#it's so vivid how i remember seeing him barge in that door and the “i need him” switch in my brain turning on immediately

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

my favorite mulder moments from s1

that time he was straight up reading a porn magazine in his office because it mentioned some alien stuff and he needed to Research (a million bonus points for scully's reaction)

when in episode 6, he knocked at a suspect's door, asked if they could come in, and then barged in without waiting for an answer (it was at this moment i knew i was gonna be down bad for this man)

giving a random guy off the street his hotel key in episode 5 so he can do a stakeout from the road, which leads him to getting arrested

every single time he guides scully into the room with a hand on her back... i could not even begin to list all of these times because it's at LEAST once an episode

when he gets ripped apart by the jersey devil but still speaks about how beautiful she is and tries to protect her

(and when he tries to protect the alien hybrid guy in the s1 finale as well, but both times he fails to do so)

when he runs into his old friend in episode 16 and greets him by singing his name

seeing him beg on his knees in a church, praying for his sister's return

"scully! it's potato" <- god tier. to me.

bringing a picture of his sister to the hotel on their trip to tennessee in episode 18

when he knelt down and opened the dead guy's mouth in episode 19 knowing there would be fangs in there and then did not elaborate

when he clarifies that he isn't lying, but "willfully participating in a campaign of misinformation"

"only one man's successfully faked his death... (in a god-awful southern drawl) elvis" proclaimed in such a matter-of-fact tone

when he finds his alien-obsessed stalker having a seizure in episode 10 and carefully tucks him back into bed

(and then we see he took alien guy’s hat as a souvenir, which he leaves hanging in his office, after he passed away. no it’s fine i’m fine!!!)

when he remembers the agent he lost during his first case in episode 16, storms out of the building in grief, and goes to watch the dead agent's son play football

when he gets very angry at deep throat for being willing to conduct some corrupt bargaining with the government (despite. y'know. all the other horrible things the FBI has done. his morals were outraged here)

when he finally takes the shot at the guy who vowed to kill him (big character development here! who cheered! while also mourning the damage to his optimism!)

and in a similar vein, when he faced his fear of fire in episode 12 to go rescue the kids in the burning building <3

when he and scully arrive in tennessee to do some alien sleuthing and he busts out a ton of little gadgets

every single time this insufferable man fell asleep on his couch

him ripping his entire apartment apart at around 3 am on a mission to find tracking devices

that time he just really wanted to go see the liberty bell at the end of episode 6

the guilt in his voice when he sees scully in a hospital bed at the end of episode 20, and he says "i told her it was going to be a nice trip to the forest" ... pain.

when he defends openly proclaiming eugene tooms to be a lizard monster in court, no matter how wild it makes him look, because “I don’t care how it sounds as long as it’s the truth” (ah truth motif, my beloved)

also, jumpscaring tooms with the tale of his lost elkhound with whom he hunts moose

[muddyorbsblr]

relinquish the crown: a heart yearning

Series Masterlist See my full list of works here!

Placement: before the main story; literal seconds after 'obsessions & fantasies'

Summary: Loki begrudgingly accepts that he'll only ever be with you in his dreams

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 629

Warnings: themes of incest (he's adopted but still); alluding to smutty dreams [let me know if i missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: • mutual pining; idiots in love • entry for @sarahscribbles' Follower Celebration for 'rooftop' and 'pining'

"How I wish I could make you mine…"

Loki leaned his head against the closed door of his bedchamber, whispering the words that ached at the tip of his tongue. For you. Irritation and shame burned at him for lying to you when you asked what moved him to visit you at such a compromising hour in the night, and by your bed, no less. A nightmare, he hissed inwardly, bringing himself to the very rooftop that his dream had taken place in.

Nothing could have been further from the truth.

He ran his fingers lightly across the material of the chaise lounge, closing his eyes and relishing in the memories that his mind retained from the vivid dream. How soft your lips felt against his.

How celestial you sounded as you sighed and moaned his name into the night sky.

How undeniably right and perfect it felt to be inside you. Even if it was just a dreamed rendering of you. His love. His little Princess.

His fated.

Tears pricked at the back of his eyes as he remembered the words that you uttered in his ear in that vision, the ache to have you worsening as he recalled how undeniably real it all felt. As if it were truly you atop the roof of the palace with him, possessing a desire that mirrored his.

Even in the safety of his own mind he was plagued with guilt from wishing to have you, knowing that doing so would corrupt you beyond comprehension. That you would burn in the judgment of every member of the royal family -- your family -- as well as every citizen of Asgard if you so much as returned this affections that he'd grown to have towards you.

Only in the darkest recesses of his mind would he ever entertain the possibility that perhaps you could even remotely feel the same as he did, and yet tonight that thought had barged into the forefront of his imagination, the illusion that he'd conjured of you in his mind whimpering and moaning…begging him to claim you. "Then we'll burn together."

Norns, the image alone had him painfully, weepingly, hard once more. His hands gripping the edge of the furniture so tight that the frame began to creak in protest from the force.

The god stared at the spot on the seat longingly, etching into his mind how you looked laid out for him as you told him you were all his while made love to you. It would be but a sweet imagining for the rest of his days, and yet he would hold it closer to his heart than any memory he'd had in his millennia of existence.

"If it is only in my dreams that I can have you, little Princess…" he murmured, bringing himself back to his bedchamber and laying on the silken sheets, closing his eyes as he began to succumb to the tantalizing embrace of slumber, hand traveling down the front of his sleep pants, mind already conjuring a true to life illusion of you behind closed eyes. "…then I will love you with everything I have. In these dreams. In secrecy. And accept that it can never be more than that."

It only took moments for sleep to take him, finding himself outside your chambers once again and opening the door, walking through with no announcement and finding you illuminated by the moonlight, sitting up on your bed and looking a rare, tantalizing vision dressed in an emerald negligee. "Couldn't sleep, either?"

He simply shook his head in response, watching mesmerized at his mind's maddeningly accurate rendering of you held your hand out to him with a lustful grin stretched across your full lips.

"Come join me then, my Prince."

A/N: So…that's a thing 😳👀 Apparently some of the horny dreams were…shared?? Just remember that just because some of them were shared doesn't mean that all of them were. It's just that these two fated horn dogs have a stronger connection than any of us saw coming 🥴

Honestly this part of the 'lore' only came about from a conversation with @cake-writes about these horny dreams, and I'm so excited to build on this in an upcoming duology in the form of a "What If…?" spin-off.

'everything' taglist: @sailorholly @loopsisloops @unlucky-number-13 @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @sarahscribbles @kats72 @kikster606 @evelyn-kingsley @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @peaches1958 @lovingchoices14 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th @lovelysizzlingbluebird @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress

Loki taglist: @calumance @severuslovebot @moonlightreader649 @i-stand-with-loki @nixymarvelkins @cheekyscamp @lokisgoodgirl @purplegrrl27 @thedistractedagglomeration

[angelbluediary]

Why did I suddenly get hit with high school memories I’d forgotten about? I’m appalled at the way I was treated by a grown adult put in a position of protecting students who tore me down every chance he could. I can’t believe I didn’t speak out about it, tell my parents and press the issue. And now the memories ring loudly in my mind from out of nowhere—because seriously, what triggered them?—and I see these interactions like a glowing destination on the map of my life, more specifically a map of the shame I inherited around having a body and existing.

It started with a panic attack in a crowded cafeteria. My boyfriend at the time escorted me down the wide hall leading towards the auditorium so I could calm down and catch my breath away from the noise and packed-in hordes of people.

We stood just around the corner. We’d done down the hall, and stood right there, just barely out of sight, not at all trying to hide. Having a conversation. Focusing on my breaths.

Officer B appears from out of nowhere and immediately starts barking at us, INSISTING he knows we were sneaking into the back of the auditorium to have sex. Nevermind that we’re nowhere near the auditorium door, that we had been standing still by the main hall, simply talking. We calmly try to explain and he keeps talking over us, furious. And he tells me, “I have a daughter, I know how girls like you think.” Girls like you. That’s what he said to me.

He must have hated me from that point on. I remember one day afterward, he saw the frappe I’d drank maybe two sips of and demanded I throw it out right then and there. I wasn’t even allowed to stand there outside the hall for a moment to try and get my money’s worth (okay, the then-boyfriend’s money’s worth), it was wasted under his stern eye.

Then, the incident in drama class.

This must have been months later. Not too much longer. We were all relaxed and in high spirits in drama class, it was that time of the year when we weren’t actually doing anything but killing time. Officer B was friends with the drama teacher and he barged in that day to cut up and act silly. We were laughing. I was laughing. I was looking straight at him, watching him with an easy smile—just sitting in my seat, mid-laugh at his antics like everyone else—and the second our eyes met, his silly expression hardened into something angry. Outraged even.

He marched towards me and then-boyfriend, circling around the long vertical desk (like a tall circular pillar that went around the room in a horseshoe) and DEMANDED TO KNOW WHAT WE WERE DOING? Insisted in front of the whole class we were being suspicious, up to no good. Even our teacher was baffled. She liked us; we were good students. The fun atmosphere had shriveled up instantly.

We hadn’t even been looking at each other, much less touching. I’d been sitting at my seat, caught up in a moment of fun and paying attention to the adults in the room. The feeling I had this time was different from our first encounter outside the auditorium, when I was ticked off, offended he’d accuse me of such a thing. This time, I felt like a piece of me curled up to quietly die. It felt more like resignation.

-

I’m almost 28 years old. This all happened more than a decade ago but the memories are still so vivid, etched into me and the way I carry myself. This was just one of so many events that have occurred throughout my life of people assuming things about me based on a superficial impression. Made to feel like a bad girl, a naughty girl, a no-good-can’t-be-trusted-slutty-sneaky-girl. Girls like you. He didn’t even know anything about me. Did he know the name of the teenage girl he publicly humiliated?

The times close friends would purse their lips and gesture at me to yank my top up to cover my cleavage around our male peers (this behavior from college girls who bared their legs in full, wrote poems about their labia?). Enjoying a pool day with my high school friend group only to learn those very “friends” had picked my body apart asset by asset, judging how pleasing each one was and how these individual parts measured up in their minds (had great boobs; no ass though). Feeling my first friends at college distance themselves without an explanation and then, slowly, their opinion of me drifting back in the form of “slut.” If guys were involved—and they always were—inevitably I would become unliked by everyone. I didn’t want to be with the person who had a crush on me, this soured everyone’s feelings towards me. I flirted with the person it turned out someone else liked, this soured everyone’s feelings towards me. I joined in on debaucherous jokes and it was all laughter and acceptance in the moment but would suddenly pose a problem against my character the next day, had made everyone else uncomfortable. Sour. I was left alone with an older boy, a best friend of my best friend’s boyfriend, stand up guy with a girlfriend, he smacked my ass, it was my fault because of how my ass looked. Sour.

I never stood a chance. The world’s been telling me for so long that my body presents a problem to everyone else. That I should feel bad for being me, to always be hypervigilant towards everyone’s perceptions of me and accommodate to the best of my ability, blend in, dissolve the body, fold my hands in my lap and erect a magical barrier that keeps all members of the opposite sex far away from my flesh, widen my eyes like a frightened horse so I do not come across as seductive, dissolve, sweeten, dissolve, exist only as abstract concept.

But it is okay now. My curves dropped off a couple of years ago. My breasts don’t fill out my shirts anymore, my cleavage doesn’t draw the eye. I’m free to exist. I know this because the comments have dried up, the watchful/wary/interested gazes are no more, and my own well of sensuality has been empty for long enough that I almost forget what it was to sit on that bubble of naughtiness. It was sweet and it was mine, but it was too much to even exist back when my body was curvy.

It is okay now but I still walk through that invisible minefield every time I am not covered up, arms legs chest even the slope of my neck makes me feel paranoid sometimes out in a public space.

Ridiculous.

[sleepysheepd]

Finding You

…

Ok this dream was vividly concerning. Not only was I pregnant but my partner was badly hurt. Oh my future days of being pregnant still remains a mystery.

…

I started to dream people gathering, getting out of their cars, parking where this hotel was it seems. I saw people I knew and some local people I might not know. I noticed it was a gender reveal party for my baby.

The baby is a boy, and I remember going up in front with my partner for everyone to see. My partner and I were to announce the gender of our baby although I wasn’t ready. I kept telling him on our way up to the front not to tell them yet. And I felt a sudden regret that our baby was a boy. I kept telling him not to announce it. And pleaded more. But he let out the reveal like a grand finale to an orchestra concert. And I just remember feeling sick and upset. I felt betrayed and invisible and inadequate. I remember looking around after and seeing everyone happy and cheering. But I wasn’t happy. I did a terrible thing and tried to get their attention by fainting and at that point I realized I fainted on my stomach. I was upset, but only because none seemed to notice and continued to celebrate. I don’t know why Hurting myself and my baby was okay. I think I passed out after.

Next thing I know I got up from the ground, and I felt a scar on my head. How did I get that? I thought. Then I immediately thought of my bf. Where is he? I hope hes okay? I just felt waves of emotion, worry, and guilt.

In my dream I tried not to worry. And I think I found a way to see into the future. I don’t remember how but when I did, I visioned the worst case scenario, which I saw him hurt himself badly. And then I visioned the best case scenario, which was finding him and saving him. And thats what I wanted to do.

I desperately looked around and I saw a group of boys/men who I thought new my bf. I went to then and I asked one guy where he might be. Although they seemed busy in a group conversation to care, one guy mentioned eventually that my bf could be in the bathroom.

That was it. I went rushing to the bathroom. I didn’t care about anything else. The guilt and worry of something bad felt overpowering. I did not know where the bathroom was. And it was a long way there.

As I was speed walking through the halls, i noticed a girl, an old classmate of mine. I felt like she saw me but tried to avoid me and kept walking away. But she glanced back. And in my dream I just thought - follow her. She walked to the mens bathroom, then quickly walked passed and exited away from me.

The bathrooms and everything about that place seemed fancy. It felt like I was at a fancy hotel at that point. You know, like a hotel with a penthouse floor?

When I walked into the mens bathroom I noticed the bathroom doors reached from floor to ceiling and the ceiling was tall and high. I didnt care about going into the mens bathroom either, even though I was afraid to get caught. I just barged in at that point. And I heard one person only and thought that was him. I heard a thud or something and I just barged through his door.

I saw my bf sad and upset and his face seemed beat up. I immediately thought he hurt himself. And I felt sad with him. “Im sorry” i said, with the most heavy heart. I put hands on the checks of his face. I was relieved to find finally find him. I tried to comfort him and said sorry over and over. I felt so bad. But I was so happy I found him and kept him from any danger. He hugged me in the end and I felt that he was happy that I was looking for him.

…

This dream was so vivid. I never want to feel this way ever. And I would never feel bad about the gender of my baby. I told my bf when I woke up and he was also asking about the baby. He said, “what happened to the baby?” I laughed and told him, “I was worried more about finding you” but now I realized that although it was all a dream, the baby was the one that got hurt. That moment made me realize something more important. That when you love someone, the precious things you create together becomes more important than yourselves.

Is that what love is?

[jingyismom]

Thanks everyone for the prompts! I decided to try and knock these all out in one go:

@thegirlwhotrashcans: remember, you asked for it. au, nobody dies, wwx and yanli bodyswap. they're married to lwj and jzx. 100% crack. bonus points if jin zixuan completely loses his shit and lwj looks very calm but loses his sh*t after everything is back to normal

@alightbuthappypen: Competency kink! One or both of them (when I say 'them' I mean wangxian obvs, I know what I'm about) getting hot and bothered about the other being amazing. On a nighthunt maybe? Or anywhere else that strikes your fancy!

@hearteyeswangji: WRITE MORE P*RN

I think I can manage that. With a few tweaks, accidental seriousness, and broad, ridiculous fix-its tacked on. I have no idea how long this might be. Let’s try it in installments? I’ll reblog and add on as I go. Maybe it’ll be fun. We’ll find out.

Disclaimer that this is just gonna go for it with no revising and no beta readers, so pls do not hold me to any conceivable standard of coherency thx

--

WILL INCLUDE: wangxian, xuanli, let jyl and lwj be friends agenda, canon divergence, fix-it, everybody lives, arranged marriage, bodyswap, light angst, getting together, Attempts at Comedy, eventual (light?) wangxian smut

The Sunshot Campaign has just been won. Everyone goes over to Jin Guangshan’s house after the Nightless City banquet, to Negotiate Stuff, and some hasty political marriages happen resulting in Xuanli Wedded Bliss and Wangxian Un-confessed Wedded Tension. Then, suddenly...a curse befalls our brave heroes.

--

Wei Wuxian wakes suddenly, feeling odd. He’s sleeping on his stomach for one thing, which is not his usual, but he feels warm and comfortable enough that he doesn’t think it strange. But then there is the scent of peonies and gardenias, which is both familiar and alien, somehow. It makes him open his eyes. 

Which is when he sees the hand before him on the bolster. It is slender and elegant. Small. Pale. Familiar? Wearing a jade bangle. He pushes himself up a bit, startled, only to see the hand move when he does. 

The hand. Is his hand. He stares at it. The shock of it, coupled with the early hour, leave his mind working very slowly.

At length, he becomes aware of an odd weight across his back, which then shifts. Wei Wuxian turns.

He is met with the sleepy, moon-eyed stare of one Jin Zixuan, still cradling him in his arms.

“What the fuck,” says Wei Wuxian. His voice is. Soft. And high.

He would think this was all some messed-up dream if not for the fact that his dreams of late have all been messed up in an entirely different way. He’s also certain, in an odd, detached way, that he never would have imagined the battle scars that mar Jin Zixuan’s distressingly visible skin.

Jin Zixuan’s brow furrows, and he blinks. “A-Li?”

