known you. It's like I told that day in front of headquarters. To me, you represent the truth and beauty of the Empire. You don't need me to succeed, but I'm glad I could be a source of strength. It's the least I could do after all you've done for me."

"That's exactly what I mean Syril. Hearing you say those things about me, even if I don't say it, it does make me feel wanted. And I realized that I don't necessarily mind feeling wanted by you. In fact, I find I enjoy it."

Her eyes darted down to his lips as she considered a point of no return. Syril was one step ahead of her, cocking his head to the side, shakily placing a hand on her cheek. 

Then, the chime from the door sounded, freezing both of them to the spot. 

As Syril sat there, dumbfounded, Dedra reached over to him, taking his hand in hers. Kissing him on the cheek, she asked, "Aren't you going to get that Syril?"

He blinked a few times and, hearing the chime again, stood up. "Yes, sorry, I'll be right back," he muttered, walking to the door with a hand to his cheek.

Dedra leaned back into the couch and prepared to send a comms out to Heert. It contained a simple message, "Karn may be a more valuable asset than anticipated. We need to explore his potential further."

[w1ng3dw01f]

somewhat unrelated to my last post, here are some fanfiction prompts. Some of them are Lost specific. Go crazy.

Soulmate AU / soulmate identifying marks:

The first words their soulmate says to them is tattooed on their arm.

each other’s names are tattooed somewhere on their bodies

Shared marks: scars, tattoos, etc.

Make them touch foreheads - fluff

A murder mystery - Glass Onion style.

One of the Oceanic Six makes more money doing all these guest appearances on late night shows or radio stations / podcasts and talks about their experiences on the island. Angst.

Uh oh! These two idiots got themselves trapped in a net!

AU where they work in the same building and get stuck in the elevator together for 3 - 4 hours.

I accidentally spilled your drink and HOLY CRAP, I’m so sorry. Let me buy you a new one.

Zookeeper x zoo visitor

Character A is a firefighter rescuing Character B. Romance. Angst.

Their grandparents/moms/aunts met each other recently and are trying to set (insert characters) up now.

Serial killer AU

They thought they were safe, at a place of respite from the danger. Then one of them, who has a hand on their side/stomach, says, “Slight problem,” before collapsing.

I left the sunroof of my car open and a squirrel got in and scared the crap out of me on my way home and I hit a pole. Hey, you're a cop, you're supposed to help me, not laugh at me.

All this time I thought you hated me so excuse me if I'm a little suspicious of this love confession.

They bumped into each other and accidentally swapped bags. One is filled with some very regular normal purse items. The other one is filled with highly illegal items.

Alternate AU. Art heist. Everyone’s a con artist.

Lost, but make it more “The Most Dangerous Game” than it already is.

One is staying up studying or working and the other kisses them good night.

Character A just got Character B out of a dangerous situation and is now treating their wounds in their small apartment.

Or,

Character B just randomly shows up at Character A’s apartment in the middle of the night asking Character A to stitch up their wound.

Character A finds one of those foam pool noodles while shopping with Character B. They challenge them to a pool noodle duel. 

A series of seemingly unrelated events are all stitched together (narratively) and eventually make sense when this other, larger event happens.

[alicewritingstories]

Whumptober Prompt Fills Part 1: Memories

~~Also on AO3!~~

Prompts:

No. 1: “But now this room is spinning while I’m trying just to fill in all the gaps.” | Safety Net | Swooning | “How many fingers am I holding up?”

No. 6: “Do or die, you’ll never make me; Because the world will never take my heart.” | Recording | Made to Watch | “It should have been me.”

No. 7: “I paced around for hours on empty; I jumped at the slightest of sounds.” | Alleyway | Radio Silence | “Can you hear me?”

No. 11: “All the lights going dark and my hope’s destroyed.” | Animal trap | Captivity | “No one will find you.”

Warnings: Kidnapping, memory issues, seizure, torture

Central character(s): Legend, Twilight, Warriors

Warriors didn't know what had happened. One moment he'd been following the trail of some monsters towards a village, trying to judge their numbers and if they were part of a larger group the Chain was planning to intercept; the next, he was tied to one of the pillars of a ruined building, face to face with a hooded figure.

"Who are you?" he demanded. He didn't expect an answer, in the circumstances, but it was as good a show of determination as any.

Sure enough, the figure reached out a long-fingered hand and cupped it under his chin, forcing his head back against the pillar with surprising force so his jaw was held shut. He shuddered. It was like being touched by a corpse.

"You had best dismiss all notions of having any power here," the figure said in a whispering, hissing voice. "I am the one who cast your mind into darkness and silence while I brought you here. I am the one who has drawn a barrier around this place that no magic can pierce or escape so that no one will find you. You live and die at my command."

Warriors gritted his teeth, hiding the sinking feeling in his gut. Magic tracking aside - he didn't even think that was an option for any of his brothers - he didn't even know how far he'd been taken or how long he'd been under whatever spell had been used to subdue him. It might have been days. He could be on the other side of Hyrule. The others would search, but the figure might still be right that they wouldn't find him in time to rescue him.

"You travel with the hero. The one who slew our master and holds the key to his return. Tell me what I wish to know of him and I will release you unharmed with my thanks. Refuse and I will pierce the connection between your mind and your body to cause you such exquisite pain as would bring you to the point of death if it were caused by knife or flame. Continue to resist me and I will rip what I want from your mind." The grip on his chin tightened and the hissing voice lowered as the figure leaned closer, their breath as deathlike as their flesh. They raised their other hand to a jewel hanging around their neck. "I advise you not to force me to rip knowledge from your mind. That is the work of a claw, not a knife, and I care not what other damage I may do."

Warriors swallowed anxiously, but then steeled himself again. They were in Hyrule's era, so he was presumably the one this creature wanted, not that it made much difference to his response. As soon as the figure let go of him, he said, "I will not betray my friend."

The figure laughed, closed their fingers around the jewel, then touched a finger to his chest and set him on f i r e.

~~~

When Warriors was more than an hour late to the rendezvous, it was clear something had happened and Time had made the decision quickly to split the group again. The monsters massing outside the village couldn't wait, but none of them wanted to abandon Warriors to an entirely unknown fate, especially with the possibility that if they won the battle a portal would open immediately. Normally they got a day or two's respite, but not always. If Warriors was alive he would get a portal too and be able to join them, but if he was dead and they were portalled away they might never even know what had happened. Nobody wanted to risk that possibility. So while the others prepared to face the monsters, Twilight and Legend set out on Warriors' trail, following the occasional tracks of his boots in the moist soil from where they'd set off as best they could. Where the tracks were harder to spot, Twilight used the fact that even in his normal hylian form he retained a sharp sense of smell and he could pick up at least the faint remains of a familiar scent left behind on occasional branches Warriors had touched to push them aside.

All seemed well until they reached a spot where it looked like Warriors had simply collapsed, flattening the muddy grass. The remaining marks were torn by the tracks of two or three large, clawed feet heading off into the forest.

"No blood," said Twilight, crouching to look more closely even though he could already tell by smell.

"That's even weirder," said Legend. "Why would he just go down like that? There's no sign of a fight." After a moment's hesitation he added, "He didn't look like he was hurt bad enough to faint, though he could have been hiding it."

Twilight could hear some very hypocritical judgment in Legend's tone and raised an eyebrow at him.

"Don't start," said Legend with a huff. "So which way did they go?"

Twilight pointed even as he got up. "Moblins will be easier to track than Warriors."

"And you're sure they took him?"

Twilight couldn't smell Warriors past the place where he'd collapsed - the smell of the moblins was too strong - but he was still sure. "Theirs are the only tracks more recent than his."

Legend nodded and followed him into the forest.

***

They followed the tracks for another couple of hours, almost at a run; Twilight couldn't help thinking that a child could have followed these, let alone an experienced traveler like him. He didn't even need his sharp sense of smell. Did the moblins think nobody would try to find Warriors, or was this a trap?

He was about to turn and ask Legend's opinion when the air was cut by a desperate, high-pitched scream of agony from somewhere ahead, only just close enough to hear.

They exchanged a horrified glance. They might be on their own quest, but though they were friends and brothers they were heroes first. Warriors was going to have to wait while they helped whoever that was. He'd understand.

Twilight pulled out a bow while Legend slipped on a power bracelet and snatched his ice rod from his bag. Then they broke into a sprint even as another distant shriek shattered the quiet of the forest.

It took no time at all and yet an eternity before they reached a ruined building. Distantly, Twilight noticed that they were still following the moblin tracks. A horrible possibility started to kindle in his mind.

The screams didn't sound like Warriors.

But he didn't even know what Warriors would sound like if he screamed like that.

He caught Legend's eye, then pointed to himself and a nearby doorway. Legend nodded, readying the rod to cover him as needed but staying a couple of steps behind and looking around.

As Twilight peered around the doorway, he heard another desperate cry, descending into breathless, hoarse sobs.

His heart stopped.

Warriors.

Tied to a pillar at the far end of the building.

His face twisted in agony as blood mixed with spit ran from the corner of his mouth to mingle with the sweat and tears on his cheek.

As Twilight watched, the hooded figure standing over him leaned closer to speak in his ear. He shook his head and his voice once again rang loud and desperate, but now Twilight could hear the word "No!" repeated defiantly over and over again before it warped into more screams.

He had an arrow to the string before he had even thought about it and loosed at the hooded figure.

The arrow pinged off an invisible barrier.

"Rancher!"

Legend was beside him. The gray tint of his face told Twilight his brother had seen the same thing he had.

"There's a magical barrier. I'm going to break it," he said through his teeth. "Be ready!"

Then he darted through the doorway.

Twilight took a shaky breath and tried to stay calm as Warriors screamed again, the sound twisting into a choking noise before the hooded figure eased back and let him relax, his head falling forward, blood once again oozing thickly from his lips.

Twilight ground his teeth together helplessly.

"Legend?"

"Working on it."

Twilight looked back at poor Warriors. "Hurry…" he muttered.

~~~

Legend had his hands pressed against the barrier, feeling out the shape of the magic. It was like a brick wall, hard and solid, but with weaker fissures through it that could be broken.

Another scream made him flinch and he took a steadying breath, trying to keep his focus. He had to break this wall. Then they could save Warriors. In the meantime, Twilight just had to keep watching and he just had to keep listening.

He took another deep breath and focussed on the magic of the wall, working his own magic into it like tree roots, following the fissures. Another agonized howl from Warriors made him flinch, but he just managed to hold the construct together. He could almost feel Twilight shuddering with frustrated rage, but he forced himself to keep breathing deeply, prying apart the wall, slow and steady and ignore the fact that your brother's being tortured a few yards away from you and…

There!

The wall sprang into shards. Legend stumbled back. Twilight loosed an arrow that whizzed past his ear and struck the hooded figure's loose robe, making them spin round.

"Get away from him!" yelled Twilight.

For a second, Legend locked eyes with Warriors. His brother's face twisted into a parody of his usual smile as his tear-filled eyes brightened with recognition and relief, though the moment was over as quickly as it had come.

"The jewel!" he shouted hoarsely, but that was all he managed before his captor shoved a fold of his scarf into his mouth and pressed a hand to his forehead. He screamed again, the sound muffled to a squeal by the makeshift gag, then his eyes rolled back and he went rigid in his bonds. The hooded figure yelled an order and the moblins that Legend had known must be around somewhere burst in, ready with bows and huge spiked clubs. Four of them. Legend and Twilight exchanged a quick glance. Not even enough time for a plan. Not with too many moblins bearing down on them and the torture continuing. Twilight raised his bow again and Legend ran forward.

Two moblins to his right stumbled under an onslaught of ice as he swung the rod. In a fluid movement, he tucked it into his belt and drew his sword instead. The nearest moblin stumbled with one of Twilight's arrows in its chest and Legend took advantage of its distraction with a quick lunge. The fourth was hanging back, bow in hand, and Legend just managed not to duck as an arrow whirred past his head, aimed for where Twilight was still standing.

Hopefully the lack of a cry of pain was a good sign.

As Legend parried a flurry of blows from the moblin and noticed the two he had frozen starting to struggle out of the ice, the silence hit him again. His blood ran cold.

No cries of pain.

Warriors was no longer screaming.

Legend prayed to whoever might be listening that he'd just finally passed out and there wasn't a more sinister reason for his silence, but as he dodged round the moblin and looked he could see that Warriors wasn't limp in unconsciousness. Tightly bound as he was it was difficult to tell, but Legend could see him twitching against the ropes, trying to thrash. The hooded figure still had their hand pressed to his head, holding it against the pillar, but Legend could see his eyes, open, rolled back.

There was no time to focus on that as the two moblins he'd frozen finally broke out of the ice and headed straight for him. He stumbled backwards, almost scrambling out of the way as the one he'd been fighting brought its club down with a crash right where he'd been standing.

Twilight dodged in beside him, catching another blow on his shield with a grunt and slashing across the moblin's face, making it reel to its knees with a scream and finishing it with a single stab to the throat.

There was no time for Legend to thank him; he rammed his sword to the hilt in the next moblin's chest, then pulled it out, stumbling with the momentum, and swapped the sword for the ice rod; they were being swarmed and needed the crowd control. Under the cover of his own shield and Twilight's he swung the rod again and froze two of the remaining moblins, one in the act of bringing its club round towards Twilight's back.

Twilight cut the throat of the one Legend had stabbed and Legend swore as he saw it start to fall forward, seeing what was about to happen.

He couldn't pull Twilight out of the way in time.

The moblin fell hard, crushing Twilight under its bulk. Legend swore again and stabbed it to finish it off. As it dissolved into smoke, he dropped his shield, sheathed his sword, and pulled Twilight back to his feet, aware of every wasted second as the ice thawed and Warriors suffered.

"OK?" he asked.

Twilight nodded, snatching up his dropped sword. "Just winded."

Then the ice broke and the two surviving moblins descended on them again. Legend backed up a step, reaching for his own sword and shield.

Twilight stepped between him and the moblins, but he was still catching his breath and one smashed its club into his shield, sending him stumbling. The other brought its club down towards Legend's face.

He still didn't have his shield properly on his arm.

Instinctively, he dropped it and brought up his hands, catching the heavy, spiked club before it impacted.

He felt the bones in his hands and wrists break before the pain hit. When it came, it felt like he'd grabbed burning coals. He screamed as he dropped to his knees, his head swimming.

Don't let go!

With a yell, Twilight sliced down at the moblin's arms, making it drop the club with a howl. Legend fell too, torn between the temptation to look at the damage and the knowledge that he would definitely faint if he did.

He took a shaking breath. He could still use magic and Twilight was now faced with two opponents. With gritted teeth, he got back to his feet, summoned a glowing magical shield, and steered it to guard Twilight's back. Twilight shifted to face one moblin, trusting Legend to keep defending him as best he could.

Legend kept his teeth gritted, his breath coming fast and sharp. He didn't have to move his hands too much for this spell, but even when he kept them still they hurt more than enough.

Twilight felled the first moblin and with a breath Legend moved the shield to defend his head from above. He staggered as the moblin brought its club down on the shield, but that left an opening for Twilight to kill it.

As soon as it started to dissolve, Legend stumbled to his knees, cradling his broken, lacerated hands as best he could. Twilight crashed to his knees next to him, already holding an open potion bottle.

"Drink, Vet," he said, holding it towards Legend's face.

