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diaryofabeautyfiend · 4 years ago

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Small Time Witch (32)

S I X M O N T H S L A T E R

Vanaheim had been kind to you but it was time to make your next move. Loki had been pardoned on Asgard. The convergence was nigh and preparations for Malekith had begun. Asgard was fortified as a precaution. You thought maybe Malekith wouldn’t bother since the entire universe knew you had the stones. The small council was not so sure. They wanted you locked away in a secure location where he couldn’t find you. You wanted to fight. That’s all you seemed to want these days.

Malekith and Frigga have long been enemies. His brute murdered her when the dark elves invaded Asgard. You would only hide if she hid with you. Being ever stubborn she declined. You didn’t tell her what would happen but, because of your insistence, she could guess. “If it’s my time, it’s my time. I won’t hide.” Everyone in this family was ridiculously stubborn. You fit right in.

Loki fought you ad nauseam about expelling the stones. You refused to even entertain the thought until the convergence was over. He thought the stones were overtaking you. They changed your personality. You argued they just made you stronger and perhaps he was threatened by you. That never failed to spur him into a tirade about how dangerous they were and how no one knew what they were doing to you. The voice in your head told you otherwise. He would prattle on about how they seemed to speak for you. How you had changed. You never listened.

“Mortal are you listening?” It drove you insane when he called you mortal. Just a constant reminder that you were beneath him.

“I am. And I’ve asked you to please stop calling me mortal.”

“Well aren’t you? Are you now unable to die? Have I missed something?”

“As long as I have them I am.”

“And that’s why you shouldn’t have them. Where is my wife? You were not this war mongering battle hardened warrior when I first met you.”

“You prefer me weak? Too afraid of my own shadow?”

He knelt in front of you to look in your eyes. “I have never known you to be weak, Y/N. You were powerful enough.”

You laughed but the smile on your lips never met your eyes. “Just enough that I couldn’t ever take you.”

“Stop it. That’s never mattered to me.”

“Until I became stronger than you.”

He picked up a pillow off of the bed and smashed it into his face. He let out a deep growl out of sheer frustration. “Your new found obsession with power is exactly why I am worried. They need you. They are like parasites and you are their host. You feed them, darling. Of course they don’t want to give you up.”

“And what if I do release them? What then? Do we just wait for the next maniac to use them against us?”

“Then we keep them locked in the vault.”

“Oh yeah, because Odin’s vault has never been breached.”

“Only by me.” He hated fighting with you. Absolutely loathed it. You kept putting off the release of the stones but he wouldn’t give up. You were scared they would fall into the wrong hands. He was afraid they already had. The only other person who was in your corner was Odin.

Loki knew his father all too well. He was not interested in what you wanted but what your power could do for him. He treated you like his own sentient weapon. Your daddy issues completely clouded your judgement in regards to Odin. He doted on you. Called you his daughter. You lapped it up. When Loki or Thor would say something he would laugh it off and say they were jealous that he had a new favorite child. After Asgard was safe, they thought it was time for you to go back to Midgard for a while for an extended holiday. Maybe your family could talk some sense into you.

“My love. My little queen. Please don’t be cross with me. I am simply worried for your safety and sanity. Don’t you want to leave all of this behind? Perhaps we can start our family. I’ve longed to see you with child.”

Your voice was quiet, “That’s not my dream. It’s yours. You know how I feel about having children. Can’t we just go on forever having adventures?”

“Pet, I have had my fun. I just want to start a family and be settled. I don’t care if I ever ride into another battle. Children or not, I just want this constant upheaval to end. I quite liked our life on Midgard. I actually miss television. Why don’t we go back and rebuild our little cottage? Will you at least think about it?”

You kissed the tip of his nose, “I will. When this is all over, I will agree to take extended leave and visit my family.”

—————————————————————

The day Malekith invaded was like deja vu for Loki except he was not in the dungeon. The dark elves were unable to breech the outer reaches of Asgard so they moved on to Greenwich where he and Thor would meet. Against your better judgement (and certainly Loki’s), you jumped the portal to help Thor. You served as nothing but a distraction. Thor was nearly crushed by Malekith’s ship. Had it not been for Dr. Selvig, Thor would have been killed.

Your magic destroyed half of a library and a lot more property. When law enforcement arrived they thanked Thor for his help. You, on the other hand, were put in shackles and taken into custody. Thor tried to stop them but they were under strict orders from the World Security Council to take you in.

You tried to break free for your bonds but your magic wouldn’t work. “Stop resisting, Princess.” one of the Interpol officers shouted. They didn’t have regular guns pointed at you. They looked like ray guns or something you’d see in a sci fi movie. Thor rushed behind you asking where you were being taken. They muttered something about an Air Force base as officers held him back.

“I’m coming, little sister! Just hang on.”

They had you locked in the back of a van that was caged and padded. A thick metal partition separated you from the driver. The doors on the back were also thick metal. Three officers wearing helmets rushed in in a practiced military style drill. Keeping their weapons trained on you, one officer stood in front of you and pressed a button that magnetized your restraints. He stuck your hands to a small but sturdy loop on the bench you sat on. Another officer put a mutant inhibitor collar around your neck while the third jabbed a needle in your arm. “Nighty night, Princess.”

When you awoke your head was pounding. There was a jumpsuit on the small table next to you. On the floor were socks and slippers. The collar was pretty heavy and seemed to grab at your skin when you pulled. “It won’t come off Mrs. Odinson” a voice said. There was a speaker just above the door.

“Where am I?”

“Change into your jumps.”

“Where am I? Don’t make me ask again.”

“Change into your jumps, prisoner.”

You tried to use your magic but only a tiny spark flickered between your hands.

Your cell doors opened and a familiar face stood in front of you. “Ma’am. I’m Coulson. Come with me.”

“Wait. Aren’t you...”

“Dead? As in your husband killed me? Yeah. Something like that.” He stood in the doorway looking at you expectantly. “Unless you’d rather stay here.”

You followed behind him flipping off the speaker when you left. “Can you remove this collar, Coulson?”

“Please forgive me if I’m not super trusting.”

“Understandable I guess. Where are you taking me?”

“New York. Into S.H.I.E.L.D. custody. It’s the only way the US government will release you. Part of the MCA.”

“MCA?”

“Mutant Control Act. You’re an unregistered omega level mutant. Your powers, as defined by the government, are unlimited. You’re dangerous.”

“So when I’m on Earth, I am a prisoner?”

“When you’re on Earth? You think you’re leaving? You belong to us now.”

He took you along to an airstrip where you boarded a small plane. He helped you into your seat, shackled your wrists and ankles and bid you a safe flight.

——————————————————————

Thor was too scared to tell Loki you were captured. He would have been pissed at the both of you. If he thought you were in danger he would rip Midgard apart to find you. The only person he knew to contact was Steve Rogers.

In Tony’s infinite wisdom, he named Steve his successor of sorts. He called him the Chief Moral Compass of the company. That gave Steve all kinds of contacts and diplomatic immunity in 46 countries.

Steve met your flight at the base in New York. Coulson was thrilled to see Steve again but he wouldn’t release you. He got into the backseat and went with you to the facility where you’d be staying.

You waited for several hours in a holding room. You hadn’t eaten in a couple of days and your body was exhausted without the stones to prop you up. You fell asleep with your head on the table. Finally Steve came in to wake you.

“Hey, Y/N. You’re free to go. Get this collar off of her now!” he said to an agent.

“Can we grab something to eat? I haven’t had anything in a couple of days.”

He planted his hands on his hips and clenched his jaw. You were freaking Asgardian royalty and a human being. Surely that earned you some respect. He was livid. “Seriously, guys? You couldn’t have gotten her food? My apologies, Princess.”

“I would kill for a slice. Ever hear of Joe’s Pizza in Brooklyn?”

He smiled, “Best in New York. How do you know about that place?”

“I was in love with a guy from Brooklyn once.”

“Yeah? What happened?”

“He couldn’t handle who I was.”

Steve chuckled to himself, “Then he didn’t deserve you.”

——————————————————————

Pending a hearing, you were released to your mother’s care. You absolutely could not prevent Loki from coming any longer. When he landed you were sitting in the open space where your house would be built.

“This is the perfect spot isn’t it?” You were picking blades of grass and letting them fall through your fingers.

“Afelheim has ample space for cottage building. No cable though. I guess this rules out our extended holiday.” He sat next to you and you rested your head on his shoulder.

“I think this is our extended holiday. My hearing isn’t for another month.”

“You know what you did was careless and stupid right? Also incredibly arrogant. Thor didn’t need your help.”

“I know. I don’t know what came over me. It’s like I wasn’t thinking.”

“You weren’t. The stones were. While we’re stuck here, I’d like to get as many people as possible involved in removing them and healing you. That’s even if you can be healed. Your body could be riddled with cancer like poor Jane.”

“Well I’ve saved her from that fate.”

“Not yourself. If I lost you....”

“You’re not losing me.”

You snuggled against him and he kissed the top of your head. He no longer tried to hide his feelings from you. He was afraid. You just found each other again and he was afraid he would lose you. The old Loki would have run screaming. This Loki would fight for you. And, if he had to, he would follow you into Hel. Maybe he was selfish in that regard. He lost you once. Never again.

#loki of jotunheim #loki fanfic #loki of asgard #loki odinson #loki x you #loki x reader #loki smut #witch #mcu witches #small time witch

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cheshiresense · 5 years ago

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Could you do KoyoIchi (Swinging Pendulum), please? C: I have fallen in love with this ship ever since you posted those short one-shots (or whatever they are called) a while ago.

Hmm you didn’t include an AU and I’ve already done a KoyoIchi SP AU in the last batch, there’s not much else I can write for that I think. So how about KoyoIchi post-canon AU instead, where Ichigo’s human body gives out after the Quincy War, so he ends up splitting his time between SS and the Human world afterwards.

Edit: omg wtf did i do i went off i’m sorry this ended up semi-background pre-relationship KoyoIchi + like a dozen unrelated headcanons thrown in it’s a mess fml

1. It’s not usually done, he’s technically dead now (but not a Shinigami, not a Quincy, not a Hollow, and not even a Human anymore), but he has a lot of support from a lot of people - Kisuke has no qualms crafting him a gigai that would allow him to draw his blade even without stepping out of it, and Kyouraku basically gives him free run of Soul Society after they hammer out what Ichigo is supposed to do there considering he’s now stronger than the entire Gotei combined but also he’s technically only eighteen years old.

(It would be scarier, Kyouraku thinks, if Ichigo’s moral fibre hadn’t already proven itself superior.)

In the end, they settle it like this - Ichigo attends the Academy part-time for all the lessons Kisuke and Yoruichi and Shinji never bothered hammering into him because it was never important to the war, attends university in the human world, and the rest of his time is his do with as he pleases, whether that’s taking missions directly from Kyouraku, visiting with his friends in various squads and being roped into doing paperwork, or digging up yet another rebel faction or secret invasion out of the woodwork (”Please don’t dig up yet another rebel faction or secret invasion out of the woodwork for at least a month, Ichigo-kun. One month, you hear? We still haven’t finished cleanup from the last one.”).

Because it’s Ichigo, it works. it’s not like he wasn’t already coming and going from Soul Society when he was still human. The Shinigami have let him get away with far too much already to put restrictions on him now, especially considering he’s saved all their asses twice over now, and that’s not even counting all the trouble in-between. If there are some who complain, well, there are even more who are capable of making sure nothing ever comes of it.

So okay, no rebel faction, no secret invasion, but Ichigo’s not Ichigo without something to work towards, and he’s always wondered why the Shinigami side of his family was slumming it out in Rukongai when they’re supposed to be nobility like Byakuya and Yoruichi. The answer is simple enough - Aizen had mind-whammied everyone after Isshin ran off and fabricated a coup that resulted in assassinations courtesy of the Second Division before the remaining Shibas were ousted from Seireitei overnight.

(It was only too easy for Aizen to make them believe it.Nobody ever questioned whether or not the Shibas could. They had the power. They just never had the ambition, which nobody could understand.)

No way is Ichigo going to take that lying down. So he goes and yells at Kyouraku, who says it’s complicated and would take time, but Ichigo reminds him of the Visored and Kisuke and Yoruichi and Tessai, all let back in in the wake of the Winter War. If they could be pardoned, and rightfully so, why can’t the Shibas too?

“I’m not saying they can’t forever, Ichigo-kun,” Kyouraku says placatingly. “But Central 46 will want… assurances-”

“You mean they’re scared to let my family back in cuz they might still be a little bit pissed from having three-quarters of their members murdered in their beds,” Ichigo summarizes flatly.

Kyouraku sighs and gives up all pretenses of a neutral party. “If you have a better idea…” He waves a hand at the general situation, eyes dark and intent on Ichigo’s face.

Ichigo snorts and straightens up. “Yeah. It’s called ‘being too strong to fuck with’. The old bastards are in session right now, aren’t they? I’ll be right back.”

One day, Kyouraku muses as he watches Ichigo go, this will probably not work, and it’ll come back to bite them all in the ass. Then again, Central 46 has run Soul Society their way or no one’s way for far too long; Yama-jii had always given them too much power. They’d learned nothing from Aizen, so maybe Ichigo is exactly what they deserve, straightforward and running on emotion, but fair, always, and decent in a way that Kyouraku thinks most of their government has forgotten how to be, if they ever knew to begin with.

One day, even Ichigo’s threats won’t make Central 46 back down. But a god doesn’t bow just because someone demands it, no matter how important they think their bloodline or rank or status is. And Ichigo is probably the closest thing they have to a god these days. A god, with plenty of friends to back him up if he needs it.

So Kyouraku leaves him to it - better Ichigo than him, less headaches in the long run - and he isn’t at all surprised when Ichigo sweeps back into his office five hours later, expression grim but triumphant, reiatsu still writhing like a living shadow around him as he informs Kyouraku that his clan will be needing their old estate back.

Kyouraku pushes over the paperwork he’d completed an hour ago, authorizing the full restoration and compensation of the Shiba Clan. Ichigo smiles at him almost fondly, features only slightly tinted with a banked sort of inhuman rage that he carries around almost constantly these days - it’s three steps left of his cousin’s memory, with Hollow glinting in his eyes and the shade of his ancestor draped across his shoulders. He’s gone again in the next moment, off to tell his family the excellent news, and Kyouraku thinks it was probably a good thing Yama-jii died when he did. However reasonable Ichigo still is, he is no longer that boy with the too-forgiving heart who took the insults they served him with all the doormatted self-sacrifice of a storybook hero.

(He came back from the Soul King Palace equal parts pensive and victorious, with old eyes and reiatsu levels they could no longer sense and a terrifying sort of detachment when he looked at them all. But his friends had fallen on him without care, only relief, and the icy distance in Ichigo’s mien had melted. Kyouraku had understood though, in that moment, that Soul Society would stand only so long as Ichigo allows it.

He likes Ichigo, he genuinely does. Jyuushirou had too. That hadn’t stopped his old friend from attempting to leash him, which had almost backfired in the end and literally only hadn’t out of the goodness of Ichigo’s heart, and it doesn’t stop Kyouraku now from catering to Ichigo’s whims. Only time would tell if this approach will work better or worse than Jyuushirou’s law-abiding one, and in the meanwhile, it doesn’t hurt that Ichigo doesn’t actually want anything Kyouraku doesn’t want to fix anyway. Soul Society has been his home for over nine centuries now. He does not want to see it burn. If that means dragging it kicking and screaming into a new era with a boy their world created to fight their wars for them looking over his shoulder, then Kyouraku will do it gladly.)

It takes almost three months for the Shibas to gather again and move back in. They’d scattered, after their exile, all across Rukongai, but Kuukaku is their head, and Ichigo has single-handedly wrested back their birthright for them, and when both of them call, the rest of the clan answers, trickling in in twos and threes and fours, suspicious and wary and not inclined to trust anyone but their own, but they come, and the first thing they do is raise wards around their home strong enough to withstand a siege from the Royal Guard.

“That’s everyone?” Ichigo asks, looking from the civilians to the once-Shinigami to the children. All in all, they barely make thirty total, and over half of them are from their retainer families.

Kuukaku shrugs tiredly at his side. She’s never looked older than she does now. “You know Isshin’s staying in the Human world for your sisters, but other than that, pretty much. Everyone else is dead.” She pauses. “Well, except one, but I doubt he’ll come. Kaien’s wife’s brother,” She adds for Ichigo’s benefit. “Koyonagi Senzou. He was the Kidou Corps Commander before Tessai, demoted to Academy teacher after some mission the higher-ups covered up. He was the only one the Gotei kept on after we were kicked out. Never found out whether he actually wanted to stay or if Central 46 insisted he stay. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was the latter. He’s wasted at the Academy, too useful to kill but too dangerous to let out of sight. As far as I know though, he’s still there.”

Ichigo frowns as he digests all this. “And he won’t come by to see you guys?”

Kuukaku shakes her head. “I doubt it. He was never really one of us.”

“Why not?”

Kuukaku shrugs again. “He never wanted to be. I didn’t know him very well, Ichigo, but he loved exactly one person, and she was more or less killed under Kaien’s watch. It wasn’t Nii-san’s fault of course, but she was sent out on a mission given to her by the Thirteenth Division lieutenant, and she never came back. He attended her funeral. That was the last time any of us saw him, although our Shinigami members reported glimpses of him in and around the Academy over the years.”

Ichigo hums. Kuukaku gives him an arch look and then snorts. “Shall I prepare a room for him anyway when I start renovations?”

Ichigo grins at her. “That’d be perfect, Kuukaku, thanks.”

2. Of course Senzou has heard of Kurosaki Ichigo. You’d have to be living under a rock in a cave in a different dimension to not have heard of Soul Society’s God-Slaying Saviour.

And of course he’s a Shiba. That lot always was more trouble than they were worth, too powerful for their own good, and too reckless or too confident or too stupid - Senzou has never really figured out which - to hide it from the world or at least play it down to keep the world from turning on them because of it. No subtlety at all. And look where it got them in the end.

In the aftermath of the Quincy War, he hears of the Shibas’ return to the city, and he can feel the power in the wards they almost immediately erect around their home. For protection, no doubt, because old dogs can learn new tricks after all, but to Senzou, it just looks like a very pretty cage. Why they - or the Visored for that matter - came back to serve the very people who betrayed them in some of the worst ways possible is beyond him.

Not that it makes much of a difference to Senzou. He’d ignored them for decades before their exile; no doubt, he’ll happily ignore them for decades more. They’re related only through an unfortunate marriage, and considering both parties are long dead now, what little obligation he had to them likewise expired years ago.

But, he thinks, as he watches an increasingly familiar head of orange hair slide into his classroom, someone forgot to give that memo to the Shibas’ newest pride and joy. Even Senzou - with expectations that literally no student has ever met - can admit that Kurosaki Ichigo attending Kidou lessons is a complete waste of time. Senzou spends his days teaching idiots the incantations for each of the ninety-nine standard spells, trying not to scratch his own eyes out when he has to grade their papers, and making sure they don’t blow themselves up when they practice producing them. Even the most advanced of the sixth-years can only manage spells in the fifties range, with a fifty-fifty chance of average-at-best success.

Ichigo memorized all the incantations in the first two weeks he was here. His first essay on the use of forbidden Kidou - instead of a regurgitation of laws citing the illegality of them that everyone else turned in - became a dissertation on their pros and cons, arguing that every case in which they’re used should be thoroughly investigated not only by Central 46 but also by a panel of Shinigami, and why the laws against them should be amended to allow for unexpected circumstances. The brat even had the gall to throw in quotes of interviews he’d conducted, and if it had been anyone else claiming to have received firsthand and eye-witness accounts of forbidden Kidou usage from names like Tsukabishi Tessai and Hirako Shinji, Senzou would’ve set them on fire for being such a bad liar. He couldn’t even fail the boy for incomplete research because the books he referenced might not be found in the Academy library but they all had Urahara Kisuke stamped on them.

And his practicals? A high level of reiatsu usually means the caster would have a harder time performing Kidou, especially when they’re first starting out, too much power shoved into the lower-level ones, too little control to hold together the higher-level ones.

Not Kurosaki Ichigo. That boy spent the first week putting holes into everything except his targets, went away for a weekend, and then came back with singed eyebrows and bags under his eyes but a resolute set to his jaw and picture-perfect Kidou at his fingertips. He didn’t even need the incantations anymore. And to make him even more of an anomaly, he could perform spells right up into the nineties. In fact, the higher the difficulty and reiatsu output, the better he was with them.

There is nothing the standard Kidou curriculum from any year can teach him. His learning curve is insane, and his essays read like he’s gearing up to go toe to toe with Central 46, never mind an Academy class.

He doesn’t need to be here. Senzou knows it. The other students know it. And Ichigo most certainly knows it too. And with the special allowances granted by the Soutaichou himself, he doesn’t even need permission to skip. The boy’s been given unprecedented free reign to come and go as he pleases, and yet he comes back, week after week after week. He doesn’t even have the decency to sleep through Senzou’s lectures. He’s a flickering candle in the corner of Senzou’s eye, all flame-bright hair and brown-gold-brown eyes and shadows that won’t stop moving, and that unwavering attention he pins on Senzou every time makes it damn clear exactly what he’s waiting for.

Shibas. No subtlety whatsoever.

The bell rings. Bags are packed. There’s a scramble for the door.

“Kurosaki-chan,” Senzou calls in bored tones without looking away from sadistically adding an extra assignment to the board. If no one notices, that’s their problem. “Stay behind.”

There are some interested whispers and prying eyes, but one glance from Senzou sends them scurrying away. And then Ichigo is there, sauntering up with his perpetual scowl - not at all like Kaien this one. The two are as charismatic as each other, from what Senzou’s observed. But Kaien had people wrapped around his finger because he had a knack for putting them at ease and making them feel special and making himself both approachable and worth looking up to. Ichigo on the other hand scared a lot of people when he first showed up at the Academy with an armful of books and a gruff disposition that didn’t lend itself to making allies, let alone friends. He wasn’t arrogant, just introverted, but it made him the kind of genius that people resented.

And then Senzou caught him in the hallway one day, looming over a mousy-looking fifth-year student huddled on the ground, and at first, he’d thought Kurosaki was bullying her. Everyone’s golden boy, picking on a shrinking violet of a girl. But then Ichigo had stooped down and gathered up all the books spilled across the floor before offering them back to the girl. The girl had still cowered, but she’d accepted them, and when Ichigo reached out and hauled her to her feet, she’d flinched but hadn’t moved away once she was on her feet again and Ichigo had let her go.

Then Ichigo had told her, quite clearly, “Next time someone can’t keep their hands to themselves, break their fucking wrists. Or kick them in the balls. Or tell them to fuck off. Start a scene so they have to stop. Do something. Don’t just fucking stand there.”

And then he’d stormed off, and the girl - Fujiwara, from the Kyouraku family - had stared after him, all baby-duckling wide eyes. And the next time Senzou had happened across her, it was just in time to see her chuck one of her textbooks at the head of one of her bullies. Said bully had staggered back, and then purpled with anger, already moving forward with fists clenched. Half a second later, he was on the ground and wailing from a broken nose, and Ichigo was standing over him, murder glowing gold in his eyes and black reiatsu streaking his hair and pooling at his feet.

Nobody had touched Fujiwara after that, especially since the girl had taken to following Ichigo around. Ichigo had still scowled like no one’s business, he’d also been seen kicking Fujiwara’s ass in one of the training rooms, they studied together in the library, and they ate together in the courtyard when Ichigo happened to stay for that.

And gradually, other students joined in, tentatively, some nervous, some with hero worship in their eyes, all hopeful. Ichigo never turned any of them away, but one day, he started a debate in the library about laws that would take species outside of Shinigami into consideration that ended with raised voices and enthusiastic opinions that got the whole giggling bunch thrown out, and another day, he suggested a free-for-all game of tag where only Kidou could be used to catch each other which ended with everyone sweaty and gasping and wanting another round, and in calmer in-betweens, he answered when the others finally asked him about what Hueco Mundo was like, what the Material world was like, what Arrancar were like, what Humans were like, and he never lost his temper with them even when he had to explain something more than once.

He was still blunt and borderline rude and not at all like Kaien, like a Shiba, not outgoing or friendly or instantly personable. But the charisma was the same, people couldn’t help but be drawn to him, and it took weeks for Senzou to realize he was just as susceptible to it as Ichigo’s growing circle of friends within the Academy. So susceptible he was literally stalking him everywhere just to see what other chaos he was sowing.