“...What the fuck.”

~~~

When Lan Wangji wakes at his customary hour, he is just slightly more tired than usual. The coverlet over him is oddly heavy, but he does not give it any thought until light from the rising sun slips over an unfamiliar sill and into his eyes. His entire body goes tense as he remembers. 

Jinlintai. The long hours of debate, of negotiation. The hasty marriages. 

He sits up in his strange bed and turns. There, in the bed opposite, is Wei Ying’s sleeping form. Close, yet still distant. Safe, at least.

Lan Wangji relaxes, and takes a breath. It was a near thing, keeping the sects from demanding more and more from Wei Ying, from treating him like a criminal instead of the hero he is. But somehow, Jiang Wanyin and Xiongzhang ended up on the same page, defending him, working tirelessly toward a compromise with the more critical parties. And now Lan Wangji has the dubious honor of ‘keeping Wei Ying in check,’ as Yao-zongzhu so inelegantly put it, through marriage. 

A strictly political marriage. A convenient solution. To bind them together, to keep Wei Ying tied under the umbrella of Lan Wangji’s rigid honor. 

It is unclear, as of yet, if Wei Ying resents this arrangement. He has not been himself since Nightless City, and the destruction of Wen Ruohan’s forces. First his long coma, then a lingering tiredness that he has not seemed able to shake, which dampens his normally-vivid expressions of feeling.

Lan Wangji is worried. But this, at least, Wei Ying has made clear is unwelcome. He seems to want to pretend that nothing has changed. Not about himself, and not between the two of them. Lan Wangji has done his best to honor his wishes, despite everything.

Now, he rises and dresses before sinking into his morning meditation. It is still strange to do so fully dressed, weighed down by the propriety required for the public, but it has felt necessary, now that Wei Ying shares chambers with him. A physical manifestation of the barrier between them, more important than ever now that they are, bizarrely, married. 

Before his meditation is finished, he hears Wei Ying stir. It is unusual for him to wake so early. Lan Wangji’s eyes snap open, immediately searching him for signs of pain.

Wei Wuxian turns over, then goes very still. He sits bolt upright, searching the bed with wild eyes, then turns them on the room at large. When they land on Lan Wangji, he curls in on himself, the fingers of one hand tightening at the collars of his sleeping robe, clutching it closed.

“La—Lan-er-gongzi?” 

His voice is oddly breathy, and his eyes...they are wide with confusion, with just the slightest tinge of fear. Lan Wangji is struck nearly senseless by the term of address, aberrant in Wei Ying’s mouth.

“What is wrong?”

Searching the room again, Wei Wuxian moves toward the edge of the bed with a strangely graceful modesty. It looks alien on his long limbs. “My...my husband. Where…?”

The word jolts through Lan Wangji’s entire body. He has never heard Wei Ying say it before. He has...wanted to hear it. Dearly, he realizes suddenly. But it sounds wrong. Distressed. Everything Wei Ying says sounds wrong.

“Wei Ying,” he says. 

Wei Ying’s eyes snap to his. “A-Xian? Where is he? Is he with A-Xuan? Are they alright?”

Lan Wangji blinks at him, uncomprehending, for several seconds. Then he begins to understand.

“You are not—”

The doors to their chambers burst open, and Jiang Yanli rushes in. The tasteful purple and gold robes she has adopted in the few days since the weddings are loose, uncharacteristically askew—not impreprietous, but verging on it. She spots Lan Wangji and her stormy expression clears.

“Lan Zhan,” she says, and her shoulders droop. 

Lan Wangji blinks at her, thrown by her use of this name, then glances at Wei Ying, who has gone completely still, his mouth open in a small, shocked ‘o.’ Jiang Yanli follows his gaze and freezes.

Just then, Jin Zixuan comes barreling into the room, significantly more unkempt than his wife. He has not even tied back his hair. 

“A-Li,” he implores, “what’s happened? We can’t just go barging into our guests’,” he pauses, and bows awkwardly, hastily, to Lan Wangji and Wei Ying in turn, “rooms like this. Please,” he takes her arm, but she shakes him off. 

She’s still staring at Wei Ying. “Sh...Shijie?”

Wei Ying startles, and looks down at himself. He holds out his arms, his hands, and looks at those too. Then he looks up at Jiang Yanli. “A-Xian?”

“Shijie,” Jiang Yanli says, and slumps over to the bed, embracing Wei Ying.

“A-Li,” hisses Jin Zixuan, scandalized. 

Lan Wangji glances at Jin Zixuan’s wife embracing his own husband on the bed, and rises. He walks briskly past them all to shut the door. Then he returns. 

“Wei Ying,” he says again. Jiang Yanli looks up at him.

It is obvious, now that he has realized it. Her face, animated by his personality. The soft warmth of her eyes sharpened just so. The deliberately graceless way she threw herself—himself—into Wei Ying’s—no, Jiang Yanli’s—arms.

Lan Wangji takes a deep breath. “Is this a curse?”

“Yes,” Wei Ying says with Jiang Yanli’s face, but his own certainty.

“How can we break it?” Lan Wangji asks.

“I”m not sure, not yet. I need to try a few things—or—having the original curse would be safer.” He looks at his sister in his own body. “I...don’t really want to experiment with this.”

Jiang Yanli tsks and bumps his shoulder a little too forcefully, jostling Wei Ying in her currently slight form. “Vain,” she says, teasing.

“Shijieee,” he whines. It sounds bizarre in Jiang Yanli’s voice. “I don’t want to accidentally hurt you.”

“I know,” Jiang Yanli says, soothing. 

“Do you feel alright?” Wei Ying goes on, urgent.

“Perfectly alright, now that you’re both here,” she says, smiling at the newcomers in turn.

Something sharply acidic surges in Lan Wangji’s stomach at such a look on Wei Ying’s face, directed at...Jin Zixuan.

“Really, though,” Wei Ying presses, “any nausea? Dizziness? Pain? You’re not worried?”

“Not at all. Our A-Xian will figure it out.”

Lan Wangji watches as the appearance of Wei Ying’s knuckle affectionately brushes Jiang Yanli’s nose. 

Strange. It is all...so strange.

“If—”

“What is happening?” Jin Zixuan interrupts.

All three of them look at him. He stares between them, wild-eyed and desperately askew. Lan Wangji has never considered him to be particularly slow on the uptake, but he supposes allowances must be made for the stress of waking up with a stranger in one’s bed.

He does not care to investigate the perverse pang of jealousy he feels at the thought.

“A-Xuan, it’s me,” Jiang Yanli says. Jin Zixuan stares at her in Wei Ying’s body, uncomprehending. She goes on slowly, but not unkindly. “A-Xian and I have been cursed into each other’s bodies. He’s in there, and I’m in here.”

Her husband blinks several times, very quickly. Lan Wangji recognizes the moment it sinks in by the deep flush that rises across his entire face, and is certain he does not wish to know what precisely inspired it. 

Jin Zixuan takes an involuntary half-step back, then forward again, as he speaks with renewed urgency. “Why has this happened? Can it be undone?”

“Great questions,” Wei Ying says, falsely encouraging. Lan Wangji exchanges a glance with him, and it almost feels natural, to share such a thing with either Wei Ying or Jiang Yanli. “Someone was clearly either targeting me—that’s Wei Wuxian, that’s me, in here—or you...whom you know to be Jin Zixuan. I hope.”

Jin Zixuan turns a deeper shade of red. “Obviously,” he bites out. “But why?”

Wei Ying rolls his eyes dramatically. It is not something Lan Wangji ever imagined Jiang Yanli doing.

“We don’t know yet, but we will once we find and question the person responsible,” Wei Ying says. Jiang Yanli grips his arm suddenly. Wei Ying looks at her. “And yes, it can be undone. Of course it can. I’ll figure it out.”

“Cast a rebound,” Lan Wangji says, brisk. The more quickly they are done with this, the better.

Wei Ying’s face falls. “Ah,” he says, “well, we…”

“My cultivation is too weak for him to reliably use,” Jiang Yanli says suddenly. “And I’m not very good at the method, I’m afraid.”

Lan Wangji nods. Steps forward. Then hesitates. “If the curse was cast in such a way, one of you may end up in the caster’s body. And they in yours.”

They all look at Jiang Yanli. Her expression grows grim. “Alright,” she says, then looks to Lan Wangji. There is something steely in her expression that is familiar on Wei Ying’s face. “Thank you for the warning. Go ahead.”

Lan Wangji hesitates only a moment longer, expecting protests from the other two. But Wei Ying is wearing a small, knowing smile, and Jin Zixuan merely nods at her, reassuring. Lan Wangji senses his esteem for the Jin heir rising at such solid trust in his wife. 

He steps forward and casts the rebound. They all hold their breath. 

Wei Ying glances around, his wry expression entirely foreign on Jiang Yanli’s face. “Anything?”

“No,” says Jiang Yanli.

Wei Ying sighs. “More work for us, then.”

“A-Xian,” Jiang Yanli says, taking gentle hold of his wrist. “You know what this means.”

“Ah?”

“You’ll have to be me.”

“Ah. No, I—”

“A-Xian.”

Wei Ying scratches his head, a not-at-all ladylike gesture. “Or we could just stay in here and let these two investigate?”

The smile Jiang Yanli turns on him is tender, and knowing, and indulgent. “I’d like to see you try to sit still when there’s a puzzle to solve.”

He sighs. “Alright. But you have to be me, too.”

She nods, and theatrically slouches into a sprawling, sloppy posture. Wei Ying laughs, his head thrown back, a hand on his stomach. Jin Zixuan turns around, looking almost ill. 

Lan Wangji understands, and he doesn’t. It is dizzying, and distinctly wrong-looking, to see both of them this way. Yet there is also something endearing about it. About the parts of them that do overlap, and fit into each other better than one would expect. 

“A-Xuan,” Jiang Yanli calls softly, noticing her husband’s distress.

Lan Wangji gets the distinct impression that that tone in Wei Ying’s voice is not helping the situation.

“Jin-gongzi,” he says. “It would be best for all of us to go about our days as normal, and not to arouse suspicion. Wei Ying sleeps late, and will not be missed for the morning. Jin-shao-furen may claim mild illness until the afternoon. But you and I must behave as normal. There are still the other sects to host.”

“Yes,” Jin Zixuan says absently. He runs a hand over his face. “Yes. You’re right. A-Li—” he turns and looks at the pair of them on the bed, and pauses. He shakes his head as if to clear it. “I’ll go back and dress. Join me when—or—Wei—” he stops. “I will be attending my duties. Please let me know what else I can do.”

“Remember to act natural,” Jiang Yanli says. “When A-Xian joins you later, try to look less like a roasted tomato, hmm?”

Jin Zixuan’s mouth twists into a wry smile, and he nods at the floor, then flees the room. Jiang Yanli and Wei Ying turn their eyes to Lan Wangji.

“I shall also depart,” he says. He circles his arms to bow to Jiang Yanli, but Wei Ying stands and pulls him over toward the door. Lan Wangji lets him, and tries not to pull away from the improprietous touch from a married lady. 

“Lan Zhan,” he says, hushed and urgent. “I’m not...you don’t think I’m hurting her, am I? Just by being in here? Can you sense any resentment?”

Lan Wangji feels something tighten in his chest. Wei Ying has not let Lan Wangji so much as examine his pulse since he roused from his coma, but the idea that he is so constantly steeped in resentment as to cause worry that his very soul may be harmful...is distressing. He takes hold of his slender wrist carefully. It is still Jiang Yanli’s body, and he will treat it with the respect it is owed. 

“I cannot,” he says. The only energy in Jiang Yanli’s body is generated by her own small but steady golden core. “I sense nothing that may be harmful.”

Wei Ying lets out a relieved breath. “Alright. But, um. What about the other way? Is her...is my body harming her?”

Lan Wangji turns to go back and perform the same examination, but Wei Ying stops him. “No, that’s alright. I’ll. We’ll just get this over with, and we can. Between the two of us, we can fix whatever...whatever damage I do.”

Lan Wangji stares at him, but Wei Ying refuses to meet his eyes. At length, he nods. “We can.”

“Alright. Ah, thanks. You should go.”

Lan Wangji goes.

[gisachi]

Better late than never?? Supposed to post on the day itself but of course I couldn’t. This is my rushed contribution to the prompt: domestic mixed with black knight&princess.

ShinRan Week Day 6

Prompt: Domestic (+ Black Knight&Princess)

Words: ~2.5k

.

.

“Not just once, but twice! Who was it that saved my life again? Oh, unnamed knight with the black cloak, if you will grant me my wish… Please take off that dark mask and show me your true face!”

“If that is what, uh, the princess wishes, I shall show you my sorrow- sorrowful? - face under this moonlight. Oh wow this is cheesy.”

Ran leans on the arm of the couch, bound script covering her resigned face. If she had a hundred yen for every single complaint coming out of this detective’s mouth, she’d have enough to buy two entrance passes to Tropical Land for each day of the week, plus snacks and drinks.

“I went here because I thought you’d be a more immersive practice partner than ‘tou-san. You are worse.”

“I’m sorry, princess, if my mom being an actress ruined your expectations of me.”

“Oh, for sure. And otou-san doesn't destroy the scene by dropping nonsensical comments. And lie on the couch while reading the script. So he’s better by a lot.”

Shinichi props his body up, eyes rolling sarcastically before throwing a look at the lady on the edge. “To be fair, you came barging into my house so early on a Sunday. This is justified.”

“Shinichi, eleven in the morning isn’t early.”

With a stubborn grumble, the detective flops back into the cushions, script on his lap sliding to the floor. “ ’M tired Ran, long case last night, let me sleep.”

“Please, you’re my last option! School festival is in less than two weeks, and I can’t possibly ask Araide-sensei to spare time on a weekend outside of our rehearsal schedule when he’s busy working—”

The lightning speed Shinichi jolts upright causes Ran to cut herself short. “Araide-sensei is the cloaked knight?”

“Yes, didn’t I tell you?”

“You didn’t.”

“Really? I-” she pauses, delayed in taking in the curt iciness of his response when he was so apathetic five seconds ago. On anyone else it’s clear what that tone implies, but she’s never heard it on him.

“Do you have a beef with Araide-sensei?” she asks.

“A beef?”

Ran arches an eyebrow, skeptic. Shinichi meets her gaze, eyes slightly thinning before glancing away, cheeks crimson.

“I mean— Why Araide-sensei? Shouldn’t he be busy, I dunno, being a doctor, than being a fictional knight or something.”

“All the guys in our class were too shy and declined, so Sonoko asked Araide-sensei when he happened to come in for a checkup. He agreed so easily! Would you believe he’d taken a lot of lead roles in plays when he was a student?”

“And that was fifteen something years ago.”

“He’s also good at things like emphasizing lines and handling a woman!”

“Anyone can- What?!”

“Stop being a sourpuss Shinichi, especially when you’re the first to decline.”

He looks at her quizzically. “I did?”

“You don’t even remember?” Amidst the faint pink on her cheeks, disappointment etched on the way Ran’s lips curve to a small pout. “You were the first Sonoko asked... You were so quick to turn her down, she said.”

Astounded by the revelations docking in his brain all at once, Shinichi struggles to recall the conversations he had exchanged with Sonoko the past weeks. None stands out. If she had included Ran’s name in there, he would remember instantly. But Sonoko didn’t. Suddenly, the floodgates in his mind open.

If he finds out later on about the plot and the cast, he’ll definitely find a reason or two to sulk, if not object. Whether Ran is partnered with someone else or Araide-sensei doesn’t matter, for as long as it isn’t him. Him who she’s positive would outright reject her offer to act as a prince because why would he? In any case, god knows Sonoko omitted Ran’s name on purpose for this.

The sly woman has stirred something up, and she will proudly take the front row seat on his reaction she was so sure he’d make.

Not saying Sonoko’s predictions are right. This is just how she thinks. And he won’t react the way she expects he will. She is not right.

Not. Right.

Sonoko, yaro...

“Stand up, let’s do this.”

“Huh?”

“You want immersive? I’ll give you immersive.”

Left with little time to process as Shinichi pulls her by the hand, Ran drops her script on the floor. The sudden shift in character is unbelievable. How can someone so sleep-deprived turn into someone this enthused in a span of a breath?

“But first, let me…” He leaves the room, and Ran picks up her script, still quite lost. Whatever she said earlier must have triggered something, and she’s torn if she’ll ask once he returns but considers the possibility that he may break character. Not gonna risk that. He said he’ll give her an immersive practice, and it’s oddly unexpected, but she’ll take it. This is good. After all, she needs him as the knight.

Wants him as the knight.

“Sheesh, Ran, stop…” Shying away from her own maidenly thoughts, Ran flips to the designated page, scene, and line, rehearsing as she waits.

Some minutes later, Shinichi reappears, holding his script and something else. Of all things she would expect him to own, a blue fancy Columbina mask adorned with elegant silver and royal patterns wasn’t one of them.

“Mom has these things, okay,” he explains, putting it on. Ran isn’t sure if she wants to laugh or tease, but she does neither when she gets a glimpse of him with half of his face covered, and she catches her breath at the sight.

Standing against silk red curtains and brilliant glow of afternoon sunlight, he really does seem like a mysterious knight…

“Don’t laugh, idiot. After doing this for you. Wear this,” he says, and Ran zeroes in on the line of his lips because she has nowhere else to look at as he places a small barrette tiara on her hair. Doesn’t matter what he says, what they wear, even if they fail to match the daintiness of the mask and tiara. Shinichi with this on makes Shinichi as the knight much more vivid now. And Ran as the princess...

“Sorry!” She claps a hand on her warming cheek, pulls back a dumb smile she doesn’t notice she is wearing. “And I— I wasn’t laughing!”

“Still smiling creepily though.”

“I wasn’t being creepy! Geez. Anyway! Page-”

“Page 27, Scene 8, Line 10. Got it.”

After some short blocking instructions, they drop their scripts on the couch, and begin.

“Oh, unnamed knight with the black cloak, if you will grant me my wish… Please take off that dark mask and show me your true face!”

“If that is what the princess wishes, I shall show you my sorrowful face under this moonlight.”

Two steps forward and he removes the mask, and time slows down. She’s seen the same face a million times yet this time, her heart leaps like she’s laid eyes upon the most handsome face in the universe.

“Might—Might you be Spade?” She carries on, taking everything she can to maintain composure. “Long ago, you were banned from this land by my father… but now you’ve become the prince of Trump Kingdom...”

It’s nerve wracking, the way he’s strikingly still, eyes laden on her, either waiting for her next lines or admiring how beautiful she is with the tiara, she isn’t quite sure. The mask is gone, but he isn’t breaking character. Meanwhile, she’s trying her darned best to stay as Princess Heart of Bridge Kingdom.

“If you have… not forgotten about our childhood promise, then please…”

A nervous lump forms in her throat as she wraps her arms around his shoulders, and his hands find her waist, and she nearly gasps but holds it in because right now, she’s Princess Heart, not Mouri Ran asking this of Kudou Shinichi. “Please, show me on these lips.”

“As my princess so desires...”

It should be ‘the’, not ‘my.’ And there’s supposed to be another line after that, but nothing stops him as he leans in ahead of time and her eyelids flutter to the erratic beat of her heart. It’s better to be partnered with Araide-sensei in this after all. He will not mess up his lines, and she will not lose her mind the way she’s losing it now.

Two parted lips are a pucker away when the doorbell chimes, making both jolt.

Ran is first to snap out of character, as if she hasn’t had the urge to earlier.

“That—That must be Sonoko. I forgot to tell you...  I invited her in.”

“Oh, great,” Shinichi says.

Forcing her limbs into working order, Ran disentangles slowly, drawing a distance. Shinichi glances at the mask in his hand, then at her, before tossing it to the couch and turning for the door. From the window, she watches him walk to the front gate, scratching the back of his head in an annoyed manner like she just woke him from sleep, but grumpier. She hasn’t seen him display much emotion on a Sunday noon the way she’s seeing him now.

Maybe I shouldn’t have bothered him, she sighs, her turn to slump onto the couch this time.

-

“As I was saying, the prod already scouted the finest material for the costumes, and I decided, pink suits Princess Heart— Hello? Are you listening?”

Ran nearly drops the knife she holds if not for her inhuman reflexes. “Of course! Princess Heart in pink! Yes.” Like nothing happened, she resumes slathering jam and butter on the toast she’s preparing for the three of them. She doesn’t need to look at her side to know Sonoko’s eyeing her from head to toe.

“What happened to her?” The woman turns to Shinichi who sits at the high stool by the kitchen island.

“Dunno,” he says, sounding as noncommittal as he probably appears. Her back is turned against him, but she can see his face, and god why is she blushing?

“I just helped her rehearse. For the play,” he adds.

“Oh?” Sonoko’s brow perks up her forehead, hair whipping as she turns between her and the boy across them. “Did you?”

“Yup. Page 27.”

The dramatic gasp that tears from their friend’s throat is exactly the kind of gasp they expected; even so, Ran still flinches as Shinichi’s stool rakes the floor. “You kissed and I didn’t see?!”

“Hah?!”

“No!”

The two yelp in unison.

“That’s sly! You have to do it again! I’ll judge.”

“Excuse you! It didn’t happen, what you’re thinking!”

“Sonokooo!”

“Oh, shush, Ran, this is good practice. Good practice.”

“But—”

“Relax, rehearsal is rehearsal! In the actual play, once it’s Araide-sensei, he’ll do a better job—”

“I’m going to the toilet,” Shinichi gets off the stool, jaw stiff, out of the kitchen.

“—with a hug than a kiss. Right?” Sonoko ends, once Shinichi is out of the room.

“What?” Ran’s expression is inscrutable as she faces Sonoko completely, the flush across her face befitting embarrassment or ire. “You’re losing me here!”

“Oh, you’re not going to kiss, Ran. The lights will dim before your lips touch.”

“Then why—” she puts down the bread and walks in haste to the island to flip through the script, “Wh— That’s not in here!”

“Sonoko-sama hereby deems the script revised now that we have Araide-sensei.”

“Eh...?!” Ran cannot explain the play of her reactions. On one hand, a cloud is cleared from her mind, having to worry no more about doing something she has no experience with in front of watchful eyes. On the other, bunch of half-formed thoughts whirl through her mind that goes, Shinichi and I almost kissed for nothing, for nothing we almost k-kissed, an almost kiss with Shinichi, almost—

“That won’t do! I mean— That’s so not you! T-To choose a hug over a...”

“Duh, Ran! Even if it’s just a play, I won’t enable a kiss scene between a student and a staff member. We can fake the kiss. That, or switch to hug. Or better yet, change the male lead.”

“Change the male lead? In two weeks? Who will agree?!”

“Easy.” Just in time, Shinichi returns, hands in pocket and long face worn all the way to the stool.  “I know someone who will.”

-

‘Once it’s Araide-sensei, he’ll do a better job…’ What? Kissing Ran? Shinichi wants to puke. Sonoko needs to think things through. If this is part of her plan, it’s unacceptable, it sucks.

There’s no way, no way anyone can do a better job kissing Ran than…

“Aaaargh, what are you thinking!” He ruffles his hair in dismay, curses here and there. He only wanted to help Ran yet he almost went for it. Not as Spade but as himself. The audacity. It’s part of the script, sure, but—

If it is part of the script, then have Ran and Araide-sensei rehearsed it before?