"The… the monster…" stammered Legend, his head spinning with pain.

"Fled. Now drink."

"Wars… check on -"

"Drink!" snapped Twilight.

Legend let him put the bottle to his mouth and swallowed the sweet, cloying liquid inside. At once, the pain started to fade, replaced by a viscerally-uncomfortable twisting feeling as the bones in his hands moved back into place and the skin closed over them. He gritted his teeth and breathed deeply. The sensation was familiar and would soon pass.

"OK?" asked Twilight.

Legend nodded, taking a deep breath and starting to scramble up. Twilight pulled him to his feet and they ran to the far end of the room where Warriors still stood. Legend ran straight to his side, knife in hand, and started cutting him free while Twilight held him up.

He wasn't moving. He made no attempt to react to their arrival with so much as a twitch.

Legend kept sawing at the ropes, his teeth gritted. It wasn't too late. He refused to even consider the possibility that it was too late.

~~~

When Legend cut the ropes, Warriors collapsed into Twilight's waiting arms. In the circumstances that wasn't a surprise. What was concerning was the way that Warriors' head lolled bonelessly and he made no attempt whatsoever to catch himself. As Twilight lowered him to the ground he was completely limp.

Thinking he'd fainted, Twilight gently rolled him onto his side, but his eyes were open, dull, completely blank as they stared into some unfathomable distance.

"No!" cried Twilight, pulling Warriors' bloodstained scarf out of his mouth and away from his throat so he could slip a trembling hand under it and search for a pulse. It was there, fast and desperate, and he let his head sag forward for a moment in relief.

"What's -" Legend's question died as he stepped round Twilight and saw Warriors' face and those awful, dead eyes.

"He's alive," said Twilight, aware of the tremble in his voice. "I… I think he's just in shock of some kind."

Legend knelt beside him and gave Warriors' shoulder a gentle shake. "Hey, Wars? You in there?"

Warriors' blank expression didn't change.

"Hey!" Legend patted his cheek. "Pretty boy!"

Nothing. Not even a blink.

Twilight slipped a hand under Warriors' chin to close his slack mouth. At least it looked like the blood came from bitten lips, nothing deeper. "Warriors?" he asked as clearly as he could. "Can you hear me?"

Nothing.

Twilight and Legend exchanged a look. Twilight didn't know what to suggest and judging by his expression nor did Legend.

"Well…" said Twilight at last. "Let's at least get him out of here." He gently scooped the limp body into his arms, trying to settle Warriors' head against his shoulder so he was comfortable, though it looked increasingly like the older hylian was so trapped in his own mind that Twilight could have stabbed him and it wouldn't elicit a reaction.

But there was a chance he was still aware even if he couldn't tell them so. Twilight tried to murmur encouraging platitudes, hoping that he was helping at all as he looked again at Warriors' absent expression and blank eyes.

He'd recover soon.

Surely he'd recover soon.

***

They hurried out of the ruins and found their way to a cave, half hidden by bushes. There, Legend pulled out and lit a lantern while Twilight laid Warriors down. Halfway, his eyes had finally drifted closed as he visibly lost consciousness and Twilight could only hope that when he came round he really would come round.

"We can't stay here long," said Legend. "We need to get back to the others."

"I know." Twilight cast a despairing look at Warriors. "I can carry him, but let's give him a little longer to recover."

As if he'd heard them, Warriors stirred. Twilight startled forward, his heart in his mouth, as his brother's eyes fluttered open. They at least looked a little more focussed, but there was no light of recognition in them.

"Wars, can you hear me?" asked Twilight.

Warriors' brow furrowed and he nodded vaguely.

"How many fingers am I holding up?" Legend held up three fingers.

Again, there was a moment's frown, then Warriors finally spoke. "Three." His voice was hoarse, which wasn't a surprise, but it was pitched low, wary. He started to push himself up, his muscles trembling, but when Twilight went to help him he quickly drew away, wincing, shifting the weight of his sword on his back as if to reassure himself it was there or bring it within easier reach.

"Warriors?" asked Twilight. "What's… what's wrong?"

"My name is Link," said Warriors. He raised a hand to his bruised, bloodied lips with wincing care, then lowered it and asked, "Who are you?"

The question hit like a blow from a club. They stared at him for several long moments.

"I… we're your brothers," said Legend at last, his tone somewhere between pain and anger. "Don't you recognise us?"

Warriors' frown deepened. "I don't have any brothers."

Twilight swallowed hard, trying to tamp down the panic. "War- Link. You've been traveling with us for some time now. You were captured by a magic-user or… I don't know what it was, but we rescued you. You… really don't remember any of that?"

Warriors shook his head slowly with another fleeting wince, looking carefully from one to the other of them.

Twilight resisted the urge to gnaw his lip. That particular anxious habit had cost him a lot of blood and pain after his teeth got sharper, but it reared its head from time to time. "OK," he said at last. "Well… you were in a much worse state when we first rescued you, so you are recovering. Perhaps it would be best if you got some more rest and we'll see if anything else returns."

"First, I have questions," said Warriors, a commanding note cutting through the strain in his voice. "Who are you? Where am I? And what happened to my men?"

Legend shook his head slightly and said, "We're travelers. We're out here hunting monsters and we heard…" His voice caught. Twilight's heart also clenched as he once again remembered those screams. "We heard… a commotion. That's when we found the monsters that were holding you and rescued you. I… You were alone."

Twilight sighed heavily. That was probably the best way to handle it for now. "Yeah. We want to help, but in the meantime I do think you should rest a bit more."

Warriors frowned at the ground. "You claimed before that I've been traveling with you for some time. You seemed to know me. Now you say that you just stumbled on the place I was being held." He glanced up with a wry, sarcastic smile. One of his eyes was watering. "So which is it?"

"Both," said Twilight. "We were actually looking for you when we heard screaming… But you don't remember us and don't believe you're our brother…" He stumbled to a halt as he thought again of how clearly Warriors had been suffering, the way he had smiled when he realized he had been found. And now this - all memory of them apparently wiped from his mind.

"Look, you can at least tell we're not planning to hurt you," said Legend, pointing to the sword hilt visible over Warriors' shoulder. "You'd not have woken up unrestrained and armed otherwise. So just trust us for a bit, OK?"

Warriors looked hard at him for a moment, but then reached up and touched the hilt of the sword, reassuring himself. A little tension went out of him, but that just made his wince more obvious as he raised a hand to the watering eye.

"Are you all right?" asked Twilight again.

"Yes. But perhaps… perhaps you're right that I should rest."

"How many fingers am I holding up?" asked Legend, holding up four. "Because you don't look all right."

"F-Four. It's just a headache."

Twilight remembered him trying to thrash against the tight ropes holding him to the pillar, his eyes rolled back in his head. What had that creature done?

"Do you know if I suffered a head injury?" asked Warriors.

"No, and… I don't know what magic was used on you." Twilight glanced at Legend, who also shook his head.

"But if you've got a migraine, it's best if you sleep for now. We'll keep watch."

Warriors looked like he wanted to argue, but now that he'd let his guard down a little it was obvious that he was exhausted. After another moment's hesitation, he nodded and lay down again, drifting immediately into sleep.

Twilight and Legend looked at each other.

"What are we going to do?" asked Legend.

Twilight took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, and carefully spread a blanket over Warriors' still form. "It's… not as if he'll be the only one in the group with a gap in his past. Wild may even be able to help."

"He may not even be willing to come with us." Legend rubbed his forehead with the heel of his hand. "Time was the one who explained before; I'm no good at it."

"OK, well… the main thing is going to be persuading him to come and rejoin the group." Twilight sighed, feeling tears pricking the backs of his eyes. "And maybe he'll remember more after he's had some more sleep. Remember what he was like when we first rescued him. Maybe it'll just take time."

"It's not as if he's got a choice," muttered Legend, a bitterness in his tone that Twilight could well understand. "We're not in his Hyrule. We're his only route home."

Twilight winced, remembering the suspicion in Warriors' eyes. "Well… Let's not tell him that. Maybe he'll remember on his own and if he doesn't I don't want him to think we're holding him prisoner after all."

Legend shot another look at Warriors and nodded. "We'll give it an hour," he said. "Then we should move."

***

As they were preparing to set out again, Twilight heard the rustle of movement under a blanket from behind them and touched Legend's arm. He was almost afraid to see Warriors' face, just in case his eyes were blank again, or filled with suspicion, or something new had happened. But then Warriors groaned softly and they had to look round.

Warriors rolled onto his back with another groan and rubbed his eyes.

"War- Link?" said Twilight anxiously.

Warriors opened his eyes, focussed on Twilight's face, and grinned vaguely. "Did someone let me into the Goron brandy?" he asked. "My head feels like something's made a nest in it." He pushed himself upright, then looked at them again, his smile quickly fading and his eyes going sharp as he once again touched his bitten lips. "Why… What happened? What's wrong?" He looked around. "Where are the others?"

"Do you know who we are?" asked Legend.

Warriors' frown turned confused. "Of course. Legend and Twilight."

Twilight's breath caught and he saw a gleam of tears in Legend's eyes for a moment before the veteran turned away and busied himself with his pack.

"Last time you were awake… you had no idea who we were," explained Twilight. "What's the last thing you remember?" He desperately hoped he wouldn't have to explain again about the kidnapping and relive having to stand and watch while Warriors screamed and screamed under that hooded figure's touch.

"We'd just finished a battle in Four's Hyrule alongside his father and the knights. We were planning to celebrate…" Warriors frowned. "Then… waking up just now."

That had been three weeks and two portals before.

At least it was better than having forgotten everything about his adventures with the Chain.

Warriors apparently guessed the truth from their expressions. "What happened to me?" he asked seriously. "And how much is missing?"

"Three weeks," said Twilight, past the lump in his throat. "We're in Hyrule's era now. You… You…"

Legend jumped in. "You were captured by some sort of magic-user; not something we've seen before. They… were using magic to torture you."

Warriors looked horrified and lost for a moment. "I… don't remember that at all." He touched his mouth again, then looked at his hands, pausing for a moment as he saw the rope burns on his wrists: the only other physical reminder of his ordeal. "Do you know… what they wanted?"

Twilight shook his head. "It sounded like they didn't get it."

"Unless that's what happened to my memories." Warriors rubbed his forehead.

Twilight shivered, remembering how the figure had gagged Warriors and put a hand on his head rather than his chest as before. They had changed something and whatever it was had no longer required Warriors to be able to speak.

And if what they wanted was information on the Chain or one of its members - Hyrule, presumably - they could probably get a lot from three weeks' worth of memories from one of their leaders.

Judging by the grim expressions on Warriors' and Legend's faces, they were thinking something similar.

Warriors took a deep breath and let it out again in a huff. "We'd best rejoin the others," he said, but instead of getting up he took their hands and shot them each a wan, pained-looking smile. "Thank you. I don't remember it, but thank you for rescuing me."

Twilight forced a smile back.

Legend laughed, though there wasn't much humor in it. "I'd say anytime, but I'd rather never have to do it again."

Warriors chuckled. "Well, I promise to do my best."

[lightsiided]

looks like i've got the upper hand now! ( play fighting? 🥺 )

* playful affection prompts | accepting

     "UNFAIR," rey declares, wiggling on the mat. her wrists flex in his grip, her hips lifting off the ground -- they're the only spot she isn't held down by the bulk of thor's body. "surely, you cheated."

in truth, it was a very EVEN fight, more playful than any serious training would be. the building had grown quiet after dinner, yet she was restless from another day of planning and searching, tragedy heavy on their minds. the gym had been a welcome suggestion for a moment of respite, and rolling around on the floor had happened spontaneously, after a few gentle shoves around the equipment.

breathless giggles quickly filled the room as rey struggled to even move thor. it's as if he is made of durasteel. everywhere her hands settle there is only firm muscle and the broad planes of his chest. wrapping her legs around his waist to try and flip him also proved FUTILE.

after a moment, she sighs dramatically. rey's shoulders stop their twisting and turning, her lips shifting to a pout. "fine," she says. "i suppose you have gained an advantage, unfairly or not." for as put out as she's acting, she can't quite stop the sparkle in her eyes. it has been a LONG few days, but these private moments with thor have made everything feel tolerable.

more than that, they have been fun. lovely. wonderful. the whole day has been an exercise in PATIENCE so that they might get to these few hours alone. now, she lets her hands slide from his shoulders up to thor's neck where she touches him gently, thumb brushing over an indent left behind by her teeth.

the sight of the mark makes her giddy. she has left an imprint on him -- one he carries with him WHEREVER he goes. seeing it now makes her stomach squirm worse than her body had the second he first pinned her to the floor. she smiles brightly up at him.

"the question is... what will you do with it?" teeth bite at her bottom lip, both a challenge and an invitation at once. a sudden surge of wanting reminds her they are alone in the room -- on the floor of the building, actually -- and that tomorrow is likely to be similarly TERRIBLE. so it really would be quite irresponsible not to take advantage of this moment... and the compromising position they're lucky enough to find themselves in.

surely, thor knows that, too.

@othunderous

[girl-next-door-writes]

The Absence of You

Characters: Loki x reader

Summary: An unexpected kiss led to you running from his life, but your absence only makes Loki more certain that you are the one person he could ever love.

Word Count: 1539 words

Prompt: unexpected kiss, everyone knows, separated

A/N: This is for the outstanding @thornsvultures as part of my ‘build-a-blurb’ follower celebration. I don’t know quite why all my Loki fics turn out to be a little sad, but this is what you get, and I did make it okay in the end, because this is me writing it.

The sun was setting, casting a rich golden hue over the landscape, creating an ethereal glow that bordered on magical. As he meandered along the parapet, Loki was blind to the beauty that surrounded him. While others would bask in the transcendent wonder and lovers would try to steal this moment to enhance their whispers of adoration for each other, his thoughts were elsewhere. It was something that was happening to him more frequently of late, ever since the last time he had been standing here on these very flagstones, looking out across Asgard.

“Are you pouting again?” Your teasing tone had the corners of his lips quirking up despite himself. Slowly, he turned on the balls of his feet and saw you sitting on the stone battlement, a book in your lap, as if you had always been right there.

“I don’t pout.” He rolled his eyes playfully, coming to lean beside you, attempting to steal a look at what you had been reading.

“You can’t keep haunting this place, you know.” Your hands crossed over the cover of the book, and he sighed, his eyes now drawn up to your face.

There was not a single inch of your face he could not describe in perfect detail. It was something he had studied practically his entire life. In those beautiful eyes, he could see hesitation and sadness, not something he often observed when it was just the two of you.

“That’s ironic, coming from you.” He replied, his heart aching.

“Replaying things won’t change them. You know that.” You said softly, rising from your seat and coming to stand in front of him, just as you had done that last evening.

“I just-“ he started to say, but cut himself off as you leaned up, your eyes fluttering closed, and he mirrored your movements, his lips searching for yours. The echoes of ten thousand sighs of love seemed to fill the air, yet all he could feel was the absence of you. Your lips could never meet his, as they weren’t really there. You weren’t there.