That’s probably why he wants the boy gone so badly. He’d sworn he’d never forgive the Shiba Clan for taking his sister away from him, the only leeway they got was that he wouldn’t actively go after them either because Miyako wouldn’t want him to, and it wasn’t as if it was difficult to keep such a vow. He’d never liked the Shibas anyway. When they’d been slaughtered and cast out, and no assassins had shown up at his door in the aftermath, all he’d thought was good riddance.

But Kurosaki Ichigo…

Under any other circumstances, Senzou would be thrilled. Here is a student who challenged the world around him and brought a storm to the Academy.

But this isn’t any other circumstances, and as Ichigo stops in front of his desk, a beast glinting behind his eyes and a dead king’s inheritance pulsing in the shadow splashed at his feet, Senzou meets his gaze and slices a mocking smile in his direction.

“Kurosaki-chan,” He starts, smirk widening when Ichigo’s eyebrows twitch. “The Academy’s star part-time pupil. What exactly are you still doing in my class?”

Ichigo shrugs. “I signed up for it, your lectures aren’t boring, and I’m trying to figure you out.”

Senzou feels his smile grow fixed. “And how is that going for you?”

Ichigo scruffs a hand through his hair, pauses briefly to frown tug at the shoulder-length strands like he wants a haircut, and then shrugs again. “You’re the one following me around all the time, what do you think?”

They stare at each other for a moment.

“Let me make one thing very clear, Kurosaki-chan,” Senzou finally says. For once, he doesn’t feel like weaving his usual mind games. “I don’t know what your clan has told you, but I have no desire to play happy families with them. I know you Shibas tend to be all about bringing family together, but I am not one of you.” His lip curls. “Do not push this issue any further than you have. Am I understood?”

Ichigo cocks his head, something animal in the way he watches Senzou now. “Kuukaku agreed to reserve a room for you at the compound if you ever want it, but you don’t have to if you don’t want to. I’m not here for that.”

Senzou’s eyes narrow. “Then what are you here for?” He gives the boy a sardonic look and cuts him off preemptively. “Besides class.”

Ichigo grins, quicksilver bright, and something in Senzou recoils with surprise.

“I don’t really have a plan,” The boy tells him. “But I’m getting my family settled back in, and making sure nobody can fuck with them ever again.” He aims another considering look at Senzou. “If you don’t wanna be all buddy-buddy with them, that’s fine. It’s not any of my business if you wanna hammer your shit out with them or not. But you were connected to them even if you didn’t like it, and that doesn’t change just because that connection’s gone. So I guess what I wanted to figure out was whether or not someone’s fucking with you too.”

Senzou opens his mouth, then closes it when nothing comes out. How embarrassing. He settles for a derisive smile that feels a touch too brittle on his face. “I don’t need your protection, God-Slayer.”

Ichigo immediately makes a face. “Don’t call me that. And I didn’t say you did. But when I start something, I like to see it through, so I thought I’d check just to be sure.”

Senzou scoffs with disbelief. “Then why didn’t you just ask?”

Ichigo rolls his eyes like he thinks Senzou’s being dumb on purpose, which is a new experience for Senzou. Usually he’s the one rolling his eyes.

“Well you didn’t want me to, did you?” Ichigo says, looking exasperated now. “You were curious about me, and all the stalking was recon or whatever.” He levels a thoughtful look on Senzou before snorting with something like amusement. “You are the type. But yeah, anyway, now you know. If you need help, the offer’s open indefinitely. But I’ll stop coming to class if you don’t want me here.”

He trails off, arching an eyebrow in question. When Senzou doesn’t reply, the boy shrugs once more, adjusts the strap of his bag, and turns to leave.

Senzou… Well, he’s pretty much been on the back foot this entire conversation, hasn’t he? There’s something about Ichigo that just… throws him off. It’s frustrating. Unnerving.

And yet… Ichigo didn’t push. Kaien would’ve pushed. The rest of his family would’ve pushed. It’s what Shibas do when they want something - push and push until they get what they want, a single-minded persistence hidden under their signature cheerful geniality that makes the rest of the world believe them to be the nicest clan in all of Soul Society.

Miyako had said no, the first time Kaien had asked to court her. But he’d asked again and again, until she’d said yes, and she’d been happy to, Senzou had made certain of that, she’d been perfectly willing, had found a good man in Kaien and been glad she’d finally given him a chance.

But she’d said no first, and Kaien had pushed, and it just… rubbed Senzou the wrong way. Because once upon a time, Shinigami had plucked them out from Rukongai, dusted them off and provided the training and shuffled them into the military, all expenses paid, but no had never been an option, and that had become all the more true after Miyako became such a public, vulnerable figure, not only Third Seat of the Thirteenth but also wife of a clan head.

When Central 46 had come knocking, interested in Senzou’s prodigal skills with Kidou, they hadn’t even needed to drop Miyako’s name for Senzou to know that saying no then wasn’t an option either. He’d been pushed into their service, and it had taken Miyako’s death for Central 46 to finally leave him alone, solely because he had no one else for them to hold over his head.

It’s not the Shibas’ fault, not really. It’s been long enough that Senzou can admit that, if only to himself. Miyako’s choices were her own, and even if she hadn’t married him, Central 46 probably would’ve found another way to get to him through her. But Senzou has always been petty and vindictive at heart, and he’ll blame the Shibas for the rest of his life, because at the end of the day, they’re just like all the other nobles in this place. What they want, they’ll push until they get, because privilege is in their blood.

So Senzou flounders when Ichigo doesn’t push his advantage. The boy is already halfway to the door, and somehow, Senzou is certain, if he doesn’t say anything now, Ichigo won’t come back. It’s so wildly different from what he’d expected, so unexpectedly not-like-a-Shiba, that he has to fumble for something to say for an unforgivably long moment. Him, fumble. This whole conversation has been one unexpected surprise after another, and later, Senzou will blame the shock for his next decision.

“Wait.”

Ichigo stops and turns back. He doesn’t look surprised, but neither does he look triumphant or even just smug.

Senzou suppresses a grimace. “The school has nothing left to teach you about Kidou.”

Ichigo nods in unabashed agreement.

Senzou snorts softly. “But I do. And I guarantee it won’t bore you.”

Ichigo blinks, and a crooked smile slowly curls at his lips. It doesn’t erase his frown, but it softens his brow and makes his features look less harsh. “You sure you wanna teach me?”

Senzou scoffs and pulls out his chair. “I wouldn’t have offered otherwise.” He gives himself a mental shake and drags a grin back onto his face, sharp enough to cut. “Sit your ass down so we can figure out a schedule, Ichi-chan.”

Ichigo instantly loses the smile and glowers like a thundercloud. Senzou all but basks in the familiarity of it, inwardly relieved at being back on steadier ground.

“Don’t call me that, asshole!”

He probably shouldn’t have offered, should’ve just let him go and good riddance. But Senzou hasn’t been taken so off-guard so quickly in a long time, and it had been frustrating and unnerving but underneath both…

There is a storm waiting on the wings of Seireitei, and Kurosaki Ichigo is the one holding its reins.

And Senzou. Senzou is just curious enough to want to see what that storm will bring.

3. “Did your hair grow three inches over the weekend?” Senzou asks the moment Ichigo walks into one of their weekly lessons.

Ichigo dumps his bag in a chair and scowls at him. His hair has been swept up into a bun, which is certainly a feat considering the last time Senzou saw him three days ago, it had only brushed his shoulders.

“This body is seriously shit at regulating itself,” Ichigo grumbles. “I didn’t have time to go to the barber’s, and Kuukaku threatened to shave me bald if I tried to chop it off with my Zanpakutou again.”

Senzou squints at him. “You realize that’s not normal.”

Ichigo rolls his eyes. “I didn’t have a knife on me, and it was getting in the way, okay? Don’t judge.”

This time, it’s Senzou’s turn to roll his eyes. “That wasn’t what I meant, Ichi-chan. Shinigami bodies don’t suddenly grow several inches of hair overnight.”

“You’d be surprised,” Ichigo mutters before shaking his head, and Senzou watches as black reiatsu crackles lazily across his shoulders. “I’m just kinda weird. Excess reiatsu plus funky biology apparently means random hair growth and dye jobs.” He shrugs. “Kisuke’s still figuring it out.”

Senzou hums noncommittally. “Urahara Kisuke. Your… mentor?”

Ichigo pulls out the books Senzou had given him last week, along with a notebook and the latest essay Senzou had assigned him. All are tagged with multiple sticky notes.

“Kind of?” Ichigo sounds like he isn’t all too sure himself and even less concerned about it. “He’s… Kisuke.”

Senzou eyes him curiously. “You don’t care that he basically engineered half your life then?”

Ichigo stills. Then he glances up with Hollow-gold eyes, and Senzou smiles and meets them without flinching.

“Why would you say that?” Ichigo asks in even tones, but the office suddenly seems darker.

Senzou shrugs carelessly. “Urahara has a bit of a reputation for… working outside the box. It’s not just me who thinks it, Ichi-chan. There aren’t many who knew him who wouldn’t take one look at you and guess that he had something to do with your existence.” He pauses. “Although admittedly, I suppose the worst of these rumours come from the ones who want him back most. Central 46 doesn’t benefit half as much without his skills in assassination and technological development. It must’ve been a blow to their egos when Urahara refused their invitation to come back after the Winter War. They might be hoping enough unease over any other projects he’s bound to be working on would be enough to make him come back under their protection-”

“That’s not called protection,” Ichigo growls, and Senzou stops, words withering on his tongue.

There is something about the black abyss of Ichigo’s unblinking stare that makes some base instinct in even Senzou want to back away, run, throw himself at this eldritch entity’s feet and beg for mercy. He squashes the urge and smiles like monsters don’t exist.

Ichigo blinks. The darkness in his eyes recede, and the room clears again, bright with the sunshine pouring in through the open window. A shadow passes over his face, and when he opens his mouth to speak, Senzou catches a glimpse of fangs.

“Well that sucks,” The boy remarks succinctly like the silhouette on the far wall behind him doesn’t outline a grinning mouth with too many teeth. “It’s none of their business anyway. Kisuke prefers his shop. He’s his own boss there, and he likes it that way. Central 46 will just have to deal with Kurotsuchi.”

He flips open his notebook and shoves his essay over. “Now come on, we only have an hour today, and you said you’d go over this bit with me.”

Senzou nods and drops the subject. But three weeks later, he laughs when whispers tell of five Central 46 members retiring from their seats, replaced by one Shiba elder, one Shihouin, one Kuchiki, and two seated officers from the Gotei, one of which has served long enough that she doesn’t mind semi-retiring, and the other who prefers more time at a desk job over constant fieldwork. Both have roots that trace back to the slums of Rukongai. Twelve days after that, the Soutaichou announces a new official position filled by Urahara Kisuke - Human World Liaison - and a team of his choice, effective immediately.

“You don’t waste any time,” is Senzou’s greeting the next time he sees Ichigo after that debacle.

Ichigo, seated on the edge of the Academy roof and surveying the rest of Seireitei (like a ruler looking over his kingdom), waves a dismissive hand that trails solid shadows through the air. “People who’ve never been Shinigami shouldn’t be allowed to judge them. Kyouraku-san agreed.”

“I’m sure he did,” Senzou agrees, fighting near-hysterical glee down to a chuckle as he drops down to sit beside Ichigo.

He wonders if this is what it looks like, for a man to crown himself without even trying while most of the world cheers him on.

He glances to the side, arching an eyebrow when he finds Ichigo watching him. “Yes, Ichi-chan?”

There’s a disappointing lack of irritable twitching this time, but the thoughtful look Ichigo has levelled on him instead is more interesting.

“I have finals starting next week,” Ichigo says abruptly. “So I won’t be coming by the Academy until I’m done.”

Well, less interesting than he’d expected. “I’ll pick up your assignments for you,” Senzou offers, feeling generous. It’s not every day Central 46 takes a beating. He doesn’t care about Aizen, but if there was one thing he did right, it was butchering the judiciary authority on the way out. One group of them anyway.

Ichigo snorts. Rude. “Thanks, but I was thinking, you could join me down there for once instead of me coming up to meet you here. I want to concentrate on my university exams, but I have to eat and stretch my legs sometime. If you want, I could show you around campus. Kisuke can lend you a gigai so you won’t even have to request one from the Twelfth and wait for the acquisition forms to be approved.”

The first thing Senzou wants to say is I can’t. Because he can’t. Central 46 can’t make him do shit anymore, but short of slaughtering his way to the Senkaimon or disappearing into the Rukongai and living out the rest of his life as a fugitive, he can’t leave Seireitei. He doesn’t hate it here so much that he’d prefer either of those options, but the truth of the matter is, this is as much his home as it is his prison.

(A very pretty cage indeed.)

So he can’t, but Ichigo isn’t stupid, he should’ve already figured it out, or guessed, if not from the start after whatever his family told him about Senzou, then in the five months since. Stuck at the Academy because he’s too much of a wild card to go on missions.

Ichigo isn’t stupid, but neither is he cruel, not to those he has no quarrel with - that much Senzou can accept as truth. That he’s bringing this up anyway…

So, “How?” He asks instead, raising his eyebrows when Ichigo actually barks out a laugh. And then his eyes widen when Ichigo twists fingers through the air, and a Garganta springs into existence beside them.

“This can take us there,” Ichigo grins. “And no one will ever even know if you don’t want them to.”

Senzou stares from him to the murky void and back again. “…Why?”

Why are you doing this? Why would you offer?

They’ve known each other for five months, six if you count the one Senzou spent studying him. Most of that time has been spent in private tutoring sessions, and it’s benefitted Senzou as much as it has Ichigo. He technically shouldn’t be teaching Ichigo even half the Kidou Corps secrets he’s already imparted, but Ichigo makes it worth his while - quick on the uptake, a challenge in the sparring ring, and a breath of fresh air from the tedious drudgery of teaching his other students. Occasionally, they even go out for meals, tucked away in a quiet corner of a restaurant or a food stand. And sometimes, Ichigo brings souvenirs back with him from his trips to the Human world - fiction, toys, tech, trinkets the living modern age has that Soul Society does not - and he gifts them not only to his friends amongst the students but also to Senzou these days.

It’s a friendlier relationship than Senzou thought he’d ever have with anyone outside his sister, doubly so for a Shiba. Then again, Ichigo’s barely that, thank the Soul King, even if he was raised by one of the worst examples of that clan.

“Why not?” Ichigo counters, like it isn’t downright unnatural for anyone to do anything for Senzou, mostly because he’d rather stab himself in the face than fall into anybody’s debt. People avoid him when they can because he is cruel, and that’s the way Senzou likes it. He has high standards and little tolerance for things that bore him. Nothing bores him as easily as people do.

Until Ichigo.

“You don’t wanna be stuck here all the time,” Ichigo continues. “And I have an easy way out. So yeah, why not?”

Senzou turns his gaze to the horizion, past the sprawling streets and buildings of Seireitei to the sun setting beyond the wall.

He looks at the Garganta again. When Ichigo doesn’t move to stop him, he reaches over and lets his fingers drift past the mouth of the portal. The void is cool to the touch but not freezing the way he’d half-imagined.

He retrieves his hand. “A campus tour then?” He muses lightly, and Ichigo’s features brighten in response.

Senzou almost sighs. He thinks he might understand now. Ichigo is a little more like a Shiba after all. It’s just that he’s also a little more manipulative than one would expect of him. Senzou had all but told him not to interfere, to play hero for someone else, so Ichigo had backed off. But he’d figured out what Senzou wanted anyway, and his solution was to offer another way out instead.

Persistent, without disrespecting boundaries, and cunning enough to find another answer. In that regard, he’s nothing like his Shinigami relatives, who are always so loud about their intentions.

Charismatic, but… discreetly, almost insidiously so.

Senzou blinks. And then glances sharply at Ichigo again. His eyes look bronze in the light of the sunset, with the heat of his Hollow just beneath it. He has his head propped up against one loose fist, elbow balanced on one knee.

He smiles, almost guileless if not for the possessive resolve in the curve of that expression, and Senzou thinks, unbidden, ah. That’s how he won their devotion.

He gave his friends and family and allies everything they wanted, everything they needed, threw his heart and soul and body into every fight in their defense, shattered himself and rebuilt himself to protect the ones he’d taken under his wing, and so when the time came, how could any of them have done anything less for him?

It had probably not even been something Ichigo had done consciously from the beginning, it was just how he was built, through a quirk of the genetic fun park Urahara had ensured, or perhaps from the numerous near-death experiences life had forced him into. Ichigo probably hadn’t been aware, at first.

But he definitely is now.

Senzou thinks Ichigo is only just starting with him. Senzou’s already been claimed, because - for whatever reason - Ichigo wants him.

It probably says a lot that even this early on, even having already figured it out, Senzou… can’t say he cares enough to protest.

A Shiba in his bones, but leagues more dangerous by far.

4. The Human world is bigger than he remembers. Size-wise, it’s the same. But there’s a lot more in it than he thought, and he isn’t sure if that’s due to the passage of time or because he’d never spent more time than strictly necessary here when he took missions on the material plane back in the day.

Either way, he’s free to explore it now, even if just a small part of it for the time being. The campus of Ichigo’s school is large and sprawling, and with Urahara’s gigai and fake IDs and some Human money (he trades them for a box of seal traps even Tsukabishi Tessai wouldn’t know of because they’re Senzou’s own creation, and Urahara smiles like he understands and doesn’t object), it’s easy enough to come and go once Ichigo drops him off.

“You bought an apartment?” Senzou asks the first time Ichigo shows him the place and lets him poke around inside. It’s recognizably a living space, but it’s foreign to him all the same, with a generous open floor plan and wide windows, marble countertops in the kitchen and dark wooden cabinets and a bathroom constructed of polished chrome and gleaming tile.

“Kisuke bought me an apartment,” Ichigo corrects, flopping down on the couch where he has papers and books spread all over the coffee table and floor. His hair’s shorter today, barely past his shoulders, tipped black and hanging loose. Senzou is vaguely curious about what the boy’s classmates think of it.

“I wanted my own place,” Ichigo explains. “But Kisuke took one look at the rent I could afford and practically frog-marched me here instead. Then he had Yoruichi-san steal all my stuff and move it here, and then he said I might as well just take it because staying would be less work than moving all my stuff back.” He snorts, but it’s a fond sound. “The asshole. It’s not like I’d want to turn this place down. But it’s a bit much, so I try to help him with his research projects whenever I can in exchange.”

Senzou digests this with briefly raised eyebrows but says nothing. Urahara probably considers this another desperate form of making amends, and Ichigo probably knows it too. He probably wouldn’t have accepted otherwise.

“There’s a guest bedroom,” Ichigo calls after him as Senzou wanders down the hall to investigate exactly that. “Rukia’s stayed overnight, Renji too, and a few of my human friends have as well, but I always clean the place after they leave, so if you wanna stay tonight, feel free.”

That’s all the conversation between them for the rest of the day. Ichigo already showed him the campus the day before, and after tossing him a key to the apartment, Senzou is free to wander off and explore on his own.

Two weeks of regular visits to the Human world, and he still feels a little awkward in one of the shirts and jeans and sweater that that Quincy friend of Ichigo’s had shoved on him before whirlwinding back out again, apparently neck-deep in the middle of his own finals project.

“It’s Ishida, he makes clothes for everyone,” was Ichigo’s unhelpful clarification. “You help by walking around and looking good in them.”

So Senzou does, and part of him feels like he should stand out more, but nobody gives him more than a passing glance at most. Well, some do, but he recognizes shallow attraction well enough to ignore it.

In the end, he finds himself spending the most time in the libraries and lecture halls, slipping into the back of a classroom and listening to lessons he actually has to pay attention to to even understand some of what the professor is talking about. The science lectures mostly go over his head, and he’s never been interested in that field anyway so he doesn’t bother putting much effort into following them. It’s the literature courses he likes the most. There aren’t any at the Academy, not like this, and there are so many more books in so many more languages and genres than Senzou ever thought there existed in the world.

Soul Society suddenly seems so small in comparison.

It’s always an exercise in patience every time he has to return to Seireitei to teach now. After the first two weeks of almost daily trips to the Human world, he orders - on a whim - the students from his upper-year classes to split into groups before assigning each of them a project due at the end of the term on the theoretical creation of three new Kidou spells.

Group projects are not a thing at the Academy. Senzou wonders why.

He tells them that at least two of the research sources have to be from outside the Academy, and he smirks when he follows Fujiwara Asuka to the First Division compound to speak with her cousin, and then the Eighth to speak with her cousin’s former lieutenant, and then even braving the Fourth, straight-backed and stiff with anxiety but marching in anyway with her nervous group members in tow until she manages to wrangle fifteen minutes of time from a few of the healers willing to answer her questions about Kaidou.

Even here, Ichigo’s influence flourishes.

Outside the classroom, Senzou begins collecting copies of Human books. He half-bribes, half-blackmails the librarian into setting aside a section for him, and then he begins his own project of filling it.

“You’ve been busy,” Ichigo remarks when he staggers in from his last exam and collapses into a chair just as Senzou finishes setting the table for dinner.

Senzou arches an eyebrow, smirking when Ichigo just rolls his eyes.

“People tell me things,” Ichigo informs him, barely waiting for Senzou to sit down before falling onto the meal like he hasn’t eaten in a week.

“You would make a poor king if people didn’t,” Senzou murmurs, smiling serenely when Ichigo’s eyes flick up to meet his. It’s not as intimidating when his cheeks are bulging like a chipmunk’s.

Actually, Ichigo in the Human world just seems less… overwhelming in general. It isn’t as if he’s any less powerful. This particular gigai doesn’t restrict him in any way. But there’s a relaxed quality in him here that Senzou’s observed in the past three weeks that’s always absent when he’s the rawest form of himself up in Seireitei.

“Soul Society needs to change,” Ichigo says at last, instead of denying anything. “If that means kicking it in the ass until it stops fucking up the lives it’s supposed to be looking after, then that’s exactly what I’ll do.”

Yes, and Senzou has no doubt he’ll succeed. The majority of those in power have no desire to stop Ichigo. Those who do aren’t strong enough. And Ichigo wants it. He wants it with a conviction Senzou has never seen in anyone, almost obsessive in its unfaltering desire… like the abyssal hunger of a Hollow and the eternal grudge of a Quincy and the timeless pride of a Shinigami all rolled into one.

Ichigo wants it, and he’ll get what he wants.

The Soul King knows the universe owes him that much, and even if it didn’t, Senzou doubts it would make a single bit of difference to their God-Slayer.

He lifts his mug in a toast. “Then I look forward to your endeavours. You’ll need to watch out for Central 46′s spies though. I’m sure they won’t take this lying down.”

Ichigo cocks an eyebrow. “Is that an offer to keep your ear to the ground for me?”

Senzou attempts an innocent face, which works about as well as he expects when Ichigo snorts. “A mere Academy teacher like me probably can’t help much, but…” He thinks of the seals he’d planted throughout the entire Central 46 compound every time he’d had to report in, slowly but surely sneaking invisible ears into the heart of Soul Society’s government. “I might hear things now and then. I’ll pass it on if it happens to be interesting.”

Ichigo grins and tips his own mug at Senzou like they aren’t talking treason.

5. “So.”

Senzou almost rolls his eyes. The Shibas’ commitment to their theatrics clearly hasn’t changed.

“Kuukaku-chan,” He says instead as he strides into his office and smothers the urge to draw his blade on the woman sitting on his desk like she’s posing for Most Dramatic. He smiles instead, hiding the teeth of it behind his lips. “What a pleasure.”

Kuukaku grins back without any of the same courtesy. Of course. “None at all, I’m sure, so I’ll get straight to the point. What are you doing with Ichigo?”

Senzou does roll his eyes this time. “You’ll have to be more specific. As of yesterday, he’s teaching me how to drive a car.” His lip curls. “It’s a mode of transportation Humans have developed.”

“I know what a car is,” Kuukaku snaps, finally hopping down from the desk to prowl across the room. “Why is he teaching you? What do you want with him?”

Senzou pauses halfway through setting down a stack of essays to be marked. “…If I said vengeance on the Shiba Clan once I’ve convinced him to side with me, would that be about what you were expecting?”

Kuukaku glares and crosses her arms. “Ichigo would never.”

Senzou smirks. “Then you have nothing to worry about, do you? You’ve wasted a trip.”

He brushes past her to flip through the paperwork on his desk. End-of-term reports are coming up, and that’s always a waste of his time, so the sooner he gets them done the better.

