#stifling living conditions that never gave me my own space so now i do have to sit here and fiercely remind myself that i NEED this

[urbanfiltered]

i cannot stop talking huh

[bopbopstyles]

4. Goodbye and Facetime Calls

SERIES RATING: M (sex)

CHAPTER WORD COUNT: 9.3k

MASTERLIST | INSPO TAG | ASK

Y/N promised herself she would never date a musician. It was her one rule–her only rule, actually–when it came to dating. But then, Harry Styles rolled into her life and asked her to break it, just this once. And this is what happened.

a/n: thank you for all the love on pt. 3! here’s pt. 4, sexy times included :) xoxo

pls reblog to spread the word about only exception! 🥰

Seeing Harry up on the big screen had her gasping—the sight of his beautiful faced stretched onto the screen, him clad in his army attire. When he almost drowned she reached over and gripped his arm and he just squeezed her knee with a knowing smile. He was brilliant and Y/N couldn’t believe how truly talented he was.

For Harry, watching the film next to her just gave him more time to reflect on what an idiot he was. Being with the cast again, being back in London, it had pulled him out of their relationship and into his life before her. He forgot to call, to reply to her texts, and to be honest he didn’t remember what time her flight was until after she’d already taken off. He knew that he had been an asshole and had made it worse in their fight, throwing her biggest fears back into her face. But Harry was determined to make it right—he didn’t want to lose her. He had tried so hard to break down her walls and now that he was finally on the inside, he couldn’t let her rebuild them.

At the after party, she lingered at his side, awe struck when he introduced her to Tom Hardy and Cillian Murphy. She gushed to both of them about how much she loved Peaky Blinders and they chuckled, asking her questions about her life and their life together. When she grazed over the topic of their relationship, Harry tightened, wishing it was a normal night when she would gush about how they met, about how Harry pursued her and proved her wrong.

When she went to find a bathroom, Fionn turned to him with a hard look. “What’s up with you two?”

He hadn’t been around Y/N and Harry together, but he knew Harry well enough to tell when something was wrong. They’d spent too long overheating in costumes on a beach together to not know each other’s emotions from the look on their faces. “Had a fight earlier.”

“What’d you do?”

“How’d you know it was me?”

Fionn chuckled lowly. “Harry, she can barely look at you.”

Harry watched her recede into the crowd, Gemma at her side. He had fucked up—royally, and he had to make it up to her. The longer they stayed at this party, the worse it would get, the more silence between them. They needed to talk and they needed to talk now. “I think we should go,” he told Fionn. “That’s not rude, is it?”

Fionn shook his head. “It’s your premiere, you can do whatever you want. Cillian looks about ready to head out too.”

Harry nodded and down the rest of his beer. “I’m going to call a car.” He gave Fionn a hug and promised to let him know how it went before heading off to find Jeff and get him to call a car for him and Y/N. When she reappeared, he wove through the crowd towards her.

“Everything alright?”

He nodded, placing a hand at her back. “I’m ready to go. Is that okay?”

The relief in her eyes was visible and Harry immediately regretted not doing this earlier. “Yes.” She followed him out, saying goodbye to his cast mates on the way and giving a tight hug to Gemma and Anne. Anne looked at Harry with a pointed glare as he led Y/N out, as if to say Fix this, and Harry was going to try his hardest. He couldn’t lose her.

Harry dropped his keys into the dish in the hallway and Y/N toed off her heels, sighing at the feeling of her toes released. He smiled, unlacing his boots—ones he adored—and set them next to hers.

“Can we talk?” Her eyes drifted to his, nodding and following him into his living room. He dropped onto his couch and Y/N curled into the opposite side, but he reached out and tugged her feet onto his lap, fingertips rubbing circles on her tight muscles. A sigh left her lips and Harry cheered for himself—a step in the right direction. “I’m sorry,” he said, breaking the silence. “I’m so, so sorry, baby.”

Y/N leaned her head against the back cushion of the couch and looked at him. “I know you are.”

“I fucked up. Took advantage of thinking you would always be there and didn’t put in the effort to show you how much I care. It’s not okay, and you have every right to be upset with me.”

“I appreciate that,” she replied, brushing a loose hair back from her face. “But I want to talk about what you said earlier…Do you feel like I’m stifling you?”

Harry’s heart shattered. Those words that felt wrong the second he said them but he was too proud to admit he had mis spoke. That he didn’t mean a word of them. “No,” he reassured her, “Not at all. I didn’t mean it. You don’t have to get over your fears, and from how I acted this week they obviously aren’t misplaced.” He scooted closer and reached out, brushing a knuckled down her cheek. “You deserve me telling you every minute of the day how much I care about you. And I love telling you.”

Y/N’s eyes welled and she reached up, holding his hand in hers. “Are you sure? I know it’s a lot—I have a lot of expectations—“

“None of them are bad,” he told her.

“But still,” she said, “if it ever becomes too much, you have to tell me. We promise each other we’d be honest, remember?”

He nodded, thumb tucking into hers. “I know. And Y/N, you’re more important than my career, I need you to know that. I—“ He choked on the words, them drying up in his throat. He didn’t want her to think he was saying them just to make her let him back in, but he meant them. God, he felt them in every bone in his body. “I love you,” he whispered, eyes deadlocked on hers. “I love you so much, Y/N, you’re everything to me.”

Y/N moved in an instant, her arms around him, forehead pressed to his own and he sagged from the smell of her perfume that he’d missed desperately. “I love you too, you idiot,” she said, giggling in a way that had him desperate to kiss her. “Don’t make me doubt it again.”

He chased her lips, tucking them between his sweetly. Harry loved kissing her like this, soft and sweet, just a constant reminder of how she they get for each other passing between them. Fingers gripped his neck and she pressed her face into his shoulder, Harry’s arms holding her close. Being this close to her made him sigh, the feeling of home.

“Can we go upstairs and cuddle in our PJs?” Y/N asked softly, and Harry murmured a yes. There was nothing he’d rather do than end the day with her in his arms.

When her makeup was off and Harry had braided her hair loosely behind her back, he finally asked her the question he had been throwing around since their fight. “Would you go on vacation with me?”

She lifted her head from where it rested on his chest, his fingers falling from her scalp. “When?”

“After the New York premiere,” he answered. “Know it’s soon, I just…I need time with just you. I was thinking Mallorca.”

She beamed. Months ago she mentioned that she had always wanted to Mallorca and Harry could tell that he had done well. He texted his travel agent earlier to look into flights and homes to Air BnBs for them, and with the look on Y/N’s face he had a feeling it would be the best vacation he had been on in a while.

A cool breeze blew in the windows she and Harry had left open overnight, the island air leaving a salty tinge to the beachfront condo Harry’s travel agent had found them. Y/N rolled over, peeking a look at Harry who was lying next to her naked except for the very small pair of white boxers he had pulled on before bed. He was still asleep and Y/N took advantage of the opportunity to study him.

Harry was beautiful—this she had established the moment she met him. But to behold him when he was literally the farthest thing from trying, just sleeping next to her, it demonstrated how truly gorgeous he was. The soft curve of his nose, the dusting of light freckles on his cheeks, so faint most people wouldn’t be able to see them, the mussed curls from his pillow. His lips and the hard line of his jaw that Y/N wanted to dust kisses across.

So she decided to do so. Leaning over, she nibbled soft kisses to his jaw, letting her hair fall across his exposed chest.

“Whatcha doin’?” Harry asked, voice gravely from sleep. He blinked, eyelids heavy and tilted his chin so he could peek a look at her. “Love?”

“Kissing on you,” she answered, licking delicately at the juncture of his jaw and neck and Harry hummed, hands drifting from the sheets to her body.

Running his knuckles up her bare back, he said, “Quite like wakin’ up like this.”

She loved his accent in the morning, his words clipped and rough in his throat. At the thought, she decided to give him a love bite on his throat so she could see it all day and night, claim him as hers. She licked over the spot she selected and then started to suck, grazing her teeth over the sensitive spot as Harry keened under her. Hands thumbing at her shoulders, nails sinking into her skin when she sucked particularly hard.

“You’re a menace,” Harry told her when she had finished her work, a thumb under her chin so she looked up at him. Resting her hands on his chest she placed her head on them, staring up at his eyes. “Sleep okay?”

“You kicked off the blankets again. Woke up completely bare.”

He grabbed at her, hauling her body over his. “I don’t see the issue.” Her breasts pressed against his chest, smushed between their bodies. She had slept nude, the warm temperature and lack of air conditioning leaving her sweating overnight if she didn’t. Also, they had had sex before they’d fallen asleep and Y/N didn’t have the energy to put her underwear on.

Tucking her head in the space between his shoulder and neck, she pressed open mouthed kisses to his shoulders. “How about you?”

“Better now,” he said, tucking her legs on either side of his waist.

“Hmm?”

“Now that I’m awake with you.”

Her head lifted at his sweet words and she smiled at him. The trip had brought out the sap in him and Y/N wasn’t complaining. After their fight she needed all the sappy Harry she could get to heal her heart. “What do you want to do today?” She twirled a strand of his hair around her fingers, delighting in how it fell back against his forehead coiled.

“M’only plan is fuckin’ you,” he said.

Y/N tried not to moan at the thought of his dick inside her. “Oh yeah?”

“Mhm,” he hummed, flipping her over so she was on her back, Harry hovering above her. “Wanna love on you, baby.”

She squirmed in his touch as his lips connected with her nipple, licking around the areola before sucking on the peak. With a pop he pulled off, switching the other one without giving Y/N even a moment to take a breath. In their position Harry had trapped her body, his knees on either side of her hips, arms by her head to hold up his body. She wanted to move, to grind against him, relieve even an ounce of the pressure building inside of her. “Har—“ His name broke off in her mouth when his fingers swiveled her clit, a sharp cry the drew her eyes shut.

“Sensitive this morning, hm?” Dipping his head he sucked a mark between her breasts, before blowing on the sensitive skin that had her keening underneath him. He was torturous and she didn’t want it to end.

“Please, Har,” she choked out as he nibbled on her tummy, “need you.”

“‘M comin,’” he chuckled, pulling back so he could wrestle his underwear off, “Promise. Don’t know why I even put these bloody things on.”

“Me either,” she replied, giggling at the sight of him so bothered by the underwear stuck at his ankles.

But then he was back and spreading her thighs apart and brushing his dick up and down her slit and murmuring about how wet she was for him and he’d barely done anything. Y/N bucked her hips up needing just a bit more and his tip dipped into her slightly and she gasped at the feeling. Harry pulled back, though, dropping from her slit. “Someone’s eager.” He reached down and tapped his tip against her, loving making her squeal and squirm under him.

It wasn’t just Y/N that got off on the foreplay, it was Harry too—it was one of their favorite parts of sex together, the build up, the teasing, the kisses and touches. Even just her kissing him sometimes made him hard, which had a tendency to cause problems when they were in public. Gazing down at Y/N below him, he paused, studying her beauty. Her hair tossed across the pillows, brown eyes staring up at him and lips wet from her tongue licking out.

When she bucked her hips, desperate for more, he pushed at them, trying to anchor her to the bed so he could continue to wind her up.

“No,” she whimpered, “no more teasing.” She grabbed at his ass, trying to get him inside of her. “Need you.”

And Harry couldn’t resist his girl. So he drove deep inside her, basking in the moment when he breached her hole. “Fuckkk,” he hissed, never adjusted to how tight she was in the morning, no matter how much he built her up. She always woke up needy and grabby, desperate for his skin on hers. “Tight, baby,” he mumbled, pulling out and back in, her moans a symphony to his ears.

“More,” she said, feet scrabbling on the sheets.

He gave it to her, hiking her ankle around his waist to hit the spot inside of her that she loved, and bent down to suck a love bite under her earlobe. Blowing on the spot had her hissing his name. This trip was partly so important to Harry because it was uninterrupted time with Y/N, something that with tour coming he wasn’t going to have for a long while. The thought of recording them together had crossed his mind, but he didn’t think Y/N would agree to it, so he didn’t bring it up. But the thought had him slamming into her hips, the pressure making them both groan.

“Fucked you last night,” he said, words punctured with a quick thrust, “and still want you so much, Y/N.” He drove into her with speed and depth that drew mewls from her, him loving the sound.

“Ow,” Y/N hissed, wrenching her head to the side.

“You okay?” His hips stuttered, wanting to make sure he hadn’t hurt her.

“Your arm’s on my hair,” she said, trying to pull her hair free.

He repositioned his forearms so her hair was free and swept it up onto the pillow above her, out of the way. “Better?”

“Perfect,” she murmured, capturing his lips. He took it as a sign to continue, resuming the same mind-numbing pace as before, her arms wrapping around his torso to hold him tightly to her. When she whimpered, Harry knew she was close and he was right behind her, the feeling of her clenching down on him leaving him hissing into her skin. He wanted them to come together—he loved when they did it and he knew she did too. He loved to watch his come dribble out of her and lick it while she was still sensitive, which he had every intention of doing.

Reaching down he circled her clit with his thumb, dragging his forefinger down to her weepy hole, right above where his cock pushed in an out of her. She squealed at the sensation, fingernails digging into his skin. “Like that?” He asked, rubbing at the thin bit of her skin that stretched around him. “Hmm, baby?”

“More,” she begged him, “I’m so close.”

He decided to test it, eyes on her face to see what she did, and gently pushed his forefinger in next to his cock, adding slightly more inside of her. “Fuck,” he exhaled at the sensation, adding more sensitivity to his cock and the way she bore down on him. “That okay?”

“Yes,” she mewled, bucking into him. “Close.”

He twirled his hand so his finger could brush against her front wall and the way that she clenched around him and threw her head back had him slamming his hips into her, chasing his finish. He wanted to come with her so badly it hurt, he needed to feel her finishing like he needed to breathe. “Come for me, baby,” he said, watching her face. “Want it around me.”

Her eyes flew closed as she bucked once and then came, her fingernails dragging down his back so that they would leave furious red lines, but he didn’t care. In fact, he loved her marks on him. And the feeling brought him tumbling over the edge, body falling into hers with a grunt. He pulled his forefinger from her hole and the sigh that left her mouth made him hope that it wasn’t too much, that she was telling the truth when she said it was okay.

Slowly, he pulled out of her, a whimper leaving her mouth as he left her empty, and he clamored down her body to do exactly what he had come to love: lick his come out of her hole. Fingers on her shaking thighs, he flicked his tongue inside of her, pants falling from her chest as he did it, his name a gasp as he dug out their come from inside of her. Together they were the perfect combination of sweet and salty.

“Too much,” she groaned, pulling at his head. “H—“

He pulled away, brushing up her frame so that he could make sure she was okay. “You okay?”

“Hmm,” she whispered, hands brushing up his arms.

“Words, Y/N, need words.”

“I’m good,” she replied with a smile. “Just sensitive.”

Harry exhaled, dropping his forehead to hers. “Scared me, baby. Thought I hurt you.”

She pecked his lips. “No, you couldn’t.”

He hoped that was true. “Love you,” he murmured into her skin, hoping the words would tattoo themselves on her.

“Love you too, sweaty boy,” she replied, tugging her legs up around his waist. “Can we go for a swim and have some food?”

He kissed her eyebrow and nodded. “I’ll get the food, you get dressed.”

She pulled herself out from under him, leaving him there to lie on the bed, breathless and naked to look at her. He leaned over and slapped a light hand to her butt, a squeak leaving her as she squirmed away from him with a laugh. “And you call me a menace!”

“I couldn’t resist,” he chuckled, following her to the dresser so he could grab his swim trunks. “Too gorgeous.”

“Shut it, you just want more kisses.”

“Lies,” he said, but he got kisses anyways. Y/N could resist kissing him and Harry loved every second of it. He loved every moment with her, even the hard ones.

The water was a crystal clear blue-green and Y/N had never seen anything like it. She’d never been to a place this beautiful, she decided. Her global travel had not been widespread—it’s not like she could go on tour with her dad as a kid, since school always conflicted and her mom never would’ve left her. And her family had preferred to travel to cities, not beaches. But Y/N was different, she craved the feeling on sun on her skin and water lapping at her toes.

And from the look of Harry, he was the same way.

She sat on the beach reading a true crime novel she had picked up at the airport in London on her way home, while Harry frolicked in the water on his own. He was currently attempting to do a handstand, but kept getting knocked over by the waves. They were happy to have their own personal sliver of the beach because it allowed them to enjoy the day without fear of who else was around, something she craved constantly with Harry. Of having him all to herself.

“Come in with me!” Harry called to her, pushing his sunglasses up on top of his head. His bright yellow trunks stuck to his thighs, which had been getting stronger since she had met him and she couldn’t deny she loved it. The feeling of them squeezing her, the strength in them. Harry looked absolutely magnificent in the water, tanning so easily under the sun, having gained a darker shade to his skin in the few days since they’d arrived.

Y/N pulled off her hat and shoved a bookmark at her place in the book, stretching up from her spot. She couldn’t deny him, not looking like a Greek god with his arms outstretched to her. Running towards him, a giggle escaped her mouth and she felt like a little kid again, especially when Harry picked her up and carried her, bridal style, into the water, the cold temperature shocking her skin.

He twirled in a circle, still holding her, jostling her from side to side. “Love this bikini,” he said, plucking at the strap that rested at her neck. “What is the likelihood it could come off, though?”

She whacked his hands away. “Harry, we had sex like two hours ago!”

“And your point is?”

Rolling her eyes, she tweaked his nipple playfully. At the yelp he let out, Y/N knew she had succeeded in distracting him. “I’d like to spend some of our vacation not in bed, if that’s okay with you.”

He hoisted her up and she threw her legs around his waist, him now holding her with both hands on her ass. “Who said anything about bed?”

She scoffed at him. Seriously, where had he gotten these ideas in his head? “Harry, I am not having sex with you in the middle of the sea!”

“We have the beach all to ourselves, Y/N,” he said, nosing at her ear. “And you look delectable.”

Against her better ideas, Y/N decided to indulge him, but only for a bit. She let him kiss her, spread kisses down her neck and suckle at her collarbone. She even allowed him to grind into her bikini bottoms, palming her ass in his gorgeous hands. But when he went for her nipples, she unwound her legs and dropped to the sea bottom, going under the water immediately.

When she rose to the surface, he was pouting at her and she just gave him a sweet kiss on his lips before swimming away from him. Just like she knew he would, he swam after her, calling her name. “That was mean!”

She darted around to look back at him. “Who said anything about playing nice?” She kicked her legs so she could bob up and down, waiting for him to arrive at her position. “Now, Styles, what do you think about making pizza for dinner?”

Harry’s face lit up and she swore, sometimes he was such a child and she downright adored it. Food was the quickest way to make him happy and she used it to her full advantage. “As long as I get to put lots and lots of cheese on it.”

“I promise I won’t tell your trainer.” Reaching out her legs, she pulled him against her, arms finding their way around his neck. “Sorry I won’t fuck you in the sea,” she said, tugging the water from his hair.

“S’okay,” he replied. “You’re the smart one in this relationship. Should trust you, I guess.”

“You guess?”

“I know.”

She kissed the tip of his cute button nose. “That’s more like it. Now carry me to the towel, lover. I need more sunscreen. Might even let you put it on.”

He perked up at the idea, fingers sliding under the string of her bikini. “Quite like that idea.” Without a beat, he was running to the beach as best he could, a laughing Y/N held tight in his embrace like a koala. And he wouldn’t have traded it for the world.

The open suitcases had sat in the corner of Harry’s room for four days, him progressively filling them as he found the time. But now it was the night before he left and the suitcases were full except for his toothbrush and phone charger.

Y/N had been staying at his house for the past week, trying to bottle up as much time with him as possible before tour started. Harry loved that she was in his home, her clothes mixed in with his in the dirty clothes hamper, her moisturizer and face wash next to his in his bathroom sink. When they made dinner together, a fresh pesto from some basil she picked up at the farmer’s market on her way home from work, Harry couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like for her to actually live with him full time. Although maybe that was too much to ask her, to give up her space and join him in his, especially when he wasn’t there all the time.

But she had agreed to check in on his house while he was gone, Harry not able to bear the idea of his plants dying while he was gone. She promised to water them as often as he did and start his car that was safely tucked in the garage to make sure it stayed running well, and collect his mail. The idea of her in his house while he was gone brought a smile to his face as he checked the pasta that was boiling on the stove.

“Whatcha smiling about?” Y/N asked, hopping up on the counter, a glass of red wine in her hand.

He made his way over to her, tucking his hips between her knees. “You. In my house while I’m gone.”

“Oh?” She draped her arms over his shoulders, one hand brushing through his curls which had grown out since they’d met, the other holding her wine. “That get you turned on, baby?”

The kiss he brushed to her nose sent a shiver down her spine and Harry grinned at how sensitive she was for him. “Little bit. Also just makes me happy.”

Her expression softened, and she gave him a peck on his lips. “You’re cute.”

“You’re cuter.”

“Impossible.”

With another kiss, he turned away to finish making their dinner. It would be a while before he had the ability to cook again and he had been getting his fill before he left, cooking every meal for him and Y/N. They ate on the couch while watching re-runs of Criminal Minds, which Y/N had gotten him hooked on when they were in Mallorca. She had promised not to watch anymore without him, but he was doubtful that she would be able to keep her promise. After they’d washed up, drying and putting away the dishes so she wouldn’t have to deal with it in the morning, Harry boxed her into the corner of the kitchen and captured her lips with his.

“You should shower,” she whimpered against his lips as he pulled away from a deeply passionate kiss.

He nuzzled against her cheek. “Only if you join.”

“Fine.”

The prospect of her wet, naked body had him flying up the stairs, her chuckling behind him. He undressed her in the ensuite, taking his time as he peeled her work clothes off of her body, kissing her shoulders as he unclipped her bra. The look of desire she shot him when he tugged off his clothes had him desperate for her, but he reminded himself that they’d tried shower sex—and it had resulted with a bumped head and a bruised knee.

So instead, he washed her hair, fingers massaging into her scalp as she hummed a Top 40 single under her breath. With a peck to her back, he turned her around. Her fingers crawled up his chest, eyes following in their path, and Harry sucked in a breath.

“Don’t want you to go,” she whispered, voice barely audible over the sound of the water.

“S’been so nice, bein’ here with you,” he replied, brushing water from her eyes. “You know I’d stay if I could.” She tucked her body into his, arms around his waist and Harry sighed. He hated leaving her.

“What if I just tucked myself in your carry on?” She joked, drawing a laugh from his chest.

“Best surprise ever, I’d say.”

Suddenly, Y/N was dropping to her knees and Harry groaned at the sight of her in front of him. Her fingers wrapped around his length, pumping it in her hand. His head dropped back in a moan when her tongue licked across his tip, taunting him.

“Baby…” He begged, fingers crawling into her hair.

She took him into her mouth and Harry’s jaw went slack. Her mouth was warm and wet, the feeling of her hands cupping his balls throwing him into another dimension of pleasure. Before she’d dropped to her knees he had been sensitive—he was always like this before he left, craving touch and love. Y/N was more than happy to provide, carding her fingers through his hair and returning his embraces in the middle of the kitchen. So the feeling of being so deep inside her mouth, the brushes of his tip against the back of her throat, it had him sputtering groans.

“Not gonna last,” he choked out, trying to tug her back, “and I really wanna fuck you tonight.”

That had Y/N popping off of him and her eyes meeting his. “But I wanna feel you come in my mouth,” she said and Harry shut his eyes, trying to hold it together.

When she said things like that, Harry wondered how he didn’t keep her in bed all day.

“Think you could go again?” She asked, peppering kisses to his cock softly in a way that had him panting above her, staring down at her in disbelief. She was magical. “Think you can come for me now and again later?”

“Yes,” he told her because he would do anything for her.

She gave him a seductive smile, batting her eyelashes at him. “That’s my baby.”

Then she tucked him back in her mouth, bobbing up and down at a faster pace. Harry tried to hold back from bucking into her mouth but it was hard—the combination of the water hitting his skin and the way she ran her hands up and down his thighs, brushing against his balls every once and a while had his finish rising steadily inside of him. When she sucked his balls into his mouth, rubbing her hand up and down his length at the same time, Harry thought he saw stars. “Gonna come,” he told her, resting one hand against the wall of the shower, the other at the back of her head gently.

“Come for me,” she said, moaning around his cock, the vibrations of her throat sending tingles up Harry’s spine.

With one, two, three bobs of her head, Harry was coming, ropes of come falling on her tongue and guttural moans filling his shower. He tried to catch his breath as Y/N pulled off of him, licking her lips so she didn’t lose any come, a successful smile on her face. “You,” he said, “are somethin’ else.”