The real kiss between you had caught him off guard and he had reacted poorly, sending you running from him, and he never had the opportunity to explain. It wasn’t that he didn’t want you, it was that he desired you so much it terrified him. Not that it mattered now, he had lost you in that moment and now he walked the palace like a ghost.

Time had marched on, as it always does, and he grew better at hiding his loss. Those who truly knew him could see it, clear as day, but only if they genuinely looked for it. There were other prospective conquests, other companions he could distract himself with. Some nights it took more than one, some nights a lot more than one.

Leaning against his window frame, he looked out over Asgard. His eyes were bloodshot with dark circles surrounding them, a mixture of no sleep and excessive alcohol. Wearily, he observed the first light of dawn creeping across the land. Behind him, he felt someone stir. His bed was littered with bodies, each had taken their pleasure and attempted to give him some respite from the deep ache within him.

Bare feet padded across the tiles, approaching him with a lazy confidence. He didn’t even turn to acknowledge them, knowing the only person he truly wished to see was the one person he never would. Lithe arms wrapped around his waist from behind and soft lips caressed his skin, trailing kisses over his shoulder. For a moment, he allowed himself to close his eyes and fool himself into believing it was you.

Turning sharply, he hoisted the stranger up, wrapping their legs around him as his lips found theirs in a heated, desperate kiss. Pressing them against the wall he tried to picture you as he gave them what they had silently requested, but their soft whimpers and moans only made his hip stutter, shattering his fragile fantasy and leaving him unsatisfied. Each kiss, each caress, each thrust, just made the chasm deep inside him grow wider. The absence of you eating away at him, leaving him hollow and unable to feel anything but a deep aching longing.

“Brother, is that a yes?”

Loki looked up at Thor, who had an expectant look on his face. Shit. What had the big oaf been talking about? He glanced around the courtyard, hoping to spot some clue, but there was none, simply other people going about their business.

“I am not sure it is wise.” He ventured, hoping this response would create a dialogue where he might be able to catch up a little.

“Probably not, you are not well liked on Midgard, but I am, so as long as you are with me then you should be fine.” Thor gave him a beaming smile. Ah, yes, Midgard.

“Are you certain this is not something you should do alone?” he sighed, not really wanting to leave Asgard. This had not been the first attempt at getting him off planet, or even away from the Palace.

“We will not be alone, we will have help.”

“Ah, the merry band of misfits who defend that realm? I am sure they will be more than happy to welcome me into their midst.” Barely stopping himself from rolling his eyes, his mind recalled his previous encounters with Stark and co.

“You have some friends there.” Thor’s smile seemed to be hiding something, but Loki didn’t have the patience to unravel that mystery right now. Instead, he simply agreed to the absurd adventure his brother had proposed. Anything had to be better than sitting here and waiting for you to return to him.  

“When do we leave?” he sighed in defeat.

Stalking through the corridors of the compound, Loki was itching to get this over with and get back home. What if you returned and he wasn’t there? What if he was, right now, missing his one chance to win you back?

“Pointbreak, good to see you again.” Tony grinned, shaking Thor’s hand and patting his bicep before his elation stalled somewhat. “See you brought your brother. What? Your mother said you had to take him with you, or you weren’t allowed to play?”

“Tony, you promised to play nice.” Bruce snickered, pouring Thor a drink. “Someone is not gonna be happy with you if they hear you are being less than your usual hospitable self.”

“I’m the perfect host, grandpa. Don’t go telling tales on me.” Stark chuckled, flopping down onto a nearby sofa.

“I thought we were here for a reason, not simply to socialise.” Loki hissed at his brother, irritation radiating off him in waves.

“Oh, you are. Apparently, we have something you might have been missing. Something that could seemingly be more productive with your influence, according to the god of thunder there.” Tony smirked, taking a sip of his whiskey, seemingly enjoying the frustrations of the younger Asgardian.

“Something I have been missing? If this is some obscure reference to the tesseract-“

“So, Thor was wrong then? When he told me that you missed me?”

The voice had Loki frozen to the spot. There was the familiar lilt of teasing in the tone, warmth, and the sensation of coming home. Could it be that his mind was playing tricks on him? If he turned around, would he find nothing there but a space you should occupy.

“Think you broke him, gorgeous.” Stark grinned.

“I assure you, my brother has missed you immeasurably. He has been-“

“I can speak for myself.” Loki glared at Thor before taking a deep breath and turning to face you, not that it did him much good. As soon as his eyes met yours, it was like all the air in his lungs had been sucked from him.

“I’ve had quite a few people visit me, Loki. Each of them trying to convince me that you wanted me to return. You look-“ your words were cut off as he practically ran to you and scooped you up in his arms, desperately trying to assure himself that you were real, that you were really here with him.

Burying his face against your neck, he let out a soft sob as relief washed over him. All this time and you had been right here? You’d had visitors? Why had nobody thought to inform him where you were? He was about to ask his brother as much when he felt your palm press to his cheek.

“Please, don’t leave me again.” His words escaped him in no more than a breathy whisper, his eyes locked onto yours as he barely held back all the emotions he had been so adept at hiding since the last time he had seen you.

“Never again.” You promised softly, resting your forehead to his with a heartbreakingly sad smile.

“Does this mean we lose her, or are we gaining him?” Tony asked loudly, unsure which would be worse, only to have you pick up a nearby cushion and throw it at him. You and Loki were a package deal, and everyone could see that, even the two of you.

[sherbet-shark]

MARRY WHO??

EW NEVER- NO WAY- NOT IN A MILLION YEARS-

but yeah I would like that put into the mix ahem ahem-

Today and Every Day

Author’s note: Hi Honey!! I’m sorry to say this, but my song prompt list doesn’t have Uptown Girl on my list. People requested the listed lines I’ve provided, and I would try to find ways to work with those lines. I will do the mentioned other line tho! The reader is Mc/Yuu. Forgive my belated b-day gift too; -; I’ve been so busy,,

Word Count: 2k

Trigger Warnings: Established relationship/marriage life, kids(?). Nothing else. xD and A little bit of time skip.

Summary: It had been several years since Trey graduated from Night Raven College. So much had happened in his life, and now the proud owner of the Clover Bakery reflects on his life in the comforts of his restaurant. A married man and father, he couldn’t be happier with you by his side.

Aromatic scents of baked goods fill the empty bakery as Trey waits for the bowls full of dough to rise. Trey Clover stands tall, clad in his baking attire, adorned with a flour-dusted apron, and looks at the worn wall clock. It was roughly twenty minutes to five in the morning. Morning birds started to sing their trilling songs. The green-haired man scans his empty family bakery. The speckled blanket of darkness outside the store is oddly calming. The odd comfort was knowing that it was only him in his store and, honestly, a peaceful respite before the busy day ahead.

But it was time to get to work.The older man took off his baking mitts, placed them on the countertop, walked to the neatly stacked chairs on the tabletops, and set them down on the ground. It’s been nine years since he graduated from Night Raven College and two years since you had a child. Clover couldn't be happier being married to you and later added another family member. A bright young family of three; your two-year-old daughter Brooke was quite the talker, an intelligent little girl but so beautiful. Your husband teasingly gave your daughter the nickname ‘babbling brook’ once she started to say her first words, and other times she’d coo nonsensical gibberish with her chubby cheeks and pigtails on her head.

Before Brooke was in the picture, you would've been here, being his second hand in being another baker for the Clover Bakery and nagging him about leaving the house so early but helping him nonetheless. Still, nowadays, you stay home to keep a watchful eye on your daughter and resting. Kids were a handful. You’d say to your husband at the end of the day, quietly slipping into your shared bed.

When he reached one particular table, Trey paused in recollection. When he recently graduated and inherited his parent's store, he slowly lost connection to his old classmates outside his dorm but not with you. Color him surprised when Trey came out of the kitchen to see a familiar-looking someone in his store with a book in hand sipping coffee with a slice of fresh bread at your lone table.

You’ve been dating since you transitioned from the first to the second, and he was in his fourth year. You stayed in touch with small dates, long conversations, check-ins, you name it. Much to A-Deuce’s and Grim’s dismay with your overly sweet demeanor whenever they stumbled onto your calls or FaceTime. They acted even worse when Trey could return from his internship and promptly spoil you with his attention. Ace and Grim would make gagging noises and mimic your every romantic action, with Deuce trying to make them stop.

“Shocked? I came over to see you for Spring Break,” A fleeting side glance from your book, taking in the white noise surrounding the cafe. Trey stood still with a stunned expression, and a relaxed smile appeared as you placed the novel down, rising from the pristine white table. The fourth year, he let out a bemused sigh, his eyes filled with affection, trying to slow his rapid beating heart, his fair cheeks turned into a pretty pink.

There was something special about you coming out of your way to visit him, how the natural lighting of the sun hugged every curve on your frame. The moment felt like it was straight out of a movie. You loved being one step ahead of him and proving your love, didn't you? In that one moment, he imagined a life with you beside him. That one-second fragment etched an image in his mind that he’d share his life with you. He loved you so much, and you were head over heels for him. He knew it was a selfish wish, considering your circumstances as someone not from Twisted Wonderland. But it was his little secret that he'd keep; there’d be no harm in having this one desire to himself.

With soft pink cheeks Trey smiled and engulfed you in his warm, strong arms, unwilling to let go as old and young onlookers cooed at the lovely sight. Clover wondered if you heard his heart drumming so close to his chest. He was ecstatic when you surprised him for the week, but it wasn’t all kisses and cuddles for the break. No, you had to help around the shop but not that you complained. You saw firsthand how he acted with his siblings in his hometown and what he was like outside school. While not too different from how the green-haired man worked at the Bakery, he was more at the helm of certain situations, still the gentle guide to his brothers and sister but firm to some troublesome customers. In the sea of customers, one of Trey’s childhood friends dropped by to say hi to the lovebirds. The Royal Sword Academy student Che’nya had a cheeky grin when he saw you and Trey working in the pastry shop.

The days were endlessly busy. You were plum tuckered out at the end of the day. Dusk fell, and like clockwork, the trickling in customers in the patisserie stalled, his parents working in the back kitchens lit with lights turned on as Trey and yourself started your walk back home. Queendom of Roses was beautiful, the tall iron lamp posts descending the grey cobblestone streets. Clicks of your shoes and the occasional car were your company.

On your walks home to his house, you’d have a brief conversation before falling into a comfortable silence. Your eyes would wander to the older student. You could see the evident exhaustion in Trey’s face and his movements. The way he was quieter, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly, his golden eyes had less shine despite his exhaustion. He always pushed through for everyone. That scared you; he'd push himself to the brink, and no one, he’d have to catch him. You also softly chastised him when you noticed Trey’s small ticks of irritation and exhaustion. You wanted him to take care of himself for a change, and you brought it upon yourself to spoil him.

Secretly, Trey loved that about you; he’s been the caretaker and the responsible, laid-back older brother figure for so long and for many people. At times, it felt like he couldn’t show any other side of himself to anyone. The side of Trey that longed to know he was a person to be desired, the side that wanted to know he was cared for by another. Trey Clover soon found that you never left him to wonder if you wanted him.

Despite, of course, how you weakly attempted to cover up the fact you did care about his well being, especially in your College years. Initially, your odd criticism over his well-being then speedily added that you didn't care and made him scratch his head. But the third year caught on to your little puzzle and teased you when you came over to Heartslaybul. It was endearing to hear that you did care in your roundabout way, and it was cute in a sweet way.

But this one time stuck with the mature student. This first moment sparked an eye-opener. He came to see you as an equal, no longer an underclassman he had to take care of or watch on the sidelines. You were completely capable of taking care of yourself and stabbing on your two feet. You weren't afraid to confront him about his problems or comfort the vice dorm leader after the busy months of schooling. He wasn't a perfect person, but he was sometimes blind to his flaws, and Clover found it a little surprising but soon appreciated a breath of fresh air you brought to the table.

Gently pointed out that he tended to take care of everyone too much and that he sometimes acted as if he was a parent to his fellow peers, too much. After that, Trey was pleasantly surprised to see how mature and thoughtful you were compared to your friends. While his first-year students certainly had great potential to grow into their personalities and mature, they still had some flaws.

Ace, in particular, wasn't the most empathic young man around. While he could be one, that side of Ace had to be earned. While Deuce had good intentions and was empathic, his plans often fell short. They were earnest and genuine in their ways, but Trey sometimes couldn't show any weaker side to his freshmen peers. He’d lose respect for the ones he had to care for, right?

You huffed in frustration and urged him to take care of himself, stop being a pleaser to everyone and try to let his worries be listened to. They don't hurt anyone, and contrary to what he might've thought, his dorm mates, Riddle especially, would be more than happy to comply.

“There’s nothing wrong with wanting to please people, but there's a boundary between unhealthy and healthy. Please, try to remember that, Trey.” You told him as a fraction of a smile painted on his face. That was nice to hear; maybe this is a sign you'd be a good friend and not someone he had to look after, Trey thought.

Dawn broke through the morning as the skies cleaved through the darkness with beautiful warm fall colors. The hours passed, and his employees came in with cups of coffee in their hands, but each one had a polite smile as they saw their head baker and boss hard at work.

Already neatly placed cooled cookie sheets in their cleaned display cases, from frosted cupcakes, banana bread, and shortbread cookies to beautifully crafted cakes with intricate designs and their famous Clover family strawberry tarts. Sugary fruit fragrances waft through the air as daily customers flooded his inherited bakery. Holed up in the back of the kitchen once more, Trey perks attention as he hears one of the baristas call out.

“Mr. Clover! You have special guests here in the front.”

“Alright! I’ll be out in a minute. Just gotta touch up this tart,” Trey’s steady hands delicately place thin strawberry slices atop the vanilla frosting. The bright smile Trey has on his face hurts his cheeks at the wholesome thought that you were his special guest with your daughter. Despite how young she was, Brooke wanted to help her parents and ‘deliver’ some of the pastries to customers. A soft chuckle rolls from his lips as he places down the leftover fruit. Satisfied with the aesthetics of the large tart, Trey hoists the desert into his hands and carries it out to the front.

“Papa!” Your daughter jolts to life as she sees her dad walk out of the forbidden kitchen and energetically squirms in your secure arms, wanting to rush at her Dad with grabby hands. Her smile widens, seeing Trey playfully sticks out his tongue at his little girl.

“Shh, Dad’s working right now. You can hug him when he’s put down the treat.” You try to rile her down as she slows her squirming. Her eyes go huge as saucers watch the Strawberry Tart in his hands. Expert hands place the crimson delight on a cake stand and put on a glass top, a picture-perfect show of this signature treat.