“I know you resent us for what happened to Miyako,” Kuukaku says from behind him, and Senzou wonders if he can just walk out. Probably, but there’s no way this woman won’t cause a scene. “But Ichigo wasn’t part of any of that.”

Senzou heaves a sigh and turns back around. “Kuukaku-chan, I thought we just established that we both know that using Ichigo against your family won’t work.”

“No,” Kuukaku nods. “But you could hurt him to get back at us.”

They eye each other for a long moment, not quite hostile but far from amicable.

“…My vengeance for Miyako was not lifting a finger when your clan was all but massacred,” Senzou finally says, ignoring the way Kuukaku’s expression pinches. “And so long as contact with you and yours is kept at an absolute minimum in the future, I don’t care anymore. Besides, there is no point in targeting Ichigo to get to you.” He sneers. “He’s a Shiba, but it would be an insult to consider him one of you.”

Kuukaku bristles but doesn’t explode in anger the way some of her even more hot-tempered relatives would. She stares at him instead, and when she doesn’t speak right away, Senzou goes back to organizing the contents of his desk.

“Say I believe that,” Kuukaku finally says, ignoring Senzou’s scoff. “Maybe you are hanging out with Ichigo with no ulterior motives. The gods know he makes that easy. But if that’s what you’re doing, there’s no way you won’t be seeing more of the rest of us eventually. He wasn’t raised the way a Shiba should’ve been, with none of our traditions and only a fraction of the family he should’ve had. That’s on us. But he’s still family, and so long as he doesn’t say no, we’re going to be a part of his life. You’re going to have to accept that if you plan on marrying in.”

The shelf closes with a resounding thud under his hand, and judging by the give, he’s probably cracked the back of it too. He barely notices as his gaze snaps back up to stare incredulously at his uninvited visitor. “I beg your pardon?”

Kuukaku smiles thinly, and this time she looks more amused than anything else. “Something to consider. But you’re more like Miyako than most people would think.” Her arms drop to her sides as she turns abruptly towards the window. “That’s all I had to say. You’re a smart man, Senzou. I don’t need to tell you what will happen if you fuck up.”

And before Senzou can demand an explanation or - more likely - set her on fire for cracking such an abysmal joke, she’s gone, disappearing through the window in a rush of Shunpo.

Senzou stares after her, then at the books he’d carried in earlier, then at the paperwork he’s putting off for the weekend because he has dinner with Ichigo tonight… just as he does almost every night nowadays.

He runs a hand over his face.

Shibas.

6. He says nothing. He’s self-aware enough to know (now, damn Kuukaku) that there’s something there, a spark, a connection, a pull Senzou has never felt towards anyone. He isn’t going to call it love or whatever Kuukaku thinks is happening because it isn’t. He finds Ichigo fascinating and endlessly entertaining, and anyone willing to face down Central 46 is worthy of some admiration in Senzou’s opinion. That Ichigo plans on turning the whole system upside-down and actually has the power to achieve it only raises Senzou’s esteem for him.

But he says nothing because Ichigo knows all this already. The day Senzou’s first instinct, when an assassin sent by Central 46 attempts to take Ichigo’s head, is to slit the hapless woman’s throat - even though he knows full well that she wouldn’t have come anywhere near to succeeding - is the moment Ichigo gets irrefutable proof that Koyonagi Senzou is willing to kill for him.

Ichigo doesn’t gloat of course, he isn’t the type. Senzou half-expects it anyway, breath caught in his lungs for a moment with something disgracefully close to fear twisting in his gut as he turns to check Ichigo’s reaction.

But Ichigo only wrinkles his nose and toes the fresh corpse at his feet, and then he glances at the blood splatter dotting Senzou’s shirt and offers to get him a new one.

He also reaches out to touch the hilt of Senzou’s Zanpakutou before nodding once, deliberately, solemnly, the weight of it as much a thanks as it is an acknowledgement.

And that was that. Senzou relaxes, doesn’t bat an eye when shadows surge up and swallow the body whole, and goes to change into another shirt. The incident passes, and it will be longer still before Ichigo’s enemies realize they probably should’ve tried harder to get rid of Senzou years ago. They’d thought themselves safe enough though: they would never earn Senzou’s allegiance, but at the same time, nobody - including Senzou - ever thought anybody else would earn it either.

But the point is, Ichigo knows. Senzou has no need to speak of it, and both of them are content with that. If something more comes of it down the road, Senzou doesn’t think he’d fight it. He lost this battle a good while ago, and he never even cared.

In the meantime though, he spies on Central 46 and enjoys what time he can spare in the Human world and continues reconstructing Seireitei’s education system brick by stubborn brick. There’s a kingdom to conquer and a god Senzou has pledged himself to, and for now, that is enough.

#headcanon meme: answered #bleach #koyoichi #koyonagi senzou #kurosaki ichigo #kyouraku shunsui #shiba kuukaku #post canon au #headcanon #hi brain #wtaf happened

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theincaprincess · 4 years ago

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A job for a King

Afternoon my darlings, I have prompt 45-48 for you here, they are not in order but they do work, also my work has now put me on 30+ hours a week, so my writing is gonna be here and there just until I get use to doing my new hours.

Main master list here

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Thranduil tag list @sdavid09 @nikolett3 @j25m18c24 @letsbeinspiredby @gwendelerynan @shanty-lol @tigereyesf @the-small-loki-wife @queenofmankind @ziamhathrisen

Hobbit/LOTR tag list @Slither-in-a-half

Warning - None

Thranduil x Reader

Prompt 45 - His exhaustion over took him as he realized, it was finally done.

Prompt 46 - It was old, a token from a life that seemed to be ages ago, but it didn’t matter. They would carry it until their death.

Prompt 47 - “TELL ME AGAIN, WHAT HAPPENED, BUT THIS TIME LEAVE OUT THE LIES.”

Prompt 48 - “MOMMY? HOW DID YOU AND DADDY MEET?”

Word count 1,314

Walking through the castle your mind was turning on the many tasks you had to complete before the visiting lords arrived in two days everyone in Mirkwood was doing overtime, cooking food, cleaning the kingdom, collecting wines from Laketown this meeting has been months in the making and it was going to be one of the biggest meeting of elven lords in history, and Thranduil was the elf to do it, of course you knew Thranduil wasn’t happy about it, normally Lord Elrond would host such a meeting and one where he could send Legolas to, but this time it was Thranduil who had to host it, and you were on your way to give him an unexpected problem.

Sitting in his study Thranduil was reading the speech you had helped him write for this meeting, turning the paper over and over again in his hands, he started to get lost in his thoughts, for years he watched you grow, watched how you had to overcome the challenges of being a half human, half elf in his kingdom, you had became one of his closest friends and you were more trustworthy than his generals, Thranduil cared about your opinion, and if he was being honest with himself he was glad you got lost in his woods all those years ago and it happened to be on a night where he was only in the woods looking for Legolas after an argument broke out between them, one small question had started a shouting match, and hours searching for his son, but finding you.

….

A travelling wizard had visited the kingdom and asked permission from Thranduil to have the old fortress as his own, Thranduil did not trust this wizard, so permission wasn’t granted and he was told to leave immediately, passing Legolas Thranduil watched as the wizard bent down to his son whispered a few words and rose with a smirk, as Legolas looked up at him like he was just told ancient secrets, but in fact he had told the young prince about the other side and how some people can talk to others who were no longer there, then later that night Thranduil had passed his son room and heard him talking, slowly pushing the door open Thranduil saw Legolas sitting inside a circle of candles talking out loud, fully entering the room Thranduil opened his mouth to ask what was going on, but stopped when he heard Legolas ask “MOMMY? HOW DID YOU AND DADDY MEET?” That was the question that had started the fight and sent Legolas jumping out of his window onto the trees and into the forest at night making Thranduil roll his eyes as he had to follow his son.

….

A knock on the door pulled him from his memory, letting out a sigh Thranduil placed his speech on the desk and rose to his feet, walking towards the door he reached out with his hand and took a hold of the handle pulling the door open.

“Yes?” Thranduil murmured as he opened the door.

“My lord, I bring you an update on the process of the kingdom” you spoke nervously as you knew Thranduil would hate what you needed to show and tell him.

Seeing it was you Thranduil’s lips twisted into a small smile before he wet his lips and asked “Are we on time for the meeting?”

“We are my lord, but there is a problem” You said as you lowered your eyes to the ground in hopes Thranduil would not let his anger out on you.

Raising his eyebrow Thranduil asked “Problem?”

“It would be best if you saw it with your own eyes, my lord” You spoke turning your eyes back up to his and saw as he nodded, stepping back a few paces you waited for him to exit his room before he looked at you again and you had realised you hadn’t told him where this problem was, wetting your lips you spoke “we are going to the kitchens” before you lowered your eyes again and followed Thranduil.

….

Glancing down at you Thranduil started to wonder why you seemed to be tense, you had never really been tense in his presents before hand, and you certainly liked to get your opinions across often talking back to him on matters you believed in, qualities a future queen should have Thranduil thought to himself, ”is everything ok?” Thranduil heard himself asking.

Lost in your own thoughts you were twisting the small necklace around in your fingers, the only thing you had of your family, your half elf side granted you immorality but you had lost your family many years ago, It was old, a token from a life that seemed to be ages ago, but it didn’t matter. They would carry it until their death, Thranduil cleared his throat as you looked to the King.

“(Y/n) is everything ok?” He asked again.

“Yes my lord, everything is fine, thank you” You answered a little too fast for Thranduil’s liking, now sensing something was seriously wrong.

Before Thranduil had a chance to ask again you both had rounded the corner and his eyes saw what the problem was, the whole of the kitchen was black and it looked like the ovens had exploded, turning his eyes over the mess Thranduil felt his blood starting to boil with anger, the cooks had said to him they would be able to cook all the food in a matter of days, not the weeks he had planned out, and he stupidly believed them, and now it would take months to get the ovens fixed and this place cleaned up and the meeting was happening in the next two.

“What happened?” Thranduil barked towards the two cooks who slowly started to hide themselves behind you.

“The ovens just exploded my lord, there was nothing we could do, my lord” one of the cooks muttered, clinging onto you like a scared child, as the other cook nodded her head.

“My lord, I was….” You had started before you jumped in shock at Thranduil’s outburst.

“TELL ME AGAIN, WHAT HAPPENED, BUT THIS TIME LEAVE OUT THE LIES” Thranduil had shouted making the two cooks scream in fear and explaining how the ovens just exploded, and there was nothing they could do, sending them away you said you would talking to the King and calm him down.

Walking back and forth Thranduil’s face showed what mood he was in “Thranduil, they speak the truth, I was here when it happened the ovens just caught fire” you said as you watched him.

“The meeting is in two days, the lords will be touring my kingdom, and what can I show them? A KITCHEN THAT DOESN’T EVEN WORK!” Thranduil shouted at you.

“THEN CLEAN IT!” You shouted back, holding your ground.

“I AM A KING” Thranduil barked at you staring you down.

“Oh I am sorry, THEN CLEAN IT, YOUR MAJESTY” you shouted again before turning on your heels flicking your hair as you left Thranduil standing there, starting after you wondering what the hell just happened.

….

Emptying the last of the dirty water in the bucket Thranduil looked at the kitchen seeing it looking brand new as he just spent the whole night cleaning it, after your outburst at him, he would have gotten the cooks to do it, but he knew you would have sent them to the back up kitchen to finish the food for the meeting, and he knew you would not let this drop, leaving the bucket at the side of the sink Thranduil turned and headed to his chambers to get some sleep as the lords would be arriving tomorrow and he hopped he could clear the air with you beforehand but his exhaustion over took him as he realized, it was finally done.

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violetwolfraven · 4 years ago

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sprace 49

Uhhhh there is no 49 so I’m just gonna assume you meant 46? (In hindsight I’m now thinking you meant the other prompt list and I am a moron but I already wrote this thing so???)

(For any pairing except javid) I have to tell Jack about my relationship but he’s basically everyone’s big brother and—

Get ready for some canon-era with a couple of background ships.

...

“Okay,” Race took a deep breath, “I can do this. I can do this.”

Albert rolled his eyes, “You’re worryin’ for nothin’, Racer. He’s gonna be fine with it.”

“Yeah,” Finch agreed, “I mean, he was fine with me and Albie.”

“And me and Romeo,” Specs added.

“Damn near all of us is queer,” Finch pointed out, “Including Jack, himself. It’ll be fine, Race.”

Race shook his head, “It’s different. Both of ya and your partners are Manhattan.”

“Sorry,” Mike said, looking a little confused but smiling all the same, “Who’re we talkin’ ‘bout? Racer has a lover outside of Manhattan?”

“Race is fucking Spot Conlon,” Albert supplied.

“Daaaaaaaaaamn! Good job, Racetrack!”

Race just rolled his eyes. He and Spot had been together officially—as in, on the same page, in love and they both know it��for over a year now, after a talk they’d had right after the strike. And even if it had kind of started out as a friends with benefits kind of deal, just making out whenever they both had some time, ‘fuck-buddies’ or whatever the hell half Race’s friends seemed to think they were, did not describe what they actually were at all.

Albert knew damn well they weren’t fuck-buddies—Race told his best friend enough that he knew that they weren’t even fucking yet—which was why Race felt the need to slap him with his hat.

Like he had wondered many times, Race wondered again why he had to go and choose the one who loved to cause chaos as his best friend.

“I’m sure he’ll be fine with it,” Mike said helpfully, “Jack likes when all of us is happy.”

“Yeah, but he’s also really protective,” Race groaned, “He’s like a big brother to me—to all of us!”

“So let him give Spot a shovel talk,” Specs said simply, “That’ll be the end of it. Mike’s right. Jack can be protective, but he’s happiest when all of us is happy.”

“I’s been your friend since we was littles, Racer,” Albert put in, “And I’ve never seen you as happy as you’s been since you and Spot got official.”

Race had to admit, he hadn’t been this happy since... well, he didn’t remember being this happy even when his folks were still alive.

Spot made him happy, made him brave, and that was why he was finally plucking up the courage to tell Jack about them.

“Okay,” he said, forcing a smile, “I’m gonna do it.”

Race’s friends cheered him on as he headed out to Jack’s fire escape penthouse.

“Jack, we needs to talk.”

Race was kind of counting his blessings that neither Crutchie nor Davey was out there, so he had a one-on-one with Manhattan’s leader.

Jack looked a bit concerned as he put down the pape he was drawing on and nodded.

“Okay. ‘Bout what?”

Race took a deep breath, “What would ya say if I was... if I was kinda...”

“Spit it out, Racer. What is it?”

“I’m courtin’ Spot Conlon,” Race blurted, forcing himself to keep looking Jack in the eye.

He was scared of his brother’s reaction, but he needed to see it all the same.

Jack looked at the ground, “Shit. Shit. Oh my God. How didn’t I see that?”

“I’m sorry,” Race offered.

“Don’t be,” Jack chuckled, “I mean, I got Ike sneakin’ out to Brooklyn already, thinkin’ he’s slick. I don’t know how I didn’t see you doin’ it, too.”

“You gots a lot of guys. Ya can’t possibly keep track of all of us. Besides, I’m one of the ones ya know can take care of himself.”

Jack snorted, “No. No, ya can’t. You’re just stupidly good at talkin’ your way out of fights. So, how long has this thing with Spot been goin’ on?”

Race finally felt like he could breathe. Jack was taking this a lot better than he thought he would.

“Officially, since right after the strike. But we was makin’ out outside sellin’ hours for a few months before that.”

Jack wrinkled his nose, “Okay, I didn’t need to know that last part. But... damn. It’s been over a year. Am I that oblivious?”

He seemed fine with it, but...

“Hey, what’s up?” Race asked, “You seem sad.”

Jack sighed, “I ain’t sad, Race. Not exactly. It’s just... ya know how hard things are for me and Davey, right? We barely ever get a minute just the two of us, and that ain’t even takin’ into account havin’ to keep things secret.”

“Yeah. Of course I knows that.”

“Spot lives in fuckin’ Brooklyn. Not only that—he’s got the responsibilities of leadin’ probably the biggest borough in New York. I mean, anything’s possible, but I just don’t see how ya could make that work. I don’t wanna see you get hurt.”

Race tilted his head, “We make it work now. ‘Sides, it ain’t like I’m the leader of Manhattan.”

“Racer...”

Race’s stomach dropped as he realized what Jack was really saying.

“Oh.”

“Race... I’m 18. I’m gettin’ too old for this, and Davey and I... we’s been lookin’ at apartments. This wasn’t how I wanted to break the news to ya, but... we can’t stay much longer. And when we go, Manhattan’ll be yours and Crutchie’s.”

Race had known this was coming for... well, ever since he became one of Jack’s seconds, when he was 12. He’d known it more in how slowly, over the last few months, he’d found himself being asked for input on various issues more and more often. Jack and Davey thought they were being subtle, but Race and Crutchie had noticed weeks ago.

He’d known it was coming, but that didn’t mean it didn’t ache, just thinking about the boy who’d watched over him for most of his childhood leaving.

“When?”

Jack sighed, shrugging, “I don’t know. Soon. Davey wants to wait till after winter—hand you and Crutchie the reins when it’ll be easy to keep everyone alive so’s ya can get used to it before it gets hard.”

“That makes sense,” Race reasoned, remembering how hard it was for Jack. He’d had to take the reins during a hard winter, because the previous leader of Manhattan died.

“Look,” Jack smiled, “I’m happy for ya, Racer. Spot, too. Really. And honestly, I’m not too worried about him hurtin’ you intentionally. I know you was close friends before ya even got together—which, by the way, I cannot believe ya didn’t tell me, you asshole—so he won’t raise a hand or probably even his voice to ya. But it’s one thing with Crutchie, sneakin’ around with that girl he met at Medda’s—“

“Crutchie’s sneakin’ around with a girl?” Race asked, honestly delighted by this bit of gossip.

“Yeah... he thinks I don’t know, but we sleep on the same fuckin’ fire escape. I followed him one time when he snuck out to see her. Anyway, it’s one thing with that. For one thing, Crutchie don’t have to keep his sweetheart a secret ‘less he wants to—she’s a girl.”

“You and Davey—“

“Let me finish, Racer. For another thing, Spot is King of Brooklyn. He’s got eyes on him most of the time and even when he doesn’t, there’s no way he could sneak to Manhattan regularly without gettin’ noticed. He’s probably only gotten away with bein’ with ya this long because you sell at Sheepshead.”

Race wanted to argue, but he had to admit... Spot almost never came to Manhattan. Race was always the one going to Brooklyn for him.

“If you’s one of Manhattan’s leaders, you gotta sell in Manhattan, and even after hours, there’s no way you can constantly sneak off to another borough without some of the wrong people noticin’.”

Damn. He was probably right. Race and Spot were stealing moments now. If Race was selling in Manhattan, it would be damn near impossible to get time. He definitely wouldn’t see Spot every day anymore, possibly not even every week.

“Look—Crutchie could do this by himself, long as he’s got some muscle backin’ him up. With Mush, Blink, and Elmer, among others, bein’ young enough to stick around a while, that shouldn’t be a problem. If you don’t wanna be leader, I can start gettin’ him ready for—“

“No.”

Race had known he was going to be helping lead when Jack grew up and left since he was 12. He was 16 now—one of the older ones. He’d been instinctively protecting the others for years. He already looked at most of the younger ones as younger brothers.

Race had been ready for a long time to protect his younger brothers, no matter the cost.

Even if that cost was a closer relationship with the boy he loved.

“Spot and I can do a long-distance thing,” he said, “We’ll be fine. I’ll tell him... sometime. Tell me when you and Davey are movin’ out... I don’t know, but just tell me at least a little in advance.”

Jack nodded, “Okay. It won’t be for another couple months, at least, but...”

Race definitely wasn’t getting choked up. Those definitely weren’t tears in Jack’s eyes. It was just...

The Newsies were the only family either of them had known since they were little. Jack had been protecting Race, or trying to, at least, since they were about 5 and 7.

Race consoled himself with how it wasn’t like they’d really be saying goodbye. Jack had given up that old dream of Santa Fe. He was staying close, which meant he could visit, but...

Damn. Race was going to miss him.

“So, Spot’s good to ya?” Jack asked, “He treats ya right? Stops if ya ask?”

Race nodded, “Yeah. Yeah, of course. He’s... he’s great. I mean, he don’t seem to think he deserves me, or at least he didn’t, at first. He kept tellin’ me about all the kills he had to make as if that’d make me walk away.”

“Hmm...” Jack patted his shoulder, “Maybe we needs to have a talk about your taste in men, Racer. Do I need to tell Davey ‘bout who you’s courtin’?”

Race laughed, “Please don’t. I’ll tell him myself and you can have a worried talk ‘bout me later.”

“We ain’t your mom and dad, kid”

“Coulda fooled me, dad.”

Jack laughed, and Race had to admit, that hug made him feel a lot better about... well, everything.

“Seriously, though—you, me, and Davey—we’re goin’ over to Brooklyn tomorrow night. We’re gonna say we got business to talk, but really, me and Davey are gonna talk to your boy. Can’t have anyone hurtin’ Manhattan’s future leader, can we?”

Race laughed. Honestly, the idea of anyone giving Spot fucking Conlon a shovel talk was hilarious to him.

But, that was just Race’s family. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

#newsies #sprace #racetrack higgins #spot conlon #jack kelly #big brother jack kelly #dad friend jack kelly #background javid #background redfinch #background spromeo #violet’s writing

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glorifiedgpjfic · 4 years ago

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Glorified G - Chapter 46

January 22nd 1992

Over the past few weeks Joanne had had her first few CPT sessions, they seemed to be going well and they helped her to keep the nightmares and flashbacks at bay, she did however still struggle to sleep and the people around her were often victims of her angry outbursts- which Dr Isles had assured her were a side effect of the PTSD. Joanne hadn’t rushed to ask the director to take her out of the field as she was apprehensive about it and she didn’t want to risk losing her job by asking to be moved out of the line of fire, and she certainly didn't want to be sent back to London to go back to Interpol. She hadn’t told Eddie this of course, as far as he knew the wheels were truly in motion for her to be taken out of the field, she felt awful about lying to him but she just couldn’t bring herself to do it, not yet.

Eddie and Jo had spent every free second they had together looking at houses, they’d managed to find three contenders- all were relatively central to both potatohead and the FBI building, meaning that their commute wouldn’t be any longer than it currently was. The house that Jo liked the most had a large gate on the driveway and high walls that she felt would be good considering Pearl Jam were gaining popularity, she’d done a project on celebrity stalkers when she was at university so she was armed with enough evidence to convince Eddie that although it is rare, celebrity stalkers can indeed be violent, for example Mark David Chapman who shot John Lennon in 1980. Having high walls and a gate offered her piece of mind, Eddie hadn’t seemed opposed to it, which was something Jo was grateful for, she didn’t want to have to argue with him on this.

The guilt of hiding the truth from Eddie was starting to get to Jo, so she had asked William to have a meeting with her so she could discuss the prospect of her getting out of the field, she was concerned that this would make her seem weak to her boss and that he might even suggest her transferring out of the office into a full time teaching role, which as much as she loved her teaching experience with John Douglas, she didn’t fancy it full time as she found it rather tedious. She hoped that she would be able to stay exactly where she was just without going out into the field, but she knew that being in the field was a big part of her job description and the only real exception to getting out of being in the field was if you were injured and generally even then that was only a temporary thing. As she took a seat in the director’s office the nerves began to pool in her stomach,

“Good afternoon Agent Taylor, how are you doing?” William asked while making the two of them a cup of coffee,

“I’m doing okay, I’ve been seeing Dr Isles, and I think that it's helping- I’m still struggling to sleep ya know?” William nodded at the young woman in front of him, the truth was he knew exactly how she felt he knew exactly what she’s going through,

“You know, everyone on this team has cases that have stuck with them, mine was one of the first cases I was on-” He paused, a brief look of sorrow graced his features, “There was a serial killer abducting young children, little girls- his type just so happened to look exactly like my daughter, each time we got a report of another girl being taken my mind always assumed it was my baby- it struggled so hard to stay focused on that case. And weeks after we found the guy a part of me still expected him to come back and get my girl, the images of the children he killed stuck with me for years, i used to see Louise’s face ion the faces of those we didn’t save- Dr Isles helped me through that so I know you’re in good hands.” Jo gave him a small smile as he sipped his coffee,

“I uh- I’ve been thinking, is there any chance I can have some time out of the field? I’m not sure how long I’ll need, I just- I’m not as focused as I should be in the field and I’m worried I’m putting everyone at risk.” Jo searched William’s face for a hint as to how he was going to respond, she took a sip of her coffee as he pondered what she was saying for a few moments,

“Do you want to be out permanently?” He asked, Jo shook her head violently,

“No! Just for a little while till I get back on top of things.” He nodded before speaking again,

“Do you mind if I make some calls and see what I can arrange for you?” Jo raised an eyebrow,

“Could I not just consult on cases and do paperwork? I’ve got a stack that will probably take me a while to finish,” The director shook his head,

“Jo, if you do that you’ll be bored out of your mind, I’ll see what I can find you- if there isn’t anything then you can do that.”