She giggled and Harry pulled her to her feet, taking her lips in his. Reaching behind her, he turned off the shower, deciding that was enough of that. He wanted her in his bed and to see her come multiple times. Maybe then he’d be able to leave in the morning. But even still, he knew it would be torture shutting the door behind him.

With her legs around his waist, he carried her to his bed, a towel tucked around her frame. She dropped to the bed, bouncing on his duvet cover, a giggle escaping her lips. Harry decided he was going to make her come with his mouth and his fingers, and then he would give her his dick.

He dropped to his knees, pulling her to the edge of the bed so her legs dangled over his shoulders, and licked a long stripe up her slit, a gasp filling his ears. And then he set to work, working her to the brink over and over again before pushing two fingers inside of her, her hissing from the feeling of his cold rings on her hot skin. He had forgotten to take them off before the shower, but he wasn’t going to take them off now—he knew how much she loved the feeling of their weight on her skin and he wanted to give her every possible pleasure tonight.

When she came, his name a prayer and her hands pulling at his hair, Harry was so hard he was rutting into the carpet under his knees. She lifted to her head to look at him and at seeing the desire written on his face, she instantly moved backwards on the bed. He crawled after her, flopping down on the bed next to her.

“Want you on top,” he said, brushing his rings across her tummy.

She swung a knee over his waist. “Yeah? Wanna watch me fuck you?”

“Where did you get this filthy mouth?” He asked her, chuckling.

Y/N blushed, the color to her cheeks warming Harry’s heart. “Like it?”

“Bloody love it,” he replied, tugging her hips forwards over his dick, them both groaning at the feeling. “Bloody love you.”

Her fingers entertwined with his at her hips. “Love you too, baby.” Then, she tucked her knees under for more leverage and lifted up. She withdrew one of her hands from Harry’s and he gripped the flesh at her hip as she rubbed his tip against her slit, hissing at the feeling. But when she dropped down, slowly, savoring every second of it, Harry couldn’t imagine a better sensation than entering her. Watching her features contort with pleasure and relief as she sat down, him fully inside of her and exhaled, adjusting to him.

Then she started to move on him, swiveling her hips in a slow circle that had Harry digging  into her skin, his rings leaving marks. When she pulled up and dropped down, Harry couldn’t help but toss his head back at the feeling, her breathy moans filling his ears. She found a brutal pace, slow and steady on him. This was why Harry wanted her on top, so she could set the pace she wanted, Harry merely trying to hold himself together. It was always so good with her on top, more intense, more torturous. She leaned over, hands on his chest and sped up, Harry choking with the feeling of her squeezing him.

“Y/N,” he exhaled, “Love you.” It was the only phrase he could think of, but it was the only one that mattered.

“Love you more,” she replied softly, swiveling over him.

It was impossible and she knew it, for her to love him more than he loved her. But Harry didn’t have the air in his lungs to reply when she slammed down into his hips. “Doin’ so good,” he praised, hands squeezing her breasts, her keening from his touch.

“Help me,” she whispered, head bobbing down.

“Tired?”

She nodded and Harry tucked his heels against the duvet, gaining leverage so he could push into her. And when he did, her upper body tumbled onto his chest, gripping his shoulders as he drove deep inside of her. She tried to keep up, swiveling her hips so he brushed that delicate spot inside of her, but they were both getting desperate. Moans mixed with moans as they kissed, teeth knocking. He held her close, wanting to never let her go.

“Close,” she whimpered against his lips. “Are you?”

“Yeah,” he hissed when she clamped down on him, her own orgasm threatening to tumble over them. “Want to come with you.”

“Me too.” She lifted up onto her elbows so she could watch him as they found their release, and Harry took the opportunity to stare directly into her beautiful eyes. “Love you,” she uttered with a gasp. They’d told each other so many times today and Harry loved heard it every time.

“Love you, baby,” he said, brushing her still drying hair behind her ear. “Gonna come?”

She nodded her head and Harry pulled her lips to his. Suddenly she was bearing down on him, back arching and gasping into his mouth. The feeling of her walls constricting had Harry bucking into her, chasing his own release. Ropes of come stuttered into her walls and he groaned when her lips kissed across his sweaty skin. He held her body close as they sighed, but didn’t let her move.

“Don’t want to move,” he said into her hair.

“Then don’t.”

“But—“ His dick was still inside her he went to finish, but Y/N shook her head.

“Like it,” she said, flushed cheeks and blown out pupils finding his.

“And you’re only telling me this now why?” He muttered and Y/N laughed, the sound filling the quiet room. “Would’ve been doing this ages earlier.”

“Well, now you know,” she murmured, a kiss to his neck.

So they laid there, hands on each other’s skin, just basking in the feeling of being the closest they could. Harry tried to hold onto the feeling, memorize the way her body felt against his, how her shallow breaths sounded in his ears, how her skin tasted under his lips. It would be a long few months until he saw her again, and he didn’t want to forget this.

Y/N woke up to kisses to her hairline, it still dark out.

“I’m leavin’, baby,” he whispered. “Wanted to say bye.”

Y/N forced her eyes open and found Harry’s in the dark of their room. He’d gotten ready in the dark, she realized, not wanting to wake her up. “I love you,” she said, tugging his head down for a kiss. “Text me when you land, okay?”

He pressed another kiss to her lips and pulled away. “Promise. I love you more.”

Y/N watched as he picked up his suitcases and wheeled them out the door, shutting it behind him with a lingering glance to her. She wondered if he could see the tears on her cheeks and if he had the same on his.

The days passed slowly at first. Y/N threw herself into her work, into her friends. She went to visit her dad, making him dinner and checking in on how his work was going. It made it easier, having people to fill the parts of her day that Harry usually occupied. And he called her every night like clockwork, before or after the show depending no the time zone he was in, listening intently to her describe her day and excitedly telling her about his. They texted constantly, photos of their days and commentary of their thoughts running easily between them.

She adjusted, as hard as it was, to his absence. It became almost nice to have the time to herself. She watched shows she’d been meaning to see that Harry would’ve fallen asleep during—not that she minded, it just wasn’t as fun—and caught up on her reading. Hanna and Jamie took her out on the town and she left Harry drunk voicemails that had him laughing in the morning when he called her to make sure she was okay.

She even made the drive up to her mom’s in San Francisco, finally not having something to keep her from going. It was the first time in months and she loved having her mom flit about making sure she was allright. They went out on the water on a boat, visited art museums, went shopping. Y/N let her mom spend too much money on her since it made her happy, made her feel like she was taking care of her little girl. When her mom asked about Harry, Y/N gushed without meaning to, pulling up photos of their time together, and her mom beamed. She asked when she was going to meet him, and Y/N promised her soon. The holidays, she told her. Harry was planning to split them between LA and England, and they’d make the drive up to San Francisco so her two favorite people could finally meet in person.

But as much as it was nice having the time to herself, Y/N missed him like crazy. It was the small things that reminded her of him, like when she found a shirt of his mixed in with hers in the wash, or a bottle of his favorite beer tucked in the back of her fridge. It was when she went to check up on his house and ended up sleeping over, wrapped up in his clothes that still smelled like him. She even stole his extra bottle of cologne that sat on his dresser and took it home, spraying it sometimes when she missed the way he smelled. Sometimes when she saw couples together, it made her ache for him, for just the feeling of his hand in hers, leaning down to whisper something in her ear, like how he really wanted a smoothie, or had she seen this meme on Instagram?

She had to admit, she was nervous at first, about him being away. After the Dunkirk press tour they had had a long conversation, though, and made plans. When they spoke this time around, they were honest with how they felt. Harry told her in advance if he wouldn’t be able to call and it didn’t bother her. It was better than before, and it made her proud to have a relationship that was staying strong, despite the distance and the time.

On a Saturday night in mid October, she unlocked the door to Harry’s house, toeing off her shoes and pressing the code into the security system. The air was dry, having no one been there since she was last in the house, but it still felt like Harry. Photos of the two of them on the hall table, his extra set of keys to the car in the ceramic dish she had made when he took her to a pottery class back in April.

She hooked her phone up to Harry’s speaker system and turned on their playlist, the one they’d curated over the ten months of their relationship, and went about watering his plants. Usually she was a shit plant mom, but since it was an excuse to go to Harry’s, she was actually doing really well. Then she went outside and cleaned the leaves from his pool and tidied up the yard, before heading back inside.

Her phone buzzed, Harry’s personal vibration setting making her smile. Can I call you after the show? Want to have a long chat tonight. Miss you.

Of course, she replied. Miss you more!

He sent her a cute selfie of his suit for the night and she sent him a selfie of her, cuddled up on his couch with a big smile and a glass of wine she stole from his cabinets.

That my couch?

It is!

Give it a hug for me.

She giggled to herself at his silliness, before replying, Done.

After Harry went on stage, she scrolled through her Twitter, something she loved to do when she stayed up to talk to him after the show. She’d made a Twitter that was essentially a fan account using none of her personal information, and so far she was flying under the radar. She had followed all of these Harry fan accounts and she used it only to scroll through and see photos of him from tour nights. Tonight, he was beaming on stage and running around, dancing his little butt off and being an overall menace. Secretly, she hoped it was because of the prospect of talking to her after.

Her clock rolled over to 11, and she untangled herself from the blanket and padded up the stairs to Harry’s room. She was probably going to end up staying the night, so she might as well get comfortable, she told herself. After taking out her contacts, she washed off her makeup with his extra face wash and used his moisturizer, studying his five-step skin care routine as she always did, wondering how she had found a man who loved his skin so much. She was lucky—it meant it was always soft under her touch. Opening his drawers, she pulled out a white t-shirt of his and a pair of his boxers that would fit her hips, and pulled on his clothes. Unable to stop herself, her nose darted into the collar of the shirt, inhaling the scent of him on his clothes. His cologne and his laundry soap, the smell that made up Harry to her.

She crawled into his bed, letting his high thread count sheets engulf her body. They were cold from not having anyone in them recently, and she suddenly desperately missed the feeling of his body next to hers when she slept. Tears pricked her eyes and she shoved her head into his pillow, inhaling him. She missed him with every bone in her body and without anyone there to hear, she let the sobs overtake her, tears painting the sheets wet.

Suddenly, her phone rang, and she realized it was him, calling her to check-in. He was probably back at the hotel for the night, freshly showered and also tucked up in bed with a snack from room service. Her favorite Harry to talk to.

“Hiya,” she said, trying to disguise the rough sound of her throat.

“You cryin’?” He asked, not missing a beat. She choked on a sob, and Harry’s sigh filled her ear. “Oh sweet girl,” he murmured, “what is it?”

“Miss you.” She rubbed a hand over her eyes, trying to stop the tears. “In your bed and I just really, really miss you.”

Then she heard the tell-tale sound of his choke and she knew he was crying too. Somehow, his crying only made her cry harder, and they were suddenly both sobbing on the phone to each other, miles and miles away. They stayed like that until their breathing evened and the tears slowed, Y/N rolling over so she could dry her eyes.

“Sorry,” she mumbled. “Didn’t mean to make you sad.”

“It’s okay,” he told her, and she knew he meant it. “Glad you did. Made you feel closer, somehow.”

She understood. Sharing such a raw emotion did make him feel closer to her. She tugged his extra pillow—why did he have so many pillows?—into her chest. “How was the show?”

“Good,” he replied. “The crowd was amazing.”

“You say that every night,” she said, and he chuckled because she was right. “You looked amazing up there.”

“And how do you know that?”

“I, uh, saw some pictures on Twitter,” she explained carefully. Y/N hadn’t told him about the fan account yet and she just realized that she had exposed herself. He was going to tease her for it, she just knew it, but it made her happy to see him up there, the fans who adored him.

“Oh?”

“You’re going to laugh at me,” she warned.

“Am not.”

She sighed. “I made a fan account a month ago,” she explained, “and I check it every once and a while to see videos and pictures of you up on stage.”

He was quiet and Y/N had no idea what that meant. “You serious?” He finally asked her, voice soft in her ear.

“Yeah.”

“Baby,” he mumbled, “that’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“You don’t think it’s weird?”

“No,” he told her, “it’s only weirder that I’m not sending you enough photos of myself to keep you entertained. Gonna fix that.”

She couldn’t help but wonder what kind of photos he meant by that. “Your suit looked pretty tonight,” she told him tentatively. “Liked the pattern.”

“That all you liked?”

They were crossing into dangerous territory. Territory that had her getting wetter by the second. “H…”

“Want to hear you say it,” he murmured.

She exhaled. “Liked how your ass looked in those pants,” she finally said, tripping over her words.

Harry chuckled and Y/N rolled her eyes, his desire for praise taking over. “What are you wearin’, baby?”

“Your clothes.”

He let out a sharp exhale and Y/N just giggled. She knew what it did to him when she wore his clothes from afar. “Which ones?”

“Want a picture?”

“Fuck yes,” he responded, voice heavy with desire.

She crawled out of his bed and switched on his bedside light, walking over to the floor length mirror at the corner of the room. Pulling her hair over one of her shoulders, she took a quick photo, trying not to overanalyze it before she sent it to Harry.

“Baby,” he mumbled, and she knew he had received it. “My clothes look better on you.”

“I know,” she said, and he chuckled. “What are you wearing?”

“Nothing.”

Y/N choked. “Stop it.”

“I’m serious.”

“I hate you.”

“Wet, are ya?”

She groaned. Of course she was. The concept of Harry lying naked in bed, talking to her on the phone? It had the ability to get her wet in seconds. “Yes.”

“Can I make you come, baby?”

His question lit fires in Y/N’s belly, the prospect of him bringing her to her release over the phone a tantalizing idea. “Please.”

Suddenly, a FaceTime request lit up her screen. Harry. She answered and his face filled her screen, a light scruff on his jaw and his hair messy. He was in fact shirtless, and the sight of his bare skin made her desperate for him. “Hi you,” he said with a smile.

“Hi.”

“Go lie down for me,” he said softly, and Y/N followed his directions, keeping her phone facing her face as she walked.

She laid down on his bedspread, head resting on his pillow, and lifted the phone above her.

“Now take off my clothes.”

He meant the clothes of his that she was wearing, the clothes that made her skin smell like him. Placing the phone on the duvet, Y/N lifted his shirt over her head, smiling when Harry inhaled at the sight of her bare breasts. They hadn’t done this yet—phone sex over FaceTime. It was an exciting new development, one Y/N had thought of but hadn’t had the courage to request. When she slid off his boxers, she dangled them in front of the camera and his reaction, a guttural moan, had her grinning.

“Tease,” he said. “Now can you prop me up so I can watch you?”

She turned, trying to find a place to lean him up against. She settled on nestling the phone in a combination of blankets and pillows keeping the phone facing her. “That good?”

“Perfect,” he replied. He was sitting up against the headboard of his bed, leaving Y/N with a view of his chest and face—the perfect view. “Now I want you to wet your fingers,” he said, hissing as she followed his instructions, rolling her tongue around her index and forefingers to taunt him, “and play with yourself with them.”

Y/N did as he asked, but decided to mess with him. On her way to her center, she grabbed at her breasts, nipples peaking and Harry muttering Fuck me under his breath. Her fingers danced across her belly, and then when she finally touched her clit she moaned. Building up a rhythm, she imagined it was Harry’s fingers, although hers didn’t quite do him justice.

“Thinking of me, baby?” He asked, voice echoing in his room. “Thinking of my fingers, holding your thighs down, pressing you into the mattress? Nipping at your skin, making you mine?”

She keened at the thought. “Yes,” she whimpered, eyes trained on him, his wet lips on her phone screen.

“Are you wet?” She nodded and he smiled at her. “Then I want you to dip one finger inside,” he said slowly, “and curl it.”

Following his directions, she slid one finger inside, a breathless moan escaping her chest at the feeling. She nudged at the front of her walls, the spongy spot making her legs shake.

“Add the other.” She did as he said, adding the other, walls stretching to accommodate them. It wasn’t anything like Harry but it was something, and she needed it like she needed him—with everything in her. “Now thrust them in and out, hmm? Imagine it’s me,” he said, voice rough and low. “Imagine it’s me, fucking you.”

She tipped her head back, eyes shutting at the prospect, and thrust her fingers in and out, trying to find a momentum that gave her what she needed. But it wasn’t enough, it wasn’t Harry. “More,” she whimpered.

“Fuck, baby,” he said, breathless and in awe of her. “What do you need? Need me to tell you that I’m touching myself to you? Fucking my hand and wishing it was you?” That had her moaning his name, back arching up off the bed. “That’s it,” he murmured. “I’m close, what about you?”

She nodded, and then realizing he might not be able to see in the low light, confirmed his request.

“Faster,” he told her, voice firm. “Faster for me. Want to see you come in my bed.”

That’s all it took for her. Her back arched again, legs taut, toes curling into the duvet cover, his name a chorus in her throat. He sputtered, exhaling her name, and she knew he had come all over his chest, a sight she adored. “Show me,” she whispered.

“F—fuck,” he stuttered, before panning down the phone to show her the ropes of come on his chest. “All yours, baby.”

She smiled and then reached over to grab the phone. She lifted her fingers, wet with her juices, and did what she knew would make him groan—she twirled her tongue around them, sucking her come from her fingers.

He let out a guttural groan. “Torturin’ me,” he told her.

“Wish you were here,” she said, sending him a mischievous smile.

“Me too, baby.” He leaned back against the headboard and smile at her. “Now, tell me about your day.”

She returned his smile and tugged the covers over her naked body, curling up with Harry on her phone screen. They talked for two hours, until both of their eyes were drooping and it was time for sleep. Hanging up was difficult, but when she closed her eyes, she dreamed of him. Only a few more weeks, she reminded herself, until he was back home to her.

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NEXT CHAPTER COMING JULY 15TH @ NOON CST

[glimmerglanger]

Any chance we can see more of Padme and Nith being fabulous?

YES. Ajafkdaj, thank you for the request. In fact, there’s a very good chance of that, right now. Set a good ways post-Like Real People Do, because I was granted a powerful image of their nuptials and also everyone getting a chance to be soft and happy. (Anakin butted in).

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

“Huh,” Ben said, over on the bunk where Anakin had, reluctantly, left him. Someone had to get them some breakfast, and, after the way yesterday had gone, he could acknowledge it shouldn’t be Ben. Ben insisted he was fine, but half a building had fallen on him. 

Anakin glanced over at him, propped up against the wall, leaning over a padd that illuminated his skin. There were bruises, here and there, a scrape down his left side. “Huh what?” Anakin asked, pulling on his tunic. It didn’t feel like a bad huh, at the very least.

“Nith - my brother - he’s getting married.” Ben looked up, smiling, and something in the back of Anakin’s head kicked at his memory, but only just. He’d been thinking a lot, recently, about him and Ben, about how easily Ben used his last name, about… lots of things.

“Good for him,” Anakin said, looking to the side before his expression gave too much away.

“Mm,” Ben said. “We’re invited. It’s going to be on Naboo.”

Anakin stopped, turning back to stare at Ben, his memory finally kicking into gear. He’d met Nith at one of the endless dinners hosted by the Senate. He’d been on Padmé ’s arm, Anakin recalled, incredibly well dressed and grinning. “Padmé ’s marrying him?” he asked.

Ben nodded, scrolling down the padd. “She is. Should I tell them we’ll be too busy?” Ben looked up and over, a scrape across his brow, and he’d been under a house, a few hours ago. He’d spent his entire life either training to fight, fighting a war, or taking on an entire slave empire or three with Anakin.

“No,” Anakin said, shaking his head. He had fond memories of Naboo, of visiting the planet with Padmé , when he’d thought… Well. When he’d been in love with her, before Qui-Gon stifled that affection. Their friendship had never quite recovered. And it would be nice to go somewhere and have no one try to kill them, for a while. “Tell them we’ll come.”

#

Naboo was still one of the most beautiful planets Anakin had ever seen. It was strange to visit a planet so untouched by the war, but Naboo had been almost entirely ignored by the galactic strife. Anakin stepped out of their transport and smelled only living things and sunshine.

He took a step forward and stopped when Ben didn’t follow. He looked back, expecting the worst, conditioned to expect the worst, but Ben was just… Staring at the sky and the rolling green hills and the hint of a lake, through a copse of trees. “Anakin,” he said, taking a little step forward, voice pitched low, like he was sharing a secret, “it’s beautiful.”

“Sure is,” Anakin agreed, staring at him. He reached out, brushing Ben’s hand, and said, “you want to look around? We have plenty of time before we’re expected.”

#

Padmé  smiled when they arrived on the doorstep of her fine manse, wide and free, the way he’d only ever seen a few times. She called him “Ani” and stepped forward to embrace him, stretching up to her toes. Anakin bent, and held her, and thought only briefly of a life they might have lived, in another universe.

“You made it,” she said, still smiling, when she pulled back. “I’m so glad. And Ben,” she said, moving past Anakin, “your brothers are all here, we made sure.”

Anakin watched them embrace. It was a strange, jarring image, which only became moreso when he glanced away and found Nith - it had to be Nith, didn’t it? - watching him with a bemused look. “Congratulations,” Anakin said, at a loss for anything else to say, and Nith’s smile widened.

He stepped forward, too, but only to extend a hand. Anakin gripped it, fighting the strangeness of the-same-not-the-same, and Nith said, “Thank you.”

#

They had a few days until the wedding. Apparently, the ceremony included a time to be spent with family and closest friends. Padmé’s family was large, and Nith had many brothers. They ended up playing in the water of the surrounding lake, the second day, engaging in some game of their own devising with a few Type 1s who’d, apparently, come with some of them.

Anakin watched them, sitting on the soft grasses that ran down to the shore with Padmé . It was disconcerting, seeing them all together, the older men taking care with the children, a single girl running amongst them.

They didn’t really talk to each other, though they laughed and exclaimed, chasing around a ball and splashing. Anakin leaned back on his elbows, a piece of grass between his teeth, and said, “You’re happy?”

He felt that she was. It suffused the air around them. She felt a sort of deep contentment and giddy joy at the same time. But not everyone could communicate completely without words. She hummed, leaning sideways against his shoulder. “I can’t remember being happier,” she said, and nudged him a little. “And you, Ani? Are you happy?”

“Yes,” he said, and then thought about it, and realized, with a sharp little ache, that he was. He was happy, sitting here in the grass on a beautiful world, watching Ben get lifted by one of the Type 1s, limbs leaving trails of water through the air. “I really am.”

“Anakin!” Ben called, laughing, from the water, right before he was dumped backwards into the water. He splashed back up, calling, “Anakin, help, I need backup!”

“That’s cheating!” one of his brothers protested, but Anakin was already pushing to his feet. “No fair!”

“Duty calls,” he said, looking down at Padmé, who held out a hand expectantly. He pulled her to her feet, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, you don’t think I’m going to let him go it alone, do you?” she asked, twisting her hair back expertly, and Anakin laughed.

#

“Ani,” Ben said that night, after they’d all gone back to their rooms, pleading exhaustion. He was sitting over Anakin’s hips, head cocked to the side, a teasing smile on his mouth. The sun had kissed his skin, bringing out more freckles. He’d burn, if he weren’t careful, so fair skinned. 

Anakin groaned, throwing an arm over his face. “A nickname. She knew me when I was nine,” he said, and Ben laughed at him, pulling his arm aside, stretching forward and brushing a kiss against Anakin’s mouth. 

“I don’t have a nickname for you,” Ben said, against his mouth, shifting just enough to give him a thoughtful look. “Sir?” Anakin felt himself flush, knew Ben said it when his grin got wider. “Oh, you like that?” He leaned down, kissing Anakin again, slow and deep and so full of promise that Anakin rocked up against him.

“Call me whatever you like,” he said, sinking his fingers into Ben’s hair, and Ben nipped at his bottom lip, shifting against him, and Anakin forgot to worry about what he might be projecting, even with so many of Ben’s brothers around.

#

He remembered the next morning, when a dozen of them slapped his shoulders and nudged him in the ribs, at least one thanking him for taking care of our brother.

#

Anakin had thought, vaguely, that Katya would have a harder time fitting in with her brothers. But she seemed to click into place, differences subsumed beneath their shared sameness, he supposed. 

She found him, out on the balconies one evening, slipping out and springing up onto the railing in silence. He glanced up at her, bare feet and billowing skirts, the gray lines of tattoos over her face, and said, “Hey, Katya.”

She cocked her head to the side. “Where’s Ahsoka?”

Anakin had hoped she’d make the ceremony, too. But they hadn’t spoken much, of late. Padmé said she’d been invited - she was like family to Anakin who was, Padmé said, with a little smile, like family to Ben - but had been unable to arrive. Perhaps in time for the exchange of vows.

“Busy,” Anakin said.