“That’s it,” Shinichi huffs, storming out of the bathroom. If this is the kind of reaction Sonoko wants from him, she’s in for a show. Not just a show but a lifetime of curses and mental stabs. For her to go this far is unbelievable. Did Ran even agree to that? Will such a scene really happen in the play? No matter how despicable Sonoko’s methods are, he has faith she respects Ran’s preference as the female lead. No offense against Araide-sensei, but he cannot take Ran’s first kiss, whether as Spade or not.

That is not to say he knows Ran’s preference, especially when it comes to a first kiss, but… it’s not... Araide-sensei... is it?!

He cannot ascertain, not when Ran did nothing when they were about to kiss…

Okay, halt there, self. I said immersive. That’s immersive. She was acting.

All was but an act. She’s a great actress. I suck. No need to make this a big deal.

Shinichi is a pitiful mess once he’s back in the kitchen.

“My offer still stands, you know.” Sonoko sits beside him, munching a toast, while Ran is busy returning the jam in the cupboard, back against them.

“Your offer?”

Shinichi glances at Ran, then at Sonoko, with that feral grin on her lips and Shinichi does a bad job looking pissed, and it’s maddening because he is pissed, just not obvious with the blush forming across his cheek.

Reprimanding Sonoko is what he intends to do. For doing him dirty, him and Ran dirty, for dragging a staff to be the male lead, for imploring Ran to give her first kiss she’s probably saving in a different setting. All invalid reasons, when he cared less about the play before. He’s a full-time idiot, and Sonoko knows it clearly that’s why she’s offering the role again. He doesn’t want to fall into her trap, the same way he doesn’t want anyone else to be Spade when Princess Heart is Ran.

But Ran looks over her shoulder and they accidentally lock eyes, and pink blooms across her cheeks before she turns around, and suddenly the words that leave his mouth completely betray the thought process he underwent in the bathroom.

“If Ran agrees, yeah,” he says.

.

.

[inknopewetrust]

A Little Chaos

Summary: A thief finds herself at the center of the kidnapping of two girls and has the attention one very attractive detective. 

Pairing: Detective Loki x Fem!Reader 

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: Criminal activity, flirting, sexual references, brief choking, probably 16+ based on content but no explicit smut. A mention of pedophilia but nowhere near in detail.

A/N: I don't think I've ever written something like this and can I just say that I really loved it!? So, I really hope you all do too! Requests are currently CLOSED but I hope to open them soon again and with new characters to add to my list. Check out my Masterlist for all other works. Thanks so much for requesting this @mrs-blooooom! I just loved the idea so much and thanks for being so kind about all the delays!

One - pick the lock 

Two - lift up the screen and frame as quietly as possible but make absolutely no rough work of it. 

Three - slip on the shoe covers and assess the gloves before entering through the window. 

Four - get to work. 

That was always the structure, no questions asked. Though, you noticed the news beginning to trace your patterns. You had made a hit in another neighborhood two weeks ago and because the news began reporting the patters, you were sure the police weren’t far behind. 

And perhaps on that particular Thanksgiving, you shouldn’t have done another–or picked that house, rather.  

Detective David Loki had a million different things running through his mind on a daily basis. When a case such as the Dover-Birch one stuck itself in the middle of an already pending investigation of burglaries in the Conyer’s area, he had a hunch of who he would investigate first. But he couldn’t get to that immediately because Keller Dover convinced him and his superiors that the RV belonging to Alex Jones was the first and only way to go. 

But even after interrogating the man who had a child-like innocence to him, David Loki was convinced there was something more to the story. There had to have been a connection to who burglarized the Dover’s that same night and where the girls could be... he was certain, but then he wasn’t because he wasn’t sure you were the kind of person who would kidnap two innocent girls. 

On a particularly slow Tuesday, no new leads had come in and the investigation had stalled because Alex Jones had now gone missing without a trace. Although he was doing everything he could, Loki was far from finding a solution and decided to take the initiative into his own hands and dive into the file he had been working on for nearly five months–the one into you and your less-than-stellar activities. The post-it note sticking out of the side of the manilla folder contained an address to an apartment in the center of town. He plucked it out, tucked it into his pocket and walked straight out of the station. 

You weren’t worried about being considered a suspect in the kidnapping of two girls. You had no connection to the Dover’s, Birches’, or the Jones’, as well as no connection to the scene of the crime. You were always careful, and the Dover’s had no security cameras. So, when your comm buzzed in the middle of the day, you weren’t expecting it to be the police. 

“Hello?” 

“Ms. L/n? This is Detective Loki with the Conyer’s Police Department. I have a few questions I would like to ask you.” The voice was cackled with the circuited communication buzzer but you heard the man loud and clear. You also knew exactly who that was. 

Detective David Loki was an infamous creature of Conyers. One day he just seemed to sprout out of nowhere and into the public sphere, but you had known him for a while. You were never friends, and you were sure until now he didn’t even know your name, but he was the star pupil of the town. And the spotlight he was in, he absolutely hated it. Every time his picture appeared in the paper or when he had to speak on the television relayed that message and you laughed in pity. The poor man just wanted to do his job and that was one part he didn’t sign up for. 

“Can I ask what this is regarding?” 

“The investigation into Joy Birch and Anna Dover. I just have a few questions I’d like to ask you if you would step-” 

“I’ll buzz you up.” You pressed the button and unlocked the door, opening it just enough for you to rest on the frame with one arm on the door and the other on your hip. 

Another thing you knew about Detective David Loki was that he was one of the most attractive people you had ever laid eyes on. The man was a walking dream but unfortunately, on the other side of the law which was far from promising when it came to your vivid imagination. 

“How nice of you to not barge into my home, Detective.” You called out to him as he appeared on the steps landing just down the hall from your door. Loki gave no smile but shoved an orange post-it into his jacket as he shoved his hands into his pockets. 

“This surely won’t take long.” 

With a nod you moved away from the door, shutting it closed behind you. With the sudden and unexpected presence of this man who was a fine line between formal detective and loose cop, there was an urge to be exactly the opposite of what he wanted you to be. He had been trailing you for just enough time to learn patterns in your life, the people you associate with, the fact that you had a degree and a decent job. You had an apartment to call your own, a car that wasn’t stolen and yet you continued to break into people's homes and steal curious objects for what? Consignment sales? He wasn’t sure. But you weren’t going to give him the answers he was looking for. You enjoyed the life you built for yourself...even if you had to steal and sell things to arrive at ends meet to pay for everything in your life. 

“So... what can I do for you?” 

“Can you recall where and what you were going on the night of Thursday, November 28th?” 

“Thanksgiving?” You asked with a raised brow and he nodded. Loki pulled out no notebook to take notes, rather he watched every movement. He was trying to identify guilt, but you were a casual sleuth. It wasn’t a game he was used to because all of his suspects eventually gave in. 

“I got up around 8:30, maybe 9 and ate some breakfast, um I-” You took a seat on the arm of your couch, running a hand over your mouth trying to “remember” what exactly you were doing a few days ago. 

“-took a shower and then got started on my dish to pass at my parents dinner. I made sweet potatoes and stuffing-or dressing... I don’t know what you call it.” Loki was far from amused that you were making this appear less than serious. He couldn’t let himself believe that you were stupid enough to believe he wasn’t there on behalf of the story that captured the attention of the entire nation, so he didn’t believe a word you said. 

“When that was done I got ready, did my makeup, and headed out to my parents where my sister and her family were meeting us to have dinner. Then I left their house around 7-ish and came home.” 

“After dinner you went straight home?” 

“Yes.” 

You looked at him with an unfazed gaze which he met but didn’t buy. It was a game. A cat and mouse game that he wasn’t willing to bite into but it was too late, you already had him on a string. Loki would be lying if he didn’t find you attractive, even in the slightest. You were a beautiful woman, and it was because of how you looked that you’ve never been caught. You always covered every inch of your body and you looked unassuming. You had a perfectly pristine house, looked like someone who didn’t need to steal to live but then again, most of the time, all the people who do steal never look like they would because that is what people are taught not to look for. 

“I made some phone calls late last week and someone in your family spilled that you weren’t there. In fact, you haven’t been to a family holiday since you graduated college nearly ten years ago. Bad relationship?” 

“I can assure you–whoever you talked to, they weren’t there. I was there. I can tell you what I wore, what I ate, what was on the T.V. and what color shoe my nephew was wearing that day.” 

“Those could just be good guesses?” Loki let his eyes wander around the small living space. He looked at the picture frames, the vases, the bins, the T.V. stand, everything that could have screamed “out of place” to him but nothing did. 

“You didn’t happen to pass two little girls on your drive home, did you?” 

“Excuse me?” 

“Two girls. I’m sure you’ve seen their picture on the news.” Loki pointed to the T.V. at first but then dug into his pocket and pulled out a single picture of two girls photographed on a playground. They were smiling widely and happily at the person behind the camera. You had never seen the girls so you shook your head no and crossed your arms. 

“No. I’ve never seen them before. Am I supposed to?” 

“I don’t know, are you?” 

“What are you implying, detective?” 

“Do you know the house you broke into on Thursday, November 28th was the home of Anna Dover. Anna and her friend Joy went missing that same night after returning to the Dover residence to find a whistle. You were inside the home at the time we believe the girls went missing. So, tell me–do you know where the girls are?” Loki was zoned in accusation. The man was unwavering in his tone or his assumption and you would say it was scary if you didn’t find it attractive. Why, God WHY, did the detective working on this case have to be everything you looked for in a man? It would be so much easier if he were old and wrinkled but he was far far from it. 

“Detective, if I would have known you would come into my home and accuse me of kidnapping two innocent girls, I wouldn’t have answered the ring.” 

“Where are the two girls? Do you know where they are?” 

“No. I told you I didn’t take the girls.” 

“But you were in the house? Did you see the girls?” 

“I didn’t say that either.” 

“What if I told you that you were a sloppy thief?” 

“Excuse me?” You furrowed your brows in confusion. You were certain that you were not. There was never a time where you left as much as a trace of hair in a location that you hit. 

“The bin.” Loki walked over to the T.V. stand that had three white bins tucked into slots. The bins were generally filled with junk except for one thing that the Dover’s told him went missing yesterday afternoon. A medium size blue decorative pot with yellow flowers on its sides. It was meant for shallow flowers as a table center piece that was gifted to Keller and Grace on their wedding day. Grace was distraught over it and it was sitting the left-most bin under the television. Loki pulled open the drawer and carefully took out the pot and you looked at it with a shrug. 

“Where did you get this?” 

“My mother.” 

“I thought I told you that they told me you haven’t spoken to them in a decade?” 

“Well I obviously spoke to them before that.” 

“I am going to ask you again and I want an honest answer. Where did you get this pot?” 

What were you supposed to do? The man literally cracked the code. If only you hadn’t chosen that house. Oh! How much easier your life would be. 

“I plead the fifth.” Oh, fuck. 

Loki set the pot carefully down and pulled a pair of handcuffs from his belt. It would have been hot if you weren’t terrified of what came next. Then you made an ill-timed joke. 

“You’re not pulling those out for another reason are you?” You didn’t even laugh yourself because he simply ignored it and motioned for you to stand and turn around. 

“I am going to take you to the station and we will talk more there. Stand up, turn around, and give me your hands.” 

“I already told you I don’t know where the girls are.” Ignored again but the feeling of him pushing your shoulder with his hand and taking your wrist was something you wished you would stop replaying in your mind. 

“You have the right to remain silent. Anything-” 

The Conyer’s Police Station was wimpy compared to other cities. It was a small, single story brick building with three holding rooms and one interrogation room. You weren’t sure how long you sat in the holding cell, but it was nighttime by the time you were taken out of the room by another officer and into a brightly lit, slightly yellowed room with a mirrored window and a small desk with two chairs. There was a pencil and a pad of paper at the center of it but you were sure if it was going to be Detective Loki interrogating you, he wouldn’t need it. 

The officer uncuffed you with no words spoken and pointed at the chair facing the window. You rubbed your wrists from the friction the metal left before taking a seat and staring into the glass where your reflection met your own. You had nothing to do with the two missing girls so you had nothing to give them, or rather, nothing to give Loki to further his investigation. 

The man of the hour waltzed into the room a mere five minutes after you were sat down. He had a half-drank cup of coffee in one hand and a small grouping of papers in the other. Loki sat down, settling himself before looking up at you and beginning the interrogation. 

“Please state your name, age, and address.” 

You recited the information as told.

“How many homes a year do you burglarize?" Loki opened a file that was tucked under some papers with a series of pictures printed on a piece of computer paper. It was amalgamation of missing objects from families around Conyers. You were fucked, but you couldn't let him think that, or at least believe that you were guilty in anyway. Your stealing wasn't going to find those girls because you had no idea where in the world they were. You had never seen them before their faces were plastered on every hour of the news.

"Shouldn't my lawyer be here if you are going to accuse me of something?"

"Do you need a lawyer?"

"Do I, Detective?"

It was the attitude that angered him the most. A woman like you didn't need to steal. Based on your records, he had no reason to truly believe you would. Clean record. No screaming signs of intent or distrust popped out but he knew you were guilty. There was not a doubt. But there was something in that attitude that made him squirm. An attractive quality that he did not want to admit.

"If you answer the questions I ask truthfully, then no, you won't need a lawyer."

"Ask away." You leaned back in the chair with arms crossed and a determined narrowness to your eyes. It was a challenge. Try me, Detective. Do it, I dare you.

"When did you first start stealing?"

"When I was seven. My sister always had better stuff, so I took it."

"And that escalated to...what?" Instead of leaning back on his own chair, Loki leaned forward. His shoulders were hunched in an aggressive, intense tactic to scare you into admitting something that you didn't have any part of. He just wanted to find those girls and you happen to be a speed bump in the way.

"Minor petty theft. I never take anything over $500."

"How do you know what something is worth?"

"I'm sure you can find that in my file, Detective. Everything is there I am sure of it. You all know just how to frame the people you want. But I had nothing to do with those girls."

Loki's line of aggravation was growing thin. Sooner or later, attitude wasn't going to cut it and he was going to have to use the tactics he used on Alex Jones and other potential perpetrators on you. He never liked to get outright violent with women, but he couldn't let this go without trying to get something. The days were wearing thin and he needed to find Joy and Anna.

"You were in the Dover's house the night of the abduction. Where are the girls?"

"I told you I didn't have anything to do with that."

"Didn't or don't."

"Doesn't matter. I did not see them. I do not know where they are. Ruining children's lives isn't my MO, Detective-"

"But you do and you did! YOU were in that house. YOU were at the scene of the crime at the time they went missing. YOU are the one who knows what happened to those girls!" His voice was no longer steady and calm as he had been taught during his training. His string had snapped when in response, you laughed.

Loki flew out of his chair, rounded the table as the sound of his chair skidded across the floor and to the wall behind him. If you weren't so focused on him, you probably could have heard the surprised yells of the Detectives and Officers behind the mirror. The angered Detective roughly arrived at his destination–you, and grabbed the back of your hair, pulling your head back to look at him as he stood over you.

"Where the fuck are the girls?" It came out like a hiss. His eyes enraged with pain for the families and his own reputation if the case goes wrong and he doesn't find them in enough time. You weren't scared of him or his tactics. Rather, it was quite the opposite. If he wasn't attractive, you would have been disgusted but the man was the epitome of perfection and this scene would be one to get you off for years to come.

"I told you, I don't know where the girls are." He gripped your hair harder and you felt the chair waver underneath you. Still not scared.

"You're a liar, a fucking thief, and I don't believe you. Where are the girls? Do you like that sort of thing, huh? Do-"

"You sick fuck. I'm a thief not a fucking pedophile. I didn't take the girls!" You were slightly taken aback by his suggestion, but it was all a tactic. You had seen it on millions of police shows before. He just wanted answers, but he wasn't going to find them with you. Whatever in the sentence you had just spoken to him, Loki was worse off for it. He practically lifted you by the hair and charged you into the wall roughly. Not enough to leave a mark, but enough to make a point. He wasn't playing around but neither were you.

Loki's hand let go of your hair and one found itself on the wall next to your head as he closed in on you. You could feel his breathe on your face and his eyes pierced your goddamned soul. The other, well the other found itself right on your neck, holding you in place against the wall with a slight squeeze. Holy fuck.

"Keep this up Detective and I would have the means to believe this might lead to something else." The smile, your smile crept up on your face at your own assumption. You wouldn't complain if it did escalate to that.

"TELL ME WHERE THE GIRLS ARE? WHERE IS ANNA? WHERE IS JOY?"

"I told you I DON'T KNOW WHERE THE GIRLS ARE!"

There was something in your own anger that made him want to believe you didn't take the girls or had any clue where they were. He would hate to see a woman like you throw your life away for a career of crime. The proximity between the two of you was next to none. A knife wouldn't have been able to break the tension and the way he held you, unintentionally violent with a hand just a little too suggestively on your neck was a mistake but not one that he was readily going to admit. If this was any other situation, he might have let himself be willing to feel something more. But this was an interrogation, so he kept the face and squeezed just a little harder.

"Where are they? Tell me where they are?"

"Starting to sound like a broken record there. I would tell you again but I'm sure you have my admission of NOT KNOWING WHERE THEY ARE ON TAPE!"

Loki had enough and let your neck go with a jolt. His hands went to his belt where his cuffs were sitting and he pulled them out and turned you around. Your body was flush against the wall and one of his large, tattooed hands held your wrists together as he went to cuff them. This was another thing that would forever be engrained in your "sexy when it shouldn't be" file in your brain.

"Fine. You won't tell me where they are? Maybe a night in lock up will make you think." His voice was low, just at the base of your ear and his hot breath lingered on your neck as you could hear nothing but your heart beating out of your chest and the sound of cuffs closing.

But the man didn't get much further than that because the door to the room opened and like two deer in headlights, you both turned your heads to the sound of the intruder. It was another officer who looked both scared and amused and slightly embarrassed in regard to what he walked in on. He approached Loki as the latter man pulled you off the wall and forward, in front of him to walk toward the door.

"It was the hospital. Joy Birch was just admitted."

The look on Loki's face was priceless. You literally scoffed out loud and turned your face to his.

"I told you I had no fucking idea where they were."

Loki simply passed you over to the other officer and headed to the door, frustrated and confused about his own work and internal feelings about what had just happened–both the realization that you had no idea where they were and that he had been aggressive to the point where it kind of turned him on.

"Detective!" He was halfway out the door when you called out to him and if he had a mind, he would have ignored you and continued on, but he was so flustered that he did.

"If you ever want to use those cuffs sometime, you know where to find me."

Loki didn't say anything, but his eyes wandered. From your face to your body to the floor and back up. It was an unashamed look that made the officer uncomfortable, but you couldn't help but let a small, sly smile grace your face at his look. This man would be the end of your criminal career if he managed to find the time to reunite with you again.

And he did. Two days after Keller Dover was found in a hole and on a holiday he knew you were not going to spend with your family.

[laurore-stormwitch]

I did write a lot of words of a self indugent fic because I’m having a serious breakdown over row and these two madly in love idiots. I’m sorry I haven’t really proof read it and I don’t know what this is, I wrote it in an impulse, but I’m gonna share it for whoever needs to ease the pain of waiting another two days for row. Sending you big hugs for all the breakdowns to come. As usual i need to thank the two halves of my heart @not-just-human and @claudiarya because they're my biggest inspiration and for all the meltdowns we share ily

burning flames and raging fires

“Damn it.”

Nikolai paced the room, relentless, frantically searching for something or someone to unleash his rage on. He fisted his hands, trying to stop the violent shakes of fury that were bolting through him.

“Damn it!”