“Why are you going out of your way just to make sure I don’t get bored? If you don’t mind me asking, sir.” Jo knew that he didn’t have to find her an alternative to field work, yet for some reason he was making it his duty,

“If I’m honest it’s because you’re one of the best agents I’ve seen in a very long time, and I’d hate for you to leave us when you’re such an asset to this team.” He spoke slowly as though he was pondering the weight of his words, “and I can’t help but feel responsible for what you’re going through, you were right when you said it was me- if I could change it I would believe me-” Jo was quick to silence her boss,

“Sir, I was upset that day and it was all such a shock to me, I promise you I didn’t mean any of what I said- it was out of order for me to say that.” She offered him a small smile as a silent apology,

“I know, but you weren’t out of line I completely understand, and I would’ve been just as upset if I was in your position.”

Jo left William’s office feeling less guilty than when she entered, she was glad he valued her for what she did as much as she loved Eleanor and her colleagues she knew for a fact that her paperwork was always done to the highest standard while they generally rushed to get it done so they could go home, occasionally they asked Joanne to finish for them. She sat at her desk trying to tackle some of the paperwork, but at the same time she didn’t want to start it if she was going to be working on something else for the foreseeable so she decided to sit and stare off into space for a while.

William Webster racked his brain trying to think what he could get Joanne to do, there wasn’t anything in the office that would be a good use of her time, so he decided to give an old friend a call.

After an hour or so of Jo staring into space and trying to busy herself she was summoned into William’s office once again, she took a seat opposite him eagerly waiting for him to tell her what she was going to be doing for the next few weeks or months. He grinned at her as she sat down,

“So, I’ve made some calls, and how would you feel about doing some research for John Douglas? It’s local so you won’t have to move or travel any more than you already do,” Jo nodded before thinking about how she’d felt during the time she had spent teaching alongside Douglas,

“Is it a teaching role?” She questioned and William gave her a smile and shook his head,

“No, I know how dull teaching can be- John is doing some research that I think you might be interested in, I’ve told him you’ll give him a call,” William paused briefly, “He can explain it better than I can.” Joanne gave an awkward smile, she began to ponder what the research could possibly be, was he going to study her and her plethora of trauma?

“I’ll go give him a call now, thank you Sir.”

Eddie was on the phone to Mike discussing a potential song when he heard Jo’s car pull into the driveway, he watched with caution as she seemed to skip to the door - he quickly brought the call to an end, puzzled by his girlfriend’s sudden change in behaviour. He put a pot of coffee on to brew as Jo beamed stating that she had ‘so much’ to tell him, she quickly changed out of her work clothes into some joggers and an old Motley Crue band tee, Eddie handed her a mug of coffee before taking a seat opposite her,

“So? What’s got you in such a good mood?” He asked with a curious smile,

“Well, John Douglas wants me to help him with some of his research! He’s interviewing violent offenders to try and see if they have anything more in common that can be used to help law enforcement when searching for offenders. So, I get to go into prisons and conduct interviews on his behalf, so we can cover more ground between us if that makes sense- I’ll probably be only meeting with a handful of the prisoners, but he wants me to try and build up some sort of rapport with them, ya know? Try and gain their trust and not antagonise them, see if they open up to me. The best bit? I’ll get an acknowledgement when he publishes his findings!” Eddie smiled at Jo’s enthusiasm, it amazed him how she could be so passionate about something that would scare him half to death, he wouldn’t even dream of speaking to one of the monsters that Jo would be interviewing, but that was one big difference between the two of them; Jo tried to see them as more than their crimes, she wanted to understand them, help them. Whereas Eddie saw them as animals, monsters who should be locked up.

Joanne had been briefed by John about how to behave in the prison setting, she knew that they would most likely lie to her about their crimes, and that when they did, rather than calling them out on it in an accusatory manner she should simply state that she’d read the case file, she knew every detail about the case. She knew how vital it was that she’d learnt everything about the cases, so she wouldn’t be shocked or disgusted by anything they told her. He had also informed her that they were more likely to open up if she wasn’t making notes during the interview and that taping the interview could often distract them or prevent that from divulging certain details. She knew all of the theory that would help her for this research, however no amount of studying could prepare her for what she was going to face when she sat down across from serial rapist, Marc O’Leary.

#eddie vedder #Eddie Vedder Fanfic #Pearl Jam #pearl jam fanfiction #pearl jam fanfic #grunge fanfic #grunge fanfiction #mike mccready #stone gossard #dave abbruzzese #jeff ament

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thevirtualcanvas · 5 years ago

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Steven’s Lament

Just a little fic inspired by @taikova ‘s illustration of Steven lying in bed. So please enjoy C:

12:46

Maybe a cup of green tea would help?

1:32

Alright. Two cups.

3:12

Three cups, stargazing, phone scrolling and staring up at the ceiling and – nothing. He knew he was exhausted, he knew he should sleep. But what was the point? It's not like he had any responsibilities any more, or any friends thanks to his latest gem-related screw-up.

The back-light of his phone seeped through his covers, bouncing off his gem and reflected a soft pink light into his room. Pink. It was his entire problem. The tarpaulin that covered the front of his broken house rustled in the sea breeze; mixing with the sounds of Lion's snoring, it was driving Steven crazy. Though a lot of things did these days. He tapped his fingers against his chest and groaned, he should just get up. Lying in bed was pointless. Maybe he could go sleep with Lion for old times sake, or he could throw his head in Lion's mane and just be done with it?

Yikes. That was a dark thought.

Steven threw back the covers with a heavy arm, swung his legs around, and sat upright facing his sliding door. The gems hadn't spoken to him in days, well, more specifically, he'd avoided them. He'd let them orchestrate the rebuilding work with Bismuth and her team and kept out of the way. He couldn't stand to look them in the eyes, all those awful things he'd said and Cactus Steven had told them everything – each dark and personal thought and worst of all at the time, he'd meant it.

He rubbed at his tired eyes and played with the phone in his hands, rubbing his thumbs over the screen. Steven yearned to talk to someone and no one. Pearl had sent his Dad over the day before as he'd sat in the greenhouse atop the warp pad, sulking. But he couldn't tell him how he felt, how could his Dad possibly understand? In the end, he brushed his Dad off with a half-assed smile. I'm fine, it's just Gem stuff.

Greg Universe sighed, looked at his son, more worried for him than he'd even been (even when he had been kidnapped by home-world gems and oh boy did some hair fall out then) and said,

“Stuball. Gem stuff or not, just know we all love you, and when you're ready to talk, we're ready to listen.”

Why did his Dad sound like him? When did everyone else start to take his job? He helped, Steven Universe, helper of the galaxy. Capable of solving anyone's problems. Except for his own.

“Fuckkkkk.” It slipped from his lips, reactionary. Lined with utter frustration and barely an utterance but he surprised even himself. He remembered that time Pearl went mental at Amethyst for using it in the temple around him. Amethyst simply shrugged, winked at Steven and told him to save for it a special occasion. Was the end of himself as he knew it a justifiable special occasion?

A tempestuous snore from Lion pulled him from his thoughts, yup, he needed to leave his room. Taking his phone with him, Steven dragged himself to the greenhouse. Bismuth hadn't started work in there yet, and a massive hole graced the peak of the dome. He'd cleared up the shattered glass, and floated up to cover the top in plastic, just in case it rained, apart from that the room remained the same. He'd even left the cardboard box he'd kept Cactus Steven prisoner in exactly where he'd thrown it, a monument to his own failure. Pale moonlight danced across the petals and leaves of each flower in the room. The warp pad hummed in the center giving off its own soft glow, waiting on standby for Steven to use it.

“Hey everyone,” he laughed with insincerity to his home-grown friends. Of course, they didn't respond, they were just plants. The real versions of his friends were out doing amazing things; Steven had done his amazing, now he was stuck, stagnant in Beach City. “Hey, Connie, how are you doing, smarty?” Steven walked over to the delicate blue flower, it's violet petals almost seemed to shine brighter in this light. His fingers caressed the underside of the velvet-soft flower and it made him miss the real Connie even more.

“I've messed-up, Con,” he told her as he sat crossed-legged on the floor underneath the flower pot. “I've done and said some terrible things recently and every time I do all I can think about is her...”

The plant sat silently, almost as if it were listening.

“I'm so angry – all of the time. I'm doing things and finding out things about my gem self that I never knew I could do and I don't know if I want to... because the more I do, the more I become like – ” Steven paused. Throat closing, eyes threatening to tear. He was scared. Not that he'd turn into his Mom; Rose Quartz had spent thousands of years repenting and paying for her actions, but Pink? She'd done so much damage, ruined so many lives including that of a son she'd never know she'd have. “I don't want to be Pink Diamond, Connie. She was selfish, destructive and so out of control! I don't want anyone to look at me and see her anymore!”

Pink Diamond took his childhood. Pink Diamond took his identity. Pink took everything.

Purple petals turned pink and with a gasp, Steven realised he was losing it. He could see his reflection on the glossy floor and it terrified him. Pink. Eyes. Hair. Skin. Everything was glowing pink. The colour made him sick.

“See?” He sobbed. “There I go again. Turning into her. The one thing they all hate above everything else.”

Large tears stung as they fell down his face, his body shook as he pulled it as close as he could. “And you know what, Connie,” he laughed to himself almost manically. “I hate her too.”

Steven howled, months of pent-up anger and rage, flowing freely as big pink tears. He shook and shook, holding himself tight, wishing someone else was. The plants, the tables and the gardening equipment rattled around him. The power that sat within him, poured out, raw and emotional. It wasn't sharp, like The Reef, or purposeful, like his fight with Jasper. His power lamented, wrapped sorrow around every living thing, and forced his emotions through it. Flower Connie wilted, but he didn't even notice; too busy drowning in guilt and a host of other negative emotions he was allowing himself to feel.

Steven didn't notice anything. Not the ambivalent roar of Lion. Nor the sound of a portal opening up. The urgent steps. Or the greenhouse door opening with a hiss.

“Steven!”

Steven turned to the sound of his name – shocked by the owner and relieved all at once. “Connie?! What are you doing here?” He hiccuped between the tears.

Connie was there. The real Connie, not the plant version he'd been speaking to for months. Stood in the doorway in her pajamas, looking at him. Hair ruffled, cheeks rosy from running so hard and a dressing gown haphazardly slung over her shoulders. Lion was behind her, whining and nudging the base of her back, urging her forward. Connie rushed across the greenhouse, throwing herself at him, joining him in his pity party on the floor. She launched herself; landing in a mess of limbs, tangling her arms around his neck, burying her head in the crux of his shoulder, pressing the rest of her as close as to him as possible. They'd never concerned themselves with personal space in the entire time they'd known each other, she wasn't going to start now. Not when he needed her.

“Why didn't you call?”

Connie. His Connie. She was really here, warm and bright, He buried his nose into her dark hair, pink hands coiling into the thick strands, the cool scent of lavender and juniper filled his nostrils.

“I didn't want to bother you,” he whispered feeling the sweet heat of her lips against his neck as she spoke.

“Steven,” she spoke sternly, but with an undeniable love, just like her mother. “You could never bother me.” Connie pulled herself back to look at him, on her knees between his thighs, and hands cupping his still round cheeks. Rich eyes drew him in, oh how he'd missed seeing her face. “You can talk to me about anything. Or cry. Sit in silence. You even have a temper tantrum if you need to. Just don't keep me out. I've missed you, Jam bud.”

Above him, plant Connie's petals rustled, springing back to life. Steven could feel the pink fading as real Connie took his hands in hers; they were so warm, and small – but he loved them. He loved her.

“I'm sorry Lion woke you up,” he apologised as he pried his back of the floor and sat up.

She squeezed his chunky hands, and rubbed the back of them with the pads of her thumbs. “I'm not. I couldn't sleep anyway. Something felt off – now I know what it was.”

He cringed, embarrassed by the outburst, and the way his Gem powers amplified every emotion he had. “I wish you hadn't seen that...”

Connie scowled at him. “I'm glad I did – you don't need to hide anything from me. I'm not here to judge you, I'm here because my best friend in the whole galaxy needs help.”

Steven bit his lip. “But what about your parents, aren't they going to be upset you're gone?”

“I think Lion gave the game away. I have my phone, my Mom knows where I am.”

“But what about school?”

“It's fine.”

“I don't want to take you away from your work Connie, you've been working so hard!”

“Steven –”

“We need to get you home! There's still a couple of hours until sunrise and I – ”

“Steven!” Connie shouted and then took a breath, bringing their hands to her lips. “I'm fine. It's the weekend, we're going to look after you. You've spent so long looking after everyone else, you don't know how to take care of yourself. C'mon, let's get out of the greenhouse and go to bed.”

As she brought him to his feet, Steven realised how right Connie was. Without other people's problems, Steven only had his own, and he couldn't cope with that. His legacy, his history, his Mom, it was defining him in a way that sat wrong and made him feel awful. Every moment you love yourself, that's me, loving you. Well he didn't, right now hated himself, what he felt like he was becoming, what he felt like he was lacking. He had two worlds and he didn't fit in either of them; everyone changed despite him. What was he going to do?

Connie led him by the hand slowly, taking their time as they took the wooden boardwalk back round the house. Seagulls had already begun to rise, cawing out into the cove as the inky night began to give way to a new dawn. As they entered Steven's room, Lion was lying at the base of the bed pretending to be asleep. He gave Steven and Connie a delighted chirp as he bed down, pink tail waggling in demure happiness. Steven noted mentally that he'd drive out to the supermarket to get Lion some ice-cream later as a thank you. Connie sorted out the covers and led him by the hand into his side of the bed while she settled next to him on the other.

“Connie...” Steven trailed off, looking at her as she pulled the covers over them. She hummed in response, once again taking one of his hands in hers. “Thanks, for coming over. I've missed you too. “

She gave him a smile, and if he was feeling himself it would have left him weak at the knees. Now, broken and confused, it made him feel safe and loved. “I'll be here whenever I can Steven, although next time, maybe give me a call first?” He nodded, yeah, that was fair. Lion huffed over the edge of the bed, he thought he'd been helpful. Wasn't his fault Lion's couldn't use phones. “Sorry, Lion you were great,” she said with a coo. “And let's not tell my Mom I stayed in your bed, again.”

“I should maybe get you your own bed,” he thought out loud. “Don't want Dr.Maheswaren to get annoyed.”

Connie wriggled over, planted a kiss on his brow with the lightest of touches and laughed. “Steven, that's sweet but I'm perfectly happy here, with you. Besides, what my Mom doesn't know won't hurt her. Now get some rest, we'll talk more tomorrow.”

His head felt warm and fuzzy, it did every time she kissed him, he couldn't help but crack a smile. He suddenly felt overcome with fatigue, between Connie next to him and Lion at his feet, Steven had felt more comfortable than he had in weeks. This might not fix his problems, but with Connie's support, he could get the ball rolling, apologise to the gems – and his Dad for starters. He had a lot to apologise for.

“Connie,” Steven said with a yawn. “Thanks for being the jam to my biscuit.”

“Thanks for being the biscuit to my jam, Steven,” she said with a sleepy smile as he squeezed her hand.

Lion yawned, his mouth opening wide, tongue curling inside his maw.

“Goodnight Lion!” They both said in unison and drifted off into an easy sleep.

#steven universe #suf #steven universe future #fanfic for fanart #steven universe fan fic #connverse #connie mahaswaren #lion #pink steven #post prickly pair #angst with fluff

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thomothysdoodles · 4 years ago

Note

1, 3, 4, 5, 6, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 14, 17, 18, 20, 23, 26, 17, 28, 31, 32, 35, 37, 38, 40, 41, 42, 43, 44, 45, 46, 47, 48, 49, 50, 51, 52, 53, 54, 55, 56, 57, 58, 59, 60, 61, 62, 63, 64, 65, 66, 67,, 68, 69, 70, 71, 73, 74, 75, 85, 86, 87, 88, 90, 92, 93, 94, 95, 96, 98

I am so sorry, I literally have no idea what came over me

Wow Lulu you really said ‘let’s ask this bitch EVERYTHING’. I love it tho lmao. Since it’s long imma put it under the cut tho

4. How did your elementary school teachers describe you?

“A pleasure to have in class, a bit lost in their mind, if they committed and focused more they’d excell but they settle for good grades”

From elementary to high school lol

5. Do you prefer to drink soda from soda cans, soda bottles, plastic cups or glass cups?

I like soda cans

6. Pastel, boho, tomboy, preppy, goth, grunge, formal or sportswear?

Somewhere between tomboy and grunge I think

8. Movies or tv shows?

Tv shows

9. Favorite smell in the summer?

Sunscreen and freshly baked bread

11. What do you have for breakfast on an average day?

A cup of milk with some cereal or biscuits. For the past month I’ve been following the keto diet tho, and I usually are some ricotta with peanut butter for breakfast

12. Name of your favorite playlist?

“Sad but vibing” lol

14. Favorite non chocolate candy?

Strawberry lollipops

17. Most frequently worn pair of shoes?

A black vans pair, I bought em in August but the left one already got a hole on the front 😤

18. Ideal weather?

Cloudy but not too windy or cold. I just don’t like the sunlight in my face

20. Preferred place to write?

On my phone’s notes app lol, I’ve got almost two thousand notes in here

23. Strange habits?

I hide stuff in my room with no apparent reason. I’ve got money stashed around my room in four different points lol

26. Favorite activity to do in warm weather?

Given the chance, I like to race with my bike to get some refreshing wind

27. Favorite activity to do in cold weather?

Cozy up in a blanket and watch some tv

28. Five songs to describe you.

Karma— AJR

Ultimately— Khai Dreams

Putting a spin on Slow Dancing in the Dark— egg

Mars— YungBlud

Gotta be a Reason— Alec Benjamin

31. What outfit do you wear to kick ass and take names?

Black jeans, black sturdy boots, and a silly little hoodie lmao

32. Top five favorite vines?

‘DONT FUCK WITH ME, IVE GOT THE POWER OF GOD AND ANIME ON MY SIDE— AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA’

‘Let me see what you have!’ ‘A KNIFE!’ ‘NO!!!’

‘Hey bro, what do you wanna eat?’ (‘The souuuls of my enemies’) ‘A bagel’ (‘NOOO’) ‘..two bagels.’

FR E SH A VOCA DO

‘Two shots of vodka..’ *pours half a bottle of vodka*

35. Average time you fall asleep?

I am terrible at this. I love sleeping but I also love feeling ✨ unbothered ✨ doing whatever I want in the middle of the night. So, never before 3am usually

37. Suitcase or duffel bag?

Suitcase

38. Lemonade or tea?

Tea

40. Weirdest thing to happen at your school?

I dunno how weird it is, but I always found peculiar that there were cigarette butts on the ceiling of the bathrooms. Like, seven feet tall ceilings. How did those cigs get there??

41. Last person you texted?

My best friend to tell her that my sister found a way to let me watch supernatural on American Netflix >:3c

42. Jacket pockets or pant pockets?

Jacket pockets

43. Hoodie, leather jacket, cardigan, jean jacket or bomber jacket?

Hoodie and/or jean jacket

44. Favorite scent for soap?

I dunno. Talcum powder I think

45. Which genre: sci-fi, fantasy or superhero?

Superhero

46. Most comfortable outfit to sleep in?

Tee and boxers. Sometimes socks too

48. If you were a fruit, what kind would you be?

Umh. Clementines maybe. Easy to peel, sweet but also not, sometimes with seeds.. and some people loathe the little white stripes they have and they spend hours peeling those away

49. What saying or quote do you live by?

“Like any / unloved thing, I don’t know if I’m real /when I’m not being touched.” —Natalie Wee

50. What made you laugh the hardest you ever have?

My best friends always make me wheeze, it can be the stupidest dumbest thing ever, I’m really fucking easy to amuse lol

51. current stresses?

My driver license my driver license my driver license my driver license my driver license my d

52. Favorite font?

I have no idea. This one? Lol

53. What is the current state of your hands?

Good. I just cut my nails, I really wanna put some nail polish but my dad comes back home tomorrow and he always looks me weird when I put it

55. Favorite fairy tail?

The little mermaid

56. Favorite tradition?

A tradition I have with my friends is that when we celebrate someone’s birthday, we go to the thrift shop and buy them stupid stuff to wear or put on. On my birthday a couple days ago I had to wear playboy bunny ears and a black glittery bow tie lol. Once I bought my best friend a tiny pirate hat, and for another my friend took a boa with pink feathers lol

57. The 3 biggest struggles you’ve overcome?

Mmmh

I’m having a hard time with my parents since I dropped out of uni but I think I’m starting to overcome it finally

When my parents were about to divorce and in was dreading the idea of moving from this city

That time in middle school I spent a couple weeks at the hospital to run a bunch of neurological tests

58. Four talents you’re proud having?

I’m pretty good at multitasking

It’s very difficult to enrage me (yes I consider it a talent)

I can juggle lol

I can read in moving cars/trains etc without getting sick :D

59. If you were a video game character, what would your catchphrase be?

“What the f—“

61. Favorite line you heard from a book/movie/tv show/ etc?

“Happiness isn't in the having. It's just in the being. It's in just saying it.” Aka Castiel’s love confession (OF COURSE I WAS GONNA SAY SOMETHING DESTIEL RELATED)

62. Seven characters you relate to?

No specific order:

Dean Winchester

Eric Derekson

Jake Peralta

Doug Eiffel (👀)

Tony Stark

Klaus Hargreeves

Diego Hargreeves

63. Five songs that would play in your club?

Anything from P!ATD

Bang!— AJR

Natural— Imagine Dragons

Anything from Set It Off

Maniac— Conan Gray

64. Favorite website from your childhood?

I didn’t use computers in my childhood lol

66. Favorite flower(s)?

Fresias 💕

67. Good luck charms?

I used to keep in my pocket a little hazelnut my dad gave me once telling me that it was a good luck charm. I took it away tho. I dunno, maybe my rings

68. Worst flavor of any food of drink you’ve ever tried?

I have to admit I never tasted it, but the smell of truffle literally makes me gag, so that

69. A fun fact that you don’t know how you learned?

Apparently your love language is both the one you give AND want love, and also the one you most lacked growing up. So. Mull that over.

70. Left or right handed?

Rightie

71. Least favorite pattern?

Holey ones. Make my sight go double

74. At what pain level out of ten (1 through 10) do you have to be at before you take an Advil of ibuprofen?

A seven I guess. I usually try to sleep off anything I have, I hate to take medicines, and loathe to call the doctor lol

75. When did you lose your first tooth?

Around.. six I think?

85. Fairy tails or mythology?

Mythology forever

86. Cookies or cupcakes?

Cookies 🍪

87. Your greatest fear?

That the other shoe will drop and I’ll be alone and lonely

88. Your greatest wish?

To have enough stubbornness to do what I wish to do without getting demoralized so easily

90. Luckiest mistake?

Me and one of my best friends got to know each other through other common friends, and once they both couldn’t come and we ended up spending the day together. We had lots of fun, but we also got drunk and I lost my mcfreaking watch lmao

92. Lamps, overhead lights, sunlight or fairy lights?

Lamps

94. Favorite season?

Winter ❄️

95. Favorite app on your phone?

Tumblr! (And the music one. And the podcasts one. And— jk lol)

#ask thomothy personal stuff!#lulu chaos incarnation #not a doodle #I had to think long and hard for some of these questions

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dailydaydreamings · 5 years ago

Text

Best in the Worst Way, Part 3

Its been a while, I wanted to make this longer but I thought I’d just post it. This semester is going to kick my ass, so updates will be whenever I have a spare couple of minutes. I hope you enjoy, K

The Reader has been having a love affair with two Avengers and gets caught in a sticky situation. She’s suddenly faced with life decisions she’s not prepared for, including who to love, what she wants, and is this all worth it?

Your bubble burst around 5:46 am when you drifted out of sleep. Steve had just rolled over, which had stirred you from your otherwise peaceful sleep.

You were vaguely aware that you were lying on your back and Bucky was on his side, curled around you.