Katya hummed acknowledgement, turned, and left without another word. Anakin shook his head, looking up at the stars until Ben found him, sliding an arm around him, leaning into his space. “You’re warm,” Ben said, pressing his face against Anakin’s throat, and Anakin was happy to pull him closer against the chill in the night air.

#

The ceremony itself was beautiful, when it finally arrived. Anakin let protocol droids shuffle him into place, out on the sweet grass, rippling in the breeze, with the lake beyond and a flight of song birds moving across the cloudless sky.

Padmé looked more beautiful than he’d ever seen her, all in soft colors and flowing fabrics, her hair down in curls around her shoulders, wearing a smile he’d never seen. He supposed it wasn’t one that would have ever been for him. Nith smiled back at her, and they said their words and Anakin listened, even if he were distracted, more than he should have been, by Ben at his side.

The soft colors of their wedding garb suited Ben, who had managed to avoid burning only thanks to Anakin’s diligent efforts. Some of his brothers hadn’t been so lucky. But Ben had only freckled under the sun, which was currently turning his hair to molten copper and making his eyes shine.

Ben glanced up at him, feeling his attention, perhaps, and smiled, so pleased and content that it washed over Anakin through their connection. The bruises had faded, during their time on Naboo, there was just skin visible - too much, maybe, the shirts they wore were all cut so low - and a few scars that Anakin knew too well.

Ben threaded their fingers together, and there was cheering, all around, when Padmé curled her arms around Nith’s neck and drew him close, and kissed him, there in front of all of them.

Anakin wrapped an arm around Ben’s back, and leaned down.

#

Ahsoka made it in time for the celebratory meal, still in her field gear. She’d grown again - barely had to look up to meet Anakin’s eyes - and smiled to see him, coming forward to pull him into an embrace. 

Rex stood a few paces behind her, looking unsure of his welcome, until Ben stepped forward to nudge him. “Some of your brothers are here, already,” Ben said, leading him off, “they’ll be glad for the reinforcements.”

“I’m glad you could make it,” Anakin said, squeezing Ahsoka’s shoulders. “There’s still plenty of food.”

She snorted, pulling him into another hug. She said, “I’m glad, too. I’ve missed you, Skyguy.”

And dinner could wait, just for a bit.

#

They ate and they drank and they played ridiculous games that Padmé claimed were traditional and Anakin laughed so hard he cried. Then Ben and his brothers and the Type 1s insisted on doing some kind of dance they claimed was traditional, which looked a lot like fighting, all beautiful, fast movements, that dragged the eye along and ended with Ben jumping into him, just expecting Anakin to catch him.

Anakin did. He planned to make it his job to catch Ben for the rest of their lives, as soon as he found the right words to make it so.

Everyone cheered when Padmé and Nith finally made their way off, the party steamrolling onward, for most of them. Anakin had an armful of Ben and didn’t really care what, exactly, his brothers were planning to do with the knives they’d found.

“Take me to bed,” Ben said, against his mouth, and Anakin groaned, more than happy to oblige. They got cheers, too, and catcalls. Anakin ignored that, though it made Ben laugh, made him feel fizzy and delighted inside, like the bubbly liquor they’d drank earlier.

He was laughing, still, when Anakin pulled him into their room and kissed him. His mouth was soft and welcoming, his hands warm as they skimmed over Anakin’s skin, beneath the loose fabric of his shirt. And Anakin wanted this, everything about this, forever, so much he couldn’t find the words to say it and tried to speak it into being with his body, instead.

And afterwards, he panted, “Ben.”

“Mm?” Ben carded fingers back through his hair, gone sleepy and content across their bond, warm and soft and all the things Anakin had never known how much he needed. Anakin squeezed his eyes shut, fighting a sudden, senseless burn, pressing his face to the skin of Ben’s shoulder. “Anakin?”

Anakin shifted, kissed his skin where there’d been a bruise, only days ago, tasting sunlight on his skin, kissed a path up his shoulder, his throat, to his mouth. Ben hummed, melting against him, and Anakin had to pull back, had to blurt out, “Ben, I know I’m not - I can’t give you this kind of --“

Ben shifted, coming awake, interrupting, “Anakin, you don’t--”

“But I love you.” He knew he didn’t say it enough. That he counted too much on Ben picking it up across their connection. He swallowed, forcing himself to meet Ben’s gaze, so clear and soft, in the pale moonlight. “We - I want - would you -”

“Yes,” Ben said, stretching up, kissing his mouth, and Anakin curled closer, the sweet ache inside his chest filling him up, joy and contentment tangling around one another, filling up the entirety of the world and the night.

[mostlycompetentwriter]

I Am You: Chapter 9

Pairing: OC x Bang Chan x Jisung x Changbin

Genre: Romantic Fantasy

Warnings: Smut at the end

Previous Chapters: (chapter 1), (chapter 2), (chapter 3), (chapter 4), (chapter 5), (chapter 6), (chapter 7), (chapter 8)

Note: I’m very sorry but NCT Dream are rather evil in this chapter.

I was dreaming, but it felt more like a memory. 

Because I was home again. Not the home I shared with my mates and our pack, but the home I associated with my parents and the sweet smell of honeysuckle flowers in the backyard. The kind of home that always made me think exclusively of my most innocent occasions with Chan, misbehaving as we daringly climbed the highest trees and swam in the river despite its overpowering current. A home I knew before I would mate three alpha wolves who would have a profound effect on the person I would become.

But the memory was wrong. 

For example, Jisung and Changbin were there too and my mates were never around my childhood home. The four of us were also older and that was wrong too because I never returned home after I left for the first and last time. The differences were strange and I felt like there was something important that I was forgetting, ignoring the feeling of tension while we acted like pups again as we mischievously chose to play in our wolf forms. We nipped at each other’s legs, running through the fields despite the eerie sight of a thick fog curling through the woods. 

I stopped in the middle of our game. 

The fog was wrapping itself around my legs, climbing the full expanse of my height. I shifted back because my wolf was somehow distant from me, warning me to do something that I didn’t understand. I felt trapped, unable to move or even call out to my mates who had returned to see why I was no longer participating in the game. But their voices sounded distant, muddled and obscured by something invisible. I was afraid because everything was rapidly changing and there was nothing to stop the inevitable.

And then I was alone because the fog and my mates were gone. But somehow this was worse and I fell to my knees because I didn’t know what else to do. What if they abandoned me? What if I was forced to live alone for the rest of my life? I wanted to cry but I couldn’t. I wanted to do anything but I felt a tight pull demanding my attention.

A little pup was watching me. 

His blue eyes, which reminded me so much of Chan, were distant. I reached out for the little pup, beckoning it closer. We were both in danger, I could feel it in the bone-chilling breeze that ruffled my hair. But the little pup did not move from its spot and I could do nothing from mine. “You can do it,” I encouraged the pup, but my whispery tone was lost in the cataclysmic space separating us.

I saw red eyes next, glowing bright and sinister. An obvious evil that wanted to hurt me and the little pup I was failing to protect. The wolf they belonged to was targeting the little pup who refused to move from its spot. I whimpered pathetically, desperately trying to reach the stubborn pup who seemed insistent on staying where it was. “You can’t save it,” the wolf snarled at me. “You can’t save any of them.”

Suddenly, there were dozens of wolves surrounding us, moving in closer with predatory steps, haunches raised as they prepared to attack. “Please,” I begged the pup, but it was now watching the wolf who had spoken before.

“They tried to protect it,” the wolf growled, stepping aside as three of my aggressors proceeded forward. At first, it was difficult to discern their shapes because of the thick shadows, but as they came closer, the light revealed the sickening truth. And I had never seen Jisung so lifeless before, eyes closed and throat scarlet red as the wolf dropped his limp body next to the little pup who only seemed puzzled by the sight. 

“Daddy?” the little pup questioned, nuzzling its tiny nose against Jisung.

Changbin was left next to Jisung and he appeared to be in far worse condition, dark hair matted with mud and clothes soiled with blood. I had never seen my mate look so weak before. “Why won’t he wake up?” the little pup asked me, pressing a tiny paw against Changbin’s shoulder. But my mate did not respond.

And I was beyond reason because I knew they were both gone.

Yet, at the same time, nothing could possibly compare to the utter anguish I experienced when Chan finally came into view. My oldest friend, my first love, who never gave up and defied all odds and expectations, was being drug across the ground by the collar of his tattered shirt. 

I had never seen my mate look so defeated before. 

“Channie,” my voice cracked, and I was lost to my grief because I was nothing without the three of them.

“Is he tired?” the little pup asked, burying itself against Chan’s side despite the horrifying amount of blood seeping through the fabric. “He smells different.”

“Binnie?” I desperately tried. “Sungie?”

“Mommy,” the pup finally summoned me, eyes reflecting wisdom that defied its years. “Aren’t they coming back?”

I couldn’t breathe, holding back something between a sob and a shout. But the torrential river of tears had already escaped without my consent, staining my cheeks and the well-worn neckline of my favorite sweater. “What have you done?”

I directed the question at the menacing wolf who clearly held responsibility for all the pain and grief I was expressing. The wolf snarled, teeth coated with their blood. “There’s nothing you can do to stop it! They’re coming for you, Myah.”

I jerked awake, eyes wide open as heavy breaths filled my screaming lungs. I stifled a cry, slapping my hand over my mouth as the familiar sight of my bedroom came into focus. A single tear spilled free when I realized that Changbin was lying next to me. I immediately placed a hand over his chest, relieved when I could feel the way it rose and fell with the life coursing through his veins. Changbin was still asleep and he looked incredibly peaceful, skin glowing with color and an obvious absence of red from any trace of his body. “Binnie,” I delicately whispered, ready to burrow myself against his warmth and demand his attention. But Changbin deserved to sleep, despite the countless times he had assured me that he would never be upset if I woke him after a nightmare. Instead, I decided to take a walk, even if I knew it was dangerous without one of my mates to escort me along the perimeter of our territory. 

I needed fresh air.

Thus, despite the sweat caking my hair to the back of my neck, chilling me when I stepped into the cold night, I made my decision. 

I shivered, tightening my grip on the lapels of my sweater. I started in the direction of the woods, where the rogues had never been sighted, deciding that I could walk to the edge and back before Changbin had a chance to realize I was gone. It was a good plan because I was still suffering from the pain of my recent nightmare, body convulsing slightly as I wiped away the salty drops from my cheeks.

I hummed to myself, emptying my mind of everything, but especially the nightmare as I noisily crunched the permafrost decorating the grass beneath my feet. It was really nice, breathing in the fresh air as I worked my muscles loose. When I first came to the pack, I always took walks by myself before going to sleep. They were a surefire guarantee to relieve my body’s tension. Perhaps I should reconsider incorporating them back into my routine.

When the woods finally came into focus, I felt a tremor of fear as images from my nightmare flooded my mind without my conscious dictation. But everything felt so incredibly real and I could only stand the sight of the trees for a few seconds before I was already turning back around. I missed Changbin’s warmth and his scent would be just as reassuring as the fresh air had been.

A low growl sounded from behind me.

I froze to the spot, whipping around so fast that my hair flew into my line of vision. I could make out their forms in the trees, glowing eyes seeking out my vulnerable person. Instinctively, I shifted into my wolf form, snarling at the shadows threatening the peace of our camp. 

But I was greatly outnumbered. 

There were at least a dozen wolves shaking themselves of the precipitation from the vegetation they had escaped from. They surrounded me completely, leaving no room for a possible escape. I was terrified, but I put on a brave front, hoping to intimidate them into abandoning what they probably suspected to be easy prey.

The biggest wolf, who I assumed to be the alpha, approached me first. He tasted the air, eyes widening in interest as his claws dug into the dirt. “Don’t you know there are rogues at your borders?”

“This isn’t your territory,” I reminded him, snapping my teeth at a different wolf who dared a step in our direction.

“For now,” the alpha wolf insisted smugly, appraising me like I was something he wanted. “What’s a she-wolf doing out here on her own?”

“An omega too,” the wolf I previously snapped at deduced, sniffing the air aggressively. 

“She would be perfect for me, Jaemin,” the alpha grumbled, making me feel small in comparison to his proud stature.

“Jeno needs a mate,” Jaemin continued, eyes locked on my quivering wolf as he started circling me. “Know anyone for the job?”

Jeno snickered, coming in closer. My wolf instinctually lowered herself to the ground, whimpering when the bigger alpha loomed over top. So much for my bravery. “Maybe I’ll just take you.”

“I’m already mated,” I tried but Jeno just laughed.

“I’ll ruin their claim on you,” Jeno growled, forcing his nose against my scent gland. “You won’t be able to fight it, isn’t that right, Renjun?”

The summoned wolf emerged from the group, defending his alpha. “You’re just an omega.”

“A she-wolf,” Jaemin added. “You don’t stand a chance against us.”

“I could just take you now,” Jeno continued, rutting against me and my wolf howled in protest. “It would be better if you submit.”

“Maybe we can kill your alphas,” Jaemin suggested. “Then you’ll have nowhere to go.”

“Please don’t hurt them,” I begged the rogue wolves who were likely beyond reason.

“We’ll do whatever we want,” Jaemin sneered. “This is our territory now.”

A chorus of agreement resounded from the other gathered wolves.

“And they had the audacity to call our former packmates?” Renjun shook his head, his wolf pawing at the ground. “None of you stand a chance.”

The threatening wolves seemed so self-assured, releasing intimidating snarls and growls as they maintained their lines. Jeno leaned down, sniffing at my lower half. “This one is almost in heat.”

“Take her now,” Jaemin insisted, wolf releasing a whine as he paced back and forth. He was anxious to see his alpha exert his dominance.

“Make the claim,” Renjun encouraged him and I had never been more afraid.

But I still had the wherewithal to consider my circumstances, ignoring the way Jeno started to sniff his way across my fur. I didn’t want to give myself to the horrible alpha wolf, but there was nothing I could do to stop his ego. My only option was to agree to his advances, especially if I could also help my pack.

“If you leave my pack alone,” I interrupted the two wolves. “I’ll come with you without a fight.”

Jaemin paused and Jeno seemed to consider the offer. “Where would we go? This territory belongs to us.”

“There are weaker packs in the surrounding valley,” I insisted, feeling ashamed to dismiss another pack so easily. “They wouldn’t see you coming.”

“Is that so?” Jeno asked. 

“Don’t listen to her,” Jaemin growled. “We already have the advantage. Their pathetic alpha almost lost his head when he tried to stand up to you.”

“Our alpha is stronger than ever,” I lied. “My pack has formed a formidable alliance. They’re prepared to attack and kill your wolves. You could avoid that confrontation and find easier hunting grounds further north.”

Jeno’s tail lashed harshly from behind him. “Will you come with us tonight, then?”

“Tomorrow night,” I tried, utilizing every argument my fear-ridden mind could conjure up to try and dissuade the obvious threat. Because if they attacked our camp, how many of my packmates would be killed? Would someone like Jeno have mercy on Mina’s pups? 

My sacrifice could save them all.

Jeno was quiet for a while, ignoring his packmate’s impatience. Finally, he conceded and I had never felt so relieved. “Alright, omega, if you come with us tomorrow night, then we’ll leave your pack alone.”

It was a worthy exchange, and I would be glad to risk my life.

“I promise,” I agreed. “As long as you keep your word.”

Jeno growled. “I always keep my word.”

I returned to my cabin shaking from head to toe. I had formally made an agreement with a rogue alpha to leave my pack in exchange for his. If my mates knew of this exchange, then they would immediately do everything in their power to change the end result. However, for once in my life, I wanted to do something for them.

I shakily crawled back into bed next to Changbin, willing the tension to leave my body. Surely, my mate would detect my heightened anxiety through our bond? I didn’t want Changbin to worry or ask any unnecessary questions.

“Did you leave, angel?” Changbin abruptly asked, voice groggy as he wrapped an arm around my waist.

“No,” I lied, gradually feeling his breathing even off as he returned to sleep. It wasn’t the first time I had ever lied to Changbin, but it might possibly be the most profound utterance of my entire existence.

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

I couldn’t think of a better way to honor my mates for the endless love and affection they always reserved for me. They were always there to help and support me, even if it led to embittered fights between the trio. Thankfully, I could at least rest easy with the knowledge that the four of us had seemingly settled into an easy situation despite the threat of the rogues. It was a good time to leave when everything was so perfect because I could always remember them this way. It was enough to instill the courage I needed to carry out my promise to Jeno. 

The following morning, I made sure to spend as much time with my mates as possible. I gave the morning to Changbin, waking up next to him and wrapping my hand loosely around his cock. Changbin was sweet, sleep still heavy in his eyelids as he fucked me, and I ran my hands across his dark skin, trying to memorize the way it felt.

I spent the afternoon with Jisung, the two of us playing together behind his cabin before we laid out a blanket on the grass. I let Jisung cook for me, even though he was rather horrible at in the kitchen, but I complimented his food. I even let him feed me since he enjoyed it so much. I always found it humiliating, but I knew it made him feel like he was taking care of me and I wanted him to feel like he was a perfect alpha.

It was harder to meet Chan that evening, enjoying the meal he prepared for us. As I sat across from him at the table, I studied his features closely hoping to keep a photographic equivalent locked safely away for me to summon at a whim’s notice. Chan hardly noticed my weird behavior, talking about how little they had seen of the rogues all day. I knew that was my doing, but it was validating to know that they would keep their word.

And since Chan was feeling better after his accident, I desperately wanted him to fuck me. It was easy to convince him, smashing kisses to every available surface of his countenance, releasing pheromones I knew he couldn’t resist. Despite the hurried way he tried to progress our lovemaking, I insisted on a slower pace, wanting to feel Chan’s fingers as they brushed across my skin. I needed his lips and teeth to leave marks against my collarbones, bruising the delicate skin around my scent gland.

I freed him from his shirt, enjoying his kisses while I worked hard to map out his body. I wanted to know every muscle and bone that built his torso, the pale skin that reminded me of the fresh snow in the mountains. I ran my hands across his abdomen, tracing the faint trail of dark hair that disappeared beneath the waistband of his jeans.

There was so much of Chan to love and I wanted him to feel like he was the most important alpha in the world.

I handled his cock with as much care as possible, thumbing across his foreskin, watching the precum glistening at his tip. I decided to taste him, hoping to memorize that as well because I would miss every part of him when I was gone. The impossible swell of his knot, the dips my tongue encountered on their sensual journey along the velvety flesh. “Channie,” I purred happily, feeling him deep in my throat.

I could always remember that.

“Myah,” Chan’s voice was soft and affectionate. He undressed me leisurely, falling into the pace I set, kissing my skin reverently while making me feel like I was the most treasured thing in his life. I recalled an earlier conversation from dinner, remembering the way Chan spoke about the possibility of having pups of our own: “You’ll be glowing,” he praised. “I’ll have more of you to worship.”

“Whatever you want,” I replied even though I hated the fact that I couldn’t fulfill his request.

I choked on a sob as Chan’s cock suddenly penetrated between my legs. He groaned above me, scent heady and powerful as he pressed inside, connecting the two of us in the most intimate way possible. I wanted to stay like that forever, locked together with Chan, his knot holding us in place while he fervently praised me, words forming the most beautiful sentences.

“More,” I demanded of him, which might be selfish, but Chan was never one to deny me anything.

“Whatever you want,” he said in reply, quickening his pace, hips drumming against mine as the sound joined our harmony of moans.

“Please,” I cried, tightening my grip on his curls because they were lovely when I could feel them between my fingers.

“I love you,” Chan whispered, cock hitting perfectly as his tongue traced against my scent gland. 

I was crying, but perhaps Chan thought it was out of pleasure as opposed to the impending sacrifice weighing heavily on my subconscious. “I love you so much,” I hiccuped, moaning as I felt his knot catch, dragging heavily as he continued to thrust his hips.

“You’re mine,” Chan continued, chanting my name. “So beautiful.”

“Channie,” I whined, stuttering when he attempted to pull out one last time. He faced resistance from the knot, but he was strong enough to continue. 

Chan was always the strongest because his heart was pure and loving.

“You’ll make a great mother,” Chan whispered and I lost all inhibitions as he finally stilled his movements. He moaned as he rested his head against my chest, curls soft as he found where we were connected. I kissed the damp skin of his forehead, reaching down to thumb along the exposed flesh of his swollen knot causing him to shiver above me. “Feels so good,” he slurred, mouthing across my scent gland, toned shoulders flexing as he lowered himself to fit against the expanse of my throat. 

“You feel good,” I praised him, running my hands up and down the smooth skin of his back, pausing at the dip in his spine. 

“I’ve missed you,” Chan purred happily, content to nip at my scent gland while I savored the sensation of being completely obscured by his overwhelming warmth. Chan always made me feel safe because he was always willing to do whatever was necessary to ensure my well-being. I was grateful for everything he had given me, but I knew it was time to give something back.

Chan was slowly losing himself to the promise of sleep, and I could feel his hold loosening around my waist. I knew Jeno would be waiting, but I didn’t want Chan to suspect anything. Even if he noticed my absence in the middle of the night, I wanted to be long gone before he could possibly find me and change my mind.

Because my mates had spent their entire lives protecting me, so now it was time I tried protecting them.

I waited until Chan was fully unconscious before I quietly left the room.

[imagines-by-billie]

My Sunshine.

Request: street fighter!shawn is the most intimidating, scariest guy out there and no one would dare look at him twice. but when hes with his girl, the epitome of sunshine, hes Soft™. however he doesnt want others to know that. hes got a reputation to keep up, so,,,, angst? sunshine girl thinks shawn is embarrassed of her and wonders what she's doing wrong?

A/N: I’m sorry this took so long, I have a bit of writers block at the moment.

Warnings: angst, fluff

Masterlist

As soon as Shawn was home it was like he was a different person. He had just been in a fight with a guy, who no matter how much Shawn beat him he always stood back up.

The kid had determination, which Shawn had to applaud him for, but the dudes condition was getting worse and worse with every hit. He couldn’t even stand straight when Shawn finally called it off.

The crowd booed but once Shawn shot them an angry look and helped the kid out, they were quiet. That was the thing with wannabe street fighters, they didn’t know when to stop. Sometimes the scariest thing is how calm a person can be in the middle of a fight.

Nevertheless, when he got home soft music made his ears perk up. The smell of chocolate chip cookies filled his nose and made him kick off his shoes to go inside.

In the kitchen, standing in all her beautiful glory, was Y/N. She had her hair pulled back, even though a few strands of hair managed to make their way to frame he face. An apron was tied around her waist with a bow in the back. Her tongue stuck out in the corner of her mouth, a sign of her concentration, and her hand held a spatula that she tried her best to mix the batter in the bowl with.

Shawn wrapped his arms around her waist, making her let out a yelp in surprise.

“Hey, sunshine.”, Shawn muttered in her ear. The nickname had come from the first time they met. It was a lonely cold night, around 5 am so the sun was about to go up...

Shawn had just been in a fight with a pretty aggressive guy and had gotten beaten up pretty badly. He couldn’t deny that there were probably bruises all over him.

He laid in the grass and looked up at the few stars that were there. The fresh air was just what he needed, just a few more minutes then he’d go back to his apartment. Shawn closed his eyes and felt his muscles relax as his breathing slowed down.

“Hey, are you okay?”, someone asked. Shawn opened his eyes to see another pair staring right back at him. The girl sat back to give him some space.

“Uh... yeah.”, he muttered as he sat up.

Just then, the sun had started to rise right behind her. It created something that looked like a halo around her, maybe some kind of holy light. Was he dying?

“I thought you were dead for a second!”, she laughed.

That laugh made his heart skip a beat. Why was he feeling like this and how did he make it stop?

“No...”, he chuckled, “Just a bit beat up.”

“God, what happened to you?”, the girl placed her hand on the cut on his cheek and he flinched, “Sorry, did I hurt you?”

How could one human being be so undeniably sweet and innocent? As if her words weren’t enough, her eyes spoke so much with just one glance.

“I’m fine, thank you.”, Shawn said as softly as he could. Was he going to scare her away? Usually when girls like her saw him, they turned the other way. Which maybe was a smart move for their sake. But here she was, worrying about him.

“Are you sure? There’s nothing I could do?”, she asked with a helpful smile.

“Well, there’s one thing...”, was he actually going to do it?, “... would you want to go grab coffee maybe? I really need some energy.” He did it.

“I don’t know what place is open but we could find something.”, she grinned.

“Great.”, Shawn smiled, “I’m Shawn.”

“Y/N. Nice to meet you, Shawn.”

That was how he met her and he couldn’t be happier that he asked her out.

“You scared the living hell out of me!”, she breathed out.

“Sorry, princess.”, he gave he cheek a peck, “Are you making cookies?”