His voice came out hoarse, in a low snarl that seemed to call his demon to the surface. He slammed his hands on the table, squeezing his eyes shut. They attacked Lazlayon. The truth of what had happened was still taking root in his mind. The Fjerdans attacked Lazlayon. They attacked us. His military base, supposedly the secret one. How for all the Saints were they able to do that? How many losses had there been? Who tipped them off? All appropriate, rational questions he should have been trying to find an answer to right now, instead of walking through every corner of the sitting room of Zoya’s chamber, caught by the sheer terror of not knowing how she was. He glanced at the closed doors, barely registering the swarm of people coming and going beside him, the whirl of red keftas worn by Healers. Every time someone came in, he felt the wrenching urge of running to her, sweep her in his arms and take her to safety. Except there was nobody to protect her from right now anymore, and he had already failed at keeping her out of harm’s way. And he could do nothing but wait, sulking in his own despair and anger, while strangers tended to her.

“Your Highness.” Tolya called him as soon as he stepped in the room. The giant was still covered in sweat and dust, one of his arms badly bloodied. If the blood were his own, Nikolai could not tell. He had rarely seen his guard shaken and out of breath. He forced himself to straighten up his spine and try to focus his mind on one thought.

“Tell me.”

“We got as many as we could out, and we sealed the tunnels. We should be safe. It was a targeted attack; they knew we were there.”

Tamar growled, frustrated, holding her axes so hard her knuckles went white. As many as we could. How many? And what horrified him the most, he could not bring himself to truly care. The only person he cared about had saved their lives and was sealed behind a door he could not cross. He never hated himself as much as now. As if he could read his look, Tolya avoided his gaze, turning to his sister.

“How is the general?”

“The injuries seemed bad, but – I don’t know. Genya is inside.” Tamar answered, her eyes running to Nikolai as she spoke. “She’s going to be fine, she’s tougher than all of us put together.”

Nikolai felt it was a reassurance she was giving to herself as much as everyone else in the room. He could hear nothing but the deafening thrumming of his own heart, the panic gripping his insides and blurring his mind, the air constantly catching in his lungs. Every breath was like a painful stab in his heart, the oxygen felt like fire. His brain was torn apart; one side of it was scrabbling for solutions, making up plans and possibilities, while the other stayed gripped on the sound of her voice. The attack was all a blur, his memory was struggling to grasp strands of it. He remembered the explosions, the screaming, the utter chaos they unleashed on the Gilded Bog. It was a succession of sounds and bright flashes and the smell of blood and gunpowder. There was only one vivid image he could hold on to: Zoya with her arms stretched out to the sky and her feet planted in the ground, standing between them and the enemy, silk black hair hovering around her. As she threw her fists open, a thunderous rumbling noise had shaken the ground, the sound similar to the one that preceded an earthquake. In one split second the waters had risen from the lake, growing in a monstrous tide, swirling with Juris’ blue fire and speeding towards their opponents. Then, everything had started crumbling down on them, shattered by the force of her powers. Zoya’s diversion had saved them, providing them the time to distract the Fjerdans and run through the tunnel that connected Lazlayon to the Grand Palace. The rest, he did not want to remember. He wanted to erase from his mind Zoya toppling to the ground after being struck by the Fjerdans bullets, with the entire world crashing around her, the faint groaning she let out as she held her in his arms. Most of all, he wanted to forget her silence, or how he felt empty and powerless when someone had taken her from his hold and shut the door in his face. He knew how much his general would have scolded him if she could see him now. Pull yourself together, King Wretch, she would have said. Remember who you are. Nikolai was the king, and the king could ill afford to sulk in his anxiety and worry with his country’s safety hanging on a thread. And still, he could not bring himself to care, he could not find the strength to walk away. Not until he knew she was safe. Then you can spend the rest of the day telling me how much of an idiot I am. Please wake up and do it. He pulled the words out, tucking at the last strand of sanity he seemed to find.

“Tamar, I need you to double the security in the palace. And send scouts all over Os Alta to patrol the borders. We need to be prepared if they choose to push their attacks further.”

Tamar nodded, without leaving the grip on her weapons, her face strained. A rush of adrenaline washed over him, numbing the pain for a second.  

“Tolya, no one followed us? Are we sure?”

“No one did. We blew up every entrance to the tunnels as soon as we got out.”

“Gather the other generals, tell them we’ll meet in the war room of the Grand Place to discuss how to proceed. Bring them up to the date on what happened, I’ll come as soon as I can.”

“Your Highness”, Tolya tried, gently, “it would be best if you – “.

Nikolai cut him short. “I’m not leaving here until Zoya is awake.” The twins exchanged a glance, without daring to contradict his firm and cold tone or dwell on the implications of what he had just said. He did not care about this either. He did not care about anything anymore; Ravka could burn to the ground as far as he was concerned right now. Eager Ravka, which was now trying to take from him the person he held most dear. Keeping up the façade had been already tiring enough the last few weeks, but this was utterly unbearable. The doors of her chambers slammed open, and they all snapped towards the sound. Genya took a couple of steps towards them, scrubbing her hands with a clean cloth. Her hair were damp in her face, her shoulders slumped, but she locked her eye on Nikolai’s ones with a reassuring gaze that flooded him with relief.

“She’s going to be fine.” She exhaled, closing her eye for a moment, and taking a long breath in. “Thank the Saints, it looked worse than it was. The injuries were not deep, nor vital.”

Genya explained, carefully marking every word. The reprieve sank in slowly, tearing through the curtains of desperation that plagued him. Nikolai released his breath. The whole air in the room seemed to shift, the tension flowing away. He heard Tolya faintly muttering a prayer under his breath, and for once, he understood him. As much as he had never liked the dragon, maybe Juris was the actual Saint they should thank now. Tamar let out a nervous chuckle. That was all he needed; he rushed toward her door but was stopped by Genya’s hand catching his arm in a firm hold.

“Your Highness – “She hissed, glancing at him from under her lashes and lowering her voice. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Nikolai was taken aback by the fire glinting in her amber eye, red and swollen from tears and exhaustion. She loosened her grip; he felt her hand shaking slightly, a whole tremor running through her. Her look was vengeful, enraged – and tired. His own panic was mirrored in her, but she had been the one to clean Zoya’s wounds, to watch her as she had hoped to see her eyes flutter open. Zoya hardly spoke of her affections, so Nikolai tended to forget how close the two of them were and how fiercely they protected each other.

“What do you think I’m doing?”

“Eliciting a diplomatic incident on top of an armed attack is what I think you’re doing.”

He let out a disgruntled breath, searching the room with his eyes. It was still full of people, coming and going, occasionally sneaking a glance at him. Studying his reactions. He wanted to send them all to hell, to scream to clear the way and spend the night listening to Zoya’s breathing.

“I need to see her, Genya.”

“And have you stopped to think on what she needs?” Again, he was startled. Genya’s voice cracked, her amber eye filling with new tears of frustration. She yanked his arm free, brushing them away and composing herself. “I’m sorry, Nikolai. I am not mad at you. But you are getting married in a week”, she inhaled, steadying her voice. “I can’t let you barge in there and have people witness you having a meltdown over your general. Zoya does not need this. She needs you to be the king and solve this situation, since she had already saved you once today. It’s your turn.”

Nikolai took the daring decision to ignore how truthful her words were and how they were filling him with shame. His own selfishness had a much tougher grip on him.

“I need to see that Zoya is safe. I can’t do my job if I don’t.”

“General Nazyalensky - ”, she corrected him, sending another threatening glare his way, “- is fine. I made sure of it personally.” Genya’s gaze softened, as she gently tugged him toward a more discreet corner.  “Nikolai, you need to calm down. I told you it looked worse than it was. She is not even conscious right now; they have given her a sleeping tonic that is going to last for a while. You can trust me; she is safe and out of danger. Go be our king, please, and leave this to me.”

Nikolai fell silent for a moment, turning he matter over in his head and trying to bring himself to gather some composure. “I hate it when people are so reasonable”, he huffed, “I can’t even assert my authority when I’m being the irrational one.” A faint smile tugged Genya’s lips. He trusted her with Zoya’s safety and could see the clarity of her look under all the distress of the situation. If she had promised him Zoya was fine, there was no reason to doubt her. Reason. Something he was missing entirely right now. Genya spoke again, an edge to her voice.

“If I was Zoya I would have already tried to murder you or just slapped you into some sense, you know?”

“I do. Thank you for not slapping me.”

She shook her head, still trembling, and smoothed her kefta, returning to an affectionate tone. “Come back after the meeting. I will make sure everyone is gone by that time and I will wait for you. You can see her then.”

Nikolai nodded, feeling another gust of wind clearing the clouds from his mind, although he still did not much appreciate the idea of leaving. That had always been his life, pulled away by duty, failing to protect the people he held dear and then abandoning them to their fates. He slowly got back control, slipping inside his confident mask.

“Try not to be seen. You are still getting married in a week.”

Genya added. The warning was clear, on a lot of different levels. The despise he felt for his position, for the way he was conducting himself, for how coward he felt he was being, all those feelings towered over him, threatening to drown him. Nikolai shut his eyes, shoving the worry and self-deprecation aside for another time. He had the Fjerdans and his own desire for revenge to deal with now. Gesturing for Tolya to follow him they took the corridor to the palace. The king could not help but feel he had left his own heart behind and sensed a silent hollow in his chest.

                                                                                    ***

It was well past midnight when the last of his soldiers left, and he was finally free to rush to the Little Palace. Being away from Zoya had felt like a limb was being teared away from him, the blood spilling from an open cut. His mind kept slipping to her, and he had spent the last hours trying to keep it leashed on the issues at hand. The terror never left him; he kept dreading for someone to walk through the room with dreadful news of her, kept staring at the doors waiting for this imaginary servant that never came. He would be forever grateful to Genya, who at the chime of every hour had sent him concise notes updating him on Zoya’s conditions. To be truthful, it had been the only thing that kept him sane. He felt a rush of anticipation and renewed worry as he pushed the handle of her room, the one that had previously been the Darkling’s property. Nikolai let himself be thankful for a brief moment for the Darkling’s gift for deception. He had built his rooms to be easily accessed from the palace in complete secrecy, to be protected by curious ears and prying eyes. That came in handy right now; however, he did not stop to think of how shameful this thought was, or how much he loathed having to snuck to her rooms like a hidden thief. To his relief, Tamar was on guard outside her chamber. Nikolai did not want to meet Genya’s severe and knowing gaze again, the one that seemed to peer right into his soul. Tamar got up when she sensed him arrive.

“Your Highness.”

“Is everything alright?”

“It is. Zoya is still sleeping, the tonic they gave her is strong. The Healers said she needs to rest as much as she can for the wounds to heal properly, but she should be back up on her feet in a couple of days.”

He acknowledged her words with a nod of his chin and headed inside, but Tamar stopped him clearing her throat. “Genya has asked me to tell you she’ll be back in the early morning to check on Zoya and tailor away what she can. She said it would be best for you to go back before dawn.”

“I will keep that in mind. Thank you, Tamar.”

He did not have the will to fight this now. They were all tremendously right, and he hated it. He knew he was being unfair; he should not be mad at them for trying to keep up the appearances when he clearly was ignoring how to do it. Guess the king had one true weakness after all.  

He locked the door behind him, and every thought and worry he had disappeared when his eyes caught her figure. He had never seen Zoya look so frail, so human and defenceless. It tore every fibre of his being apart, snatching the hair out of his lungs. She was laying on her side, with her hair splashed and tangled around her bewitching face. Nikolai tried not to linger too much on her cuts and bruises, on the bandages that peaked over the clean shirt someone put on her. Each and every one he laid his eyes on sent a stabbing pain through him.

Why do you always have to play the hero?

He thought sourly as he came closer to her. He could almost hear her voice answering him.

Because you are my king, and I am the general. It is kind of my role.

The lamplight played on her skin with the glowing rays of the moon, making her look like a nightly creature who had emerged from a bedtime fairy-tale. Trying to be as delicate as he could, he placed a chair next to her bed and slumped in it, sighing heavily. He leaned towards her, brushing some hair away from her face, untangling them slowly with his fingers. He could imagine her getting mad at the Healers for neglecting to care for it, vain and petty as always. Even the thought of this made him smile and warmed him up. He kept his work for a little while, clearing the mess of her mane as best as he could without disturbing her too much. Zoya shifted in the covers but did not wake up. As Tamar warned him, the tonic was strong enough to keep her in her sleep. His fingers lingered on her cheeks and her lips before he pulled himself away, scorched by the improper touch he had let himself have.

Nikolai did not know how much time he spent just looking at her, taking the sight of a safe and placid Zoya. At some point, he straightened himself up, and was pulled out of his trance when his eyes caught a bandage on her arm where a bright red flower was blossoming through the linen. He was not sure if the Healer had not changed it, or the wound was opening again. He scanned the room, finding some clean strip of cloth and a bowl of cold water they left there. He took them and brought them back to his seat, pondering if and how to proceed. He could not stand the sight of blood on her; it was too gutting to take. Picking up his resolve, he rolled up his sleeves and gently tugged her arm towards him, starting to undo the previous bandage. When the last strip fell off, he dipped a clean cloth in the water and brushed the wound again until her skin was clear, feeling another rush of relief.

Every once in a while, Zoya stirred and let out a croaked breath, he saw her lashes flutter, or he felt a shiver ran through her. He stilled when she moved, terrified to wake her up and break the spell. Nikolai felt like he was stealing a precious and prohibited moment, a forbidden intimacy. Every touch of her skin felt sacred, felt like a prayer ushered in the quiet of night. He had never thought, never believed he could feel this kind of profound and pure love for someone. Even though he had long since accepted and acknowledged what he felt, it was still hard to grasp how deep it ran in his veins, how unforgiving the need of her was. It shattered everything else in its wake. It had begun like a small spark, nourished by stolen glances, gentle touches and truths whispered in the dark, fostered by forgotten secrets they had shared only to each other and simple moments that had withered away like the wind. And now the fire was blazing, the flames thriving and consuming whatever else there was. She had nestled herself in the deepest part of his heart where a storm was raging its fury. It was nothing like the tepid sentiment he had had for other people in the past. And he did not want to believe he was going to lose her, to turn his back on her. He would never be the same again, after loving her like this. After wanting her and longing for her like this. He would never, could never survive it, desire or have anyone that was not her. And for once, he just let this feeling flood, he just let himself relish in it and in the certainty that she was here, with him, by his side. Nothing else mattered right now, nothing could taint this. He wished she could hear him if he whispered in her ear.

I am in love with you.

He wished he could free his heart and let it hope. He wished she could believe him if he promised her.

Nothing will ever stop me from loving you.

Maybe she could not hear him, but he would promise anyway, against every odd and reality they were living. Whatever was bound to happen, he would hold on to this bond. Nikolai laid back her arm to rest on the bed and tucked her covers when he finished, getting up and pouring himself a glass of her favourite cordial he knew she kept hidden in one of her desk’s drawers. Another thing she would kill him for, to add to the long list of reasons he had already piled up in these years. The alcohol burned his throat but helped him ease his mind a bit more. Zoya was breathing evenly and quietly again, and he finally felt sure enough that she was past harm. The exhaustion he had hoarded and kept under control creeped up to him at this realization. Maybe he could let himself rest too. He eyed a small sofa from which he could still see her if he laid in it, that seemed like a good enough place to close his eyes for a while. It was placed on the side of her bed, near enough to her that he could feel her warmth, hear her movements if she needed him. He put the glass down on her nightstand, holding her hand up to him to leave a soft kiss on her knuckles and cupping her cheek briefly.

“Rest well, my ruthless Zoya.”

He muttered against her skin, hovering with his lips on her neck. He resisted the urge to lean closer to her mouth; he had stirred away from propriety far enough for one night. And do not ever leave me, even if I don’t deserve you, Nikolai added in his mind, as he leaned his head on the cushion and snuck a last glance at Zoya before his eyes dropped close and the familiar scent of wildflowers drifted him to sleep.

[estellaelysian]

Birthday

I know you all will eventually get tired of my letters, but can't help it, I really love them

For @choicesmonthlychallenge March: day 6 - birthday and day 11 - fluffy

**********

Soft breeze sifted through the windows, gently touching him before moving onto her. He had gotten used to leaving the windows open because she liked it that way.

He had gotten used to a lot of things the way she liked it. He didn’t regret a single of them.

The yearn for small things had increased greatly in the last few months: holding hands beneath a table, stealing glances, even kisses sometimes. It made him feel more alive than he ever had felt.

He shifted the breakfast plate to his other hand before drawing the curtains. She did not notice the change of light. Instead, she was busy scribbling down on her notepad, her laptop open in front of her, display a dozen different tabs. He chuckled to himself.

These days, he was more unlike himself, and she constantly acted like him. He should’ve felt something, but all he felt was adoration at how they now had mixed personalities.

Losing himself to her was probably the best thing he ever went through.

The breeze blew again, this time lifting the curtains before gently grazing her skin. Her hair were held back in a bun, and wisps of it framed her face. She was intently looking between the notepad and the laptop, looking like a mess.

The most beautiful mess, mind you. Nothing less spectacular than a star emitting thousand different rays of light.

She hadn’t noticed him yet, although he hadn’t exactly been silent. As he shuffled behind her in the room, putting away the paper and clearing the desk for the plate, he wondered about how easy life was with her. Everything was there, fixed in his brain in a vivid detail.

She left a part of her behind for him always, no matter in what way.

Her pen, her favorite pen would be left at his apartment. Lipstick stains were found on his glasses left a permanent tattoo on his heart. Her stationary, some of her notepads – something always left behind.

Just like her marks all over him.

An intoxicating warmth spread in his chest as he turned to her.

‘Hey,’ he murmured.

‘Hey,’ she said back, tucking loose strands of hair behind her ear.

‘Would you stop that?’

‘Um, yeah, just a sec…’

‘Leave that for a minute please? It’s your day today.’

‘Don’t you remember saying that it’s just another day, same one like the last?’

‘I don’t,’ he said, crossing the room and taking hold of her wrist, forcing her to look up at him.

Her green eyes seemed to drink in his sight before she shook her head slightly and tried to twist her arm away.

‘Ethan, I have work to do.’ She giggled when he still wouldn’t let go of her wrist.

‘And I could care less. Now come on. Come with me.’

He pulled her after him to the desk, where a plate with steaming cannoli pancakes waited for her. She turned to him, aghast. ‘You made this? You do know this is not for the faint of the heart, right?’

A defeated smile tugged at his lips as she burst into a fit of giggles. ‘This is amazing,’ she said, giggling even more.

‘You are impossible. Eat these; I’ll be back in a sec.’

‘Where are you going?’

‘Nowhere. Now come on,’ he prompted gently, before finally disappearing past the door.

‘Strange,’ she mused, taking hold of the fork.

He was not the kind for surprises, never would be. He only knew about the effort it took in planning all of it, considering that it could also fail, and he knew Alishka did it for him one too many times. He could do something for her too.

Even if he needed some help, which a petite brunette was happy to provide.

So here he was, going through everything all over again, occasionally running a hand through his hair. The letters her parents were good to go, so were the ones written to her by her friends. Naveen’s present was all set, so was Alan’s and his own. Smiling softly, he went inside the room again, thinking there was no better way to be.

She was humming to herself as she ate, occasionally tapping her foot against the cold floor, and he couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

She seemed almost childlike, but somehow yet the grown woman who had opened up his heart to love when he thought he couldn’t do it anymore.

The one who had barged into his life without his permission.

He couldn’t be more glad for her presence.

He ambled toward her, his hands held behind his back. She didn’t notice him until he placed a soft kiss on her head. She grinned up at him, holding out a spoonful.

‘What is with all the suspense?’

‘You’ll see,’ he said simply, and waited for her.

Just like he had for the last thirty seven years, for someone to heal him.

He wondered if he would ever be able to express in words what he felt about her. If he’d be able to tell her the rise of heat in his cheeks when she was around, or the way his world lit up just the moment he saw her.

No.

No words were enough to tell her what he felt.

And yet, here he was, holding a letter, something he had never done before, just for her.

He smiled when she turned to him again.

‘Come on now,’ she demanded with a flick of her wrist.

‘Yes. Won’t you sit?’

Pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, she settled beside him.