This was normal, and good.

You smiled slightly to yourself, stretching a hand over your head. You yawned happily, you could get at least another hour or so before the boys started to wake up.

You nuzzled your way back into the pillows and closed your eyes.

And then the nausea hit.

It had been on and off for about a week, but in that moment you knew one thing: you are going to puke.

Scrambling over Bucky, you skid into the hall. You barely make it into the bathroom in time.

Once it’s over, you vaguely register the burning sensation and the tears inside your eyes. You turn your head, propped up by your hand to see both of your boys standing in the doorway.

Steve is the first to reach, coming to sit behind you and start petting your back, “Are you okay? Can we get you anything? Bucky get her some water.”

Bucky just stands there and says, “What the hell, y/n.”

You stare back, clenching your jaw. This is not how you envision this going but you barely manage, “I’m pregnant.”

Both men freeze.

“What did you just say?” Steve says quietly from behind you.

Sighing, you cross your legs and turn towards him. “I said, I’m pregnant.”

“I heard you,” his voice was stone cold, “but how do you know?”

“I lied yesterday when I said I was just dehydrated,” you start to get nervous, backing away slowly. “Bruce ran some tests, I’m pregnant, with twins.”

His eyes bore into you with an intensity you’ve never seen and suddenly your very scarred. He doesn’t say anything, he just sits there at eye level with you.

“Steve?” You whisper.

“This cannot be happening,” he says, pushing himself off the ground and storming out.

You gape after him. Of all the reactions you were expecting from Steve, this was not it. Mr Reliable, Morgan’s favourite uncle, who always stopped to take selfies with kids. What the actual hell.

Your even more shocked to see Bucky still standing there, completely frozen in place.

“Buck?” You ask, trying (in vain) to swallow back the lump in your throat.

Almost numbly, he walks forward and kneels in front of you.

“You’re pregnant?” He murmurs, his brows knitting together.

“Yeah,” you sigh.

“A baby?” He asks, tilting his head to the side.

Puzzled by his reaction, you hold up two fingers, “Two babies, actually.”

He leans back on his heels, observing. You find yourself holding your breath, you had honestly no idea how Bucky was going to react. He stayed as far away from Morgan and any other child you’d ever seen him with, he’d seemed scared of them.

Suddenly he reaches the forward to grab your hand and in the softest voice ever asked, “Really?”

Laughing, you nod, “Yeah, really.”

His eyes shut tight and you don’t miss the tears starting to form. And then you’re crying too.

You’re not entirely sure why you’re crying. Maybe because Steve just walked out and Bucky seems genuinely happy, the complete polar opposites of what you were expecting. Or maybe just the hormones.

You reach forward, pulling Bucky into your lap. He cluthches tight to you, kissing your shoulder, neck, cheek, and lips.

He pulls back to plant one kiss on your forehead, “Thank you, I never thought I would get this opportunity.”

You’re both laughing and crying, you’re in part absolutely devastated over Steve. But for a moment, you let Bucky have his happiness. In your blearingly white, cramped bathroom.

————

A couple hours later, you’re sitting in the kitchen, a cup of coffee in hand, wet hair dripping down your shoulders, and much calmer.

Bucky is making protein pancakes and bacon, which both smell absolutely delicious.

“How are you feeling about being pregnant?” He asks, glancing over his shoulder at you.

“Queasy,” you admitted. “Unsure, part of me doesn’t want this and I just know I’m going to be a bad mom.”

He turns to you and raises an eyebrow, “You’ll be the best mom ever, you’re the most caring person I’ve ever met.”

You roll your eye, “Yeah, with you and Steve. I don’t think I’ve ever been with caring to anyone I’m not banging. Look, I’m genuinely concerned I’m not going to love them as much as I love you two and myself.”

Bucky walks over, sitting down in front of you, “I don’t think it’s that simple, baby. I think it’s a different kind of love. Being a parent is more instinctual, with us it’s more of a connection. You’ll love them, because it’s a part of us.”

Despite his wise words, you lean forward and ask, “You really feel that way?”

He nods.

“Even if they’re not yours?”

His expression freezes. You lean back, clenching your jaw, “I asked for a DNA test. You’ll know soon enough if you have to worry about that kind of stuff. I don’t expect—“

His fist slams down on the table.

You flinch.

“Godammit y/n!” He pushes himself away and storms back towards the stove. He places his hands on his hips as he stares down at the food, his shoulders heaving.

Tears forming again, you murmur, “I’m sorry.”

“Stop,” he growls, turning back to you. “I don’t give a shit if they’re mine or his! The three of us are in this together, we share everything together. We love each other. We have been a family for months and expanding it just means more to love.”

Tears are streaming down your face now and you let your face fall into your hands.

“If it were up to me,” Bucky says, “I wouldn’t have even worried about getting a DNA test, I’ll love these kids regardless.” He chuckles, “It might actually be better if they have Steve’s DNA.”

You take your hands away from your face, opening your arms up to him. He kneels in front of you, between your legs, and hugs your torso tightly.

You wrap your arms around him, twining your fingers in his hair, “They would be just as lucky to have your DNA, baby.”

“I’ve always wanted to be a dad,” he murmurs. “I’ve always thought I’d screw them up though. With you and Steve, maybe it won’t be so bad.”

Looking down at him, with his stupid puppy dog eyes, you can’t help it but want this more than anything. You want to give him this chance, to be a father. You even want the 2am wake ups, stinking diapers, and even the labour.

Fuck it, you think, as you lean down to kiss his forehead. I guess we’re having a couple of babies.

————

“She’s devastated you left, you know.”

Steve sighs, turning to see Bucky standing at the end of the booth. After leaving the house, he walked to the old fashioned diner the three of you ate at every Sunday morning. He know Bucky would find him eventually, but was surprised it took this long.

“I’m not trying to hurt her,” he says, gripping the spoon in front of him with maybe a little too much force. “I just, I gave up that life. The normal life, you know: marriage, babies, tradition. When it was just us three, it was the furthest thing from all that.”

Bucky slides into the booth in front of him, “And what happens with sex, Steve? Babies. You did this just as much as I did, you need to take responsibility. Just because it’s not what we got into, doesn’t mean it’s not a gift.”

Steve sighs, “What if I don’t want to be a dad?”

He wasn’t sure if he meant what he was saying, but he didn’t miss the hurt cross Bucky’s face at his words.

“Sort yourself out and apologize to her,” Bucky snaps. “This relationship has always been about the three of us. Not her and I, not you and her, and not you and me. You’re not walking out on us. Figure your shit out.”

With that, Bucky pushes himself up and is gone.

The spoon snaps in half in Steve’s hands.

————

That night, you and Bucky are curled up on the couch. Your feet are in his lap as you read your book and he reads his.

“Did he really say that?” You ask, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Yeah,” he says, stroking your calf. “I think he’s just surprised, remember when he went back to Peggy, she turned him down and it devastated him. I think he gave up on ever thinking he could have this.”

You sigh, maybe he was right. Maybe Steve just needed some time to adjust.

Your cellphone started buzzing on the table, you leaned over to check the number.

“It’s Bruce,” you frown.

Bucky’s head pops up, his eyes wide. “Answer it.”

“Hello?” You ask timidly, bitting your lip.

“Y/n? It’s Bruce.”

You roll your eyes, of course it is. “Hi Bruce, what’s up?”

“I wanted to give you the DNA test results.”

Your mouth goes dry. Looking at Bucky, you know he can hear Bruce’s words as well, and even though he said not to worry about it you say breathlessly, “yes?”

“They were inconclusive.”

You let out a shaky breath. Oh my god.

“This can happen with twins, I’m told,” Bruce goes on. “And we can run more tests, but they’re more invasive, and —”

“No, no,” you say quickly, eyes locking with Bucky who’s head is tilted to the side. “I’m not going to worry about that till after they’re born, thank you Bruce though.”

You hang up.

Bucky has a smile on his lips, “So we don’t know.”

You look back down at your book, “So we don’t know.”

Tags

@fading-mentality-bouquet

#bucky x pregnant!reader #steve x bucky x reader #bucky x reader #steve x pregnant!reader #steve x reader #part 3

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sunsethwa · 5 years ago

Text

oblivious, adj;

not aware of or concerned about what is happening around one.

A/N: Part of the prompt game! I actually re-wrote this a couple of times because I didn’t know what to do with it, but it was a nice challenge and I finally figured it out heh

Word Count: 1k

26. “It was you the whole time.”

46. “What happens if I do this?”

He was utterly confused. The confusion leaning toward pure annoyance towards you at this point. You had been whining about this one boy that kept giving you a hard time lately, someone you had feelings for – but you refused to tell him who it was. Right now, it really hurt him having to listen to your constant complaining over this stupid boy who could never understand how much you liked him. Mingi had been catching feelings for you over the course of the past months, but was too scared to tell you, especially now that you seemed to be heavily invested in someone else. What he didn’t know, was that the boy you kept nagging about, was in fact, himself.

Walking up to your door, he took a deep breath, preparing himself to listen to your whining yet again during your usual study session. Before he got the chance to knock, you opened the door wide, giving him a welcoming hug. It lingered in Mingi’s mind how perfectly you fit in his arms, and how you always smelled so good – he swore he could stay like this forever.

“I saw you outside.” You told him with a smile, whereas he gave you a faint one in return accompanied by a shy ‘hi’. He found himself wondering how you always looked so cute. It was hard for him to even follow you towards the kitchen table where all your notes were scattered around. He was afraid he would burst soon if he didn’t tell you about his feelings.

An hour and a half into your studying session, you decided to take a small break, both agreeing that you had worked hard so far.

“You want some food? I can cook something for us if you’d like?” You offered, to which Mingi nodded. Quickly getting up, you headed towards the fridge to find the ingredients you would be cooking with. The whole time, Mingi couldn’t help but follow your movements – everything about you, he found to be perfection. He couldn’t take this anymore and cleared his throat to gain your attention.

“Uhm, you haven’t mentioned that boy you like today.” He tried. Your eyes lifted slightly from the vegetables you were chopping to meet his eyes, then lowered again quickly.

“Oh, well-“ You started, not knowing what to say. This would be the perfect opportunity to tell him about your feelings, but at the same time you couldn’t thinking to yourself: ‘What happens if I do this?’ Would it make him uncomfortable and then end up ruining your friendship? Or could he actually like you back?

“Well he, he didn’t seem to take the hint for the longest time so … I think I’ve kind of given up.” You admitted, scared to look towards Mingi again in case your eyes would spoil your lie.

“He’s a fucking dumbass.” Mingi told you sternly. You heard his chair move and put down the knife, shoving the cutting board away as Mingi walked over to you. He stood right in front of you and put his hands on the side of your shoulders, looking you dead in the eyes.

“The person who gets to be loved by you, is the luckiest person in the world – and if they can’t wake up and see that, they’re freaking insane.” He said, and you could tell there was genuine sincerity in his words. You felt your heart beating faster than a hummingbird’s, knowing which words were about to exit your lips next.

“You’ve now both called yourself a dumbass, and insane.” You admitted. Mingi’s hands dropped from your shoulders, looking at you like he had no idea what you just said.

“It was you the whole time. All the times I kept complaining, it was about you. Don’t you get it? – I literally only ever want to spend time with you, I only want your hugs, I only want to hold your hand – I would only ever want to kiss you and … you know.” You clarified. A big smile formed on Mingi’s lips, the first one you had seen from him today.

“Wow, you must really like me then. You really could not shut up about me-“ You stopped him by slapping his chest slightly, making him laugh.

“Stop! It’s hard enough for me to admit this as it is.” You stated. He pulled you into a hug, one that felt safe and warm and genuine. You buried your face into his body, indulging in the moment as much as you could. He stroked your hair and placed a sweet kiss on the top of your head. Being so close to him, you could feel his heartbeat against you – you swore it was even quicker than yours.

“I like you too, so much.” He confessed, still holding you close. You felt yourself releasing a big breath of relief and pulled away slightly to look at him.

“Thank god.” You said. The two of you stood there for a moment, just looking at each other, one waiting for the other to make the move.

“Fuck it.” Mingi whispered, leaning in to give you a soft, yet meaningful kiss.

“Finally.” You leaned in to steal another kiss, this one a bit more intense. Mingi was still holding you tight in his arms, thinking that there is no other place you belong more. After a couple of minutes, he eventually let you go.

“Do you want to keep studying?” You asked him, half serious, half jokingly.

“No way, I just want to keep kissing you.” He said in honesty, and you couldn’t help but letting out a giggle at his enthusiasm. He pulled you close again after only letting you free for a couple of seconds.

“Or like, I would like to find out what that ‘you know’ part of your confession speech meant earlier.” He suggested with a smirk, making you slap his chest once more. Yet, you went in another kiss, fully agreeing to his suggestion.

#atinynet #atzinc #mingi #song mingi #ateez mingi #ateez #ateez fluff #ateez oneshot #ateez one shot #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez blurbs #ateez blurb #ateez drabble #ateez drabbles

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shipmistress9 · 5 years ago

Text

FTLOAP: Chapter 46: I’ll Make It Up To You

Fandom: HTTYD

Theme: Hiccstrid - Medieval-style AU - Romance - Angst/Hurt/Comfort

Summary: Reduced to little more than a stable boy, Hiccup, despite his noble birth, has few prospects for more in life. But when he meets a girl who came to look at the horses, being a stable boy might not be enough anymore. Together, they have tough choices to make and great risks to navigate if they want to survive and be together.

Rating: Explicit

FF-net - AO3 -

Discord-server for discussions and questions

Part 1: Prologue; Chapter 1; Chapter 2; Chapter 3; Chapter 4; Chapter 5; Chapter 6; Chapter 7; Chapter 8; Chapter 9; Chapter 10; Chapter 11;

Part 2: Chapter 12; Chapter 13; Chapter 14; Interlude 1; Chapter 15; Chapter 16; Chapter 17; Chapter 18; Chapter 19; Chapter 20; Chapter 21; Chapter 22; Chapter 23; Chapter 24; Chapter 25; Chapter 26; Interlude 2; Chapter 27: Chapter 28 ; Chapter 29 ; Chapter 30; Chapter 31; Chapter 32; Interlude 3; Bonus 1; Chapter 33

Part 3: Chapter 34; Chapter 35; Chapter 36; Interlude 4; Chapter 37; Chapter 38; Chapter 39; Chapter 40; Interlude 5; Chapter 41; Chapter 42; Chapter 43; Chapter 44, Chapter 45

Alpha/Co-author: @athingofvikings

Taglist: @drchee5e @hey-its-laura-again @thepixiedustfactory

. – * – _ . o O o . _ – * – .

AN: Yay, finally a new chapter! ^^ I'm truly sorry that I couldn't finish this as announced in November. But my daughter decided to come a little earlier than expected, throwing off many of our plans... We're both doing fine though. :)

This chapter... Is, for the most part, self-indulgent fluff. I hope you won't mind. ;) But there's also another bit, one I know many of you have been waiting for since forever. ;) The title comes, again, from an Imagine Dragons song, 'I'll make it up to you' this time. It's a rather fitting song for Hiccup right now, don't you think?

. o O o .

After their long discussion about how County Ravenledge could be claimed and improved, Astrid and the others having left, Hiccup was left with a chaotic whirlwind of emotions.

On the one hand, he was excited and elated by this apparently simple and direct solution to their problems. They had a plan, and if everything worked out, there was nothing in the way of him and Astrid being together. It would be a difficult path to follow, for sure, with the overwhelming prospect of ruling an entire county of people whose culture and customs he hardly knew. It was more than a bit intimidating, the more he thought about it, especially given the conditions of the place. But if that was what the Gods demanded of him, then he would do it.

But on the other hand... he was anxious, so much so that his hands wouldn’t stop clenching nervously, no matter what he did to distract himself. Eret, Dagur, and even Astrid seemed convinced that Grand Duke Oswald and the King would agree to give him the title without much resistance, but in the privacy of his own thoughts, he wasn’t so sure about that. Those powerful men knew about his life, knew enough to know how much of a failure he was, in pretty much every aspect. Why would they agree to support him so openly?

It wasn’t as if they could win anything out of this, could they?

Later, as he helped Eret get out of the elaborate and dust-and-sweat-fouled day-clothes he was wearing, he couldn’t keep from asking the question which had buzzed in his mind like a bee. “Why are you doing all this for us?”

With a pained groan, Eret laid back on his bed as Hiccup brought the bowl of warm water over from the hearth. It was essential to keep the wound on Eret’s chest as clean as possible, and since it was difficult for Eret to do so himself, it was Hiccup’s responsibility to help him. “What do you mean?” he replied, sounding puzzled and tired after a long exhausting day.

“Everything,” Hiccup said after a short pause, shrugging. “I understand that you care for Astrid and want to see her happy. But all this goes far beyond that. Supporting me in this… You know as well as I do how that could backfire and weaken you, politically I mean. So… why?”

The plan was that Astrid, Dagur, and Eret would speak with their fathers in the morning, during or possibly even before their common breakfast. It made sense, of course; it was better to wait until then instead of approaching them now in the middle of the night and dealing with them while they were grumpy. They’d talked for a long while and by now, half the castle had to be asleep already. But waiting until the morning to get the confirmation was hard. And even though Hiccup knew that Eret might have his own reasons for supporting him, reasons that wouldn’t necessarily convince the most powerful men and leaders of the Kingdom, he still hoped that his answer would ease his mind at least a little bit.

Eret chuckled, interrupted by the occasional wince as Hiccup cleaned the area around the cut on his chest. “Two reasons,” he eventually replied. “First: I know you. And I trust you. We trust you. You’re a good man, Hiccup, honest, reliable, and diligent. You’re going to be a good leader to those battered people. As Dagur said, it’ll take time. But I’m sure that, under your leadership, County Ravenledge and its people can thrive again. So supporting you is definitely not a waste of time or effort. It’s for the good of the people, and that’s what our main interest should be, right?”

Hiccup nodded, inwardly hoping that he could live up to this trust, these expectations. “And… the second reason?” he asked cautiously.

Eret sighed, his eyes falling closed. “The second reason is that we know only too well how it is to love without hope. Dag and I… we knew right from the start that our love had no future. We were prepared. But even though we always knew our time would be limited… Actually having it come to an end with the wedding just… just hurt! And even though we’ve got a reprieve of some sort now, we know it’ll end someday. Just thinking about it is driving me insane.” He paused and took a deep breath before letting it out again. “For you, it’s different though… for you, there’s hope. It might be a slim hope and the road to reach it will be hard, but it’s possible. So we want to help you in whatever way we can, simply because that is something we can do.”

Hiccup nodded again, putting the water away and handing Eret a piece of cloth to dry himself up. “Thank you,” he murmured. It was far too little to convey the gratitude he felt, but it was all he could come up with.

However, it seemed to be enough for Eret. “Anytime,” he replied in a light voice. “But now, you better leave. Tuff should be here any minute now. And I want to say ‘Have a good night’, but... but I’d rather it not get too good if you know what I mean, so…”

Hiccup was incredibly glad that he wasn’t facing Eret at the moment, that he wouldn’t notice the blush on his face. “Don’t worry,” he mumbled awkwardly. “I won’t risk losing her again.”

He hadn’t meant to say those last words out loud; they’d slipped off his lips before he’d been able to think about it. And, as expected, there was a confused frown on his cousin’s face when he turned back to face him. But since he didn’t ask, Hiccup didn’t feel obliged to explain himself and quickly changed the topic. “Is there anything else you need? Before I leave, I mean?”

Still frowning, Eret shook his head, so Hiccup quickly bid him good night and left the elaborate bedchamber.

Once the door closed behind him, Hiccup exhaled deeply. Eret’s brief explanation had soothed him, but only a little. His reasons were understandable enough, and Hiccup wanted to believe that, if the situation was reversed, he and Astrid would also do whatever they could to make it possible for Eret and Dagur to stay together. And as for the other reason… He could only hope that Eret was right and that he would be able to provide a better life for the people of Ravenledge one day.

If he even got the chance to try.

He’d been right, Eret hadn’t been able to provide him with the answer he longed for, but at least his words had settled his anxiety to a bearable level. But that helped to ease his chaotic emotions only so much. Because the excitement and anxiety over their plan had only been part of his emotional turmoil. The question about what the months and years to come would bring them was certainly important, but right now, the more immediate future was a little more pressing to him.

He’d promised Eret that there was no reason to be worried and he was dead set on keeping this promise, to Eret and to himself alike. But there were more facets to that promise than Eret thought.

Sticking to what Eret was concerned about and not having sex with Astrid until they were truly married wouldn’t be a problem. They’d managed relatively well so far, and the prospect of not having to wait two more years but only a couple of weeks would make holding out even easier. Theoretically, at least.

Practically though, just thinking about tonight – and if it worked as planned the following nights as well – made his entire body tingle in anticipation. Hours of being alone with Astrid, of being free to kiss and to hold her... Gods, how he missed feeling her soft body against his own, his hands exploring her, tasting her lips and her skin, listening to–

With a low groan, he shook his head, chasing those thoughts away. He couldn’t– no, mustn’t indulge in those fantasies! “Just a few weeks,” he reminded himself in a low whisper, biting his lip in the hope that the pain might help him focus. He had no confirmation of his fears on this matter, no certainty that their getting intimate before had somehow caused their separation. But he also couldn’t shake off the suspicion that that might have been the reason, that his overconfidence had angered the Gods and the temporary separation had been a warning. And he wouldn’t risk losing her again! Even if it meant going weeks or maybe even months without touching her like he wanted to – he would take that unresolved longing over possibly losing her forever at any time. He just hoped Astrid would understand his reticence.

Because on top of everything else, there was one other aspect that might make keeping his promise to Eret a little more complicated. Knowing Astrid, Hiccup suspected that she was going to disagree with him on this point, but he just knew that it was his fault she’d been through so much pain during the past weeks. If he hadn’t been so stupid, hadn’t given up too soon, hadn’t given in to his longing for her in the first place…

Sighing, he shook his head. No matter how much he wished it were otherwise, he couldn’t undo the past. But he was going to do everything to keep any more pain away from her from now on. And furthermore, it meant that he’d do everything she asked for, that he would follow her every wish. To make it up to her.

He was aware of the possible contradiction of these two urges, and his thoughts were still running in circles when Tuff appeared behind one of the elaborate tapestries a little while later. Hiccup rose as he silently beckoned him to follow. Just as Ruff had said, the passage was narrow and clearly didn’t get used regularly, with dust and cobwebs everywhere. But Hiccup didn’t pay much attention to the condition of the space, nervousness and anticipation settling in his stomach. At the end of this walk, he would see her again, be alone with her. And while he was unquestionably looking forward to it, his breath coming fast and even his bad leg moving without complaint in the cramped passageway, there was the point that, as so often before, the night would be a tough balancing act between what he wanted to do and what he had to do.

. o O o .

Agitatedly chewing on her lower lip, Astrid sat at the edge of her bed, her eyes glued to the door. Any minute now, Ruff would lead Hiccup in here. It wouldn't be long anymore, she knew that. But still, every single second of waiting felt like an eternity.

Gods, she was such a mess.

Ever since she’d overheard the Grand Dukes’ conversation earlier that day, all her thoughts had circled around County Ravenledge and how this could be the solution to their problem. But now that she’d presented this idea to Hiccup and their friends and they’d agreed on a plan, practical reality was catching up with her again.

She and Hiccup would spend the entire night together, and in contrast to that night after the ball where she’d fallen asleep in his arms, this time they wouldn’t be too exhausted to do… whatever they wanted to do. The thought made her heart beat faster and she balled her hands into fists to keep them from trembling, crumpling the blanket and her nightgown in the process. Gods, why was she so nervous? This wasn’t the first night she spent alone with him, after all.

But no, she wasn’t nervous. She was excited. And it was because she’d been with Hiccup before that she was so looking forward to this, couldn’t wait for him to finally be here.

What would the night bring?

Would this night be a loving reunion after these painful weeks, with slow caresses and exploring each other anew? She could picture it, softly entangled between the sheets of her bed, celebrating their love until the sun rose again.

Or would they jump right back to how it had been before, heated passionate kisses without preamble? She wouldn’t mind that either. Oh, how she longed for his touch and to feel again the exhilaration only he could bring her.

But maybe… maybe they would continue where they’d stopped more directly. If Hiccup remembered to bring that pot of scented oil, then… She sucked in a quick breath and bit down on her already slightly swollen lip to keep herself from moaning. All too well she remembered how it had felt to have his fingers inside her. Would he insist on preparing her again for tomorrow night or could they… jump right in? Heat rose to her cheeks, and she wondered whether she could manage to stay a little quieter or what Ruff and Tuff would say in the morning.