“Alright, all done. C’mere Brookie, I missed you too. How’s your afternoon been? Did you hang out with grandma and grandpa?” Trey scoops up your daughter in his arms; small puffs of flour dust her nose and cheeks as Brooke giggles, bobbing her head. Ever since Trey had Brooke, she's been utterly in love with her dad. It melted your heart as the owner slid his arm across your waist and hugged you, pressing a chaste but sweet kiss on your lips.

Your cheeks warmed, but you kissed him back; his soft lips tasted like sugary vanilla and mint. It was a fleeting kiss but still addicting. Brooke puffs out her cheeks and loudly whines in her father’s arms; her chubby face turns into a flustered face with jealousy written all over it. As your husband and yourself press kisses on each cheek to sooth your now delighted babbling Brooke.

Tag list: @rrasado, @hey-its-cweepy, @millybesippin, @luvielle

[barry-j-blupjeans]

10 and Blupjeans? :3

10. I have never been this sick before I'm sorry did I, haha this is so weird, but did I confess my love for you? f- four times? yeah? haha oh

((prompts here - send some in!!))

--

Respite from the grogginess and achiness come in short, infrequent bursts. Lup barely knew where she was when she woke up, let alone if it was still the same day she had passed out in. The room was small and cozy, but in the opposite way that her and Taako's apartment is. It's cluttered, filled mostly with cool colors. There are several space posters on the wall but Lup can't focus her eyes on them. Most of her energy, when awake, is spent holding someone's hand. Not Taako's, at least not at first. For a while, she just kept slipping in and out of consciousness.

There were people talking every time she woke up. But this time when she comes to, the room is silent. The curtains are drawn, though there's a bit of sunlight coming through them, and she feels... gross. Sweaty, mostly, and sort of sick to her stomach still. There's a napkin with a few saltines on it on the bedside table. For the first time in a while, Lup has the awareness to wonder where the fuck she is.

Her answer knocked on the door and let himself in.

"Oh, shit," Barry said. He hurried forward, setting a glass of water on the bedside table with a thunk. "You're awake, uh- can you- are you good?"

"Where's Taako?" Lup asked, because yeah, this was definitely not their apartment. The bed sheets were dark blue. One of Barry's diplomas was hung up on the wall, over a desk that barely fit into the corner. Oh, geez, this was embarrassing. Hadn't they been studying before? If she passed out on Barry while studying, she would never be able to live that down.

"He went to the store," Barry said, sitting down at the edge of the bed. "Something about chicken broth, I think? Uhm-"

"Mhh," Lup said, closing her eyes. "Chicken broth."

"Yeah," Barry said, with a little breathless laugh. "What d'you, uhm, what d'you remember, exactly? Because the last time you woke up, it was just sorta like-" Lup opened her eyes to see Barry grimacing. She grimaced, too, because fuck, she probably had passed out in the middle of their study sesh. Goddamnit.

"We were doing..." Lup squinted, trying to remember. "Calculus."

"Yeah," Barry said. "And I got up to go the bathroom and then I came back and you were kinda, uh, lost in the sauce. The illness sauce, that is. Hey, uh, Lup?"

Lup wished she could sink into the bed and never resurface, but that wasn't an option, so she just said, "yeah?"

Barry opened his mouth and then closed it. He looked away and cleared his throat.

"You didn't have to, uh, to come over if you were sick," he said. "I- I mean, I love when you do come over! I really do! But it's kinda like... I'd rather you not die? In general or in my apartment."

"I mean, there's lots of excuses I could say," Lup said and Barry chuckled a little. "But I just... I like hanging out with you, Barry."

"Right," Barry said, still not looking at her.

"Barry?" Lup said, sitting up a little. Her stomach did a cartwheel, twisting with displeasure. She leaned herself back against the pillow. "Be honest with me, babe, did I, uh, say something shitty when I was out of it? 'Cus last time this happened, I told Taako I was happy his last boyfriend broke up with him. And like- I was happy about that, but that was not the time to say it, y'know?"

Barry let out another small, awkward laugh. His hands were clenched against his blue jeans, his fingers digging into the fabric. Lup had a sinking feeling in her stomach that had nothing to do with the sickness.

"You can't remember anything after the calculus?" Barry asked, glancing at her.

Lup wracked her brain, desperately trying to find something. She had woken up a few times before. She remembered saying something, but whatever that something was escaping her. Lup bit her lip and shook her head. Barry tapped his fingers against his legs, looking away again. He was blushing- more than he usually blushed around her, which was saying something.

"You, uh, kinda sorta told me you loved me," Barry said, staring at the floor like it was the most interesting thing in the world. "Four times."

"Oh," Lup said. "Oh. Fuck."

"Yeah, uhm-"

"Listen," Lup said, sitting herself up again. Nope, bad idea. No part of her body enjoyed that. "Barry, I-"

"I talked to Taako about it," he continued, still not looking at her. Oh no. "And he was pretty sure you were telling the truth. Just based on like, past experiences and apparently just- just knowing you, so."

"I didn't mean it like that, though," Lup said hurriedly. "I just- like, wow, love my friend Barry! Whom I have no romantic feelings towards and who I just wanna like, platonically, confess my love to. You know?"

"Oh," Barry said. That was not the tone of voice Lup wanted, geez. "Right, uh, platonically-"

"Unless," Lup said. Barry glanced towards her again.

"Unless?"

"Unless you, uh, would like it to be romantic," Lup said. She was going to die in this bed. Rest in peace Lup, you had a good run. Not killed by illness, but merely by the fact that she was in this situation in the first place. There had never been a worse moment to confess. Still. "I mean, if you don't, then we can just like, pretend it never hap-"

"No!" Barry said. Lup shut her mouth. "No, I mean- I'm- I'm good if you want it to be romantic! That's- I'd prefer if it was, I think. Because I just sorta... I kinda, uh, I kinda also like you. A lot. But I didn't wanna distract you from, y'know, all the other things you had going on. And, if I'm being honest, this was not how I thought about telling you, but then Taako kinda kicked some sense into me, I guess. Metaphorically. And also literally, I think he left a bruise on my shin?"

Lup stared at him. Barry swallowed audibly, turning away again. He got up.

"Or- or we could have this conversation later," he said. "Drink some water, okay? I'll be-"

"Barry," Lup said. "Sit that sweet denim ass back down on this bed."

Barry, for his part, sat right back down.

"I'm not very good at the "confessing my love" part," Barry said. "But I- I do love you a lot, Lup. And after you're- you're healed more, and not about to die in my living room again, I'd be honored to take you on a date somewhere. Like an Olive Garden, maybe? Taako said you like Olive Garden."

"Olive Garden would be hella, babe," Lup said. And then she groaned, covering her face in her hands. "I wanna kiss you so fucking bad, you have no idea."

"We can save it for the date if you'd like?" Barry said and when Lup peaked past her hands to look at him, he was smiling a little. "Want me to put it on my G-Cal? Kiss Lup, Friday the 17th? Eight PM?"

"I'm gonna need at least a week before I'm kissable again," Lup said. Barry was grinning now, still flushed. "Make it the 24th at seven and you've got yourself a deal."

"I'll make a note," Barry said.

[nalu4emily]

Sickly Sweet

This little short came about while I was looking for writing prompts. The ones I used for this were "I feel thoroughly disgusting." "We need to get you into a different shirt, you've sweat through that one." and "Is that my shirt? Looks like I'm gonna have to burn it now that you've contaminated it!"

Anyway, I hope you enjoy the NALU fluffiness!

x

She was dying.

Well, not exactly... But damn, did she feel terrible.

She wasn't sure when it'd happened; in the guild? Out on a mission? Who knows?

Whatever sickness this was, it was bad. Her body ached like she'd been beaten with a stick over and over again, and her heart pounded so loudly it felt like it might blow through her rib cage. The throbbing headache that travelled from her face to the back of her neck, that burned her eyes like a really bad hangover, seemed to only get worse if she tried to move. And that wasn't even the start of it.

She lay there, under thick blankets piled high on top of her shivering self in a bid to warm up, or 'sweat it out' as she'd heard others say, but it was no use. Hours she'd laid there feeling too hot and then too cold; too sleepy but too restless to allow herself the rest she so desperately needed.

What she wouldn't give for just a bit of respite? To be able to fall asleep and give her body that extra time to recuperate.

No… the girl knew what she needed, there was only one thing for it, and that was Wendy.

The young mage could heal her in a heartbeat, then she'd be free to go about her day—probably find Natsu, and go on another mission or whatever.

"Lucy?"

Speak of the devil.

"Luce… Whatcha doing under all that? You tryna hide from someone?"

When had he sneaked in? She hadn't heard the window go. Then again, she could hear barely anything under the thumping of her own pulse in her ears.

This was so bothersome. She really didn't have the strength to entertain guests today, let alone one like Natsu. Sleep was her main objective right now.

"Lucy, I-" He gasped suddenly, whipping back the covers without warning, "Whoa-!"

"H-Hey! Give them back!" Trying to shout, her throat simply wouldn't allow the sound to come out. She'd croaked instead, using the tiny amount of strength she had left to yank the duvets back over her form, shuddering from the gust it'd created.

Shocked by just how sickly his partner was, Natsu stared wide eyed for a moment at the heap of shaking blankets in front of him. He'd only popped in to see why she hadn't been to the guild, and now it was all too clear, "Luce, you look awful…"

"G-Gee, thanks Natsu. Maybe it's because I feel awful?" She bit back, feeling irritable as well as everything else now.

Placing his hands on his hips, with eyes never leaving the bed, he listened in to the soft whimpers and grunts escaping her every breath, "Ya know, if you've got a fever, covering yourself like that is only going to make it worse." He knew he was treading a thin line, but he didn't care.

"I-I'm cold…"

"But your body isn't, I can feel the heat from here. You're probably sweating up a storm in there." He wanted to help, really, only Lucy had to let him first, and she could be pretty darn stubborn when she wanted, "And that's not good for anybody that's sick."

He was right, she knew that, but the mere thought of exposing her goose pimpled flesh to the open air made her teeth chatter even harder.

"Come on, Luce, let me help. You wanna feel better right?" Ever so carefully, he hooked his fingers under the blankets again, and slowly eased them upwards, his voice going from muffled to clear as he peeked in on the jittery girl. Meeting no resistance, he continued to peel it back, revealing the blonde that'd huddled in like a foetus to save some of the warmth she'd built up, "You're drenched!"

Opening her dry eyes for the first time since he'd got there, she blearily looked up at him, the concern etched into his face making her feel even more vulnerable, "I… I don't feel well, Natsu."

"I know you don't, Luce. But it's gonna be alright, because I'll look after you." He smiled at her, with that warm, comforting grin she'd seen so many times, and it filled her with reassurance, "Can you sit up? I'm sure laying in a wet bed is no fun…"

It wasn't, now that Lucy thought about it. In fact, it was incredibly uncomfortable and that only made her feel worse. Holding onto her throbbing head, she eased herself up onto her butt, her body feeling weaker than it had done in some time and leant herself against the headboard.

Taking a few sips of the water that Natsu had given her, she let the cool liquid glide down her pin-like throat, soothing it's painful prickle.

"Thanks Natsu." She breathed heavily, "Ugh… I feel thoroughly disgusting..." She wasn't exaggerating either, her body was soaked through, having seeped onto her clothes, keeping her skin damp and unbearably cold.

"We need to get you into a different shirt, you've sweat through that one." The fire mage said, walking over to the dresser, and pulling a random top from it to give to her, "Here, at least it'll be dry."

She took it from him and grimaced, barely believing what she was about to ask of her best friend, "I-I, um… C-Can you help me put it on? I don't have the energy…" Her blush reached the tips of her ears, unable to look at the boy, who, seemed more than willing to assist.

"Sure thing! Only, you can't hit me for looking." A 'Lucy punch' hurt, and this time it wouldn't be his fault.

"I-I won't…" Her eyes never quite meeting his, too shy, too embarrassed by what she'd asked him to do… Drunk Lucy never seemed to have this problem.

Satisfied that he wouldn't be getting a foot to the face, he gently lifted her saturated top above her head, careful to keep his eyes anywhere but her chest. Not that he even got a chance—her hands quickly came up to shield them from his view, and a pang of disappointment hit him straight in the gut.

"I dunno why you're covering yourself. It's not like I ain't seen it before." He murmured, grabbing the clean shirt to pull over her head, "Don't you trust me?"

"O-Of course… I just- I guess it's just a habit." She shrugged, releasing herself to push her arms through the sleeves, his eyes now focused solely on hers, making her heart beat for an entirely different reason this time.

"If you say so." He glanced down, glad to see Lucy in something loose and dry, when he paused, head tilting to the side, "Wait, isn't that-?" Cocking his brow, he marvelled at the shirt sitting so nicely around the blonde's body, smirking up at her with that daring face of his.

"What? What is it?"

"Isn't that my shirt?" He asked, wondering what the hell it was doing folded so neatly in Lucy's drawers—her pyjama drawer to be exact, "Care to explain, Lucy?" Her name drooled off his tongue, his voice laced with tease.

"O-Oh, um… w-well, it kinda… ya know…" Her face grew redder by the second, with his eyes piercing into her very soul.

Busted!

He'd wondered where that'd gone.

"Looks like I'm gonna have to burn it now that you've contaminated it!" He sniggered, earning a very unimpressed glare from the celestial mage.

"That's a big word coming from a guy that leaves his clothes in other people's houses!" She retorted, the corners of her lips raising as they both broke out into laughter.

"Fine, I guess you can keep it…" He said, placing a wet cloth on her forehead to cool her flushed face down.

"Like I was gonna give it back!" She chuckled again, feeling a new warmth seeping into her rattling bones, a warmth that always accompanied the dragon slayer. Pulling the boy up onto the bed, she laid herself down onto his chest and finally sighed in relief, "Thanks, Natsu. You always know how to make me feel… better..."

He cuddled close, smiling as she began to drift off, glad he'd been able to make her feel more comfortable at least, "Anytime, Luce!"

Her aches and pains were forgotten, and her shivers began to ease as she let the familiarity of Natsu's comforting presence take her to a place of peace and calm.

Maybe, she didn't need Wendy after all?

Thanks for reading! 

[professorspork]

If you're accepting non-superhell prompts, I'd love to see a conversation between Nora and Emerald! I've been REALLY loving these microfics, I've subscribed to you on Ao3, I'll read whatever else you write

[Gahhh that’s so nice you’re so nice!! thanks for being patient on this one, finding my Nora took some doing]

It’s occurring to Emerald that she’s never had a close female friend before.

You say that like you’ve ever had any friends before, the voice in her head that sounds suspiciously like Mercury needles her, but she brushes it aside. Like—okay, yeah, she’ll concede the point when it comes to Cinder. In hindsight, whatever they’d had going on between them may have been... super intense... but it probably had never been friendship, in the usual definition. But she and Mercury were friends, no matter what the judgy little shitstain version of him who lives in her head has to say about it. They’d always gotten along. Told each other stuff. It’s not like there’s more to it than that, right?

It had always been like that. Been—instinctive somehow, with guys. Before Cinder, on the street, it was always the men who’d been easiest to manipulate; who would empty their pockets for a smile and a sob story. And then she and Merc had been two sides of the same coin for so long, and then... well, Hazel’d liked her enough to die for her, apparently. (Which—that’s a door that she keeps closed, thanks. She shuts it firmly again, now.) Oscar seems fond of her, in a sweet, uncomplicated sort of way that she really doesn’t know what to do with, seeing as he shares headspace with like a trillion year old man and the idea that anything to do with that kid could be “uncomplicated” is batshit. Ren vouched for her once, and then again, and now he keeps doing it, like it’s habit, like she should just be used to the fact that people are going to have her back, to ask her if she’s eaten, to turn to her with a raised eyebrow in conversation like her opinion would be constructive.

Anyway.