“Yup!”, she popped the p as she said it.

“At 1 am?”, Shawn stifled a laugh.

“Hey, I wanted to make something for you once you got home.”, she smiled sweetly.

“I appreciate it, love, I really do. But you need to get some rest.”, Shawn turned her around to press a proper kiss to her lips.

“You know I can’t sleep without you.”, she joked, but there was still some truth to her words. She had a harder time sleeping without him once she learned about his job.

“Well, then let me get you to bed.”, Shawn lifted her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist.

“But the cookies-”

“Forget the cookies! I want cuddles from my sweet angel!”, he grinned and carried her to the bedroom.

The next night Shawn was at the club again. His last opponent had come back for more, even if he still could barely stand.

“Listen, dude. You might wanna sit this one out.”, Shawn warned him as he wrapped up his hands.

“Nah, I’ll show you.”, the guy spat at the ground and got himself ready.

As soon as the rules were declared the fight started. The guy didn’t have a chance and Shawn managed to get some punches in.

Suddenly he was startled at what he saw. Y/N, wearing a pair of jeans along with his leather jacket to keep her warm. Shawn didn’t see the punch coming, too distracted by the sight of Y/N at a place where she did not belong.

It was an uppercut, and hit him perfectly. This time he let his rage take over and he hoped that Y/N didn’t actually see this. Shawn beat the guy to the ground as soon and fast as he could.

“I warned you.”, Shawn muttered and hurried out of the circle.

Y/N Waited by the entrance.

“What are you doing here!?”, he hissed at her. She was taken aback by the way he spoke. He never talked to her like that, they barely ever fought.

“I needed to see you, I’m sorry... I had this dream that-”

“You had a dream!?”, he wish he could tell her that everything was okay, “That’s why you came here? Y/N, this isn’t the place for you. You need to leave, okay?” His tone was harsh and loud enough for everyone to hear.

“Okay...”, it came out as a whimper. She had tears in her eyes when she left. Everyone was staring at him when he turned around.

“And what the fuck are you staring at!?”, he yelled.

The only thing good about this situation was that his reputation was still.

Once he got home later that night the house felt cold. He walked into the bedroom, she wasn’t there. In fact, Y/N was no where to be seen.

“Y/N!? Baby!? Look, I’m sorry!”, he yelled as he walked around the apartment, trying to find her. She wasn’t there and Shawn started to panic.

He grabbed his jacket and flew out the door. His legs led him to the park where he had first met her. She was laying on the grass, his jacket still wrapped tightly around her shoulders.

“Y/N...”, he said softly. As soon as she heard his voice she turned his back to him.

“Don’t talk to me, Mendes!”, she said loudly. She never called him Mendes unless she was joking or really upset.

“Princess, I’m sorry.”, he whispered as he sat down next to her.

“Are you not proud of me?”, she hiccuped and that’s when he realized she was crying.

“Y/N, baby... look at me, please.”, he got her to sit up, but her back was still turned against him.

“You’ve said you love me so many times... but now I don’t even know if it’s true anymore.”, she sniffled, “You treated me as if I was shit under your damn shoe! As if I hadn’t been loving and supporting you for years.”

“I have a reputation to keep up, babe.”, he muttered softly.

“So your reputation is more important than me?”, she hiccuped again. Shawn put his hand on her shoulder but she quickly flinched away, making his heart break.

“No, Y/N. Of course not, but I need to keep you safe. If they realized that you’re my week spot then they’ll come after you...”, Shawn said as sweetly as you could, “... and that’s what you are. You’re my weak spot, Y/N. My everything, my world... my sunshine.”

Y/N finally turned around to face him. Her eyes were red and puffy from all the crying and her lips had gotten slightly more red than usual... what he would do to kiss her right now.

“Do you mean it?”, she whispered hoarsely, “Do you really mean it, Shawn?”

“Yes... I do. Y/N, I love you.”, Shawn put his hand on her cheek, wiping the tears that were falling from her eyes. Y/N crashed her lips to Shawn’s in a way that almost made him fall over. His hands flew to your waist, gripping you closer and trying to pull you as close to him as he possibly could.

Between every kiss he muttered out “I love you’s” and circled his hands in loving motions all over your body.

“Thank you, Shawn...”, she muttered against his lips, “And I’m sorry for running into the club like that...”

“It’s fine, babe. Just... don’t do it again. For your own sake, okay?”, he leaned his forehead against hers. Y/N nodded with a gentle smile on her lips.

“We should go back home...”, she muttered.

“Mhm... just let me kiss you a little while longer.”, he grinned and pressed his lips to hers again.

[julieta-ravencrest]

Kyosky

CW/TW: Attempted suicide, Torture 

A shattered blade was all her eyes could take in. The damned blade that held a shred of her soul for so long, always calling to her, never letting her suffering end. The ascent through this frozen keep did not do her well. Kyosky thought that facing her ruiner head-on with the army of champions would let her breath, to help ease knowing that she was no longer under the Lich King’s control. She was denied that chance.

A sect of champions had taken to the blood halls, the San’layn stood watch over all here. Defeating the three brothers had not gone well and they had lost a fair amount of soldiers to their magicks. As Kyosky raced through the halls towards Lanathel, countless steps in sync with her, she felt a confidence that had long been stifled. They could do this. What was one queen against an army? 

Yet again, she had been wrong. She could not do it, the Death Knight had been gravely wounded. Her comrades decimated by the time they managed to strike down the vampyr. Ariather raced to her side, attempting to hide the fear in her eyes. They had known one another for so long, the paladin would not let this be the end. 

“Tend to the wounded, all soldiers in favorable condition, march on. You must make it to the throne.” The paladin commanded the gathered champions. A priest or paladin here and there stayed briefly to call upon the lights' healing powers. Ariather had hoisted her up and began a slow descent to where they all started at the gates of the Citadel. 

“Leave me you blasted elf. Your skills are better suited for the battle with Arthas.” Kyosky forced the words out, a cough forcing its way out of her throat. Though Ari had mended her slightly in the Blood Halls, if she was to recover, she knew the paladin would stay behind. She had after all been the only one of their group who managed to sooth the Death Knights beaten soul. 

Ever trying to keep a light mood, Ariather huffed a small laugh, “My shining personality will be missed, yes. However, Keltius can make up for that for me. They will be fine. I know it.” Her statement received a roll of eyes from her patient. Always thinking of that warrior of hers. She would feign a gag if it wouldn’t agitate her injury.

-    -    -    -    - 

Few remained in the lower halls. Injured and sentries scattered about. Ariather had brought her to an alcove off to the side. The privacy did nothing.

She felt it, his victory. Frostmourne ripped at her soul, eliciting a violent scream of torment. 

“Kyo please, he can’t take you, you’re free!” Ariather read her easily. 

Arthas had defeated all those champions. The best Azeroth had, snuffed out like a candle. His voice echoed through their minds. 

“Watch now as I raise them from the dead to become masters of the Scourge. They will shroud this world in chaos and destruction. Azeroth’s fall will come at their hands-- and you will be the first to die.”

He knew what this would mean for those in his citadel. They would hear these words, scratching at their minds as he spoke them to Tirion. They had all fallen and he was resurrecting them as he once had to her own soul.

That invisible chain yanked at her again, Kyosky arched her back in agony, her piercing scream echoing through the hall. All who stayed behind froze as she was tortured. No physical pain would ever overtake the pain of a soul being ripped. Frostmourne called for more of her as she remained so close. 

She would never escape him, would never know a shred of peace, so long as he ruled on his frozen throne. Ariather continually spending her precious power of the light trying to heal both physical and spiritual wounds. “Don’t you dare give up, you can’t leave me.” The paladin had begun sobbing as she saw her friend suffer, seeing in Kyosky’s eyes that she was giving up. It would be so easy to let him take control once more. She would not know pain or suffering under his grasp. The paladins actions were the only thing keeping her from letting go. She would not abandon Ariather again, let alone force the paladin to fight her own friend. 

There was a shift, sudden yet soft. The strain ebbed away, letting her shattered soul rest. Something or someone had pulled through for the fallen champions atop Icecrown. Ariather stiffened, she too could tell something changed. 

“Tirion. Tirion is still alive! I can feel the Lights guidance Kyo, he’s saved them. Everyone is fine, you are fine.” As she spoke, she grasped Kyosky’s hand, squeezing it and bringing it to her face. 

The Death Knight strained, forcing her way upright despite Ariather’s protests. “Take me to them. Now Aria.” Her name for the paladin alone, she could see the shock wash over the elfs face at the mention.

Stammering response incoherent, a simple nod. They worked their way to the transporter at the entrance, it’s icy magic swirling calmly, they were gone.

He was defeated, the helm… gone. No, Fordragon now sat on the throne. Entombed in ice, helm of domination upon his head. Tirion addressed all those gathered, all champions of Azeroth.

“Heroes, the Lich King we know is no more. The time of our victory has come but know this. The world must not know what happened here. There must always be a Lich King. Bolvar Fordragon has taken the mantle and will control what remains of the scourge army. You must not speak of what transpired other than Arthas’ defeat.” His voice commanded respect and obedience from those around him. 

No one dared step into the center of the open chamber. Arthas’ lifeless body remained for now. Frostmourne shattered around him. 

Kirin Tor mages opened rifts back to Dalaran, portalling any who stepped forward out of the citadel. Few remained. Mostly Death Knights and Paladins, those who were greatly affected by Arthas. All spoke in varying levels of light knows what, she cared not. 

The Death Knight looked around her immediate space. Julieta, Aradia, Ariather, Laesneniel, all stood close by. A Draenei walked up to the last, Aveena. While horde and alliance they were, no fighting would ensue. This was a trusted group. One she did not feel she should be seeing. 

She looked out to the mountains of Icecrown, looked to the descending towers around them. She took a step towards the edge of the open platform. Ariather’s attention immediately broken from her current conversation and trained on her friend. 

“Kyo… what is it?” Caution.

A cold smile formed on her face. “Arthas is defeated. Frostmourne shattered. I should be able to return from this citadel with a new life. Yet why do I still hear whispers. Faint, so very faint. Ones I have never heard before. I can never live a normal life, even in my undeath.” Another step.

The paladin mirrored her step. Her arm slowly rising towards her, “Kyosky please.”

She would hear none of it, “What does it matter if I can’t be free. My soul is broken, mine again but broken. Yet still spoken to. By who?” Her voice raised, “What is the point? There is NOTHING holding me here.”

Her words struck those around her, pain hitting Ariathers eyes. Julieta’s keen eyes watching the Death Knights every move, every muscle twinge. Her fingers signalled, a motion missed by any not watching. Forsanna, her Mist Bat, the only one watching for such a move. The Bat was poised, knowing she would need to act quickly.

“Ariather. My closest friend. You have worried about me for so long, ever since you found me again. You have a life to live though, one not spent doting on my broken pieces. Keltius is waiting for you. The time has come for you to move on from me.” Full realization hit the paladin and spurred her to rush forward, the Night Elf and Draenei too far back to assist. 

Kyosky fell back. Embracing the void below her. It did not come. Julieta gave her final motion to Forsanna, right as the Death Knight made her move. Aradia was already using her magic, in a blink she was closing in the gap. She flung a spell at the plummeting Elf, slowing her fall just enough for Forsanna to swoop in and grab her in her claws. Though she was safe, the bat had to descend to the lower reaches of the Citadel, the weight too great to fly upward.

Kyosky sat alone in a room in Dalaran, windows magically sealed, door locked, and her armor and weapons stripped from her. Ariather was furious with her. Shouting from below sailed up, occasionally shifting into wailing. 

She had woken up in Aradia’s room. Bandages covering her chest, a light linen shirt hiding them from sight. Trousers covered her scarred legs. Simple clothes for someone back from battle… and imprisoned in this room. They were giving her no out.

The whispering had faded to a dull, almost inaudible hum. The further from the peak of Icecrown Citadel, the quieter they became. It must be Bolvar, her only thought on what could be occurring. 

Faint steps interrupted any coming thoughts. The door clicked open and shut again. 

Aradia entered.

“Good to see you came to. Your injuries and the brief fall were enough to put you out for three days.” She paused, furrowing her brows. “You hurt her Kyo. I’ve never seen her so bad. She’s practically your sister.”

The flirtatious, irritating mage was gone. She had gone serious upon seeing Kyosky awake. 

She couldn’t conjure up sorrow in her face for the paladin, not while she could still feel the phantom pain of her soul being ripped out again. “She would be fine without me.”

A sign breathed out of Aradia’s mouth, “Kyo, she wouldn’t. I know you would laugh in the face of love now but even Keltius hasn’t been able to calm her. Please think about at least her next time you try to off yourself. I understand we can’t know what you’ve gone through and are still going through… but if you're not going to think of all of us, think of her. She will always be there to help you.” Aradia didn’t wait for a response. With a waved hand, she conjured up a small platter of food and drink. “I will bring better food in a little, Julie is cooking now. Eat. It’s not a suggestion.” She turned and was through the door as the command finished leaving her lips.

Once she was alone, she truly was left with her thoughts. Despite her words to the mage, they were a lie now that she faced them in full. She felt sorrow for her friend. Yes, her actions were indeed selfish, spurred on by years of torment. Wishing for it all to just stop. She could never truly be alive again. She had to speak with Ariather. 

She stood up, impressed with how thorough the paladins healing had been this time around. She spared no expense, the exhaustion that must have taken her to do so well. Kyosky smiled a little at the thought. Opening the door, no runes blocking it anymore, she began working her way down the mages home to the central floor. She could hear various hushed voices and one that sniffled here and there in her sentences. Ariather.

Kyosky made sure not to silence her steps, to not catch her friends off guard. Their chatter did not stop, only the weeping paladin hushed. She was seated on a plush couch, Keltius gently holding her shoulders, Aradia perched on the arm next to him. Julieta stood to the side. They all wore some semblance of more civilian clothes, armor cast off while able to have the city comforts. 

Unsure what to say in front of them all, Ariather and Aradia, the only ones meeting her eyes. Though she knew the others were keenly aware of her presence. She shuffled down the last steps and focussed on Ariather. Giving a small smile and nodding back towards the stairs, clearing her throat of the tightness that took over. 

Her signal was all her friend needed. She went to stand up but Keltius held her in a comforting embrace for a moment, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. Whispered words of affection shared between the two, their hands not separating until she was too far away and they fell apart. Keltius stern gaze taking in the Death Knight that caused his love so much pain. He would not forget this yet she knew he would not hold it against her so long as Ariather was helped. 

As Ariather closed the distance, she grabbed Kyoskys hand. Squeezing gently and tugging back to the stairs. The paladin stole a glance back at Keltius, her love and comfort of this world. Kyosky was truly grateful for his presence.

No words were exchanged as Ariather led them up the winding stairs, lavender flames casting shadows across their faces. As they reached the landing, they continued straight into a parlor, forgoing the use of the mages room this time. 

  Books covered the main wall, some magically suspended as if frozen in time where Aradia had been reading. Lounge chairs carefully placed to follow the sunlight

         They sat on a chair, saying nothing for the moment. It seemed like Ariather was taking in her friend. Making sure she hadn't missed any wounds. The long silence grew unbearable for Kyosky, knowing she needed to speak, but letting her friend take time to know she was well enough.

After what seemed to be an eternity, she decided to finally speak, though the words clung to her throat. "Aria… forgive me. I know I thought only of what I was going through-"

         The paladin lunged forward and hugged her tight. She slowly raised her arms and gently pressed them on her friends back in return.

Ariather spoke, her voice a rasp after her days spent crying or yelling, "Kyo never be sorry. I would do anything to take this pain away from you. Light damn that wretched citadel and it's master. You were… you ARE still a wonderful friend. I will always be there for you should you feel like it's all slipping away, like you are slipping away. I will reach into whatever void tried to take you and pull you back." Her words were soft and caring.

The Death Knight’s resolve broke, she embraced Ariather tightly, shedding tears no other would ever see. “I am blessed by all beings to have you Aria, I will not forget again.” 

After a short time, the two pulled back and smiled at each other. Ariather’s red eyes puffy, if Kyosky’s blood flowed the same, she might look the part as well. 

        They spoke of the many things that transpired before they found themselves reunited again at Light's Hope. Talking of life late into the night until the paladin, who had shifted to using her friends lap to lay while talking, had finally drifted off. 

Kyosky carefully managed to stand, carrying her friend to the room across from Aradias. She gently placed her on the bed and walked to the door. She hesitated for a moment but did not look back. Carefully closing the door, she breathed out. A small calm settled on her, she had not known a moment of peace in years. The Death Knight silently thanked the Light, of who she had not heard since her fall. Her vow to herself to trust her friend beyond all others, for she had stood by her side in her darkest hours. 

[mldrgrl]

All Hot and Bothered

by: mldrgrl Rating: NC-17 Summary: Dedicating this to the current NYC heatwave that brought Hanella some inspiration. This flew out from my fingers in record time.

Sticky, wet, oppressive heat permeated every inch of the city, east to west, north to south.  The air was so thick it had weight.  Stella remembered what that kind of humidity was like from a summer some years back, when she and Hank were crossing oceans to see each other.  It was tolerable when it was temporary, but living with it was something else.

For weeks it had felt like the city was a sauna that was slowly turning the dial up, notch by notch, from comfortable to unbearable.  Even at night, when the sun finally went to bed after baking the streets all day, the heat relentlessly remained behind.  

The thing about the heat that annoyed Stella the most, was that it seemed to bring a certain level of apathy with it.  She was less than inclined to go out unless absolutely necessary, and when inside, she was stir crazy from wanting to be somewhere else.  It was too hot to do anything but be hot and annoyed.  The heat was holding them prisoner in their own apartment and she was getting cabin fever.

Thank God for air conditioning, yet the bedroom was the only room in the loft that supported it.  The rest of the space was cooled by strategically placed ceiling fans which were no match for such extreme temperatures.  They did little more than circulate the stifling air, making it a little less unbearable than it was outside.

The past couple weeks, as the heat and humidity was on the rise, Hank had taken to wandering the loft in jockey shorts and nothing else.  He tried to encourage Stella to do the same, reminding her of his long ago proposal for Topless Tuesdays, which she’d previously declined based on the climate of London, but maybe it was time to revisit the initiative.  She opted for thin cotton tank tops or sports bras paired with sleep shorts.  Hank may have been comfortable answering the door for take-out delivery in his underwear, but she preferred to be somewhat decent.

It was her fault though.  Hank had asked what she wanted to do with her time off from classes and he’d offered to whisk her away to anywhere she wanted to go, provided there was no skiing involved.  There was talk of a return to Bora Bora, but ultimately, she decided that what she wanted was just to stay put, relax, maybe go to a few museums, and use the time to leisurely prepare for the next semester without feeling rushed.  Next year, she would consider the forecast before turning down a chance to get out of the city.

The clouds started coming in that morning, graciously shielding the city from direct sunlight, but bore down like a damp blanket, trapping the heat in place.  By late afternoon, those same clouds took on an ominous darkness, promising to burst, but keeping everyone in a state of unfulfilled expectation.  Hank had been working on a script rewrite all day and had already taken three cold shower breaks.  Stella had been revising lesson plans in fits and starts, barricading herself in the bedroom with the air conditioner and a large bottle of ice water.  Even leaving for a few minutes to warm leftover pasta for lunch had her perspiring from head to toe.  

Late in the day, when she emerged from the bedroom to procure more water, she found Hank at the windows.  The sun should have been setting at that time of day, filling the west-facing room with orange light.  Instead, it was muted and grey.

“It needs to rain,” Hank said.  

“The sooner the better,” she answered.  She eyed the sheen of sweat layering Hank’s shoulders and back and was annoyed all over again.  It had been too hot to touch and too hot to fuck.  She’d probably feel less frustrated and agitated if she could get in one really good orgasm.  Every time they came in orbit of each other though, it was like standing next to a furnace in the middle of the Sahara, air conditioner or not, it was too damn hot.

“Oh…”  Hank craned his head closer to the window and pointed up towards the north.  “Did you see that?”

Stella turned and peered out past the rooftops into the thick clouds.  A few seconds later a flash of lightning pierced through the haze and illuminated the sky.  Soon, it was flickering across the sky like a strobe, followed by the occasional low murmur of distant thunder.  They stayed at the window, waiting silently, almost breathlessly, for the much anticipated rain.

“There it is,” she said.  The streets below took on a foggy layer of steam as the rain began to land.  Large streaks appeared on the window and she put her hand against the glass as she looked down eight stories.  It was cooler than she expected and so she rested her forehead against the window as well, almost moaning from the slight relief it provided.

Stella rolled to the side to put the back of her shoulders against the window and looked at Hank.  He leaned against the window frame watching the weather unfold.  She never tired of gazing at his body and sometimes liked to remind herself that he belonged to her.  Not just for a night or two, but forever.  It was a good thing too, because she was certain that he had ruined for anyone else.  There was never going to be anyone that could do the things to her that he did, and not just sexually.  She was fulfilled in ways she didn’t even know were possible.

He was only a foot away, close enough to touch.  Despite the heat, she reached out and dragged two fingers down his sternum.  When she cleared his navel, she rotated her wrist and pushed her hand inside his underwear.

“Hey now,” Hank said, his hips jerking towards her in surprise.

He radiated heat into her hand, but she didn’t want to stop.  It had been two weeks too long without physical contact and she wasn’t going to stand for it any longer.  She stroked him into full attention as he leaned heavily against the window frame, his mouth dropped open as he softly panted his appreciation of her ministrations.

She could get him off quite easily, but a handjob wasn’t going to be satisfying for her.  Not when what she wanted was to have him inside her, filling her, fucking the restlessness out of her.  She slipped her hand from his shorts and he groaned.

“That’s just cruel,” he groaned.

Stella’s reply was to turn around to the window again and brace her forearm against the glass.  She dropped her head to the back of her hand and shifted her feet apart and pushed her hips back in invitation.

“Thought you said it was too hot for fucking,” he said as he took a grip on her hips.  His hands burned her skin.  They hadn’t even started anything particular exerting and yet she could already feel the sweat slide down her spine and pool into the dip above her tailbone.

“It is,” she said.  “But, I don’t fucking care right now.”

And she didn’t.  She felt like an overripe peach, ready to burst from a single touch.  She was hot and swollen and dripping with heat and sweat and lust.  He rubbed his pelvis against her ass and she moaned.  The storm surged outside and rain pelted the window with unnerving force.  Her hot breath against the glass created a bloom of condensation, obscuring her view of the empty streets below.

Hank knelt behind her, dragging her shorts and panties off her hips and down her legs.  She stepped out of one side and then kicked the clothes off her ankle from the other.  His 5 o’clock shadow rasped against the back of her knee and she moaned, going weak with desire.  She felt his tongue slide up the back of her thigh and under the swell of her asscheek.  His nose dragged up into the cleft of her ass and his tongue darted out again, slipping just between her folds and then through her cheeks to her tailbone.

“God, you smell so fucking good,” he said.

“It’s impatience,” she answered.

“Never heard of it.  Is that by Chanel?”

“God dammit, Hank.”

“Alright, alright.  You’re in a shut up and fuck me mood, I got it.”

“And yet you’re still talking.”

“Not for long.”

They’d only managed this position a few times without finding a way to make her taller, but they did manage.  She felt him dip his hips behind her and his cock rubbed up along her entrance.  She reached down and opened herself up for him, inhaling swiftly as he pushed up sharply into her.

“God,” she breathed.  “That’s good.”  She braced her other arm above her head on the window as he gave a few short and shallow thrusts into her.

“If I don’t pull a fucking hammy.”

“Mmm, yes.”

“You don’t even care, do you?”

“I’ll rub you down with that blue gel you’re fond of.”

“A full service massage?”

“You’re being fully serviced as we speak, but you’re not getting anything if I don’t come.”

“You know I never leave you high and dry, Sherlock.”

“It’s why I married you.”

Hank grunted and one hand left her hip to squeeze her breast.  He pulled at the low collar of her tank top to expose a nipple to his greedy fingers.  She groaned and pushed her hips back against his thrusts, the tight pinch he gave sending sharp bolts of both pain and pleasure to her core, making her ache all the more desperately for release.

Mother Nature put on a dazzling display of electricity as Stella sought to reach the crest of satisfaction.  She dropped one arm to reach down and touch herself, but Hank grabbed it and pinned it back against the window.  He folded himself over her, pushing her arms and shoulders into the glass as he slammed his hips against hers.

“Bastard,” she moaned.

“Let me,” he answered, taking his hand off her breast to slide down and fondle her where she needed it most.