Although… there also was another option. Not that she expected this night to go that way, no certainly not. But maybe… it was a possibility, wasn’t it? Now that the solution for their problem was within reach, maybe they could even go a step further. They would be married in a few weeks – she vehemently refused to entertain the possibility that it could be otherwise. The date for her wedding was set, irrevocably. Nothing would delay or prevent that, her father had made that clear. Was that also true if an inspection by one of Freya’s Gythias revealed that her maidenhead was broken already? That could have happened at any time, during that accident on the ride for example. Or when she vowed to Fyrir Gothi herself that she’d never been intimate with anyone but Hiccup, her husband-to-be? That could work, couldn’t it? Nobody would want to risk a scandal, after all. So even if she fell pregnant tonight… that wouldn’t really matter, would it?

Astrid’s blood was boiling hotter and her throat went dry at that idea, her vision becoming a little blurry. Gods, why wasn’t Hiccup here already?

In the next moment, she nearly fell off her bed, her heart jumping into her throat and beating furiously, when a knock came from the door. Hastily, she scrambled to her feet, bare on the plush carpet, and called for Ruff to come in.

“Tuff brought something for you,” Ruff announced, smirking when she noticed Astrid’s state, and stepped aside to allow Hiccup behind her to enter. “I’d say I wish you a good night… but–”

“But I’d like to sleep for once,” came Tuff’s voice from somewhere behind her. It made Astrid blush even harder.

Snickering, Ruff shrugged. “There you go. See you two in the morning.” And with those words, she left, pulling the door closed behind her – and leaving Astrid and Hiccup alone in her bedroom.

A heavy silence fell over them, only interrupted by their audible breathing. This was truly happening. Hiccup was here, in her bedroom! A place where – except for the occasional exception of a healer or her actual brother – nobody but Ruff was allowed. Not even Tuff would enter this room without a damn good reason. And now, she was alone here with Hiccup, with the man she loved, the man she was going to marry. The man whose touch and closeness she craved beyond anything else.

And they had all night…

. o O o .

Hiccup barely noticed how the door closed behind Astrid’s maidservant. His head was entirely empty, wiped clean since the moment he’d entered. He’d expected that spending the night with Astrid would be intense, but just being here was so much more than he’d anticipated. This room, so personal with pictures and decorations that just screamed Astrid, the bed, so big and inviting, and Astrid herself, hair loosely bound in her usual nighttime braid and dressed in only a thin night shift – it all made for an incredibly heady atmosphere.

“Hey,” Astrid eventually breathed a little shyly after he’d done nothing but stare at her for... he couldn’t say how long. Long enough, probably.

“Hey.” Swallowing hard, Hiccup managed to reply in the same manner. If she’d hoped for more of a reaction though, he couldn’t help but disappoint her, unable to form coherent thoughts or even to move. His eyes lingered where they shouldn’t, on her parted lips, plush and inviting, begging him to kiss them, and on the curves of her breasts and hips barely hidden by the thin fabric around her.

Freya, how much he wanted her…

His mouth went dry, even swallowing again and licking his lips to wet them not helping in the slightest. He still knew he couldn’t let anything happen, not for real. But it was nigh on impossible to remember that when she slowly came closer, bright eyes filled with warmth and longing holding him hostage.

When she stretched to kiss him, her lips on his felt so soft, somehow softer even than only hours before or during the one night they'd spent together on Eret's couch. They drew a low groan from somewhere deep in his chest, and without his doing, his hands curled around her waist, pulling her closer. Her response robbed him of the last shred of coherence when her hands grabbed at his hair, fingernails scraping, and she tilted her head to deepen their kiss.

Hiccup momentarily lost track of everything. All that mattered was the feeling of her lips, the taste of her skin as his mouth wandered down her neck, and the lovely sound of her gasping his name into his ear, silk and lace bunched up between his fingers as he hurled her closer still. Gods, he'd missed this so much, this closeness and heat, the intimacy of reconnecting with the missing part of his soul, with her, and it felt so completely right.

How couldn’t it be right?

Somewhere in the back of his mind, a small voice was warning him, but it got lost in the flood of sensation she elicited when she gently but determinedly tugged him along. His thighs hit the edge of her bed and without really noticing he kicked off his shoes before they both tumbled onto the soft mattress.

It was all just a blur. They rolled around on the bed until she lay beneath him, her lithe body tight against his and her hand tugging at him until he was where she wanted him. Her hands were everywhere, in his hair, running down his sides, clutching at his back while her lips stole every coherent thought from his mind.

Hiccup shook with desire, her touches sending sparks like lightning strikes through his entire body. Heat pooled in his lower belly, so close to where he could feel her against him. Resisting her was impossible.

Astrid uttered the softest moans when his hands roamed over her body in return, making his head spin and the thin fabric wasn’t enough to keep him from feeling her inviting warmth. He couldn't get enough, was addicted to every noise and every sensation, now after their separation even more so than before. Leaning down, his mouth wandered down her neck, kissing and tasting her, feeling her heartbeat pulsing against his tongue.

A shudder ran through his body when he felt her touch on his bare back beneath his tunic, not hesitant at all where fingers dug into scarred skin. It reminded him of how scared he’d once been of how she would react to his mangled body, to the signs of his failures, and of how much he trusted her now.

But the reminder also brought a brief moment of clarity to his mind, making him realise what they were doing. He lay on top of Astrid on her bed, with her thin night shift making a poor job at covering her body – especially with the skirt bunched up somewhere around her hips and the neckline nearly dropping off her shoulders. With the way she gazed up at him through dazed eyes and that pink flush on her cheeks, she looked breathtakingly beautiful, almost agonizingly. All he wanted at that moment was to give in, to feel her eager touch on his skin, to let her take off his tunic like she was trying just now, and to not care about the consequences.

But he did care, and greatly so.

"No," Hiccup gasped, fighting to keep his clarity of mind and not give in to her oh so tempting touch. He shook his head as if to clear it and then rolled off her with a groan, hands moving to cover his face. "No, no, we can't… mustn't… no…"

Gods, he was an idiot! Why had he let it come this far when he’d known to be wary of the temptation? With brutal force, he pulled up the memory of how she’d looked when he’d left her standing in the armoury, of all the pain he’d put her through. No matter how sweet her skin tasted on his tongue, it wasn’t worth risking her being in such pain again.

Although, it might be too late already. He clearly remembered the pain and confusion on her face whenever he’d pulled away from her before, her insecurities and fear of rejection. Why, oh why, hadn’t he resisted right from the start? If he’d only kissed her without getting carried away and explained himself right away… But he hadn’t resisted, had given in to his desire so readily, and now, he’d done it again, had–

“What is it?”

Her voice pulled him out of his whirling thoughts like nothing else could.

He’d expected her to be disappointed and hurt, but there was none of that. Instead, she sounded mostly calm and even a little curious, throwing him off track completely.

Gulping, he lowered his hands, his eyes finding hers in an instant. They were big, her pupils dilated, and there was a distinct flush on her cheeks, her breath coming a little faster than was normal. But aside from those obvious signs of arousal, she seemed surprisingly composed.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I didn’t mean to… to hurt you or reject you.”

“I know you didn’t,” she replied, her expression turning soft but also a little sad as her eyes dropped back to his lips for a heartbeat.

Hiccup swallowed again and sat up, turning around to better look at hero better talk to her. “You-you’re not… upset? That I wouldn’t...” Breaking off, he only nodded at her, her bare shoulders and neck so alluring that it was hard to even look at her.

Unintentionally taunting him further, she took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling with it, before she sat up as well. It made her shift slip even further down her arm, but she caught it before it could slip off completely and pulled it back up over her shoulder when she noticed him staring at exposed skin. When he looked up at her face again, she was smiling softly, her eyes gleaming.

“Hiccup, I know that you would never hurt me,” she said, that soft smile becoming even more beautiful somehow. “And I… I trust you, you know? In you and in our feelings, in our bond and our fate. Nothing will ever separate us again.” She frowned as if looking for the right words. “It’s… it sounds silly, I guess. Cocky. But I know that you... want me. There were times where I worried, yes, but those are over. So, if you refuse to touch me now… well, then I know it’s not because you don’t want to. I trust that you have a reason, something I just don’t get yet. But I also know that… I know that I can ask you everything. That I don’t need to be afraid or embarrassed, not ever. So… what is it?”

Hiccup could only gaze at her in awe, lips parting but unable to come up with a response. By the Gods, she was perfect! Once again he wondered what he’d done to deserve having her in his life.

Instead of answering, he leaned in and kissed her again. Maybe that wasn’t the wisest thing to do given how much his heart was still racing from their heated kiss only moments before. But he was more careful now, the kiss more controlled this time, fueled by gratitude and love instead of desire as he lifted his hand to cradle her face. She really was amazing. His thumb caressed her cheek as he ended the kiss and he instead leaned his forehead against hers. “I love you,” he whispered hoarsely.

Chuckling, Astrid retreated. “I love you too,” she replied, the warmth in her eyes almost enough to make him melt then and there. Then they lit up with a teasing spark. “But if that’s the reason why you retreated, then you’ll have to elaborate.”

Hiccup couldn't help but snort in amusement at her remark, even as he grimaced. He just hoped she would still be this understanding after he'd laid out his reasons. With a slight nod, he stood up, putting a little more space between them. He needed to explain himself and getting distracted by her closeness wouldn’t do him much good now.

"You're probably going to think I'm overreacting," he began, taking a few steps up and down her room. Casually, he looked around, taking in random details without really registering them. Doing anything just to not get distracted again. "But, this separation... Somehow, I feel like it was some kind of punishment. Or a warning maybe. I mean, sure, Cami said that what we did, getting intimate and all, wasn't against the rules. But even she can't know what the Gods really want." Hiccup paused, warily glancing over at her. But she didn't say anything, sitting at the edge of the high bed and watching him with her head cocked in confusion, so he quickly went on. "It's just… the timing, you know? Right before we were about to take that huge step and do anal sex, this… this major obstacle was thrown into our way.” Agitatedly, he threw his arms up, gesturing wildly. “And I'm having a tough time accepting that to only have been a coincidence. What if it was a sign instead? A sign that we're supposed to wait until we're truly married. Not just with actually having sex, but also with… well, with everything else.”

He could feel her disappointment now, even though she tried hard to not let it show. “Uh, okay?” she replied, a little insecurely. It was as if he could see the cogs in her head turning until she spoke again. “That’s… well, maybe you’re right, but…” She paused again, thinking, then shook her head. “I don’t think that makes much sense. I mean, it didn’t just happen because of what we did. Me getting married and all that, it had been planned for months, since just before the Midwinter ceremony.”

Hiccup nodded; she had a point, after all. But something about what she’d just said still poked at something in his mind. “Since before Midwinter?” How could she be sure about that?

“At least that’s what Eret mentioned,” she confirmed with a slight shrug. “Something about how Daniel had acted differently from one day to the other. Since that day you all went to meet Cami that first time, remember? He said that Daniel opted out of that visit at short notice and had a long talk with Father instead, and after that, his behaviour changed?”

Hiccup paled, his heart stuttering painfully. “That…” he muttered. “Gods, that’s even worse.” He took a few deep breaths to calm himself and tried to put order into his jumbling thoughts as it was clear that Astrid didn’t understand. “That night… Don’t you remember? That’s when we started. When Cami told me it would be all right to get intimate with you if we didn’t go too far and when you were waiting for me at the stables then, when we–”

“– when you made me come the first time,” she completed his sentence. There was understanding in her voice now, regret in her eyes.

He nodded again, gulping. “Exactly. And if that’s the night when your father decided to pull your wedding forward and to thwart all my plans to gain a title… Yeah, no, I really don’t believe that’s a coincidence!”

Astrid still didn’t seem convinced though. Chewing her lower lip, she slowly shook her head, thinking. “I don’t know, Hiccup. That’s just–”

“Exactly,” he interrupted her gently, stepping closer and reaching for her hand. “I don’t know either. But I’m not going to risk losing you again.”

At that, all her doubts and worries melted off her features and got replaced by something immeasurable softer. She pulled him closer and firmly intertwined her fingers with his. “You won’t lose me. Ever.”

Hiccup couldn’t help but return her soft smile, squeezing her hand but not replying directly. He wouldn’t take her or their future for granted again.

“So,” Astrid went on after a short pause, “what exactly does this mean now? Will you stay here tonight?”

Sighing, Hiccup nodded. Of course, strictly thinking even him being here and alone with her went far beyond what he should do. He should apologise to Astrid, thank her servants for their help, and leave, should not risk getting overwhelmed by temptation again. It would be the prudent thing to do. But even with all logical reasoning and pondering, there were things he simply couldn’t do – and staying away from Astrid was one of them.

“Yes, I will. I don’t know anymore which rules apply to us, so… Well, in that vision I had, the Goddess told me that I’d have to do what comes naturally to me. So I’ll just have to trust in my own judgement, I guess. And as long as we don’t get carried away, I don’t feel like being here is wrong.”

Astrid visibly relaxed. “That’s good. Because I don’t think so either,” she replied with a breathy little chuckle, but then became serious again. “But what else does it mean? Where would you draw the line? Just… just so I know?”

She sounded so vulnerable…

Hiccup gulped, reminding himself once more of how easily he could hurt her, of the power they both had over each other. He raised his hand to brush a strand of hair out of her face, caressing her soft skin as gently as he could. “I think this is all right,” he murmured, leaning closer. “And this, too.”

His lips brushed over hers and she hummed, mouth twitching into a smile as his tongue poked out to taste her. Slowly, almost despite himself, his hand rose to cup the back of her head, pulling her closer again, deeper into their kiss. Astrid responded with a happy sigh, lips parting to welcome him.

Quickly, the kiss grew firmer, more heated with breathless groans, tongues swirling, and teeth nipping at soft lips. Hiccup trembled with repressed desire; she was just so wonderful, perfect, everything. But he was careful this time, making sure that his hands stayed near her head, dropping only to her neck and shoulders and not lower. He could feel that Astrid wanted more, wanted to melt against him, to touch him, and he greatly appreciated that she held back nonetheless. His ability to resist temptation only reached so far.

When he pulled back again, there was a warm glow in her eyes, something that hadn’t been there just a minute ago but which he felt, too. After the months of exploring each other before her birthday, sticking to only rather innocent kisses like this one felt like not enough. But at the same time… it was enough. The closeness and assurance were all they needed, for now at least. Everything else would come back to them over time.

“Yes, I think it’s okay for me to be here,” he repeated, his voice a little rougher than before. “It’s okay for us to kiss, to cuddle, and to hold each other through the night.”

She nodded and he pulled her closer into his arms, just as she leaned against him too, not resisting when she guided them to lie down again. It wasn’t so they could continue to make out, so it was all right. And it felt so good to hold her like this again! His nose was in her hair, drowning him in that subtle scent of mayweed he’d missed so much, and his arm lightly rested around her waist, her warmth against his chest. He wouldn’t have minded spending the rest of the night like this.

“I missed this,” she whispered after a while. “This closeness, feeling you, and…”

She trailed off, squirming a little in his embrace. It made her rub against him in an incredibly enticing way, and with a small grunt, his hold around her waist tightened, keeping her still. Gods, he wanted…

He could feel how she actively restrained herself, almost trembling beneath his hands with the effort of keeping herself from moving further. “I’m sorry,” she chuckled, embarrassed. “I just… well, I’d hope we… that…” She broke off, biting her lip. Then she sighed. “But it’s... it’s okay. I understand. I think. And it’s only a few more weeks.” She turned her head to look up at him, smiling. “I can wait that long.”

Hiccup’s breath caught in his throat. Lying beneath him with that smile on her face, strands of her golden hair all around her on the pillow, illuminated only by the flickering light of the lantern, and with soft understanding glowing in her eyes… Gods, she was so beautiful, inside and out, irresistible. Almost.

“I’m sorry, too,” he murmured. “For disappointing you and–”

“Hush!” Astrid placed her hand over his lips. “You didn’t. It’s fine.”

Sighing, he closed his eyes and kissed her fingers, softly. It made her giggle, and when she pulled them back again after a minute, he opened his eyes again to look at her. “I love you, Astrid. And… and I promise to make it up to you.” He hesitated for a moment, taking a deep breath, but then brought his mouth to her ear, his hand caressing her neck. “Every night, I’ll make it up to you, I swear…”

Astrid’s breath hitched, and for a heartbeat, Hiccup considered stretching his own rules a little, just once. Just letting his hand glide down her barely covered body, playing with her breasts and toying with her clit, just lazily getting her off while stealing the breath from her lungs with his kisses, just this one time. And he almost did it. When she turned her head and her lips found his again, there was a moment when his resolve crumbled and nearly failed him. She clearly wanted, how could he resist her?

But then he remembered the armoury again, the pain in her eyes as he’d left her standing – and pulled away.

“Mmh, I can’t wait,” Astrid hummed, her eyes dazed and dreamy as she looked up at him, panting.

Hiccup resisted the urge to watch her chest rise and fall and instead lay down next to her again, eyes firmly on her face. She didn’t need to know how close he’d been to giving in, how much he wanted to give in.

They made themselves more comfortable and for a long while just cuddled and enjoyed each other’s company before Astrid broke the silence again. “Can I ask you something?”

Hiccup frowned. “Of course. Whatever you want.” Hadn’t she just said herself that she could ask him everything? What made her think she couldn’t ask now?

Nodding, she turned around and eyed him somewhat curiously. “It’s… well, you mentioned a few times now that you had another vision. And I was wondering what it was about. I mean, you don’t have to tell me. I had none, so this one clearly was only for you. I’m curious though and thought, maybe, you could tell me about it? Only if you think it’s okay and want to…”

Understanding sparked in his mind and his features softened. “Sure. I don’t feel like it was meant to be a secret.” He shifted into a sitting position that made it easier to talk which Astrid mimicked, leaning against his side. “I was back at that small house we both saw, in the middle of a forest,” he began, trying to remember as many details as possible. “At first, I thought it was just the same vision again, then I noticed the differences. The door wouldn’t open to reveal you, and…”

. o O o .

Over the course of about half an hour, he told her of the dream-vision the Goddess had sent him, about how he’d needed Astrid's key to open the door, the Goddess wearing her face, and what she’d said to him. He told her everything he could remember and once he’d finished, Astrid was silent for a minute or two, processing what he'd told her.

"How did you know it wasn't just an ordinary dream?" she eventually asked.

Hiccup shrugged. "I didn't," he admitted. "Not right away. I spent the entire night and most of the following day pondering. I’d been so convinced that… that there was no hope left for us. But the night before, I’d talked to Cami and she’d said something that made me hope again, even as that wasn’t how she’d meant it. She’d said that, if we really were connected by a true soulbond, then not even the meddling of a King could separate us. She’d tried to convince me that our bond couldn’t be real because you would marry Eret, that I should let you go and move on... But I couldn’t shake off the thought that it also could mean something else, that nothing can ever separate us, not even your father. Because no matter what she said, I knew that our bond had been real. Is real.” He let his hand drop to her chest, and for once it was easy to ignore how close he was to touching her in a way he mustn’t do. Their bond was more meaningful than any physical aspects of their relationship.

“When I had that dream then…,” he went on. “You’re right, I couldn’t be sure whether it had been only a dream or not, and I spent the rest of the night and most of the following day thinking about it. What it could mean, whether I really was supposed to kill someone or whether that’s just been some imaginary task born from my desperation. I just couldn’t be sure, not… not until your accident and Markor…”

Astrid froze at his words, and he winced when she inhaled sharply, understanding what he was talking about.

“I’m sorry.” He wasn’t sure what exactly he was apologising for, ending Markor’s life or bringing up his death in the first place. Both in a way. She hadn’t brought that topic up so far, but he could imagine how much losing Markor must have hurt her. And Hiccup literally had his blood on his hands, the image of red sticking to his skin etched forever into his mind.

She nodded, shifting closer and eagerly leaned against him when he hesitantly opened his arms and offered a comforting hug. “It’s okay,” she mumbled after a while. “Not that he’s… but I’m okay. You couldn’t have changed anything of what happened and… What I mean is… I don’t blame you, you know? On the contrary, I’ll never forget him and I have you to thank for that.”

She nodded to the side of the bed and Hiccup spotted the wooden horse he’d given her as a Midwinter gift standing on her bedside table. He wasn’t sure how to react, whether to be sad or happy that this gift, that had only ended up in her belongings by chance, now served such an oddly fitting purpose. He’d wanted it to be a reminder of him, but now… It had been him who’d brought Markor into Astrid’s life on that first day at the stables and it had been him who’d taken him away again. Now, this figurine he’d given her was all that was left. Odd how some things fit together sometimes.

“So, until you… until you ended Markor’s suffering, you didn’t know whether what you saw had been real or not?”

Astrid was clearly trying to change the topic and distract herself, so Hiccup complied. “No, I couldn’t be sure. I spent hours pondering whether it had been merely a dream, wishful thinking, or a true vision.” He paused, taking a deep breath, and reached for Astrid’s hand before he went on; though whether to draw strength or offer comfort, he did not know. “I thought about what the Goddess had said… and whether I was capable of killing someone if it meant I could be with you again.”

Her sharp intake of breath didn’t escape him. “And… did you arrive at a conclusion?” she asked, her tone sober, unreadable.

Hiccup gulped, then shook his head. “No,” he whispered. “I mean, I’d do everything for you. But this… I don’t know. Maybe? Depending on the circumstances? I don’t think I could… could simply murder a helpless innocent in cold blood. But…” he paused again, averting his face from her scrutinising eyes. “But now that I know how it feels to lose you… I’d be capable of a lot to keep that from happening again.” He knew that she despised unnecessary deaths, so he wasn’t sure whether that was the answer she’d wanted to hear. But it was the truth nonetheless.

At first, she didn’t respond. After a few endless heartbeats though, she shifted on the bed, leaned closer, and lifted his head with her hand cradling his jaw. “You’ll do what’s right,” she whispered, a sincerity in her eyes that left him breathless. “The Goddess said you’d only have to do what comes naturally to you and I trust your judgement. Everything will be all right.”

Sighing, he closed his eyes and leaned more heavily into her touch, nuzzling against her fingers and softly kissing her palm. “I hope you’re right,” he murmured.

She kept caressing his face, her touch soft as a feather. “I’d go with what the Goddess told you. There’s always hope,” she said lightly, and even though his eyes were still closed he could hear her smile easily enough. “I do wonder what you’re supposed to do for them, though. That bit about them having a purpose in their selection sounded pretty ominous.”

Hiccup nodded, having wondered about that several times already. “I know. But all we can do is wait and see. She didn’t tell me about anything specific I’m supposed to do – except for that ending a life part.” He shrugged, then grimaced. “I mean, maybe it’s just rebuilding Ravenledge and providing a better life for the people living there. That’s going to be enough of a challenge I’d say.”

“Well, you won’t be alone with that task,” Astrid reminded him, leaning forward until her forehead rested against his own. “We can do this, together. No matter how difficult it will be.”

Smiling, his mouth searched hers for a string of light kisses. “Yeah,” he mumbled in-between against her lips. “Together.”

It was a heady thought. The last couple of days still hadn’t been enough to completely wipe away the hopelessness and pain of the two weeks before, and thinking about how they would spend their future and meet every obstacle together from now on – sometimes it still felt like too much to wrap his head around.

“I’ve got to say though,” Astrid interrupted his thoughts, giggling as they lay side by side again. “I’m surprised nothing else happened in that dream-vision of yours.”

“Excuse me?”

She giggled again, a little more teasingly. “Well, you met the Goddess of Love herself! And even though the situation warranted more, you did nothing but talk and cuddle for a bit? Most people would call that a wasted opportunity.”

Snorting, he rolled his eyes. “What was I supposed to do? Should I have kissed her and made out with her? With a Goddess?”

“Why not?” She was still giggling. “She looked like me after all. Nobody could have blamed you, and you said it yourself, you didn’t even know that it wasn’t really me in the beginning. Or that it was more than just a dream to begin with. It would have been perfectly justified.”

Bemused, he shook his head. She couldn’t be serious, could she? Or was there a hint of jealousy behind her amusement, some underlying worries? But no, that wasn’t like her. When he looked at her though, he noticed the teasing gleam in her eyes, the twitching of her lips. Right…

Smiling, he rolled around until he was on his side, propped up on one arm and leaning over her. Astrid looked up at him, eyes so soft despite the mischievous spark and the deep blue almost enough to lose himself in them again.