They went through the presents together, first the dress and letters shipped to Boston by her parents, then Naveen’s card and a fountain pen (just like he had given Ethan when his residency ended), and then came the gifts from her friends, an assortment of sorts, all things picked in a way that the whole fit together, just like their group did.

She bounced with excitement through it all, and his heart swelled like a water blossom with joy.

She was the single most precious thing in his life, and he had vowed to never let her go again. Ever.

‘Okay, now your turn.’

‘What? I don’t have a present for you.’

‘What?’

‘Come on Rookie. You know I don’t do gifts. This is all you’re getting for your birthday.’

He was amazed by how fast her mood changed. But she didn’t let any of it show, not even betraying a single emotion she felt.

He reached for her and kissed her gently before handing her the letters he had spent the early hours of morning writing.

She gasped, looking up at him, before a smile occupied her face.

‘Read it, I’ll take a quick shower.’

With that, he disappeared, and she turned back to the letter. Unfolding it, she gently traced the words, written in the familiar scrawl, and taking a deep breath, began reading.

My dearest,

You don’t know how grateful I am for your presence in my life. So since today is your day, we are going to celebrate you. In every way possible.

But the first way is in words.

And even though I say that, you must know that no amount of words can ever describe how beautiful you are, or how thankful I am. Yet, here we go.

You are like the sun in my sky, burning fierce and radiant, correcting me when needed, and pushing me toward the correct path when I stray.

You are like the moon in my nights, peaceful and serene, bringing calm whenever I feel unsettled.

You are like the stars that shine so bright, impelling me to try something new and different every few days.

You are the air that feels alive on my skin, feeding me of breath and life.

You are like the cool water that ripples, tranquil, yet wild.

You are like the tree which provides shade to my tired soul.

You are like the leaves which rustle and give me music when I am weary.

And you, my love, are the most precious thing to me.

And below that were the seven words that proved to be the breaking point for her.

He stepped back into the room, wet hair sticking to his face as he looked down at her.

‘Do you like it?’

‘Ethan… this is the best present ever,’ she said.

Failing to hold herself back anymore, she rose to her feet and wrapped her arms around him tightly, burying her face in his chest.

He rested his chin on her head and peeked to find the letter he had written on the bed, smiling at the last few words before murmuring them to her.

'Thank you for barging your way into my life.'

**********

Thank you all for reading.

Let me know if you want to be added/ removed from the tags

[ga-yuu]

~Yoshitsune~Main Story Chapter 6~

Chapter 5

*

*

*

--------Part 1---------

As soon as I got back to my room, I was so tired that I fell onto my bed.

(I just met Yoshitsune-sama. It feels like a dream when I think about it now.)

But the words we exchanged, is proof that it was real. It was so vivid that they stayed with me.

------FLASHBACK-----

Yoshino: “Is there no other way but to kill each other?”

Yoshitsune: “This is the fate we chose.”

Yoshino: “But—-”

Yoshitsune: “But what? Why do you care so much? You just got involved in all of this, right? Whether Yoritomo and I hate each other or kill each other….why does it matter to you?”

Yoshino: “Even so—.”

------FLASHBACK ENDS------

(I really want to know more about Yoshitsune-sama.)

(He saved me. He also helped a random lost kid.)

(He's a man of integrity and honesty, and I'm sure he's a kind man at heart.)

(At first, I just thought he was scary, but he's not really.)

I wonder why I'm so interested in an enemy general.

(No. It's because he's an enemy general and that's why I'm interested in him.)

----If he was just a scary opponent, I could fight him without feeling anything, right?

Maybe I should not pry in too much.

(There is still time until the war with the Rebels.)

(I have to sort out my feelings before I stand on the battlefield.)

.............................

A few days after Yoshitsune visited Kamakura-----

He was resting in his room when Benkei suddenly barges in out of nowhere.

Benkei: "Yoshitsune-sama!"

Yoshitsune: "What's up, Benkei?"

Benkei: "Is it true? I heard you went to Kamakura, ALONE!"

Yoshitsune: "......Who told you that?"

Benkei: "Kurama told me."

A deep crease is etched between Benkei's eyes.

Benkei: "I've been away for a couple of days and look what you've been up to....That's the enemy's zone now. What if something happens to Yoshitsune-sama!? I know you have your own interests, and I'm not telling you to never go. But, if you wanted to go, you could have told me. I'd have accompanied----"

Yoshitsune: "If you had accompanied, you'll go berserk."

Benkei: "YOSHITSUNE-SAMA!!"

Yoshitsune: "....just kidding."

???: "Chill out, Benkei!"

A lazy voice breaks their conversation.

Yoichi: "It's not the first time our Lord had wandered off, is it?"

Benkei: "Yoichi.....stop eavesdropping."

Yoichi: "I wasn't. I could hear your screams all over the house. I understand your concern, but just have a little more faith in Yoshitsune-sama. That's all I'm saying."

Benkei: "I trust Yoshitsune-sama, even if you don't tell me. But, what if something bad happens to him?"

Yoichi: "Do you really think our Lord would just sit and wait for something like that? Look, he has come home safe and sound."

--------Part 2------

Yoichi: "Do you really think our Lord would just sit and wait for something like that? Look, he has come home safe and sound."

Benkei: "................"

Benkei silently stared at Yoichi, still feeling unconvinced.

Without a care in the world, Yoichi smiled at Yoshitsune.

Yoichi: "So? Did you stretch your wings, Yoshitsune-sama? Do you have any stories to tell us?"

Yoshitsune(smiling): "Yes. It was nice to see Kamakura till the end."

Benkei sighs deeply, as Yoshitsune happily squints.

Benkei: "....I won't say anything this time. But please tell in the future before going somewhere like this!"

Yoshitsune: "...........................Okay."

Benkei: "What was that long pause for!?"

Yoshitsune: "It's all in your head."

Benkei: "No, it isn't!"

Yoichi: "I know you really love Yoshitsune-sama, but you're being too overprotective Benkei."

Benkei: "I'm not being overprotective."

As Yoichi shrugs his shoulders at the unconscious remark, Yoshitsune suddenly opens his mouth.

Yoshitsune: "Also, I happen to meet the fox princess."

Benkei and Yoichi: "!!!!"

Benkei: "...You also met her on the battlefield the other day, too."

Yoichi: "Is it a coincidence? I think not. Fox princess.... at first glance, she looks like an ordinary town girl."

Benkei: "Yeah, so ordinary that she helped a demon she never met before the very first day."

Yoichi: "That's not all. She also didn't hesitate to save one of our soldiers."

Benkei: "Yeah. I don't get it. What was she thinking while doing all of that?"

Yoshitsune: "I agree."

Then suddenly Yoshitsune-sama smiles like a flower.

Yoshitsune(smiles): "......She's weirder than I thought."

Benkei: "Yoshitsune-sama...."

Yoichi: "......."

Both Benkei and Yoichi were speechless at Yoshitsune's unexpected reactions.

Yoichi: "......Hmm. How unusual, isn't it? Yoshitsune-sama talking about someone else other than us, like that."

Yoshitsune(expressionless): "I wonder why too."

Yoshitsune opens his mouth after thinking for a moment.

Yoshitsune: "Maybe because she's an enemy who accidentally got caught up in this turmoil."

Benkei: "Maybe."

Yoichi: "....................."

As Benkei was somewhat agreeing to Yoshitsune's reasoning, Yoichi was sitting on the side, with his eyes closed, thinking about something.

...........

A few days later----

I was heading to the dojo to deliver the medicines that they ordered.

(I'm almost out of stock for wound medicines. I should start making more after delivering this!)

Yoshino: "Ohh!!"

While I was distracted by my thoughts, I accidentally bumped into a vassal who was passing by.

Yoshino: "I'm sorry!"

Vassal: "No, no, it was my fault."

I managed to stay on my feet and apologized to the vassal, who was leaving for work.

(He looks busy...)

Not only him, but all the vassals were also running around in the corridor.

(Oh yeah, Kagetoki-san did tell me...)

----I remembered the conversation that one day we had when I was helping him like usual.

------FLASHBACK-----

Yoshino: "Drought?"

Kagetoki: "Yes, you know there's been a lot of sunshine across the country, but...."

------Part 3------

Kagetoki: "Yes, you know there's been a lot of sunshine across the country, but....countries with limited reserves are expected to suffer."

Yoshino: "Hmm.....I see."

Kagetoki: "We have already started receiving a number of requests for help. Although we are about to go to war with the Rebels, we want to concentrate on our internal affairs now before we start gathering food for our troops. It's the same with the army over there."

-------FLASHBACK ENDS------

(It's still the hot season, and it's a difficult situation...)

(I hope it rains soon.)

Yoritomo: "........is Yoshino, they say."

(Hm?)

As I walked past the hallway, I heard my name.

(That voice. Was it Yoritomo-sama? I wonder what he's talking about.)

(It's not good to eavesdrop, but just a little....)

I stopped quietly and listened to the conversation from outside.

Yoshino could listen to Yoritomo and Kagetoki discussing something serious.

Yoritomo: "The letter about postponing the war arrived early this morning from the Rebels. In the meantime, they want to make an agreement not to attack each other."

Kagetoki: "So Yoshino and Benkei are exchanged as hostages between Hiraizumi and Kamakura?"

At the same time, Kagetoki folds his hand and thinks.

Kagetoki: "It's unusual for Yoshitsune-sama to make a request like this."

Yoritomo: "Yeah, he's willing to go with it without a fight. Looks like someone else is making him agree to this."

(Hostages?)

I blinked in surprise at the conversation I just heard.

More than that, Yoshitsune-sama is willing to exchange Benkei-san. his right-hand man, for me.

(Now, what is Yoritomo-sama and Kagetoki-san going to do....?)

I feel bad about eavesdropping, but I was curious because the conversation also has me in it.

The conversation goes on as Yoshino listens from the other side----

Yoritomo: "I'm sure they've got a lot on their plate, at least enough to make such a suggestion."

Kagetoki: "In any case, in this situation, we no longer need to be wary of the enemy outside. The fact that we will be able to focus on domestic affairs is very attractive."

Yoritomo: "If we let the people starve any longer, there will be trouble."

Kagetoki: "So are we going to accept their request?"

Yoritomo: "No."

Yoritomo looked down at Yoshino's name written in the letter.

Yoritomo: "If she's exchanged for Benkei, I am sure she won't be killed. But I feel Yoshino's heart is not ready for this." (Buddy, if you go there, Hiraizumi would be a warzone.)

Kagetoki: "I suppose so. Reluctantly, Yoshino is the key to our victory in the upcoming war. If Yoshino's heart is broken, she won't be able to stand on the battlefield. So exchanging is a bad idea."

(.....I see.)

(I'm glad Yoritomo-sama and Kagetoki-san care about me...)

(But, is it actually alright?)

(If my going as a hostage will help the starving people, then...)

Yoritomo: "Okay then."

Kagetoki: "Let's give our refusal to the Rebels----"

(Enough with the eavesdropping.)

I made up my mind and opened the sliding doors.

(After all, if there is something I can do, I don't want to pretend not to see it...)

Yoshino: "I volunteer!"

Yoritomo: "You what.....?"

------Part 4------

Yoritomo: "You what.....?"

Yoritomo-sama and Kagetoki-san's eyes widened at my sudden appearance.

Yoshino: "I volunteer to go as the hostage from our side."

Kagetoki: "Eavesdropping someone's conversation is a bad hobby."

Yoshino: "For that, I sincerely apologize... "

I bow my head and chose my next words carefully.

(I know they're not willing to sacrifice me at any cost. Also, I'm scared about the idea of being alone in the enemy territory. But....)

Yoshino: "Yoritomo-sama said that he's sure that I won't be killed if I go there, right? If the only reason for refusing their offer is my feelings...I would choose to go to Hiraizumi of my own free will if it meant that you could hold out a little longer and save a lot of people!"

Kagetoki: "You didn't just say that on the spur of the moment, did you?"

Yoshino: "I did."

(It's my way of making sure you guys won't regret it.)

Yoritomo: "......."

The eyes that resemble the night sky look straight at me.

Yoritomo: "You will be surrounded by enemies. There won't be a single friend there. Even if you're a hostage, we can't guarantee your life if things go wrong. After hearing all that----can you still say that you'll be okay?" (Don't worry Yoritomo. She'll survive no matter what. In Kagetoki's route, she pointed a knife at the emperor. In the upcoming route, she will be walking on people's dead bodies.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

1. I'm worried, but...(+4/+4)

2. That's....

3. Of course!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yoshino: "Of course, I'm worried, but...."

(That Yoshitsune guy won't break his promise once he gave his word.....and I'm sure of that.)

Yoshino: "But if there's something I can do. I wanna do it."

Yoritomo: "I understand that you're ready."

Yoshino: "Then...."

Yoritomo: "I'll write to the Rebels that we're agreeing to this."

(Yayy! He accepted...!!!)

Yoritomo: "What do you think, Kagetoki?"

Kagetoki: "There's no reason to stop someone who wants to go. Although, it's a completely unexpected development."

Yoritomo: "You're right."

Yoshino: "I-I'm sorry?"

Yoritomo: "Why are you apologizing, dummy?"

Yoritomo-sama sighed.

Yoritomo: "You're about to do a humble duty for the Kamakura Shogunate. You should be proud of yourself."

Yoshino: "Hehe, it's nothing compared to what you do."

Kagetoki: "You also have the nerve to interrupt a Shogun's meeting. What do you have to say about that?"

(Errrrrrrrrr.........)

Yoshino: "No comments...."

(Because I thought, if I didn't interrupt them I won't be getting another chance....)

Yoritomo-sama smiles when he sees me struggling with words.

Yoritomo: "You're really weird sometimes. When you come back, I'll welcome you with open arms."(It would have been actually nice if Yoritomo was the love rival in this route.)

(Welcome me with open arms? That's a bit too much for someone like me. But I'm happy.)

Yoshino: "Thank you very much!"

It was encouraging to see Yoritomo-sama's concern in the mean tone of his voice.

................

Soon, that day arrives-----

It is time to say a temporary goodbye to the Shogunate. Everyone also came to see me off.

Tamamo: "I didn't believe at first when I heard you volunteered to be their hostage....As expected of the woman I chose."

Yoshino: "You're exaggerating. Of course, I'm worried."

Tamamo: "That's natural. By the way, there's always the possibility that I could sneak along with you."

(It's amazing how Tamamo can do anything!)

I can't help but laugh at Tamamo's mischievous suggestion.

Yoshino: "Thank you, but don't worry. It would be reassuring to have Tamamo around,...but that wouldn't be fair. I want to be sincere with them."

Tamamo: "Awww..."

A bitter smile dwells on Tamamo's lips.

Tamamo: "I'm not used to being rejected. Fine. I'll go and play in the palace and wait for your return.

Shigehira: "What are you so carefree about, Tamamo?"

Shigehira-san stared at the satisfied Tamamo and then turned his gaze to me.

(What did I do?)

Shigehira: "Since you started helping me out, I think I could say you're not that useless."

------Part 5------

Shigehira: "Since you started helping me out, I think I could say you're not that useless. But just because you've decided to help the Shogunate doesn't mean you have to go that far."

Morinaga: "Shigehira, again, if you're worried about Yoshino, why don't you just say so?"

(Eh?)

Yoshino: "You're worried? Shigehira-san."

(It feels like déjà vu...)

Shigehira: "....Don't just speculate things. Who says I'm worried?"

Yoritomo: "Heh....I can't believe I'm hearing this from the same man who came running to me after he heard the news that Yoshino was going to be taken as a hostage."

Shigehira(blushing): "No I...."

(No wonder....!)

Shigehira-san was at a loss for words, but Kagetoki-san opened his mouth without hesitation.

Kagetoki: "Isn't there any other way!!?' was what he said. You also were protesting the idea furiously. He finally gave up when he found out that Yoshino's intentions were firm, though. I haven't seen such a desperate Shigehira in a long time."

Shigehira(blushing): "..........." (He just never learns.)

(I knew he'll be worried about me....)

I knew this all along, so I'm less surprised when I hear this now. But, I'm still glad...

It's because I know that Shigehira-san is a kind person.

Yoshino: "Thank you very much for worrying about me, Shigehira-san."

Shigehira: ".....Also, stop doing that, will you?"

Yoshino: "What?"

Shigehira: "Stop using honorifics. It's annoying to hear it all the time. Besides, ....I'll at least grant you that privilege since you are now brave enough to enter the enemy's territory."

Yoshino(blushing): "Shigehira-san...."

Shigehira: "Don't keep adding 'san' after my name. You can call me whatever you want."

Yoshino(blushing): "I will....I mean, yes!!"

(Aww! I'm so happy! I can finally talk to him informally.)

Shigehira: "Come on, what are you waiting for?"

Yoshino(blushing): "Yes! umm....Shigehira-kun!"

Shigehira(blushing): ".....Mm."

Morinaga: "I see. So, Shigehira wanted to be friends with Yoshino for a long time now."

Tamamo: "You've been waiting for the right opportunity, this whole time, isn't it? Shigehira-kun?"

Shigehira-kun shakes off the two teasing grown-up hands on his shoulder.

Shigehira(blushing): "Stop speculating things!"

As we were chatting lively, it quickly became time to leave.

(I gonna miss them....)

Tamamo: "Don't cry because you miss me, okay? I won't be able to wipe your tears away."

Yoshino: "You too...don't be lonely just because I am not here, okay?"

Tamamo: "I can't promise that."

Kagetoki: "Take care of yourself. I mean what I say because there is no substitute for you."

Yoshino: "Of course. Only if you also promise to take care of yourself too."

Morinaga: "Leave that to me. If no one takes care of him, he'll do nothing but work."

Yoshino: "I learned that since I started helping him."

Morinaga-san and I laughed brightly.

(Kagetoki-san not just sounds scary, but he's so dedicated to his work that he sometimes forgets to even eat or drink.)

Kagetoki: "Don't get cocky. When you return, I'll make you do more work, so be prepared."

Yoshino: "I'll keep that in mind!"

Before I knew it, there were smiles on everyone's faces.

Morinaga: "Yoshino, I'll be waiting for your return."

Shigehira: "It's not too far, but still...do your best."

Yoshino: ".....Everyone, thank you for everything!"

Yoritomo-sama saw me saying goodbye with a lonely face and opened his mouth.

Yoritomo: "Be brave, Yoshino. You're a member of the Shogunate. Don't let the Rebels think of you as a crying pathetic little girl."

(I'm a member of the Shogunate.)

(Even though, I've only spent a short time in the Shogunate...)

(Unknowingly enough, I've come to trust these people so much.)

(As long as everyone is waiting for me, I know I'll be okay.)

I stood straight and smiled sincerely once more.

Yoshino: "Then, I'm off to Hiraizumi."

I turned the many words I received into strength and took a step forward.

Chapter 6

[yandere-wishes]

La Belle Au Bois Dormant // Yandere! Malleus Draconia X Reader//

A continuation form A Rose By Any Other Name Would Still Be As Sweet

===========================================================

From this slumber, you shall wake, when true love's kiss, the spell shall break.

"I don't want to go" Malleus mumbled as he reached his pale hand to gently caress your smooth face. His intoxicating green eyes held a form of hesitance as they bore into your (e/c) ones. Your fingers gently entwined in his raven locks, pulling them back to see just how long they were. Occasionally your long nails would brush against the base of his horns, earning you a delightful little chirp from the dark fae. 

You tried to push your lips into a heartfelt smile in hopes that it would grant him some peace of mind. "I'll be alright my love, go about your day you have classes to attend." Jealousy pumped through your veins as the final phrase left your mouth. Classes, they seemed like such a distant thing. You could barely remember the wooden desks in which you sat at or the thin pencils that you once held in your grasp. Everything was so blurry, so far away, your life before you met with the Malleus always seemed so distant, so abstract. Now your life was planned out in such a way that there was nothing to remember but your raven-haired lover. Every moment you were awake was spent by his side, in his embrace. It was always him, him, him...

Malleus groaned as he pushed himself up, the early morning sunlight reflected off his face causing him to resemble a mystical porcelain doll. He leaned over pressing his lips to your forehead in a lengthy kiss. "I love you" he muttered. "Love you too" you replied almost too automatically. That just how thing where you said what he wanted to hear, did want he wanted you to do. The concept of "free will" was something you had lost over the last few months. 

"It's time" Malleus stood in front of you black wand in hand. It was time to sleep, it was time to fall into a listless slumber for god knows how many endless hours until he got back. Slumber had become the prison Malleus bound you in. He needed no chains or shackles, no fancy locks to bar the doors. No all he had to do was wave that a cursed wand...

The emerald jewel embedded in the hilt began to glow, a green mist began to ooze out from the gemstone, gradually floating over to you. This had -like may other things- become a sort of day to day routine. You would sit as still as can be as the green mist infiltrated your senses. The second you smelt its lavender like aroma, your eye lips began to get heavy, your limbs started feeling numb resting. Your body would slowly recline into the soft mattress...and that was it, time would fly by as remained trapped in a dreamless sleep. That's how things had been for so long and that's how you feared things would remain forever. 

But unlike the lovable fairy tales we are told as children, real life has a way to demolish the notion of "forever".

It had been a total of four months since (y/n) had gone missing. 120 days since his closest friend had vanished without a trace. The headmaster and professors had stopped looking for her on the four days of her disappearance By the second week the student body as a whole had forgotten her. By the first month, all traces of her had been wiped clean. And four long months later Phil Auroria still hadn't stopped searching for his best friend. 

 The week leading up to (y/n)'s disappearance would forever be burnt into his mind. She'd walked into class every day that week looking dazed and confused, she constantly got lost in the stone hall, fall asleep during lessons. At some point, she'd stopped eating and started to spontaneously burst into laughter. Phil had tried to talk to her, reason with her even. But she'd always brush him off, that was until she stopped talking to him in general. It had been by Wednesday or maybe Thursdays that the young girl had lost her tongue. Every word that Phil had spoken to her had been meeting with an icy cold glare from eyes that where that had lost the ability to focus on one thing for too long. By the time Saturday had rolled around Phil had decided enough was enough. He'd marched over to the Ramshackle dorm barged in ready to drag her to the nurse's office, practically demanding she gets treatment for her peculiar behavior...when he found her room abandoned, vases knocked over, postures ripped from the walls and the window wide open.

Kidnapped! The word rang in Phil's head as he's rushed around campus trying to convince any teacher he found that his best friend had been Kidnapped! But no teacher paid him any mind they all brushed it off as if he was going crazy. Until finally the headmaster had agreed to do a "thorough investigation". Said investigation had lasted hardly a day. Crowley had to look around her room, allegedly "talked" some of her other friends and done, that had been that. Never again did the mask-wearing director talk about the lost girl again, never did the teachers call her name during the morning attendance, never was her name heard on campus again.