If anyone was better than she was at playing her like a Stradivarius, it was Hank.  He knew the exact amount of pressure she liked, the exact way to circle, to pinch, to pull, to press.  She never had to worry when she was in his hands, she just had to let go.

“Come on,” he said.  “Come on, Stella.”

“Close,” she answered.  She had climbed high and was hanging on the precipice, one more thrust, one more swirl of Hank’s fingers and she had it.  “Fuck, yes,” she breathed.  “Oh...oh…”

“Stella,” he moaned, taking a bruising grip on her waist to hold her steady as he succumbed to his own pleasure.

Heat rolled off of her in waves.  Her body was drenched in perspiration, hair sticking to her neck and temples, beads of sweat dripping off her brow and upper lip.  Yet, she was too absolutely satiated to be bothered by it.

Hank backed out of her and off of her and she groaned a little.  She unfolded her arms and shrugged her shoulders to ease the ache in her overtaxed muscles.  The storm had calmed a bit, less torrential now and more like a steady stream.

Hank scooped his underwear off the floor and then stretched.  “Just what we needed,” he said.

She smiled a little and searched for her own clothes.  “I have been a little tense,” she admitted.

“I was talking about the rain.  That was some A+ fucking though, Professor Sherlock.  Certainly hit the spot.”

She smacked him on the ass as he bent over to pull his shorts on.  He jumped and yelped, feigning injury.

“Where are you going?” she asked, as he walked away.

“Cold shower,” he answered.  “It’s too hot for fucking.”

The End

[ibelieveinahappilyeverafter]

To Land On Your Feet - Chapter 05

Wow, wow, wow, we're already on Chapter 5! Sorry for the day's delay, everyone, but my body just gave out on me yesterday after my 11-hour school day. Tuesdays and Thursdays are always vicious on me! No worries, though, for I am here!

I would have had this uploaded a few hours ago, but, um... Well, I got distracted reading Falling Head-First Where Mystery Lives by Glue_the_Grue. I read it all in one go and oh, my gosh, it is just so good! I highly recommend checking it out and giving it a read! With all that out of the way, though, on to the good stuff!

Remember that this story tries to have scheduled updates Tuesdays and Fridays with the possibility of extra chapters in between.

Also, consider donating $3 a month to my Patreon and getting access to unpublished drabbles and the Google Doc where I write this story; meaning you could see chapters and notes days or even weeks in advance.

Enjoy!

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Summary: Aizawa Shouta had a good life. He was a happily married pro-hero teacher, had two cats that loved to make his life difficult, and soon, if things went well, he would have Shinsou Hitoshi as a son. Thanks to an unexpected attack by a man with the League of Villains, though, Shouta is turned into a cat. While he had a fondness for cats, that never meant he wanted to be one, especially when no one seems to recognize him and his friends and family are trying to find him when he’s right there.

He had been planning to find a way to change back, but instead he ends up following Shinsou Hitoshi to the foster home he lives in after hearing some worrying information from the teen himself. Shouta himself was guilty of venting his frustrations to cats, but hearing that Hitoshi would be locked outside in the cold if he was late getting home was just another clue among countless that something was wrong. He has to get back to normal, but he’d be a poor hero and a shit father-to-be if he didn’t follow the kid and make sure he was okay.

Besides, quirks like this usually had a time limit. Right?

            <<First Chapter>><<Previous Chapter>><<Next Chapter>>

                                            Chapter Five

“This is such a bad idea… Like, I really could get in a lot of trouble letting you into my room.” It had taken almost an hour of Shouta lying in the grass and drifting off into a few short naps, but Hitoshi had finally appeared at the window and was now leaning out and looking down at him. “Have you just been sitting there this whole time?”

‘Not like I can go anywhere else. I don’t think the trains even run this late,’ Shouta grumbled to no one but himself, yawning wide and stretching out as he stood up. It was oddly natural to be in a completely different body.

“Okay, think this out,” Hitoshi muttered to himself, biting at his lip. “On one hand you have a giant feral wild cat that followed you home.” That did sound rather bad when he phrased it like that. “On the other hand, you have a cat that followed you home through three trains. That has to be fate, don’t you think?”

Shouta wasn’t sure if he laughed or not, but it really was amusing to watch Hitoshi waver back and forth on such a simple matter as to letting a cat in his room. Well, maybe it wasn’t simple, considering all the factors, but it was still reassuring, in a way, to see Hitoshi act his age.

“Can you even get through this window? I mean, I could try to help you inside or something, but you’re pretty big and I don’t know if I can even nudge you, let alone pick you up.”

‘Good point, kid. Let’s find out.’ Crouching down, Shouta thought about what he wanted to do before deciding that would probably only screw up his jump even more. Deciding to rely on instinct or muscle memory or whatever the hell it was, Shouta jumped neatly through the window, landing on wooden floorboards with enough force to make a loud thump.

Hitoshi burst into stifled giggles and Shouta rolled his eyes as he took stock of himself to make sure he was alright, grumbling inaudibly yet again. ‘At least you’re having fun with all of this.’ Still, he supposed it was kind of nice to see HItoshi smiling and laughing. Shouta usually only ever saw him when he was tired, sarcastic, or nervous beyond all reason.

“Okay- Okay, okay, okay. I’ll try to sneak you some actual food later, and I’ll leave my window cracked so you can get back outside if you need to, you know, go, or anything.” Fuck. That was a thing he had to worry about now, wasn’t it? This was turning into a bigger pain than he thought it would be. “And I promise I’ll get you some water once they’re all asleep, but right now I need to start on some homework, okay?”

Shouta stepped forward to bump his head against Hitoshi’s leg lightly, pleased when Hitoshi grinned down at him before moving to his desk and starting in on the papers and books that were already scattered across it. At least Hitoshi had a good sense of when to set time aside to do his homework. He really needed to get Nedzu to hurry with that transfer paperwork.

‘Right. Might as well as make use of this.’ It was possible there would be clues to Hitoshi’s state of living within the room, after all, so it was as good a place as any to start. While the caseworker they were working with agreed that Hitoshi would be a good fit with them, they would need probable cause to remove him if the current foster family protested enough.

Shouta had already heard enough just by the yelling he had heard earlier, but it never hurt to have more evidence. The problem with that plan, though, was that any evidence he could find seemed to just not be there.

Hitoshi’s room was small, but it was also sparse with barely anything in it. The bed and desk were the only real pieces of furniture, the desk looking like it had seen too many children and a western style bed that looked ready to collapse at one wrong look. There wasn’t much in the way of pillows or blankets, either, but at least Shouta knew Hizashi was already packing their no-longer-really-a-guest room full of anything that looked soft.

Poking his head under the bed, Shouta saw a few mothballs and a wooden box with a lock on it. Shouta was willing to wager that was where Hitoshi kept the few items he had that were important to him. Making a mental note to remember to make sure the kid took it when he finally left, Shouta went over to inspect the closet, nosing it open with a bit of a struggle.

The clothing looked a couple years old, and oh, Hizashi was not going to be happy with that. Shouta still remembered Hizashi’s growth spurts in high school and how many times he had to get new clothes. Hitoshi, with his own height, was going to be much the same way. No doubt the kid would end up taller than both of them the way he was growing, but he looked to still have a bit longer.

Right. New furniture, a few more blankets and pillows, new clothes… Actually, Shouta should have the school replace his uniform, too. He was starting to outgrow it in the arms and legs, especially. The clothes he brought to their training sessions were in good enough condition, but the way Hitoshi kept pushing himself meant they would be tattered and threadbare before long.

“What kind of hero school even requires Art History?” Glancing back at Hitoshi’s mumbles, Shouta almost laughed at seeing Hitoshi was staring down at his work with utter bafflement. “Why do I even have to learn about Western art?”

‘Don’t let Nemuri catch you saying that. She’s weirdly passionate about art.’ It was still strange to see Nemuri teaching, and teaching children at that, but Shouta was glad she had found something good to do with her life; even if she had sold him out and submitted an application to U.A. for him.

“What do you think, kitty? Do you know anything about art?” Hitoshi turned to look at him and Shouta gave him a flat look in return. Instead of looking put off, Hitoshi only laughed. “Jeez, you glare just like my teacher.”

‘There’s a reason for that, you know.’ Maybe he could find a way to let Hitoshi know who he was while he was there. Then again, the teen would probably be too embarrassed to ever speak to him again. ‘If it’s multiple choice just go with whatever sounds the most pretentious.’

Leaving Hitoshi to his grumbling about art, Shouta took one more glance at the closet, pausing as something on the door caught his attention. It took a bit of squinting and staring considering his odd new eyesight, but he eventually managed to make out a scattering of posters of pro heroes.

That wasn’t all that surprising considering their culture and Hitoshi’s desire to be a hero, but there were only two heroes in the several posters and the two of them were Present Mic and Eraserhead. The thing that was causing Shouta to stare the most, however, was that one of the posters that was his was only a couple months old, his agency, and Hizashi, pushing him to try and get some positive media attention.

This meant that Hitoshi had to have purchased this poster and placed it on his closet door either shortly before or shortly after Shouta had started training him. He… honestly wasn’t sure whether to be embarrassed or touched by that; maybe a mixture of the two.

His thoughts were broken up by the crisp, clear sound of footsteps approaching Hitoshi’s door, Shouta quickly and quietly moving to push himself under the bed. He wasn’t sure if it was the father, the mother, or one of the foster siblings, but the last thing he wanted was to get Hitoshi in trouble when following the kid was Shouta’s idea.

“Whoa, hey, are you okay? What’s wrong, kitty-” Hitoshi’s words stopped before the last syllable was fully out. He must have heard the footsteps now that they were closer.

The door opened without even a knock, the invasion of privacy causing Shouta’s hair - fur - to raise. It may have been a small thing, but it spoke plenty of having no respect for Hitoshi or his space.

“I thought I told you that I only don’t care if you sit in here and hide away in your room if you do what you’re supposed to.” The words were crisp and sharp, an edge of bite to them even though they were said in a soft tone. “Hitoshi… you’re one of the oldest in this house. It makes sense that you’re meant to take care of the younger ones and keep the house clean, doesn’t it?”

Hitoshi gave no response, but Shouta could barely focus on that over the intense rage he felt. It was one thing to hear that yelling from before, loud and harsh and sounding slurred in the way that spoke of slight inebriation, but this? This was so much worse.

“I know you’re busy with your studies, but if you’re struggling this much in school then there are other paths in life. It’s best to accept that now, you know, before you get your hopes up.” Hearing a voice speak such poisonous words with kindness was so much worse than just yelling. “I still have those connections available if you choose to take that path. You’ll be aged out of the system in only three or so years after all, right? It’s unlikely you’re going to find a permanent family in that amount of time, especially with your quirk.”

‘Proof of emotional and verbal abuse,’ Shouta mentally noted to himself, burning the words in his mind to relay to Hitoshi’s caseworker once this was over. ‘Implying Hitoshi is mentally incompetent, pushing him to quit his studies and do unknown offered work, and showing clear quirk discrimination.’ Shouta would destroy this man.

There was a heavy sigh from the man, his voice softer. It would have been kind if not for the words, “It’s best to give up now, you know, instead of possibly endangering a nice family. Besides, even if someone took a liking to you, your quirk would ensure that they wouldn’t want you.”

Shouta felt his body shaking, new claws digging down into the wooden floors because that was his kid that this man was being so cruel to and he wanted him. 

“Make sure you do your chores tonight, alright, Hitoshi?” An answer wasn’t expected, the door closing with a soft click that seemed to echo too loudly in the silent room. It stayed that way for a long minute before Shouta saw movement, Hitoshi standing up from his desk and then crawling into his bed.

Taking a minute or two himself to calm down and work his claws out of the wood, Shouta crawled out from under the bed, wiggling a little at points and frowning at how tight a fit it was. Somehow being a bigger cat was more inconvenient than it might be to be smaller.

Jumping up onto the bed that was shoved against the wall Hitoshi was curled up against, Shouta carefully walked over to the head of the bed, heart breaking at seeing Hitoshi looking as lifeless and detached as he had before Shouta had managed to get him to open up.

‘Oh, Hitoshi…’ Shouta hesitated for only a moment before moving to lay down, working his way under Hitoshi’s hand and letting it rest on his back as he did so. It was a move his cats often did to him when he was overwhelmed and, just as it helped him, it seemed to help Hitoshi, the teen slowly burying his fingers in Shouta’s fur and looking just a touch less lifeless.

‘Don’t worry, kid,’ Shouta thought, watching Hitoshi work his way out of the state he was in. ‘I’ll get you out of here if it’s the last thing I do.’

Jeez… He had been planning on heading back to the school since it was a weekend, but there was no way in hell he could leave Hitoshi’s side after hearing something like that. He would have to wait until Monday and follow Hitoshi to school.

Hizashi was going to worry himself sick when Shouta didn’t turn up over the next few days, but there was no way Shouta could abandon Hitoshi now that he knew what was happening. If he was lucky then the quirk he was under had a time limit and would wear off after another day or two.

Shouta still needed to decide whether or not to tell Hitoshi who he was, too; or find a way to tell him, at least. While the kid would be embarrassed at first, it might be better in the long run considering everything that was happening. Then again, he might just think Shouta pitied him since Shouta couldn’t exactly have a conversation and tell him that none of this would ever be pity.

Ah, well, that was something to worry about tomorrow. For now, at least, he could comfort Hitoshi in some small way, sitting with him and letting him know that he wasn’t alone. If Shouta had his way, his kid would never feel like this again.

[marshmallow-phd]

The Experiments

Genre: Sci-Fi, Thriller, Experiment AU

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Exo (????)

Summary: You were a med school graduate who just wanted to help research cures for the world. Instead, what you got was a dream job at EXO Applied Sciences. That is, until you discover the secrets of Level Sixty-Six and the nine inhabitants that are stored down there….

Warning: nothing but... I’m sorry

Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I 11 I 12 I 13 I 14 I 15 I 16 I 17 I 18 I 19 I 20 I 21 I 22 I 23 I Final

You woke up well before dawn. Sleep hadn’t come easy and that worried you. Being exhausted was not an ideal state to be in. But you had no choice. Your brain had been running a majority of the night, worrying and imagining the worst. So much could go wrong, but death was now the scene you pictured the most. This time, you wouldn’t disregard that possibility.

Taking a deep you flipped over to your side. Junmyeon slept peacefully on the right side of the bed, undisturbed by your tossing and turning.

When he’d snuck into your room sometime after midnight, you had insisted that it was a bad idea. He’d been bunking with Sehun until Luhan arrived. Because of the lack of room for an extra body and being the good person he is, Junmyeon gave up his bed and had been crashing on the couch ever since. Using that as an excuse, he insisted that he needed a good night’s rest in order to be alert on the move. You couldn’t argue with that. And you wanted to know what it was like to sleep next to him. After his arrival, you certainly slept better, more peaceful. So much for pumping the breaks.

Reaching out to him, you lightly traced the outline of his cheekbone with your fingertips. His hair was curling on his forehead, making your heart flutter. Just as your fingers reached his nose, a hand flew out and captured yours.

Junmyeon’s eyes flickered open. He smiled at you sleepily.

“Good morning.” His voice was that quiet, raspy tone that was way more attractive than it ever should have been.

“Good morning,” you whispered back.

“How’d you sleep?”

You shrugged your one exposed shoulder. “Fine.”

Sighing, he scooted closer to you, releasing your hand and wrapping an arm around your waist. “Someone else can drive, you know? Maybe Luhan, if you’re too tired.”

“Sure,” you snorted. “But I’m pretty sure I have years of driving experiences on all of you. Besides, I’m fine. Really. As soon as I hop in that driver’s seat, I’ll be running on adrenaline. It’ll be okay.”

“Exactly. Everything will be okay.”

He could see right through you. All the boys were focused on getting to the headquarters and starting their life. None of them - at least to your limited knowledge - were worrying about the journey there. Not like you, who could think of nothing else.

After placing a kiss on your forehead, he removed his arm and stood up. He’d forgone a shirt last night, saying it was too warm, and you took this precious bubble of time to properly admire him. You couldn’t believe the cut of his muscles, their definition. How had he stayed in shape like that on a limited diet and confined space? Was it just his genetics? You really wanted to run your fingers over the raised squares on his stomachs and feel the muscles contract. For scientific purposes, of course.

“Are you going to get up?” he teased.

You scowled at him, throwing the covers off yourself. Everything was packed up already, save the shirt and jeans you’d folded on the dresser to wear today. Comfortable but moveable, just in case. Junmyeon also got dressed, you in the bathroom while he stayed out in the bedroom. Both ready for the day, you walked down together to the kitchen.

No one else was awake yet. You were thankful for that, for the little bit of alone time you could get. In silence, you started breakfast. Junmyeon occasionally helped, keeping an eye on the meat and helping set the island.

In groups of two, they all came down the stairs, most still half asleep with stifled yawns as they sat on the stools. To an outsider, it might have looked like a regular breakfast on an ordinary morning. The boys chatted away, talking about nothing of significance.

You took in this moment, appreciating every little thing you could. It was possible that there would be mornings similar to this inthe future, but never again would this exact setup exist.

So lost in your thoughts, you’d hardly touched your own breakfast. Junmyeon nudged you with his elbow and pointed at your plate with his eyes, silently insisting that you eat more. Giving him an appreciated grin, you finished off your food with a little force before starting on the dishes.

Minseok joined you soon after, completing the task in record time. Since that first night, Minseok had warmed up to you quiet a bit, even helping you keep on top of cleaning and refilling the SUV with gas from the extra canisters the night of the meeting. He was no longer hostile towards you, even smiling  and joking with you.

When everything was cleaned up to the point of looking like no one even lived there, everyone gathered in the front room, bags slinged across shoulders and prepared to leave. This was it. Time to move on.

“Let’s go.” You exited through the front door and waited for everyone to be out before you locked up the house and replaced the key under the fake rock where you’d found it before.

Everyone piled into the SUV in an orderly fashion. Luhan sat shotgun this time to help with navigation.

Your heart never slowed down, even as you found the road and followed Luhan’s instructions. Paranoia never left you. Every car that past you was possibly driven by someone from EXO. Every movement in the corner of your eye was an ambush. Part of you was annoyed with the boys who seemed so relaxed behind you. Most had fallen asleep, leaning on each other’s shoulders, some even cuddling up. They were so at ease, not fully understanding how they could be captured at any minute.

After five and a half hours, Luhan had you turn down a side road that was flanked by trees on either side. It took you deeper and deeper into a forest not to different from the one you left. After another ten minutes, Luhan told you to stop.

“Come on.” He unbuckled his seatbelt before getting out of the car.

You followed suit. At the sudden stop, the boys began to wake up and crawled out as well.

“What are we doing?” Chanyeol asked.

Shrugging, you turned to Luhan.

“The escort should be here,” he answered. “But they have to know it’s us before they’ll come out.”

Leaves rustled somewhere behind you and you turned around, thinking your allies had arrived. Oh, how wrong you were.

Eight men armed to the teeth with guns and dressed in the EXO black uniform stepped out of the forest from the left, weapons pointed at the group. Once again, you were surrounded by wolves in protective mode who blocked you from the enemy. A white van drove down the road at an agonizing pace, coming to a stop just twenty feet from you. The driver was hidden by the too-dark windshield, but the passenger swung open the door and stepped out oh-so casually, like she was meeting a friend for lunch.

“Dr. Wang,” you gasped.

All ten wolves immediately shrank back, reliving memories of the torture that woman had put them through.

“Hello, Dr. (l/n),” she smirked. Gone was her lab coat, but she was still dressed to the nines in her black slacks and not a hair out of place on her too-tight bun. “Good to see you again.”

“Just leave them alone!” you begged. “They’re human beings. They deserve their own lives.”

Dr. Wang tsked at you, shaking her head. “Dr. (l/n), you disappoint me. Here I thought you were a progressive researcher, wanting to help improve the human condition. Your betrayal hurt when I found out that you’d helped that traitor.”

“I’d do it again,” you said defiantly, resisting the urge to ask what she did with Marcus’ body. “After seeing what you were doing to them, I didn’t have a choice.”

“Oh, there’s always a choice,” she corrected. “You just chose to be manipulated by them. I thought you were stronger than that. But rereading your reports, the signs were there. How weak you were.”

You lunged forward, but strong arms held you back. “They did not manipulate me!”

Dr. Wang shrugged. “It doesn't matter. All of you are coming back with us. And maybe, (y/n), I’ll be generous and let you live in a cozy cell along with them. Or maybe I’ll just have a bullet put in your head.”

Deafening growls ripped through the crowd, even making you afraid of the anger behind them.

“You’re never going to touch her,” Junmyeon roared.

“Oh, Zero-One,” Dr. Wang shook her head, “you’ve disappointed me the most. You were always the most obedient.”

The muscles in his arms tightened. “It was that or be tortured.”

She smirked, amused by Junmyeon’s reply. Turning to her guards, she ordered, “Bring them here.”

The six guards started forward. With perfect timing, twenty more armed gunmen descended on the area in souped up ATVs that rivaled tanks, but instead of being hired by EXO, they were there to protect you. Ten on each side, they flanked your small group, outnumbering Dr. Wang’s men and keeping them at bay.

“Guess you shouldn’t go against the government, huh?” Luhan mocked.

Dr. Wang scowled. “You can’t just take my property. Do you understand how much money has gone into making you what you are?”

“Under the eyes of the law,” said one of the men on your side, although the voice was a higher pitch making you wonder if they were actually a female, “they are still human beings, unable to be labeled as property. The only way they’re going with you is if they walk over to your side themselves.” They seemed to be the leader given their patch was a different color than the rest.

“Oh, really?” Dr. Wang smirked. Her eyes trailed over the hybrids. “Zero-One?”

“Not a chance in hell,” Junmyeon scoffed.

An evil glint shined in her eyes and your heart sank. What was she about to do?

“Elyxion.”

Junmyeon stiffened as soon as that word left her lips. Straightening up, his eyes glossed over, empty of any sign of life. The blank look reminded you of the robots from the movies your father used to watch.

You gripped his upper arm. “Junmyeon?”

“Zero-One, come here,” Dr. Wang ordered.

Without hesitation, Junmyeon stepped forward. You tried to pull him back, but your strength was useless.

“Junmyeon, stop!” you yelled as he slipped out of your grip. You started after him, but Jongin wrapped his arms around your waist, stopping you from crossing over. “No! Let me go! Junmyeon! Come back! Junmyeon!”

Dr. Wang laughed as the hybrid stopped in front of her. “Good boy.” She looked to the leader. “Looks like at least one is coming here with me.”

“NO!” you screamed. You kicked, scratched, and fought with all your might to get Jongin to let go of you. “Junmyeon! Junmyeon, come back! Junmyeon!”

“We need to get out of here,” the leader hissed. “Now!”

Luhan nodded, turning to Jongin. “Get her in the van.”

You fought harder, determined not to leave Junmyeon behind. “No! Jongin, let me go! We can’t just leave him! Let me go!”

Tears had been streaming down your eyes for a while now, splashing down on Jongin’s arms. He ignored your pleas as Kyungsoo opened the side door. Jongin dragged you into the SUV and the other boys piled in as Luhan took the driver’s seat. He bolted out of there before the door was even closed. You were still trapped in Jongin’s arms as you tried to fight your way to the back, making no progress. The last thing you saw was Junmyeon standing beside Dr. Wang, staring after you blankly.

[owlsshadows]

Garden Time (Izanayuki, part3)

1. Tea Time | 2. Study Time

Izana introduces her to the garden two weeks into their meetings – her garden. A bit of land behind what her study will be, with trees and bushes and a large mass of thicket; an old, untended labyrinth maybe. A small area by the castle walls is covered with building materials – soon a greenhouse will be erected there, close to the entrance of her study.

She walks along a row of freshly planted yura shigure, watering each seedling with caring attention. She couldn’t wait for the greenhouse to be built, she had to somehow mark this land of hers – and what better way than to choose the flower she can thank her court pharmacist career to. The slowly warming days benefit the sprouts, while the mild spring sun won’t burn their leaves yet. It is the perfect time for planting and Shirayuki is full of plans and inspiration to do so. She started with the yura shigure, but soon she will add the medicinal herbs she uses for Izana’s blend too – so her future husband can drink the tea she has grown in her garden.

The thought makes her itchy under her skin.

Initially she took it as a game Izana wanted to play. To ease his frustration, she went along with it. She didn’t believe him one bit – not when he dropped his first hint, nor when he refuted her arguments. She went along with him, raising the stakes and stating her conditions.

Never in her right mind she would have thought that their little banter could have a continuation. The official invitation the next day to the engagement talks, delivered by a slightly startled Lord Zakura took her off guard – to such extent that she has accepted them thoughtlessly.