Now that she’s noticed the pattern, it seems like the kind of thing she should probably… work on, or whatever. And Nora seems like an obvious place for Emerald to start. They’ve been thrown in together a lot, lately, Emerald and Oscar expected to fill in the gaps of what’s left of the old JNPR by default. Not that they’ve ever really had a conversation about it—Emerald can’t think of the last time Nora said two words to her that weren’t combat warnings like “more Grimm coming” or “on your left,” but. That’s probably just because things have been tense. She remembers Nora being friendly, on the whole of it. Off-puttingly friendly, even, back at Beacon.

How hard could it be?

The answer, it turns out, is absurdly hard. Nora’s barely ever in the temporary barracks they’re all living out of, instead always checking on the refugees, going on supply runs over esoteric requests, volunteering for extra patrols. Emerald used to find that kind of dogged do-goodery gag-inducing, but now that she’s been the helping hand herself a few times, she’s starting to see the appeal. The way people look at you when you’ve been of service, it’s—nice. Really nice. But Nora works utterly thankless jobs, the kind most people don’t even notice, let alone appreciate. And when they have their insufferably long leadership meetings and they’re talking about distribution of resources or whatever, Nora’s a fierce debater—jumping in to advocate for the people from Mantle sometimes even before May can. As far as Emerald can tell, she does this stuff just because... she believes in it. Because it’s the right thing to do, and someone has to.

She can’t imagine what it would feel like, to have the attention of someone like that turned on her. She’s craved it from the wrong people for so long, but now that she has her pick of options... she’s letting herself actually want the right kind, for once. She thinks.

Which is all to say that largely through no fault of her own, Emerald unexpectedly finds herself sitting with a profound, fervent desire for Nora Valkyrie to think she’s cool.

She hates that.

-

Fighting with Nora is easy.

(—er. Alongside. Fighting alongside Nora is easy. Emerald’s done fighting with these people. Very done.)

It’s weird, because Emerald’s finding working with a full team to be a real adjustment. When battles get big enough to merit it, she’s used to keeping to the sidelines to use her Semblance for nefarious purposes, or, in a jam, used to having Mercury’s six—literally, because all the forward momentum from his feet-first style always left his back wide open. Figuring out where to put herself so that Oscar can use her shoulder as a fulcrum as he dodges, or trying to aim for the Grimm Ren isn’t already shooting (ugh)—it’s taking work.

But somehow, it’s not work for Nora. Nora seems to anticipate with perfect ease how Emerald will move or what she’ll be doing; Nora bobs and weaves around their ragtag little band with her war hammer like it’s breathing.

It doesn’t bother Emerald until it does, and she means to bring it up casually but there’s never a good time. So it just… stews, and stews, until she can’t keep it bottled up anymore.

Which means that instead of the earnest question she intends it to be, it comes out like this:

“Okay, seriously? It’s creepy how you do that.”

It’s just the two of them, plus the handful of dweeby Atlesian tech-types they’re escorting back from their foray installing some fancy hydro-filtration modules on the outskirts of the camp. And it’s not like Emerald had felt outmatched by the half-dozen Ravagers that had decided they looked like lunch—she can shoot Ravagers in her sleep, at this point—but still. The way Nora had moved around her, it was like they’d been fighting side by side for years.

Nora just cocks her head to the side. “Do what?” she asks, like she hadn’t just basically read Emerald’s mind in front of the water nerds.

Emerald does a complicated gesture with her hands, wrist over wrist, and then flicking two fingers—trying to evoke the way Nora had flipped over Emerald’s back and then kicked off, just trusting Emerald would reel her back in with a chain in midair before a Grimm could fly away with her sorry ass. “That.”

“Oh!” Nora laughs and rubs at the back of her neck, looking sheepish. “It’s nothing. I guess it’s just not a big deal for me? Like—I was there when Ren built StormFlower. The cables are newish, but we practiced so much back in Atlas… I dunno. It’s just reflex, when your weapons are so similar. Fighting with you, it’s almost like fighting with him. I don’t even have to think about it.”

Nora swallows, then, and makes a face Emerald can’t interpret—disappointed, maybe, or ashamed. Which: good. She probably should be, taking things for granted like that.

“Well—just—” Emerald’s not even sure what she wants to say. Ask, next time? Don’t? “You shouldn’t make assumptions. I’m not your boyfriend, okay?”

The venom she puts behind the word is directed more at herself than Nora—frustrated, again, that she’s put herself in the position of wanting so desperately to be liked.

Pathetic.

Nora just nods, looking glum.

“Yeah,” she murmurs, cheeks pulling in a bitter smile. “You’d think I’d be able to keep that one straight, huh?”

She says it with such pointed irony that for a second Emerald wonders if she’d gotten it wrong somehow, but like—Nora and Ren are a thing, right? That’s—everyone knows that.

“Hey, what—?”

“Let’s just go,” Nora says, and Emerald automatically falls into line behind her.

They make the rest of the walk back in silence.

-

Sometimes at night, when she can’t sleep, Emerald likes to climb up to the roof of the barracks and look out over the refugee camp.

It’s—peaceful, is all. A good reminder of where she is; how far she’s come. The night sky in Vacuo has more stars than she’s ever seen, and being able to watch over all these people who have somehow become her responsibility… well.

A part of her will always be standing on the rooftop at Beacon, looking down on pure chaos as a queasy, frightened sensation twists in her gut and its noxious voice whispers you did this, you did this, you did this. What did you think was going to happen, you stupid little girl? You don’t get to feel sorry for it now.

But she does.

Weird how the only thing that’s helped is actually doing something about it.

She hears a scuffling noise over her shoulder, and she’s got Thief’s Respite drawn and ready before she can even really register what she’s heard. She relaxes when she sees it’s Nora at the other end of the barrels, unarmed and hands raised—a funny little smile on her face, like yeah, fair enough, I should have known better than to try and sneak up.

“Just me,” she says, unnecessarily.

Emerald holsters her guns. “Can I help you?” she asks, and—what is it about her voice, that makes sentences that would be nice if any other human said them come out straight-up hostile?

Nora shrugs, hands dropping to her sides. “I was hoping we could talk; I figured you’d come up here if I waited long enough.”

Well, see—what kind of lesson is she supposed to take from that? She’s been hoping for Nora to talk to her for weeks, and acting like a bitch is the thing that gets her what she wants? Good guys are supposed to know better.

And there’s the way she said it, too. Like everyone knows Emerald comes up here to brood; like it’s a big open secret. The knowledge sits uncomfortably in her stomach, makes her feel watched. Even now, even here, she can’t get a moment alone. Not really.

“What, so you’re spying on me now?”

Nora’s eyes narrow. “I have a pretty bad track record when it comes to losing people. Makes a girl want to put in a little hustle when it comes to keeping tabs on her friends.”

And Emerald would snark at that, or maybe apologize, or something, only—

Nora thinks they’re friends?

“Well, take a seat, I guess,” she mumbles, scooching to the side as though she needs to make room on the massive, empty roof.

Nora walks over and joins Emerald on the asphalt, letting her legs dangle over the edge. Seemingly unsure of where to start, she stares at her hands. Emerald stares too, but her eyes can’t help but wander—tracing the way scars, silvery in the moonlight, spiderweb up Nora’s bare wrists and forearms to fetter her shoulders, clavicle, neck. Like cracks in a pane of glass, right before it shatters.

(Only that’s not it at all, is it? It’s not a sign of weakness, but a warning of strength. I care this much, her scars announce to the word. You wanna try me?

Hazel’s arms always looked like that.)

Emerald doesn’t want to be the one to break the silence, sure that whatever she’d say would be incredibly stupid.

Luckily, Nora has no such qualms, and opens with: “I really admire you, you know?”

Emerald stares, jaw slack, certain she’s heard wrong. “I—what?” She’d say something defensive, like yeah right or you don’t have to make fun of me, only Nora’s eyes are so wide and so guileless they don’t leave any room for argument.

“I mean it,” Nora adds. “I know we don’t know all that much about each other, but… here’s what I do know: I can’t remember a time I saw you without Mercury right behind. Just like me’n Ren. And the way you fought for Cinder…” Nora smiles a sad, private little smile. “You don’t fight like that unless it’s personal; unless someone means something to you. Just like me’n Ren. And now you’re here. All on your own. And you didn’t have to be. That’s—don’t you think that’s crazy brave? I sure do.”

Of course she fucking doesn’t. Crazy brave would have been walking away the first, tenth, hundredth time she had a flash of panic about what she was doing. Or, better yet, doing something about it. Crazy brave is taking thirty thousand volts to get to your friends; it’s flooding your veins with pure crystalline power and saying Go, I’m doing what Gretchen would have done, it’s—

She closes that door.

“It’s not like I really had a choice,” she sighs, dodging the question.

“Oh, you know that’s not true,” Nora scoffs dismissively, tilting sideways to nudge Emerald with her shoulder.

And Emerald jolts, because—look, it’s not like no one touches her. They have to manhandle each other all the time in battle, and… and Oscar gives her high fives sometimes, which makes her embarrassingly pleased. But what Nora’s offering now, that kind of buddy-buddy casual contact…

… it’s been a while, is all.

“So, why did you want to talk to me?” Emerald asks, overwhelmed and suddenly desperate to find a way to get this conversation over with. She feels like she’s sprinted five miles; like she’s had the crap kicked out of her and she has to go somewhere to lick her wounds. Too much, too fast.

Nora laughs—a chuffing, cynical noise that doesn’t sound at all like her. “Looking for pointers? See, I’m trying this thing where I do things on my own, but I just—I suck at it. Like today; you saw. Even when I’m not with Ren, all I do is… is act exactly the same way I do when I’m with Ren. Like I literally don’t know how to exist without him, whether he’s actually there or not. And I know that’s not fair to anyone; I didn’t mean to treat you like—” She shakes her head, biting her lip. “You’re not just some stand-in. It’s not you at all. I’m just—broken, or something. One trick pony.”

“No, hey—”

“But you figured it out,” she barrels on, which is good, because Emerald doesn’t actually have a clue what she would have said there. “You don’t have anyone and somehow you’re just, like—good to go!” Nora says it cheerily, like it’s a compliment, but has the grace to balk a little when she hears how it sounds. “…sorry. That’s—sorry.”

Emerald shrugs, drawing her knees to her chest and resting her chin there. She feels like an idiot; building it up for weeks like spending time with Nora would solve all her problems when, surprise surprise, Nora’s just as fucked up as she is.

“Hate to disappoint you, but I don’t have any hot tips,” she mutters into the crooks of her elbows. “I don’t have a clue what I’m doing. Like—you want to know the really sad part? I was just following your lead.”

“My…?” Nora can’t even finish repeating it, which: Emerald can’t blame her. It’s so dumb. “Huh?”

“Come on. You know.”

“I don’t,” Nora says, voice thick with exhaustion. Like she’s sick of herself. “Ask anyone—I’m not the brains of the operation.”

Hearing Nora talk about herself that way makes Emerald’s chest feel tight; like her ribs have locked in place so her lungs can’t expand. She doesn’t know how to explain it; not without sounding like a starry-eyed fangirl or a moron with a crush and that’s not what this—it’s only that—

She chooses to start a different way.

“You wanna know why I switched sides? Like, really why?”

Nora softens, and reaches out to touch the back of Emerald’s left hand, where it dangles over her knee. “Sure,” she says, but Emerald barely hears it; it’s taking all of her concentration not to clench her fist or pull away in response.

“I overheard Oscar—or, Ozpin, I guess, I don’t know—talking to Hazel about Salem, about her goals. And… listen. No one joins under Salem because they’re trying to kill the world, okay? I mean, no one but Tyrian, anyway. We were all just trying to… find ways to get by. And when Cinder found me, she—” Emerald swallows, hard. This cuts too deep, too close. It’s not something she can just say. “I wasn’t trying to be some big villain, or something. I was just—looking out for the people who were looking out for me. And why wouldn’t I? No one else ever seemed to think I was worth it.”

“Of course you are,” Nora cuts in, quiet but vehement. “Everyone is.”

“See, the worst part is that you mean that when you say it,” Emerald grumbles, scrubbing at her face until smears of color kaleidoscope behind her closed eyes. “I figured people like you didn’t exist, and then Cinder and Merc were glad to prove me right, and—I let them. You know? And maybe if I’d just held out a little longer…”

“You’re not the only one here who’s ashamed of her past. Harriet tried to blow up Mantle, like, a month ago.”

“That’s not—forget that. I’m talking about you. Nora.” It’s the first time she’s ever said her name like that—addressing her, in conversation. It feels… astonishingly intimate, for so small a thing. Emerald powers past it. “Every day, I see you do something ridiculous, like double back on a patrol because you forgot you promised some kid a candy bar, or something, and that—matters. To me. It’s so stupid, but it’s not, because… argh! I want—it’s—” She tries to get her mouth to form the words, that’s the kind of person I want to be, but they stop in her throat.

Still, Nora seems to get the message. Her eyes seem suspiciously shiny for a moment—but when she blinks, it’s gone. “I… thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” Emerald grumbles. Saying it like she means it: seriously. Don’t mention it.

“I understand what you mean, though. For years, the only person who looked out for me was Ren. And if he’d said…” Nora trails off, then, cocking her head to the side as she works through something. “Huh.”

“What?”

“Nothing, just. I remembered something. I was about to say that if Ren told me the only way for us to get by was a life of crime, or something, I would’ve taken his word for it, but—the opposite happened. We decided to enroll at Beacon. And that wasn’t his idea; it was mine. I always wanted to be a Huntress. To… to be the one strong enough to help people, instead of always needing the help. He wasn’t sure if we would make it, but I was. We were together, right? How could we lose?” She chuckles, a little, shaking her head at herself. “Get a load of that. He followed me.”

They smile at each other, then. Like they’ve figured out something profound. Maybe Nora has; Emerald hopes so.

“I’m glad you’re here, Emerald,” Nora says, and—there it is again. The frisson of electricity that comes with being referred to by name.

Of course, then Emerald ruins it by blurting out:

“Of course you are, all your other friends are dead.”

Which—“Fuck!” she sputters, because she didn’t mean to say that. What is wrong with her? “Sorry! Sorry.”

Nora only grins at her, feral and incisive. “Yeah, well. Yours are evil, so. Pick your poison. At least I’m proud of mine.”

Touché.

“Still glad I’m here?” Emerald jeers, because her first instinct is still to press on the bruise to see how much it hurts.

Nora laughs, and gets to her feet. “Believe it or not, yes. If putting your foot in your mouth was all it took to get booted from Hero Club, I’d have been kicked out a long time ago.” She reaches down to offer Emerald a hand; Emerald takes it, letting Nora pull her to standing. “Now go and get some rest, huh? None of us can ever sleep when you’re up here thinking so loud.”

“That an order?”

“Advice. Friends give it, from time to time.”

And—yeah. Maybe they do. 

[glowingbadger]

That couch prompt with Felix was so cute (and what made me find your blog!) Would you mind doing one for Ashe and/or Dimitri as well.

[I just now realized that I am an unabashed BL simp 😅]

There are so many simp-worthy members of the Blue Lions, Friend Anon- I absolutely do not blame you :3

I did enjoy that Felix piece you're talking about, so thanks so much! I think Ashe would be a wonderful pick for this idea, and I don't get to write him as much, so let's go with this sweet Good Boi~

Ashe (FE3H) x GN Reader

falling asleep on the couch - sfw, fluff

The sound of your name in the near total darkness of the library causes your body to tense, drawing inward if only to prevent you from lurching off of the couch. You cradle your opened book to your chest as your eyes dart around for an instant- only to land on Ashe, looking contrite as he approaches you,

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to alarm you!" he says frantically. You exhale, your expression relaxing into a shy smile.

"Oh- it's only you, Ashe!" you say with a light chuckle, "It's late- what are you doing up still?"

He comes to sit beside you on the couch, running a hand through messy silver hair with a sigh,

"Well, probably the same as you, I'd guess."