“You want to know why?” he whispered before he brushed a few strands of hair out of her face and then leaned down to kiss her again. “Because she wasn’t you.”

. o O o .

In many aspects, the night hadn’t been what Astrid had expected and yet she wasn’t disappointed, not really at least. Without a doubt, she missed Hiccup’s hands on her body, his touch on sensitive skin, the heat of intimacy. But somehow, she didn’t mind. The night had passed by in another kind of intimacy, with soft caresses and relatively innocent kisses and with a lightness that she found meant even more to her. They’d talked for hours and about so many things, important and trivial alike, and while it hadn’t been the reconnecting she’d craved, it was the one she’d needed.

When she woke in the morning, she couldn’t keep a broad smile from spreading across her face. Even through her still-closed eyes, she knew that the sun was already rising, but in opposition to their usual routine, there was no need for them to hurriedly wake up and part. There was nothing keeping her from enjoying his arms loosely wrapped around her waist, his low and even breathing in her hair, and the incredibly comfortable heat purring from his body wrapped around her back. There was nothing keeping her from snuggling closer against him, sighing happily as he reflexively pulled her closer.

Nothing except the loud knocking against her door and Ruff’s voice echoing toward them.

“Milady? Are you decent?” There was a short pause, then, “I’m coming in now.”

Astrid rolled her eyes and nestled closer to Hiccup behind her as he stirred awake with a low grunt. She’d talked about this with Ruff the night before and they’d agreed on a few things in advance. Mainly that her maidservant wouldn’t just barge into her bedroom like she usually did to wake her. Sadly, there wouldn’t be anything indecent anytime soon anyway, so it was a little moot, really. Unless Ruff wasn’t alone, then she would say so before opening the door so Hiccup had the chance to hide. But as it was, Ruff was alone when she entered the bedroom, so Astrid couldn’t have cared less. She wasn’t ready yet to leave his warm embrace.

Hiccup, however, jumped awake in an instant. He sat up straight, pulling the blanket up with him, and his face went frighteningly pale as he stared at Ruff before he seemed to remember and relaxed again. Lamenting the warmth, Astrid sat up too and snuggled back against his chest, smiling as he wrapped his arms and the blanket back around her.

Ruff threw them a smirk, raising her eyebrows at the obvious state of them still being fully dressed, but then turned to pull the curtains open. “I’d say ‘Sorry for interrupting you’, but it doesn’t look like I interrupted anything anyway. I knew Tuff was exaggerating. Anyway, time to get up. Your breakfast is waiting for you at your tea table, Astrid. Hiccup, you get yours in the kitchen as usual. Sorry, but there was no way for me to sneak in your portion without raising suspicion.”

Intending to drown Ruff’s babbling out to enjoy her last minutes with Hiccup for the day, Astrid still perked up, frowning at her maidservant’s words.

“What?”

Ruff turned, an insinuating smirk on her face as she rolled her eyes. “I said your breakfast is–”

“No, no, I got that,” Astrid interrupted her, sitting up straighter now even as her mind was whirling in confusion. “But why? Why would I eat here? What about my usual breakfast with the King and the Grand Dukes?”

On so many occasions lately, she’d wished she could simply skip the common meal and eat alone in her rooms, but not today. Today, she had something important to talk about with her father, and not just she. Duke Oswald had to agree to giving County Ravenledge to Hiccup, too, and they needed their and Eret II’s support to rebuild it. Who knew when else she, Eret, and Dagur would get the chance to talk to their fathers? She didn’t want to wait any longer.

She looked up at Hiccup, seeking… she didn’t even know what exactly. Reassurance somehow. But he looked just as confused as she felt. And worried.

“I don’t know, exactly,” Ruff said, shrugging apologetically. “All I know is that there was a change of plan somehow. Today’s hunt got cancelled and instead, your father summoned all of your suitors for an announcement.“

Beneath her hand on his chest, Hiccup trembled. “Oh, no,” he muttered. “That doesn’t sound good,”

Astrid could only agree, but she didn’t want him to fret again. He was already carrying more guilt than was necessary. She shifted until she kneeled in front of him, for once towering over him, and took his face in both her hands. “Don’t worry, okay?” she said with as much conviction as she could muster. “Whatever it is, this doesn’t change anything. Do you hear me? We belong together and nothing will ever change that. Together to the end of the road. Promise.”

Hiccup looked up at her with conflicted eyes, clearly wanting to believe her but unable to fully do so. “I hope you’re right,” he muttered, swallowing, then leaned more heavily into her touch, his forehead resting against hers. “I really do.”

. o O o .

Yes, she didn’t want Hiccup to fret about whatever her father had to announce. However, not fretting about it herself was an entirely different matter. What could be so important that he cancelled all plans for the day?

Struggling to not let her nervousness show, she was standing in the audience room, next to and a little behind her father as they waited for everyone to arrive. As her future husband, Eret was allowed to stand behind her, and now, she understood how hard the previous day must have been for him. Even though the presence of the King certainly kept many from showing their envy and disdain too openly, the looks Eret got for being up here with her were anything but friendly. But even though she wished she could spare him all this, she also was grateful for his presence. It was all that kept her from falling apart.

The last time her father had made an announcement, he’d torn apart all her dreams and plans. He wouldn’t reject her upcoming betrothal to Eret and hand her back to all these leering predators in front of her because of such a stupid rumour, would he? No, certainly not. But she couldn’t help but fear for what he had to say nonetheless.

“Do you know what this is about?” she whispered, her head tilted to the side so only Eret could hear her. Surely his thoughts had gone in a similar direction than hers.

“No idea,” Eret grunted quietly. “Father wouldn’t say anything even though he clearly knows what’s going on. He was excited though, even grinning, so I guess it’s nothing too bad.”

Swallowing, Astrid nodded weakly. At least it wouldn’t be the cancellation of their betrothal. She just hoped that he was right, that it wouldn’t get too bad. She wasn’t sure how much more she could take.

A few minutes later, everyone seemed to have arrived as two servants closed the doors, and Astrid reached behind her for Eret’s hand. She needed her brother’s support, feeling a little lighter as he squeezed her reassuringly.

“I see everyone’s here now,” her father began, smiling broadly at the crowd. He seemed to be in a good mood. “Good. I have exciting news. Even though it’s still over a week until the betrothal ceremony, my daughter has made her decision already, and while I couldn’t be happier about her choice, I also see how it affects the mood and motivation for the remaining challenges.” There was consenting grumbling all over the room, many men throwing disappointed glances at her and Eret.

“I was already thinking about how to solve this problem,” her father went on, “when a note from Oramond reached me yesterday.”

Puzzled, Astrid cocked her head. Oramond was a city located north of Volantis, about a day’s ride away. She dimly remembered having been there as a child as it was famous for its market, the only one where merchants from the Northern Tribes sold their goods. Or used to sell their goods. Over the last ten years, fewer and fewer merchants had shown up until the city had lost its significance. What message from there could be so important that her father changed his plans?

She didn’t need to wait long for the answer.

“As some of you know, the lands north of Volantis still occasionally suffer from dragon attacks. This year though, there were ten times as many sightings as usual already. Livestock was stolen, and last week, one of Oramond’s storehouses was burned to the ground. And while this development is truly unfortunate, it can also be seen as a blessing in disguise as it gives us an unexpected opportunity.”

The King made a short dramatic pause, looking around into the waiting faces before he continued, his voice a little louder now. “Three decades have passed since we last held a Dragon Hunt. But now, the Gods bless us with this impeccable chance. From today on, all upcoming hunts and tournaments until the betrothal ceremony are cancelled. Instead, everyone gets the chance to prepare themselves for in four days from today, we will all travel to Oramond. From there, the first Dragon Hunt since my father’s reign will be held. It will go on for three days before a winner is determined. My daughter’s hand, while a suitable and traditional prize, is not an option anymore, but I think I’ve found an acceptable alternative. I’m happy to announce that the winner of this Dragon Hunt, the man who brings me the head of a dragon, will not only earn himself a pouch of gold and glory beyond any other, but will also receive the right to call himself the Count of Ravenledge.”

. o O o .

AN: Yeah, so… we all knew it wouldn't be that easy, didn't we?

And to all those people who (repeatedly) asked about when I'd FINALLY include the dragons… are you satisfied now? O:)

I can't say how regularly I'm going to update from now on. When a chapter is done, I'll post it.

If you want to support me, buy me a coffee ;) (Ko-Fi)

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#FTLOAP #For The Love Of A Princess #Hiccstrid #hiccstrid fanfiction #httyd fandom #httyd fanfiction #fanfiction #royalty au #hiccstrid royal au #medieval au #Hiccstrid Medieval AU #fluff #romance

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haddonfieldproject · 4 years ago

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<<PREVIOUS⏺<<CONTENTS>>

1.2.21 HALLOWEEN NIGHT/NOVEMBER 1st AROUND SUNRISE

Haddonfield, Illinois

Rosalita craned her neck to see the time. There was no clock in the supply closet, no light now to see a clock if there was one, the power had gone off shortly after Sheriff Brackett had left her here. When that lightning hit, she thought. She knew the lightning had something to do with it. The Sheriff's daughter, who lay in a hospital bed that took up virtually all of the room in the storage closet, had an IV hooked up to her arm. On the pole that held the IV was a little box with all sorts of buttons and blinking lights and gauges of a sort. Rosalita of course, had no idea what it all meant or was for, but the box had a little display screen that cast a soft blue-green glow inside the closet, and gave her the only light she had. On the bottom right corner of the box was the time. ‪05:46‬. Next to the time was a battery symbol, it was red and flashing...just like the same kind of symbol on the box on Rosalita's IV had been as well before it died about thirty minutes ago and went dark.

This one is gonna die too and soon I'll be in the dark, she thought to herself in her native Spanish, looking down at her newborn baby which she cradled in her arms. The Sheriff had left her, the baby, and his unconscious daughter more than an hour and a half ago. He said he was going to see “just what the hell was going on”. A part of her hoped he'd gone ahead and found it out—or was going to find it out soon— so she could get out of this god-forsaken closet. Another part of her hoped he didn't.

She knew what was going on.

When they had heard the gunshot, she had known right away it had come from Ole' Bitch.

The only thing Sparky Warner may have loved more than his shotgun was draining the cans of Coors Light he used to shoot with it...certainly not Rosalita. He abused his wife almost as much as he had abused the cans. At least when he was done with Rosalita he just rolled ahead on over and went to sleep, but with the cans, he liked to line them up on a log in the back yard and either take pot-shots at them with his .22 or sometimes, if he was in the real mood for some fun, he'd obliterate them with 'Ole Bitch'.

“I named it after your mama,” he had told her once as he pulled it from the back of his work van.

Rosalita knew who the shotgun blast was for too.

Whitey Grey had done a bang-up job on the new roof of the Warner home last year. Sparky had been real appreciative too, and knowing Whitey to be a stand-up guy, and having felt sorry for him because he had been on the outs with his high-school sweetheart, he had been all too willing to give Whitey some odd jobs here and there around the Warner castle in exchange for some cash from time to time.

“Chelsea Keane has always been a fucking bitch, ever since high school” Sparky had belched, crushing an empty beer can in his hand and tossing it off the front porch. “I'm surprised you stayed with her this long.”

Whitey had looked into the hole of the can of his own beer. “I've always loved her man. Ever since we were in six grade. I've always felt she was the one for me.” He had taken a swig. “You know, like my soul mate.”

Sparky had fished a cigarette out of his mouth and laughed, punching his friend in the arm. “You gotta be kidding me with that pussy shit.” He had said, putting a flame to the end of his smoke. “Naw man...you stay here with me. Make that bitch feel what it's like to miss you.”

“You think so?” Whitey had asked.

“Fuck yeah. Besides, I got tons of shit around here you can do in exchange for crashing on the couch.” Sparky had replied, the cigarette bouncing in his mouth.

“Your old lady won't mind?” Sparky had asked.

“Who do you think wears the pants around here motherfucker?” Sparky had exhaled a plume of smoke. “You see,” he had said, pointing the cigarette at his friend. “That's your problem. You always let that bitch run you over. You think I ever let my woman boss me around?”

Whitey changed the subject, “What do you want done around here?” He had asked.

“You're a handy motherfucker...lots of shit.” Sparky had smiled. “These gutters haven't been cleaned a month of Sundays. I've been meaning to pressure wash this driveway. I got siding on the side that's fucked up and could use replacing...and shit...that well in the back has been compromised by about three autumn's worth of leaves.”

Whitey had shrugged and taken another swig of beer. “That sounds cool.”

“Yeah!” Sparky had taken another drag, “And you know...odd job shit. Like bring the salt pellets in from time to time. That shit's heavy and God knows my old lady can't do it.”

They had laughed together at this. Rosalita had watched and listened to this conversation out of the window while she was doing the dishes. She remembered it well because moments after her husband had berated her to his best friend, she had sliced her finger on a steak knife under the soapy water. It had left a small car on the inside of her left index finger.

Rosalita felt that place in the darkness now, thinking.

Yes, Whitey had done a real good job around the house.

After all, Sparky was real busy. His little electric company hadn't taken off the ground as well as he had liked, and he found himself a corporation of one, working seven days a week, twelve hour days.

Anyone with half a brain would have known how this was gonna play out.

One of Sparky's job's on a ‪Tuesday morning‬ had re-scheduled. Rosalita had never found out why. Sparky had come home ‪at ten o'clock‬ in the morning to find Whitey Grey in his underwear making pancakes for Rosalita, who was also in her underwear...well...at least from the waist down. If it wasn't for a well-timed right hook by Whitey and an even better timed smack with the pancake skillet by Rosalita...Whitey and Rosalita would have probably gotten a taste of “Ole Bitch” right then.

Rosalita and Whitey had gotten a room at the Extended Day down in Russellville for awhile, after six months they snuck back into Haddonfield, renting a little apartment two blocks from the Bypass near Orange Grove. By then, Rosalita was sporting a little belly that everyone in town knew wasn't Sparky's doing, and word of mouth travels fast in a little Midwestern town.

So far though Sparky hadn't caused any trouble. Hadn't even called.

That didn't stop Rosalita from knowing that the shotgun blast had come from “Ole Bitch”. She knew it as well as she knew that the sun was gonna come up over Little Egypt ‪tomorrow morning‬ from the east and set over the corn fields and hills to the west ‪tomorrow evening‬. She knew it deep down in the marrow of her bones and the bottom of her soul and had now fought for the last hour and a half to shake the image of Whitey Grey, the father of her newborn baby, laying dead somewhere in the hospital with his brains splattered all around.

And Sparky was now coming for her.

Her and her baby.

Can't think about that now, Rosalita thought, looking down at her newborn baby boy. The Sheriff said he'd figure out what was going on, and he'll figure it out.

Sheriff Brackett had been the top deputy dog in the town as long as Rosalita could remember. If pressed she would say that she had always trusted him, and she would just plain have to trust him now.

The display screen on the Sheriff's daughter went dark. Rosalita couldn't see her hand in front of her face...let alone her baby.

Oh please God. She thought. Let somebody find me in here.

And then she caught herself.

Anybody but Sparky.

NEXT>>

#halloween #halloween franchise #michael myers #horror #horror writing #haddonfield #horror film #fan fiction #fan writing #spooky

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howieabel · 5 years ago

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Poetry in the time of isolation

For the first time in the globalised age, everyone is reacting to and in some way affected by a single story - a virus making its way around the earth; and this is the first time in history that we can speak about our experiences to people all over the globe as it happens.

I've recently been reading about other plagues and epidemics in history. A century ago, as the first world war was raging and coming to an end for some, the Spanish Flu took more lives in a shorter time than the war took in its four years, a sum which could have been many times more than 50 million people. Nobody really knows exactly where that flu came from, although anyone who knows what life was like in the trenches wouldn't be too surprised of its potential to spread. However, the first cases of the flu were in military forts in the USA, and may have spread to Europe from there. It was only called the 'Spanish' Flu because Spain was neutral in the first world war, and therefore its press was more free - Spanish newspapers reported on the flu accurately, unlike every other combating power who didn't want to demoralise their troops with the mass death that was occurring, not at the hands of enemy soldiers, but a common enemy to all combatants - the appalling conditions that they were fighting in, the ideal way for a virus to wreak havoc.

This time around, calling the virus the Coronavirus, or Covid-19, is more sensible, as much as demagogues like Trump may want to call it the 'Chinese virus'. It seems to have been past from bats (like Ebola) to pangolins, which were sold in wet markets in Wuhan in China, to humans, but as is always the case, these origins remain murky, and often disgusting. These markets are unregulated by the government, as animals from all over the world can be imported there, where they languish in the most awful conditions - not to feed the poor, but as a sort of trophy food for the rich; and that's why many countries are in on the game, letting their merchants illegally export rare, often endangered, often hunted animals to the wet markets.

The Chinese government had tried to crack down on this after previous outbreaks of SARS, including in 2002, but it has proved difficult to rein in the peculiar tastes of the new rich, and of trophy hunters around the globe. Hopefully they learn from the crisis and regulate or eliminate the trading practices of their wet markets. In the mean time, it seems they have controlled the outbreak very well once it happened, and now they are sending doctors to Italy, alongside more recent help from Russia and Cuba, to help with the Italian government's much less successful attempts to control the spread. Unfortunately, as we saw with Ebola, these viruses can pop up every few years just about anywhere, especially, it seems, where there are bats. But I don't know enough about the transmissions from animal to human to write more about this. What i'm most interested in are past examples of how human communities and their governments have tried to shield their vulnerable from plagues and pandemics.

The most interesting example I found was from when the plague came to Italy almost 400 years ago, in the autumn of 1629. This of course is especially relevant as, from the day of this post, Italy is the worst affected of all countries by the virus, which poses a number of questions - Why Italy? Because they have one of the oldest populations? Because there is more inter-generational living than in many other countries? Because of just simple bad luck, for example a virus spreading through catholic mass, hour upon hour upon hour, so that by time it was realised to be a problem, it was already too late?

The reason the reaction to the 1629 plague interests me, is because it shows the importance of government and community reaction to a pandemic - it can make all the difference. Italy had a number of different city states, so we can compare their reaction, and although such comparisons are never perfect, they are some of the best we have. For example, in Verona 61% of people died - in Milan, 46%, in Venice - 33%, and in Florence? 12%. So what did the Sanità, the city of Florence's health board, and government, do so well that they greatly lessened the death toll in comparison to other cities in Italy? One reason this is an especially interesting question is because 12% seems to be around the average mortality figure for the coronavirus (especially among countries with an ageing population and/or a fractured health care system).

What did the Sanità in Florence do then, in the plague year of 1629? They arranged the delivery of food, wine and firewood to the homes of the quarantined (30,452 of them). Each quarantined person received a daily allowance of two loaves of bread and half a boccale (around a pint) of wine. On Sundays, Mondays and Thursdays, they were given meat. On Tuesdays, they got a sausage seasoned with pepper, fennel and rosemary. On Wednesdays, Fridays and Saturdays, rice and cheese were delivered; on Friday, a salad of sweet and bitter herbs. Every morning, hundreds of people in the lazaretti were prescribed theriac concoctions, liquors mixed with ground pearls or crushed scorpions, and bitter lemon cordials. The Sanità also devolved some tasks to the city’s confraternities. The brothers of San Michele Arcangelo conducted a housing survey to identify possible sources of contagion; the members of the Archconfraternity of the Misericordia transported the sick in perfumed willow biers from their homes to the lazaretti. But mostly, the city government footed the bill, and making use of its own police force, court and prison – also punished those who broke quarantine. Its court heard 566 cases between September 1630 and July 1631, with the majority of offenders – 60 per cent – arrested, imprisoned, and later released without a fine. A further 11 per cent were imprisoned and fined, rich and poor alike.

Some of this account would even sound impressive now (especially the pint of wine a day!). It must have been like a revelation to the poor for them to realise that something like this was possible - that the people around them who were thirsty or hungry didn't have to be. It shows how a crisis can destroy the previous idea of normalcy and replace it with a totally new normal. In Britain, for example, the Conservative Party for years laughed at the spending plans proposed by the Labour opposition, ridiculed them as the mad schemes of communists, and every day ad infinitum posed the question on television - but how will you pay for it? Doesn't it all seem very unrealistic?

And now look where we are - our governments are spending more money to cope with this crisis than anyone had ever suggested, millions and millions of people's wages are being payed as a sort of Universal Basic Income, and it suddenly turns out that it would have been a very good thing if everyone had free and fast public broadband after all, now that it is apparent that everyone needs and deserves good communication during this pandemic, not only for them to communicate with their loved ones, but also so they can access the right information. Homeless people in London have been given hotel rooms at no cost. People are coordinating in their communities to help the elderly and the vulnerable, to bring them their groceries so they never have to leave the house. Many countries have nationalised their entire private hospital network, to give their beds to the infected. Look at how Korea and Taiwan have reacted to this crisis, for example, and then compare it to European countries. Many government's have not yet gone far enough, and will need to go further over the coming months to cope with the crisis as it unfolds, and as usual the British and the American governments are some of the most reluctant, not just to foot the bill, but to make what was previously thought impossible, possible after all. If they show, in direct counterbalance to the last decade of austerity, that they had the money to do this all along, it might cause them some problems afterwards. But they have no choice - we are living now in a new normal, and all the old economic orthodoxy has been thrown out the window.

In a time of crisis like this, it suddenly becomes apparent that doctors, cleaners, supermarket staff, food and public sector workers, and in this case also postmen and delivery workers, are the lynchpins of society. It's a shame we haven't spent the less 10 years looking after them a bit better, and perhaps because of this, many more people will lose their lives than should have done if we had started looking after them earlier. There's still a very high possibility that the NHS in Britain could break under the pressure. Unfortunately, we don't have as many doctors are we could have had. There isn't much of an incentive for the young to train to become doctors or nurses, with such pitiful pay and long hours. But there are still many selfless souls who take it upon themselves to make the sacrifice - nevertheless, most of my friends who studied medicine and care had to leave the UK to continue their studies after school, countries where they are now helping in this crisis as junior doctors. They simply couldn't afford the university and accommodation costs in the UK.

As we all begin to adjust to this new normal, and as it becomes clearer that the old world can never be brought back again, perhaps from now on we can fix some of our mistakes and prepare better, so that when the next crisis comes along, we don't find that the people who keep our society going were kicked out of it by the rest of us a long time ago. And as we come out of the crisis, with millions, even billions, of unemployed all over the world, remember then how it was possible to pay people's wages even when they weren't working. If we are against all visionary thinking, then we are also against the NHS, the 8 hour working day, and public parks and free museums. They were utopian ideas once, and in many countries, they still are. What will be normal afterwards? Our reaction now will define the future we can create. Our breadth of vision will determine whether or not we demand its creation.

“The assumption that what currently exists must necessarily exist is the acid that corrodes all visionary thinking.” - Murray Bookchin

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#Coronavirus #UK #Britain #Conservatives #Boris Johnson #England #Virus #Covid-19 #Wash your hands #Wuhan #Italy

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doof-doofblog · 5 years ago

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"It Is Way Past The Time For Talking!"

Monday 11th May 2020

Good Afternoon folks! I apologise that this post is late, it's due to my current work hours, I'm afraid. But I'm happy to tell you that there will be two posts today! This afternoon's post will cover last night's episode, and later tonight i'll do another post reviewing tonight's episode! But first, I'm sure you've all been made aware of the news which broke over the weekend. Due to the current pandemic happening right now, the cast and crew of EastEnders have not been able to announce a date as to when filming can continue, this will mean, that eventually EastEnders will come off air! It is still unsure as to when the soap will resume filming but also it's unsure how many episodes the soap still has to run until it comes off air. I, for one, am deeply saddened to hear this news, I understand, but I find it incredibly sad. A part of me kind of hopes we wont forget where the last soap finished off, before it can continue to the current story-lines. Also a part of me will think that they will try and find a way for them to get back on air as soon as possible, but of course, it's easy said than done. The safety of the wonderful actors and actresses and crew members comes first! It is sad news to take in, but we can only look forward to what they will have in store for us once they can continue with the soap!