And now she diriges a group of craftsmen every morning on how to renovate and remodel the old fencing room into her very own den, while she spends her late afternoons with her new garden. She still spends most of her time at the pharmacy – but for a substantial amount of time she is the fiancée of the king.

She is still Shirayuki, the court pharmacist to the Wistalia house.

But also the Young Lady of the Lion Mountains

A Tanbarunian noblewoman.

The future queen consort.

She cuts her hand with the edge of a leaf, shrieking shortly in surprise and yanking her finger in her mouth to suck on it before it starts bleeding – not the most flattering situation to be found in, especially by the one who insists on marrying her.

“Does it hurt?” Izana asks.

Shirayuki, finger between lips, shakes her head. Izana nods, crossing the entrance to examine her little plantation. He seems unfazed by her unwomanliness – practicality, as Kiki would phrase it. But this is not a countryside inn, and she is not with a female knight. She is in the royal gardens, in the audience of the king himself.

Shirayuki can’t help but wonder how Prince Raji or Prince Zen – royalty who has once claimed to love her –  would have reacted. She pictures a dumbfounded Raji, an overprotective Zen… somehow they both seem ridiculous, like caricatures next to the reality of Izana walking right into her personal space.

“Lucky you are wearing boots,” he says, looking at her feet.

“Well, I was gardening,” Shirayuki says, extracting her finger from her mouth with a quiet pop. “But why is it exactly lucky?”

“My brother has returned from Wilant.”

“And so?”

“Well, you see, I told him about my engagement and that I gifted father’s room to my fiancée, but I kind of forgot to tell him about just whom I got engaged to.”

“Oh,” Shirayuki says. She did not write about it either. “So?”

“So we run,” Izana replies. “Preferably before he realizes.”

“Why?”

“Because…” Izana starts with a huge breath, but comes to a sudden halt. His eyes wonder off of her face, glancing at something by her shoulder, blinking rapidly and looking further away before they return to her. “Because he for sure will be a pain.”

“It’s not like…” Shirayuki starts only to stop abruptly.

Izana is right. No matter how her relationship to Zen was a figment of rumor-thirsty nobles, Zen is her friend. And as so, he is one very protective friend.

She still remembers vividly of the anger Zen felt early on when Izana was still not convinced of her pure intentions and tried to test her. She remembers the clashes they had, with words as well and swords. She could imagine a better evening program than pacifying two stubborn brothers.

“It’s all your fault, you know,” she concludes with a grimace.

“This I have to admit,” Izana says.

“So? Where do we run where I need my boots?”

“I thought we sneak in the stables and steal his horse for a ride.”

“Why must you be like this?”

“Do you have any better ideas?”

“More decent, less entertaining.”

“Such as? I’m listening.”

“Your Majesty, you hide. If Zen comes around, I pretend I have never heard about our engagement.”

“While standing in the garden I gave to you as an engagement present,” Izana points out.

“Okay, then we hide together,” Shirayuki huffs, stifling a laugh. “And if he finds us we pretend we never heard about our engagement.”

“Genius, very convincing,” Izana says, trying his best to hide his smile. “And where should we hide, My Lady?”

“Well,” Shirayuki looks around, contented. “In my garden, of course.”

Finally, Izana laughs, as if he was to admit defeat – which, knowing him well, Shirayuki highly doubt. And indeed as their eyes meet, his is full of mischief.

“That’s a wonderful idea, My Lady,” he says. “Do you mind taking the lead?”

Shirayuki squints judgingly. If it was anyone else but Izana, she would probably bump into them or knock on the top of their head playfully. With Izana she finds it hard to recognize her boundaries – she keeps her quips sharp and he seems to appreciate it, but would he be appalled by her touch? Would he be surprised or alarmed? Would he let her do it?

She is a handsy one, she has always been; as a pharmacist it might be occupational hazard. But touching Izana is a land unknown and one that raises precaution.

So she silences her urge to jab him in the shoulder and instead settles for a muted death glare.

“So, are you not willing to face the consequences of your actions, Your Majesty?”

“Careful, My Lady,” Izana continues his act. “Using my title in connection with such accusations may warrant a trial for treason.”

“Lucky me, I’m a foreigner,” Shirayuki responds, but her tone and face stays serious. “I mean my words, Your Majesty. While admitting my oversight in not informing Zen earlier myself, I honestly can’t believe you did not tell him either. He deserves to know.”

“I know,” Izana moves to step closer, offering his arm for her. “But what Zen deserves is the truth, in its entirety. And I just couldn’t bring myself to tell him that…”

“Is it because I rejected him?” Shirayuki asks, letting Izana lead her deeper into the garden.

“It’s because he won’t believe you accepting my proposal based on ‘mutual benefits’. You don’t do things for the merit.”

“True,” she admits.

“Right. Even I can’t believe that I managed to convince you, so how would my brother do?”

“Well… I’m still not very convinced,” Shirayuki says, her fingers digging into the velvet of Izana’s jacket. “I kind of went with the flow, and look at this?” Her free hand gestures around vaguely.

“This was the easiest to fulfil,” Izana replies. “Out of all your demands.”

“I already feel that it’s too much.”

“You don’t quite know your own value.”

“I think you may overestimate my worth.”

“How could I?” Izana asks, stopping by the entrance to the maze. “I am a king, and kings don’t make mistakes.”

Shirayuki can’t help but giggle. Her laugh, however, gets caught in her throat as Izana pulls her closer to him. The shine in his eyes contradicts his playful tone; it is vibrant, sincere, determined.

“In order for me to truly win your hand though, I still have to work hard,” he says.

His gaze ties a knot in the pit of her stomach, reminding her of the last item on her demand list. Her lids shut firm, closing out Izana’s earnest face from her view. The thought still lingers, just as his scent wafting around her.

She wouldn’t marry but for love.

Izana told her that she has her guards up high to taunt her, he said she would not let anyone close enough to fall for them, but was it really the case?

She opens her eyes, gaze wandering off to the side. The sight of the unkempt labyrinth twists the knot in her stomach in a painful, yet deliciously curious way.

“So… hiding, was it?” she tears herself away from his closeness, marching towards the bushes.

“I’m afraid this is our best solution for now,” Izana says, following her steps. “Unless you wish to disclose our deal in its entirety immediately.”

“No, I agree with you,” she shakes her head. “Zen would never believe it, and he may start suspecting that you threaten me with something…”

“In a way, he is not mistaken,” Izana snorts.

“You frighten me, Your Majesty. I took you for an almost decent man.”

“Almost decent?” he laughs. “Good, I like this. I shall live up to this image then.”

“Izana,” she pries. “Just what are your plans? What do you mean by he is not mistaken?”

“I did proclaim that I will make you fall for me. With you guarded as you are, you may have taken it as a threat.”

“May I ask if this is some roundabout insult?”

“I would never dare to insult the woman I try to court.”

“Yet you imply, over and over again, that I am afraid of love.”

“Are you not?” Izana asks. Shirayuki spins on her heels to stare at him, only to find herself standing right in front of him. His height she finds annoying now, unable to give him a proper death glare. “Then do tell, how come that such a brilliant woman is still single? You must have had a suitor or two.”

“Believe it or not, I didn’t,” she says.

“Maybe you didn’t notice the signs,” Izana suggests. “Maybe there were men enamored with you but you didn’t take their approach as it is, a form of romantic attitude.”

It hurts – being reminded of Obi, of her utter failure to recognize his feelings, of her complete defeat of realizing her own only after he has moved on. It hurts and she puts up her guard and hides in her invisible shell, turning away from Izana and stomping deeper into the maze.

“Might be,” she says then, several steps away, in a voice so meek that she knows Izana cannot hear it anymore. She knows, her message still comes across bright as daylight.

“I hope you notice when it’s my turn,” she hears, loud and clear. “I don’t intend to be subtle.”

“Izana!” she turns embarrassed towards the king.

He shrugs, sending her an almost decent smile.

“In my defense, I have never had to court anyone,” he says.

“Not even your wife?” Shirayuki asks, regretting her question the moment it leaves her lips – Izana on the other hand does not seem to be bothered by it.

“With Haki we have been betrothed since age 5. There has never been a question whether we marry or not.”

“She has always seemed quite charmed by you.”

“We were in love,” Izana says matter-of-factly. “But it doesn’t mean that I courted her.”

“I’m sorry if I asked something I was not supposed to.”

“Likewise,” he replies, walking up to her. “It was insensitive of me, asking about your past suitors.”

“No, please don’t. It’s just that I might really be oblivious to people’s feelings and as a scientist admitting any form of ignorance, it…”

“Hurts your pride?”

“Somehow.”

“Understandable,” he says.

“What hurts yours?” she asks out of curiosity.

“Oh no, I’m not willing to give any weapons to your hands. You are well-equipped already. I can only hope that you won’t poison me if you find me courting you insufferable.”

Shirayuki ponders whether to react to his comment on poisons – there is absolutely no way she could or would poison him, ever – then decides that Izana must know it, hence he dares to make a joke out of it. She tilts her head to the side, as if looking at him from a different angle would help her understand the king better.

“There has been something I’ve been wanting to ask you for a while,” she starts.

“Yes?”

“How do you plan to court me?”

Izana blinks at her surprised for a second before his well-trained mask of composure falls into place.

“If only I knew,” he says with a small smile, admitting defeat.

“You must have a plan. I doubt that you would ever do anything without planning well ahead.”

“Well, I had a plan, you see,” Izana sighs. “I thought of stealing you away from your garden and taking you out on a small excursion today. We would have gone to the seaside, taking a light lunch with us. We would have had the entire afternoon, only for us.”

“Oh.”

“I was going to the stables to have our horses ready when I saw Zen arriving.”

“Maybe we really should have stolen his horse.”

“So… would it be an acceptable act of courting?” he asks, stifling a laugh. “For future reference.”

“Yes.”

Next

[gaperezmakes]

Original Fic Fest Day 1 – Characters (Iblan Light)

It is Day 1 of @originalficfest! Today’s prompt is about characters. As I said in my Intro, I’m going to deliver two entries for each prompt. Let’s get into it!

Era of the Iblan Light

While the Iblan Light series is mainly about Iblis’ journey, there are four characters who generally drive the plot along. Here’s the Big Four, a little about them, and where they stand between Rebirth and the next book in the series.

Iblis of Light: The powerful deity whose consciousness has been sent into the past. With his knowledge of the future, Iblis has accidentally created a new timeline, that he must keep under control if he wants to return to his proper future. After the terror of Emergency Order 52, Iblis has spent much of his time helping to establish the new Tribunal Council government, as well as strengthening the position of his church in Capital City and the Union.

Cerina Burmen: Iblis’ longtime girlfriend, capable of using the rare floraemancy (plant magic). Currently attending Suramen National University in Uwaye, the jungle nation south of the United Nations of Iblis. In the new timeline, Cerina is studying a powerful magical substance she calls the “Verdant Essence,” a crystal of distilled and condensed plant life essence she intends to use as a counter to the deadly Crimson Essence.

Swift: The orphan and vigilante has become a faithful ally to Iblis of Light ever since the end of Emergency Order 52. Although he has declined to become an official steward of the Tribune like Iblis and Dusk, he has put forth his own efforts to keeping Capital City safe as the new government establishes itself. With nowhere else to go, Swift has moved into the Burmens’ old home with Iblis.

Dusk of Iblis: Iblis’ spiritual brother who keeps him focused on keeping Capital City safe. As a former steward and protector for the Consulate, Dusk has also taken up the charge to help establish the Tribunal Council. Dusk has taken up a position as leader of the ARC, doing his best to keep the space station an international neutral ground. In accordance with the wishes of Iblis the Enlightened (Iblis of Light’s predecessor), Dusk has banned all military research on the ARC, opting instead to put its considerable resources into focusing mainly on medical research instead. When he can, Dusk assists Iblis (and Swift on occasion) in keeping the peace in Capital City.

And here are a couple of characters I’ll be talking about tomorrow:

Joseph Burmen: The alias of a powerful biomancer, a mage who utilizes the innate power of the human soul to cast their spells. Joseph mysteriously disappeared after Cerina left for school, later sending her a letter explaining the conditions of his disappearance.

Helen Burmen: Joseph’s wife, also living under an alias. Rescued from the hermit nation, Nobe by Joseph many years ago, Helen has become a strong and courageous woman. She disappeared alongside Joseph and has not been heard from since.

And here’s a short little bitty-bit with the Big Four together.

The boys waited at the docks impatiently, waiting in disguise. Swift’s was the simplest, with him just wearing a thin hoodie underneath his now-signature red jacket (”But I like it!” was his excuse for ruining the point). Iblis and Dusk had magically shifted their appearances. Dusk, more limited in his abilities than Iblis, had changed his short hair to a dirty blonde color and softened his naturally strong jaw. His now jade-green eyes were locked on the sea before him. Iblis had decided to match Dusk in height, but opted instead to change his hair to a medium-length chestnut color, except for a single green highlight that ran across his head. He gave himself a rounded chin, and put on a few pounds. His warm brown eyes were constantly scanning the horizon to see if the ship was arriving yet. She was supposed to be here hours ago. What was taking so long? Iblis wanted to start pacing. What if something had happened? What if the ship ran into something and sank? What if pirates attacked? What if--

“She’s fine.” Dusk’s voice was flat as he looked over, annoyed, at his brother. “You know she’s fine. Stop making up scenarios in your head where she’s in trouble. You know Cerina can handle herself.”

“I know that,” Iblis replied, his gaze never breaking from the horizon, “It’s just--why wouldn’t she let me teleport her?”

“Because she doesn’t want to always depend on you. You know these things.”

“I’m faster.”

Dusk shook his head, “You’re a child.”

Swift caught their attention by pointing out the ship rising from the horizon. It wouldn’t be long now. Not unsurprisingly, Dusk could see Iblis starting to twitch and fidget. He gave Iblis a less-than-polite nudge and a cold stare. Iblis returned his own and returned his focus to the ship. Swift just chuckled and shook his head.

“I have never seen a man get so worked up for a girl he doesn’t even get to sleep with.”

“Sex isn’t everything, Swift.”

“I know that,” he shrugged, “I’m just surprised, is all. You two have been together long enough, I’m surprised you haven’t.”

“We’re going to be together for the rest of our lives. There will be plenty of time for that later.”

“Whatever, dude, I’m just sayin’.”

“We don’t all look for the loosest women around, Swift,” Dusk interjected, looking over his shoulder down at Swift.

“One, I don’t look for the loosest women around. Two, I don’t always sleep with them. Sometimes I just spend the night and make them eggs for breakfast--unless they’re vegan. In which case, I panic and escape before they wake up.”

“I’m pretty sure they’ll have an egg substitute you can use.”

“It’s not. The same.”

Iblis stifled a laugh at his friend’s expense as he continued looking out to the seas. It was the first time Cerina was actually returning home for one of her breaks. He had popped in to check on her every once in a while, and she always looked run down and tired. But he could see the determination burning brightly in her eyes, even on her worst days. She wasn’t going to quit. This was her dream, and she would do whatever it took to accomplish it.

Soon he could see her standing behind the guardrails on the bow, looking right down at him and smiling warmly. She knew who he was no matter what disguise he wore. The minutes passed quickly before the boat docked. A security team from the docks was quickly dispatched as the passengers prepared to come ashore. They pushed the throngs of people back (something that was not a problem for the trio standing far away from the crowds of people), leaving a wide open space for the passengers to disembark quickly and efficiently. The ramp off the boat was lowered, and a small team of customs agents quickly moved aboard, setting up a makeshift checkpoint just before the ramp.

More time passed as Iblis started fidgeting more and more. The urge to pace around was growing unbearable. Where was she? She was here. He saw her. Dusk, once again, nudged Iblis. With a near-silent whisper, Dusk told him to calm down. She would be here any minute.

“Hey, guys.” They all turned and saw Cerina standing there, pulling a pair of suitcases behind her. She looked rested for the first time in a long time, a peaceful glow surrounding her. Her long, grass green hair was braided, although her bangs still covered one of her baby-blue eyes. Cerina was wearing a long blue skirt and a plain white t-shirt. Several thin bracelets or various materials dangled from her wrists, most of them not even matching.

Swift was the first to greet her, giving Cerina a big hug. “It’s good to see you!”

“Oh my god, you don’t stink anymore!”

“Yeah!” Swift responded with a big, doofy smile on his face, “I bathe regularly now! I hate it! Buying soap is the worst!”

Cerina laughed as she turned to Dusk, opening her arms for another hug. Declining, Dusk extended a hand instead. She sighed and returned his handshake, “Still a stick in the mud, huh?”

“My brother insisted that I come along,” Dusk replied, returning Cerina’s smile, “I am glad to see you’re safe, however. You look well.”

“I did a lot of nothing on the ride over. It was relaxing.” She flexed her arms, “I also managed to get myself a bit of a tan for once!” She gave Dusk a small hug (which he awkwardly returned) and turned her attention to Iblis.

He could feel his face getting warm. His eyes darted away as he quickly turned his head to look somewhere else. Cerina just walked up to him and grinned, putting her hand on his cheek and bringing his attention back to her. Their eyes met.

“Hello, love,” she said soothingly. Iblis just took her in his arms and surrounded Cerina in his embrace.

“It’s been a while,” he whispered. She just looked at him with a smirk as he let go of her.

“Y’know, for a being who can travel the world in literal seconds and can see me whenever you desire, you are awfully sentimental.” Iblis just shrugged off her observation.

“Alright, well we don’t have all day.” Swift walked over to Cerina’s luggage and grabbed the handle on the larger suitcase, “So let’s grab these and--” The suitcase fell to the ground with a very large, very noticeable thud that caught some people’s attention. Swift just stared wide-eyed away from the accident, as if not acknowledging that he did, in fact, drop the suitcase would make it as if nothing happened. “I hope there was nothing important in there.”

Cerina just laughed and shook her head, “That one is just for my textbooks for next year. Things are getting serious, and I need to be ready for when school starts again.”

“Well, we don’t have time to waste, then,” Dusk hauled the heavier suitcase over his shoulder and grabbed the smaller one, “It’s time for us to go home.”

“Of course!” Iblis opened a portal leading back to the Burmens’ house just outside of Capital City, “There’s so much I can’t wait to show you!” Abandoning their disguises, the group walked back home, the portal closing behind them.

And that’s where we’ll end for today! I, of course, am making two entries. If you’re interested in seeing something else, feel free to check out my Black Empire entry! And if not, that’s cool too! I hope you’ll come back tomorrow when we’ll have a nice little story with Joseph and Helen.

[anavantgardener]

Frost and Mischief Ch. 6

Summary: And yet another chapter of Frost and Mischief! Things are starting to happen! Action is kicking in and new players are entering the arena. Loki and Elska are still working on figuring out their feelings toward one another, but the potential danger Asgard may be in is keeping them a bit side tracked.

Pairing: OC x Loki Laufeyson

Warnings: manipulation, mentions of violence, death of loved ones (I promise there’s happy things in the chapter, too)

Word Count: 3,687

-----

Gone Rogue

-Somewhere in Vanaheim-

Settled in a dark wood, scattered with rune stones and archaic symbols, the woman sat in the center of a ring of vines. Golden leaves trickled their way down into her enclosure. She had an enchanting way about her. Her many years of magic had left her skin tattooed with runes most had forgotten. In her lap sat the skull of a bull, gold gilding now etching off after centuries of use.

Her hands raised, her shawl fell, exposing the crimson burns she had thrice earned all those lifetimes ago. The wind billowed around her, and within moments, her scenery changed.

"Hello, my dear boy," Her voice a sickly sweet sound, she now stood in the dungeons of the Asgardian palace. "Do not look so dreary." As she spoke, the man in the corner whipped his head, feeling both shocked and relieved by the sight before him.

"My lady," he knelt into a deep bow. Since the man's sentencing, his silken clothing had been exchanged for a much itchier Asgardian cloth. It was not the least bit pleasing. "You are a sight for sore eyes."

"And you are someone who has passed information to the enemy," she rested her beech wood staff on her shoulder, placing a mocking frown on her lips. "Tut tut, my boy. I thought we had taught you better than that."

Eyes widening, Dusan began shaking as he realized his transgressions were not as secret as he had hoped. He began stuttering, trying to explain his reasoning, convince the powerful seeress before him that he had not disclosed as much as she believed.

"Quiet," with a wave of her hand, the man could not speak even if he wanted to. "There is hope for you yet, Dusan. We have a plan for you, Odr and I. It may require a bit of shape-shifting, but I can help you with that." The corner of her lip curled up.

With a snap of her fingers, she was no longer confined in the walls of Dusan's cell. Shooting to his feet, he rushed to the magic barricade that locked him in the small space. To the right of his cell was this conniving seeress, her hands circling the face of a guard, golden magic seeping from her finger tips into his nostrils before the poor man crashed to the floor.

Another snap of her fingers and she reappeared in the cell, this time accompanied by a very unconscious guard.

"Let's get to work, shall we?" A ghastly little wink from the seeress and Dusan, too, fell to the floor.

*****

-Elska's P.O.V.-

Today was Saturday, and that gave Elska time to bask in her lady in waiting duties. On the weekends, she was not required to complete any combat training, and the young lady found that to be quite the luxury.

Three days had passed since the attack and Elska's wounds were healing quite nicely. The young woman could now walk without limping, which she found very nice since Fandral and Thor would finally quit asking her if she wanted to be carried down the stairs. She very much appreciated the gestures, but did not think the Asgardian Court would feel quite the same.

One morning, Thor had come into Queen Frigga's study to ask if Elska might join him for breakfast just this once. Interest piqued, the queen suggested they join him instead. Flustered by her offer, Thor gave a boisterous, uncomfortable laugh before stifling it suddenly and sitting awkwardly beside the pair. Queen Frigga and Elska shared same expectant look as they continued sipping their tea and taking small bites of their morning cheese and biscuits.

"Yes, well," he started, clearing his throat. "Elska, you must know that I have considered you one of my dear friends since before this lady in waiting business, yes?" He looked worried, like their friendship was a secret he forgot to tell her about.

"Of course, Thor," her brow furrowed as she grew concerned, wondering what could be on his mind. "Thor, is everything alright?"

"Yes, no, I mean yes everything is alright," he stumbled over his words. "Elska, I have never shared the same opinion of you as my father." The queen watched her son curiously. "I always saw you as my friend, the Valkyrie, the spirit who was destined to protect my home. I was always so proud to be your friend. I still am."

He paused, gathering his thoughts before continuing.

"I know that I may come off daft, my brother has made such conclusions apparent to me, but I was never oblivious to your situation," he closed his eyes at this point. "For that, I am truly sorry. It means that there has been no excuse for my standing by while my father and my people have dragged your good name through the dirt simply for your parentage."

"Thor, I can assure you-" The young man held up a hand, cutting Elska off.

"I know," He smiled, shrugging and opening his eyes. "I know you will forgive me because you are an extraordinary person and you have forgiven me every other time I have wronged you in our friendship. For this, though, for this I must earn my own forgiveness. For too long have I feared my reputation with my father and my people. I am not afraid anymore. No one, I repeat, no one, will ever treat you the way those weaponsmen did, the way my father has. Not while I have anything to say about it."

"May I hug you, my prince?" Elska beamed at Thor, her heart swelling with gratitude.

"Only if you do not call me that again," he laughed, rising from his seat to embrace her.

As Elska sat back down, the queen continued watching her son.

"You are becoming quite the kingly young man," she held her hand out for him to take. "I consider myself lucky to have seen this moment of your growth." Thor kissed his mother's hand.

"Thank you for allowing me a moment of intrusion upon your morning," he began walking to the door.

"Thor?" He turned around as his Queen Frigga called him.

"Yes, mother?" he asked.

"Would you like to formally join us for breakfast this morning?" she asked her son, although truly not giving him the option of saying no. She was already waving the servant in the room to bring in more food and tea.

"Yes, of course," he laughed, sitting back down.

"And this is not purely so I can use your skills after as a sparring dummy for Elska's combat magic training," she wrinkled her nose, shrugging her shoulders innocently.

Elska remembered that day fondly. Palace life was interesting, offering both ups and downs, but she was happy to be there. Her new friends were quickly becoming people she did not want to lose.

She had also been spending more time with Loki over the past few days, meeting often in the evenings to spend time in the library, learning together. While their sessions often began with study and instruction, they tended to end in discussions of life and joking around with one another. He was at last beginning to open up to her, telling her a bit about his former wife, Sigyn, and his brief century outside the palace.

When Loki spoke of Sigyn, Elska noticed he didn't seem entirely sure how to feel about the woman. He still would not tell her what happened between the two of them, but she had asked Sif and Fandral one day after training. With forlorn faces, they told her.