"Can't sleep?" you reply with a note of sympathy. He nods. One might think constant marching, near daily combat, and meetings and training to fill any and all gaps between would be tiring enough to bring sleep the moment you hit the mattress. On the contrary, there was too much occupying your thoughts to quiet them. Lately, each battle had seemed harder than the last, and each life taken for this cruel war weighed heavily against what you knew you had to accomplish. Looking at Ashe's eyes reflecting the dull glow of candle light back at you, you think that perhaps you see your own burdens shining in them too.

"You know," he says with a smile as he notices the book in your lap, "Some people say you should read before bed to help yourself sleep, but I've always found that I get far too invested in the story. I get so excited and I have to know what happens next- and before I know it, the sun's coming up!"

You share a quiet laugh together in the dim library. Here in the protection of your tiny light source, it feels like you and he have carved out a private corner of the world, away from the bloodshed and strain.

"You're probably right though," you say with a sigh, "keeping my mind busy isn't going to help me sleep right now."

Ashe gives a short hum, then shifts a bit closer to you on the couch.

"I have an idea, if you'd like to try it."

"Oh?"

You can't help but feel a fraction of the day's tension leave your posture when you meet the open warmth in those green eyes. He takes the book from your lap, holding it open at the spot you'd left off, and says,

"Why don't you let me read to you?"

You feel your face warm just a bit, and hope the candle light will camouflage the blush across your cheeks.

"You don't have to! I mean, are you sure you wouldn't mind?" you stammer out, only to be met once more with that disarmingly earnest smile.

"I'd really like to- honest!" he insists, "Especially if it will help you relax enough to get some sleep."

"Well... we can try it." you say, and settle in next to him as comfortably as you can. He's warm, and you're doing your best not to lean too close or touch in a way that wouldn't be considered strictly platonic- but the dim light shimmers at the edges of his hair like a halo, and from where you sit hunched back in the cushions, you have a striking view of his jawline, down the contour of his neck. Biting at your lip for just a moment, you force your gaze away as he begins to read from the top of the page.

His tone is soft and even, naturally soothing without even trying. Aside from which, it is nice to be able to follow the story without having to keep your eyes open. Letting your breathing slow and your muscles relax one by one, your eyes flutter shut, and you let Ashe's voice carry you from scene to scene. At first, you chime in from time to time, remarking on clever dialogue, or an interesting turn in the plot. Eventually, it feels like unnecessary effort. You tell yourself it's because you don't want to interrupt him. But your head is lulling to the side, and the hero has saved his maiden, and the chapter is nearing its close.

Ashe feels a weight on his shoulder, and resists jumping at the sudden contact. He glances to his side, only to see your head slumped against him, your eyes closed, breathing slow and steady. His body burns up to his face, where fair, freckled skin flushes bright red. Your scent sets his heart leaping in his chest, but he doesn't dare to move an inch for fear of disturbing you. This was the whole point, after all- to give you a chance to rest. He recalls how worried he's been for you lately. You work so hard and ask so little. In truth, it fills him with pride to be able to grant you this brief respite, and that you would feel so comfortable near him that you could sleep soundly on his shoulder.

With a contented smile and his heart still fluttering, he turns his eyes back to the final lines of the chapter,

"'Know always, my dearest and most treasured love, that no battle and no adversity shall ever be so great as to keep me from you. Though arrows fly and blades descend, I shall withstand all for even a precious moment longer at your side. My strength, my heart, my will itself- all yours, gladly given.'"

[contreparry]

“I see now what begins as a dream can end as nightmare. Some causes can become warped and twisted like some men.”

Oh, this is such a good one! I think... this might be a good Samson prompt. Samson was/is such a good character, and I've never really written him before. I'm going to try now for @dadrunkwriting.

His skin felt like an open sore and his head ached. The sheet underneath him and above him scratched his skin, and the straw from the thin pallet poked through the thick wool to stab his back. But the room wasn't cold. It wasn't damp. It smelled clean and medicinal, green and sharp but not... terrible. It had been an age since he'd slept without pain, an age since he slept somewhere clean and warm and safe.

Therefore he had to be dreaming. Funny that he could feel pain in a dream, but Samson had long accepted that nothing in life was easy or painless. Not even pleasant dreams were as simple as pleasant dreams. So Samson looked for clues, something that would reorient his world and confirm he was dreaming, that this wasn’t real, that he had only been gifted a little respite because even the Maker couldn’t be that cruel.

He was out of the lyrium armor. Everything hurt without the red lyrium coursing through his veins, supporting every thin muscle and strained sinew in his body because what use was food or sleep when it came to the next task at hand? But he knew that happened in reality, unless that too was a dream. It was that Kirkwall lad who did it, that Cullen, too full of rage and fear to see that Mages weren’t the enemy, they were simply people and pawns in an ages long struggle for power. But his eyes were different from those years in Kirkwall. Samson wasn’t so lost that he didn’t see changes, small but significant, in the anger, the fear, the sorrow- maybe feelings could change. Maybe the hearts of men weren’t set in stone.

Of course, it could all have been a dream brought on by the lyrium, his body’s way of coping with pain and exhaustion. Pain had a way of dulling the senses, numbing him to everything else until he and the pain were intertwined. Samson opened his eyes and stared up at the ceiling, counted the raw wood beams that supported the clean, whitewashed ceiling over his head. One, two, three, four... he would have to turn his head to count more, but his neck hurt like a bitch, like someone tried to strangle him. Maybe someone did, and he simply didn’t remember it. His memory was shot these days, full of holes like a maggot-filled cheese wheel.

Maker, his throat was raw. Dry and raw. A drink would be nice. Water would serve, ale would be better. Even the swill they served at The Hanged Man would be better than nothing at all. The thought of food turned his stomach, but water... a man would do a lot for cool water. He blinked again, his vision blurring, and he shut his eyes. Just a moment. He would gather his strength for a moment, then lift his head and search for a drink. A dream should provide a drink, right?

“Thirsty?” a low, soft voice asked above him, to his left. Funny. He hadn’t heart anyone come in. Dreams. Funny stuff. There was a swish of skirts and the loud scrape of the legs of a stool on the wooden floor. Mage or woman. Possibly both. His head and eyes hurt too much to investigate whatever his head came up with tonight. If he ignored the accent and how young the voice sounded, he could pretend it was one of the apprentices back in Kirkwall, or even earlier, so long ago he could hardly remember it anymore.

“You’ll spare a swallow of water for a damned man, lady?” he croaked.

“Can you lift your head?” she asked, equally brisk and gentle like any good Circle healer. Definitely a Mage, then. His mind would go back to Mages and Templars and Circles and Chantries and how the whole damn world needed some shaking up, needed some sort of... something to fix what was wrong with it. But let others do that now. He was in pain, he was tired, he wanted one good dream before waking up to whatever nightmare the world decided to be in the morning.

“Well enough,” he finally said. It must not have been good enough an answer for the healer, because a slim hand slipped under his neck, and a strong arm lifted him up into an upright sitting position on the cot. His head swam with the motion, his stomach flipped in his body, Andraste’s Tits everything was spinning even with his eyes closed.

“Here. Drink. Not too fast!” she ordered sharply. “You’ll choke on it. And your tongue.”

“As you command, Little Healer,” he joked as the clay rim of a cup was pressed against his lips. Tried to joke. Maker’s Balls everything hurt! But then there it was, blessed cool water down his throat, dribbling down his chin, his neck, dampening his linen tunic- water. It was water, and who gave a shit if it was a dream because the water was just refreshing enough to be real to him.

“Maker bless you, Little Healer,” Samson sighed as he sunk back into the thin pillows stacked behind him. A few more sips and he might be able to hold the cup on his own.

“He owes me quite a few blessings now. I’m keeping a ledger, we will have an accounting when we meet,” the healer muttered. A joke! Samson coughed. Cackled, then coughed. A damn fine dream- clean, cool water and a companion to bitch with. Who could ask for more?

“Sacrilege, Little Healer. Be careful not to let the others hear that,” he warned. It might be his dream, but he couldn’t control it. Couldn’t control himself, really, so who knew what lurked out there for the figments of his imagination that kept him company. If it was anything like Kirkwall, nothing good.

“It’s a conversation for you, me, and the fireplace,” she assured him. “Drink some more, slowly! If you keep this down I have some tea. Elfroot and chamomile. It will dull the pain from those burns.” He had this conversation a thousand times when he was a Templar, Samson thought with a bittersweet fondness. There was always a sympathetic healer with some remedies on hand for aches and pains, a healer or Mage who wanted to help and Maker, how could he not help them in turn? Kindness should not cost them anything, should not have cost any of them everything, and yet- and yet. Samson sighed. Some wounds ran deep. Some things couldn’t be healed. This healer, imaginary or not, was simply too young to realize that harsh reality.

“Not much will, but thank you for your help, Little Healer,” Samson replied before he took another drink. He drank slowly, as instructed, and the pain in his throat and stomach eased. Not gone, never gone, but a little less terrible than before. And as the water soothes his throat and body, clarity returned to his mind. He risked opening his eyes a crack, just a sliver. He stared down at his lap, at the dull reddish brown clay cup held in front of his face by a strong, wide-palmed, long fingered hand, cracked and calloused. Dry skin. Probably washed her hands often, being a healer and all. There were some decent poultices for that made out of vegetable or animal fat. The rich ladies of Kirkwall would slather themselves in the scented ones that made him sneeze.

“Shouldn’t have gotten yourself encased in armor made of Red Lyrium, Ser. Though I have a feeling there weren’t many options for you in that regard,” the healer said. She wrapped his hands (trembling, weak, practically skeletal compared to her firm, calloused palms and fingers) around the clay cup. That was when he realized that this was no dream, but reality. Those damn hands, so unlike his own, were real. And if they were real, then the armor, the red lyrium, that brat Cullen- Samson looked up into the face of the healer- the Maker blessed- cursed?- Inquisitor and stared.

She was smaller than he realized. Must be the lack of armor and staff, Samson thought. She really could have been any Mage healer in any Circle, barking out orders and stirring up remedies and scolding every injured and sick patient like a Kirkwallian fishwife. He’d heard that Cullen had been sniffing around her skirts, following at her heels like a dog who found a new master. He heard stories about a bold strategist, a daring Mage who flung herself into battle like a battering ram, who fought a damn dragon and slayed it. He heard a lot of stories, but when Samson looked into that round face and those tired dark eyes he saw a young healer who stayed up too many nights brewing potions. Her dark hair was mussed and falling out of its tie. She had freckles a shade darker than her copper brown skin.

Damn. The Chantry couldn’t have picked a more perfect figurehead for their war if they tried. A soft-spoken, wide-eyed, pretty young noblewoman who was a healer- a healer! Even if she was a Mage her noble heritage and pretty face would win over plenty of hearts. And then when she was useless she’d get tossed out into the cold, just like him, just like anyone who no longer served the Chantry and their hunger for power.

“In any case, you have a long recovery ahead of you,” the healer- the Inquisitor- finally said. “We had to tear open that armor with a crowbar, and the lyrium was... well, it isn’t very well documented, you know, what red lyrium can do to a person who has been exposed to it regularly, but the crystals were partially embedded in your skin. You’ll have scars. Sorry.”

“No apologies. Most warriors have scars,” Samson replied. He took another drink and watched as the Inquisitor watched him. Not nervous, not even fidgeting. But she didn’t rage. Didn’t lose her temper. Didn’t call for guards (and there were guards, Samson knew it, he could now hear the faint metallic clank of metal on metal as someone paced just outside the door). She stared.

“Always got choices, you know. Could’ve always put someone else in that armor, but I decided it would be me. I picked... well, can’t say it was wrong. Certainly not right, but not completely wrong,” Samson murmured. “World can’t keep going the way it’s going, locking babies up and calling it righteous. Something must change.”

“Was working for Corypheus the way to change that world? To make it better?” she asked. It wasn’t an accusation or a demand, just a soft, uncertain question. Young. Samson felt old then, ancient in the face of questions that he didn’t have answers for. He thought it was right at the time, but doubt always crept in at darker moments. Doubt was always there. And wasn’t that the question Samson had been asking himself for some time now, even as the lyrium drove him to do more, to wreck more havoc, to rage and become... something else. Part of it was the lyrium fueling him, providing the strength he no longer had, but a greater portion had been him, angry and bitter and desperate, and now... now he was thirsty and tired and old, and all he wanted was to rest forever.

“I see now what begins as a dream can end as a nightmare. Some causes can become warped and twisted as some men,” Samson replied slowly. “Or maybe it’s the men who twist the causes and dreams to suit their own warped purposes and desires and nightmares. Take care not to get drawn into those sort of dreams, Little Healer. World needs good healers, you know.” Maybe she couldn’t fix the mess the world was in. Maybe she couldn’t face off against the entity that was using her. But maybe, if she really was the healer who made sarcastic quips about the Maker while under the Chantry’s roof... maybe there was some hope that the world could change after all.

“Ah,” she said as she rose to her feet.

“Thank you for the water,” Samson replied as he handed the empty cup to her. His hands shook from the strain of moving his body without the lyrium lending him strength, but he didn’t drop the cup. Progress.

“Thank you for answering my questions, Samson. Please rest,” she ordered. Then she was gone in a swirl of green and brown skirts, black hair streaming behind her like a flag snapping in the wind.

“Tell that brat Cullen that if he wants to punch me in the face he damn well should do it, instead of pacing outside the door like an agitated bear,” Samson said before the Inquisitor left the room. She paused at the open doorway.

“As your healer I suggest you don’t get into fights at the moment, Samson,” she said lightly. “Especially with the commander of the Inquisition forces.”

“Eh. I could take him,” Samson confided. The brat had always been talented, but far too eager to prove himself. Perhaps time tempered that lust for recognition and righteousness, but people didn’t change that quickly. Samson shut his eyes and smiled as the door shut behind the Inquisitor and there was the metallic clink of a lock turning shut. Kind but not an idiot. She wasn’t taking any chances that he might try and escape imprisonment.

Maker, his head felt a lot clearer. Not great, but he could remember a few things beyond the pain now- the crunch of fresh baked bread, the sweetness of honey from the comb, salty fish stew, the mage smiths of Kirkwall who always saw that his sword was sharp and armor just a little more protected (“Favors for favors, Samson, since you ran those letters to my Mum.”). He heard Cullen’s indignant tones outside the doorway, followed by the Inquisitor’s sharp dismissal. He chuckled to himself, hoarse but not painful.

“Damn, boy. Pigheaded even with your lady love,” Samson shook his head. Tomorrow would bring questions and accusations and probably imprisonment at best, but for now... for now Samson was going to sleep. He was going to sleep and gather strength and find his mind again, after having lost it and himself for so long. Healing took time, but maybe, with the help of an obstinate healer, it might just take.

[darisu-chan]

burnin' up

Welcome to another IR Month!

Today, I bring you this one-shot which is the opposite of keeping cool. Just what we need for this summer day.

Hope you guys enjoy it!