Phil too had begun to lose all hope. His mind had written her off as dead, corpses probably buried on some hill my a serial murderer. (Y/n) was gone, never to be heard of again...

that was until just the other day. One miserable day before the anniversary of (y/n)'s four-month disappearance. Walking down the grim, eerie halls one his way to alchemy class, Phil had heard the misremembered, lonesome name being whispered. At, first he thought it was his grieving mind play tricks on him, telling him he had heard her name, telling him she would be right around the corner awaiting him...she hadn't been both to Phil's dismay and expectation. Instead, he'd seen his deputy dorm director Lilia Vanrough talking to Diasminia's royal guard Silver. They had been whispering about something, their voices so low that Phil had only made out the occasional word...but that had been more than enough. From their vague hushed conversation, Phil had learned all he needed to learn. (Y/n) was very much alive and well, she was being held against her will in the dorm leader of Diasminia's room. The poor girl, who knew what horrible deeds that monster had done to her! He just had to save her! There wasn't a moment to spare!

And that was how Phil found himself staring at the hulking noir door. Adrenaline pumping through his veins as his fingers nimbly tried picking the lock. She had to be there! She just had to! He'd searched every other nook and cranny of the school, he'd searched from the hot sands of  Scarabia down to the depths of Octavinelle. There was nowhere else you could possibly be! The lock gave way with a loud "click". Phil held his breath as he pressed on the wooden door. For a second he stopped, heart, pounding violently against his rib cage. He closed his eyes, easing his mind into a state of comfort before fully opening the door and stepping through the thresh hold. 

....

....

....

....

A warm feeling flooded his body, blood ran up to his face, his heart sped up. His eyes had grown to the size of the gem pinned to his coat. They say if you dream a more then once it's sure to come true...

There she was in all the glory, arms crossed over her rising and falling stomach. She looked so peaceful, so tranquil

A true sleeping beauty. 

Phil walked closer to his slumbering friend, eyes never leaving her serene face. When he reached the side of the bed he kneeled down, his fingers swept a few stray locks of hair behind your ear. "(y/n)" he whispered. "(y/n) it's me" when she didn't reply, Phil, wrapped his fingers around one of her hands, giving it a gentle squeeze, still nothing. That when he saw it. The faint green glow that circulated your body. A sleeping curse Phil realized. The dark Fae had you trapped in a sleeping curse how....oddly typical of him. Still despite how common they were one of the strongest spells known to man, Fae and all other creatures that roamed the earth. There were only two known ways to break a sleeping curse and those methods varied from curse to curse. 

The quickest method was for the caster to break it or in a sense "take back". The second method was the ever-popular "True love's kiss" but well...those weren't the most reliable sources. Yet at that moment Phil couldn't stop looking at her lips. There was something about them, something about that just made him want to kiss her...

Before his brain could fully process what was happening, he was pushing his lips onto hers. His head felt dizzy, cold sweat broke over his body. When he pulled away his lungs heaved for air, an emptiness loomed over him as he waited for any remote reaction from the dormant girl. 

...

...

...

...

"Five more minutes Malleus" the voice was laced in sleep and sloth, the young girl's eyes cracked open glaring at whoever had just awoken her...No this wasn't Malleus, this was someone else, someone she knew! Someone she thought she would never see again! "Phil!" (y/n) instantly pushed her self into a sitting position, swinging her legs off the edge of the bed and pushing herself into her longtime friend's arms. Tears of happiness flew out of her eyes staining her cheeks as well as his uniform.  "(y/n)?" oh, his voice, his gorgeous stunning not monotone or seemingly dead inside voice! It was blissful music to her ears! The sound of something that wasn't Malleus' formal tone! Phil shifted holding on to one of her hands in his larger one. "H-How! H-how are you awake, I-I just kissed you and..and suddenly you..." Realization shown face, his eyes flashed with a vivid outwardly happiness. "I..I love you" the both of them spoke wt the same time large smiles plastered on both their faces. This was the perfect fairy tale moment, the moment the prince saves the princess and falls in love! This  was that one true formidable moment!"

....Except such moments can never exist in Night Raven College...

"Oh, you poor simple fools" an anonymous voice chided. the "heroes" looked around frantically trying to locate the imposture. Deep down they knew who it was, they knew that their moment was gone, lost never to be found again. The room filled with a thick emerald fog, shocking the air out of both Phil and (y/n)'s lungs. In the haze, a tall black figure appeared, stomping angrily towards the pair. Gloved hands grasped (y/n)'s shoulder pushing her harshly against Malleus' chest. The dark fae was inraged. Betrayal dancing in his sad, heartbroken eyes. "I trusted you" he mouthed before turning his rage towards Phil, Malleus' chest heaved, his hands balled into fists. 

"Silver!" His voice echoed off the walls, reverberating inside the skulls of the two humans in the room. In mere moments, there was the noise of shuffling boots, followed by the creaking of the old door. "Yes, Malleus-sama!" Silver marched inside, lavender eyes fixed on Phil from the moment he entered the room. 

"Dispose of this wretched human at once! Throw him in occidendum domum I'm pretty sure It's savanclaw's day...so they'll enjoy the little treat." 

What scared (y/n) the most about that phrase was just how cold and uncaring Malleus' voice was. He didn't care about the life of another living creatuer...no he never cared about anything other than himself and his obsession. In the endless span of time, you had spent with him you had forgotten just how insensitive the dark fae was. He'd tricked you into giving up your name, he'd stole you away from the life you had loved and now he was going to kill the man that was meant to be your one true love... Yet still, a part of you wanted to snuggle closer in his embrace, to have him hug you tightly and whisper that everything will be okay. You really were going insane.

You trashed around in Malleus' grip, trying to reach out for Phil's hand. Hoping that by some miracle you could prevent a determined Silver from taking away Phil. As the two men departed the room you turned your attention to Malleus with tear-filled eyes. "Malleus please" you begged, voice cracking as you sobbed uncontrollably "He was able to wake me from your sleeping curse! He's supposed to be my one true love!" 

Malleus' poison lives eyes darkened. Forcefully he pushed your face closer to his chest. His thin fingers twisted around your hair. Casually he placed a kiss on top your forehead as he finally spoke directly to you. 

"Darling I am your one true love as you are mine! It matters not what foolish mortal awakes you from your slumber, it only matters that I am the one who cast the curse over you! That makes you mine! That makes you my sleeping beauty!"

[bloodypapercut]

something missing (g.w. x reader)

request from @lilyydfg : Hey! Can you please write about reader trying to make george (her boyfriend) feel better and get out of depression after Fred's death? :)

tw: this is heavily centred around feelings of being numb, dejected and hopeless.there are mentions of death and slight mentions of the battle (blood and injuries but not much). please don’t read this if it’ll dampen your mood and if you do read please do so with caution. <3 stay safe lovebugs 

(requests are open)

word count : 2.1k 

    It had been months, but the initial shock never seemed to fade away. It plagued both of them horrifically, but George never fully recovered. The memories repeated themselves in his head, while he slept, worked, ate, laughed, cried, drank, and walked. They were intrusive, relentless, vivid, and unforgiving, they consumed every second of his life, so much so that guilt clawed at the back of his throat. The thought that he got to experience all the things they had promised to do together without his other half left him overwhelmed with grief. Why was it that he got to see the business they had worked so hard for thrive, why did he get to be in a relationship with plans for the future, why did he get to hug his mother and father at the burrow, why did he get to laugh alongside his siblings while Fred was gone, buried in the ground? It didn’t sit right with him, it wasn’t fair.

-----

   After the hours of screaming, crumbling walls, peril, the bodies of those they loved limp and battered on the stone floors, bloody hands, and frantic running they returned home. The silence smothered them, it was inevitable. They were shattered. They couldn’t process what had really happened, surely none of it was real. Fred was just missing, it was the wrong body they saw laying there with a lazy smile still etched on his face, Fred was just playing a cruel prank. They told themselves anything but the truth because deluding yourself feels better than facing what’s really in front of you. It wasn’t until they had finished getting ready for bed that it struck them. They followed the routine that they’d had for years on instinct, brush their teeth, wash their faces, get changed, rush to Fred’s room to say goodnight, but when they found his room empty and undisturbed it became clear that he was really gone. Fred, the loving, goofy, sometimes obnoxious but always kind redhead, the reliable older brother, the loyal best friend, the free-spirited stranger was gone, forever. There would be no more shared birthdays, family photos with his cheerful grin, knitted jumpers with a large golden F laying around, ear-piercing singing, and raucous laughter followed by rushed footsteps. It was all gone, in a matter of a few hours. It was there where George broke the silence, more like shattered it. His sobs were violent and agonizing, his pain was palpable. As he sunk to his knees he hugged Y/N’s legs, clinging onto anything that would ground him. His body shook against her calves and his tears were pooling on the hardwood floor, leaving a puddle where his reflection stared back at him. He aguishly looked back at himself, he hated what he saw, it was just a reminder of what was missing.

“I’m sorry, I need to be alone right now.” He made haste to rush to his office and lock the door. She rushed after him, trailing behind his footsteps but as the door shut in her face and the smashing of frames, ripping of paper, and choked sobs resonated through the door it was clear that that’s what he really needed.  

-----

For months George kept to himself, he seldom spoke of anything that he didn’t need to. He was reserved and feeble, avoiding interacting with people and finishing what he needed to do before heading straight to bed. It was unusual, to say the least, in his mind, there was no George without Fred. A part of him died that day, and it will never come back. He was numb, devoid of any genuine emotions. At any mention of Fred, he’d freeze up and immediately leave the room, if he saw something that reminded him of his older brother he’d snatch it and throw it into a box that he kept hidden under the bed. It was heartbreaking to see someone so vivid and bright suddenly solemn and burnt out. It was shattering to see George force himself to forget about the existence of his best friend to avoid the harsh sting of reality.

    He dealt with all of the pain alone. Whenever he’d wake up in a cold sweat he’d rush out of the room, refusing to look Y/N in the eye. Every nightmare was kept to himself, only to fester in his subconscious. At any offer of consolation or guidance he’d simply shake his head and walk away or offer a hopeless “no,” “I don’t care,” “what difference does it make,” or “I don’t want your help” as he kept his head down. No one knew what he was thinking, no one knew how he was. He remained stoic, afraid that once he confronts his fears that it will all become too real.

    It wasn’t until one night when one of his nightmares felt a little too hostile. It was the kind that plucked at any sense of security you thought you had and left you bare and vulnerable. His chest was weighed down and his breathing was labored. The erratic rise and fall sent the bed into light vibrations.

“Georgie, are you okay?” He remained silent and stared vacantly at the illuminated lamp resting on the vanity across the room. The tears in his eyes and remnants from where they rolled off his cheeks glimmered in the dull glow. She took his silence as a sign that he needed to be alone like he always wanted to be. An ache grew in her chest but she knew he wanted to be alone. She shrugged the blanket off of her legs and kissed his cheek lightly while stroking rogue tendrils of hair off his forehead.

“Do you wanna be alone, love?” She smiled warmly and wrapped her robe around her shoulders, preparing herself to leave the room.

“Stay, please, I can’t do this alone anymore.” The grip on her wrist was relieving and her heart swelled at the thought that George was taking the next step, ready to face what had been haunting him for so long. He continued to cry leaning into her embrace and letting his arms wrap around her waist. His head was against her chest, and she felt his tears soaking through her jumper. Her hand danced up and down the expanse of his back, reminding him that he wasn’t alone, that she was there and always will be.

“Let it out Georgie, it’s okay, you’re so strong. Just let it out.” The hold around her waist got tighter and he released all the emotions he had been holding in for so long. His sobs were haunting and lingered in the air. After a couple of minutes, his weeping decrescendoed but didn’t seize. He looked up into her eyes, worried that he was unloading too much onto her by divulging all the feelings he tried to keep so secure.

“Tell me whatever you’re comfortable telling me, it’s okay. I’m here George, you’re not alone.”

“Before the battle, we were sitting in the garden. The gnomes were running around, they didn’t bother nipping at our ankles like they always do, even they knew how horrible things had become. We were against the fence and he told me,” George paused abruptly and swallowed forcefully, “he told me that it was unlikely that both of us would make it out. I remember laughing and throwing grass at him, but Y/N he knew, we both knew, I was just too scared to admit it. We promised each other that no matter what, we’d seize the days that followed, even if one of us didn’t survive, but how could I go on without him? He died that day for me, he saved me. And even though he made me promise, I just couldn't. I felt so guilty. Every time I find myself smiling or laughing or even being happy in the smallest ways it always reminds me that Fred would never experience it with me. He will never see his first gray hair, or see his children run around the yard, or see how many people loved the things he invented. It’s so crazy to think that when we drank that aging potion in year 6, that that was the only time I’d ever get to see him all old and wrinkly.”

    He became silent as she traced shapes on the expanse of his back and dragged her fingertips along his forearms. Tears slowly welled in his eyes once more with the same urgency streamed down his face. Gently Y/N lifted his head and held it tenderly in her hands, his tears were kissed away by her cushiony lips.

“I really miss him. Not a day goes by where I’m not tortured by his absence. I feel horrible that I’m doing the very thing I swore I wouldn't do, but memories of him haunt me...and I’m letting them. Every time I hear his name or see anything that reminds me of him, it makes me so,” he paused, his hands rubbing at his red eyes in a frantic state, “so fucking angry, so mad and scared and confused and hurt and sick. I feel everything that he always managed to rid me of, but now that he’s gone it’s just so different. I just wish that he’d barge in like he always used to, but he’s gone, and I can’t accept that, I don’t want to.” His sobs echoed throughout the room once again, the unabating raw emotion seeping through every cough and gasp for air. His grip on the ends of Y/N’s jumper was fervent and desperate.

“You don’t have to forget about him.”

“I don’t want to, but it hurts so much because all I’m reminded of is what’s missing when he isn’t around,” he paused and as he did an ignominious expression painted over his face, “Merlin, Y/N I’m so sorry for dragging you into all of this, I’m being so selfish. I must be such a burden.”

“What? Angel, no no please don’t think that. I’m here because I love you, and I care for you. Never apologize for having feelings, you’re allowed to and it’s not something to be ashamed of. I’m not here because I have to be, I’m here because I want to, and because you deserve every ounce of love this world has to offer. Okay? Look, I know it’s easier said than done but you truly don’t have to forget him if you don’t want to, you just have to learn to understand what you’re feeling and to act accordingly. I’m here to help you with whatever you think is best. That’s all I want for you, that’s what Fred would want too. So tell me what you want help with, and I’ll be there every single step of the way. Anything to help you, you’re not alone.”

    The room seemed a little less daunting from George’s point of view. Upon hearing the words she uttered so softly and so passionately he felt at ease, and for the first time in a long time without guilt. A new cloak of warmth draped over his shoulders, he didn’t know what to make of it but as he looked up at Y/N and around the cozy room he realized it was acceptance and relief. He quickly summoned the box he kept as his contemptible secret for months. It sat comfortably in front of him on the duvet, it’s presence was overt and consuming, but for once George was okay with that. For once he let the box serve as a reminder of his brother’s presence, not as something to smother it.

    They spent the next hours slowly inspecting each piece in the box, smiling and reminiscing on the memories. It felt like Fred’s presence was flooding back, bringing more color and liveliness to their seemingly dull world. After hours of sitting close together, George let out a yawn and ruffled his hair.

“I’ll run a bath and then we can sleep, okay?” He nodded and Y/N headed to the bathroom, and within minutes she beckoned George to come in. Gingerly he rid himself of his clothes and sat down in the bath, leaning his head against Y/N’s warm chest. She soaked a sponge in the water and slowly dragged it across his tense shoulders, the water cascading down his ridged and freckled back. The sound of the water falling back into the bath and their steady breathing created a peaceful symphony in the room.

“I love you, angel, thank you.”

“I love you too Georgie, I know you’d do the same for me.”

[hellowkatey]

Febuwhump Day 21

Prompt: time travel (alternate 7)

Warnings: brief description of minor PTSD episode

Read on AO3! (this one is long so I didn’t spend as much time on reformatting when copying it here) 

Not Much Has Changed, Except for Everything

Anakin is angry. He knows he isn't supposed to be angry because "anger leads to the dark side" and whatnot, but he can't help that he is seething. He should head straight into a meditation room and deal with his anger the way he is trained. Or even lock himself in a training sala and work out his emotions constructively.

Instead, he barges through the door of his apartment, and when his master isn't in the living room or kitchen he barges into his bedroom.

Obi-Wan sits on the bed in a lotus position, a datapad balanced on his knee and a cup of tea in the other hand. He looks up with a raised eyebrow like he expected him to end up here eventually.

"Hello, padawan... what--"

"Don't," Anakin says sharply, so worked up he's bobbing back and forth on the balls of his feet. "You recommended passing me over for trials again."

Obi-Wan's shoulders drop and he rests the mug on his thigh. "Anakin we have talked about--"

"You know I'm ready! I have the highest marks in combat and control of the Force. I even got my grades up in philosophy. How could you do this to me?"

Obi-Wan doesn't answer him a moment, just does the endlessly annoying thing where he ever so carefully and calmly puts away whatever he was doing to give him his full attention. And to make sure I don't throw his hot tea across the room... again.

"Are you going to let me speak a full sentence, or are you just here to yell at me?" Anakin crosses his arms over his chest. It's enough of a response. The Jedi knight sighs. "Anakin, we've talked about this. You are a fine senior padawan and very close to being ready for your trials but as you are very relevantly demonstrating, you still have some work to do on managing your emotions."

"I'm only mad because you went behind my back!"

"Went behind-- " he shakes his head. "I never told you I was going to recommend you for your trials this cycle, I only said you were getting close, and the council agreed with my assessment."

The idea of his master and the council discussing him and how unready he is for the knight trials only pours salt in the wound.

"I basically command my own battalion like a Jedi general at this point. I have done everything you say, and you still treat me like I'm a kid."

"Need I remind you that if you were knighted at your current age, you would be one of the youngest human Jedi knights?"

"You say that like it's a bad thing!"

"I don't mean--I am just saying, you talk as though I'm holding you back from your peers when many of your age-mates are years from being considered for knighthood."

"I don't care about my age-mates?" Anakin huffs.

"You just need more time to mature--" Anakin rolls his eyes. He's heard this exact lecture a billion times from Obi-Wan.

"More time to mature. Much more to learn. Master, just because I don't have a lightsaber up my ass and recite the Jedi Code in my sleep, doesn't mean I'm not ready!"

"Anakin," Obi-Wan's calm demeanor turns colder. A warning tone.

"Where did being the perfect padawan get you anyway? Qui-Gon didn't even try to knight you until you were what, twenty-five?"

"Anakin--"

"And you didn't even do the trials, it was basically just a pity--"

"Enough," Obi-Wan stands from the bed, his tone severe. Immediate regret trickles in at the sight of Obi-Wan's intense stare. He's gone too far. "You're lashing out and certainly not acting like a Jedi Knight. This is not me asking you to be perfect this is me asking you to be reasonable. Think about it in any other way besides The Galaxy vs. Anakin and you'll see you are acting like the child you so desperately don't want to be!"

Anakin doesn't quite know where to go from here because usually Obi-Wan sits there and lets him go on until he runs out of steam or makes a fool of himself. But this time... Anakin has never seen him snap into action and actually fire back so hard. He didn't want to hurt his feelings he was... just frustrated.

"Obi-Wan I--"

"Anakin can we talk about this tomorrow?" he massages his temple with his pointer finger. "My headache is becoming a migraine and you have some meditating to do."

He sighs. Not really wanting to leave things that way, but when Obi-Wan gets his migraines there isn't much talking that can actually happen. He walks over to his dresser and grabs a pill bottle.

"Yeah, Master. Tomorrow." he places the pill bottle in his hand and leaves the bedroom. The door closes behind him.

Obi-Wan probably thinks he's going to bed, but he isn't. Instead, Anakin leaves, taking deep breaths as he walks through the halls of the Temple. The Force is especially pungent today. It feels like he's wading through a foggy bog with all the negative emotions he's stirred up, and meditating in his room isn't going to resolve that. So he heads to the Room of a Thousand Fountains. It's a weird time-- the younglings should be at dinner, it's evening briefings for the knights and padawans out on a campaign, and the council is usually in session, leaving the massive fountain room basically empty.