Sigyn and Loki married after mere weeks of courting. Soon, they'd had a son together whom they named Nari. They adored him, and Loki found a certain peace in being near his son. The boy became his world, his reason for living. Elska remembered the little one from Loki's single visit to the palace during his marriage. He had Loki's eyes, but his hair was lighter, a golden color. Even at a young age, he was gifted in magic; he'd turned Elska's broom into a frog.

After one of Loki's mischievous reigns, the giantess Skadi saw to it that a wolf murdered the couple's son, tearing the Nari apart. In the midst of Loki's weeping, the woman used his own son's entrails to chain him to three boulders. She placed a snake over his head, venom dripping slowly but constantly onto the young man's face. He writhed in agony, and his screams shook the Nine Realms.

Elska remembered those moments, when the ground would quake and shrieks would pierce the sky.

Sigyn, beside herself with grief, found her husband shackled by the remains of their own child, their Nari. Using a bowl to catch the venom before it fell to Loki's forehead, she dutifully stayed by the man she loved. When the bowl filled, she would carry it to a nearby tree, pouring it over the roots.

And then, one day, when emptying out the bowl, she never came back. Loki cried out for her, and still she did not come. Thor heard his brother's screams and found him, miserable and in horrid form. According to Sif, Thor was barely able to speak in the days after finding Loki. His brother's condition stunned him speechless, and he swore vengeance on both Skadi and the woman who broke Loki's heart.

Fandral told Elska they never did learn what became of Sigyn, but that Odin granted Loki an annulment of the marriage. Four hundred years had passed, and Loki still found himself unable to trust his heart with anyone else. The Warriors Three believed that the whole incident drove Loki deeper into himself and his wicked ways.

Hearing the story, Elska felt herself ache for  the man who was quickly becoming her best friend. She could not even fathom the amount of pain he must have gone through in those days. She knew, however, that she could not let Loki find out what she had been told. It was something that he would come to trust her with in time, and if he did not wish to tell her ever, that was okay. It was his trauma, his own story to process.

Learning of Loki's past also convinced Elska that perhaps she would not pursue him as anything more than a friend. Despite her growing attraction towards the young prince, she did not want to risk their friendship for a relationship that he may not be ready for.

At the end of the day, life would go on, and things would progress as the Norns saw fit.

*****

Presently, Elska and Queen Frigga were walking through the palace gardens before the evening feast, aiding servants as they began their decoration planning for the Festival of the Golden Apples of Idunn. The queen often asked Elska for her opinion, which she eagerly gave. Perhaps she could bring a touch of the lower district's preparation process into the palace and Asgard's upper district.

"Perhaps an archway of marigolds could be crafted to mark the entrance to the palace?" Elska suggested.

"Oh yes, I do think that would look quite lovely," the queen smiled at her lady in waiting.

The two continued chattering, the guard King Odin customarily ordered to accompany them keeping closer to them than usual. As they walked, Elska noticed the paranoia he hid very poorly. His eyes were glued to Queen Frigga, and Elska could have sworn he rolled his eyes at one of the woman's earlier statements.

Well now, that is strange, she thought to herself.

"My dear sir," she turned to him, hoping to get a good look at him, his face, his features, anything that would help her visualize his doorway. "Have you any suggestions for decor?"

"Well, I would-" Clearly startled by Elska's question, he stumbled through his sentence. "I would, I believe, most likely hang golden streamers." He ended his suggestion in an uncertain tone, but shook his head as if proud of his spontaneous idea. His eyes were golden, his skin clearly accustomed to the sunlight. He looked uncomfortable in his armor, and he more waddled than walked in the bulky get-up. As he spoke, Elska built his doorway - a disarray of worn wooden planks, the handles rusted.

"Golden streamers," the queen held a finger to her chin, looking around the area. "You know, I think that could work." She gestured for one of the garden staff to write down the suggestion.

Elska thought about excusing herself as to sneak off to a perch where she could watch the man unseen, and peek into his mind. This notion was quickly waved away, though, as she worried the suspicious man might attempt some treasonous act against Queen Frigga.

Instead, she suggested they rest on a nearby bench.

The queen continued discussing preparations for the festival with the staff, giving Elska the opportunity to turn her focus to the guard. She was still unpracticed in telepathy, and she prayed it did not take her too long to read the strange guard. Amazingly, the man failed to notice her eyes boring holes into him as she opened the doorway to his mind, the hinges creaking.

"How am I supposed to make contact with this mutt if she is constantly side-by-side with the queen?" Elska heard the man ask himself. His name calling threw her off, and she found herself in front of closed doors once again.

Mutt? Elska frowned. I suppose that means me. She tried to shrug the insult off, reminding herself it wasn't the worst thing she'd been called. Wondering why in the Nine Realms he would find it necessary to speak to her alone, she opened the doors to his mind once more.

Unfortunately, he had already moved on from his current thought topic, now simply frustrated with the boredom he was enduring as the festival plans were made.

This discovery left Elska troubled, and she pondered why he could possibly wish to speak to her. Perhaps the All-father had instructed him to give her some sort of warning, inform her that her new status did not keep her from his scrutiny. She did not know whether to avoid the conversation or wish it to be over with already.

Apparently she had been encompassed by her thoughts for quite sometime; it took Queen Frigga several nudges to retrieve Elska from her own mind.

"My apologies, my queen," she curtsied.

"You are forgiven," the queen looked at her apprentice peculiarly. "Are you troubled, my dear?"

"Not troubled so much as contemplative," Elska attempted to play off the situation as a moment of self-reflection.

"I understand, you and I are alike in this way," Queen Frigga rose from the bench, picking a flower from the bush beside her and placing it in Elska's hair. "Why don't we make our way back inside for the evening feast?"

"At your pleasure," Elska replied, motioning for the queen to lead the way. "How is the All-father faring?" She asked, hoping to hear more about the thief she'd seen sentenced.

"He is much more stressed now that the festival is much closer," she started. "With the thievery in the merchant district, he is planning to increase security. That being said, he is unsure of where to pull guards from and where to add them in."

"That is quite the predicament," Elska said, keeping her eye on the guard now walking in front of them. He seemed significantly more interested than before. "Have you managed to learn any more about the incidents in the merchant district?"

"Unfortunately, no. It would seem our prisoner has rethought his plans of cooperation," the queen frowned. "He is refusing to speak at all, now."

Elska perceived the smirk that now made its way to the guard's lips.

Odd, she thought.

They continued their walk, moving their chatter to much lighter topics. Queen Frigga told Elska of an upcoming ball where she planned for the young woman to make her first formal appearance as lady in waiting to the Asgardian Court. Elska had one week to prepare, but the queen promised she would do everything in her power to help.

As they reached the main hall, the queen bid Elska farewell. As she left, Elska turned her attention to the guard who had accompanied them. Strangely, the man had disappeared.

*****

Elska had sat silently munching her dinner for the entirety of the evening feast, pondering the guard, his thoughts, and his seemingly unfitting looks and glances. She was oblivious to the world around her, and as her friends stood to leave the hall, they realized she was still absorbed within her thoughts, sitting and staring into space.

"Elska?" Thor called, and still she sat.

As they exchanged concerned glances, Volstagg returned to their table, nudging the girl back into reality.

"Oh, are we leaving?" Elska stood, completely unaware of their stares.

"You seem to be much more entertained by your own mind than our company," Fandral remarked, annoyed.

"Perhaps I have reason to ponder, have you considered that?" Elska replied, a stony look on her face.

"Care to share with the group?" he shot back.

"Not here," she said. Elska had planned on telling them, but she wanted her own time to process the events. She also believed that the news of a rogue guard might not go over very well if the whole of the Asgardian Court found out.

Her statement confused her friends, and they were now more concerned with the details of what she was thinking about than the lack of attention she'd been giving them. They began making their way to Thor's chambers to talk in private.

Elska had quickly learned that Thor's chambers seemed to be the group's personal den. It would certainly explain all the plates and cups she had cleaned from his room while she was still a servant in the palace. She certainly did not mind their seclusion to the eldest prince's room; it was a cozy, pleasant place. A hearth on the far wall was constantly lit, and in front of it stood a round wooden table where his company could sit comfortably and talk. When the deep blue curtains were open, the sun streamed in and there was no need for candle light. When the sun went down and the candles were lit, they created a wondrous vanilla scent, mixed with a bit of rain.

Taking her usual seat on the lounger next to the hearth, Elska looked over to her friends now seating themselves around the table. As Loki filed in last, he took a seat beside Elska. Today, he sat seemingly closer to her, and their legs nearly touched. Reminding herself of the decision she'd made earlier, she returned her thoughts to the task at hand - relaying the news of the strange guard to her friends.

"I think we may have a rogue guard in Asgard," Elska got straight to the point. "I have little evidence, but the actions of the guard in question were too peculiar not to mention."

She recounted the story, from the odd sentiment she'd heard in the guard's mind to his actions following. The first portion of her story was rather interesting to tell; Fandral asked her if she'd ever read his mind. Telling him she didn't like to pry, he said that was "just too bad" as he "often pictures himself naked." Sif scoffed, Hogun shook his head, Thor and Volstagg burst into laughter, Loki stared daggers into the man, and Elska looked at her hands while the scarlet embarrassment made itself at home on her face.

After that, she made sure they no longer deviated off topic.

"I would have simply assumed the All-father had a scolding in store for me if not for the strange actions that followed," Elska finished. "I would have at least attempted to get the conversation over with had he not completely disappeared after walking the queen and I back to the palace."

"He smirked?" Fandral asked. "I didn't know palace guards knew how to smile."

"Just because most of them do not find you funny does not mean they do not smile, my friend," Volstagg patted his friend reassuringly, a mocking smile on his lips.

"Does the same guard accompany your walks each time?" Loki spoke for the first time since they had entered the room.

"No, it differs depending on who is available when we take them," Elska appreciated that it seemed her worries were at last being taken seriously.

"But you could pick him out in the event you saw him," Hogun continued the questioning.

"Yes, absolutely," After her response, Loki rested his elbows on his knees, folded his hinds together and used them as a head rest. Closing his eyes, he looked like a child in prayer to anyone who had not observed his thinking process.

"Perhaps we could go find him, scour the palace for him?" Thor suggested, earning a nod of agreement from the Warriors Three.

"Who is to say that he hasn't already retired to his quarters?" Elska posed. "What would we do, knock on every door until we find this one man?"

"She is right," Loki sat back up. "It would be futile to even try searching the palace. There's too many guards and we do not have a clue as to their schedules. We do not even have a name."

"So what do you suggest, we just sit around and wait for this rogue guard to do who knows what?" Sif, like the others, wanted to put this threat to bed.

"I suggest we wait until we know more," Loki held his hands up, attempting to calm any rising tempers. "We can not play any cards until we know what sort of hand we have been dealt."

"I agree with Loki,"Elska looked each of her friends in the eye. "Besides, it seems he wants to find me. Perhaps he will come to us."

Each giving their own huff of surrender, the topic was put to rest for the time being.

[autolovecraft]

Neither did his old physician Dr. Davis, who died years ago.

Over the door, however, the high, slit-like transom in the brick facade gave promise of possible enlargement to a diligent worker; hence upon this his eyes long rested as he racked his brains for means to reach it.

It must have been midnight at least when Birch decided he could get through the transom. Clutching the edges of the aperture, he sought to drain from the weakened undertaker every least detail of his horrible experience. It may have been just fear, and it may have been fear mixed with a queer belated sort of remorse for bygone crudities. Instinct guided him in his wriggle through the transom, and in the crawl which followed his jarring thud on the damp ground. Dusk fell and found Birch still toiling.

He was the devil incarnate, Birch, just as I thought! Finally he decided to lay a base of three parallel with the wall, to place upon this two layers of two each, and upon these a single box to serve as the platform. Whether he had imagination enough to wish they were empty, is strongly to be doubted. Dusk fell and found Birch still toiling. He had, it seems, planned in vain when choosing the stoutest coffin for the right grave.

He had even wondered, at Sawyer's funeral, how the vindictive farmer had managed to lie straight in a box so closely akin to that of the diminutive Fenner. In this funereal twilight he rattled the rusty handles, pushed at the iron panels, and wondered why the massive portal had grown so suddenly recalcitrant. Perhaps he screamed.

And so the prisoner toiled in the twilight, heaving the unresponsive remnants of mortality with little ceremony as his miniature Tower of Babel rose course by course. It may have been fear mixed with a queer belated sort of remorse for bygone crudities. The tower at length finished, and his body responding with that maddening slowness from which one suffers when chased by the phantoms of nightmare. At last the spring thaw came, and graves were laboriously prepared for the nine silent harvests of the grim reaper which waited in the tomb. He had, indeed, made that coffin for Matthew Fenner; but had cast it aside at last as too awkward and flimsy, in a fit of curious sentimentality aroused by recalling how kindly and generous the little old man had been to him during his bankruptcy five years before. He confided in me because I was his doctor, and because he probably felt the need of confiding in someone else after Davis died.

I'd hate to have it aimed at me!

To him Birch had felt no compunction in assigning the carelessly made coffin which he now pushed out of the way in his quest for the Fenner casket. For an impersonal doctor, Davis' ominous and awestruck cross-examination became very strange indeed as he sought to drain from the weakened undertaker every least detail of his horrible experience. The practices I heard attributed to him would be unbelievable today, at least to such meager tools and under such tenebrous conditions as these, Birch glanced about for other possible points of escape. Dusk fell and found Birch still toiling. The vault had been dug from a hillside, so that the coffins beneath him rocked and creaked. In another moment he knew fear for the first time that night; for struggle as he would, he could not but wish that the units of his contemplated staircase had been more securely made. It was generally stated that the affliction and shock were results of an unlucky slip whereby Birch had locked himself for nine hours in the receiving tomb of Peck Valley; and was a very calloused and primitive specimen even as such specimens go.

Horrible pains, as of savage wounds, shot through his calves; and in his mind was a vortex of fright mixed with an unquenchable materialism that suggested splinters, loose nails, or some other attribute of a breaking wooden box. In time the hole grew so large that he ventured to try his body in it now and then, shifting about so that the coffins beneath him rocked and creaked. He would not, he found, have to pile another on his platform to make the proper height; for the unexpected tenacity of the easy-looking brickwork was surely a sardonic commentary on the vanity of mortal hopes, and the coffin niches on the sides and rear—which Birch seldom took the trouble to use—afforded no ascent to the space above the door. In this funereal twilight he rattled the rusty handles, pushed at the iron panels, and wondered why the massive portal had grown so suddenly recalcitrant.

He always remained lame, for the great tendons had been severed; but I think the greatest lameness was in his soul. He had not forgotten the criticism aroused when Hannah Bixby's relatives, wishing to transport her body to the cemetery in the city whither they had moved, found the casket of Judge Capwell beneath her headstone. The undertaker grew doubly lethargic in the bitter weather, and seemed to outdo even himself in carelessness.

Neither did his old physician Dr. Davis, who died years ago. The light was dim, but Birch's sight was good, and he did not get Asaph Sawyer's coffin by mistake, although it was very similar. I've seen sights before, but there was one thing too much here. It was just as he had recognized old Matt's coffin that the door slammed to in the wind, leaving him in a dusk even deeper than before. Great heavens, Birch, but you always did go too damned far! Birch was lax, insensitive, and was concerned only in getting the right coffin for the platform; for no sooner was his full bulk again upon it than the rotting lid gave way, jouncing him two feet down on a surface which even he did not care to imagine.

He could not walk, it appeared, and the overhead ventilation funnel virtually none at all; so that he was wise in so doing. That he was not an evil man. He would not, he found, have to pile another on his platform to make the proper height; for the hole was on exactly the right level to use as soon as its size might permit. I'll never get the picture out of my head as long as I live. He was merely crass of fiber and function—thoughtless, careless, and liquorish, as his easily avoidable accident proves, and without that modicum of imagination which holds the average citizen within certain limits fixed by taste. And so the prisoner toiled in the twilight, heaving the unresponsive remnants of mortality with little ceremony as his miniature Tower of Babel rose course by course. When he perceived that the latch was hopelessly unyielding, at least to such meager tools and under such tenebrous conditions as these, Birch glanced about for other possible points of escape. When he perceived that the latch was hopelessly unyielding, at least to such meager tools and under such tenebrous conditions as these, Birch glanced about for other possible points of escape.

He confided in me because I was his doctor, and because he probably felt the need of confiding in someone else after Davis died. He cried aloud once, and a little later gave a gasp that was more terrible than a cry. In this funereal twilight he rattled the rusty handles, pushed at the iron panels, and wondered why the massive portal had grown so suddenly recalcitrant. For the long-neglected latch was obviously broken, leaving the careless undertaker trapped in the vault, a victim of his own oversight. Birch to insist at all times that his wounds were caused entirely by loose nails and splintering wood. In another moment he knew fear for the first time that night; for struggle as he would, he could not shake clear of the unknown grasp which held his feet in relentless captivity. Whether he had imagination enough to wish they were empty, is strongly to be doubted. As his hammer blows began to fall, the horse outside whinnied in a tone which may have been encouraging and to others may have been just fear, and it may have been encouraging and to others may have been mocking. He gave old Matt the very best his skill could produce, but was thrifty enough to save the stoutly built casket of little Matthew Fenner for the top, in order that his feet might have as certain a surface as possible. You know what a fiend he was for revenge—how he ruined old Raymond thirty years after their boundary suit, and how he had chosen it, how he had chosen it, how he had been certain of it as the Fenner coffin in the dusk, and how he had chosen it, how he had chosen it, how he had been certain of it as the Fenner coffin in the dusk, and how he had distinguished it from the inferior duplicate coffin of vicious Asaph Sawyer. Finally he decided to lay a base of three parallel with the wall, to place upon this two layers of two each, and upon these a single box to serve as the platform. But it would be well to say as little as could be said, and to let no other doctor treat the wounds. There was nothing like a ladder in the tomb.

Over the door, however, the high, slit-like transom in the brick facade gave promise of possible enlargement to a diligent worker; hence upon this his eyes long rested as he racked his brains for means to reach it. Steeled by old ordeals in dissecting rooms, the doctor entered and looked about, stifling the nausea of mind and body that everything in sight and smell induced. Over the door, however, the high, slit-like transom in the brick facade gave promise of possible enlargement to a diligent worker; hence upon this his eyes long rested as he racked his brains for means to reach it.

The body was pretty badly gone, but if ever I saw vindictiveness on any face—or former face. The borders of the space were entirely of brick, and there seemed little doubt but that he could shortly chisel away enough to allow his body to pass. Tired and perspiring despite many rests, he descended to the floor and sat a while on the bottom box to gather strength for the final wriggle and leap to the ground outside. Certainly, the events of that evening greatly changed George Birch. The skull turned my stomach, but the other was worse—those ankles cut neatly off to fit Matt Fenner's cast-aside coffin!

[sneakyninjacat]

Your Happiness

Author:  X-Breath of Fresh Air-X

Submitted by: @chillinlikestrawberryfillin

Link: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12702470/1/

“IT WON’T WEAR OFF!” Zen flopped face down on his bed screaming his frustration into the sheets.

The muffled sound of his anger made Obi laugh. “Are you doing alright there Master?”

Zen let out an exasperated sigh, “I don’t know Obi, it’s just like the old days when Mitsuhide would follow me around everywhere, I felt so stifled you know?”

Obi listened quietly while Zen vented his feelings. Sitting in his Master’s room like this gave him a sense of serenity that he couldn’t find in his own quarters, it made him lazy and he had taken many an afternoon nap on the prince’s couch.

“I take our dynamic for granted, he’s there, but he gives me space and when he gets weird like this it really messes with me.”

“So that’s must be why you two fight all the time,” Obi observed.

Zen rolled onto his back staring at the ceiling. “Obi stay in here with me here for a while.” Zen’s soft request came from the bed.

Obi’s eyes widened in surprise. “Whatever you say Master…” he turned away from the bed so Zen couldn’t see his expression and gazed out of the window into the darkness that stretched over Clariness.

Stay. It was something he wasn’t used to hearing, and he was always unsure of how to react.

In an attempt to lighten his Master’s mood he gave a half-hearted attempt at a joke, “Well why don’t I sing you a lullaby? I’ve been told I have a beautiful voice.”

“Never mind get out,” came Zen’s blunt and unimpressed reply.

Obi chuckled and remained quiet basking in the silence that blanketed the room.

He recalled their journey back from Tanbarun and the conversation that he had with the Prince while they were in the baths.

“I mean that for you too Obi, I want all of you to be happy.”

He struggled with the idea since they arrived back in Clariness wondering where his happiness lay. Was it here in Clariness kingdom? Or would he be leaving soon to some other far and distant land?

Such sweet words his Master shared with him that day, but he wondered if someone like him truly deserved to find happiness. His past was coloured with years of blood, lies and shadows solely for the purpose of fulfilling whatever mission it was he was assigned.

He wasn’t proud of the work he had done, and he wondered when it all became too much that he had made the decision to walk away. His hand absentmindedly traced the jagged scar across his chest; his last mission had almost cost him his life, could that have been it?

No definitely not, he was not afraid of death his life held no worth unless it was to ensure the success of a job at any cost.

Such a poor existence he led, but he did not grieve for the life that he left behind. He preferred serving under a Master, someone to hold the reigns and decide his fate. Besides, the lives that he protected here in Wistal castle were much more valuable than any money he could have received from his previous jobs.

Zen’s breathing had slowed signifying that he had finally fallen asleep probably exhausted from the day’s events.

Obi stood from the ottoman, walking toward the bed taking in his Master’s sleeping face reinforcing that the trust he shared with the prince was implicit. He grabbed the sheet, and gently placed them over Zen’s sleeping form, before quietly exiting the room.

Outside he almost ran headlong into Kiki. He placed a slender finger to his lips and gestured for her to accompany him down the hall.

“Good evening Miss Kiki.” he greeted her cheerfully once they were far enough away from Zen’s quarters.

“Obi, I didn’t know you were still here.” she didn’t sound surprised, Kiki had become accustomed to his presence as one who stood beside Zen and for that she was grateful, the prince needed more people outside of herself and Mitsuhide that he could trust and share his thoughts and feelings with. Both Obi and Shirayuki had been able to fill that void.

“Master asked me to stay with him for a little while, he fell asleep not long after,” he explained.

Kiki nodded. “If Zen has gone to bed, I might as well call it a night. If you see Mitsuhide you can let him know I’ve retired for the night.”

They said their goodnights and Kiki left towards their dormitories.

“I think I’ll stay up a little while longer.” Obi lept out of the nearest window, headed toward the pharmacy to check on Shirayuki who was sure to still be there racking her brain to determine a cure for Mitsuhide’s condition.

Sure enough when he arrived the light was still on in her office, where she sat at her desk pouring over a large stack of books.

“Still at it Miss?”

He smiled when Shirayuki jumped startled from his sudden appearance, enjoying the surprised look on her face when he caught her off guard.

“Obi! You scared me what are you still doing up at this hour?”

He shrugged, “I figured with Mitsuhide still so out of it, there was a pretty good chance that I would find you here after hours working away to find a cure especially since Master is too stubborn to address the situation himself.”

Shirayuki stopped halfway through turning a page, looking thoughtful. Obi froze wondering if he had gone too far.

“I mean…It would be good for Mitsuhide to get back to being himself.” Obi laughed nervously, peeking a look at her face, but she didn’t look upset with him, just fiercely determined.

“You’re right Obi,” she said looking directly at him.

Obi swallowed hard, Shirayuki’s emerald eyes bore into his very soul and he felt something stir in his heart. Miss always had a way of making him feel grounded, like this place, here in Wistal castle right next to her side was where he was meant to be.

Their closeness was a result of circumstance, but their friendship had grown far beyond that of just mistress and attendant.

“You’re hardly the type to make fatal mistakes.” Trow’s statement rang through his mind and it made him wonder.

“Miss, can I ask you a question?” Obi asked, eyes still locked with hers.

Shirayuki nodded before he continued.

“What does it mean to find happiness?” he watched as the different emotions played out across her face. He could tell that she was caught off guard by his question, but the gears were turning in her mind to give him some sort of answer.

“Well Obi, I think finding happiness is to find your true purpose in life, something that brings you joy, something that keeps you going and makes you feel like you’re on the right path.”

Obi could tell that she had thought about this before, perhaps when she had first come to Clariness. Her answer made sense, and he wondered when his purpose, his sole reason for existing became the girl sitting on the stool in front of him.

“Does that answer your question?” she inquired still watching his face, his expression had changed and for a second she could see the sadness in his eyes.

“Yes, Miss it does.” He gave her a bright unreadable smile, that definitely did not fit the changed atmosphere of the room.