You can also read it here.

Prompt: keep your cool

Summary:When it is hot out, the best solution is to go to the beach and swim to keep cool…right?

It is terribly hot this summer.

Not that other summers haven’t been as hot, or even hotter than this. But for some reason, Ichigo feels the heat way more this year. He can’t quite put his finger on it. He just knows it is too hot and nothing he has tried so far has been able to cool him down. And, look, he was born in summer. He is used to the flames, the scorching heat, the shinning sun on his back. He does prefer sunny days to the rain, it’s true. And yet, this year the heat has been excruciating. Ice cream, ice cubes, fans. Nothing has seemed to work. At this point, he’s not sure there is anything out there that will make the heat go away.

If he’s this bothered, just imagine Rukia.

She is miserable.

Honestly, Ichigo wouldn’t have expected it to be any different. She was born in the middle of winter, and her zanpakutō is a snow one, a literal Snow White. Of course Rukia has never done great in the summer. But especially not this one. Summers in Karakura can be a pain in the ass, but Ichigo reiterates this summer in particular has been the worst so far. So, Rukia’s been a mess. Red hot cheeks, sweat running down her neck, short skirts, lethargy. It is obvious how uncomfortable she is. And, well, Ichigo feels for her. He doesn’t do the greatest in winter, so he can sympathize with her current state. He wants to do something for her. She had taken a few weeks off to visit him after all, and Ichigo can’t help but blame himself for her current state. If she had stayed in the Soul Society, maybe she wouldn’t feel like this. But no. He can’t afford to think in this way. So, instead, he looks for solutions until he finds one.

The beach.

It is so obvious he wants to slap himself.

Of course they should go to the beach!

It would still be hot, sure, however the ocean water and the breeze are always cool. Thank you, Pacific Ocean for your cold water! Besides, it is the only place where wearing little clothing is socially acceptable. Not to mention the cold drinks, ice popsicles, and other such delicacies that are sold on the beach. And the fact that going on a trip is always a welcome change in the routine. Ichigo’s not sure Rukia has gone many times to the beach, least of all to enjoy herself without worrying about the fate of the world.

So, it is decided that they will go.

“The beach?” Rukia mutters out loud once he tells her the news.

“Yep. The beach.” He simply answers and he can’t help the grin that forms on his mouth.

“What spurred this decision?” She questions him, clearly confused.

“Oh, I know what spurred this decision!” Old goat chin interjects from behind him, but Ichigo ignores him.

“I think it’d be better to enjoy the beach than being stuck here in this heat.”

Rukia stops and thinks for a moment, remembering the terrible heat she’s felt with no respite. She immediately nods her head.

“Agreed.”

That Monday, they decide, will be the day they go to the beach. They believe it will be less crowded than on a weekend, but given it is summer after all, it is a give or take. So for three days they prepare for the event, getting everything they will need: towels, a picnic basket, water bottles, swimsuits, backpacks, flip flops, sunscreen, and the like. For a moment, Ichigo stops and wonders if Rukia even knows how to swim ─ she flicks his forehead while rolling her eyes, “Tawake! Of course I know how to swim!” ─ All the while, he ignores Karin’s snide remarks, Yuzu’s smiles and his father’s perverted comments.

The night before they leave, Isshin even sits him down on his room, with a serious look on his face, which makes all the hair in Ichigo’s body stand on end.

“Now, son, I understand this is your first trip with Rukia with just the two of you, alone. So there are some things that, as a man, you need to know.”

Ichigo’s face starts burning as he stands up and sprints away from his father. Oh, hell no! He is not about to receive the talk when he’s already twenty one! And, yes, he’s pretty much aware this will be the first time he’s going to be alone with Rukia for a few days ever since their relationship changed. But it’s not like he’s planning on doing anything perverted! His intentions are pure, damnit! Yet, a little voice in his head wonders if this trip will make things change once more. When it comes to Rukia, he never knows how things are going to go. It is highly probable they will keep their hands to themselves. However, there is a teeny tiny possibility that they will cross uncharted territory. And, not gonna lie, that frightens Ichigo. Not because he doesn’t want to. But he is scared about the repercussion such a change might bring to their relationship. They have just been able to navigate this thing between them, he doesn’t want anything to ruin it! Particularly not such an adult thing to do. So, he puts those thoughts aside and goes to sleep. He tries to think about waves, sand, fish, beach balls, and definitely not in a scathingly clothed Rukia.

The next morning, Ichigo wakes up feeling refreshed and with a new outlook. He decides he is just going to enjoy this experience, whatever happens, with no expectations. When he meets Rukia in the kitchen, she is positively beaming. She is wearing a baby blue dress with a bow in the front. On her head rests a straw hat with a matching blue ribbon and her feet sport white sandals. She looks radiant. Ichigo has to look away for a moment, less he be forever blinded by her brilliance.

“Ready?”

“Yes!” She exclaims and off they go.

The trip to the beach is quiet. His old man had lent them his van and Ichigo is trying to focus on driving carefully. Though both are technically speaking not alive, that doesn’t mean their physical bodies can’t get hurt. Besides, he doesn’t want Isshin complaining about scratches on his car. Meanwhile, Rukia can’t stop staring outside the passenger seat window. From the corner of his eye, he can see the way her eyes light up the whole way. It is endearing how she manages to find magic in the most mundane of things. The road, cars, random buildings and establishments they pass by, the people. It doesn’t matter how many times she’s visited the human world, things will always be new for Rukia. Ichigo even spies her taking a picture here and there. It makes him feel happy. Happy that he can give him this. More memories. More life.

They make it to the beach by noon.

As expected, there are a lot of tourists there, but not as many as one would have expected. Neither desolate nor filled to the brim. Just the right amount of people. Rukia’s eyes turn ocean blue the moment they land on the golden sands of the beach. She squeals with unbridled joy and is about to sprint to the water when Ichigo stops her.

“We still gotta check in on the hotel.”

He had rented them a room. Nothing too fancy, he is a college student after all. But just enough to be comfortable. Ichigo goes through the usual motions. Gets their card on the lobby, and walks through the floors until they find their room. It is medium-sized with blue walls covered with paintings featuring boats and mermaids. There is just one bathroom, a mini fridge, an old TV. As it had been stated, nothing too fancy. But here is where Ichigo faces his first real problem. There is just one bed. He starts sweating the moment he realizes this, and wonders if he hadn’t specified he wanted two individual beds when he had made the reservations. Instead, there is a single queen sized bed in the room. Rukia doesn’t seem to care as she walks around the room, and opens the balcony to stare at the ocean. Internally, Ichigo screams. He hopes she is not thinking he is sleazy and that he had planned all of this trip with one purpose only. He tries to calm himself. Rukia knows him. She must know he’s not that kind of guy. And it’s not like they have never shared a room or even a bed before, for that matter. It’s just this will be the first time they will be alone. Completely alone with no one to interrupt them. Hopefully, not even Hollows.

While he is having a mental breakdown, Rukia is enjoying the cool breeze coming from the balcony. She opens all the windows and dances around the room. She opens the closet and the drawers. She discovers hangers and a notepad there. Then, she goes into the bathroom and she’s pleased to find a bathtub. Later tonight, she plans on taking a bubble bath to de-stress. Once her exploring is over, Ichigo has calmed down. Rukia is all smiles, with not a hint of displeasure in her face. She either hasn’t noticed the bed or hasn’t cared to think about the implications of it right now. He is grateful for that.

“Do you wanna go to the beach now?” He asks in case the literal elephant in the room is addressed.

Rukia nods enthusiastically. “Yes!”

They go downstairs and walk towards the beach while Rukia asks him a million of questions. Ichigo tries to answer all of them as best as he can. They talk about the peculiar birds she sees ─ “Those are called seagulls.” ─, the people, about volleyball and other beach activities, about the food, and even about Ichigo’s experiences at the beach. Finally, they find a spot under two umbrellas, and they set their towels down.

“We should put on sunscreen.” He says.

Rukia nods and reaches to the hem of her dress. She pulls it up to remove it, revealing inch by inch of creamy white skin. Ichigo’s first thought is that she will need to reapply sunscreen every two hours at least or she’s definitely going to get sunburned. His next thought is, wow, that’s too much skin! By all means, Rukia’s bikini is an average bikini as far as swimsuits go. The top doesn’t reveal too much cleavage and the bottom part covers everything that it should cover. But, man, he has never seen that much of her skin! Alright, that’s not exactly true. Though it’s not like anybody needs to know that! Still, this is new.

Rukia’s bikini is a deep violet, which matches her eyes. It has white polka dots, and the design is visually pleasing. Ichigo wonders where she had even gotten it. Had Urahara given it to her? He hopes not or he is going to kill the man. But regardless of where she got it, he can appreciate what it does to her figure. The top frames her breasts nicely. They look round and soft in it. Ready to be admired. Though small, Rukia has her own curves that he now gets to marvel at with no barriers. Small waist, small but rounded hips. Toned legs. He really doesn’t dare look at her behind, because he does have an inkling of what is awaiting him there, and he isn’t sure he is going to survive the view.

Ichigo feels in flames. Like he is burning and, by the end of this experience, there will be nothing left of him but ashes and bones.

“Ichigo, can you put sunscreen on my back? I don’t think I can reach all the way.”

Yep.

He is going to self-combust any moment now.

In hindsight, maybe this was a terrible idea. Because although his original intentions were pure, his mind is taking him to other places. Places that perhaps should remain unexplored. And, it’s been about a year since they first kissed. Six months since their relationship fundamentally changed. He never thought there would come a time in which he would be able to say Rukia was his. He has always been hers, but now she is his. Forever, they believe. But even that sounds simpler than advancing to the next level. His soul is hers. All hers. And his body wants to be hers as well. However, Ichigo isn’t sure she wants to be his in that way. Not yet at least. And, fuck, he is a man now. A man with his own curiosity and needs. A man madly in love with her. Can he be blamed for finding her the most gorgeous woman he has ever met? Can he be admonished for wanting her all to himself? Still, he shouldn’t objectify her. Shouldn’t make her think he sees her as a walking piece of meat. Rukia is much more than that. She is his person. The other piece of his soul. Even if he finds her irresistible.

No, Ichigo.

This trip is to keep cool and have fun. So keep it in your pants.

“Are you just going to stand there or are you going to help me?”

Rukia suddenly questions and breaks him out from his internal conflict.

“Uh… sure.” He stammers like a high school boy and his cheeks redden.

She turns to look at him coyly.

“Come on, I don’t bite.”

Ichigo is not so sure about that.

This is going to be a long, long trip.

[leftonraed]

The Night We Met - Episode 5

pairing : Taehyung x OC   genre : bodyguard!au, singleparent!au, idol!au   word count :  2.9k summary — You and Taehyung get closer which isn’t to his manager’s liking. Prologue | ep.1 | ep.2 | ep.3 | ep.4 | ep.5 | ep.6 | ep.7 

You walk along the corridor, looking after Taehyung and Hina. You find them in the room assigned to her the duration of the small vacation.

You stop at the doorstep, bringing your arms to your chest as you cross them. They’re both seated around a small coffee table along three of her soft toys gathered to have tea.

“He’e, biscuits. Hey!” Hina chirps handing a plate with plastic cookies to him.

“Sorry, I was busy listening to miss Maggie’s hot tea.”

He offers a happy smile and effortlessly takes all of them in a handful which has her staring at him in a judgemental way. “Not all, siwy!”

You can’t help the smile etching on your face.

“Tuffy wants some too. He’re you go.” She continues putting one biscuits in front of her pale blue elephant.

“My bad Tuffy,” Taehyung is prompt to apologize looking at the soft toy while his niece proceeds to fill their cups for the second time. “I didn’t eat well earlier.”

She seats down and stretches her hand to hand him another cookie.

He shakes his hand, “don’t worry about me. You should eat yours as well Princess Hina.”

“No, mine’s he’e. It’s Snowball’s.”

“Are you sure he won’t mind?” He inquires, looking embarrassed at the tilted turtle next to her, seconds away from falling down his chair.

“Yes,” she assures, sipping from her cup. “He told me.”

He repositions the toy. “That’s very kind of you Snowball. I’ll make sure to remember it next time we have tea together.”

You surely took him for the type to play along children’s games but never would’ve imagined him doing his bit this seriously. When Hina complained about not having her doll’s tea set brought along and he promised to get her a new one, you figured he didn’t do it because he could afford it, getting her one meant opportunities to share even more moments together because he cherished her that much.

The sound of plastic dishes toppling snaps you out of your head. Hina has tripped over dress in her attempt to stand up, bringing half of the table content with her in her fall.

“Do you need help Princess?” Taehyung inquires, stifling a laugh, still clinging to his cup and cookie. He cocks his head to the side when he hears her let out a tiny whimper. “Hina?”

Worryness frowns his face a little and he nimbly gets her back on her feet, holding her to him massaging her leg she complains about.

You feel warmth spreading in your chest the longer you stare them, at him around her. They belong together.

You’re not aware of it but you must have made a sound because they’re both looking at you. It’s your face that is now heating.

You straighten your back. “I’m sorry to interrupt. I’ve come to inform you the car is ready my lady.”

You make eye contact with Taehyung and feel your body giving up on you and you’re positive he’s noticing your blush. He smiles.

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

“You should buy it if you like it.” You hear Taehyung say to you a few feet away from where you.

“Huh?” You jerk your body in surprise, not expecting him to see you browsing clothes. You watch him walk closer and take the dress you’re holding from you to give it a closer look.

“So this is how you’d dress...” He observes to himself.

You find yourself staring longer than needed at his mouth when he slowly drags his bottom lip between his teeth and you feel yourself rising in temperature. “I- I- I don’t-, I’m not-”

He looks down at you, smiling softly at your sudden stuttering. Why is she suddenly acting cute, he thinks. “Take it. Let me buy it as a gift.”

You breath, getting a grip on yourself and refusing to meet his eyes. “No.”

“It’s okay.”

“This is... not appropriate…” You trail in a small voice.

“Pff, what are you mumbling? Come on, I really want to. You’d look pretty in it.”

You gaze up at the compliment but he doesn’t seem embarrassed. Taehyung can’t help to find amusing the quick change in roles. He knows you’d look more than pretty but you seem flustered enough.

“I really don’t want it.”

“You’re lying…” He smiles. “I’ll take it off your pay if that’s what you want.”

“Hmm,” you pout, eyes drawn back to the dress as he takes it off the rod. “I’ll make sure you do.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he sings walking away.

“Where is Hina anyway? I thought you were looking after her.” You scold, following and face still flaming.

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

Taehyung has just finished cleaning up Hina’s mess from her eating dinner and turned on the stove to cook the one he’s made for you two when his phone is heard ringing. He takes it to identify the caller.

“I’ll shower her.” You quickly say before he gets to say anything, allowing him to get some respite.

“You sure?” He looks back and sees you already walking away with Hina in your arms smiling and waving at him.

He smiles to himself and sits down on the couch, only now realizing how much he’s needing it. He lets out a sigh and answers the call.

“Hey, mom.” —

“No, not this one,” Hina slurs, knuckling one eye as you pick out several pajamas.

You fold back the cloth after her rejection. “What about this one?”

You look down at her. She’s barely holding herself up as she squeezes her eyes and eventually nods her head. You chuckle to yourself and quickly dress her up before she catches a cold.