Now, enough talk of the sad news. Shall we focus on last night's episode ... ��Ooooo I feel like I have so much to cover and talk about. I'm going to start with Stuart and Rainie. It's obvious the Rainie is desperate to have the wedding she is dreaming of! She's never really had the big white wedding has she? I guess it's only fair she should, she deserves it more than anyone! But unfortunately both her and Stuart can't afford a lavish wedding, even though Stuart is eager to give her the day she deserves. But, it looks as if they're going to come up with a plan to take Max for half of what he has, through his and Rainie's divorce to pay for their wedding. Only the thing is, will Max still agree to the divorce once he realises that's what she wants, or could he stop the divorce proceedings and prevent Rainie from having the wedding she's always wanted. I think there's going to be a bit of a battle going on within the next few episodes to see whether this divorce will go ahead. Did anyone click onto the moment Rainie mentioned when Tanya locked Max in a coffin and buried him alive?! I remember thinking back to that episode and I couldn't begin to even imagine what it must've been like, I know it's only a soap, but blimey ... I think that was one of the most horrid things I've ever seen on EastEnders! Hopefully Stuart and Rainie will get the wedding they deserve!

It looks as if Keegan is still struggling, he is convinced that the police don't believe him about not throwing a brick at a police car and resisting arrest. Could it be true that there are some racist police officers accusing him just because of the colour of his skin? It's taking it's toll on Mitch, seeing his son getting increasingly upset and frustrated about it all, he's desperate to help his son out in some way. Now, he's persuaded Denise to have another word with Jack about getting the footage back from the broken body-cam. It's nice to see Denise trying to help out, but could it leave a strain on her relationship with Jack? Even though Keegan is technically family to Jack now, will he be able to help him clear his name? I'm hoping so! I know it sounds awful, but this is the main story-line I don't really understand, more in the way of, believing that racism in the police force is a thing? You'd think nowadays that that wouldn't even come across anyone's mind. But who knows? Being a viewer and watching it from a personal point of view, I find it shocking that racism is still happening in this day and age! Hopefully justice will be done for Keegan and he'll be able to clear his name and prove the police wrong!

Ooooh, okay! I feel I have a lot to cover when it comes to Phil and Ben now! Firstly, Ben announced that his operation for his hearing will be tomorrow! Big question is, will it be a success? I happened to notice that when he told Callum, he said it would not be a quick fix, but when he told his Dad, he told him he'd be able to hear again. I'm guessing he only said that to his Dad, so that he'd be able to prove to him that he's not weak and that his disability won't make him weak. Phil has had a lot to deal with in recent weeks, losing Dennis as well as learning that his son's hearing is deteriorating. When those football tickets arrived, Phil was clearly hurt and again the feeling of guilt, grief overtook him again. I thought it was incredibly sweet of Ben to offer to go with his Dad to the game, even though he doesn't like football! Ben is really trying to be there for his Dad, as well as dealing with his own problems! That scene where they were both sat together in the kitchen talking about Dennis, it felt really nice to see, it's been a while since we've seen a scene like that with Father and Son laughing together, but of course, with Ben trying to really hear/focus on what his Dad is saying, it took Phil to realise that if Ben's operation won't work, that will be what it's like from now on ... Ben having to ask him to repeat himself and then trying to communicate with others. Now ... when Phil and Danny were sat in the pub together, I was really hoping that Phil wasn't going to get involved with him again, especially after what he did to Louise! So Danny has some money he wants being moved before the police find out about it, however as much as he wants Phil involved, he made it perfectly clear he didn't Ben getting involved, even having the audacity to insult him in front of his own father. You could see it struck something inside Phil when he said those words. Later when Danny arrived in the Arches, my gut feeling was "Oh no! He's agreed!" ... but when Phil walloped him and said "No one has a pop at my boy and gets away with it!" I was like ... YES!!! GO PHIL!!! After what Ben has been through in his life, struggling with his hearing disability, being the victim of a gay/hate crime and also being abused by his step-mum (Stella) ... I was so thrilled that Phil was sticking up for his son!! Yayyyy! GO PHIL!!! .... But then ... oh-no ... he went back to Ben and said to him he wanted him to be involved if he wanted to, which Ben agreed to. But now my thoughts are ... What is Callum going to say when he finds out? Will Ben go through with his operation? Will Ben get into even more trouble or danger because of this dodgy deal?! Will Callum be put in danger? Will Phil regret getting involved with Danny again?! Ah so many questions! I hope nothing bad will come out of this, but then again, when do dodgy deals ever go to plan?! This is EastEnders after all! Let's just hope Phil and Ben will be safe and hopefully nothing will come in between Ballum!

Is anyone else feeling more and more concerned for Jean? Shirley has now been made aware of what's been happening now Kush has informed her. They learned that while Whitney had gone missing, Jean had called the police 46 times! Now something is getting confused and maybe perhaps she was thinking of Stacey while phoning the police? I mean, think about it ... she hasn't seen or heard from Stacey in months, and in recent weeks she's been saying she misses her and at one point she called Whitney by the name "Stacey". Something is telling me, she's phoning the police because she wants to know where Stacey is. Even though it's Whitney, she's thinking it's Stacey. If that makes sense?! Even during that scene where she had a go at Whitney in the restaurant, both Whitney and Shirley looked confused. She blamed Whitney for making her look a fool in front of the police, which of course was not Whitney's intention at all ... but it kinda all makes sense, if Jean was seeing Whitney as Stacey, she'd technically, in her mind, be having a go at her daughter for making a her look a fool in front of the police, now she's safe. I don't know whether i'm making much sense her but I hope you all can get what i'm saying. Jean thinks Whitney is Stacey! That's what I believe! I could be wrong, but i'm convinced that due to her lack of medication, she's starting to see and/or believe that Whitney is actually her daughter. That end scene though were Kush explained that there may be no other way of getting Jean to take her medication, you could see in Shirley's eyes, it hurt her! It's awful that they're having to drug someone they dearly care about, but I guess they need to be cruel to be kind, how else are they going to be able to get her to take her medication without knowing?! The tears in Shirley's eyes really got to me, she doesn't want to, but she knows she has to, she and Kush are the only ones able to look after Jean right now ...... which brings me to the big question I just realised ... where the hell is Martin?! Martin is also a big part of the Slater family! He's technically Jean's Son-In-Law! Shouldn't he made aware of Jean's current state?! Can anyone remember where he may have gone or what he's doing? I can't recall the last time we saw him? Was it when Bex left? I'm not so sure, but I feel Martin should be around at the minute to help Kush and Shirley look after Jean! I'm looking forward to seeing more of this current story-line ... Gillian Wright is such a fantastic actress, she never fails to amaze me in her role as Jean, she has smashed every single story-line she's been given. I hope Stacey will come back eventually and come to her mother's aid, I feel once she and Kat come back, things will get easier for both Kush and Jean, but of course, only time will tell.

How are you feeling about the current situation with EastEnders? What are your opinions on the current story-lines? Feel free to message me, I'd love to hear your thoughts! I'll be back later tonight following up tonight's episode! Enjoy your afternoon everyone and I'll be back later on. Thanks guys xXx

#eastenders #rainiecross #stuarthighway #keeganbaker #mitchbaker #denisefox #jackbranning #philmitchell #benmitchell #callumhighway #ballum #jeanslater #kushkazemi #shirleycarter #whitneydean #staceyslater #martinfowler #maxbranning

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seraph-novak · 6 years ago

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The Perfect Match

Summary ~ In a world where you can calculate your romantic compatibility with other people, Cyrus Goodman wants nothing more than to match highly with his best friend and longtime crush, TJ Kippen.

Also available on AO3 ♥

Written for my amazing friend, @slytherintrash! Thank you for putting up with my constant whining while I struggled to write this fic... I hope you like it!

~~~~~

The walls in the waiting room are glossy and white, almost blinding if you stare at them for too long. Cyrus stares down at his feet instead, blinking the stars out of his eyes as he takes a deep, steadying breath. Next to him, TJ bumps their knees together and smiles. It’s a comforting sight that eases his nerves somewhat, flushing them out with a warm, gooey feeling that only TJ is capable of stirring inside his gut. He returns the smile with one of his own – shaky, but just as genuine – and reaches out to take his hand. TJ sweeps a thumb over his knuckles, sending shivers dancing across his arm. It’s enough to keep him grounded, at least for a little while.

“Are you okay, Cy?” Andi asks him. She’s sitting next to Buffy and Marty on the chairs opposite him and TJ, her eyebrows curving upwards with concern.

“Yeah, I’m good,” he says, squeezing TJ’s hand as the word ‘good’ lodges in the back of his throat, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. “Just nervous.”

Buffy untangles her hands from around Marty’s waist and pats the top of his knee. “Don’t be nervous,” she says, her voice a strange combination of gentle and commanding. “It’ll take them a few hours to add you to the system. You probably won’t get any matches until tomorrow morning.”

“Ugh.” He flops back in his chair, the back of his head hitting the gleaming wall with a heavy thunk. “I don’t wanna wait that long… Waiting’s the worst part!”

“I got my results the same day,” Andi says, a reassuring lilt to her voice. When Cyrus doesn’t respond, she looks to her friends for support. “What about you, Marty?”

“I got mine the next day,” he says with a shrug.

TJ hooks an arm around Cyrus’ shoulders, rubbing the sore spot already starting to swell on the back of his head, and tilts his face towards him with a gentle nudge of his finger. “It only took a couple hours for mine to come through,” he murmurs, so soft only Cyrus can hear him. “Don’t stress about it, Underdog. It’s different for everyone.”

“I don’t even know why I’m nervous,” Cyrus admits, his eyes never leaving TJ’s face. “It’s not like I’m expecting any high matches…”

“You wouldn’t be the only one,” Andi says. It’s a pitiful attempt to inject some humour into the situation, but the tremble in her voice gives her away. A few months ago, when she turned sixteen and underwent this very same process, she discovered that she and Jonah, her boyfriend at the time, only had a measly 46% match. It was awkward for everyone involved.

“I’m sure you’ll match highly with someone,” Buffy butts in, shooting Andi a sideways glare. She, on the other hand, was lucky enough to get a whopping 87% match with Marty – a fact she loves to brag about whenever possible.

TJ rolls his eyes, and Cyrus feels his muscles turn stiff beside him. “It’s not that big a deal,” he says through grit teeth. “Not everyone needs a high match to fall in love, you know?”

“You’re only saying that because your matches suck,” Buffy says.

“Gee, thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” She flashes him a smug smile, then turns back to Cyrus. “Don’t listen to these downers, okay? They’re just sad because they’re single.”

Andi whacks her friend on the arm. “Hey! I’m single by choice, thank you very much.”

“Yeah.” Buffy snorts. “Until you get a match above 70%, right?”

“I’d be happy with a 65 at this point.”

“You’ll find someone, don’t worry,” Buffy says, her teasing smirk softening as she takes Andi’s hand. “It takes a little longer for some people to get matched, remember? But it’ll happen eventually. Even for you, TJ.”

When Cyrus glances at TJ, he’s surprised to find his pale green eyes already watching him closely, his smile tilted at a sad angle as he gives his hand another squeeze.

“I’m happy to wait,” he says.

Cyrus blushes and looks away, his stomach swooping as TJ goes back to brushing his knuckles with his thumb, their knees grazing ever so slightly. With every breath, their shoulders rub against each other, and Cyrus can feel his skin burning hotter and hotter, set alight with the need to touch TJ, to hold him close and never let go… For the billionth time today, he wonders what their match will be. He’s always thought – or hoped, at least – that it would be fairly high, but he’s never dared to confess this to anyone. Not even Buffy and Andi, who are pretty much convinced that TJ is already smitten with him.

He thinks back to the pact he made with himself this time last year, on his fifteenth birthday: if he and TJ are matched above 75%, he promised himself he’d finally ask him out. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but now the mere possibility of being highly matched with his best friend makes him want to throw up. He’s not sure if it’s a good or bad kind of scared, but either way, he’s terrified.

“Mr Goodman?” A young woman in a white turtleneck pokes her head into the waiting room, her teeth the same dazzling shade as the walls around them. “We’re ready to see you now.”

A bolt of panic freezes him in place, his vision starting to warp as he stares at the open door across the room. The woman’s smile wavers for just a second, then turns warm with understanding. She gives him a small nod, then ducks back into the room.

“I’ll give you a moment.”

“Hey,” TJ says softly, lifting their joined hands to his lips. Once he’s got Cyrus’ attention, he gives him a wink that makes his heart leap and soar like a kite caught in a storm. “You’ve got this, Underdog.”

And just like that, his nerves evaporate. He wishes more than anything that he could lean forward and whisper a thanks against his lips, but he settles for a smile instead. If all goes well, he’ll be kissing TJ this time tomorrow anyway. Just the thought makes his mouth tingle in anticipation, his chest bubbling with warmth.

“Thank you,” he says, sharing a private smile with TJ before turning to the rest of his friends. “All of you. I really appreciate you guys being here.”

Andi and Buffy drag him into a group hug, then usher him out of the waiting room, sending him off with encouraging smiles and thumbs up. He gives them a quick wave at the end of the corridor, his eyes lingering on TJ for a moment longer, then takes a deep breath and walks through the door.

~~~~~

“So,” Andi says as they’re heading towards The Spoon for lunch. “Did she tell you when you’d get your matches?”

Cyrus looks down at the white gadget strapped around his wrist, its screen a dull black until he touches it with his finger. It looks like a watch of sorts, but it’s really just a fancy device that will soon show him his compatibility percentages with people all over the world; at the moment, it just says ‘Matches Pending’.

“She said it would take anywhere between five hours and two days,” he says, tapping the screen again so it fades back to black. “But she also said that some matches don’t come through for years, so… I guess it’s all a waste of time.”

TJ chuckles. He has his arm draped over Cyrus’ shoulders as they walk, his fingers tapping silent tunes against his arm. It feels really nice, and completely normal. Probably because it is. He and TJ have never been shy of touching each other; they’re constantly finding ways to close the space between them, no matter where they are or who’s watching them. In many ways, it’s like they’re already dating.

“Don’t be such a grump,” TJ says fondly, hugging him sideways against his chest.

“I’m not being grumpy,” he insists, purposely pouting his lips to make TJ smile even brighter. “I just don’t understand why it has to be so complicated. Why couldn’t they just tell me there and then?”

Buffy laughs. “They’re comparing your data with billions of other people’s in the world… Maybe cut them some slack?”

“Okay, that’s fair.”

When they get to The Spoon, TJ holds the door open for him with a chivalrous smile, then orders him a double chocolate milkshake and an extra-large basket of baby taters. The five of them spend the next hour and a half stuffing their faces and making light conversation, until Cyrus has all but forgotten about the possibly life-changing results he’ll be receiving at some point in the next two days. It’s only when Andi asks for the bill that reality comes crashing back down, and that familiar feeling of nausea twists in his stomach.

“Cyrus?”

He snaps himself out of his daze, turning to find TJ watching him with knitted brows. The genuine concern on his face is unfairly adorable, and Cyrus wants nothing more than to wrap his arms around him and tell him how much he cares… But then he remembers the heartbreak Andi and Jonah went through not that long ago, and he decides against it.

“Are you alright?” TJ asks him, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Do you want me to walk you home?”

Cyrus swallows thickly and nods.

“Okay.”

“TJ?” He grabs his arm as he slides out of the booth, his tone brimming with desperation. Once TJ has sat back down, he loosens his grip and huffs a laugh, his cheeks turning warm. “Sorry, I just… Could you maybe sleep over tonight? I don’t wanna be alone.”

A gorgeous smile brightens TJ’s face, and Cyrus immediately relaxes.

“Of course I’ll stay with you,” he whispers.

It feels like there might be a double meaning there, but Cyrus is too jittery with nerves to overanalyse it. All he wants to do is go home, change into his comfiest pyjamas, and spend the night watching cheesy rom-coms with his best friend. And if he happens to get highly matched with TJ while they’re in the same room, then that would just be an added bonus…

~~~~~

The final scene of When Harry Met Sally never fails to make him weep. Which is why he’s currently curled up in a ball on his bed, sniffing back tears while TJ hands him tissues with a fond and slightly teasing smile.

“Why did you pick a film that always makes you cry?” he asks.

Cyrus wipes his nose and shrugs. “These are happy tears.”

“You’re happy for the fictional characters?”

“Stop laughing at me!”

TJ holds up his hands in surrender, his lips twitching with a barely restrained smirk. “I can’t help it! You’re too adorable.”

“I’m not adorable,” Cyrus says, deliberately blowing his nose to hide the blush blooming across his cheeks. “I just think it’s really nice to see two friends fall in love with each other, you know? I want a romance like that.”

He turns to TJ, preparing himself for another mocking grin, but the older boy is staring down at his hands instead, nervously tugging at his fingers as he chews his bottom lip. Cyrus scoots closer to TJ, his mattress dipping beneath their shared weight, and steadies his fidgeting hands.

“TJ?” he says, his voice low and soft. At TJ’s answering silence, he cups one side of his face and turns it towards him, gently forcing their eyes to meet. “Are you okay?”

TJ barks a wet laugh. “I, um… I don’t know…”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“We both know that isn’t true.”

A tear rolls down TJ’s cheek, catching on the curve of a crooked smile before landing on the duvet wrapped around his legs. He wipes his eyes with the heel of his palm and breathes deeply through his nose, flicking an anxious glance at Cyrus. There’s fear and apprehension twisting his expression, but also a hint of excitement, a whisper of hope…

“I need to tell you something.”

Cyrus winces. “Those are words you never want to hear.”

“Sorry.” Another laugh colours his words. TJ has always been a nervous laugher. “I know this is a weird time to tell you this, but… I need to tell you before you get your matches through.”

“My matches? Why –”

“In case our percentage is terrible,” TJ says, desperately grabbing at Cyrus’ hands and holding them against his chest. He uses his shoulders to wipe away another tear, then presses a kiss to Cyrus’ knuckles. “If we don’t get a good match, I know I’ll lose my nerve… So I’ve gotta tell you now, Underdog. In case it’s the only chance I get.”

Cyrus gulps. “Tell me what?”

“I love you.”

All at once, the world moves in slow motion and the room starts to spin. He was expecting a confession of sorts – a simple “I like you” at best – but nothing like this. He’s not a complete idiot; he knows TJ likes to flirt with him, and he knows their relationship goes way beyond the bounds of friendship. But he never thought – never hoped – that TJ might return his feelings to this extent. He tries to speak, but nothing comes out. The words feel like cotton balls in his mouth, thick and dry and impossible to swallow…

“It’s okay,” TJ says, that small whisper of hope choked into silence. “You don’t have to say anything. I’m sorry for making things awkward.”

Cyrus shakes his head, tightening his grip on TJ’s withdrawing hands. “No! Wait –”

Before he can finish his sentence, a small ‘ping’ sounds from the gadget strapped around his wrist, its formerly blank screen awakening with colour, a brilliant white that slices through the dark room. A simple message appears on the screen: ‘Matches Found’.

“My matches are here,” Cyrus says, although he’s sure TJ can read the message just as clearly, seeing as they’re sitting so close to each other.

“That was fast,” TJ says. His voice sounds dull and congested, like he’s fighting back tears. “Are you ready?”

“I… I don’t know.”

“Forget what I said before,” TJ says, sniffing hard. He dries his face with the sleeve of his hoodie and forces a smile. “This is your moment, Cy. Just ignore me.”

“But, Teej –”

“I’m serious, alright? I’ll be fine.”

Cyrus opens his mouth to protest further, but TJ shoots him a warning look, a sad smile ghosting his lips. He’s being very insistent, and Cyrus doesn’t have the emotional energy to fight him. Perhaps there’s only one way to express his feelings, and that’s to show TJ their inevitably high match. If they really are in love with each other – and Cyrus has never been so sure of anything before in his life – then they’re bound to be highly matched, right?

“Fine,” he says, a stubborn set to his jaw. “We’ll do this your way.”

He sucks in a breath, then taps the glowing screen. A long list of percentages fills the empty space – all of them way below average – so Cyrus uses the filters to sort the matches from highest to lowest. It takes a few seconds to submit the request, and then the list refreshes itself.

“Oh my god.”

“Cyrus?”

When TJ touches his shoulder, Cyrus flinches back, ripping the device off his wrist and throwing it across the bed. His chest is heaving with shaky breaths as he wraps his arms around his legs and starts rocking back and forth.

“What’s wrong?” TJ asks, his voice lifting with concern. He places a hesitant hand on Cyrus’ knee, which is bouncing up and down with nervous energy.

Cyrus swallows thickly and points at the discarded gadget sitting on the edge of his bed. “Is that real? That can’t be real…”

“What are you talking about?”

“Just… Just look at it.”

“Cy?”

“Please, TJ.” He grabs his friend’s arm and squeezes it, the beginnings of a smile tugging at his lips. He can feel hysterical laughter building in his chest, threatening to burst out at any moment as fresh tears spring to his eyes. “Seriously, TJ. Look at it…”

TJ raises a sceptical eyebrow, but does as he’s told. There’s a moment of breathless silence as TJ picks it up and taps the screen, followed by a shattering gasp as he throws the gadget back at Cyrus, like a hot potato, and falls off the bed.

“TJ!”

“I’m okay!”

Cyrus peers over the bed and stretches out his arm, offering his hand to TJ. When they’re both sitting back down, and they’ve more or less caught their breath, Cyrus dares to look at the screen again. His heart stops beating for a brief moment as he re-reads his top match, his eyes skipping over the 100% and landing on the words beside it: TJ Kippen, 17/y.o., Shadyside, Midwest, USA.

“You’re my top match,” he says, his voice sounding faraway, as if he’s in a dream.

TJ splutters a laugh. “I don’t think that’s the surprising part, Cy.”

“You already knew I’d be your top match?”

“Well, I hoped…” He scratches the back of his head, suddenly appearing bashful. “But then I told you how I felt, and you didn’t say anything, so…”

“I was shocked!” Cyrus says, throwing his hands in the air. “I kinda guessed you had a crush on me, but I never thought you might –” He stops himself, too afraid to say the word out loud. He slowly lowers his arms and stares down at his lap, a blush creeping up his neck. “Did you really mean what you said?”

TJ brushes his knuckles across his cheek, smiling fondly. “I don’t think you could get a 100% match with someone without being head over heels in love with them.”

For a second, he gets lost in TJ’s adoring gaze, his insides turning to mush as a goofy smile devours his face. But then he catches a glimpse of the screen beaming up at him, and reality comes swooping back in, knocking the breath out of his lungs once again.

“It’s not possible,” he says. “I mean, yes, I’m in love you. Like, really, really in love with you. But the highest ever recorded match is only 92%. Perfect matches don’t exist, TJ! Maybe in movies, but not in real life.” He closes his eyes and massages his temples, desperately trying to regain his cool. “If this was actually real, then that would make us…”

“Soulmates?” TJ suggests.

Cyrus looks up at him, completely taken aback by his unfazed expression. “How are you not freaking out about this?”

TJ chuckles. “The only thing I’ve ever been 100% certain about in my life is how much I love you,” he says, his eyes softening in awe as he maps Cyrus’ face with his fingertips. “So, no… The fact that we’re soulmates doesn’t freak me out at all.”

“You mean… The idea of spending the rest of your life with me doesn’t scare you?”

A grin slowly spreads across TJ’s face. “In the words of Harry Burns,” he says, “‘When you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible’.”

Cyrus doesn’t even think before lunging himself at TJ, a happy chorus of “I love him. I love him. I love him.” playing in his head as he fervently hugs the boy of his dreams. There’s an uncontrollable smile dimpling his cheeks, and his heart is racing a mile a minute, but he somehow feels calmer than he’s ever felt before in his life, completely at ease in TJ’s loving embrace.

“Do you think they know?” he asks, his words muffled against TJ’s shoulder. “There must be people who keep tabs on the matches, right?”

TJ sighs. “Yeah, probably.”

“So… We’re gonna be media sensations pretty soon.”

As if sensing his fear, TJ pulls away, a deep frown creasing his brow, and cups Cyrus’ face in his hands. “Don’t be afraid, Underdog. We’re in this together, okay?”

Cyrus nods. “Okay.”

Within minutes, there’s a screeching of tyres outside his bedroom window, followed closely by frantic knocking on their front door. He can hear his mom and stepdad whispering to each other, completely oblivious as to why there are dozens of news vans suddenly parked outside their house.

“Should we go talk to them?” TJ asks, lifting his shoulders in a dubious shrug. “We have to face them eventually.”

Cyrus glances at the flashing lights glinting off his window, then back at TJ, his worries melting away the moment he looks into those familiar green eyes, forever brimming with unconditional love and support.

“They can wait,” he says, smiling as he palms the back of TJ’s neck and brings his face closer, until their lips are just a hair’s breadth away. “I have a soulmate to kiss.”

#tyrus #tj kippen #cyrus goodman #andi mack #tyrus fics

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