He climbs a few levels up, already feeling better with the mist of the waterfalls against his skin and the activity of climbing. His favorite place is a little nook on the fourth level where an upper fall cascades beside it. The constant water noise is soothing-- something he never thought he'd ever hear when he was a kid. If he's going to do the old-fashioned meditation, it's going to be here. Anakin settles down on the rocks, breathing in slowly and letting the Force saturate around him. With how pushy it's been acting, there's no surprise he's pulled into a good, deep meditation quickly.

Anakin awakes lying on the ground. He doesn't remember falling asleep, but meditation is pretty boring so it's not uncommon for him. He groans, letting his eyes adjust to the light streaming in from the window-- he must have slept here all night... whoops. Hopefully, it's still early or else Obi-Wan will have a whole other reason to be mad at him.

But strangely, when his eyes adjust he realizes he isn't in the Room of a Thousand Fountains anymore. He's laying in the middle of the hallway that leads to the council chambers.

Did someone carry me down or... No that would be difficult and I would have woken up. Maybe I sleepwalked? Anakin has never done that but he supposes there's a first time for everything. He straightens out his wrinkled robes and tries to fix a few parts of his braid that are trying to unravel.

Voices approach. He looks down the hall to see a tall master walking with long strides. Beside him, a little boy trails slightly behind and to the side-- the padawan position. But this boy doesn't look like much of a padawan. His hair is long, unevenly cut and falling into his eyes and down to his collar. If he has a braid, Anakin can't see it. While he wears some Jedi robes, they're mixed with pieces of civilian clothing. A blue undershirt paired with a the standard-issue outer robe and black pants with mismatched patches on both knees. And he's tiny-- concerningly skinny from the way his robe is hanging off of him. The boy's bright eyes snap to him as he stares, and Anakin adverts his eyes from the strange kid.

"Excuse me, padawan," the master says, brushing past him, and Anakin's entire body freezes. The voice is familiar, one he would never forget. He'd been so busy trying to figure out what the heck is going on with the padawan's wardrobe that he didn't get a good luck at the Jedi Master's face. Anakin whirls around.

"Master Jinn?"

The master stops, and turns around, his eyebrow raised. "Yes?" He blinks. This isn't possible. Qui-Gon is dead. Has been for a decade. Qui-Gon steps forward, cocking his head to the side. "Are you well? You've gone pale."

"Yes," Anakin chokes. "Yes, I'm... I'm fine. Just... uh, have you seen Master Windu?"

His brown eyes scan over Anakin critically. "In a council meeting. They should be done soon."

He can't stop staring at the dead master. He looks younger than Anakin remembers. Grays are only beginning to invade his sideburns, and there are far fewer wrinkles in the corners of his eyes and across his forehead. This must be a dream... a really vivid dream... but how could Anakin possibly dream about Qui-Gon if he never knew him at this age?

The realization dawns on him. He looks down at the shaggy padawan. Bright blue eyes shine back, silently watching Anakin's awkward encounter. A blank stare that Anakin would recognize anywhere. "Obi-Wan?" he blurts out.

Now the kid looks alarmed. He can't be older than twelve or thirteen. "Uh, yes..."

"Manners, Obi-Wan. Senior padawans are to be respected, too." Qui-Gon corrects, and the padawan's eyes widen, and then he bows. Master Jinn turns his attention back to Anakin, still looking at him funny. "Where is your master? And what is your name, I'm sorry, I thought I knew most of the senior padawans."

"I, uh, my name is Ani. My master is a shadow, so I'm... gone a lot."

It's a threadbare excuse that any reasonable Master would as follow-up questions to, but Qui-Gon seems to be in too much of a hurry to go through the trouble. He just nods. "Right. Nice to meet you, Padawan Ani, but we must be going. Master Windu should be done momentarily, though, if you wait outside the council chambers.

"Thank you, Master," Anakin replies, bowing. He still can't believe he's really talking to Master Jinn again... and padawan Obi-Wan? This just makes it even weirder. Why is he dressed like that? And how did Anakin get here? When even is here?

It has to be some trick of the Force. There really isn't another explanation. For some reason, it has sent him back in time, and he has a feeling it has something to do with Obi-Wan.

The pair turn and continue on in the direction they were before. He watches them go, Obi-Wan trailing with his head staring at the ground.

"As I was saying, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon says in a low voice, but the acoustics of the vaulted hallways make it sound as though he's talking directly to Anakin. "The council may have accepted you back on probationary status, but I am not yet ready to accept you again as my student. Do you understand this?"

Anakin's brows crease in confusion. The Force must have sent him back in time and to another dimension! If he heard Master Jinn right then... Anakin needs to talk to little Obi-Wan and find out what's going on.

It's harder to track down the kid than he thought it would be. He passes the time by taking a quick lap around the Temple to check out what else is different in this new time-- he figures out it's about two or three years before he's actually born, which is weird. Not much has really changed besides the Temple being much fuller. Like when he first was brought here. His first stop is the Archives, which surprisingly doesn't contain Tiny-Wan. He passes by the mess, the padawan training sala-- nothing. Then he gets an idea.

He strolls into the initiate training sala and smiles. Obi-Wan is on the other side of the room, his back to the door and a training saber in hand. He goes through the Form I katas slowly and smoothly.

As Anakin strolls in, Obi-Wan stops, dropping his saber at his side and turning slowly around. "Oh, hi Padawan Ani," he says in the same Core accent but a few octaves higher. It seems he hasn't had time to change, so he's stripped down to his undershirt and pants, Jedi robes cast to the side. He seems to also have gained a strip of cloth he's fashioned as a headband to keep his hair back. It makes parts of his hair stick up in wild directions. Definitely, a look that isn't characteristic of his usually tidy Master. He tops off the greeting with a polite bow.

"No need to bow when we're not around the Masters, kid. And you can just call me Ani. We're both padawans."

Obi-Wan's eyes drop to the ground, his face falling. He can't get over how young he looks. "Oh... you didn't hear?"

"Like I said, I've been away."

He traces a saber mark on the ground with the toe of his boot. "I, uh, left for a while. My master doesn't trust me anymore."

Out of all the things he expected to come out of Obi-Wan's mouth, this was not one of the possible options he contrived. "Doesn't trust-- I mean, what could you have possibly done?"

"I said I left," he says, his blue eyes snapping up to him with surprising intensity. Anakin raises an eyebrow.

"You're angry."

"I'm not angry."

"You're upset."

Tiny-Wan doesn't reply. Anakin gets another idea. He pulls out his lightsaber and turns down the power into training mode. The kid watches him carefully.

"Wanna spar?"

"Now?"

"Helps blow off some steam so it's easier to meditate later." Anakin ignites his saber, waving around the blue blade in a quick spin. Obi-Wan's long face turns to a grin, and he ignites the training saber again. They stand in opening positions, Obi-Wan sticking with Form I, which makes sense for a thirteen or fourteen-year-old. Anakin decides maybe doing a form he isn't as good at would even things out a little more-- he raises his lightsaber above his head, turning his body to the side and pointing his arm straight out toward Obi-Wan. The kid's eyes widen at the Soresu stance.

In taking a defensive form, Obi-Wan is the first to make a move. He moves swiftly, naturally, testing out the clash of the sabers against one another with simple blows Anakin is meant to easily deflect. He's testing me, Anakin realizes as he keeps pushing him in a tight circle. He lets the kid get warmed up to the spar, giving him a few more offensive moves to mix things up, which seems to excite him.

"Been a while since you sparred?" Anakin asks.

"That obvious?"

"Oh, no, Obi-Wan I didn't mean you were doing bad you just seem... happy to be doing it." The Force is singing right now.

The kid does a slightly more advanced move, grinning wildly. "I've missed fighting with a lightsaber."

Slowly, Anakin is picking up clues. He "left", didn't have his saber with him (or he did and just had nobody to use it against), and whatever he did got him in trouble with the council.

"What form do you wanna learn first?"

"Four!" he says, demonstrating a classic Ataru acrobatic move with his answer, which surprises Anakin enough that Obi-Wan manages a combo move.

Anakin smiles. If only he knew he'd be a master of Soresu a handful of years from now.

"Very impressive, young one. You stayed in shape while away."

Once again, his face falls, and he puts his energy back into the fight. Their actions start picking up, Obi-Wan funneling more of his young energy into quick movements and acrobatics. Though his forms have fallen out completely by this point and turned into less controlled jabs, Anakin is struck with how smart he's fighting. He is selective with diversions and fakes, fighting well enough that Anakin is actually having to put some effort into maintaining his Soresu form. He's strong too. He slams his saber into his with surprising force, but never still long enough for Anakin to return the blow.

It's like he's used to fighting those much larger than him. He uses his size and speed to his advantage, knowing exactly how and where to strike that makes it difficult for Anakin to counter. It's fascinating, and not at all like how Obi-Wan spars now. Anakin even starts to forget who he is crossing swords with after a while until he speaks and the Tiny-Wan accent reminds him.

"You're holding back," he says, his forehead sheening with sweat.

"You're a kid."

"It's harder to practice real sparring when you're fighting like a training droid."

Anger? Taunting? Who is this kid? Anakin smirks at him, and when they reach a lull, he shifts his position into an offensive. Now, let's show him how Ataru is done.

The fight ends minutes later. To Tiny-Wan's credit, he held him off well, but Anakin is a senior padawan, trained by one of the best swordsmen in the Order, and Obi-Wan... well, he hasn't found out he's one of the best swordsmen in the Order yet. His chest rises and falls rapidly as he lays on the training sala floor. Anakin peers over him, and finds a toothy smile on his face.

"That. Was. Awesome!" he says, jumping up. "You moved so fast I couldn't even see you sometimes! You and my master--" he trails off, biting on his lip. His mood deflates. "You and Master Jinn should spar sometime. He also specializes in Ataru."

"Do you feel less upset now, at least?"

He nods. "I have a lot of catching up to do, but it... helped. Thanks, Ani."

Obi-Wan walks over to the bench to get dressed again. As he picks up his robe, his belt falls and clatters against the durasteel bench, making a loud singular bang. He doesn't think much of it until he looks at the padawan and sees his entire body has gone rigid, his eyes darting around the room.

"Obi-Wan?" Anakin asks. When he doesn't move, he walks up to him and crouches down to eye level. "Obi-Wan, what's wrong?"

The kid clears his throat, his eyes finally focusing on the senior padawan. "I, uh, nothing, Ani. Just... loud."

Anakin reaches down and picks up the belt. "The noise this made... Did it scare you?"

"Jedi don't get scared."

"That isn't true. What just happened? Your face is white as a sheet."

With a deep, shaky sigh, the padawan sits down on the bench and buries his face in his hands. "It sounded... it sounded like the invasion bell."

"Invasion bell?"

"The scouts would ring it when they were attacking in the night."

"Obi-Wan, I don't know what you're referring to."

"The--The Melida. Or the Daan!" he exclaims, his head popping up from his hands. "They attacked so often in the night, we could never sleep well. What if we missed the bell?"

Cold sweat is beading on his forehead. Anakin has no idea what to say. He puts a comforting hand on his shoulder instead, rubbing softly.

"Hey, hey, you're not there anymore. It was just your belt. You're in the Jedi Temple. You're safe now. Just... breathe."

He guides him through deep breaths in and out-- something that his own master has gotten him through as well. It's strange to be preaching his own tactics back at him, though he doesn't seem to notice. Probably hasn't learned them yet.

Obi-Wan recovers. Finishes getting dressed. Seems embarrassed to have him kneeling beside him rubbing circles on his back from the flush in his cheeks. "I should... go home now. But thanks for fighting with me Ani."

"Anytime, kid. You know, things with your master are going to work out."

Tiny-Wan looks up at him with those big blue eyes. "You think so?"

"I know so."

Obi-Wan leaves with a spring in his step. As soon as he's out of the room, Anakin deflates. How did this kid-- shellshocked and emotional-- become his steadfast master? How has he never heard any of this before? He decides the best way to figure this out is to go talk to the council. Tell them he's here somehow and try to figure out more.

But suddenly the sala starts to sway, and he begins to feel like he's being put under a sleep suggestion. Uh oh. Not now! Not yet! I just need to talk to--

Anakin gasps awake, a headache pounding at his temples and his sleeve soaking wet from falling into the spray of the waterfall. He's back in the room of a thousand fountains, back in his own time period, assumingly, and now with a million questions going through his head. Light is streaming in from the skylights-- he really did spend all night here. He wastes no time jumping up and climbing down the falls.

Obi-Wan is awake when he bursts back into the apartment, sitting at the kitchen table eating sliced fruit. He looks up apathetically when Anakin enters, half soaking wet, only raising an eyebrow. The Obi-Wan blank stare that apparently he's had mastered since he was a kid.

"Where have you been?"

You wouldn't believe me if I told you. "Early start."

"Mmhm." he doesn't sound convinced, but he chooses to stuff another piece of fruit in his mouth instead of questioning him further.

"Obi-Wan..." Anakin doesn't even know where to start. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," he says, gesturing to the chair across from him. Anakin sits down slowly. It's early enough that Obi-Wan is still in his nightclothes and his hair an unorderly mess. In this state, Anakin can see a flash of his padawan self, long messy hair, and baggy clothes hanging off him. "What is it?"

"What's the Melida?"

Obi-Wan lowers his fork slowly, "In... In what context?"

"Like... Melida or the Daan. Maybe a war?"

Obi-Wan goes completely still. He stares forward for a long time, not looking at Anakin or anything in particular just staring. What can Anakin do besides sit there and wait for him to say something. Anything.

"Well," he finally says. "Melida/Daan was a planet that had a civil war spanning generations."

"Had?"

"Well, it ended years ago. By a third group that fought against the other two for peace," he swallows dryly. "The Young. Why... Why do you ask, Anakin?"

"Well, I..." he didn't think he'd get this far if he's being honest. From the way Obi-Wan is looking at him, he seems to not have expected this to ever come up. "I heard something. About you as a padawan."

He's quiet for another moment. Not as long as the first, but just as haunting.

"Qui-Gon and I had a mission there when I was thirteen. Master Tahl had gone dark, and we were sent to find her. I saw what was happening on this planet. That children had taken it upon themselves to fight the war their great-great-grandparents waged. And I felt my place was there with them." Obi-Wan stands from the table, walking toward the window that faces out onto the skyline of Coruscant. "Qui-Gon didn't agree with me. He gave me a choice, and I chose to leave the Jedi Order and stay on the Melida/Daan."

"You... left the Jedi?" Anakin whispers in awe. Suddenly Tiny-Wan's cryptic words make sense.

"For about a year, yes. And then my feelings changed. I wanted to return, and we needed the help of the Jedi to lock in peace for the planet so I called Qui-Gon again. And he came for me... not without consequences, though," he mutters the last part.

"You. You left the order?"

"That is what I just told you, yes."

"And Master Jinn... he was hard on you about it?"

Obi-Wan's lips press together into a thin line. "Master Jinn and I were on scant terms before I left. He feared I would turn out like his previous padawan who turned to the dark side."

This almost makes Anakin laugh out loud. Obi-Wan? Turning to the dark side? He literally can't think of a person less likely.

But he thinks about how when he met padawan Obi-Wan his emotions were strong, easily read across his face. He was upset and a little angry and Master Jinn certainly wasn't doing anything to help him with that. Now Anakin feels horrible for what he said to his master the night before. Not only was it out of frustration, but it was also completely incorrect.

"Master, I'm... I'm sorry. For what I said earlier. I didn't... I wasn't--"

"Not many do," he says serenely. "And maybe I should have told you sooner I just..." he shrugs. "I suppose it's not my favorite topic to think about. I was far too young to be in a warzone. And when I returned, my guilt often got the best of me. It took a long time for him to trust me again. It's not a way I wanted you as my padawan to see me."

But when Anakin looks at Obi-Wan now, he isn't let down by this new context. If anything, it makes him respect his master even more. He always believed that Obi-Wan was hard on him because he wanted him to be as perfect as he was... but obviously, Tiny-Wan wasn't the saint he thought him to be, and Master Jinn didn't exactly give Obi-Wan the benefit of the doubt. But now he knows, even if it was just a glimpse, that maybe he knows more about needing to keep emotions under control than Anakin previously thought.

"Will you tell me more Tiny-Wan stories?" Anakin asks, making his master look at him funny.

"Tiny-Wan?  Why are you assuming I was small?"

Because I met you, Master, and you were pretty tiny. "Just... a hunch I suppose."

"Well, I'll have you know I was perfectly average for my age group." he pouts.

"Fine," the padawan groans. "Will you tell me more of your padawan stories?"

Obi-Wan walks into the kitchen and puts a kettle on the range. "I'm sure something of that sort can be arranged."

He watches him pull out two mugs and start to make some tea. He picks out Anakin's favorite as well as some milk-- just the way he likes it. And then his own. He watches his master with a new admiration. This must have been what the Force was trying to lead him to.

[corpse--diem]

Home Not So Sweet Home | Skylar & Erin

TIMING: Current PARTIES: @theskyeandsea & @corpse–diem SUMMARY: Erin stops by to check in on Skylar but finds herself unwelcome in a place she once called home. CONTENT WARNINGS: Descriptions of drug use, addiction

It’d been nearly a month since Erin had stepped foot inside this home. For months, it’d been her home away from home, even when it wasn’t her temporary residence after the fire, and it was still more of a home to her than the apartment she was still breaking in. Nic’s departure had been abrupt and more painful than she was willing or even choosing to cope with on top of everything the past month had brought. There were things he needed to do, just as Erin had chiseling away at problems in her own life for sometime now. Respecting that hadn’t made walking out of this door or saying goodbye to him or the little life they’d been building any easier. But at least it had given her a good excuse to return when her gut wouldn’t stop worrying for the roommate still here. Skylar’s stubborn, continual insistence that she was “fine” and that Erin had no reason to worry only made the nagging in her gut intensify. Vivid flashes of the night she’d find her high out of her mind got her off the couch, past the hard, awkward barrier that had kept her from returning, and to the front door. Time to see how fine Skylar was with her own eyes.

With a deep breath, she turned the key in the door and made a point to knock loudly multiple times, half-slamming the door shut for extra noise assurance. “Hello? Anyone home?” She called out, her voice echoing through the large home. Little squeals came from the end of the hallway. Dundee’s nails clicked against the hardwood floor as he scurried her way. “Oh, hello to you too!” She greeted him in a cooing, baby-like voice, and scooped him up with one hand. For as dead-eyed and weird as he usually was, his little body shook with excitement as he immediately started licking her fingers. “Awww, I missed you too, buddy,” she laughed quietly, petting down the top of his head as she walked further into the home. Didn’t think about how it looked exactly the same or how comfortably familiar it still felt and just pushed on. “Skylar? Are you home?” She yelled, louder now.

Skylar looked up at the sky, watched the way the clouds shifted overhead as she lay on the grass of the backyard. It was cold outside; or, it should feel cold to her. But, her warmth had returned and she was much recovered from That Day, as Skylar had come to think of it. She didn’t like thinking about the specifics of it all, about the way that the dogs had chased after her, how their teeth had felt digging into her flesh-- No. Sitting upright, Skylar ran a hand through her tangled hair. She didn’t want to think about that right now and, pleasantly, the thoughts slipped through her mind like water. Stretching, the faint rumbling of her stomach reminded her that she hadn’t eaten in-- how long had it been? She couldn’t remember. Bliss got rid of pain, even the slight pangs of discomfort that came with hunger. Idly walking back inside, Skylar made her way to the kitchen, humming quietly to herself. She didn’t have her hearing aids in; she never wore them in the house anymore, not now that she was alone. It didn’t matter, none of it mattered.

Slipping into the kitchen, Skylar riffled through the shelves of the refrigerator, fingers gliding over the condiment bottles. When was the last time she’d gone to the store? Mmm. It didn’t really matter. Shutting the door without taking anything, Skylar began to wander towards the living room only to see Erin walking through her house, Dundee in her arms. Tilting her head, Skylar blinked. “Erin. Why are you here?” She asked, confused.

Regret seeped in the moment Erin realized that Skylar probably wasn’t pleasantly surprised to see her. It’d been a bold assumption to begin with, especially popping in over unannounced and letting herself in. Guess it didn’t have the same effect when her boyfriend wasn’t there waiting for her already, which was fair. “Hey, sorry! I tried to be as loud as I could when I came in,” she said, smiling brightly and apologetically, as if that would smooth over her mistake. She’d always known Skylar to be pretty kind and easy going though. “I left a few things here. Figured it was about time I came to get those. But I’m glad to run into you!” Running into her had been the entire plan, not coming back here for a few shirts. She could only hope that wasn’t obvious. “How are you? I hope I’m not interrupting anything?” Scratching behind Dundee’s ears, she moved a little closer, eyes scanning Skylar for any tell-tale signs from the last time.

Shutting the door of the fridge with a frown, Skylar focused on Erin’s lips, doing her best to string together the words that were coming from the other woman’s mouth. But, lip reading was imprecise in the best of times and with the Bliss still flowing through her system, it was all the more difficult to parse out the words. But, why did she need to try so hard? Erin shouldn’t be here, she didn’t belong here. Not anymore. She’d been Nic’s girlfriend, never Skylar’s friend. They weren’t friends and the fact that she was here, holding Dundee, pretending like she had any kind of right to be here… Skylar’s fingers clenched at her side and she shook her head. “Get whatever you came for and leave.” She said shortly before folding her arms across her chest. As Erin stepped forward, Skylar took an automatic step back, her gaze distrustful. “Don’t come near me.”