Hina lifts her arms out of habit and you straighten yourself up, gently swaying her as you softly hum your favorite lullaby to her.

You walk in the living-room at the same time Taehyung’s getting the fuming dish out. Plates, glasses and cutlery are already ready so you directly go take a seat in front of his while he places the meal between you.

You look up at him and immediately grasp something bothering him. You take in a big breath.

“This looks actually really good. I kinda expected not to eat anything tonight.” You trail in a sarcastic tone.

You manage to pull a half-hearted lopsided smile.

“Did everything go well with Hina?”

You hum an approval taking a first bite of the home-cooked meal. “Think I broke my record. Three minutes and I could've sworn hearing snore.” You’re sure it’s not entirely coming from your empty stomach and can’t help the short pleasant moan you let out as you start chewing.

You catch Taehyung giving you a relieved and thankful look.

“Not eating?”

He nods and moves his hand to hold his fork but you feel he may have lost his appetite.

You try not to stare too much and every time he’s not looking back. You’ve never seen him looking this down as far as you can recollect. He’s had his collected and isolated moments but you know this right now is not one of them. He’s changed mood so abruptly.

You’re so lost in your thoughts, his sudden speaking has you almost jumping in your seat. “I might actually believe you. This isn’t too bad.”

Taehyung finds it curious the way you're gazing back silently. He smiles shyly and looks back down at his plate. He hates it how he’s not able to enjoy this quiet and intimate moment with you.

You put down your fork to reach for your glass of water. “You’re not giving yourself enough credit.”

He lets out a breathy chuckle. “You seem to be the only one thinking that.”

“Not true.” You peak his interest. “I know a little snoring cutiekins that can vouch for it.”

His fork makes a sudden noise when it slips his grasp. He frowns a little.

“What happened Tae? Who called you?”

“My parents.” He pauses. “They’re still thinking I’m not fit to raise her.”

“Why?” You’re frowning too. “They didn’t seem convinced enough last time we visited. Your father was really supportive. I don’t understand.”

“I think the thing they’re reassessing is… not me but my job.”

You sit up and look away, “so I’m the one who didn’t convince them?”

He gazes up at you with confused eyes. “No, I don’t think you’re the problem. No, it’s- It’s just… I mean, you’re planning to look after us your whole life. I mean work for me.”

“Of course not.” You trail softly looking back. “But you’re going to better yourself. You’ve barely got acquainted with each other.”

“They say Hina starting preschool this year is bad timing.”

“I… I don’t mean to be rude but how would they know?”

“Well, they’ve already had an idea about how hectic my schedule can get.”

You cross your arms on your chest. “But you’re planning to adapt it, right?”

“Of course, I just... “

“Need to adopt her officially and make it public.” You continue for him. “How do you feel about you looking after her?”

“I feel good about it. I mean it feels right and I don’t want it another way.”

“So get yourself heard.” Taehyung looks down in surprise at your hand grabbing his. “You’re not a child taking care of one. You know what you want. Stop letting others think and speak for you. If you don’t fight for Hina you’ll come to regret it.”

You go silent and become aware of your gesture when he doesn’t say anything back. You slowly remove your hand and freeze when he suddenly grabs it hurriedly. You only then notice the tears in his thankful eyes.

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

It’s been a couple of months since Hina started her first preschool year and you and Taehyung have fondly been watching her blooming weeks after weeks in her new environment. There hasn’t been a day, she hasn’t had plenty of anecdotes to tell.

As much as you’re taking pleasure in witnessing her go through her learning, you feel as much contentment from seeing Taehyung discover that new side of rearing.

“Hello!” Hina bursts her way inside the penthouse as usual, excited to find Taehyung after a long day spent apart.

“Hey sugarplum,” he grins just as delighted.

You close the door behind you bringing Hina’s tiny backpack along with the couple of errands you ran for him. You don’t have to look at Taehyung to notice just how exhausted he must be. It’s been a week since his latest comeback and getting back to a busy schedule, which still has had some changes to it, isn’t as easy as he’d expected it.

You haven’t talked about the issue his parents raised ever since that night and didn’t want to seem intrusive but you just hoped he’d grin and bear it the time needed.

“_______ will also be there.”

You perk at the sound of your name looking at them from the kitchen where you’re storing things away.

You see Hina’s eyes brighten at the news you’re unaware of. “Weally?”

She joggs towards you and looks up with hopeful eyes as her tiny fists clutch your pants.

“Pwomise?”

“Promise what?” You frown confused as you look between Taehyung and her.

“Come see her end of year show,” he explains stretching an arm on the couch. “She’ll be singing songs.”

“Say yes.” She hops still clinging around your knees.

You feel your chest get overwhelmed with a familiar surge of warmth, binding you tightly from within and it makes your face all tingly. “If you invite, I’ll c-”

“Yes, yes, yes. I invite you.” She bounces happily.

You reach to pat her head, smiling at her shyly. “Yes, I’ll come.”

Taehyung grins effortlessly at the two of you and thinks that moments like this are worth all the effort in the world.

Hina joins him again and you hear them making sure she doesn’t reveal to you the song she’ll be performing and how she has to train seriously because he might assess her singing. You’re convinced he doesn’t need you or your words, he’ll be doing just fine.

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

Taehyung involuntarily puts an end to your happy mood when he reveals he’s had you do the groceries because Hwiin is expected later tonight to share dinner. You don’t ask him but he tells you to stay in case you’d be thinking of leaving. The thought makes you smile but it doesn’t last when you think about the time you’ll have to go through in her company.

The doorbell rings unpleasantly and you let Taehyung welcome her while you remain in the kitchen finishing preparing everything you’ll be needing.

You shortly greet her when she comes in, waving at her with a knife in your hand and noticing the surprise on her face she sees you.

“We’re just getting started with dinner so you can wait here with Hina,” Taehyung explains as he helps her with her coat and bag.

“Alright.” She speaks in a high-pitched tone as she gets closer to Hina sitting on the carpet and playing with her toys. “Hello Hina.”

The little girl replies quietly.

Hwiin still struggles to find the right words or gestures when it comes to her but she comforts herself as she can acknowledging the fact she’s not making her cry anymore.

She tries not to be too invasive and settles for switching between her phone and watching T.V.

She’s surprised by Taehyung’s sudden appearance when he brings Hina some grapes.

“You want some too?” He smiles politely.

“No I’m good, thank you.” If you looked at her, you'd find her racking her brain to quickly find a way to start a conversation with him but he’s back giving you instruction on the use of ingredients.

She resigns herself a moment until something worth saying eventually comes to her mind but when she looks his way, she finds him bent down, your arms framing his neck and your faces close, very close.

Are they- Right in front of me? She tenses.

She freezes at the sight and doesn’t immediately see that you’re actually tying the front part of his hair to keep from falling in his eyes.

She promptly looks away as if it physically hurt her and stared in space. She hears his laugh and it tugs at his heart. She can’t overlook the bonds you’ve forged, they exist and helped make his house home-like.

Her eyes are dragged yet again where you are and she watches quietly as you manoeuvre Hina on your hip to give her a peek at what you’re cooking. She feels in the way and it hurts.

You’re in charge of feeding Hina while Taehyung focuses on finding conversation topics, sparing you the small talk. Although the little has all your attention, you notice Hwiin strange silence.

She’d usually take the opportunity to be all over him, monopolizing him to herself claiming her behavior was justified by professional reasons.

“Let me take care of it,” he interjects when she stands up to help clear up the table.

“Thank you,” she smiles half-heartedly. “I have to make a quick phone call, I’ll be right back.”

She grabs her phone from the couch where she’s left it and looks back as she heads for the bathroom down the corridor. She sees Hina grabbing onto you to lead you to the ice cream she’s struggling to open on her own.

She finally opts for Hina’s bedroom and leaves the door barely ajar after checking one more time the coast is clear.

She thumbs a number and waits for an answer.

“Hello? Mrs Hiroshi? I’m Hwiin, do you remember me?” She asks in a hushed voice. “I’m doing good thank you. Listen, I don’t have plenty of time.”

She turns away from the door and walks away a little.

“I called to tell you I’ve been thinking about the suggestion we’ve come up with a couple of weeks ago. Yes, the social worker one.” She nods to herself. “I think it could work out.”

Hwiin looks over her shoulder when she thinks she’s heard a noise. “Let me take care of it. I’ll contact them myself. Yes, don’t worry. I’ll keep you in touch.”

She can see a shadow right on the other side of the door and hurries to finish her call. “I have to hang up. We’ll talk again later.”

She walks to the door warily, directing a frowning gaze where the shadow remains still and stretches her arm. She yanks the door open violently and sees nothing behind it.

She holds back a scream when Hina runs in at full speed.

“Hina, you scared me.” She laughs uneasily watching her plop on her bed.

She looks up at her, her big eyes hidden behind her long fringe. “What you doing in my woom?”

“Me? Nothing,” Hwiin dismisses with her hands on her knees. This doesn’t feel natural at all, she thinks. “I just wanted to see it. You have such a beautiful room.”

Hina stares up at the smile Hwiin gives her. She decides to walk out first, followed closely by. Her heart is still thumping hard and loudly in her ears as she joins you and Taehyung in the living-room where you’re sitting nearby each other.

She grins at him, sitting on his other side just as closely and makes sure to avoid your eyes.

/////////////////!\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

Feedback is much appreciated Reblog if you wish to read more

[elnierah]

Valentine’s Day Short

I decided to write a little Shukita short for Valentine's Day! I know I haven't released anything for a long time, so hopefully, this shows I'm still working! I've just been extremely busy lately, so apologies for that! 

 Please enjoy! 

 NSFW-ish!

____________________________________________________________

The sound of footsteps, chatter and busy hands filled the exhibition room as each and every prepared the gallery for view. With a clipboard in hand, Yusuke instructed his employees on their tasks, ensuring his perfect vision was met. While it wasn’t his first attempt at an art exhibition, it was the first he organised on his own, without the help of managers or the restrictions they imposed. All of this, from the stress of directing others to the burden of advertisement, was the fruition of his dreams, even if it, unfortunately, landed on another day of importance.

“Yes, please place that over there,” He gently ordered, gesturing his hand to guide. “Oh, that? Just over there is fine.”

Various voices sought his guidance, wishing to complete their tasks with the utmost efficiency. Yet, one was unalike the others,

“Kitagawa-san, it seems you have a guest.”

“A gust? If the wind is a problem then please curtain the-” His words tapered off, slowly realising what his assistant meant as his eyes shifted towards her. “A guest…? Why would someone come here now? The exhibition isn’t finished nor is it the proper date.”

“I-I’m not quite sure. He just requested to see you.”

“He…?” At the consideration of whom it may be, Yusuke released a sigh and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Let him in.”

The assistant gave a quick nod and scurried towards the main door, beckoning and permitting their ‘guest’ within. With a bouquet of flowers far too large, Akira, his lover, stepped inside and approached the moment their eyes met.

Abashed by his sudden appearance, Yusuke sought a minute of respite. “Please, excuse me for one moment.” He then quickened his pace, meeting his partner halfway. “W-What are you doing here…?”

As usual, his words were met by a warm smile.

“I apologise for dropping in so suddenly, I just wanted to see you.” As if he realised, Akira perked up and offered the bouquet. “Oh, and to give you these.”

Inspecting the flowers, Yusuke sensed they were a custom request as the colours and breeds harmonised in a way he preferred and often painted. For his partner to be so attentive, even on a day they couldn’t celebrate in its entirety, touched his heart and warmed his cheeks. However, despite his adoration, he had an image to maintain and a job to resume.

“Akira… I am working.”

“I know, but does that really mean you cannot accept my gifts of love?” With a curious tilt of his head, Akira revealed a heart-shaped box of chocolates in his other hand. “I also bought you some designer chocolates too, blended to your exact preference.”

“...” As a glimmer of warmth flickered within his eyes, Yusuke glanced around to witness some of his employees watching on, giggling amongst themselves.

“It seems there is a man out there capable of melting Kitagawa-san’s frozen heart.”

At the sound of their gossip, a smirk curled Akira’s lips, making it quite clear he intended to tease. 

“...Come with me.” 

Reaching outwards, Yusuke grabbed his partner’s wrist and dragged him towards a storage room. Once inside, he slammed the door shut.

“You truly love embarrassing me, don’t you?” He exhaled and averted his eyes as a faint blush enveloped his cheeks. “It’s a shame it works every time...”

“It’s not my fault you’re so cute when flustered.” Akira chuckled, emphasising his ulterior motive even more. “Plus, it’s not like I came here just for that. I did truly wish to see you.”

“...” Further abashed by his tender words, Yusuke chewed on the inside of his cheek. “I am...touched, however, we agreed to celebrate tomorrow due to my exhibition. Why couldn’t you have simply waited until then?”

Stepping closer, Akira narrowed his eyes in a seductive manner. “Because I really wanted to see you, Yusuke.”

“N-Ngh…” 

A slight sound of discomposure slipped from Yusuke’s lips. 

“Did you not want to see me too?”

Taken aback, Yusuke blinked in surprise and met his gaze. “O-Of course I did…!”

“Hm~ That makes me very happy.” Glancing around for a moment, Akira placed his gifts down upon a table and leaned even closer, causing Yusuke to press against the wall. “May I touch you…?”

Gulping down the temptation, Yusuke gave a meek nod. “...O-Only for a short while, okay? I must return to work, after all.”

“I’m not sure if I can accommodate that, but I can at least try~”

Despite the spoken warning, Yusuke didn’t think twice and pulled Akira into a kiss via his shirt, their warm lips desperate for the touch of one another. Soft fingertips caressed and explored, growing more adventurous as their hot tongues intertwined, rubbing together in a feverish desire. 

Clothes rustled, unbuttoned and exposed skin to the cold air as their reason resigned, enticing them both to cross the line.

                                                   ~~~~~~~~

The storage door creaked as Yusuke and Akira snuck out of it, an air of shame lingering around them.

“W-Well, I’ll let you get back to work now.” Akira gave an awkward grin and slid his foot backwards. “I’ll see you later tonight, right?”

“Y-Yes, later, not now.” Yusuke stammered, attempting to hold his partner’s gifts as he corrected his clothing. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have matters to attend to.”

Akira just chuckled and waved. He then headed towards the exit, blowing Yusuke a final kiss.

“...” Yusuke simply sighed, his cheeks still flustered, and sought his assistant. “Umi-san.”

At the sound of her name, she perked up and approached.

“Y-Yes, Kitagawa-san?”

“Could you please ensure these are kept in a safe place?” He asked whilst offering the bouquet and chocolates. “I won’t be able to carry them and work at the same time.”

“O-Oh, of course!” With an attentive nod, she carefully grabbed them, then allowed her gaze to roam. “I don’t mean to pry, but...you took quite some time in there. Did something perhaps happen?”

“W-What? No! Of course not!” Fumbling for an excuse, Yusuke brushed his hair aside. “He can...just talk a river to drought, and I didn’t wish to be rude.”

His assistant remained silent, prompting him to attempt eye contact, yet all he witnessed was her staring at a particular ‘bruise’ on his neck.

“Umi-san.”

“Ah! Y-Yes...?”

“Let us return to work. We have a schedule to maintain, after all.”

“R-Right… I’ll go find a spot for these.”

An awkward aura pervaded within the air as his assistant walked away, determined to find a safe location for his gifts. 

With a prolonged, embarrassed sigh, Yusuke pulled his collar up and resumed the preparations of the exhibition, even if it meant warding off thoughts of forbidden acts for the rest of the day.