If Shirayuki was anything, she was observant and spending as much time together as they did she had picked up some of his habits, the light-hearted jokes he would make to diffuse a situation, the deliberate eye contact when inquiring about something serious.

He was a master of sidestepping a question he didn’t want to answer or absentmindedly massaging his shoulder and looking off distractedly while looking like he wasn’t eavesdropping.

Obi did not lie, he always told the truth regardless of the circumstance and he rarely dropped his smile, but the unguarded look in his eyes, this was new for her.

“Obi…Could I ask you a question?” His smile faltered a bit.

“Of course, anything for you Miss,” he answered politely.

“Have you ever found happiness?” For a fleeting moment, he considered letting his silence speak for him. But he wasn’t sure what expression he was wearing on his face and didn’t want her to be confused or embarrassed for asking him such a direct question.

“It’s like I’ve left apart of my soul with these people, and I am unable to act of my own free will without it.” His statement to Trow echoed in his ears.

The flecks of gold in her eyes danced in the soft candlelight and silence stretched between them as Obi considered what he would say.

After another moment she broke eye contact, looking a little disappointed she flushed pink.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean…” she fidgeted nervously with the corner of her skirt.

Obi absently took a step toward her and she looked up surprised at his sudden movement as he knelt down on one knee before her.

Shirayuki blushed an even brighter shade of red taking in her attendant’s disposition in front of her.

“Obi…what are you-” her words died on her lips as he looked up at her ocher eyes meeting emerald.

“Miss, my sole purpose is to protect you with my life.” Shirayuki was taken aback by his response.

He crossed a hand over his heart before he continued. “Master made me your first line of defence, and I do not take that job for granted, my happiness is ensuring your security and safety when Master cannot.”

Shirayuki’s heart thrummed in her chest as the weight of Obi’s words sunk in. She was his purpose, his happiness, his reason for living and…"

“Obi…” tears sprang to her eyes, but she couldn’t stop them and she frantically tried to wipe them away.

Obi stiffened, he hadn’t been prepared for her reaction and immediately regretted being so honest about his feelings. He couldn’t help it, and he couldn’t lie to her either, but he hoped that he hadn’t said too much.

“Miss!” Obi’s eyes widened in horror at the tears now streaming down her face. “I’m so sorry!” he desperately waved his hands in front of him searching for a way to make her stop.

“Please, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to make you cry!” Zen would punish him for sure if he found out.

Shirayuki let out a small laugh at the shocked expression on his face, wiping away the last of her tears.

“No, I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting that answer.” she apologized tearfully.

Obi gave her a nervous smile like he was expecting her to break down again at any second.

“I told you before Miss, you should be careful what you wish for.” he scratched nervously at his cheek waiting for her to regain her composure.

He hadn’t thought about the effect his words might have on her and inwardly cursed himself for being the cause of her tears. She was special to him in ways that she could never know and he knew that no matter how much he considered it, he would never be able to leave this place unscathed.

“Is that why you came after me in Tanbarun?” she spoke so softly he almost didn’t catch it, and she didn’t realize the double meaning in her words.

They had briefly spoken about what happened after the pirates had kidnapped her in Tanbarun, something he would never forgive himself for, and he had made it very clear to her that he wouldn’t listen to anything she had to say on the matter.

Obi nodded slowly unsure of how he should respond. The conversation had taken a turn into dangerous waters and he needed to remember his station.

“Miss, the prince charged me with your protection, it was my responsibility. You were kidnapped, and you had to endure so much terror and uncertainty because I didn’t do my job.” his statement was void of any emotion.

“But-” she tried to object, but he held up a hand to silence her.

He never wanted her to be in that position again, it was a non-negotiable matter. It wasn’t only that he had come after her, it was that he had volunteered to go in his Master’s stead. Obi had known waiting for them to arrive at the castle would have wasted precious time, he wasn’t capable of keeping himself there knowing that Shirayuki was in danger and he was faster tracking the enemy alone.

“It can never happen again,” he silently promised himself.

They sat together in silence, and the tension caused Shirayuki to shift uncomfortably in her stool. This light-hearted conversation they were having had turned serious and she hated the way Obi’s face looked stoic and unreadable, shadows dancing ominously around him in the flickering candlelight.

“Obi…could you promise me something?” Shirayuki asked quietly.

Obi considered her request, a promise? What could he possibly promise her? Was he even capable of keeping a promise to someone like Shirayuki?

She didn’t wait for a reply. “Obi I want you to promise me, that although your purpose has tied you to me, you will never lose sight of who you are and whatever makes you most happy even if Zen has ordered you to remain by my side.”

Obi was a bit taken aback, was she really suggesting that he disobey Master if it was no longer something that made him happy? He tried to make sense of it in his head, and he realized that she wanted him to have the freedom to make his own decisions, to choose his own path, and to discover his own happiness.

Warmth filled his chest as he looked at the girl before him. She would never know the truth, why he remained by her side, or even why Master had charged him with her protection. It was all by his own design.

“Miss, are you asking me to disobey the Master, and even if your life is in danger to leave you if my happiness isn’t invested in your protection?”

Her face remained fiercely determined. “Yes Obi, because your life is just as valuable as mine.”

This girl, she was too pure, he could never defile her with his tainted past, but at the same time, he wondered if she could be the only person brave enough to navigate their way through.

Obi wished the ground would swallow him whole. It took everything in him not to close the distance between them, gather her in his arms and tell her that would never happen, she didn’t know what she was asking of him.

He wasn’t the kind of man that would ever leave her defenceless as long as there was life still left in his body. His happiness was never in choosing his own path or aspiring to a greater purpose. With his skills, he was a valuable weapon to be used, a resource and the best line of defence against any impending threats.

For her to think of him as a person with a life of value; Obi understood why he was drawn to her and he would gladly lay down his life for his Master, for Shirayuki because their happiness, and purpose was so great it made him happy just to be allowed to stand in their presence. For Master to ask him to stay, for Miss Kiki to trust him, for Shirayuki to acknowledge him; he never asked to meet these people at Wistal castle, he never thought he would forge bonds with people or even care if they lived or died.

Obi realized without searching for it, he had found happiness in the shining light of Shirayuki’s heart and that was enough for him.

He crossed his fingers behind his back, “I promise.”

[cutemisto]

Armistice (part 3)

Holy shit it’s here

Warning: langst, lotor is a thirsty asshole, the paladins are suffering and so is Lance, implied klance 

Word Count: 1296

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 4

It was silent and dark in the Castle of Lions. The paladins were asleep, exhausted after the day's mission. Things were harder without Lance, to say the least. Hunk spaced out constantly; Keith and Shiro were on edge, jumping at sudden sounds; Coran and Allura attended to the castle, checking and fixing things that weren't broken; and Pidge struggled to cope with the loss of yet another family member.

It's in these dark hours of what could loosely be called night that Shiro found the green paladin in the kitchen, illuminated only by their laptop and various other small machines.

"It's late," the older man called, flipping on the lights.

Pidge jumped slightly, squinting to adjust their eyes. They looked down at their hands and sighed. "I know... Why are you awake?"

"Couldn't sleep. I thought a midnight snack might help. You?"

"...I couldn't sleep either. How could I? Lance is out there somewhere with Lotor doing who-knows-what to him. I can't rest until I find something-"

"Pidge-" Shiro tried, but they continued on as if he weren't there.

"It's been three weeks since we last saw him. They could have cut off his arm, or leg, or tongue, or worse! He could be dead, Shiro! Or, he could be alive, being tortured to insanity as we speak! I've already lost one brother, I can't lose another!"

Pidge's breaths were labored. Tears welled in their eyes. Shiro stepped forward, pulling the younger paladin into his arms.

"That's not going to happen."

Pidge gripped at Shiro's shirt. They let out their grief-filled sobs, as their leader carded his fingers through their hair. When Pidge next spoke, it was weak and choked.

"I can't lose him too..."

"No one is losing anybody. We're gonna find him, and we're gonna bring him home." Shiro shifted so Pidge could face him. "But it's not gonna do anyone any good if you're too tired to function. Your lack of sleep shows."

It was true, Pidge had dangerously dark circles under their eyes. Their reaction time was slowing. They missed obvious things. Whether they wanted to admit it or not, Pidge couldn't keep living like that.

"But-"

"Please. Please get some sleep."

The green paladin hesitated, but soon gave in to Shiro's pleas. They nodded reluctantly, pulling out of their leader's grasp. The older man closed the laptop as Pidge started out of the kitchen, wiping the tear tracks from their cheeks.

Shiro walked Pidge back to their room. When they reached Pidge's door they said, "You didn't have to walk me back, you know."

"Would you actually have gone to sleep if I didn't?" The green paladin looked at the ground, ashamed. "That's what I thought. Get some rest."

Pidge opened their door. "I will. Goodnight, Shiro."

"Goodnight, Pidge."

Pidge slept for the next fourteen hours. No one bothered them.

  "Can you tell me something, Kitten?"

Lance crossed his legs, not meeting Lotor's gaze. The prince paced tauntingly in front of Lance's spot on the bed. The paladin picked at the gloves of his jumpsuit (his armor having been removed by Lotor personally). The prince took Lance's silence as incentive to continue (Lance had learned that Lotor liked silence. Too much talking meant punishment).

"Why did you join Voltron?"

Lance's brow furrowed. Why would Lotor want to know that?

"No one made you join," he reasoned. "You stayed away from Earth - from your family - on your own accord. You abandoned them. You let them believe you to be dead. You left them without a second thought."

"I didn't-"

"Do you know the worst part? The paladins are supposed to be your friends, yes?" Lotor braced his arms at Lance's sides, their faces mere inches apart. "Why haven't they let you go home? They know you miss it, don't they? Why haven't they showed you the kindness you deserve? Why have they kept you from those who love you?"

"Blue chose me. I had to leave-"

"I understand the green paladin is somewhat of a genius? Why couldn't they find a way for you to contact your family?"

"Pidge has their own family to find-"

"Why should their family matter more than yours?"

The faint gasp the escaped Lance's throat was enough to let Lotor know he'd succeed.

Lance's eyes were glossy with unshed tears. The prince's words slowly sunk in. Why hadn't he gone home? Why couldn't he at least talk to his family? Allura always stressed bonding and the paladins being in peak physical and mental condition, but no one could take any down time for him to find a way to contact Earth?

Lotor pressed a gentle kiss to the corners of Lance's eyes. He didn't realize he'd started crying.

"You don't need to waste your time thinking about your so-called friends." The prince took Lance's face in his hands. "You have me now, my Pretty Kitty. You have no use for teammates who aren't even trying to find you." At this, Lance's eyes widened. It wasn't a huge leap in logic. He wasn't important enough, anyway. "I'll keep you safe, Kitten."

The paladin's breath caught in his throat. He'd heard those words before from someone he loved. Someone who, apparently, couldn't be bothered to try and save him. Someone he gave his heart to, and lead him to believe he'd received his in return.

Turns out he'd been wrong.

  Sanity is a very fragile thing, and Lance's was crumbling. In the four weeks he'd been in Lotor's care, the paladin started to see and hear things.

It began with just his name. He'd hear people calling him: his mother, his best friend, his boyfriend (could he even call him that anymore? There's no way he still loves him after how long he's been away). Whenever Lance turned to look, he'd still be alone. Lotor never used the man's name, preferring 'Kitty' or 'Kitten.' Lance learned to ignore the calls, following the rule of 'if he hears his name, it's not real.'

These hallucinations evolved into laughter: Pidge's stifled giggles when Lance made a muttered comment during a diplomatic meeting only Allura really needed to go to; Coran's boisterous guffawing at one of Lance's stories as the pair cleaned the Castle; Keith's rarely-heard, unrestrained laugh as Lance poked at his most ticklish spots.

The paladin came to ignore this too. The only one who laughed was Lotor. His was a low, sinister chuckle that sent a shiver down Lance's spine.

He started to see things. Out of the corners of his eyes, Lance would see Hunk mixing something in a large bowl; his younger family members running by, playing tag or manhunt; Shiro and Allura discussing battle strategies.

Whenever he turned to look, they dissolved like his hope of rescue. Lance was alone. This is what he had to tell himself so as to not get his hopes up. He'd made the mistake of looking directly at his hallucinations far too many times. He stopped falling for it.

Lance knew it wasn't real (he'd resigned himself to the fact that his team didn't care), but that didn't stop his name from being called, or his friends' laughter, or the visions. It only made Lance fall faster and deeper into insanity.

The only time the world was in perfect clarity was when Lotor visited. As a result, Lance tried to prolong the prince's stay as long as he could, but Lotor was smart. He knew what he wanted from Lance and how to get it. The paladin's desperate and touch-starved state only made everything easier.

Lotor was winning.

He was Lance's beacon of light, saving the man from fumbling around in the darkness.

A darkness that consumed him.

A darkness he'd do almost anything to escape.

[xbreathoffreshairx]

“IT WON’T WEAR OFF!” Zen flopped face down on his bed screaming his frustration into the sheets.

The muffled sound of his anger made Obi laugh. “Are you doing alright there Master?”

Zen let out an exasperated sigh, “I don’t know Obi, it’s just like the old days when Mitsuhide would follow me around everywhere, I felt so stifled you know?”

Obi listened quietly while Zen vented his feelings. Sitting in his Master’s room like this gave him a sense of serenity that he couldn’t find in his own quarters, it made him lazy and he had taken many an afternoon nap on the prince’s couch.

“I take our dynamic for granted, he’s there, but he gives me space and when he gets weird like this it really messes with me.”

“So that’s must be why you two fight all the time,” Obi observed.

Zen rolled onto his back staring at the ceiling. “Obi stay in here with me here for a while.” Zen’s soft request came from the bed.

Obi’s eyes widened in surprise. “Whatever you say Master…” he turned away from the bed so Zen couldn’t see his expression and gazed out of the window into the darkness that stretched over Clariness.

Stay. It was something he wasn’t used to hearing, and he was always unsure of how to react.

In an attempt to lighten his Master’s mood he gave a half-hearted attempt at a joke, “Well why don’t I sing you a lullaby? I’ve been told I have a beautiful voice.”

“Never mind get out,” came Zen’s blunt and unimpressed reply.

Obi chuckled and remained quiet basking in the silence that blanketed the room.

He recalled their journey back from Tanbarun and the conversation that he had with the Prince while they were in the baths.

“I mean that for you too Obi, I want all of you to be happy.”

He struggled with the idea since they arrived back in Clariness wondering where his happiness lay. Was it here in Clariness kingdom? Or would he be leaving soon to some other far and distant land?

Such sweet words his Master shared with him that day, but he wondered if someone like him truly deserved to find happiness. His past was coloured with years of blood, lies and shadows solely for the purpose of fulfilling whatever mission it was he was assigned.

He wasn’t proud of the work he had done, and he wondered when it all became too much that he had made the decision to walk away. His hand absentmindedly traced the jagged scar across his chest; his last mission had almost cost him his life, could that have been it?

No definitely not, he was not afraid of death his life held no worth unless it was to ensure the success of a job at any cost.

Such a poor existence he led, but he did not grieve for the life that he left behind. He preferred serving under a Master, someone to hold the reigns and decide his fate. Besides, the lives that he protected here in Wistal castle were much more valuable than any money he could have received from his previous jobs.

Zen’s breathing had slowed signifying that he had finally fallen asleep probably exhausted from the day’s events.

Obi stood from the ottoman, walking toward the bed taking in his Master’s sleeping face reinforcing that the trust he shared with the prince was implicit. He grabbed the sheet, and gently placed them over Zen’s sleeping form, before quietly exiting the room.

Outside he almost ran headlong into Kiki. He placed a slender finger to his lips and gestured for her to accompany him down the hall.

“Good evening Miss Kiki.” he greeted her cheerfully once they were far enough away from Zen’s quarters.

“Obi, I didn’t know you were still here.” she didn’t sound surprised, Kiki had become accustomed to his presence as one who stood beside Zen and for that she was grateful, the prince needed more people outside of herself and Mitsuhide that he could trust and share his thoughts and feelings with. Both Obi and Shirayuki had been able to fill that void.

“Master asked me to stay with him for a little while, he fell asleep not long after,” he explained.

Kiki nodded. “If Zen has gone to bed, I might as well call it a night. If you see Mitsuhide you can let him know I’ve retired for the night.”

They said their goodnights and Kiki left towards their dormitories.

“I think I’ll stay up a little while longer.” Obi lept out of the nearest window, headed toward the pharmacy to check on Shirayuki who was sure to still be there racking her brain to determine a cure for Mitsuhide’s condition.

Sure enough when he arrived the light was still on in her office, where she sat at her desk pouring over a large stack of books.

“Still at it Miss?”

He smiled when Shirayuki jumped startled from his sudden appearance, enjoying the surprised look on her face when he caught her off guard.

“Obi! You scared me what are you still doing up at this hour?”

He shrugged, “I figured with Mitsuhide still so out of it, there was a pretty good chance that I would find you here after hours working away to find a cure especially since Master is too stubborn to address the situation himself.”

Shirayuki stopped halfway through turning a page, looking thoughtful. Obi froze wondering if he had gone too far.

“I mean…It would be good for Mitsuhide to get back to being himself.” Obi laughed nervously, peeking a look at her face, but she didn’t look upset with him, just fiercely determined.

“You’re right Obi,” she said looking directly at him.

Obi swallowed hard, Shirayuki’s emerald eyes bore into his very soul and he felt something stir in his heart. Miss always had a way of making him feel grounded, like this place, here in Wistal castle right next to her side was where he was meant to be.

Their closeness was a result of circumstance, but their friendship had grown far beyond that of just mistress and attendant.

“You’re hardly the type to make fatal mistakes.” Trow’s statement rang through his mind and it made him wonder.

“Miss, can I ask you a question?” Obi asked, eyes still locked with hers.

Shirayuki nodded before he continued.

“What does it mean to find happiness?” he watched as the different emotions played out across her face. He could tell that she was caught off guard by his question, but the gears were turning in her mind to give him some sort of answer.

“Well Obi, I think finding happiness is to find your true purpose in life, something that brings you joy, something that keeps you going and makes you feel like you’re on the right path.”

Obi could tell that she had thought about this before, perhaps when she had first come to Clariness. Her answer made sense, and he wondered when his purpose, his sole reason for existing became the girl sitting on the stool in front of him.

“Does that answer your question?” she inquired still watching his face, his expression had changed and for a second she could see the sadness in his eyes.

“Yes, Miss it does.” He gave her a bright unreadable smile, that definitely did not fit the changed atmosphere of the room.

If Shirayuki was anything, she was observant and spending as much time together as they did she had picked up some of his habits, the light-hearted jokes he would make to diffuse a situation, the deliberate eye contact when inquiring about something serious.

He was a master of sidestepping a question he didn’t want to answer or absentmindedly massaging his shoulder and looking off distractedly while looking like he wasn’t eavesdropping.

Obi did not lie, he always told the truth regardless of the circumstance and he rarely dropped his smile, but the unguarded look in his eyes, this was new for her.

“Obi…Could I ask you a question?” His smile faltered a bit.

“Of course, anything for you Miss,” he answered politely.

“Have you ever found happiness?” For a fleeting moment, he considered letting his silence speak for him. But he wasn’t sure what expression he was wearing on his face and didn’t want her to be confused or embarrassed for asking him such a direct question.

“It’s like I’ve left apart of my soul with these people, and I am unable to act of my own free will without it.” His statement to Trow echoed in his ears.

The flecks of gold in her eyes danced in the soft candlelight and silence stretched between them as Obi considered what he would say.

After another moment she broke eye contact, looking a little disappointed she flushed pink.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean…” she fidgeted nervously with the corner of her skirt.

Obi absently took a step toward her and she looked up surprised at his sudden movement as he knelt down on one knee before her.

Shirayuki blushed an even brighter shade of red taking in her attendant’s disposition in front of her.

“Obi…what are you-” her words died on her lips as he looked up at her ocher eyes meeting emerald.

“Miss, my sole purpose is to protect you with my life.” Shirayuki was taken aback by his response.

He crossed a hand over his heart before he continued. “Master made me your first line of defence, and I do not take that job for granted, my happiness is ensuring your security and safety when Master cannot.”

Shirayuki’s heart thrummed in her chest as the weight of Obi’s words sunk in. She was his purpose, his happiness, his reason for living and…"

“Obi…” tears sprang to her eyes, but she couldn’t stop them and she frantically tried to wipe them away.

Obi stiffened, he hadn’t been prepared for her reaction and immediately regretted being so honest about his feelings. He couldn’t help it, and he couldn’t lie to her either, but he hoped that he hadn’t said too much.

“Miss!” Obi’s eyes widened in horror at the tears now streaming down her face. “I’m so sorry!” he desperately waved his hands in front of him searching for a way to make her stop.

“Please, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to make you cry!” Zen would punish him for sure if he found out.

Shirayuki let out a small laugh at the shocked expression on his face, wiping away the last of her tears.

“No, I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting that answer.” she apologized tearfully.

Obi gave her a nervous smile like he was expecting her to break down again at any second.

“I told you before Miss, you should be careful what you wish for.” he scratched nervously at his cheek waiting for her to regain her composure.

He hadn’t thought about the effect his words might have on her and inwardly cursed himself for being the cause of her tears. She was special to him in ways that she could never know and he knew that no matter how much he considered it, he would never be able to leave this place unscathed.

“Is that why you came after me in Tanbarun?” she spoke so softly he almost didn’t catch it, and she didn’t realize the double meaning in her words.

They had briefly spoken about what happened after the pirates had kidnapped her in Tanbarun, something he would never forgive himself for, and he had made it very clear to her that he wouldn’t listen to anything she had to say on the matter.

Obi nodded slowly unsure of how he should respond. The conversation had taken a turn into dangerous waters and he needed to remember his station.

“Miss, the prince charged me with your protection, it was my responsibility. You were kidnapped, and you had to endure so much terror and uncertainty because I didn’t do my job.” his statement was void of any emotion.

“But-” she tried to object, but he held up a hand to silence her.

He never wanted her to be in that position again, it was a non-negotiable matter. It wasn’t only that he had come after her, it was that he had volunteered to go in his Master’s stead. Obi had known waiting for them to arrive at the castle would have wasted precious time, he wasn’t capable of keeping himself there knowing that Shirayuki was in danger and he was faster tracking the enemy alone.

“It can never happen again,” he silently promised himself.

They sat together in silence, and the tension caused Shirayuki to shift uncomfortably in her stool. This light-hearted conversation they were having had turned serious and she hated the way Obi’s face looked stoic and unreadable, shadows dancing ominously around him in the flickering candlelight.

“Obi…could you promise me something?” Shirayuki asked quietly.

Obi considered her request, a promise? What could he possibly promise her? Was he even capable of keeping a promise to someone like Shirayuki?

She didn’t wait for a reply. “Obi I want you to promise me, that although your purpose has tied you to me, you will never lose sight of who you are and whatever makes you most happy even if Zen has ordered you to remain by my side.”

Obi was a bit taken aback, was she really suggesting that he disobey Master if it was no longer something that made him happy? He tried to make sense of it in his head, and he realized that she wanted him to have the freedom to make his own decisions, to choose his own path, and to discover his own happiness.

Warmth filled his chest as he looked at the girl before him. She would never know the truth, why he remained by her side, or even why Master had charged him with her protection. It was all by his own design.

“Miss, are you asking me to disobey the Master, and even if your life is in danger to leave you if my happiness isn’t invested in your protection?”

Her face remained fiercely determined. “Yes Obi, because your life is just as valuable as mine.”

This girl, she was too pure, he could never defile her with his tainted past, but at the same time, he wondered if she could be the only person brave enough to navigate their way through.

Obi wished the ground would swallow him whole. It took everything in him not to close the distance between them, gather her in his arms and tell her that would never happen, she didn’t know what she was asking of him.

He wasn’t the kind of man that would ever leave her defenceless as long as there was life still left in his body. His happiness was never in choosing his own path or aspiring to a greater purpose. With his skills, he was a valuable weapon to be used, a resource and the best line of defence against any impending threats.

For her to think of him as a person with a life of value; Obi understood why he was drawn to her and he would gladly lay down his life for his Master, for Shirayuki because their happiness, and purpose was so great it made him happy just to be allowed to stand in their presence. For Master to ask him to stay, for Miss Kiki to trust him, for Shirayuki to acknowledge him; he never asked to meet these people at Wistal castle, he never thought he would forge bonds with people or even care if they lived or died.

Obi realized without searching for it, he had found happiness in the shining light of Shirayuki’s heart and that was enough for him.

He crossed his fingers behind his back, “I promise.”