Erin was stunned to her spot. Skylar’s demands were short, angry and so foreign coming from her lips that it didn’t feel immediately real. Like that wasn’t actually Skylar or Erin was suddenly an unwanted stranger traipsing through her home. An uncomfortable dread crept in. “Hey, I’m sorry. I know that I should’ve called and that wasn’t cool but--” she stopped when Skylar stepped back, eyeing her like a threat. Did her best to ignore the dull prick in her chest that followed it. She narrowed her eyes, setting the dog down so he could scurry off again. “Skylar, what in the hell is going on with you?” She asked after a bewildered pause, much of the friendliness in her voice replaced with sharp concern. Something wasn’t right and the longer she took in the general disarray of her appearance and the subtle patches that marred her skin, the more she was sure of it. A wave of something close to disappointment leveled her spirit and she took another step forward and spoke slowly. “Why can’t I come closer?”

Skylar watched as Dundee scampered away, his paws moving quickly as he ran off to another area of the house. Glancing back up at the other woman, she didn’t need to read her lips to tell from the woman’s body language that Erin was confused. That she was upset. Why did she care? What right did she have to be upset? Erin was the one who’d just come here, without a word, and was acting like that was okay. As she stepped forward, Skylar’s nails dug into the skin of her arm, the Bliss dulling the sensation. “Get out of my house. This is my home and I don’t want you here.” She said, ignoring Erin’s questions. She didn’t need to answer them, Erin didn’t deserve answers. She’d poked around in her business before, but Skylar wouldn’t let that happen again. She’d take it all way. And then Skylar would be left to face everything alone. Again. Always alone. “How did you even get in here?”

Some part of her knew that Skylar was intentionally lashing out, pushing her away to stop Erin from questioning her further. Then there were the other parts, the ones still raw and healing from all she’d lost, were made even more vulnerable as she stood in this house. For a brief time, it’d been her home away from home too, even before the fire. Her eyes dropped to the floor briefly as the rational side tried to take the wheel again. “I have a key,” she answered calmly and shook her head and tried this again with an approach. Because she wasn’t a stranger. Despite Skylar’s demands, Erin planted her feet, her hands on her hips, more determined than ever. “I’m not leaving. Not until you tell me what’s going on or why you want me gone.”

She had a key? That’s right, Nic had given her one, when she’d been living here. Skylar had thought that Erin would have given it back when things had ended, when he had left town. But, she was wrong. Lips pursed tightly together, she matched Erin’s gaze. She didn’t need to tell her anything because what would it do? The last time the woman had been here, she’d dumped a bottle of pills down the drain. Pills that Skylar hadn’t needed, hadn’t used. But, if Erin knew what she was doing, she’d take away the Bliss. She’d get rid of the one thing that dulled the demons that lurked outside the door. She’d take everything away and say that it was for the best. Because that’s what everyone said. Ricky left because he said it was what was best, Nic left because he needed to do what was best, Winston left, her parents left, even the ghost of her father-- everyone left. Everyone left and Skylar was stuck with a skin she hated and a body that had never felt like hers. “I want you to leave because you don’t belong here anymore. This is. My. Home. And I don’t want someone just randomly barging into my house and telling me what to do.” She said, trying to keep her voice calm and low, even as the desire to wrench the key from Erin’s hand welled up inside her. “Give me back the key.”  

Erin knew she didn’t have any real right to key anymore. Amicable as it was, Nic and her and ended things when he left town. There was no reason for her to have it outside of any sentimentality it still held. Remembered almost perfectly the night at the carnival he’d given it to her, before her war with Roy, before the funeral home had burned down, before he left and before it’d all gone to shit. It’d been a good night. Solidly, heartwarmingly good. But he was gone and those were just memories. And memories didn’t mean she could hold onto something that wasn’t hers. “I’m not trying to barge in and I don’t mean to--I’m not trying to tell you what to do,” she said, shaking her head, taking another few steps forward. “You’re--” she paused, deflating a little, both from Skylar’s harshness and what she was about to admit. “You’re scaring me, okay? You’re not acting like yourself, and the last time--last time you were high out of your mind. This place is a mess, you’re a mess,” she gestured towards her disheveled appearance. “I can’t just leave you like this. I won’t.”

“You did and you are.” Skylar said, frustration growing. Why couldn’t Erin just understand that she didn’t want her here? She didn’t belong here, she had no right to be here, demanding things of Skylar. They weren’t anything to each other, they weren’t friends, and she didn’t need someone trying to watch over her. The frustration bubbled and churned with in her, but boiled over when she heard those words High out of your mind. “And that was last time! But I’m not anymore and you have no right to be here!” She spat through gritted teeth. For the first time since Erin had wandered into her house, Skylar realized that she didn’t have her veneers in. She didn’t wear them around the house anymore, not since Nic had left. And now, her jagged teeth clenched together, their partially-filed points apparent in the kitchen light. “Give me the key, Erin. And get out of my house.”

It was so difficult standing there knowing with every fiber of her being that someone wasn’t alright. That Erin was here, offering help, offering to talk, but she couldn’t make Skylar do anything she didn’t want to. She was younger than her but that didn’t make her any less of an adult. Knowing that didn’t help the way it made her heart sting or the dread that had been building in her stomach overwhelm her. At the sight of those teeth, a new feeling arose. Fear. One she’d never thought she’d feel around Skylar of all people. “Fine,” she replied curtly, moving only to grab her keys from her bag. Skylar was right in that regard and she knew she couldn’t fight her on it. She had no right to this home anymore, even if that thought burned at the back of her eyes. She held the key in her hand, fingering the smooth brass. Hesitant before slamming it down on the counter beside her, ripping that bandaid off. “There,” she said simply, not able to look Skylar in the eyes anymore. She didn’t move yet, simmering in her barely contained emotions, the hand that had slammed the key down closing and opening a small fist at her side. Finally, after a short, steadying exhale, she glanced up at her once more. “You don’t want to talk to me now, I get that. But if you want to--later, maybe. I’m still here if you need me, okay? And even if you don’t want to talk to me, I hope you talk to someone, Skylar. This isn’t--you’re not you. And you’re not okay.”

Skylar watched with narrowed eyes as Erin rummaged around in her bag, pulling out the keys. There was a moment of hesitation, a second where she thought Erin was going to fight her again. But then, the key was on the counter and the other woman remained standing in the kitchen. Why was she standing there, why was she just standing there, acting like she belonged here? She didn’t-- Erin had no reason to care about her, didn’t need to care about her and Skylar didn’t want her to. She wanted her to leave. She wanted her to get out of here and never come back. Skylar had finally found something good, finally found something that numbed the intensity of the world around her. And if Erin knew, she’d take it all away. She’d take it away and Skylar would be left to face the world with nothing to protect her from the dangers. She wouldn’t let that happen. She couldn’t. “I don’t want your help-- you’ve never helped me, no one in this town has. Everyone���s just doing damage control and no one actually gets the chance to heal. I’m trying to fix myself. Trying to make it better, for me. And you don’t-- I don’t-- get out.” She said, shaking her head. “Get out of my house.”

Erin scoffed, shaking her head. “Wow, okay.” Just because she knew Skylar was doing this on purpose, lashing out out of fear or whatever was going on inside that brain of hers, she was allowed to be annoyed right back at her. “No one can help you if you don’t let them, Skylar. I’m actively standing here trying to reach out to you and trying to be there for you, like I have many times before this, and again, you’re saying no.” She took one last glance at the other woman, her eyes falling to small, red pricks on the inside of her elbow. Track marks. Fuck. Erin was right after all. She didn’t want to be and her heart broke a little further. “I don’t know what happened to you Skylar, but you’re going down a very scary path. At some point you have to accept it from someone.” No part of her wanted to leave and her legs moved heavily as she started to back up away from the kitchen and from Skylar. More concerned and fearful than she had been when she first entered the home, and when she closed the door behind her with a heavy heart, she hoped it wouldn’t be her last.

[iiamtrashqueenii]

Texas Is Forever

Summary: Back at it again with song based short fic ideas, some logince fluff for my lovelies out there. Roman comes back from an audition in the rain and vents to Logan.

Warnings: none (ask if I missed any or there are things you’d like me to tag in the future)

———————

It was far from unusual for Logan to be founding, sitting on his couch, reading a book until late in the evening. What was unusual was the knocking he had heard at a quarter past 10 o’clock, despite the rain being crashing down. He set down his book upside down to keep his page, rising to his feet and heading to the door, only to find a very pissed off friend storming into the room. “I can’t fucking believe it! I can’t, Lo!”

Logan let out a sigh, but a tiny fond smile couldn’t help crossing his face. He went to grab a towel for the other as he listened. “What happened now, Roman?”

“I didn’t get the part!” Roman answered, pouting as he collapsed onto the other’s couch. “I was out for a while and when I got home I went to check my missed calls. You miss seven calls and suddenly you’re not a ‘reliable’ worker, so they gave the part to someone who doesn’t even have a fraction of my talent!” he ranted on.

Logan couldn’t help the laughter that followed. He kneeled on the ground next to the couch, brushing some of his soaked hair out of Roman’s face as he began to speak. “And you really had to come see me in the pouring rain to complain about it? You couldn’t just call like a normal person,” he joked softly. Roman, Cmon now, you aren’t the most dependable worker, but there’s going to be a billion more parts for you to play. You already know you’re making it to the big leagues. You’re barely nineteen, you have plenty of time.” He handed the other the towel, ignoring the fact that his couch was now going to be damp because of Roman’s carelessness.

Grumbling, Roman crossed his arms. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I’m just worried. What if people don’t ever realize how great I am? I’m supposed to the be a star! What if—“ Roman gloated, in his average egotistical manner, but there was an obvious bit of nervousness in his voice. Logan rolled his eyes in response, the corners of his mouth tugging up into a slight smile.

“They will know, Roman. I promise you,” Logan reassured, cutting Roman off before he had the chance to continue.

“Okay, okay, fine, you win. I just worry.” Roman readjusted his position, so now he was sitting up with his legs criss-crossed on the couch. He seemed to hesitate slightly before speaking again. “Can I stay the night? I don’t wanna think about the part anymore, and you always make me feel better.”

Logan nodded in response, moving to sit next to him. “Of course you can stay, when have I ever said no?”

“Well it’s not like I barged into your house at ten at night.”

Logan rose an eyebrow. “That’s exactly what you did though—“

“Yeah, but you never have anything better to do. Seriously, what were you doing? Reading a book?” He looked over, grinning as he saw the book. “Dude, you’ve read Great Expectations how many times?” he asked.

Logan huffed, “As if you have any better suggestions.” He crossed his arms stubbornly.

Roman only grinned more as he responded nearly immediately. “The Hunger Games. Action filled, tests abilities to survive in a the world given dire circumstances, questions capitalism, emphasizes human rights, and questions the morals we hold ourselves to. Or Divergent, once again, testing the morals we hold ourselves to and the ability to question our identities while bringing out why we need diversity in the world.”

Logan tried to argue but to no avail. The stories did seem interesting, maybe less on the realistic side than Logan would prefer, but the nerd was always up for some science fiction. “Fine then, tell me all about The Hunger Games.” And so started Roman’s storytelling, describing everything in the most vivid detail he could remember from both the movies and books until eventually they grew tired and fell asleep on the couch together.

[nomadmilk]

Why the God Isn’t Bored on Midgard - Loki x F!Reader Drabble - 7

Summary: With Ragnarok decimating Asgard, Thor and Loki and their people return to Earth searching for refuge. Everyone else has seemed to settle, except for Loki - the God of Mischief and Chaos - who isn’t willing to live the domesticated Midgard life, and getting utterly bored out of his mind... Until he discovered you.

Word Count: 1.8K

Warnings: Rated M/18+. The return of the jerk ex. Mentions of sex, and sex things.

Author’s Note: I’m stuck inside reading, playing Animal Crossing, and writing this :) Let me know what you think, and enjoy <3 Hoping to get more parts up soon!

Here are the other parts to the series: Part 1     Part 2 Part 3     Part 4 Part 5     Part 6 Part 7     Part 8 (First Half)     Part 8.5 (Second Half) Part 9

It seemed like you hadn’t come to terms as to what happened at Stark’s party. Loki assumed you were too stubborn and shy to actually say anything, and resorted to your usual plan in being distracted; working.

You did the tasks; helping women with recommending lingerie, funny gifts that might actually get the ball rolling for couples, and even did the boring stuff like keeping count of stock and if there was anything that needed to be delivered. You were even able to talk and gossip with your new colleagues. Over folding and hanging pieces and products, you talked briefly about past work employers, a little about family, and little specs of each other’s lives. You admit, you don’t say much, probably because you’re still the new kid in the store, but you listen intently as you and a colleague stack some new boxed lube on a shelf.

“So, I actually tried this with my boyfriend.” She says, inspecting the box before placing it on the row you had made. “And, oh my god, it does wonders. You have no idea how big he is.”

Your eyebrows raise as you nod along. It wasn’t what you were expecting on hearing. Although, it didn’t make you startled in any way; you had just been dealing with a guy who wanted to know what gag was best with a unicorn outfit.

“I mean, they say size doesn’t matter – like, yeah, I totally agree. “ She continues. “But it’s like they took the Karma Sutra, and somehow made it a thousand times better… I mean, technically they’re, like, thousands of years old, so they must have had the reading and practice-”

“Or they were really bored.” You chime, nervous about the jokey input. The colleague chuckles.

The shift wasn’t too bad at all-

“Wait.” You say, stopping your hands and turning to her. “You-… Asgardian?”

“Yeah, my boyfriend’s Asgardian.”

“And you said he-“

“Yes. They all have big dicks.”

-----

“Uh. Who the hell are you?”

Loki has had his fair share of ugly welcomes, and he also had his fair share of countering them. The temptation to do so was high, but Loki moves the conversation along. “Can I help you?”

The Prince stares t the stranger, who is in the meantime, blinking at his stature. It seemed like he wasn’t expecting Loki at all to answer the door, so Loki had to assume he was looking for someone else.

He prompts him again. “Are you looking for someone in particular?”

“Yeah, uh, Y/N?” The man blunders. “Does she still live here?”

“I’m sorry, but she’s not here at the moment.” Loki answers, assessing the man’s language. “Can I pass on a message?”

The man completely ignores the offer. “She said there’s a box of my stuff left over. Can I come in?”

Hesitant in a reply and beginning to glare, Loki wasn’t comfortable with his presence at all. Here he was in the apartment, head buried in books and student papers, until this guy comes along and bombards the serenity of it.

Over a box of stuff.

You never said there was going to be a visitor today. To be honest, you hadn’t spoken to Loki since Tony Stark’s party. He smirks to himself; with your job occupying all of your time, you must be pent up more than ever.

“Listen, I’ll just grab it and go, is that alright?” The man says, hurriedly this time.

Loki opens the door wider, and the man immediately steps into the flat. As he closed the door, he turns around to see the man in awe of the room. “When’d she renovate this place?”

“Since I moved in.” Loki proceeds to your room to pick up said box, passing the man by. “You said-“

He grabs Loki by the arm. Loki stills. For a second, the god almost relinquishes a blade into hi hand, but he stops himself. If this guy ended up in the news as  murder victim, Fury would be breathing down his neck constantly. And he’d have to wish his little bit of freedom and sanctuary gone.

Loki sighs; it was a reflex. He didn’t know why he needed a weapon to maim a human when he can actually just use his strength or cunning to actually do more so. But the extra threat made it guarantee that the man didn’t retaliate.

Not that the guy stood a chance.

On the other hand, Loki didn’t know why he felt a little agitated by this stranger.

“Who are you?” His grip was not loosening. “Are you sleeping with her?”

“I’m just someone who lives with her.” Loki says, the reply is satisfactory enough for Loki’s arm to be returned. His jaw clenches; this guy was too curious. “You never introduced yourself either.”

“Just someone concerned about her well-being.” He squares Loki, not reaching the same height, though. “Wait a minute… Your voice… She was with you…”

Loki surveys him, the man’s expression changing. What was he talking about? Was he a spy? A stalker? It was difficult to read him because Loki had little to work on. All he could pinpoint was that anything related to you, or just you, were definitely his buttons to push. You’ve never mentioned this man at any point in your interactions. The only man Loki had heard, who he had never met, who you barely noted upon was-

Then it struck him; it was if you were here to slap him. Again.

So, this was the so-called Ex? The guy phoning you at Stark’s party.

“You were with her that night.” The Ex resumes. It seems like he’s making a few revelations in his head as well. “What were you doing with her?”

It was like spite and pride had invited themselves to spread the smile onto Loki’s face. And before he could get a word in play, you had entered the apartment.

You promptly recognise The Ex in your home, and Loki steps back as your face crumples in confusion and ferocity. And he knew the next few minutes was going to be better than what he had originally planned.

You weren’t hiding your disbelief of your Ex just barging into your place, and you unleashed your rage by interrogating on why he was here in the first place. Although, The Ex, battling against you, stood no match against you.

As the scene plays out, it reminds him of when he saw you in the apartment for the first time… Your anger was volatile when it was pushed, and maybe that’s why Loki has never tested it, even though the allurement to mess with you some more was attractive.

Your eyes are fierce, and your cheeks have that glowering complexion that made Loki freeze in an unnatural way.

“Get out.” You demand, pointing to the open door.

“You’re not serious?” The Ex fumes. “And really? Him? Who the hell is he?”

“What? He’s just-“

“Oh! You’re really oblivious, y’know! You don’t even recognise it! You never fucking do!” The Ex stomps towards the exit.

“You never noticed anything I did!” You yell some more. “And I finally fucking realise that!”

The door slams shut.

Loki lets you breathe for a minute. You slip off your heels, easily coming off due to your stockings. You remove your jacket, and hang your handbag along with it.

You lock eyes with him, and for some reason Loki is left breathless by the sight of you; as you take off the band that made your ponytail, your hair beautifully flows and frames your face. Your uniform was an ill-fitting polo shirt and skirt, but it accompanied your body charmingly.

However, whilst Loki was staring at you, awaiting a word or for you to just walk by, you were looking at him back.

Although, when he was checking where your irises were wondering, they seemed to be… They seemed to be looking low… It looks like you were looking low at his…

“Sorry you had to see that.” You utter suddenly, eyes darting away. Your cheeks fade from the glower in replacement of a pink hue. You exhale. “This day has been exhausting. So, uh, I’ll be relieving myself to my bed.”

Loki frowns in amusement; you blush even harder.

“To sleep!” You add quickly. “I’m going to relieve myself by sleeping, is what I meant.”

You pace pass him, not knowing why you felt the need to hide your face.

Loki puts his hands in his pockets. “Enjoy yourself.”

-----

The pillows comfort your head as you lay. Your room was starting to dim with violet and orange as the sun outside your window was lowering from the sky. You roll over, glancing at where the rays hit your chest of drawers. It was like the universe was being perverse with its humour because the sunset shone directly as to where you hid your sex toys. You get flashbacks of work, and the personal conversations that your colleagues spilled you with, and all the dildos you displayed, and all the vibrators you pressed buttons on to demonstrate their strengths.

Cuddling a pillow, you thought about Loki and pondered about what he was doing; he seems pretty calm, as per usual, and probably busy with some work from his students at the university. Shutting your eyes, he comes to life in your mind. Your memory makes the room vivid as it remembers the walls of hardcover novels and encyclopaedias, and his deep brown varnished desk in the middle of it all. He sits behind it, his low-lidded eyes concentrating on a page in front of him. You internally whine; you can’t see his eyes properly but they’re green and glinting. Watching his hands, you see him write; they’re large, agile and slender. His fingers touch his face in contemplation, and you see him take a small bite of his bottom lip…

A pool of wetness began dripping from your folds as your minds lets you relive the touch of his hands on your body, and his lips against yours. You can smell a scent; a citrus and oak fragrance that familiarised the God of Mischief to you…

God, you were horny, and the added detail that the colleague gave you, was making your body shift in need of alleviation.

Nothing was going to relieve you like Loki did. It was infuriating as to how good he could make you feel. Since then, no dildo, no toy had satisfied you the way he did. Even he put your own hands to shame; they knew how to do it, but Loki seemed to be more attentive, and intimate, and clever…

With the time you had been taking to evade and distance yourself from him, the more you understood that your body wanted him, and to accept that fact was getting easier and easier.